This post is a long time in coming, partially because I had limited online access, but more because I didn’t know what the hell to say. Most of you already know I flooded. But when we say “flooded” we generally mean, “I got a little water that was a flipping inconvenience and now I’m going to whine about it while I squeegee and bleach my floors”… that’s not what happened this time… it’ll likely never happen again, I’ve got neighbors who have been here more than forty years, and they’ve never seen anything like it in this area… I’d give you a nice, sarcastic, “aren’t I so lucky?” line, except, I’m thinking I am – lucky, or blessed, or both.
My youngest woke me at seven in the morning to tell me there was water downstairs. It’s summertime, so I was half asleep stumbling down to the kitchen to see what the problem was. It rained heavy the night before, and I thought maybe we had a little water coming in from somewhere… nope, not a little… the entire lower level of my house had nearly a foot of water and it was rising fast. The current was so ridiculous it slammed all the doors shut and just kept coming, and I looked out my kitchen window to see that there was a three foot deep river of water just flowing over the fence and surrounding my house. The current was so strong it actually broke through my downstairs laundry room door.
We evacuated the kids first, sending them out the front door with backpacks over their heads to walk, in littlest guy’s case – chest deep, down the block and away from the water… in the half hour that took, my entire lower level was lost and things were blowing up and crackling downstairs as the electric was still on. By the time I finally abandoned the house (because shock and stupidity told me it was savable at that point) the water had crested the stairs into my main level and come through all of the doors from the street.
We sent the kids off with their grandparents. And then I sat, at the edge of the river that was my street, for the majority of the day, watching as everything I had floated away. I sat with neighbors whose houses were also in the melee, and joked about how well getting the basement sealed worked once the water came in the windows… I sat with neighbors who lived two or three houses farther up the street, but were blessedly spared from the path of the water.
I went back a few times, to try to salvage things that were higher up and could be saved, wading through muck and nasty. I joked, I zoned out, and I moved on rote… but mostly I just wanted to fucking quit. Never in my life have I felt more like looking up to heaven and cursing a blue streak and to be perfectly honest, this wasn’t even the worst thing I’ve been through, just the last straw kind of thing… and a pretty big straw it was.
We spent the night at my in-laws, and I woke the next day with a screaming migraine. I spent the morning and a large part of the afternoon either in bed or vomiting, and I fucking wallowed. I did, weak and spineless as it is. And then I got up and caught a ride back to the house (as the flood also engulfed my little mini-van) and got on with it – admittedly, badly at first. By the time I got there, the water was pumped out and only the destruction remained.
I don’t even know what there is to say about the destruction. Most of you can imagine what it would feel like to lose two thirds of your house and its contents, some of you have. Furniture, clothes and appliances, all of my writing prior to the bit on my last computer… every journal from eighth grade to today… my leather bounds, holy hell, four wheel barrows full went out to the dumpster, and another three or four hundred books besides. Ack. Art supplies, books and papers, which is pretty much the sum total of my life. The friend who did most of the clean up for me is an artist, and I think he might have been sicker about the art supplies than I was. Then there were things, just things… the kids first walking shoes and christening gowns. All of the holiday stuff, and photos… pictures from when we were young, people I took the journey with, that I’ll never see again or who aren’t today who they were back then… the colors running to rainbow patterns that overshadowed brilliant smiles and mischievous eyes.
Three boxes of my dad’s things. He’s been gone nine years, but I had them, packed away. Shirts and slippers, his old humidor that held papers and cards rather than cigars. His wallet and things, packed away, just the same way he kept them, like a little time capsule. I used to go into the crawlspace once in a while and open them up and smell them, because they still smelled like him. Which is weird as hell, I know. See, that was harder than this. If there was ever a time I felt like I wanted to lie down and never get up, it was when he did.
Okay, so you’re probably waiting for the blessed part at this point, because most of this is just fucking depressing.
What I found at my house besides destruction were friends. Friends I see all the time, friends I haven’t seen in, literally, twenty years. Friends I grew up with, ones I went to high school with, and neighbors who were battling the same destruction at their own homes. I could say that the best friends are the ones you grow up with – I thought that more than a few times over the first few weeks because there are a few (you know who you are) who I couldn’t possibly thank enough or adore more.
But then there were my writing friends, like Erica and Travis and JJ and Ello, who did what we tend to do when one of our circle needs – they got the word out, and suddenly my inbox was flooded with messages and gift cards, and lovely booksies started to arrive in the mail. I haven’t gotten to the thank you cards yet, guys, but they’re coming…
At this point, my upstairs bedrooms are put back together… we painted and removed all of the floor vents to get the smell out… the lower level is gutted as is the main floor… oh, but I have internet and a kitchen floor now, so yay, progress! We’ll all be back in the house this week, just in time for school… as it is, one of us has stayed here working on things every night anyway, just not the kids yet. They’re dying to come home, too. The next few weeks will be like roughing it… no kitchen so we’ll have to use the grill and do cold food… picnic table instead of dinner table… but it’s home.
Over the past month, my best friend lost her father and another friend lost a brother. And I thought to myself, “Snap out of it, for fuck’s sake. Their road right now is way steeper than yours.” This was just stuff. Important stuff, stuff I never wanted to lose, and stuff I didn’t even remember was there. It was scraps and pieces of who I used to be, but none of that ever really goes away. I’ll never hold a card or letter in my dad’s perfect handwriting again… but it’s still in my head, every loop and curve of his signature and every word he ever uttered in my earshot. I’ll never see sketches and portraits I pained over in the past… but hell, they were just sitting in sketchpads in a dark crawlspace anyway… and the books, well, isn’t the most brilliant thing about story the fact that it stays with you? I’ve read most of them; I’ll replace the important ones over time…
A neighbor across the street lost more than I did. The water was far higher in his main floor and all of the possessions, well, most of them were picked out by his wife – she’s been gone ten years this month. He set up his dining room table and lamps in his garage. We sat out there the other day, having wine and talking (my neighbors are just cool as hell, I tell ya). I was worried about him, maybe more than anyone else. After ten years, he still mourns his wife constantly, and I know losing those things that were hers, cut him deeply.
So we sat there, at his beautiful dining room table, surrounded by remnants of his house shoved inside a dirty garage, and he said, “Maybe it was time I moved on. This thing could be a fresh start, you know, sometimes life works that way. When you won’t let go and live, it pries your hands lose so you have to. Maybe there are beautiful things waiting, when you make room for them.”
How much do you love him? Resilience is a far prettier trait than poets give it credit for. And me, I’m not used to people worrying over me. I’d much rather help someone else than take help – I don’t know why, and as someone pointed out to me recently, that’s kind of a selfish thing, too, not letting other people feel good by taking care of you. So I’m trying not to lose patience when I get the sad worried puppy dog eyes of well meaning and fantastic friends who are worried about how I’m handling things. And I’m looking at it as a massive, if expensive, spring cleaning. A fresh start to new things and if I’m really lucky the next leg of the journey will be blessed with as many amazing people as the last one was.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Public Humiliation
Okay, so the Koala kicked my ass. There. I said it. I failed miserably for the month of June. Please taunt torture and fuck with me appropriately.
I've been largely off of blogging the last few months, but fucking around on facebook wayyy more than I should. If you catch me in either place for prolonged periods of time, ask me what my wordcount is... If I have none, feel free to kick the hell out of me... I always have some hell in reserve anyway.
Monday, June 14, 2010
File It Under, “My Characters Amuse Me”
“Reverse psychology,” Jack said.
“Re-hoosit-whatsit? I just thought it was scamming.” Mikey slapped Jack’s shoulder and leaned against the railing.
“Yeah, well, they’re pretty much the same thing. People just use the big words to make it sound less shady.”
Writers love to talk about craft. The hard stuff. The stuff that makes us feel all accomplished and whatnot. But the reason we keep trucking through all the dejection, rejection, and unavoidable lows of a very tough profession is because the high points are just fucking fun.
My characters sometimes pull out my heart and stomp it into a million little pieces leaving nothing but hollow space and an inability to breathe. But more often than not they make me laugh out loud. The biggest hope is that whatever I’m feeling translates on the page and someone else will get to feel it, too. Those few lines at the top of the post cracked me up... weird, right? There are people in my head, telling jokes that give me a physical reaction. In normal people circles, that’s called crazy. But we get to balance on the tight rope of split personality and delusional tendency and other people marvel at our creativity. I don’t think you can really ask for better than that. Okay, you can ask for millions of dollars and a harem of smoking hot pool boys, but God tends to frown on delivering those kinds of things...
And we can get into craft... Do those words move the story? Is there a point to that little exchange or am I just amusing myself with my own wit, or lack thereof? Some of my silliness will, rightfully so, get cut in revision... in fact, a lot of my silliness will get cut in revision... along with, hopefully, all of my purple prose. But right now I’m just taking the journey. I can think about the destination. Dream about it so much I can taste it. Envision it in my head until it feels like a well-worn reality... and still, the road beckons more than the destination today... and I hope every day to come.
How’s your writing going? Care to share a scene from your wip that spoke to you, tickled you, or you hope moves someone else? Care to share one that’s hitting the cutting room floor? And what’s your priority today – the road or the destination?
