Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Playing Playwright With Your Psyche - It's a Love Thing

My twitter profile (@MMFinck) ends with "Ruled by the golden rule and glasses half full."  If you follow me, know me or "like" me, you know which direction this will take.  :)  Please allow me, your Chief Over-Analyzing Officer, a little rein to get there.  This inspiration for this post began as loss.  It ended up somewhere completely different.

There are losses for which there is no upside.  I do not presume to speak to those.  Please know that if you are struggling with a loss like that, you have my most heartfelt prayers and thoughts.  May your every month be easier and more joyful than the last one.  I would not diminish losses of that depth by posting about them.

However, those are not the only losses that hurt, that make us sleep to cope, eat to cope, not eat to cope, drink to cope, cry because we can't cope; that fill us with feelings of hopelessness and fear about our futures.

The writing biz is rife with opportunities for fear and crushing disappointment.  Coming up with a good plot, good story, good characters, good setting, etc. is tough.  Writing through exhaustion, writers' block, plot/character/timeline problems, sickness, kids' fighting in the next room, writing in a van (an author just followed me on twitter who wrote her first book in a mini-van when she was 45.  now she's famous and has had at least one of her novels made into a major motion picture! @clairecookwrite), writing at a school desk at night in the laundry room (Stephen King), navigating seemingly impossible rewrites, etc. is tough.  But, in my opinion, none of that is as hard as what comes next.

Getting an agent.  Getting an editor.  Getting good reviews at all stages.  Cover and back copy choices.  Earning back your advance.  Appropriate sales figures.  You go from total control over your manuscript to what feels like none over what happens with it.  (How much control you really have is a matter of debate.  Believe me, I do everything I can.  I'm the flippin' energizer bunny.  I have the long-eared headband and the pink fluffy tail.)  My point is:  No matter of promotion or marketing can make someone laugh and cry over your manuscript.  You can't make someone buy your book and when they finish die to tell their friends that they have to read it too.  It's a love thing.

Which brings me to an unnamed friend - picture someone beautiful, adventurous, smart, successful, and kind.  At the same time that I was going through a painful literary rejection, she was going through a painful romantic one.

Believe it or not, it was the same.  It's a love thing.

This is what I learned -

A Little Hate Is Lovely.
Again, I'm the chick who sips from only full glasses (tries to anyway) and uses the word "love" so much that she fears it may come across as insincere (which it isn't).  BUT, I do believe that a little "hate" goes a long way in healing.  I might have told my friend:  That guy is an idiot.  He's weak.  He's a liar.  He's whatever-whatever.  The point is not to internalize hate but to pull yourself up from feeling "less than" the one who so "wisely" dumped you.  Sure, absolutely, you probably have something to learn too about how you could have been better.  Learn it.  Now you're better and he's still an idiot.  (joking, joking.)

You Skated, Dude!
Maya Angelou says, "The first time people show you who you are, believe them."  My friend's ex was perfect in many, many ways.  But there were things.  Tiny things.  It was like that for me too.  Tiny things that niggled at me that I ignored because of all the perfection and all those dreams that I'd been working so so hard for.   Now is the time to blow those tiny things up.  Think about living with them and realizing how lucky you are that you don't have to.

No agent/boyfriend is better than a bad agent/boyfriend.  Ask anyone who's stuck with one.

You always have to know that whatever is on the horizon is better than what you missed.  You are lucky for the broken road.

I'm Grateful For This?!?
Yes.  Yes, you are.  Ask yourself, "Is my life better or worse for having had this experience?"  I bet it's better.  We wouldn't be so sad to lose it if it weren't.  Find things to be grateful for.  If nothing else, every miss is one closer to the hit.    Personally, I always have:  weathering is good for writers.  :)

I often find healing gifts in the timing of things.  I signed up for a conference that turned out to be held two weeks after my rejection.  There is no better place for a writer to be than with other writers.  I met people with similar stories who were not only on the conference panel but on the NYT bestseller lists too.

