“Writing isn’t done by committee.” That’s the apt assertion of author Mark Slouka, as quoted in no less an authority than “The New York Times.”

It reminds me of the friend who indignantly asked, “How can you let other people tell you how to write?” The occasion for my friend’s well-meant question was my complaint about a critique from my writers’ group. I’d brought in a new story, only to get a unanimously negative reaction to it. This is what fueled my friend’s indignation. (Never mind that the critiques spurred me on to do an applauded revision.)

Although my friend’s question has lingered in my head for many years, I still submit my stories to the same group. I get honest and perceptive comments each time. As I advise anyone interested in joining a writers’ group, the feedback can be invaluable because it’s difficult to be objective about your own work. (When I once complained that although I’m adept at critiquing other people’s writing I’m invariably less perceptive with my own, a woman pointed out how impossible it is to see the back of your own head, without a mirror. “I can see the back of your head and you can see the back of mine,” she said.)

I do believe that feedback can be invaluable –but I don’t always bring in my first draft if it feels as fragile as a premature infant. I’ve also learned not to show a manuscript to every friend and relative. I know too well the ones who’ll say “it’s great,” to please me, and other people (nameless) who’ll pick the piece apart out of envy or whatever.

As expert as my co-members are there comes a point at which you have to trust your own judgment. I had a vivid lesson in that when the two most skillful editors in the group disagreed about the ending of my story. One thought the last lines were “just right”; the other saidthat the last two lines needed to be reversed. Since I revered their expertise equally, I couldn’t decide between the opposing opinions. Paralyzed by chronic indecisiveness, I was unable to send the story to any magazines – for five years! When I finally made a choice the story was published, but I’m not sure to this day which of the voices I ended up heeding.

That experience taught me it’s vital to develop the ability to weigh critiques and know what works best for you. My favorite rejoinder was by a women who listened responsively to our comments about one of her stories until we suggested that the title should be changed. Clutching her manuscript she proclaimed: ”That’s not negotiable.”

Whether her title was wise or not, her declaration of writer’s rights was something to aim for, too.

Website: annehosansky.com
Books: “Widow’s Walk” – available through iUniverse.com; “Turning Toward Tomorow” – xLibris.com; “Ten Women of Valor” – CreateSpace.com and Amazon.com. Also available on Amazon Kindle.

“Life gets in the way.” That’s how a friend explained why she hasn’t been able to write lately. So what can we do when we’re marooned in a desert of uncreativity?

I’m writing this in the midst of my own desert, since I seem to be stuck in the longest dry spell I’ve ever had. I tell myself to just apply my bottom to the desk chair and sit there until my tardy muse arrives. An hour passes. Two. Nada.

Maybe I shouldn’t be sitting. After all, Nabokov wrote standing up – on index cards, no less. I try typing while standing;  the only result is an aching back. So I emulate Phillip Roth, who paced back and forth along with his flow of ideas.  At least I’m getting some exercise.

Edith Wharton did write while sitting up, but she was in bed. (She also had a maid pick up the pages tossed on the floor!)  Truman Capote was prone to writing while prone– a position which didn’t keep him from drinking at the same time.  So I tried getting into bed with a blank notebook  (sans alcohol)  and ended up with the pages still blank – but I had a good nap.

Of course it isn’t whether we’re horizontal or vertical that counts. It’s what’s going on inside us. All the clamor of should be doing this and why did I say that and how will I cope with the latest trauma coming down the road?   Instead I blame my stalled creativity on the outer clamor around me.  I live in New York and am constantly battered by neighbors talking loudly under my window, dogs locked up alone barking for hours, screeching car alarms that don’t turn off.  If only I had Proust’s famous soundproof room I’d be able to write, I tell myself. Yet when I have insomnia and instead of fighting it, take a therapist’s advice and head for the computer at three in the morning, in a house that’s as silent as a tomb,  I remain as blank as ever.  I miss the excuse of sound effects.

However, I’ve found a stopgap solution: my Three R’s: RESURRECTING  my “failure” stories I’d given up on; REREADING them with a view helped by the distance since I last worked on them; and REWRITING –  which means anything that will give the story a totally new feel.  Sometimes I go from third person to first, or vice versa. Or I change the tense, usually from past to present.  Maybe I make page two the starting point or end the story a paragraph earlier,  and find that cutting the excess verbiage transforms the entire piece.  It’s true I ‘m not writing a new story, but I’m bringing a discarded one to life.

