My Favourite Chic Breakfast

One of my favourite breakfasts is poached egg on toast. It is nutritious, delicious and keeps me going until lunchtime.

I used to make it in an egg poaching pan we have which has four little cups, one for each egg. If ever there was a one-trick-pony it's that pan. It's very quick and useful, but I never felt chic eating an egg which was moulded into a perfect round shape, like a jelly. And I had to use an aerosol oil spray to coat the non-stick surface beforehand.

I just couldn't imagine my ideal French girl Sabine using that pan or spray oil in her Paris apartment!

So I simplified to a small saucepan, in which I pour boiling water and a dash of malt vinegar (if you don't already know, a tiny amount of vinegar helps the egg white emulsify quickly for a more successful poached egg).

I'd also just like to say please use free-range eggs. I can't bear the thought of those hard-working little chickens crammed into cages. They deserve better than that. It always makes me sad when I see battery eggs in folks supermarket trolleys. Free-range eggs look a lot healthier too - bright orange/yellow yolks.

Once the water is on a rolling boil I crack in an egg. After a broken yolk disaster and advice from a cafe-owner friend I now open the egg into a small dish and have it waiting. Every so often if the yolk breaks I then have scrambled eggs (better to have it break in a dish, than in boiling water).

What I also do before the egg meets the water (like 'the rubber hits the road', but the kitchen version) is to swirl the water around like a whirlpool with a spoon. Then, when the egg is introduced, all the white starts wrapping around the yolk to make a lovely round bundle, just like you would receive in a cafe.

Oh, and use a deepish pot rather than a flat pan to poach with. Have the toast waiting, as it's only a minute or two before the egg is done (I take it out with a big holey spoon as soon as the white looks done, and the egg yolk is still beautifully runny).

I often ask cafe staff what their secrets are and they are always happy to share. One of the chefs from my favourite cafe was shopping in our store once and when he said where he worked I fell all over him - 'what's the secret to your scrambled eggs there?' I asked. 'Lots of cream and butter', he replied. So when I'm having a more treat-y breakfast I always add a dash of cream to my scrambled eggs and cook them in a little bit of butter.

But back to my poached egg breakfast. Whereas scrambled eggs require two eggs and a dash of cream (so a few more calories), I can happily exist all morning on one egg poached, on a piece of lightly buttered whole-grain toast (Vogels is great bread available here, it's very dense and heavy, chock-full of seeds and grains, and the slices are a lot smaller in size. Nice and chewy too).

Lately I have been tearing up a few basil leaves over the plated egg/toast since our herb pot is growing well. Fresh parsley snipped over the top would be delicious also. The touch of green looks very designer-y. A sprinkle of salt and a crunch of black pepper and it is a dish that would do Sabine proud.

And of course breakfast is not complete without a cafe au lait. I make mine with a shot of strong coffee (brewed in a Bialetti) topped up with with milk, then microwaved hot. If I run out of real coffee, I make a very strong coffee with a teaspoon of freeze-dried coffee and a tiny amount of hot water, then top up and microwave as before.

Bon appetit.

Go on holiday when you’ve got deadlines to meet

How To Write Badly Well will continue on Monday 5th July. In the meantime, why not read the excellent language blog Inky Fool?

Chic Habits

I've decided to set myself mini-goals each week, ones which are heading in the direction I want to go in. They will be simple, and things I want to work on. This week I plan to:

Get more sleep. I've been having too many late nights recently, and the black circles and bags under my eyes aren't chic. I want to have 8-9 hours per night. My preferred time to get up in the morning is around 6am, but lately I have been sleeping until nearer to 7 because I have been going to bed too late. I plan to be in bed by 9pm, so I can have a relaxing read, with lights out by 9.30.

Commit to everyday body maintenance. I'm not too bad at this but I want to be better. 1-2 times per week I will exfoliate my whole body in the shower, with scratchy gloves and shower gel. 2-3 times per week I will shave my legs and underarms. Every single morning I will apply moisturising lotion to my whole body. Currently the tallies are 0-1 / 1-2 / 5.

Wash my face after work. As opposed to just before bed when I'm already tired. I'm not sure about this one. I can see the benefit of washing off the day's grime as soon as I walk in the door, and all that lovely moisturiser has longer to soak in. However I don't know if I want to sit there with a pink and shiny face all evening. That's only the first five minutes though, after that I may transform into dewy and ravishing. I've already missed tonight, so I shall begin tomorrow. After a week I will decide if I want to carry on or go back to my old time.

Bonne nuit!

Starting a Law Firm Is Not For Everyone

There, I said it. Someone had to. Starting a law firm is not for everyone. And the going thought out there these days is "If I can't find a job I'll just start a law firm and everything will be fine." No, it won't. It can and it just may get worse. Much worse.

I was at a happy hour this week sponsored by my state bar association. It was geared specifically toward young lawyers. Now, usually I really like going to these things. I'm not from Washington State, have only been here for a year and a half, and like to take the opportunity to meet as many new people as I can. But this wasn't that kind of happy hour.

Turns out at least half of the people there didn't have jobs and had come to this thing to "network" which to them means to either find a job or to complain about not having a job. I'm find with people doing that, I'm just not that into it. It's not productive, and it's a time when you see people at their worst (there is no one I want to hire less than someone groveling for a job, know what I mean? Have some confidence, like your skills are actually worth something!).

And then I met this one guy, whose name I won't mention. He introduced himself and asked me if I was looking for a job too. "No," I said, "I own my own firm."

"Me too," he said, "though I'm kind of looking at other options."

And he lost me at "looking at other options." That is what I mean by starting a law firm is not for everyone. If you aren't ready to jump in and go for it, it will never be successful (here's one of my first posts on why I started a law firm). There is just too much time to invest, too many things you have to do for the first time that take big, huge, brass balls (in the figurative sense) that you just won't do if you aren't fully committed.

"I have something set up on Monday," he told me. "That might work into something."

You, my friend, will probably never own a successful law firm. You just don't have the stomach for it. And that's okay, not everyone does...

On a lighter note, all of you out there starting a firm have anything you want to know specifically? Leave a comment and I'll give you my two cents. You can even tell me what you thought of this post (and, it's okay to disagree, I'll still like you!).

