Self-Care & Refilling the Well When Things Are on Fire

 

Exciting news!!! For all of you who have been waiting waiting waiting for the audiobook of ROGUE FAMILIAR, it is liiiivvveeee! Just on Audible for the next 3 months, then it will be wide. If you'd like to review, I do have some free downloads available. Comment here or email Assistant Carien via the website contact form.   

        

 

Amusingly enough, our topic at the SFF Seven this week is self-care and burnout. I say amusing because this has been a topic of discussion in Jeffe's Closet, my Patreon and Discord, these last couple of weeks. One thing I love about that space is that people can ask me questions and it gives me the opportunity to mull answers I hadn't previously given thought to.

One gal asked me about advice on getting through when you're faced with deadlines and your well is empty. I talked about this on Monday's podcast, too, but I'm going to reiterate here because I think our group mind hit on something really important.

We often think of refilling the creative well as something lovely, peaceful, and largely passive. Self-care often carries the sense of similar calm. We think of leisurely strolls, hot bubble baths, a glass of wine, gazing at the sunset with friends, lingering over moving art at museums and galleries. All of these things are lovely... And not terribly useful when you're facing deadlines, dealing with crises, and you're already short on time with a well so empty you've got nothing left to put out the fires, much less create something to meet those deadlines with.

So, what do we do then?

The thing is, burnout is something we must take very, very seriously. I've been there - and once you hit full burnout, the bottom of the well is dry as a bone, then it can takes months or years to recover. It's easy to put off our mental health, to decide that refilling the well can wait until this family member is doing better, or this deadline is met, or after some future date when we have time to deal with it. Except that mental health and burnout don't obey our schedules. Taking this approach is like deciding that an infection can wait until we've finished some other projects - by the time we're ready to deal with it, we could have blood poisoning or lose a limb.

What's the answer then? This was my advice to her: cut out everything that is not actually on fire and aggressively fill the well.

I was concerned that this was too vague, but it worked for her! Sometimes we need permission to ignore everything that is not a crisis - to ask ourselves "is it on fire?" and set it aside if not. As for aggressively filling the well - an image that seemed to amuse everyone - I can't tell you how to do that. We all have to find what refills our own wells. But as for going about it aggressively, that is the key. That means you're prioritizing those activities, going after them with gusto, rather than waiting for the water to seep in. Muster your army of brooms and aggressively fill that well!

Fantasia Brooms GIFfrom Fantasia GIFs

Self-Care and Burnout: A Writer's Cycle

 To all our US readers:

Happy Independence Day!

This Week's Topic: Self-Care & Burnout

Burnout is caused by us caving to pressures both external and internal. There is no taskmaster like our own conscience, is there?  It can make us gleefully ignore all the warning sirens of impending collapse with the intoxicating refrain of "just one more..." On occasion, we are blessed with the sweet, sweet glory of being in the Writing Zone. The words are flowing, the technology is cooperating, and there are no interruptions. We double our average word count for the day. We finish the WiP in record time. We publish the mss ahead of schedule. And then...

We can't come up with bupkiss.
Total burnout.

Whilst in the throes of burnout, the very notion of creativity causes us to wander off and drool in a corner. Our brains throb as if we were beamed with a fastball. We spend days, nay, weeks trying to recover from overachieving. Deadlines for other projects zoom past as we remain listless. We are such gluttons for punishment that we know the dire consequence awaiting us at the end of the Great Writing Jag, yet we sprint towards it, lost in our fugue, giddy at all we are accomplishing in the moment. 

We promise to pace ourselves next time. 

Another lie. We won't. We will rejoice whenever we stumble into the Writing Zone. We are willing prisoners of the cycle of overachieving and burning out. Naughty writers. We should take better care of ourselves. We should apply the lessons from all those self-care workshops. We should find the balance between creativity and healthiness. 

Bwaahaha. No. 

Not at the expense of our Beloved Story. Our fictional progeny take priority over our mental and physical well-being. Manic episodes? You betcha. Knowing better but not doing better? Ayup. Self-sabotage? Masters of it, we are. We will bitch about burnout and falsely vow to adhere to the principles of self-care, yet we will not change. There's another story crawling around our brains and we can't wait to tell it. 

That's the real reason writers are weird. 

In Search of Emotional Resonance

 

Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash

The question this week is, do I have to feel the exact emotion I'm writing? And my answer is more complicated than a yes or no—like many aspects of writing, there is nuance here!

