Category: Writing

October 6, 2021

September is for Songwriting Class

The pandemic has led a lot of people to take up new creative hobbies. Last November I tried NaNoWriMo for the first time in lockdown. Last month, I took a songwriting class.

Making up songs is something I’ve done off and on, casually throughout my life, but never pursued in earnest. As a kid, I invented theme songs for the stories I acted out with toys. I sent my grandparents a cassette tape of songs about cats that I improvised. (Did my long-suffering relatives appreciate my off-key, feline-chase-scene version of the William Tell Overture? Probably not!)

In first grade, I wanted to be a composer who wrote musicals when I grew up, before the writing dreams took hold. As a teenager, I had a folder of terrible lyrics stuffed in a drawer. I wasn’t a serious musician and I don’t have a gift for singing, but music has always compelled me. I wrote my first full-length novel about a musical prodigy, and am working with a publisher on it now.

In lockdown, I had some song ideas again. Then I revisited the music theme in fiction by starting a fantasy novel about a composer, and realized that part of me wanted to turn those songs in my head into real music as badly as my character did. As music re-emerged as a force in my life, I downloaded some composition software called MuseScore, tried to put notes to some past songs, and found a songwriting class.

The class was run by Murray Webster of London Songwriters, an experienced singer-songwriter and teacher. It lasted a month and sessions met online one evening per week. Murray teaches courses on both lyric and melody. I enrolled in “Write Great Melodies.”

I’m glad I took that class. It was a small group, and much new (to me) material was presented. The sessions focused on rhythm, melodic notes, chords, and pitch/prosody, with intensive teaching and lots of examples from popular music. So much skill goes into creating something like Katy Perry’s song “Firework,” and it was insightful to learn how the pieces came together and why each one worked the way it did. Each week had listening and composing homework. I learned a lot in a short time and am still unpacking it.

I appreciated that Murray believed in his students. He encourages everyone to express themselves and comes from the standpoint that everyone can learn and create. I left the class reflecting on the concept of unique voice. Because everyone is different (all the participants had different experience levels and backgrounds when it came to music and lyrics), no one else can write your songs. And maybe someone else will like them.

We all have might-have-beens and dreams that never came to pass. Some of these aren’t possible in our world. (I’ll likely never fly on a broomstick.) Others might be worth giving a go.

Since lockdown has eased, I’ve tried a lot of new things this year: horseback riding, kayaking, doing a Workaway, and now the songwriting class. The world seems full of wonder when I think about how much there is to learn and how many possibilities there are for the years ahead.

What’s something you’ve always wanted to try?

August 4, 2021

A Story from 10 Years Ago

The first literary magazine I ever read submissions for was The Fiddlehead. Based out of the University of New Brunswick, it’s the oldest Canadian literary magazine in circulation. It’s a well respected mixture of poetry, fiction and reviews. I enjoyed reading through the slush pile, looking for gems and passing them on to a more senior editor when I found them. The magazine had a practice of sending feedback to everyone who submits, so when I decided that a submission wasn’t going to move forward, I wrote a little note to the author on a slip of paper. (Those were the days when we sent our writing to magazines via snail mail.)

I’ve had a couple of poems published in The Fiddlehead. I’ve also had some rejection letters from them for both poetry and fiction. This summer, I got another acceptance for a story I’ve been trying to place for 10 years.

In my creative writing Master’s program, I wrote a weird story about a middle-aged banker who goes on a cybersex chatroom. It’s set very obviously in the early 2010s, with allusions to politics of the time. There’s sexy talk about math. There are secret identities. I thought at first that “A Limit to Growth” might grow into a novel, but it reached a natural stopping point at short story length, with an ambiguous ending.

I knew that I’d written a good story. But for the next decade, I failed to place it. It wasn’t even one of those stories that got encouraging feedback: “This was good work but not for us” or “We encourage you to submit something else.” It got crickets.

The novel I wrote for my thesis, around the same time, had a similar result. More people liked it, but no one was looking for a bisexual coming-of-age story about a musical prodigy, with alternating timelines and a slower pace. “We only have a limited number of spots in our publishing program…”

Submitting your writing means getting rejected. Jane Yolen, legendary author from my childhood, tweets about her rejections all the time. You just have to keep baiting your hook until somebody bites.

