television | Squirrels in the Doohickey television | …and other profound observations of the absurd

Posts Tagged ‘television’

How Will You Spend Your Time This Year?

January 29, 2017 by Diane

So, Diane. Here we are. A brand new year.

2018.

Well, 2017 for me.

You’re absolutely right.

Tell me something good. Tell me I get more than one copywriting client.

You get more than one copywriting client.

YES! I knew I could do it! It’s the one-task-a-day routine. It’s working!

It’s working.

Did I give up the blog once and for all?

What do you think?

I think I’m having too much fun blogging. Jumping in mud puddles. When the puddles dry up or it’s no longer fun, I’ll stop. Do I have more than sixty-eight subscribers?

You have more than sixty-eight subscribers.

And I stopped watching The Bachelor. Tell me I stopped watching The Bachelor.

Can you look me in the eye and honestly say you’ve stopped watching The Bachelor?

Well, no. But I don’t turn it on until I’ve completed my copywriting task for the day.

This is true. You even missed episodes, for that very reason.

Thank GOD! And the short story? Did I send it out?

You sent it out.

Did it get published? Tell me it got published.

We’re not here to talk about the short story.

The novel? Did I rewrite the novel?

About the novel—

It was the logline. That’s what held everything up, back in 2016. You should talk to Holcomb about that. She blabbed on the blog about how to rewrite a novel. She got as far as step four: the logline. And that was it. Oh, she tried to convince herself that she’d chosen an acceptable logline, that she was ready to move on, but did she? Was there ever a step five? NO.

2016 is over. We don’t need to revisit it.

Oh, yeah. You’re right. Phfft! It’s gone. So, what about the novel?

Overwhelmed. Sound familiar?

I’ll say. It was Holcomb’s most-used word in 2016. I’m still overwhelmed.

Watch out for that.

What are you saying?

You need to respect boundaries. The ones you decided to set. Like not blogging at midnight.

Oh. Is that what time it is?

Yes. The key is to focus on one thing at a time. One thing.

And what is that one thing?

You’ll know.

Copywriting! That’s why I have more than one client. Or is it something else? Oh, I’ve got it. I finally pitch that reality show concept, the one the networks will be fighting over.

Well—

Or I dig out that radio script and send it to NPR. You remember—The Family Nude Show.

I do.

The game show where families play…in the nude.

I remember.

Because who’s going to know if the contestants are nude? It’s radio, fer cryin’ out loud!

Diane, Diane! National Public Radio is not going to air The Family Nude Show.

Oh. Well. You really know how to burst a girl’s bubble.

I’m sorry.

So what is the one thing? Do I publish The Best of Squirrels in the Doohickey? No, wait. I’ll bet I submit all those writing tips to magazines. Or I finally rewrite the ding-dang-darn novel once and for all. Is that it? Is it the novel?

You’ll know.

Oh, please, please, please tell me.

See you in 2018.

Category Fer Cryin' Out Loud | Tags: copywriting,goals,radio,television,writing | 10 Comments
How Did You Spend Your Time Last Year?

January 22, 2017 by Diane

So, Holcomb, here we are.

Yep.

A brand new year.

2016!

For you. For me, it’s 2017. But you knew that. You’re a smarty.

High praise, coming from you. I mean, from me. In the future. So, how’s the outlook?

Well, a year ago you were dickering with that short story. Rewriting it.

Yeah?

Still dickering.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes. A year ago, you were spreading it around you’re rewriting that novel.

I’m planning to blog about it! I’m going to declare my commitment, to all thirty-eight of my followers!

Sixty-eight now. And you dropped the commitment.

Yow. Scary word, commitment.

You’re good at making excuses, too. That copywriting business you started? The one puttering along with one client?

One GREAT client. He keeps me hopping year-round. He wants me for the whole next season, too.

Agreed. A great client. But your plan is to get more than one client.

One GREAT client.

The plan is to beef up your clientele.

And?

You’ve still got the one.

No networking?

Nada.

No notifying my LinkedIn contacts?

Zilch.

No cold-calling, cold-emailing, making a list of places to contact?

Nope.

What the hell have you been doing for a year!?

Not me, YOU.

Me? I haven’t even begun. You’ve already been. What the hell took up all of your time?

YOUR time. The Bachelor.

WHAT?

The Bachelor. That stupid reality show. On Monday nights. The one that highlights women in their worst possible behavior.

Oh, that. But it’s only on for a season, right?

Then The Voice.

Okay, so there goes Monday nights. What about the rest of the week? Surely I did something the rest of the week.

The Voice was on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, too.

Listen, you. I’m not letting you hijack my dreams with your stupid reality shows.

YOUR stupid reality shows. YOU’RE the one choosing to watch them, escaping your own reality. I’m in 2017, remember? Hello! The view’s swell from here. And I’m finishing up the short story.

No more dickering?

One last dicker. That’s it. I’m sending it off to journals.

And the novel?

It’s either the novel or the blog. I haven’t decided which one gets my attention.

And the copywriting? Please tell me you’re not shelving the copywriting business.

