The Writer vs. The Flu Bug (and the lesson it taught me)

I’m incredibly stubborn when it comes to admitting I’m sick. I’ll ignore the signs and symptoms and force myself to press on until I finally have no choice but to admit defeat. But sometimes it’s in the moments where you can do nothing but sleep, drink clear liquids, and attempt to make sense of fever-muddled thoughts that you find the most incredible revelations.

That’s exactly what happened this past week. I’d been speaking more often than normal, so of course I had a scratchy throat (pay no mind that half the people I knew had been down with a flu bug that starts with a sore throat and ends with…well, let’s say it’s better not to discuss some things in polite company). I continued on with my meetings, kept taking my daily walks, stayed up late writing, reading, planning lessons for my youth, and looking for job leads. Once Friday evening rolled around, however, I realized I was fighting a losing battle. Come Saturday I couldn’t stand without the room spinning.

So I did what every good writer does. I grabbed a bunch of books on my craft and decided to catch up on some “light” reading while staying in bed. As the day progressed I finally broke down and called my brother who lives a couple miles from me and asked him if he could pick up a couple things at the store. Between what he saw when he dropped by and a phone conversation with my sister who lives a couple hours away, there was enough family concern that my brother drove 30 minutes to get my mom, had her pack an overnight bag, and drove her back to my apartment to take care of me for a few days. Cue the unanswered knock on the door that fortunately happened to be unlocked (an oddity for me) that led my mom to finding me crumpled in a near unconscious, burning up heap on the floor.

The past few days have been an incredible reminder to me that no matter how old I am or stubborn I get, if physically able, there is nothing that will stop my mom from rushing to my aid to care for me when I’m too ill to care for myself. It also resulted in me finally realizing a vital key factor that had been missing from my book: a mother’s unconditional and unfailing love.

It had been there all along, but it was buried beneath so many layers that it wasn’t easily visible either to my main character (who is adopted and struggles with identity issues) or to me.

I just recently started my rewrite on the book based largely on the notes from my critique group  (and by rewrite I mean ala my lesson from a college professor who would make me rewrite a story from beginning to end and cut the story down by a certain percent, rather than doing a line-by-line edit), and this time I feel more confident going in  — especially after this weekend’s revelation.

All of which is further proof that when it comes to a writer’s life there is no such thing as a unusable experience. (Though I would have preferred to skip the whole three-day “apartment-turned-gravitron” ride!)

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 12: Little Writing Moments

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below. - Jen

Every writer dreams of the day she will make her living at full-time writing. She imagines sitting at a desk with no distractions, and eternally hot and full coffee cup nearby, signed portraits of her heroes overhead, and surrounded by her books while she cranks out page after page of beautiful prose. Come to think of it, even “full-time” writers dream of that. 

The reality is, life is full of distractions. Bills pile up. Family members need extra care. Jobs demand more hours. And if we’re not careful our writing begins collecting dust, and our attitudes can turn sour real quick.

That’s one of the reasons I started the 30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing Challenge. I’ve had a lot more demands on my time since taking over as the Youth Leader at my church this past August. It was meant to be temporary until the leadership found a replacement for the former youth pastor, but as the months tick by I’m beginning to see it turn into a long-term ministry. I love doing everything I’m doing. I’m certainly learning a lot about myself in the process, but I was watching weeks tick by with only a single update to my blog and very little added to my other writing. So I started doing what every frustrated writer does: I complained to my journal.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t my situation that needed fixing. It was my attitude. I’m able to do what so many people only dream of doing: make a real difference in other people’s lives. Did it really matter so much that I couldn’t write for hours on end? Did I ever really do that when I had the time available to me? The uncomfortable answer to both was, No. 

This writing challenge has served two purposes for me: It’s changed my perspective on writing and it has kick started my activity again. Not only have I discovered that it is possible to lead a busy life and write on a daily basis (the number of posts this month is proof of that), it has gotten my creativity flowing again. I have more ideas and new topics to write about now than I have all year.

It’s also taught me something else. Every little writing moment can result in a major writing breakthrough. You just have to approach it with the right attitude.

The Writer vs. The NonWriter: Overcoming the battle of Writer’s Guilt

I have a confession to make. It’s been over a week since I sat down with my writing. That’s not to say I haven’t written anything, I just haven’t touched my Work In Progress. And as I type these words I admit that I during that time I couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame; as if I’m guilty of some unforgivable crime. As if I have no right to call myself a writer.

I could easily claim end of summer activities have gotten in my way, that my day job has taken up more time, or that a week-long migraine has turned me into a pseudo-vampire whose fatal weakness is the stabbing glare of a computer screen. All of this is true, but as my brother so aptly likes to remind me, excuses are like armpits….

Everyday I see other writers posting their goals for the day, how they’ve written so many words by a certain time, how they’ve stayed up late and are celebrating with a bowl of ice cream, and I think: these people are the writers, not me. Their lives are just as busy, but somehow they’re making it work.

This evening, I happened to look at my bookshelf and noticed “How to Grow a Novel” by Sol Stein. It had been a while since I read it so I took it out and opened it to the foreword where I saw I had at some point in time underlined the following passage, “A writer is someone who cannot not write… a nonwriter is someone who can write or not, who does not have the drive and need to put words on paper.”

