Five Things Every Writer Needs

Woman at a table writing in a book with a cup of tea at her side.

A ritual is a combination of symbols, actions, words, and gestures. Rituals can be spiritual, religious, or ceremonial. We also engage in rituals because of their consistency and continuity. For this reason, rituals offer a sense of calm and familiarity.

Many of us are writers. Some are published authors; some are on their way. Some people write stories for their own amusement; others journal for their sanity. Still others write for work. Over the course of my life I’ve fallen into each one of these categories. No matter the type of writing or why one writes, there seems to be ritual involved.

There are five things it seems every writer needs for their writing ritual.

1. A favorite pen. Even if we don’t use it often because we write on the computer, we have a pen that is beautiful and meaningful to us. Long before I started writing for others, a group of friends and I wrote an underground fanzine. Most of the articles/stories began their lives handwritten in a favorite journal.

2. A favorite journal. We might hold it dear because it’s gorgeous, or because of the person who gave it to us. It might remind us of a special place, too. My best friend who is also an author has several journals that she staunchly refuses to write in because they mean so much to her. There are others that are merely slightly less cherished that she uses regularly.

3. A special beverage and/or food item. Some of my author friends are coffee people, others tea. Most of them bring wine and/or candy to the party, too. In a previous life, I wrote grants. Big grants, small grants, foundation grants, federal grants. The federal ones were the worst. They were humongous and complex in terms of required research and writing. I’d write around the clock to finish them. Diet Coke and potato chips got me through every time.

4. A PlayList. A writer’s playlist is a group of songs that either motivate us to write, remind us of our story or our characters, or both. I don’t have a playlist yet for my Work in Progress, but I do have one for my first book. Maybe I’ll share it in my newsletter.

5. Totems. Totems are items that carry spiritual significance, or are symbolic of an important concept. I know two authors who have stuffed animal totems. I have several that are emblematic of serious supernatural writing—to me, anyway. Black fingerless gloves. Goth jewelry. Yellow candles for creativity. Pictures of people who remind me of my characters.

I don’t think rituals are unique to writers. My mom was a caterer who couldn’t cook without the strongest iced tea ever made. I know an artist who must use specific brushes, and swears his best work happens in a particular light of day. Do you have any rituals? What items are integral to your creative processes?

Stealth Delivery

Yesterday evening, I went outside to take my dogs for a walk. To my surprise, three boxes sat on my small porch. Three boxes from three different delivery services.

Wait. What?

Nothing had been on my porch earlier. My doorbell didn’t ring. Neither of my dogs barked and no one knocked on my door. Yet there the packages were.

Man carrying boxes for delivery.

It wasn’t the first time I was a victim of stealth delivery. Once, I went to the front yard to pick up my mail, then to the back yard to put the junk mail in the recycle bin. By the time I returned to the front, a package was on the porch! I hadn’t even heard a vehicle!

I suppose I understand why. It takes less time per delivery if you don’t connect with a person. In the age of COVID-19, it’s safer, too, especially if both parties aren’t wearing masks.

However, if you don’t let me know something is on my porch, how would I know it’s there until I accidentally trip over it? What if it rains? A book would be ruined. Perishables would fade in the heat or cold.

It could be stolen. Sometimes Amazon delivery agents take a picture and email it. That doesn’t work if it’s not always done. The inconsistency means you can’t rely on it to know if your package arrived.

What happened to good old fashioned “ring the bell and run”?

I’m irritated by stealth delivery. How about you?

A Time of Reflection and Thanks

People often confuse Memorial Day with Veterans Day, or assume they have the same meaning. They don’t.

Veterans day was originally called Armistice Day, established in 1919 by President Wilson. It was designed to celebrate the end of “The Great War”, World War I and mark the beginning of peace, good will, and understanding among nations. It later became a legal holiday (1938).

In 1954, after World War II (reportedly the biggest mobilization of service people) , and the Korean War the 83rd Congress amended the Act of 1938, changing Armistice Day to Veterans Day, with the intent to honor veterans of all wars.

Memorial Day is older. It began in 1868 when Maj. Gen. John A. Logan (of the Grand Army of the Republic) declared that Decoration Day would honor those fallen in the Civil War by decorating their graves with flowers. After WW I, it was broadened to include all those who died in American wars. In 1971, Congress declared it a national holiday.

Veteran’s Day honors all who served and sacrificed. Memorial Day honors those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

For many of us, Memorial Day marks the beginning of the summer season. We celebrate this beginning with picnics and barbecues and trips to the pool or beach. But during our fun, we cannot forget to honor those who died for our freedom and safety. As the saying goes, without them, there would likely be no us.

