Wednesday, June 30, 2010
We talk about fiction a lot, but rarely discuss non-fiction. So I want to know- how much non-fiction do you read? Memoir, self-help, history, current events, whatever.
Here's my non-fiction list so far this year:
1. Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (Loved this- read it in two days!)
2. Judgement of the Pharaoh: Crime and Punishment in Ancient Egypt by Joyce Tyldesley (Read this in two days as well- needed it for both WIP's.)
3. John Adams by David McCullough (Hefty, but well-worth it! And yes, this is the book HBO based their series on.)
4. Wilderness Warrior: Theodore Roosevelt and the Crusade for America by Douglas Brinkley (Been at this one a while now- it's good, but 1000+ pages.)
So you tell me: how often do you crack open non-fiction? Any you'd recommend?
I grew up in Upstate New York, and there weren't a whole lot of kids my age around during my formative years. Sure I had preschool and kindergarten, but a lot of those kids had already been neighbors with each other or their respective parents had been friends or whatnot. My folks had moved to the area I lived in from Pennsylvania (by way of Oklahoma, but that's another story), so suffice it to say I was pretty much an outsider as a kid. My parents weren't that social (no fault of theirs, they just weren't), and the people they were social with didn't tend to come over to our house and bring their kids.
Being the youngest of three (sister is 5 years older and brother is 9 years older), I was left to entertain myself. This first took the form of making up stories with my action figures, and then quickly turned to reading all sorts of interesting books. I had a fascination with the Goosebumps stories when I was in third grade, and became convinced that I could write one myself. That story wasn't the best in the world (it sucked honestly), but it has the marquee of being first.
Fast-forward a few years to my discovery of The Hobbit during seventh-grade English class. And yes, folks, that one book set me off and running. I read Lord of the Rings, and tried to write an epic fantasy not long after. All through high school I worked on several versions of that story and a series of shorts based around another character; meanwhile my appetite for novels just wouldn't stop. So while I was learning how to write research papers for my classes (something I found crazy easy), I was also learning the facets of good writing by reading copious amounts.
I'm convinced, by my experience and what I've heard from others, that this is the only proper way to learn how to write. Read a lot, practice writing, and repeat. The "grammar rules" that I'm supposed to know as an editor are more or less lost to me. Hell, the only reason I know what a compound modifier is is because someone explained it to me while I was working at the job I had before my current one. I edit on instinct, and I learned to write on the same. Granted, I lucked out that my instincts are darn good (this is gleaned from what other people have told me -- I tend to not think highly of my own skills, but what writer does?) because of the wordsmithy in my family history, but still.
I've taken precisely one creative writing course in my life, and I'm more or less convinced that I can learn whatever courses like that purport to teach me from reading books like Bickham's Scene and Structure or Maas's Writing the Breakout Novel or King's On Writing.
I suppose I'd better answer the question I started with: How would I teach someone how to write? By teaching them how to read with the eyes of a writer.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
As someone who's written many of both and had some success with shorts, I'd lean toward the novel. I've seen it written that shorts are harder because that adage about omitting needless words holds more true because you've got to build character, plot, interest in a shorter span. The path for a short might be more clearly defined (i.e., restrictive), but the decorations our left to our imagination (here's where I'm imagining Mel Gibson shouting "Freedom").
In a novel, though the path may be a bit more ambiguous or multi-forked (i.e., open for exploration), we've got to deal with a fairly grumpy HOA. That is, the publishing industry is fully tuned to producing the most perfect (in terms of saleability) novel. Rules, rules, rules (or at least stern recommendations). These can be helpful for finding a path (mundane?), but sometimes it can lead to the artistic gallows.
What do you think?
Monday, June 28, 2010
This particular trait of mine has gotten me into trouble in the past, though-- when I wouldn't break the rules, not even a little. Trouble socially, you understand, not legally. In the end, I didn't really care what those people thought of me because they shouldn't have tried to pressure me into something I wasn't comfortable with in the first place.
But the thing is, those are real-life rules that I stick to. There's a place where I go to escape from real life and all its rules, and that's my writing.
