Okay, I can finally spill the beans about what exactly I’ve been working with that mindset coach on: Barry and I have just uploaded our FIRST episode of our podcast, MFA Payday! You can listen now. We interviewed MFA grad, writer and photographer Matt Berman.

Also visit our website where you can sign up for our FREE “Pitch Your Pants Off” submission tracker, if you’re a writer. It’s customizable, an important feature.

I designed it myself, because most trackers are ugly and uninspiring. But it can’t magically submit stories for you, so…(You can do it! You can! And an attractive tracker makes everything easier, don’t you think?)

Barry created the intro and outro music for our show, yay! He’s so creative!

It’s just as well that my car has been in the shop for almost a month. It’s kept me home and focused, so I’m not complaining about that. But I’m ready to get my wheels back! Although I’m feeling a little claustrophobic, so I’m thinking I’ll just walk to my favorite coffeehouse this week to hang out.

My mindset coach has helped push me out of the mud week after week as I’ve attempted to meet my milestones to get this going, so a big shoutout to her for her patience and amazing ability to ask me just the right questions for me to see this realized.

Last Monday she had to hear me say “I don’t want to” like a whiny child when she asked what was blocking me from finishing editing episode one. (It was overwhelming, but I did it! Not perfectly, but I did it! And there are many, many steps to the process.)

I’ve had to learn so many darn things in the past few months. They weren’t difficult singly, but put together, they required lots of time and they all seemed to have a learning curve. (Still working on some things. Somehow an entire INTERVIEW disappeared from our Zoom account. Yikes. I really think that was a malfunction that had nothing to do with me, but who knows?)

Because of Barry’s busy schedule, I’ve taken on the editing, which meant learning how to “punch in” to overdub in spots, cutting bits of audio and splicing them, adding his music to the episodes, and removing filler words…you get the picture. It’s a labor of love, sure, but it’s also been a challenge. Whenever I feel overwhelmed or like I just can’t do it, I breathe, regroup, and remind myself that I can do hard things. It sounds simplistic, but that can be a real anxiety buster. That and a gin and tonic. 😉

It also helps to remember our why: we’re doing this to help MFA in Creative Writing grads learn what to do with their MFA’s. This means so much to us, helping both our friends and others. And ourselves. We truly enjoy speaking with writing “family” we never knew before. So now you know. LOL.

In other news…I’m gearing up for the release of my second novel in early January. I’m getting so excited to share my newest story with the world…lining up publicity for it, reviews, etc. And artwork, cool artwork…I can’t WAIT to share that with you soon.

Don’t tell anyone, but I’m thinking about creating a graphic novel of it as a fun freebie for my readers. Because apparently I don’t have enough going on…

Our daughter and her sweet new puppy, Oskar, visited us a few weeks ago. She’s a digital nomad and has the coolest Caravel Airstream. We loved visiting her at the campground where she set up, (yes, of course we made s’mores), as well as introducing her puppy to Desi and Lucy’s “The Long, Long Trailer” the next day at our house. (It’s one of our family’s favorite films. No wonder Mia bought a trailer!) It was a great week, but as always, it was hard to say goodbye.

Novel number three is progressing nicely. Another deadline looms mid-October. My reader has invited me to linger over scenes and take my time allowing the reader to get to know my characters. I’m taking her up on it! I’m kinda falling for these characters. Yesterday morning found me reading and re-reading a poem by a classic poet, analyzing it, wishing I had a poet friend nearby to ask questions about it. I need to be sure I understand the intent behind a poem because I want to use that intent as a driving force for a section of my novel. I think I need a “phone a poet” feature on my phone.

Oh, what I didn’t say: I am also writing another poem for my book. I feel grossly underqualified to do this, but who else is supposed to write poetry for my book? (Not me, please, not me.)

Thanks for stopping by, my friend. Here’s hoping you are well.

Copyright Drēma Drudge, 2022. All rights reserved.

My dream of taking my Freewrite to the beach came true over Labor Day weekend! And let me say, I’m here for it!

