Murderati

Taking the punch

by Pari

Every Friday night when I'm in Albuquerque, I do something no sane person would do.

I spar.

This isn't light contact; it's the real thing. Granted, we use protective gear (mouthpieces are my friends), but most of us don't wear face masks. Sorry to say . . . I get nailed with embarrassing frequency.

So why do I do it?

First of all, I think it's important to experience taking a punch -- especially for women. It's important to know what it feels like to have a man attack you. There's also something incredibly powerful about getting clocked in the jaw or gut and realizing that you have to keep going. In three years, I've caught a fingernail to my cornea, sidekicks that have knocked the wind out of me, and at least four punches right in the nose. Sometimes I've learned from my mistakes in missing the blocks. Other times I haven't. That's not the point. The big lesson is that I've stood up and kept at it.

The second reason sparring is so important to me is that it's both predictable and unpredictable, kind of like life. It's guaranteed that every single person sparring on any given night is going to miss a block and get punched or kicked. It doesn't matter how experienced you are, how quick or agile. It happens to everyone. No exceptions. The unpredictability comes in because you never know who is going to really challenge you to be better that same night and who is going to make it too easy.

Sparring is also great practice for writers who want their work to be read by anyone other than friends/family. Because, you know what? It's predictable that your writing is going to get slammed; it doesn't matter how good or famous you are. There are going to be nasty critics out to get you. And, it's just as unpredictable because you're going to find confirmation in places you never expected.

The important thing is to know as a writer that you can -- and must -- keep going.

Rejections, bad reviews, snarky readers, misunderstood themes/messages, rotten buzz campaigns, insults, trolls . . . yeah, we've all caught at least some of these on the chin. But those of us who work on our protective blocks, who step up and learn how to counterpunch and kick . . .

We'll survive no matter what.

Today, I'd love to learn about your own sparring experiences, your tests in life, that have made you more resilient, determined and strong.

___________________________________________________________________________

Next Monday, Murderati alum Jeff Cohen is going to take the helm. He's got a new book coming out. Please stop by and make him feel welcome. I know I will.

What is an author?

by Pari

I adore words. What writer doesn't? But lately, it feels like meanings are changing faster that I can keep up. Really rarely denotes truly; people now use it interchangeably with very. And what about gay? Few speakers equate it with giddily happy.

Words tied to qualifications have shifted too. It used to be that doctor meant someone who had graduated from medical school and survived an internship. Now, PhDs often use the term without specification. Naturopathic, chiropractic and osteopathic doctors employ the shorthand as well. I'm not arguing whether these folks have the right to simply call themselves "doctors" -- they do -- but the assumptions their listeners make often are based on half the facts.

I don't know about you, but I wouldn't go to a PhD in English for an appendectomy.

Author used to mean something different too. That's when book production was difficult and required a lot of equipment. Back in 1995, I was told on more than one occasion, that author meant "a person whose manuscript had been bought and published." I bet that was the main definition in 1885 as well.

But in 2008, I think the word has lost its oomph, its clarity.

Publishing has changed. There are two distinct models:
#1 is democratic; if you've got the money to do it, you've got a book. You've got total control from beginning to end. (Publish America falls into this model.)

#2 involves a group of people who judge the merits of your work against whether or not they can make a buck off of it. If they think they can, they invest in you.

However, just as an optometrist doesn't have the same training as an opthalmologist, a writer who opts for model #1 in publishing doesn't have the same experience as the person who opts for #2.

Which brings me back to the word AUTHOR.
It's not enough anymore.

The act of writing a manuscript may be similar for all of us. We create. We suffer. We hit blocks and merciless valleys. We keep our butts in the chair long enough to finish. We all deserve a big ol' pat on the back.

But what happens to that completed manuscript -- and our part in its journey to people's hands -- just isn't the same.

I can't speak to self-publishing for novels; I've never done it. However, I have written this blog for more than two years -- AND I've been published in magazines and newspapers. In one case, I'm my own editor. In the other, I have to deal with editors. These experiences are significantly different.

As a traditionally-published author, I suspect that the process from manuscript to novel with UNM Press is also substantially different from that at iUniverse. I am certain that the latter doesn't include the publisher's initial vetting read; the editorial review; the editing; the copyediting; the fact checking; the editing again that happens at my publisher with every single book.