*Information retrieved from va.gov

LGBTQ E-BOOK GIVEAWAY: MULTI-GENRE!

WOOHOO! Another LGBTQ e-book/short-story giveaway, another opportunity to explore new authors! Can’t hurt to check it out, right? Right! (Just click the picture!)

Banner for LGBTQ e-book giveaway.

Oh! I’m looking to add to my street team. You know, a group of avid readers who would enjoy helping me get the word out about my upcoming release (August). You’d be the first to read, plus the only folks to receive exclusive swag. Sign up here!

Who Put the Social in Social Media?

I’m not a big fan of Facebook. I know, I know—Blasphemy. But I am certain when future generations look back on this period in history, they will determine that Facebook is the antithesis of “social” and was the beginning of the end of society as we know it. Here’s why:

• The privacy issues. Because of Facebook and the myriad social media platforms that have followed, we have grown accustomed to having less privacy than we have previously said we wanted. Go looking for that new mattress? Facebook will show you ads. Do a search for a new baking dish? Your feed is not overflowing.

• The ability to congregate. Okay, maybe this part isn’t all bad, as I’ll discuss in a moment. But it used to be the case that if you had some lunatic, criminal idea, you pretty much mulled it over in your basement all by yourself. Maybe you tried to convince your equally disturbed brother-in-law to join you in your flight of fantasy. But now you can find an entire group/page/friend list of like-minded criminals.

• The illusion of anonymity. Not that you’re actually anonymous. But because you’re at home in your bunny slippers and the other people are somewhere else, it can feel like you are. Consequently people seem to think they can say ANY DAMN THING and it’s fine. Bullying, disrespect, cruelty are all okay because, you know, no one knows it’s you.

Everyday I tell myself I need to stay away. That it would be much better for my mental health if I did. But…It is only because of Facebook that I’ve reconnected with people I lost touch with. People I knew way back when—my next door neighbors from childhood found me, for goodness sake! Coworkers I’d lost touch with because I moved—many times—and life has a habit of taking sharp turns. It’s pretty cool that they’ve found me.

Consequently, I’m here on my website. You can find me on Instagram. I play around on Pinterest. And damn it, yes. I’m on Facebook.

I’ll see you there. https://www.facebook.com/trevannr

The Wrap Tour Revisited

I don’t think it is unusual for people to have several personal anniversaries. For me, April will always bring back memories of the Wrap Tour. In 2004, my partner and I were in the middle of writing an urban fantasy.  Ok, most of our books have musicians in them but this one actually featured a rock star on tour.

Our of the blue, our favorite musician announced a tour, the first in several years. The problem, since it was not a planned tour, new dates kept being added while the tour was in progress which means the musician did a lot of crisscrossing the country.  We had a deadline.  What were we going to do?  Keep writing and leave our concert destiny to fate? Nope.

I am known in some circles as the Queen of Ticketmaster.  If I set my mind on getting good tickets, I stalk Ticketmaster until I get them. But tickets to each of these shows was a surprise.  We would have no idea where our seats would be until we picked up the tickets right before the show. I’m sure you can see the problem here. How far were we willing to go for unknown seats?

The tour started in the Midwest in March.  Our first show was in Pennsylvania in April.  From there were drove to Columbia, South Carolina.  Then, because of late booking, we backtracked to Knoxville Tennessee.  Then crossed to Raleigh NC.  Next Stop was Jacksonville, Fl, the up to Birmingham, Alabama, and then Atlanta, Georgia.  We were exhausted and briefly were sick in Florida, so we took a short break and rejoined the tour for 2 shows in DC, then up to Hartford, Connecticut, New Jersey, and New York. We did a total of 12 shows in in 11 states in a period of 3 weeks. We lived on 2:00AM IHOP omelets and BLT or chicken salad wraps from Arby’s while on the road. 

We noted some interesting coincidences.  Every time I wore t-shirt and jeans, we had front row seats.  If I dressed a little less casually, we would be a little further back.  For most of the shows we were in the first 5 rows.  There really isn’t anything like the thrill and the intimacy that is created when you are literally at the feet of your idol, watching him do his thing.

But it isn’t always as wonderful as it sounds.  There is an implied social contract with the band when you’re up front.  You have the responsibility to REALLY show that you’re enjoying the performance which usually means standing up, cheering uncontrollably, and singing along.  We had 3 shows that were on the first balcony  That is a whole different experience.  You can see the whole stage, not just the front.  We learned that we missed a lot of cool interactions by being in the front row.  The best thing is being able to sit down if you want to.

