friends | Beth Hull

7 Things Your Support Network Needs to Hear

Posted on June 7, 2013 by Beth Hull

It’s me, Colonel Shifty again! (You lucky ducks.) Last week I counseled Support Network Personnel in the things their writers need to hear. This week, the message is for writers. What does your Support Network need from you? Now, I know writers are inherently selfish (at least, one in particular that I know well). However, think of it like this: If your Support Network is drained and resentful, how well can they support you? Nourishing that Support Network is in your best interest, believe me.

So what do they need? I polled* some Support Networks and got the answers for you, right here:

1. Thank you. Put it in the dedication, or put it in the acknowledgments page. Write it in the sky. Write it in a card, an email, or spell it with cookies on a daisy-patterned plate. Or just, you know, say it. Your Support Network needs to know you appreciate them. Please remember, certain methods of showing gratitude will be more effective than others, depending on circumstances of ability on the part of the writer, and tolerance on the part of the Support Network (e.g. Beth, please do not sing “Wind Beneath My Wings” to Homes. You can totally sing it to your mom, though; she’d dig it).

2. Go out! Have fun! I’ve only had twenty-nine different writer-related outings this month. Tonight’s your night! You can leave me with these two short strangers who may or may not be my children. Is it all right if I call them by the names of my main characters? In all seriousness, you writerly types can be downright selfish when it comes to sucking up all the free time for writing. Give your Support Network time to pursue their own passions, even if it might not be your idea of a good time.

3. Let’s talk about you. Some writers I know (cough*Beth*cough) can go on for days talking to their Support Network about their writing. Whether it’s plot issues, or characters, or querying, or agent drama, it can really fill up the conversation, until the Support Network is sitting on the other side of the table (or worse, trapped in a moving vehicle) looking like a blinking piece of haggis. Remember to share the conversation time, writers.

4. What kind of story do you want to read? This is a fun one, and can get you thinking of different genres, or of blending genres. Look out, though, because you might have a snarky Support Network, and you may not appreciate the answer (e.g. “How about a story where your whiny main character drowns on page ten?”). But if all goes well, cool things can happen. If your support network is heavily into magical realism and you write westerns, imagine the possibilities! Naturally, being a gopher, I don’t have a lot of time to read, but if I did, I’d be reading that.

5. Bad day? Help yourself to my emergency chocolate stash. Writers, it may seem like a big deal to give someone the key to your sanity-preserving dark chocolate peanut butter cups, but remember what I said above: Nourishing your Support Network is in your best interest. Who else will run to the store for more chocolate the next time you’re in need?

6. No, the bad guy isn’t based on you. Your mutual love of haggis is purely coincidental. Sometimes your Support Network might wonder, since you’ve stolen every good piece of dialogue they’ve uttered, what else you’re stealing. Their appearance? Their quirk of wiping their face with a napkin every time they take a bite of food? What about their childhood dreams? Are you some kind of psychic vampire, or what? Take the time to reassure your Support Network that this is FICTION and any similarity it bears to any real event or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental (or whatever that legal jargon is that writers use to save their butts).

7. This book is going to Make It Big and then you can quit your soul-sucking job and retire into the life of luxury to which you should be accustomed. As long as your Support Network realizes the minuscule chance of any book “making it big,” no matter how beautifully wrought, this message can give your Support Network hope, and an opportunity to dream with you. As long as these dreams aren’t replacing Real, Actual Writing (TM), use this for the boost in morale it can give you both.

Really, all those other things are great, but no matter what, your Support Network needs a Thank you. (Although rumor among polled* participants has it that massages, favorite foods, and other tokens of appreciation wouldn’t hurt.)

*No participants were actually polled. Sorry, there wasn’t time.

7 Things Your Writer Needs to Hear

Posted on May 31, 2013 by Beth Hull

Hi! Colonel Shifty here, reporting with another list of tips for the people who care for writers.

Maybe your writer is shy, or passive aggressive, or just so darn busy drafting Book 3 in her series that she can’t manage to tell you what she needs to hear. Granted, some of these things she needs to hear from people in the publishing business (agents, editors, whatevs), but even if they come from you, a person who cares for her, they’ll still make her feel better/keep her from throwing her manuscript into the fireplace. (Throwing her book into the fireplace just might be the best thing for her…but she has to figure that out on her own.)

1. “Your turn will come.” Your writer may have friends who have published a book. Or books. Or maybe your writer has friends with literary agents, and he’s been desperately trying to find an agent to represent his work, and he’s having a really tough time hearing about how each of those friends had multiple agents fighting over him, and he’s happy for them, he really is. But he’s also feeling a little frustrated about his own place in the process. What your writer needs now is some cheerleading in the form of, “You will have your turn, and it will be glorious.” Because he will have his turn! And it will be glorious! (Please do not mention the possibility that his turn could be, oh, fifteen years away. Or more. He doesn’t need to hear that.)

2. “Take your time.” There’s no rush. I mean, obviously, your writer shouldn’t be dominating the Twitter feeds of her six followers, but she can spend some time taking a head-clearing walk or diving into book-related research. Maybe there’s a ticking clock of needing to get a “real” job once her baby starts school. That’s okay. She can still write. And rushing through a book doesn’t help anyone. She should enjoy it – otherwise what’s the point?