And guys, if you haven’t yet heard and congratulated her, head over to Ello’s and share her much deserved high point with her.
“Re-hoosit-whatsit? I just thought it was scamming.” Mikey slapped Jack’s shoulder and leaned against the railing.
“Yeah, well, they’re pretty much the same thing. People just use the big words to make it sound less shady.”
Writers love to talk about craft. The hard stuff. The stuff that makes us feel all accomplished and whatnot. But the reason we keep trucking through all the dejection, rejection, and unavoidable lows of a very tough profession is because the high points are just fucking fun.
My characters sometimes pull out my heart and stomp it into a million little pieces leaving nothing but hollow space and an inability to breathe. But more often than not they make me laugh out loud. The biggest hope is that whatever I’m feeling translates on the page and someone else will get to feel it, too. Those few lines at the top of the post cracked me up... weird, right? There are people in my head, telling jokes that give me a physical reaction. In normal people circles, that’s called crazy. But we get to balance on the tight rope of split personality and delusional tendency and other people marvel at our creativity. I don’t think you can really ask for better than that. Okay, you can ask for millions of dollars and a harem of smoking hot pool boys, but God tends to frown on delivering those kinds of things...
And we can get into craft... Do those words move the story? Is there a point to that little exchange or am I just amusing myself with my own wit, or lack thereof? Some of my silliness will, rightfully so, get cut in revision... in fact, a lot of my silliness will get cut in revision... along with, hopefully, all of my purple prose. But right now I’m just taking the journey. I can think about the destination. Dream about it so much I can taste it. Envision it in my head until it feels like a well-worn reality... and still, the road beckons more than the destination today... and I hope every day to come.
How’s your writing going? Care to share a scene from your wip that spoke to you, tickled you, or you hope moves someone else? Care to share one that’s hitting the cutting room floor? And what’s your priority today – the road or the destination?
And guys, if you haven’t yet heard and congratulated her, head over to Ello’s and share her much deserved high point with her.
Monday, June 07, 2010
An Open Love Letter to Stephen
This week we’re celebrating Stephen Parrish, at The Year of Parrish. It’s a weeklong extravaganza with games and blog parties and probably a bit of cyber debauchery (if I know this crowd, more than a bit). I could say that it’s an attempt to bask in the light that is Stephen, or share with him his more than deserved success... but mostly, it’s to fuck with him make him feel shiny and happy.
I could tell you that he’s a brilliant writer. You would already know that if you read his blog or, better yet, devoured his debut novel. That’s not the real reason so many bloggers and writers, people who’ve never met the man face-to-face, came out in the blog-o-sphere with every intention of making him feel spiffy. Hell, there are some damn fine writers out there and I’ll certainly buy their books... but there are only a few people who would get this big of a following of true friends who’ve never met them.
I could think of more than of few examples that make Stephen a cut above the rest in the friendship department. Like the time one of our blog friends had a fire that completely destroyed his home, and it took Stephen all of a day to get up a blog to help him rebuild. That’s an extreme example. I think I’m safe in saying it’s not the only one... he’s a better friend to most of us than some of our real world friends could be.
For the writers in our little circle, his insight and wit has been priceless. He lets us piddle away our time on his blog rather than the real work of writing, and then kicks our asses for slacking off. Let me tell you, it takes a special brand of brilliance to kick your ass and make you like it.
For me, personally, Stephen’s been the best cheerleader (are ya picturing him in the short skirt with pom poms? Ya know you are). Somehow we missed each other back in the Miss Snark days, but I finally met him when I hosted a book club blog for a fellow snarkling’s debut. He was so dead on, insightful, and funny, I just had to follow him back to his own blog. And a cyber-friendship was born. From blog exchanges to emails, to pestering the hell out of him on his facebook wall, Stephen’s one of my true favorites. He’ll give you the real deal, with a bit of humor. And in the solitary world of writing, he’s been one of the bastions of community and understanding that keeps a lot of us trudging through it.
He’s always good for a word of praise or silliness, and sometimes he’ll just pop me an email to check if I’m writing, if I’m holding my own with the whole life sucks and when is it my turn dammit thing, to pass on a word of praise or heads up for someone else in our little cyber world. I’ve got to say, it’s more than once that Stephen’s emailed out of the blue with a back-pat at just the right time. Because really, if someone as brilliant as Stephen thinks I can write, maybe he’s onto something.
So, Stephen, my friend, enjoy your week of festivities. Bask in your much-deserved success. It’s been an honor to take this leg of the journey with you, and I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go. Yer gonna be famous.
I could tell you that he’s a brilliant writer. You would already know that if you read his blog or, better yet, devoured his debut novel. That’s not the real reason so many bloggers and writers, people who’ve never met the man face-to-face, came out in the blog-o-sphere with every intention of making him feel spiffy. Hell, there are some damn fine writers out there and I’ll certainly buy their books... but there are only a few people who would get this big of a following of true friends who’ve never met them.
I could think of more than of few examples that make Stephen a cut above the rest in the friendship department. Like the time one of our blog friends had a fire that completely destroyed his home, and it took Stephen all of a day to get up a blog to help him rebuild. That’s an extreme example. I think I’m safe in saying it’s not the only one... he’s a better friend to most of us than some of our real world friends could be.
For the writers in our little circle, his insight and wit has been priceless. He lets us piddle away our time on his blog rather than the real work of writing, and then kicks our asses for slacking off. Let me tell you, it takes a special brand of brilliance to kick your ass and make you like it.
For me, personally, Stephen’s been the best cheerleader (are ya picturing him in the short skirt with pom poms? Ya know you are). Somehow we missed each other back in the Miss Snark days, but I finally met him when I hosted a book club blog for a fellow snarkling’s debut. He was so dead on, insightful, and funny, I just had to follow him back to his own blog. And a cyber-friendship was born. From blog exchanges to emails, to pestering the hell out of him on his facebook wall, Stephen’s one of my true favorites. He’ll give you the real deal, with a bit of humor. And in the solitary world of writing, he’s been one of the bastions of community and understanding that keeps a lot of us trudging through it.
He’s always good for a word of praise or silliness, and sometimes he’ll just pop me an email to check if I’m writing, if I’m holding my own with the whole life sucks and when is it my turn dammit thing, to pass on a word of praise or heads up for someone else in our little cyber world. I’ve got to say, it’s more than once that Stephen’s emailed out of the blue with a back-pat at just the right time. Because really, if someone as brilliant as Stephen thinks I can write, maybe he’s onto something.
So, Stephen, my friend, enjoy your week of festivities. Bask in your much-deserved success. It’s been an honor to take this leg of the journey with you, and I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go. Yer gonna be famous.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Great Advice from Stephen Parrish - Get Mad
Yippie and double yippie! I might even squee, except that Stephen detests the squee and so I must keep that under wraps. *mutters to self and squees a bit anyway*
Today, I’m thrilled to offer up a guest post by one of my favorite new authors, Stephen Parrish. You can find out more about his debut novel, The Tavernier Stones, by stopping at the site – and you know, the man is giving away a one carat diamond, so you might want to check that out.
But this post isn’t so much about the book (which is flippin’ fantastic and if you don’t check it out you’re missing it. Missing it, and all of your friends will have loved it and there you’ll sit with nothing to say or amuse yourself with except perhaps pocket lint. And treasure hunting cartography wrapped in the most fabulous prose is a far sight better than pocket lint... plus, did I mention the diamond?) This post is to introduce you to Stephen, and it's a little treat for those of us who follow him regularly. Okay, here’s Steve:
A Time For Getting Mad
I got into the habit of shooting pool with an employee I'll call Jeannie. Jeannie and I traveled widely together on business, and since she was passionate about billiards, wherever we went we had to find the nearest table and play. I'm no slouch with a stick, but Jeannie was quite a bit better. Enough so that if we shot an evening of eight ball she should, by rights, have won four out of five times.
For a long time, she never won at all. We played against each other in the U.S. and in various European countries. Everywhere we went, everywhere there was a table, we played. Often other employees would gather round to watch. It didn't help Jeannie's cause that she was competing against her boss, but her biggest problem was a lack of confidence.
The first time we racked the balls I told her: "You're better than me. I've seen you play. But you're going to lose tonight. The reason you're going to lose is because you know you're going to lose."
And lose she did. Over and over. She'd run the table and miss the eight ball. I'd take my time knocking my balls down, while she missed the eight ball again and again. Or scratched. She'd get frustrated, because she knew she'd played better than me, often much better.
I taunted her: "You know you're going to lose. That's why you lose. I'm absolutely sure I'm going to win. That's why I win." And true to prophecy, no matter how close she came to winning a game, she'd find a way to choke.
Now, before you judge me too harshly, Jeannie needed a lesson in confidence, and she needed to learn it the hard way; we'd discussed her problem, which reached well beyond the pool table. I believed in my heart I was helping her. Turned out, in the end, I was right.
"You're programmed to lose," I told her. "It's all in your head."
She got mad. First at me, naturally, but it didn't do any good; I just laughed. Then at herself. One night in Florida, in a pool hall atop a swanky high rise, with a dozen colleagues gathered to watch, she figured out what to do with her anger.
"How many games would you like to lose tonight?" I asked her.
