Author Archives: lizshine74

About lizshine74

Liz Shine wrote and read her way out of small-minded, small-town doom. We’re not talking about riches here. We’re talking about how a practice like writing can save a person. How it can give hope, shape identity, and ignite purpose. She hopes to write stories and poems that move readers the way certain works have made all the difference to her. She lives in Olympia, WA in the USA. She believes in the power of practice and has been practicing writing since some time in the early 90s when she became an adult in the rain-soaked city of Aberdeen. Writing began with journaling, as a way to understand a confusing, sometimes violent coming-of-age. She writes mostly fiction, some nonfiction, and poetry, and holds an MFA from Pacific Lutheran University’s Rainier Writers Workshop. She has published in Shark Reef, Dual Coast, and Blue Crow Magazine. She is a founding editor at Red Dress Press.

Wake before the sun? Are you kidding me?

At the moment, I am flying high and nothing is wrong in the universe.
Why?
Because it’s 5:30 in the morning, I haven’t even started my work day yet, and I’ve already written 700 words on my novel.
Now, I know this feeling is temporary, but humor me. Can we just relish in how I got there for a bit?
In the past ten years, I have made hundreds of writing schedules, all of them avoiding the wee hours in the morning when I prefer to be sleeping. Then, last week I had a particularly scattered, brain-tired struggle of a writing session in the evening and I panicked, realizing that I cannot end the school year thinking that fall comes I’m going to go back to the same evening writing sessions and find success. I that moment of panic, I hit upon the idea that perhaps the trouble is that I’ve been trying to fit my creative time in at the end of the day when my mind is taxed and my energy low. How does that make sense? Wouldn’t it make more sense to write first when the mind is slow in a good way and fresh?
Yikes, though. That would mean—I calculated that I’d have to get up at 4 to make coffee and walk the dogs to be writing by 4:30. I’d also have to give up walking to school in the mornings. I like walking to school. I like the slow pace and the solitude. But I could walk home from school, right? And as far as getting the exercise, my evenings would be free to stroll all I wanted because I wouldn’t be sitting at my desk beating myself up to write three sentences. Or procrastinating sitting at my desk to write three sentences by sending Carrie pins or doing the dishes.
Then, I thought: What are you willing to change to prioritize writing?
Well, I’m on day two of rising at 4 am to write and I haven’t written like this in weeks. Today I wrote 695 new words on my novel and now I’m writing this blog. I took notes on how the writing went and made a road map for tomorrow. The quiet and solitude of the morning coupled with the stillness of my rested mind is the perfect place for writing.
I never thought I’d say this…
After all, I am a morning person.

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Some past posts to keep you making time:
Adjust your pace accordingly.
It’s about the routine and how you shake up the routine
There are things you will have to give up
See it to achieve it
Washing the dishes
Write slowly
A celebration of the pause
Monday, a run through the driving rain
Zen accident
Get out of your comfort zone

Zen Accident

I began writing poetry at fourteen or fifteen, some terrible lost and vulnerable age. I wrote reams of poems about how profoundly I didn’t understand anything, using juxtaposed words like vomit truth and playground nightmare. It seems I’d always been a gawker, but I started to write little snippets of what I saw in my notebooks: man at bus stop shaving his feet, woman screaming fuck you fuck fuck on her way to the library, or an orange is a globe of light. I also started to write down the sentences from what I read that sent a charge of delight up my spine. If I could write like that!

I’ve identified as a writer from a young age and over the years I have continued to write, record my observations, and collect sentences with inconsistent commitment. This blog is dedicated to the commitment I’ve made to make time for writing in spite of the real and imagined demands on my writing time. I’ve been distracted by so many projects during my adult life including running a marathon and earning a Masters degree, both of which took far less effort and commitment than writing a book does. I’m not saying I shouldn’t have done these things, not at all. One can’t write every single moment of every single day. When you are not writing, though, everything else is a potential distraction.