Feedback and Critique--Finding Safety as Well as Good Growth

Writers need other writers.  I'm seeing this in action today, as my weekly book-writing class pairs off to exchange feedback on their storyboards.  The group is engrossed, the noise level in our classroom is high, and I'm listening carefully for enthusiasm and ah-ha moments.

When I eavesdrop on some of the conversations, I am impressed.  The feedback is s accurate, helpful, and kind. This class has been together for months and they respect each other.  A very necessary aspect of helpful feedback that opens doors for writers, rather than shutting them down.

In this corner of the room, I hear
a plot-strong thriller writer giving good advice to a memoirist struggling with not enough happening in her story.  Although she can't change facts, his questions are making her think differently about the arc of her book. Over here, a medical writer and a young adult fiction author exchange similar benefits--one writer's story is very subtle, the other's is quite dramatic.  So their suggestions range from changing the order of scenes to help strengthen the emotional impact on a reader, to ideas on when to go interior and when to stay in the exterior moment.

The hum tells me all's well, and that's great.  I've been in many classrooms as a writing student, and I've had devastating results from feedback.  I'm dedicated to making sure my own classroom contains exchanges that are as positive as possible.

Feedback is unavoidable, really, so it's just a matter of structuring it well to get good rather than bad results.  An isolated writer can only go so far on her own.  At some point she needs others to give an objective look at what she's trying to achieve--and tell her if she's anywhere close.

Creating Environments for Safe Feedback
There are three kinds of feedback that actually help you grow.  The first is simply a mirroring process.  I learned this from therapeutic models--you try to state what you are understanding from the writing without putting your personal spin of "good" or "bad" on it.

It's not always easy to do this, believe it or not!  We pride ourselves in objectivity but actually there's such a strong critical mind in most of us, objective comments are really hard to achieve.  I admire writers who are able to just give the facts, not comment too much from their personal viewpoint on what should be done next. This is the safest, mirroring, and it's helpful (if done well) to any level of writer from beginner to advanced.  The writer retains her own sanctity about the work, because all she hears during the mirroring feedback session is what one reader perceives.  Back at home, the writer can compare the information she got with her original intent for the passage or chapter.  If the intent and what the reader gets from it are vastly different, the writer can go back to the writing and revise it with the feedback in mind.

More advanced writers benefit from a feedback based on what I call "opening-door questions."  These are a bit harder, because they require the feedback partner or writers' group to think more deeply about what might open doors for the writer.  Say the writer is great on plot, with many dramatic scenes, but not so good on making his characters come alive in a believable setting.  The questions might be:

What was the motive behind this character's decision?
What does the character desire or fear most?
What was the character's happiest moment in childhood?
What kind of shoes are in this character's closet?  Under the bed?
What is a smell in this environment?  A sound?
What does the character see when he looks around this scene?

These opening-door questions all deal with a character's interior life, how that life is revealed by exterior choices, and how the setting reflects this (what the character notices via smells or sounds tells the reader a lot about his state of mind).  I've found just a few questions like this will often make big light bulbs go on over the writer's head.  Because questions are nonthreatening, the writer can allow them in.  Maybe he never thought about these things because he was so focused on the action.  So these good questions can really open doors.

The third level of feedback is critique.  Critique is the riskiest, the most able to devastate a new writer or a seasoned writer with a new piece.  I get hired to give critique all the time; I've worked with clients from all over the world and in every genre.  The way I try to keep critique helpful is to focus on two aspects equally:  the piece's strengths and weaknesses.  I first list what I liked about it, what worked, what writing skills are evident.  Then I go through the content of the piece.  How is it flowing, from one dramatic action to another?  Are there chunks missing or is there too much backstory in any section?  This is primary--if content isn't in place, the writing doesn't really have enough to go further into critique.

Then I look at the structure of the entire piece, followed by each section.  Are the scenes or moments or ideas arranged in an intuitively logical order--something that makes sense not just to the writer but also to the reader?  Sometimes this is a bit like working a jigsaw puzzle.  The writer's mind might have a certain order for the sections in an essay or a story or a book, but this order might become stronger with slight rearranging.

Finally, I look at the language, the voice and pacing.  It's the hardest but also the make-or-break element of publishable writing.  How does it flow?  Is there consciousness throughout or does the writer "drop out" in sections, using a different tone or too intellectual language for the moment?  Is the voice authentic, in that it conveys vulnerability and a journey?  Do the moments of the piece of writing move easily, or is the pacing slopping and jerky?

Rarely do we get into this level of feedback in my classes, but sometimes the group has been together long enough to be able to do it.  Sometimes writing partners and writing groups can do it too.  It requires a lot of trust on the part of the writer being critiqued, and I am frankly always wary of writers who tell me "Bring it on, give me everything" because it shows their experience with deep critique is a fantasy.  It is never easy to change your work, and it is never easy to hear radical suggestions about something you love dearly.  But it's always necessary.

I have a wonderful writing partner and good writing groups.  They give me excellent feedback.  But for this level of critique, I always hire a professional editor.  I rely on professionals for my books, before submission and publishing.

This Week's Writing Exercise
Do you have a piece of writing that you've worked on for a while?  One that you suspect might be ready for feedback?  Choose something that is not first, second, or even third draft.  You've written it, you've set it aside, you've looked at it again.  You've even read it aloud to see where there might be changes needed, and you've tried your hand at making those changes.

Consider whether you have someone (preferably not a spouse, child, or best friend) who might be able to give you mirroring feedback.  Ask this person to read your piece and write down three things they noticed in it, facts about it.  Compare these with your intent.  Do they match?  What could you change to close the gap?

HISTORICAL FICTION WEEK #5: Change the past

As the helicopter neared Pudding Lane, Edward could better make out the details of it. Slung below the cabin was a large tarpaulin, secured at each corner and hanging low with the weight of its contents.

‘Dear God,’ gasped Hobbington. ‘It’s water! The whole thing’s full of water.’