Instead of her usual tight-lipped silence as she racked the balls (losers always rack), this time she said loud and clear, to me, her boss, in front of everyone:
"Fuck you."
I don't know how many times she beat me that night. Maybe ten. I didn't win a single game. She shot with crisp authority, gliding around the table, calling her shots in a calm, determined voice, "Seven, corner," hitting the eight ball extra hard into the pocket to put an exclamation mark on the game. Spectators chanted, "Jean-nie! Jean-nie!" Hollywood couldn't have scripted it better.
We played occasionally after that. I rarely won.
With apologies for the long lead-in, there came a time during my submission process when I got mad. First at the whole publishing industry, naturally, but it did no good. Then at myself, for allowing even the smallest moments of self doubt.
I decided to put the anger to good use. I let it shape my thinking. I've paid my dues, I decided. I would continue to seek criticism and to rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, but from now on, anyone who turns me down is passing up an opportunity.
I changed my query letter. It had previously come across like a hat-in-hand request for consideration, rather than an introduction to who I was and what I was offering. I changed the opening line: "Hello," I wrote, "my name is Stephen Parrish." Thankfully I never had to tell anyone what Jeannie ended up having to tell me.
Write with confidence and authority. Neither Shakespeare nor a million monkeys can tell your story the way you tell it. Expect offers, not rejections. When the time comes, and you'll know it's time, just get mad.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
A Literary (and literal) Treasure
The awesomeness that is Stephen Parrish is hosting a contest in honor of the release of his debut novel, The Tavernier Stones. But this is not just any contest – it’s a Treasure Hunt! The first one to figure out all the clues and make it to the finish line wins a real one carat diamond. Not too shabby at all!
The Tavernier Stones is available for order now – I’m betting that the novel is a treasure in itself. I haven’t read it yet (off to order my copy and hope the postman isn't bogged down with tax returns), but I’ve been a fan of Stephen’s for a long time now, and if the book’s half as brilliant as he is, it’s sure to be fabulous. You’ll need a copy in order to work out the clues and, you know, because you just have to read it.
Here’s what Stephen’s website has to say about the novel:
“When the well-preserved body of 17th century mapmaker, Johannes Cellarius, floats to the surface of a bog in northern Germany, and a 57 carat ruby rolls out of his fist, treasure hunters from around the globe race to find the Lost Tavernier Stones of popular European folklore.
According to legend, Jean-Baptiste Tavernier was robbed of a priceless hoard while returning from his final voyage to the Orient in 1689. The hoard reputedly includes some of the world’s most notorious missing jewels. Among them the 280 carat Great Mogul Diamond and the 242 carat Great Table Diamond, the largest diamonds ever unearthed whose whereabouts are unknown.
John Graf is an Amish-born cartographer who has never ventured out of Pennsylvania, let alone embarked on an international treasure hunt. David Freeman is a gemologist who has done his share of prospecting, but little of it within the boundaries of the law. Between them, they have all the expertise necessary to solve the mystery. They also have enough differences to derail even the best of partnerships. And ahead are more obstacles: fortune seekers equally qualified and every bit as determined.
The race spans two continents. The finish line is in Idar-Oberstein, the gemstone capital of Germany. There, in chambers beneath an old church, where unspeakable events took place in centuries past, winners and losers alike find answers to age-old questions about the Lost Tavernier Stones.”
Run now, and order your copy, or head on over to The Tavernier Stones Site and check out the about page, to see what other fine stores will be carrying this very cool novel.
So, what do you say, guys? Anyone up for a treasure hunt?
Monday, March 29, 2010
Queer
Nine Year Old Son: (Looking quizzically at one of his books) Well, that’s queer!
Me: What?!!!
Son: (blink, blink) what?
Me: What does ‘queer’ mean?
Son: Weird or strange (pause) kind of like you asking me what ‘queer’ means.
Apparently my nine year old uses, you know, the actual definition for the word, rather than the skewed reference I’ve heard bandied about by dunderheaded nitwits. Funny, because I don’t normally consider myself one of the politically correct people – you know, sooo concerned with people getting offended by non-issues. But I think I’m overly sensitive to what terms my kids learn and use, and what they’re picking up from the world... because the world can suck on occasion.
And I can get into whole discussions on what wrongheaded idiocy the world might teach your kid if you’re not paying good enough attention and opening the conversation... but really that’s not what this post is about. It’s about words.
If you ever need proof that words and their meanings change over short spans of time, just hang out with a kid. Apparently, my kids and their friends do use the word ‘queer’, but for the actual definition, not the ignorant one. I know this because they say it in front of adults... when they know they’re saying something wrong, they take great pains not to get caught.
For someone writing middle grade or YA, this information is imperative. I can’t have my characters use the same vernacular I used at that age, it’s outdated... okay, most of it’s outdated – there are a number of phrases kids think are so cool and original that were really old hat when I was a kid... but sometimes, they don’t mean the same thing.
My kid might say, “tricked” and what she means is updated or fresh. Like, “Her room is all tricked out.” - which basically means one of her friends redecorated her room. Not really a new phrase, either, we used to use it the same way to refer to cars...
But when I was a kid, ‘tricked’ or ‘trick’ usually meant to snitch. “Don’t be a trick” meant don’t run and tell your mom, or don’t whine. Depending on the situation, because really it started as a gang reference for someone who “tricked you out” to the cops. Kids pick it up and use it for their own purpose, though... and in fiction I think this phrase might only work in certain neighborhoods. Kids in upper middle class neighborhoods probably aren’t all that familiar with “tricks”.
Now, in fiction, I love a good voice. And a unique voice often means that they use phrases and words in a way you haven’t heard before, so I don’t think all phrases are out the window if they don’t exactly match real life – real life isn’t fiction, fiction is like real life on great drugs – it’s more fun with higher stakes. But I think, being wordsmiths, we have to be up on exactly what these words and phrases mean today or in the time frame we’re working with.
How about you? Have you used any words or phrases in your fiction and then looked back at it and though, “okay, this kid would never say this; my grandmother would’ve said it, maybe...”? Have you read a published book that used outdated phrasing? And what are your favorite current or past sayings?
Me: What?!!!
Son: (blink, blink) what?
Me: What does ‘queer’ mean?
Son: Weird or strange (pause) kind of like you asking me what ‘queer’ means.
Apparently my nine year old uses, you know, the actual definition for the word, rather than the skewed reference I’ve heard bandied about by dunderheaded nitwits. Funny, because I don’t normally consider myself one of the politically correct people – you know, sooo concerned with people getting offended by non-issues. But I think I’m overly sensitive to what terms my kids learn and use, and what they’re picking up from the world... because the world can suck on occasion.
And I can get into whole discussions on what wrongheaded idiocy the world might teach your kid if you’re not paying good enough attention and opening the conversation... but really that’s not what this post is about. It’s about words.
If you ever need proof that words and their meanings change over short spans of time, just hang out with a kid. Apparently, my kids and their friends do use the word ‘queer’, but for the actual definition, not the ignorant one. I know this because they say it in front of adults... when they know they’re saying something wrong, they take great pains not to get caught.
For someone writing middle grade or YA, this information is imperative. I can’t have my characters use the same vernacular I used at that age, it’s outdated... okay, most of it’s outdated – there are a number of phrases kids think are so cool and original that were really old hat when I was a kid... but sometimes, they don’t mean the same thing.
My kid might say, “tricked” and what she means is updated or fresh. Like, “Her room is all tricked out.” - which basically means one of her friends redecorated her room. Not really a new phrase, either, we used to use it the same way to refer to cars...
But when I was a kid, ‘tricked’ or ‘trick’ usually meant to snitch. “Don’t be a trick” meant don’t run and tell your mom, or don’t whine. Depending on the situation, because really it started as a gang reference for someone who “tricked you out” to the cops. Kids pick it up and use it for their own purpose, though... and in fiction I think this phrase might only work in certain neighborhoods. Kids in upper middle class neighborhoods probably aren’t all that familiar with “tricks”.
Now, in fiction, I love a good voice. And a unique voice often means that they use phrases and words in a way you haven’t heard before, so I don’t think all phrases are out the window if they don’t exactly match real life – real life isn’t fiction, fiction is like real life on great drugs – it’s more fun with higher stakes. But I think, being wordsmiths, we have to be up on exactly what these words and phrases mean today or in the time frame we’re working with.
How about you? Have you used any words or phrases in your fiction and then looked back at it and though, “okay, this kid would never say this; my grandmother would’ve said it, maybe...”? Have you read a published book that used outdated phrasing? And what are your favorite current or past sayings?
Monday, March 22, 2010
Getting From Point A to B
There are a million things I do in my day-to-day life that are boring. They’re just not noteworthy. I have to drive to school to drop off the kids, clean the dishes, odds and ends, just like everyone else.
Getting in my car and driving to the doctor’s office is on auto-pilot. It’s not something you pay more attention to than you have to, and most of us won’t even remember the drive if it’s a place you drive often enough. Now, if on the way to my doctor’s office, someone in a mask holding a bag of loot from a bank heist jumps into my car and orders me to drive, and throws me into the middle of a police chase – well, that’s noteworthy. That would definitely make it into the story, in fact, it probably is the story.