Over this past winter break I had a moment of epiphany regarding my sometimes absurd cycle of professing I need time to write, then getting that time and struggling to write three sentences, then drowning my sorrows in a glass or two of red which of course completely kills my impulse to write and clouds my thinking. Of course there are other times where the writing flows and I finish my writing time absolutely buzzed by the feeling that I’ve created something dangerously close to what I want to say and with some tweaking, by God, it just might do. I’ve strategized ways to induce this kind of creative flow. I’ve turned corners of rooms into writing nooks, made signs for doors warning: Writer At Work, snuck away to cafes, bought noise-canceling headphones, and on and on.

We’ve just moved to a new house and by winter break we’d been there nearly a month and I hadn’t even once sat in the writing nook I fashioned in one corner of our bedroom. I’d written, but never there. And that’s when a new way of looking at the whole situation struck me dumb. Over the next few days I sat to write at our family computer that is literally wide-open in the middle of the house in the family room, the most unprivate spot one could possibly occupy.

What happened? Yes, children interrupted me. Dogs too with their endless need for ear-scratches and lap time. I’m pretty sure Chris also asked me where I had put the coffee filters, which were right in front of his face where they always are, just tucked a little toward the back. As all these disruptions happened, I didn’t react resentfully to them. Each disruption happened, then I returned to the writing. This is how I finished the novella I’ve been working on for six years.

Happy accident? Result of a recently revived meditation practice?

I don’t know, but I’ll take it.

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A New Year! Some reflections, plus what I read in 2014.

This past year I submitted my portfolio for National Board Certification, got married, and taught summer school for the first time. Somehow, I still managed to read WAY more books than I did last year. I’d love some suggestions from you for what to read in 2015 and by the end of this week I’m going to compile a list of 15 must-reads for the year, leaving plenty of room for new possibilities to open along the way. Tell me–what should be on my must-read list? What have you read recently that you are dying to talk to someone else about because it was just that freaking good?
When I read I have to take notes, it’s a compulsion. I also love collecting sentences that strike me as particularly well-rendered and I publish them here from time to time as “found sentences”. I’m reading more and more books on a device these days, which is probably good since I really don’t have that much book shelve space left.
I’m not making any resolutions this year or any grand intentions for change. I’m happy with who I am now. I want to read a lot, write often, take walks and hikes in nature, sit and breathe, write letters, and remain open to new adventures. Just like I’m doing now.

What I Read in 2014:

1. I finished Ulysses!!! It took me years and Chris and I read the entire thing out loud together. <3
2. By Blood by Ellen Ullman –Unusual in a good way.
3. The Flame Alphabet by Ben Marcus
4. The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hahn
5. The Tenth of December by George Saunders — Awestruck!
6. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern — Loved!
7. Quiet by Susan Cain
8. The Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith
9. Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson
10. On Writing by Eudora Welty
11. The Best American Poetry of 2009
12. Dirty Love by Andre Dubus III
13. Divergent by Veronica Roth
14. Wild by Cheryl Strayed
15. The Fine Print of Self Publishing by Mark Levine
16. The Help by Kathryn Stockett
17. Her Best Kept Secret by Gabrielle Glasser — Loved!
18. How To Start A Home-Based Editorial Business by Barbara Fuller
19. How The Brain Learns to Read by David Sousa
20. The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner
21. Teaching With Poverty In Mind by Eric Jensen
22. Google Apps Meet Common Core by Michael Graham
23. Brain Rules by John Medina
24. Tibetan Peach Pie by Tom Robbins
25. Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen
26. Mating by Norman Rush
27. Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon (Loved! Can’t wait to see the movie.)
28. Being Perfect by Anna Quindlen
29. Excellent Women by Barbara Pym
30. A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki (Loved!)
31. The Wife by Meg Wolitzer
32. Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud (Loved!)
33. Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
34. Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon (Loved!)

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Understanding Comics Review

Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art by Scott McCloud

I picked this book up so that I might feel better equipped to teach a graphic novel this spring. In terms of illuminating the craft behind comics, this book definitely delivered. I have a vocabulary of the craft I didn’t have before. Additionally, this book provides a thoughtful reflection on art and the creation of art that resonated with me as a fiction writer. Part glossary, part textbook, but really more essay that explores perception, creation, and the question of why we work so hard to communicate through art.

