All About the Writing

Falling in Love with Your Characters

I have to admit I don't start out in love with my characters.   Generally they present me with an intriguing scenario—a literary proposition, if you will—and I say, "Okay, let's see where this takes us."

During the initial test drive, they usually make me chuckle, but too often they exasperate me.  Usually it's when I can't figure out where they should go next, and they stand there, shrugging, as if to say, "You have the story GPS.  You figure it out."

This is the situation I found myself in with my current WIP.  I had come up with the hero and heroine a long time ago, and I felt like I knew them pretty well.  The heroine had starred in several important scenes in a different book, one in which her brother is the hero.  But I had never seen her interact with the man who is her hero in the current manuscript.

So I had a basic premise for the hero and heroine, and they dutifully played their parts as I racked up the daily word count for NaNo.

Unfortunately they weren't doing anything to make me fall in love with them.  That worried me.  Every writer-mama loves her ugly babies to pieces, but the real trick is to make readers fall in love with these same characters.

Yet how could I manage that if they weren't really tickling MY fancy?

I debated whether to set them aside, although it would have been tricky since I'd written about 15k words, so starting over with something else would have made it difficult to finish NaNo.  And I was determined to finish NaNo no matter what happened.

Luckily I discovered there's a reward for dogged persistence, which is a good thing, because I have a ton of dogged persistence in my system.

I was about to start writing a scene where the heroine is waiting, with her brother, at the hero's house.  She is planning on presenting him with a certain solution to his current problems, which is also something she wants quite desperately.  All of a sudden the heroine surprised me by being nervous at seeing the hero.  She is never nervous.  NEVER.  He is her brother's best friend, and she's known him forever.  Yet, in this particular situation, she completely loses her resolve.   (To be honest, I thought she should have done so a few scenes previously, and when she didn't, I could not help but admire her tenacity.)

When the hero enters the room, he sees her start to falter, and he rushes to help her.  That was definitely nice of him, since up to this point he's treated her more like an annoying little sister who is thwarting his plans (which truly are important).

He is used to seeing her handle every kind of calamity with aplomb, so he teases her, and instead of continuing to fall apart. . .she pinches him.  And the hero laughs.  It's something they've gone through with each other many times while growing up, and they have this whole history I'd kind of overlooked, because I had focused on where they were going rather than where they've been.  They had a fun, playful relationship that hadn't really exhibited itself until this scene, and it showcased their individual personalities as well as how they meshed with each other.

That is when I fell in love with them. 

Once that happened, I wanted to know how they were going to take this shared history and lifelong relationship and combine it with new challenges on the way to their HEA.

I'm not exactly sure why I fell in love with them.  Maybe it was because they revealed a certain vulnerability or a spark of humanity I hadn't glimpsed before.  Or maybe it was that intimate moment when they let down their guard about the pinching episodes that let me know they cared for each other and always had.

In any event, they had moved from an intriguing premise to people whose future I cared deeply about.  Now I just need to revise the opening chapters so readers can feel, much earlier than I did, the same level of caring about these characters.  I'm confident I can do just that, allowing me to continue falling for my hero and heroine as they fall in love with each other.

So, when do you fall in love with your characters?  What did they do to make you feel that way?

Sharing Your Gift of Words

As writers, we always hope that our words will touch somebody's heart, and maybe even impact someone's life.  I want to suggest something that will do both those things.  It doesn't require a certain word count, or following any writing rules.  All you need is a heartfelt thought and a few minutes to jot down your words to someone who will be incredibly grateful to hear from "home".

I'm talking about soldiers stationed in Iraq and Afghanistan and maybe even places that had other names when I was learning geography in the seventh grade.

It doesn't matter what your political affiliation or philosophy is.  Because we're talking about people, who are in a far away land, doing a difficult job in dangerous situations. . .But then, on top of all that, too many of them do not get any mail.  EVER.  Nobody sends them a card or a letter to say, "thinking of you", or "thank you", or anything.

A while ago I saw a notice at the post office about a local group gathering up things to send to soldiers.  I made about 30 cards, writing a little note inside each one, to send along with the packages.  The women in charge of the project said that as much as the packages are appreciated, it's the cards and letters that the soldiers go for first.  The organizers recently emailed some comments from a few of the recipients, and it was wonderful to hear how much they enjoyed everything, but what they really appreciated was being remembered.