To me emotion is at the heart of story. Readers seek out the stories that they do in order to experience emotions vicariously. Sometimes that emotion is even right there in the name of the genre, like in thrillers. Romance novels tend to have a wide range of emotional expectations, from swoony love interests to heart-wrenching action and as a fantasy romance writer it is always my goal to bring those emotions to life. 

Getting authentic emotions onto the page requires a certain level of vulnerability and being in touch with my own memories and visceral reactions, so in that way I do go through the same emotions as my characters. At the same time, I don't usually experience those emotions fully while writing. It would be pretty hard to type while weeping or fuming, so if nothing else, my characters live and express and experience their emotions in a much richer fashion than I do. 

One of the joys of writing fiction is the chance to dramatize actions and events, bringing characters and situations vividly to life. Even when I tap into a particularly powerful memory or experience, fictionalizing it takes it to a new level. Creating emotional resonance with my readers is the goal, which sometimes means reaching for higher highs and lower lows than I experience in my everyday life.

Jaycee Jarvis is an award winning fantasy romance author, who combines heartfelt romance with immersive magical worlds. When not lost in worlds of her own creation, she lives in the Pacific Northwest with her spouse, three children and a menagerie of pets. 

Find her at http://www.jayceejarvis.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJayceeJarvis

Mastadon: @Jaycee@romancelandia.club

Twitter: @JayceeJarvis 

Exploiting Emotion

Jeffe told the perfect Dustin Hoffman and Laurence Olivier story earlier this week. I'm happy to report the incident DID happen, according to Dustin Hoffman. 

Riffing off of what Jeffe talked about, I've come to say the story gives us a glimpse into the two distinct acting traditions these two men came from. Hoffman is a Method actor. It's a very American (by way of Russia) way to approach veracity in acting. The short theory behind it is that only honesty reaches through the divide between actor and audience. The actor must feel whatever the character feels or else the character won't read as true to the audience. Olivier came from the British acting tradition which, based as it is, so firmly in Shakespeare, focuses on technique. Another infamous Olivier quote goes something like "It isn't my job to feel anything. It's my job to make you feel what I want you to feel.' This one likely is apocryphal, but I can't prove that as a search for it took me straight to one of those 'hi-jack your box attempt' websites. It was just a story that got told at acting school. Since it shores up the technique (I don't feel) versus Method (I feel everything) acting arguments, we'll accept it. The theory to technique is that by mastering text, subtext, vocal range, and physicality, a technical actor can evoke emotional reaction in an audience.

The different schools are about establishing honesty. Modern audiences don't want to see actors acting, very much like readers don't generally want author intrusion in stories. In both cases, viewers and readers long to be swept up in the story as if they were standing in the protagonist's shoes themselves. To bring viewers and readers  as close to the work as humanly possible, actors and writers must play on some deep-seated psychological truths about humans.

Humans are deeply empathetic creatures. Whether we want to be or not, we are social animals. Our survival as a species relies on our ability to unconsciously and universally identify emotion from the faintest shifting of an expression or body language. This skill is available to us as infants. It's that important. More interestingly, for a brief moment, when we identify an emotion in someone else, we mirror it as if by trying on the expression we see in someone else confirms for us what feeling is associated with it.  Performers of all kinds learn to leverage it.

Can you see where Method and technique come at exploiting human emotional hot buttons from different directions? Method makes you mirror the feeling you see the actor experiencing. A technical actor has the physical, vocal, and body language skills so well rehearsed that they can choreograph the exact sequence of techniques to hit so as to elicit the emotions they want from an audience.

This is a lot of words to come at how I approach emotion in a novel. My only goal is to make emotion clear, clean, and cutting. If my character is laughing, I want you smiling along with her. If she's terrified, I want you looking over your shoulder. Method - me feeling the feelings  and then jotting them down is fast and easy. However, it's also easier to muddy the emotions and it's easy to get lost in the emo. Also, it's  a tough lesson, but just because I feel the fear, it doesn't mean I'm going to do a good job of communicating it to readers. Actors have faces and bodies for audiences to read. Writers have to build those things before readers can be impacted by them. Technique - word choices, paring complex emotion stacks down to bare bones, describing clear physical cues, sentence length, and white space - offers a tool kit that helps me manipulate readers into feeling what I need them to feel.

