Difficult times always has me running into the arms of my writing group, a group of five women who I trust about as well as I trust myself. Whenever there’s a body lying around, I know I can call on one of them to lend me a shovel.

I’ve written about writing groups before, but a recent coffee-date with another author made me realize that this conversation was far from over. In fact, it made me realize that my previous note about writing groups may not have been very useful at all.

This author, we’ll call her Melissa, who has been a successful novelist and creative writing professor for many years now, had kindly agreed to meet with me while I was visiting another author-friend of mine in Port Townsend, WA. I originally thought the coffee-date was just going to be an opportunity for me to gush about how much I’d enjoyed her latest book, but as soon as she learned of my writing group, the conversation immediately rerouted and became laser-focused on the in’s and out’s of this, our little writing family.

You’ve been working together for how long? And you all live how far apart? And you all are working in how many different genres?

As it turns out, despite her many close writer-friends and her years working in the craft, Melissa has never been part of a successful, long-term writing group. —And trust me when I say that Melissa isn’t someone who’d be at all difficult to work with. Whatever challenges she’s faced in finding a group has nothing to do with her ability to play nicely with others.

Though it took me several years of professional writing life before I found my writing group, I didn’t realize until this conversation just how rare and special a functioning writing group actually is—like spotting a unicorn, and then that unicorn is cool with hanging out, and then you find three other unicorns who are also cool with hanging out, and then they all also enjoy writing.

A quick rundown of how our writing group functions: We’re five women, all different ages (ranging from 28 to 70 years old), living all across the U.S., writing in all different genres, and we meet once a month via phone and then at least twice a year in person. During our phone meetings, two different authors get their chosen piece critiqued and discussed. During our in-person meetings (usually lasting between four to ten days), we dedicate our mornings and afternoons to intense writing time, and then we all share what we have with each other at the end of each day (we also sometimes take turns, depending on who’s comfortable with sharing what from their latest project). Then after dinner—usually a meal we’ve cooked and then cleaned up for each other; another symbol of how we’re trying to nurture and support one another—we hold a brief “salon” where we come prepared to discuss some previously agreed-upon writing-related issue.

Part of the success of our writing group is, unfortunately, a big heap of privilege. Despite the fact that we all live very far apart—I’m in Baltimore, for example, while L is in Seattle and D is in San Fran—we all have the resources to meet at least twice a year in person. Travelling like that is a HUGE privilege, both in money and time.

Our group would look very different if we didn’t have the resources to meet in person each year, but the quality of our phone meetings convinces me that we would still, even then, be a solid, regularly-meeting group.

Apart from this component, I think a great deal of our success stems from the fact that we all are hyper-aware of each other’s time and wanting to be respectful of this time, the generous gift of having another writer consider your work, while also knowing that we can reach out to each other whenever a project is in some precarious position—whether it’s about to be submitted somewhere or we’re simply in need of an extra morale-boost. This balance reassures me, as a member of the group, that not only are my fellow writers genuinely interested in my work and success, but that they’re not going to take advantage of our closeness by suddenly unloading a 30,000 word novella in my lap with a plea for editorial suggestions by next week.

Judging by Melissa’s reactions, it sounds as though another unique strength of our group is our care (or obsessiveness) with planning out each block of our time together. Whether we’re together in person or over the phone, we always have a person assigned the role of “facilitator” to govern each meeting, and this role is treated with great reverence.

The facilitator is charged with making sure that no one’s shared reading or comments take up too much time (time allotments are decided ahead of each meeting), that everyone contributes and is understood, that no one’s questions are forgotten or ignored, etc. The facilitator also keeps everyone abreast of whose turn it is to read, who will be serving as facilitator next, and what our upcoming salon topics will cover. This kind of planning not only ensures that we keep on-track and make the most of our time together, but also keeps the group from devolving into simply a bunch of friends hanging out.

In this way, our ability to be professional with one another and conduct business as if we were in a traditional work setting is as vital a component to our success as our friendship and trust in one another.

Maintaining a healthy, productive, long-term writing group necessitates many factors coming together: shared goals, trust, opportunity and resources, professionalism, respect, self-awareness, and many others. But perhaps the true turning point for our group when we were first starting out, what really allowed us to cleave together this way, wasn’t our shared love of books or desire to be “successful” writers, but our genuine desire to see each other’s writing succeed and not simply our own.

One of my great friends from my writing group first discovered this article while we were writing together at Red Emma’s here in Bmore — so we were already (unknowingly) breaking Dawson’s rules #1 & 2; I mean, #1 would come later (that’s what she said (OMG, why aren’t we friends, Dawson?)) — and right away my friend couldn’t keep herself from reading the entire article aloud to me, both of us giggling like grade-schoolers and looking self-consciously over our shoulders. Not only was this article a tremendous thing to share together, but it also sparked some great discussion about the hows/whys of writing sex scenes.

First, who could resist this intro?

