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10 Stages of Writing Achievement

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by Sherri Burr

SherriBurrHow do you determine when you are making progress as a writer? I submit that there are at least 10 stages to measuring writing achievement.

Stage 1: Conceptualize an Idea
Ideas emerge from an infinite number of sources, from reading books and going to movies to walking with friends or dreaming. When you get a promising idea, write it down and rejoice because your imagination is working.

Stage 2: Express the Idea
Copyright law protects the expression of ideas, but not the ideas themselves. Your reward for fixing your ideas in a permanent form, such as an article for a magazine or a chapter in a book, is that your work is automatically copyrightable. You also have the option to place copyright notice (© 2015 by writer) on your work or register it with the U.S. Copyright Office at www.copyright.gov.

Stage 3: Expose Your Writing
Sending your work to magazine editors, agents, book publishers, or print on demand websites indicates you are ready to share your words with the world. You must risk rejection to reap rewards.

Stage 4: Receiving Personalized Rejection Letters
There are three types of rejection: (1) silence; (2) form letters; and (3) personalized rejection letters. You learn to be grateful for the third because they signify that your work resonated enough with outside sources willing to spend time telling you how to fix it or recommend another publication. If the rejection letter is nasty, use it as inspiration and ultimately get the last laugh.

Stage 5: Acceptance with No Pay
Some writers start out by publishing works in newsletters connected to social networks. This accomplishes the goal of seeing your words in print.

Stage 6: Paid Enough for Coffee at Starbucks
When you receive that first check, no matter how small, celebrate and dance to the music. I once received a check for $4. Do you cash or frame a $4 check? I recommend cashing it because it proves that you are indeed in the business of writing. Count the $4 as income on your Schedule C and deduct all your writing related expenses.

Stage 7: Paid Enough to Afford a Meal
When the checks come in for $50 or hundreds of dollars, you’ve attained another milestone. Treat a friend to lunch or a loved one to a gourmet dinner. Toast your success!

Stage 8: Paid Enough to Fund a Vacation
If you grossed enough revenue to fund a vacation, you’ve climbed to another echelon of freelance writers. Enjoy your trip.

Stage 9: Paid Enough to Live On
You’ve truly arrived as a creative person when you can live on the proceeds. Writers at this level often have steady gigs as columnists, contribute to a number of publications, write books, or all of these. Since you now benefit from a steady income flow, be careful to mind your expenses and do not spend more than you earn.

Stage 10: New York Times Best Selling Author
Congratulations, you’ve hit the jackpot by joining the likes of John Grisham, David Baldacci, and Janet Evanovich. When your writing income substantially exceeds your living expenses, it’s time to think seriously about giving back. David Baldacci (Absolute Power, The Camel Club) and his wife started the Wish You Well Foundation to increase literacy rates in this country and abroad. Whatever your cause, you can really make a difference. Ultimately, that’s what the writing life is all about.

A Short and Happy Guide to Financial Well BeingSherri Burr is the Regents’ Professor of Law at the University of New Mexico School of Law where she teaches Entertainment Law, Intellectual Property Law, and Art Law. A graduate of Mount Holyoke College, Princeton University, and the Yale Law School, she has authored or co-authored 20 books, including A Short and Happy Guide to Financial Well-Being (West Academic, 2014). Sherri is also a long-time member of SouthWest Writers and a regular contributor to the organization’s newsletter SouthWest Sage.

This article was originally published in the December 2007 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



Finding My Writer’s Voice

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by Olive Balla

Olive Balla245

Science tells us no two humans are exactly alike, that each of us is a distinctive amalgamation of DNA and life experiences. It follows, then, that inside every writer lives a one-of-a-kind Voice, a Voice I believe resides not only in the brain, but in the gut. And it’s never too late to find it.

Searching for my Voice as a writer has been an interesting process. It has not been as easy as I thought it would be, but after nearly twenty years of plugging away, some things are finally beginning to click. My writer’s Voice is making herself heard. And it’s been an amazing trip of self-discovery, albeit one that is taking place late in my life.

I always assumed clever writing to be just a matter of focusing one’s mental faculties. I thought anyone plopped down into the right scenery could crank out creative, imaginative stuff that people would clamor to read. Cool stuff, the warp and woof of which open up new neural pathways in the reader’s brain, the cadence of which draws the reader in and compels him to better himself, or the cocoon of which offers solace to one overwhelmed with the pain that life inflicts upon the living.

But from the moment I first put my fingers on the keys of my laptop, I realized that was a false hypothesis. Great writing is not merely the result of a writer’s ability to wax cerebral. Great writing springs from the craftsman’s ability to connect with his unique Voice.

Early on in my writing career, I tended to pattern my own writing after that of some of my favorite authors. I mimicked Agatha Christie, Helen McInnes, and even Isaac Asimov. It was as if I could plug into a writer’s version of one of those electronic voice filtering gizmos. You know, the things that have the ability to make a five-year-old girl sound like James Earl Jones.

