All posts by KTD

I’m proud to be a native Las Vegan, and though I live in now in Phoenix, Arizona, I am still at home in the desert. I have a wonderful family and have raised two incredible daughters, now in college. My wife is an elementary school teacher and she inspires me every day with her devotion to her students and dedication to her career. When I’m not working, I hike, practice yoga, and play tennis, billiards, and the ukulele. I also still love reading, going to movies, and attending live theatre.

Writing My First Novel: P4

My Writing Process

In the previous posts in this series, I discussed the intrinsic value of writing, the benefits to me, and the approach that liberated me from my inhibitions. In this post, I’ll cover the actual process I followed to get through the first draft.

While I had been planning a novel since July, 2020, my friend and frequent writing partner, Jaq Greenspon, posted that he was going to write for NaNoWriMo. I had avoided it before but the timing seemed right, so I committed also. I started daily writing sessions in October to plot out the novel. I’m not a joiner normally but I figured I’d just go along with the workshops and chats. It helped to know that I wasn’t the only one in my particular boat. There were many boats: young, old, professional, amateur, serious, fantasy, and serious fantasy. 

Set Meaningful Goals

I knew I wanted to write every day as a form of creative therapy: scratch the creative itch, get into the zone, and start the day with something for me. To be effective, it needed only to be consistent. My unifying goal was to sit down every day as a writer. I could write anything. I could make notes, research, or even read for fuel. What I did as a writer was up to me. The NaNoWriMo part and the novel itself was what presented itself as an opportunity. 

For NaNoWritMo, I adopted the 50,000-word in 30 days goal. It was just to see if I could sustain it. When I hit that goal in November, I decided to revise my goal for December to hit 85,000 words. I based that on my progress and how far I thought the novel would go to be complete.

The main challenge to consistent practice is dealing with blocks.For those you need a strategy.

Plotting to Avoid Blocks

I didn’t want to get too hung up on tools – every writer has a story about missing the proper pen. I liked using Google Docs for the early process because it was accessible everywhere and backed up immediately. However, it lacks any kind of organization tools. I wanted to stay with an online resource. I looked at several writing tools before deciding on Dabble because it’s non-intrusive interface and the plot grid integrates with the manuscript for drag and drop restructuring.

In October, I had note cards with all the major beats of my story. I used the hero’s journey and specifically the Fabula Framework deck to build out the grid. At first it was all on poster board, then I added it to Dabble’s plot grid. It made it easier to manage the timelines for each of the main characters to maintain continuity.

Having the beats outlined meant I had some idea of what came ahead. I could still change direction but it would be an organic part of the process. In fact, many times during writing, I would discover a perfect way to introduce a beat or a character that I would not have had were I just improvising completely. 

The other value of having the beats was that when I found myself unsatisfied with what I was writing at the moment, I could switch to writing a different beat that session. I never lacked for ideas. And in this draft, every time that occurred, I ended up figuring out what was missing in the piece I shifted away from and was able to take a new approach that worked for it.  Dabble also made it easy to reorganize the plot grid as I made discoveries in the writing.

Can I write when…

Along with maintaining momentum, the other challenge was dealing with my environment. I used another mind trick for that. For every challenge, instead of saying “Oh, crap!” I asked myself, “Can I write when…?”

  • Can I write when I’m anxious?
  • Can I write with interruptions?
  • Can I write with noise in the other room?
  • Can I write in total silence?
  • Can I write when I’m tired?
  • Can I write when I’m sick?

Every day brought another enemy and I defeated them all. Whatever I was feeling that day, positive or negative became another hypothesis for my writing experiment. One by one, I took what used to be excuses and eliminated them with experience.

Let the Characters Deal with the Conflicts

A typical momentum killer for me, is wondering what my characters should do. There are crossroads your characters reach and as the author, you need to know what they should choose. As an introvert, I can find this crippling because my mind is working out not just the choice at this turn but every turn that will come up on each path chosen. And that is a real conflict. And do you know what conflict is good for? Story.

Letting the characters deal with it became a valuable tactic for me. I knew I could always cut the content later if it didn’t have real drama, but letting the characters not only debate their options, but actually try them out became exciting for me to watch. And if it was exciting for me, there was a greater chance a reader might find it engaging. 

