« August 2010 | Main | October 2010 »
Does your inner critic need a timeout? Or an attitude adjustment? Maybe what it needs is a total personality transplant.
If so, bring it along to Inner Critic Rehab at the Romance Writer's Revenge. We'll do our best to reform these contrary creatures and make their criticism more productive. All inner critics are welcome!
| | |
|
I know prologues have fallen out of favor with a lot of people, and there's a good reason for that. Too often they are used to create a (false) sense of interest or urgency, or to throw in information that is meant to be important later on in the story, but can't really be shown anywhere else. Even worse is when you read a prologue, get caught up in it, and then get snatched away into what seems a completely different story.
However, there are some prologues that are done in a way that. . .well, I hate to say, "correctly" or "properly", because those smell a little too much like RULES, and we're all aware how one sniff of that makes my inner contrarian rear up and start to screech like a banshee.
So let's just say there are some prologues that accomplish what any good opening does: it draws you into the story. It's not just tacked on as an afterthought. Or as a pre-thought.
Maybe this will work better if I "show" rather than "tell".
In Linda Lael Miller's historical romance High Country Bride, there are three rowdy cowboy brothers, and their father Angus decides they need to settle down. So he tells them the first one who gets a bride and fathers a child will inherit his huge ranch, AND the winner will essentially get to boss the other two brothers around.
While this is a great setup for a series, it seems like Angus is being a bit high-handed trying to run his sons' lives.
Until you read the prologue.
It starts with Angus at his wife's grave, updating her with details about their wild sons in order to justify his decision. It creates sympathy for this man, who is aging, and desperately missing his wife. But it also cleverly gives information about each son's personality and conflicts, and again, increases sympathy for Angus because he blames himself for their wayward lifestyles, and he wants them to settle down and be happy.
After a couple pages, I'm thinking, "Dagnabbit, they ARE a bunch of wild-mannered ruffians!" At the same time I'm mentally patting Angus on the shoulder, reassuring him that he did the best he could, raising three young boys while grieving the loss of his beloved wife.
This prologue is also a great example of giving description that is integral to the POV character, while showing who that character is. Here's the first sentence:
"Angus McKettrick hated every thorn and cactus, every sprig of sagebrush, every juniper tree and jackrabbit and hunk of red rock for fifty miles in all directions, and if he could have scorched the land bare as a pig's hide at rendering time, he'd have done it, yes, sir."
Another memorable prologue is from Suzanne Brockmann's Gone Too Far, which is Book 6 in her Navy SEAL Troubleshooter series. Sam is the hero of this book, although he's been an important character in each of the previous books (and Sam is a nickname he goes by, but his real name is Roger—it's information you need to know in just a minute).
In the previous books he's fallen in love with Alyssa, one of the other recurring characters, but she thinks he has dickish tendencies, and she won't get permanently involved with him because of that, and for her own emotional reasons.
Of course, Sam's dickish tendencies blossom when he is spurned by this woman he loves. However, at his core he is also heroic, which means he does wonderful things, and we know the dickish things are a result of emotional wounds he carries around.
The prologue of Gone Too Far starts with these words:
His lunchpail was empty.
Again.
Roger Starrett quickly closed it and latched it back up, looking around the middle school cafeteria, praying no one had seen.
Now who wouldn't feel sympathy for him after reading that?
In the next paragraph you find out that his mother is ill, and you can see his tough-guy façade as he informs the lunch lady that yes, he's eaten his lunch because look, his lunchbox is empty. These things would naturally create sympathy for any young boy, but they're doubly effective because readers have gotten to know Sam as an adult in previous books, and now there's a little more insight into the reasons for his behavior.
The prologue continues with the POV of Noah, a young boy who is being harassed by bullies. Sam comes to Noah's defense, and when one of the bullies ends up getting hurt, Sam does the heroic thing and provides first aid, even comforting the bully who is now really afraid and crying. As the prologue continues, you learn about Sam being bullied by his own father, and how Noah's parent informally "adopts" Sam, providing him the male role model that will steer him the right direction into manhood.