I got a little misty reading those comments, and I emailed the women to ask if there was more I could do.  One of them emailed back with several names of "neglected soldiers", people who never got any mail, which nearly broke my heart.   The word "neglected" should never be combined with the word "soldiers". 

So, if you could add one more card to your Christmas card list this year, or take a break from all the madness of shopping and baking and wrapping presents to write a note to someone who is most likely exhausted, and homesick, and definitely living in very rough conditions. . .I think you will feel joyful, and there's no doubt the recipient will too.  Sending a card or a letter only costs .44 cents first class postage, since they use APO or FPO addresses to get mail to the battlefield destinations.

Maybe you have a local group that is doing something like the one I connected with.  If not, you could check out Any Soldier, which will let you request addresses so you can send cards or packages.  It might astound you how many people are listed there, and they are merely the contact person for a group—it will tell you the number of males and females the contact person is taking care of with this project, as well as the things they would be grateful and happy to receive.  It should be noted they do not EXPECT these things, but it stunned me to see how many basic items they are in need of.

After I initially posted this blog, I received a tweet from a fellow Massachusetts writer, Kristin Offiler, about her blog post on this same topic, titled Raise Your Pen To Give Thanks.  (This is one reason I love Twitter--it puts me into contact with people I would not even know about otherwise!)  She let me know about a local group called Pack It Up that sends letters to soldiers, and their goal is to send 1000 letters overseas this holiday.  If you would like to send your letters to them at Pack It Up, 500 Randolph Ave., Milton, MA  02186, they will get them sent on their way.

It's easier to do something like this at the holidays, because our hearts are feeling the tug of compassion a little more than usual.  But this is something I want to try to do each month.  I like the thought of using my ability with words to bring a moment's happiness to someone half a world away. 

It's a gift I can easily share, and yet it somehow feels like I'm receiving a present too.

Oh Crap! Now What?

THIS is exactly where you want to end your chapter. 

Don't drag it on and try to wrap things up.  It's not a speech, where you need to tell everyone what you just told them.  It's not the end of the book, where you have to make sure all the loose ends are tied up tightly in a pretty bow.

You want readers to feel nervous, agitated, and completely mental about finding out how the character is going to handle the bombshell you just dropped.

From their experience with previous chapters, the reader can be pretty certain your resourceful character will handle this new complication.  The fun part, what you want them salivating to find out, is HOW they deal with this new calamity.

You don't want readers to finish the chapter smiling and saying, "Oh, that was nice" while they skip off to make a cup of tea.  You want them wild-eyed, chewing on their fingernails, their stomach churning with worry--because the reader knows what this new state of affairs means to your character.

The reader is a sort of emotional co-pilot.  If they care about your character, they want to be right by their side the entire way, yelling encouragement like a birthing coach.  The reader should be mentally pacing like the old-school dads outside the delivery room, trying to appear calm while agonizing over how to deal with this life-changing event.

So take a look at your current chapter endings.  Is there a question left in the reader's mind?  Is it compelling?  Or is it more like a commercial, an excuse to put things on pause so you can go to the kitchen and rustle up a snack?

If that's the case, then go back up a couple paragraphs.  Is this where you should have ended things?  Don't worry.  The paragraphs after that won't go to waste.  They can start the new chapter, because the story flow is already there.  It just needs to be broken up to heighten the tension and suspense, effectively increasing the "Oh crap!  Now what?" factor.

You don't want your chapter endings to be a rest stop for a weary traveler.  Instead, they should be like a shot of adrenaline, spurring the reader on until the next one, and the next one. . .all the way to the very end, until the reader closes the book and says, "Oh crap! What an amazing trip!"

First Gifts Blog Hop

I can't remember the first gift I got from a certain ex-boyfriend, but I can describe the most memorable one.

This man was always late.  He made lateness a type of performance art.  When we were invited to dinner at a friend's house, I told him we had to be there an hour BEFORE we were supposed to arrive—so that we could arrive close to the ACTUAL time.   If he could have time travelled, I have no doubt he would have landed in 1776 when he was shooting for 1492.

The funny part?   He hated waiting. 

Okay, it's funny to me, since I spent way too much time waiting for him.  One day, to kill time, I picked up a notepad and pen and started writing stories.  After that, it didn't seem to matter that I was waiting for him to show up, or get ready, or whatever.

I wasn't really waiting anymore.

