17 Reasons to Write Something NOW

I get it. You’re busy. You have other commitments: work, school, the kids, your friends. I understand.

I know writing a short story or a novel or a blog post is scary. What if someone reads it? And yes, it’s true. You might fail. People might not like what you write. Worse, they might ignore your writing altogether.

However, if you’ve ever wanted to be a writer, now is the time to start. If you don’t believe me, here are seventeen reasons to write right now.

17 Reasons to Write Something NOW!

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1. Your writing doesn’t have to be perfect (yet).

Stop being such a perfectionist and write. Write gibberish. Write terrible rhymes. Write whatever you’re thinking. Write about what’s around you. You can edit it later. All good writing is choosing the best words out of the bad words anyway. Go write a lot of bad words (pun intended if that’s what it takes to get you started).

2. Writing is relaxing.

When you’ve had a long day, writing is one of the best ways to decompress. Let yourself get a little sleepy, a little loose, and then let the words flow. You actually write better when you’re groggy, not fully awake, and relaxed.

3. You’re going to get rejected no matter what.

You’re more likely to get into Harvard than to get your short story published by a top literary magazine. However, rather than let that discourage you, let it free you up from perfectionism. You have nothing to lose now. Since you’re going to be rejected no matter what, you can write whatever you want, submit wherever you want, and you’ll be no worse off.

4. Thousands of publications want to publish you.

However, not all literary magazines are so difficult to be published by. According to Duotrope, are 4,368 publications who may want to publish short stories, poetry, and creative non-fiction. There have never been more people in the world who want to publish your work. So go find them.

5. Does the world really need another short story / book / blog post?

Is the world still in pain? Do people believe their lives are meaningless? Are there those who suffer from despair, ennui, narcissism, and loneliness?  Does war still exist? Do people still commit suicide? Do battered women still stay with the man who abuses them? Do fathers still abandon their children?

Yes, the world really needs another story.

6. Stop being a consumer.

You’ve read stories in books. You’ve listened to stories in songs. You’ve watched stories on the television screen. Aren’t you tired of always being a consumer? Why don’t you stop being a consumer and start creating a story?

7. You don’t have to be a great writer.

You don’t need my permission to write. You don’t need your teacher’s permission to write. You don’t need your parents’ permission to write. Stop waiting for permission. Just go write.

8. Become a great writer.

You won’t become a better writer if you don’t write today. Great writers are not born, they are made slowly through daily, deliberate practice.

9. Create a writing habit.

It’s easier to write every day than it is to write three times a week. When you write every day, it becomes a habit. When you write three times a week, it takes willpower. Willpower is a limited resource. It will fail you. Habits, on the other hand, can last for a lifetime.

10. Build a writing career.

If you want to be a writer when you “grow up,” you have to write. You have to submit your work. You have to be rejected. You have to write anyway.

If you want to start a career writing fiction, check out my new book about how to write and submit short stories.

11. Because you’re never too old to write.

Mark Twain was forty-one before he published Tom Sawyer. Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of the Little House on the Prarie series, was in her sixties before she published her first novel. You’re not too old to write, but you aren’t getting any younger. Get started today.

12. Because you’re never too young to write.

This month we published the first article of a monthly column by a The Magic Violinist, a disciplined, passionate, and talented writer. She has already completed three NaNoWriMo novels and has probably read more books about writing than I have. And she’s twelve. You’re not too young, but time goes by quickly. Get started today.

13. You can always find fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes a day, six days a week, we practice the craft of writing at The Write Practice. Do you have fifteen minutes for your passion?

14. Write to transform the world.

You want to make your mark on society. You want to help free people from depression, addiction, shame, self-focus, and hate. You want to do something that people remember. You want to create something that lasts generations, that’s remembered for hundreds of years. You want to inspire someone to see life as it really is, a gift and a joy, something to be grateful for. You write to change the world.

15. Because balance is overrated.

Passionate people aren’t balanced. Passionate people are actually kind of crazy. They’re willing to sacrifice money, grades, prestige, power, entertainment, and sometimes even relationships for their priorities. And yet, who is happier? Passionate people or balanced people? You decide: are you going to be passionate or balanced.

16. Write for your children.

Because your kids just want to hear your voice as you tell them a bed time story. Write for the people who are listening.

17. Write for yourself.

In my book, Let’s Write a Short Story! I wrote:

“I write because I know I’m meant to. I know that I need to. It’s good for my soul. It con­nects me to the human race. It feeds me.”

We write for others but we also write for ourselves. Your writing might transform someone’s life, but it also might transform your life.

Are you going to write today?

Updates on Let’s Write a Short Story!

Here are a few updates on my book:

  • Let’s Write a Short Story! hit a few Amazon bestseller lists, even surpassing Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird at one point.
  • The book already has 89 reviews and is the #1 rated book in the entire reference section. If you’d like to help, leave a review and click the “like” button at the top of the Amazon page.
  • You can still get the book in four major formats from letswriteashortstory.com for the same price as Amazon. Good deal.
  • The price is going up on Wednesday. If you haven’t gotten the book yet, make sure you get it today.

Why do you write? Share your reasons in the comments section.

PRACTICE

Free write.

Follow reason #1 and write imperfectly, exuberantly, and for the joy of it.

Write for fifteen minutes, and when you’re finished, post your writing practice in the comments section.

And if you post, be sure to show some community spirit and comment on a few other writers’ posts.

Photo by John Nuttall. Edited by Joe Bunting.

About the Author

Joe Bunting (@joebunting)

Joe is a ghostwriter, editor, and an aspiring fiction author. He writes and edits books that change lives. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.

  • Sela Toki

    Wow, thank you for just giving me a much needed boost to get back to writing. Have been sitting way too long. Got a children book published with a Publisher on Demand company a couple years back and the results didn’t turn out the way I expected so I got a little discouraged and have been wallowing ever since. It’s time to get back and you’ve been so motivating with this list. Thank you ever so much.

  • http://thethoughtfulbuttonhook.wordpress.com/ Kate

    Ahhhh, thank you, Joe!!!!!!!! Just what I needed after a stressful weekend at work. Incidentally, I have been reading some of the 15 minute practice thingies, and OMG, you guys are GOOD…I’m going to have to get some serious practice in….

  • http://twitter.com/LMarni Marni Gallerneault

    Very encouraging! I like the point about not worrying about balance, haha! Anything I read is always about finding balance and I actually feel quite relieved about being unbalanced! Practical advice, too. I think I could practice my writing for 15 minutes a day.

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Thanks Marni! You totally can.

      And yes, balance is overrated. The best artists, musicians, and writers in the world have always been out of balance, completely focused on their one passionate pursuit. It’s about finding a center, not finding balance.

  • http://twitter.com/MarlaRoseBrady Marla Rose Brady

    For me, part of being a writer is accepting my strangeness.  Letting strangeness ooze out of me and onto the sidelines of society.  Who cares what and who we are and where we are going?  The greatest stories and myths society will ever hear could very well, one day, be forgotten.

    We will all be forgotten one day, even our stories, no matter how Hemmingway or Faulkner or however we are, we will all one day be forgotten.

    A lot people don’t even know who William Faulkner is.

    My husband is an artist, and I have commissioned him to make me watercolors for every chapter of my book.  It’s our thing to do together.  Creative thoughts heal ourselves.  It’s important for us all to remember this.

  • Puffy

    (Uh…this is extremely imperfect. BUT I HAD THE MOST FUN WRITING IT :D)

    I wonder why volcanoes erupt.
    Is it because they’re angry? Their wife tells them to stop watching golf tournaments, lose weight, and get a decent job. And the volcano refuses and gets mad. Is that why they erupt?

    Or is it because they ate a rotten mud pie and they just had to erupt to puke it out?

     ”Dear, I made this just for you,” its wife said soothingly, tossing it a huge stone casserole dish.

     ”Is this safe?” the volcano asked sheepishly, sniffing the sour-smelling pie.

     ”Safe as a bottle of dermatologist-tested baby powder.” (She was lying.)

    Maybe it’s because the volcano had diarrhea. 

    “Martha, there was DEFINITELY something wrong with that mud pie,” it groaned. 

