Author: Carlton Hughes - Lighter Look at Writer's Life

I recently had the opportunity to serve at the Operation Christmas Child Shoebox Processing Center at Samaritan’s Purse Headquarters in Boone, NC. I could write column after column about the blessings of serving there (Don’t get me started . . .), but I’ll save that for another time.

Instead, I’ll share a story from my “off-time” in Boone, a charming town with lots of little shops and restaurants. My group decided to explore the downtown area, and my son was eager to explore a funky, hip consignment shop he’d read about online.

Notice those adjectives: funky, hip. I have a confession to make: I am neither of those things. Why I even agreed to enter the store, I’ll never know. The things we do for our kids!

My son was in heaven exploring the modern clothes as pop music blared from the speakers. My wife searched the racks and, lo and behold, she found a shirt in the style I like, in my size. In a hipster consignment boutique—miracles happen!

Surprisingly, my son didn’t find anything, so he headed out to the street as my wife and I worked our way to the cashier to pay for the shirt. The clerk greeted me, looked at the price tag, rung up the price on the cash register, and then said some words I’ll never forget.

“Ten percent off if you dance!”

I have another confession to make: I am a tightwad and will do what it takes to save money.

After a brief hesitation, I asked, “Really?” Then I did my best John Travolta/Saturday Night Fever/disco move, right there in the middle of the hipster store. “Does this count?”

“Yes!” She recorded my discount, and we finished the transaction. “You know, we just try to add some fun, but some people look at us funny when we ask them to dance.”

“Life is too short not to have some fun and dance,” I replied.

All the while my wife was cracking up, and, when we caught up with my son, he was highly disappointed that he had missed my shining moment.

My point? As we head into a new year, I think we should all seize those opportunities to “dance,” to take a risk, to have some fun. What does this have to do with writing? Everything.

That half-finished project? Work on it. That proposal that’s lying dormant on your computer? Submit it. That writers conference you’ve dreamed about? Make it happen and attend.

Life’s too short not to dance. And sometimes, you get a blessing (maybe even a discount) when you do.

I am writing this post toward the end of November. Ahh, the month of November, also known as NanoWriMo.

For those of you who may not know, NanoWriMo is short for “National Novel Writing Month,” in which writers are supposed to write a full-length novel in 30 days.

Gluttons for punishment, us writers.

This year I had the BEST of intentions for NanoWriMo. I was going to polish a work I’d already finished—working a little on it every day, chipping away at it until I was pleased with it.

Mind you, I’ve been chipping away at it for a few years. Okay, maybe 10. Or 11. But I digress.

I had big plans for my writing month, and then life happened.

First my son had to have a series of scans and X-rays, which kept coming back inconclusive. After much worry, several scans, and three specialist appointments, he is okay.

The same son had an important college interview that the whole family had to attend.

Then I had a death in the family.

Then the University of Kentucky football press passes that my college-aged son and I applied for at the beginning of the season and really didn’t think we’d get came through at the last minute.

Add to all of this the assorted minor distractions and inconveniences that come with my job as a teacher. You know, little things like papers to grade and classes to teach.

To summarize, I have written about 75 words in my manuscript this month. And I’m writing this post the night before it’s due.

Sometimes life happens, and we just have to roll with it. I could wallow in guilt about my bust of a writing month, or I could pick myself up and try again. I think I’ll opt for the latter.

I think God is teaching me about how to deal with life’s interruptions, both big and small. The other day I was driving by myself on a long trip (because of one of the many things I’ve had to deal with this month), and one of my favorite songs, “The End” by Matthew West, came blaring through the speakers.

West got to the chorus, and I had the feeling he had been peeking into my windows when he wrote the song.

“It’s not the end of the world, it’s just another day . . . depending on grace.”

Isn’t that what it all boils down to? It’s not the end of the world when life happens and I don’t get to write. I have to depend on grace from the One Who gives me the inspiration. Yes, it’s up to me to carve out writing time, but there are times I have to deal with other things.

I think I’ll move my NanoWriMo to December. After all, that’s not a busy month . . . right?

A guy can dream, can’t he? 

If anyone tells you writing is not an emotional thing, don’t believe it. Writing can be quite the emotional roller-coaster, and a recent experience illustrated that fact.

One night a few weeks ago, I was feverishly working on my latest project, ancillary writing for an educational company. It was a perfect project for me (I’m a teacher in real life), not to mention my biggest contract ever. Thankful for the work.

My last LARGE deadline was looming—the clock was ticking, the fat lady was warming up her voice, Elvis was getting close to the exit . . . well, you get the picture (Yes, I love a good cliché). I was feeling pretty good, surges of relief flowing through my veins, as it looked like I was going to finish ahead of time. Hey, this writing thing might work out after all.

Here I was, about 30 minutes’ worth of work left, and I decided I needed a break. That inner procrastinator was not totally under submission. I figured I would check my email before looking for a snack. I need energy for the journey.

In my inbox was an email from a book editor, the one I had sent a proposal to a couple of months earlier. The educational work had consumed my writing life so much that I had nearly forgotten about the proposal, for a project I’ve labored on for years. This could be it.

There I was, “in the zone,” on the brink of completing a big freelance project, and now I was going to get my first book contract. Kathie Lee and Hoda will be calling any minute.

I read the email, and it was a rejection. Bubble burst!