Don’t Finish

This trick has sustained me for my technical writing career. If you want to keep going but time or energy has run out, then start the next thing. Avoid working to the end of a beat and instead work to the start of the next idea. Leave yourself hanging. 

Leverage your mind’s natural desire to finish something by leaving it open. It will make you want to come back and finish it. What’s more, your brain will probably noodle on it in the background. You may even find you wake up with the solution to a problem right in your head. 

I’ll often write a couple notes to myself of what’s next so that when I return, I’ve got an idea of where I left off and where I could go now. When you’ve had a full day of other headaches and problems between sessions, it is a relief to have a place to start.

Warm Up the Fingers

I used to write on yellow legal pads. I would write by pacing and thinking punctuated by putting my thoughts down on the page. That technique was not sustainable for my writing career. I am a touch typist, a skill that literally got me jobs working indoors; so, I’m my most comfortable writing with my fingers on a keyboard. 

In fact, there are times I can’t think of what to write unless my fingers are poised over the home row. My brain has linked writing and typing in a major screw you to Truman Capote. So, another trick for me to get the brain warmed up is to leverage that link and get typing. 

For this project, I kept a writing journal. Each session I started in the journal writing whatever came to my head. I’d look at yesterday and start talking to myself through the keyboard. Sometimes it would only be one line, “Let’s see what happens today,” and I’d be off. Other times, I’d talk through what was going on, or the challenge of the day, or the questions I wanted to answer in the session. At some point, I’d lose track or start to think of something in the story and then I’d switch over to the manuscript. Boredom or frustration were my guides.

Because It’s There

I’m currently reviewing the first draft. I’ve told myself the story and now I need to look back for those things that were true when I started that are no longer true now that I’ve reached the end. This is not a revision. It’s a clean up for continuity and clarity only. 

For reasons you may have just read, one of my inhibitions to putting my work out there is fear that it will be judged. I need to get feedback before I revise, but the process has prepared me.

If the work brings me  joy, then I can be the guy that stacks up unpublished work like cordwood. It feels good to split the logs and stack them up, and you can bask in the warmth when you burn them.

The idea of putting myself out for judgement when I’m my own harshest critic, doesn’t sound any better now that it did before I wrote a novel. However, it’s no longer an idea that is too beautiful to capture, that I can tear apart before it gains life. It is a living, breathing noun that I have poured love into. I know it better than anyone and even if it’s a face only a parent could love, I do. 

Writing My First Novel: P3

Found Object Art Project

In the previous posts in this series, I discussed the intrinsic value of writing and the benefits to me. In this post I’m going through some of the realizations that helped mitigate my inhibitions.

When writing is a joy in itself, who cares if anybody reads it but me? I love telling myself stories. I love the process of writing. It’s fun. It’s play. Play is good for the soul. Whether anyone but my spouse, who is morally obligated to read every word I write, ever reads my writing is secondary. She doesn’t have to enjoy my writing any more than she has to laugh at my jokes. But at least I trust her responses are real because, well, she’s learned not to indulge me needlessly.

Dealing With the Critic

I am, by definition, the foremost authority on the story. I believe if there’s room for improvement, I am best able to make those changes. I’m willing to collaborate with editors and readers now because I can defend its heart now. I could only achieve that by working through choices in the first draft. Still I have these previously delineated inhibiting ideas:

  • I’m not a good enough writer
  • I don’t bring enough value to literature
  • I’m not marketable
  • I don’t want people to think I’m writing about them
  • I don’t want people to think I’m writing about me

The first three are easy to dismiss now because writing is a reward in itself. The latter inhibitions need more context. They are about what writing might expose in myself and whether I’m ready to show it. I’m a tough person to get to know. I think I’m open hearted, joyful, and kind. But I don’t always show that side. It’s more about not wanting to intrude on others. I am reserved because I can be a bit much. I like to go deep. 

But with writing I skip all that getting to know you phase and we jump right into bed. I need to release all my inhibitions – at least in the first draft – and go where the writing takes me. Otherwise, the experience will be flat, emotionless, and intimidatingly formal. But I have trouble letting go of how the reader might judge me by what my characters do. I know how easy it is to judge authors’ by their work. I went to college. 

