Issue 72

By Elizabeth Milo

Perhaps that title should have a question mark at the end: chicklit is growing up? You can almost hear the incredulity in the inflection required for that question. The idea that chicklit ever could grow up seems like a long shot. How can a genre based around the ideas of perpetual youth and indulgence mature? Chicklit series don’t grow with their readers, their readers grow out of them.

This truth which we hold to be self-evident has now been challenged by a new wave of chicklit novels that are becoming increasingly popular. When chicklit first rose to stardom in the 90s, every book revolved around the same unbearably simple plotline of girl-meets-boy, girl-meets-road-block, girl-gets-boy-in-the-end. Since their rise in readership, scholars have argued that chicklit novels represent an important facet of the sociological and psychological lives of modern women and the effects the demands of society have on them… or something like that. Editors Suzanne Ferris and Mallory Young compiled sixteen essays that argue both for and against chicklit material in their 2005 book Chick Lit: The New Woman’s Fiction. Fifteen of those sixteen were in favor of appreciating and further studying the importance of chicklits based on their sociological merit and context within the literary history of feminist works. These books are supposed to be feminist books because the women totter around New York in really high heels and have sex with lots of men? Okay, maybe. But if the only thing oppressing them is which Yankee to date, that doesn’t sound like much of a struggle for suffrage to me.

As with most good, or at least absurdly popular, things in our culture, the chicklit fad originated in England. Just like The Beatles, scones, and Trading Spaces, chicklit started with the phenomenal success of authors such as Helen Fielding, whose novel Bridget Jones’s Diary was an international phenomenon. After Colin Firth’s revival of his idolized portrayal of Mr. Darcy for the film adaptation of Bridget Jones, most of the world is now familiar with Fielding’s somewhat degrading twist on Austen’s masterpiece Pride and Prejudice. (Ironically, though written 200 years later and after women have gained almost an equal footing in society, Bridget Jones manages to be less supportive of women than P&P. But I digress.) Once the British fad jumped the Atlantic, American authors took no time in turning out chicklit of their own, such as Candice Bushnell’s Sex and the City, which went on to become a behemoth of a cultural icon. I don’t think somebody squirreled away in a hovel could have avoided learning what Sex and the City is by now.

Most chicklit in America has continued to follow the trend of Sex and the City, focusing mostly on city women living their upper-middle-class lives, dealing with issues about husbands, boyfriends, children, jobs, and most importantly, sex. In 2009, Doree Shafrir wrote an article for Publisher’s Weekly entitled “Women's Lit: Chick Lit Gets an Update,” in which she argues that chicklit has grown up. Why does she think that? Because three new books are about women in New York who struggle with issues in their jobs, marriages, and sex life. Gee,that sounds familiar. Her main point is that these characters are women, not girls, who are dealing with real life issues. In Amy Sohn's Prospect Park West, the opening scene showcases one of these “real life issues,” which is so relatable, in fact, that if I had a nickel for every time I had to take the batteries out of my baby’s mobile and risked waking the baby up in order to replace the batteries in my vibrator so I could orgasm...I would have absolutely no money. Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus hit the nail on the head in their wickedly funny portrayal of rich New York woman in their novel The Nanny Diaries: the only thing missing from the lives of these women is a sharp smack upside the head.

Clearly America has failed to grow in the chicklit department, but you can bet on those trusty Brits to pull through. While “growing-up” in the States has taken on a much too literal interpretation of simply looking at older women, UK authors have started to look at older—and more serious—issues. In her latest novel, This Charming Man, Marian Keyes faces the issue of domestic abuse head-on in a not-so-nice way. In fact, when you get halfway through the book, you might feel as if you’ve been tricked into reading a story about abuse, because she allows her darker themes to lie low at the beginning. By the ending, however, if you’re a normal human being with a beating heart, you’ll feel like you should start a shelter for battered women and scourge the earth of evil. Her novel deals with abuse, depression, alcoholism, and of course marriage and sex, in a direct but sensitive way that will not allow the reader to disengage.

Perhaps British author Anna Maxted started the trend way back in 2001 with her hit novel Running in Heels. The story begins prosaically predictable with the “falling apart” of a skinny twenty-something’s life. She’s in self-destruct mode, and the audience is just waiting for prince charming to come along. When he does show up, though, so does another unwelcome guest: anorexia. This skinny-chic-twenty-something is too skinny, and the reader follows along as she goes through all the levels of denial, pain, bulimia, and hair loss until she confronts the rage inside of her that’s put her on this path.