The main thing with a so-called writer’s block is  not to succumb to the feeling that now equals forever.  By one means or another we do eventually make our way through,  and  often we’re surprised to find that we’re writing better than before.

P.S. Writing about not writing helps, too!

I’m impressed by the generosity of some bloggers, who use their space to include – and publicize – other writers.  High on the list  is The Writer’s Drawer,  the brainchild of writer– editor Beryl Belsky.  Beryl, who lives just outside of Tel Aviv, came to Israel via a roundabout route, having been born in Dublin,  grown up in Australia and living for several years in Japan and England.  Her international background is reflected in her global blog.

We asked this dedicated woman about The Writer’s Drawer.

AH: TELL US SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR WRITING BACKGROUND.

BB: I’ve been an editor for the past 35 years, working mostly in academia. The writing bug hit me a little over two years ago when I realized that I could write as well, if not better, than some of the people whose work I was editing.

AH: WAS THAT THE START OF THE WRITER’S DRAWER? 

BB: Actually I began by launching a blog about an area I’ve been interested in since I got my degree in Far Eastern studies in Australia. It’s called The Asia Collection (http://beryl-pieces-asia.blogspot.co.il/). Then I started another blog for tennis lovers, Faces of Tennis (http://beryl-pieces-tennisfaces.blogspot.co.il/).

AH: HOW DID YOU CONCEIVE THE IDEA OF THE WRITER’S DRAWER? 

BB: After about a year of blogging, I felt the need to expand my horizons. I’ve always liked the idea of starting a website from scratch and writing was a field I felt comfortable in. But I’m also interested in other people’s writing.  I knew that some people write only for their desk drawer, but I thought that with a little encouragement they might produce a piece of writing for other people to enjoy. I’m also aware of writers’ problems in getting published and becoming better known.

AH: YOU’RE CERTAINLY GENEROUS ABOUT PROMOTING YOUR WRITERS’ BOOKS. 

BB: That’s not quite as altruistic as it seems.  I do require a return, in the form of an original creative piece that hasn’t been published previously –  either online or in print – to post in The Writer’s Drawer. 

AH: DO YOU USE YOUR EDITING BACKGROUND WITH THE SUBMISSIONS?

BB: I feel that I can help some writers by offering to edit their work, especially non-native English writers. 

AH: HOW MANY WRITERS HAVE BEEN INCLUDED? ARE THEY FROM VARIOUS COUNTRIES? 

BB: So far, we’ve had over 100 writers from all parts of the world. My aim has been to make The Writer’s Drawer as multicultural as possible.

AH: MANY OF US HAVE DIFFICULTY FINDING A CATCHY TITLE FOR OUR BLOGS. HOW DID YOU THINK UP SOMETHING AS CLEVER AS THE WRITER’S DRAWER?

BB: I was thinking about how to design the site and the name just came to me.

AH: WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE FUTURE? 

BB: I’ve been impressed by the high standard of some of the material that’s been submitted. So I got the idea of publishing an anthology of stories and poems selected from the website. I plan to start selecting material this September.

AH: ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO ADD? 

BB: I’d like to thank you for giving  me the opportunity of introducing your readers to The Writer’s Drawer, and for being one of the first to support me. 

*       *       *

NOTE: If you’d like to submit a piece for the anthology be aware that the deadline is mid-September.  Send to  writersdrawer@gmail.com.

WEBSITE: annehosansky.com

BOOKS: “Widow’s Walk” – available through iUniverse.com; “Turning Toward Tomorrow”- available through xLibris.com;  “Ten Women of Valor”- available through CreateSpace.com and Amazon.com. Also on Amazon Kindle.

Have you heard about the couple who went for a brief vacation and encountered torrential rain five days out of eight?

That’s  what happened when my partner and I went for a brief vacation in the  Massachusetts Berkshires during one of the rainiest Junes on record.  Did that dampen our spirits? Truthfully, yes – but only at first.  I had an untypical response:  We Are Going To Enjoy Our Trip . . . Weather Or Not!