Working on my wip, I notice the points I get a little stuck, that I have to write through, are the transitions. You have to get your characters from point A to point B. Often, you can skip the middle. Your reader doesn’t need to see them driving to the next destination. Sometimes skipping over the interim is awkward, it leaves your reader a little in the dark because they don’t know how they got from this scene to that scene. Most of the time, this can be cleared up in a simple sentence or paragraph, though.
The thing I keep reminding myself is that every sentence I write needs to serve a purpose to THE STORY. I bold that because it’s something I need to remember. My writing doesn’t need to serve me as the author, but the story as a whole. When I get stuck at those transitional scenes, for me the biggest question is, “What purpose does this serve to the story?” It might flesh out the character or propel the plot – the best scenes will do both. But if all I’m doing is trying to get from this bit of action to that bit of action, it’s probably going to get cut. It doesn’t need to be there.
Novels don’t work like real life and it’s something that I need to constantly remind my own self of. If I look back at the work and know that I’d skim all that bullshit if I was reading someone else’s novel, I know I need to cut it in mine.
So how about you? How do you get your characters from point A to point B? Do you write it all out and cut some later? Do you not worry about transitions and just write from scene to scene? And do you ever get stuck trying to figure out how to get these people from here to there without either boring or confusing your audience?
Getting in my car and driving to the doctor’s office is on auto-pilot. It’s not something you pay more attention to than you have to, and most of us won’t even remember the drive if it’s a place you drive often enough. Now, if on the way to my doctor’s office, someone in a mask holding a bag of loot from a bank heist jumps into my car and orders me to drive, and throws me into the middle of a police chase – well, that’s noteworthy. That would definitely make it into the story, in fact, it probably is the story.
Working on my wip, I notice the points I get a little stuck, that I have to write through, are the transitions. You have to get your characters from point A to point B. Often, you can skip the middle. Your reader doesn’t need to see them driving to the next destination. Sometimes skipping over the interim is awkward, it leaves your reader a little in the dark because they don’t know how they got from this scene to that scene. Most of the time, this can be cleared up in a simple sentence or paragraph, though.
The thing I keep reminding myself is that every sentence I write needs to serve a purpose to THE STORY. I bold that because it’s something I need to remember. My writing doesn’t need to serve me as the author, but the story as a whole. When I get stuck at those transitional scenes, for me the biggest question is, “What purpose does this serve to the story?” It might flesh out the character or propel the plot – the best scenes will do both. But if all I’m doing is trying to get from this bit of action to that bit of action, it’s probably going to get cut. It doesn’t need to be there.
Novels don’t work like real life and it’s something that I need to constantly remind my own self of. If I look back at the work and know that I’d skim all that bullshit if I was reading someone else’s novel, I know I need to cut it in mine.
So how about you? How do you get your characters from point A to point B? Do you write it all out and cut some later? Do you not worry about transitions and just write from scene to scene? And do you ever get stuck trying to figure out how to get these people from here to there without either boring or confusing your audience?
Friday, March 05, 2010
Talk is Cheap
Most of the time, telling someone what you’re going to do doesn’t go over so well.
“I’m going to write the great American novel.”
If they’re polite, they’ll murmur words of encouragement. If you watch really close, they’re trying not to laugh in your face. This is mostly your fault. You’ve dumped this lofty goal on their head with nothing to back it up.
Of course, creative people know that non-creative people don’t always understand our goals. They use words like pipe-dream and delusions of grandeur. Most people stop being so cynical your creative ambitions once you’ve reached this level or that level, though not always. Creative people aren’t the only people these rules apply to, though, they apply to everyone.
The guy who talks endlessly about gardening, telling you where each vegetable and flower should be planted, but he doesn’t have a garden. The guy who can tell you brick by brick how he’s going to build a fabulous new addition, but five years later there’s not a lick of work done... he’s still talking about it, though.
With big dreams and goals, it does help to plan out how you’re going to get there. It does help to have people to bounce your progress off of and who support you. But it’s a fine line – are you talking about it, or are you working toward it? If the act of discussing it diminishes the drive to do it in any way, go out and buy some duct tape and apply it to your mouth. You’ll thank me later.
Talk is cheap in life – telling someone what you’re going to do has little impact. Showing them what you’ve done speaks volumes. The same rule applies to fiction. This, of course, directly correlates to the oft-repeated Show, Don’t Tell thing. But I’m finding that, show, don’t tell, is more nuanced than I realized at first.
I’ll use first person as an example. First person can be comfortable and awesome to read. You sink into it and it almost feels like this great friend is leading you through the story, when the author is very capable. And because it’s comfortable and easy to read, it looks a lot easier to write than it is. There are limitations with first person that can be hard to get around and I notice that some authors take short cuts to get over this. They tell.
You’re in the main character’s head already, so instead of writing out scenes of importance, the character tells you what happened. Or worse, they tell you what they feel, and if the character has a good enough voice, it can keep the reader in it for a while, but it diminishes the impact of the story. It’s just not believable. Most people don’t talk to themselves in such detail that another person (if they could listen in to your head) would know what the hell you’re talking about). So using internal thoughts to drop backstory, or give foreshadowing, or tell us what the character’s real motives, etc. etc... it doesn’t ring true. First of all, we don’t explain what we already know to ourselves. Second, and probably more important, most people aren’t that honest with themselves – we don’t always understand our own real motives. When we do understand our own motives, we don’t always admit to them.
But from the story standpoint, the most important thing is the effect this has on the reader. Showing them the reactions, scenes, little hints of what your character is about is how your reader engages in your story. If you tell them everything, they don’t get the fun of figuring it out, of playing along, of getting to know your character. Whether intentional or not, it reads as a lack of confidence in your readers’ ability to understand the story. And there’s nothing quite worse than getting the feeling the author thinks you’re stupid.
I haven’t yet mastered first person writing – not sure if it’s just not my speed as a writer or if I just haven’t worked on a story it’s a good fit for yet. I tend to be more comfortable with close third person, but the same foibles apply here. If you go on long winding internal dialogue in close third, it’ll take the same things away from the story.
How about you? Do you notice some of these ‘tells’ in your favorite books or in your own work? And do you find talking about your work in progress is a good way to work out the kinks or does it just diminish your urge to write it?
“I’m going to write the great American novel.”
If they’re polite, they’ll murmur words of encouragement. If you watch really close, they’re trying not to laugh in your face. This is mostly your fault. You’ve dumped this lofty goal on their head with nothing to back it up.
Of course, creative people know that non-creative people don’t always understand our goals. They use words like pipe-dream and delusions of grandeur. Most people stop being so cynical your creative ambitions once you’ve reached this level or that level, though not always. Creative people aren’t the only people these rules apply to, though, they apply to everyone.
The guy who talks endlessly about gardening, telling you where each vegetable and flower should be planted, but he doesn’t have a garden. The guy who can tell you brick by brick how he’s going to build a fabulous new addition, but five years later there’s not a lick of work done... he’s still talking about it, though.
With big dreams and goals, it does help to plan out how you’re going to get there. It does help to have people to bounce your progress off of and who support you. But it’s a fine line – are you talking about it, or are you working toward it? If the act of discussing it diminishes the drive to do it in any way, go out and buy some duct tape and apply it to your mouth. You’ll thank me later.
Talk is cheap in life – telling someone what you’re going to do has little impact. Showing them what you’ve done speaks volumes. The same rule applies to fiction. This, of course, directly correlates to the oft-repeated Show, Don’t Tell thing. But I’m finding that, show, don’t tell, is more nuanced than I realized at first.
I’ll use first person as an example. First person can be comfortable and awesome to read. You sink into it and it almost feels like this great friend is leading you through the story, when the author is very capable. And because it’s comfortable and easy to read, it looks a lot easier to write than it is. There are limitations with first person that can be hard to get around and I notice that some authors take short cuts to get over this. They tell.
You’re in the main character’s head already, so instead of writing out scenes of importance, the character tells you what happened. Or worse, they tell you what they feel, and if the character has a good enough voice, it can keep the reader in it for a while, but it diminishes the impact of the story. It’s just not believable. Most people don’t talk to themselves in such detail that another person (if they could listen in to your head) would know what the hell you’re talking about). So using internal thoughts to drop backstory, or give foreshadowing, or tell us what the character’s real motives, etc. etc... it doesn’t ring true. First of all, we don’t explain what we already know to ourselves. Second, and probably more important, most people aren’t that honest with themselves – we don’t always understand our own real motives. When we do understand our own motives, we don’t always admit to them.
But from the story standpoint, the most important thing is the effect this has on the reader. Showing them the reactions, scenes, little hints of what your character is about is how your reader engages in your story. If you tell them everything, they don’t get the fun of figuring it out, of playing along, of getting to know your character. Whether intentional or not, it reads as a lack of confidence in your readers’ ability to understand the story. And there’s nothing quite worse than getting the feeling the author thinks you’re stupid.
I haven’t yet mastered first person writing – not sure if it’s just not my speed as a writer or if I just haven’t worked on a story it’s a good fit for yet. I tend to be more comfortable with close third person, but the same foibles apply here. If you go on long winding internal dialogue in close third, it’ll take the same things away from the story.
How about you? Do you notice some of these ‘tells’ in your favorite books or in your own work? And do you find talking about your work in progress is a good way to work out the kinks or does it just diminish your urge to write it?