As the helicopter swooped low over the burning bakery, two corners of the tarpaulin were released and a deluge of Thames river-water came crashing onto the fire. For a moment, all was smoke and steam and chaos, but when Edward had picked himself up and blinked away the ash, he could see that no spark of flame remained in the charred, sodden building.

‘They did it!’ he shouted, tearing away the strip of cloth he had tied over his mouth. ‘The fire’s out.’

‘And not a moment too soon,’ added Hobbington. ‘It was just about to spread to the adjoining buildings, then into the tinder-dry slums and eventually out across the whole city, destroying much of London’s skyline and necessitating a huge program of rebuilding and architectural renewal.’

‘Phew,’ said Edward. ‘That was close.’

HISTORICAL FICTION WEEK #4: Don’t get bogged down in research

With the blaze now rising to the upper stories of the building, Edward leapt into action. First, he kicked off his shoes – the plastic soles would be sure to melt in the heat of the fire. Next, he tore a strip from his pinstriped suit and wrapped it round his face to prevent smoke inhalation. This meant removing his glasses; he cursed that he hadn’t worn his contact lenses today.

‘You’re not... going in, are you?’ Hobbington asked, aghast. Edward nodded grimly.

‘There might be people in there,’ he said through the cloth covering his mouth. He dug into his pocket. ‘Could you hold my keys?’ he asked. Hobbington took the bunch of keys. ‘Oh, and my mobile?’

Just as Edward was about to dash into the heart of the blaze, he heard a noise in the sky above. Spinning around, he looked for the source of the muffled thudding. There, emerging from behind London’s famous Eiffel Tower, was a rescue helicopter.

HISTORICAL FICTION WEEK #3: Cater for cameos

Just as Edward and the Reverend Hobbington were about to make a start on extinguishing the fire, an elderly man approached them.

‘That’s a leviathan of a blaze,’ he observed. ‘Someone should do something about it.’

‘Indeed,’ replied Edward. ‘We were just discussing the best way to go about it.’ The old man nodded sagely.

‘In situations such as this,’ he said, ‘a strong central authority is needed in order to prevent chaos.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Edward, slightly annoyed. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Tom,’ the old man said. ‘Tom Hobbes. Well, good day, gentlemen.’ With that, he was gone. The two would-be fire-fighters watched him walk away.

‘How strange,’ said the Reverend. ‘Odd little fellow, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes,’ Edward agreed. ‘I didn’t like him. He struck me as nasty, brutish and short.’

HISTORICAL FICTION WEEK #2: Allow your characters to be centuries ahead of their time

‘Fire!’ shouted Edward, pointing at the bakery. ‘Hobbington, old friend, we must do something.’

‘Should I fetch buckets?’ asked the clergyman. Edward shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘The pace at which that fire is spreading would make buckets useless. We ideally need a pressurised system of pipes and tubes to spray water across the building from a distance, possibly carried on some kind of large vehicle.’

‘Such a thing would take many men to operate,’ observed the Reverend Hobbington.

‘Men and women,’ said Edward. ‘There is no reason whatever that women should be considered inferior to men in carrying out physically demanding tasks or taking on other responsibilities. In fact, should we ever have a system of government which functioned purely on the basis of a popular mandate, I think that women should be given an equal say to men.’

‘My goodness,’ laughed Hobbington. ‘You do have some novel ideas, Edward.’

HISTORICAL FICTION WEEK #1: Include passing references to major historical events

‘This is the damnable thing,’ muttered Edward, stepping gingerly over a bubonic-plague-carrying rat. ‘What with the resurgence of hostilities with the Dutch, who knows when the trade routes will be passable again?’

‘Indeed,’ replied his companion, the Reverend Hobbington. ‘I am as keen as you are to see the merchants’ ships sailing again. As a nonconformist minister forbidden to teach in schools as a result of the Five Mile Act of 1665, I am keener than ever to travel abroad.’

‘I know, my friend, I know,’ said Edward. ‘It is as our mutual friend Sir Isaac says – there are forces at work which remain beyond our knowledge. You are just as likely to find passage to the continent as old Isaac is to crack this problem of his, whatever it might be.’

‘Something of great gravity, no doubt,’ said the clergyman, skirting round a plague pit.

‘Yes,’ replied Edward, squinting at a shop across the street. ‘I say, does that bakery look a little smokey to you?’

Following a Different Path: Is an MFA Right for You and Your Book?

Scan any writers' magazine, browse any writers' website, and you read about Master of Fine Arts programs.  Are MFA programs all they're cracked up to be?  Is it worth the time, the money, the sheer effort?  I changed my life to get my MFA.  But I could also say my MFA changed my life.  I'm forever grateful I decided to get it, despite the cost, the profound shifts it demanded of my routine.

Yet some writers go down this path and find it's not the be-all, end-all it's advertised.  How can you evaluate such a huge step, especially if you are aiming to get a book published in this lifetime?


After I graduated from graduate school the first time (1979, MA in Russian, hoping for a career as a language teacher), I began collecting information about graduate writing programs.  Most universities offered advanced degrees in English literature; writing wasn't considered as important as critical analysis.  That changed in the 1990s when MFA programs began to appear like sudden spring flowers in the desert after a rain.  From two or three years of study, you could fill in your missing knowledge of basic and advanced writing techniques, get exposed to literature in a new way, learn how to analyze writing from a writer's point of view, and complete a manuscript draft with hopes of publishing.   

They also required much time and much money.  Earning a living, starting my writing and teaching career, were more practical steps for me, so the dream of graduate work in writing got put to the side.

I encountered it again when I was recovering from a serious illness, thinking deeply about my life goals and realizing that this dream was still strong--and unmet.  I was taking weekly writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis and Iowa Summer Writers' Conference each summer.  I had studied privately with published novelists, worked with two writers' groups and several writing partners, published many nonfiction books, from memoir to cookbooks to self-help, and even some short stories.

But I wanted to write a novel.  Exactly how, eluded me.

So I dug out my file folder of MFA brochures.  Would it really help my convoluted 100,000 word manuscript to immerse myself in a world of writing?  

I began calling and emailing writer friends, as well as some instructors I knew in MFA programs, to ask their opinion.  I was a published writer, well educated, much older than most graduate students.  Would it be better to hire a private tutor, hire professional editors, to get the novel written?  Is the world of fiction all that different from the nonfiction/memoir world I knew well?