Luckily the Berkshires have many wonderful sights besides the mountains. We took refuge from the rain in the famed Clark Museum and saw a remarkable Winslow Homer exhibit.  Since I’m a writer, I treasure any tidbits that show a link between writers and artists. (Aren’t writers artists, too?) So I was fascinated to see that Homer was not only a great painter, but a persistent marketer.  A lot can be learned from reading the copies of his letters stating the terms he demanded and the way he refused to accept lower prices than he thought he deserved, even though he desperately needed the money.  It made me think how important it is to respect your work and not give in to accepting fees that are too low.

My partner is an animation-enthusiast, so he talked me into seeing the “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” exhibit at the Normal Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. I went solely to please him, but reaped unexpected rewards.  For one thing, the stills and videos drew me back to my childhood. How I loved Snow White and those endearing dwarfs, and how frightened I was of the evil stepmother. Disney said he hadn’t made the film for children, but for the “child within the adult.” And that child in me came to life again for an hour.

I also discovered that while the movie may look like a simple reincarnation of the fairy tale, making it was fraught with constant decisions, just as writing is.  For instance, the humorous scenes with the dwarfs were designed to lighten the frightening moments – but how much humor was enough or overkill?  For those of us who have trouble naming the characters in our books, it’s encouraging to  know that Disney’s staff had many argumentative conferences  before  agreeing on the dwarf’s names. (Dopey!).  Snow White is only seven -years -old in the original story, and the artists originally drew her that age.  But Disney vetoed the sketches, insisting that she look old enough to be marriageable  when Prince Charming arrives.  That final scene was originally a drawn-out romanticized ending but none of us ever saw it, for Disney had the enviable ability to ruthlessly cut any work he believed was detrimental to the film.  How hard it is for me to cut even phrases that I cherish!  As for those of us who tend to be stopped by critical remarks , how about Disney’s wife warning him not to make the  film because “nobody will pay a dime to see a movie about dwarfs”?  Let’s all tune out to negative comments!

Venturing onto the spacious grounds of the museum, we took hasty flight from the weather in the building that houses Rockwell’s studio.  I admit that my guilt button  was activated when I heard the guide say Rockwell never left his work at night without first putting everything neatly away.  Thinking  of my constantly cluttered desk, I vowed to imitate Rockwell – though  now I’m afraid that  determination may have washed away in the rain!

Escaping from  unusually strong winds another  day, we hid in the Berkshire Museum  and made an unforgettable discovery – “The Veiled Rebecca.” Since I’ve written a book about the first ten Biblical heroines, I was thrilled to see the statue of  a tall classical woman who seemed familiar. How perfectly Italian sculptor Benzoni caught Rebecca’s dignity and modesty as she drew a veil across her face when first encountering her future husband. A veil made of marble that looks incredibly like gossamer threads, through which you glimpse her strong face!   Standing enthralled before the woman  I speak about to audiences, I realized we can find  inspiration no matter where or how or whatever weather.  I guess what counts is the weather within us.

Website: annehosansky.com

BOOKS: “Widow’s Walk” available through iUniverse.com;  “Turning Toward Tomorrow” – available through  xLibris.com;  “Ten Women of Valor” available though CreateSpace.com and Amazon.com. Also Amazon Kindle.

I’m one of the writers fortunate enough to have “a room of one’s own.” I call this 9×9-foot space my “studiola,” a term stolen from Renaissance artists. Each morning when I walk into it I have an “aha!” moment of feeling this is my space – and my time – for writing.  Unfortunately, life doesn’t always cooperate.

I’m writing these sentences having just survived the painting of my apartment. As anyone who’s endured this knows it can be disruptive and time-consuming. I did have the foresight to keep my studiola off- limits . (Better gray walls than intrusion?) What I didn’t realize was that my coveted space would have to be the storage area – disappearing under mounds of books, glasses, pictures, lamps, knickknacks – everything that demanded safety from the painters. No way to get to my computer.

I could have endured this more or less graciously if it had been just a few days. I didn’t imagine that the two- man team would be so incompetent, disappearing for hours at a time and eventually quitting without notice with the job only half done. A second team had to redo and complete those slapdash efforts. The combined teams used up two weeks, prefaced by a week of my moving furniture and every movable object out of their careless way – followed by ongoing days of scraping paint and plaster off the floors. This all added up to a month lost from writing.