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
God Complexes and Other Handy Writing Tools
My muse is an airhead. Just thought I’d get it out there. Okay, airhead’s a little strong – she’s just not detail-oriented. I often say things like, “The characters tell me the story, I’m just along for the ride.” And it’s true in its way. There is a certain element of my story that kind of lands in my head. I don’t feel right taking credit for it, because it doesn’t seem like there was any work in thinking those things up. Blam – there it is.
But then there’s the other thing. See, my muse hands me emotions. My muse drops things, like these great, witty lines and vivid pictures into my head. She shows me who my characters are when I’m doing something mindless, like singing in my car or zoning out in front of the glowing computer screen. But my muse only works in the abstract. She only cares what it makes me feel – and she doesn’t give a shit about the story.
Do these scenes make sense in a chronological order? Where are the plot points? What’s the point of that quirky character my muse keeps bugging me about, when they don’t have any part in the overall story but they can drop a killer line that makes me laugh out loud?
My muse doesn’t care about any of that. That’s my job. There’s the easy, effortless part of writing that’s all about going on the adventure. It’s all about feeling and being in the scene and loving these people who really only exist in my skewed little noggin. But then there’s the hard bit – plotting and pacing and paying attention to the facts of the world I’m writing. Not allowing myself to get so lost in the fun stuff that I let the real pieces of story slide. Because my muse might not give a damn, but I know that the story is all. Without it, all of the emotion and wit and work on craft mean nothing.
So when I say that my characters told me the story, it’s only part way true. I think they lead a lot, but there’s a very real, very hard bit of work involved on my end – the end that thinks it out logically. The end that cuts characters who I’d really like to hang out with – like Logan from Missouri who had this awesome bit of fiery dialogue with one of our antagonists. I loved Logan, but he was only necessary in one scene. No where near the overall arc. Out he went, into the world on his own... maybe my muse will bring him back one day. I think she’s still a little mad at me for axing him, but I had to.
We like to put all of this into romantic terms – we’re writers, regardless of our genre, poetic romanticism is our true currency. But the story is really ours. Our responsibility. Our job. Our decision. While I think it’s important to be true to the story, it’s our story we have to be true to – so when we make these mighty decisions on our characters’ futures and struggles, we chose it. Down deep in there, it wasn’t a predestined muse, or at least if she was involved, we made the decision to go with her there.
So what do you think? How much of your writing is you being true to the story and how much of it is hard-earned, well thought out decision making?
But then there’s the other thing. See, my muse hands me emotions. My muse drops things, like these great, witty lines and vivid pictures into my head. She shows me who my characters are when I’m doing something mindless, like singing in my car or zoning out in front of the glowing computer screen. But my muse only works in the abstract. She only cares what it makes me feel – and she doesn’t give a shit about the story.
Do these scenes make sense in a chronological order? Where are the plot points? What’s the point of that quirky character my muse keeps bugging me about, when they don’t have any part in the overall story but they can drop a killer line that makes me laugh out loud?
My muse doesn’t care about any of that. That’s my job. There’s the easy, effortless part of writing that’s all about going on the adventure. It’s all about feeling and being in the scene and loving these people who really only exist in my skewed little noggin. But then there’s the hard bit – plotting and pacing and paying attention to the facts of the world I’m writing. Not allowing myself to get so lost in the fun stuff that I let the real pieces of story slide. Because my muse might not give a damn, but I know that the story is all. Without it, all of the emotion and wit and work on craft mean nothing.
So when I say that my characters told me the story, it’s only part way true. I think they lead a lot, but there’s a very real, very hard bit of work involved on my end – the end that thinks it out logically. The end that cuts characters who I’d really like to hang out with – like Logan from Missouri who had this awesome bit of fiery dialogue with one of our antagonists. I loved Logan, but he was only necessary in one scene. No where near the overall arc. Out he went, into the world on his own... maybe my muse will bring him back one day. I think she’s still a little mad at me for axing him, but I had to.
We like to put all of this into romantic terms – we’re writers, regardless of our genre, poetic romanticism is our true currency. But the story is really ours. Our responsibility. Our job. Our decision. While I think it’s important to be true to the story, it’s our story we have to be true to – so when we make these mighty decisions on our characters’ futures and struggles, we chose it. Down deep in there, it wasn’t a predestined muse, or at least if she was involved, we made the decision to go with her there.
So what do you think? How much of your writing is you being true to the story and how much of it is hard-earned, well thought out decision making?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Koala Challenge 2010 - February Progress
Still not there, dammit! But not too bad, either. Here are my stats, for those counting and such:
Editing (4,000+ words on multiple projects) - 1 point
Fiction Submissions (unfortunately, no full-length which would have sent me straight up the koala ladder, but still not bad at 2 submissions) - 2 points
Essay Submissions - 1 point
Article Submissions - 1 point
New Fiction Written (not counting all the non-fiction words, dammit again) - 2 points
Altogether it's 7 points from the lofty Koala. Not bad, not as good as I wanted... Need to set a better writing schedule for March and my goal is to submit at least 4 articles and 1 or 2 essays along with upping my fiction word count. We'll see how it goes. Snipe at me when you see me lolly gagging around the blog-o-sphere, please :-)
How is your writing going?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Freedom of Speech and the Age of Irresponsibility
Freedom of Speech is the rallying cry of pretty much any group with anything to say – good, bad, or indifferent. On the one hand, I’m not a big fan of censorship. On the other hand, though, I am a big fan of consequence. And I do notice that the ones screaming about their right to say what they want the loudest are usually the same ones using their words as a club to bludgeon someone else.
In the internet age we all have the ability to create a platform. To be heard, and to have our opinions and views counted by more people than we could have reached without the support of the media in years past. This can be a great thing for people who otherwise had no voice.
There are two local cases here that have me thinking a great deal about what our rights are, what the boundaries of our speech should be, and what the general perception of the term ‘Freedom of Speech’ is, as opposed to what it is in reality.
In one case, a politician for a town’s local government was getting skewered pretty good on one of the small paper’s message boards. This is par for the course, but there was one user who never failed to comment and was pretty derogatory... all of which is fine, she’s a public official and it kind of goes with the job description for a political career. However, the user decided to go after her 15 year old son in a fairly vulgar way.
The politician sued to have this user’s true identity released (presumably to go after charges or at least file an order of protection). I can’t say I blame her. It’s not a large town and the user was taking things a little too personally not to live there... which means he was some anon. web person who was scaring a 15 year old boy and probably lived within a few miles of the boy’s home. The politician won the motion to have his name released, but the anon. internet person is appealing.
There was a huge hubbub over this that she didn’t have the right to get his real name. That it infringes on the internet user’s right to privacy. But to me, hiding behind a screen name doesn’t give you the right to say anything you like. Certainly not to a child, and it was clear that the anon commenter knew he was speaking to a 15 year old. To me, that’s like saying if you wear a ski mask while you rob a bank, no one has a right to find out who you are. Just because you wanted to do something anonymously, doesn’t mean you have the right to do it.
Another case just made the news yesterday. A teenage boy got suspended from high school because he made a fanpage on facebook calling one of his female teachers a ‘lewd’ name. The whole fanpage was set up to call this teacher a name so bad that the news wouldn’t even print it. Okay, color him stupid... along with the thirty-something other kids who signed up as fans.
So why was this news? Because the mother is suing the school district stating that they didn’t have the right to suspend this kid because of something he did outside of school. Excuse me while I bounce my head off the desk.
So, instead of taking this situation and letting the kid, I don’t know, learn something maybe. His mother is basically showing him that he can do anything he wants and there shouldn’t be any consequences. So, if he does something equally stupid and disrespectful to say a future boss, then the boss would be WRONG to fire him.
I’m not a proponent of suing, but I almost wish the teacher would sue the kid and his family. I mean, how the hell is she supposed to teach these kids, if they’re all laughing at her and treating her without respect? And then you’ve got this idiot mother telling them that it’s ‘their right’... Oy. Worse than that though, if she keeps coddling this kid and telling him he’s not doing anything wrong – what happens to the kid when he’s 35 and he gets fired for pissing off the boss? What happens when his parents are gone and no one else is around to take his consequences?
There seems to be some consensus of people who think that freedom of speech means that you’re allowed to say whatever you like and no one is allowed to punish you for it. Nice theory, I suppose... except nothing in this world comes without consequence. The right to state your beliefs is an absolute, but the backbone and courage to do so has to be powered by the speaker. The state can’t give that to you and neither can the government, and there are consequences. It might be as insignificant as turning some people off who might have otherwise been friendly to you – it might be as large as losing your job or creating very real enemies. If you want to shout something from the rooftops, go right ahead. But the responsibility for dealing with the fallout that might be thrust on your life is all yours, my friend. So pick your battles wisely. And if you’re going to whine about the unfairness of the consequences, maybe you didn’t earn the right to speak in the first place.
How about you guys? What do you think the parameters are on freedom of speech? What is your take on the anonymous commenting and is it a right to stay anon no matter what you say?
In the internet age we all have the ability to create a platform. To be heard, and to have our opinions and views counted by more people than we could have reached without the support of the media in years past. This can be a great thing for people who otherwise had no voice.
