#and an essay on how to kill your computer while trying to get a budget cartoon game

[arcadewonder]

even in death.

[tbehartoo]

Bursting Bubbles

My piece for @thedjwifizine that can be found here. It's full of great art and stories. Check it out!

...

Nino looked up into the scowling face of his favorite seatmate.

“Here you go, Bubbles,” she said as she thrust a mango bubble tea into his hand. “One special of the day from The Boba Bar.” Her other hand slapped a small card onto his sheet music. “And here’s your other three week’s worth of drinks.”

“Aw, Alya you didn’t have to do this,” he held up the card. “This,” he grinned as he took his first sip of the drink, “you definitely needed to do.”

“Well you won the bet fair and square,” Alya huffed as she plopped down into her seat. “You really could find a way to get a harpsichord to sound rockin' when you DJ’ed Kim’s house party.”

“Scoops, I’m surprised you could doubt me,” Nino held a hand to his heart. “It’s like you’ve forgotten that music is my life.” He grumbled toward the music piece he’d been assigned, “It’s not like I’ve spent nearly three grueling years learning this European centered musical theory or anything.” Looking at her smirk he added, “Or that I’d hardly be the first person to experiment with combining old instruments to new music.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Or old music to new instruments.”

The next week it was Nino placing a gift card on Alya’s notepad.

“Your payment for getting me those sources for my music history essay, m’lady,” he said as he bowed to her.

“Nino, what-” she asked as she looked at the card “-what is this?”

Nino felt his face warm up, but he sent a shy smile in her direction as he sat down. “You were saying, the other day, that it’s been forever since you had a mani-pedi, but that they weren’t in your budget at the moment so I figured I’d get one for you as thanks for saving my bacon. I didn’t have time to track down those translations of medieval manuscripts for that Music Development in the Dark Ages assignment, but you did it without my asking.” He grinned at her, “You really took some pressure off of me and I appreciate it.”

She looked at him, back at the card, and back at Nino.

“I don’t remember saying that,” she murmured.

“You were picking at your nails because the color was coming off and said that you’d need to see if Marinette was free for a girl’s night so you could get her to do your nails again,” he said as he started to root around in his bag.

“That was two- three weeks ago?” she said, thinking out loud. She looked at him, but he was obviously avoiding her gaze. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

His head tucked between his shoulders, a turtle pulling into its shell.

“It was easy to remember,” he said. “You had that sparkly red polish. It really drew in the eye. I remember thinking that you had the perfect hands for playing the piano right before you said it.” He quickly looked away again.

Alya was quiet for a moment before smiling up at him.

“That seems like a really nice compliment coming from a musician like yourself,” she reassured him. She looked back at the card. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this place.”

“It’s, uh, one of the local beautician schools,” he told her. “You were right about mani-pedis being a bit pricy, but my cousin is going there to learn to cut hair, and she said the girls in the nail class are crazy talented and eager to get someone not a relative to paint on, and it only costs about a fourth of what the pros charge.” He shrugged. “This way you can have like half a dozen manicures for the price of one.”

Alya lunged at him and caught him in a tight hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” she cried before releasing him. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Miss Cesaire, if you are quite done groping Mister Lahiffe I’d like to start the class,” the voice of Doctor Agreste cut through the lecture hall and every head snapped toward them.

Alya’s face was nearly as warm and red as his own.

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked as she pulled her arms back to her side.

“Now if we may?” the professor’s curt voice took control of the class.

“Groping,” Nino mumbled. “He calls one little hug groping.” He pulled out a composition that Madame Mendeleiev had assigned just that morning. “I’d like to show him groping.”

He was startled out of his grumbling when Alya whispered, “Me, too.”

Only three more weeks and I’m out of this class and I never have to see this man’s stupid face again, Nino thought to himself. At least after today it’s just student presentations before the final.

They had finally reached the Contemporary Era and the man was butchering even the easiest movements! And don’t get him started on the composers. He’d wasted over half the lecture trying to explain that Richard Wagner wasn’t really an antisemite, but that Nazi sympathizers, mainly Adolf himself, just liked his music so much and thought it expressed National Ideals perfectly! The man wasn’t even a composer in Contemporary times!