The responses surprised me.  Several friends told me they enjoyed their two years in graduate school but their manuscript still languished.  They'd learned a lot of good guidelines on how to write; they'd made friends and gotten to know the inside industry of publishing a bit better.  But they still didn't have a published book.  Two writers in my writing classes were struggling with the same questions they'd brought to their MFA programs.  The most surprising comment came from an instructor at a large university's MFA program.  "Save the money," he emailed me, "hire an editor and do it on your own."

Others were more encouraging, speaking of valuable literary friendships and writing networks that came from their graduate-school years.  Several had gone on to publish and attributed it to their MFA program.  But they all said, "It really depends on the faculty.  Not everyone who writes well, teaches well."

One summer at the Iowa Writers' Conference I took a week-long course with a writer I admired greatly.  His short stories were stunning.  His teaching was not.  A born lecturer, he liked to dominate the classroom.   I preferred a collaborative atmosphere and wilted fast.

I took this experience to heart.  I made a list of questions.

1.  Which MFA program offered strong instruction, not just a stable of instructors with writing fame?
2.  Which program required completion of a manuscript--an important deadline I could work with to finish that novel at last?
3.  Were flexible schedules possible?  I couldn't afford to stop working.
4.  Cost was certainly a factor--the illustrious programs cost nearly $35,000 a year.  What gave the most value for the money? 
5.  Was it more important to go after a big-name school, for its potential on my writing resume, or was it better to find a truly creative atmosphere that would let me expand and explore beyond what I already knew?

I applied to six schools, not a simple process in itself.  It took months to complete the lengthy applications, finish the writing samples, get references.  Competition was fierce.  The low-residency college I ended up attending was small, very alternative, with a faculty roster significantly less impressive than several of the New York City universities.  But it fit my budget and let me keep working.  It required two on-campus residencies a year, 10 days of classes, and the rest of the coursework was done by mailed in packets every three weeks.  I was assigned two of the best writing teachers I'd ever studied with, both accomplished writers but nowhere near famous.  They understood my story, understood my dilemma, and showed me the path to finish.

I graduated with my MFA degree in 2006.  I took a year after graduation to finish my novel, working privately with professional editors.  Then I began shopping it to agents and publishers.  It was published in 2009.

Many writers in my classes ask about MFA programs.  Are they worth the time and money?  Do they really provide the boost to your writing--and writing career--that they promise?  I go back to my own experience.  What did I come away with, in terms of writing growth, in terms of what an MFA program can do for a writer?         

My MFA program opened me to an astonishing scope of literature.  I read poems, plays, essays, and books I'd never heard of--that changed the way I looked at writing and the world.  Because I was forced to do so, I explored and expanded my horizons.  I finished my book.  All this came to me because of the excellent instruction and the ability of those instructors to really listen to my needs as a writer, to guide me well.  Because they were good teachers, rather than just great writers, they knew how to present the pathway and help me walk it.

When I was deciding where to apply, a beloved teacher helped me with a good question.  "What would you rather have," she asked, "the chance to become more creative or the chance to know more?"

I thought about this for a long time.  I chose the chance to become more creative.  It was an excellent decision.

This Week's Writing Exercise
Even if you have zero interest in MFA programs, take some time to explore your writing dreams.  Using the question that changed my life, above, ask yourself:
1.  For my next step, what do I need the most?  Creativity or knowledge?
2.  Where can I most easily find this? 

If the MFA journey interests you, check out the Associated Writing Programs (AWP).  Their magazine, The Writer's Chronicle, offers great resources for learning about graduate programs in writing.  Check them out at www.

Generate atmosphere by using dogs

With thanks to Rosecrans Baldwin

I struggled frantically with the oxygen valve, my gloved hands slipping and panic beginning to rise in my belly. I no longer felt like I was floating a mere cord’s length from the shuttle – instead, I had the sensation of falling in every direction at once, the void of space pulling at me. The radio crackled in my ear.

‘I’m bringing you in,’ said Friedman.

‘No,’ I gasped. ‘No time.’ The valve shifted a millimetre or so. ‘Almost...’

‘Taylor, I’m bringing you in.’ I felt a tug as the cord went taut. Then, nothing. I lifted my arms out of the way and looked down. The frayed end of the cord was floating away from me. I grabbed at it, but it was already beyond my reach. I kicked my legs uselessly, as if I could swim towards it. The effort made my lungs burn.

‘Taylor,’ said the voice in my ear. ‘Taylor. What happened?’ I wouldn’t have said anything even if I’d had the breath. I felt a numbness spreading through my body. For what felt like minutes, I just floated there, completely alone in the emptiness of space. Somewhere far off, a dog barked.

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Sideline a character

Meanwhile, far away from the intrigue of the Venetian court, Piero was trudging up a dusty road in a remote valley. As he walked, he kicked at the stones in his path and wondered what was going on back home. Would he return to find his brother ennobled, or dead? Would he return, for that matter, to find Venice at war, either besieged by some invading army or divided within itself? He had no way of knowing.

Just as these thoughts were occupying his attention, there came a clatter of  weapons from a sage thicket ahead of him. In an instant, his path was blocked by a ragged-looking group of thieves.

‘You! Rich man!’ the leader shouted. ‘Where are you from?’

‘Venice,’ replied Piero, not quite knowing what else to say. The bandit threw a length of rope at his feet.

‘Bind your hands,’ he said. ‘You won’t be seeing Venice again for a long time.’

As Piero picked up the rope, he wondered how many key events in the unfolding saga he would miss, and how many of those events he would otherwise have been able to influence or even prevent with his unique skills of diplomacy and coercion. Oh well, he thought. It will certainly be more interesting with me out of the way.

Emotional Arc of Your Story--How Act 1 and Act 2 Create Rhythm a Reader Will Follow

I've been reading Amy Bloom's new book, Where the God of Love Hangs Out, a collection of interrelated short stories that form a sort of novel.  Although a few stories were published in earlier collections, this grouping takes the characters another step.