    “Nonsense, darling,” she replied, “Now, I’m gonna, uh, go get you some toilet paper and the newspaper while you do your business at the loo.”

    Science DOES say why volcanoes erupt. The heat from the Earth’s core cooks up the melted stone and it erupts…blah, blah, blah. Those textbooks pretend that volcanoes have no feelings! The nerve!

    “Martha!” the volcano exclaimed, cheerfully walking into the living room, “I had the best time today!”

    “Why, honeybunches?”

    “Well, it’s because I finally realized why we volcanoes erupt!”

    “Oh, that’s great, Harold!” she cried, standing up and hugging her triumphant husband, “Why DO we erupt?”

    “It’s because of–”

    A boy came in with a weird ball thing. The top was red, the bottom was grey. “PIKACHU, I CHOOSE YOU!!!” he shouted.

    Suddenly, out from the ball thing came a yellow rat. An extremely cute yellow rat.

    “What in tarnations?” the volcano yelled, “What you doing here, boy?”

    “I came to get you a foot massage, sir,” he replied simply.

    “With an electric rat?!”

    “Pikachu!” the rat piped up.

    “And it says its own name?” the volcano’s wife asked.

    “Yup,” the boy said, “I’m Ash, and that’s Pikachu. Actually, we’re from an anime called Pokemon, but we got fired by Satoshi Tajiri. Now we give volcanoes foot massages for work!”

    The two volcanoes were speechless.

    Ash asked, “So will it be the regular or the Super Pokemon massage?”

    “I’ll go with the Super Pokemon!” the volcano exclaimed.

    “Oh, that’s gonna cost you.”

    “Dang it.”

    • Antonia

      This is AWESOME. And also Legendary. Great job. Wait. Still laughing. Need to be calm enough to type.
      That is such a great topic to write about. Also, loving the random appearance of Ash and Pikachu.
      Wow.
      Dammit. *bounces up and down in chair in frustration* Now I want to know why volcanoes erupt.
      Well done!

  • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

    Joe, I like #15 Balance is overrated. I admire your quirky thoughts that come out sometimes in things like this, where you don’t just jump on the same bandwagon as everyone else, simply because its the fashionable train of thought. I agree. But it’s only been a very recent change of heart that makes me say that.
    I just bought your book, Let’s Write a Short Story, this morning. I’m looking forward to reading it :-)

  • http://100stories100weeks.com/ Jack Dowden

    I rediscovered my love for writing in the summer of 2007. In just about every way imaginable, I was a wreck.

    Fortunately enough, my job didn’t require my mind to be present, so it would drift elsewhere and dream little dreams of far off places and interesting people. I kept these things bottled up in my head for a long time, until I decided to just write them down on my computer.

    It was theraputic (spelling?), and I enjoyed the hell out of it. I didn’t write for money or for fame or whatever, I just wrote because writing felt good and it was something I really loved.

    I think a lot of people go through something like that, writing to fix themselves. It’s pretty much the one thing I’ve stuck with over the years. Writing is awesome.

    • Antonia

      I agree. I spend months just thinking, creating characters and worlds. Then suddenly, I feel that I need to write it down right now. I start writing, and because I’ve been thinking about it for so long, the words just flow. It’s the most amazing feeling.
      Also, seconded. Writing is awesome.

  • soulstops

    Congrats, Joe, on the success of your book. What a fascinating fact @ Mark Twain and Laura Ingalls Wilder…and encouraging :) Thank you.

  • http://spiritualsidekick.com/ Tom Wideman

    Mike walked into the room and immediately beads of sweat formed on his upper lip, and it wasn’t because of the summer heat, as one of the men had lowered the thermostat down to 65 degrees in the lodge. The sweating was actually due to the anxiety of being in a room full of Christian men.

    Mike had a history, a very private history, a deep dark secret that didn’t jive with church teachings. If these men knew his story, there was a good chance he would be run off the campground by a mob carrying torches and pitchforks. At least that’s how he envisioned it. He felt like a monster compared to these godly men.

    The meeting began with boisterous singing of unfamiliar songs and some fiery preaching by a sweaty overweight man who looked rather uncomfortable in his shorts and camp t-shirt. When the preaching was done, the men were split up into groups. Mike tried to escape to the restroom, but found himself being directed to a circle of men sitting next to the snack table.

    The group leader started the discussion by introducing himself and telling his story. He was recently divorced. The next guy shared that he was celebrating one year of sobriety. The next guy asked for prayer as his wife had caught him looking at porn and was threatening to leave him.

    Mike fought back the unmanly tears as one by one these men who he assumed were a bunch of Ned Flanders clones admitted they were screw-ups just like him.

    “Hi, my name is Mike,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but…”

    • Mariaanne

      This is an interesting start.  You always have good form to your stories.  The message that we are always among other people who do bad things is very clear here and told in very easy to read simple language.  If you develop this one, you might say what his secret is ahead of time or develop the other characters stories and show his response to them so that we can get a better idea of who he is, get at the people and not just what they did.  I think a more layered approach to this could be provoking. 

  • Deb Atwood

    Congratulations, Joe, on your stellar feat! I “liked” you on Amazon and wish you great success. 

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Thanks, Deb :)

  • Mirelba

    Congrats on the book, Joe.  Friends or not, it’s well deserved.

    Not much good with the free flow, no work of art.  I actually experimented with keyboard and paper and pencil, and it felt different.   Fewer white space/pauses with pencil other than that, do they seem different to you?   The writing was almost nonstop with the pencil, but even so, word count was higher on the computer.

    A.  

    Writing to write.  Feels
    good, relaxes. Don’t feel like thinking want to flow.  Let my hands go and fly across the page,
    watching the words taking shape, sometimes surprising me.

    It’s hot, hot and sticky. 
    Night time is here things still to do. 
    Tomorrow another day, full of promise and hope but so much to do in so
    little time.  Work obligations, helping
    M.L.  The grandkids coming home, seeing
    the baby after a month! Can’t wait.

     

    Writing.  Have to do
    my writing for today.  Have to work on developing
    my half-baked ideas.  Oh to be able to
    catch a reader and enchant them with my words. 
    To have them read something and feel still.  Have them read something and feel whole. 

     

    Share gratitude, bring comfort.  Bring wisdom to those flailing without knowing
    why.  Maybe find some wisdom for myself.

    Nothing really coming, just my fingers moving.  Move a bit more, fingers, keep it up, you can
    do it.  Too much rest today, too much
    reading, not into write mode yet?  Or should
    that be right mode?  Right write mode?  Peter picked a peck of pickled pepper- oh
    more like sixth sheik’s sixth sheep’s sick. 
    Yuck.  Not just my tongue that
    can’t get around that one.   Where’s that
    time?  I guess more fun to think of
    something first and then let myself go, not let myself go and then think.   Do I like to think too much?  I think therefore I am.  Or I think therefore I write?  I think I like to write.  I think I like to flow, but I prefer to think
    with my flow.  Too much thinking not
    enough ?  Flow flow flow, hi ho hi  ho hi ho.

     

    HI ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go.    Now I’ve got the seven dwarfs in my
    head.   Sign that it’s fairy tale
    time? 

    Oh m’gosh.  Way too
    much time left on the timer.  Help!  Stuck now. 
    Good chance to laugh at myself, don’t think any pearls are coming
    through, but I got myself to laugh at myself, always a good thing to do.  Now that I’m smiling now what?  Are you smiling too?  Just let a smile be your umbrella…  Talking in song again, of all the habits I
    had to pick up from my mother, this one takes the cake.  And I end up doing it even more than she
    does.  Annoying how you find yourself
    doing the things you hated when your mother did them.   Is editing
    here cheating? 

    15 minutes with pen and paper.

     

     

    Just for the record, trying freeflow with paper and
    pencil.  Let’s see if it’s any
    different.  Feels different, hope I can read
    it later.

    …Brain feels empty tonight, white white white white. Write
    on white.  Blank lines on white page
    letting thoughts out of their cage.  More
    words than thoughts.  Thoughts take
    flight across the lines, leaving me far behind. 
    Tings rhyming now—computer keys for prose, pens for rhymes?  Hope that happens all the time?  Oy, nothing worse than bad poetry.  Not a poet and I know it.

