Jessica was generous enough to give TWO copies of her book for the giveaway, which means two folks who comment will win copies today! Thanks, Jessica!
This past January, Jessica Morrell invited me to be a keynote speaker at her mini-writing conference in Portland, Oregon. I was impressed with how hard she worked to gather up good people, good speakers, good food, good help, and a good location to pull off a successful event. Anyone who has ever hosted a literary event knows that there are a million and one little details to attend to and Jessica attended to them all with care and attention to the tiniest detail.
I can only imagine that Jessica brings the same kind of care and devotion that she brings to her students to her writing. Not to mention that Jessica has penned multiple books on writing topics, making her a veteran writing teacher and author. Jessica Morrell is a longtime and steadfast supporter of writers. I appreciate her dedication and commitment. Please help me welcome her!
About Jessica Page Morrell
Jessica Page Morrell lives in Portland, Oregon where she is surrounded by writers and watches the sky in all its moods and shades. She writes with depth, wit and clarity on topics related to writing and creativity and is the author of Thanks, But This Isn’t For Us, A (Sort of) Compassionate Guide to Why Your Writing is Being Rejected; Bullies, Bastards & Bitches, How to Write the Bad Guys in Fiction; The Writer’s I Ching: Wisdom for the Creative Life; Voices from the Street; Between the Lines:Master The Subtle Elements Of Fiction Writing; and Writing Out the Storm. More at JessicaMorrell.com.
About Thanks, But This Isn’t For Us
All great works of fiction and memoir are unique-but most bad novels, stories, and memoirs have a lot in common. From clunky dialogue to poorly sketched out characters, sagging pacing to exaggerated prose, these beginners’ mistakes drive any agent or editor to their stock rejection letter, telling the aspiring writer “Thanks, but this isn’t for us,” and leaving many to wonder what exactly it is that they’re doing wrong.
Veteran writing coach, developmental editor, and writing instructor Jessica Page Morrell will fill in the gaps in every rejection letter you’ve ever received. In Thanks, But This Isn’t for Us, Morrell uses her years of experience to isolate the specific errors beginners make, including the pitfalls of unrealistic dialogue, failing to “show, not tell,” and over-the-top plot twists. These are just a few of the problems that keep writers from breaking through with their work. Sympathetic and humane, but pulling no punches, Thanks, But This Isn’t for Us shows writers precisely where they’ve gone wrong and how to get on the right track. In sixteen to-the-point chapters, with checklists, exercises, takeaway tips, and a glossary, Morrell helps readers transcend these mistakes so that they don’t have to learn the hard way: with another rejection letter.
The Very Short Interview
When did you know for sure that you were a writer and that writing would be a major energy focus in your life?
In 5th grade. Every week our teacher Mr. Becker tuned into a radio broadcast about creative writing for kids. He had an old radio with a cloth front from the 40s at the back of the crowded classroom and the teacher’s voice was ancient and scratchy as fingernails on our always-dusty chalkboard. One week the assignment was to create a monster. I did and read my piece out loud to the class and got the 5th grade version of a standing ovation. And I was hooked.
Who has always been behind your writing career and who helped pull you up the ladder of success?
I had a few terrific teachers that I’ve never forgotten; Ray Vils in high school and Pulitzer prize winner Paul Hayes in college. Both taught be so much and inspired me with their passion for language and stories. Bill Johnson and Willamette Writers have supported me as an author and teacher and I’m always grateful for their help. These days, my man Jay guards my back and helps me carve out time for writing.
What is the most frequent comment you hear about your book (or books) from readers? Tell us a little story about the response to your work.
I just received an email from a reader of Thanks But This Isn’t For Us. As do most of these emails, he thanked me for writing it and told me that it’s eye-opening and he’s read it three times. I also see copies in reader’s hands that are full of underlines and post-it notes. Love that. Sometimes when you’re at your desk writing it’s like you’re a sea captain in the north Atlantic at midnight. In January. A lonely perch—so hearing from readers is gratifying.
And Now, Your Turn
Now it’s your turn. You remember how this works right?
I ask you a question. You answer in the comments for your chance to win a book each day.
Please just respond once, even if you make a typo. 
Answer in the comments in 50-200 words (no less and no more to qualify to win one of today’s books). Please read the complete rules at least once!
Thanks for participating in the Writer Mama Every-Day-In-May Book Giveaway! I hope to see you here every day this month. Bring your friends!
If you could spend a full day however you wanted, how would you spend the day? Describe the whole thing, morning to night for us!
Ready, set, comment!
Comments on this entry are closed.