It was as wonderful as I thought it would be. I needed to write a seaside scene, so obviously this was the perfect time and place to write one. The weather was just right: sunny, high 70’s. The waves played melodiously in the background. I wrote probably two pages in a daze, smiling, perfectly happy. Then I remembered to turn off the WIFI, because…beach. Except being still somewhat unfamiliar with my gadget, I actually turned the whole Freewrite off. And when I turned it back on, nothing was showing up. NOTHING!

Thankfully I had already backed up everything except the day’s work, but my understanding was that whatever I wrote would be stored locally on the beast and would be uploaded when I got back into WIFI land, even if I did turn it off.

I had “lost” only maybe two pages, but still. I had hopes for it being accessible in the future but just in case there on the beach I opened a new file and wrote a couple of lines reminding myself what the scene had been about. Of course, I wasn’t going to get that particular slant of sun again. I wasn’t going to imagine our lady sighing by the sea in quite the same way. I wouldn’t see the light dancing over the waves just so. But I could recapture something of it. (I try not to be precious about my writing.)

Instead of rewriting the scene, I continued down a couple of other paths. That was easy enough to do since my book encompasses three distinct time periods. (I’m liking the variety.)

When we had been in the sun long enough (is that possible?) and had returned to where we were staying, I tried to hook my Freewrite up to WIFI. Nope. I checked Google drive. My day’s work wasn’t there either.

I asked the internet what to do. Someone had a LOOONNNGG convoluted idea of what might help. I figured I was only going to do that if I absolutely had to. Someone else said do this and then do that. So, I did, and voila! Not only did I save what I had written later at the beach, but…the scene I thought was totally lost was back! Yay!

I still highly recommend the device if you like to write and want to get free from the internet. It’s nearly perfect for that. I think my “problem” with it wasn’t a real problem at all, just my understanding of how it works. And I’m now at page 102 of my newest novel, something I attribute to that.

In other beachy news, I managed to read not one but TWO books over the holiday weekend. Taylor Jenkins Reid blessed us with another novel, Carrie Soto is Back, that downloaded to my Kindle just before we left for the beach. It is every bit as good as her other books. (Maybe not quite as good as Daisy, but what could be?) By the book’s end, I found myself wishing I play tennis. I don’t.

My biggest “tennis” moment (it was actually badminton, but close enough) was in college when my instructor said I would be a fantastic doubles partner. Translation: I suck at serving. But I do return volleys like no one’s business. That wasn’t enough to make me want to pursue it; I dropped the course out of embarrassment.

Anyway, whatever fairy dust Taylor Jenkins Reid has had sprinkled on her, I want me some! I’m not telling you what her latest book is about just because if you’re a fan, you’re going to read it. If you’re not, I’m not in the business of making book converts today. I’m too tired. It involves tennis, and Carrie Soto is back. See if you can crack that code. LOL.

The second book I read is Crime Junkie podcast co-host Ashley Flowers’s debut novel, All Good People Here. She’s from Indiana (where I live), and when I heard she had a book coming out, I had to buy it. It was a fast read featuring a fictional crime reminiscent of the JonBenét Ramsey case. If you like true crime, you’ll find this book engrossing.

Write. Read. Beach. Repeat. Freewrite. Forever.

A character in my newest novel is writing poetry. Didn’t ask him to, didn’t expect it. But there it is. I sent Hubby an email the other day telling him that my MC just found a poem that Eric wrote with the line “Mourn no more for the dinosaurs.” (Yup, I think it’s cheesy on its own, too. He’d better explain.)

“Who’s Eric?” Barry asked. LOL. Just a friendly reminder, folks, that our characters aren’t as real to others. At least not initially.

As to what that line of poetry means, I haven’t asked Eric yet, but I suspect I know. Just between us, I have an inexplicable grudge against dinosaurs. A few years ago, Barry and I were traveling to Michigan for a week of classes he was taking. For at least an hour of our travel time, I ranted about dinosaurs. I can’t go into it without sounding completely irrational, but I think it came from a mandatory trip to Kings Island just before then.