Much as we yearn for protected time and space, the inescapable reality is that we can’t escape. “Stuff happens,” to quote Donald Rumsfeld’s infamous phrase. If it isn’t painting, it’s unavoidable dates and phone calls, medical appointments (increasingly as we age), the demands of loved (and unloved) people, overnight guests (shudder), etc. I heard that Edith Wharton wrote in the privacy of her bed, dropping pages on the floor for her maid to collate!  Proust, of course, had his ultra-private soundproof room.  But other than hiding in a cave or cocoon, we lesser mortals have to  cope with ordinary conflicts. I often long for a cabin in the woods, “far from the madding (maddening) crowd,” but life deems otherwise. Besides, would we really want to be cut off from everyone and everything? Where would inspiration come from? I do know one woman who mostly lives this sort of sealed-off life, but is it coincidental that she writes about creatures from outer space?

So we have to devise ways to keep creatively afloat amid all the endless distractions. Exiled from my sanctuary, I carried a notebook around as if it were a life preserver, trying to jot down any odd flashes of inspiration – a word, a thought – that might keep my writing tuned. But my mood increasingly became – no other word for it – bitchy, my usual state when I can’t write.

This morning I sit in my almost clear studiola once again, greeting my computer like a long lost lover. But I’m finding it find it hard to get back into any creative rhythm. I know that I will, given some time. But it reinforces my conviction that come hell or high water (or painters), it’s essential to develop a way to write even one paragraph every possible day. As the poet Carolyn Forche advised: “Be at your desk at the same time every day, so your Muse will know where to find you.”

Unless she has the painters, too.

I’m used to labeling myself a writer, but “blogger” still feels strange. Sort of like swallowing a mouthful of consonants.

I confess that a few years ago I didn’t know what a blog was. I’m fascinated by where words come from, so for those who share my curiosity I went to Wikipedia and discovered that this modern phenomenon began in the United States in 1997 as “weblog” – thanks to Jorn Barger. He was the editor of Robot Wisdom, one of the earliest weblogs, and used the word to describe his web links. To celebrate the 10th anniversary of this verbal christening, Barger posted tips for successful blogs. I like the one that advises: “Being truly yourself is always hipper.” Now there’s a word!

In 1999, Peter Merholz. the founder of the consulting firm Adaptive Path,
playfully turned weblog into WE BLOG – and a new word was born. (How do dictionaries ever manage to keep up?) It’s easier with encyclopedias, for Merholz will forever be cited as the coiner of the omnipresent word, blog.

For grammar purists, the question became: noun or verb? At Pyra Labs, which was developing a blogging product, Evan Williams solved the grammatical side of the problem by adroitly using “blog” as both noun and verb. From there it was a natural step to dub those of us who use either form as “bloggers.”

None of this knowledge, of course, makes weekly blogs (or blogging) any easier for writers (oops, bloggers). Nor does it solve a question that continually pokes at me: is the time spent in thinking up and writing these pieces better or worse than using these valuable minutes to: A) finish my novel; B) do the necessary pursuit of agents, publishers, et al; C) get back to querying magazine editors; or, D) tackle that growing pile of laundry?

However, writers are constantly advised that being active in the social media is the 11th Commandment. So having embarked on this sideline , which is threatening to turn into a mainline , I confess I’m now proud to be part of the – my newest word! – blogosphere!

“April is the cruelest month. . . .”
. . . especially when cowardly lions in Congress were afraid to vote for even the mildest form of gun control – followed by the massacre in Boston. True, explosives were used there, but the killers also had  ammunition.. Did anyone realize that the murdered and wounded officers  might be alive if guns weren’t so easily procured?

If the massacre of 20 children huddled in their first-grade rooms with six courageous teachers (teachers who could have taught senators what valor is all about) – plus Aurora, Tucson, Virginia Tech, Columbine and the thousands of victims who didn’t merit headlines – what Armageddon will it take to finally bring sanity to the gun scene? I respect our Constitution as much as anyone, but I bet if we were to ask our forefathers about the Second Amendment, they would be appalled to learn that modern day Americans think it’s a license to kill each other. I think the forefathers believed they were giving Colonists the right to “bear arms” in order to battle an enemy country. Militias, not massacres. Not of one another, at least.

