Waterfalls…but only when pushed

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Considering my fear of heights (I can’t even watch a film of a cliff face), my fascination with waterfalls intrigues me. There is something about the descent of all that water that just amazes me.

Maybe it’s the power. Maybe it’s the freedom. I know there’s a thrill.

The following photos were taken in a variety of locations, including British Columbia, Costa Rica and Las Vegas.

Writer’s Block-ed – Part Two

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In Part One, I discussed the idea that the only difference between creatives and non-creatives or people who are blocked is a psyche filter that has become clogged; a filter that sits between thoughts generated deep within and expression of those thoughts to the outside world.

Below, I offer some thoughts on what I have found effective in unclogging that filter.

Step over it or go around it. Nowhere is it written that you must solve this problem right now. Depending on the nature of the project in which you find yourself stuck, is there an opportunity to simply mark a placeholder for where you’re stuck and move to the next part? Personally, in any creative endeavour, forward momentum is key and once lost is hard to regain. It’s easier to push a car that is already rolling than to get one rolling. A number of my manuscripts contain notes to myself along the lines of [something exciting happens here].

Likewise, for a written work, don’t feel like you have to solve all of the plot details early on. I had one screenplay that required my protagonist be in disguise. I had no idea how to do this logically, but proceeded as though it would come to me later…and it did. If you’re in a good space, the spirits will guide you and you will find your answers. But you have to be open to those answers.

Walk away. For most of us, these are very personal projects the only deadlines for which we hold internally. So, screw the deadline. Walk away from the project for a bit. Go see a movie. Read a book. Listen to music. Go for a run.

The longer you focus on the problem, the more inflamed it becomes until it becomes a creative cancer. Let it rest. Give the rest of your brain something to do. Let it do the heavy lifting for a bit. You may just find that the rest of the brain has ideas your creative centre wasn’t able to deal with and those ideas may just sneak past the filter (so have a notebook in your pocket, just in case).

Move to another project. I think a mistake a lot of new writers make is only having one project, as that blows the importance of the project way out of proportion. At any given moment, I have at least a dozen different creative projects on the go, at various levels of completion. That way, the minute I see the first signs of boredom or frustration with a project, I can move to another one to maintain my personal forward momentum. Perhaps the one thing that clogs a filter quickest is creative fallowness as lack of movement breeds insecurity.

The nice thing about working on multiple projects is that the creative act on one project often stimulates the creative response on another. You may have your answer to project one; you may not just be able to see it until you work on project two. Which leads me to…

Try another creative activity. Creativity breeds creativity. For me, photography stimulates writing (I suspect it works the other way, too). When I’m taking pictures, I am focused on the task at hand, the object on the other side of my lens, but because I am a storyteller, part of my brain is applying context to that image. You may have seen examples of this in some of my other blog posts. It allows me to visually tap into other emotions and contexts not previously obvious in my mind and those may inform my writing dilemma.

The key is to actively engage your brain. If you want to do something more passive like reading a book, as suggested earlier, try reading it aloud. Forcing yourself to actually engage with the written material will stimulate different parts of your brain, including your auditory centres. Responding to the movie screen, however, will likely get you thrown out of the theatre.

Hang with other creatives. First off, I don’t think there is anything inherently wrong with a pity party. It can be good to commiserate and share war stories from the trenches. It helps us to understand that we are not alone and that there is another side to the current blockage. And who better to help you with that than fellow members of the society.

Likewise, simply sharing your dilemma opens the floor to multiple brains with filters at various stages of clogging. Hopefully, around the table, there is enough creative force to blow the walls of those filter pores and clear things out. Yes, it’s your project, but you don’t have to do it alone.

