Skip to main content

Indispensable Tools for Writers

Every writer has a few tools that make writing easier or, sometimes, possible altogether.  Aside from the obvious "paper and pen" or "laptop" tools, my indispensable tools are as follows:

1) Purple pen.  I love editing with a purple pen.  I'll use light blue and pink when necessary, but for some reason it's always been purple.  I'm picky on the ink flow, though.  My current one is a little stingy.

2) French press.  Something about the ritual of coffee making gives me the break I need from the page more than the actual act of drinking coffee.  Not that the caffeine doesn't help, too.  (Hint: Add a sprinkle of good cinnamon or a drop of vanilla extract to the beans pre-brew.)

3) Giant Blue Notebook.  Everyone needs someplace to jot down ideas and make a big inky mess, right?

4) List pad.  I tend to remember that I need to buy eggs or mail the mortgage payment right before digging into writing the Scene of the Day.  There are two choices unless I want to forget: Go to the store and send the check immediately, or write it down.  Writing it down means getting my work for the day done.  Plus my notepad looks pretty on my desk.

5) Baby swing.  I don't use this personally.  That would be strange and, frankly, difficult, as I think I weigh about seven times the limit for these things.  However, the swing buys me a good hour of time from the cranky baby.  On non-cranky days the Moby wrap is my indispensable tool, but the trouble with the Moby is I feel so mobile that suddenly I'm in the kitchen making soup instead of writing with no memory of how I got there or decided to start chopping onion, so it's sort of bad, in the end, for writing.

What are your writer's tools of the trade?


Comments

  1. I'm so sorry I missed your announcement about the baby being born. Congratulations!!

    I hope you're both doing well.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In Which I Finally Get to Say: Orbit is Publishing My Book!

I realize I’ve been a little quiet around here recently.  Moms of toddlers will tell you that it’s when things get quiet in their houses that they know *something* is happening.  With toddlers, silent happenings are usually not a good thing.  In writing? They can be a really awesome thing.
Long story short (when does that ever happen writing novels?): I’m incredibly excited to announce that Orbit will be publishing my novel Torn in spring of 2018—and even more exciting, we’ll be publishing a trilogy! The story follows a seamstress who can embed good luck charms into her creations--and becomes entangled in a revolution.
Obligatory Publisher's Marketplace screenshot--because this little blurb means this is super-duper, 100%, don't bother pinching me official!


Long story less short: Want to have the most exciting day of your career and then sit on the news for months? Then writing and publishing books is for you!  This has been in the works for a while, and though I’ve known for…

In Which the Writer Fills Out a Form

I've been writing for years.  Even if I only count the years of "this is getting sorta serious, aiming for publication," it's been a long time.  In that time--about a decade--I never identified myself publicly as a writer.

I thought of myself that way--if I had to pick a few words that make up my personal self-portrait, "writer" would be one of them.  But I didn't introduce myself that way to other people, or talk about it on Facebook or in those polite small-talk conversations at parties. Some close friends knew that I wrote steadily; a few knew where I was in the long, circling road to publication.  I suppose, if you cornered me, I didn't feel like I'd earned that moniker--I hadn't sold a book, I couldn't claim it as a profession, I wasn't "really" a writer in a way that the world at large would understand.

Which is fine--this isn't one of those empowering posts about owning who you are and claiming the name "Wri…

Still Smells Like Pine Needles Around Here...

So there's this scene in It's a Wonderful Life where Jimmy Stewart's George Bailey walks into his future wife Mary Hatch's house, awkwardly shambles through the foyer, nervously handles his hat, and remarks "I see it still smells like pine needles around here."

And this is what I'm feeling right about now.  See, George Bailey is *supposed* to be with Mary.  We just know it.  We know he has a purpose and that something bigger than him has vision that he can't even see.  But he's fought against it and tried a dozen other things and so when he's finally where he's supposed to be...well, I guess it still smells like pine needles or whatever.


Because if I'm George Bailey, writing is my Mary Hatch and it's been a long time since I've visited her.  I've been noncommittal and crappy to her.  Her mom is very justified in wondering why she doesn't just ditch me for Sam Wainwright.

I'm not fighting against anything, but I am …