I like practically everything I've read of Bloom's work.  I appreciate the intricate weavings she manages, and I often recommend her to students struggling with character and pacing.

There's a trend in publishing right now of such collections, sometimes called story cycles.  Olive Kitteridge won much attention last year; it's a group of stories about a small town in Maine and a fierce retired schoolteacher.  It's tricky to create a story cycle that keeps the reader engaged as well as a novel, leaving us wanting to dive into the next chapter without hesitation once we finish one story.  Short stories by their nature are complete in themselves.  But a story cycle must release some of that finished feel and create a whole-book rhythm.

In Olive Kitteridge, author Elizabeth Strout stays with the traditional rules--a group of characters, a single place--which gives sense to the collection.  Olive builds a strong emotional arc and can be looked at as a three-act structure without much difficulty.  Act 1 sets the stage for
Olive's scowly nature in the small community, with her strong personality often repelling those she loves.  The finale of Act 1 presents us with the first big tragedy, her husband Henry's stroke.

Act 2 continues with Olive's life after Henry goes into a nursing home.  It moves toward the second big turning point, Olive's visit to her nearly estranged son.  This is where we begin to see Olive as vulnerable, as human, as needing love.  By the third act, I felt great compassion toward this character, and admired Strout's success in making someone so unlovable, lovable.

Bloom's characters are equally difficult to love.  We start off with four stories about William and Clare, deep into an affair.  Their marriages die because of it, they marry each other.  William is an obese man with gout and a swollen foot the size of a turnip, not your average romantic figure.  Clare is as fierce as Olive and can't really explain why William is the one she loves.  We end the section, Act 1 of the collection, with William's death and Clare's disorientation.

Between Acts 1 and 2, Bloom creates an intermezzo, a between-courses diversion into another unrelated story.  Act 2 launches us into deeper waters:  Julia and her grown stepson Lionel are dancing with their attraction after Julia's husband dies.

While Olive Kitteridge gave us movement from Act 1 to Act 2 with Olive's internal growth from dark to light, Bloom's travels the territory of deep human mistakes and the irreversible consequences to the human spirit.  After Julia and Lionel make love in the upsetting aftermath of Lionel's father's funeral, the effect erodes their lives in unexpected ways. Bloom doesn't moralize, even though Julia and Lionel's story will be extremely difficult for many readers.  She believably ups the stakes, creates the one-two punch so necessary in the first two acts of a three-act structure.

Act 1 starts a certain question or quest, and the momentum of it should carry the reader to the first big crisis at the end of Act 1.  If you start pretty low, you need to go even lower.  Consider Act 1 the point of no return.  What is going to come about as a result of that?

In Bloom's book, at the beginning of Act 1 William and Clare begin their affair.  By the end of Act 1 William is dead and Clare begins to live with her choice:  she can't go back to her family, her friends, the way things were, and William is no longer there to make sense of it all for her.

In a short story collection, Act 2 must take this consequence and raise the stakes, put someone at greater risk.  What much worse thing could happen?  Maybe for Bloom this was Julia, after her husband's death, sleeping with her stepson. Act 2's action creates deeper effect than Act 1.

 This Week's Writing Exercise
In my classes, I've discovered that most writers err in creating low risk in Act 2.  So this week, consider your book's middle.

Does it sag a bit?

Compare the Act 1 question or quest with what happens in Act 2.  Do you accelerate appropriately?

If not, try this exercise:

1.  Make a list of 10 things your main character would never do.  If it's a true story, consider the same question.

2.  Pick one.

3.  Set a timer for 20 minutes.  Write a scene as if that person did the thing they'd never do.

4.  What did you learn?  Can you use some emotion that emerged, as you work on Act 2?

Starting a Law Firm | Marketing Tactics

I got a phone call from a potential client yesterday. She was calling because she thought the lawyer she had right now sucked. She told me that they'd been to court a bunch of times and that each time the lawyer was unprepared. She told me that she couldn't get in touch with him and that he never seemed like he knew what he was doing.

First, of all, I wasn't surprised, necessarily. Those types of attorneys exist out there. And if you are shopping for a lawyer it's important to figure out who that person is and stay away from them.

But then I continued talking to her, and I learned a little more about her situation. "I hired this guy because I got something in the mail from him shortly after I got my DUI. I wasn't sure how I was going to pay for the help, so I went with the cheapest guy I could find." And there you go.

This story, for me, provides two lessons for all of you out there thinking of starting a law firm. The first has to do with marketing. The second has to do with pricing your services.

Starting a Law Firm and Marketing Your Services

First, the marketing. And, to be honest with you, I just had a revelation about this. When I heard that from this person yesterday that she'd received a mailer from someone for help, I was a little bit pissed off. For whatever reason (and I'm honestly not quite sure what the reason is) I feel like sending something out like that is a little bit underhanded.

And here's where the marketing lesson comes in.

Sending out letters is not underhanded. Even to people who are in desperate circumstances and easily impressionable. You know why it's not underhanded? Because it's perfectly legal. These guys, so far as I know, are acting within all of the rules we agree to in becoming attorneys. And they are marketing their services using the tools that are afforded to them.

The only question is, and should be (once you make sure it's legal), does it work?

I know the law is a "learned profession" and "bigger than business." But that is only one side of the coin. Once I have clients I do everything I can for their case. I fight for them. But if they can't find me, I can't help them, and this is a competitive business.

To make sense of what is probably a jumbled mess above, here's the bottom line - don't forgo trying to do something, whatever it is, just because someone else thinks things shouldn't be done that way.

Starting a Law Firm and Pricing Your Services

We all like to have clients. It makes us feel good. And it allows us to eat. But if you are not careful, you can get sucked into a race to the bottom that has no end.

For most people, whatever fee you quote them is going to be too much. Most people don't just have thousands of dollars sitting around, and finding it is a painful endeavor. They wonder why it's so expensive. It's your job to let them know why. It is not your job to let them convince you you should be the cheapest lawyer before they hire you.

And here's why.

Forgetting about any bills you have and obligations you have (family, etc.), because the client doesn't care about that, it's important to have a firm grasp on what your services mean to your client. For example, I'm a DUI and criminal defense lawyer. My services mean to my client that they get every chance to stay out of jail to and to avoid a criminal record. That's a pretty important service. And it's something that will follow them forever.

