An Index of 2017 Author Guest Posts

Posts with the most: Karen Shepard, Louise Marburg, Geeta Kothari

Last year, for the sixth straight year, we invited every author of a book entered for The Story Prize to contribute a guest post to this blog. Forty-seven of them chose to participate. Since 2010, the TSP blog has featured 499 guest posts from 482 different writers (some have contributed in more than one year).

According to Blogger's statistics, most 2017 author guest posts received 400 or more page views. The most popular post, "Karen Shepard: How to Make Intermittent and Erratic Progress as a Writer, in Twenty-Eight Easy Steps," has so far drawn more than 4,500 page views—the sixth most of any TSP blog post. "Antonya Nelson's Ten Writing Rules," the post with the most all-time views, currently has more than 14,000 of them.

The 2017 author contributions with the second and third most hits were "Louise Marburg Offers Ten Pieces of Writing Advice," with nearly 1,200 page views, and "Geeta Kothari Takes Her Time," with more than 1,000 page views to date.

The two posts with the largest Facebook reach were "Edie Meidav Urges You to Fail" and "Describe Your Reading Habits: An Interview with Deb Olin Unferth."

Many of these offer insights into the writing process or practical advice, serving as mini craft talks. Others get more personal. And several are simply very funny. Here then is this year's complete index, in alphabetical order by last name.

A-C

Frederick Luis Aldama and the Active Transformation of Culture
Henry Alley Finds Inspiration in His Archives

Jacob M. Appel on Being a Good Literary Citizen
Josh Barkan Starts with Oddities
Emily Bieniek's New Year’s Resolution: To Devalue the Hero’s Journey
Jennifer Caloyeras Reluctantly Joins the Family Business
Olivia Clare on Accountability
Lee Conell on Spotting the Extraordinary Among the Ordinary

D-K
Rob Davidson Finds Inspiration in Images
What Cynthia Flood Has Learned
Tim Gautreaux's Ten Pieces of Writing Advice
Terry Griggs on the Little and the Large

Daisy Johnson Plows Ahead
Jeffrey N. Johnson Builds on His Training
Siel Ju and the Suitable State of Mind
Michael Knight on a Literary Touchstone
Geeta Kothari Takes Her Time

L-O
Matthew Lansburgh Finds Time to Feed His Soul
Peter LaSalle: The Short Story vs. the Novel
Becky Mandelbaum's Four Simple Pieces of Advice
Louise Marburg Offers Ten Pieces of Writing Advice
The Drawings on Juan Martinez's Office Door
Edie Meidav Urges You to Fail
Timothy O'Leary Weaves Fact Into Fiction
Adam O'Riordan and the Impulse to Write Prose
Orlando Ortega-Medina Taps Into His Subconscious

P-S
KL Pereira on Lost and Missing Mothers
Matthew Pitt on Making a Memorable Impression
Zach Powers' Thoughts on (In)visible Prose
Bill Roorbach's Freaky Fridays
Michelle Ross Asks: Is a Story Ever Finished?
David Rutschman on Moving Between Distance and Intimacy

Sofia Samatar’s Ten Favorite "Quotes" About Writing

Scott Loring Sanders Pulls Flotsam from the Ether
Joseph Scapellato and the Story’s Intention
John Shea Gets Started
Karen Shepard: How to Make Intermittent and Erratic Progress as a Writer, in Twenty-Eight Easy Steps
Caitlin Hamilton Summie's Office with No Door


T-Y
Susan Tepper Keeps At It
Douglas Trevor on Toni Morrison and Subjective Histories
Describe Your Reading Habits: An Interview with Deb Olin Unferth
Samrat Upadhyay: Doctor or Engineer? Neither!

Lee Upton on Obsession, Denial, and No-Guilt Naps
Anthony Varallo's First Story

Katherine Vaz on Taking Notes and Making Box Art
Tim Weed and the Ecstasy of Influence
Josh Weil and the Scent of Sagebrush


Past indexes of guest posts:
2016
2015
2014
2013
2012

Geeta Kothari Takes Her Time

In the 17th in a series of posts on 2017 books entered for The Story Prize, Geeta Kothari, author of I Brake for Moose (Braddock Avenue Books), discusses her approach to getting writing done.

In her essay,“That Crafty Feeling,” Zadie Smith, writes that she finds other writers’ working methods “incomprehensible and horrifying,” so I present this post with the following qualification: Tracking time works for me, in my particular circumstances, circumstances that include a spouse, a dog, full-time teaching, friends and family members scattered far and wide.

One day, around the time my parents died, I finally understood that time isn’t an infinite, renewable resource. After the grief, came the despair. I added up all the wasted hours. So many, with people I didn’t like doing things I didn’t care about. Of course, I couldn’t actually add up all my wasted hours because I never kept track of them. This was a period when I didn’t keep a journal or a schedule on paper. Even when I began writing seriously, I paid little attention to how I used my time. I measured my progress by how many pages I filled, how many drafts I wrote, publications. This last item seems a little insane now because rejections for my stories far outnumbered acceptances (and still do).

For a while, I tracked the number of words I wrote daily. Then came the day when I realized I’d written over 150 thousand words and had nothing new to read at a conference I was attending, and counting words lost its charm. I draft quickly and revise slowly. Word counts give me a false sense of progress when I’m drafting and no sense of progress when I’m revising.

Why all these attempts to measure productivity? It’s not as if I work in an office or report to a manager who wants to know that company dollars are being well spent. I report only to myself, and if I want to spend my writing time eating chocolate and watching Netflix, no one will know.

Maybe I’m trying to make sure I spend what time I have left on things I find meaningful. I wasn’t one of those children who kept a journal or wrote stories to amuse herself. I came to writing late as an adult with the idea of being a writer but no practical sense of what this meant. I had no idea that thirty years later the best birthday present would be five days alone in an apartment in Toronto where I wrote and talked to no one except strangers I met in the elevator.

Pomodoro: Break time

In that apartment, the empty days stretched before me like a crisp new notebook on which one is afraid to make a mark. I worried I wouldn’t use the time well, that I’d waste it, though without Wi-Fi in the apartment, it would take more effort. I wrote down what I wanted to do in the five days, keeping my plan modest. Instead of counting words (though I did have a word goal), I tracked time and how I spent it using the Pomodoro Technique, which suggests four timed intervals of 25 minutes of focused work with five minutes break, followed by a longer, 15-20 minute break. There’s nothing sacred about the 25 minutes. For writers who are struggling to write daily, like many of my students, 5 minutes is a good place to start. I use a cube timer that has 60, 30, 15 and five minute intervals, so I usually work for 30 minutes with a five minute break.

At home, where there is rarely a blank slate of day, I have found writing daily works best if I aim for two short sessions, one in the morning and one in the late afternoon. Because I work on several projects at once and some are deadline driven, the night before I decide what I want to work on. That way I don’t waste time in the morning trying to decide what to do. I keep my list small and modest. “Work a half hour on Lahore section,” one recent entry read. My Freedom app is automatically set to block social media every morning.

I mark each interval in my journal. It’s ridiculous how much pleasure I get from making an X next to the previous X. Later—when I’m low perhaps, feeling underappreciated and scolding myself for NOT WORKING HARD ENOUGH, I’ll go back over my weekly record of Xs and reassure myself that I have spent my time well.

That younger self who wasted so much time used to believe the reward for writing was publishing. The reward, it turns out, is knowing you have spent your days well on something you love.