Category Archives: creative fiction

5 Tough Questions You’ve Got To Kick In The Butt Today If You Want To Write A Best-Selling Novel Tomorrow

I wrote my first novel at 17. It wasn’t even a little bit hard. The story, the emotions, the characters and their struggles? Those were all ready to spill onto the page. But was it a killer New York Times’ Bestseller?

Oh, no no no my friend. It was not.

Six years, and several short stories and WIPs later, I’m no closer to shaking hands over a freshly-printed contract. But I’ve opened my mind, and those of my comrades, to the reality of fleshing out the novel inside our heads.

what's holding you back from telling your story?

 

What’s holding you back?

Make a list of everything — mental, emotional and physical — standing between you and your story.

For me, it’s making an unfair comparison.

As I’ve grown older and read increasingly sophisticated novels and short stories, I’ve guffawed over the awful and mundane and swooned over the captivating, smooth writing of my all-time favorite writers. My bar is high; my self-consideration is low.

Don’t measure your first drafts to a bestseller’s finished piece and wonder why you can’t focus on getting there. That’s like standing at the bottom of Mount Everest, sure you’ll never make it to the peak alive.

With that attitude? You won’t.

Be honest with yourself and carve out time for this exercise. After the list is complete (or as complete as you’ll allow it to be), run down the reasons and cross out anything that cannot be overcome or tossed aside.

 

Who holds you responsible?

The best creative decision I made in 2013 was to start a writers critique group. Once a week, one of us has to send out a short (less than 1k words) piece for critique. The rest of us supply feedback by the end of the week.

By developing manageable rules and requirements, we’re able to abide by that schedule and work on being tough but compassionate with each other.

It’s not easy to find an ideal group of writers — sharing your half-baked ideas and scribblings can cause a panic attack. But it also forces you to write regularly, stick to a schedule, read others’ work and learn from their mistakes.

And the responses, when positive, can fuel your creative fire.

 

Where are you starting?

The story’s beginning does not have to be your beginning. Content Marketing Institute proposes writing easier content first, then returning to what you’re struggling with. It gives your mind time to sort out, and possibly ditch, any concerns or inconsistencies with the trickier section.

If you have a solid structure for your novel, and are eager to pin down the opening, climax and resolution scenes or sequences, jump in. It might actually help you fill in the smaller details later on because you’ll better understand your character arc and how to feasibly get from Point A to Point B.

 

Are you being unreasonable with yourself?

When I talk to my writer friends, one question that consistently surfaces is “What if I can only write ‘x’ words per day?”

Um, hi. Progress is progress.

Hold yourself accountable by setting a specific time frame or word count per day or week.

Do yourself a favor, though. Don’t aim for an hour if you only have 20 minutes. Not only will you fail to meet that goal, but you’ll feel much worse than if you had made a more reasonable plan in the first place.

 

Do you know your characters?

I’m a character sketch/questionnaire/bio junkie. I love nothing more than to sit down with a pencil and loose leaf and chip away at a series of questions about the main character.

In doing so, the questions force me to learn the character’s backstory and reasoning for moving forward and growing. The answers spark potential scene ideas and color the way the characters engage with each other in those scenes.

Check out these questionnaires on Gather, The Writer’s Beat, Rob D Young, and Hollie Lisle (who, for the record, was my go-to source before I knew anything about anything when it came to writing).

Now tell me: what’s holding you back from writing the novel inside your head?

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A Letter To My Future Husband

When I set out to write you this, I turned to Google. You probably expected that already, seeing as I am a searcher – of answers, of goodness, of guides.

I thought our letter would be tucked deep down on page 15 of the search results, not yet discovered by even the most devout Internet crawlers. But I know it won’t. I know it has to look different from any other letter out there, because I imagine we’ll be different from any other couple out there.

There will be parts of me to learn over and over, like sifting grains of sand again and again to get to the finest particles until, finally, you know me. And I you.

But in the meantime, in this not-yet-something part of our lives, I’d like to say a few things.

I’m going to be hard to know. At first, you will have me pinned as the kind of girl who is just small and quiet. I can assure you that is not the case. There are not enough square feet inside me to hold every dream, every fear, every hope of mine. But I’m so glad you’ve decided to learn them one by one.

Isn’t that the only way to learn someone?

I hope you’re both apologetic and stubborn. I hope we both are, standing our ground when necessary but compassionate when we’ve done wrong. I hope we admit those moments, rather than build them inside until we cannot breathe without spilling them all over the house, like socks falling out of the laundry basket as I haul it up the stairs.

This is not about me. I don’t want to find myself knee deep in a monologue of things you’ve done—or not done—over the last day, week, year. I’d like it to be about us. The decisions we make and the ones we wish we didn’t have to settle on.

I am an expert at worrying. Plenty of people will tell you that. I just hope, if my cousin leans over at the rehearsal dinner and whispers it in your ear, it’s not the first time you’ve heard that. I hope you’ve already figured out how to settle me when I am sure, so very sure, the world is ending. Good news: the supposed apocalypse will have already happened before we wed.

You’re getting the family package. It’s me, my sister, my parents, my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and those friends of mine who have been in my life since I was 13 and more awkward than the Disney Channel has led you to believe. And we will be welcoming, so welcoming, but protective like whoa.

And lastly, I must tell you, my heart belongs to the New York Giants. I hope you’re OK with that.

With Love & Hope,

Kaleigh

By the way, every month I send out a short + sweet newsletter brimming with cool finds related to the monthly theme. It'd be stellar if you subscribed. If it's not worthy, it doesn't go in the newsletter. That. Simple.