And that just served to take time away from some real pioneers of the era like Laura Anne Karpman whose music can be found literally anywhere. Or what about Meredith Monk who includes operas amongst her compositions, since Doctor Agreste seemed to be hung up over Wagner’s damn Ring Cycle. Of course he didn’t mention Yihan Chen the brilliant Chinese pianist and composer. And though the man would fawn and dote on child prodigies like Wolfgang Mozart all day, he wouldn’t give the time of day to “Bluejay” Greenberg who could hear several compositions in his head at the same time and then be able to write them with minimal correction.

Just, UGH!

Nino was done with this entitled little man and the racist ideology he’s attempting to spread about. He was certainly spreading something, but it smelled more like fertilizer than anything else to Nino’s mind.

He could tell that Alya was concerned about his agitation, he’d been clenching his pencil so hard he heard it crack, but he refused to look in her direction. She had a great talent for sniffing out these kinds of things and if he looked at her right now, he’d probably see his frustration reflected on her face and do something dumb- like start an uprising in the middle of class. He really couldn't afford to take this class again.

As soon as they were out the doors Alya started ranting about how it was obvious that Doctor Agreste didn’t even bother to check Wikipedia for sources. She made her opinion known that the good doctor didn’t like the era because more people were included in writing and performing it rather than just white, Western-European men who were either wealthy or had wealthy patrons. And stopped mid rant.

Nino looked at her and watched as Alya got an idea. By the look on her face it was a genius idea: an Evil and Genius idea if the cackle was anything to go by.

“Whatever you’re planning, I’m in,” he declared.

“I haven’t even told you my idea yet.”

“I can tell by your expression alone that it’s going to be the best idea ever,” he said with a smirk. “So want to let me in on our plan?”

She explained her idea and Nino’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, that man is going to regret crossing paths with us,” he chuckled. “Can you come over tonight? I’ve got plenty of stuff we’d need for the music portion of the presentation.”

She shook her head. “I need at least one day to fact-check my notes and another to find accurate sources. Are you busy Saturday?”

Nino thought for a moment. “I’m free in the morning, but I have a wedding I’m playing for in the evening.”

“Okay that gives me a little more time for research.” She smiled up at him. “So, Saturday morning we’ll meet up to pull things together?”

Nino nodded in agreement.

“Great,” she said, “That’ll give us Sunday to type up the report and Monday to practice for our presentation on Tuesday.”

“Tell me the truth, Alya,” Nino looked at her, “Is this too much? Are we crazy to put together a spite presentation in one weekend? At the end of the semester?” He brushed a bit of her hair out of her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. “You already have so much to do for all your other classes. I don’t want this to be something that stresses you out or makes you do something that hurts you.”

Alya reached up and patted his cheek before replying.

“Nino this is going to be so much fun that I doubt I’ll even notice how much work it is,” she grinned at him fully. “I might pull an allnighter here or there, but I promise you that I’m taking care to not do too much. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think we could do it.”

He held her gaze for a moment then sighed.

“Okay, let’s ruin this man’s whole career.”

She laughed loud and pulled him toward the school’s cafe. Obviously this called for copious amounts of snacks and his precious bubble tea.

Tuesday dawned bright and clear. A perfect day to teach about the subtleties of Contemporary music while simultaneously displaying the ignorance and prejudice of the most hated music teacher on campus. Nino sipped at his Thai tea with coffee pudding as he contemplated Alya’s plan of attack. It was a nice simple plan, but it needed something. Seeing a familiar outline hurrying across campus brought a smile to his face. The final nail in Doctor Agreste’s coffin just made itself known. He hurried across the quad to see if he could catch up with Madame before she reached her office.

An hour later he stood at the podium inserting the thumb drive into the computer for the projector.

“Good morning everyone,” Alya began. “As you all know we’ve had to jump over and through many musical ages and movements. That meant we had to skim through a lot of really interesting information. Nino and I decided to do a little bit of music through the ages for the Contemporary Era for you all. Now, get ready to get funky!”

That was his cue. He started the Powerpoint and Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” began to blast from the room’s speakers while Elmer Fudd stabbed a spear into the ground singing, “Kill the wabbit! Kill the wabbit!”

“Welcome to Neoromanticism,” he called to those present.