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Inherent Vice Review

Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon

Chris and I read this one together. We came across a preview for the movie coming out in December and, impressed by the cast and story, decided to read it.
What a fun, smart book! Every time I sat down to read, I laughed out loud and also stopped to marvel at perfect sentences. The details Pynchon paints on to build this “part noir, part psychedelic romp” are brilliant.
I can’t wait for the movie and I’m pushing the book off too as many friends as I can get to read it and go to the movie with us.

A couple of found sentences:

“Last Doc knew, his ex-old lady here had been at least a person of interest to countless levels of law enforcement, yet here she was now, same getup, same carefree attitude, as if she still hadn’t even met Mickey Wolfmann, as if some stereo needle had been lifted and set back down on some other sentimental oldie on the compilation LP of history” (261-262).

“And on she went, without waiting for an answer, twinkling like a roomful of speed-freaks hanging Christmas tinsel, about her different escapes” (172).

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I might just spend all day reclining on the couch, two dogs curled up next to me.

Dear Writing Friends,

I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say this week was wrought with unexpected emotional turmoil at work that I am struggling not to feel responsible for. My teaching buddy/friend has been there to bring me back to reality when I get into a guilt spiral and I am super grateful for her. Processing the event has been all consuming for the past few days and has left me feeling really quite down.

Imagine how grateful I am then to have made it to Saturday! To be sitting here on my recliner couch with my two little curled up dogs, a fresh cup of coffee in my bright blue coffee mug? I am unlikely to get up for much at all today.

The 100 days of writing has gone mostly well. I missed a few days, but I’ve been taking it one day at a time and counting my successes. I’ve expanded/revised/edited 7 chapters of my novel in the past week, plus I’m starting to sketch out a new story idea that has been waiting on me to pay it attention for about a year now.

My main goal this school year is to prioritize my writing life. A simple statement that is proving to be extremely hard, but not impossible. I love teaching and I rarely teach one thing the same way, so I am constantly revising curriculum. With three teaching preps this year and the responsibility I feel to read along with my students (even if I’ve taught the book for years), that’s a lot of reading and curriculum design. Now, factor in grading student work and giving timely feedback. I’ve struggled since I started teaching to keep the boundaries between work and creative life clearly drawn, some years with more success than others. Last year when I took on the project of going for my National Board Certification, those boundaries were obliterated, so now I am having to stand back and wonder what the fuck happened and how I can fix it.

What have I come up with?

Saturdays and Sunday mornings are mine. Don’t even try to ask me about lesson plans during those hours. I’ll put my fingers in my ears and start humming I’m not listening. Grading happens at school. If I need to stay late to grade, I will, but I am not lugging home an armload of papers to grade after dinner. No more extra classes or trainings for now. No student teachers until I publish a book.

That covers the boundaries.

More importantly, what will I do with the time I’ve carved out? I will keep adding to the Wunderlist Carrie and I are building when we sit down to write–our list of ways to start writing now. The list is proving very effective for staying focused and recognizing distractions. The distraction comes up–it goes on the list–I move on to writing.

I will dive into LC Editing’s very first paid editing project, which landed in our inbox last week!!!

I will write when I say I’m going to write. If something comes up to prevent me, I’ll put it on the list and write anyway.

This November I am making another go at NaNoWriMo and just for fun—NaPoWriMo too! I’ve got a story idea based around a character I’ve been thinking about for sometime. Each day of November that character is going to write a poem or I’m going to write a poem about that character.

How about you? How are you making time?

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Reflections on a writing retreat at the Extended Stay in Tumwater

That’s how broken our practice had become. We squeezed $90 out of our measly budgets to stay at a dive hotel a mile or two from our houses. We started writing Friday night and kept at it through Saturday night.