And why not ape the best of the best? After all, the greats became so by opening their writer Voices full-throttle. Copying their Voices saved me the trouble of having to search for my own.

I soon discovered, however, that the trouble with writing in someone else’s Voice is that it pushed my own into the periphery. But as is the way of things, even as I felt secure in my not-me mask, my authentic Voice would stubbornly make herself heard. And the more often I glimpsed her, the more determined I became to give her air.

Pursuant to that end, I bought some books guaranteed to catapult my writer’s Voice into up-and-running mode. Each author offered a list of tried-and-true strategies to get one’s metaphorical peristaltic muscles moving “in no time at all.”

One interesting how-to suggested I dress, act, and talk like one of my characters for a day. Another told me to flood my senses with potpourri and my favorite instrumental music while writing. Yet another commanded me to meditate on the meaning of life while staring at my navel.

I did all that. And I found it interesting. However, while those strategies may be effective devices for some, they didn’t work for me. My explain-everything-so-the-kids-can-understand-and-pass-the-test inner teacher didn’t seem to want to let go of the controls.

That is, until I discovered something called free writing. Here’s how it works: I sit comfortably at my desk, a pen and pad of paper in front of me. I clear my mind as much as possible, and then write whatever thoughts pour forth. I don’t censor anything. Sometimes I write the same word several times, and sometimes the result is meaningless drivel. But often, fun and exciting things pop onto the page. Things I’ve then built into stories–uniquely my own.

According to a Dutch proverb, “We get too soon old and too late smart.” While there’s something to that, it’s encouraging to note that Mary Wesley didn’t get published until she was 71; Colonel Harlan Sanders didn’t start up his first Kentucky Fried Chicken establishment until he was 66; the famous American artist known as Grandma Moses didn’t begin painting until in her seventies, and Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote and published her Little House books when in her sixties.

So, my evenings and weekends are spent spelunking into the caverns inhabited by my Voice, relishing the tasty morsels she leaves in the pathway for me to follow. And I, in turn, saw away at the chains forged by the fear of being seen as different, fear of making mistakes, fear of rejection, and the fear that it’s too late. Because, it’s never too late. It’s NEVER too late.

AnArmAndALeg72Olive Balla, author of suspense novel An Arm and a Leg, is mother of 3, grandmother to 13, great-grandmother of 4, a retired educator, and part-time professional musician. Having been everything from secretary at a used car dealership, a university student, and a high school Spanish teacher, Balla states her characters are, in part, amalgamations of people she’s met. Living with her husband Victor in the Albuquerque area, she spends her spare time in a small woodworking shop designing and building everything from breadboxes and wine racks, to a porch bench. Visit her website at omballa.com.

This article was originally published in the April 2012 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



On Being Woefully Platformless

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by Bentley Clark

Out of Ones Head1I first heard the term “writer’s platform” in 2009 at the annual From Start to Sales Writers Conference at UNM Continuing Education in Albuquerque, New Mexico. As I am given to daydreaming, I imagined a café at a London train station populated with authors feverishly writing in poetically tattered Moleskines.

The term “writer’s platform” is now ubiquitous in writing publications and at writer’s conferences. In an effort to educate myself on the matter, I have recently read innumerable articles defining the writer’s platform and attempting to clarify its purpose.

The most concise definition I found comes from Christina Katz:

“Your platform communicates your expertise to others.”

And the purpose of this platform? Well, to get you published, of course. Rumor has it that an effective writer’s platform can market you, your craft and your expertise even whilst you sleep. Almost better than that, it can create a built-in audience for your future publications—an audience that will buy your work without the publisher having to do anything more than typeset your words and print them on paper.

By my count, then, there are really only two elements to an effective writer’s platform: communication and expertise. And while I know that neither of these is a terribly complicated concept, when you throw technology and the information super-highway into the mix, I become bewildered, confused and, quite frankly, creatively constipated.

Communication
Now, communication I get: I can send e-mail and I can operate a cell phone (so long as it isn’t “smart”). Only, that’s not really what any of the articles mean by communication. They are, in fact, referring to this very small, entirely approachable and not the least bit intimidating list:

  • Websites
  • Blogs
  • Guest posts
  • Tweets
  • YouTube-style videos
  • Newsletters
  • Speaking engagements
  • Published articles
  • Media interviews
  • Social networking
  • Facebook
  • Free e-books
  • Spin-off products
  • Teaching classes

Look, that’s a lot of work. And, honestly, I am lucky to keep my full-time job, cook an occasional meal, and keep my pets fed while simultaneously publishing one article a month and penning a couple of really bad, really short stories. Of the items on this list, I have: 1) this column; 2) a Twitter account that I don’t use; and 3) a Facebook page that is frequented primarily by family members and high school friends. That’s about 21% of the communication I’m supposed to be putting out there in order to build my platform. That’s failure on anyone’s grade scale.