The presentation went off without a hitch. Madame Mendeleiev had managed to slip in before their presentation and had stayed to the end of class. It was with great delight that Nino watched the Dean of the Music Department approach Doctor Agreste and congratulate him on the quality of his students’ final presentations. She even approached Alya and complemented her on the amount of research she’d done to be ready for the day. Then she turned to him.

“An adequate presentation, Nino,” she said with no trace of humor in her words. “Your compilation was a little heavy on the electronic music and light on the serialism, but I suppose that’s only to be expected with where your interests lie,” she paused, “and in light of the time constraints.”

He gulped and nodded his head. He knew she’d pick up on that.

“Please, send me a copy of your presentation at your earliest convenience.”

His eyes snapped up from the floor to meet hers. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight upturn to the corners of her mouth or not, so he chose not to comment on it.

“I think I might incorporate it into my opening lecture next semester,” she remarked so offhandedly that Nino was sure he was hearing things. “It’ll be an excellent introduction to modern music for the freshmen.” She nodded to him before moving off to catch professor Agreste on his way out the door.

Alya was grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating where she stood. He turned to her and had a fraction of a second to brace for impact as she’d thrown herself in his direction. Her arms were around his waist as she pulled him into a hug. He returned the hug with matching enthusiasm.

“We did so good!” she squealed.

He looked down into her grinning face and returned the smile.

“Hell yeah, we did,” he replied. “This calls for a celebration.” It was only then that he realized he still had his arms around her shoulders. Then again she was still holding on to him. He pulled back but kept hold of her hands. “I know you have another class in an hour, but do you want to go get boba to celebrate?”

She smirked up at him. “Only if you’ll let me treat you to dinner at Sabine’s tonight.” She looked to the side as she added, “And then we could go check out that concert in the park you mentioned yesterday.”

His mouth suddenly went dry. That sounded a lot like an actual date. Like a real date with this girl he knew he’d started crushing on some time this semester. What else could he do?

“Sounds great, but you have to let me bring pizza and dessert to our study date on Thursday night.”

Her laugh sent a tingle down his spine. “It’s a date!”

[wanderer706]

Behind the Screens Ch 1- Library

(Cam. Airl- Written Draft 2)

“Excuse me.” Michela said trying to get the attention of the man behind the counter. He turned and acknowledged that he had seen her, but he went right back to tinkering with the machine.

“Shouldn’t be too much longer.” He said to her. “This damn piece of garbage is always breaking down on me.” He then muttered something to himself about how it would be much easier if he scanned the books himself, but no this machine was designed to do it. To top it off the scanner was secured inside the machine so he couldn’t get it out even if he wanted to.

Michela had grown used to this sight. It seemed like every other week she came into the university library and saw the head librarian tinkering away with that damn machine. He had called the tech department so many times that it was almost turning into a bad comedy routine with no punch line. He would call the tech people, they would come, and say it was a minor problem that was easily fixed. Other times he would tinker with it himself. If he complained that the device needed to be replaced then they always gave the same excuse that there wasn’t enough money in the budget.

There was a sudden whir that filled quickly died out. The machine was working again. The librarian let out a sigh of relief and turned to see what Michela wanted.

“I would like to check out these.” She said handing over a large stack of books about classical history. She was studying a classics degree and needed the books to write a lengthy essay that was due one week before the final exams started. Her selection was a wide range of notes from professional institutions as well as books compiling the words of ancient historians, and a very thick book detailing an entire era of history, even though she was only interested in a small part of that book.

The head librarian, his name tag said Gerald, took the books off of her hands and set the machine to issue. Thankfully it was able to scan all of the books she needed without incident. When Gerald handed the books back to her, he made a comment about how the finals were coming up and how she must be excited. Michela jokingly told him he was dreaming and needed to get with the times. Students were not always thrilled about final exams, and some were more interested in getting plastered at “parties”.

She grabbed her stack of books and started to head for the door. As soon as she turned around one of the shelf trolleys was returning and she almost walked into it. The bot didn’t seem to acknowledge her, even when it drove over her foot and grabbed some more books that needed to be shelfed.

Michela was easily able to shrug off the foot run over, the bot hadn’t been full of books, and headed for the door. From here she could see that the wind was starting to pick up which was unusual for this time of the year. Michela though wasn’t used to the cold. She wasn’t born in this country and had sent her entire childhood growing up in a small town in a country with a much warmer climate. However, when she was fifteen her father received a job opportunity in this city, and with that the whole family left that warm country and headed for a new horizon as he put it to her.