I find it distressing that the discussion about self-publishing and traditional publishing has become so acrimonious.

As far as I'm concerned, self-publishing is great for some people. Publishing traditionally is wonderful for others. Readers have more choices. Fine. Dandy. Next customer, please.

But damnit, I want a new word (or two).

I want something that more accurately reflects the difference in the two processes of publishing. I don't want the term to be loaded with judgment or arguments about quality; after all, there's a need for both opthalmologists and optometrists in this world. A person could make the same argument about self-publishing and traditional publishing.

But they're not the same. I've never paid to have my work in print. I DO want potential readers to know that.

So . . .

I want a NEW WORD!

Any suggestions?

Do publishers matter?

by Pari

Last week, I was complaining to my husband that there are too many "authors" around these days. We're basically a-dime-a-dozen. I stuttered, red-faced, bemoaning how the accomplishment of publication via traditional houses has been diminished by the advent and ever-increasing popularity of self publication.

My husband, a.k.a. The King of Reality Checks, said, "What's the big deal? Who cares about publishers anyway? No one looks at that."

Well that knocked the wind out of my self-righteous sails.

Then I read, in its entirety, A Book Publisher's Manifesto for the 21st Century by Sara Lloyd. J.T. referred to it in her excellent post on Friday. In the manifesto, the author takes a cold, hard look at the relevance of book publishers today and whether they'll have the savvy and cojones to survive tomorrow.

At a time when MWA and other professional writers' organizations are beginning to toughen up membership requirements based on traditional publishing practices; when fan conventions are doing the same; when people are opting for more control over their work and the speed with which their writing is published; when there are all kinds of "co-op" publishers; when major publishers themselves have gravitated toward blockbuster products rather than midlist author development; where there are more books than ever before but fewer of them are being read; when grammar and editing seem to be falling by the wayside (I can think of several reasons why this is happening. Another post, perhaps?) . . .

A person has to ask:
Have traditional publishers simply become obsolete?

Does publisher brand matter at all? Do Harlequin or St. Martin's mean anything anymore? Is Simon & Schuster still known for quality? Do Random House, Mira, Intrigue, Soho, Poisoned Pen or Tor carry any value-added as far as the customer is concerned?

I don't know, but those questions beget more:
Will publishers as we know them become such behemoths, slow moving beasts, that even traditionally-published authors will opt to self-publish in order to get rid of the middlemen (publishers and distributors)? When the big chains install print-on-demand machines in their stores, will there be any benefit whatsover by going the traditional route?

When a person looks at the pure monetary outlay vs. income, self-publishing has a certain appeal.

But . . .
I like to think that the fact that I was published by an academic press with a sterling reputation and stringent standards means something. I'd like to think that readers expect a certain amount of vetting, editorial scrutiny, and high production values before a book comes to market.

Have I been deluding myself?
Do readers care?

We're honored

by Pari

Saturday Afternoon, May 31, 1:33 pm:
I'm trying to get one of my children dressed for a cello recital. I, of course, have just stepped out of the shower. It's hot in Albuquerque. Our family is one of two in the entire city that still hasn't turned on the air conditioning, so the front door is wide open. The doorbell rings. Wrapped in a curtain, I peek out of the window in my office and don't recognize the car parked in the driveway. DON'T ANSWER IT! DON'TANSWERIT! I screech.

An adult calls my name, pronouncing it correctly which means the person knows me. I put on an oversized Tee, my hair still dripping.
"Do you have the invitation to Sean's birthday party?" a parent of one of my kid's friends asks.
"What birthday party?"
"The one tonight."
"Oh, crap."
We search and can't find the invite. We call another parent who threw hers away last week.

(Did I mention that my husband is at work? Yes, he's at work on a Saturday.)

Our uninvited guest begins to back out of the front door, horror on her face, as she registers the condition of our house. We plan to make pillows out of all the dog hair on the floors and I think we could feed several homeless people with the crud on our kitchen counters . . .

Welcome to my world.

With three minutes to spare before leaving the house at 1:42, I turn to the Inbox. This is usually a stupid impulse, akin to gambling at a casino or using that penny to scrape a Scratcher. Most of the time I DON't win.

But every once in a while . . .

