Novel Matters

Ever Come Unraveled?

noreply@blogger.com (Sharon K Souza) — Fri, 17 May 2013 09:00:00 +0000

I was speaking to a small women's group soon after Unraveled was released. As a way to lead to my introduction, the moderator of the meeting went around the tables and asked the women to say something that makes them come unraveled, which I thought was a clever and innovative way to begin. Mostly the women stated their pet peeves rather than describing something that really rattles them. So after my introduction, before I got on with what I'd prepared to say, I told a story that, a few years earlier, had caused me to come unraveled, in a big way. As a fun way to spend our Friday together, I'm sharing that with you today.

I have to say, the one unanswerable question in the universe is, "Where is a man when you need one?" The answer for me might be Jamaica, Cuba, Siberia ... anywhere but home. When this particular story occurred, my husband was in the Philippines. It was the mid-nineties and Rick and I were brand new empty-nesters. My husband, who is a builder, decided he wanted to live in the country, so he built us a beautiful home on five acres a few miles out of town. We lived there three agonizingly long years. I wrote "Back Side of the Moon" as my return address on all correspondence, because that's how it felt to me -- like I was living on the back side of the moon. It took 15 minutes at 60 mph one way to get a gallon of milk. It was definitely not my cup of tea. But Rick was in country heaven and decided to fulfill a longtime dream: he began growing a herd of Texas Longhorn cattle. Moo.

So we got a couple of Longhorn cows ... that we named after our granddaughters. Don't you know those were the safest cows in the county? They weren't ending up on anyone's dinner plate. Every morning and evening Rick would go out and feed them, and put a special blend of oats in their feeding trough. Then he'd bang the can and they'd come running from whatever corner of the pasture they were in to enjoy their treat.

Whenever he was away, it became my job to do this. But I wasn't quite so cozy with our cows. No, I'd wait till they were in the furthest part of the pasture, then I'd tiptoe to the feeding area, pour their oats into the trough as quietly as I could, and hightail it out of the pasture before they got a whiff and came running. Remember, they had horns. Long horns.

Well, as I said, my husband was in the Philippines for a few weeks doing some sort of ministry, and one morning the phone rang at 6:00, waking me from a dead sleep. A woman on the other end of the line said, "Your cows are in my yard," then she hung up. I laid there half-asleep, trying to make sense of the call. Your cows are in my yard ... your cows are in my ... Wait! What?! "MY COWS ARE IN YOUR YARD?!" I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, popped my contacts into my eyes, grabbed my keys, and hauled out of the driveway. Then I hit my brakes and thought, "Wait. Who called?

Whose yard are my cows in?!" I had no clue. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I drove around looking for two runaway cows, feeling like Little Bo Peep, because I. Can't. Find. Them! Anywhere. And the things I was saying out loud to Rick ... well, I won't repeat them here.

I looked everywhere I could think to look, but no luck. So I drove back home, wondering, What do I do now?! I no sooner got back in the house when the phone rang again. This time it was my neighbor who lived on the acreage to the south of us, and who was the self-appointed, unofficial Neighborhood Watch Captain, because she knew everything about everything that went on anywhere within range of her binoculars. And she said to me, "Sharon, are you looking for your cows?" I swear, I'm not making this up. I looked at the phone in my hand. Am I looking for my cows? Are you serious? How could you know this?! "Yes, I am. I'm looking for my cows." And she said, "They're in so-and-so's yard." So I drove down there, and sure as the world, there were Haleigh and Katelyn in so-and-so's yard.

So what do I do now? I am not a country girl. I don't even own a pair of boots. Nor am I the Pied Piper. And they are not going to fit in my Explorer. And then it hit me. One of the guys who worked for my husband was a cowboy! A real one. With a horse and everything. So I called him. "Choya!" (He was even named for a character in an old western his mom had liked.) "You have to help me." And he did. He drove twenty or so miles to get from his place to ours, rounded up the herd, and got them back in our pasture. Then he mended the fence and made sure things were good the rest of the time Rick was away. God. Bless. Him.

Well, that's the kind of thing that happens regularly when Rick is on a trip, and it's one of the things that unravels me.

We sold the place shortly after that.

What unravels you? Share and I'll put your name in a drawing for a copy of Unraveled.

Shh, Marketing Books Through Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Patti Hill) — Wed, 15 May 2013 07:00:00 +0000

Many thanks to Ariel Lawhon for Monday's post on Reading Rules. She set a lovely tone for doing our part in talking about the books we read.

Shh. This knowledge is for Novel Matters readers only: Goodness and Mercy is now a "real" Kindle book and ready for purchase. I couldn't be prouder or more relieved. After all, I survived self-publishing, so far.

Now, on to marketing. I couldn't be more intimidated.

Word on the web and in the myriad of marketing books I've read on the subject is that two things sell ebooks. The first are reviews by bloggers, especially bloggers who specialize in ebooks.

People who prefer indie books flock to these blog sites for what's latest in ebooks. But these specialized bloggers won't post about your book unless you have the second key ingredient in your marketing plan already in place: reviews on Amazon.

As for reviews, I have none. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Ugh.

But only you know the book is up and ready for sale, so I'm not too worried...yet.

My plan was to give away 50 ebooks to Novel Matters readers and ask you to write a review for Amazon--only if you liked the book (more on that later). But if I give away books to potential reviewers, the reviews won't have that "Verified Amazon Purchase" label that adds credibility to the review.

So I posted the book for the next best thing to free. It's .99 through Sunday.

Since some of you are considering self-publishing, let me share why these reviews are so important and why I thought of you, the Novel Matters readers as the best people to ask to write them.

Let's imagine we're together (Wouldn't that be a treat?) at the checkout counter at our favorite coffee shop, The Novel Matters, where there are free wi-fi and ergonomic chairs for all novelists.

There's a tip jar at eye level with a few dollars and some shiny coins in the bottom. We think, People who buy coffee here are tippers. We should drop something in the jar.

Fact is, savvy waitstaff will seed the tip jar with a few dollars and some shiny coins because they understand the power of social proof.

Social proof is how humans give behavioral cues. A healthy number of reviews on Amazon is social proof that a book is worth reading and worth writing a helpful review for.

But only if you like the story.

Of all the people I could ask, here's why I chose you: First, the goal is to provide honest reviews of Goodness & Mercy, warts and all. Over the years, I've learned you are honest about books because you care so much about the craft and art of storytelling. Second, I want insightful comments about the story and characters. You people are brilliant! And I'm not just saying that to butter you up.