Truth In Fiction: The Sticky, Heart-Shattering Stories

I had a story for you, but it wasn’t mine. And not that they are all mine, that I am in the business of hoarding these absolutely self-absorbed and metaphored fragments, but some stories are like windshield cracks—ready, at any moment, to spiderweb outward and cave in and leave you sitting in a pile of shattered glass.

I have a feeling this story is one of those, so I’ll let it live inside my heart.

But that’s the question I’m playing ping pong with. Do we write them down—the stories over which we may never take ownership—and live with the guilt of that when somebody calls up and says they’d like to know about the details between the paragraphs?

Do we sit across from them in chrome-lined cushioned booths and say that it was about a girl who got off at the same subway station some odd years ago, a photograph of our mother’s first grade class picture maybe, that sparked the first sentence?

Do we let the lines of truth bleed into our fiction? Let his cracked knuckles, her eyebrow piercing, the way they say the word “wooder” when what they really mean is “water” work it’s way into the conversation. Give them the pieces you can afford to shed, the ones that won’t open doors that lead to windows that lead to the retractable attic stairs holding not just ghosts but everything you shoved up there before you hrumphed and locked it good.

Or maybe we say yes. Yes, there was a girl in the diner who said my name so sweetly I felt compelled to buy a slice of apple pie a la mode from her every Monday night. Yes, that newsboy did once knock my middle-aged husband out when he flung the paper too hard. Yes, it did hit him square in the eye and cause him to stumble into the porch column.

No, she didn’t sing my name when she said it. I only wish she would have. No, he didn’t have a black eye for weeks. I only wish the boy had better aim.

Maybe that’s where the magic lies—in the mystery, the sheer hope, that some girl out there sings sweetly when she says your name, that she always warms your apple pie, that some town out there still has boys on bikes delivering the New York Times.

Maybe I’m too afraid, with the world as fragile as it is, to take away the hope that comes with naivete. Maybe I’m too afraid to replace it with the truth, leaving you with nothing to fill in but honesty. Nothing to muse over but sincerity. Nothing to ponder while you syrup your Belgian waffle but veracity.

Or maybe it isn’t for you at all. Maybe it is for the girl who sits in that diner, waiting for someone to come back time and again so she can feel wanted. Maybe it is for the boy who always hits the planter and keeps having to truck to Lowe’s to buy a replacement for the poor old lady whose granddaughter just desperately wants her to grow some geraniums.

Maybe it’s for the ones I’m protecting, the stories so real that they shatter your heart, the details too complicated to sift through in 500 words or less.

Maybe, I would like you to believe, all our stories can be told and retold and you will find what you need in them. Maybe I am afraid of the stories that don’t end well, that don’t sum up nicely, that don’t leave you feeling like today? I can do this. I can.

You can. Find the stories that know you can.

By the way, every month I send out a short + sweet newsletter brimming with cool finds related to the monthly theme. It'd be stellar if you subscribed. If it's not worthy, it doesn't go in the newsletter. That. Simple.

November Discoveries

November, I’ll be honest, was the longest short month of my entire semester. Not because of schoolwork, but because I watched people around me recover from at least five deaths, hold onto wishes and hopes that might not pan out, and just generally feel lonely. I’m hoping to bring them (and you all) a list to cheer your spirits.

Let’s begin.

So Worth Loving. The organization will write that phrase all over your favorite, well-worn t-shirt if you mail it to them. I’ve been a follower since the summer, but just this week they launched their official website and they now have their own merch, so if you’re not ready to give up your favorite item of clothing, you can buy something else.

Figment Fiction Short Story Contest. Figment’s a YA writing community & forum (that my 14-year-old cousin and I fell in love with last December when we decided I needed to work there). The company’s paired up with Seventeen Magazine & Scholastic for a short story contest and you only have to write 500 words. In fact, no exceeding that limit or you’re DQ’ed. I entered and am hoping to be among the top 60 finalists, but obviously if you’re a girl between 13 and 21 you best get your pen and paper and write your heart out for the contest, too.

Kerry’s Victoria Secret post. I am not a VS basher, by any means, and my roommates actually ran in my room asking me to go to VS while I was reading this, but I think it’s something that needs to be said. And I think Kerry’s got a way with words. I’ll preface it with this: you are not a model and we love you for that. You have curves and you should not starve yourself–your body is your fuel.

50 People, One Question – New York. OK, this video’s legit three years old, but I just discovered it and found myself wanting to seek out these individuals and tell them how charming and real and honest they were for the camera. This project asks each stranger the same question: “What do you hope to happen by the end of the day?” The answers are almost as colorful as the beautiful souls on screen.

More Love Letters

12 Days of Love Letter Writing. Hosted by the fabulous More Love Letters, the project’s going on from Monday to December 17. One mini package (or giant, if you all get in on it) of love letters for each recipient will bring some warmth and comfort during this month and I’m giddy over the chance to write a letter for one of the days (so be on the lookout for that, too).

A Year in New York. This video is beautiful and I cannot say anything other than that. If you love the city, you will love tracking through it from the eyes of this filmmaker.

Thank you, I won’t let you down. This post from Danielle LaPorte broke my heart and put it back together. It’s inspired by a clip from an X-Factor audition and the girl in the video just shines with personality, voice, sass and, most of all, gratitude. This is what talent’s all about, guys.

Coming Soon: I’ve developed a super secret list of seven wonderful women who—in 140 characters or less—have taught me a thing or two about life, love and growing up. December’s posts (beginning on Monday) will be dedicated to unveiling each lesson, one at a time, and the woman behind it. Prepare for total inspiration.

By the way, every month I send out a short + sweet newsletter brimming with cool finds related to the monthly theme. It'd be stellar if you subscribed. If it's not worthy, it doesn't go in the newsletter. That. Simple.