There it was: The note from John Purcell, the Anthony Chair, telling me that Murderati had been nominated for an Anthony Award for Best Mystery Website for 2007. We're in astounding company:
*  Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind -- Sarah Weinman
*  Rap sheet/January Magazine  -- J. Kingston Pierce
*  Murderati -- a Writer's Blog
*  Stop You're Killing Me -- Stan Ulrich & Lucinda Surber
*  Crime Fiction Dossier -- David Montgomery

Do you notice ours is the only one that doesn't have a single name associated with it? We're almost a democracy here.

More than two years ago when Naomi Hirahara and I spoke about starting a blog, I had no idea it would morph into this living creature that creates and nurtures community in the mystery world. I simply wanted the blog to be different, to offer fresh content daily and to provide real fodder for thought and discussion. I hoped it would help market our books ( and J.T.'s writing enough to get her first contract). We hit the ether publicly on April 3, 2006.

J.T. is the one to credit for the look of the site. She taught herself how to design the blog and did/does an astounding job. She's the one to credit for the name, too, though we batted around some great ones (I was pushing for Murderama).

Blogging isn't for everyone. It takes tremendous commitment and time. We worry when people don't comment, when our numbers aren't growing as fast as we'd like.

In two years, we've had 17 regular contributors (no particular order here).
Zoe Sharp     Louise Ure     Alex Sokoloff     JT Ellison      JD Rhoades     Brett Battles (congrats on the Barry nomination!!!)     Robert Gregory Browne     Toni McGee Causey       Michael Maclean       Naomi Hirahara      Simon Wood      Ken Bruen (congrats for the Anthony nod for Best Paperback Original)     Elaine Flinn       Deni Dietz     Jeffrey Cohen     Paul Guyot      et moi.

Yeah, that's a lot. Believe me, it hasn't always been easy. There have been flare-ups, ego conflicts, disagreements, emails flying back and forth, friendships threatened with dissolution. I've had to play Mama Bear when all I really wanted to do is run away screaming.

BUT
More often, there has been a wonderful camaraderie among the very different writers/personalities on this blog.

I think we've got something special here, a true and honest exchange. The crew we have now -- including Tess Gerritsen who joins us on June 17 -- gets along well. We've found our groove.

Thank you to everyone who nominated us. Thank you to everyone who visits this site.

We are truly honored.

P.S. I hadn't planned on going to Bouchercon this year; my hubby is tired of all my travel. Now I'm trying to talk him into letting me fly out for a day or two. If anyone wants a tired New Mexican to sleep on her hotel room floor for a night, let me know. I want to bask in this joy.

Kilroy Was There: A GI's War in Photographs

by Pari

Today, like many of you, I'm thinking about war. So let me tell you about one of the finest nonfiction books about this subject that's ever been published. Above all else, Kilroy Was There: A GI's War in Photographs is an honest record of the mud, grime, fear and drudge of war. Combine these powerful images with Tony Hillerman's moving, personal narrative and the result is an understated and immensely candid work.

What differentiates Kilroy Was There from other books about World War II is its intimacy. Open it to any page and you'll see scenes that will remain with you for a long time. Here -- an American medic lights the cigarette of a wounded German soldier whose face is lined with blood. There -- a cocky SS officer holds his head high when he's tied to a post in preparation for his execution by firing squad. Tranquil meadows and abandoned byways are gruesomely pocked with the charred remains of tanks and, worse, young men whose bodies are dehumanized by their deaths.

There's no pretense, no posing here. The soldiers are kids from farms and factories, classrooms and mines, living the day-to-day reality of an extraordinary situation. Their lives are recorded by other kids -- combat photographers in the Army Signal Corps -- as they cook, walk, smoke and ride on the side of tanks. Those long-ago photographers were on the front lines too, in foxholes shivering with their buddies.

The truth in these black-and-white photographs moved Hillerman to become involved with the project because, "They didn't make war look fun. They weren't sanitized by a PR department."

The story of how the photos came to the university press is as remarkable as the book itself. It begins with Frank Kessler, an accountant, known as "Pops" (he was 26 years old) in his Army Signal Corps unit. One of his jobs was to assign photographers to particular shoots, log the photos and file them.

When the war ended, "Pops" didn't know what would happen to the photographs; he just knew they were too valuable to be left behind or lost. So he took them, some 600 in all, and stored them in his attic at home. Later, he told his family he wasn't sure if what he'd done was legal . . .