To help you along, here are elements of a great book review:

Brief synopsis with no spoilers
The basic theme or themes of the story
A judgment on writing style
How did the book make you feel?
What you loved or hated and why
Whether you would recommend the book to others

Obviously, I'm hoping to average 4.5 stars as I have with my other novels. That means you won't all give me 5 stars, and I hope you don't. No book is perfect, even the ones we love. I just finished Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. I've recommended the book with no reservations, even though I thought the middle dragged a bit. Did some skimming. But I LOVED the story. 4 stars!

Is this ethical?

All businesses understand and use social proof, whether they do so consciously or not. We own a garden center. Every year, the local newspaper publishes a survey on which are the best restaurants, hardware stores, beauty parlors, and garden centers (among many other categories) in town. Readers vote and the winners are announced in a flashy insert in the newspaper. We've won the Best of the West Peoples Choice award for garden centers year after year.

Until two years ago. Home Depot won! Two years in a row! Boo! Hiss!

So we started asking our customers to consider voting for us as best garden center. (You can bet Home Depot encouraged their employees to vote.) I'm happy to report that Goliath fell this year. Our customers were more than happy to vote for us because we know them by name, we help them grow great gardens, we carry superior products, and we know how to use them.

So, if you think I've written a story worth recommending, would you consider writing a review on Amazon? If you think it's a stinker, kindly keep that to yourself. If you're too busy to write a thoughtful review, I would happily receive a Yipee!

Also, I promise to be very, very quiet about Goodness & Mercy from now on. Thanks for listening and thank you for considering helping me this way.

Remember, Sharon Souza and Latayne Scott also have new releases on Amazon and would love a positive review. And if you've enjoyed a book by anyone, the best thing you can do to vote for that books--besides buying the book--is writing a review. A review is a kiss on the lips for authors.

Kiss an author today!

Besides offering the book for free on it's release date (6/12) and occasionally thereafter, my plan is to pray that the book will end up in the hands God wants. Period. I'm too eager to get back to writing to overdo this marketing thing. BTW, the paperback will release on the same day...or whenever I get my act together. Find Goodness & Mercy here.

Is giving you a lower price and asking you to write a review (4 or 5 stars only) ethical? Is there a better way to garner reviews? What have you done that worked? Didn't work? What marketing have you seen that piqued your interest in a book enough to buy it? How important are reviews to you in the book buying process?

The Reading Rules--Guest Post by Ariel Allison Lawhon of She Reads

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Grove) — Mon, 13 May 2013 15:15:00 +0000

There’s a game I play with my children every time we sit down to read. I call it “The Reading Rules” because the four boisterous children I’ve been given need reminding of what is (and is not) civilized behavior while reading a story.

Consider this recent episode:

Me: “Boys, what are the reading rules?”

Boy #1 (ten-years-old): “No talking while you read.”

Boy #2 (eight-years-old): “No asking questions til’ you’re done.”

Boy #3 (six-years-old): “No hitting.”

Boy #4 (four-years-old): “I tooted.”

This, as you can imagine, sent the entire conversation down the toilet (pun intended). Spasms of giggles. One child plugged his nose and rand around the couch. Someone else flailed on the floor. But now they were inspired. And hyper.

Boy #1: “And no picking our nose.”

Boy #2: “And no eating our boogers.”

Boy #3: “Boogers taste yucky.”

Me: “Please don’t tell me how you know that.”

Boys 3 and 4 had, by this point, twisted off to the point where they were unmanageable and had to be sent to bed. It took an additional five minutes to corral the attention of the older two back to the task at hand: learning which of the four houses the Sorting Hat assigned Harry Potter. They are sensitive enough to plot even at this age that they rooted for Gryffindor. And of course, by the time we reached the end of the chapter, they were not disappointed.

What does this have to do with a literary blog you say? As a novelist, avid reader, co-director of a national book club, and a contributor to this fine establishment, I wanted to suggest that my children are not the only uncivilized readers out there. Many of us could use a few Reading Rules as well. Here a few that come to mind:

Rule #1: No Judging A Book Unless You’ve Read It

I will confess I’ve done this very thing. I’ve read reviews and heard my fellow writers/readers pan a book and formed an opinion on something I’ve not so much as held. This rule can be tricky considering my role at She Reads. I have the opportunity to read dozens of books every month. And the truth is that I often find myself in the position where I do not care to finish them. But if I’m being honest, that does not put me in a position to judge the entire book – only the portion I’ve read. I could name more than one novel that began better than it ended. Or vice versa. Recently I was so irritated by the first line of a novel that I snapped it shut and haven’t picked it up again. By doing so I disqualified myself from all intelligent conversation on that novel. So the rule that I apply to unread or unfinished books is to say, “I’ve not read the novel,” or “What I read didn’t interest me.” And I leave it at that. Anything less is unfair to the author and the book.

Rule #2: Think Before You Review

This rule could also be stated “think before you request.” With programs such as Amazon Vine and mass blog tours, readers are now in a position to acquire books they would normally never purchase. Not always a bad thing perhaps, but it’s easy to request a novel when there is no personal cost, only to toss it aside later or give it the dreaded one star rating because it fell outside the bounds of personal taste. I could give you a list of novels and authors and genres that I go out of my way to avoid. But to do so would be unfair. See Rule #1.

Rule #3: If You Don’t Like A Book Tell Us Why

There are few things less trustworthy than a book reader/reviewer who loves or hates every book. I’ve found some blog tour participants to be guilty of this and I would wager it has to do with workload. Much easier to slap up the book cover and a few sugar/acid coated thoughts about the novel. Yet honest critique is invaluable to an author. If we’re going to publically critique the work of another let’s be honest, intelligent, thoughtful. And fair.

So what do you think? Do you disagree with any of these rules? Or feel others should be added to the list? For the advancement of civilized reading, please do share!

Morning-After Reading Regrets

noreply@blogger.com (Latayne C Scott) — Fri, 10 May 2013 09:00:00 +0000

A while back we had a fabulous guest author here, crime fiction writer Hallie Ephron. Like we NovelMatters ladies, she blogs with some fellow authors at their site, Jungle Red Writers.

Recently they asked their readers which movies they had watched that they wished they hadn’t. Their readers were enthusiastic in their stories about everything from being ambushed by gross-out films, to those which were an unremarkable waste of time except for one image or one line that lingered as persistently as garlic on a stranger’s breath in the morning.