But writing is full of "rules," too. Except that with language, it's a choice to follow the rules (just like in real life, except that no one is going to be hurt by breaking the writing laws unless you use your words as a weapon of hate).
We all know the rules of writing by heart. Don't use adverbs. Show, don't tell. Be snappy. Be grammatically correct. Don't write passively. And the list goes on.
But you know what? Hang the rules. Hang them all, because language is a free-flowing, ever-changing beast, and for every rule out there, there is an example of a writer who broke it and STILL managed to get published.
This is why I don't talk about writing rules in my blog posts (anymore). I have come to see them as snake oil-- if only you could weed out every adverb from your manuscript, you would be published. If only you showed every little detail instead of telling about it, you would be published. There is no magic cure, folks-- and that includes these rules. I see them as more of suggestions (or guidelines, for those Pirates of the Caribbean fans out there) anyway.
I am guilty of using copious adverbs and adjectives, writing in first person present tense (gasp!), and pretty much anything else you can think of. But I still like my writing, and frankly? That's all that matters to me. Someone else will like it, too, it's inevitable. But if I strangle myself with the rules, suddenly I don't like my writing or the act of writing it very much anymore.
I see it kind of like music composition. There are some composers who write music almost (and occasionally literally) mathematically. Music to them is an equation. And the results are technically perfect-- but something is just missing.
Then there are the composers who write with passion-- letting their fingers pick the notes and connect with their heart instead of their brain-- and their music may be looser, more sloppy, but it moves people.
Which writer do you want to be?
So hang the rules-- hang them right up, string them high for all to see-- and then cut yourself free of them. Write like you are free from them, because you are. No one, least of all me, is going to string YOU up for using adverbs, and they might even thank you for it.
What rules do you break?
Friday, June 25, 2010
Several years ago I started the story that would become my first novel. Among the debris of the first draft were fragments of writing on a common theme: my father. The emotions involved in my relationship with my father ran deep, and it seemed like as good a subject as any for me to investigate through storytelling.
My protagonist—if one could call him that—was verbally abusive, an alcoholic, a womanizer. In other words, he was my father. Or at least what I thought of my father at the time.
When I gave this early draft to readers, they praised my book because of how real my character seemed to be. But, with the exception of one reader, my character was universally disliked, making the resulting story a difficult read to say the least.
I revised my fictional character some, but I couldn’t completely let go of my current view of who my father was. What I could do was adjust his past, the part of his life I had never been introduced to. I created a dark history for him, giving him his own abusive parents, along with a cruel older brother. I broke his heart. I confused him. I forced him to push all of his hurt down into a hard and sharp rock lodged into his abdomen.
This time when I gave the story to my readers they understood him more. My father was now sympathetic. Did they like him? Still no.
So often, our writing lives shape our actual lives. As I was working on my book, a wonderful thing was happening to me personally. My own relationship with my father was improving. Although I knew none of it was true, the history I gave my character became a possible history for my father. And, if this history was possible, then it explained…possibly…why my father was the man he was. My fiction helped me sympathize with my father, and I’ve often said if nothing else were to come from this book, the effort of writing it has been worthwhile. But, there was more to come.
I was still stuck on the fact that no one liked my character. Repeatedly, I had to convince myself that a sympathetic character was good enough. Time passed, and the relationship between me and my father grew stronger. Eventually, I reached a point where I wasn’t holding onto my protagonist’s reality so tightly. I replaced some of his bad traits with some good ones, and soon enough I got a comment from a reader that had seemed so elusive to me in the past. Someone was actually rooting for him.
I revised some more. I made my character even more likeable. I made him charming. I made him funny. I gave him the ability to dance. Only much later did I realize that I wasn’t plucking these new details out of nowhere. Just as my earlier character had been shaped by my earlier view of my father, this revised character emerged from my revised view of my father. The revelation came to me on a Father’s Day a couple of years ago, when I was able to write the simple word “Love” on a card I got for him, something I hadn’t managed to do for several years.