You can read the entire prologue on Amazon, and I suggest you do. There's a lot to be absorbed about deep POV, and how to show a character via another character's thoughts and actions. It's actually a wonderful story on its own merits. Even better, it makes you eager to turn the page and read more of this character's life.
Which is exactly what you want a prologue to do.
| | |
|
My new blog crush is brought to you today courtesy of my friend Bren. Last week she sent me a link to Thunder Pie, where a young man named Serge blogs about his toddler daughter Violet.
Now wait. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong.
Because I thought the same thing: "It's going to be ooey gooey stuff about a kid, and it'll be BO-ring, because that kind of stuff only matters to the kid's parents, not the rest of us."
Just go read Long Western Afternoon Fort People, and you'll soon forget you ever entertained such a thought.
In the post, Serge talks about a tent he'd bought as a Christmas present for his daughter, but it hadn't been set up until recently. While he's fixing lunch, he feels her hand in his. He says:
"...What a sensation/what a feeling: the first time your kid comes into a room just to get you. I'm looking for you Pops, her grip says. I'm here for you."
From that point on, I was captivated.
He explains how they spent the afternoon in this tent, playing and laughing, and then he says:
"Every two or three minutes I crawl out and walk away just to see if I'm still wanted, to make sure it isn't all just another damn dream."
I still get a lump in my throat when I read that.
We entrust our emotions to carefully chosen words, and then rearrange them like puzzle pieces, trying to find the combination that will perfectly describe what makes our hearts beat faster, and what makes them ache. Even then, despite our efforts, sometimes the words fall short.
But not this time.
This time the words were in exactly the right place, giving me a glimpse of something I've never experienced, yet instantly reminding me of something I have. A moment somewhere else, with somebody I have never met, was brought to life with words.
This is what I love about writing.
| | |
|
"Write what you know" is a phrase that we've all heard, numerous times. I suspect it was initially tossed out, with a great deal of gruff impatience, so that new writers would sit their asses down and put some words onto paper. Yet somehow it's morphed into a mantra, as if the secret to writing the next bestseller is contained within those four words.
Believe it or not, I got the title for this post when I saw a dozen wild turkeys outside my kitchen window. (Here, let me hold your hand while I show you how I got from Point A to Point B. It'll make sense, I promise.)
I was washing dishes, and all of a sudden there was a parade of these creatures emerging from some nearby trees. I figured out the one in front, with the clump of what looks like raw steak hanging from his face, was the male. Maybe even an alpha male, although that term doesn't really exude sexiness when used for turkeys, does it? (Since I couldn't get him to sign a release, he's not in this photo.)
Anyway, it took me a minute to realize that the majority of these turkeys are probably the cute little yellow butterballs I saw in the front yard just a couple months ago. Boy have they matured, and so quickly. (Well, except for two of them that were pecking at each other, and flapping their wings furiously, making it obvious that sibling rivalry is alive and well in the animal kingdom.)
Watching the turkeys made me think of what I "know", and how that is actually a moving target, since I'm always accumulating new information and piecing it together with other stuff I've already learned. I knew nothing about wild turkeys until I moved to this residence a year ago. Now I discuss them with authority in my voice, like I'm prepping for a segment of Animal Planet.
In addition to my wealth of knowledge about New England wildlife, I also know things about the law, from when I was a lawyer. However, the day-to-day detail of working with courts and legislators is actually less compelling than a pack of wild turkeys appearing unexpectedly in my yard.
Write what I know? That stuff makes me yawn in my own face.
I'm more excited about Regency carriages, and Ducati motorcycles, and driving a vintage convertible to escape gun-wielding bad guys. I'm intrigued by all kinds of things I don't know yet, including the fashionable clothing my heroines wear and the luxurious houses my heroes live in. I am ecstatic about learning what my characters are used to seeing and doing on a daily basis, so I can use all of that information when I sit down to write their story.