Books are that way, too. Sometimes we stop reading something—or keep reading something and are filled with regret later. (I was such an ignorant prude that I threw away my copy of The Good Earth when I was 13 years old because it actually suggested that Chinese people had sex with one another. Never did finish that one. But I do remember something about them eating mud during a famine.)

So – X-rated books aside, which books are so remarkable in your memory that you wish you’d never read them? Do tell. Give titles. Describe details—unless they involve sex and mud and anything else that might gross me out.

The Details of How We Live And Die

noreply@blogger.com (Kathleen Popa) — Wed, 08 May 2013 15:46:00 +0000

“A writer’s obituary should read: He wrote books then he died.” ~William Faulkner

Gosh, really? I’d hoped mine would say a bit more, something perhaps about sucking the marrow from the bones of life (that’s Thoreau). Or perhaps simply that I loved my family and friends even more than my books.

The day I first read this, I looked Faulkner up on Wikipedia, to see if he’d gotten much done besides writing, and the answer was yes, he had. He’d won two National Book Awards, two Pulitzers, and The Nobel Prize in Literature. Of course, you could argue that his awards only meant that he had written very good books, so his record was safe from clutter. Earlier in life, he’d joined first the Canadian and then the British Royal Air Force (too short for the US military), but had not seen any action. Ah, but then, once he’d won his awards, he’d gone and donated part of the prize money to establish scholarships for African-American education majors as well as the Pen/Faulkner Award for Fiction. A writer who wants his obituary to span no more than six words should be more careful. After all, if you run a print preview of his entry on Wikipedia, you get nine pages of material.

Ernest Hemingway would have pointed out that the military experience - paltry though it was, compared with his own - would come in handy for a writer penning war novels. He himself had won the Silver Medal of Honor during WWI, the Bronze Star during WWII, and two medals for bull-fighting! Oh, and he’d won an Award of Merit from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, a Pulitzer and The Nobel Prize in Literature as well.

Know how many pages you could print out about him on Wikipedia? Nineteen, more than double that of the modest Faulkner.

He had his own take on the life and death question:

“Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.” ~Ernest Hemingway

For myself, I think I could gladly leave off the bull fights from my life story. And I’m sure I’d make a terrible soldier. In fact, if I had to live Hemingway’s life to be an author, I might be tempted to give up writing and take up cross-stitch.

Perhaps the author who best exemplifies Faulkner’s ideal would be Emily Dickenson. She spent most of her adult life voluntarily confined to her home, caring for her parents while they lived, writing poems she never meant to publish, lowering gingerbread to children on the street by means of a rope and a basket. She wrote poems - that were later put into books - and she died.

No Nobel Prizes. No Pulitzers. But in the hundred and some years since her death, people have described this poet with her basketful of cookies as “daring,” “sophisticated,” “pre-modernist.” William Dean Howells once wrote that "If nothing else had come out of our life but this strange poetry, we should feel that in the work of Emily Dickinson, America, or New England rather, had made a distinctive addition to the literature of the world, and could not be left out of any record of it."

Sixteen pages on Wikipedia. This woman who asked that her poems be burned when she died. What was her answer to Faulkner and Hemingway?

“Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.” ~Emily Dickenson

What’s your answer? How ought a writer live her life?

We’d love to read your thoughts.

Carpe Annum Tribute

noreply@blogger.com (Debbie Fuller Thomas) — Mon, 06 May 2013 11:00:00 +0000

An important component of Carpe Annum – claiming the year – is claiming the past. Taking stock and acknowledging how we got to this point in our lives as writers. Identifying the layers of the bedrock we’ve built upon, including great books, great writers, mentors and encouragers great and small, who steered and cheered us on. This segues naturally into a Mother’s Day appreciation since next Sunday is THE day. (Get those cards in the mail today, if you haven’t already.)

My sweet mother just turned ’91 or 90, whichever.’ I chuckled to myself when she said this. It was so similar to the opening of Water For Elephants. What’s a year when you’re approaching a century? I credit her for introducing me to a lifetime of reading.

I remember the excitement when a package came in the mail for me at the age of five or six containing three books by a new children’s author named Dr. Seuss. I assume The Cat in the Hat arrived first, or whatever, as mom says. Every few months another package arrived with more books until we had a small collection. I think I had first seen them in the dentist’s office. I had soft teeth, and having bitten my old dentist (not soft enough, apparently), he had referred me to a new-fangled pediatric dentist who very wisely prescribed a pre-appointment sedative and filled his waiting room with children’s books. Later, reading them to my own children, I realized my mother must have gone nuts repeating those nonsensical rhymes over and over, but she never quit, even after I could recite them by heart. My particular favorites were Put Me in the Zoo, Go Dog Go, and One Fish Two Fish. Interestingly, Dr. Seuss credits his own mother with inspiring him to write books. You can read about his journey (27 rejections for the Cat in the Hat) at http://www.catinthehat.org/history.htm.

When I was older, mom took me to the library and signed for me to get my own library card. It was the first official card in my plastic wallet. The children’s books were located in a snuggly, low-ceilinged basement that muffled all sounds of outside civilization. I could have brought my sleeping bag and settled in. I overheard mom telling the librarian that my teacher said I was ahead of my grade in reading, and the librarian showed me the stacks for more advanced reading. It was something mom never would have told me, not wanting my head to ‘get big.’ Parents had to keep their kids' feet on the ground in the 1960s.

Later, mom and I read Victoria Holt’s books until we could predict the endings, and moved on to Agatha Christie and L.M. Montgomery. The day came in my adolescence when I picked up a paperback novelization of one of my favorite shows, The Avengers. Not the Marvel Comics superheroes – I’m talking John Steed and Emma Peel, the British agents. I argued hotly for it and she clucked her tongue and shook her head before allowing me to buy it with the caveat that if there was inappropriate material, I would stop reading. Now we were swimming out past the buoy into unknown literary waters. She trusted me and I felt mature enough to handle whatever it contained. I had no intention of getting rid of it. I read the book in my room, anxious that ‘the passage’ might appear. And, of course, it did – not even a scene, but an offhand comment that shocked me. By today’s standards, it was mild, but I felt chagrined and tossed the paperback with my favorite actors on the cover in a place where she would never find it. To her credit, she never asked about it until a year or so later. I simply acknowledged that she was right and she never said another word. Good form, mom.