So often we as writers tell ourselves that we are writing fiction. What I’ve come to realize is that the fiction we create is almost always limited by the realities that we have also created. My father didn’t change much over these past few years. What changed was the way I saw him. And, until that changed, I couldn’t fake my opinion of him. For me to create a character that other people cheered for, I had to be able to cheer for him myself. My heart had to evolve, and that is perhaps the greatest gift a writer can get from writing.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
1. The goal of each scene must clearly relate to the story question in some way. (I must see the relevance of introducing these angry, spitting alpacas.)
2. The conflict must be about the goal. (That's right, we were trying to trek to Machu Picchu when we realized these alpacas weren't the friendly variety.)
3. The conflict must be with another person or persons, not internally, with oneself. (If I spend ten pages inside the guide's head worrying about whether he'll get fired for not securing cute, fuzzy llamas ahead of time my reader will end up snoring.)
4. Once a viewpoint has been established and that viewpoint character's problem and goal have been stated, it's wise to remain with that same single viewpoint through the disaster. (In other words, don't switch from the guide's POV to the alpaca's. That would just be silly.)
5. Disaster works (moves the story forward) by seeming to move the central figure further back from his goal, leaving him in worse trouble than he was before the scene started. (Yes, the alpacas allowed everyone to mount, but then took off running in the wrong direction after leaving the supplies behind.)
6. Readers will put up with a lot if your scenes only keep making things worse! (First the alpacas spit in the adventurers' faces, but then they dropped one of the men down a ravine. Then bandits appeared and demanded everyone's money. And bananas.)
7. You can seldom, if ever plan, write, or revise a scene in isolation of your other plans for the story, because the end of each scene dictates a lot about what can happen later. (If the conflict is whether the expedition will reach Machu Picchu and then there's a scene about saving a local village from an attack of killer clowns, you've lost your audience.)
Yeah, you know I had to put the clowns in there somewhere.
Are there any of these rules that you break? I'll admit that I've allowed my protagonists some down time to enjoy life, but that only serves to heighten the tension when I yank it all away from them. I've also jumped to another person's POV to finish a scene to show it from a different angle, but now I'm rethinking that one.
What about you?
Now, some people might say reading aloud is a crutch, that we shouldn't rely on it as a be-all, end-all editing tool to craft proper sentences. I agree with them for the most part; there's no real substitute for knowing the rules of grammar -- what a compound modifier is and how to use it, the proper method of comma placement, how to craft a sentence so your meaning is clearly understood, etc. All these things can be accomplished without reading a single line aloud.
However, and other people have said something similar, I can hear grammar mistakes quicker when a sentence is read aloud than when it's read silently. Good writing means nothing if you trip over the words; any speechwriter worth their salt will tell you that. Good fiction is the same way. If the rhythms of the words are off as we read them, then the story suffers. A technically correct sentence may be an example of good writing in the academic world, but if the cadence of the words doesn't flow naturally when someone reads it aloud then that sentence wouldn't work in a novel.
Since I love me some examples, I'd like you to read the following two sentences aloud:
John went down to the corner store.
John done gone down to the corner store.
Now, the second one is clearly incorrect grammar. If you were reading merely for proper grammar, you'd change "John done gone down" quicker than anything. However, if you read both sentences aloud, you'll see that they both communicate the main idea in a clear cadence. The second sentence is merely written in a dialect, while the first sentence is not.
Someone reading the second sentence without reading it aloud would probably change the sentence. I know I would, unless the context the sentence occurred it merited leaving it in dialect like that. Reading aloud has the added benefit of allowing you to see if the proper emotions are evoked within a certain section. However, and this is the key part, do not put any inflection on the words. If you have to add inflection to a sentence in order to make it evoke sadness, or anger, or anything like that, then you've written the section wrong. The words need to speak for themselves in all cases. Because let's face it: most people who are reading your book/short story/whatever aren't going to be listening to it as an audiobook.
Do you read your work aloud, dear readers? How has it helped you?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Apinya reached toward the cold pile of deadwood and asked the fire to
come, her breath misting in the mountain air. Warmth spread from her
heart to her shoulder, her arm, her wrist… until Aunt Nit viciously
slapped her hand.
“I’m cold,” said Apinya, rubbing her reddened skin.