So there I was—yup, you guessed it—waiting for him to show up so we could do whatever we had planned.  I was flouncing around my apartment, getting more steamed, and irate, and every thesaurus variation of angry I could possibly experience.  (All of this came in handy for writing scenes in later books, which just goes to show you, nothing in a writer's life is ever wasted.)

At last, there was a knock on my door.  I yanked it open, glaring with such intensity I should have melted the skin from. . .the back of his head?  He wasn't even LOOKING at me!  He was turned away, gazing at the yard, his posture the same unconcerned way it always was.  I can't remember for sure, but I'm confident I ranted and raved—even knowing he was as impervious to that as he was to being on time.

When he finally turned around, he looked down at his feet, not at me.  What a beautiful demonstration of remorse, and regret.  He was truly repentant. . .only contrition doesn't last quite THAT long.

I looked down too.  There was a present sitting there. 

On one hand I was thrilled, the childlike side of me jumping up and down, squealing, "A present?  For me?"  But my still-angry other hand was sneering, "A present?  For me?"

It was a lovely jewelry box, which I still use, covered in a rich Victorian floral fabric.  Still, it wasn't my birthday, and "National Peace Offering Day" was not listed on my calendar anywhere. 

"Is this supposed to keep me from being mad?" 

I heard a laugh, followed by, "I knew I wouldn't be able to fool you."

We lasted a few more years, longer than we should have, because I was young, and addicted to the belief that he would change, if given enough time.  However, I prefer to think I used that time to develop my writing craft, as well as much-needed patience for the glacial pace of the publishing world. 

As it turns out, these ended up being even better gifts than the peace offering, all thanks to this maddening man with no regard for time.

 

I Blame It All on Jessica Fletcher

I've been in love with the writer's life since before I started writing. I nearly stopped breathing the first time I saw Jessica Fletcher typing away at her kitchen table in the opening credits of Murder, She Wrote.

That was what I wanted to do.

Over the years, I set that dream aside, and tried to focus on more "practical" careers. It is no coincidence I ended up hating all of those jobs after the initial excitement of the first paycheck. The only job I didn't hate was my first real one: I was young, surrounded by very appreciative Army ROTC men, and since it only lasted two months I didn't have a chance to dislike working there. (Ironically, that job required the use of a now-ancient typewriter, although it was way more advanced than the relic Jessica Fletcher pounded away on.)

Still, even though I tried to ignore this crazy notion of being a full-time stay-at-home writer, that Jessica Fletcher typewriter image would keep popping up in my brain. I'd try to squelch it, but it was more persistent than I realized. I consider myself stubborn, but this idea could give me graduate-level lessons in obstinacy.

For a little while I had the opportunity to transform my fantasy of a writer's life into reality. I didn't have the distractions and agonies of a full-time job, although I will admit I had the distractions and agonies of impending financial disaster instead.

But I don't regret it. Because this is the life I love, and I'm willing to forego other things that get in the way of having this life.

I love waking up and having my brain fill up with answers to the questions about my story that puzzled me when I went to sleep.

I love sitting down with my coffee each morning and opening the lid of my laptop, a veritable pirate's chest of writing-related treasures.

I love thinking about blog topics, and exploring different ways to express my ideas about writing, while learning things that help my own craft.

I love engaging with other writers, on blogs and on Twitter, and, occasionally, in real life. This weekend I went to a local writers' conference, and it was so fun chatting with abandon about things only other writers understand (or obsess about). 

Today, instead of sitting at my kitchen table clacking away at a noisy typewriter, I'm sprawled on my couch, tapping on my whisper-quiet laptop. It makes me very happy, this updated, modern version of my lifelong dream.

This is the life I've always wanted, the one I was meant to pursue. It's not a charmed life, nor is it always an easy one. But it definitely fits me. 

Somehow I know Jessica Fletcher herself is smiling at the progression of my writerly dreams.

Do you remember the first moment you decided the writer's life was the one for you?  What do you love best about it?  What does it mean to you to be a writer?

Dave Niehaus, Wordsmith Extraordinaire

I don't really enjoy being read to.  It's like having a middleman between me and the words.  I prefer the direct approach, with the words going straight through my eyes and into my brain, exploding into Technicolor dioramas filled with romance and adventure and worlds I might never experience otherwise.   When someone reads to me, I can't seem to visualize things like this, which may explain why I am not a fan of audio books either.

So you can only guess how I feel about listening to sports announcers describing a baseball game on the radio.  Yawn.  Not for me.  Might as well get my blankie and take a nap now.