If you think screaming at the gods will help break your writer's block, give it a go! (Photo taken in Hope, BC, ironically enough)

If you think screaming at the gods will help break your writer’s block, give it a go! (Photo taken in Hope, BC, ironically enough)

Writer’s Block-ed – Part One

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Anyone who has stared at a blank page or screen and been incapable of adding words to it understands the living nightmare that is writer’s block. The whiteness of the sheets or the blinking of the cursor mocks you as you struggle before it, desirous of wondrous expression but incapacitated and mute. You feel incapable, devoid of ideas, and worry that your creative ju-ju will never return.

But are we correct in feeling this way? What is writer’s block?

To my mind, the only difference between creatives and non-creatives is a willingness to create. We all have it within us; it is just that some of us move unbridled to the fore while others linger back. It is as though there is a psyche membrane or filter that separates us, or perhaps, to be more granular, it separates thought from expression.

Think of any filter in your house. The air filter in your car, for example. The filter keeps particulate matter—dust, dirt, debris—from damaging your engine while still allowing air to reach the combustion cylinders that convert fuel to power. When that filter gets clogged, however, less air can reach the cylinders and therefore the car underperforms or does not run at all.

I think the psyche filter works similarly but with a twist. In creatives (and likely in children), the filter is clear and wide open, allowing thoughts generated deep within to pass through freely and find expression in the outside world.

In non-creatives and people experiencing writer’s block, it is less that the pores of the filter have become clogged, so much as the pores have shrunk to microscopic size—a self-clogging filter, if you will. This prevents almost all of the generated thought from reaching the surface to be expressed.

You are generating ideas, but for whatever reason, your filter is keeping you from letting them free.

Alternatively, the filter works more like the car filter in that your psyche requires stimulating input to convert brain energy to creative power. In creatives, the filter lets in everything (or a large part of everything), whereas in non-creatives, again, the pores are too small to let anything more than the rudimentary information needed for survival enter and so the creative engine stalls.

In either case, the capacity to generate thought and to express those thoughts is the same in both groups of people. It is the nature of the filter that distinguishes us.

I wish I could present you with the secret answer for unblocking that filter when it becomes troublesome, but the working mechanisms of each filter are unique, yours attuned to your psyche.

In Part Two, I’ll offer some thoughts on what I have found effective in dealing with a clogged filter. They don’t always work, but by having multiple outlets, I hedge my bets that something will work.

The following gallery explores colour at one of my favourite buildings in Montreal, the Palais des Congres.

Seascape

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I sit on a rocky promontory,

Gazing over the waters of the sea.

Waves splash below me, sending a spray of water

From a sea, ill-tempered and intemperate.

Somewhere in the distance, a boat has passed

And the waves have reached the shore,

The waters angered by the disturbance.

The water reaches across the rocks

Forming pools in crevices created at an earlier time;

Eroding a little more stone to become

The sand of some far off beach.

In an endless rhythm, the waves strive

For the beach and are mercilessly drawn back.

A twig is caught in the ebb and flow

Never certain when it will get thrown

Too far up the sands or finally drawn

Into deeper waters to voyage somewhere else.

 

Caught in pools, between the larger rocks,

A microcosm has formed of predator and prey,

A world of colour and beauty, life and death.

The flowery anemone, waving in the eddies,

Await their prey with numbing venom.

A small crab picks through the sand,

Scavenging for carrion from other meals past,

Crawling aside to move around a sea star.

Urchins, moving ever so slowly across the rocks,

Their spiny coverings a defence against attack.

Small fish, trapped with the last tide,

Eating plant and animal, their escape

Hours away, at the mercy of the moon.

Vertebrate and invertebrate, together,

Calling this home; for now or forever.

 

The sea is the beginning

And, ultimately, the end.

Great distances

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I sat down recently to come up with some of the great distances in the known universe and think I have discovered the one that trumps them all.

Riding the elevator on Toronto’s CN Tower? Like falling off a log.

Leaping the chasm of the Grand Canyon? Pfft, nothing!

Swimming the Pacific Ocean? Like taking a bath.

Visiting the Oort Cloud at the edge of our solar system? A walk on a foggy day.

