Rhonda Zatezalo

Author. Dreamer. Artist. Designer.

thoughts

Momentum

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Momentum of fast moving train

There’s a funny thing about momentum, once it builds up, it’s hard to stop it. Of course, if you’ve taken a science or physics course, you’re thinking “Duh.” That’s a basic principal. Yeah, there’s all these great fundamental laws about an object in motion, velocity, or centrifugal force, but how many of us think of that object as a dream? You begin forward movement on that dream until you’ve got a healthy momentum going, and it’s rather difficult to bring it all to a halt. You’ve trained yourself that this is the new normal. This idea goes along with the saying that it takes 21 days (or 30 days, or however many days) to create a habit. That’s great, but lots of us think of habits as something we need to quit.  For many people there’s negative emotion around the word habit. So I’ve decided to rephrase it. I don’t need to create a habit, I need to create Momentum.

This month I’ve been working on a meeting a challenge called the “1,000 Word March.” A couple of my friends and fellow writers put this challenge together and it’s been great to see people logging their word counts. Even on the days when they don’t hit that 1k. I think it’s those missed days that inspire me the most. That even when we miss the mark, the momentum we’ve been building means we’re still trying every day. We’re showing up truthfully, and without fear of judgment, saying, “I may not have written 1,000 words today, but I’m here and I’m still trying.” For me that’s powerful.

Another powerful tool is to actually see that momentum, and to understand that every step forward, every word written counts. For me a visual reminder placed where I see it every day works best. So I printed out the month of April, with places to log word counts. Every day I write gets a star. Some days have a gold star which means I wrote over 1k, other days have a red star which means I didn’t even break 500 words. But you know what? It’s the 21st of the month and there isn’t a single day without a star. THAT is the momentum I see and don’t want to break. I can’t just let it slide, because once that day is over, there’s not another chance to earn a star for that space.

Silly little mind hack? Maybe, but it’s working.

I’ve written more than 12,000 words on my novel this month, and almost 4,000 on other creative projects. I’d been at a stand still with the book. I had lots of great ideas, but not much forward movement. Now I can see the novel is almost done and ready for editing. That’s momentum, and I’m not stopping. One more star, one more week of stars, and pretty soon? All those stars mean I’m querying agents to get Vargen on the shelf of your local bookstore. Who knew a gold star could help make dreams come true? 😉

What mind hacks do you use to keep you moving on your goals when you’d rather do something else?

Hangover? The Day After Rejection

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Raindrops hitting gray paved sidewalk
It’s Wednesday.  Hump Day.  Mid-week slump day.

Normally I don’t have trouble with the middle of the week. I haven’t worked 9-5 at an outside office since 2013. For five years I’ve been running my own business, and while I don’t often cut myself slack, hump day is a bit easier when the commute is just downstairs.

Today’s different though. It’s April 4th, spring has sprung, but there’s snow on the ground—again— and there wasn’t when I filled the bird feeders yesterday. In fact yesterday it was a cool drizzle that felt like spring. Tease.

Yesterday. That’s a big part of why today is off. I feel hungover, but didn’t drink. Maybe I should have. I had a lot of hope riding on a short story I’d submitted. Yesterday I got the rejection note. It wasn’t even a real note, just a form email saying my story didn’t “fit” the anthology, and good luck wishes for finding a home for it. (I admit, I’m a bit spoiled with the feedback I’ve gotten on other pieces, so this was anti-climactic.)

When I got the note yesterday, I was 770 words into the 1,000 I needed to write for the day. When I opened the email, I didn’t think it was results. The subject line said update. I figured they were taking longer to get through all the submissions and were politely letting us know. So. Not. Prepared. for the rejection.

It threw off my writing groove. I wandered around, felt a bit lost, created a twitter graphic, and went outside in the drizzle to fill the feeders. I listened to the birds and came back inside.

I’d like to say I came in full of determination, but I didn’t. I sat down at my desk as lost as I’d been when I left. I know rejection is part of my job as a writer, but sometimes it’s tougher than others. My husband was worried about me, wondering how to help. He was disappointed too. He loved the story and thought it would be picked up. I could tell he was unsure what I needed every time he turned his chair to check on me and then returning to his own screen without saying a word. It was part of the reason I’d wandered. I didn’t want him to worry. *I* didn’t know what I needed, so what could I tell him?