Be grateful.  All of our experiences make us more ready for when we finally get what we really want.

Rewrite Your Script
When I get reviewer comments back on my manuscripts, I have to ask my husband to read the cover letter.  I'm too close to it to feel the weight of each sentence.  The good ones are barely visible on the page and the possibly negative ones are in a larger font and bolded.  It always goes like this:  "I heard back from So-And-So."  He says, "Oh, good.  Did they like it?"  I say, "I don't know.  I can't tell."  Then I stand by chewing my nails while he reads it.  He says, "Okay, so they love it.  What's your problem?"   Me:  "But, what about...?  What about...?  I just can't tell."

Then he inevitably reads the upbeat parts aloud and tells me that I can't just pick one less than glowing sentence and run around and around with it.

Yes.  Yes, I can.  That is what I call my "script".  But I know this about myself, and I do actually crave criticism on my work.  I need it.  I can't get better without it.  So I rewrite my script.  I hit pause on the single negative phrase riding on my mind's merry-go-round, and replace it with a more accurate, forward-thinking, hopeful script.  Erase the old one, let the shame go, and get to work.

An early agent on my first attempt at writing rejected me.
Bad script:  "You would benefit from a workshop.  You're not ready."
Good script:  She told me that I have natural talent, and that she is "quite intrigued by [my] story and protagonist."  She took the time to give specific feedback and recommended that a workshop may be able to close the gap for me.  She invited me to revise and requery.  This can not happen often.  I am one step closer.  I am grateful.

(This is not my friend's script.  It is just another example.  Woman dumped.)
Bad script:  It always happens this way.
Good script:  It didn't work out, but I attracted an intelligent, successful man and I was attracted to him.   I'm swimming in the right lake.  It was closer than last time.  I'm certainly better off without that last guy.  The next one will be better.  It's only a matter of time.  Besides, I have a totally great life.  I'm going shopping/hiking/dancing/having a dinner party.

I love angsty music.  The more raw it is the more I like it.  But, that's not what helps here.  Think of the positivity you surround yourself with as bracket that keeps your script in place until the glue dries.  Uplifting music.  Uplifting movies, tv, books.  Optimism by osmosis.

Give Yourself a Future
We are telling ourselves that the future will be better, right?  Then we have to have one.  Plan something to look forward to.  Know your next step.  Always have something on the horizon.  Keep your eyes on the prize, as they say.

When everything fell apart for me all I could feel at first was numb sadness.  I questioned myself, my talent, my choices.  But there was a little version of me inside (an internal MM Polly Pocket :)) who didn't really care about how I felt.  She had things to do and I was in the way.

Soldiers don't just fight battles.  They fight wars.  You can't win the war if you give up after a battle, no matter how bad it is.  I fought for her and it was the best thing I could have done for the rest of me.  Not to mention my work.  The people I work with now are of an even higher caliber than my "miss".  Amazing people are on my side now.  I wouldn't have them if things had happened differently.


You can't make someone love you, but you have to know you are worthy of it.  You have a bright future.  That harm of believing that, even if it's untrue, is nothing compared to the harm of not believing it.  The perfect job, spouse, writing team is awaiting us.  I have absolute faith in your future and I love you for your faith in mine.  "You are the leaves on my family tree."*


A personal tidbit (though I'm not sure if it's possible to be more personal than I have been today :)) - Here is a photo of my husband, Chris, and me at his cousin's wedding this weekend.  The night before we spent with one of our favorite families in the world in their amazing house in TriBeCa and then out for a night, sans kids, on the town.  Phenomenal fun.

I'm working on extending my reach.  If you care to, please feel free to share this or my fb page with your friends.  I'm on twitter too.  I <3 social media!

~MM
www.facebook/mmfinck
www.twitter.com/mmfinck
www.mmfinck.blogspot.com




*Train.  I think the song is "Sing Together"?