However. . .Dave Niehaus was the exception.  He was "the voice" of the Seattle Mariners from their first baseball game in 1977 through the end of this 2010 season.  He passed away Wednesday, at the age of 75, and I am one of many saddened by this news.

He was with the Mariners from the very beginning, back in the dark days when they managed to rise in the standings from god-awful to horrible.  When the only exciting thing was Ken Griffey Jr., a rookie phenom, crashing into the outfield wall to make a spectacular, uncatchable catch—for the umpteenth time. 

Okay, it was pretty exciting each year during the "Buhner Buzz Night" promotion, when fans could get in free if they were willing to get their hair shaved off to match outfielder Jay Buhner's bald head.

But we never started a game expecting the team to win.  We considered it progress if they could keep the score relatively close to the winning team's runs.  Instead, we enjoyed the sight of Griffey blasting through records for home runs, RBIs, bases stolen, and anything else he felt like.  We grinned when Dave Niehaus exclaimed, "My oh my!" each time the M's played great ball, even if that ended up being the only highlight in a game won by the other team.

If the Mariners did win, it was beyond exciting.  It bordered on the miraculous.  In those days, you had to be a die-hard baseball fan, because getting, and staying, over .500 never lasted past July.  For the non-baseball folks out there, that meant the M's lost more games than they won, so their season was pretty much over at the halfway point, during the hottest part of the summer. 

Still, listening to Dave Niehaus calling each game, it was a lot easier to keep the faith, even when there was nothing but losing, season after season after season. 

I listened to a lot of Mariners' games on the radio, sitting on my friend Jane's deck, swatting away mosquitoes while Dave Niehaus wove his spell.   He was the ultimate wordsmith, describing the details and nuances of the game so you felt smack dab in the middle of the action.  Thanks to Dave I could see what the opposing pitcher was doing during his windup, and I could also keep my eye on the runner at second, who was hoping to steal--and tie up the game--once the pitch headed towards the plate.

Then there would be an unexpected crack of the bat, and the rising excitement in Dave's voice, making us all sit forward, our hands clasped hopefully.  Would THIS hit be the one to make it over the wall?  According to Dave, the outfielder was racing backwards, chasing the ball, leaping up to make the catch.  We sat back, sighing with disappointment, pretending it was what we had expected.  But then all of a sudden Dave cried out, "Fly away!", his trademark way of telling us it was a home run.

There are so many different ways to mark the passage of time.  For me, this year did so with changes involving the baseball team I loved to follow.  Lou Piniella, the manager for a different team now, and Ken Griffey Jr., both retired.  Who could ever imagine Griffey being old enough to retire, for crying out loud?

And now Dave Niehaus is gone.

He is an indelible connection to summer memories I will always treasure.   I moved away from the Seattle area a long time ago, after I was fortunate enough to see, in person, the Mariners win the tie-breaker that sent them to their first-ever playoff season.  They were still playing home games in the Kingdome then, but it was blasted to smithereens a few years later and replaced by Safeco Field, which I have not seen yet.  It's been a lot of years since I've seen the people who listened to those games with me, but I always assumed we'd pick right back up some day, with Dave Niehaus describing everything for us like he had before. 

The great thing is he got to do the job he loved until the day he died.  How many of us actually have that opportunity?  Even better, how many of us can affect others with our words, and the stories we create with them, the way Dave Niehaus did?

It's certainly a goal worth aiming for.  It's one I'm striving to accomplish, every day, with every page.

Daylight Wasting Time

Yesterday we gained an hour when we turned back our clocks for the ole "Fall Back" portion of the semi-annual time-shifting equation.  Since that "extra hour" happened while I was sleeping, my body just absorbed it while I dreamed of hitting the bestseller lists. 

I'll notice the difference when I want to fall asleep about fourteen hours earlier than usual.  Or when I look outside and see that it's pitch black by mid-afternoon, and I'm forced to acknowledge it's going to be like that until we get to fiddle with the clocks again in a few months.

Yet, even without all the clock changing, time is such a fluid commodity. 

The other day I was absorbed with Lord Wastrel, the story I'm working on for NaNoWriMo.  My brain zipped around like a toddler on a sugar blitz, shrieking, "And then THIS happened, and then THAT. . ." and my fingers nearly set the keyboard on fire keeping up with the frenzy of words.