Then, in high school English class, we read West Side Story. I was a bit shocked and disturbed by one scene in the book which I felt was inappropriate for high school, and I skipped over it. Mom, of course, managed to pick up the book and flip to THAT scene, which triggered a tirade and a threat to call the principal’s office. I talked her down from the edge, assuring her that it was the only book that had anything offensive in it that we had read and she cooled off. I mean, if you overlooked Catcher in the Rye and A Separate Peace, which she didn’t need to know about.

Mom and I continued to swap book titles until our tastes parted ways. She even read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. But she loved a good mystery best of all. She read so many from her local library that she had to make a small mark inside the cover when she was done so she wouldn’t check it out again. I was shocked that she would be so bold as to mark in a library book. Well, maybe not.

I think the thing I appreciate the most is that she didn’t discourage me when I said I wanted to write. Mom was never overly demonstrative – so not her generation. But she proudly took my first book into the library where the librarian added it to a display case for local authors. I dedicated that book to her and my family, but the dedication page was inadvertently omitted (stuff happens) and the page made it into the next book.

Whose shoulders do you stand on in your writing journey? Who has helped you build a foundation to Carpe Annum? We’d love to hear!

Writer's Fear

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Grove) — Fri, 03 May 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Where does all the fear come from?

The results are in: Writers are one freaked out group of people.

What are we afraid of? According to the comments on Wednesday’s post the answer is: plenty.

We’re scared of the foundational questions that form the bedrock of our decisions to even pursue writing in the first place. Let’s start on that shaky ground.

Should I Art? Writers (all artists, really) are faced with the unspoken—and sometimes voiced—questions posed by our culture the moment we choose a life of art: Are you sure? Don’t you want a paycheque? (That’s paycheck to you Americans.) Don’t you know art is just a hobby?

Margaret Atwood created this handy reference chart of writer’s fears about what people think about our books and us as people.

What people say	What Writers Hear
1. I always wait for your books to come in at the library.	I wouldn’t pay money for that trash.
2. I had to take you in school.	Against my will. Or: And I certainly haven’t read any of it since! Or: So why aren’t you dead?
3. You don’t look at all like your picture.	a. Much worse.
4. You’re so prolific!	You write too much, and are repetitive and sloppy.
5. I’m going to write a book too, when I can find the time.	What you do is trivial, and can be done by an idiot.
6. I only read the classics	And you aren’t one of them.
7. Why don’t you write about _______?	Unlike the boring stuff you do write about.
8. That book by _______ (add name of other writer) is selling like hotcakes!	Unlike yours.
9. So, do you teach?	Because writing isn’t real work, and you can’t possibly be supporting yourself at it.
10 That story of MY LIFE - now THAT would make a good novel.	Unlike yours.

If we manage to push our way through the maddening din of the cultural pressure to abandon writing and put on a suit and tie, we immediately slam into the next major fear: Who am I that I should I art?

Ah, yes. Self-doubt. Isn’t it true that I do not possess the skill/talent/education/cunning good looks of a true artist? Alas, I lack.

Well of course you lack. That’s why you art. Art isn’t about getting your poop in a group first and then approaching the craft from a God’s eye view of having accomplished something. Art is the journey.

So we slog through and manage to create art. And guess what happens? Rejection. And not even real rejection. Rejection we conjure in our imaginations and somehow convince ourselves will absolutely happen if ever the art we’ve created is shared with the world/agent/publisher/editor/next door neighbour/Mom.

Should we manage to leap over the fear of rejection fence (which we got over simply as a matter of repetition. We were rejected and rejected and found ourselves still living), we meet up with Fear Of Success, Otherwise known as Second Book Syndrome.

Everyone gushes after a new author. Hopes are high! Then the book releases, your third cousin emails you that it wasn’t half bad, and Wow! You’ve got a contract for a second book. But what if your third cousin doesn’t like your second book as much as your first? No time to think about it now! You have a lifetime to write your first novel, and six months to write your second.

Now we’re really afraid. Writer’s block is our new best friend. We squeeze the words out as if from an empty toothpaste tube. We’re so close to the story that every word we write looks wrong. We stare at a word and it just looks weirder and weirder the longer we stare. We being to doubt that English is our Mother Tongue. Half way through the second novel we realize we don’t actually know how to write a book.

We switch into auto-type, madly plastering the page with words, as many as we can think of as quickly as possible (and update our facebook page with our process: 25,000 words today and I blew out my keyboard!) even if the words come out in no particular order because

Have

Deadline

Sure, having a deadline makes you look like a superstar on social media—Oh me, oh my! My fab editor is waiting on my manuscript. Tee hee—but the reality of deadlines is they suck the fun out of the creative process for many writers.

The only thing worse than a deadline is a lack of a deadline. This usually means we’re still steeped in the first couple of fears listed above.

Here are some cures for your writer’s fear:

Realize that writing is work. Do the work. Don’t complain. I'm lucky enough to know Joy Jordan-Lake and call her friend. In a recent email discussion (we were talking about our fears as writers) she observed: “Writing is like home renovation alternating between sledgehammer and tweezers”

That's the secret. Do the work.

Self confidence isn’t necessary, but gumption is. If your knees are shaking and you feel like you’re going to throw up, you’re probably doing the right thing.

Show up for work. Do what scares you. Face the fear. Then, do it some more. In time, you’ll find you’ve acquired the knowledge, skill, expertise, and mastery you feared you did not possess.

Goodbye, Fear

noreply@blogger.com (Sharon K Souza) — Wed, 01 May 2013 09:00:00 +0000

I loved Patti's post on Monday, saying goodbye to poor Fred, who wanted to sabotage her novel. A wolf in sheep's clothing was Fred. Today, I'm saying goodbye to fear, and I have Henrietta Frankensee to thank for it. Henrietta is a regular commentor on our blog, and I always appreciate what she has to say. Her comment on our latest Roundtable discussion inspired this post.

She said, "... one day I'll have the courage to join a writers group ... to find a writers group." And that got me thinking about my own fears, and the effect they've had on me over the years. I think I've shared this story before, but when I was a sophomore in high school -- the year from hell for me -- I attended three different high schools (I attended five high schools altogether). In my history class at the third school of my sophomore year we were to write a short term paper, then give an oral report on the paper. I did my term paper, then came the day I was to give the report. Shortly after class started, I asked my teacher (a male, thankfully, because they never ask questions) if I could use the restroom. He gave me a hall pass, I took my purse, left my books on my desk ... and walked home. And I never did give the report.