Expertise
And what exactly am I supposed to be communicating? My expertise, apparently. The thing that sets me apart from other writers. The thing that has landed me my (theoretical) built-in audience: my loyal blog subscribers, Facebook fans, Twitter followers and enlightened students.

Only… I’m not sure I have any expertise. No. Really. I have been racking my brain over this for several weeks. What am I an expert in? I have mastered filling a hot water bottle with boiling water without burning myself. I know a thing or two about baking really delightful popovers. And I can fold a fitted sheet like a pro. But are any of these the expertise that I can build a platform on? I think not. Perhaps I am meant for a platformless life.

For reassurance and guidance, I turn again to Christina Katz:

“In my opinion, it’s a platform connected to a person’s inner reality rather than some clever juxtaposition of external ideas or a volcanic explosion of personality that [is] the most compelling and lasting….”

Well, now, that’s something I can work with. I definitely have an inner reality. It is filled with frilly pillows, empire-waist dresses, china teacups, and string quartets. And goodness knows I wouldn’t begin to know how to cleverly juxtapose external ideas, and I would never want my personality to volcanically explode under any circumstances.

So, in short: I am failing to effectively communicate my indiscernible expertise. But I can be reticent and unfocused and still be successful, right?

One last return to Christina Katz for a much-needed pep talk:

“If you don’t have a mission or a purpose or a raison d’etre, then guess what? No one is going to listen to you. And why should they? There is an awful lot of noise out there and people have personal lives and they can’t spend the entire day staring into their computers waiting for you to say something or inspire them to action or entertain them or whatever it is that your writing sets out to accomplish.”

Argh! I’m doomed! Doomed, I tell you!

BentleyClark125Bentley Clark isn’t sure whether the phrase is “racking my brain” or “wracking my brain.” You can assist her with the distinction by leaving a comment below.

This article was originally published in the March 2012 issue of SouthWest Sage, and is reprinted here by permission of the author.

Image “Out Of One\’s Head, Relax The Brain” courtesy of thaikrit / FreeDigitalPhotos.net



Murdering English: Justifiable Homicide?

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by Olive Balla

Olive Balla245

I just drove by, for the umpteenth time, a sign outside a shop characterizing something going on inside as a “Huge Bead Sale.” Each time I pass the sign, my eyes are drawn to it and I begin, against my will, to channel my high school English teacher. What would one do with a huge bead, anyway? Plant begonias in it, perhaps? And then a battle ensues between my Language Purist and my inner Wannabe Writer. Ugly, grammar-murdering thoughts lay siege to the edifice of proper language usage. Signage thrift aside, the specificity alone has merit. Much better than “Oodles of beads on sale. Come on in and browse.”

By the time I’ve driven beyond the little store, I’m intellectually spent, an over-thinking prisoner of the rules of the English language. And I’m not alone in my dichotomous inner debate. I’m told there is a movement afoot—a fairly militant movement—to keep the Queen’s English pure, both here in the United States and abroad. No euphemisms, slang, or idiomatic expressions allowed. Even some Johnny-come-lately entries in later editions of the Oxford Unabridged Dictionary are not acceptable.

But which incarnation, pray tell, of the Queen’s English are the Language Police trying to preserve? Remember the prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales written in Middle English? Having been required in high school English Lit to memorize the first twenty lines, and in the spirit of showing rather than telling:

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of march hath perced to the roote . . .

Oh wait, that’s not the Queen’s English. It’s the King’s English, since King Edward was the monarch during the fourteenth century.

Or even better, how about the first two lines of The Lord’s Prayer in Old English, the language common to the geographical area that became England during the fourth and fifth centuries. Here English language purists, put this in your pipe and smoke it.

Fæder ure, þu; þe eart on heofonum; Sie þin nama gehalgod . . .

At the other end of the spectrum are those who hold that communication in any shape, form, or fashion is fair game. Can’t find a word that means what you’re trying to express? Make one up. No artistic boundaries. No time to tap out an email missive? No problem. Just jump into texting mode. (A lexicon is available online.) Ah, the freedom.

The older I become, the more I lean toward the best-word-is-one-I’ve-made-up crowd. And it’s not entirely due to failing memory. LOL. It’s because our language sometimes doesn’t match what I’m struggling to express, short of George Carlin’s Seven Dirty Words. (Too young to remember friend George? Google him.)

According to linguists the world over, languages are living entities. Just like any other adaptive creature, they are constantly evolving. Even over the past forty-five years, the language used in America has changed dramatically. For example, in the late sixties if something was exceptional, it was righteous or bitchin. And the words lettuce, cabbage, dust, bread, shekels, and geetuss were all used to mean “money.” Within the past decade, if something was terrific, it was the bomb. And even more recently, something noteworthy was sick, dope, or crazy cool.

