TwitterFEST and well, Twitter.

As suggested, I waited until 1.59pm yesterday before giving the kids the one hour of TV I limit them to when we're home. Then I grabbed my coffee and parked in front of the monitor for some serious tweeting.

The topic was how is Twitter helping writers? and I have a lot to say.

You see, I was tentative when I first signed up (it's my Twitter-birthday on Tuesday, woot). I'm not generally too tech-savvy and always worry I won't be able to figure things out. Including (read especially) the simple things. Being married to a computer-nerd has done nothing to help in this regard either, as when something goes wrong, I call out and he fixes it (because men like to fix things).

I recall a conversation I had with a friend ages before I signed up, where she insisted Twitter was the new facebook, or even better than facebook. Twitter was going to make facebook obsolete. Redundant. She couldn't understand why anyone would not want to be on there. Her feelings haven't changed much, as she's responsible for the inclusion of TwitterFEST in this year's EWF program.

Joining in a TwitterFEST discussion can feel awkward. I mean, what do you say first? Something of your own, reply to something someone else said, answer a question, maybe even retweet? Tweeps were doing any and all of these things, and my opener was to share something a friend (who I meet through Twitter, but is now also an IRL friend) once said to me. She likes Twitter because, by laughing with editors and publishers about things like what damage their cats had caused while home alone for five minutes, she was able to take them off their pedestals and imagine them as real people. It made them approachable and gave her confidence to take the next steps as a writer she needed to take (of course I said all this in just 140 characters yesterday).

Others agreed. A lot of tweeps also like the way Twitter encourages them to write in new ways, new styles that suit the medium. Like Twitter novels and Twitterfiction (which will be covered in an NMIT Professional Writing and Editing unit next semester). Some tweeps talked about works that were the result of collaborations formed through Twitter, some no doubt with tweeps who've not met IRL. And of course many like the way writing to a 140 character limit helped them refine their own writing.

Of course Twitter is a great platform for networking and hence, developing a potential audience. Although many writers don't seem to 'get' how this works (not the ones in yesterday's TwitterFEST). To use Twitter like this, you can't just log on and tweet details of your latest blog post, upcoming events/appearances/performances and/or the next title you're about to release. Sure, friends and family members who'll be interested in these things are going to take note. But no-one else. If you want other followers to care, you'll have to engage with them. In discussion. In conversation. In reports of what their cat did to the shower curtain while they ducked out for a litre of milk. Whatever. It doesn't matter what you engage in, and once the initial excitement of the 24/7 party that is Twitter has died off a little, be sure to set yourself some limits if you don't want it to eat away all your spare time. And make sure every update isn't a whinge.

But Twitter has meant more to me than any or even all of these things in the time I've been here. By this time last year, I'd spent five or so years trying to talk myself into writing non-fiction. I'd had a reasonable number of short stories published in various journals and my own collection released, I'd taken on poetry, I'd taught creative writing in a TAFE environment and after enough essays to earn me two degrees, you'd think I'd be able to do it in my sleep.

And so I'd try to convince myself every few months when it bugged me that it wasn't something I did. It bugged me that I lacked confidence and unlike my efforts when I sit to write fiction, every time I'd start something, I'd slam it down within half an hour, go make another cup of coffee and hide my 'effort' where it wouldn't remind me of my failings while I got on with something else.

But thanks to Twitter, I'm over it. Twitter helped in several ways.

For one, I use Twitter (and this blog at times) to keep me accountable. With Twitter, it can all happen so quickly. I can tweet that I'm going to write something before my brain works out what I'm saying and then I'm committed. I have to write it. Often this happens in an informal way, like I might say I'm going to spend 2 hours in the library writing. But once, maybe more, but once was enough, I told an editor of a parenting magazine that I was going to write a piece for her magazine.

A few weeks went by before I felt enough pressure to actually do it, but eventually I knew I had to write something. So I did.

When I sent it to her, she loved it so much she asked if she could forward it to the national publication. Who pay. To cut a long story short, they accepted it and the next morning I wrote another piece and now there'll be no stopping me. Sure, by this time I'd also been writing a few other bits of non-fiction with some success, but Twitter definitely played a major role.