Nit frowned. “Use matches. Or better yet, pound some rice.”
Apinya had hoped to avoid that, but she knew better than to disobey
Aunt Nit directly. Picking up her schoolbag, she walked the dirt road
between homes of woven bamboo. At least Aunt Nit didn’t lecture her
on the importance of staying hidden or pretending she was someone she
Pounding rice was hard, but it wasn’t the work that bothered her, nor
the occasional mocking she received from the other students. It was
the isolation, the reminder that in a village of hundreds – even
working alongside each other – she was different. And there was
nothing she could do about it.
The rhythmic pounding of the rice pestles could be heard over a kilo
away. It took days to husk the rice from a single field, so the whole
village helped in turns. Children who were old enough worked before
school, pushing the pestles up and down with their feet for over an
hour sometimes, then again in the evening when their homework was
Mark traced his fingertips over the strange runes, and a twinge of excitement rippled through his body. Eager to continue the adventure, he stepped through the trees.
Upon emerging from the archway, he heard the noises. He was unable to make out distinctive voices, but there were many of them, and it sounded like hearty, joyous singing.
Creeping as silently as he could, he approached the chorus of voices, moving deeper into the undergrowth, pressing aside outreaching tree limbs that sought to block his path and protect the denizens of the forest.
Deeper into the woods he traveled, his way lit by a mass of fireflies signaling their mates. Trying desperately to be silent, twigs cracked and leaves crunched under his weight. Perhaps the creatures of the forest would teach him to move silently as they did.
His house far away now, little more than a memory, he began to feel as if he had been birthed here, living his young life among the trees and the earth, cradled within the leafy arms of the forest. How he longed to make this dream real, to banish his true life to some nether-region, replace it with one free of school and homework and all the complications grown-ups seemed to accumulate as they grew older. None of that would be found here, he knew.
We will be back tomorrow to reveal the Pubble(s), whilst the brave and willing plebe shall remain anonymous. Feel free to make comments about our experiment or the two pieces, but, as always, be respectful and courteous of your fellow writers.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Something very interesting happened to me yesterday. I met one of my characters.
You know that record-scratch sound they use in movies when the main character realizes something that makes them stop in their tracks? Yeah, that was me.
The guy was a costume character at a local theme park. He was dressed in a turn-of-the-century safari outfit and had an impeccable upper-class British accent. When he interacted with me (in the persona to match his outfit, of course), it was like I was meeting someone famous. I was stunned. Words left me.
Here, in front of me, was someone who shouldn't exist-- but he did. Sort of. Even though he was an actor playing another character, he was flawlessly playing MY character. The quirks, the voice, the look-- it was all there.
He must have thought I was the weird one. There I was, star-struck by a dude in a safari outfit. Complete with silly hat. Oooookay, crazy lady.
It was hugely strange, but also really neat, in a way. It was like someone decided to make the movie in my head and I was watching them film it.
And now, I have more material, too!
I know some writers base characters off of real people, but have you ever met one you've made up in real life?
Friday, June 18, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
6. Blah, blah, blah
So you've got what you think is a great novel. But maybe you only think it's great. Maybe it's a long slog that puts people to sleep and makes them wish they were reading a trigonometry textbook instead.
That's a problem.
Today I was reading Scene and Structure by Jack Bickham. (Yes, again.) One of the very first chapters talks about conflict. We all know we need conflict in our stories, but have you ever gone back to each scene to see if you're increasing conflict?
Bickham says each scene must have the following:
1. A goal. Stephanie needs to go to Egypt to research Hatshepsut's temple.
2. Introduction or development of conflict. Stephanie is a starving college student (thank goodness I'm not anymore) and can't afford to pay for the trip.
3. A tactical DISASTER, a failure to reach the goal. Stephanie starts panhandling on the street, but people only give her doughnuts and EgyptAir won't accept doughnuts as currency, no matter how much chocolate they have slathered on them.
DUN DUH DUH!
Your protagonist should end each scene worse off than where he/she started. Otherwise, you've decreased conflict and now your reader doesn't care about the story anymore.