    Not a writer but a fighter? 
    God forbid!  Fighting days are
    over? Was I ever a fighter?  Naah.

     

    Running out of page—where’s my notebook when I need it?  Will the switch to  line to line make me stop with all these
    rhymes?

    Yikes!  Hope I’ll be
    able to decipher my scrawl.  Why the heck
    do I write at all?  Good question, Joe.

     

    I write because I do, always have, altho not always stories,
    but scraps of writing all over.  Open
    old notebooks and find notes and stories and scraps all over.  Write on whatever is available.  Not the writing that is the problem, It’s the
    pursuing and following through.  The fear
    of submitting.  Why?  To thine own self be true.  Why does one need courage to do it?  Have to think it through.

    Double trouble boil bubble. 
    Uh oh, feel Shakespeare coming on. 
    I think I’ve ruined that quote, though. 
    Double Trouble—wasn’t that a film years ago when I was a kid?

     

    All over the place today, not very literary and no
    gems.  But the point has been proven, more
    gets written by hand.  Should I dump the
    computer (gasp)?  DH would love that J

     

    Rustle of paper as the page turns.  Noise intruding or merging with the scratch of
    pencil on page?  Scratch and rustle,
    rustle and scratch.  Shall we rustle up
    some eggs, pardner?  Can just see the cowboys walking by.  More like strutting,
    with their ‘dorbanim’ and chaps. 
    HELP!  I’m losing my English.  End up writing about a Hebrew speaking cowboy
    or back to the cowboy in Israel.  Like so
    not.

     

    Bonanza.  Hoss and
    Little Joe. TV is too enmeshed in our culture. 
    And the bong is soon going to sound. 
    Help!!!!

     

    P.S.  wrong, higher word count by computer but fewer pauses when writing with pen.  Got the quote right once I finished, but I thought it would be cheating to fix it.  And of course, once I typed in  the handwritten part, the word “spurs” immediately came back to mind.  Don’t think I’ve ever used ‘dorbanim’ in Hebrew for anything other than a crossword puzzle. 

    • Mariaanne

      That was lovely.  ”To have them read something and feel still”.  It is just a great way to communicate.  I write with an ink pen most of the time but I work faster on a computer too.  

      • Mirelba

         Thanks!  Somehow that seems to sum it up the feeling I have when finishing a good book.

        • Mariaanne

          I know exactly what you mean.  

  • http://spiritualsidekick.com/ Tom Wideman

    I understand perfectionism is a no-no, but just wondering if #3 is supposed to say, “It’s MORE likely to get into Harvard.” 

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Ha, quite right, Tom. Thanks for making my post perfect. :)

  • http://twitter.com/pootlesuzie Suzie Gallagher

    She couldn’t face church. She couldn’t face all those concerned looks, the sympathy, the empathy, the pity, the “I know how you feel”, the “let me tell you about my pain”. She just could not be amongst people who cared.

    Instead she drove to the lake. 

    Silence isn’t silent at the lake, the waves gently break onto the stones, Choughs and Wood Warblers sing to each other, grasshoppers and crickets make their moves. There is something quieting in the non-silence of the lake.

    Her breathing forms a pattern, first designed thousands and thousands of years before, nature calming human. She cries out to God in the stillness, in the silence of her wrenched heart, she roars her name and the simply monosyllabic question “Why?”

    She sits on a rock staring at the lake, her tears fall silently, splashing onto jeans. The dog appears suddenly, knocking her off the granite perch.

    “Oh, sorry, she’s a bit clumsy, let me help you up, oh you’ve been crying, we have intruded, I’m sorry, we’ll leave you. Oh you’re Sylvie Breakman. I am sorry for your loss. Would you like to talk?”

    The man had appeared as quickly as the dog that she could now see was an over-exuberant chocolate brown Labrador about a year old, still full of puppiness. The guy was talking, she heard very little, sorry something something sorry talk. Did she want to talk? She hadn’t spoken to anyone in five days.

    The funeral had been on Thursday, two days after it was called in the operating theatre. It was called, that was how the insensitive doctor had told them. But maybe she needed that coldness to pierce the absolute stony silence in her heart, as it melted, as she melted into a mushy puddle.

    For twenty one years she had been nursemaid, nurse, maid, food provider, medicine giver, physiotherapist, therapist, speech therapist, taxi, ambulance, so many roles but mostly mother, mostly love giver.

    Her daughter, Elise, was famous locally as the girl who could. The doctors had given her zero chance of a life but Elise and Sylvie played by a different tune, they sang in harmony in life and loved living. 

    Sylvie hadn’t just lost a daughter but had lost her job. It was called. So she sat on a rock grieving instead of being with people and found one guy she could talk to. She even got offered a job that she might consider. First though she must go to church and meet all her friends, all Elise’ friends, all the friends of the family and be comforted, each new day will bring new joy, she knew but still she grieved.

    • Mirelba

       so true.  the desire to run from all those “I know just how you feel”.  Who really knows how anyone else feels?  Didn’t want to be sad tonight, but you got the feeling across.

    • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

       Absolutely beautiful.

  • Themagicviolinist

    “Mama!”

              The shrieks of my baby were loud,
    possibly even louder then the police sirens and gunshots.

              I rushed into her room and scooped her
    up. She cried more quietly as I rocked her and sang to her in a shaking voice.

              I closed all of the curtains and
    turned off the lights. I peered around a curtain and through a window. Two men
    carrying guns were trying to escape the police attempting to handcuff them. My
    heart pounded.

              Being a single mother and not having a
    very good job, Cassie and I couldn’t afford to live in a good neighborhood.
    Robberies happened weekly and telephone poles and bulletin boards were covered
    in posters of missing children.

              I was hungry every day and Cassie had
    one toy; her beloved teddy bear. She would have imaginary tea parties with
    plastic cups filled with orange juice.

              “Mama,” she’d say.
    “Come do our tea party with me and Teddy!”

              “Not now,” I’d reply with a
    sad smile. “Mama needs to do the bills.”

              Then I would go into my room and cry
    so Cassie couldn’t see.

              Cassie sniffed into my shoulder and
    wrapped her arms around my neck.

              “Shhh,” I said in a hushed
    voice, bouncing her up and down. “It’s okay. All of the bad noises are
    gone.”

              The two armed men were pushed roughly
    into a police car. I let out a sigh of relief.

              “Do you think you can go back to
    sleep?”

              Cassie shook her head no.

              I smiled weakly.

              “What if I sang to you?”

              Cassie nodded.

              I took her back to her room and set
    her down in the second-hand crib.

              “Which song do you want?” I
    asked her, stroking her blonde curls.

              “Sing the happy song!”

              I took a deep breath.

              “Nothing
    can hurt you, nothing can scare you, as long as we have each other. Everything
    is a rainbow, everything’s yellow, everything’s happy now. This is the happy
    song, and we’ll be happy all day long, this is the happy song, now go to
    sleep.” 

    • Mariaanne

      That was different from you usual action fantasy stuff and although I liked the other, I really like this.  It must be horrible to live in fear every day.  

      • Themagicviolinist

         I enjoyed writing something different. I actually wrote this story based on other stories I’ve read about people living in a tough neighborhood.

        • Mariaanne

          It’s very well done.  

          • Themagicviolinist

             Thank you! :D

    • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

      I love your happy song!  ’Everything is a rainbow, everything’s yellow’ – my heart leaps when I read that! 

      • Themagicviolinist

         Thank you! :D

    • Mirelba

       Kudos to Themagicwriter.  Oops, I meant Themagicviolonist.

      • Themagicviolinist

         Thanks! :D

    • Alisha Knight

       This broke my heart and made me smile at the same time.  Fabulous.  Loved the song at the end… maybe my bluebirds can learn to sing that while they weep into soup bowls.   =)  Wouldn’t that be poetic!!

      • Themagicviolinist

         Thank you! :D And yes, that would be very poetic. ;)

    • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

      You are going strong, girl!

      • Themagicviolinist

         Thanks! :D

    • Antonia

      Wow. This is amazing. I think you captured all the emotions really well. The happy song is great!