Friday, March 1, 2013

I'll Miss You, Man(ually)!


"...these organisms often dispense with traits that are made unnecessary through parasitism on a host."
- Scientific American

After struggling for two days to decipher my handwritten notes and transcribe them into Word, I can draw no other conclusion than that the above from Scientific American describes me. I have always had terrible handwriting, no patience for it. But now my hands - the same hands that fly effortlessly over a keyboard - are too stiff to write with a pencil. Selective adaptation. I have become parasitic to my "host" laptop.

Oh, what would my grammar school nuns say? I'm so sorry, Sister Gracette. It's not your fault. You did everything you could. 

Have a great day, everyone!  :)  Thank you for coming by.  I am reading Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children (loving it) and working on my next novel.  Hoping to meet with some publishing people next week.  Things are going well.  It means so much to me having you along for the ride!  Take care!

~MM

PS  I am sorry for the gigantic photo of myself that I am forced to include at the end of each post.  I am not an egomaniac, I swear.  If I don't include it - and at this size - blogger uses a photo of Abby Wambach from an earlier post as the cover photo of my blog when it appears in searches or links.  Odd, odd.



Thursday, February 14, 2013

Valentine's Day The Sequel: I HEART Happiness

I once offended an IT guy who was working on my firm-issued computer for me on Valentine's Day.  Our conversation worked its way around to me admitting that I didn't like Valentine's Day because I suspected that by night's end it hurt or disappointed more souls than it lifted.  He concluded that I was single and bitter.  I wasn't actually, either.  I'm an oldest sister and my dad was a cop.  It is in my DNA to look out for people.  When I see people hurting, it hurts me.  Happiness at the expense of other people's is what I objected to and only that.

You know from following me on twitter (@mmfinck) and facebook (http://www.facebook.com/mmfinck), that the word "love" shows up frequently ("I am loving this workshop!",  "GOAL!  I love Abby Wambach.",  "I loved Hemingway and Gelhorn.", "I LOVE this book!!") in my posts.  I wonder from time to time if my free use of that word makes my remarks comes across as insincere.  I re-read, shrug, and post.  The sentiment doesn't come from shallowness.  Inversely, depth.  I experience things deeply.  Good and bad.  I admit it.  (Common characteristic of writers, I suspect.)  I just happen to celebrate the good publicly and the bad privately.  My friend brought over her new puppy to see me the other day.  After only one short visit, I love that puppy.  I suspect that I will love her all her life until she is no longer.  Her snuggles made me deeply happy.  That feeling burrows into my heart.  I welcome it.  It fulfills me to have reciprocal, personal connections with as many things as possible.  This quote by C.S. Lewis captures it for me.
"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives."
~ C.S Lewis

I don't say that I "don't like" Valentine's Day anymore.  I just like to expand it beyond romantic, even parental or familial, love.  I still don't prefer pre-fixe menus or extravagant gestures.  But there is little better to celebrate than:  affection, kindness, personal connection, and inviting happiness/people/things into our hearts. 
 "Come live in my heart, and pay no rent."
~ Samuel Lover, Live Heart Come

HAPPY VALENTINE's DAY THE SEQUEL!  <3
~MM Finck

[Please allow me one aside.  I wouldn't be the big sister/mother of daughters/feminist that I am if I didn't say:  Inhabitants of our hearts must be worthy of it.  "Love is not abuse."]

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Get Ugly. Get Great.

Do you know Alex Clare's song "Too Close"?  The first time I heard it, the video was playing on a television in a room I couldn't see.  My brow furrowed.  I stopped what I was doing, stared into space, and listened with perked ears.  To me, it is kind of acoustic singer-songwriter-y which I tend to like, but it is hard too which I also like.  Then there are these unexpected techno sounds around the refrain.  I felt his breaking through what bound him, his giving voice to his torment, his freedom.  My adrenaline rushed.  It got me.  Or I got it.  I don't know.  We intertwined.  