To make matters worse, we are both short and feared that people from seats further back would crowd around the stage and we wouldn’t be able to see.  But we began to recognize and be recognized by the artist’s security so that was never problem. On several occasions people blocking our view were moved back to their seats.

I still have that “front row guarantee” T-shirt and many amazing memories that will always remind me of one of the best times of my life.  We also have an extra memento.  Our writing club awarded us a “trophy” for best use of procrastination under the guise of research.

It's Hard to Not Worry

A friend of mine, who also happens to be one of the smartest people I know, is very worried about the increases in COVID cases in this country. He and I spent the entire year worried, but managed to make ourselves feel better once the rates in Connecticut began to decline and jumped for joy when the vaccine was rolled out in earnest. But things have started to reverse and he’s worried. So am I.

First, we noticed the cases in our state have started to climb. Earlier in March, we were at a low infection rate of 2.7% . Two days ago we were at 4.88%—the highest rate since early January. Second, cases around the country are on the rise, with a couple of hotbed states like New Jersey, New York, and Michigan. As states continue to roll back all restrictions, we’ll see more with that unfortunate distinction. Around the world, the data is sending the same message: The pandemic is not over.

Then we noticed that many people we know are resuming life as it was in The Before Times. They’re eating indoors at restaurants, going on vacations, and taking off their masks. Even people who previously were as cautious as we were are acting like a dose of vaccine is a magic potion.

Then my friend had an epiphany: If the people who, like us, effectively put themselves out of the path of transmission are now putting themselves back IN, there may very well be more people in the chain of transmission than there were pre-vaccine. Add to that dire thought the increased transmissibility, we are in a real life Petri dish.

What pushed me over the edge and back into worry, however, was the recent statement of the current head of the CDC: “I’m going to lose the script, and I’m going to reflect on the recurring feeling I have of impending doom.” You have to admit, even if you don’t completely buy the science (which you should because, well, science), that’s an incredibly scary statement from the head of the Center for Disease Control.

It. Is. Not. Over. #wearyourmask #washyourhands #stayhome The sooner we all resume taking this advice, the sooner we actually can get back to normal.

Four Ways Television Sets You Up for Disappointment

Iwill admit that I watch way too much TV and too many movies. We all know that movies and TV shows are not based on reality. They set up the average person for disappointment–and I’m not even talking about the concept that everyone on most shows is young, beautiful, and wealthy.

These are the Top 4 Ways TV programs have set us up:

Burning candles on black background.

1. The speed of travel. A body can be found on the west coast and a D.C. FBI team is on site before the body is even photographed. On a smaller scale, the main character always gets a taxi quickly. Has that been YOUR experience? Not mine. I remember a fated evening in NYC where not one single cab would stop for me.

   Sometimes we have no idea at all how the characters get around. Do shadow hunters always travel with a warlock to portal them, or do they take the subway in their invisible form?

2. Housing is never an issue. Every character has a bedroom that is ridiculously large. Everyone who lives in a city has a penthouse apartment with glass walls and no curtains. Instead, they have beautiful, panoramic views of the city. Many have balconies large enough to accommodate plants, enough furniture for a full room, and maybe a hot tub. Admittedly, the real issue for me is the window walls. One show has wall of windows with a view of a brick wall that appears to be about three feet from the house. Why???

3. Alcoholism is rarely an issue. This despite the fact that, in some shows, all the characters ever drink is alcohol. They rarely show any consequences of all this drinking. Occasionally someone has a cup of coffee or tea but you have to watch closely for those moments to make sure whiskey hasn’t been added.

4. Unrealistic use of candles. What’s most disappointing to me, however, is that my bedroom is not lit with hundreds of pillar candles that seem to burn day and night. How do they afford all those candles? How do they get them lit so quickly? How are they lit when NO ONE was home? Why do none ever sputter and die?

I suppose I could make do with fewer candles if my room was filled with the strands of twinkle lights you see in the bedrooms of TV teenagers. Or I could get one of those glass-walled apartment and let the city lights illuminate my boudoir. 

It’s something to consider.

Soul Soothing Beach Memories

Just this week, I’ve realized it’s been about three years since I’ve been to the beach. The first two summers I was dealing with excruciating sciatica. Walking was difficult. Driving was impossible. This past summer, of course, was Pandemic Summer 2020. I didn’t go anywhere except for the odd doctor appointment and I had to be forced to leave the house then.

