At the beginning of the month, I posted a questionnaire designed to figure out what writers were looking for in an online writing course. While I didn’t get as many responses as I was hoping for, I was able to use the feedback I did receive and combine it with the advice of other online instructors to create a program that would be appealing and easy to participate in. As a result, I now have two online courses that are open for registration.
Both courses are four weeks long, and consist of four weekly, live, one-hour, video group chats via Zoom where participants can ask questions and engage with me as I teach them face-to-face. For those who can’t be there for all of the live chats, every presentation will be recorded and posted on a private page for students to view at their convenience until each course is over.
The first of the two courses is called “Crafting a Complete Story” and covers everything from where to start your story to the three traits of a satisfying ending. The second course is called “A Novel in Four Drafts” and focuses on the purpose of each draft of a manuscript. Both classes are based on workshops that I’ve been giving at writer events for years, and I’m very excited to share these presentations with a wider audience.
If you’re interested in taking one of my online courses, the time to act is now. Each four-week course costs just $100, with one course happening every month. The last day to register for “Crafting a Complete Story” in October is the 3rd of October, so be sure to register now. All you have to do is provide your name and e-mail address. You will then receive an e-mail with an invoice for your $100 registration fee. Once that’s processed, you’ll be added to the private mailing list where you’ll receive links to the video chats.
I’m very excited to offer this new and affordable option to writers who are interested in learning more about their craft. If you or someone you know might be interested, please share this article and information with them to help build my online student community.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Friday, September 16, 2016
Trial and Error
Everyone loves getting something right the first time. Like cruising through a series of green lights all in a row, a steady momentum built on repeated success is an intoxicating sensation. There’s also a different -but no less satisfying- feeling that comes from accomplishing something that took significant time and effort to achieve. Both of these emotional reactions can be incredibly addicting, and many people spend their lives looking for their next hit.
But what about when things don’t work out? You try something, and it falls apart in front of you. Sometimes we can chalk this up to our own inexperience or bad luck. But it’s those times when everything looked like it should work perfectly that we experience debilitating frustration when it blows up in our faces.
So what do we do? If it’s me, I usually run through a fairly regular sequence of reactions. First, I decide that the entire universe is against me and that I’ll be a failure no matter what I do. Second, I realize that I was being irrational, but maybe I was kinda right anyway. Third, I try to analyze why things didn’t work like they were supposed to. Fourth, I come up with a plan that I convince myself will work so amazingly that not only will it solve this problem, but all other problems that I have or will have. Fifth, I try the new plan, which either works and I experience heart-racing euphoria, or it doesn’t work and I start over again with my fairly regular sequence of reactions.
As you may have guessed, I recently went through something much closer to the latter experience recently. I thought my plan was perfect, and when I implemented it, even my most conservative estimates of success had me quivering with excitement. The results were crushingly underwhelming, which was made worse by the fact that this was my ‘nth attempt, and I had told myself I wouldn’t try again if it failed.
So what did I do? In this case, I did something that was almost harder than completely giving up on something. I swallowed my pride. I went to someone who had succeeded where I had failed, and asked for help. I even took notes on what I did wrong. Like rubbing alcohol on an abrasion, the process was painful, but cleansing. I learned what my mistakes had been. I saw that it could be done, and that I could be the one to do it.
I’m still waiting to see the results of my latest attempt. It’s the best attempt I’ve made thus far, and I’m proud of the good work I’ve done. Will it succeed? I really, really hope so. And if it doesn’t? Maybe I can skip to reaction number three.
But what about when things don’t work out? You try something, and it falls apart in front of you. Sometimes we can chalk this up to our own inexperience or bad luck. But it’s those times when everything looked like it should work perfectly that we experience debilitating frustration when it blows up in our faces.
So what do we do? If it’s me, I usually run through a fairly regular sequence of reactions. First, I decide that the entire universe is against me and that I’ll be a failure no matter what I do. Second, I realize that I was being irrational, but maybe I was kinda right anyway. Third, I try to analyze why things didn’t work like they were supposed to. Fourth, I come up with a plan that I convince myself will work so amazingly that not only will it solve this problem, but all other problems that I have or will have. Fifth, I try the new plan, which either works and I experience heart-racing euphoria, or it doesn’t work and I start over again with my fairly regular sequence of reactions.
As you may have guessed, I recently went through something much closer to the latter experience recently. I thought my plan was perfect, and when I implemented it, even my most conservative estimates of success had me quivering with excitement. The results were crushingly underwhelming, which was made worse by the fact that this was my ‘nth attempt, and I had told myself I wouldn’t try again if it failed.
So what did I do? In this case, I did something that was almost harder than completely giving up on something. I swallowed my pride. I went to someone who had succeeded where I had failed, and asked for help. I even took notes on what I did wrong. Like rubbing alcohol on an abrasion, the process was painful, but cleansing. I learned what my mistakes had been. I saw that it could be done, and that I could be the one to do it.