Now, Bickham cautions against making the goals too small or too large, but that's a post for another time. If you're revising, have you checked to make sure each of your scenes contains the necessary ingredients?
Why is that time frame important? Well, Harry Harrison said at one point that it took him five years of part-time research to get to the level of know-how he needed to write A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah! Remembering that got me to thinking: How much faster would I have been able to draft CALLARION AT NIGHT if I had a primer like the one I intend to write at my fingertips? Probably a heckuva lot quicker, that's for sure. And then this has a double benefit for me, at least, in that my knowledge of the period will become even greater through putting together this primer.
There's a secondary benefit to writing the SRP as well. That, of course, happens to be platform-building. Let use another example: I'm going to be part of two panels at Upstate Steampunk in Greenville, South Carolina this fall. While on these panels, I'm going to discuss the roots of Steampunk literature, which as you may or may not recall, I spent the entire month of April on over at FtP.
The resulting academic paper, which I will hand in at that conference, will then be included as a writing credit in any query letter/non-fiction proposal I write. Why? Because it means I got published. If/when the SRP gets picked up, I fully intend to also mention that in any query letter I write.
Beyond the fact that it means I will be able to say I wrote the book on basic Steampunk research (which is kind of cool by itself), it will prove that I have the writing chops to put a coherent, salable book together. Will it translate directly into being able to craft a compelling novel? Probably not directly, but it does mean that someone enjoyed my writing style enough to take a chance on it. It also means that I know the type of people who'd buy my novel if I've already written a non-fiction book directly targeted to them.
The point of rather rambling post is this: We hear time and again that platform is an important part of being a writer. Non-fiction is dependent on platform and marketing plans and so forth. What better practice can you get than putting together a non-fiction proposal and trying to get it sold? Particularly if you know your topic well.
It's a thought at least.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Now, as Anita Saxena commented last week, we can't really draw full-bodied conclusions by comparing two short snippets, but hopefully we can at least see that the difference in writing quality between pubbles and plebes might not be as discrepant as some might believe (or at least in this case). Let's go picket Random House just for fun :).
Now, since this is an experiment and our first run at it, we'd like to get feedback to improve our process. Any suggestions for improvement (e.g., expanding to 500 words, which would be roughly 2 pages worth) are greatly appreciated. Or, if you think this totally sux, we'd like to know that, too.
Also, we've got a couple more volunteers lined up, but the more the merrier. If you're interested, please email us at
And, finally, many thanks to our first test subject for submitting his/her piece for comparison.
Monday, June 14, 2010
I know a title is important, and frankly, I feel a little lost that I haven't thought of one yet. A title draws your reader in; it makes them curious enough to read the copy, which hopefully makes them curious enough to read the book. It's your first impression as a writer, and I don't know why I can't think of one for this particular book.
The rest of my books-- even some unwritten ones-- have just seemed to populate fully-formed in my head, complete with titles. Usually snappy one- or two-word ones. Which might be why I'm having trouble-- this title has to be at least a few words. Something cute and clever and with a hint of the quirkiness within-- oh, and it has to have something to do with death.
Perhaps it's because this is my first try at a good old fashioned mystery (despite having teethed myself on Agatha Christie and the stories of Sherlock Holmes), but I just can't seem to find what to call this one.
I know that the title will probably change anyway, but I don't want to use my placeholder because that just screams, "I'm lazy and couldn't think of anything good." Which I'm not. I just . . . can't think of anything good.
I have faith it will come, but maybe the book needs to be finished first.
Have you ever struggled to name a project? Is there some underlying psychosis at work here?
P.S.-- don't forget to go vote in our little experiment!
Yan Faren dropped his silver pieces, one coin at a time, onto the decaying wooden table in front of Ol’ Bran Taber the Lodge Master. The small dusty shack he stood in was no different than any of the other piles of wood and sod that cluttered the city streets except that inside was where the Lodge conducted their business with the outside world. Yan did not like debts to settle any more than he liked dealing with unlawful men but some things could not be helped. He had needed the money when the taxes were levied and now it had to be repaid. It had taken him over three weeks in the market to sell enough barley.