Fifty years passed. "Pops" died and his brother Lee found the photos. The younger Kessler had been a POW during much of WWII. For him, the pictures reflected a war he didn't know -- one he didn't see as a prisoner. He understood their importance and spent time organizing the collection and carefully transcribing the captions as best he could.

Kessler approached editor Joanna H. Craig at Kent University Press with the idea of creating a book in time for the 60th anniversary of D-Day.

"We were working backwards. We had the art, but didn't have the text," she says. But Craig knew Hillerman had served in WWII. He'd been awarded the Purple heart, and the Silver and Bronze Stars. She also thought a celebrity forward would be a nice touch. She planned to have a prominent military historian write the majority of the text. It would've been a wonderful idea, but the man she'd asked became gravely ill.

Of course, Hillerman was too busy. He was on deadline for a new book. Still, a desperate Craig hoped he'd be willing to expand his foreward into the entire narrative. "I basically pleaded with him," she says.

What a coup.
Through Hillerman's masterful words, we learn about oft-ignored aspects of war. With the empathy of someone who has been there, he describes the palpable fear of troops scouting around street corners -- possibly walking straight into gunfire or death. We itch when Hillerman explains what it was like to go without showers for months at a time. We can taste the food, C-rations and the much worse K-rations, neither one very good . . . never enough. Think about it, most of those kids were still teens; they were still growing boys. And the author tells us how these adolescents fought, marched, hid, killed and watched their friends die.

"War is mean,  damaging and dirty," says Hillerman. "These pictures show the mud and blood." Through his spare narrative and the equally unadorned photos that Frank Kessler so wisely saved, Kilroy Was There emerges as an incredible reflection of a critical -- and still meaningful -- time in the history of the world.

. . . To everyone reading this post who has lost a loved one in war, known someone who fought or is fighting now -- may this Memorial Day be one of peace and remembering.

My respects,
Pari

Fame

by Pari

Last night, while flipping channels, I watched snippets of the American Country Music Awards show. I'll say it: I'm not a huge fan of country. There's an undercurrent of anti-intellectualism, mocking higher learning, that distresses me. But during the last year, I've begun to listen to more of it because of the marvelous story telling in those three-minute vignettes.

On the glitterati stage Sunday night, musicians sang. Fans packed the cavernous MGM Grand, their hands held out as if the air around the performers was holy. They screamed, applauded, swooned and gave standing ovations.

Ah, fame.

Wouldn't it be cool to have that response when we had book signings? Can you imagine fans so enthusiastic they'd wait days to buy a ticket to a reading?

Most of the writers who've earned similar followings were entertainers -- singers, actors -- or televangelists/preachers, before they ever decided to pen a book. And most of what they write is, ostensibly, nonfiction.

Why don't novelists earn this kind of rabid devotion? Is it that we're behind the scenes -- that we eschew being recognized -- that we're creators rather than performers?

(Well, hells bells, I'd love the chance to perform!)

Okay, okay. There are exceptions. I bet J.K. Rowling wouldn't have a problem filling a stadium. Alexander McCall Smith might manage it. Stephen King? Nora Roberts?

Maybe I'm being near-sighted here, but I can't name a darn mystery author, one who solely writes mysteries, who'd pull in those numbers to a live gig. Not even in Europe, where book events tend to be better attended.

What gives?

Is it that books take more effort to access than sitting back and listening to music? Is it the media exposure factor, that novelists simply aren't seen enough to make an impression? Is it harder work to sing or act than it is to write a novel (Hell, NO!) Are fiction writers doughy and repugnant (not!) so that large numbers of people wouldn't want to see them in the first place?

I don't buy it. Anyone who goes to mystery conventions knows that we've got one heck of a talent pool. And I'm not just talking about words on paper here.

Maybe some writers would hate to be that popular. I sure wouldn't. And I'd love to see that kind of rock star craziness -- flicking the cigarette lighters, swaying to the sounds of an author reading a great chapter -- for novelists overall. Imagine if our signings generated the kind of super-heated buzz of a Garth Brooks concert, if scalpers routinely haunted the fronts of bookstores because all the tickets had sold out.

What's your take?
     Why aren't novelists rock stars? (Or are they?)
     Would it be horrible to be that famous? Would it be horrible for readers if authors WERE that famous?
     What is fame in the first place? Does it matter?