So don't try to write about what you know. Write instead about the things that you find intriguing, exciting, or eye-poppingly inspiring. If it is something you know little or nothing about, go research it. Experience it. Discover what it is that makes your heart beat faster when you pursue it.
Then bring all of that to your story.
Write what you know NOW, based on your expeditions into the exciting unknown.
That's the story I want to read.
| | |
|
This is another blast-from-the-past post, and I'm bending my Friday Fave rules to make this fit. (I highly recommend that everyone become a rule maker, because it's so much more fun when you become a rule breaker.)
It can be so hard to "find your niche", whether it's on the bookshelves, or in the other parts of Real Life. Apparently we humans can only cope with stuff if we can categorize it. The problem is that very few things fit in only ONE category, but it's as if the rule book says, "One category per customer". So we struggle to find that one perfect descriptor, the mot juste that will let all the people searching sigh with relief once they've found this particular item.
But how can you find your niche if it hasn't been created yet? When it comes to publishing, there are certain pre-set categories/niches that authors are asked to squeeze their manuscript into. The funny thing is, the more somebody tries to make something fit, the more that category expands, to the point that the original description doesn't begin to cover it anymore.
I'm assuming back in the days when storytelling was oral, not written, there were no categories. It was a "story", something to pass the time while gnawing on brontosaurus bones, as well as a way to applaud the bravery of the brontosaurus catcher, and inspire future brontosaurus hunters to great deeds.
No doubt the stories changed with the re-telling, for any number of reasons. Maybe Gork was in a hurry to see Mrs. Gork one night, and he abbreviated certain parts so he could get to "The End" more quickly. Or maybe Gork Junior was yawning during the fifteenth re-telling, so Gork revised based on the immediate audience feedback. Or perhaps there was a Gork wannabe, who was transcribing the tale by drawing stick figures on the cave walls, and he decided to tell the story from the brontosaurus' POV.
From that point it seems there was "fiction" and "non-fiction", and that probably sufficed for a while. But then sub-categories started cropping up, so it was necessary to re-organize, so that people could find what they were looking for again. And then the sub-categories started to expand.
For instance, the category of "romance" was too big to cover all the myriad variations of stories. "Contemporary" and "historical" made things easier, but then how do you deal with things like vampires and werewolves? Um, let's create "paranormal". But what about when these paranormal stories focus less on the romance? Well, we can call it "urban fantasy".
Writers keep writing the stories they love, and then try to find the appropriate slot on the bookshelf. Too often they're told "I don't know how to sell this", which means, "there isn't a category that fits this yet".
The only thing you can do is create your own category. (Granted, we all want to be labeled "best-selling", but that's another post.) Instead of trying to mold yourself to fit into the current niches, which will often result in losing your voice, or hook, or the storyline that makes your book wow everyone who reads it – what you need to do is create your own category.
Sounds hard though. How do you pitch a book, to an agent or an editor, when it doesn't fit in the pre-defined categories? You describe the story, the elements that make everyone want to know: "what happens next?" You make everyone care about the characters, and what they're striving for, whether it's set on the desolate fourteenth moon of Jupiter, in the fiery cubicle of Satan's business manager, or a Mississippi riverboat piloted by prom queens.
Every time I've heard a writer ask an agent/editor panel, "Would you consider such-and-such story" (generally a story without a current category), the agent/editor replies, "I'm looking for a great story".
Your story is great. It may not fit into a particular slot on the current bookshelves. If it doesn't, that's fine, because now your job is changing "That's not what we're looking for", into "Because we didn't know we were looking for THIS!"
Does your book bend the current category definitions? Did it start out as one category and blend with another? Tell us the story about your story!
| | |
|
What do you do with all the crazy ideas that show up when you're writing? Come on over and discuss it with the pirates at Romance Writer's Revenge, where we will be Lovin' the Crazy.
| | |
|
I'm trying to figure out why I think this current WIP is giving me more heartburn than the one I just finished.