      • Themagicviolinist

         Thank you! :D

  • Oddznns

    I saw the Amazon rankings. Well done. Writing… yes, writing. And submitting.  We know why we write. Question is … why do people read? I’m doing some research for a new novel and I’ve just been reading the most depressing, angsty, victimish stuff. It gives me an insight into what a particular character in my novel might feel like. But puh-leeze…  Apparently, best sellers are best sellers because they allow people to learn something, to hope they can become something larger after they’ve read. I think that’s why Let’s Write a Short Story’s doing so well. And it’s something for us to remember as we write to. Even if our stories are about flawed lives and flawed characters, there has to be something in there that’s not just hopeless hopeless hopeless.

    • Mariaanne

      I agree, sometime even just a little humor can help.  

    • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

      Completely agree.  Finding beautifully crafted books AND movies is so hard if you’re not looking for melancholy.  It’s a constant quest of mine to find joyful art (and again, I don’t want plastic or the Brady bunch, I just want real life.  Because life is definitely a kaleidescope of emotions.

      • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

        Midnight Children is very funny, but it’s still painful, dark, hard. Do you think you can have joy without pain?

        • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

          Ja, good point – and it’s something I’ve been thinking on a lot lately…  I think joy is possible without pain – but I think that it’s that much sweeter after pain.  Pain teaches you to embrace life and seek joy – or let me say, it can!

        • Oddznns

          I’m okay with pain. It’s maudling that’s getting me down.

        • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

          Ah yes – in the literature point too – we def. need pain/problems to overcome them… But for me, it’s the hopelessness and despair that I struggle with in the majority of great art nowadays. Briefly tone vs subject matter.

        • Antonia

          I don’t like reading about hopelessness and despair. I don’t mind pain. I understand that it’s necessary, and you couldn’t have a really good story without pain. I really like books with humour in them, even just a bit of humour. I’m easily amused, which is probably why I enjoy the Skulduggery Pleasant series so much, even if it’s aimed at a younger audience. If there’s humour I find that the pain doesn’t get me down so much.
          Example from Skulduggery Pleasant. Baron Vengeous is the bad guy.
          “Are you going to shoot me?” Vengeous sneered. “I wouldn’t be surprised. What would a thing like you know about honour? Only a heathen would bring a gun to a swordfight.”
          “And only a moron would bring a sword to a gunfight.”
          Vengeous scowled. “As you can see,” he said, “you are vastly outnumbered.”
          “I usually am.”
          “Your situation has become quite untenable.”
          “It usually does.”
          “You are within moments of being swarmed by these filthy creatures of Undeath and torn apart in a maelstrom of pain and fury.”
          Skulduggery paused. “OK, that’s a new one on me.”

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Mmm… that’s interesting. This is a theory, but maybe people are so separated from there emotions today they need a very heavy dose of it in their art. 

      I read something in fast company recently that said true innovation is focusing on how your customers are going to be changed. How true that is for writing! The most innovative authors transformed their readers in new ways, helped them become something new. So who are your readers going to be transformed into when they finish reading your novel, Oddz?

      • Oddznns

        They’re going to see that whatever you’ve done with your life, it’s never too late to forgive and love yourself!

        • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

          Powerful message, Oddznns

  • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

    Ug, wrong formatting – hope this works.

    Beautiful girls in tight skirts, jeggings and black mascara mutter their insecurities as they get changed.  The girl next to me says she only wears grey but the bride to be says she’s the bride and she’ll decide, and the red belt looks good on her waist.  But the grey girl looks at the mirror at her hips and her eyes see them bursting at the seams.  

    We go outside and in the warm night air she says she feels naked without her jacket.

    Inside the pub the music’s already offering us magic. When the when the music starts to play, and us dancing girls are entranced.   Big clocks telling the time, and it’s close to Pumpkin hour, but the girls are just swaying to the music, and the boys smile at each other and sip down their beer, silenced since the girls burst into the crammed little pub. 

    Eyebrows raised across the table, and the boys who’ve become shy watch men walk up and down hilly green courses, just trying to hit a ball, and the world watches with them right now in Indonesia, and America, and they have people running after them because they can swing just right.

    The man on the piano is singing to a milllion people, although it’s just all forty of us, and some clap after he shares his heart while the rest talk over the noise.  The bride to be is elegant in spite of the fishnets and the boots and her red lips show the whiteness of her soul.  Big blue eyes watching her fiance’s smile which is only for her, and they know that they are the only two in the room.  

    A bunch come in who sway as they look at us, and smile because we are all a haze, and as each stumbles down the stairs their hands grab the pole for support.  The girl who has a leopard print flower in her hair and uses a pencil case as a handbag misses Twitter because the reception is bad.  

     Macy Grey’s singing  ’I thought I’d see you again’ and I think of my first kiss who was not only lousy but a runaway too and I start to laugh.  Never trust Backstreet Boys, I think as I remember his spiked hair and fast talk.

     We leave the London pub, where Sunday Roasts are R59-00, and go to Amsterdam, where people spill out into the streets.  I look at the grey girl. She has five guys just smiling at her every word, and I hope to goodness she’s not still worrying if she looks big.  

     In Amsterdam  there’s a  blonde Elvis from the 90′s and he’s leaning towards the crowd and his face is squashed in concentration and his guitar is his weapon and his gift.  People mingle around the tables and my husband puts his hands firmly around me.  A black woman shoots wild west style with her fingers at a white boy in a big grin and a cowboy hat and and they stand in mutual admiration for each other.  And I smile, a grateful spectator in a moment of holiness.

    • Mariaanne

      That was great Zoe.  You really get the feeling of nightclubs and young people partying.  i love the clothes descriptions here and I usually don’t but this is an example of the way the people are dressed saying something about what they are like I think. Did you do that intentionally.  Is the gray girl for instance supposed to be insecure, sort of a wallflower?

      • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

        Thanks Mariaane!  I meant to comment and say I LOVED your free write, and that inspired me just to go with the flow…  ’dust to coal to diamond to soul’ – that alone right there… WOW!  Ja, I think the clothes thing came up so much – as it does in partying!! – and it felt like that spoke a lot about the characters, and how they want to be perceived.

  • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

    Beautiful girls in tight skirts, jeggings and black mascara mutter their insecurities as they get changed.  The girl next to me says she only wears grey but the bride to be says she’s the bride and she’ll decide, and the red belt looks good on her waist.  But the grey girl looks at the mirror at her hips and her eyes see them bursting at the seams.  We go outside and in the warm night air she says she feels naked without her jacket.Inside the pub the music’s already offering us magic. When the when the music starts to play, and us dancing girls are entranced.   Big clocks telling the time, and it’s close to Pumpkin hour, but the girls are just swaying to the music, and the boys smile at each other and sip down their beer, silenced since the girls burst into the crammed little pub. The man on the piano is singing to a milllion people, although it’s just all forty of us, and some clap after he shares his heart while the rest talk over the noise.  The bride to be is elegant in spite of the fishnets and the boots and her red lips show the whiteness of her soul.  Big blue eyes watching her fiance’s smile which is only for her, and they know that they are the only two in the room.  A bunch come in who sway as they look at us, and smile because we are all a haze, and as each stumbles down the stairs their hands grab the pole for support.  The girl who has a leopard print flower in her hair and uses a pencil case as a handbag misses Twitter because the reception is bad.   Macy Grey’s singing  ’I thought I’d see you again’ and I think of my first kiss who was not only lousy but a runaway too and I start to laugh.  Never trust Backstreet Boys, I think as I remember his spiked hair and fast talk. We leave the London pub, where Sunday Roasts are R59-00, and go to Amsterdam, where people spill out into the streets.  I look at the grey girl. She has five guys just smiling at her every word, and I hope to goodness she’s not still worrying if she looks big.   In Amsterdam  there’s a  blonde Elvis from the 90′s and he’s leaning towards the crowd and his face is squashed in concentration and his guitar is his weapon and his gift.  People mingle around the tables and my husband puts his arm firmly around me.  A black woman shoots wild west style with her fingers at a white boy in a big grin and a cowboy hat and and they stand in mutual admiration for each other.  And I smile, a grateful spectator in a moment of holiness.

  • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

    I shoved my fingers down into dark, warm soil. Wiggled them around and felt the life. Yanking on weeds I fought and reclaimed land for planting. Pumpkins, big and orange, were filling my mind when a fat body hopped, plop, in front of me. Stifling  a little squeal, it quick became a chuckle as I leaned down to examine the fine fellow I had startled.