The attic cubicle was dark and stuffy, two conditions the tiny window under the eaves did little to alleviate. Luna reached up to the shelf over her pallet for her fiddle case, and froze with her hand less than an inch away. Her mother's nasal whine echoed up the stairs from the tavern sleeping rooms below.
We will be back tomorrow to reveal the Pubble(s), whilst the brave and willing plebe shall remain anonymous. Feel free to make comments about our experiment or the two pieces, but, as always, be respectful and courteous of your fellow writers.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Here's Bickham's list of all the things that could potentially go wrong in your scenes. (Note: It kind of reminds me of all the things that can happen to humans to kill or maim us. It's really surprising any of us make it to adulthood. Or that any novels are error-free.)
1. Too many people in the scene. (Mary, Margaret, Madge, Marge, Bob, Bill, Will, and Lakwanjala the Killer Clown all went into the costume store.)
2. Cicularity of argument. (Did not! Did so! Did not! Did so! Yawn.)
3. Unwanted interruptions. (The phone rang. So? It makes it more like real life, but I'm reading a book. I don't want real life.)
4. Getting off the track. (Oops. I just wrote four pages that has nothing to do with the conflict of the killer clowns. But I know you wanted to know the exact layout of the costume store.)
5. Inadvertent summary. (And then Jeff thought to himself, "This really sucks that the clown costume isn't at the store. Poor Billy will be so sad. In fact, the tantrum he's throwing now shows how sad he is.")
6. Loss of viewpoint. (Whose head am I in now?)
7. Forgotten scene goal. (Why am I here again?)
8. Unmotivated opposition. (The killer clown is being nasty just to be nasty. It's easier this way.)
9. Illogical disagreement. (You don't want Billy to be a clown for Halloween because you don't like cucumbers?)
10. Unfair odds. (The killer clowns have knifes, revolvers, exploding nose grenades AND will tickle me to death? ACK!)
11. Overblown internalizations. (I am going to think to myself just how awful these clowns are until the reader can't take it anymore.)
12. Not enough at stake. (Tell me why I care. I don't.)
13. Inadvertent red herrings. (It wasn't the clowns- it was the butler! Follow the butler with the bloody knife!)
14. Phony, contrived disasters. (Ack! Killer clowns attacked just as an earthquake hit and a place crashed too!)
Whew! Okay, so Bickham says we rarely make more than one of these mistakes per scene. Have you ever made any of these mistakes? (Maybe not with killer clowns.) Or read a book with one that made you groan out loud?
"I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English - it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don't let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them - then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice."One of the more common failings in most writing is the use of a much bigger word than you need. Case in point: in my day job I see a lot of press releases with the word "utilize" in place of the word "use," among many other instances of similar overwrought wording. My sole theory about this is that we've been conditioned as a culture to believe that using a big word means you're smarter than the average person. A bigger vocabulary = a smarter person, in other words.
Now, we writers know that's not necessarily true. The best writing sometimes uses the simplest words, rather than the biggest, and is the better for it. An object lesson:
"He walked down the street." vs. "He perambulated down the avenue."
Both sentences say exactly the same thing. The second one, however, uses words that are more complicated than they might need to be. Granted, "perambulate" could refer to a specific kind of walk, but if all you want to say is that the man walked down the street then the first sentence is all you need to use.
In writing, it's always better to say what you need to say without using overblown words. Today on Twitter, RantyEditor referenced someone saying "We need to dialogue about this" instead of "We need to talk." That's another classic example of someone trying to sound smarter. All it does is make said person seem pompous. Of course, if you want your character to seem pompous, then by all means go that direction.
My point is this: don't use big words when you don't have to. Sending your readers scurrying to the dictionary every page or two is not a way to gain their loyalty. It's a way to alienate them. For the most part, at least.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
I wish I could say this one, a follow-up post, would be the same way. But the images-- they are aplenty in my head.
To catch everyone up, I am currently querying a commercial fiction novel. Well, mostly. I'm technically on query hiatus as of right now, only because I have so much else going on until my wedding in October. Once that's over with though, I intend to dive back in head first-- though that doesn't mean I won't cheat and send a few out in the meantime.