I never set out to be a romance writer. When I was asked to turn a black-out scene into steamy hot sex, at first I panicked. Then I followed these 25 easy steps and panicked some more. And then I got a three-book deal for a paranormal romance series with Simon & Schuster, despite being a somewhat prudish Southern girl who’s been married to her college sweetheart since 2002 and has never actually seen a pair of assless chaps. And you can, too! Here’s how.

Dawson! Again: Why aren’t we friends??

But perhaps what I appreciate most about Dawson’s article, aside from her wonderful candor and sense of humor, is just how much of her advice had both my friend and me gushing, Oh my God, yes! Just take rule #7 for example:

7. Consider the lowly Jimmy hat.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when a romance book neglects to take into account that most women (and men!) have very strong feelings about whether or not they wish to end up preggers after a sexual encounter. …

AMEN!

Anyway, if you’re still here reading this instead of at Terrible Minds reading Dawson … why are you?

1. Hush (2016)

This movie is amazing. It takes a very classic, often problematic premise—lone woman in the woods, no cell service, a mysterious masked attacker—and makes it new again.

2. The Dark Half (1993)

A classic Stephen King story, classic movie, Timothy Hutton, yes, yes, yes. This one might not be “scary,” but it’s a horror film through-and-through, and a great watch for anyone looking to be thoroughly creeped out.

3. Secret Window (2004)

Another Stephen King story, this is one of my favorite film adaptations of his work. Writers haunted by their work … and more.

4. TWIXT (2011)

Francis Ford Coppola, Val Kilmer, Bruce Dern, Elle Fanning, Tom Waits, the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe for some reason … What more can I say? This is a (sort of?) comedy, (sort of?) horror movie, (sort of?) tragedy. Whatever it is, it’s awesome. An eerie surreal romp through some dark, dark woods.

5. Deathtrap (1982)

This movie may not be a “horror” movie per say, but it does have a good deal of murder, backstabbing, and writerly wickedness (not to mention some handsome young Michael Caine and Christopher Reeve).

6. A few other of Stephen King’s…Misery, Salem’s Lot, & The Shining (NOT the Kubrick version)

Because Stephen King is, first of all, amazing, and second of all, constantly writing about writers (I’m not complaining), I’ve decided to just throw in a good word for a bunch of his other adaptations. I’ll make a special note though about The Shining—forget Kubrick’s nonsense. Want an actually frightening film? Give the 1997 version a spin. It’s long—like, multiple disks long—but it’s absolutely worth it.

7. Sunset Blvd (1950)

There are few horror movies more classic or more unsettling than Billy Wilder’s Sunset Blvd, a movie about actors, a movie about screenwriters, a movie about artists (aka wild-eyed, lonely, self-absorbed, control freaks).

8. Capote (2005)

An eerily beautiful, deeply unsettling look at Truman Capote’s work in writing and researching his genre-bending creative nonfiction book In Cold Blood.

Happy Binge Watching!

Step One:

Only submit something you actually enjoyed writing, something you’re passionate about, something you’ve edited and reedited and performed aloud and hated and loved and obsessed over, whether it’s funny, frightening, serious, or melodramatic. I’ve read enough passionless gimmicky pieces to last me a lifetime.

Step Two …

Allowing sex to take its proper place in a story adds the third dimension, a dimension of flesh, and sets the reader’s animal self twitching. Even the deliberate omission of sex begs the question: where did it go? Who are these comic characters, gleefully reassuring one another of their button-eyed innocence? It is possible to leave sexuality as an implicit force in the text, but suppressing it entirely does a disservice to both the reader and the story.  …

2. Emily Barton’s “Literary or Genre, It’s the Plot That Counts” for Literary Hub

We writers like to talk about elements of craft. Character, theme, setting, voice, point of view, language. But I seldom hear fellow writers talking about plot. When I first taught a seminar on non-traditional plot construction at NYU’s Graduate Writing Program, some students signed up because they hadn’t previously given the topic any thought. …

3. Alison Mattison’s “How to Write Coincidence the Right Way” for Literary Hub

One way to use coincidence and make it work is to have nothing turn on it. Coincidences feel illegitimate when they solve problems. If the story doesn’t benefit from the coincidence, it’s simply pretty and suggestive. Another way to make a coincidence work is to begin a story with it. Make it the reason there’s a story to tell in the first place. …

4. Bartleby Snopes’s Dialogue Writing Tips

One tendency people have when writing dialogue is to try to write everything exactly how it “sounds.” This often results in dialogue that sounds too slangy or forced. While you may know someone who says “like” after every other word or drops twelve “f-bombs” per sentence, this doesn’t translate well on the page. …

5. Linnie Greene’s “In the Mines: A Craft Essay on Creative Nonfiction“ for Cleaver Magazine

In her MFA vs. NYC essay “The Invisible Vocation,” Elif Batuman argues that the classic maxims “Write what you know” and “find your voice” are sometimes damning, convincing writers that if they don’t know some sort of spectacular, novelistic trauma or oppression, their stories aren’t worth telling. …

6. Steve Almond’s “How to Write a Sex Scene: The 12-Step Program” for Utne

Nipples are tricky. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and shades. They do not, as a rule, look like much of anything, aside from nipples. So resist making dumbshit comparisons. …

Happy Writing!