    His bulgy, toady eyes blinked at me. Stretching out a finger I stroked his plump body painted a clever brown camouflage. He eyed me suspiciously and wiggled down into the dirt. Maybe he hoped to blend in so the lady with the big grin, standing too close, would go away.

    Hip, hop, plop, blup went his squidgy, muddy feet through the garden soil. He had had enough of my curiosity. I set my jaw to liberating the rectangle of earth from invading weeds. Toad found a happy spot under a nearby rosemary bush to make himself a hole. Nestling down the sides of his big belly flopped over his back feet and he snuggled contentedly in the loam. 

    Working steadily, sun beating down on my brow, crick in my back, I kept one eye on my new friend. Laughter rang out and, “Mommy!” pulling me away from my chore. Children and friend mingled. Four little pairs of hands and four sets of eyes circled up to see the plump little treasure. “Ooh, aahh, he’s so cute,” exclaimed four sets of voices admiring his lovely skin.

    “Isn’t  God clever to make such a wonderful creature?” I teach. “Yes he is.” Off they scamper in every direction, like puppy’s frolicking and tumbling. Back to work. As the sun gets sleepy I finish my assault on the weed invasion. A  plot of freshly turned dark soil stretches before me, fresh, ready to bear new life. A few remaining herbs stand at attention keeping watch. And my fat little friend sleeps tucked in a blanket of dirt.

    • Themagicviolinist

       I like the “hip, hop, plop, blup.” Nice use of onomatopoeia. :D

      • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

        Thanks Magic, I love onomatopoeia. I’ve loved playing with the sound of words and in description since I was your age. One day my family tried to talk in onomatopoeia, that was fun! 

        • Themagicviolinist

           Talking in onomatopoeia? THAT sounds interesting! I’ll have to tell my mom and dad about that. ;)

    • Mariaanne

      That really had me feeling like I was working in the garden.  You put in just the right amount of details for my taste and I loved “A plot of freshly turned dark soil stretches before me, fresh, ready to bear new life” It makes me want to weed a flowerbed (maybe ;) )

      • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

        I have to be in just the right mood to work in the garden, or weed! It was the perfect day for it, sunny, cool breeze, delicious scent in the air. I’m glad you enjoyed the piece, maybe you could just vicariously weed through reading and put yours off for another day!

    • http://www.facebook.com/zoe.dyer Zoe Beech

      Your gardening pieces really make me feel I’m right there with you!  Very evocative. Great visuals, and I love the fun and playfulness of this piece.

      • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

        Thanks Zoe! I had fun writing about my day, it was lovely to live and re-live!

  • Alisha Knight

    typo.. I accidentally wrote a comment in the wrong place and it won’t let me delete it.

  • Antonia

    This is my free writing. Free writing is fun.

    Hmmm. Free writing. I like this idea. Now I just need to
    find something to write about. Thinking. Thinking. I lost the game. Jeremy. I
    like that name. No idea why.

    What’s going on around me? I’ve been taking the cast on and
    off my recently fixed broken arm. I broke it skiing. My Mum, Dad and four
    little brothers are all skiing this weekend but I can’t. Maybe it’s that my
    boarding school won’t let me go out this weekend. It’s probably the broken arm
    though.

    Skiing. I like skiing. Skiing is fun. Especially going fast.
    I was going fast when I broke my arm. That’s probably why I didn’t see the half
    metre drop. I got to ride down in a banana boat. Mum calls it a bloodbath,
    which is comforting, but the proper name is acia I think. That’s not how you
    spell it. I’ve got no idea how to spell it, and word check isn’t helping. That’s
    how it sounds though.

    Going down the mountain in the banana boat was fun. It was
    really comfortable, which was surprising. I had two friends with me and neither
    took photos. Very frustrating, though to be entirely fair I didn’t think of
    telling them to. To be even more fair, I had a broken arm.

    This is the first time I’ve broken a bone. Probably. I may
    have broken my tailbone once. It might have just been bruised.

    All my brothers have broken bones.

    James broke his leg on the trampoline and his finger when
    someone rolled a rock into it.

    Edward broke his thumb skiing a couple of seasons ago.

    Harry broke his wrist falling off the monkey bars.

    Jack broke his leg running into a car. Yes. That’s right. He
    ran into the car. The car definitely didn’t run into him.

    Let’s see. New train of thought. Reading is fun. What am I
    reading? The Scarecrow series by Matthew Reilly for a start. But all my friends
    and my Dad keep adding books to my reading list. I can’t remember the last time
    I added a book to my own reading list. “The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the
    Galaxy” I think.

    Skulduggery Pleasant is my favourite series at the moment,
    and probably for a while yet. I lost the game again. Skulduggery Pleasant my
    aimed at ten-year-olds, and I may be fifteen, but whatever. I like it. It’s
    really funny. Especially the scene about tranquilising small elephants in the
    seventh book. I read it to Mum while she was driving. She was drinking water,
    and then she started laughing, and then she started choking. Skulduggery
    Pleasant is dangerously funny.

    What time is it? I think my fifteen minutes is up. I may
    have forgotten to start a timer, but my broken arm aches from typing so I’m
    stopping now. This was fun.

    • Alisha Knight

      HA!!  So fun and amusing!  Free writing is a blast.  And it’s fun to read others minds ramblings.

      This line made me laugh out loud and nearly spit my tea out my nose….

      “Mum calls it a bloodbath, which is comforting, but the proper name is acia I think. That’s not how you spell it. I’ve got no idea how to spell it, and word check isn’t helping. That’s how it sounds though.”

      Good stuff!  I constantly run into brilliant words I say but have no idea how to spell.  Like skillywampus.. how the heck do you spell that???

      • Antonia

        Thanks! I love just writing down whatever comes into my head.

        I agree about spelling. What’s the point of word check when it can’t help you spell words like skillywampus? I have no idea how to spell that either.

        • Mirelba

           Nice ramble.  I also liked the bit about Jack.  And wish you better with your arm!

          • Antonia

            Thanks. It’s pretty much better now. It just needs to remember how to move.

      • Mirelba

         What IS a skillywampus?

        • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

          That’s what I was going to say

          • Alisha Knight

             You know.. not straight, not crooked, not zigzag even but completely skillywampus!!  All over the place!

    • Themagicviolinist

       Free writing is fun. :)
      This made me laugh:
      Jack broke his leg running into a car. Yes. That’s right. He
      ran into the car. The car definitely didn’t run into him.
      :D Nice job!

      • Antonia

        Thanks.
        It’s true. The car was just going along slowly, and Jack came pelting onto the road and ran into it. He’s a bit more careful crossing that particular one lane street now.

        • Themagicviolinist

           That’s hilarious!

    • Mariaanne

      Bravo for doing so much with a broken arm.  I hope you keep writing when you feel better.  

      • Antonia

        Definitely. Writing is fun. My arm is pretty good now, and hopefully it will start working properly soon.

  • http://www.sowingseedsofgrace.wordpress.com/ Sherrey Meyer

    First, Joe, I love the list of 17!  I kept finding myself in there far too often.  And now here goes, my best 15 on why I write.  I think I’ve told you before, but I’ll share it again.

    Why do I write? I write because I can’t not write.  I have to write.  It is within me to share my stories, to fictionalize stories, to share something with others, to spend my time with words, one of my favorite things.

    When I’m writing, I’m able to transport myself, and hopefully others eventually, to another time and place.  That is, as Joe says, very relaxing.  It soothes me, it moves me, it hopefully accomplishes publication one of these days.  Or maybe writing will win me a contest and I’ll win enough money to publish.

    I’ve always loved words.  My dad was a printer/publisher so I jokingly say I was born with ink running through my veins.  Some days I literally believe it.  If I’m not writing, I’m reading about writing or working on my blog, or my memoir, or a short piece of memoir, or a story or two.  Like books I can’t work on just one thing.  If I’m reading, it has to be two, three, four or more books I’ve got going at once.

    So, I guess bottom line is I really do love words — writing or reading!