Each year I make a playlist of my favorite songs from that year and put it on cd's for my friends.  Too Close was a given inclusion.  On the way here this morning I was listening to it.  As I sang it, my chin lifted, my eyes squinted, and my face twisted.  "...I'm just too close to love you...."  I was feeling it.  When I pulled up next to a truck at a traffic light and the driver glanced over at me, I realized that there is no way to sing that song without getting ugly.  

That got me thinking.

Megan Rapinoe is my favorite soccer player. She is amazing on the field.  The first time I saw her play I was struck by how she was EVERYWHERE.  As a woman who wears many hats myself, I related.  I have two Rapinoe tee's.  I love her.  But, Abby Wambach is my hero (and FIFA Women's World Player of the Year, may I add).  I don't relate to her, I look UP to her.  She is the leader I'll never be but always strive to.  As a player, she never stops pressing, pushing, digging deeper, no matter what.  Before the 2012 Olympics she is quoted as saying that she would leave her "human being-ness" on the field.

When she plays, she is ugly.  Understand this:  I think Abby Wambach is beautiful.  What I am trying to put a name to is the complete absence of vanity she has when she is playing.  Look at her - wild-eyes, sweaty, strained ligaments in her neck.  No self-consciousness.  She is a vessel for greatness.  

(It absolutely kills me to remove Abby's photo but search engines were using it as my blog's cover photo.  Can we say, "Confusing to the reader"?  Imagine her majesty here.  :))

I've seen Dave Matthews roll his eyes back in his head.  Sometimes, I swear, that man speaks in tongues.  Check out this photo of gumby-faced John Mayer.


These are not ugly men.  My very attractive husband is actually Dave's goofy doppelganger.  John Mayer once dated the gorgeous Jennifer Aniston.  

Pulling from the depths of our honesty, using every sinuous fiber - it looks ugly.   

It is anything but.

Get ugly.  Get great.

~MM Finck
http://www.facebook.com/mmfinck
@MMFinck on twitter


Thursday, January 17, 2013

Sometimes I Read Something I Just Have To Share...


I love this:

"Are you done?  You can't honestly believe any of this nonsense.  People like you must create.  If you don't create, Bernadette, you will become a menace to society.          Paul"
- Maria Semple, "Where'd You Go, Bernadette"

I become a menace to myself when I don't create.  I get all itchy and irritable.  Depressed.  It's not pretty.  No wonder my husband bought me a laptop.  :)

Happily worshiping at the feet of the goddess of MS Word,
~MM Finck


Thursday, January 10, 2013

Bok or Cluck, It's Still A Chicken

A woman at my nephew's birthday party last fall said that she knew I was the "writer-sister" because I looked the part.  "The part," according to her, being my wild hair and appliqued dress.  The glasses and the laptop, also sure signs.  I tried to tell her that a writer is not all I am.  She couldn't believe it.  I'm not sure if you will either, but, in my past life, I was a numbers geek.  Finance and accounting all the way, baby.  I loved it.  Still do.  To my writer friends this always inspires a chuckle.  

Before the short appliqued dresses, dark tights, and high boots came business suits, a brief case, and trunks of client files (remember paper files?) that weighed more than I did.  I had fulfilling jobs at exciting organizations.  There was so much to learn.  The harder it was, the higher I felt.  I worked with brilliant people.  I made great money (particularly when compared to the poor writer's salary I pull in now! :)), and traveled all over the country.   I lived on both coasts.  I met one of my best friends in San Diego (home of the best produce and frozen  yogurt) where we worked all day and danced all night.  The campus of Georgetown University provided a lovely working environment, to say the least.  But, my favorite C.V. bullet point was my role as the Assistant Controller for Special Projects at The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.

