writing

Cure for writer’s block: get a haircut* and get a real job.

/ R.J. Keller / 3 Comments

Last week a friend of mine, who is the assistant manager at the convenience store down the road, visited me, begging me to go to work for her. Two nights a week, the overnight shift. Apparently they’re pretty desperate for employees who aren’t afraid of mops and don’t think “free” cigarettes are a benefit of punching the timeclock. Since free coffee–on and off the clock–is a benefit, along with a discount on heating oil next winter, I said, “Sure, sign me up.”

This is the second smartest thing I’ve ever done. An unadvertised benefit of working graveyard shift at a small town convenience store: an unending supply of fodder for fiction. Not to make light of misery, but drunk, stoned, lonely people will say and do pretty much anything, and between the hours 11pm-1am (the hour at which Mainers can no longer buy Allen’s Coffee Brandy), the store is full of them. And once my cleaning and stocking is done, I have about 4 hours of nothing-to-do. Since my muse is most active in the middle of the night, and with no internet to distract me, I’ve been getting lots of writing done on book number four.

Inspiration or exploitation? You tell me.

*haircut optional

Why I Love Script Frenzy

/ R.J. Keller / 3 Comments


3. Like Napoleon Dynamite, I’m always on the lookout for new skills. Script writing is a skill, it’s damned hard, and I take my hat off to anyone who’s mastered it.

2. I’ve learned the art of OUTLINING. It’s something I’ve always hated doing in the past, but is an absolute necessity in this kind of writing. Not only did I enjoy doing it this time around, I’m actually itching to outline the next novel that’s bouncing around in my gut. Go figure.

1. This thread right here on the Script Frenzy forum. Funny as hell. I think the guy should totally go for it. I mean, wouldn’t YOU love to see an army riding moose into battle? I know I would.

Writers love feedback!! So do mothers!!

/ R.J. Keller / Leave a comment

I have joked in the past about the thousands of emails I receive each week from readers of this blog. Today, though, I speak the truth when I say I’ve gotten four different emails from four separate readers (none of whom are related to me by blood or marriage) in the past week with lots of feedback, and some questions, about Waiting for Spring. I’ll be honest…I’m wicked excited about that.

So far, the most commonly asked questions have to do with the characters; namely whether or not any of them are based on real people. The answer is a resounding NO. I especially want to make it clear, for the record, that Tess’ mother in no way resembles my own mother, who is the very model of a modern supportive Mom. She’s had a copy of a poem I wrote about banana bread hanging on her refrigerator since 1984. Or, to be more precise, she’s had the poem hanging on three consecutive refrigerators since then.

Another common question: Are New Mills, Brookfield, and Westville real towns in Maine? Again, the answer is No. Struggling mill towns are a sad reality up here, so it wasn’t difficult for me to create this fictional world, but Portland and Bangor are the only real places visited or mentioned in my novel.

Finally, a rather touchy subject: Yankee fans. I don’t hate them. I have a very good friend who happens to like…that team. We simply choose not to talk about baseball. This makes for very long and silent summers…

Stay tuned for more Q & A, and feel free to send me any of your feedback and/or questions. You can either email me at rjkeller.wfs@gmail.com or you can put ’em in the comments section of this post. Just one request: As a courtesy to those who are in the middle of the novel, please don’t post anything spoilerific here at the blog. Thanks!

Update on The Quest

/ R.J. Keller / 2 Comments


You may remember that a few weeks ago I let y’all know that an agent requested a partial (a two-page synopsis and the first five chapters) of Waiting for Spring, and then the full manuscript. Today the agent’s rejection came in the mail. She said “it’s not commercial enough for my client list.” Still, I’m not giving up hope.

In the meantime…if you haven’t read it yet, give it a try. Tell your friends. Several people who aren’t related to me by blood or marriage have enjoyed it.

[There’s a link to it on my new website as well.]

I detect a dialect

/ R.J. Keller / 2 Comments

Today I had to put down a novel that I’d been looking forward to reading for a long time. I’ve heard it’s a good book, and I’m sure that–one day–I’ll find that out for myself. Once I can get past one thing.

Dialect. Ugh.

I’m a reasonably intelligent woman. If an author sets his/her story in–for example–England, I have a pretty good idea how the characters are gonna sound. And if I’m further informed that a particular character speaks with a Cockney accent, I can drop the H’s for myself…please don’t do it for me if that character has more than a few lines of dialogue. Pretty please?

Or maybe it’s just me…

Free to good home:

/ R.J. Keller / 4 Comments

One internal editor.

At this point, I’m willing to let her go free to a bad home. Seriously, abuse her all you want. I won’t care. Just…please come and get her.

Warning: she’s a bitch.