    Addendum:  I’ve been published!  Yes, I’m one of 14 contributors to an anthology compiled by Jonna Ivins, author of Will Love for Crumbs.  The title of the anthology is Loving for Crumbs: An Anthology and is available on Amazon in eboook format.  Print format out within two to three weeks.  So exciting!

    • Mariaanne

      Congratulations Sherrey!  I’ll check it out. 

      • http://www.sowingseedsofgrace.wordpress.com/ Sherrey Meyer

         Thanks, Mariaanne!

    • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

      Yay, Sherrey, congratulations!

      • http://www.sowingseedsofgrace.wordpress.com/ Sherrey Meyer

         Thanks, Yvette Carol!

  • http://www.youngaspiringwriter.blogspot.com/ Chihuahua Zero

    Wow! Just from seeing the “orange” links in this post, I get a great idea about how much advice I’m yet to get from this blog. If I did include Friday posts in my weekly round-ups, this would be on it.

    Point #5 is probably the strongest point. We have more room for stories, because they’re still people who need them.

  • http://thewritepractice.com/ John Fisher

    I spent an informative hour this morning reading that old eighteen-sixty-something book by that lady on The Way of Holiness, a book considered seminal in the personal holiness movement of the late nineteenth century, trying to better understand my paternal grandmother, who really was a spirit out of that period.  One of my earliest memories is of her holding forth on her views:  women need to be covered from throat to ankles, television is of the devil, as are card games, any music other than “sacred”, interstate highways, and anything else that might have been considered fun, to my boyish way of thinking.  I made up my mind early on, to go just about as far in the opposite direction as I possibly could, and that’s not always been wise, it’s sometimes been, shall we say problematic, even painful in its consequences.  But I’ve made my own choices, and that’s contrary to the early impression I had from my elders that I had no choice. 

    My grandpa was quieter than she, with a twinkle in his blue eyes that suggested he knew more than he was saying.  Only decades later did I learn of some of their real-life issues, and realize that they were just doing the best they could, like most of us. 

    I want my e-mail back!  Frustrating that I haven’t found the solution yet.  This will school me in patience. 

    Joe wrote that will-power is an expendable resource, and I’ve certainly found that to be true.  I stayed off alcohol and drugs for fifteen years in a 12-step program, but with clenched teeth the whole time.  I think my wife was my higher power- – I knew she wouldn’t put up with a non- sober husband.  When she was no longer here it was ON, baby.  And at the end of that jag, I was more disheartened and depleted than I’d ever been.

    I’ve found a new method of recovery that makes more sense to me.  But I don’t knock 12-step because I know it’s helped a lot of people.  I did run into some individuals in those programs who were dogmatic and severe to a fault, bu that just taught me to set boundaries, develop a thicker skin, and like the Kenny Rogers song says, “Walk away from trouble when you can”.   

    • Mariaanne

      I used to teach a course to people in VA who had been convicted of DUIs and were court referred.  If they didn’t go to class sober (I had to test each one each night) they went to jail.  And the first thing we had to teach was that there were many ways to remain sober (mostly 12 step and “controlled drinking”).   They were  some of the most interesting people whom I’ve ever met, some so stubborn that they were sure to get into trouble again, but most very thoughtful about their situation.  I think they had been up against a wall so many times that they knew the “wall” (and all it’s ins and outs, promises and fails) intimately and  then some.  I think it’s the same with writing or any art as far as following rules go.  Some can break the “rules” and get away with it, some cannot.  But the people who are the worst off are the ones who have to make more and more rules (create more and more dogma) to help convince them that they are on the right path.  Well to each his own.

      • http://thewritepractice.com/ John Fisher

        I’ll bet they were an interesting group of people! I found a similar variety among the people I was in treatment with years ago.  I bet if I could see those folks now, I’d be pleasantly surprised in some cases and saddened in others.

        The program I’m following now is based on rational emotive behavioral therapy.  It holds that addictive behaviors do not constitute a “disease” but are rather bad habits that can be changed IF the individual is willing to take resposibility for changing his/her thinking.  It has shown me that I’m not powerless; I always have a choice; and I am responsible.

        But as you say, I agree – to each his own.

        • Mariaanne

          RET is the best I think.   

      • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

        My goodness, Marianne, what a rich and varied life you’ve led!

    • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

      Love the recounting of your grandmother. She sounds feisty! Fodder for a story, mayhaps?

  • Alisha Knight

    What a fun exercise that was.  Not sure this passage will make it into my novel… but had a great time rambling it into existence. 

    We imagine bluebirds deep in beautiful tango and the birds appear, streaks of blue in the sky that is also blue but a lighter, softer shade.  Shouldn’t tears be blue?  I think they should, but they aren’t, their clear and salty.  They would taste delicious in soup.  Maybe that’s why God made onions the way he did, to season the soup, to give the bread something salty to dip into.  I’ve forgotten how to cry and I’ve never cried into soup.  Do bluebirds cry?  Or do they just fly and inspire songs about happiness?  A weepy bluebird, in a blue sky on a blue day crying puddles into soup bowls… now that would be something to write a song about.  People would play it at funerals and weddings and sing it to their sleeping babies and the soup would never taste as delicious as it did the day the bluebirds flew across the sky.

    • Mariaanne

      The last two lines of that are wonderful. The juxtaposition of a bluebird in a blue sky, a symbol of happiness against salty tear soup and the wedding and funerals is good.  When you free write like that you see what you themes are, or at least I do. 

      • Alisha Knight

         It’s fun to just write and see what comes out of it. I spent the first five minutes of my 15 min staring at my computer.  Then I grabbed a pen and this poured out.  I have always found it easier to free write with a pen than a keyboard. 

    • Ee

      I really like this. Onions and tears – excellent seasoning

      • Alisha Knight

         Delicious

    • Themagicviolinist

       I loved this one. Very poetic. My friend would love this, too. Her favorite color is blue. Nice job! :D
      My only problem is this line: I think they should, but they aren’t, their clear and salty.
      It should be “THEY’RE clear and salty.” Sorry, I’m a bit picky when it comes to grammar. ;)

      • Alisha Knight

         Thank you and I appreciate the typo catch.  Those their/there/they’re’s drive me crazy!

        • Themagicviolinist

           Oh, good! Sometimes I get the feeling that I drive people crazy when I catch those things and tell them. XD

          • Alisha Knight

             Not me.  I genuinely appreciate feedback that makes my piece better.  No one takes the time to give feedback on something they don’t like.. at least not on this site. 

  • Mariaanne

    Here’s my “something now”. I think it’s probably a case of too much at once not well fermented but I kind of like it.  It’s stewed mind.  

    What to take? What to give? From the Peanut Gallery  where I sit. 

    A morsel for large elephants, a treat.

    A bag full, will drown the elephant embryo having so many more molecules to suck it up. Draw one.  Too much too soon.  

    Consume, grab, eat, inhale

    Breath out, excrete, set free, sell

    Ba Ba Black sheep who is it for?

    The editor speaks – And what will they do with it, that’s what worries me, us, you.  That’s what the talk is about.  What will they do with it.  What will they say.  Will they buy it? Why not, if it’s the truth.  Because it might not be the truth. Are you sure.  

    The truth is in a drawer where it has been saved for later.  

    Why save it. Show it to them.  They will either step on it or pick it up like a precious little peanut, an embryo.

    Coal to diamond

    Then

    Dust thou art man, and to dust  . . . – Book of common prayer, and they toss the dirt on the coffin when they say it and I can’t forget their hugs their voices but I have to leave some of them for the rest, for my daughter for my kin, my ken.  

    Dust to coal to diamond to soul.  

    Today I read Longfellow – A Song of Life
    Read – Emily Dickinson – Hope 
    Listened to Patti Smith’s – Pissing in a River 
    Read the preface to the first chapter of Virginia Woolf’s “Waves”  
    Listened to the song Tobacco Road
    Fed the cats, washed the dishes, drew Iggy Pop and and elephant embryo.

    • Alisha Knight

      This was fascinating!  When I was a kid I used to think mind reading would be the greatest of all super powers… and now I’m realizing what I would have seen had I been given that gift.  The wild wondering of a mind freed… thank you for sharing.

      • Mariaanne

        Thank you Alisha!  Sometimes I think it wanders a bit far but I’m not senile yet ; ) I loved yours.  It just made me happy despite the part about the tears.  I could feel the joy of life in it.  