No, my friends, none of these is even close to the Greatest Distance in the Universe. That title goes to the space between the nib of a pen and the paper beneath it. I know this, because I have spent hours of my life watching people who cannot traverse this great gap.

The pen sits poised. Ink tantalizingly and agonizingly close to realizing its dream of spreading through the fibres of the paper. You can practically hear the Siren call of the note pad, seducing the ink to come join it in creative matrimony.

And yet, nothing.

The muscles of the hands tighten. The forearm presses harder into the table. The blood accelerates through the capillaries. Neurons in the brain fire in all directions. The spirit wails in unfulfilled lust.

And yet, nothing.

The gap is too large. The rewards uncertain. The risks too high.

Like a supportive father-to-be, I want to scream “Push!” and remind them to breathe.

Like a bicycle-training parent, I just want to nudge their hand to the paper and trail alongside it as it wends its way across the page, releasing just as it seems they have the hang of it.

Like a police psychologist, I just want to talk them down, let them know it will be okay.

But I am powerless in this process. This is something they have to do for themselves, much as I did for myself. When they are ready, they will write.

Until then, as a friend, I will stand with them at the edge of the abyss and imagine what is on the other side, awaiting them.

Any journey is an individual one, no matter how many people come along. (View from Mt. Baker in Washington State)

Any journey is an individual one, no matter how many people come along. (View from Mt. Baker in Washington State)

Have you herd?

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The ground is covered with the crisp snow of January,

The wind howls its plaintive cries of winter.

The herd mill about in tight formation

Trying to stave off the cold.

Most lift their feet one at a time

As if to get brief respite from the icy tendrils;

Their flesh quivering to make blood rise

And warm their souls in the early morning darkness.

There is little communication between the members

As thought is too difficult on this cold winter’s day.

The breath of the herd forms an icy cloud above their heads,

That is quickly blown away to fall as snow in some far off land.

Their minds wander to that time so long ago,

When the sun shone brightly and the grass was green;

A time of plenty when they were warm and active.

 

The wind blows one icy blast, masking out all sound

Even that of their own heart beats.

With ice forming on their coats,

The herd huddles even closer,

More oblivious than ever to the world around them.

Suddenly, one of the herd lifts its head.

A whisper is faintly heard fighting against the breeze.

In response, more to their mate than to any sound,

The herd begins to waken.

The herd jostles as the sound changes

From a whisper to a call to a roar.

The herd becomes a living organism,

Changing from its dormant state to one of vitality.

As the sun peeks over the horizon, and life returns,

A clear call is heard by all:

“VIA train, eastbound for Toronto,

Now arriving on Track 2.”

Another workday begins for the people of Oakville.

Giving Feedback – The Reviewer Strikes Back

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Okay. So, now that we’ve discussed asking for and receiving feedback, is there anything we should consider before giving feedback.

We’ve all been on the other side, awaiting a kind word or a withering criticism from a respected compatriot or senior, so we should all be aware of the power of the right word at the right time. You have been given an honour by the recipient and should give him or her and the work the respect they deserve.

Below, I offer some thoughts on how to approach the feedback process when asked, but (sorry for the broken record) I want to hear what you think too.

Feedback is personal. It reflects who you are, what you believe and how you feel. Don’t try to make it otherwise, lest you lose any value it provides. The writer asked you for very specific reasons. To give them anything less than you is a disservice.

Make sure, however, that your feedback is more than just opinion, even though that forms the basis of it. There is a world of difference between superficial criticism and thoughtful critique. Criticism is about saying what you feel. Critique is about asking yourself why you feel that way and discussing what it means with the writer.

Ask questions. Be sure to ask questions both before and after you’ve completed your analysis. What kind of feedback are you looking for? Is there anything you specifically want me to keep an eye out for? What was your thinking behind this scene or character?

Without knowing the answers to these kinds of questions, I don’t think you can offer the most effective feedback. Likewise, the answers may provide you with a framework on which to build your feedback or tell if you’ve misunderstood something significant.