There are two local cases here that have me thinking a great deal about what our rights are, what the boundaries of our speech should be, and what the general perception of the term ‘Freedom of Speech’ is, as opposed to what it is in reality.
In one case, a politician for a town’s local government was getting skewered pretty good on one of the small paper’s message boards. This is par for the course, but there was one user who never failed to comment and was pretty derogatory... all of which is fine, she’s a public official and it kind of goes with the job description for a political career. However, the user decided to go after her 15 year old son in a fairly vulgar way.
The politician sued to have this user’s true identity released (presumably to go after charges or at least file an order of protection). I can’t say I blame her. It’s not a large town and the user was taking things a little too personally not to live there... which means he was some anon. web person who was scaring a 15 year old boy and probably lived within a few miles of the boy’s home. The politician won the motion to have his name released, but the anon. internet person is appealing.
There was a huge hubbub over this that she didn’t have the right to get his real name. That it infringes on the internet user’s right to privacy. But to me, hiding behind a screen name doesn’t give you the right to say anything you like. Certainly not to a child, and it was clear that the anon commenter knew he was speaking to a 15 year old. To me, that’s like saying if you wear a ski mask while you rob a bank, no one has a right to find out who you are. Just because you wanted to do something anonymously, doesn’t mean you have the right to do it.
Another case just made the news yesterday. A teenage boy got suspended from high school because he made a fanpage on facebook calling one of his female teachers a ‘lewd’ name. The whole fanpage was set up to call this teacher a name so bad that the news wouldn’t even print it. Okay, color him stupid... along with the thirty-something other kids who signed up as fans.
So why was this news? Because the mother is suing the school district stating that they didn’t have the right to suspend this kid because of something he did outside of school. Excuse me while I bounce my head off the desk.
So, instead of taking this situation and letting the kid, I don’t know, learn something maybe. His mother is basically showing him that he can do anything he wants and there shouldn’t be any consequences. So, if he does something equally stupid and disrespectful to say a future boss, then the boss would be WRONG to fire him.
I’m not a proponent of suing, but I almost wish the teacher would sue the kid and his family. I mean, how the hell is she supposed to teach these kids, if they’re all laughing at her and treating her without respect? And then you’ve got this idiot mother telling them that it’s ‘their right’... Oy. Worse than that though, if she keeps coddling this kid and telling him he’s not doing anything wrong – what happens to the kid when he’s 35 and he gets fired for pissing off the boss? What happens when his parents are gone and no one else is around to take his consequences?
There seems to be some consensus of people who think that freedom of speech means that you’re allowed to say whatever you like and no one is allowed to punish you for it. Nice theory, I suppose... except nothing in this world comes without consequence. The right to state your beliefs is an absolute, but the backbone and courage to do so has to be powered by the speaker. The state can’t give that to you and neither can the government, and there are consequences. It might be as insignificant as turning some people off who might have otherwise been friendly to you – it might be as large as losing your job or creating very real enemies. If you want to shout something from the rooftops, go right ahead. But the responsibility for dealing with the fallout that might be thrust on your life is all yours, my friend. So pick your battles wisely. And if you’re going to whine about the unfairness of the consequences, maybe you didn’t earn the right to speak in the first place.
How about you guys? What do you think the parameters are on freedom of speech? What is your take on the anonymous commenting and is it a right to stay anon no matter what you say?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Literary Announcements for Writers and Such...
A few announcements for those of you who are writers and book lovers - so, basically anyone who reads this blog:
Chuck Sambuchino is currently hosting the Dear Lucky Agent Contest on his awesome Guide to Literary Agents Editor’s Blog. I’m not just calling it awesome because he might be reading this... no, really, it has nothing to with sucking up, though *cough, cough*, couldn’t hurt.
I’m guessing most of my writer friends already have him bookmarked, anyway. But there’s always great information over there so, if you haven’t checked it out, you really should.
This contest is specifically for middle grade and YA authors who have a finished manuscript. There will be more contests, for other genres, so if your work doesn’t fit into this one, keep him bookmarked for future reference. The contest is open until Sunday, February 21st, so get your hustle on and go enter. The Koala will be pleased.
My Second Announcement:
Linda Weaver Clarke dropped me a line to let me know she’s having another book giveaway in honor of St. Paddy’s Day. And really, is there anything better than free booksies? (Okay, fine, books made of chocolate that you can devour both figuratively and literally, but still). Here’s the announcement:
In celebration of St. Patrick's Day, a review of the final book in the Family Saga series, "Elena, Woman of Courage: A Family Saga in Bear Lake, Idaho" is being reviewed at Suko’s Notebook. Drop by and enter the contest, which ends March 7th, just in time for St. Patrick's Day (March 17th). Remember the luck of the Irish! Perhaps your luck will double if you find a four leaf clover. Good luck, everyone!
Chuck Sambuchino is currently hosting the Dear Lucky Agent Contest on his awesome Guide to Literary Agents Editor’s Blog. I’m not just calling it awesome because he might be reading this... no, really, it has nothing to with sucking up, though *cough, cough*, couldn’t hurt.
I’m guessing most of my writer friends already have him bookmarked, anyway. But there’s always great information over there so, if you haven’t checked it out, you really should.
This contest is specifically for middle grade and YA authors who have a finished manuscript. There will be more contests, for other genres, so if your work doesn’t fit into this one, keep him bookmarked for future reference. The contest is open until Sunday, February 21st, so get your hustle on and go enter. The Koala will be pleased.
My Second Announcement:
Linda Weaver Clarke dropped me a line to let me know she’s having another book giveaway in honor of St. Paddy’s Day. And really, is there anything better than free booksies? (Okay, fine, books made of chocolate that you can devour both figuratively and literally, but still). Here’s the announcement:
In celebration of St. Patrick's Day, a review of the final book in the Family Saga series, "Elena, Woman of Courage: A Family Saga in Bear Lake, Idaho" is being reviewed at Suko’s Notebook. Drop by and enter the contest, which ends March 7th, just in time for St. Patrick's Day (March 17th). Remember the luck of the Irish! Perhaps your luck will double if you find a four leaf clover. Good luck, everyone!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Back To Basics
There are many things about parenthood that are difficult. Some will put you out of your element. Some will just test your faith. You want to hear an odd little secret? One of the hardest things for me was teaching my kids reading and writing. I know, right? Are you confused and perplexed and wondering what my flippin’ problem is? I was pretty astounded myself. I figured English would be a gimme – they had such an edge on that one with a writer for a mother.
The problem was fairly simple – I had to go back through steps that I didn’t remember anymore. I didn’t remember learning the basics and the fact that I write all the time didn’t help, if anything I think it actually hindered the process. It was frustrating trying to explain something that I took so much for granted.
I love language. I love etymology and the way way words fit together. But I didn’t fully realize how much of this I know by rote – the weird spelling rules, placing commas, sentence construction. Oy. I hit a few points where I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and say, “Just memorize that bit, there’s no reasoning here, English is just a hodgepodge of contradictions!” Which is probably true in some cases, but it’s also one of the reasons I like it.
Explaining it to a kid who has no reference wasn’t easy... my oldest got the worst of my teaching skills here. Fortunately, she’s also naturally good with English and language, so she managed just fine with my convoluted attempts to explain the ‘why’s’. By the time my youngest started school, I had a pretty good system down. It’s become much easier for me to help him write in complete sentences and learn spelling and all of that, but I had to go back to the basics first.
I took an article writing course this past fall to brush up my skills and help me get my footing. I’m working on expanding my freelance writing into different markets and, while I like the business-to-business and ghost writing I’ve done over the last few years, I really want to start cracking into other paying venues, preferably with my byline. Great course, by the way, if anyone’s interested in expanding their writer’s toolbox, I highly recommend classes with Christina Katz.
When I started, the main objective for me was to get tips on querying for regional markets, and to brush up on the business end of that market. I didn’t realize I was so rusty on the actual article writing process, and I was more than a little annoyed with myself. I’d spent so much of my writing time devoted to long fiction that I’d forgotten how to structure an article well and even found I was making mistakes that, once they were caught, made me literally slap my forehead. So I had to go back to the basics again.
I’ve got my Strunk and White and Chicago Manual of Style on my desk now – they were gathering dust on a shelf. I’m trying to just peruse here and there and brush up, because it never hurts to get a refresher. So how about you guys? Anything you found yourself having to brush up on? Do you specialize in a certain area of writing and, if you do, do you find it difficult to switch gears (say from fiction to non-fiction, or long fiction to short)? And once you get to a fairly advanced level in your craft, do you find it hard to explain the basics to people?
The problem was fairly simple – I had to go back through steps that I didn’t remember anymore. I didn’t remember learning the basics and the fact that I write all the time didn’t help, if anything I think it actually hindered the process. It was frustrating trying to explain something that I took so much for granted.
I love language. I love etymology and the way way words fit together. But I didn’t fully realize how much of this I know by rote – the weird spelling rules, placing commas, sentence construction. Oy. I hit a few points where I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and say, “Just memorize that bit, there’s no reasoning here, English is just a hodgepodge of contradictions!” Which is probably true in some cases, but it’s also one of the reasons I like it.
