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Ksenia Anske

May 25, 2013

What Twitter taught me about writing

by Ksenia Anske


Photo by Phillip Schumacher​

Photo by Phillip Schumacher​

Photo by Phillip Schumacher​

Photo by Phillip Schumacher​

Today is the day when I typically blog (I usually I publish new posts on Wednesdays and Saturdays) and by Rachael's request, one of my Twitter followers, it shall be about what Twitter taught me about writing, and Twitter taught me a lot. If you're a writer and are not on Twitter yet, you should consider joining. The community of writers there is amazing, and it's by far the perfect medium that I found to express myself daily, hourly, heck, even minute by minute, to sharpen my language. Here is what it did for me:

My book is not published yet, and I already have a reader base. Perhaps the biggest thing that I learned from being on Twitter is that people actually like my writing and want to read it. Seriously. When I started out, I didn't think anybody would care. I had my Twitter account set up a while ago, in January of 2010, but only started actively tweeting about writing when I quit my career in May of 2012 to write full time. I began with 2,000 followers in May of last year and am over 50,000 followers now (I blogged about how I got to this number here.) At first I timidly did what other writers do, posting links to smart articles, tweeting smart sounding thoughts of other people, and in general being very serious. In time, I noticed what other writers do, like Maureen Johnson, for example. I saw that she is being herself and is completely goofing off. So I tried to tweet what I really thought, what came into my head. It got retweeted. I tweeted some more. It got retweeted some more. Slowly, I gained confidence in the fact that people actually like what I write, and like what I tweet, where as before I thought it was a bunch of nonsense in my head. In short, tweeting my real thoughts on writing, my real pains and aches and triumphs and victories gave me enormous confidence as a writer. It taught me that my writing gets better the more I write, or, in this case, the more I tweet (you can see instant feedback based on the number of favorites or retweets).

My beta readers have helped me shape my novel.​ This is directly tied to me tweeting my writing progress, my daily tribulations, my wrestling with my own inner demons and continuing to write no matter what. When my drafts were complete, simply because I have, unknowingly, built up anticipation, there were always many eager people to Beta Read my drafts, and their feedback helped me enormously. Those were people who were complete strangers, apart from our interactions on Twitter, and therefore they were very honest in their feedback, both positive and negative. It helped me grow as a writer, it also taught me that it's absolutely okay to write utter shit, as long as I continued writing every day, because of this collective community experience, where people have already done what I was doing, namely, writing their 1st novel. If you ask me, Twitter is way better than any writer's group. It's instant, it always perfectly fits into your schedule, and it's candid. There is none of this sugaring over that you don't need. In short, my twitter followers taught me that it's okay to fail.

I learned to tell a story in 140 characters.​ This is probably my favorite take-away from Twitter. Often I would want to write a whole paragraph, to express a particular thought, but I couldn't! 140 characters only can hold so many words, so I would edit, and think, and edit some more, and think some more, and then finally come up with the same thing I wanted to say, but in very few words. You know what this is called? It's called, gold. Because when I started doing rewrites of my drafts and editing, oh, this came in handy big time. I would see same long paragraphs in my writing and suddenly I knew how to trim them, simply because I had daily practice on Twitter. This taught me concise thinking, and soon much shorter sentences started automatically come into my head when I write, all from the practice of daily tweeting.

I'm not the only one who doubts, Neil Gaiman doubts too.​ It's one thing to be all afraid because you're a rookie and a nobody like me, it's completely another thing to have doubts when you're Neil Gaiman. And reading Neil's tweets, his doubts, his fears about his new book coming out and what people will think about it gives me liberty to be okay with my doubts. We, artists, always doubt out art, and it's okay. The most important thing is to keep creating art and keep sharing it, and in this sense Twitter taught me courage. Slowly, timidly, I came out of my shell and opened up. This feeling is incredible, it enables me to write on the days when I don't want to write, when I horrible, and lonely, and scared, and think that my writing is shit and nobody will ever want to read it. What else can a writer ask for? Twitter is like my daily muse, it never quits, it always prods me, and it keeps me going.

TAGS: Twitter, social media, writing, inspiration, courage


August 5, 2012

Where to find the courage to write

by Ksenia Anske


Ksenia Anske diaries.jpeg
Ksenia Anske diaries.jpeg

If you think I know what I'm doing, you're wrong. I have no clue. I read books about writing books, I take advice, and I charge forward before getting scared. It took me 20 years to find it, the courage to write. From writing diaries at 15, to sprinkling my college years with short stories and poems, to doodling screenplays, to blogging; this year I finally publicly admitted that it's what I've always wanted to do. To write a book. A thick heavy book. Pour my pain onto paper, hold it, feel its weight, and then, perhaps, burn it or throw it into the bushes (if it's no good). Then move on to the next, and the next, until it's good enough. How I dared to do this, I'm not sure. The fact that I write makes me want to run and hide under my bed. Every day I battle anxiety over not being perfect, and every day something happens that gently prods me forward. Simple moments that give me the courage. I know you'll probably laugh, but here they are.

When I feel retarded. It happens often. When I'm at some party (or, much worse, at work) trying to explain a certain emotion that has been consuming me for the past week, jumping up and down and waving my arms around or sulking and almost crying. Taking in blank faces that say "Huh?", feeling like a complete idiot, unable to communicate. I bottle it up and later it bursts onto paper. This feeling of complete idiocy pisses me off enough to make me want to write - to try and get it across.

During cheesy moments of joy. When overwhelmed with the cuteness factor of a kitten or an impossibly long kiss or a non-stop exchange of I-love-you and I-love-you-too or spotting of a wild edible berry (because I grew up eating things off the street). It want to tell the world about this all, but it comes out akin to pink unicorns bred under double rainbows and sprinkled with sugar on top. Cheesy. I can't stand it, so I do the same thing - sit down and try to articuate it in words that don't stink.

After a good hearty cry. And I cry a lot. Over books, over movies, over my own thoughts. Over reading Chuck Palahniuk's long beautiful sentences. I go dark, deep into my head. I space out, because I don't think I can communicate this pain over somebody's pain over somebody's pain (it's the reason I don't read news, because I'd cry buckets first and then attempt to save the world). I bottle it up, again, but more comes in. I bottle it up, deeper. After a few days, it wants out, and I find myself writing again. A box of tissues at the ready.

While reading something genius. I tend to exclaim loudly "OMG!" while reading a book, to a surprise of those close by. They wonder what happened, and I stumble in a flood of words, trying to articulate how this paticular author has just blown me away with a choice of words or a plot twist or deep dialogue or a long twisted sentence or a short untwisted sentence. It usually comes out as rubbish, and those close by raise their eye brows and get back to what they were doing. And I hold it and hold it until I make it to my writing time, and then attempt to copy, to try to do the same. That's when I forget I'm afraid to write - because the inspiration is stronger. 

If I get praise. On my writing. If someone tells me they liked something in particular. I want to fly. I want to write more. I tell that someone - no, no, it can't be good, I know it's bad, you're biased because you know me, of course it's not THAT good. But, secretly, I soar, and I hope for more. Secretly, I edge towards that someone next time around and casually try to start a conversation about my writing again. What else did you like? Anything? And I'm so needy, so very needy, but on the surface I don't show it. I sit down and write more - to hopefully please that someone again.

There. Those are my moments where I find the courage to write. What are yours?

TAGS: courage, courage to write, fear, novel, on writing