If all she did was pick apart my grammar and spelling and typos, then I’d be all set. A mere, “La la la, I’m not listening to you” while I covered my ears, and then stuck out my tongue, would do the trick. But she’s bound and determined to analyze my every sentence for rhythm and flow, and she delights in reminding me that my exposition is clunky and forced. She’s making it so I can’t write anything at all.

I’ve tried telling her that this is still a first draft, and that perfection isn’t necessary. That the important part is getting the ideas down on the page, and that we can fix it up later; but she won’t listen. And so she needs to go away.

She doesn’t eat much, takes up very little room, and she’s great with kids and pets. So whaddya say?

Note: I’ll need her back once my first draft is completed.

One Step Up

/ R.J. Keller / 4 Comments


Last month I got another request from a literary agent who wanted a synopsis and the first five chapters of Waiting for Spring. Last week Agent asked for the full manuscript. That makes three requests for the whole thing in the past month.

I’m trying not to get too excited. Still…I’m cautiously optimistic. Or is it optimistically cautious?

In the meantime, here’s the link–once again–where you can read a few excerpts.

Stuff and junk and more stuff.

/ R.J. Keller / Leave a comment

Well, it happened on Sunday: I hit 50969 words! Naturally I’m not even close to being done with the novel. I know that Mr. Chris Baty’s No Plot, No Problem recommends that words 49,999/50,000 should be, “The End,” but Verbosity is my middle name.

Mike Lowell Update: Three more years with the Red Sox! You were right, Rob. Sorry I doubted you.

Tooth update: Still hurts like hell.

Hubby update: He made it back to work this morning after 7 weeks of recuperation. He says that from now on he’s going to don a HazMat suit before clearing brush. You all should, too.

Favor time: If your local theater is showing I’m Not There, please go see it. Then come back here and tell me all about it. Looks like I’m going to have to wait until it’s out on DVD, since I live in the boonies.

[Shameless Plug] Click the link over yonder to the right to read a few excerpts from this year’s NaNoNovel, The Wendy House, at my NaNo profile page. (Rated R for language and junk.) Click the other link to read the prologue from my recently completed (not yet published) novel, Waiting For Spring. (Rated…oh, I’d say PG or PG-13.) [/Shameless Plug]

Flaccidity

/ R.J. Keller / 1 Comment

A few days ago a fellow NaNoWriMo novelist read an excerpt I posted on the board, enjoyed it, and sent me a private message telling me so. This surprised me because this person is not related to me and is therefore under no obligation to enjoy my writing (hi, Mom!!)

My first reaction was to jump up and down in my computer chair and holler, and I quote: “SQUEEEEEE!” (I’m pretty sure that’s how Ernest Hemingway reacted the first time he realized someone had enjoyed his work.) In fact, there is still some inward squeeeeee-ing going on as we speak.

My second reaction was paralysis. That’s right: writer’s block. Because it occured to me (bright girl that I am) that a person I didn’t know read something I wrote, liked it, and then felt compelled to let me know it. I flipped through the pages of my latest literary output (well, I scrolled through them, this being the computer age and all) and realized that most of my latest literary output was a big fat steaming pile of crap (or, as my very talented writer friend, Amy, says: CARP. Hi Amy!!!) I had a few nuggets that could be sterilized at a later date and possibly be made fit for human consumption, but that was about it.

And so, I stared at my monitor, chomping on dark chocolate covered espresso beans, listening to Breakfast in America (part of my novel is set in the late 1970s, so I need the appropriate background music), waiting for inspiration. Nothing. I went into the bathroom and put on some green eyeshadow, just like Margaret Mitchell did while she was writing Gone With The Wind (I’m not making that up…she really did do that) and sat down at my desk again. Still nothing. After three hours of nothing, I gave it up and played Yahtzee with my still-ailing hubby for the rest of the afternoon. (Hi Hon!!!)

Then night fell. The kids went to bed. My hubby settled down in front of the television. And I stared at the monitor. Still paralysed. I chomped on espresso beans. Listened to ELO (shut up!) Then I peeked through the spam in my Yahoo email account, hoping I might find something in there that would inspire me.

Oddly enough, I did. There were no less than eight offers for me to purchase Viagra at a startling discount. That’s right. I’m a thirty-seven-year-old woman (which means I don’t have a penis, flaccid or otherwise) and yet someone thought I might be interested in purchasing Viagra. That’s when I had a revelation that might startle you as much as it did me.

I’m not Ernest Hemingway.

People who work as spammers for Viagra see my name, shrug, and think, “Maybe he suffers from erectile dysfuntion.” That was a very comforting thought. It meant I can fill my monitor with as much crap as I want this month…and nobody has to know. So I cracked my knuckles and added another 1016 words to my novel. Then I did what NaNoers are not supposed to do…I looked back–again–through some of the previous 15,000+ words. And, guess what? It wasn’t as crappy as I thought.