It seems every generation, in an attempt to break away from the commonly accepted language of their oldsters, enjoys messing with English. Case in point: the word money, in what’s currently known as gangsta rap, does not refer to any medium of exchange, but to a person—as in “wassup money.” (You guessed it, a gangsta rap lexicon can be found online.)

Focused on the purely spiritual rewards of writing, as opposed to writing for material gain? Then you won’t be impressed to learn that gansta rapper Snoop Dogg’s already passé “fo shizzle my nizzle” language-morphing net worth currently stands at about $150,000,000. I’m just saying.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the proper use of the English language. There is something about the well-turned, grammatically correct phrase that resonates with my third-generation educator DNA. And I love to use words of more than two syllables. But unless I’m writing for academia, or unless my target is the more cerebral among us, I have to curtail that urge in my stories. Because if no one wants to read what I write, what’s the point?

And so I call upon every wannabe-published author to metaphorically bind and gag your inner English teacher. Write what pours from your solar plexus, not just from the literary academic lobe of your brain. Play with the language. You learned the rules (thanks to your actual English teacher). Good for you. Now go forth and break some of them. You know you want to.

What are your thoughts on the proper use of English? Is the ever-evolving nature of the English language a “good” or “bad” thing?

AnArmAndALeg72Olive Balla, author of suspense novel An Arm and a Leg, is mother of 3, grandmother to 13, great-grandmother of 4, a retired educator, and part-time professional musician. Having been everything from secretary at a used car dealership, a university student, and a high school Spanish teacher, Balla states her characters are, in part, amalgamations of people she’s met. Living with her husband Victor in the Albuquerque area, she spends her spare time in a small woodworking shop designing and building everything from breadboxes and wine racks, to a porch bench. Visit her website at omballa.com.

This article was originally published in the February 2013 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



Why Writers Need Wills

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by Sherri Burr

SherriBurr

What do President Abraham Lincoln, actor James Dean, and business mogul Howard Hughes have in common? If you guessed that they all died without wills, you would be correct. In any given year, approximately one-half to two-thirds of all deceased Americans expire intestate, or without wills.

The reasons for not making a will are many. Some, like Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, just never got around to it. They both died suddenly. Others, like Howard Hughes, may be superstitious, afraid to give others incentives to wish or plan for their early exit to the business arena in the sky.

Whatever the excuse, to die without a will is to give the state the authority to decide how your estate will be divided. Your surviving relatives will either accept the outcome or contest it. The brawl between billionaire Howard Hughes’ distant relatives was settled in 1996, 20 years after his demise. It cost $20 million in legal fees.

So what does this mean to you as a writer? Simply put, some of your most important estate assets may be the copyrights in your work.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. can serve as an inspiration to other writers. King copyrighted everything, his speeches, editorials, books, and other writings. He may have anticipated that an early death would lesson his family’s means of support. As a consequence, his estate, which was valued at $66,492.29 after his assassination in 1968, is now worth several million.

Currently, copyrights endure for the lifetime of the author, plus 70 years. This means that you can plan to give away your copyrights for up to 70 years after your death. The copyright contains six rights: (1) the right to copy, (2) the right to adapt or prepare derivative works, (3) the right to economically exploit the work through sale, lease, rental, or other transfer, (4) the right of public performance, (5) the right of public display, and (6) the right of digital audio transmission.

You can assign all these rights to one person, or divide them up. A romance novelist, for example, could devise the movie rights to one child and the translation rights to a second, or all the adaptation rights to a third. A playwright could leave public performance rights to grandchildren.

The possibilities are limited only by your imagination. When meeting with an attorney to prepare your will, be sure to inform him or her that you are a writer and that you wish to make provisions for your copyrights. Even if you write your will from online software, remember your copyrights.

A Short and Happy Guide to Financial Well BeingSherri Burr is the Regents’ Professor of Law at the University of New Mexico School of Law where she teaches Entertainment Law, Intellectual Property Law, and Art Law. A graduate of Mount Holyoke College, Princeton University, and the Yale Law School, she has authored or co-authored 20 books, including A Short and Happy Guide to Financial Well-Being (West Academic, 2014). Sherri is also a long-time member of SouthWest Writers and a regular contributor to the organization’s newsletter SouthWest Sage.

This article was originally published in the January 2008 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



On Making Legal Writing More Interesting

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by Bentley Clark

Out of Ones Head1I get paid to write. There is much jet-setting and hob-nobbing. I wear pearls and go to fancy, fancy parties. I pluck fascinating characters from the ether and build exquisite worlds around them.

Nah. Not really. I do earn most of my living by writing, but I am a paralegal, so the bulk of my job is writing incredibly boring, yet incredibly important court documents. Incredibly boring. If you’ve never picked up a court pleading, you are missing out on a really satisfying nap.