I'll be honest with you here:  it was better than you'll believe.  I was surrounded by creative, passionate people, the best of the best.  Can you imagine the Kennedy Center on Halloween?  You've never seen such costumes.  Christmas?  So much beauty.  On any normal day, if I didn't eat lunch at an amazing restaurant on the Georgetown Waterfront, I ate in the back of one of the theater houses and watched rehearsals.  It was a phenomenal experience.  I loved every bit of it.

And then... dun, dun, dunnn... I moved.  Now, beyond talking through really gnarly (read: cool) finance or accounting conundrums that my husband is dealing with at work or straightening out my dad's Elks' books, I don't do much of that stuff anymore.  

I am an all-in writer and, even in light of the Kennedy Center glory, I have never been happier.  I've also never been such a CHICKEN.

I did some pretty high-level stuff before.  But still this is scarier.  How can that be, right?

With numbers, I was building something, translating something, solving for something.  Was it stressful?  Absolutely.  I worked ridiculous hours under tremendous pressure and the work was hard.  But scared?  I wasn't ever scared.

With writing?  I am Chicken Little's shaky cousin who hides at her sewing machine.  Obviously, publishing is scary because of fear of rejection, criticism, failure, bad reviews, and so on.  But why does writing itself put the jelly in my fish?  I work my own hours.  I'm my own boss.  I love it more than any job, even hobby, I've ever had.   What gives?

Here it is:  I give my heart and soul and bit of my flesh to CREATE something REAL out of thin air, which is no small task.   Like taffy, I push, pull, and stretch my imagination to its limits.  And then when my creation is as tight, exciting, and evocative as I can get it - I BREAK IT.

Into bits.

Every bridge beyond repair.

It's like I DIE.   

And when I am reborn, I am someone new who is only acquainted with the old me and I have to assess the pieces of my story and BUILD IT INTO SOMETHING ELSE, something satisfying.  This is difficult and the fear that I won't be able to do it, makes me manic.  Meals are skipped, telephone rings are ignored.

Then I finish .  There is nothing like it.  Pure joy.  I usually go shopping to celebrate.  Maybe an appliqued dress or a to-die-for scarf.  Or both.  Just kidding, honey!  (He knows I'm not. :))

Then come the reviews.  Fear peeks around the corner, looking for an opportunity to come on in.  I can usually stave it off though because I actually want criticism.  Can't get better without it, right?  I pick different reviewers for the different things they are good at.

Then the revisions.  Here is where all the lights go out.  Heart racing, hands shaking.  I don't mind the work.  But... What if in fixing it, I break it again?  

And that fear - what if in fixing it, I break it again? - tortures me.  People track word counts while they write.  I personally use a handy-dandy excel spreadsheet (You can't take the numbers out of a numbers person. :)), but I don't really need it.  In the writing phase, the story seizes and enslaves me.  I have no choice but to write and breathe, breathe and write.  All else wanes.  It's in the editing phase that I have to push through my fear.  Bok or cluck, I'm still a chicken.

But I'm a writer too.  And that gives me superpowers (see previous post "How Writing Is Like Dog-grooming and Characters Tantrum Like Two-Year-Olds").  I am terrified, but I do it anyway.  Today, after an extended writing break due to the holidays and flu, I sat my poultry self at my laptop and closed my internet browser.  One point at a time, one word at a time, I worked through my list.  Guess what?  I didn't break my story.  I love the fixes.  They made my manuscript shine.  I am filled with gratitude and relief.

Am I cured?  No way.  Am I scared to go at it again tomorrow when my alarm screams at 4:33 am?  You betcha. 

Because do you know what's next?  What's scarier than revising?  Finishing.  That's when I say officially that this is the best I can do.  THAT vulnerability is terrifying.  But I'll do it anyway.  Because it is also the most rewarding thing in the world.  The first time I saw a manuscript I'd written printed, even though it was a simple bound copy from Kinko's with a nothing but a clear plastic cover, I lost my breath.  Aside from my newborn children, it was honestly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I'll never forget it.