In the last few days, my back has started aching. You know, that band at your lower back? The muscle spasms take my breath away. I’m trying to baby it so that it calms down. I do not want to have another summer without the ocean.

Water rejuvenates me. The sound and rhythm of the waves soothe me. It’s always been this way. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a water sign. Or maybe its because my mom loved the beach and we’d spend sunrise to sunset at Sunken Meadow Beach on Long Island. If I close my eyes, I can see it as if it was yesterday: Mom in a beach chair with her book. Her beach hat AND a tilting umbrella. The blanket loaded with coolers, KFC, and abandoned flip-flops.

My sister was always the first in the water. My brother was the last because he hated taking off his t-shirt. But once we were all in, it was hard for Mom to get us to come out. The water captivated us.

It still captivates me.

Fingers crossed I don’t have another sciatica flair-up. I’ve got to get to the ocean by summertime.

365 Days

My love belongs to my beloved 365 days a year, 1440 minutes of every day. I work hard each of these days to show my love.

An unexpected cup of coffee.

Flowers for no reason.

A drive to nowhere.

A text from the next room.

And a myriad other moments.

Today is just a day where I shout it to the world. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Writing Through the Pain

I’ve just come through a very difficult period of writer’s block. I’ve not experienced anything like it before.

I was at a pivotal point in the story where my main character experiences something very painful. The kind of emotional agony that brings up every other anguish you’ve experienced in your life. Soul-wrenching. But something was in my way.

My writing process begins with me seeing the scene. I know this sounds weird, but my story comes to me like clips from a movie. No, I’m not saying that the story writes itself or that my characters are in charge or anything like that. But my imagination unfolds the story before my eyes, so to speak.

For this part of the story, the scene was blank, as if the reel of film had run out.

I tried to force the issue. Sitting at my computer for hours and hours, staring at the screen. Reading the thousands of words already written and then reading them again. I realized that I had to step away for a while, so I put it away for a few days.

Instead of coming straight back to it, I decided to plot it out. I opened up a rarely used program and I loaded it with pictures. Then I asked a few questions and wrote down the answers. What was the hero’s goal? What needed to happen and was it compatible with his goal? What was the conflict? The outcomes of the conflict and the reactions to it?

As I considered these questions, the story began to unfold. Suddenly, there they were, the plot point and the pain. As painful as this scene was to be for my character, I needed to find my connection to his pain. I cried as I wrote it. I cry every time I re-read it.

I excited to see what happens next.

Winter Snow is Coming? It's Already Here

I love snow. I’ve said that many times.  But the recent storm has outdone itself. It started Sunday evening.  I shoveled the steps and a walkway for the dogs

And went to bed.

Monday brought a surprising amount of snow.  I had put the garbage can out the night before and the snow was deep enough to cause a problem getting it back up the driveway. Snow was past the bottom of the doors and I spent much of Monday shoveling the steps and walkway for the dogs.  The snow was coming down so heavy that 30 minutes after I shoveled, the trench would be filled again. The dogs were not happy. Unless forced, they would not have left the steps.

To keep snow from getting too deep. We cleaned off the cars and shoveled snow throughout the day. We were proud of ourselves for staying ahead of the snowfall. We went to sleep expecting a fairly normal Tuesday.

But instead of the planned relaxing day of stretches, breakfast, and a day devoted to writing, we woke to snow deep enough to prevent opening the doors and snow literally up to our car’s doorhandles.

One of my favorite fantasies is curling up in front of a roaring fire, drinking hot chocolate, and napping or reading.  Just enjoying the snow. While I have seen a lot of snow and drank a lot of hot chocolate, I have never fulfilled the rest of this fantasy.  Today was not to be the day to live this dream.

Instead, we spent the day shoveling snow and brushing the snow off cars.  Lest you think this was easy, remember that the snow was up to the doorhandles.  And some genius decided to use a snow blower that threw THAT snow onto our car.

We didn’t shovel every moment, but my muscles would debate that.   We shoveled enough that coming inside and using ICE PACKS on our backs was necessary. We had scraped and shoveled the driveway to the street.  And driven over patches of snow to get our car near the end.

As evening fell. I went outside to survey our progress.  The city trucks had made a couple of passes and our driveway was blocked by a wall of snow and ice we could not possibly drive over. Snow had slid off the overhang and covered a good part of the area we had shoveled with 3-5 inches of snow.

At this point, I had the choice of crying or watching a few episodes of my current favorite TV show. To quote Scarlet O’Hara, “after all, tomorrow is another day.”