    • http://thewritepractice.com/ John Fisher

      “The truth is in a drawer where it has been saved for later.

      Why save it.  Show it to them.  They will either step on it or pick it up like a precious little peanut, an embryo.”

      What a great description of the struggle between the desire to write, to express, and the fear — perhaps to be ignored is like having one’s truth stepped on.  But for someone to pick it up — to identify — that’s what it’s all about.

      I really like Emily Dickinson too and if Hope is the one I’m thinking it is, about the caged bird, it’s one of her greatest.

      • Mariaanne

        Thank you John. That’s what it’s about, the fear of people either ignoring or bashing my writing.  The Dickinson poem is about a bird but the caged bird.  The part I like goes 
        Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soulAnd sings the tune without wordsAnd never stops at all – Emily DickinsonI used to have it on a bookmark and had forgotten it until I was looking at some of her writing today.  She was a really amazing woman.  

    • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

      That was fun Mariaane! I liked the flow of consciousness. It sounded like you were having fun with words while also touching on some serious subjects. Longfellow and Dickinson are my favorites and I especially like those two poems. Can you believe I’ve never read Virginia Woolf. I think she should be on my next library list!

      • Mariaanne

        Virginia Woolf is probably the author I read the most.   I think he best book is “The Waves” but my friend who is an English Prof says it’s the most difficult.  ”Mrs. Dalloway” is similar but not as abstract.  I just got a book of her short stories and am going to try that.  

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      I smiled and laughed, Marianne. This moment was my favorite:

      Breath out, excrete, set free, sell
      Ba Ba Black sheep who is it for?

      So much fun.

      • Mariaanne

        Thanks Joe!

    • Mirelba

       Wow!  Your free form sounds great.  My favorite lines: 
      Consume, grab, eat, inhale

      Breath out, excrete, set free, sell

      Ba Ba Black sheep who is it for?

      and also:
      The truth is in a drawer where it has been saved for later. 

      BTW, what I read today is “The Tiger’s Wife”  by Tea Obreht.  First of all the books I read this month that I really enjoyed.  Great writing, and much to think about.  Also, I’ve been thinking of tenses in writing, and she employs present, past and even future, and it works very well!

      • Mariaanne

        Thanks Mirelba.  I have had several people tell me about “The Tiger’s Wife”.  I’ll read it next. 

    • Oddznns

      HI Marianne. This doesn’t sound like the usual you… but you know what… it sounds like this IS you. I love all the blithe throwaways …

      Consume, grab, eat, inhale
      Breath out, excrete, set free, sell
      Ba Ba Black sheep who is it for?”

      Who IS it for if not your readers, yourself, and to open our hearts a little more, set free ourselves a teeny bit.
      Thanks

      • Mariaanne

        Thank you very much. I was feeling very energized when i wrote that. I’m thinking about trying my hand at poetry. I even ordered a book on how to write poetry (as well as one on how to use wordpress – I’m sorry that site is not working better – do you have a website?)

    • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

      I like! The truth is in a drawer where it’s been saved for later — genius!

      • Mariaanne

        Thank you Yvette Carol.  

  • http://www.ordinaryservant.com/ Pilar Arsenec

    Joe, do you need to have a college education and a masters degree in English to become a great writer? I mean, nowadays, everyone says they are a writer, but are they? I’m struggling with this whole concept. What makes a writer great?

    • Mariaanne

      I think the only way to answer that question is to first realize it isn’t answerable and second read, write, be edited, and either rejected or accepted and then ask again.  This is a great forum to write and see what others think and then try again. 

      • http://www.ordinaryservant.com/ Pilar Arsenec

        Well thanks Marianne, that’s an honest response… “it isn’t answerable.” Which means, I would have to question why writing teachers will tell you to begin with an admission, “I am a writer.”  I also would have to question, the multitude of great writers who were rejected hundreds of times before they were accepted.  Being rejected and turned down could be a sign they aren’t good or they are great.  Take the author of “The Help”, how many times was her story rejected?  So how can a simple “I am a writer” really be the same as being a great one? It’s like saying, I am a chef (I am not, but my father is)… I have known people who have said they are a chef and quite honestly, their cooking was awful, not just to me but many people. So a simple, I am a writer or I am a chef, doesn’t always equate that you are one or that you are even good in the first place. Anyway, thanks for listening.

        • Mhvest

          I think that had a lot to do with both taste regarding what is “art” or what is “good” and whether you define yourself or allow others to define you. And when you modify “writer” with “published” you add an element of luck to the mix. Jacob Apel over at Gotham Writer’s Workshop writes about a story he submitted to numerous publications and then he entered it in a contest and it was published. The clincher was he had submitted exactly the same story to the same magazine that published it (Boston Review or Boston Quarterly? I think) and had it rejected by them.

          • Pilar

            Hmm interesting. We’re on to something here. Ok. If you don’t mind, I would like to ask another question. Do writers write for themselves or others? What makes one author popular? Do you how there are writers that appeal to a greater mass than others? What makes Tolstoy a great writer who appeals to a larger audience? Or Hemingway or Faulkner. Granted some people do not like these authors. However, the majority agree that these are great writers/authors.

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Certainly not. 

      I can’t think of many things I learned about writing in college that I couldn’t have learned from a good book on writing or maybe even a blog on writing. 

      What college and an MFA gives is time to write, feedback, and intellectual community. For the first two, you don’t need to go to college to get them. However, it’s probably a little easier to do them there because you HAVE to. The last reason, intellectual community, is easily overlooked, but just as important. All great artists have their little groups of fellow geniuses. Mary Shelley wouldn’t have written Frankenstein without PB Shelley and Byron. 

      So no, but it can help.

      • http://www.ordinaryservant.com/ Pilar Arsenec

        What books did you read that helped you as a writer when you were first starting out?

  • http://livingthestory.me/ Thomas Mason

    Wow, this is a great list of reasons to write. I think they’re all good, but I particularly liked reasons #5, #11 and #14!  Good stuff, Joe. You’ve inspired me to consider purchasing the book AND to write!

  • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

    Joe! I love this list. My favorite is – because balance is over rated! A little bit of crazy goes a long way! 

    I’m so glad for your success with the book. It’s a good book, so helpful and practical with humor in just the right places. But I think more than being a good book it’s the person behind the book that has made it a success. 

    I’ve been thinking about that lately. Do we write better things if we’re better people? And do people want to read what we write when we exude certain qualities. My mom used to tell us to be the kind of person people would want to be with when we whined that we didn’t have friends. People don’t like being friends with rude, critical, lazy bums. I think that might apply to writing as well. People enjoy reading what a great person has written, they’re also happy to pass the word on and support someone they genuinely like. So congratulations on your book’s success, but also congratulations on having successfully built a network of friends that genuinely like you because you yourself are a good friend!

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Hi Beck,

      THANK you. You’re so encouraging. And you raise such an interesting question:

      Are great writers great people?

      I’m not sure I have the right answer. Anyone want to take a shot at it? I suppose it depends on what you mean by great. Writers have historically been a fairly dysfunctional lot (speaking of Virginia Woolf). There aren’t many great writers I can think of who lived healthy lives. Stephen King, ironically, is probably the most normal. I suppose that doesn’t mean they weren’t great people. However, I don’t want to live like most of them.

      • http://fivedayfiction.blogspot.com/ Robert

        It’s a great question Beck … “Do we write better things if we’re better people.”  

        It occurs to me the world has come to a point where social media and the response of some of the greats (authors) to the masses have given us this idea that we know them — the greats of our time.  And because of the fact that there are so many ‘published authors’ it’s not hard to imagine oneself among the greats because of the commonality of becoming published (one has finally arrived) (become an author on some level) … 

        I’d say for me it’s always been about the material — not the person holding the pen … 

        This crazy world we’ve become still hasn’t opened the wizards’s curtain I dare say … 

        For me I could care less if Joe is a great person … (Speaking only for myself) 

        I mean is there real proof Joe has a farmer’s tan … ???

        • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

          I wonder how easy it is to separate the material from the person holding the pen. I don’t know. Perhaps it’s naive of me to think that what comes out on the page is a reflection of the heart. I don’t particularly mind being naive and that’s probably my operational assumption at the moment, that great people write great things. I’m willing to be wrong though. 