It was a glorious experience watching the word count rack up, the same way the numbers whiz by on the gas pump nowadays.  I managed 3200 words before I fell to the ground in a heap, not knowing if an hour had passed or if it was closer to a decade.  It didn't even matter.  The euphoria of being totally consumed by the story made time my bitch.

Of course, there are the other days:  when time gets to be the dominant one, and I'm the meek submissive.

We humans supposedly experience the same sixty seconds to every minute, the same sixty minutes to every hour.  But it feels like somebody is messing with that time-honored recipe when the words aren't flowing so freely.   In fact, it's easy to believe that time is not only stretching out beyond eternity, it is also erasing two words every time you type a new one. 

So I'm trying to look at this gift of an extra hour in a slightly different way.  I resolve to not celebrate "Daylight Wasting Time" every day.  Since I know that time is going to expand and contract—essentially giving me less time when I need it and more time when I don't—I plan to use it for the things that matter most. 

For me that is going to be writing, and writing-related activities.  (Yes, coffee and chocolate consumption are at the top of the writing-related activity list.  It would be silly to say otherwise.) 

Your list of what matters will vary from mine, and it should.  We all value different things, and that's what makes life so interesting.  It's also what gives us plenty of stuff to write about.

And I'm not going to promise I won't waste ANY time, ever.  That's impossible.  I just want to make sure the time wasting I do engage in doesn't prevent me from accomplishing the things that make me the happiest. 

We never get that wasted time back.  It's not something that can be reclaimed, recycled, or reused.  Not even when we set our clocks backwards or forwards in a vain attempt to capture those elusive moments of daylight.

The best we can hope for is that we'll get more time every single day—a minimum of twenty-four hours, one right after the other--along with the choice of how we'll use it.

So what's your favorite way to waste time?  Or do you have a time-waster that you don't like?  Maybe we can find you a new one!

The One Writing Rule You Cannot Break

I'm a little under the weather, and my brain is feeling a bit fuzzy, so I wasn't entirely sure what it might come up with if I attempted writing a new post. So I decided it might be best for all of us if I gave you this post I did a while ago--when I could still remember which order words are supposed to be in. I hope you enjoy.   

A while ago I signed up for a Webinar devoted to the first few pages of manuscripts, and how to make sure the agent/editor keeps reading. I love online classes. You can sit in your jammies with your coffee and learn all kinds of great stuff. Plus you don't have to devote a semester to it, and honestly, if you decide to get up in the middle and leave, you're not going to get detention.

Since I had signed up early enough, my first page (from LORD MIDNIGHT) was one of those selected to be reviewed in the class. Yay!

I've used my computer for previous WebEx classes, so I have no idea why my computer chose THIS particular class to throw a tantrum, one of those falling-to-the-ground-screeching-and-kicking-the-heels kind. By the time I finally got it settled down, and got me signed in, I saw my page on the screen for 3.5 seconds, and then they went on to the next one.

Nooooooooo!

Fortunately the instructor emailed me the page later, highlighting the opening line, which seemed to do its job of drawing the reader in. She also noted the potentially troublesome part, which was a mini-flashback.  

I had debated a lot whether to include that portion. I finally decided it showed my heroine's determination in a hopeless situation, and I believed it would increase reader sympathy for her. And while the "rule" is not to use flashbacks, I felt if I followed that rule, I would break another important rule, which is to make readers care about your characters.

During the class, there were a lot of interesting examples discussed, and it was fun to see what worked, and what didn't, and the reasoning behind it. It's a very fluid concept, though.

Basically, the "rule" seems to be this:  It works, unless it doesn't.

Is that an objective standard? Or is it a subjective one?

Ding ding ding! The correct answer is "Subjective". You've just qualified to advance to the Lightning Round.

There are sooooo many rules about writing, and the majority of them are designed to make life easier for the writer. They provide a framework and/or structure to make a story more compelling for the reader. Unfortunately there seems to be so many rules, writers get stuck trying to figure out how to tell their story. It also seems like adhering blindly to rules has a tendency to homogenize writing efforts, creating a bland result that no one wants to read.

The "rule" that I think is the most important, the one that cannot be broken, is this one:

THOU SHALT MAKE THY BOOK IRRESISTIBLE TO READERS

This means you may have to break all kinds of rules and regulations. Maybe the hero and heroine will have to meet in Chapter 2 rather than Chapter 1. Or maybe the hero will have a career that is considered out of the norm. If this lawlessness makes your book irresistible, it doesn't MATTER if you break those rules. If readers can't stop reading, they aren't even aware of the broken rules.

