I was sitting on my porch on Monday, wondering why I was having such a hard time revising one of my manuscripts when it popped into my head that the only thing keeping me from tearing into that revision with the necessary gusto was that I loved my main character too much.

Let’s call him Raymond, shall we? Precious little Raymond.

Raymond is just about everything I like in a kid. He’s sneaky, mischievous, funny, overly dramatic, smart, geeky, and deeply insecure. He has his own very special moral code, which might not be immediately recognizable as, well, moral to many old farts/adults. I wrote him, sure. I even found myself disapproving of his antics from time to time. Okay, not really. But I knew I *should* disapprove, if I were a “Good Parent.” Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the little squirt. He became – like Pinocchio, like so many characters from books I read as a child — a real boy. My perfect, my precious. (Go ahead, do your Smeagol/Gollum voice here; I did.)

Of course, once I realized what I’d done, that the thing holding me back from making my manuscript better (um, hello? The *job* of a writer???) was that I didn’t want Raymond to suffer, it wasn’t a problem any more. Hey, I didn’t stick that post-it on my writing desk with those three magic words just to fill the space! What three words, you ask?

Hurt your characters.

Long story short-ish? I’m applying a whole lotta Tough Love to poor little Raymond this week. I hope it’ll make the book better. Who knows? Maybe it would work in the real world, too. (cue evil laughter)

(No, no. Bad Mommy. Hurt your characters, not your children. Very important to remember.)

Write well, friends. And be vicious and brutal to your fictional children.

Revising.

I’ve also discovered something that’s more thrilling, energizing, and plain-old-fashioned fun than a trip to Nordstrom’s with a girlfriend to buy shoes.

Yup, you guessed it. That would be revising again.

As my Writer Friends know (because I’ve been whining about it for weeks), I’m working on revisions to two separate manuscripts. The revisions on one of them are not going well. I fix a bit, add a little sub-plot beefiness there, change a few lines of dialogue, and step back to read it. That one mental step back somehow causes me to lose all objectivity. I cannot tell if I have made things better, worse, or just re-shuffled the deck. Very frustrating. In fact, this whole manuscript has become the “swimsuit in April” experience for me. Even if everything were perfect -the prose tight, the humor sexy, the characters lean and lovely –  I would still lack objectivity. I would still not be able to walk away feeling satisfied with myself.

I would still have to run home, crying, and consume batch after batch of chocolate chip-walnut-self-loathing cookies. (Yes, it has been a baking week chez Nikki. A bad sign.)

And then there’s the OTHER manuscript. Revising this one makes me feel like I’m shoe-shopping on payday. It’s fun, energizing, and nothing I try goes wrong. Bliss.

It’s a good thing I had manuscript number two to work on, or I probably would have gone mad by now. Or eaten so many cookies the real swimsuit shopping in April would destroy me this year.

Have any of you had this happen — lost all objectivity when it came to revising a novel? What did you find worked for you? Did you ever get back your eye for “rightness” in your writing?

Or did you go mad and burn your manuscript up in the oven with one final batch of cookies? Not that *I* am considering such a thing…

Oh, I loved THIS this week – Ten Rules for Writing Fiction.

And on the reading front? This weekend I had The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, Ink Exchange by Melissa Marr, and Eternal by Cynthia Leitich Smith to go with those cookies. Yum!

But this Lent, I’m planning to do something that makes giving up chocolate look… well, if not easy, at least not insane. But I’m not giving up anything.

I’m taking it on. My goal is to take on two sets of novel revisions, AND finish the first draft of my newest gorgeous manuscript baby by Easter. (She’s so cute. Dark, moody, and only 9,000 words old!)

Can I do it? We’ll see. I have a funny feeling it could be a lot easier to give up chocolate than to do the amount of work I’m planning.

I’ll check back in next Monday and let you know how it’s going! Anybody out there tackling an impossible writing goal for Lent, or am I the only crazy one? ;-P

I promised a post on writing groups, but I’m mostly planning on telling you what I’ve got going on right now. This morning, a small group of women I call my Literary Salon (because it SOUNDS cool) arrived at my house for a few hours of fabulous food (why, yes, I *did *cook), industry gossip, and chatting about our manuscript-babies. No critiquing allowed, just support, advice, loans of some resources/books, homemade soup and chocolate-dipped strawberries. (Thanks, Erin!)

I don’t know why, but having a group that comes together in person to chat is important to me. Maybe it’s because I am such a terrible typist, so the online thing doesn’t work as well s it does for the typing-unimpaired. It jut takes too darn long to type all those comments. I end up leaving the funny stuff out. Bleah. Of course, this group’s members have to be geographically-linked, and it helps if they write the same genre, which we do (mostly) — MG and YA. Some of these gals are my Trusted Betas, Whom I Love Above All Others. (I privately refer to them as my personal Belles Dames Sans Merci, but don’t tell them.)