For some reason I remember that finished manuscript flowing effortlessly, from page one clear through to "The End". The characters cooperated, revealing their story with a beautiful narrative. There was a natural rise and fall to each scene, with the exact amount of needed tension, as well as the right balance of showing, not telling.
Yes, that's the way I remember it. But that's not the way it happened.
While I was in the midst of revising the manuscript, my brain apparently decided to revamp the memories of how that book was actually written. If I really dig into the memory banks, I can uncover the unofficial, not-glossed-over version of writing that particular story.
There were plenty of days I had no clue what to do, so I just sat down and typed and the story revealed itself like it always does, in its own time, and with its own methods. Other days I sat and stared out the window, waiting for the ideas to wake up in my brain, and when they wouldn't, I gnashed my teeth and moved on to something else.
It's never easier.
It's tempting to think it is, because it's always different. But writing isn't as easy as we remember it, once we've finished something. I could call up my BFF and she would give testimony on how I crawled forward inch-by-inch with my fingernails. . .even though I would swear I floated through a dreamlike experience, one that I wish I was in right now.
So don't get distracted by the glamour of the book that's finished. It was hard and grueling and worth every minute of what you put into it. Now it's time to do the same with THIS book. You'll love it one day, and rhapsodize about what a dream it was to write.
Only none of us are going to believe you.
| | |
|
This is a post I wrote last year, and since I've been thinking about the writing process a lot, I decided to feature this post as today's Friday Fave. I hope you find it useful, and inspirational.
When I first started writing many, many years ago, I was told you HAD to outline. And I tried, and tried, and tried. And then quit. I couldn't outline. Part of the reason for that was because I hadn't learned how to plot.
What I could do, and I think I have always done well, was create interesting characters. I often would imagine a certain character doing or saying something intriguing, or an image would appear to me, and I would wonder what was going to happen next. I would write these snippets down, and then try to keep writing to figure out more.
And then I would think, "I better start outlining", and I'd get frustrated because the characters weren't doing what they were told to do. I felt like I was the Character Police, and I was constantly writing infraction tickets for characters that were essentially jaywalking, going where they wanted to no matter how hard my arms were flailing around, signaling them "over here!"
The worst part of all this is I felt like a failure as a writer. REAL writers outline, and that's why their books get published.
Sigh.
So I didn't write. Instead I read books ABOUT writing, trying to find that magic formula on how to outline, so I could write my books.
One autumn day I stumbled across a book in the library with the preposterous title, No Plot? No Problem! by Chris Baty. I started to pick it up, but then changed my mind. I had vowed to relinquish reading any more writing books, since I had this intuitive notion that I should just sit down and write, rather than read about the topic.
I walked to another part of the library, but I came back.
"I'll just look at the back cover," I said, sure I was able to control my impulse.
It sounded intriguing. Write a book in a month? Huh. Well, I didn't need to read a book to do that.
But I couldn't put the book back on the shelf for some reason.
"I can check it out," I convinced the resistant part of myself. "The worst thing that will happen is I'll have to pay an overdue fine, like I do with almost every book I check out. Which isn't a bad thing since the library IS asking for donations for the new building."
I took the book home, and consumed it in one sitting. In addition to being rolling-on-the-floor hilarious, there was this subversive, incredibly liberating notion: write a set amount every day, WITHOUT OUTLINING, and you will be writing so fast your internal editor won't be able to keep up with you.
I realized that was my biggest problem with outlining. It always gave the bitchy internal editor a chance to sneer and say, "Ohmygod, you have outdone yourself with crappy ideas. Yeesh. Could you come up with anything worse than---YES, you can, and have. . ."
