So, I’ve been griping about burnout, which is a bit more intense than basic writer’s block. It’s the equivalent of my muse telling me that we need to see other people for now before it moved out. But I definitely think that when my muse returns (albeit petulantly, I expect), I’ll be appeasing my muse with some of Adam’s advice from his most recent web journal entry: Getting Unstuck (for authors).
Happy Valentine’s Day to all and to your muses–present or on a break.
And as a long-distance dedication to my own muse, Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance–because my muse was perfectly happy to let me write over 30 of them in 10 years without burning out:
I’m in an unpleasant situation currently with my manuscript for Man and Brother: Volume 2 of the Cryptid Series. On one hand, I really need to work on it to see a release date in the next six months. On the other hand, I’ve lost the energy to produce content to edit. So, I have a decision to make: Do I force myself to complete what I know will be an inferior product, or do I step back completely and return to reading and reviewing the books I have in my ever-increasing reading queue?
So, I got an email from a friend who is in an improvisation class. She’s currently learning improv games as a team comedienne, and she loves the class. She sent me links for a particular one: The Harold.
That is the lesson I have learned since I started my Twitter account. Am I perfect at it? Mmm . . . not entirely.
However, I haven’t yet bought anything or clicked on a link from an unsolicited email. I expect most people do the same.
I delete unsolicited DMs on Twitter which beg for Facebook likes within minutes after I follow back. I expect most people do the same, too. While I’m not as assertive as others, who unfollow the moment they receive an unsolicited DM advertisement, I definitely am deeply unimpressed.
To those people, I say:
May we try to build at least a rudimentary relationship before you ask me to commit cash or my recommendation, please?
Twitter can be such a treasure trove of wondrous finds for the wayward writer. We find the sparkling minds of so many authors to converse with; we are greeted with so many jewelled ideas splashed about in a kaleidoscopic wonderland.
Quips and tips abound to aid muse-enslaved writers as we weave on warp and weft tales to titillate and tantalize the imagination of ourselves and those beloved readers who take our hands and journey with us.
These are some of the gems I found by the amazing individuals who populate Twitter:
Bernard, the soon-to-be-copyediting squirrel, and I created a kerfuffle today over dialogue tags. He is of the mind that only lazy writers use varied dialogue tags. I’m pleased that his night classes are proving that he’ll be a tough little editor, but I just don’t agree that the only acceptable dialogue tags are:
He squeaked, she squeaked, they squeaked, you squeaked, I squeaked, and we squeaked.
Oh, I’m sorry. Bernard explained to me moments ago that I can use another: One squeaked.