I didn’t give up on “A Limit to Growth,” and I’m excited to see it find a home in The Fiddlehead’s 2021 summer fiction issue. I left my novel in a metaphorical drawer for a while, then resubmitted it to some new publishers this year and am delighted that it, too, has found a home. Chasing Harmony will be published by Read Furiously in 2022.

So, those are my stories from 10 years ago. It took time, persistence, and changes in the marketplace for them to reach an audience, but I knew that there was something good in both of them. I believed in them, so I kept trying. Next time I write something I like, I’ll remember how long it took to place these pieces and keep at it. If you’ve written something you believe in, I encourage you to do the same. Better late than never!

July 7, 2021

Support Emerging Writers (and Me) in the Clarion West Write-a-Thon

How is July going for you? Mine is quite busy. Things are opening up more locally and my book projects are moving forward. My short story collection Dream Signs now has a release date – September 16th! I can’t wait to see it as a real book out in the world. One of the stories in the book, “A Limit to Growth,” is included in The Fiddlehead’s Summer Fiction issue (available for order here). It’s about math, art, and a jaded fortysomething woman who goes on a cybersex chat site.

I’m participating in Clarion West’s Write-a-Thon this month. If you aren’t familiar with the name, Clarion West is a speculative fiction writer’s organization that runs a six-week yearly workshop and offers other forms of writing education and support. Their mandate is to “support emerging and underrepresented voices by providing writers with world-class instruction to empower their creations of wild and amazing worlds.” I attended some of their online offerings during lockdown and enjoyed them very much. Several of my favorite writers teach there, have studied there, or both. In short, they’re doing fantastic work.

The Write-a-Thon is two things: an inspiring community for writers and a fundraiser for Clarion West. Anyone can sign up to participate and get access to talks from writers, a Slack channel to chat about your craft, and more. The Write-a-Thon runs until the end of July and you can sign up here to participate.

My goals for the Write-a-Thon this month are to write two new pieces, send out three submissions, and set up two events for the launch of Dream Signs this fall. If you’d like to support Clarion West’s work with emerging writers, or cheer on my writing goals by tossing a coin to your Witcher, you can do so on my Write-a-Thon profile here: Sponsor a writer.

And if you’d like a sneak peek at my story “A Limit to Growth”, read on:

When I was ten, I resolved to marry the first man who didn’t laugh at me for carrying math books around the beach. I’d explain to him about factors, how beautiful it is to look inside a larger number and see what groupings make it up, what small parts combined to make it breathe. I’d tell him there are patterns everywhere—in tree branches, in sand dunes, in the veins of our bodies—and math is one way to access their secrets. The power of numbers could course through us with the rhythm of the incoming sea, and we would know infinity. Until then, I’d keep this love to myself, nestled close like a tiny animal.

It’s been three decades now, and the math outlasts the men every time. After Alan, John and Dan, I gave up on love and tried the sleeping-around thing. I’ve watched man after man melt to sweat in the evening, and my memories of them are ephemeral. There are only so many you can wake up beside without confusing their names, only so many off-centre attempts at pleasuring you can endure with a straight face, only so many times you can consent to faking it and only so many times you can be accused of faking it when you absolutely aren’t and only so many times you can tolerate a stranger calling you Sweetie before you’re looking more forward to a cup of mulled cider at your place than another encounter.

June 9, 2021

“Loveless” for Pride Month: A Book Recommendation

Happy Pride Month! This June, I’d like to acknowledge and celebrate a book written by one of my favorite YA authors, Alice Oseman. Loveless is the story of Georgia, a relatable college student who is obsessed with the idea of romance and an avid fan of fictional relationships, yet she has never had a crush. She begins school seeking her own love story, only to discover that she may be aromantic and asexual, and that much love is present in her life in unexpected forms. It’s the first aro/ace coming out story I’ve read, and one of the first published. It’s also the well-deserved winner of the YA Book Prize.

I was anticipating this book before it came out (pun intended as it’s a coming out story. I know, I’m so funny. :P). I don’t identify as ace or aro. However, learning about asexuality was important for me as a way of recognizing and acknowledging instances where my culture expected attraction or interest and there was simply nothing there. Who and what we desire and say “yes” to is important knowledge about ourselves. The knowledge of our “nos” is equally important.

Last year for pride month, I wrote and shared with the Attic Owl Reading Series a poem about recognizing our “nos” in anticipation of Loveless’s publication. I’m delighted to say that the book surpassed my expectations. It’s a celebration of different forms of relationships, with characters that feel alive. It’s got great jokes, a Shakespeare society, and pool noodle fights. Check it out if you have the chance!