Tagged: Authors, Creative Nonfiction, Dialogue, Essay Writing, essays, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memoirs, Novels, Poetry, Poets, Screenplays, Screenwriting, Short Stories, Stories, Storytelling, Writers, Writing, Writing Advice, Writing Tips ]]> https://howlinghowl.wordpress.com/2016/10/03/6-great-essays-on-craft-talking-plot-writing-sex-scenes-more/feed/ 0 IMG_2727 honeymeadbrewer https://howlinghowl.wordpress.com/2016/09/07/literary-magazines-with-fast-response-times-part-ii/ https://howlinghowl.wordpress.com/2016/09/07/literary-magazines-with-fast-response-times-part-ii/#comments Wed, 07 Sep 2016 21:55:45 +0000 http://howlinghowl.wordpress.com/?p=6011 Continue reading Literary Magazines with Fast Response Times, Part II →]]> Here’s Part II of a short list of literary magazines who have (or offer for a fee) super-fast response times to submissions:

Driftwood Press

Submission Period: Rolling

Genres Accepted: Fiction, Poetry, Visual Art, & Lit Crit/Interviews

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous submissions and, for $5, offer a premium submission option that promises a one-week turnaround.

Maudlin House

Submission Period: Currently Open

Genres Accepted: Fiction, Flash Fiction, Visual Art, Video, & Poetry

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous submissions and say they respond to all submissions within approximately two weeks. You can also pay $5 for an expedited submission with a 24-hour turnaround.

Carve Magazine

Submission Period: Rolling

Genres Accepted: Fiction

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous submissions, but not multiple submissions. If you become a subscriber, you can submit under a “premium” submission option, which promises a one-month turnaround.

Nat. Brut

Submission Period: Rolling

Genres Accepted: Fiction, Flash Fiction, Comics, CNF, & Poetry

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous submissions and, for a fee of $4, they promise a turnaround time of six weeks.

Gargoyle Magazine

Submission Period: Currently Closed

Genres Accepted: Fiction & Flash Fiction

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous submissions and usually get back to submitters within a week (personal experience has been fewer than three days!).

Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal

Submission Period: Rolling

Genres Accepted: Fiction, Flash Fiction, Visual Art, & Poetry

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous and multiple submissions, and have a turnaround time of ten days or fewer.

Blue Mesa Review

Submission Period: Open September 30 – March 31

Genres Accepted: Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, & Art

Response Rate: They accept simultaneous submissions and, for a $3 fee, will expedite your submission with a promised turnaround time of thirty days or fewer.

Clarkesworld Magazine

Submission Period: Currently Open

Genres Accepted: SF&F

Response Rate: They do not accept simultaneous or mutliple submissions, but they usually get back to submitters within two to three days.

The Dark Magazine

Submission Period: Currently Open

Genres Accepted: Horror & Dark Fantasy

Response Rate: They do not accept simultaneous or multiple submissions, but they usually get back to submitters within two to three days.

Click here for Part I of this list*

Happy Submitting!

The idea of adapting my own novel was a daunting one at first, even though I’ve adapted plenty of other books in the past. This was partly because I wasn’t even sure I wanted a film/TV version to be made at all (the novel, after all, is still what’s closest to my heart), and also partly because I plain wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to divorce myself enough from the book-version to make the plot and character changes that are (almost) always necessary when adapting for film/TV.

In the end, though, I decided to approach the adaptation as an exercise in revitalizing my energy/creativity/brutality for editing the novel: What subplots and characters truly are unnecessary? Could certain characters be combined, streamlined, or better developed? Could certain symbols and themes be cut, added, or made to work harder?

Stripping the book down to an almost purely dialogue format was also helpful in getting me to reconsider different conversations and dialogue-heavy scenes throughout the book. It allowed me to zero-in on conversations that sounded unnatural, but that I hadn’t noticed before due to all the crowding narration. It also helped me realize when certain conversations weren’t contributing anything at all, just taking up space.

Bottom line: If you’re feeling stuck or uninspired with one of your longer prose projects, try adapting it into a teleplay or screenplay format (and force yourself to be diligent and honest with the genre shift; no teleplays over 45 pages or screenplays over 110!). You might be surprised at how helpful an editorial exercise this can be. Alternatively, you can try your hand at things like Bartleby Snopes’s 8th Annual Dialogue-Only Contest. Submissions end on September 15th, but the perks and usefulness of the challenge itself apply all year long

P.S. If you’re interested in trying out some screenwriting software, I would recommend either Final Draft or Adobe Story.

Keep Writing! Keep Reading!

Feature image owned by KC Mead-Brewer

Tell me the story of the August Corn Moon.

Also, if you haven’t already, be sure to explore the greatness that is Witches of the Craft.