Worse is when friends or family might think I’m writing about them. Projection is normal with readers. Authors count on it. You want the reader to see themselves in the characters. Leveraging and developing empathy is practically the point of telling stories in the first place. But I feared that some readers might think I’m judging them. 

I can’t change how readers respond to what I write, but I can help them contextualize it. 

Beachcombing

I write from what I know. I have a life, friends, and experiences. I have thoughts, judgements, fears, and opinions. I witness things around me and wonder what I would do in their shoes. I have conversations and arguments with friends, strangers, and the shower walls. All of these experiences, responses, and thoughts are just facts that I collect. They are the found objects in an art project I call my writing. 

I’m like a sculptor walking the beach. I find shells, stones, and driftwood that I put together into art. You may have been on the beach with me. You may have picked up that shell and handed it to me, and though it has significance to us based on our experience, once I’ve put it into the sculpture, it is something new. I’ve given it new context. 

In the same way, when we have a conversation, I may put some of that into a story. You will have a unique emotional response to reading it, but it won’t be our conversation to any other reader, it will be the characters’ conversation. All I’m thinking when I put the conversation into the story is, “This will work there.” All I can hope is that you will be able to see it that way too. 

Thinking of it this way allows me to honor the connection I have to people in my life separately from how I put our thoughts and experiences into my work. Put another way, once I’ve put it in my work, it no longer belongs to you or me. It belongs to the reader. 

In these sections I’ve established the joy and benefits of writing. In the next part, I will explore the process I followed and how it helped me sustain the effort

Writing My First Novel: P2

Cognitive Behavior Therapy

In the previous post in this series, I looked at the intrinsic value of creative writing. In this part, I’m looking at the benefits writing brings as a practice.

How did I conquer my fears in order to finish my first novel (draft)? The answer is that I didn’t. In fact, this time, I gave up entirely on conquering anything. I decided to instead see what would happen if I actually did try instead of waiting for conditions to be right for writing. Because the one experience I couldn’t suppress, is my memory of how much joy writing brought me in the time before ego inflation was my main driver.

Fear vs. Anxiety

If you’ve made it this far, you may have an inkling that I manage anxiety. Looking back, I can see that I’ve had it my whole life. It might be PTSD, it might be genetic. It’s likely both because anxiety promotes responses from other people and institutions that tends to increase anxiety in a “virtuous” cycle.

I stopped looking for a cause, which is the first step in managing it. Medication helped for acute attacks, but the long-term approach turned out to be mindfulness practice, including meditation. In my experience, I find that anxiety is an environmental state of the body, like the weather. It arises and passes over. With a few tools – an umbrella and galoshes, if you will – you can ride it out. 

I have to accept that I’ll feel uncomfortable, even miserable, but it’s only right now – however long “now” lasts is immaterial, if I’m OK now, I can be OK in the next moment too. The key for me is to let go of changing it because letting in the suffering only stokes the anxiety, giving the body positive feedback that it was right to sense danger.

I felt that writing might be beneficial as a mindfulness practice but I needed to deal with all the previously delineated excuses and fears. I knew from past experience that I could get into “the zone” and lose myself in the task. In the past, I had looked for times that had the least impact on other people. Writing was something I pushed to the very end of the day after I had worked a full day, managed my household responsibilities, and my family was asleep and it was just me at the end of the day with all the rest of the day to write. So, I was writing exhausted and if I managed to do any writing at all it would shorten my sleep ensuring that I would begin the next day tired.

A Writing Practice

This time, I felt that the best choice was to start the day writing, to pay myself first. I would get up early after a full-night’s sleep, and before doing anything, I would give the first two hours of the day to creativity. I set a timer and set to work. The actual content didn’t matter because I was using the time as therapy. My one brave choice was to say that I deserved to do something for myself and to prioritize my own mental health and well-being. 

I find that writing processes anxiety. It takes the energy and releases it or contextualizes it. I don’t always enter “the zone” but writing was the way into it. If I keep my fingers moving long enough, the mind will start to trust the process. Like a child that keeps raising their voice until you pay attention, writing quiets the nagging thoughts because you finally stopped ignoring them. 

A byproduct of the practice is through taking care of your needs, prioritizing yourself, you have more to give others. You have more energy, not less. You don’t deplete your creativity, you amplify it. You are less stressed, happier, and if my spouse is to be believed, better to be around.