Abuse, rape, and eating disorders aren’t the sort of things that spring to mind when you think of chicklit. And when you unsuspectingly pick up one of these heavy-hitting books, you will find no traces of the darker issues inside on the cover or the back. Authors are starting to sneak your vegetables in on you by wrapping them in chiffon dresses and London flats. But perhaps what chicklit readers need is to have these ugly truths spoon-fed to them. Of course there’s still romance, fashion, and the-best-sex-she’s-ever-had in these brightly colored novels, but there’s a realness, too, that makes these fairy tales a worthwhile read. Chicklits may never be feminist manifestos, but they are starting to grow up.

By Maggie Secara

Not everything is a lie.
Tempers flare, birds fly south
(not always for the sunshine)
even love, while it lasts,
is true as the blood
on the canvas walls, the relic
of someone’s Guernica afternoon;
but the truth is only important
when it’s useful, or harmful
in the end—
every word a felony.

The lies sift somewhere
between friends and murdering angels,
dropping from
the oak trees
like fireflies and morning dew
contaminating the crossroads,
virtue tied up in a kitchen rag
disguised as cloth of gold
tarnished on the battlefield
of casual death and idle weddings
without charity
or kindness
or grace.
The sword is quicker
but this will do.

voices, not voices
the shades of voices
bitter and muttering something
that sounds
like my name in a shadow

I should, if asked,
weigh my heart against a feather
defend with honour, apologize
with grace, bear a sentence
if earned. Instead,
I shout from the wall,
fling up my hands, and die
anyway.

I glide thru papyrus on a flat
reed boat
hunting water fowl startled
to stillness, flat
on the flat sky.
My brothers and my sisters, tiny
figures at the lotus prow
pull down the stars
and eat them.

By Christopher Stokum and Elizabeth Milo

WNW recently spoke with author Bobby Devito about his book Burned, an autobiography about his life as a rock guitarist in the 80s and 90s.

WNW: Why did you decide to write a tell-all autobiography? What do you hope to accomplish by sharing the stories you do in Burned?
Devito BURNED was not something I "decided" to write, it was something I HAD to write. I was playing fulltime as a musician in Key West, and being a sober person in Key West can be an incredibly lonely existence. I only worked about 20 hours per week, and had the rest of my time to myself, which was lovely. I spent a great deal of time at the Hemingway House, and the literary past of Key West really soaked into my being. I had already written a few chapters when my sound engineer called me as he was recording demos for a female singer/songwriter who was married to author Randy Wayne White. I met Randy, and he really wanted to read my stuff, which I initially resisted doing...but then relented, going to Kinko's and having a bound manuscript made for him. He came to one of my shows and sat for two hours reading my manuscript, never looking up during my show. Afterward, Randy encouraged me to finish the book, and gave me the "literary balls" to think that I might actually be a “writer.”
I do not know what I hope to accomplish by sharing these stories, other than I hope that people enjoy them and possibly learn from them and not make the same mistakes I have. And hopefully these stories might give hope and faith to others in the same sort of predicaments I found myself stuck in.

WNW: You discuss drug abuse and addiction a number of times in your book. Why did you choose to include these parts of your life?
Devito The issues of alcoholism and addiction form a thread throughout my entire life, starting with my grandfather. And a great deal of my life was spent using or abusing various substances. I do not wish to glorify these experiences, and I honestly think that my book shows a much less glamorous look at what a potential "rock star’s" life looks like from the inside. As a child, I grew up idolizing many musicians who were my heroes, and several of them were notorious addicts or alcoholics. There seems to a meme that to be creative and successful, one must indulge in drugs or alcohol.

WNW: It seems that some of these sections might be directed toward drug addicts. Do you hope to send them a certain message?
Devito I hope that ALL of the book is directed to EVERYONE. My hope is that other addicts or alcoholics might recognize patterns of behavior and learn from my mistakes instead of learning it the hard way, like I have. I want them to see that even the worst cases can change. And that support from others is essential, and you can never escape your consequences.