On the flip side, if you DO break the rules, and readers are resisting your book in droves, it doesn't matter what other rules you've broken. No one cares, because they aren't reading your book.

It works, unless it doesn't.

"Don’t chase market trends." "Write the book of your heart, the book YOU want to read."

These are just some of the rules I adore, and try to follow. If you keep these uppermost in your mind, you are more likely to embrace the Rule of Irresistibility. And you won't even realize it.

P.S.  The "rule" I broke about flashbacks seems to have worked, at least once. I won a contest with that page. Will it work every time? Maybe not. Will I break that same rule again in the future? Maybe not. It all depends on the story that needs telling, and what will make it simply irresistible.

Happy Birthday!

Today is my birthday, and maybe it's just coincidence that it's also Election Day. . .but I think it's a trial run for when my birthday becomes a national holiday.

Of course, not everyone is thrilled when another birthday rolls around.  My BFF would rather ignore hers, and we have to be pretty creative to find ways to celebrate that wondrous day she was born.  

I, on the other hand, LOVE my birthday.  I love it so much I celebrate the WHOLE MONTH.  It's not that I need presents, which would be nice, especially books and money and money and books.  But how can you not love a day that's set aside just for you?  (Although I remember in high school there were four other girls with the same birthday as mine, and boy did it feel crowded.)

 
I'll try to keep my eyes squeezed shut while you're all passing around my birthday card, making sure everyone gets to sign it without me seeing it . . .

Wait.  I've got a better idea!  I love comments almost as much as my birthday. 

So leave a comment telling me how YOU feel about birthdays.  Are you a lover or a hater?  And what's your favorite birthday gift?

 

Mornings for Non-Morning People

I am not a morning person.  

We all know I'm not divulging any state secrets here.  The only reason I even get UP in the morning is to avoid that horrid caffeine withdrawal headache that rips my skull open if I don't consume mass quantities of coffee.

However, I do have my contrary side.  Shocking!  Yes, I know.  As soon as I say one thing, I immediately counter it with something else.  I'm my very own debate team (which can be more annoying than entertaining, believe me).

So what my contrary side wants to say is this:  I do see the value of doing things in the morning, especially those early hours that have never made the acquaintance of high noon.  Lately I've been doing a 30 minute yoga stretching thing from a DVD, and THEN I get my coffee.  I sit down and do some 10-minute fun writing, or I jot down some notes that have popped into my head when I'm supposed to be meditating while folding my body into an origami crane.  (I still don't know what the yoga instructor means when he says my spine will feel the thrill of confidence and creativity.  My spine seems a lot more emotionally subdued.)

However, I honestly feel like I have a better day when I start out with these activities.  Most days I try to convince myself – okay, let's be brutally honest – I flat out LIE and tell myself I'll start writing "in just a minute".  Do I even need to tell you how many days I don't get started until the sun goes down?  Guess it's a good thing that we're moving to Daylight Savings Time soon, since the sun will be gone earlier in the day, meaning fewer minutes will be waiting around for me to "start writing".

I don't even want to think about how many minutes have died believing I was going to show up soon.

The worst part is that I spend way too much of my time and energy convincing myself I don't want to do these productive things, and then I try to persuade myself I *should* do them.  So what do I ultimately accomplish in this exhausting battle with my selves?  I keep my resistance strong, and then I feel guilty about making myself impervious to industrious activity.

When you resist getting started, the day speeds past you.  You tell yourself you'll get going at the top of the hour, and you dive right back in to your non-productive endeavors.  The next time you check the clock, which you can barely see because night has descended, you exclaim, with genuine heartfelt amazement, "Wow!  Where did the day go?"

Yet when I start out doing the things I typically avoid – exercise, jumping right into the writing – and I get them done and out of the way, it's like I have a whole day to enjoy.  I'm not wasting an hour (or more) lying to myself or feeling guilty or dodging my responsibilities and my inner critic.  I have the whole rest of the day to do what I want.

Somehow there seems to be at least TWICE as much day left.  And it's totally guilt-free enjoyment.  It's like the universe is rewarding you with extra time for getting your chores done.  The same way it takes time away from you when you poke around Twitter and Facebook all day long while "getting ready" to work.

It took me a while to figure this time-stretching thing out, and now that I have, I'm actually more excited about mornings.

Surprisingly, so is my inner contrarian.