Thank you, Alice Oseman, for sharing this honest and affecting story with the world.

May 5, 2021

Announcing My Short Story Collection, Dream Signs

My debut short story collection Dream Signs is coming out soon with Lost Fox Publishing! You can read the press release here. It’s the culmination of over a decade of writing, a blend of realistic and fantastical fiction. The publisher has been great to work with and I can’t wait to see this book out in the world.

In their words, “Dream Signs is a grand collection. Switching between realistic and fantastical fiction, even blending the two at times, its themes are as poignant as they are epic, unified by Melanie’s unmistakable voice. In it you can find stories concerning coming-of-age and self-realization, unequivocal compassion between human beings both romantic and platonic, and the journey her characters take on to embrace their new challenges in life as they come to terms with who they really are. Different narratives weave in and around each other, each their own seminal chapter in the lives of their characters, bringing you back and forth between what has been and what must be done in order for them to live out the lives they want to live.”

Get ready to meet candy makers, sex workers, sisters left behind, scholars attracted to ideas rather than people, sentient AIs, and queer ladies fighting geological dragons.

Between this announcement and the publication of Hard for Hope to Flourish featuring my novella “The Cliffman” (with a recent “Meet the Author” interview here), it’s been quite a literary year.

I have two other books under contract over the next couple years, including a children’s chapter book with Lost Fox. Stay tuned for further announcements!

March 3, 2021

Excerpt from my Forthcoming Novelette “The Cliffman”

I’m delighted to announce the publication of my novelette “The Cliffman” in Hard for Hope to Flourish, a Midnight Bites collection of three chilling novellas from Crone Girls Press. The e-book comes out on March 11 and you can pre-order it now. If you like dark fairy tales, supernatural beings, and complicated sibling relationships, “The Cliffman” has got you covered. The other two stories involve a man hearing voices and a disappearance in a marsh. “Literary tales of quiet horror,” as the blurb says.

Below is an excerpt from “The Cliffman.” Enjoy!

The Cliffman

He stood as children raced across the lap of the sand, as half-grown feet tore up marram grass which tore them in turn, as dusk gave way to moon and brambles on the periphery to raspberries, wax-leaved tufts to cranberries. He stood as tourists in visors shed tears over sand-spilled ice cream, as lovers tussled in cliff-caves or took to their vans, as the ozone layer thinned almost imperceptibly, as crabs tracked. It wasn’t often he could do anything but see.

* * *

See: two girl-slivers, wind-haired, seated on driftwood. A mother grown as a full moon, instructing: this thick viscous seaweed is kelp, this edible kind dulse. Tides are caused by the moon, and erosion happens as rocks wear away under sea. These are cliff swallows and this, running in the sand with its funny stilt legs, the rare endangered piping plover.

The mother was a teacher during the school year, and every summer day she taught her own girls. The father wavered between office days and sofa chair nights, never quite there, which made the older girl feel smaller. His driftwood books cluttered the table—covers with complicated spaceships, pearly moon-cities, knights in tall helmets.

* * *

“It would be nice if you’d interact with your own children,” the mother said.

“And what type of interaction do you expect? Everything has to be a lesson with you.”

“At least I spend time with them.”

Dishes clattered in the sink. The girls said nothing.

Here on the map was North America where they lived, here Africa, Australia, and this big lump on the bottom Antarctica, too cold for people. Here the first page of a bedtime story—sound it out.

A half page in, their mother fixed things: “Night, not kuh-night. The k is silent.” The younger sister squirmed away from her storybook. The older, unnoticed, shrank into the pillow.

Add up the change in the change jar. Take these toys and divide them between mother and sisters (not father who was never in the games even when home from work, and that was expected, accepted). The older sister loved these number games best, and took to playing store with the younger and counting out change. Numbers were regular, soothing as the tides. She took to counting by twos or fives or humming multiplication tables to carry her to sleep.

The younger sister collected feathers which she kept in a jar in her room, arranging them until they were almost perfect. She was a talker, so she made friends with most kids she ran into. Sometimes she made enemies, which was interesting, too, because she and her allies would make war against them with sticky beached jellyfish and handfuls of wet sand.