I also connived my way into an established online critique group with mostly published authors, some quite well-known. They are invaluable to me for working on picture books and short pieces, but I still feel too new to send great chunks of work their way. Don’t want to make a nuisance of myself. Yet.

I’m the newest member of a group of writers that meets in San Marcos every other Friday for fabulous coffee, some critique, conversation about our lives/health/anything else, and the VERY latest in markets/editors/agents for the various types of things we write. One of these authors writes Western romance, one writes contemporary thrillers, one writes Christian fic/non-fic. And then there’s me, the children’s writer/poet/literary fiction/puppet play/anthology/essayist. These gals are all amazingly supportive. It always feels like they have my back, no matter what I aim for. I love them. They are also all grandmas. I want to be them when I grow up.

Then there’s Suzie, L’Agent Extraordinaire, and her team of underpaid, underfed Minion-Interns, who live to revise my deathless prose. Bwa ha ha ha ha! Kidding, of course. I only send my most gorgeously polished and perfected exampled of Craft to them. Also, fart jokes.

BTW, I’ve only been actively writing novels and networking for a year. (It’s been almost one year to the day since I finished my first MG manuscript! Yes, that one, the Story That Must Not Be Named.) And I also have writer friends on Twitter, Facebook, Verla Kay’s, SCBWI, and the Austin SCBWI group. Even one or two from contest wins like Backspace. (Hi, Lori!)  So, where will I be in a year?
At this rate, probably in a critique/support/lunch group with YOU!

So, share already. Who keeps you honest, writing-wise?

Write Well, Friends.

So, go to It Happened One Season, make up your mad lib-style Regency romance plot points, and let me know if you entered so I can vote for yours if it makes the finals.

Or post your idea here, so the teeming hordes of romance writers who visit this blog can steal your ideas and make millions from them. Whatever.

(You DO know that I’m working on a never-to-be-finished-or-shown-to-anyone shapeshifter romance between ACTUAL WIPs, don’t you? Email me, and I will send you scenes from “a love too dangerous to be published”…)

Have fun writing, Peeps! I’m finishing one of the WIPs this week. Woo Hoo! And then the Betas will feast.

I think my next post will be about writer’s groups. I have quite a few, and they all serve very different functions in my writing life. I’ve got support groups where we chat about our lives/kids/pets/health issues, online groups, in-person groups, professional groups, one-person emergency beta reading pods … and of course, my Literary Salon members, who are all the very coolest.

I’m making the soup and nibbles today for our Salon meeting tomorrow, where I will read from the poetry chapbooks that arrived in the mail yesterday — my prizes from the online poetry contest I won last week! (Okay, third place. But still: PRIZES! Presents for ME! In the MAIL!)

Write well, Friends, and start thinking about what YOU will say when they ask you, Newly Famous and Celebrated Author,  about your name. You can even leave a comment about it, if you like!

*Thanks to Shelli Cornelison for the link.

I just got home from the Best Conference Ever. (Um, the conference was Austin SCBWI, driving distance from my house, so I guess I never technically left home.) I’ve spent the past two days going over my notes, thinking about how best to blog post about all the amazing speakers. And you know what? I’m too late. A whole bunch of other conference attendees have already done it better than I would have. (Call me lazy, I don’t care. I admit it. This was also my strategy when I was it was my turn to do the dishes/clean/whatever when I was a kid. If I just went to the bathroom — yeah, usually I was reading in there — and waited long enough, my sister would do the job. And so much better than I would have!) So, in my sloth, I have decided to direct you to my friend Shelli Cornelison’s series of blog posts (Overachiever! Stop making us all look bad), and Emily Kristin Anderson’s, and then this one and this one and this one. All very good reads.

This week? I’m waiting for a bunch of good news this week (how do you like THAT attitude;-) and enjoying reading my contributor’s copy of the Ultimate Christian Living anthology that just came out with my essay in it. This one won’t be available in stores until March, so wait for it.  Also, I’m hoping to wrap up the first draft of my MG WIP, and make some headway on another one I started last week in a fit of insanity and awesomeness… whilst including the strategies the inestimable Cheryl Klein spoke about at the conference.

Write well, Writer Friends! (And don’t blame me when I post links to your well-written sites.)

When I walked in the front door, the first thing I saw, displayed on a table, was a stuffed fox. No, not the toy kind — the taxidermied kind.  “Oh, is your husband a hunter?” I asked, admiring the fox’s glassy eyes, lifelike pose, and the chopped-off rattlensnake rattles they had used to decorate the base the dead thing was standing on. She said yes, but that he hadn’t actaully gone on a fox hunt. Then she explains to me that he saw the fox dying on the side of the road,and I quote — “Probably from rabies or something” — and decided to put it out of its misery.
And, with her full support, cooperation, even urging, they then decided to take it home, have it taxidermied, and put in the entryway of their house.