Now, here I was, back in front of the computer, manuscript open in Scrivener. Unsure what to do next, I read the last sentence I’d written. Then I just started typing. When I finally hit a break in the scene, I looked at the word count box that hovers at the edge of my screen. It said 1,436. I’d almost doubled my words in that time.

I could have kept going, but it was a good place to stop, with an opening that would be easy to pick up next time. And dinner needed to be made. (BTW- The gluten-free chicken parmesan turned out great, and I’d never made it before. Win!)

Back to today though. Today is yucky. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to work. I’m tired and achy, and though some of that is period related, I know a lot of it is the emotional bruising of getting your hopes dashed.

Rejection in any form sucks.

I knew I’d be dealing with it a lot in the career I’d chosen. Along the way I’ve worried that I couldn’t withstand it, that I would quit. I’ve been working on this book on and off for about two and a half years.  I’ve wanted to quit, wanted to trash it, take the easy way out, but the story won’t let go. The worlds I’ve created live and they refuse to die. I will finish this book— most likely this month— and then I will revise it.

And then I’ll shop around for agents. Opening myself up for more rejection. Why?

Because at my core, I’m a writer. I prove it to myself over and over, and this post is just another form of that proof. See, as much as I am glad you’re here reading this, I can’t say I wrote it FOR you, dear reader. I wrote it with the intention of you reading it, but I wrote it for me.

It’s an act of defiance, an act of love, and an act of self-care. In all the times I’ve been lost, hurting, alone, or just low, writing has been what’s kept me sane(-ish).

I’m glad you’re here for the journey, for reading the high points and the low. For celebrating with me, and commiserating. Now I need to get back to the story, finish book one, so I can put out the call for beta readers.

Onward.

Five Takeaways from the 2017 Flash Fiction Challenge

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The NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge is an annual challenge for writers to create a story of 1,000 words or less in 48 hours. At the beginning of the clock you are assigned a genre, a location, and a random object that has to appear in the story. There are four challenge phases. Each entrant submits stories for phases 1 & 2 where points are given. Then the top point earners move on to phase three, and the top there move to phase four. Every story is judged and writers receive feedback for each story submitted (one per challenge phase).

I learned about this challenge the day before registration closed, which was two days before the competition started. I had a hard time deciding whether or not to enter. The entry fee was $50 at that point, and though there is potential to win cash and prizes, I wasn’t sure how much I would benefit from the experience. (I don’t anticipate winning) I let my loved ones talk me into getting involved because no matter what, it sounded fun. Now the crazy weekend is over and here is what I learned from participating in just round one.

dual arch gravestoneFormat: Flash Fiction, Genre: Ghost Story, Location: Basement, Object: Tattoo machine

1. Making time and clearing commitments was essential.
Though flash fiction is short, it takes time to be concise. I’m grateful my husband doesn’t mind last-minute changes. We had other plans for the weekend but nothing that couldn’t be moved around or cancelled. It wasn’t so much that I was writing every hour that I was awake, but that, when I wasn’t writing, I could wander both mentally or physically as needed. This freedom gave me the space to develop four different stories for the challenge. I narrowed it down to two by the end, and that’s where the second takeaway comes in.

2. Understanding genre is important. I’ve never written a ghost story. I’ve written scary scenes and worked on thriller projects, but I’ve never done a true ghost story. NYC Midnight explains their definition of each genres on their website and they include examples from both literature and film. With just 48 hours to create and polish a story, I didn’t think I should spend too many hours researching. When it came down to choosing between the two stories I was happy with, I looked to see which story best fit the assignment given. After close examination, my favorite of the two seemed to fit the horror genre better. So I chose to submit the favorite of my beta readers.

3. Having alpha/beta readers was a big help. There’s no time to put this project “in the drawer” to get some space from it, which is a typical writers trick for perspective. Thus I relied heavily on my family and a few trusted friends for honest feedback. I’ve experimented a lot with flash fiction this year and my readers have been instrumental in my growth as a writer. (Thank you everyone!)