[choking noises ensue]
There were plenty of mentions in No Plot? No Problem! about the National Novel Writing Month (affectionately known as NaNoWriMo) coming up in November, which was only about a month away. I decided to give it a try, thinking it would be an interesting challenge.
I fell in love.
With writing. And my characters, who surprised me each day with their interesting lives, and hilarious dialogue, and crazy antics. All of it was a complete surprise, because I didn't know what was going to happen when I sat down at the keyboard each day. And I was excited about writing, because it was fun, not a chore.
I was so happy, I think I even gave my snarling internal editor a big fat juicy kiss.
This is how I wrote Bad Sex Karma, at least the first draft of 50,000 words. It was a glorious, inspiring burst of creativity, no holds barred, no second guessing, and no inhibitions.
I had finally found my writing style.
Now I fly through the creative portion, excited to see what my characters are going to say and do, knowing it will be a surprise, as well as a foundation for a story I can work with during revisions.
This method also silences the critical voice inside, since once I get through the first 30 to 50 pages, I give my Pantser persona a little help from Plotter persona. They collaborate, considering a variety of ideas to keep the story going in a slightly more structured fashion, and writing down a loose outline of events to follow, with the caveat that everything is subject to change.
I have become a Hybrid.
Pantser is joyful, filled with possibilities, running around with boundless enthusiasm. Plotter is a bit dour, always on the lookout for disaster, trying to ensure no one makes an ass of themselves.
I am a writing team. A very happy one.
Are you a Pantser or a Plotter? Or are you a hybrid/blend/melange? I'd love to hear how your writing process works!
| | |
|
I realized I've never really posted about receiving "The Call" from my agent, Christine Witthohn.
"The Call" is one of those things you always imagine, and try to plan for, so that you won't sound completely idiotic when it happens. Of course, despite all the mental practice, I still managed to sound like a half-wit, because it was so completely unexpected.
But let me start closer to the "inciting incident". And I'll try to set the scene as well.
It was an evening in early March, which, since our story takes place in New England, means we still had about six months of winter left. Okay, I exaggerate. I got to finally turn the heater off in late May. (But I wished I'd waited until mid-June.)
My BFF Brenda had called me that evening to ask if I could look at some clothes online. She was considering buying them, and wanted to consult with me, to get a second opinion. I looked, gave my thoughts, and we hung up. She called back, within just a few minutes, and had me look at something else.
When I was done, I tossed the cell phone onto the couch, and went into the kitchen, to check on something I was cooking for dinner. (Those of you who are devoted readers of this blog will know how unusual that is, so yes, I should have been alerted to the strange forces in the air that night.)
The phone rang again, and I remember laughing as I came back into the living room to pick up the phone. I didn't even look at the caller ID, since what I expected to hear was, "Okay, go to this website and check out this top".
But what I actually heard was, "This is Christine Witthohn, from Book Cents Literary Agency".
My response? "Oh! I thought you were going to be my friend."
Yup. After all that late-night practice, complete with witty repartee and engaging conversation designed to make an agent fall in love with me, that's the best I could come up with.
So of course I had to fumble around and explain why I'd blurted someting so inane, and Christine gamely answered, "No, it's just me."
Fortunately Christine was enamored of my writing abilities, and not put off by my lack of speaking ones. We chatted a bit about I Do. . .or Die, my contemporary romance that I'd submitted to her a few weeks earlier.
She gave me some ideas of a few things she thought would strengthen the manuscript, and then suggested I contact a few of her clients as references, and then she and I could talk the next evening, to see if we were a good fit.
When I got off the phone I called Brenda, and I truly have no clue what I said to her. But I think squealing commenced, on both ends of the phone line. I know for a fact she wasn't expecting THIS kind of news when I called HER.
I contacted several of Christine's clients, who naturally raved about her, and were so gracious about answering my questions. The next evening Christine and I chatted for about 90 minutes, and I can't even remember now everything we talked about, although I do know we went through my manuscript in detail. I took extensive notes, some of which actually made sense the following day.