The older sister wondered how it could be so easy for the younger to just walk up and join the rush and noise. The kids bickered like her parents, their games as fleeting as the family’s yearly moves from house to summer cottage to house, trailing clumsy suitcases. When they asked her to make war, she ran into a cliff cave and watched crumbs of sandstone crumble from the top. She was happiest on her own, listening to seashells and looking carefully for patterns in the rock, cradling the notebook in which she kept track of inventory for her Someday Store. The tourists who flocked to the beach would buy everything.

On the day the two sisters were walking hand in hand and a voice boomed at them from out of the cliff, naturally it was the younger who answered.

“You think you know everything about this beach, don’t you?” That was the voice, presumably some man they couldn’t see. Full-throated. Presumptuous. Unremarkable enough.

The younger sister was indignant. “Of course we don’t! But I think we know a lot.”

The voice responded with a rumble that could have been a menace or a laugh. The older sister thought she felt the sand quaver beneath her feet. Being the more practical of the pair, she asked, in spite of her uneasiness: “Who are you anyway, and where are you?”

“Look above you,” the voice said.

The girls’ small heads poked up. There atop the rocks a figure stood. His skin was the red of island sandstone, and it was hard to tell if the earth-colored folds around him were clothing or some draping extension of his body. His face was rough, like the mock faces one sometimes finds worn into rocks, and he stood larger than a human man by half. He was still, dignified in the manner of stone and ocean. The sisters found him half-formed, masklike, hideous. How to speak to a person that was not a person but a walking mass of clay?

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can order your copy of Hard for Hope to Flourish here.

February 10, 2021

So You Want to Write in Lockdown?

How are you all doing? Here in London, we’re well into lockdown #3. Remember lockdown hobbies, and the optimism with which some people took up making homemade sourdough bread and learning new languages? If you’re like me, enthusiasm for indoor activities has waned a bit by now.

Writing is one of the things keeping me going as I work from home, socialize (as much as it’s possible to do so) from home, and veg out… all in the same general vicinity. As much as it can be a source of vitality and energy, though, it can also be hard to do consistently during this time. And people wanting to try writing for the first time while their lives have moved indoors face the additional challenge of getting started.

Here are a few things that have energized my writing at one point or another during the quarantimes.

Write socially

When working on my first book, I went to Shut Up and Write sessions where a group of writers gathered, chatted briefly, and then got down to the process of quietly writing. Sessions were timed, and with other people doing the same thing around me, I got a lot of work done. I’ve benefited from finding similar group writing sessions over Zoom where friendly people encouraged each other, shared resources and updates, and provided accountability.

Try something new

Last year (during lockdown 2), I did NaNoWriMo for the first time. I tried writing something in a new genre (romance) and format (novella). During lockdown 1, I read about short nonfiction writing, tried pitching a big publication, and ended up writing something for the Huffington Post. Setting challenges for myself and trying new things kept the writing process fresh and interesting.

Find a critique partner

Having someone else to exchange writing with keeps your manuscript from languishing forever unseen in your files. I found a fiction critique partner through social media and have been swapping work with her ever since. Having someone intelligent and responsive to exchange feedback with has been helpful and encouraging, and means I’m writing more.

Take advantage of your personal schedule

If you’re working from home now, like me, you might have gained time back from your daily commute. Try scheduling writing in that now-freed calendar space. Another way of taking advantage of your schedule is knowing your body’s clock. I’ve been reading about chronotypes, or the variations in people’s biological clocks, and recognizing why I’ve never been one of those people who got up and wrote early in the morning. I don’t have to be! We all have different times when we’re at our creative and productive peaks, and maybe learning about yours will help you get more writing done, too.

Write about what you’re experiencing

During the pandemic, I’ve helped process the stress of a radically changing life and environment by journaling (i.e. inelegantly venting about everything) and writing poems about the virus, Zoom calls, and shifting restrictions. It’s been a wonderful outlet.

…Or not

Sometimes I just want to escape the 2020s. I’ve found solace in writing fiction set in a pre-COVID world and in other, imagined worlds. Do you wish you were somewhere else? Writing can take you there!

Have you been putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard in lockdown? What keeps you writing?

December 2, 2020

My First NaNoWriMo, or How I Wrote a Novella in a Month

I’ve posted before about NaNoWriMo, but until 2020, it was one of those things I’d thought about but never attempted. I was usually busy, and more crucially, I’ve never been fast. I’ve completed novel manuscripts, but writing 50,000 words in a month seemed like a daunting task. I was happy to cheer on other, more ambitious writers from the sidelines.

