community

Last week I wrote about the importance of showing up, whether that means showing up at your writing desk or in-person at a workshop, conference, or book festival. In retrospect, I fear I may have sounded a bit glib.

As I’ve developed my blog over the past several years, a few recurring themes have emerged. Authenticity and being true to oneself is a subject I return to again and again. Sharing the occasional struggle or setback is another. Social media is rife with “content creators” publishing pretend pranks, rehearsed ad libs, and heavily edited – and ultimately fake – lives. You don’t need more bullshit from me.

I want to speak with confidence, share information intelligently, and celebrate my successes, without ever forgetting there’s a man behind the curtain putting on a face. When it came to sharing my writing journey, I promised I wouldn’t pretend. I would talk about my wins and what I learned, but also admit what I didn’t know or struggled with, and confess when I blew it. So in the interest of full disclosure:

Showing up is simple, but it is not always easy.

Creative people, including writers – especially writers, in my experience – have anxiety around their work. We put not only our time but pieces of ourselves into our stories and when one is judged, the other feels it. Many of us are naturally introverted, so approaching people can be difficult. Put those together and we can become paralyzed.

Yes, I showed up last year, and that was simple, but not easy for me. Let’s take a look at what was going on in my head:

I hadn’t published enough. I hadn’t finished my novel-in-progress, which I started after I hit a roadblock on the last project and by the way, I was about to hit a roadblock in the current WIP, which would push the finishing line out a few months at least. People like doers, not talkers. I wasn’t far enough along on my career. I’m a very late starter and should be on Act 3 or 4 of my writing career by now, not trying to get Act 1 together. I’m sure everyone else already has plenty of writer friends and colleagues, critique groups, and networking opportunities, so they wouldn’t have interest or room for one more. And what did I have to offer anyway?

It gets worse, believe me. But I knew that if I were to accomplish anything, if I were to create the writing life I believed in, something had to change.

“Fear is the mind-killer.” Dune, Frank Herbert

Step 1 is to silence these critical voices. Some people use the power of positive thinking. Some can bully their voices into submission. I let them run wild until they tucker themselves out, then make plans while they have a little nap.

During one of those quiet moments, I started with something I thought would be easy. I asked friends who write to hang out and write. Other than asking my drinking friends if they’d like to get together for a drink, I can’t think of an invitation with lower stakes. Low risk of rejection, low level of commitment, almost no fallout if the plan doesn’t come together.

I had some anxiety about Jane Friedman’s Business of Writing workshop. I’m a sturdy wallflower but ironically do better in large groups where I can fade into the background and enjoy a good, old-fashioned watching. With limited seats (12, I believe), there would be very little opportunity to hide in the back row. I might have to actually talk to someone. But I remembered I had done worse for my job and for something not remotely meaningful. If I could gladhand a horde of DC attorneys and federal government bigwigs at my company’s annual conference, I could handle a few writers around a circle of foldout tables in a barn.

When the opportunity came to ask some of those writers if they’d like to keep in touch, I still had to overcome that fear – see above – but importantly, I had already done two new things, so the third was not as scary. In fact, the point of doing the first two things was to create an environment where this opportunity might arise. Not taking action here would have undercut what I was trying to accomplish. Even then, I came very close to not pulling out that yellow note pad.

As I debated, I eventually asked myself what was the worst that could happen? They weren’t going to laugh at me or chase me to my car. Even if only one or two people had signed up, I would have called that success. Honestly, that would have been a massive win for me. If no one had been interested, I would have gone home, let the voices have their say, and added to cart until I felt better. Then I would have regrouped and started looking for the next opportunity.

All that to say, I do encourage you to show up, wherever you need to. If – like me – you find this difficult, look for ways to make it easier on yourself. Start small, with people you know. Look for places where you might meet other writers who need what you’re looking for. Ask questions: Where did you meet ______ and How did you ______?  Humans love sharing their success stories and you should definitely steal their ideas.

If you hit some roadblocks, take some time to get over yourself and try again. To paraphrase, if someone doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, shake the dust off your feet and move on.

Every writer you love – from self-published to celebrity – has had this challenge, but somewhere along the way, they decided that their fear of not taking the next step was greater than their fear of taking it. If it’s hard for you, I totally get it.

But if a neurotic dork like me can do it, you can too.

Know anyone who’d like my blog? Please forward today’s post! I’d love to hear from them. Need more content? Join my mailing list!