Once she was a school she learnt that it wasn’t easy being a foreign student in a new country. Those first six months she had been dedicated to trying her hardest to learn the new language and even now she occasionally had trouble with the language. This was because her accent was extremely thick, even to this day. Some people mocked but some of the boys claimed it was sexy. Now her she was at University studying to be a teacher of classical history and she still had to around her accent. Except now the taunt she heard behind her back was how she took the subject because she was homesick. That maybe true, but they didn’t have to rub it in and say she should go back to where she belonged.

She was about to exit the building when Clark and a group of his friends came in at the same time.

“Michela. What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I… was… just leaving. Got some studying to do.” She said.

“It’s cold out. Stay here. I was about to do some study myself.” He said with that irresistible smile on his face.

“You were?” she said, trying to match his smile.

“Yes. You can stay if you want. We don’t mind. Do we?” He said to his friends who all murmured in agreement. Michela heart jumped when he said that.

Clark was a lean black guy who Michela meet a few months into her university degree. He had the body of idol that caused all of the girls on campus to swoon for him wherever he went. He also had the most irresistible smile that made even the strictest of teachers loosen up. Michela also fell into that boat of being in love him and she could tell he knew that. When he started seeing her more often she felt like she was in heaven and when he started telling people she was his girlfriend she had resist the urge to scream with joy.

They all walked into the library and quickly found an empty table for all of them to sit at. They then laid out their books and began to take notes or write out whatever their lecturers had demanded from them. Michela began taking notes from the books she had collected, but couldn’t stop taking her eyes off Clark. He was studying law and was three years into his degree. His three friends he had with him were alright but they weren’t Clark. She kept forgetting their names and ended up remembering them only by the courses they sat. Two of them were studying psychology whilst the other friend was studying philosophy.

They studied in brief silence for a while until Clark broke the silence with his dreamy voice.

“So, Michela how are things in your world?” He said to her.

“Fine.” She said. “I’m passing all of my papers if that if that is what you’re asking. Also trying to keep on the good side of the teachers. Although there are some in the class who are starting to try my patience.”

“Don’t all classes have people like that.” He said in a tone that suggested he wanted a response. His friends once again agreed with what had been said.

“I have someone in one of my classes who keeps drawing dicks on small notes and leaves them on people’s desks when they’re not looking. He then watches their reactions and thinks it’s funny.” One of Clarks friend said.

“Joke’s on him then as it makes him it makes him look an idiot as opposed to the cool kid he wants to be.” Clark said

They all laughed. It was always funny to laugh at twats who they believed deserved nothing, but a swift smack on the head.

“You know it’s rude to wear a hat in the library.” One of Clark’s friends suddenly said to Michela. The friend was referring to Michela’s lucky cap.

“It’s my lucky cap I rarely take it off.” Michela said in response. The cap had been brought by her grandfather back when he was still alive. She had always treasured it the moment he gave it to her after one of the many global excursions he went on. She was twelve when he gave it to her, and it then became something she treasured even more when he died. She was fourteen at funeral and made sure to bring it with her when she moved away. It was dark blue, though it was slightly faded now. In the picture area of the cap it had the outline of shield with the silhouette of a roaring bear in the middle all in red.

“Whatcha got there?” Clark suddenly asked. They all turned their heads and saw that the friend sitting next to Michela wasn’t focusing on studying. He was instead looking intently at something on his phone.

“Nothing.” He said quickly looking up.

“You’re not telling the world where you are?” Clark said.

“No of course not.” The friend said.

“Then show us what you’re looking at.” Another one of Clark’s friends said and with that they tried to grab the phone. The nervous friend quickly moved the phone away, but the hand continued to try and grab it. As they did their little dance they weren’t looking at who the phone was now in front of.

“Yoink.” Michela said snatching the phone away. It was still open on the interesting page in question.

“Ghost Drive E. Fact or Fiction?” Michela read the title aloud.

“‘Fact or Fiction?’ isn’t that the name of a blog.” Clark asked. The friend turned bright red.

“Yes, and I like to read it.” He said.

“You know the writer of that is gullible and paranoid.” Clark said.

“I know that. So, what?”