I’ll say more. Barry had to either go to Kings Island for a work perk or work the whole weekend. Because rules. Didn’t make any sense to me, either. And while I hadn’t been to Kings Island since sixth grade and we are not in general theme park goers, I didn’t hate going. Just don’t ask me about the Backlot Stunt Coaster we got on. Barry said he wasn’t worried about me while I was screaming, but once I went quiet, he was scared.

You know what, I checked that ride out on YouTube later, and it’s only just over a minute long. Had I known that I wouldn’t have been so scared. Didn’t help that as we were getting into our car, they were hosing one down where someone had…well, you know. After that he took me on some fun cartoon ride and then we did the Dinosaurs Alive! walk. Hence the grudge.

Nope, still can’t explain it, though I think it has something to do with how really alive they looked, and how sad I was for them and how I wonder if we are speeding towards our own extinction. The fragility of life, that kind of thing.

I am engrossed in this novel I am writing. Because I have a deadline for the first fifty pages in the next few days, I am focusing on polishing those at the moment. Naturally I shifted the plot yesterday a teensy bit which requires some transitions and the addition of a scene. Dang it. But I think I can do it in time.

I’m writing a literary mystery, my first attempt at one, and I am jazzed! My “research” for it has included re-reading A.S. Byatt’s Possession and re-watching The Chair on Netflix. I’ll take any excuse to do either of those!

While I know there is only one A.S. Byatt, I’m going to write what I call a light literary mystery based on what I believe to be real missing literary items. Not ready to say more yet, but I’m enjoying the journey!

Speaking of journeys, my mindset coach and I have been working on scheduling my calendar for three weeks now as Barry and I finish up a pet project. Phase one is pretty much done. I’ll share some about that in the coming weeks.

I know the coach will be pleased when I tell her that I feel as if I FINALLY have the scheduling thing down. (Shorthand – if you haven’t used Monday Hour One for scheduling your life, give it a try. Just google it. But also, don’t be me: be sure to add in the things you WANT to do first. Don’t resist that. Just do it. You were not born to be a workhorse. Got it? )

P.S. My second novel, Southern-Fried Woolf, is coming January 2023. Expect more about it, including an excerpt, in early October if not sooner. Salute!

Copyright Drēma Drudge, 2022. All rights reserved.

Update on my Freewrite experience thus far: Oh my gosh! Where has this been all my life? First of all, the keys sound great when I’m typing! It’s like I’m dancing with them. And not being able to go back and edit (unless I want to backspace whole sections; spoiler alert – I don’t!) frees me to keep going. Typos? No biggie. False starts? Make a quick note to yourself.

Here’s the scoop: I am saving my drafts to Google drive.. Dropbox is the other choice, I think, but that’s not an option for me because my Dropbox is stuffed, and I don’t want to upgrade or go through and get rid of multiple drafts of stuff from way back in 2013.

Then I just cut and paste to a Word document.

In a week…are you ready for this…I have written 53 pages!! No lie. Bananas! I have a deadline of 50 REVISED pages coming in hot and fast, so I’m happy to be so far ahead because now comes the finessing. (I love revision; I hate it. You know.)

Since it’s a novel, and these are the opening pages (yes, I really AM writing this novel, no false starts this time), it’s been awesome firing the editor and just writing, writing, writing with my Freewrite!

Some further thoughts on my Freewrite.

A small complaint: the shiny black cover gets smudgy, very much so. A few quick buffs with a microfiber cloth gets rid of the marks, but now I feel self-conscious knowing I’m mucking the poor thing up when I use it. (I guess it only happens when I open and/or close it, so maybe I just need to be more careful about that.)