WNW: Why is it so important to you that certain names not be changed in your story?
Devito Well, it would be quite easy to identify many of the people in my past anyhow, through public record searches and other services. And there are others in my story who have been quite public about their issues, including one character who just spent an entire year on Dr. Drew's Celebrity Rehab Show on VH1. So does that person REALLY have any expectation of privacy regarding his drug use? I am not naming names of the countless celebrities that I have encountered at recovery meetings in LA, which would really surprise many people. There are FAR more people in my history that I am not "naming", and the few that are named in my book are essential to my story.

WNW: You worked hard to self-promote your music in the past. How has promoting Burned compared to that?
Devito It's just as hard, whether you are promoting a book or an album. I always point to LVX Nova as an example of how an unknown artist can become successful through hard work and effort. It's a great album musically, but since it is not "pop" music, it was a long road to getting a major label deal for that project. I spent a year working college radio, alternative press, non-mainstream retail, and the internet to make that album gain traction. I think that promoting BURNED will be just as arduous, but this book has the potential to reach a much greater audience that anything else I have created, so I will do whatever it takes to help it be successful.

WNW: Love, drugs, and music have run your life up until this point-- do you see writing becoming a new driving force for you?
Devito Well, I am currently married to wife #5, and she has been a great source of stability for me, as well as someone who has "double digit sobriety." I have the "love" part taken care of, finally. The alcohol and drugs part of my life finally ended back before I wrote the book, and I continue to maintain and "prune" my sobriety on a daily basis. I am very active in the musical instrument manufacturing community, with several endorsements and a lot of video demos of guitar gear on YouTube. Writing is kind of "new" to me, although I did have some articles published in the statewide Florida Music Magazine JAM in the 90s, and I also wrote a pretty extensive thesis on ambient music in order to graduate from New College in Florida back in 1996.
But I do find myself very interested in writing, although watching a real professional like Randy Wayne White work is daunting. He gets up at 4 am and works until noon or later EVERY DAY when he is writing a book. Writing is as much craft as it is art to me, and I am still learning. My coursework at New College with Professor Maureen Harkin really opened my eyes as far as literary theory, cultural studies, and how literature is interpreted and deconstructed. Her classes really opened up huge new worlds to me about what literature is and can be. I have two new books currently in the works—one is a proper novel that is set in Key West, and the other is a non-fiction history of a man named John W Ek, one of the most famous military knifemakers in the world, an ex-CIA operative, and trainer of the 2506 Brigade for the Bay of Pigs Invasion. John's son Gary is one of my best friends, and he has given me the entire Ek family archives and photos to work with, so that book will be quite unique.

WNW: How have the accusations of libel affected you personally?
Devito To be honest, it really threw me for a loop at first. There is no libel whatsoever in my book, and the only person who seems to be getting slandered is myself. I am certainly not a "hero" in BURNED, although I do emerge for the better at the end of the book. However, there were indeed a couple of "tweaks" to my story that have been made to protect the guilty. In the final analysis, I don' think that I made anyone look worse or better than they are in real life. My third ex-wife just read the book, and while she does not agree with all of it, she is a writer herself and understood that this book is MY truth, my perspective of what was happening around me and to me during these times. As Bob Uzzo used to tell me over and over "IT IS WHAT IT IS". And that's BURNED in a nutshell!

For more information about Robert Devito and his book, Burned, please visit his Twitter page or Smashwords page.

By Carlotta G. Holton

Having read and thoroughly enjoyed Robert Hicks’ earlier novel, The Widow of the South, I opened the sequel A Separate Country with great expectations. Set in post-Civil War New Orleans, A Separate Country is a close look at the travesties of war as reflected in the individual, families, and the healing nation as a whole. Hicks’ second novel begins as a promising sequel to his first rich historical drama, following the life and perils of Confederate General John Bell Hood. I was disappointed with this continuing journey.

The novel is structured as a story within a story, and at the core is the atonement of Hood’s sins on the battlefield. The tale of redemption begins on Hood’s deathbed as he summons Eli Griffen, an old war adversary, and charges him with the mission of finding a former comrade, Sebastien Lemerle. Hood hopes this man will see it fit to forgive him and consent to having Hood’s memoirs published.

In flashbacks seen through the eyes of three narrators – Hood, his wife Anna Marie, and Griffen – the readers confront the general as a broken man, both physically and spiritually. He has an artificial leg, a bum arm, and no money, and is earnestly seeking reparation for his war-time mistakes. He and his wife, Anna Marie, who was a society Creole, live in diminished circumstances with their eleven children. His once passionate relationship with his wife becomes strained as he incurs business failures and debt.