I would get up at 7, wash my face and put up my hair, then pull on some sweats and go out on the beach for a walk. On the way along the beach, I stumble into a Starbucks and order a nonfat latte and a pumpkin scone, which I’d eat while I looked out the window at the waves. Then I’d go back home, take a bath while reading a book (My Stroke of Insight is what I am currently reading). I’d get dressed and go out for lunch with my husband at a Thai restaurant that makes delicious curries. Then my kids would magically appear and we’d walk through the shopping area in Old Town and stop for ice cream. We’d watch ducks and boats and play in the fountain. At dinner time we’d go home and watch a movie on tv together. Then we’d build a giant fort in the living room and fall asleep together, with the dogs. At 10:30 I’d wake up with a sore back and a happy heart and slink upstairs to my bed for the rest of the night.
I would wake up to the sound of my husband making breakfast
for our daughter, and the sound of the percolator churning a strong pot of
coffee. After going out for a quick run on the beach, I’d sit outside with my
husband and daughter (because it would be sunny and warm), and sip coffee and a
seltzer water, while reading the newspaper. Once we got dressed we’d head out
for a lazy brunch at the golf course restaurant, and afterward go out for a
bike ride. Then my husband and daughter would nap, and I’d go shopping with my
mom and sisters, and buy shoes, purses and coats for summer. We’d probably also stop for a pedicure and an
ice cream cone. When I return home, we’d have a make your own pizza party and
have a picnic dinner. After reading our favorite good night books, my daughter
would go to bed (and stay there). Then my husband and I could have a glass of
wine and relax on the porch in the warmth of the evening.
I spent a day doing whatever I wanted last month. It went like this:Take the day off work. Drive 2 hours and a ferry to the island where my novel is set. Hike on the beach and into farmlands, chatting with strangers about where I am going. Gaze at a raven and eagles playing in the wind. Wander around in the small town nearby, taking pictures. Go to a book signing in the small library of the town. Come out to the Northwest drizzle that held off til after my hike. Take the ferry and drive back home, not minding the traffic because I had a delightful book on tape to listen to in the car. Books, beaches and time to dream. The perfect day. Or one of them.
A radio station I listen to is giving away a day, anyway you
want to spend it, for Mother’s Day. Problem is I still can’t come up with
anything. Probably because I’m not unhappy with life as it is. I get up and
have a quiet time before getting hubby off to work. Then I write for a couple
hours before my boys roll out of bed. After we eat and do something
educational, the day varies. If the garden needs me, I am there. If the pantry
needs me, I’m shopping. If the boys need me, I’m doing stuff with them. Late
afternoon, they have a quiet time and I spend another couple hours working.
After supper, we visit as a family. We do not have a television but occasionally
watch a movies on the computer. I spend time in my journal before going to bed.
Ooh I really want this one. A full day I’d wake up at daybreak grab a cup of coffee sit in an adirondack chair in front of a lake and observe for a bit. I’d retreat into my writing room and write for hours. Late afternoon I’d take the kids into a city and window shop then come home for a great dinner before watching a movie. After the kids go to bed I’d write until my eyes grew heavy.
I’d have an early cup of coffee and a couple oatmeal cookies, pack up my husband and dog, and head for the Oregon Coast. First stop, Camp 18 for breakfast. I’d let my husband do the driving (because he enjoys it and is good at it!), so I’m free to daydream and jot descriptions of whatever catches my eye. Once on the coastline, it’s Cannon Beach to take in the galleries and walk the beach, duck into the ice cream parlor to drop a quarter in the player piano and buy two scoops on a waffle cone. But always in the back of my mind is Rockaway, home of the world’s best clam chowder. More walking in the sand, toss a tennis ball for the dog (until the wind carries it into the surf), then check the real estate listings to find our next home. Instead of dragging ourselves back to the city, we’d fly on wings of excitement that it’s for the last time. Where’s the writing come it? That happens at the picture window of our new home overlooking the Pacific.
Not that I’ve day-dreamed about this a few bazillion times or anything: I would wake up to a crisp, sunny morning. Step out of my tiny cabin, breathe the fresh mountain air and take a walk around the lake. The frosty grass crunching under foot, the slow trickle of melting snow mingling with birds tweeting (just a few, since it wouldn’t quite be spring yet) filling the air with soul-awakening noises.
Back at the cabin, I would write and it would be a whirlwind. I’d be on a roll, brain on fire, words flowing fast and free for hours.
That afternoon, I’d walk the lake again and notice the subtle changes from the morning walk: vehicle off in the distance, more rustling in the trees, etc….
I’d get back to the cabin and take a long, hot bath. My family would call and check on me, they’d tell me I’m the greatest mom ever even though I grounded them.
Then, I’d get a good book, curl up by the fire and fall asleep lost in another author’s imaginativeness.