In re-reading this, it suddenly dawned on me. I haven’t worked on any of my fiction writing lately, but I have been writing every single day. I’ve written a couple of blog pieces, a human-interest piece for work regarding the damage a small model manufacturer suffered at the hands of Hurricane Irene, and I also spent several days working on a devotional piece for my youth group’s monthly newsletter.

My fiction writing is still a skill I’m learning to master. The notes (though thankfully largely positive) from my beta readers on my WIP are proof enough of that. My fiction writing has not yet made it out into the world, though I am ever hopeful that it will soon. My non-fiction writing, however, is a completely different matter. It’s already being seen and, more importantly, it’s already being used to make a difference in the lives of those who read it.

Last week I received an e-mail from a young woman I’ve never met in response to my post “The Honest Writer.” In it, she shared a good deal of her life story, which bore an uncanny resemblance to my own. As a result, we exchanged a few additional messages that encouraged both of us in our writing and everyday lives. If I was a nonwriter, the words that spoke to her at that particular moment would never have been set down on a page. If I was a nonwriter, I would be in bed sleeping off the effects of a migraine right now rather than braving the light emanating from my screen. And if I was a nonwriter, than I would never have told my mother years ago: Sometimes all I want to do is write. Most of the time it’s all I can think about. When I don’t write I have this ache inside me, right here in the middle of my chest. My arms get tense, like there is this pent up energy inside of me that can only be channeled through a pen.

I said earlier that I often see writers talking about their achievements, but I also see writers struggling with the same sense of guilt and helplessness in their writing endeavors that I’ve faced this past week. So I put to you Sol Stein’s words — a writer is someone who cannot not write; whether it’s a story; an article for a newspaper, magazine, or newsletter; a blog piece; a devotional; a poem; or a song. If that describes you, if the only relief you can find to that odd “ache” in your chest, your arms (or your head) is by putting the pen to page or filling a blank Word doc, then you, my friend are a writer.

When life gets hectic and you can’t write for a week, a month, or even years, don’t let senseless guilt prevent you from picking up again right where you left off. Just take it one step at a time until you reach that final goal. And then, start again.

What inspires you to write?

Earlier this summer, I asked a couple of my friends if they would be willing to share what inspires them to write. This week, my dear friend Brittney Breakey weighs in....

What inspires me to write? That is such a huge question. To say everything would be cheating, right? Okay, how about my top five?

The Power of Suggestion

Mom and I were in the office, unpacking boxes—way past my bedtime. She reached for a shabby book. “I remember loving this one,” she said. “Britt, you should read this.”

Being eight years old, I took her words very seriously. In the midst of empty pizza boxes and packing peanuts, I grabbed the book, scurried to my bedroom, and zipped through the first half of The Hidden Staircase. When I read the last page, I had a serious decision to make. Should I be a detective like Nancy Drew or a writer like Carolyn Keene? You can probably guess which one I chose.

I began filling spiral notebooks with stories like The Escape of Rose Collins, The Wacky Hat Party, and Minnie May the Cat. I got so busy writing, I stopped reading altogether.

But don’t worry. I didn’t stay stupid forever.

My Rekindled Love for Reading

I wrote my first book without reading more than two books of fiction. Shudder. Can you believe it? Then I listened to an interview and the author said, “Don’t even think about writing until you’ve read at least 100 books.” I took those words seriously and thirty days later, I’d read 32 middle grade novels. Talk about a powerful wave of rejuvenation! Now I can’t go a day without reading fiction. It’s food to a writer’s belly.

The Library—The Best Place on Earth

Oh my goodness, I could sit and read in the library for my whole life. The second I enter those glass doors, time stops. And that is the honest truth.

Livin’ Life Kick-Starts Creativity

Life is packed with writing material. You accidentally burp into the microphone as you’re reciting the Declaration of Independence. A wasp stings your ear the second you say, “Will you marry me?” You wet your pants when a cousin sneaks up and scares you. You get attacked by wasps on a family camping trip. You slip on a banana slug and break your leg. All these things are downright miserable, but they all scream Book Material! You can take the worst day that you ever had, give it time and it will become hilarious. Horrible Day + Time = Powerful/Funny Story. As Neil Gaiman says, “Go get your heartbroken. Then come back and write about it.”

My Greatest Inspiration—Matthew Allan Jones

Every Saturday, my brother, Matt, and I read my work-in-progress, which he calls “Top Secret.” It’s truly the simple things he says that inspire me to keep going. He’ll quote a line and look at me, waiting to see if I caught on. Then we’ll share a smile. Or he’ll ask me to read a chapter again, just because he likes it. Or he’ll text me during the week, wondering how many words I’ve written. His innocent enthusiasm for this story is pushing me to persevere.

About Brittney Breakey

Brittney is a graduate of the Institute of Children’s Literature and the Christian Writers Guild. She’s currently working on a humorous middle grade mystery novel—and loving it. She also operates Author Turf, a site exclusively created to showcase authors.