I asked if I could think things over, because I was still feeling a bit dazed, plus there were other agents with the full manuscript and I felt I should contact them.
There were several "little things" that made a big impression on me. One of these was when Christine sent a quick email that evening saying essentially, "take your time, don't worry about anything". I'd been nervous about asking for a week's time to figure everything out, but she was very nice about it all.
Another important "little thing" was when we'd discussed the tough nature of the current market for contemporary romance, and how it would be an easier sell to revamp the book into a mystery. Christine was 100% fine with me choosing to take the hard road. When she said, "If that doesn't work, we'll try something else", I knew we'd work well together, because I'm a firm believer that there's more than one way to accomplish a goal.
Since that first call, Christine and I have chatted many times on the phone, and I truly appreciate how accessible she is. Her calls still surprise the heck out of me, usually because I send her an email, and she'll call in response. BUT, now I manage to converse intelligently, and coherently. (Well, except for that one time when I was neck-deep in revisions, and she was the first human I'd talked to in 12 hours, but it all worked out. I'm pretty sure.)
Of course, now I'm waiting on another call. This book is on submission, and whenever my phone rings and the caller ID says "Christine", I'm hoping she's calling with news that will make both of us happy.
After all, I've been practicing for that moment. Even if I'm pretty sure I'm going to be completely speechless and/or incoherent when it does happen.
But at least Christine will be expecting that from me.
Okay, tell me your stories. Were you prepared? Did it matter that you were? If you haven't gotten The Call yet, tell me what you're doing to get ready for it!
| | |
|
Fear is an amazing, powerful creature. Most days it is relatively easy to keep it tamed, or at least confined in a secure holding cell. It can be frightening once it's unleashed, because it doesn't ever really want to go back into its cage. It comes out snarling and snapping, warning us of danger, yet causing perils of its own.
When fear is like this, it can paralyze us. It goes from an early warning system to an all-out assault on our brains and bodies and creative spirit.
It doesn't help that, as writers, we fuel the beast with our "what if" scenarios. We have an endless supply of them, each one more elaborate than the last one that detonates in our minds. We need this ability when we're creating new stories, but it can drag us very quickly to the dark side, derailing our best intentions.
Jean Sarauer has a post on the Write to Done blog titled "How to Write When You're Scared Spitless". She explains how writers have to learn to deal with their "page fright". One of the things she says about dealing with fear, so it won't hamper our creative flow, is:
"Fear is an instinctive, as well as a conditioned, response to the risk that’s part of living a creative life. When I remember that, I save my energy for writing instead of squandering it in an eternal wrestling match."
I think this is a great reminder, since we want to use our energy for those tasks that are more likely to produce results in this creative life we've chosen. Wrestling with fear doesn't build any muscles, or count as aerobic exercise.
Even worse, fear isn't just ONE animal. It's an entire animal kingdom, with species and sub-species that emerge and then evolve as soon as another one is successfully exterminated. So while you may overcome one fear, say, the fear of failure, then up pops another one, maybe fear of rejection, to take the place of its fallen comrade.
So do you keep wrangling with the endless supply of these monsters until you finally cry truce?
Or do you acknowledge their presence, then sit your butt in your chair and get to work, ignoring their taunts?
Everyone struggles with fear. But maybe it's time to make fear struggle with us.
Don't engage with it. Don't let it get a toehold. Keep working on that manuscript, even when fear whispers how it's the worst combination of words ever devised, or that it'll never sell, or the publishing industry will implode before you get a book deal. Acknowledge these threats to your emotional psyche and move on.
If we don't respond, fear will search out another fright tactic, because it will never run out of potential boogeymen with which to terrorize us. The best thing to do is turn that energy source towards our creative endeavors, completely subverting fear's original purpose. Let fear's warnings inspire us instead of incite us. Put it to work, in a way it never intended when it launched its campaign of dread.
Pretty soon fear will be running scared of us.
| | |
|