This journey of guilt, regret, and salvation begins in Hood’s voice. I found his descriptions long and boring as he tries to redeem his tarnished military reputation, including a bloody battle against the Comanche at Devil’s River. While A Separate Country is peopled with colorful and memorable secondary characters, including Rintra, a dwarf; the burly Father Mike; and Griffen, I was left wanting more from the character of Hood. In particular, I was disturbed by his lack of demonstrative love toward his wife and children.

Though the main character is lacking, Hick’s tapestry of the South rings true. As his characters struggle through the pains of Reconstruction, he evokes the sense of bitterness and disillusion that pervaded the South. He notes, “Southern whites rejected all forms of equality, and blacks wanted nothing but full freedom and land of their own.”

It was a time of confusion and disorder peppered with the infusion of opportunistic carpetbaggers coming from the north, and the white Republican southerners, or scalawags, who sympathized with the Reconstruction effort. The ruined economic South provided a ripe climate for political upheaval. While Hood’s memoirs read dry and wordy, Anna Marie’s diaries are filled with the joys and struggles of her life which begins in the high society of a Southern belle and follows her descent into poverty and societal exclusion. While Hood struggles with good and evil, his wife wrestles with the issue of class. Prior to the Civil War, she was a white Creole-upper class woman who spoke French, attended lavish parties and had servants. She befriended a quadroon, Paschal, who was a piano teacher to her cousin. Though part black, he was light-skinned. After the war, when she encourages him to attend a ball, she places him in danger as he is confronted by a man whose wife Paschal has coveted. Shocked at the violent result, she still does nothing to stop the crime. One has to ask why she did not help him. Is she really a racist at heart?

Hood’s penance over his egregious acts of war and Anna Marie’s guilt about her failure to save Paschal trigger a new-found devotion in them to use their money and time to help poor blacks escape yellow fever. During the sweltering summer, the rich flee the city while the poor remain behind, weak and susceptible to the “yellow jack.” Aside from the verbosity of Hood’s story, there is an understated notion that Hood can only attain happiness by being dirt poor. Toward the end of her life, Anna muses, “I could be happy because I did not miss who I had been. I did not miss the balls and the dresses and the amusements, but most of all I did not miss the girl … She was a traitor to her class, to her people.”

Perhaps the truest character is Griffen, who travels to New Orleans with the intention of killing the man who murdered his family. He perceives Hood as a murderer: “Hood had fixed it so I would never quit seeing the dead and not just the frozen on that battlefield, piled atop each other, but also the face of my sister dead in her bed.” Yet he is unable to kill Hood. His narrative reads easily and is void of the guilt and egoism of Hood’s memoirs and Anna Marie’s sentimentality.

War affects every man. And while the Hood family’s quest for forgiveness remains questionable, Griffen achieves what they failed to do. He says, “what I lost was any expectation of good and right, any faith that I could know these things anymore.” Despite the horrors he has lived through, he defends both of the Hoods’ written words and seeks the truth.

With such rich material from which to draw, Hicks could have been braver and cut more of the story. In this case, less would have definitely been more. For readers of historical fiction I would refer them to his other great work, Widow of the South.

Carlotta Holton is the author of Salem Pact, Touching The Dead and Vampire Resurrection, and is a member of the National Federation of Press Women and an affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association.

By Elizabeth Milo

Normally I find memoirs and war stories too contrite or detail-oriented to enjoy, never containing enough of a plot to keep me engrossed. Thus, when Penelope Lively’s novel Moon Tiger was recommended to me, I was skeptical about how much I would enjoy it. Not only were my assumptions proven wrong, but I was also thrilled to find a hidden maze of truly interesting philosophical questions buried within the text. Moon Tiger is the memoir of a dying woman who views the world with a self-conscious awareness of her own narcissism. Claudia, Moon Tiger’s protagonist, recognizes her inability to look at the world without the taint of her own experience. When she imagines history in relation to her own life, she remarks, “Egocentric Claudia is once again subordinating history to her own puny existence.” Claudia’s story-telling method combines facts from history into a jumble of knowledge that all revolves around her own experiences and life.