Also, keep in mind I type way too fast when I’m not pausing to revise, so it might be from that, but I was writing yesterday, and I got this fun little buzz and I thought it was endorphins from being so happy writing (yes, I’m in that phase and not the “Can I do this?” revision stage) until I realized my hands were actually numb and my sight was a little blurry. I decided it might be time to take a break. In a few minutes, I felt fine, but I think it had something to do with blood flow due to my typing speed. So, not entirely unpleasant, but it merits paying attention to in the future, I suppose. (I did voice text Barry yesterday and tell him I would be incommunicado because I couldn’t see my phone or the computer very well. Not surprisingly, I got a phone call shortly thereafter asking me to explain myself.)

This draft of my novel, while still very loose at this point, has been so fun. It’s like a new romance, right? You’re getting to know one another. You’re on your best behavior. Your patience is at a ten. You have that mandatory “let’s talk for hours and tell me everything about yourself” night.

A character walks into a novel, says his name is James. You say, “Nice to meet you; stand over there.” You decide if his name really is James while he looks indignant. Because of course he is James. Did he not tell you so?

You hear him out. You listen to his backstory.

“Really? Then what?” you ask. Because you’re already hooked.

This novel is different for me in that it’s in third person, past. And I am alternating POV’s. And…are you ready? Some of the POV’s are from a male’s perspective. It’s fun, this head hopping.

Dirty Dancing turns 35 this year! I mean…how?! My dear, sweet, thoughtful husband accompanied me to a big screen showing last weekend. It was fun, though he swore he was drowning in the estrogen in the room. “Get a paddle, mister,” I quipped as I sucked on my Crown Royal apple slushy at the theater.

I first saw this about a year after it came out, I believe. Our high school played it during my Senior Week! I hadn’t seen it yet, because being “devout,” it wasn’t something I was supposed to see, though I was pissed not to see it. (Not that I would have said pissed; that was strong language for me, a prissy missy. Sigh.)

There’s a huge difference seeing Dirty Dancing when you’re 18, versus seeing it when you’re…not.

For one thing, this time around I really pitied Patrick Swayze’s character, Johnny. The poor guy seemed like he had the weight of the dance staff on his shoulders. He was more than a little parental, and so serious. Baby gave him the chance to lighten up, to be playful. She challenged him to stand up for himself, to go for what he wanted. They challenged one another: when she tried to keep their relationship from her father, Johnny caused her to question not only her own beliefs about people, but her father’s as well, leading to a sweet breakthrough in her relationship with her father.

While surely we all know that Baby and Johnny do not end up together, we know they are changed for the better for having met.

And then there’s the music and the dancing, which are major reasons I like the movie, too. I knew the music very well before I saw the movie, and if you know me, you know how much I love dancing! (I was so happy when at our town’s holiday gala this year someone donated money on the condition that X amount of people hit the dance floor. I looked at my “date,” a young barista friend, and said, “Shall we?” I had wanted to dance so much, but there was only one guy dancing at the time, and my hubby was playing keyboards so I couldn’t dance with my own husband. Band widowed again!

But my friend and I danced and danced, which made my night, especially when my hubby said something over the mic and I retorted “I know that’s right,” which got me high fives from all the guys on the floor. Someone put a feathered boa around my neck, and I wore it all evening.

Okay, I’m back to finish this post after a few hours spent successfully revising. I’m in the zone, and kind of want to stay in this new novel I’m writing, and yet, alas, other preoccupations call.

I did take time out to make us a late lunch, Creamy Aglio E Olio Chicken Pasta, courtesy of HelloFresh. The meal delivery service is my secret weapon for when I have a deadline. (Not a sponsored post!) Because the meals are preselected, premeasured, and come with colorful meal cards, they’re so handy. We don’t order every week, but when we have, we’ve been pretty happy.

Although for today’s meal, I doubled their laughable six ounces of pasta provided with pasta from the pantry, which meant having to doctor the cream sauce, easily enough done with butter, cheese, and extra pasta water. Hubby said it’s a winner, so I’ve made notes to myself for next time.

Oh, and I refuse to chop garlic when I’m busy, so I cheated and used jarred garlic.

The dish turned out tasty, if I do say so myself.