3. “Write the book you need to write.” Does your writer want to tell weird stories? Or super sad stories? Or historical fiction or paranormal romance about vampires? Is he drawn to something that might not exactly be marketable? Tell your writer it’s okay. If that’s the book he needs to write, he should write it. If he’s passionate about it, that passion will shine through. And maybe it won’t be publishable, but he’ll never know unless he writes the darn thing.

4. “Define your own success.” Publication isn’t the only way. Tell your writer that. If she’s writing, and she’s happy, that is a GOOD thing. Maybe her success shouldn’t be measured by things she can’t control, like the publishing industry. Maybe it should instead be measured by the progress she CAN control, like finishing a book, or learning more about a certain format (cough*verse*cough), or getting out there and attending a workshop. Some days this one writer I know defines success by whether or not she makes the time to sit her bootie down to write.

5. “Chocolate doesn’t have calories. Nope, none. Not a single calorie. Eat as much as you want.” No explanation necessary.

6. “It’s okay to cry.” Even if your writer is defining his own success and writing the book he needs to write and taking his time…rejection can still sting. A lot. Give him a day or two to get over it. Crying’s okay, as long as he isn’t short-circuiting his laptop keyboard with the tears.

7. “You want to leave me with our two young children for how many days while you attend a conference? Okay!” I’m sure you’re already supportive in this regard, in which case you may pat yourself on the back and help yourself to one of your writer’s chocolates from her not-so-secret stash. Your writer is taking big risks putting words on the page. An even bigger risk might be attending a writing conference and putting herself out there, learning new things, and totally leaving her comfort zone. Huzzah and hooray to the support network personnel (aka YOU) who are willing to step out of your comfort zone and let her have at it!

And finally, you may kindly point your writer to next week’s Guest Post by Me, Colonel Shifty, in which I list a few of the things your writer can be saying to you, her support network.

New to being the Support Network for your writer? If you need a tutorial on lingo from the publishing world, you can visit my Handy Dandy Dictionary.

The Revision Cave

Posted on July 27, 2012 by Beth Hull

*is a lonely place, but not entirely lonely

*more than one writer friend is ALWAYS in a neighboring cave

*flickers of self-doubt

*outright paranoia

*thank heavens for good friends who respond to emails within minutes

When I came out of the Revision Cave I looked like this:

So then I painted my toenails a happy teal color, the color I would’ve been proud to wear on a baggy t-shirt in 1986. I would post a photo because honestly my feet are my only body parts that don’t disgust me these days and aren’t covered in a fine, barely-wiped-away layer of baby spit-up. Although he did get my slipper the other day.

TEAL

My computer is going to Tune-Up Land this weekend, and I’m not sure when she’ll be back, so I’ll use this as an opportunity to do another Internet Blackout / Reprioritizing of Internet Usage over the coming week. Same deal as last time: check email Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with a 30-minute limit on those days. (No worries, I won’t be completely without internet access. Homes has a bright shiny new laptop I can use. If I arm-wrestle him for it. Nope, that won’t work. He’s definitely stronger than I am. Which isn’t saying a lot, as the heaviest thing I’ve lifted in the past thirteen weeks is Maverick, and he’s only about twelve pounds. I think I’ll stop now.)

Last thing – Attention Blogger Friends: If you use images on your blogs that you find online, you may want to check out this post on Pub Rants. I’m currently going through & removing everything I didn’t create myself.

The Whoofles (pl.)

Posted on January 4, 2012 by Beth Hull

The Whoofle (singular) looks a little like an armadillo, according to Z. She is, thus far, the only one to have any knowledge of the Whoofle. She’s quite afraid of it. She worries about it eating her toys, and even eating her (so glad I hid that “Travels of Babar” book with the cannibals). It’s sad that we’ve worked so hard to keep her from scary things, that she’s resorted to creating scary things out of her imagination. We have to prop up Z’s giant stuffed triceratops, Penelope, to stand guard at night. And she has Mr. Fox to hold, as well. And her turtle star night light.

The Whoofles (plural) look a lot like your average group of four-, five- and six-year-old girls. The Whoofles travel together in packs during the day, and don’t include everyone in their fun. They are, I think, far scarier than the Whoofle (sing.).

Dropping Z off at school yesterday, I was a mixture of jubilation and uncertainty. I was looking forward to some quality writing time, but unsure how she’d handle her first day back after two weeks off of school. But she was so excited about going back and playing “Princess Beauty” (a new game – I think it may have come from a Disney princess book her cousin shared with her).

But when we dropped her off, the other girls didn’t flock to engage her in play, and she stood there, bouncing and excited, by herself. Before walking across the street to our car, we spied her on the playground and watched as one of these little girls basically told her she couldn’t play with them (we couldn’t hear the conversation, but the body language and Z’s resultant lack of bouyancy were clear enough).

I came home and it was hard not to cry into my breakfast.

I didn’t recognize any of the girls, so I’m pretty sure their moms aren’t reading this. So I can easily give way to angry venting and vilify these little three-to-six-year-olds to my heart’s content.

Jerks.

That’s all the venting I’m willing to do, because I’m sure once upon a time I was a Whoofles, and Z may someday be a Whoofles too, although I will do everything in my power to teach her compassion & inclusiveness (is that even a word?). And I want to show her it’s possible to a) make friends who aren’t cruel and b) have fun by oneself. And while I’m at it, I’d like to somehow get her to figure out how to solve all the world’s problems and also make enough money to set Husband and myself up in a nice retirement home someday. Maybe in a warm place, by the ocean. Surrounded by our non-Whoofles friends.