Many adults have lost the joy they felt writing as children. Here are some suggestions on how to bring it back.
A lot of writers started writing as kids. We loved to read, so we decided to make our own stories.
Some of our stories were written and illustrated in crayon in stapled-together booklets. Some were written in stiffly adult cursive in pink lockable diaries. And some were typed in obsolete word processing programs in which documents could never be longer than 13 pages.
Writing when you’re six or ten or thirteen is a joyous activity. Characters and their magnificent struggles swirl through your head and every word that comes out is a diamond.
But at some point the magic fades.
You agonise, you doubt yourself. You pack away the crayons.
Grown-ups aren’t better at everything. So get your crayons back out and remember the fun you had writing (or might have had writing) as a kid.
Here are some ideas to get you started.
Continue reading “Recapturing the joy of writing as a kid”
Working with my critique partner recently, I learned how hope can make a scene irresistible. (This is not a writing advice post.)
I don’t do writing advice posts. Nope, nope, nope!
But occasionally I discover something about writing I want to share, and do so in a post. This is one such post.
Recently I’ve been working intensively with my new critique partner, both giving comments and suggested edits, and receiving and implementing them.
I’ve also been on a bit of a writing craft bender. I haven’t been counting, but I’ve probably read a good five craft books in the last few weeks. Not new ones, just some of my old favourites from the bookshelf.
All this means I’ve done a lot of cogitating about what makes a scene work, what’s different about the scenes that excite me or suck me in, and how I can implement this magic in more of my writing.
(I’ve also discovered I’m addicted to the words “something” and “filled” and the phrase “going to die”. You decide what that says about my WIP.)
Continue reading “How hope pulls a scene”