So yeah, after what started out as an iffy Saturday (we had a way early morning “mission of mercy” call that we heeded), it’s been a good day. Even if that mindset coach of mine has me tracking my time this week, a pesky task. Think I can get by with putting this post under the generic category “Writing? (She’s trying to help me fit in everything I want to do, and I’m struggling to find room. Hence the time tracking. I’m confident that together we’ll figure it out.)

And look what we have waiting for us when we’re done with the day’s work! Barry picked them up for us yesterday and I, for one, am looking forward to giving them a try. “Spiked with fun.” Indeed. You know, that could be a description of my mister, too. 😉

What are YOU trying to find more time for?

Copyright Drēma Drudge, 2022. All rights reserved.

Reader, I bought a Freewrite! While I haven’t been able to use it much yet, so far I love my Freewrite Traveler. (This is not a sponsored post. I wish.)

Here is my side of the text conversation I had with my darling daughter about it recently, lightly edited:

“It’s like a typewriter but it ONLY connects to the internet to save your writing. It’s a distraction-free writing device. Best for first drafts. I don’t know if I can justify the cost, but I bought it with mad money, because I just want it.

More pluses: it has a glare-free screen so I can write outside. It’s built to be used on the beach, too! In my dreams, your dad and I own a small place at the dunes, and I can write on the beach every day! My fantasy “retirement” in a box.

Also, it’s lightweight. Its keys are weighted and responsive, like a typewriter’s. And all the cool kids have one. (I actually don’t personally know anyone with one, though it could be they have one and I just don’t know it.)

You can’t easily look back at what you’ve written on it, so it tunnels you into your draft. Since anxiety is such a huge part of my writing process, it doesn’t let me agonize as much because I can’t go over and over it, at least not until I transfer the document over to revise it on my laptop. Once you do that, you can’t transfer it back over. It’s not playing about keeping you in hot draft mode.

I bought the travel version because it’s light and compact. It fits in most of my purses! Now I just need time to use it.”

My poor, indulgent daughter, listening to her mother go on about things that probably don’t interest her. On the other hand, she has a new puppy, a mini dachshund named Oskar, which thrills me. I hear we might get to meet him in October!

I know, I know. It’s hard to justify one of these contraptions, a Freewrite, but I’m at the planning stages (again? still?) of my third novel, and this, so far, has been perfect for it. I’ll know more later, when I’ve had more experience with it, but so far, it’s a dream tool.

If I were giving advice, I’d say get that “impractical” tool that your soul keeps asking for, whatever it is, if you can. There might be a reason it wants it that you just don’t know yet.

P.S. I spent my scheduled daily “Do whatever the hell you want” hour (mindset coach’s orders for this week) today reading Steven Pressfield’s newest release, Put Your Ass Where Your Heart Wants to Be. It literally took me less than an hour to read the whole thing. While I admittedly rolled my eyes at the first third which basically said move to wherever the action in your creative pursuit is, the short book inspired me. (Especially after he exempted writers because we can write anywhere. We still thrive best when we have a writing community of some kind, though, don’t we?) He reminded me in his book to open myself daily to the muse. I finished a short creative response about that earlier this morning, before I read his book. Coincidence? I think not.

Pressfield shared a gorgeous story about the sacrifices a pianist made to have his career, with all its ups and downs punctuated by playing, at best, an “acceptable” concert, because perfection just doesn’t exist. I can attest to this. Hubby and I did a show for a local retirement community recently. Though we had practiced, I had a dry spot in my throat and well, you can’t stop mid phrase to take a drink, so you push on. He said he didn’t notice, so I hope the audience didn’t, either. Expecting perfection, at my amateur level of singing, is laughable. But how frustrating it must be for the pianist who devotes at least six hours a day to practice, not to mention the discomfort of constant travel, to know he could only have a great concert, no perfection. (Chances are the undiscerning ear wouldn’t notice his “fumbles,” though.)

I’m glad there are artists of all stripes willing to take the time and effort to create. Life is richer for it.

Copyright Drēma Drudge, 2022. All rights reserved.