This year I spent November in lockdown. It seemed like the perfect time to give the challenge a go. I had a few opening chapters of a novella lurking in my folders, waiting for me to finish it, and I decided that NaNoWriMo would be my motivation to do that. I wasn’t sure if I’d write the full word count, but I saw other writers blogging and posting on social media about the progress they made from participating, whether or not they met that tally mark. Some used it to revise or meet other goals, like I intended to do. The tent seemed expansive and friendly.

This manuscript is the first time I’ve tried to write romance as a central focus. It’s also the first time I’ve attempted a novella, although I’ve thought at points that it might turn into a novel. It started out with two points of view, but feedback from a reader suggested that one was far more interesting than the other, so I rewrote the first part to focus on that character. I scrapped my outline and wrote by the seat of my pants, coming up with some of my ideas on long morning runs. It turned out that letting my mind wander while exercising was a great way to find inspiration.

What worked for me? Not, it turned out, joining online communities or engaging with the many passionate writers posting in great detail on forums and chat rooms. It’s wonderful to see so many passionate people creating, and I’d expected to find it motivating, but instead it gave way to something like Zoom fatigue. I joined a few groups and quickly became overwhelmed. Instead, I focused on the story I was telling. Maybe I’d socialize about it later, when it was done.

Complicating things, I had some serendipitous work projects come up for the month, so my time wasn’t as open as I’d expected. My writing stopped and started around other commitments that I didn’t want to forego. What helped throughout all that was writing regularly, in little bits almost every day. I felt closer to my characters’ lives. It was a challenge to write a new kind of story in a new genre, but word by word, it came together.

I allowed my usual writing process to take the forefront, editing as I go. That’s usually seen as a “no-no” for writers during speed events like this one, but when I tried to draft with more of a stream of consciousness, I missed letting my editorial mind improve things. I’m an editor by trade, and it turns out that I value letting that skill set shape my work. It makes the next draft smoother.

The last day was a milestone. I’d set a 25,000-word novella mark by that point and wasn’t sure if I’d achieve that word count or finish the draft. Animated by the frenzy of a student with a due date, I wrote into the evening. The story wanted to tell itself. It knew where it was going. Soon, I reached the end.

It helped to have a deadline.

I’m delighted to have given NaNoWriMo a try and met my personal goal. It was a great experience, and one I hope to repeat. NaNoWriMo writers out there, how did things go for you?

October 6, 2020

The Joy of Playing with Tropes

This month, I had a very short dragon story published in Contrary, one of my biggest literary bylines. I love dragon stories. I used to think they weren’t “serious literature,” and when I submitted for awards, I’d send pieces about death set in the “real world.” Meanwhile, I’d write secret stories about magical creatures and realms. I’ve since learned that this separation between “serious” writing and “fun” writing is artificial and counterproductive. Life is short! Write the things you love!

Just like we crave certain foods, readers can get cravings for specific types of books (and writers might crave writing them). Sometimes you just want to read about fake dating, an intrepid sleuth, or a magic sword. Cliches? Not necessarily! Storytelling thrives on tropes, and we all have favorites. Christopher contends that there are only seven basic story plots, with others citing three or six. Within variations of these stories, motifs repeat themselves. Popular motifs can become tropes.

Bad storytelling and stereotypical use of tropes can give them a bad name. Think of how many Disney villains have been given queer coding, with certain mannerisms being shorthand for characterizing them as as evil. And books in the same genre can sometimes draw on tropes to the point of predictability. But while some uses of tropes are actively harmful or simply tedious, tropes themselves are valuable storytelling tools.

It’s all in the execution. As a writer, you’re telling your story. You get to make the decisions about what tropes you use, how, and why. You can use favorite tropes as inspiration, the way Yoon Ha Lee did when writing Ninefox Gambit (“I’d been nosing about the TV Tropes website, specifically my favorite pages, Moral Event Horizon, Chessmaster, and Magnificent Bastard”). If you’ve run into writer’s block, you might try using tropes as prompts and mixing them up in unexpected ways, the way Jim Butcher did in the Codex Alera series, accepting a challenge to combine Pokemon and a lost Roman legion! If you really, really want to read a story about, say, found family and flying saucers, that might be a good reason to write one.

Here’s another important context where authors engage with tropes: when there’s a type of story that they love, but they don’t see people like themselves in stories like that. Recently publishers have been making strides towards diversifying their catalogues, with increasing attention being paid to “own voices” stories. To give two recent YA examples, you can now read a Black Cinderella story (Cinderella is Dead by Kaylynn Bayron) or a retelling of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice in a contemporary Latinx context (Never Look Back by Lilliam Rivera). Are there any tropes you feel compelled by but excluded from? Try writing yourself (or someone like you) in.