And yet, storytelling is the very foundation of our legal system—replete with character archetypes, story arcs and plot twists. However, unlike a John Grisham novel or the TV series “Damages,” the actual story-telling is absolutely mind-numbing.

Take for example this passage: “Counsel for Petitioner spoke with Respondent on the phone on January 32nd and informed him that he needed to contact counsel when he had a date and time that he wished to retrieve his belongings from the marital home.” Succinct, informative and not overly verbose. Only what the court needs to know; no more, no less.

I think the court would rather I paint it a picture:

The fragile peace of the mid-summer afternoon was shattered by the violent pummeling of the front door. Jane froze in the doorway of the kitchen and watched as if paralyzed as the glass of sweet tea slipped from her hand and shattered on the just-swept hardwood floor. She knew this day would come. Though the police had removed John from the house only days before with a warning that he was not to return, Jane knew he would never heed that warning.

“You better let me in.” John’s voice, low and hostile, tripped into the house through the open living room window. “I know you have the yellow extension cord! If you don’t open this door right now, I will kick it down! That’s my yellow extension cord and I’m not leaving without it!”

In fear for her well-being, Jane turned on her heels back into the kitchen to call 911. Brimming with adrenaline, she knocked the phone from the counter. It fell to the floor and exploded into pieces.

I know the court would rather read something along those lines. I have no doubt that the client would rather have her story told to the court as a narrative. And I would rather have left the bone-dry style of expository writing behind after my freshman year in the English department.

As I am not allowed to use narrative in my daily professional writing, I have been toying with the idea of using rhetoric and persuasive argument. Mind you, I have no training in either. But, I have been taking note of the correspondence from opposing attorneys that comes across my desk. My favorite example of this style of writing so far has been something along the lines of:

Dear Ms. Bentley’s Boss,

My client and I have grown weary of working with you to hash out a visitation and custody plan for her son. We feel that your client is a big poopy-pants and we have decided that he is not playing nice so we are going to take our toys and go home. If your client would like to see his son, he will have to provide my client with the following: a pink Big Wheel with befringed handlebars (circa 1979), a hair off the great Cham’s beard (circa 1598) and a box of assorted Godiva chocolates (cream-filled truffles removed). Should your client choose not to comply with these requests, then we never want to hear him say “I love my son” again.

Sincerely,

Tommy Picked-Last-in-Team-Sports, Esq.

Using this attorney’s example, I have been crafting a new pleading to the court. Tell me what you think:

Your Honor,

Seriously. Mr. Doe is such a horse’s behind. He will not stop calling Mrs. Doe to demand the yellow extension cord. She gave him the orange extension cord when he was removed from the home by the police, but he really wants the yellow one. Honestly, Judge, I have no idea what the difference is between the yellow extension cord and the orange extension cord.

Oh, and he wants the brown laundry hamper, not the white one. And he wants all the tea cups and half of the dessert plates. Thankfully, he doesn’t want the beer stein collection. Katy bar the door if he wanted the beer stein collection!

Anyway, Judge, I digress. So. Yeah. Could you tell Mr. Doe to stop being a booger-eater and have him call us instead of breaking down the door to get to the yellow extension cord? ‘Cause that would be really cool.

Thanks,

B

BentleyClark125Bentley Clark is tickled silly that she found a way to work “Katy bar the door” into a column. You can praise or admonish her for this by sending her a message here.

This article was originally published in the February 2012 issue of SouthWest Sage, and is reprinted here by permission of the author.

Image “Out Of One\’s Head, Relax The Brain” courtesy of thaikrit / FreeDigitalPhotos.net



One Writer’s Journey: To Not Write Crap

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by A.R. Aeby

fantastic-landscapeI’ve never aimed to write the great American novel or an award-winning new classic or, dare I even say, a New York Times bestseller. My goal as an author has always been to not write crap.

Don’t get me wrong. I would love that kind of recognition. I would love to suddenly find myself sought after and interviewed as the newest talent with a long and prestigious career ahead of me. To have those in my life want to link themselves to me as a pseudo-celebrity and share I-remember-when-stories and other anecdotes. To finally put my obsessive need to read to great use and pretend this was the plan all along. But here is the reality. I, along with massive numbers of other people, have deluded myself into writing a book.

Now this was not my first attempt at writing a book over my lifetime. I have deluded myself countless times, with varying results. The beginnings of chapters, character sketches and possible plot lines litter my old computer and notebooks. But, I had a problem—I was not a finisher. My interest would quickly wane; the enthusiasm and seemingly boundless amount of energy I wished to put into my latest project would disappear. Some might chalk it up to writer’s block or lack of inspiration or another such thing, but the truth was the material wasn’t the problem. I was the problem.