A couple weeks ago, I wrote about the pumpkins I'm attempting to grow in my backyard for said wedding, and my fears that previous planticides were indicative of my inability to take care of anything botanical. (Wow, did I used enough big words in that sentence?)
And I have to admit that I treat querying the same way. It frankly scares me to do it at times because I've failed before. What if this time isn't different? What if this time, they not only say no, but call me a silly hack who never has a hope of a writing career please stop now before you hurt someone?
Well, to all of that, I say this:
Cling to the small successes.
For my first concern, the pumpkin vines in my yard, I give you the following evidence. What was bare dirt and hard work a mere four weeks ago has turned into this:
For queries, I see the small successes as requests for partials and fulls. Sure, that in and of itself hasn't landed me an agent yet, but it means that something I'm doing is headed in the right direction. I can only hope that if I keep growing and learning, I will do more right and make it to my goal.
My plants are oddly demonstrative of this point right now. If you notice in the picture above, I have lots of little sprouts and that one random HUGE cluster. Here's a not-blurry close up of those guys for you:
Those leaves up there? They are as big as my HEAD. Yeah.
So not all of my pumpkin vines (all 38 that sprouted!) are growing into giant mutants (SEEEEEY-MOUR!), but they're there, and they're growing slowly but steadily. Once I figure out what I've done so correctly with this particular group, I can apply it to the rest (I have a feeling it's really mostly just sunshine, but that's a whole other metaphor/analogy). And you know what? I'm fine with the others not being so large and beautiful just yet. They'll get there, or, maybe they won't. Everyone has a weakness and a flaw.
I'm just happy that I have something I can point to and say, "Hey! Look! I did that, and I did it right." The rest will come with time and practice.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Each morning, when I wake up, I ask myself: “Self, will you write today? Or will you waste hours surfing blogs under the pretense that you’re doing research?”
I’ve discovered my most productive writing days are the ones in which I actually write. Those are the days my chest swells and I feel like flying. Those are the days I can stand up and say: “I am writer; hear me roar.” I try as often as possible to have days like that. Sometimes I succeed, other times… not so much. But always I like to give myself a solid push in the right direction.
I first heard of Timed Writing at a writer’s conference a few years ago, but didn’t try it until just recently. Mostly, because I don’t own a stopwatch. After I found this online version (http://www.online-stopwatch.
The concept of Timed Writing is pretty simple:
1. Decide on a length of time you want to spend writing: 20 minutes, 45 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours.
2. Open up whatever piece you’re working on.
3. Close all distractions… Solitaire. Email. Facebook. Twitter.
4. Start your time and start writing.
Simple as that. While the stop watch is running, don’t get up from your desk. Don’t check your email. Don’t sneak a peek at your Twitter updates. Sit. Think. Write. Think. Write some more. Focus on your story. Your fingers don’t necessarily have to be moving the entire time, but I can pretty much guarantee they will be… because they’ll have nothing else to do.
When the set time is over, feel free to get up, stretch your legs, use the bathroom, grab a snack, check your email, tweet your word count, whatever you want. Think of this in-between time as your mini-reward for getting in some quality writing. Then, if your family isn’t beating down your door and begging for dinner, if your dog isn’t tugging on your pant leg to go for a walk, set the timer and go again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
If you feel antsy about trying this method or worry you won't have enough self-control, start off with short sets, then add time slowly until you’re writing in longer and longer stretches.
Writing for more than 2 hours straight without any kind of break can actually be somewhat anti-productive, at least for me. So if I have a long day set aside just for writing, I also set the timer during my breaks (usually 10-15 minutes). Then I can dive right back into things without too much time wasted.
I have found writing with a stop watch to be most effective during the first draft stage. It pushes me to write fast, effectively cutting off the voice of the Dreaded Inner Editor. I use it less during revision, but will fall back on it if I’m finding it difficult to keep my butt in the chair and my eyes on the page.
Timed Writing is not a magic wand. It's simply another great tool for your Writer's Box!