Tropes can comment on contemporary situations. I recently read Nevermoor, a popular middle-grade fantasy by Jessica Townsend, and found it rich in both tropes (the Gothic manor, the eccentric mentor) and uniqueness (the giant cat housekeeper, the umbrella-based public transit system). Most powerfully, the young main character, Morrigan, is brought from an unsafe country to a safe one, and pursued by police who call her “an illegal.” This pointed comment on immigration speaks to the fictional context while reflecting on real-life issues.

Who gets to fall in love? What makes a person exceptional? What skills solve a mystery? What does horror look like? Who gets to travel to another world, and why?

That’s my challenge to you this month, writers: Play with some tropes that intrigue you! Don’t be afraid to get weird and hyper specific. And if you like, let me know what emerges.

September 1, 2020

What to Do When Your Brain Just Won’t Write

According to coach and author Alexis Rockley, the lack of focus and creative blocks that many of us are experiencing during the coronavirus pandemic stem from the uncertainty arising from this situation. We don’t know what’s going to happen next, and our brains are overwhelmed. In this and other stressful situations, it can be hard for those of us who want to write to get any writing done.

Every writer has struggled with this at points – writer’s block, stress, and other manifestations of a mind that isn’t in any shape to create. It’s one thing if writing is our day job, and we have the external motivation of a deadline with a paycheck waiting at the end (and even then, getting the words out can sometimes be a challenge). It’s quite another when the only person counting on us to get something written is ourselves.

When your brain just won’t write, what can you do? Sometimes it’s best to recognize and care for our needs and come back to work another time rather than tiring ourselves out in the here and now. There are lots of things that can help recharge your batteries, get inspiration flowing, and move your writing career forward when your brain is stalling and the words just won’t come. Here are a few of them.

Self-Care

Rest: If you’re overwhelmed or tired, maybe you need more sleep or downtime. Listen to your body and offer yourself the rest you need.

Exercise: Like rest, we need movement in order to function. Again, listening to your body is helpful here. If you’re feeling twitchy in that office chair, maybe you need to get up and go for a jog.

Check your physical comfort: Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold or hot? Is your furniture hurting your back? Sometimes a comfortable environment makes all the difference.

Do your to-do’s: Some writers procrastinate by doing busywork, but the opposite can also happen. If you have pressing items on your to-do list that you’re putting off, they may be hogging brain real estate that could otherwise be devoted to creativity. Look at those worrisome tasks you’re putting off and get them done.

Idea Generation

Read (or engage with other arts): Reading keeps writers engaged with words and stories, and can be a wellspring of ideas. So can taking in other forms of art, whether that’s looking at paintings or binging Netflix shows. Feel free to re-engage with old favorites too.

Research: Like your to-do list, this is some writers’ favored procrastination tool, but it’s also productive. Read and learn about topics that interest you or that are related to your writing project, or try something new and out of your comfort zone. You never know what will spark an idea.

World build: Act like a kid and make things up! Draw an imaginary map. Invent a lollipop land. Dream up a new animal. If you already have a created world as part of your writing, play around with adding things onto it.

Learn your craft: Take a writing class, attend an event, or listen to a podcast. Try something that will teach you new elements or angles on writing and expand your horizons.

The Business of Writing

Pitch or submit: When the words aren’t coming, that can be a good time to submit and query the pieces you’ve already finished. You can try pitching ideas for new pieces as well, or pitching rejected ideas to other publications.

Edit: Try rereading your drafts with an editorial eye. See what would benefit from being rewritten. Reading your work aloud can be helpful here, as can exchanging critiques with writer friends.

Build your social media or web presence: It helps to have a presence and network online. Reach out, make connections, and put yourself (and your work) out there. Find people who will want to read your work once you get back to writing it.

Build relationships: As with the above, it’s useful to connect with others in the writing world. Try attending events (virtual ones count, of course), joining a writers’ group, or going to a conference. Keep in touch with the people you meet and like.

If you just can’t write right now, truly, it’s OK. A writer is someone who writes – but you don’t have to write all the time in order to qualify for the title. There are lots of things you can do that will contribute to your writing when the words won’t come. I promise that blank page will still be there, ready for you to get started.