My Tiny Writing class kicked my ass this year. As writers, we all have bad habits that need breaking. My sins are writing in passive rather than active voice, using nominalizations, and being sparse with sensory details. (Oh, God. I'm doing it now, aren't I?) Let me fix that. I write in passive rather than active voice, use nominalizations, and leave out sensory details. However, now I notice it more! 

I realized that song lyrics are a form of tiny writing. Now when I write songs for my band, I notice breath units, assonance, syllable to word ration, alliteration, parallel series, sonority, and so on. I notice that some words are more effective than others.

I learned to distill passages down to what is absolutely essential. Think of it this way. If you only have thirty seconds to grab someone's attention in an emergency situation, what would you say? Which words would emphasize the problem at hand and establish a sense of urgency?

This happens when we write copy for marketing and social media, or blurbs for our manuscripts. We're fighting for room in a short attention economy. 
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How can we reframe our thinking to accomplish brevity? Make it a game. When trying to sum up a character in one line, think of your description as a movie review. For example: If you gave a lumberjack kind eyes and wool sweater, you'd get Harris Jones.

What are some of your tiny writing tricks?
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Think of a title as the doorway to your literary home. Is it inviting? Is it intriguing? Is it unique to your piece, or just a place holder? 

When titling poems and stories, there are some key elements to keep in mind.

1. Don't be vague. You want to give your reader a taste of what they're about to see. Using concrete and sensory language can help with this. Jeanette McCurdy's memoir, I'm Glad My Mom Died, does this by taking a line right out of the book. It's a statement that's caught the attention of over two million readers.

2. How does it sound when you say it aloud? Titles should trip over the tongue nicely. Addling a little alliteration can help with this. For example, everyone is familiar with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The alliteration of 'Charlie' and 'Chocolate' makes this title easy to remember and fun to say. Pride and Prejudice is another fine example of alliteration that sticks with you. 

3. Give your title a sense of emotion and anticipation. "Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou hints at the poem's tone of defiance and pride. 

4. When all else fails, run your title by a few friends. Ask them if they'd be intrigued enough to read the whole thing. If not, it's time to repaint that door.

Is there anything more satisfying than reading a piece and being able to picture the narrator, the speaker, or the author? That ability comes down to a successful written voice. Seasoned writers have found their style--the way in which their writing is specific to them. 

One of my favorite authors is Sarah Addison Allen. She writes magical realism within the bounds of women's fiction. What makes her style unique is her use of sensory language. Sarah writes like an ex-food-blogger. She laces scents and sights into her prose like someone used to describing sugary confections. This is also how she sneaks in elements of magical realism. To read one of her novels is to feel like you've stepped through an enchanted bakery only to be met with a cinnamon roll floating its way to you of its own volition.

Anne Lamott is known for her frank writing style. She's everyone's blunt best friend and often the butt of her own jokes. Anne does this with a conversational writing tone. In other words, she writes the way she talks. 

Writers like Elizabeth Acevedo mix Spanish into their writing the way someone who is bilingual might talk to their family--one foot steeped in English, the other planted in the culture of their roots.

Our writing voice, therefore, comes down to word choice, tone, and experience. What are the elements you surround yourself with? The sensualness of living in a foodie paradise like Sarah Addison Allen who resides in Asheville, NC? The sarcasm and self-deprecating humor that accompanies the rough life Anne Lamott has lived? Or the cultural significance of being a Dominican American like Elizabeth Acevedo? The writing style of each of these women cannot be separated from the lives they lead, and neither should yours.

Writing exercise: Finding your voice
1. Describe yourself using six sensory words. What about these words speaks to your daily life?
2. Describe the tone of your writing. Does it change by genre? Is it intentional? Where do you think this tone comes from?
3. What life experiences have been integral to the kind of writing you do? 
4. Lastly, do you think your readers could pick your words out of a line-up? Why or why not? If not, how could you infuse more of yourself into your writing?
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If you're a queer writer like me, you're always on the lookout for places that will get and honor your work. Not every journal is interested in publishing pieces involving LGBTQIA+ voices, but some are specifically interested in just that. Below you will find three such journals that are accepting submissions now.

Foglifter seeks to publish underserved queer and trans writers. This goal is "in direct response to [our] ongoing experiences of minimalization and tokenization within the broader writing community." The journal is currently accepting fiction, nonfiction, poetry, drama hybrid, and chapbook submissions through November 2nd. You can find submission guidelines on their website or via Submittable.

​Mulberry Literary not only boasts a masthead of queer and nonbinary editors, but it "encourages work from LGBTQIA+, women-aligned people, and BIPoC voices." They are also wide open on genres--from poetry and prose to visual art and music. This is a beautiful, engaging, and diverse journal. Their current submission period closes November 1st. Submissions guidelines can be found on their website (linked above).