It’s easy these bleak days to have a “what’s the use” feeling that evil has triumphed. But I find a measure of hope in the courage of many people who refuse to give up – especially the Newtown parents whose hearts, as one father said, are broken, “but not our spirits.” And indomitable Gabby Giffords who wrote a powerful op ed piece in ”The New York Times,“ saying in effect that if certain senators lack the moral fiber to vote for background checks, we will change the senators. It also heartens me to know we have a president who does have that moral fiber and who will continue to lead the fight for sane gun control. And I’m inspired by the resolve of the resilient people of Boston and its suburbs , who played a vital part in the capture of the assassin. (Imagine finding him in your backyard!)

I guess I cling to hope because what else is there?

As a character in Tennessee Williams’ “The Glass Menagerie” says: ”I may be discouraged, but I’m not defeated.”

Now it’s up to us.

WEBSITE: annehosansky.com

BOOKS : “Widow’s Walk” – available through iUniverse.com; “Turning Toward Tomorrow” – xLibris.com; “Ten Women of Valor” – CreateSpace.com and Amazon.com

All also available at Barnes & Noble

I thought I was making a simple request. Yet the responses ranged from the few friends who shrugged and accepted my “odd” need, to the many who just ignored my plea. What enormous thing had I asked for? Not to be phoned before 3:00 in the afternoon – because that was my writing time.

“Unless,” I foolishly added, “it’s an emergency.” Strange what constitutes emergency for some people. A few days later I had a call from a friend who said, ”I know you said not to phone but this is important. My hair’s a mess. Do you know a good beauty parlor?

Even those who honor my request sometimes cloak their words in patronizing passive-aggressive vocabulary: “I know it upsets you to be called…” I explain it isn’t that I’m “upset”, like some weak heroine of bygone movies. It’s just that I need uninterrupted time to write.

My request was actually made years ago when I was working on my first book, “Widow’s Walk.” Since it was emotionally difficult to write I expected understanding from a friend who’s a psychologist. We went to dinner one night and she proceeded to analyze my neurotic behavior. ”You should see a shrink about why you can’t be phoned while you’re writing,” she pronounced.
Choking on my curried chicken, I tried to curry empathy. “When I’m writing it’s as if I’m under water and a phone call shocks me to the surface and it’s hard to get back into the book.”
My clumsy metaphor failed to work.
So the next time my psychologist friend attacked the subject I asked, “Do you take calls when you have a patient with you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “But it’s not the same. I’m working.”

Sometimes, I admit, my need to be undisturbed backfires . Like the morning when the phone rang and I grabbed it to bark into the receiver, ”What is it?” The “it” turned out to be an agent who wanted to accept my manuscript! Fortunately she accepted my stammered explanation.

I’ve tried keeping the phone off the hook, but the click-click-click is equally disturbing. A writer friend asked, ”Why don’t you let the answering machine take messages?” Sounds reasonable, but even if the volume has been turned off a corner of my mind keeps fretting whether I should call back, maybe it’s important, she/he might be offended, etc. So this morning when I saw from Caller ID that it was a call from a friend who’s seriously depressed I felt obligated to pick up the receiver. She said, “I figured you wouldn’t answer if this is a bad time.”
“It is a bad time,” I said ungraciously, “but it’s okay.” (What that means is anyone’s guess.) She talked for some forty minutes, then I spent another forty minutes trying to swim back into my story.
.
My only consolation is that I’m far from alone in this. At a lecture some years ago I heard a well-known British author say she hated phone interruptions when she was writing. Afterward I went to the table where she was signing copies of her new book and asked, “Why don’t you let an answering machine take the messages?”
“What a splendid idea,” she said.

Phone calls can be a common hazard for all of us who work at home, not just writers. So I share what I think is our best line of defense: “I don’t ask you to understand my need. Just respect it.”
Then hang up.

WEBSITE: annehosansky.com
BOOKS:
“WIDOW’S WALK” – available through iUniverse.com
“TURNING TOIWARD TOMORROW”- xLibris.com
‘TEN WOMEN OF VALOR” – Create Space.com & Amazon.com