Explaining it to a kid who has no reference wasn’t easy... my oldest got the worst of my teaching skills here. Fortunately, she’s also naturally good with English and language, so she managed just fine with my convoluted attempts to explain the ‘why’s’. By the time my youngest started school, I had a pretty good system down. It’s become much easier for me to help him write in complete sentences and learn spelling and all of that, but I had to go back to the basics first.
I took an article writing course this past fall to brush up my skills and help me get my footing. I’m working on expanding my freelance writing into different markets and, while I like the business-to-business and ghost writing I’ve done over the last few years, I really want to start cracking into other paying venues, preferably with my byline. Great course, by the way, if anyone’s interested in expanding their writer’s toolbox, I highly recommend classes with Christina Katz.
When I started, the main objective for me was to get tips on querying for regional markets, and to brush up on the business end of that market. I didn’t realize I was so rusty on the actual article writing process, and I was more than a little annoyed with myself. I’d spent so much of my writing time devoted to long fiction that I’d forgotten how to structure an article well and even found I was making mistakes that, once they were caught, made me literally slap my forehead. So I had to go back to the basics again.
I’ve got my Strunk and White and Chicago Manual of Style on my desk now – they were gathering dust on a shelf. I’m trying to just peruse here and there and brush up, because it never hurts to get a refresher. So how about you guys? Anything you found yourself having to brush up on? Do you specialize in a certain area of writing and, if you do, do you find it difficult to switch gears (say from fiction to non-fiction, or long fiction to short)? And once you get to a fairly advanced level in your craft, do you find it hard to explain the basics to people?
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
They Cracked The Code
My daughter’s Language Arts Class has been discussing commercials: what the main point of any commercial is (for to sell you stuff you may or may not need) and how they use the power of persuasion to achieve their purpose. Personally, I’m pretty impressed with the lesson plan. I know some adults who haven’t quite gotten this concept, let alone the 12 year olds in my daughter’s class.
The culmination of this lesson is that each student has to develop their own product, write a short essay about the purpose of the product and who might use it, develop a storyboard for a commercial selling their product, and then execute their commercial. I sooooo wish I had such a cool teacher when I was in sixth grade. Our projects involved poster board and glitter glue and culminated in us fidgeting in front of our classmates.
My daughter brainstormed a number of ideas to start with – my favorite one was Rent A Brother. Her commercial idea centered on having her youngest brother bat puppy dog eyes at the camera, therefore enticing your parents into more allowance, less punishment, and possibly a puppy. (A born salesman to even attempt to con people into this, as the same brother hasn’t reaped her near as good of results and has probably gotten her into more trouble than she’s apt to get into on her own). Her teacher, however, ix-nayed this idea, as I guess renting people should be frowned on even if it is just make believe – and, he didn’t want them to treat it as make believe. He wanted them to come up with a real idea for a real product.
Her second favorite idea was an energy drink. She came up with a name, logo, and intricate storyboard. When she came up with her commercial concept, she cast her younger brothers as the stars. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell them that. She also forgot to tell them that she’d scheduled their rehearsal for most of Saturday and filming would take them away from TV, games, and whatever else they might’ve wanted to do.
This, of course, led to a rather large argument – which I tried valiantly to stay out of. You know lots of wheedling back and forth, righteous indignation, that sort of thing.
Daughter: Come on. I’ll help you with any homework you want. When you have to do this project, I’ll even play a song for it.
Oldest Son: I won’t even be in 6th grade for two years. Your teacher might be dead by then.
Daughter: He’s not that old, he’s not even as old as mom. (I still haven’t figured out why this is the line in the sand on old age, but there ya go).
Oldest Son: Still, that’s two years... what else you got?
Daughter: (voice rising in an obvious indication that the dramatics are about to begin) What do you want?!!!
Oldest Son: Fifty bucks.
Daughter: FIFTY?!!! Okay, fine. Fifty bucks.
Oldest Son: You don’t have fifty bucks. You have four dollars and a bunch of change. (Leans back on the couch with his arms under his head and a very smug, I-just-tricked-you look on his face)
Daughter: (blink, blink, blink... shuts and opens mouth getting good and frothy mad)
Me: She’s not giving you fifty dollars. How about if you do it out of the kindness of your heart and consideration for your sister who loves you and needs some help?
Daughter: (crosses her arms and grins triumphantly)
Oldest Son: (looks at youngest brother who’s been watching the argument with interest). That’s mom code for we have to.
The culmination of this lesson is that each student has to develop their own product, write a short essay about the purpose of the product and who might use it, develop a storyboard for a commercial selling their product, and then execute their commercial. I sooooo wish I had such a cool teacher when I was in sixth grade. Our projects involved poster board and glitter glue and culminated in us fidgeting in front of our classmates.
My daughter brainstormed a number of ideas to start with – my favorite one was Rent A Brother. Her commercial idea centered on having her youngest brother bat puppy dog eyes at the camera, therefore enticing your parents into more allowance, less punishment, and possibly a puppy. (A born salesman to even attempt to con people into this, as the same brother hasn’t reaped her near as good of results and has probably gotten her into more trouble than she’s apt to get into on her own). Her teacher, however, ix-nayed this idea, as I guess renting people should be frowned on even if it is just make believe – and, he didn’t want them to treat it as make believe. He wanted them to come up with a real idea for a real product.
Her second favorite idea was an energy drink. She came up with a name, logo, and intricate storyboard. When she came up with her commercial concept, she cast her younger brothers as the stars. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell them that. She also forgot to tell them that she’d scheduled their rehearsal for most of Saturday and filming would take them away from TV, games, and whatever else they might’ve wanted to do.
This, of course, led to a rather large argument – which I tried valiantly to stay out of. You know lots of wheedling back and forth, righteous indignation, that sort of thing.
Daughter: Come on. I’ll help you with any homework you want. When you have to do this project, I’ll even play a song for it.
Oldest Son: I won’t even be in 6th grade for two years. Your teacher might be dead by then.
Daughter: He’s not that old, he’s not even as old as mom. (I still haven’t figured out why this is the line in the sand on old age, but there ya go).
Oldest Son: Still, that’s two years... what else you got?
Daughter: (voice rising in an obvious indication that the dramatics are about to begin) What do you want?!!!
Oldest Son: Fifty bucks.
Daughter: FIFTY?!!! Okay, fine. Fifty bucks.
Oldest Son: You don’t have fifty bucks. You have four dollars and a bunch of change. (Leans back on the couch with his arms under his head and a very smug, I-just-tricked-you look on his face)
Daughter: (blink, blink, blink... shuts and opens mouth getting good and frothy mad)
Me: She’s not giving you fifty dollars. How about if you do it out of the kindness of your heart and consideration for your sister who loves you and needs some help?
Daughter: (crosses her arms and grins triumphantly)
Oldest Son: (looks at youngest brother who’s been watching the argument with interest). That’s mom code for we have to.
Monday, February 01, 2010
January Progress - Koala Challenge
I talked a bit about the Koala Challenge a few posts ago. You can click on my lovely, little Koala Badge in the sidebar and it will take you to McKoala's blog to check things out from the marsupial's headquarters.
I found out about and decided to do the challenge on January 18th, and as you can tell by my badge, I only got four points :-( I'm not completely ecstatic with that, but it gives me a good kick in the pants to try to climb that Koala ladder this month.
I'll keep my badge for the previous month in the sidebar, and change the status on the last day of each month (provided my status actually changes). I've also included the links for other participants. My linking has more to do with a handy-dandy way for me to find the blogs I'd like to visit... but feel free to visit them, too, cuz, ya know, they're cool.
How about you? Did you do the Koala Challenge and, if you didn't, how is your writing progressing?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Let Me Pick Your Brains... but, you know, not in the Zombie way...
Okay, normally I don’t do this, but I want to talk a bit about my current WIP. Mostly because I want some opinions, discussions, verbal lashings if needed – and who better to get them from than the peoples who people my blog? So, if you’re a writer, editor, reader, or just unbelievably opinionated, I’d love to hear what you think:
So, here’s the dealie – I’m currently breaking a cardinal rule. Okay, it might not be a cardinal rule but it’s definitely something YA writers are admonished NOT to do. I’ve set my wip in the early 90’s... yes, yes, that also happens to be the same time period that I was the age of my characters... go ahead, make fun.
Here’s the thing, it’s actually harder for me to write it in that time period than it would be to make it current. The admonishment is generally directed at writers who set YA during their own childhood to make it easier for them, so they don’t have to immerse themselves in current trends, languages, etc. I’m actually better immersed in today’s YA world than I am in the one I grew up in. For the time period I’m writing in, I’ve had to do a lot of research, because, honestly, I didn’t remember when what fad took over. Speech is another thing that’s hard to master, because in your memory, all of those catchy little teenage phrases blend together.
I’ve been batting this back and forth since starting this wip. My feeling is that it needs to be set in that time period. That’s where these characters and their neighborhood’s story take place. The other thing is that we need to see where these characters end up, as adults. We need to see the impact of these events on their whole life – what paths did they choose, and how did the choices they made during the heart of the story impact them? That’s the whole scope of the story, to me, the larger repercussions and the impact on the whole. Without knowing the entire plot and characters, this might sound kind of convoluted. But that’s another reason I want it set back aways – the meat of the story takes place in the past, but the end of the novel is current day.