Writers and other creative people struggle with various aspects of the process, but as I watch them interact online and in my real world, I find that many flounder because they fail to master the most important skill: Showing up.

I’ve had this problem, including periods when I didn’t write at all, even though I claimed to want to. In all the years I wanted to make writer friends and build my little community, there were plenty of meetups I missed, conferences I skipped, opportunities blown. I had my excuses, but what mattered is that I didn’t show up.

Last year, I showed up – on my weekly Zoom sessions with my writer friends, at Jane Friedman’s workshop and AI talk, at the picnic table where a bunch of writers gathered to eat and chat, at Balticon where I met a few other writers and invited one to join the networking group, and at the monthly networking meetings. That sounds like a lot of steps, but all I did was say yes.

I almost bailed on every one of those choices, but I’m glad I stayed at the picnic table to pass around the yellow pad. A small thing, passing around a yellow pad, but it made a big difference in my world.

This year, I commit to saying yes more often. I say yes to making incremental progress on my WIP, to sharing info with my writer friends, to going places where other writers hang out, to talking about writing and creativity, and putting myself and my work out into the world. I commit to saying yes to improving my craft, by reading good craft advice, rewriting even when it’s a struggle, and asking for critiques.

The ride will not be perfect and I don’t know what I’ll find at the end, but I say yes to the possibility that I can be more. Life will get in the way, but I say yes to getting back on track as quickly as possible. I say yes to changing what doesn’t work for me so I can focus on what’s important to my creative health and fulfillment.

If you’re reading this, chances are that you are already showing up. Is there something else you’d like to accomplish? Are you holding back from showing up someplace new?

What are you saying yes to this year? Where will you show up?

Know anyone who’d like my blog? Please forward today’s post! I’d love to hear from them.

Need more content? Join my mailing list!

A bit quiet on the blog front this month as I needed to prep two presentations for the Manor Mill Writers Retreat. I meant to blog a bit after the event, but I needed a bit of downtime. I also ended the day feeling energized to work on my creative writing, which I did, and I set aside some time to beta read and provide feedback on a novel from one of the writers in my network. So that was my November.

The retreat was fantastic – excellent planning and attention to detail, lovely hosts, a great lineup of interesting and informative speakers, and most importantly, high quality snacks.

I took exactly two photos.

Susan Reslewic Keatley spoke on The Art of the Interview: How to Use a Conversation to Connect, Learn, and Shape a Story.

Rafael Alvarez spoke about his experience writing for the television shows HOMICIDE and THE WIRE, and how his passion for Baltimore shapes his work.

In fairness, I did speak on two panels in the afternoon. I have a healthy ego, but taking selfies during a presentation would have been a bit much even for me.

I was not expecting great attendance at either panel, and was a bit taken aback at the turnout for the Substack for Writers presentation. The room (seen in part above) was nearly full and attendees were engaged, asking questions straight out of the gate. I hope to see some of them online building their communities. Attendance for the discussion on how writers are using AI was a bit smaller, but still healthy. We had a good conversation about how we use AI – intentionally or unknowingly – and the ethical and creative quandaries that should be considered when engaging in generative AI.

I dread public speaking, but left the retreat feeling energized, connected, and deeply appreciative of the opportunity to share information. It’s gratifying to feel I have something to contribute. I’m looking forward to both participating and volunteering next year.

I’ll conclude here with a funny story that can now be told.

I have mentioned previously that I do not enjoy sitting for photographs. Even in elementary school photos, I smiled through clenched lips, flinching as though the click of the camera shutter would be accompanied by a hard knucklepunch on my upper arm. I have also noticed this tendency in photos of my siblings and the younger generation of my family. We’re happily ignorant until about 2nd grade and then photographs capture the moment reality starts to sink in. I haven’t gotten any more comfortable as an adult. When someone pulls out a camera, I tense up. My posture stiffens. I get a pinched look on my face. I do have a few photos of myself that I don’t hate and in every one of them, I’d been drinking. If you want me to act naturally, you need to provide alcohol.

This is why I commissioned artist friends to create portraits for my website and Substack. I don’t have to look at my actual face, but the images look enough like me that you’d probably recognize me if you see me in person. When the retreat organizers asked for a photo for the event website, I pointed them to my favorite of the drawings.