Be honest. Never be afraid to tell the truth, no matter how brutal. You’re the best judge of what you think the writer can handle, but by the same token, they’ve asked for your help and holding back may be counterproductive. It’s possible to be honest without crushing someone, and I don’t mean making a shit sandwich (good news-bad news-good news). Rather, walk them through your thinking as you read their stuff and, even if they don’t beat you to the conclusion, at least they understand your reasoning.

And wherever possible, don’t leave them hanging. Offer suggestions as to how the work could be improved or fixed. If you have no ideas pre-emptively, brainstorm it with them. If nothing else, it will show the writer that you’ve invested in his or her work.

DON’T COPYEDIT. That’s not feedback, it’s copyediting. Unless the spelling of a word or the punctuation of a sentence significantly impacts the meaning of a sentence, leave it alone. It ends up being a distraction from the important conversations. If their climax sucks (you’ll want to be more specific), who cares that they should have used a semi-colon or incorrectly used “its” instead of “it’s”?

Put it in writing. Even the most seasoned writer will miss important tidbits of information while scrambling to take notes on your feedback. By writing your feedback out, preferably within the manuscript itself, you give the writer the chance to follow what you’re saying and how you’re saying it, rather than focusing on the details of the feedback, which they can do at their leisure.

Look for the bigger picture. As you compile your feedback, look for trends or commonalities. As with receiving feedback, ask yourself if any groups of notes refer to the same issue; e.g., a lot of scenes take too long to get started or could be started later without losing the story. Be ready to provide examples, of course, as the bigger picture is typically less obvious, but try to avoid getting stuck in the weeds.

Besides, if there are fundamental issues with the story or its presentation, then all of the nitpicky stuff is unimportant and you’ll be wasting your and the writer’s time.

Your feedback; the writer’s work. Even if you inscribe your comments on stone (see “burning bush”), the writer does not have to agree with you. It is important as you analyze someone’s work that you remember it is their work. Although you can help them develop their voice and style, it is not your task to change their voice or style. Likewise, and more importantly, it is not your job to convert their work to your voice.

Me acting like I could ever teach anything about comedy to the very funny ladies Nicole Rubacha and Megan Mack

Me acting like I could ever teach anything about comedy to the very funny ladies Nicole Rubacha and Megan Mack

Spring takes wing – Washington, DC

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So, it seems to be the season of the sparrow this year as they were out in profusion across Washington, DC, although the starlings did their best to make an appearance or two.

The hardest part about getting some of these photos was keeping vacationing children on the Washington Mall from scaring potential subjects away.

Receiving Feedback – Part Two

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In Part One, I talked a bit about the challenges of asking for and receiving feedback. Below, I offer some thoughts on how to resolve some of those issues, but again, want this to be an open discussion.

When to ask. Feedback can be valuable at any stage of an exercise, but the type of feedback you need will change as your work progresses. Out of the gate with draft one, you really just need to know if the story works. After that, you’ll begin to explore things like character arcs, scene/event order (plotting), etc. Give specific direction on what you want from the reviewers.

Whom to ask. Ask for feedback from people whose sensibilities and/or writing you respect. If they think in a manner that attracts you or write in a style that you find interesting, then they are more likely to give you feedback that meshes with your goals for your work. As your skills mature, you can venture further afield and test yourself against people who think significantly differently from you.

Give direction on what you want. If you simply give someone your work and ask them to let you know what they think, then you deserve what you get. Ask for their thoughts on specific aspects of your writing so that they can focus on just that aspect. Alternatively, tell them what you worry about and let them interpret how to give feedback to address that need.

Ask questions. When you receive feedback, don’t simply say thank you and then go read it in a corner, deciding whether to commit hari kiri. Make sure you understand their feedback so that you know how to use it. It may be that they have totally misunderstood what you have tried to do—which is itself something to look at—so the specifics of their feedback may be of limited use.