“What does it say?” Clark asked.

Michela began to read, skipping over several bits “Ghost Drive E. We’ve all heard the stories… It is a phantom program that will appear on your computer drive at random without your consent. If you dare to open it you will then release upon your local network, horrors that you cannot imagine that will result in death of you and everyone close to you. It is recommended you do not open this. The rest of this is just the writer’s wild ramblings.”

Michela then placed the phone onto the table where the friend eagerly snatched it back.

“Sorry about that.” Michela said.

“That’s all right.” The friend said. “Now can we please just get back to study?” he asked.

They then all returned their head to the notes they were studying.

Michela tried her hardest to get back to her notes but her mind couldn’t focus. She couldn’t help but think about the Ghost Drive and everything that that the blog said, but then her mind shifted to the killings.

The city was on edge at the moment. There was a serial killer on the loose whose work was something to behold in how they were able to pull it off. They targeted entire apartment complexes. One night it would go silent and then the next morning everyone who lived there was found dead. The press dubbed them “The Apartment Killer.” Police were still investigating but weren’t saying anything outside of how many were confirmed dead each time. Thus far the killer had hit five buildings and the city was wondering which would be struck next.

[writingguide003-blog]

44 Writing Hacks From Some of the Greatest Writers Who Ever Lived

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/44-writing-hacks-from-some-of-the-greatest-writers-who-ever-lived/

44 Writing Hacks From Some of the Greatest Writers Who Ever Lived

Writing looks fun, but doing it professionally is hard. Like really hard. Why on earth am I doing this?-hard.

Which is probably why so many people want to write, yet so few actually do. But there are ways to make it easier, as many writers can tell you. Tricks that have been discovered over the centuries to help with this difficult craft.

In another industry, these tricks would be considered trade secrets. But writers are generous and they love to share (often in books about writing). They explain their own strategies for how to deal with writers block to how to make sure your computer never eats your manuscript. They give away this hard-won knowledge so that other aspiring writers wont have to struggle in the same way. Over my career, Ive tried to collect these little bits of wisdom in my commonplace book (also a writers trick which I picked up from Montaigne) and am grateful for the guidance theyve provided.

Below, Ive shared a collection of writing hacks from some amazing writers like Kurt Vonnegut, George Orwell, Stephen King, Elizabeth Gilbert, Anne Lamott, and Raymond Chandler. I hope its not too presumptuous but I snuck in a few of my own too (not that I think Im anywhere near as good as them).

Anyway, heres to making this tough job a tiny bit easier!

[*] When you have an idea for an article or a bookwrite it down. Dont let it float around in your head. Thats a recipe for losing it. As Beethoven is reported to have said, If I don’t write it down immediately I forget it right away. If I put it into a sketchbook I never forget it, and I never have to look it up again.

[*] The important thing is to start. At the end of John Fantes book Dreams from Bunker Hill, the character, a writer, reminds himself that if he can write one great line, he can write two and if he can write two he can write three, and if he can write three, he can write forever. He pauses. Even that seemed insurmountable. So he types out four lines from one of his favorite poems. What the hell, he says, a man has to start someplace.

[*] In fact, a lot of writers use that last technique. In Tobias Wolffs autobiographical novel Old School, the character types the passages from his favorite books just to know what it feels like to have those words flow through his fingertips. Hunter S. Thompson often did the same thing. This is another reason why technologies like ebooks and Evernote are inferior to physical interaction. Just highlighting something and saving it to a computer? Theres no tactile memory there.

[*] The greatest part of a writers time is spent in reading; a man will turn over half a library to make one book. Samuel Johnson

[*] Tim Ferriss has said that the goal for a productive writing life is two crappy pages a day. Just enough to make progress, not too ambitious to be intimidating.

[*] They say breakfast (protein) in the morning helps brain function. But in my experience, thats a trade-off with waking up and getting started right away. Apparently Kurt Vonnegut only ate after he worked for 2 hours. Maybe he felt like after that hed earned food.

[*] Michael Malice has advised dont edit while you write. I think this is good advice.

[*] In addition to making a distinction between editing and writing, Robert Greene advises to make an equally important distinction between research and writing. Trying to find where youre going while youre doing it is begging to get horribly lost. Writing is easier when the research is done and the framework has been laid out.