It will be no surprise to you that I feel like both are necessary. The trick with Method work is to use it to call up a reminder of a feeling. Technique then catalogues the details. Where do I feel that in the body. What does it feel like? What's my breath doing? What's the sensation? Where? What happens if it heightens? What does it feel like as it drains away? It's interesting to me that every human on earth may experience fear in personal and specific ways, but the experience is so recognizable, that even our 6 month old infants can identify and mirror it. That means I can give you my personal experience of emotion in a story and you will experience your version of that emotion - not mine. And I don't care. My job is not to make you feel what I feel. My job is to trigger you to experience your own emotions with the story I'm telling. My emotions will ring hollow to anyone but me. A story only comes to life if the emotion I write accesses your emotions. That's the only way a book can read as true to a broad audience.

So the answer is both. Both is good. I do need to feel. Some. I need to not feel enough that I can remain critical and objective enough to leverage solid technique.

To Feel or Not To Feel

I just finished a well-written sci-fi thriller, Mindwalker by Kate Dylan. While reading you’ll feel the main characters confusion, tension, brief moments of relief, and hunger for rightness. If you hadn’t guessed, I highly recommend this read! 

The inverse of tapping into all those character’s emotions as a reader is our topic of the week: do you have to feel the exact emotion you’re writing? 

I’d love to do a mini study on this and interview authors of books that I emotionally connected to as well as authors of books whose plot sucked me in. I’m curious to see if there’s any correlation to their writing process and my connection to the book. Of course, any study done by anyone on this would be skewed by the scientists’ views and personal preferences. Still, it would be interesting. 

I’ll put that idea on the back burner, but for now I can look at my own writing and compare to what readers have told me.

Step 1: Looking back at the books that I’ve written, my most emotional scenes do trigger the same emotions my characters are feeling. I do experience the anguish, the nervousness, the heart palpating fear—albeit to a lesser extent. And maybe that’s why writing is emotionally draining and I’m tired afterwards! 

Step 2: Review comments provided by readers (listeners for TMS and feedback on my other manuscripts). Interestingly, the readers/listeners experienced grief, and some tears, during the major loss scenes. Readers/listeners also reported sharing sweaty palms and pounding heart with the intense action scenes. And, yesssss, they were swept into the romantic moments with one listener saying “now I understand why people read these books”. 

Step 3: Comparison: My readers/listeners shared the deep emotion scenes with my characters, which correlates to the emotions I felt while I was writing those scenes. 

Conclusion: For me, I do experience emotions as I am writing. I put myself into my characters shoes because I want to feel what they’re feeling and be able to sense my way through the scene. Is it necessary? No, there have been plenty of times I write with a more technical goal in mind…and I bet you can pick those parts out. 

Maybe I don’t need to do a study on authors and emotions since I know for myself I will experience an echo of my characters emotions as I write. I believe it makes my stories better, but then again, I’m an emotional reader and want to be sucked in that way over the plotting. 

Are any of you, dear readers, like me in this? Do you also need some yoga and/or meditation after a good writing session?

Writing Emotion and Owning Your Process

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is writing emotion and whether you as the author have to feel the exact emotion you're writing.

There's this tale about acting that's been making the rounds for ages - it's possibly apocryphal - about Dustin Hoffman being a method actor. (Oooh, Marcella found it!) That method asks actors to find the emotions within themselves to play the character, to find essentially their alternate self who would be that person and feel that way. The story goes that Hoffman spent an hour getting into that character's skin and Sir Laurence Olivier strolled in, did his bit, and left again, saying, "My dear boy, it's called acting."

The point of this (again, possibly apocryphal) tale is twofold: the first that you can create the appearance of emotion without feeling it, and the second that everyone does things their own way.

You all should know by now that my primary mantra is this: figure out what your process is and own it.

People like that story because they can smirk at poor Dustin Hoffman doing things the American way, the overly-complicated way, the fancy way, but... is he wrong? Hoffman has an amazing acting career. He's widely acknowledged as a brilliant actor. Clearly his approach isn't "wrong."

Is Olivier wrong in this story? Clearly not, for the same reasons as above. There is no wrong. There is no right. Both things can be true. Both processes work for those performers.

So, do I have to feel the emotion I'm writing in order to put it on the page? Nope. Do I sometimes? Sure, though it depends. Do other writers need to feel the emotion to write it? I've heard they do.

And it's all good. Both things can be true.

 

Writing Emotion: The General Emo Vicinity

 This Week's Topic: Emotion -- Do I have to feel the exact emotion I'm writing?