Think about the feedback. In some cases, simply incorporating some feedback will make sense; however, you generally want to see what the feedback is telling you at a broader, more basic level. Does all the feedback come down to the same one or two things? For example, if a lot of the feedback is asking why your characters did certain things, then maybe the bigger issue is a need to more deeply or transparently explore character motivation. Not an easy task, but ultimately more rewarding than simply explaining away the why’s through exposition or on-the-nose dialogue.

NO FEEDBACK IS GOSPEL. If a burning bush offers you insights on your project, always remember that this is just one plant’s opinion. The smouldering conifer a few feet over may have totally different or contrary suggestions.

Don’t rely on one source of feedback, as it will include personal biases that may not be germane to your work. And even when you get feedback from multiple sources, look for patterns in the feedback. If 70% of people have issues with your climax, it’s probably time to review your climax. If, however, 30% don’t get your antagonist, you may want to look at that, but it’s not a priority.

This is also why it is important to request specific feedback. If 10 people give you 10 thoughts each and none or few of them overlap, you have no idea what is important and what is personal taste.

Remember who’s in charge. This is your work and you should be prepared to defend it while being open to ways to improve it. You DO NOT have to incorporate feedback you get. You may feel it’s off base, doesn’t really fit with what you were trying to do or the story you wanted to tell. Fine. Stick to your guns (or weapon of choice). Just because you asked for the feedback, doesn’t mean you have to take it (not even mine).

Tell your story, your way.

As my first and only tattoo, I wanted something that spoke to how I wished to be remembered

As my first and only tattoo, I wanted something that spoke to how I wished to be remembered

Receiving Feedback – Part One

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Feedback is always difficult, or it should be.

When a sound system suffers feedback, it is a loud resonant noise that increases in pitch as it slowly and achingly bores a hole into your head. Feedback on a piece of writing (or any other piece of art) can feel very much the same.

Unlike the sound system example, however, feedback is vital to the survival and improvement of your art. It will help you understand the places in which people struggle to see your vision. But just as importantly, it helps you see where your efforts resonate—in a positive way—with your audience. The challenge is understanding how much weight you should put on the feedback.

When we first start writing, we tend to wait forever to ask for feedback, often for fear of being told our work sucks. And when we finally do receive feedback, we take all the negatives to heart and may never hear the positives. We then destroy our work by either shelving (deleting) it or by trying to incorporate every piece of feedback into the work. The latter effort results in a work that is either a complete mess that makes no sense, or worse, reflects the tastes and preferences of the person providing feedback and not us, the artist.

We also tend to ask the wrong people for feedback—friends, parents, partners—perhaps in the hope they’ll be gentle with us. Unfortunately, these people don’t tend to have experience with this kind of thing—the “but I know what I like” syndrome—and so the feedback runs the brevity gamut from “I really like it” to “I’m not sure I get it”, none of which is particularly useful or informative.

As we mature in our writing, we may ask a larger number of people to review our stuff, but then we run into the problem of conflicting opinions. And as with the eggs in one basket scenario, we may try to please everyone with changes—destroying our own voice—or simply shelve the whole project. There’s also the possibility that we’ll take the attitude that everyone’s crazy and we’re brilliant, but that doesn’t happen very often at this stage.

We still may not be asking the right people, but we’re more likely in the right ballpark, focusing on other writers. If those writers aren’t at our level or higher, however, the feedback we receive will be helpful but probably won’t get us to the next level. Nobody’s fault. They just probably haven’t developed the critical skills needed to help us find not just challenges but also ways to solve them.

So, what’s a poor writer to do?

In Part Two, I’ll offer some thoughts on how best to approach the challenge of asking for and receiving feedback.

I want this to be an open conversation, however, and welcome you to contribute your experiences or thoughts to the conversation as well.

My brother has his own way of dealing with feedback, but he's a pretty good guy nonetheless.

My brother has his own way of dealing with feedback, but he’s a pretty good guy nonetheless.