Peripheral to Claudia’s story are the lives of people who have been significant to her in some way: her daughter, her daughter’s father, her one great love, her brother. Each of these people view Claudia differently and contribute to who she is in some way. Claudia’s first-person narration lords over most of the novel, but a handful of stories told in the third-person are scattered throughout the book, making the reader question whether they are Claudia imagining somebody else’s life, or an authorial voice sharing a new perspective.

Claudia’s awareness of her own narcissism doesn’t diminish how annoying her self-absorption is. To be constantly inside Claudia’s mind can make the reader feel trapped, even suffocated by her. The way she views the relationships she has with other people, especially her daughter, does not cast her in a flattering light. And yet, as the story of her life unfolds, it becomes clear that certain events have shaped her to be this way. Claudia’s strong opinions about life are inevitably undermined by the choices that she makes, which causes the reader to question their own thoughts on these complex ideas.

Moon Tiger can be enjoyed as a memoir of one woman’s remarkable life, or it can be a challenge to the reader to engage in mental exercises that we rarely have occasion to perform. The questions that Lively opens up in Moon Tiger are essentially bottomless pits which the reader can delve deeper and deeper into until they feel the need to surface again. The themes of love, incest, and duty seem paltry and secondary next to the issues of identity and reality that Lively recklessly explores.

By Meghan Morrow

Life has become full of superstitions. As children, we fear stepping on cracks or crossing paths with a black cat; as we become older, we fill our rooms with trinkets that are supposed to bring luck. These fallacies have become so widespread that they have even merged into traditions and rituals. During holidays, our families come together hoping to intensify bonds, and various cultures perform rhythmic dances to bring on a better crop season. Superstitions are even seen in sports’ players who repeatedly wear the same socks with the hopes of achieving a winning streak.

So what about writers? Do we, as the hopeful voices of tomorrow, have certain traditions we live by in order to write? I cannot speak for every writer out there, but I know of several who cannot even write a word until they have finished their ‘author’s ritual.’ I myself cannot open Microsoft Word before I have played and won a game of Mahjong. There are some who must ensure they are surrounded by total silence while others need a room full of white noise to get inspiration to flow. But are all these superstitions necessary? Do we really believe that by putting a little Coldplay on in the background we will become betters writers? To be honest, yes. We do think these traditions improve our abilities and in some cases, this may even be true. A certain lyric of a song may trigger some snappy dialogue, or a run around the block could introduce you to a new character.

We grow to depend on our pre-writing habits and believe we cannot write without them. We think we need that spark from a muse to get the words flowing and the pages flying. But this is a false notion to follow. Do not give in to the temptation you may have to believe in inspiration. As writers, we cannot rely on the chance that inspiration may strike to start our stories; we have to be the pushers. We must create our own inspiration when it fails to arrive. Right now, I am having a difficult time trying to decide where to go with this article, and do you want to know what my first thought was? ‘I need to turn on my music.’ No, I do not. I am going to stay in front of the computer and get the words out even if they sound awful.

By choosing to write only when we receive some sort of insight into the story, we will never see the end. We will be trapped in the world we failed to create until the pages finally end up hidden in a drawer and left to be forgotten.

Writing is not easy, and it’s not supposed to be. We must force ourselves to sit down at the computer, or desk, or chalkboard, and write. We must write every day. It is the only way that we will become better writers and the only way we can feel complete. Without finishing the story, we will feel that ‘something’ missing from our day and the only way to rid ourselves of this sensation is to write. But by forcing ourselves to write, we begin to hate everything that comes out of the pen, and this is the most crucial step in the writing process. Only with progress can there be any results. You, writer, must learn to enjoy the feeling of hopelessness experienced when writing becomes a chore.

Our superstitions are not going to disappear, so I say to use them as motivators and not as a crutch. We cannot hope that our pre-writing rituals will inspire greatness, but that they will prompt us to start working on our next project. So, if you must, go turn on your stereo or finish up that game of Mahjong and get writing.

By Jessica Quillin

This past week saw the launch of my new company website. While I am thrilled with the results and am extremely grateful to my designers for their work, the website required a lot more time and direction on my part than I ever could have imagined.

Despite the discussion in my column about a month ago concerning the time I spent pouring through initial page mockups, these early stages for the website design were nothing in comparison with the final stages leading up to the site launch. For my part, I found it challenging to maintain (and remember) my creative vision for the website project over the course of the relatively long preparation timeframe (it took about six weeks), while balancing a dozen other projects.