The reason I decided to write this post is to tell you that I am "in it" too.  I am Chicken Numero Uno.  If you want to do something you're afraid of, find your courage.  Statistically, even some chickens must be brave.  Be a brave one.  It's the only way to "have done it" and there's nothing better.  Trust me.  I'll be the shaking one right next to you.

I hope you are well!  Take care!  Thanks for stopping over today!  :)

~MM Finck
http://www.facebook.com/mmfinck
@MMFinck on twitter  



Saturday, December 29, 2012

Good Day, Flu Day

My brother-in-law referred to me the other day as a "high-energy person."  He said it without preamble or pause as though it was a given fact.  Not long ago an old friend of mine described us (friend and I) "as basically the same person" and used the word "frenetic."  I was intrigued by both observations.  I don't refute them.  I've just never thought about myself that way.  I'm don't have a hyper or tumultuous personality.  I like peace, quiet, and solitude.  But I do talk fast and I walk very very fast, and, more to the point, I do like to get a lot of things done each day.  You can see why I don't refute it.  :)  Being productive makes me happy.  Opposite, unproductive=>unhappy, holds true as well.

So being sick?  That's about the worst thing that I can happen to me.  Not only do I feel badly physically, I feel bad mentally, emotionally, spiritually.  I can't get anything done.  Curses on the germ gods!

This week I have the flu.  I never nap yet I am napping all day and sleeping all night.  Who is this sleepy demon possessing my body?  Even when I am awake, my eyelids are hanging half-mast.  Fever, chills, etc.  You know the picture I'm drawing.  I'll leave it there.  In short, the flu.  You probably have it too if the Tylenol shelf at my local grocer is any indication.

Bad for certain parts of my life - this blog, facebook, email, getting together with friends, photographing Christmas morning (not to mention being in photographs Christmas morning), twitter probably thinks I've died, I haven't updated goodreads in forever...  The one thing the flu has been GREAT for is the pile of books on my night stand!  Yesterday I finished a book, started and finished a book, started another book, and watched a movie I loved (Moonrise Kingdom.  Focus Features has me down.  It rocks harder than the Good Housekeeping seal.).  I've read countless picture books to my children. I truly listened to and inspected everything they've told and shown me because I wasn't busy with five other things at the same time.  

I'm starting to think this flu is a gift.  :)

As 2012 wraps up I want to list a few books and authors I liked, including the ones I read yesterday.  I'm not even going to number it because it is not in any way comprehensive.  It is just a few recent ones off my fever-addled, fuzzy brain.  I hope you like them.

  • Malinda Lo - Ash - fairy tale retelling with a lesbian twist - very cool person too as far as I can tell
  • Brad Parks - Faces of the Gone - mystery in voice of Carter Ross investigative reporter, not my usual genre but entertaining, award-winning author and very nice guy
  • David Levithan - every day - co-author of Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist and a million other best sellers.  He's brilliant, I LOVE his writing style, and his storylines blow me away.
  • Lisa Scottoline - Save Me - very fast pace as we have come to love from her (Did you know, by the way, that "Scottoline" is pronounced like "fettucine", not Scott-o-LINE?  I learned that this year.  Same with Jody Picoult -  "Pee-co" not Pi-COLT.  Feel badly I've been murdering their names for years.)
  • Manhunt and Chasing Lincoln's Killer - James L. Swanson 
  • Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky - in process but I generally love epistolary novels
  • In the Shadow of the Banyan - Vaddey Ratner - not my most enjoyable read but one of the ones that has stuck with me, inspiring a lot of thought and wonder.
  • ADDED - The Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda - I almost forgot this one because I read it in January.  
  • Most excited about in 2013 - The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan
Merry Christmas, friends!  Happy Holidays!  Have a happy New Year!  If you like snow, I hope you get it.  If you like warmth, I hope you keep it.  :)

~M.M. Finck
http://www.facebook.com/mmfinck
@mmfinck on twitter