So believe me, I could relate to Henrietta's fear of joining -- or even exploring the idea of joining -- a writers group, which I did in the mid-eighties, only because I was invited, then compelled to join the group that a friend of mine attended. I was so nervous about going. All the women were experienced writers -- a couple of them had been published multiple times -- and the group had been together for a number of years. I was the youngest person there, and the newest writer. I was petrified whenever it came my turn to read my writing to them.

I was shy by nature, which I think I demonstrated above, and had never been a self-promoter. So getting past that hurdle of fear was huge for me. Well, I'm happy to say, the benefits were well worth the effort. I learned so much about writing and about the submission process from that group. The lessons were invaluable. Recently, I returned to the group to share my latest novel with them, and my Amazon-publishing experience. Only two were original members, and I recognized myself in the quivering voices of novice writers as they read their work to us, and who looked at me the way I used to look at others -- as if I had all the experience and all the answers.

I'm so glad I pressed beyond my fears all those years ago, and am grateful for the direction and encouragement I received from the Write Bunch. But I'm still plagued with fears. I'm in the process of looking for an agent. Last week I queried a handful of agents I thought might be a fit for my writing style and goals. And with each query, before I even sent it off, I found myself battling fear. I had butterflies in my stomach and a deep reticense to hit the Send key

Why? What was I afraid of? A lot, actually. I was afraid my query wasn't written correctly, afraid it wouldn't generate interest, afraid of rejection. When I stopped to analyze it, I asked myself, What's the worst that could happen? Well, I said, they could turn me down. Really? That's it? While I don't relish the thought, I've been through far worse. Far. Worse. So I put things in perspective and sent my queries. And as I faced down my fear I did it with Henrietta in mind, and anyone else who dreads taking that next big step.

And all those years ago, when I was so afraid of reading my work out loud to my writing peers, what was it that I feared? That they'd laugh me out of town? That they'd point out my flaws? That they'd tell me to retire my pencil for good? Well, they didn't laugh at me, they didn't tell me to hang it up; but they did point out my flaws and gave me sound advice for improvement. Invaluable advice. Invaluable encouragement.

I emailed Henrietta a few days after her comment on the blog, asking her if I could quote her for this post, which she obviously agreed to. Then she said she had contacted a critique group and was meeting with one of the writers with the expectation of joining. Yay, Henrietta! Carpe Annum!

Fear can paralyze us or it can motivate us. As a writer, what are you most afraid of, and how can you turn that fear into a motivation?

Deleted Scenes: Goodbye, Fred!

noreply@blogger.com (Patti Hill) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 07:00:00 +0000

In a recent post--Does This Novel Seem Crowded to You?--I talked about how to prevent overpopulation in your story. Every character has their job to do. If not, well, goodbye!

When first writing Goodness and Mercy, I created a character to act as antagonist to my protagonist and to give a secondary character a chance at redemption. That character, Fred, is charming with a hint of menace, as you will soon see.

Once I got deeper into the story, I saw that Fred was a complication that muddied the premise. In fact, his presence made the story something very different from my original idea --yes, I was working from an outline--and I didn't want to go there.

No room for sentimentality--goodbye, Fred! Lucy doesn't need a Fake-Ally Opponent. So there!

While some may consider writing the following scene a waste, the process clarified my vision of my story by showing me what I didn't want it to be. And that's a very valuable discovery.

Here's the deleted scene, starring Lucy and Fred.

A flirtatious breeze released a shower of golden cottonwood leaves and played at lifting my skirt. It was all I could do to hold a stack of library books and keep my skirt in place. A truck skidded to a stop on the gravel.

Fred Greaves leaned out the driver's window and smiled his billboard smile. “Did you leave any books at the library?” He shouldered his door open. “Let me help you with those.”

He reached for the books. I stepped back. “I’m fine. It’s not that far, and as long as I’m walking, I’m not reading Nathaniel Hawthorne.”

He looked pained and clenched at his shirt over his heart. “Has Lotti soured you on me already?”

“Ada,” I said and shifted the books.

He laughed. “I thought me and Ada had an understanding.” He mimicked her voice perfectly, “Nothing good comes of idleness, Mr. Greaves.”

I bit my cheeks not to laugh.

He put up his hand. “You’re right not say a word against her.” He gestured at the orchard behind me. “She has spies everywhere. How else can she know everything, unless…do you think she’s a witch?”

Although I ached to agree with him, I didn't dare agree with him. “She’s a good Christian woman.” After all, she attended church regularly and delivered potato casseroles to funerals.

Mr. Greaves motioned and I followed him to the passenger side of the truck. “Come on. Jump in. I don’t bite nearly as hard as those women would suppose. Besides, you’re about to drop your books. The good people of Palisade do not abide the abuse of their library books.”

I climbed into his truck for two reasons. First, two blisters the size of quarters made each step pure misery. This from the new shoes Ada had chosen for me, the kind meant for lumberjacks. Second, Mrs. Greaves said things about Ada I wished I could say straight to her face. Oh, and one more thing. Accepting a ride from Mr. Greaves would put a knot in Ada’s girdle.

“Thank you,” I said as he slammed the door shut and walked back around to the driver's side. I figured Fred to be younger than my father but certainly not a boy and much younger than most of the men I saw around town. The boys hurried off to the war the moment they became eligible. And he sure didn’t look like any of the farmers I’d ever known, not in Wisconsin or Colorado. He still owned all of his fingertips and his fingernails looked nicer than mine. When he smiled, his eyes nearly squinted shut, and I liked that.

Fred caught me watching him and gave me a sideways smile. “Do you want to learn how to drive? I could teach you. Got nothing better to do.”

“I already know how to drive.” I wanted to tell him I’d driven eighty-five miles before the tin lizzy dropped her transmission on the road, but I wasn’t telling anyone that story. Mr. Greaves wouldn't turn a girl in for kidnapping her own brother and sister, but in a town as small as Palisade, one word to the wrong person and everyone would know.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “You’re an amazing girl. Fact is, you’re more of a woman than a girl, aren't you? I bet there’s a lot of boys giving you a second look over there at the high school. Isn’t that true?”

If I hadn't been loaded down with books, I would have squirmed at his question. Instead, I kept my answer short. “I never noticed," I said, but I had noticed.

“How old are you, Lucy?”

“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen next February.”

“Now, see, I thought you were older. You carry yourself well.” And he winked.

We sped by our mailbox. “Stop!” I yelled.

The truck fishtailed to a stop and the pile of books slid from my lap. Fred leaned down to gather the books. He smelled of fresh tobacco and aftershave, much nicer than I'd expected of a man who treasured his rubbish pile.