I would sleep in and wake to an open window and birds chirping outside. It would be a sunny 70 degrees with everything in bloom. I’d have a leisurely breakfast before heading out to my favorite park on the ocean in CT. The kids would be perfectly behaved, hubby would play with the toddler while I sat under a tree in a hammock reading a book. A nice nap in the same hammock would follow lunch. By evening, the kids would be off with a babysitter and hubby and I would enjoy a sunset walk along the beach. Chocolate ice cream for dessert that wouldn’t make me feel icky afterwards! 🙂
Amy
Oooh, I will get a piece of this day on Sunday, thanks to my lovely husband. On my ideal day I will sleep in until 7, undisturbed, and eat whole-grain pancakes with strawberry jam for breakfast. I will pack a backpack with my knitting, a notebook, pens, two books, a water bottle and some snacks. Kissing my family good-bye, I get to ride my bike around town, enjoying the freedom of being out and not on a schedule. Eventually I will find myself at Townsends tea shop and will claim a cozy chair for myself to do some knitting, reading, writing, brainstorming, tea drinking. Later, as I stroll along Alberta St., I’ll peek through shop windows and find a place for lunch and then ride my bike to a park for more writing, reading, dreaming. For dinner I will meet my family and be overwhelmed by my love for them, so glad to be back among the giggling and fighting and chaos that is our lives together.
9:30am. According to my circadian rhythm, there is no reason why I ought to be vertical, much less conscious, prior to 9:30am. Breakfast would be waiting. In my airy room. Overlooking the water. After nourishing my body, time to nourish my soul. A perfect place on the shore for morning prayers. Some reading. Then a nap. Lunch would be waiting when I roused. A full body massage and wrap would follow. And then…a nap. Dinner too would somehow appear (with no prep or cleanup on my part; just like the other meals) and then a movie. My choice. No animation. And I’ll remember to go to the bathroom before it starts.
I would sleep in, then wake to find the perfect cup of
coffee waiting on the nightstand. As the caffeine takes effect I’d start
preparing for my dinner guests and making mental notes. Mrs. Obama will enjoy
the homegrown veggies…Ann Lamott doesn’t drink…David Sedaris wants to talk me
into touring with him…Connie Schultz may bring her dog…Oh her dog really wants
to meet Bo, better have my assistant invite him also. Evening comes and we all
enjoy a fabulous meal and conversation. Then we all pass our books around
(except the dogs), signing warm, personal thoughts to each other, and agree to
get together again soon. Very soon.
I would definitely sleep in! I never get to do that anymore. I would wake up at about 12. take my shower and then eat breakfast for lunch. I would watch alittle tv, do alittle social networking and then head straight to the river with friends for some kayaking on the whitewater rapids. After an extremely tense yet absolutley exhilarating ride, we wind things down by laying out in the sun for a few hours on the bank of the calmest part of the river where the local outfitter comes back to pick us all up. Dinner at the small cafe we passed driving on our way to the river. Back home where i take another shower and finally sink down into my cozy comfy bed for a dreamy nights sleep.
I would sleep in until noon, if I could. Then I would pull on my swimsuit, grab my beach towel and the latest novel I’m reading and head to the beach. (Currently, I’m reading “So Brave, Young and Handsome” by Leif Enger.) I would lay in the sun all day. If I got too hot, I would take a dip in the ocean. When my stomach growled, I would make my way to a buffet full of fresh fruit. Then once my tummy settled, I would get a body massage with the masseuse setting up a table right on the beach. After that, I would get a big root beer float and head to a hot tub where I would continue relaxing until bedtime.
This question brings back memories of sitting on the deck with my husband and kids, each of us describing our perfect day from morning to night. I wish I’d written those down, because kids’ perfect days change so much as they get older. Mine hasn’t. I’d write all night the night before and wake up whenever I felt like it. Nibble on fruit and croissants left for me on the counter. Putter around in the garden uninterrupted. Float in the lake in the afternoon. Snack on whatever someone prepares and bask in the sun with a good book. Shower, get dressed up all fancy and go out with our friends for a lovely diner. Come back home to relax in front of a cozy fire with my hubby, a good movie and a bottle of tequila. Maybe I’ll do that this weekend. It is Mother’s Day, after all.
Oh my goodness, this is real fantasy stuff! Well I would begin by waving goodbye to my husband and children with a cup of coffee in my hands. Then I would disconnect the phone, pull down a duvet quilt, stretch out upon the sofa and boot up my lap top. Placed strategically beside me would be my current novel, and beside that would be littered a few of my favorite inspirational how-to books about writing. Oh and a bar of chocolate for when the sugar levels ran low, and a plate of cookies and cream buns for when I needed some proper sustenance!
And then? Well the rest of the day would pass by in a haze of reading and writing and reading again, then more writing, then dreaming, followed by a little power nap. As the evening begins to close in and just before the family were expected home, I would skip up the stairs and fill the bath full of scented water, and then soak myself for at least an hour while listening to the pleasant sounds of happy children downstairs!