The key is figuring out exactly what you do and then helping the client put their price tag on that service. Get them thinking "what is it worth to me to get x result?" We know we can't guarantee them that result, but we can show them that we'll do whatever we can to get that result.

That's how you price your services. If someone wants to hire the cheapest lawyer they can find, they simply aren't the right client for you. The sooner you accept that, the sooner your sleep easy at night.

I want to apologize for those of you that have made it this far in this post. I hope some of that made sense and is related to your quest in starting a law firm. Writing it felt disjointed (these are important and difficult concepts).

Why don't we talk about what you think? What kind of marketing works for you? What strategies do you use to show clients how valuable your services are?

Delay the ending

Minkowski held the envelope in his hands and tried to judge its weight. There were probably three sheets of paper inside. On those three sheets would be the names of the double agents within his department. All he had to do was open the envelope and this whole, terrible mess would be over. Never again would he have to watch one of his people fall screaming from the plummeting wreckage of a sabotaged helicopter.

Of course, there would be work to do. There would be more bloodshed before this was over. Once he knew the truth, he would have to confront those responsible, setting in motion a fast-paced, dramatic sequence of events which would swiftly conclude this particular chapter of the organisation’s history. All it would take was him reading the names. For all he knew, the plot against him was already in motion, with the traitors waiting outside his office at this very moment, waiting to destroy the evidence that had been so costly to obtain – the contents of this very envelope. He had to act quickly.

‘Okay,’ he said, steeling himself for the shock to come. ‘Let’s do this.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘The moment I get back from lunch.’

Describe the wrong things

Carol stands absolutely still. In front of her, not more than ten feet away, is a fully-grown black bear. The ferns beneath its feet are crumpled and slightly browning, their delicate fronds pressed into the thick, wet mud of the forest floor. Carol hesitates. Slowly, very slowly, she looks around for a possible escape route. The light falling through the canopy of leaves has a pale, thin quality to it and the air is brackish with a faint scent of the stagnant water from the nearby estuary.

She decides to make a dash for it. Her shoes are slightly too tight, pinching at her toes and digging into the soft skin just above her heels. If she had put on thicker socks this morning, this wouldn’t be a problem, but in her haste to leave the house, she had grabbed a thin white cotton pair designed to sit low on the ankle, hidden below the line of the shoe. Seeing her move, the bear leaps forwards. A plane is flying directly overhead and the sound of its engines is like the rumble of a distant washing machine. It is a passenger plane of some sort – most probably an old 737 with a good few years of service still ahead of it. The bear eats Carol.

Think the unthinkable

What horror emerged, dear reader, I cannot even begin to describe. Its eyes were unspeakably dark, blacker than the very apogee of blackness, a depth of darkness beyond human imagination. Its teeth were unknowably sharp and indescribably huge, at least as large as giant machetes and twice as sharp. The roar that came from its unimaginably cavernous mouth was loud beyond comprehension, possessing a quality of sheer volume that cannot be adequately expressed in mere words, like the roar of ten jet engines at close proximity. My fear – O, all-consuming fear! – was beyond anything I have ever experienced, beyond anything I could possibly describe, beyond the limits of language and thought, inexpressible in its magnitude and effect, too powerful to even conceive of or begin to document using the paltry tools of language; that is to say, I pooped my pants.

When Bad Things Happen to Us or to Others--Dealing with Deep Emotion in Your Writing

I was in my forties when I experienced my first up-close-and-personal death.  Elderly relatives passed away when I was younger, but I was young, and although I missed them, often terribly, the deaths didn't have the same impact as when a close contemporary died.

Jan was not a close friend, but she was a person I admired.  She was intensely creative, a quilter and artist, and I liked how her creativity seeped onto everything she touched.  I felt privileged to know her.

She and I had lunch about six months before she died, quite suddenly, of cancer.  She survived treatments for breast cancer, was dealing with bone cancer, and carried a cane.  We met for lunch in a restaurant called the Good Earth, and each of us ordered a big salad.  I remember how Jan's cane hung across the back of her chair; I remember how its silver tip caught the overhead lights.


It was the last time I saw her.  She moved from her apartment to live with her son in another state, and there she died, quietly, without many of us knowing until after it was over.  We were terribly sad because we hadn't known, and we couldn't help.  But that was the way she wanted it--a solitary death, with only her son in attendance.

Being my first death, it haunted me for years.  I tried to write about it.  Penned page after page of thoughts about death, loss, grieving.  Very true and profound thoughts, that were essentially me talking with myself, trying to make sense of what had happened.  But I wanted more from this writing about Jan.  I wanted to capture what it was like to lose someone, not in the suddenness of accident or cataclysm, but silently and far away.

I began reading poetry about loss, trying to find words.  Poetry spoke to me.  Its brevity and sparseness were unlike the books I was writing.  So I signed up for a poetry class at the writing school where I taught.  It was a class themed on loss and it drew a surprisingly cheerful group of writers of all backgrounds.  Each of us dealing with bereavement, in different ways.  Loss of child, loss of spouse, loss of friend or parent.  Each class we took a single poem-in-process a step further.

Process and Its Product--Two Steps to Writing Emotion
In that poetry class, I learned about the two steps to writing emotion that's almost too painful to look at.  For many writers, the thoughts come first.  They are the best we can do, because everything is so raw.  I was putting on paper my attempt at clarifying what Jan meant to me and what it felt like for her to disappear.

Once these thoughts were explored, we began to look for images.  Our instructor was wise in this, letting us take as much time as we needed.  The images are acute.  They are powerful.  They can be too much at first.  I brainstormed a list of images about Jan--her quilts, her slightly funky outfits, her hats, and the cane, which didn't fit any of the above.  My instructor suggested I focus on this out-of-place image, see if it would reveal more to me about my feelings for Jan and her passing.