In spite of the guy in the parking lot zooming his RC car around for–not kidding–hours, the smell of old smoke in the air (oops, a smoking room!), and a neighbor who kept knocking on our door, we managed to get a lot of writing done.

In spite of our own doubt and distractions, we kept writing our goals out on post-it notes and sticking them to the mirror. When we finished up one goal, we wrote another. To some extent we succeeded because we had to stay honest to each other and we had to make our $90 worth it. My buddy Carrie did a better job of sitting still than I did. I can’t write for hours without stopping. I need breaks. So, during those breaks I either read, wrote letters, or tried to think about how I was going to make writing happen when I re-entered my life.

On this blog, I try to make it simple, write about one thing at a time that helps me stay in the room. But we all know it is not simple. The reasons we don’t make time to write are complex and deeply rooted in our behavior and relationships. So, now that I’m home what are the nuggets I’ve emerged with?

Reduce distractions.

Stay fit and practice yoga/meditation.

Quit Facebook. While some of you might be able to use it wisely, I get on there and scroll. Also the connections there are somewhat illusory. I want more coffee dates, more letters, more writing retreats!

Write slow. There is so much focus on word count with writers that when I finally sit down to write I track my progress by the volume of words written. This leads to huge gaps in the narrative because in order to progress I will rush through the parts where I should slow down and write line by line.

Make time.

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Worth the wait

I’m not entirely sure yet what this story has to do with writing, but I know that it does have to do with writing in a big way.

There are many little and big actions that renew my commitment to write every day.

- - Running/Walking

- - Yoga/Meditation

- - Getting right to it and seeing progress (as opposed to the days where I sit down to write and waste most/all of the time checking email or social media)

- - Reading great writing

- - Attending lectures/talks/readings

It’s this last one that is the main subject of this blog entry. Last Friday, I went to the Barboza Lounge in Seattle to listen to John Darnielle read from and talk about his new and first novel Wolf in White Van. John Darnielle is known for his part in the musical group The Mountain Goats, but is making his debut as a writer. I went with my husband who is a long time fan of Darnielle’s music. I hadn’t read the book in advance and I don’t know Darnielle’s music so I wondered whether I would enjoy the talk.

What Darnielle read from his book made me want to buy it and what he said about writing made me actually take out my bank card and hand it over to the man in black holding a mini iPad with one of those magic squares that have come to replace the cash register.

The stage was set up in the usual SAL style, two deep, broad-armed black leather chairs not quite facing each other. The best seats were crossed-legged on a concrete dance floor. Chris (husband) and I sat shoulder to shoulder, waiting out the thirty minutes until the show started, drinking IPA out of plastic pint glasses. All around us people sat on their cellphones, sometimes couples sitting together staring at their tiny screens, scrolling. The more I looked around the sadder I felt for how unaccustomed we’ve become as a culture with periods of waiting.

Paul Constant (Stranger Books Editor) interviewed Darnielle. As soon as Darnielle started to speak, doubt that I would enjoy the talk and sadness from watching the tech-crazed crowd turned to enthusiasm. I don’t remember everything he said about writing and in a way the particulars don’t matter. Darnielle did not hesitate and he answered every question with authority. That he loved making stories that people might be moved by was uncontestable. We listened, rapt, until the audience question part came and people started asking questions that had more to do with themselves than anything he had said in the last 45 minutes. Were they even listening?

Writing and reading contain so many periods of waiting and that is part of what I love about both. The chance to spend an evening with a good writer willing to share his own methods for navigating those periods almost always pays in droves of inspiration.

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Setbacks

This week I encountered a major setback in the progress of my novel after several days of sweet flow. I set a goal of eight pages per day Monday through Friday for the five weeks I will be teaching summer school. By the end of five weeks, I mused, I would be back in the practice I’d fallen out of during a challenging school year. I arranged my life so that I could be successful, including informing my family of my plan, setting up a space to do the writing, and writing myself a letter setting my intentions. Three days passed and the world was rainbows and hearts and flowers because holy cow I was writing again and that felt better than ________ (fill in the blank with your simile of choice).