For one, the site development process happened mostly behind-the-scenes, requiring input from me only at select periods in time. Like many projects, as the main writer, I played a major role in the initial design phase but then was only mainly needed in the end to review, revise, and approve the site draft. However, as the company owner, I also was the editorial manager, so I needed to pay attention to the back-and-forth discussion over email between my graphic designer and web designer to make sure things kept running smoothly and maintained the creative vision that I had set forth in the beginning.

This project oversight, as it turned out, proved critical. At points, the graphic designer and I had different conceptions for the site, which became clear in relation to image selection. As someone who is more comfortable with the art of words than that of images, I initially felt slightly uncomfortable in communicating my opinions. After all, he’s the design expert; and I’m the writer. But, in this case, it was my own business, so I felt forced to hold my ground to achieve the look I was after.

Maybe it’s my own lack of confidence in relation to the entire concept of visual design. After all, my husband says that I get lost in shopping malls. Yet, I devour fashion and think that I possess a good instinct for the visual when it comes to clothing (and shopping, my husband would say). Indeed, one of the driving forces of my business model is to marry my shoe collection with my communications experience to do work in fashion marketing and advertising. While I am making strides toward this goal, I nevertheless feel that I am more comfortable, and thus more creative, with language, rather than with imagery.

It’s funny that I am finalizing a book about the relations between words and music in poetry. Words and sound are dimensions of language that I can handle. After fifteen years of classical piano and many years of research, my aural imagination is well-tuned in terms of language, if you will. Yet, my visual imagination in relation to words is only now developing.

Despite my admiration for a well-crafted enjambment or John Hollander’s visual experimentation in poetry, until recently, I’ve never had much of a chance to explore the visual aspect of writing. As I wrote a few weeks ago, in terms of the inherent multi-dimensionality of writing for the web, I
think that most writers will sympathize with the challenge of thinking holistically in terms of how
your writing will be presented. Indeed, I find myself so pre-occupied most days with words and the organization of my ideas in words that I can scarcely add in the extra stress of images to this equation.

Yet, now that I am now completely entrenched in the delight and self-torture of writing, I find myself more attentive than ever to the importance of the visual. Presentation is the essential element of a first impression, which is so critical when trying to show what you can do as a writer in order to win and retain clients.

I think that the crux in finalizing my website was the sudden realization of its metonymical function to represent me and my new business. That stereotypical dream of delivering a speech in front of your entire high school class only to discover that you’re wearing something completely ridiculous or indeed nothing at all suddenly comes rushing back with all its anxiety and self-doubt. Writing articles for print publications or various websites is one thing. Having an entire professional site devoted to one’s own work is entirely another matter.

Brand management is a concept that I frequently tout to clients as a central element of any basic communications strategy. Yet, I think that it is perhaps doubly important for writers, particularly those who write for multiple platforms in print and on the web. Thinking visually and holistically suddenly becomes essential, as you have to determine that what you’re writing is appropriate and appropriately designed to represent you and your work as a writer.

In all, my website exists as a lovely, though by no means complete, representation of my own creative brand as a writer and business owner. It provides a comprehensive way for potential clients to take a quick look at my work in order to determine if my services are right for their content needs. The website also takes the pressure off my blog, on which I can now focus with greater energy. Now to tackle my blog and figure out how cultivate it into an arts/style magazine…

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By L.L. McKinney

I am happy to announce that, by the time this article is published, I will only have five days remaining until my self-imposed breather is over. By August 22nd, six whole weeks will have come and gone since I last worked on Swayed. Thankfully, I was able to fill the duration of my break by attending writers group meetings and working on another book, or I would have lost my mind. I’m the type of person that needs something to focus on—you can’t just sit me somewhere with a lot of time to kill and nothing to do. I get antsy and my anal retentiveness kicks in. (I rearranged a four-bedroom house once, it wasn’t pretty). August 22nd will not only bring an end to my hiatus, but it will be a crucial milestone in the completion of my second major project, as well as the topic of this week’s article: the deadline.