[*] Nassim Taleb wrote in Antifragile that every sentence in the book was a derivation, an application or an interpretation of the short maxim he opened with. THAT is why you want to get your thesis down and perfect. It makes the whole book/essay easier.

[*] Break big projects down into small, discrete chunks. As I am writing a book, I create a separate document for each chapter, as I am writing them. Its only later when I have gotten to the end that these chapters are combined into a single file. Why? The same reason it feels easier to swim seven sets of ten laps, than to swim a mile. Breaking it up into pieces makes it seem more achievable. The other benefit in writing? It creates a sense that each piece must stand on its own.

[*] Embrace what the strategist and theorist John Boyd called the draw-down period. Take a break right before you start. To think, to reflect, to doubt.

[*] On being a writer: All the days of his life he should be reading as faithfully as his partaking of food; reading, watching, listening. John Fante

[*] Dont get caught up with pesky details. When I am writing a draft, I try not to be concerned with exact dates, facts or figures. If I remember that a study conducted by INSERT UNIVERSITY found that XX% of businesses fail in the first FIVE/SIX? months, thats what I write (exactly like that). If I am writing that on June XX, 19XX Ronald Reagan gave his famous Tear Down This Wall speech in Berlin in front of XX,XXX people, thats how its going to look. Momentum is the most important thing in writing, so Ill fill the details in later. I just need to get the sentences down first. “Get through a draft as quickly as possible.” is how Joshua Wolf Shenk put it.

[*] Raymond Chandler had a trick of using small pieces of paper so he would never be afraid to start over. Also with only 12-15 lines per page, it forced economy of thought and actionwhich is why his stuff is so readable.

[*] In The Artists Way, Julia Cameron reminds us that our morning pages and our journaling dont count as writing. Just as walking doesnt count as exercise, this is just priming the pumpits a meditative experience. Make sure you treat it as such.

[*] Steven Pressfield said that he used to save each one of his manuscripts on a disk that hed keep in the glovebox of his car. Robert Greene told me he sometimes puts a copy of his manuscript in the trunk of his car just in case. I bought a fireproof gun safe and keep my stuff in therejust in case.

[*] My editor Niki Papadopoulos at Penguin: Its not what a book is. Its what a book does.

[*] While you are writing, read things totally unrelated to what youre writing. Youll be amazed at the totally unexpected connections youll make or strange things youll discover. As Shelby Foote put it in an interview with The Paris Review: I cant begin to tell you the things I discovered while I was looking for something else.

[*] Writing requires what Cal Newport calls deep workperiods of long, uninterrupted focus and creativity. If you dont give yourself enough of this time, your work suffers. He recommends recording your deep work time each dayso you actually know if youre budgeting properly.

[*] Software does not make you a better writer. Fuck Evernote. Fuck Scrivner. You dont need to get fancy. If classics were created with quill and ink, youll probably be fine with a Word Document. Or a blank piece of paper. Dont let technology distract you. As Joyce Carol Oates put it in an interview, Every writer has written by hand until relatively recent times. Writing is a consequence of thinking, planning, dreaming this is the process that results in writing, rather than the way in which the writing is recorded.

[*] Talk about the ideas in the work everywhere. Talk about the work itself nowhere. Dont be the person who tweets Im working on my novel. Be too busy writing for that. Helen Simpson has Faire et se taire from Flaubert on a Post-it near her desk, which she translates as Shut up and get on with it.

[*] Why cant you talk about the work? Its not because someone might steal it. Its because the validation you get on social media has a perverse effect. Youll less likely to put in the hard work to complete something that youve already been patted (or patted yourself) on the back for.

[*] When you find yourself stuck with writers block, pick up the phone and call someone smart and talk to them about whatever the specific area youre stuck with is. Not that youre stuck, but about the topic. By the time you put your phone down, youll have plenty to write. (As Seth Godin put it, nobody gets talkers block.)

[*] Keep a commonplace book with anecdotes, stories and quotes you can always usefrom inspiration to directly using in your writing. And these can be anything. H.L. Mencken for example, would methodically fill a notebook with incidents, recording scraps of dialogue and slang, columns from the New York Sun.

[*] As you write down quotes and observations in your commonplace book, make sure to do it by hand. As Raymond Chandler wrote, when you have to use your energy to put words down, you are more apt to make them count.