He said, “I was enjoying our conversation so much, I nearly drove right by your house. You’re a very pleasant young lady.” He held my math book to his chest. “You sit right there. Don't move. You’re a lady.” He opened his door and looked back at me over his shoulder. “That’s how you’re to be treated. Stay right there.”

I sat as still as stone until Mr. Greaves opened my door and extended his hand. I'd only seen men do such a thing in movies. I took his hand as I stepped out of the truck. It was strong but soft. My heart fluttered. What was that all about?

He relinquished my math book. “Its the lucky boy who catches your eye, Lucy. Be choosy. You deserve the best. If you ever need anything, I'm usually around. You're always welcome. I keep colas in the icebox.”

This could not be the man Ada had been talking about. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Greaves.”

“We’re friends now, Lucy. Call me Fred.”

[Author's note: After reading this scene, I wanted to shout, "Lucy! You stupid, stupid girl. Get out of the truck; do not pass go; and never, ever, ever seek Fred out, colas or no." The scene begs for Lucy to do just that and for a totally different story than the story I wrote to be written. You can see why Fred had to go, at least for now.]

Do you save deleted scenes? Have you ever used a deleted scene in another part of the same story or used it in part or as a whole in a new story? I have! Are there other ways to use deleted scenes? Name an author whose deleted scenes you would love to read.

The Mary Kay Syndrome

noreply@blogger.com (Latayne C Scott) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 09:30:00 +0000

Now, let me begin by saying that I love Mary Kay cosmetics. In fact, people often comment on how few wrinkles I have, and I attribute that to beginning to use the skin care products in my early twenties. And it was a Mary Kay lady who kindly whispered to me that I had stray makeup brush hairs on my face before I spoke publicly at a book signing last week.

And yet when I think of Mary Kay, it is with mixed feelings. First of all, the last group “facial” I attended where the products were demonstrated, one of the hostess’s chairs broke beneath me. (It’s pretty hard to keep applying cream with your ring finger and saying, “lightly, lightly,” when you have just demolished an antique.)

But even more memorable was the time that I was traveling cross-country for a speaking engagement, a trip that required several plane changes. On the last flight was a group of well-dressed and pleasantly boisterous women. Upon deplaning, I went into the airport’s ladies’ room to try to comb my hair and make myself presentable – since I’d left home at 3:30 a.m., I wanted to freshen up a bit before seeing the conference organizer who was meeting me at the gate.

As I leaned and peered into the mirror and put some mascara on my bleary eyes, the group of women came into the bathroom. I didn’t pay them too much attention until one, a delegate I guess, came up beside me.

“I’m a Mary Kay representative, and I have products that can help you with that,” she said, handing me a business card. Then she and all the other ladies flounced (yes, they really did) out of the bathroom, leaving the other women in the bathroom looking at me –who felt about as attractive as an airsick bag.

So why am I telling these stories? Perhaps as a morality tale. What stung so much, what made me walk out of that bathroom feeling drab and inadequate, was the public way in which the spokeswoman, a stranger to me, showed me my faults. I can just imagine her giving a knowing wink to her compatriots, and them congratulating each other on a great sales opportunity captured and another ignorant person now fully informed.

The morality tale is that the Internet is also a public place. It’s true that readers and writers often see the flaws of writers, and are often anxious to point them out.

Let’s leave the snipping and criticizing to people who don’t even pretend to be Christians. The Bible way to show someone his or her fault is privately—and with humility.

Lest you fall, and break more than a chair yourself.

PS and by the way: This post wasn't provoked by anyone saying anything cruel to me about my writing (at least, not lately.) I've just observed that writers and readers sometimes are not constructive in their comments, especially on Facebook. Have you noticed that, too?

Falling Past the Five-Year Plan

noreply@blogger.com (Kathleen Popa) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

I used to be a five-year plan kind of person. Or tried to be. I don't know if there are any more of that breed still out there, but if there are I'm not among them. Too many five-year plans - and one-year plans -and one week plans - have failed.

It feels strange to say I'm grateful for this. It only recently hit home that the best laid plans of mice and men are only the plans of mice and men. That what actually happens - despite my lists, schedules and failures - can turn out to be good.

It helps a lot, at times, for instance, like Monday - when I read in Don Pape's interview that readers have begun to expect the same prices for books as they do for iPhone apps: free, or at least cheap. Think of the trouble this signals for any who want to be paid for their writing.

Maybe you've seen it written on posters in Facebook: "Never give up what you really want for what you want right now."

May I suggest a new one? "What you really want is easier to get than what you think you want."

My five year plans outlined the things I thought I wanted. For Instance: to make my living writing books.

But recently - by accident, default or sheer grace - I have managed to allow God to write his own list for me:

To settle into this moment, in this skin.
To loosen my grip on my needs and desires, assuming, like any loved daughter, that I will be cared for.
To see for once the things I missed when I held so tightly to my needs and desires that my eyes were clenched shut.
To write from a place of wonder, generosity, and compassion - for my characters, my readers, and myself.
To give, assuming, like any commissioned servant, that provisions will be in my hands when they open.

Now that I look at the list, they don't seem so easily gotten. Whole years of things came before. And if I'd put them on a five-year plan, I doubt it would have worked out.

It feels, though, as if I just let go, and let myself fall - in frustration, or resignation, or weariness.

But when I fell, grace caught me. How easy was that?

The Carpe Annum Interviews: Don Pape, Publisher of Trade Books at David C. Cook

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Grove) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Novel Matters has been celebrating 2013 as Carpe Annum: Seize the Year! Here to help us do that today is Don Pape, publisher of trade books at David C. Cook, one of the most innovative and exciting fiction publishers in the CBA (Christian Booksellers Association).

Don Pape was born in Brazil of missionary parents. He got his high school education in Canada’s capital where he attended his father’s bilingual church – French in the morning and English at night. After graduating with a degree in political science, Don went on InterVarsity staff in Toronto and that is where he met his best friend and wife of 28 years, Ruthie.

He has served in a variety of roles in publishing – graphic design, sales, marketing, literary agent - and for the past six years has been publisher of the trade books group at David C Cook. He has seen a half dozen titles attain New York Times bestselling status and enjoys interacting with his authors. An avid reader, he enjoys swimming, hiking and listening to smooth jazz – or attending concerts at Red Rocks! He is the proud father of three sons – Jeremy, a freelance videographer; Matthew, a communications major; and Timothy, a recent graduate of the nursing program. While an American citizen, he still loves his home country of Canada – for its hockey, Tim Horton’s coffee and best of all, Swiss Chalet chicken.