The best
kind of day is one where I am more or less in control of what happens. Today is
a typically good day. I went to the gym and finished reading the book I’m on,
volunteered at my son’s high school, caught up on news with friends, came home,
ate lunch, worked a crossword, checked in on Facebook, did a couple blog posts,
answered emails, took care of a few things, hung out in the sun with my
grandpuppy, texted my daughter, and did the lunch dishes, and it’s only 2 p.m.
Later I will submit something I wrote yesterday to a contest, check my calls
for submissions to see if anything else is due soon, update my publications
page, take puppy for a walk, maybe do a spot of gardening, eat dinner, do the
dishes, and then decide between watching a movie with my hubby, starting a new book,
hanging out online, or some combination thereof.
Wow, there are so many variations on my “idea of a perfect
day.” In general, my perfect day involves waking up on a North or South
Carolina beach with a gigantic cup of coffee and a good book. Then later, a
bike ride and spa day, including a massage and pedicure, a delicious meal for
dinner and the opportunity to see my favorite singer (Greg Laswell) perform
live. This could be with or without my family with me! For the writer in me, my
perfect day includes an endless pot of coffee, a day-long music playlist and
the chance to work on all the fun, non-paying writing projects that have been
sitting untouched on my desk for months, including my novel. Ahh!
My boys and I would definitely go to Greenfield Village (part of The Henry Ford Museum complex in Dearborn, MI). We would start our day with a 30-minute train ride around the village. Next, we would take a ride in a vintage Model T about five or six times (depending on the lines) because the Model T ride is one of our favorite things to do. The driver doesn’t have to point out all of the interesting facts about Greenfield Village because we already know them all 🙂 We would head over the carousel for a few spins depending on the lines and then try to squeeze in a horse-and-buggy ride. After a picnic lunch break we would visit the Wright Brother’s cycle shop, listen to Huck Finn retell his childhood adventures and practice geography at the same one-room school that Henry Ford attended. After awhile I would spread out a blanket under the shade tree and watch the boys play baseball on the village green, 1860’s style (no gloves). On our way out we would stop by the sweet shop and buy some bulk candy for the ride home. Best day ever.
The best day ever begins after a full night of
restful sleep. The coffee is chocolate, pecan and Sumatra,
the strawberries ripe, and shared with Jim, my husband. We throw the picnic
basket into a sporty silver convertible, drive with the top down under canopy
roads that run through uplands splashed with showy and delicate and flaming
wildflowers that used to be extinct but now somehow run riot. Just before we
reach 98, the winding highway along the Gulf, a black bear canters across the
highway through an orange cloud of migrating monarchs. Our sons and daughters meet
us at the Cape.
The sand is white sugar, the water blue-green and clear as a pool under an
azure sky. At sunset, stilts and sandpipers scavenge at waters edge, the waves
curl golden lame. I sip crisp white wine, Jim and children catch fish, and
beside me, our youngest daughter breaks into an aria full of beauty and joy.
Birds fly home on the notes of her rich, round voice, and later, as I drift to
sleep on cool sheets, I hold Jim’s hand and follow the birds home to our nest.
Sorry, I ran into a computer glitch logging on.
I’d roll over in bed and tell the hubby to get up and get the kids ready for school. He’d shut our bedroom door after the kids came in to give me a morning kiss.
While they are gone for at least eight hours, I’d go in and out of sleep underneath my favorite blanket and fuzzy socks while catching up on my favorite guilty-pleasure reality TV shows and chic flicks.
Then, I’d crawl out of bed only to answer the door and get my delivered lunch of a veggie panini, a big bag of Doritos and a Krispy Kreme doughnut.
I’d spend a few hours on the phone catching up with my best friend.
Next, I’d lay on the sofa and flip through my favorite magazines and order books and makeup online.
When the kids and hubby get home, they’d make dinner, we’d spend quality time talking and then it’d be bedtime FOR THEM.
While they slept, I’d spend a few hours writing while sipping on a glass of red wine.
Cara, you are a winner! Congrats!
Beth, you are a winner! Congrats!
My Granny’s house. Waking up I would read in bed awhile before going down to the cozy kitchen. Granny standing at the stove, her apron strings hanging down behind her, her long grey hair in a bun at the base of her neck. Hearing me cross the kitchen she turned to smile at me, asking I want breakfast. I ate the same thing every day but this was her way of showing me that I was important, that I deserved the same respect that she gave the adults.
Every day was carefree, spent out doors, picking vegetables, gathering eggs, running down over the hill to the rocky beach to look for shells, crabs or pretty stones, riding in the hay wagon. The main meal, at noon, at the long dining room table is where the news of the day was discussed. Later picking the berries or visiting my great aunts would fill up the afternoon. Evenings visitors gathered in the kitchen. Gramps sat by the phone, a party line. Like everyone else he listened to every call. When he hung up he held court sharing the news. My day ended when the conversation became “interesting”. That meant bed time for me.
Excellent!