Have you ever tried Timed Writing? If so, did you find it effective? Why or why not?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
I also love summer because I'm out of school. That translates to more writing time. The rest of the year I'm typically exhausted and in the long, dark days of winter I really just want to hibernate and eat cookies. I have to force myself to write and keep my daily writing goals low: 250-500 words a day. I envy those of you who NaNoWriMo. I just don't have it in me that time of year.
But summer means I can stay up until midnight and it's still light out (I'm in Alaska). I don't get tired until it gets dark and have oodles of extra time to think about plots and research the nitty-gritty stuff I need to weave into my WIP. Suffice to say, I can get a lot done.
So I'm curious. Is this just a weird Alaska phenomenon? Or perhaps it's a teacher thing? You tell me: do you feel more productive in the summer? Or is there another time of year you get more writing done?
Anyway, one of the interesting things I've discovered about my process is that when I'm plotting out a scene in my head, I can sometimes imagine it set to a particular type of music or even a particular song. Sometimes I'll hear a song and imagine a scene not necessarily related to the story itself, but indicative of the characters.
An example: A previous version of CALLARION AT NIGHT opens with a bar fight. Those of you who've read the tale of my spunky superheroine Moriah Rowani, will of course believe that she in no way, shape, or form had anything to do with starting said fight. *pauses for snickering to stop*
Anyway, in writing this bar fight I imagined the song Black Betty (the Ram Jam version, not the Spiderbait one) playing over the scene. I've always been convinced that Black Betty is an absolutely perfect fight scene song for a number of reasons -- mostly because the rhythm is just right to mesh with the martial-arts-based fighting styles my characters almost always have.
A scene I don't have in any of my stories is set to Free Ride by the Edgar Winter Group. This one involves starting up a top-end sports car and zooming away on the highway. I always envision a man and a woman and the woman asking where they're headed. The guy responds with "I don't know yet." And then there's engine revving sounds and the song kicks up.
There's a whole bunch of other songs I've set imaginary scenes to -- a car chase to Fuel by Metallica, proposal scene to the Heaven remix by DJ Sammy, etc. There's a scene in my head for practically every song I hear. Some of them are sheer ridiculousness, and have no place in my writing, but are extremely funny to imagine anyway. The song I Can Do Anything Better Than You Can is the archetypal relationship song for the romantic pairing of Moriah with her ex-fiance Nicolai. A very interesting relationship, that.
What about you? Do you imagine scenes set to music?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
- With this whole Twilight Saga and learning that a relatively unknown author got a 7 figure advance for Matched, I once again found myself wondering how soon it'll be before Mormons rule the world (assuming everything doesn't go all apocalypse on us). They've got exemplary missionary efforts, a strong breeding program, and are super nice (except when playing basketball). And due to their old-school family values, many LDS women tend to stay home to raise the brood, which allows for more writing time that more 'progressive' women might not be afforded... what's that phrase about the pen and the sword?
- This whole BP spill thing is terrible. I hope nobody disagrees with that. Two things that kind of confuse me:
1.) why isn't the government intervening more (politics, legal issue?)?
2.) whenever there's a disaster with multiple companies involved, some reporter digs up links between the companies (e.g., Exec at company B used to work at company A) and proceeds to chastise company A for hiring company B (for pseudo-nepotism, I guess). What's up with that? If I have cake, I sure as hell am gonna give it to the cubemate I know, not the one I don't. Kind of the inverse of that whole taking stranger candy point.
Sidepoint -- this isn't an easy fix. Know everyone's upset, and BP could have done more (more can always be done, just ask a perfectionist), but that's the danger w/ advanced technology... when shit goes wrong, worse shit happens (like that 'the taller they are...' line... this is one big chopped down beanstalk). Conspiracy theory #1: econuts destroyed the rig to engender further anger toward the big bad Oil Man. Conspiracy theory #2: Dolphins. Tired of getting caught up in fishnets, attacked en masse, bottle-noses at the ready.
- My wife got an iTouch recently and started farming (not farmville, but farmstory). I read that more than 1% of the world's population "farms." Like 80,000,000 people. Know I'm a bit late to the WTF crowd on this, but could someone explain the appeal?