I have heard from others attempting to cross over the line to being a writer, that they spent their whole life writing with almost a compulsive need to express themselves in this medium. At first I was completely distraught, because I don’t remember that compulsion. My expression was a bit different; my mother says I lived my stories. I would compose just enough of a story line to act out my favorite parts, occasionally aided by my little brother. A costume was always necessary, and an audience, when I struck a particularly brilliant idea. To me, my imaginary characters in some ways were more real than the reality around me. Like my heroine, Anne Shirley, I found the interactions with them quite a bit more satisfying than those in my mundane surroundings.

As I transitioned from child to adult I never gave up the fantastical worlds I lived in. Sure, as an adult I pursued them in secret with a certain amount of shame, but I could never really let them go. My imaginary worlds could go on for years morphing into different things, based on where I was in life and what was interesting to me right then. They fed me and nurtured me—along with the books I read—in a way I could find nowhere else.

As a child, I thought being an author a very grand thing, but even then I had a problem with limiting myself in the real world. I always told myself that I wasn’t capable of being a writer. I allowed my grammar issues and my poor self-esteem to stop me. I gave in to the fear of failure with barely a token resistance. Because when you write, you are putting yourself out there in a way you can never take back. You leave yourself open to all the opinions and criticism of the reader. You offer up something very precious and commit yourself in completely binding ways. I didn’t think I could take that chance. Until about four years ago.

It finally came to me as I fed my baby an orange substance vaguely called food, when I was taking yet another foray into a more pleasant place than the one my body occupied, that maybe I should take another stab at writing. Maybe this time I could make sure things were different. And to my complete and utter astonishment, I did. I threw off the shackles of my fear long enough to actually complete my goal.

Now I can say I’m a finisher. I wrote a book, and maybe it will never get published, and maybe, occasionally I feel like my efforts were wasted. But at times I wrote the perfect combination of words to express exactly what I wanted to, and it felt almost like they were singing to me. Now, granted, not everything I wrote carries the perfect tune, but no matter what anyone else might think, to me it’s not crap.

AR Aeby2A.R. Aeby received a Bachelor of Arts in history almost solely from the love of stories, even nonfiction ones. She is the author of the book review blog Whymsy Likes Books, where her goal is simply to share her passion for books. But she is a book author with the eternal hope of becoming a published book author. She lives in the deserts of New Mexico with her two young daughters and her husband of ten years.

This article was originally published in the January 2013 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



The Late-Blooming Writer

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by Olive Balla

Olive Balla245You’re over fifty, your kids are raised, your relationships are simple, you’ve learned most of life’s lessons firsthand, and now you want to write. Welcome. Welcome to the ranks of Late-Blooming Writers. As one of the aforementioned, I’ll share some of the bits and pieces of information gleaned along my path toward publication.

First, set a goal. Want to write meaningful poetry? Want to knock out a bestselling novel? Write down what you want to make happen. And then put it someplace where you’ll see it. Often. Next, stretch your brain-muscle. A good way to do that is to meditate. Thousands of pages of research indicate that meditating a few minutes a day will change the actual physical make-up of your brain. So will Sudoku, or jigsaw and crossword puzzles. And you’ll need to grow a tough skin. Not the kind that insulates you from the world, or squeezes the juice from your sensitivities. But the kind that allows the slings and arrows of rejection to roll harmlessly off as you do the trial and error thing to find your Writer’s Voice.

Then you’ll need to bone up on the basic rules of grammar and the elements of style. Strunk and White offers a small but priceless treasure trove of style tidbits. Besides learning the difference between showing and telling, you’ll need to use strong verbs, stay away from passive voice, and use few, if any, adjectives or adverbs. Oh, and you would be wise to eschew any iteration of the verb “to be.” You get the idea. Just as with any craft, you must first learn the rules, beginning with the basics.

Pitfall number one: Writer Entitlement. It’s an interesting but recurring phenomenon in wannabe writers, that their opinions about their own writing skills outshine the reality. I’ve read this in countless articles and blogs, so there must be something to it. We’ve always been told how well we write, so we figure our success is assured. However, none of us have been born with the Consummate Writer Gene already firmly installed. The kind of writing that gets published requires hard work and focused attention, followed by vigorous, time-consuming (often painful) revision.

Pitfall number two: Memoirs. Once you’ve generated dozens of chapters of the novel you can’t quite finish, after writing several essays and short stories, and once you’re absolutely certain you’ve reached the apex of writing competency, you’ll find yourself considering the possibility of writing your memoirs. Some would say it’s never too early to chronicle your life experiences. But unless your aim is to produce something solely for the historical value it might have to your family, it seems to me a better idea to put a memoir on hold—at least until after your first book is published. Although your life has doubtless resembled a roller coaster in its hairpin curves and surprising twists and turns, it’s tough to sell a memoir until someone, somewhere, knows your name. That is, unless you dated someone famous and decide to write a kiss-and-tell. Note: Just a suggestion, but if you want to write your memoirs as revenge for a lifetime of wrongs, you might consider finding a good attorney to cover your back. Libel suits can be expensive indulgences.