Have to? Nah. Probably shouldn't, to be frank. It's hell on my health. Murderous rage? I try not to wind myself up that tightly since it's bad for the ol' ticker...and inanimate bystanders (I got a bit of Berserker in me and a large supply of smashables). Stark terror? I carry my stress in my digestive system, and I don't like wearing adult diapers. So turned on a lamp post is lookin' good? I gotta do a hard pass on the arrest warrant in this era of diminishing "reasonable expectations of privacy." 

Now, that's not to say I don't mentally get in the general vicinity of the feeeeels of what my character(s) is going through. The gist of joy and distress. The recollection of the highs and lows. I do that quite often. There are many scenes where my emotional investment is critical to wring the emo of the moment, but there's a line between investment and mimicry. Empathy doesn't require us to endure the physical or mental tumult; it's empathy that is the key to showing the reader my character's actions and reactions, rather than flatly telling the reader what to feel. That's how we--authors--leave enough room for reader interpretation. 

Admittedly, there are scenes when my head forgets to consult my heart, which results in my mss coming back from the editor with lots of "insert emo here" comments. That's when I stare at the scene and ask myself, "What would my protag be feeling here?" That's when empathy knocks on the ol' memory tomb and checks to see if we have anything in the emotionally comparable neighborhood.

I've never gotten in a street fight with dragons, but I did get in a catfight with my sister once. I lost fistfuls of hair and she wound up with a dislocated knee. Then the cops showed up. 

General emo vicinity, folks. General emo vicinity. 

My Greatest Writing Challenge and How I Manage It

I have always struggled with getting started - with everything in life, not just writing. My head is always full of ideas and plans that I want to try out and accomplish in a small amount of time, but instead of it being a facilitating factor, it is actually an annoying setback.

Numerous questions are always swarming around in my mind. Where do I start? Which storyline to choose? Do I go with my gut feeling or do I listen to the masses? The easiest thing would be to give in, go with the flow. Why chose the harder path by being different when it would be much simpler to write the same old story that has proven to be a sure win with readers?

The answer is very simple.

Because I want to stand out from the crowd. I want readers to recognize me for my own unique stories and the unique writing style that brings these stories to life. Yes, it takes more work to write a complex fantasy plot, especially one that is fresh and readers aren’t used to it (and don’t get me even started on the neverending hours that you will spend on research). Yes, you are going to have moments when you are grabbing your head and cursing the day that you decided to write this intricate plot overflowing with symbolism and hidden meanings. But you know what? In the end, when you are holding your book in your hands, you will realize that the countless sleepless nights and piled up stacks of papers were all worth it.

Now, once you’ve decided what the general plot is going to be, where to actually start? How to pull in the reader enough to keep him turning the pages?

The cycle of doubt begins anew, and I found that in overcoming this next burden, it helps me to physically step away from my laptop and literally go somewhere in nature – whether it’s a walk in the park, or just sitting on a bench somewhere and observing people. Such a simple notion, yet so effective – you would be surprised how fresh air and an increased amount of oxygen works wonders on the brain! And if you still have uncertainties when you return to your desk, take a piece of paper and jot down every idea that pops into your head. If the book was to start off with the main character speaking, what would he say? Where would he be? How would that single line weave in with the rest of the book? Would it be better if it wasn’t the main character speaking right away, but rather some side character that will act as a narrator? Or if the opening lines were to be an illustration of some grand event that will later be pivotal for the actual storyline, how revealing should it be? How much is too much?

Don’t get discouraged if you have three sheets of papers with random scribbles all over - my own notes sometimes resemble complex confidential battle plans rather than neat and organized author pages. Once you’ve jotted all of your ideas down, go over them, one by one. If it doesn’t feel right, scratch it out; it might be a great idea but maybe it’s not the right time for it, and that’s absolutely fine. Eventually you will be left with two or three starting points that you will deliberate over until your eyes fall out, and this is where my secret weapon comes in – my intuition. Don’t be afraid of taking a risk. Listen to your gut feeling – it will never steer you wrong!

Isabella Khalidi (pen name) is an adult dark fantasy & romance writer. Her novels are deep and complex, filled with scorching romance that leaves the reader breathless and yearning for more.

She is currently residing in a small town in Europe where she is finishing up her medical studies while simultaneously helping out in her local family owned shop. From an early age she has shown love for ancient lore and mythology, igniting her dream of one day becoming a successful author.

The Snows of Nissa is her first published novel, with the Forgotten Kingdom Chronicles as her debut adult fantasy series. You can find it on KU and Amazon. Follow her on Instagram @isabellakhalidiauthor.