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes it's just great to be mama bear here at Murderati. Last week, I was so upset about Ken's departure . . .

This week, I'm overjoyed to announce that beginning June 17, author extraordinaire Tess Gerritsen will join us on alternating Tuesdays.

. . . Tomorrow, we'll have L.J. Sellers as our guest.

Pretty wonderful, huh?

 

Since this month I am a fan

by Pari

"Is it possible to gulp a book? That's what I did . . . "

So began an email to me the other day. It was from a woman in Germany and had arrived at my website amid a flurry of spam.

We writers spend a lot of time worrying about, and looking at, our reviews. The ones that stick with us the most -- at least from what I've observed -- are the negatives, the nasties and disgruntleds.

But what about "fan" mail? Are those notes, the ones that readers take the time to compose and send us, worth less? Sure, they're private. They're not printed in newspapers or posted on Amazon, but why don't we celebrate them more? 

When I get one of these lovelies, it's like a piece of candy that lasts and lasts. I even have a file where I put these gifts. On days when things are bad, when I wonder what the hell I'm doing trying to write, I go to that file and feel vastly better.

I also write fan mail. I've been sending notes since middle school. My first letter was to Leonard Bernstein. He didn't respond and I didn't care. I wanted to thank him for his musical Mass. In the ensuing 35+ years, I've thanked too many authors to count; a couple of movie stars; musicians; a talk show host or two (I sent a huge one to David Letterman for demonstrating such respect for writers during the WGA strike); and a few cartoonists. Some have responded -- Madeleine L'Engle, Lois McMaster Bujold, Lynn Johnston. Some haven't. Who knows if every one of my thank-yous even arrived on the targeted person's desk?

It doesn't matter to me. The important thing is to be grateful and to express that gratitude to the people who've evoked it. Call it increasing the quotient of good vibes in the world.

Back to the mail I've received: Every note, letter and email makes me feel wonderful. More than any positive printed review, these heartfelt and personal communications mean a tremendous amount to me. They're the reason I write for publication rather than keeping my manuscripts to myself.

So today, let's talk fan mail
1. Have you ever written a fan letter? To whom? Why?
2. Have you ever wanted to write one, but didn't know how or where to find the person? (I've wanted to write Alice Hoffman for years. Maybe contacting her publicists would work . . .)
3. Is there someone from history you'd like to thank?
4. Writers: what's the best fan letter you've ever received?

It's Monday. Most people complain of the blahs. Join this conversation today and let's see if we can generate enough great feelings to carry us all through the rest of the week. 

A Look to the Future: Wanna Play?

by Pari

It's the summer of 2010. Gas costs $8/gallon. Air fares have nearly doubled. Hundreds of thousands of books have been published. Hundreds of thousands more writers have published books themselves.

The American Booksellers Association has lost more than 50 percent of its membership. The biggest national bookstore chains have merged into one super corporation AND this new entity is now in the publishing business too. AND it's only carrying its own products or those produced by "affiliates."

Sorry to be a bummer, man, but the landscape is changing.

When things look bleakest, I am an optimist. Maybe it's my contrary spirit. I just don't like being told that anything is all gloom and doom. In the middle of great change, great opportunity exists.

What will our brave new world of literary livelihood look like? With the millions of voices sure to be flogging their works in the near future -- and doing it to a shrinking market -- how will we writers continue to build careers, to make enough to send our kids to college or pay for that pesky root canal?

Believe it or not, I'm not upset or even worried . . . not yet.

My agent, who has been in the business for more than 20 years, talks about how people have bemoaned the demise of the industry, of books, for as long as he's been selling manuscripts. Yet, books and the biz are still around.

I suspect that staying power will still be the name of the game. That, and sheer determination.

But I want my crystal ball to start working NOW! I want to find the mechanisms to meaningfully connect with potential readers even if I don't travel to their neck o' the woods. There must be new ways to engender that personal touch besides "Friending" or "Guesting on Blogs" (Virtual book tours, as they're practiced today, are the same kind of thing).

Do you remember when acclaimed Canadian author Margaret Atwood came up with the LongPen? Everyone scoffed. Not so, now. Virtual book signings -- real events with interactive video -- may be the way of the future. They'd certainly be greener.