Pitfall number three: You believe the only-partially-true statement that all one has to do to achieve publication is to write. A lot. But the sad truth is it takes much more than cranking out ream upon ream of verbiage to make one’s way into the semi-rarified strata of published writer. Unless writers have occasion to be catapulted into the focus of the national news media, they must learn the ropes of the publishing industry, subscribe to various writers’ magazines and e-zines (or better yet, start one), join critique groups, build an extensive platform, and basically eat, drink and sleep writing. The key is to never stop learning and revising yourself.

Pitfall number four: You fear time is against you. Late bloomers often fall victim to this downward spiral of thought. You grow more and more impatient as the days, weeks, and months go by and your folder of rejections thickens. But hang in there. The process will not be hurried. Google writers who were published after the age of fifty and revel in the knowledge that you’re not alone.

The good news is that hundreds of books have been written on the subject of writing. Everything from workbooks to software is available. Pick one and get started. You’re on the ground floor, so there’s nowhere to go but up. Good luck. And as Tiny Tim said, “God bless us every one.”

AnArmAndALeg72Olive Balla, author of suspense novel An Arm and a Leg, is mother of 3, grandmother to 13, great-grandmother of 4, a retired educator, and part-time professional musician. Having been everything from secretary at a used car dealership, a university student, and a high school Spanish teacher, Balla states her characters are, in part, amalgamations of people she’s met. Living with her husband Victor in the Albuquerque area, she spends her spare time in a small woodworking shop designing and building everything from breadboxes and wine racks, to a porch bench. Visit her website at: omballa.com.

This article was originally published in the January 2013 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



The Athletic Mind-set for Writers

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by Sherri Burr

SherriBurr

In May 2009, I took a research trip to France that included a trip to the French Open tennis tournament at Roland Garros. At the time, I was putting the finishing touches on a book chapter called “Athletes as Television Celebrities: Why we watch, How they benefit, Must they be responsible.” I love watching athletes at the top of their game and feel they have much to teach writers about discipline, preparation and the head game or mind-set of a champion.

Tip 1: Discipline

Webster’s Dictionary defines discipline as “to train or develop by instruction and exercise [especially] in self-control.” Tennis stars Venus and Serena Williams and Raphael Nadal became stars in their sport because they trained and developed their talent and skills to a level of perfection that permitted them to overwhelm opponents. One of the challenges is to keep that up after you have obtained a certain level of success.

All of these players struggled in their opening rounds of the French Open as they faced other individuals who were developing their game, wanted to win, and had the discipline to practice, practice, practice. Nadal eventually lost to a Swede named Robin Soderling who thought of him as just another player and exploited the fact that Nadal was not disciplined about his game in the early rounds. The Williams sisters also lost well before reaching the championship round when they showed up with limited preparation to play on the red clay of Roland Garros.

Similarly, writers must be disciplined about developing talent and continuing to exploit it. Just as there can be one grand-slam wonders in tennis, there are a lot of one-book authors. The trick is to keep plugging away. Authors like Tony Hillerman did not start out on the best sellers list. Nor did he write one book and decide to rest on his laurels. Rather, he loved what he did and kept plugging away. Even toward the end of his life, Tony was trying out new plot ideas on friends.

Tip 2: Preparation

Athletes must constantly prepare. They smash balls with hitting partners before their games, study their opponent’s game, and make themselves as physically fit as possible to endure long matches. As writers, we must master our craft. I recommend attending workshops and classes even when you consider yourself an accomplished talent. Be open to learning from different genres. Although I write nonfiction, I once attended an 8-week novel writing class. This class was helpful when I wrote my memoir Living with New Nephew.

Tip 3: The Mental Game

While discipline and preparation are important, star athletes must also have their mental game operating at its peak. The mental game requires belief that you can win and the ability to calm yourself and keep plugging away when you don’t win a point or match as quickly as you’d like.

The number-one ranked female tennis player going into the 2009 French Open was Dinara Safina, a lumberjack-looking 23-year-old Russian who never won a grand slam tennis tournament despite being in three finals. Physically, Safina looks like she can overpower any player with her 6’0″, approximately 180-pound frame. Mentally, she becomes a wreck when she has to play in the finals for a championship. She chastises herself for missing points. “Why am I such a chicken?” she openly asked at the French Open championship.

As writers, we cannot afford to be like Safina. There are enough critics in the world. Rather than become your top critic, become your most important supportive coach. Tell yourself that you can write that article or book. If your dream is to become a published author, then create a business card that says your name followed by the word author. You have to believe it before you can make it a reality.