Then Monday happened and I thought at first that I must be asleep having a freaky-scary nightmare. I opened the document containing the 30,000 or so words I had so far of my novel and what did I see?

and therefoswimmin’wimminerefore couladded, twisting

Figure 1

It looked like someone took the letters of all the words and tossed them in the air to see where they’d land!

In the hours that followed I felt pretty certain that I’d reached the point where Liz gives up and my internal editor rose to the occasion, beating me down in that way only she can. You’re wasting your time. Think of all the books you will be able to read, how many seasons of TV you will consume. You’re life will be less stressful and you suck at writing anyway. It’s just a delusion you came up with as a little girl and why the hell do you keep pretending you are a writer? You’re a writer about as much as you are the most popular girl in school or a spy with special powers to read minds, also things you used to think you wanted.

I cried. I went to the gym and upped the weight on all the nautilus machines to make it even harder on myself, the loop of all the reasons I should just stop the madness playing on repeat.

When I came home I opened the document again thinking maybe it would be magically fixed. It t wasn’t. I didn’t write that day, but I did print out as many versions of the garbled prose I could find, vowing to make a plan tomorrow.

My plan? Retype the entire novel one chapter at a time and that is going to take some rewriting and some deciphering of nonsense. It is forcing me to consider every line and I’m cutting and adding too. I am saving a new draft every time I sit down to write in three locations: Drive, Dropbox, and the hard disk of my computer. I’m pretty sure the problem happened in the first place because I was working on a Macbook and an iPad. My iPad makes a nice ebook reader and has a nice yoga app on it, but I’m done with trying to write on it.

I wish that I could say, lesson learned, I never again have to encounter the self-doubt that accompanies setbacks in writing. Not only am I certain that sometime in the future I will have to resist the urge to delete everything I’ve ever written and take up crossword puzzles. I am also fairly certain that these setbacks make me a stronger writer and remind me why I go to all this trouble in the first place. In order to come back I had to remember that I write because I love it and that’s reason enough to carry on.

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Why stories matter

My seniors have spent the last several weeks reading excerpts from different styles and genres and responding to creative writing prompts. These seniors are IB students who work hard and who have now finished their testing for the year. They are just waiting to graduate. They’ve donned the apparel of the college they will attend in the fall and are playing cell phone video games, wearing slippers to class, and passing yearbooks.
Not all of them are thrilled that instead of having study hall or watching movies all class now that testing is over I am still making them read and write, but most are curious and willing to give it a try and a few have been waiting for a unit that lets them just play with words and stretch their imaginations, reaching for their own standards, not IB’s or mine.
Their final is to select one piece to read for the class in a planned, practice presentation that might include props and/or costumes. A student came in this morning to present to me. She explained how her favorite part of books is the description and that she’s always been good at writing description, but her challenge is trying to make a story out of her imagery. She worked on the piece she read extensively to move from imagery to actually having a story behind the description. Her piece was lovely, compelling, and rich in story. Her story, she explained, was a work of fiction in which she attempted to explore something she had been dealing with for the past several months: the inevitability of losing someone close to you at some point in your life (In her case, her grandparents who had both been in and out of the hospital).
We live in a world rich in story that is ours for the spinning and those stories are all deeply personal in some way. One can start with an image or a line of dialogue or an idea for a character or a theme. Why bother? Because our grandparents have been in and out of the hospital, we aren’t sure who we are anymore, or we don’t know how to get the attention of the person we think we just might want to spend the rest of our lives with—to name a few reasons. The stories that connect us are infinite and that matters.

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Make Time.

Liz Shine: Author, Editor.

Author Archives: lizshine74

About lizshine74

Wake before the sun? Are you kidding me?

Zen Accident

A New Year! Some reflections, plus what I read in 2014.

Understanding Comics Review

Inherent Vice Review

I might just spend all day reclining on the couch, two dogs curled up next to me.

Reflections on a writing retreat at the Extended Stay in Tumwater

Worth the wait

Setbacks

Why stories matter