What about the authors who have managed to turn their websites into entire and vital communities? Charlaine Harris has done it. I met 16 of her fans who traveled from as far away as Texas to attend Malice Domestic this year. She's got a message board and all kinds of conversations going with her fans. Now the fans are taking some of the load off of her, but she still visits and posts often.

Are there media out there that we haven't ever discussed, only dreamed about, that may truly aid us all? What about holographic book tours? Why not? How about books you can talk with -- and where the author answers back?

What else is out there -- or might be -- if we just let ourselves have fun and imagine?

Come on, jump in and let's see what we can come up with. It's time to have some fun.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

by Pari

I'm on the road today in Oakmont, PA at the Mystery Lovers Book Festival. Chances are I'll meet a lot of people and some of them will sign up for my email updates. To stay in touch with readers, I use a private Yahoo group to which no one else can post. It's a clunky solution. However, it doesn't cost me anything and it's not offensive to the people who've opted in.

I've also been on the receiving end of quite a few author electronic newsletters. I end up deleting and/or unsubscribing from most of them. Often, they've come without an opt-in; someone has harvested my email address and assumed I'd be interested in his or her story. Wrong-o.

But there are some missives that keep me reading. I don't care a whit about photos, graphics or other layout issues (of course, legibility is a plus). For me, the biggie is content. The newsletters I like best are those that include something beyond the author's ego -- professional tips, interesting tidbits, reasonable personal revelations . . .

I tend to send out my own updates infrequently. Often, I don't get it together to send them out on a regular basis. And I never send just to stay in touch; I have to have something important to say. You see, I hate getting spam and don't want my efforts to be considered as such.

My updates are personal, about my writing life, what I'm up to and hope to accomplish. I assume that every single person who has opted in wants to know this information.

Lately, I've been doing something different. In my last update, I sent a short selection from The Socorro Blast featuring a character that didn't make it into the final book. I loved this guy, Byron Hicks, loved everything about him. Only problem was . . . he didn't have anything to do with the story.

My update readers really enjoyed getting something that no one else had seen. I adored the fact that Byron could take a bow, that he had an audience after all.

Today, let's look at author newsletters:
What kinds do you like? Despise? Got examples?
What do you feel is important to include?
Heck  . . . are they even worth doing in the first place?

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I'll try to check in on the conversation today. If I can't, I'll respond to any comments on Wed.

The chains that bind us

by Pari

Last Wednesday, our home was Matzo-ball Central. You see, I was preparing for our Seder. Of all the Jewish holidays, Passover is my favorite. I go crazy inviting too many guests, cooking like a lunatic, and loving the feeling of comradeship and discussion that the first meal of the season brings.

The thing about our Passover celebration is that our guests are mostly not Jewish. This isn't intentional; it's just the way things have evolved during the last few years. Friends want to come. We want them here to share this joy with us.

However, since I have so many people who don't come from my same cultural heritage, I feel compelled to explain and illuminate and explore concepts that might be taken for granted elsewhere.

At its core, Passover is about freedom from slavery and religious persecution. These two themes can be found in many Jewish observances, but they have special meaing at this time of year. When we read the Passover story in our Haggadahs, we're reliving the Jewish escape from slavery in Egypt AND praying that the world will be freed from any kind of slavery, anywhere, soon.

So, on Wednesday, while I formed the matzo balls (around 60-70), I had plenty of time to think about bondage and what it means today. Many children around the world are sold into ghastly forced labor situations because they're families are too poor to support them. There are sex slaves and prisoners of war who become slaves.

On a more esoteric level, thralldom can be a state of mind. I'm not trivializing its horrors, merely extending them.

Most people I know have sub-dermal shackles.
In some, they're behavioral patterns that destroy chances at happiness or deep personal relationships. In others, they're intellectual chains--knee-jerk arguments and justifications, insecurities that paralyze progress. And there are the emotional manacles--jealousy, bitterness, resentment . . .

This week, while I eat my daily matzo, I'll be trying to identify my own mental leg irons. I'll search out the fetters that limit my perceptions and/or interactions, that prevent me from flying even freer in my creativity, that stiffle the best in my life and loves.

To me, once they're seen for what they are, I have at least a fighting chance to punch them out of existence. 

Can any of you identify the chains in your life?
Have you done this kind of exercise before?
Have you managed to kick one out for good?