The bottom line is that to succeed as a writer requires discipline, preparation and a strong mental game. In other words, writers can benefit from adopting an athletic mind-set.

A Short and Happy GuideSherri Burr is the Regents’ Professor of Law at the University of New Mexico School of Law where she teaches Entertainment Law, Intellectual Property Law, and Art Law. A graduate of Mount Holyoke College, Princeton University, and the Yale Law School, she has authored or co-authored twenty books, including A Short and Happy Guide to Financial Well Being (West Academic, 2014). Sherri is also a long-time member of SouthWest Writers and a regular contributor to the organization’s newsletter SouthWest Sage.

This article was originally published in the September 2009 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



Joint Authorship: Professional Marriages Made in Heaven or Hell

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by Sherri Burr

SherriBurrJoint author collaborations can be as complicated as marriages, and last as long or as briefly. Jimmy and Rosalind Carter survived a multi-decade marriage before deciding to co-author a book. They raised several children, ran a peanut farm, governed the state of Georgia, and lived in the fish tank known as the White House. Yet when the two decided to write a memoir together, their marriage almost collapsed. What they found is that they didn’t remember the same events and dialogue, or reflect in the same way on the significance or meaning of events. In the end, they published a memoir with separate his and her parts, with different typesets so that you knew when one was speaking.

If Jimmy and Rosalind had problems co-authoring together, what does it say for the rest of us? Many collaborations are entered into with haste and the parties often repent in leisure. Unfortunately, some joint authors have headed to court to resolve their differences.

The copyright statute defines a joint work as one prepared by two or more authors with the intention that their contributions be merged into inseparable or interdependent parts of a unitary whole.

Courts have considered whether the researcher of a play or the contributor of two scenes and new characters to a movie can be considered joint authors. The answer was “No,” in Childress v. Taylor. Someone who supplied underlying research material, which the playwright turned into a play, does not become a co-author. Similarly, in Aalmuhammed v. Lee when a film consultant contributed two scenes with new characters, Arabic translation into English subtitles, and selected prayers for the film Malcolm X, that person did not become a joint author, but rather the appropriate designation was religious consultant.

By contrast, a court said that the author of an outline and two chapters could potentially be considered a joint author of a novel. In the case of Maurizio v. Goldsmith, Goldsmith asked Maurizio to help write a book about first wives, and proclaimed that they “would make a lot of money off the book and get rich.” Goldsmith and Maurizio worked together on the outline. It wasn’t until Maurizio attempted to formalize their agreement by asking for co-authorship credit and 25 percent of the profits from the book that Goldsmith reacted badly. After Maurizio sued, the court ruled there were serious joint authorship issues that could be tried by a jury.

A recent joint authorship case involved two law professors. The parties, Kate Bloch and Kevin McMunigal, agreed to write a casebook together in 1999. In 2000, they entered into an agreement with Aspen Publishers to produce Criminal Law: A Contemporary Approach in April 2003. Their book published in April 2005. Afterwards, the professors agreed to separate and reached a separation agreement in November 2007. Aspen said it would give them individual contracts if they could separate in writing. McMunigal submitted a new casebook proposal, which Aspen accepted. Bloch did not submit a new proposal and repudiated the separation agreement. McMunigal sued, claiming the casebook is a collective work and not a joint work.

Unlike a joint work, a collective work is defined as one in which a number of contributions, constituting separate and independent works in themselves, are assembled into a collective whole. Prominent examples are periodicals, anthologies, and encyclopedias and the SouthWest Sage newsletter. The contributors to the Sage retain their copyright in their individual work.

In McMunigal v. Bloch, the court found that the casebook was a joint work and not a collective one. The professors intended to become co-authors when they entered into a publishing contract that described them as co-authors and specified joint obligations, including requiring they submit a single manuscript. Further, they both supervised the casebook and it did not list who authored which chapters. Thus, the casebook could not be partitioned like a collective work.

To avoid ending up in a court, here are some suggestions that hopefully will make your joint author collaborations flow smoothly:

1. Pick someone to work with whose work you have examined and admired.

2. Memorialize the contribution in writing, even if it’s on a napkin to indicate who is responsible for what parts of the work.

3. Draft a schedule and stick to it. Pick one person to ride herd on the other author(s).

4. Decide at the beginning, when you like each other, how you might someday end the collaboration if necessary. Prepare the equivalent of an authorship prenuptial agreement.

A Short and Happy GuideSherri Burr is the Regents’ Professor of Law at the University of New Mexico School of Law where she teaches Entertainment Law, Intellectual Property Law, and Art Law. A graduate of Mount Holyoke College, Princeton University, and the Yale Law School, Burr has authored or co-authored twenty books, including A Short and Happy Guide to Financial Well Being (West Academic, 2014).

This article was originally published in the September 2011 issue of SouthWest Sage and is reprinted here by permission of the author.



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