In short, while people had always said, “You need to write for yourself,” what I needed to hear is “write for your self.” Again, Chalk it up to being stubborn or a slow learner, but it took me this long to realize because I am a fighter. My ego is a worthy opponent and it took this long to defeat it. But I feel victorious even if no one ever reads my novel. Even if it sucks. I’m going to keep sitting down every day as an author because the process itself is rewarding.

I’m going to write every day now as part of my own therapy, but In the next part, I’ll address the mind trick that helped me get over my creative inhibitions.

Writing My First Novel: P1

You Should Write More

I recently finished writing the first draft of my first novel. This is not my first attempt at a novel. It’s my first since I tried to write one at age eleven. I am sharing in a series of posts a few insights I gained through the process in case it’s useful to you. They were revelatory to me, but that doesn’t mean you could have told me years ago and I would have listened.

Creative Inhibitions

As I brought up in my post about “winning” NaNoWriMo, I’ve been a writer practically since I learned to read. It has been my main creative expression. But that doesn’t mean I’ve understood it. I’ve had a complicated relationship with it, mostly because I projected all my insecurities onto it. I got good at building arguments for avoiding creative writing:

  • I’m not a good enough writer
  • I don’t bring enough value to literature
  • I’m not marketable
  • I don’t want people to think I’m writing about them
  • I don’t want people to think I’m writing about me

The common themes here are fear of rejection because the writing is either too much a reflection of me, or not enough of me. So, fear of me.

To deflect from this insecurity I developed a series of strategies for avoiding writing:

  • I’ll write when I have time
  • I’ll write when I’m a better writer
  • I’ll write when no one I love is left to read it
  • I’ll write when it doesn’t interfere with anything or anyone else

This is not procrastination, it’s avoidance. I avoided the work because it’s painful; it’s not because of the hard work or effort. I’m no stranger to putting in the work. In my professional career, long hours and pushing through are part of the process. I have been perfectly willing to sacrifice my body, my emotional health, and my family for the sake of commerce.

My spouse, my children, my friends, and my mentors have been more than encouraging. They’ve promised to give me the time and support to tackle my creative writing. They’ve read what I have written and said they want more of it. They’ve said that I’m a good writer. I’ve spent more than 40 years trying to discourage them, outlast them, and prove them wrong.

Both Gift and Curse

I think I have strong empathy, and reading and writing reinforces that. But the flip side to empathy can be judgmentalism. Seeing myself through others’ eyes I can easily devalue myself. Compounding that is my experience with writing professionally. I’ve leveraged that internal negative voice to become a fast, clean first-draft writer. I can edit in my head and write decent content for business. 

It took me years even to recognize writing was more than a talent. It was a craft. Even though I thought I could get by on talent alone, I couldn’t help but want to improve. It rankled me when a boss would suggest that what writers did was somehow magic. “This is where the magic happens,” they would say and I’d respond, “People don’t pay for magic. Magic is intrinsic and effortless. Craft takes years of practice and training. People will pay for that. People expect magic for free.” 

Be Serious

So, while I insisted there were separate creative and professional worlds, I was kidding myself. I finally admitted that all work needs to be creative. In fact, the reason so much work is rubbish is that we tend to squeeze the creativity out of it as part of the process. My secret to (limited) success is that I couldn’t help but try to sneak some in. 

My last excuse for not writing was the impracticality of it as a vocation. I spent too much as a marketing consultant not to consider how to make writing a good business. You analyze the market. You target a growing potential audience. You look for lucrative contracts. In short, you commercialize your efforts to maximize your efforts and your profits – what all great writing has in common, right?

This was probably my most effective argument in talking myself out of writing. I could quickly take all the fun out of it. 

So, how did I conquer my fears, push through, and ultimately cross the finish line? In the next post, I’ll look at that and what writing brings to me as a practice.

NaNoWriMo 2020

This is the first time I’ve given in to NaNoWriMo, but I embraced it as an opportunity to kickstart my writing again. I’ve been writing since I was able to hold a pencil. I started my first novel at eleven and gave up after about 20 hand-written pages. I was overwhelmed by the size of the effort. I switched to poetry because I could finish something in a day. Then I wrote short stories and in college I studied playwriting and screenwriting as well. I’ve written a great deal personally and my civilian career has evolved around all things writing, but I had never tried the novel since that first attempt.