4. Find things that put you in the head space of the work. This goes back to genre a bit, but I found this invaluable. I changed the background in Scrivener (my writing program of choice) to an eerie graveyard scene and listened to creepy music while writing. When I was done writing on Saturday I started watching Stranger Things on Netflix. So even though I was done with my writing for the day, I kept my head in the genre through the evening. This helped a lot. The next morning I woke up with a whole new story idea which ended up being the horror story I wrote. Even though I didn’t use the story for the contest, I like it and will publish it elsewhere. I’m finding that keeping your head in the work, even when you aren’t writing, helps me write better, whether it’s flash fiction, a novel, or even non-fiction.

5. Reminder, sure writing is hard work but it can be lots of fun. Writing for a living means my favorite thing to do is also the thing I dread Monday morning. Ok, not really but you get my point. Writing is my job, but it’s also what I love to do, it’s how I process things, and as such I sometimes forget how much fun it can be. This contest really brought that home for me. Flash fiction is a great medium to challenge yourself as a writer to do something new. It can take you away from the everyday grind and perhaps be an introduction to a new concept or story idea you hadn’t thought of before. I’m looking forward to the Next Flash Fiction Challenge happening in September.

Bonus: In the past I’ve been known to say something along the lines of: “I hate Twitter, it’s stupid.” You know what’s really stupid? Hating something you haven’t taken the time to understand. Over the past six months I’ve gotten involved in the writing community on Twitter and have really come to love it. What an awesome group of people! Checking in with other writers via the #flashfictionchallenge hashtag over the weekend was a great way to connect and cheer others on. It also helped remind me that, though I often feel like it, I am not alone in this writing journey.

Wishing everyone a week full of your favorite kind of success.

Much love and thanks for reading,

Rhonda

Saying goodbye

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Our willowIt’s interesting how we make associations in our current lives based on our memories from childhood. When we first saw the house we bought, we had narrowed our search down to 2 homes. I was set on one, my husband on the other. We were away for business when the realtor sent us the information. The house looked like it could be a contender and a bridge between our two desires. We asked her Another view to set a viewing for when we returned.

It was February, and in northwest Indiana, that means cold, and often snow. We were flying home from Colorado where it was in the 70’s and just wonderful. The first thing I noticed as we drove up to the house was an old corkscrew willow cuddled up to the corner of the house. Not too close, but providing protection and lending some character of its own.

I was enchanted. I’d had a corkscrew willow in the backyard growing up. It was my playhouse, my refuge and indeed, my friend. I loved that tree and I was heartbroken when my mother had it cut down. I’m sure there were other reasons, but my child’s brain only remembers that the tree was too messy and that mom and dad were tired of all the sticks.

Now here I was, looking to buy a home for my family, and like a treasured friend, this corkscrew willow welcomed us in. The rest of the house was also wonderful. A bit older than we’d planned, but it was a great compromise between the other 2 contenders and seemed to fit us perfectly. We bought the home and we’ve been here about 6 months.

willow gone Yesterday I had to say goodbye to another willow friend. No, I wasn’t tired of the mess or the branches on the ground, far from it. I loved this tree and what it gave to our yard and the local wildlife. However, in June, we had an arborist check out the tree and he told us it was dying, and the trunk was too far gone to save. I didn’t want to believe it, I didn’t want to say goodbye, so I put off having the tree removed.

willow goneOne month later, my dad died suddenly. After making it through an iffy surgery, he was feeling great and the doctors told him they’d see him in 20 years. Then he was just suddenly gone. Two weeks later we lost a close friend; the man who helped cement the friendship between my husband and I, and the man who married us almost 15 years later was gone suddenly at age 42. Amidst all the grief and the chaos, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing any more, even if it was “just a tree”.

It’s now mid-October, and though the pain of losing family is still strong, we’re healing. The days are getting shorter and cooler and the nights are getting quite chilly. The leaves are turning and we just celebrated our 2nd anniversary. Winter with its heavy snows isn’t far away. It’s time to say goodbye to another friend.

My willow came down yesterday. I hope the chipmunks, the squirrels and the birds that have made it their home and playground don’t move too far away. I enjoy watching them out my office window. Perhaps these branches we cut will root properly and our guardian friend will continue in another life. I certainly hope so. It breaks my heart to see him gone.