The historical definition of a deadline is a line drawn around a prison beyond which prisoners were liable to be shot. Fairly to the point, isn’t it? You go past a certain point, you die. While deadlines at work, at school and in life aren’t quite so literal (at least I hope not) they are a very serious matter. If you don’t finish that report for your boss when s/he says s/he wants it, you could lose your job. If you don’t turn in your homework on the date it’s due, your grades suffer. If you haven’t completed a set number of pages/chapters in a timely manner, you throw off your entire schedule. For some writers, that alone is consequence enough.

People often times ask why I work so hard to meet the deadlines I put in place for myself. They don’t understand the reason I lock myself away, forgoing outings to dinner and a movie in favor of spending the night hunched over my computer. Their argument is that, as an unpublished writer, I don’t have an agent or editor to answer to. There’s no production line to botch up if I’m a little late, so I don’t have to take the fact that I have “finish HB first draft” scribbled on my calendar seriously. I must admit they’re right. There’s no risk that can be measured in the physical world if I miss a deadline that’s only in my head, but that does not mean there are no consequences.

When beginning a career as a writer, there is no one else involved with your project. The only person you have to answer to is yourself. Sure there is some measure of accountability to be found in a writers group, the rules say members have to bring a certain number of pages to every meeting, but if there isn’t a threat of being kicked out for forgetting those pages, there’s nothing lose. Unless you say so. Just like you’ve got to be your own cheerleader (we’ll touch on that in depth next week) you’ve got to be your own taskmaster. Unfortunately, your book isn’t important to anyone except you just yet, so you are the only person you have in your corner on this. That means you treat your deadline like it’s the real deal.

I have deadlines in place as checkpoints to the completion of my manuscript in order to enter it into a contest. The competition does have its own cutoff date, but it’s so far off that I run the risk of telling myself there’s no need to worry because I’ve got time. Show of hands, how many people have fallen into the “I’ve got time” sinkhole? (I know I can’t see them, but chances are everyone raised their hand. If you haven’t, bravo!) If I’m not careful, the contest will sneak up on me, so I set my own dates that lead up to the competition. It’s looks sort of like this:

• Finish chapters 18-20 by May 31st
• Tie loose ends into solid conclusion by June 14th
• Break until first draft June 15th – July 31st
• First draft edited by August 5th
• Begin rewrites August 7th

Those aren’t the actual dates, but that’s the idea. So far I’m on task, but if I miss just one of my markers I could throw the whole thing out of whack and not finish in time for the contest. There’s so much we can accomplish if we set and hold our own personal deadlines.

What happens if we don’t take our own deadlines seriously? We start slacking off. Precious time is wasted. One of the worst feelings in the world is the one that accompanies the realization that we could have achieved so much more, been so much further along than we are right now, if we’d just gotten up and gotten things done. I know I’m not the only one that has those moments late at night where I go “man, if I only I had stuck to it, I could be on chapter 20 right now instead of 10.”

A writer writes. That is the simplest truth of our world, and if you don’t write then what does that make you? Okay, okay, I can hear the indignant huffs of those who think about writing every second of every day. They formulate plots and brainstorm scenarios, they give birth to countless characters, original ones no less. They can pluck a great idea for a story out of the archives of their brain and rattle it off on command. It’s all stored upstairs; just waiting for the perfect moment to come pouring out, but agents can’t shop what’s still in your head. I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t want them to, and all that thinking doesn’t make a person a writer, it makes them a plotter. I was a plotter for a good five years before I started giving myself deadlines to bring my thinking to life. It was slow going at first; three pages over the next three days, a whole chapter by next month, but I did it. To be a writer you must be a person of action, and sometimes you have to goad yourself into it by giving yourself targets to hit.

I understand that there are people so bogged down by life that they barely manage to get away for fifteen minutes in the course of an entire day to write. There are also people who can’t write more than once a week. Those folks are writers because they still manage to put pen to paper, or fingers to keys. Someone who goes for weeks, even months without stringing together a single sentence is not, and nothing short of grave illness or tragedy is reason enough to say otherwise. Dream big, draw out surprising plots of wild and fantastic people, places and things, and then capture it all with words. Until you do, you’ll remain an uninvolved idealist. No, not the good kind.

“The biggest thing separating people from their artistic ambitions is not a lack of talent. It's the lack of a DEADLINE.” Chris Baty

Happy writing.

L.L. McKinney is a freelance writer, a published poet and a playwright. As an active member of First Tuesdays and YA Lit Chat, she is currently seeking representation for her young adult paranormal urban fantasy, Swayed.