Lastly, as the associate editor of the Hoxie Gorge Review, I can tell you that we foster a very queer-friendly lit mag. We are always looking for diverse voices. If you happen to be one, please send us your best poetry, short fiction, and essays by November 1st.

Pacing can make or break the life of your written work. Too slow and your reader's mind wanders. Too fast and they're left wondering what happened. How can you make the pacing of your piece work for you?

First, pay attention to genre and intention. Short fiction that feels long is all down to pacing. What slows down the pacing in a short story? Big chunks of description that aren't moving the plot along. If your character hears a strange noise outside and it takes three pages for her to investigate the noise because you've described each room she passes through, you've slowed down the pacing and the suspense.

Ask yourself if your sensory details directly relate to the problem at hand. If not, consider swapping them for details that do. If your character hears a strange noise outside, does the reader care what each room she walks through looks like before getting outside to investigate? Probably not. Your reader would care about how your protagonist is feeling in that moment. Are they scared? Sweaty? Do they think the noise might be coming from the abandoned shack in the woods? Can they hear their own heartbeat in their ears the closer they get to the sound? Those are plot moving sensory details that keep your pacing on track.

Not varying sentence structure is another pace killer. Alternating between short or simple sentences and longer compound and complex sentences keeps your reader from getting fatigued. Too many simple sentences make text robotic. Too many long sentences make things move slower. The best way to get a feel for the rhythm and pacing of your sentences is to read them aloud. Notice how many breaths you take between groups of words. These breath units will speak to the pacing of your piece. 

Lastly, trust your reader's ability to fill in details. When reading, our minds paint the scene for us. Therefore, large paragraphs of description are rarely necessary. Instead, try peppering sensory details into the action when it feels natural to do so. 

Don't: Molly heard a loud booming outside--not consecutively like a hammer into a nail but sporadically like thunder. The shadows on her bedroom wall danced in the moonlight to the hooting of the owl that lived in the tree outside her window. Walking toward the back door, she lingered in the dining room where the wallpaper seemed to move in time with the fan's blades. The wood floor felt cool under her feet because it was fall and the days had grown so gloomy that summer felt decades away from their little farm in the woods. 

Do: Molly heard a loud booming outside. Not consecutively like a hammer into a nail, but sporadic like thunder. She wondered if it was coming from the old mineshaft at the edge of the property. She threw on her robe. Boom. Boom. "What if the old man's back to look for his treasure?" she whispered to no one. Boom. She stepped into her boots, her heart in her throat. Boom. Boom. "What if he's mad that it's gone?" She ran to the kitchen, grabbed a flashlight, and fled into the dark. The booming grew louder the closer she got to the edge of her grandfather's land. Molly's hands began to shake. She wished she wasn't alone.

Ever hear the saying, "You don't have a story without conflict"? Well, it's true! Every good piece of writing has mastered the art of internal and external conflict. 

External conflict involves a problem between your character and something or someone outside of themselves. For example, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy butt heads with each other in Pride and Prejudice. She finds him rude, and also the cause of separating Mr. Bingley and her sister, Jane. And that damn man keeps showing up in her social circle!

Internal conflict is when your character struggles with their own emotions, desires, or conscience. For example, Elizabeth begins to like Mr. Darcy despite formerly thinking him a jerk. This internal conflict affects the way she interacts with him throughout the story. So, you might say there is no external conflict without internal conflict. 

Having both types of conflict in your story helps you layer tension between characters and their setting. The tension between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet influences subplots in the book, like the relationship between Jane and Mr. Bingley, or the scandal between Lydia and Mr. Wickham. 

Tension helps move the plot and pacing of your story along. Without it, your prose will read like a book report. So, how can you turn up the dial on the conflict in your story? Put your characters in tight spots. Make their car break down on the way to a job interview. Have them pocket dial their crush. Make them feel messy, human emotions and struggle toward processing them. When in doubt, ask yourself, "Am I being too nice to my characters?" If the answer is yes, your story line might not contain enough drama yet.

Rejections are part of the publishing game but following a few guidelines can help minimize their frequency.

1. Do your research. Have you been submitting poetry, short stories, and essays willy nilly in hopes something will stick? Save your energy (and your money!) by first taking the time to research whether your work is a good fit for the journal and vice versa. Submitting magical realism to a journal that historically publishes traditional fiction is not going to serve you. Find journals that match your writing aesthetic rather than trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. This means reading their already published issues. Submittable, Twitter, and Instagram are great places to find new journals.

2. Proofread your work. Spelling and grammar mistakes happen, but too many of them can be a turn off to publishers. If you're new to writing, or if you don't trust your own eyes, find a resource that can help. There's no shame in the Grammarly game! 

​3. Make it make sense. Lack of clarity will ruin even the most beautiful prose. If the journal's editor can't figure out the purpose or central theme of your piece, they won't publish it. Readers should be able to identify the tension in your work. Lack of tension is the number one reason poetry submissions don't get published.