People, I don’t have to go far to come up with my characters. They come to me. I love Texas.

I also love Texas because we have extremely awesome writing conferences. The one I’m thinking of right now — THE ONE I’M GOING TO TONIGHT!!! I’m so excited, I can’t wait– is the Awesome Austin Destination Publication SCBWI Writing Conference.

Check out the line-up. Marla Frazee? Kirby Larson? Jacqueline Kelly? Rock stars, for crying out loud! Have you ever seen so many award winners and all-around gobsmackingly talented writers all in one place? I’m not even counting the editors (Cheryl Klein, Lisa Graff, Stacy Cantor, etc.) and agents (Ho hum, got a fabu one already, thanks, but I DO want to see if Nathan Bransford is really a surfer-boy) who fill out the star-studded line-up. Who needs NY SCBWI? (Well, I mean, Jane Yolen would be nice. Next year.)

I’m also going to the pre-conference dinner and post-conference BBQ, where I’ll get to hang out with authors (I have actually met and who talk to me) like Jennifer Ziegler (WHO I ACTUALLY KNOW FROM CHILDHOOD!!!), Jessica Lee Anderson (one of the nicest people in the world, not kidding), Bethany Hegedus, P. J. Hoover, and Shelli Cornelison (who is just plain awesome, with or without a book deal).

Sorry for all the capitals, folks, but I’m excited. In my defense, I DO live in the Capitol City: the Capitol Of Awesomeness.

Gonna be there? Look for me. I’ll be the one embarrassing herself at the punch bowl.

I love books. I love them so much there aren’t enough of them in the world for me to read. (Well, not enough of the kind I like, then.) I love them so much I must write MORE of them even though it is the most maddening process — the Chinese water torture of professions. Secret? Sometimes I even tell the books I love them. “Oh, dear, sweet Novel. You are the most wonderful book ever written. I will keep you forever, read you until your covers fall off, memorize passages, tell everyone of your charms.” And then the Novel and I smoke a virtual cigarette.

But do I tell the book’s authors how much I love their babies? Almost never! Shame on me!

So, this week, I decided to start my 2010 Valentine’s Campaign: Making Love to Your Favorite Authors*.

No, not the sex kind. Most of my favorite authors are probably like me, frumpy middle-aged women desperately trying to find time between appointments and homework help to write something thrilling. I’m talking about the “personal touch” kind of love. The Swedish massage of emails.

The fan letter.

I started yesterday, with a fan letter to Nan Marino, whose debut middle grade novel Neil Armstrong is my Uncle, and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me, knocked my (and my son’s) socks off.

I’ve decided to concentrate my love on debut authors if I can, since I think they must be most like me — insecure, lonely, eating massive quantities of chocolate to keep them this side of the loony bin — and I know I need more petting than a neurotic cat. But I’ll also send love mail to those authors who have changed my life but never knew it.I’ll let you know who as I go.

Have you ever written an author love letter? To whom? And did they write back? Inquiring minds want to know.

*I wanted to title my post this, but was afraid it would get me listed on a bunch of p0rn sites, so…

He’ll live, but it’s a long hard recovery, involving lots of hands-on treatments for me, medicine for Tony, and enormous vet bills for the whole family to enjoy. Life is full of complications, isn’t it? I know a lot of folks would put the house on the market at the first sign of rattlesnakes, but I’m a native Texan and I love my home. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, snakes and all. It’s part of the, um, natural charm. (Now, I just have to buy some really tall boots for the kids…)

The whole incident got me to thinking: Are there enough snakes in my fictional back yard? It’s tempting, when I’m writing middle-grade fiction, to write in a fake — a plastic snake, a garden hose, even a non-poisonous garter snake — or to go too far and write in a forty-foot long Anaconda. But good, thoughtful writing requires the “snake” to be believable, and right for the story. Me? I tend to de-fang my snakes before introducing them to those characters I love so — but I’m determined not to do that in my current WIP. It makes me feel kind of sorry for my main characters, though.

On this week’s writing menu? Snake. (Cue evil laughter: Bwa ha ha ha hah!)

And now, for something completely different: It was my Grandma’s 90th birthday today. We had a family celebration, and she had a blast. Looks good, doesn’t she?

My Grandma enjoying mariachis and fajitas on her 90th birthday.

On the writing front, my lovely agent, Suzie Townsend, has signed some new clients! I wish them all much success. They’re going to love working with Suzie — I do! Click on the link to Suzie’s blog and you can find all of them on her blogroll.

I also received a very sweet blog award from the talented and soon-to-be-published Jenni James. (Love Jane Austen? You’ll love her books!) My next blog post will be 10 things that make me happy, in honor of Jenni’s award.

Who knows? Maybe by then I’ll have another happy thing to add to the list. Always hopin’…