They weren’t thrilled with the idea – presumably because the drawing wouldn’t match the other writers’ headshots (If you’ve ever seen photos of Serious Authors, you know the type of glamour shot I mean. I would rather die.) They asked instead if I could provide a photo. Now, I’m an agreeable sort, so I dutifully sent a professional photo, taken at work a few years ago. I’m not a fan of the photos that came from that shoot, but I had cleaned up real nice and wore a tie and everything. These weren’t simple employee badge photos but actual studio-quality professional headshots for our website, and they were recent enough that I looked basically how I look. I had even smiled. Mission accomplished.

And they used the illustration instead.

I tried to warn them.

On Saturday, November 15, I’ll be joining a dozen other expert authors at the Manor Mill Writers Retreat, where we’ll discuss questions about craft, publishing, and platform. Local writers can expect a welcoming, casual environment and lively discussion with peers.

Where and When

Manor Mill is a newly restored historic grist mill and miller’s house in Monkton, Maryland, located in northern Baltimore County. This scenic setting has been repurposed into a creative hub for writers and artists, featuring classes, workshops, writers’ gatherings, theater and music performances, and a fine art gallery.

The Mill’s events for writers include a monthly write-in, poetry workshops, poetry and prose readings and open mic nights, songwriter meetups, and opportunities for playwrights to connect to the local theater community.

The 2^nd Annual Writers Retreat will be held on November 15, 2025, from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

What

I will be speaking on two panels.

DEMYSTIFYING AI: FRIEND, FOE…OR A FORCE YOU CAN USE?

AI: one can barely blink without hearing the term! Love it or fear it, artificial intelligence is here to stay—and whether or not you use AI tools directly, they’re likely influencing your daily life in surprising ways. Chances are you’re already interacting with it more than you realize.

From brainstorming and drafting to editing and publishing, artificial intelligence is quietly becoming part of the writing toolkit. In this conversation, editor and publisher Will Remains and novelist Katie Aiken Ritter will discuss things AI can do for you, including some practical examples and important ethical considerations.

BUILDING YOUR PLATFORM: SUBSTACK 101

Substack: you keep hearing about it, but what is it, really? This fast-growing platform blends blogging, newsletters, and podcasts, giving writers a simple, powerful way to share their work and connect with readers.

But is it right for you? Building an audience can feel daunting, especially with so many platforms competing for attention. Editor and publisher Will Remains and fantasy author Emily Parks will introduce you to Substack and walk you through the basics: creating a Substack account and profile, doing first posts, setting up an email newsletter, using graphics, and social connections. Grow your community!

Hope to see you there!

PS – I dropped a deadline last week. Did you miss me?

I don’t attend too many writers get-togethers. While it’s good for me to get out of the house and my head for a day, the cost-benefit doesn’t always work out for me. As with most work meetings, I leave with a strong feeling that the same information could have been communicated via email.

That said, this past Saturday I had the pleasure of attending Jane Friedman’s one-day intensive on building a platform, before or after you get a book deal. Regular readers will know I’m not hellbent on pursuing a traditional publishing deal, but I’m still keen on putting books in hands one day, and having a community of writers and readers who want to share advice, enthusiasm, encouragement, and conversation. The more the merrier.

Unlike most expert talks, this was not a one-sided conversation. Naturally, Jane brought her years of industry experience to the presentation, supported by the 2025 revised edition of her book, The Business of Being a Writer (and I’ll have more on that in an upcoming blog post). But her focus was squarely on the twelve writers in attendance.

Prior to the event, Jane asked us to submit links of our social media profiles, websites, newsletters, etc., ie: anything we used to reach an audience. During the day, as we discussed each topic, Jane also reviewed and commented on our actual IRL tools, pointing out what worked well, what could be added, and what might be communicating something we didn’t intend. I wasn’t expecting to have my homework graded in class, but the individual attention elevated the event. Rather than simply gathering information and being left to apply it on my own, I ended the day with greater insight into what I’m doing well and practical advice on what I can improve. It was as close to a one-on-one consult with an industry expert as a person could get.

If you have the opportunity to attend one of Jane’s talks – or better, one of her workshops – I highly encourage it. If you’re not following her blog, you can find it here. She shares publishing industry intel, trending news, and best practices for building a platform around your writing. Jane also invites guest bloggers to share excellent craft advice, so if you’re not interested in platform and branding, there’s still plenty to like (and full disclosure, I embrace the concepts of platforming and branding though I dislike the corporate terminology. That’s why you’ll hear me reference “community” and “identity” – same food, different seasoning).

Now I’m off to do some more homework.