I suppose I could write the meat of the novel current day and still end it that way, staying away from too much heavy description of the time period for their future selves. And I’ve had that in mind ever since starting, that I might have to go back and rewrite, pulling them out of that time-period and into the current one.
But I’m kind of leaning toward breaking the rules. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard great agents and editors say not to set your YA in the 80’s (close enough). So that I know, when it comes time to query, I may already have a mark against me.
So, what do you guys think? Is it ever okay to break that type of a rule? Am I just giving myself excuses to keep it in the timeframe I want it in? Or does it all hinge on the execution? I know there are examples of this working – Stephen King’s The Body, which became Stand By Me was set in the 60’s but written in the 80’s. BUT he was already Stephen KING!!! I don’t want to set up even more roadblocks for myself. At the same time, I really love this story and I don’t want to dilute it for the sake of a sale, either.
So what’s your take? Have you ever broken a rule that improved your work? Have you ever broken a rule out of sheer stubbornness that on retrospect hurt your work? Am I just obsessing over silliness when I should be pushing out pages? (Yeah, yeah, I’m getting back to work right now.)
So, here’s the dealie – I’m currently breaking a cardinal rule. Okay, it might not be a cardinal rule but it’s definitely something YA writers are admonished NOT to do. I’ve set my wip in the early 90’s... yes, yes, that also happens to be the same time period that I was the age of my characters... go ahead, make fun.
Here’s the thing, it’s actually harder for me to write it in that time period than it would be to make it current. The admonishment is generally directed at writers who set YA during their own childhood to make it easier for them, so they don’t have to immerse themselves in current trends, languages, etc. I’m actually better immersed in today’s YA world than I am in the one I grew up in. For the time period I’m writing in, I’ve had to do a lot of research, because, honestly, I didn’t remember when what fad took over. Speech is another thing that’s hard to master, because in your memory, all of those catchy little teenage phrases blend together.
I’ve been batting this back and forth since starting this wip. My feeling is that it needs to be set in that time period. That’s where these characters and their neighborhood’s story take place. The other thing is that we need to see where these characters end up, as adults. We need to see the impact of these events on their whole life – what paths did they choose, and how did the choices they made during the heart of the story impact them? That’s the whole scope of the story, to me, the larger repercussions and the impact on the whole. Without knowing the entire plot and characters, this might sound kind of convoluted. But that’s another reason I want it set back aways – the meat of the story takes place in the past, but the end of the novel is current day.
I suppose I could write the meat of the novel current day and still end it that way, staying away from too much heavy description of the time period for their future selves. And I’ve had that in mind ever since starting, that I might have to go back and rewrite, pulling them out of that time-period and into the current one.
But I’m kind of leaning toward breaking the rules. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard great agents and editors say not to set your YA in the 80’s (close enough). So that I know, when it comes time to query, I may already have a mark against me.
So, what do you guys think? Is it ever okay to break that type of a rule? Am I just giving myself excuses to keep it in the timeframe I want it in? Or does it all hinge on the execution? I know there are examples of this working – Stephen King’s The Body, which became Stand By Me was set in the 60’s but written in the 80’s. BUT he was already Stephen KING!!! I don’t want to set up even more roadblocks for myself. At the same time, I really love this story and I don’t want to dilute it for the sake of a sale, either.
So what’s your take? Have you ever broken a rule that improved your work? Have you ever broken a rule out of sheer stubbornness that on retrospect hurt your work? Am I just obsessing over silliness when I should be pushing out pages? (Yeah, yeah, I’m getting back to work right now.)
Monday, January 25, 2010
Kid Lit Contest - January 2010
Mary Kole of Andrea Brown Literary Agency is holding a contest at her awesome Kid Lit Blog. She’s very specific with the requirements for your entry to be considered eligible, so if you’re interested in playing, you should really check out the submission guidelines.
She’s asking for the first 500 words to a finished middle grade or young adult novel. No picture books or adult fiction, but if you already have a finished and polished manuscript in mg or ya, it might be a great opportunity for you. All submissions are due by January 31st, so if you’re planning to play, you better get cracking.
Let me know if you enter... and for those of you participating in the Koala Challenge, it counts as a submissions... mwa-ha-ha.
She’s asking for the first 500 words to a finished middle grade or young adult novel. No picture books or adult fiction, but if you already have a finished and polished manuscript in mg or ya, it might be a great opportunity for you. All submissions are due by January 31st, so if you’re planning to play, you better get cracking.
Let me know if you enter... and for those of you participating in the Koala Challenge, it counts as a submissions... mwa-ha-ha.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Koala Challenge – Show Me, Show Me, Show Me How You Do that Trick
...the one that makes me scream, she said... the one that makes me laugh, she said... threw her arms around my head... show me how you do it... and I promise you, I promise that I’ll run away with you... (sorry, I was singing to Realmy)
This year, I’ve entered the Koala Challenge 2010
Isn’t that a cool little sinister Koala? JJ Debenedictis designed the awesome little badges that signify your progress for the month, and if you’re interested in playing, you can see all of the badges on her blog post, here. Even if you’re not interested in playing, it’s worth the trip just to ogle JJ’s artwork.
The basic idea is that each bit of writing equals a point in the system... but they’re not small bits of writing. It has to be a submission, for 1 point, for long fiction it’s 1 point per 4,000 words. That sinister badge up there equals 3 points, or 12,000 words if you’re only doing long fiction, and really the goal is to get the happy happy Koala, which is 9 points. You can go visit either McKoala’s or JJ’s posts linked above to get all the rules and see who else is playing.
“Okay, so what’s with the song at the top?” one might wonder. Around January, all of us writer types start discussing our goals for the year, our plans for what we’re going to do. I’m no exception. I wrote an entire, and entirely too long, post called, The Year of No Excuses on this topic. I got to the end and realized something – it wasn’t for you. It was for me. It was a way for me to work out what I was doing wrong and fix it for fuck’s sake. But you don’t need to know what I plan to do, or want to do, or what my goals are...so I printed it for me, but I never posted it.
There’s an old saying that I’ve loved for most of my life – “Don’t talk to me about what you’re going to do, show me what you did.” There’s a time and a place for dreaming and planning and plotting out your future – and it’s not meant to be shared. Okay, addendum, when you’re planning a joint future with someone you should probably key them in to your plans. But otherwise, you don’t need to know why I haven’t done what I haven’t done. You don’t need to know what I plan to do.
Giving out a detailed goal list for the month or year, just makes me feel like I have to make excuses for why I fell short. So, new tact. You’ll find my Koala Badge on the right hand sidebar on the last day of the month. So the last month’s progress will be visible until I change it to reflect the newest month. The motivator for me is that I hold myself publicly accountable. There is no hiding from my lapses and no shirking my workload. At the same time, though, it feels better to me to say at the end of the month – this is what I accomplished. I like the camaraderie of a group, too and the fact that other challengers can stop here and congratulate or give me shit about it.
Your turn – what have you accomplished lately that you’re proud of? And do you prefer to show or tell – or a little of both?
This year, I’ve entered the Koala Challenge 2010
Isn’t that a cool little sinister Koala? JJ Debenedictis designed the awesome little badges that signify your progress for the month, and if you’re interested in playing, you can see all of the badges on her blog post, here. Even if you’re not interested in playing, it’s worth the trip just to ogle JJ’s artwork.
The basic idea is that each bit of writing equals a point in the system... but they’re not small bits of writing. It has to be a submission, for 1 point, for long fiction it’s 1 point per 4,000 words. That sinister badge up there equals 3 points, or 12,000 words if you’re only doing long fiction, and really the goal is to get the happy happy Koala, which is 9 points. You can go visit either McKoala’s or JJ’s posts linked above to get all the rules and see who else is playing.
“Okay, so what’s with the song at the top?” one might wonder. Around January, all of us writer types start discussing our goals for the year, our plans for what we’re going to do. I’m no exception. I wrote an entire, and entirely too long, post called, The Year of No Excuses on this topic. I got to the end and realized something – it wasn’t for you. It was for me. It was a way for me to work out what I was doing wrong and fix it for fuck’s sake. But you don’t need to know what I plan to do, or want to do, or what my goals are...so I printed it for me, but I never posted it.
There’s an old saying that I’ve loved for most of my life – “Don’t talk to me about what you’re going to do, show me what you did.” There’s a time and a place for dreaming and planning and plotting out your future – and it’s not meant to be shared. Okay, addendum, when you’re planning a joint future with someone you should probably key them in to your plans. But otherwise, you don’t need to know why I haven’t done what I haven’t done. You don’t need to know what I plan to do.
Giving out a detailed goal list for the month or year, just makes me feel like I have to make excuses for why I fell short. So, new tact. You’ll find my Koala Badge on the right hand sidebar on the last day of the month. So the last month’s progress will be visible until I change it to reflect the newest month. The motivator for me is that I hold myself publicly accountable. There is no hiding from my lapses and no shirking my workload. At the same time, though, it feels better to me to say at the end of the month – this is what I accomplished. I like the camaraderie of a group, too and the fact that other challengers can stop here and congratulate or give me shit about it.
Your turn – what have you accomplished lately that you’re proud of? And do you prefer to show or tell – or a little of both?
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