Kelly Flowers

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How NOT To Write A Novel – Drunk

drinkingErnest Hemingway once said “Write drunk, edit sober.” Write_Drunk_Edit_Sober-1517

One of my writerly friends says, “Write drunk, edit on caffeine” Pret-ty kitschy and more up my alley. I already edit on caffeine so…

I decided to test this theory, like, track it, test it, tie one on. 🍺🍻🍷🍸🍾🍹🍶  Oh, the things we do for science. 🤷🏼‍♀️

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(Side note: There are A LOT of really great drinking memes. Don’t writers have better things to do? Doh. Guess not.🙄)

To be fair, I’ve inadvertently tested this drunk writing theory back in college. The result was lackluster and barely legible poetry. Overall, a fail. But I’ve grown, evolved, matured. Obviously. 

Testing drunken-writing is probably not a true measure of maturity.
If alcohol lubricates social anxiety, couldn’t it also grease the wheels of creativity? Then, it occurred to me that many great and brilliant authors are/were alcoholics. This is either a 👍🏻 for alcohol or a 👎🏻 for writing. Funny-Alcohol-Meme-I-Will-Just-Have-One-Beer-With-Lunch

For sake of research, let’s hypothesize that alcohol triggers creativity (with a few grammatical errors) and set the experiment parameters. This is very scientific after all.

1. While writing, I will track the time and alcohol consumption in 20 minute increments.

2. I’ll have to judge the material myself, with a sober set of eyes, because I can’t imagine letting someone else do it. Unedited?!?! Chah!

3. No distractions. This is no party! This is a rigorous experiment that requires I imbibe alone and diligently. No funny business.

4. When I sense a particular profoundness happen, I’ll mark it. My college inebriated poetry always felt brilliant… Until the next day. So here, I’m testing my drunken judgement of quality. Think beer goggles. (This could be the most embarrassing part of the experiment.)

5. Lastly, as I write, I’ll note the speed and ease (or maybe incessant brain-stalling) with which ideas are hatched as well as the inspiration to keep going. All the creativity of JR Tolkien doesn’t help if all you want to do it watch “This Is Us” and eat Red Vines… Not that I would know or anything.

Ready… Commence the spirits! And remember, I’m doing this for you. Stop-drinking-meme-joke

 

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8 Ways To Work The Writing Critique Group

Teenagers and Writing Critique Groups = Creativity Killersscared-face

Remember being a teenager? It seemed you had to hide any bit of individuality from the mob of your peers and their judgy-ness.

Maybe that was just me. It wasn’t weird that I quoted Shakepeare, danced to swing music and carried vocabulary flashcards in my purse. No. Not weird.

I have teenagers now and guess what? They’re still judgy! And I’m still weird. (I’m told this constantly.) But now, I like my weird. We’ve grown attached to each other. We clique off and snicker about our critics. In my head, we ARE the popular kids.

I’m all grown up now. But writing critique groups can kill creativity in much the same way as the high school mean girls can.

The first time I went to a writers critique group. I was young, not much older than a teenager, really. The group met in an adorable bohemian café that had ombre walls, sold forty different types of tea and had jam poetry sessions that packed the place. This is being a writer, I said to myself. How romantic! Continue reading


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Book Excerpt: Gone Dark – The Sirens

Sam’s eyes snapped open. The dark room was grainy with the promise of morning. She lay still as the sound of sirens rose from the fog on the marsh. At first, Sam understood. Just as everything presented while straddling a dream is accepted without question. The sirens somehow made sense.

When the sirens began a second time, Sam bolted up. She stumbled to the sliding door and scanned the light beyond the glass. The Kawainui marsh was the same. The Ko’olau mountains still steepled in prayer beyond it. But it all felt different. A dense shroud of grey pressed its belly into the thickets of mangrove. The trees looked bent like blades of grass.

She stood at the door, pulling the dream back. A woman, her mother but not her mother, her finger circling the rim of a crystal glass. Sam felt like she knew something she hadn’t known before. And then the dream slipped away, a stone sinking into the pond of her mind.

A shot rang out, sending a buzz down the walls. Sam didn’t move. She watched the wind digging into the cane grass. A mango rolled down the slope of the roof landing with a splat on the pavement outside the door. Continue reading


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So This Is What My Life Looks Like.

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Snapchat. Oh snapchat. How else would I project a life that is way more interesting than the one I actually live?

Of course. Sometimes it’s pretty spot on, maybe too spot on. After taking a picture I often look at it and think, “Hmm. So that’s what my life looks like, huh?”

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Take this morsel of my snapchat story for example. (Why, you ask, am I spending my limited spare time on snapchat? To this I say, I have no idea. See second picture for further proof of this squandered nap-time hour.)

In my snap of novel editing, notice the fancy alphabet placemat and literary classic If You Give A Moose A Muffin. This is how you write like a Ninja.

This, I’ve come to accept, is a proper representation of where I’m at. Let’s just call it well-rounded. Mmm-kay?


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Word Hoarding – How I Learned To Let It Go

Folkmanis-Pack-Rat-Puppet--pTRU1-6956404dtI’m a pack rat. But I’m an organized pack rat. Ok, Ok. I might also have a few hoarding tendencies. There. I said it. (Most pack rat/hoarders are also in denial. So, yay me.)

Luckily, because I am unwilling to part with my psychosis, I’ve developed techniques to manage it. For instance, I’m the master at Garage Box Tetris. I can fit more office supplies in a drawer than you would think possible. And closets, well actually, let’s not talk about closets.

It’s just that I still see value in lots of things I no longer need. And that counts for words too. Writing needs obvious focal points, right? The problem with word hoarders, like me, is that it’s hard to see the focal points because there’s too much junk in the way. You see where I’m going with this.  Continue reading