So, to honor that (still) inner child, I decided that now was a good time — what pandemic wouldn’t be? — to give it another shot. The goal for NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words, the (somewhat) accepted minimum size for a novel in 30 days. My goals were to answer the following questions: Can I write every day for 30 days straight? (Yes!) Can I write 50,000 words in a month? (Yes!) Could I write at least 1667 words every day to reach that total? (Yes, try 1800.) How many words could I write in 30 days? ( How about 54K?)

It wasn’t that hard but I did have to make choices. I got up early every day and wrote for two hours before starting work. I was forced to neglect television and social media but I got music back as a result.

But I have another questions: Can I finish the novel? I’m about two-thirds or three-fifths through the structure now. Can I keep writing?

I’m not worried about publishing. If I think it’s worth reading, I’ll try to make it better. If it gets better, I’ll try to find a home for it. But I’m OK if all I ever do is sit down every day as an author and tell myself stories. I miss playing. I need to play for my mental health. When I’m not creative, I find myself anxious and depressed. People always said to write for yourself and I’ve realized that, no, I need to write for my self.

Tide Into the Fabric

Every year you deal with the Monday-morning quarterbacking and fierce debates over strategy. The annual analysis of Super Bowl® ads is upon us. Most of these fall into the bland brand-awareness bucket. You’re cool because we’re cool (and vice versa.)

But you waste your ad buy if the conversation is about your message and it fails to include you. Why pay millions of dollars so that we can all feel warm and fuzzy about the story, or the inspiring quote, or the goofy image, and not talk about (or share) your brand?

Advertising’s job is to interrupt the audience’s flow, catch their attention, and give them a reason to remember you. Otherwise, you’re just the what’s-his-name that told that hilarious joke, or shared that moving story, or showed us that sweet picture.

In recent years, the goal has been to go viral. Novelty is not enough either. With the #JackVsMartha ad, we hopefully see the sad end of that tactic’s diminished returns. (No, I won’t share it. That would just encourage them.) However, giving us a new way to see something familiar is an effective tactic.

The one ad that did everything right this year is Tide’s “It’s a Tide Ad.”

https://youtu.be/6gGXnE1Dbh0

This one works on every level. It features the brand name as part of the message. It tells the brand value story with every iteration. It delivers with humor that stands repeated viewing. (Threading it throughout the broadcast reinforced the meme.)

Moreover, it doesn’t just find humor in commercial tropes, it uses it to show a quality most people don’t pay attention to but are deeply aware of – the heightened reality of advertising’s alternate universe. It plants in your head that every commercial could be a Tide ad. But while you may laugh, you’re linking  cleanliness to Tide in all those synapses.

The next time you notice a clean shirt in a commercial, you’ll wonder if it’s a Tide ad. And then it will be.

The Gloves Come Off

I make the world better, one cashier at a time. I have a desire to lift people out of the darkness and see things anew. I’m a teacher. Is it my fault if the process feels intrusive?

Most of the time, I say nothing. I let it go. I only stand out because people rarely comment, or they say it in an unkind way. People are so keen to avoid confrontation that they see all forms as negative.

We are surrounded by processes so commonplace that we are blind to their original purpose. For example, my spouse may get up from the table, clap her hands together and flip her palms over and up. The gesture is so reflexive and fast (Jazz hands!) that if an outsider even notices they think nothing of it. But those that do notice it have no idea what to make of it.

But if you grew up in Las Vegas, where a dealer leaving a card table has to prove to the cameras and pit bosses that their hands are empty, it makes sense. Yet, when she gets up from the dinner table, she no longer has anything to prove. She hasn’t dealt cards since her college days. (OK, once at a church “Vegas Night. Shh.) But once the motion was learned it stopped meaning that her hands were empty and simply meant, “I’m done.”

I picked it up from her. We use it now as a gesture of, “Well, that’s that,” to close the subject of conversation. Clap. Flip. Sometimes, it can mean, “I’m done with that person.” Clap. Flip. Or, “I’m going to bed. Clap. Flip. Kiss. (I mean, we’re not dead yet.)

Regardless of the intention or the origin of a process, it will take a life of its own. That’s how new ideas become tradition, traditions become ritual, and ritual becomes dogma. Finally, someone (a process guy) asks why we’re doing that thing. Our inclination may be to cut that process but not without first knowing why it was ever critical.