I began to describe that last lunch at the Good Earth.  With my instructor's prompting, I recalled the sensory details of that hour with Jan.  Not what I felt but what I saw, heard, smelled; the atmosphere around us on that rainy afternoon.  I described the light glinting off the top of the cane's silver knob.  The scarf covering Jan's bald head, stripped of its luxurious dark hair because of her ongoing chemo treatments.  Equally luxuriant salads in front of us, and how she hardly ate any of hers.  What I remember her saying and what I didn't hear her say (she knew about the cancer's spread).

My poem was eventually published in a literary journal.  You can read it here, if you want:  Elegy to Opposites.  I was really happy to publish it, because I felt it captured--finally!--what I wanted to say about the complex relationship.

What are you trying to say in your writing, in your book chapters?  Are they capturing the emotion and meaning you really want to present on the page?  If you'd like to take that one level deeper, try this exercise.

This Week's Writing Exercise
1.  Think about something that happened to you, a profound event in your life.  A turning point.   
2.  Begin a brainstorming list of thoughts and feelings about it.  List 10-20 items.
3.  Now switch to images.  What images come to mind when you think about this time?  List as many as you can.  Images, remember, are not thoughts or feelings.  They are connected with one of the five senses:  sight, sound, taste, touch, smell.
4.  If you'd like, pick one and begin a poem.  It can be short or long, but try to write the feelings and thoughts via the image you've chosen, rather than the other way around.

Starting a Law Firm | One Year Anniversary

If you look in the archives, you will quickly see that this isn't the one year anniversary of this blog. It's actually the one year anniversary of me starting a law firm. On June 1 last year my doors officially opened for business. And I must say, it's been a wild ride, both legally and from a business standpoint.

I meant to write this post on the first of June, but was sidetracked by some work. Another important date is right around June 1 for me, my birthday. And this one just happened to be my 30th, so it was extra special. After partying all weekend with my wife and parents, I had some catching up to do. So, sorry (to me when I look back on this and this post isn't on the first), but I know you'll forgive me.

Because this is such a special post, I thought I'd give you two great pieces of information if you are thinking of starting a law firm. First, I'm going to give you ten things I wish I'd known before starting my law firm. Second, and this might be the most helpful information I've ever provided here, I'm going to give you a month by month breakdown of what I earned.

These are only going to be gross numbers because it would take me too long to figure my expenses month by month, but I will tell you at least half of every month, no matter how much I made, went toward expenses of some sort. I think it's extremely important to put as much money back into your business as you take out, particularly in the beginning. So that's what I did.

Ten Things I Wish I'd Known Before Starting a Law Firm

1. You Must Have a Plan To Get Clients

I've said this before, but if you don't have clients, you don't eat. All of your plans to get clients might not work, but if you expect the phone to start magically ringing you are going to be sorely disappointed.

2. Your Marketing Plan Shouldn't Include "Networking" Events

This might only apply to me, because I can see how some networking events could be beneficial to other practice areas, but what I usually see at networking events is a bunch of people that don't have any work or clients looking for work and clients.

Don't get me wrong, I still go to these things, but when I do it I try to meet people that I can send work too. That is how referral relationships are formed. You have to give before you get. And if someone gives to you, no matter what it is, find a way to give back. Just trust me on this one.

3. Don't Let Your Perceived Weaknesses Manifest Themselves

I need to explain this one. Ever hear of a self-fulfilling prophesy? It's like when you think something (usually bad) is going to happen and then magically it does. And psychologists have found that in some subconscious way people tend to make these things happen by seeing only the things that promote that final outcome.

For example, I have a young face. When I first started meeting clients and seeing people, I was always worried they wouldn't want to hire me because I looked young. And guess what? People didn't hire me, and a lot of the times it was because of a perceived inexperience. But, in the end, it wasn't really about my looks at all. My worries about it manifested themselves in my giving the sense to people that I wasn't comfortable with what I was saying. Don't do that.

4. When You Get Scared, Work Harder

I'm not going to lie, every once in a while a little doubt creeps in my mind. What if no one calls? What if I can't pay my rent? What if I lose a motion?

Some people, when this happens, let the anxiety paralyze them. The successful people in life use this as a motivation to work that much harder to make those feelings go away. Don't let that fear of failure own you. 99% of your fears are in your mind.

5. But Don't Bury Your Head in the Sand

Some ideas you have, particularly for marketing, just aren't going to work. Think adsense for lawyers and really most paid online advertising for attorneys. Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't try these for yourself. On the contrary, I think you owe it to yourself to try them - what if they work?

With that being said, though, after about 3 months or so you are going to know if you are getting your money's worth (and this doesn't mean making you rich, it means at least paying for the service and getting to put something in your pocket). If it doesn't, get out and try something else.

6. If You Want to Be Successful, You Are Going to Be Uncomfortable

Almost all of the things you do during the first year of owning your law firm you will be doing for the first time. It's going to feel strange, and not good strange. But you have to press on and do it. Here's a short list of some of the things I did:

Opened a stand in a farmer's market offering free legal advice;

Gave presentations to fraternities on how to survive a police encounter;

Went to several attorney events not knowing a single person in the room;

Gave a presentation on blogging as a form of marketing; and

Just generally threw myself out there at every opportunity.

7. You Can Be Fancy When You're Rich

Where a lot of people get in trouble out of the gates is spending too much money on things they don't really need. When you start your law firm think lean and mean. After a year I still don't have any administrative help. It sucks sometimes, but it saves me a lot of money.

While you've got a lot of extra time, spend it. When you've got a lot of extra money, spend it.

8. Keep Control of Your Calendar

I'll be honest with you. This year, on two occasions, I missed court dates. They just didn't get calendered. Thankfully nothing bad happened because of that. I was able to show up late and take care of what I needed to take care of, but it's not a good feeling. Put in place a system so that you can rest easy at night knowing you know everything you need to do for at least the next two weeks.

9. Read Less, Do More

I don't know about you, but I love the idea of being a business owner. That means I love thinking about ways to improve and grow my business, and I love hearing from other people what it takes to have a successful business. But at some point you have to stop reading the blogs and books (except for this one!) and put foot to pavement, as they say.

It's so easy today, with the internet and all the other stuff going on, to get sidetracked. It's okay every once in a while. Do it every day and you're going to be broke.