Nope. Actually, I had a brilliant insight: If I want to be a successful copywriter, I need to act like one. So I’m putting on my copywriting hat, I’m rolling up my sleeves, I’m snapping on my suspenders. And I’m asking myself: Do copywriters watch The Bachelor? No. Do copywriters futz around on Twitter? No. Not unless they’ve finished their work for the day. Do copywriters blog about rewriting a novel rather than rewriting it? Not likely. Now, every day (except Sundays, when I rest), I’m doing one task on my list of tasks to do to be a legitimate copywriter. I’m already writing a marketing plan. I’m scouting around for networking groups. I’m applying for that Tax ID number. I’m…well, you get the picture. So you know what that means, Holcomb. You’ve got one year to get The Bachelor and The Voice and Twitter and the blog and anything else you’re distracting yourself with, out of your system.

Gulp.

Got it?

Yes.

Ah, cheer up. The year isn’t a complete loss. You do get a business license and business cards. You find mentors. You become a founding member of the Jerry Jenkins Writer’s Guild.

Score!

And you win The Liebster Award for blogging.

The what?

And you manage to write some decent blog posts.

About?

You’ll find out.

Ah, c’mon. Give me a hint.

See you in 2017.

Category Fer Cryin' Out Loud | Tags: copywriting,goals,television,writing | 17 Comments
Your Novel Offers One Big Benefit for Readers

December 4, 2016 by Diane

I love strolling the neighborhood at dusk, seeing inside the well-lit houses I pass without the occupants seeing me. There’s a family sitting around a dining table. A teenage boy wearing earphones, dancing in a living room. An old woman watching the weatherman on television. I see framed photographs on a pinewood dresser; an iron bed pushed up against a window that’s steamy from the chorizos frying on the stove; a lacy curtain turned gray. Glimpses of lives being lived.

Rooms reveal something about the people who live within. Are the walls bare and painted a peach hue, or adobe white, cluttered with photographs? Are the furnishings leather and chrome, cast-offs from the flea market, or Scandinavian minimalist? And the house itself, is it battleship gray, sunny yellow, or dull as mud? Is the yard mowed or overgrown, fenced, or unfenced with flagstones leading to the front door? Did someone plant tulips along the walkway, or vegetables in wooden boxes? Is there a sign on the gate: Beware of Dog, or does a cat slumber on a window sill?

On my evening walks, I view the world through the lens of a writer. I yearn for a home of my own, to be sharing a meal with family. I empathize with the woman alone in front of the TV–could that be me in twenty years? Wait, don’t close the curtains, I’m not done looking.

I spy on people.

It’s not what I do in life, but it’s something I do.

What do you do?

When meeting someone for the first time, we’re often asked: “What do you do?” Leil Lowndes, the author of How to Talk to Anyone: 92 Little Tricks for Big Success in Relationships, suggests phrasing your answer in a way that says: “Here’s how my life can benefit yours.” She gives these examples:

Instead of real estate agent, say: “I help people moving into our area find the right home.”

Instead of hairdresser: “I help a woman find the right hairstyle for her particular face.”

Instead of financial planner: “I help people plan their financial future.”

What about fiction writers? How does our work benefit the lives of others?

Here’s an answer:

“As a novelist, I help people satisfy their itch to spy on humanity without getting arrested.”
Tweet This

As readers, aren’t we spying on imaginary people? We peer into their lives, listen in on their thoughts, watch their most intimate moments, shadow them through their days. We part the curtains of a book, and lose ourselves in the lives of the characters within. By observing how they think through their problems, and what actions they take to overcome obstacles, we learn to navigate the real world.

As writers, how do we help readers satisfy that itch to spy? Here are three tips, with exercises to practice:

1. Engage the reader through their senses

By choosing a few specific sensory details that describe person, place, and thing, the better the reader can “see” the world they’ve entered. In other words: show, don’t tell. He isn’t mad at his wife; he stiffens his shoulders, sets his jaw, and slams out the door. She isn’t trying to get the boy’s attention at school; she’s tapping her pencil against her binder, reaching out one toe and nudging his calf. The car isn’t old and messy; there’s dog hair on the upholstery, McDonald’s wrappers on the floor. The radio sputters between a Spanish station and Big Band music, and the air smells like French Fries.

Don’t overload the reader’s senses (something I need to watch out for in my own work); allow room for the reader to engage their own imaginations.

Practice: Write a scene using sensory details only.

2. Let the reader in on the character’s thought process

Readers don’t want the kind of detail provided on Facebook—this is what I’m having for dinner—unless that’s crucial to a scene. If a character’s inner monologue doesn’t move the story along or reveal something about the thinker, it doesn’t belong.

Readers want to know what’s going on behind a character’s facade. What is the character wrestling with? How do they sort through options? How do they deal with depression, anxiety, or fear? How do they really feel?

Practice: Write the inner monologue of a nervous man or woman getting ready for a date. Why is this person nervous?

3. Hold the reader’s interest through conflict

Why do we tune into bad news on television? Why, when driving past an accident, do we slow down to look? Why do we gossip? Why do we watch someone on YouTube get slammed in the crotch by a baseball? We want to see the reaction to whatever horrible thing has happened. We want to see how people survive, how they handle getting knocked down, how they band together, how they process bad news. We want to see how rotten life can get for someone else, and how, against all odds, that person rises up. It makes our own lives seem better.

Practice: Write a scene where something bad happens to a character. Use action, dialogue, and inner monologue to show the character’s reaction, and how they fight to overcome the obstacle. Include a few sensory details to bring the scene to life.

Remember: outside the window of every work of fiction, there’s a reader peering in. It’s up to writers to open the curtains wide.

Category Behind the Writer's Curtain | Tags: books,spying,television,writing | 12 Comments