I’m still waiting to see the results of my latest attempt. It’s the best attempt I’ve made thus far, and I’m proud of the good work I’ve done. Will it succeed? I really, really hope so. And if it doesn’t? Maybe I can skip to reaction number three.
Friday, September 9, 2016
The Best Season for Writing
Autumn has always been a special time for me. Living in the shadow of Capitol Forest in the Pacific Northwest, I’m surrounded by green for the majority of the year. I love the coolness of green, but for one month there’s an explosion of different colors around my home. Reds, golds, and oranges paint the foot-wide maple leafs, and when the wind blows they dance through the sky to a perfumed carpet below.
The cooling weather holds other magical secrets. There are several open fields near my home, and when I drive late at night I’ll often see great swathes of mist in the silver moonlight. I’ll also gladly zip my jacket up to my chin and step out into a steady, day-long rain to listen to the symphony of pittering drops, each one striking its own note on the instruments of trees, cars, sidewalks, and people. The sights and smells of the change of season are intoxicating for me.
It’s not just the change in the weather that’s exciting. There’s a subtle, cultural anticipation of the holiday season as it approaches. It’s one of the reasons that Halloween is so important. It’s the first big holiday of the season, with Thanksgiving and Christmas to look forward to. Anticipation is half the fun for me, and I love a two-month build-up to the holidays.
Halloween is also special in its own right. Not because it’s scary, but because it’s a chance to play make-believe. People dress up, play games, eat a lot of candy… it’s a holiday for being a kid again.
All of this adds up to a season that is perfect for writing. There’s so much vibrant energy and excitement in the air, it’s hard to not feel creative. For a little while, I can forget about deadlines and stress and just enjoy being a creative person. Writing in the Fall reminds me why I wanted to be a writer in the first place, and for this time at least, I am happy.
The cooling weather holds other magical secrets. There are several open fields near my home, and when I drive late at night I’ll often see great swathes of mist in the silver moonlight. I’ll also gladly zip my jacket up to my chin and step out into a steady, day-long rain to listen to the symphony of pittering drops, each one striking its own note on the instruments of trees, cars, sidewalks, and people. The sights and smells of the change of season are intoxicating for me.
It’s not just the change in the weather that’s exciting. There’s a subtle, cultural anticipation of the holiday season as it approaches. It’s one of the reasons that Halloween is so important. It’s the first big holiday of the season, with Thanksgiving and Christmas to look forward to. Anticipation is half the fun for me, and I love a two-month build-up to the holidays.
Halloween is also special in its own right. Not because it’s scary, but because it’s a chance to play make-believe. People dress up, play games, eat a lot of candy… it’s a holiday for being a kid again.
All of this adds up to a season that is perfect for writing. There’s so much vibrant energy and excitement in the air, it’s hard to not feel creative. For a little while, I can forget about deadlines and stress and just enjoy being a creative person. Writing in the Fall reminds me why I wanted to be a writer in the first place, and for this time at least, I am happy.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Writing Course Questionnaire
As you may know, I’ve been working on creating an online writing course that will feature some of my most popular workshops. While I have plenty of ideas of how to put the course together, I need as much feedback as possible to make sure I’m meeting the needs of my students. Please take a couple of minutes to answer these questions and let me know what you’d like to see in an online writing course. You can submit your answers via comment or private message on social media.
1. Would you prefer a weekly course or a block of days scheduled close together?
2. How long would you prefer a weekly course to last? One month? 10 weeks? A single workshop?
3. How many days would you want a block course to last?
4. Which of the following activities would you want in your writing course? (list all that apply)
a. A live, group video-chat featuring a workshop on the craft of writing.
b. Peer-critiques via Google Docs or a similar platform.
c. One-on-one chats with the instructor about your writing.
d. Scheduled time to write while online and live with a group of writers.
5. What times during the week would you prefer the live portions of the class to take place? Mornings? Evenings? Weekends?
6. How long would you want the video-chat workshop to last? Half-an-hour? An hour? More or less?
7. Is there anything else that you would specifically look for when deciding whether to take an online writing course?
1. Would you prefer a weekly course or a block of days scheduled close together?
2. How long would you prefer a weekly course to last? One month? 10 weeks? A single workshop?
3. How many days would you want a block course to last?
4. Which of the following activities would you want in your writing course? (list all that apply)
a. A live, group video-chat featuring a workshop on the craft of writing.
b. Peer-critiques via Google Docs or a similar platform.
c. One-on-one chats with the instructor about your writing.
d. Scheduled time to write while online and live with a group of writers.
5. What times during the week would you prefer the live portions of the class to take place? Mornings? Evenings? Weekends?
6. How long would you want the video-chat workshop to last? Half-an-hour? An hour? More or less?
7. Is there anything else that you would specifically look for when deciding whether to take an online writing course?
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