[*] Elizabeth Gilbert has a good trick for cutting: As you go along, Ask yourself if this sentence, paragraph, or chapter truly furthers the narrative. If not, chuck it. And as Stephen King famously put it, kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribblers heart, kill your darlings.

[*] Strenuous exercise everyday. For me, and for a lot of other writers, its running. Novelist Don DeLillo told The Paris Review how after writing for four hours, he goes running to shake off one world and enter another. Joyce Carol Oates, in her ode to running, said that the twin activities of running and writing keep the writer reasonably sane and with the hope, however illusory and temporary, of control.

[*] Ask yourself these four questions from George Orwell: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? Then finish with these final two questions: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?

[*] As a writer you need to make use of everything that happens around you and use it as material. Make use of Seinfelds question: Im never not working on material. Every second of my existence, I am thinking, Can I do something with that?

[*] Airplanes with no wifi are a great place to write and even better for editing. Because there is nowhere to go and nothing else to do.

[*] Print and put a couple of important quotes up on the wall to help guide you (either generally, or for a specific project). Heres a quote from a scholar describing why Ciceros speeches were so effective which I put on my wall while I was writing my first book. At his best [Cicero] offered a sustained interest, a constant variety, a consummate blend of humour and pathos, of narrative and argument, of description and declamation; while every part is subordinated to the purpose of the whole, and combines, despite its intricacy of detail, to form a dramatic and coherent unit. (emphasis mine)

[*] Focus on what youre saying, worry less about how. As William March wrote in The Bad Seed, A great novelist with something to say has no concern with style or oddity of presentation.

[*] A little trick I came up with. After every day of work, I save my manuscript as a new file (for example: EgoIsTheEnemy2-26.docx) which is saved on my computer and in Dropbox (before Dropbox, I just emailed it to myself). This way I keep a running record of the evolution of book. It comforts me that I can always go back if I mess something up or if I have to turn back around.

[*] Famous ad-man David Ogilvy put it bluntly: Use short words, short sentences and short paragraphs.

[*] Envision who you are writing this for. Like really picture them. Dont go off in a cave and do this solely for yourself. As Kurt Vonnegut put it in his interview with The Paris Review: …every successful creative person creates with an audience of one in mind. Thats the secret of artistic unity. Anybody can achieve it, if he or she will make something with only one person in mind.

[*] Do not chase exotic locations to do some writing. Budd Schulbergs novel The Disenchanted about his time with F. Scott Fitzgerald expresses the dangers well: It was a time everyone was pressing wonderful houses on us. I have a perfectly marvelous house for you to write in, theyd say. Of course no one needs marvelous houses to write in. I still knew that much. All you needed was one room. But somehow the next house always beckoned.”

[*] True enough, though John Fante said that when you get stuck writing, hit the road.

[*] Commitments (at the micro-level) are important too. An article a week? An article a month? A book a year? A script every six weeks? Pick something, but commit to itpublicly or contractually. Quantity produces quality, as Ray Bradbury put it.

[*] Dont ever write anything you dont like yourself and if you do like it, dont take anyones advice about changing it. They just dont know. Raymond Chandler

[*] Neil Strauss and Tucker Max gave me another helpful iteration of that idea (which I later learned is from Neil Gaiman): When someone tells you something is wrong with your writing, theyre usually right. When they tell you how to fix it, theyre almost always wrong.

[*] Ogilvy had another good rule: Never use jargon words like reconceptualize, demassification, attitudinally, judgmentally. They are hallmarks of a pretentious ass.

[*] Print out the work and edit it by hand as often as possible. It gives you the readers point of view.

[*] Hemingway advised fellow writer Thomas Wolfe to break off work when you ‘are going good.’Then you can rest easily and on the next day easily resume. Brian Koppelman (Rounders, Billions) has referred to this as stopping on wet edge. It staves off the despair the next day.

[*] Keep the momentum: Never stop when you are stuck. You may not be able to solve the problem, but turn aside and write something else. Do not stop altogether. Jeanette Winterson

That taps me out for now. But every time I read I compile a few more notecards. Ill update you when Ive got another round to share.

In the meantime, stop reading stuff on the internet and get back to writing!

But if you have a second…share your own tips below.

Read more: http://thoughtcatalog.com/