Once I got my feelings of disappointment under control, I studied the email a bit closer and realized it was the NICEST rejection I’ve ever received. It was obvious the editor had taken the time to read my work, mentioning many specific things and offering some genuine praise. There was also an open offer for me to send additional pieces and encouragement for me to keep submitting my work to other places. Not bad.

I’d like to say I brushed off this rejection and returned effortlessly to my educational work. I’d LIKE to say that, but I CAN’T. As nice as the wording was, it was still a rejection, and it still stung a little. I brooded for a while, ate that snack—a guy has to keep his energy up, after all—and eventually met my deadline two days ahead of schedule. I also whispered some prayers, sensing that still, small voice. Keep going.

Writing truly has all the feels. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just more acceptance letters, please.

I attend a small church in a rural area. We have contemporary worship and are probably more “progressive” than many places in our area, but we’re still a country church at heart. This weekend I attended an event in my old college town, and this morning I went to church there with my son.

This church was . . . well, different. First of all, it was held in a school gym, with a “theater in the round” set-up in the middle of the gym floor. The music was even more contemporary than my home church, and two of the musicians were wearing beanie-style toboggans (if I tried that, I would BURN SLAP UP). Huge video monitors surrounded the stage catching all of the action, and the lighting reminded me of a concert. The associate pastor took to the makeshift pulpit for offering time, and he was wearing an old ball cap and a flannel shirt, looking like he was getting ready to work in the garden.

I had that Dorothy Gale feeling that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto. But here’s the deal: I enjoyed the service, and, as we say at home, I got a blessing from it.

Early on in the service, I realized it didn’t matter about the venue or the style of music or the ministry leaders’ fashion choices. I had to open my heart to the real reason I was there—to worship, to connect with the Lord. As long as my heart was ready, I could receive.

Isn’t it the same with reading and writing? Sometimes we have to step out of our genre or style and try something new.

A few years ago, I decided to get outside my comfort zone as a reader. It all started when I followed a blog that featured a popular Christian suspense writer.

I have a confession to make: when it comes to reading and entertainment, I am the biggest chicken you can imagine. Suspense and horror are just not my cup of tea. I’ve seen one horror movie in my lifetime, when I was 13, and that was quite enough for me, thank you very much.

The blog was offering an advance reader copy of the author’s soon-to-be-released novel, so I went out on a limb and signed up for one. After all, I never pass up a free book. When it arrived in the mail, I thought, how nice, and left it alone. I’d walk by it often, move it from place to place, avoiding actually opening the book. Slowly but surely, I worked up my courage to begin reading. I would read, get scared, and walk away. This cycle continued until the wonderful, suspenseful writing pulled me in. The book became hard to put down, until about an hour before bedtime each night, when I would watch a couple of episodes of The Brady Bunch or I Love Lucy, for good measure.

I finally finished the book and pronounced it “good.” I enjoyed the plotting, the characters, and the subtle yet evident faith message and even wrote a positive review for the blog.

I wasn’t totally converted, but that experience did lead me to read many other genres, including contemporary romance, Amish romance, chick-lit, adventure, western, and more. I’ve even attempted writing—with varying degrees of success—in different genres, trying to broaden my horizons. My experimentation paid off when, even though I have always loved writing humor, my first major publication was a serious essay.

The lesson I learned at the hip, new church is applicable to reading and writing: opening your heart to new things can lead to God’s blessings. He made different churches and different styles of writing to reach different people. So let’s do the Comfort Zone Two-Step! Who knows how God will use us when we try something new?

Over the summer, I got my biggest freelance contract ever. It’s contract work for an educational company, so my name isn’t going to appear on the bestseller lists any time soon. It’s good work, however, and it has taught me one thing that I had forgotten over the years—the importance of a deadline.

It is ironic that, in my day job as a teacher, I impose deadlines all the time. Now it’s me under a tight deadline, with my writing life kicked into overdrive.

With this project, I’ve had to write when I didn’t feel like it. I’ve had to write nearly every evening and every weekend. I’ve had to write on beautiful, sunny days when other people were at the pool or at the park. Talk about “B-I-C” time!

The main thing about this deadline-based work: I’ve learned how to stifle my habit of procrastination. Here was the typical writing day for me in the past:

1. Sit down to write. Write a title and a great first sentence.
2. Remember that laundry needs to be done. Get up, load laundry into washer.
3. Return to computer. Stare at the screen, willing words to come up.
4. Realize, “I’m hungry . . . starving, actually!” Go to the kitchen and whip something up.
5. Finish eating. See that the washer has kicked off. Put the clothes in the dryer.
6. Return to computer. Type another sentence.
7. Play a game of Solitaire to clear my head.
8. Remember that the “Laverne and Shirley” marathon is on. Watch one or two or five episodes.
9. Return to computer. Type another sentence.
10. Dryer has kicked off. Fold and put away clothes.
11. Return to computer. Type another sentence. Hate it. Delete it. Decide to come back to project tomorrow.
12. Realize, “I’m hungry . . . again!”

I can’t say that I’m totally cured of procrastination, but having a deadline has certainly helped. My ultimate deadline is looming, so I’ve pressed on despite laundry, hunger, and the “Laverne and Shirley” DVD set I got for my birthday.

And in the middle of my writing marathon yesterday, what did I get? A social media notification from the creator of this very website. Sure enough, it was a reminder that my deadline for this post was only a day away.

Need a boost in your writing life? Get a deadline . . . or impose one on yourself. You’ll be surprised at how productive you can be.