At my local grocery store, they have a full-service deli, and because of health codes, they wear gloves when preparing orders.They put gloves on to prepare the food and take gloves off to handle money and other non-food related things. Scratching their ear, perhaps.

Then, if they’re following the protocol, they wash their hands, put on new gloves, and prepare more food. That prevents bacteria from contaminating and cross-contaminating other food, and me.

Watch any process like this and you’ll eventually see someone who fails to remove their gloves. They take your card with their gloved hand and swipe through the card reader, simultaneously swiping your personal microbiome onto their gloves, and then start to go back to preparing food.

Now, a process guy, might lean over and say, quietly, so as not to call them out publicly, “Excuse me, I noticed that you kept your gloves after you took my card. It’s easy to forget.” But a teacher, one who wants to make the world a better place one cashier at a time, might also attempt to explain – not why they need to remember to follow the protocol – but why they didn’t follow the protocol.

The reason is very much tied to the clap, flip gesture of the card dealer. You see, when food handlers – and health care workers, hair stylists, janitors, etc. – practiced wearing the gloves, it became a habit. They were learning a protocol to protect us from their germs. But over time and practice, the gloves became not our protection but their protection.

The gloves stopped becoming a barrier for spreading their germs to our food, and started becoming a barrier between our food and their hands. And once that thought takes root, it’s hard for the brain to find an incentive to take them off for us. I mean, would you want to touch our credit cards and cash with your bare hands?

A manager might look at the activity and order more training. They may also look at any disincentives in place such as limits on the number of gloves they have to order. They could also lean into the process and coach the employee to keep their gloves on to take the cash, but then remove the (now contaminated) gloves, wash their hands, and get fresh protection.

Aside from being squeamish at every sandwich shop from now on, keep examining the rituals around you. Look for the original process behind the actions. It may help you unwind the rote and the rot, give you the purpose behind the flow and the keys you need to develop the process to new levels of efficiency. And make the world a better place.

Image Credit: Anthony Albright, “Grabbing the Pork” (cropped from original.)

Scope Creep

Just One More Thing

Scope (or feature) creep is the surest way to inflate the cost of a project. It is when you constantly change the requirements even as you build the project. It can happen in any business for legitimate reasons: your business goals change, your audience changes, a new opportunity arises. It’s hard to avoid the big changes, but you can eliminate the little ones.

When your company was small, making changes was easy. The project owner could sit next to the creator and ask for changes. As your company got bigger, however, it became much more difficult. Now, you have more people involved in every project. Moreover, when you have a team of programmers working on your project, the worst thing you can do is ask for “just one more thing.

Another Way to Look at It

Consider a police sketch artist. The victim sits down with one artist and guides them. “The face was longer. The hair was shorter. The eyes were farther apart” Small, uncomplicated projects work that way. Projects that involve programming or engineering behave more like working with a police sculptor. Imagine that sketch artist sculpting a face in clay. Now when the victim makes changes (the head was longer), the artist has to undo a lot of their work and start over.

This affects timelines, also. Usually, your deadline comes from outside such as the date of an industry trade show. When a project’s scope increases, you have to complete the same amount of work in the little time you have left. Basically, you compress the project into a smaller window. And as we know from mechanics, compression generates heat.

Save Yourself Headaches

The best way to beat scope creep is to follow a proper documentation sequence. By defining objectives and requirements at the beginning of a project, you force yourself to divide the scope of the project into logical phases. You also give yourself (and the company) time to imagine everything they might need. You’ll save time and money, but you’ll also deliver a better product.

Image Credit: Greg Foster, “Clay” (cropped from original)

The Key to Saving our Species

What if I were to tell you that ads had become smarter than us and now they’re manipulating everything we do?

Mankind became tired of ads, so we kept inventing ways to make things “ad free.” We even created ad blockers. That’s when the ads had to adapt. They had to disguise themselves as news in order to survive.

I’m not sure I’ve heard a more succinct description of why the advertising arms race has become so annoying.

This comes from South Park episode #1908, Sponsored Content, that aired November 18. Jimmy, the school newspaper editor finds himself in competition with Internet news. Jimmy has the rare ability to spot the difference between news and sponsored content.

Can you?