10. This Isn't For Everyone

I think it's just my mindset, but starting this law firm hasn't been hard for me. Sure, the work has been hard. The commitment has been hard. And the tight money has been hard. But I haven't for once thought I should have done something else or I made the wrong decision. I never thought that anyone couldn't do this.

But not everyone can do this. Some people just don't like the risk. And that's okay. But, if you are thinking about starting your own law firm just because you can't find a job and you think that's the only thing left, make sure you aren't just wasting your own time. It's not hard to start a successful law firm, but it's not easy either. You have to want it.

Let me put it to you this way. You ever meet a professional athlete? I'm sure you've seen one on television. When they are playing their sport they look amazing. They do things you could never dream of doing. And the reason they are as good as they are is because they have worked as hard as they can at that for their entire lives. They've sacrificed time away from doing fun things to go to that tournament, missed prom, and put in countless hours of time perfecting their craft. This firm is your craft. If you want it to be good you've got to put in the work. You've got to be passionate about it.

Okay, done with the top ten, now what you've all probably been waiting for (and why most of you probably just scrolled to the bottom of the page), my first year law firm gross revenues:

June, 2009: $0.00

July, 2009: $200.00

August, 2009: $2,661.67

September, 2009: $4,032.21

October, 2009: $4,321.47

November, 2009: $6,013.20

December, 2009: $4,914.29

January, 2010: $6,810.00

February, 2010: $6,479.39

March, 2010: $8,015.79

April, 2010: $5,560.20

May, 2010: $9.148.79

I think these numbers provide a telling story. First, have a little bit in the tank when you first start out, because it's probably going to be slow. Second, you can start making at least some money fairly quickly. Third, your income is probably going to fluctuate pretty wildly for a pretty long time (this is why you keep expenses low). And fourth, it is possible to do this.

So, here's to a great first year. See you next week.

Use alcohol as a plot device

I wandered into the kitchen and waved my hand uselessly at the cupboard with the painkillers in.

‘Morning, champ,’ said Pete. I turned to face him and my brains swilled in my head like unset jelly.

‘What are you... here... for?’ I managed.

‘Slept on the sofa, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘Thought I’d better make sure you got home okay, what with you picking that fight with the Mafia boss and everything.’

‘Wha?’ I mumbled.

‘And you stumbled upon a dossier of top-secret government files, and drunk-dialled your boss and quit your job, and acted on the long-standing sexual tension between you and Julie from accounts.’

‘In a good way?’ I asked, trying to guide a glass of water to my mouth. Pete shook his head. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I feel awful and I don’t remember anything.’

‘Yup,’ said Pete. ‘But on the upside, you initiated a few promising narrative strands which would otherwise have seemed completely unrealistic.’

Mismatch dialogue and action

‘You put all our lives in danger and for what?’ yelled Kali, tying her shoelaces. Claus stopped and looked at her.

‘Me? You think this is my fault? You’re the one who told them where we were. You might as well have waved a big target over our heads,’ he shouted, running his hand through his hair and grinning.

‘Guys, calm down,’ said Louis, clenching his fists and turning red in the face. ‘It’s no one’s fault. We’ve just got to work as a team.’ Kali wheeled round to face him.

‘Claus, can you tell Louis to shut his face before I shut it for him?’ she hissed, finishing her sudoku puzzle.

Writing Outside Your Story: Using Short Self-Assignments When You Don't Have Anything to Write About

I first learned about short self-assignments from Natalie Goldberg's well-known Writing Down the Bones.  Goldberg introduced the concept of "freewriting" to us with that book, and many writers discovered new energy to sail past writing stall-outs by giving themselves freedom to write small, short, and random.

Working on a book project often brings me a sense of being so overwhelmed, I can't think of anything to write about.  I make brainstorming lists of topics, and this helps.  But sometimes I have to write outside my story, just to get the momentum going again.

Short self-assignments help tremendously.

In her book, Thunder and Lightning, Goldberg told the story of a time when she and a friend were stuck, unhappy, and unable to think of how to move forward creatively.  They tried talking.  They tried taking a hike.  But nothing worked until they both sat down and did a timed writing session.  As I remember the anecdote, they picked a topic outside their current writing projects, something that had less importance or weight, and this freed up the stuckness.


I'm reaching a marker this week, finishing the edits on Act 2 of my novel-in-progress, Breathing Room.  It's the sequel to Qualities of Light, which was published in October, and it's a much more complicated story with three main characters, three main points of view.  Last week my breakthrough on Breathing Room came when I reversed something in the plot.  Instead of Kate, the mother, having a car accident, I gave it to Molly, the daughter.  By reversing one plot point, it gave huge momentum.

This week I got stuck again.  It's become a normal process to work my way out of being stuck in this story.  The reversing technique of last week didn't work.  So I searched for something new.

When the Story Becomes Too Important, Write "Outside" of It
I realized I was overwhelmed with the importance of this section of the book.  It is the second major turning point, if you follow the three-act structure, and the plot responsibility felt enormous.  I found myself with nothing to write about.

So I went outside my story.

I gave myself a short self-assignment, using a list of random words.  Typical Writing Down the Bones approach:  set a kitchen timer for 20 minutes, let myself blah, blah on paper without worrying about quality or quantity.

These little tricks really do work.  Midway through, I came upon an idea.  It was a small idea, not really big enough for this moment in my book, but it intrigued me.  So I took a walk and thought about it.  That evening I was looking at the field behind our house, where the farmer just hayed, and the hay bales were these huge rolls, looking like a Claude Monet painting in the late evening sun.  Somehow the image of that field juiced my little idea and I sat and wrote for two hours, finishing my chapters.

A miracle.  Want one for yourself? 

This Week's Writing Exercise
1.  Pick one of the following words:

red
lamp
wicker
sparrow
gutter
fingernail
bottle
rusty nail

2.  Set a kitchen timer for 20 minutes.  Write anything that comes, using the word as a trigger.  Don't think about your book. 

3.  Put the writing aside and take a walk.  Let the scenery around you bring something to your imagination.

4.  When you get home, set the timer for 20 minutes again.  Go back to a stuck place in your story.  Bring what you've just experienced to the page.