Category: Writing

Hello There, All-Nighter

Stefanie Snider

I’m making some exciting headway on my novel (“novel” is such a terrifying word, fraught with danger, that I dare not speak it aloud). I’m very superstitious, it turns out, and honestly even writing about how well it’s going makes me afraid of jinxing it.

You gotta strike while the iron’s hot, they say. So, in homage to the good old days when I’d see the whole night through, I’m queuing up the coffee maker and having myself a little write-a-thon tonight. Once C heads to bed, the games begin.

I don’t remember the last time I was this excited about a story. And now, to appease the Gods of humility, let us not speak of it until the night is through.

(image source)

Life’s Better In the Zone

Stefanie Snider

Yesterday I wrote.

That wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary — excepting unforseen catastrophes, I try to write something every day.

The difference with yesterday was that I tripled my typical output.

I’m working on a novel right now, and have a couple shorts bubbling away. (People said I should put one out for Halloween, being a horror writer and all, but neither is ready yet. I’d rather wait until I love them more.) Yesterday I sat down, set my timer, figured I’d get some words down on the novel then go about the rest of my day.

But what happened instead was that I fell into that mystical place: the Zone. Where the words seem to flow through you, whispered in your ear by some other storyteller. All you have to do is catch them before they wink out, and nail them down before they get away. When you’re there, you know: it felt like my hands were guided by someone, or Something other than myself, and when I read over what I’d written it seemed to have come from someone else altogether. At the same time, the voice is completely, one hundred percent me at my best, and I couldn’t be happier. I love the story, and everyone and everything in it. I know what’s happening and where it’s going.

I came away from the session with legs cramped and brain spinning. Pleasantly exhausted and wrung completely dry. It was running a marathon. It was winning a gameshow. It was years of practice at writing distilled into one perfect afternoon.

I can only hope Whatever that was comes to visit me again soon. We’ve got a lot of work to do, the two of us.

The Pomodoro Technique for Productivity

Stefanie Snider

“The Pomodoro technique is a time management method developed by Francesco Cirillo in the late 1980s.[1] The technique uses a timer to break down periods of work into 25-minute intervals called ‘Pomodoros’ (from the Italian word for ‘tomato’) separated by breaks…” – Wikipedia

I just came across this technique today, after falling down one of the endless internet rabbit holes the technique itself should help combat.

The basic idea is this: set a timer, work (write) for 25 minutes, take a five minute break, repeat. You get the reward of a quick break just when it’s most likely that your mind has started to wander.

I bought a timer (digital, though manually-wound is recommended) and gave it a shot. Other than the fact that I cut out early to watch a show about Voodoo, it worked well. Knowing that I had a break coming up freed me to concentrate on my story without feeling like I was glued to the chair all night. It’s a simple thing, but it seems to be working so far. And hell, I’ll take all the help I can get.

PS – The technique is called “Pomodoro” because its inventor used a tomato-shaped timer. I like to think of each of my “pomodoros” as being one of the mutant tomatoes from Attack of the Killer Tomatoes!. Take that, lack of focus. I WILL DESTROY YOU.

F-O-C-U-S Spells…Ah, Fuck It.

Stefanie Snider

I’m in one hell of a slump.

I don’t know if it’s the general blue feeling I’ve been experiencing lately, or my propensity to take on WAY more than I can actually handle, but…I’m frozen. I feel like I can’t get anything done. I have a million projects on the go, and rather than focusing on one at a time and seeing it through to completion, I find myself dancing around sticking my fingers into all of them and finishing nothing.

I like to think I’m driven. I like to think I can master this whole discipline thing. But frankly, discipline isn’t all that much fun. It’s easier to waste time on the internet. It’s easier to wait until the perfect moment comes along. It’s easier to blame my lack of productivity on those absent douchebag Muses (who, by the way, are not getting the raise they requested).

But really? It’s me. Of course it is. I’m the one finding excuses. I’m the one wasting time on things that don’t matter. I feel scattered and overwhelmed right now and I’m having a hard time digging myself out of this hole. (Yes, I know I’m being whiny. And yes, I know I don’t have patience for whiners. But I’m not perfect, and it is what it is.)

I know, in my heart of hearts, that the only thing that will fix this is — you guessed it — focus. I need to pick the one thing that’s more important than all those other things and pummel it until it cracks and something wonderful falls out.

Now if I could only figure out what that thing is…