          As far as if Joe is a great person, I care. I don’t embrace relativism and I believe that characteristics such as generosity, integrity, and compassion are better than the characteristics of selfishness, callousness, or greed. I think this website is more than just a writing blog because Joe’s personality and beliefs have shaped it. I’ve stuck with practicing here because of Joe, and many other people, who have made this a positive place to be. There are other communities on the web I haven’t stuck with or promoted because the atmosphere didn’t have the same feeling of generosity and good will.

          Anyhow, just my two cents worth!  And as for Joe’s farmer’s tan, somethings should remain a mystery. :)

          • Mariaanne

            This is very well put Beck.  I admired you so much months back when Joe had a kind of heckler on here and you wrote that this is a site where we encourage and respect each other.  He really made me mad with his remark but when I read yours I saw that my attitude was not the best.  You encouraged him/her (can’t remember) to write with us and they didn’t but I thought that your good heart showed very clearly that day.  Thanks

          • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

            Beck, well put :-) You can’t manufacture goodwill. People are way too smart for that. And as for your naivete, don’t lose it, whatever you do!

          • http://fivedayfiction.blogspot.com/ Robert

            Beck … maybe I should clear up a thing or two … my comment about Joe wasn’t meant to be mean or anything less than a compliment — my comments were derived from your comment “do we write better things if we are better people.”  And I gave my opinion … that’s all … 

            The last thing I do when I look for a good read is to research the author to find out what kind of person they are — I love Bradbury, Matheson, Homer … C.S. Lewis … Steinbeck, Zafon, Crighton … the list goes on … 

            If I took he time to research the personal lives of an author I might find myself limited to just a few books to choose from … 

            This site definitely has it’s qualities shaped by the owners and I’ve enjoyed every minute I’ve spent here … furthermore, I’m no heckler and do not appreciate the reference from Marianne …

        • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

          And yet, on the other hand, I do care less if he’s a good person. In fact, I feel that it ‘s directly because of who Joe is at core, that his words shine. I also tune in because Joe has worked at his craft and gained a sure hand with what he does. That goes without saying. It’s the subtler energy behind those words though, that we pick up as sincerity, as genuine, as authentic

        • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

          I’m replying here to your latest comment because apparently I can’t reply directly to the new one. I didn’t think you were being mean to Joe at all. I was just processing some thoughts on writing and what makes a great writer. I don’t have a problem with you voicing your opinion in the least. And I certainly didn’t mean to express mine in a disrespectful manner. I think a healthy dialogue is stretching and beneficial. 

          I don’t research an author before I read their work either but I definitely find myself leaning toward particular styles of writing and avoiding certain styles and themes. Also if I know an author has a lifestyle or platform that is unappealing to me I tend not to read their works. Although I will say I have started reading a little more outside of my box in an effort to broaden my perspective and ability. The more I delve into the process of writing and the writing world the more I find myself being stretched and challenged!

          So I think, based on our comments, we’re coming from slightly different perspectives and angles in our preferences and habits is all.
          I don’t think Mariaane meant to offend you and I don’t think she was particularly referencing your comment, I hope not. I took her comment to be directly related to my comments on being naive or my view points on a person’s character affecting (or is it effecting) their writing. I don’t think in any way you were heckling me or your comments can be likened to the rude ones she was referencing. 

          Anyhow, I’ve enjoyed reading your work and interacting over the past weeks. I hope we’re still on good terms!

        • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

          You are better blog readers than I deserve. Thank you for making this such a supportive, fun place to write.

          Also, yes, I do have a farmers tan. Sorry to ruin the mystery, Beck ;)

      • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

        There have certainly been plenty of messed up and troubled souls who have written, and written well. Perhaps the word great is the measurement. What do we mean by great? Maybe great writers don’t necessarily lead great lives, maybe they think great thoughts. Or maybe they are great observers of life. I don’t know either really.

        I do know there have been valuable things written by amazing men and women. C.S. Lewis, Dickens, Charlotte Bronte. They were brilliant people commenting on their society and effecting change. I want to be that kind of writer. One that lives well, loves deeply, thinks boldly and as a result writes well.

        I don’t know that it would be wise to generalize, but I would venture to say character matters and shapes all we do. Certainly thought provoking and powerful things have been written by people who are not truly good. For myself I have a hard time separating the heart from the word. I also think that not everything written that is profound is necessarily good. Of course that’s my opinion but not everything that has won an award, is critically acclaimed, or thought provoking is actually great. 

        I could be off base, it’s just something I’ve been pondering. For myself I find that my writing is better, richer, more poignant when my heart is connected to the Source of Truth, when I’ve loved my family and even enemies well, when I’ve sought out beauty. I need to ponder that a bit more I suppose. It may be as simple as taste.  

        • Mariaanne

          I think just the way you want to get to the truth and use God as your source will see you though Beck.  I do think though that “living well” can interfere with “thinking deeply” because when living well limits your experience it limits what you can think about and then write about.  I have that problem related to travel. I don’t like to travel and I know that no matter how much I read about other cultures it is a watered down version of the actual experience.  

          • http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill

            Thanks for your encouragement Mariaane. That’s an interesting thought, that living well can interfere with thinking deeply. I get what you’re saying. But I wonder if we can still live well while experiencing the depths of life and thought in other ways. I have befriended my neighbor who is in every way my opposite. As stable and healthy as my life is hers is as unstable and volatile, even dangerous.  My time with her has certainly exposed me to a perspective and emotion I had never experienced before. I’m interested to see what my time in a Serbian mental institution will produce as well. All that’s to say I wonder if there are things we can never write well about without experiencing or if we can come in the back door so to speak. Hmmm, I’m doing a lot of pondering lately!

        • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

          Yes. The older I get, the more life batters me down and I get back up and forge on, the better my writing becomes

    • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

      I think you raise an interesting point. My view? Yes, we do write better books if we’re better people. I remember a writing teacher once, saying to work on ourselves, not just our writing, because in the written word the person behind it will always shine through

  • Mariaanne

    CONGRATULATIONS on your book’s success Joe!!!  I knew you could do it.  I’m so happy.  

    I am also happy to see that Laura Ingalls Wilder didn’t get a book out until she was in her sixties, and I like reasons #5 (what a great way to say that.  I don’t think I’ve heard that reason before and it is one of the most important), #16 (I have my mother’s travel diary and I read it almost every day  and wish she had written more), #15 I love this one .  I was balanced for too many years and I know people my age who weren’t. I think balance is overrated and almost impossible to achieve anyway – drama is where it’s at).

  • Pamela J Williamson

    Just bought my copy, Joe, and I look forward to diving into it this afternoon. Thank you for your great posts and encouragement!

  • Luke Brown

    Thanks for the intro to Duotrope. Looks very helpful.

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      It’s the best, Luke. Better than Writer’s Market, even.

      However, it’s also massive and overwhelming. If you want a smaller, more hand chosen list, check out this resource I created:

      http://letswriteashortstory.com/literary-magazines/

  • ee

    I can relate to your quote.  I am meant to write.  I remember the feeling of a new notebook and pen at the beginning of the school year.  My pen would shake for want of filling that page.  Writing is the way I work things out in my head.  It does not have to be for anyone but me.

     I often put off writing because it is like dessert.  I have to do all of these other things first before I am allowed to do what I really want.  I really want dessert and don’t really care about dinner.  It’s just a means to get the dessert.

    • Diana_shofler

      Hello Joe,
      “I write because I am meant to. I write because it makes me feel alive,” is the best quote I have ever read, heard. I can relate 100%. If I write, I feel relaxed and alive. If not, the stress of everyday can kill a person.
      Happy writing and be well.

    • http://www.yvettecarol.com/ Yvette Carol

      Ha ha, that dessert analogy is the greatest

  • Alisha Knight

    Loved this post!  Number three was brilliant, and so true.  Thank you.  Excited to see what happens in my fifteen minute practice.  Thank you for this fabulous list of motivating tid bits.

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      THANKS Alisha!

    • http://joebunting.com Joe Bunting

      Thanks Alisha.

      Happy writing!