Novels that I’m reading: Lisa Samson’s The Sky Behind My Feet, Kent Haruf’s Benediction and Jenny Milchman’s Cover of Snow. Talking to the Dead by your own Bonnie Grove truly is a personal favorite of most recent novels I have published – including Nancy Rue, Elizabeth Musser and Julie Cantrell.

I love reading novels and personal favorites are John Grisham, Ann Patchett and classics from Madeleine L’Engle. I am a varied reader, can you tell?

Novel Matters: Don, the theme this year on Novel Matters is Carpe Annum: Seize the Year! Tell us about a turning-point time in your journey in publishing when you took hold of your career. What did that look like?

Don Pape: Ugh, this is a hard one. Well, I’ve been in this for almost thirty years. I had a stint of over a year where I had a role as a literary agent; while I loved my colleagues and the Agency where I worked I truly missed “the team.” It was a significant job to hold but I recognized then that I really am gifted to encourage and lead, and the role of publisher allows me to engage with Agents, Authors, editors, designers, copy editors, marketers, sales folks – a whole mix of people that together brings a book to market. I love that. I love being a part of that and engaging in the different aspects of getting a book to market – from start to finish.

NM: It couldn't have been easy to move away from the role of literary agent, knowing how much you cherish and care about writers. How did that moment change you as a publishing professional?

DP: It affirmed the role that I have today. I believe it has helped me broker on behalf of various departments but ultimately I think we also have a very strong team, of which I’m a part of right now.

NM: And it's the best of both worlds--of both your gifts--to work with the team and still remain actively involved with writers, yes?

DP: I’m working with some excellent authors but I’m also working alongside some very talented editors, copy editors, designers who all have an end-goal to serve the Author and his message well.

NM: Publishing is changing on every front. What is the biggest change you've noticed in the last few years?

DP: Well when I first started the only market channel truly was the Christian retail. Now that is truly waning and we have a very bifurcated market – online, brick and mortar and that can mean book shops, drugstores, grocery stores… We don’t have a loyal customer either – the buyer wants a deal!

NM: I recently got an iPhone, and I realized after only a few days that my attitude toward all of the content available on my phone had shifted from, "This is so cool," to "I want free apps!" E-books are wonderful, but they also feed into the shift in thinking that books are just like apps, download and enjoy--and apps should be free or, at least, very inexpensive.

DP: We have seen through digital a real devaluing of intellectual property. Once we would buy a project with a reasonable advance and sell it for $15 in the hopes of recouping your investment. Now that consumer is wanting that same property – nah they demand – at $2.99 or heavens, free!

NM: Are books doomed, then?

DP: Lots of change but truly plenty of opportunity because people still want to read a good story, right? A great story –whether in physical or digital , the important thing is getting it into people's hands and that is our challenge – discoverability. Can a great story be found in the cacophony called world wide web?

NM: Tell us about those opportunities you've been excited about in terms of publishing for 2013 and into the future?

DP: This year we are launching a number of new authors with us at Cook – Gary Thomas, Jim Wallace, Stasi Eldredge, Tim Chaddick, Matt Chandler….I'm so delighted to be working with each of them and the uniqueness of their message. I just really get excited about being a really good steward of people's message…what God has entrusted to them and they in turn entrust to us. It's an honor. And these projects I cited are just really fresh voices, new material, but ancient truths. I love it!!! We are doing some digital first projects – Mark Steel and Glenn Packiam come to mind. That’s exciting to be a part of that foray.

NM: As a publisher, what are you looking our for when it comes to fiction you want to publish?

DP: Nothing changes – a Really Great story!! Whether it is historical, contemporary – a really great story well told, amazing fully developed characters. And please, not another “in the tradition of Left Behind” or “Gresham-like” – let’s be original please!!

NM: We're all making notes on that last answer, Don. Here's what comes through for me in this interview, and knowing you personally: you're a people person. You love writers, artists, musicians, editors, everyone involved in the arts. (I just had to sneak in this picture of you and me chatting at a conference awhile back. Good times!) How does being a people person this make your job easier, and how does it make it harder?

DP: A people person wants everyone happy – can’t always have it that way. Discernment, tact, grace, aplomb, diplomacy….all come into play. Sometimes you have to tell the Author they can’t have what they want. Some hard decisions need to be made. So it’s great when all is moving along smoothly but when conflicts come along the people person can wreak havoc. Ugh. But age and maturity helps… I think!

NM: Nothing trumps experience and after nearly 30 years in this industry, you have so much and we're honored you've shared some of it with us today. One last question, in addition to being a people person, you're a Carpe Annum man—I know you jump into every year full of enthusiasm and drive. What are you doing this year to seize the year, professionally, personally, or both.

DP: My sons bought me an artist's kit for Christmas and I’m planning to get back into doing some watercolors. I’m always reading too and that keeps me sharp. I am challenged by business books and writers like Brene Brown, Daniel Pink, the Heath Brothers and Jonah Berger – they are making me think outside the box as well as to dream. Sometimes publishing is quite corporate and not in any way creative so it is nice to occasionally read an inspiring book that keeps you going.

Thank you so much, Don, for taking time from your insanely busy schedule to spend time with us on Novel Matters today. As always, it's a pleasure to talk to you.

A Whale of a Metaphor

noreply@blogger.com (Debbie Fuller Thomas) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 11:00:00 +0000

I just finished reading (again) Ray Bradbury's Green Shadows, White Whale about the time he spent in Ireland writing the screenplay for Moby Dick with John Huston in the 1950s. Part memoir, part novelization, he brings the people of Ireland to life to the point that your head voice will develop an Irish lilt. Be forewarned - there is a bit of language some may find offensive - just sayin.' The book is a study in story structure, dialogue, description and metaphor. Especially metaphor. So much so that I've gotten out my metaphor drum and I'm beating it.

He inky-pen harpooned the whale for seven months until he arrived at a metaphor in the form of nailing a gold coin to the mast that helped him complete it. Here is some of what he discovered:
"At last the metaphors were falling together...What nailed it fast was hammering the Spanish gold ounce to the mast. If I hadn't fastened on that for starters, the other metaphors...might not have surfaced...Well, the gold coin...is a very large symbol. It embodies all that the seaman want, along with what Ahab insanely desires above all...The men do not know it, but the sound they hear of the maul striking the coin's fastening nail is their sea-coffin lid being hammered flat shut."