There are other ways I find Twitter to be helpful for my writing too. It can help me work out what I should focus my writing on at various times, give me feedback on what parenting issues might be worth an article, and I'm part of a new writing group that formed through Twitter. Which was exactly what I needed to make me write more fiction, after non-fiction started to take up my few writing moments.

How has Twitter helped you?
or
What's stopping you signing up?

2009 in words

I set writing goals every year and while I usually go crazy about now trying to find them, I won't bother this year. I don't remember exactly what they were, but I remember the general gist and know I did not achieve them. Not exactly, and for that, I am celebrating. Kind of.

Not celebrating because I didn't achieve them, but because I took off in different directions. Directions I might not have had the foresight to plan so far in advance. And hence never set goals for.

This year, I achieved so much more than whatever that list of goals might suggest I'd aimed for.

I had pieces in the publications pictured, as well as other journals, including of course, my first audio poem 'Solitaire' in the recent Cordite 31.0: EPIC.

On the topic of firsts, my pieces in The Reader and an earlier issue of Victorian Writer were sort of my first non-fiction pieces. (This is not technically true, but as far as intentions go, first.) I'd always been too afraid to set goals for writing non-fiction, so this is one major achievement, and I hope to continue. Actually, I have another non-fiction piece coming out in a February publication. It's fair to say that old fear has found a new home.

Another first was as a feature poet, at the fortnightly Passionate Tongues gig in Brunswick. Special thanks to convenor, Michael Reynolds for inviting me. This, as well as a decision to get to more poetry nights, helped spark an interest in writing for the stage. I attended several regular gigs for the first time, generally performing in the open section, and ended up recording my poems for the first time. I slammed for the first time, and recited/performed without paper for the first time. I have three feature spots lines up for 2010, and will be sure to let you know more about them closer to the time.

I was involved in a few festivals, including the Newstead Short Story Tattoo, the Emerging Writers' Festival, and spoke about page seventeen at the Melbourne Writers' Festival as part of the SPUNC Spectacular. I attended other festivals and came away inspired. I also went to author talks at local libraries, and too many book launches to count.

I wrote 50,000 words of a novel during National Novel Writing Month and met new writers at an organised write-in.

I wrote a couple of guest posts for the SPUNC blog, SPLOG. I also wrote my first blurb, for a book due in early 2010.

I may have done more, that I can't recall right now. Not all of these things were firsts, but there are quite a few. And this is why I'm not interested in finding that list of 2009 goals. Many of these achievements were not planned for, but I went with the flow. If I find that list, it will be hard to not focus on the things I didn't achieve, and Blind Freddy could see I've had a year to be proud of. And I am.

I'm also a little tentative about setting my 2010 goals, as it's impossible to imagine at this stage that I could top this year as far as writing achievements go. Not that I'll let myself get caught up in worrying about that. One thing I do know about goal-setting for 2010 though, is that I'm not going to make one long list of goals for the 12 month period. Too much can change in that time. Instead, I'll be making a 6 month list, or maybe a 3 month list, or maybe, being a list person, a list that's a combination of all of the above.

I'll let even that idea stew in the back of my brain until it's time to actually make said list, sometime in the first days of January.

I'd love to hear about your 2009 successes and hope you can focus on those instead of the things you might not have done. And, of course, I hope you have a lovely Christmas.

First draft, now what?

It's a little hard to think about 2010 already, but if I let myself for just a second, I know that January 12 is not far away. But before I soak back into November, I just want to let you know that I'm running a workshop on Tuesday January 12 at the Victorian Writers' Centre called 'First draft, now what?'

It's a redrafting workshop for 'introductory and intermediate' writers, and if you're interested in knowing more, follow the link above.

One lucky workshop participant will have the opportunity to be published in Issue 8 of page seventeen, due in November 2010. If you're thinking of coming along, don't overstress about the piece you bring on the day to share though, because this won't be the basis of my decision as to whose work we publish. But it is exciting, and just one more way we can find new writers whose work we can feature.