I love that he shared his 'aha!' moment with us. What genius! Here is a quote from his website:
"I was born a collector of metaphors," he says. "Metaphors are the center of life." Here's the rest of the article, in case your interested: http://www.raybradbury.com/articles_book_mag.html.

I borrowed this quote from a much earlier post of Latayne's: "The greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor. This alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the mark of genius, for to make good metaphors implies an eye for resemblance. –Aristotle, Poetics

Perhaps because I'm a visual learner, I tend to categorize metaphors as either small and functional - maybe even obvious - or big-picture, bone-structure scaffolding that adds layers of richness and depth. It probably takes a bit of genius to create that type of metaphor without being over the top or creating a caricature. I think Mr. Bradbury pulls it off quite well.

What about you, do you see metaphors in life? Do you employ them in your own writing, or know of an outstanding example that you could share with us?

P.S. I couldn't help sharing this from his website, too: "A second encounter with the entertainment industry came in 1961 when Bradbury was hired by MGM to write the narration for Orson Welles to speak in King of Kings. "It was fun to go back and narrate the entire life of Christ. They took my script and came back and said, 'We don't have an ending."' Bradbury laughs. "I said 'Really? Have you tried reading the Bible?"'

The Agony and the Ecstasy: Self-Publishing

noreply@blogger.com (Patti Hill) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

I'm taking a break from Mr. Maass for this post—maybe a little longer—to update you on the agony and ecstasy of my self-publishing saga.

First, the agony, which is completely self-inflicted.

It was probably stupid to set the goal of releasing four novels at once. Yes, three of them have been previously published, but that doesn't exclude the need for a little tweaking here and there. In fact, it was shocking just how much tweaking my out-of-print novels needed and how many copy edit mistakes I found. (I’m quite sure—well, I’m almost sure—that these errors were made after I’d made corrections on the galleys.)

I have one more book in the series to finish tidying up. I’m pleased to say that the third novel needs less work than the first. I am capable of growth, and I find that comforting.

Furthermore, formatting books for ebook publishing is TEDIOUS and fussy work. Instructions at Amazon contradict themselves, so you must use trial and error to complete the task. Besides, they speak in printer-ese. Bleed? Thanks for asking. Yes, I think I will.

I’ve watched all sorts of videos on YouTube that show how easy formatting is, but they’re lying. Will I do this again? Probably, but only one book at a time. And I will hire someone to do the formatting.

Let’s slip a little ecstasy in here before I make someone cry.

Writing as a self-published author is heaven for the perfectionist writer. Bonnie exhorted us all to slow down on Monday, not to rush a thing of beauty. Well, self-publishing lets me set my own deadlines, which I am six weeks behind on. But besides that, I have spent four years on my new novel, Goodness & Mercy. And not one call from an overwrought editor or nervous agent. My little darling is maturing and blossoming at its own pace.

Back to the agony.

Formatting a print-on-demand book is even harder. I ended up hiring someone to do the dirty deed for me. I love her. Or him. (Androgynous name.)

More agony.

Writing as a self-published author who tilts toward perfectionism is hell. My formatter sent back a lovely document ready for uploading to Create Space, and what did I do? I tweaked it and tweaked it and tweaked it until I feared I might tweak the magic right out of the story. This morning, after one more minor tweak, I swallowed down hard and sent the uber-tweaked manuscript off for minor repairs by the formatter.

D-O-N-E, done.

I’m getting very close. Once the back cover copy is completed (again), the cover will be ready for its reading public. That means “celebrity” endorsers first, then blog reviewers, followed by my readership who will, hopefully, feel that I tweaked just right for them to post a 4-5 star review on Amazon.

I’m dying to write a new story. I have something lovely teetering on the edge of my subconscious, waiting for the all-clear to jump.

I’m not ready to pass judgment on the process of self-publishing quite yet. Honestly, the true test will be whether or not readers find my stories. Storytellers need and want an audience. I've told my dog plenty of stories, and it's just not enough.

Thanks for listening. I feel much better.

Let it all hang out? Uh, no! A Roundtable Discussion

noreply@blogger.com (Sharon K Souza) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 09:00:00 +0000

I love April. Next to November, it’s my favorite month. Just wanted to get that off my chest.

I really enjoyed Debbie’s post on Wednesday, April 3. She talked about how we, as writers, need to trust our readers and not spell everything out for them in minute detail. She added a couple of great quotes. This from Hemingway: "If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them."

And this from Les Edgerton, author of Finding Your Voice: "The writer should provide the "bones" or skeleton of the story and the reader furnishes the flesh..."

Wonderful advice from both.

For the past 2 or 3 years I’ve enjoyed the privilege of judging writing contests, one which is sponsored for unpublished writers. The biggest mistake new writers make, in my opinion, is exactly what Hemingway and Edgerton were talking about: All too often, new writers in particular don’t trust the reader. They feel they must tell everything they know about the characters and their plight – often on the first page – rather than allowing the reader to DISCOVER. And isn’t that what reading is all about, discovery? They give huge information dumps, and if we’re at all invested in the story, we have to sift through all that superfluous stuff to find the valuable. But the big risk these writers take is that we won’t become invested. Not even a little. I find myself in a strange place these days where time is concerned. It feels more precious than ever to me, and what spare time I have for reading is going to be spent on jewels, not junk. Sorry if that's harsh.

Sharon, I too have judged contests (mainly poetry, but sometimes those of novels too.) I have found that the problem isn't too much backstory. I found that what kills the chances of most contest entrants fall into two categories: 1) It looks and sounds unprofessional -- usually because of non-standard formatting, or other amateurish marks like poor punctuation, spelling, and grammar; and 2) It's not interesting.

Now, that may sound harsh, too. But the writer is taking a tremendous risk -- a risk that the reader will keep reading to try to find a gem inside their writing. Perhaps relatives will. Perhaps friends will. But an editor just won't. If after a page or two there is no spark, there is no further reading. After all, the editor or judge didn't invest in that book, and he or she can throw it away without a second thought.

I'm more convinced than ever, from my own writing journey and from reading for contests at conferences, etc., that the first issue of new writers is rushing. Rushing to get to the end (e.g. posting: I wrote 8,000 words today! And then not going back and really editing those words for voice, timeline, plot, structure), rushing the story--hence the backstory download--and rushing to put that story into the hands of an agent. I've sat across from writers who I have had to tell, "You have some good ideas, but no plot." The writers who are writers, the ones who will make it, usually express that they understand and will let these ideas simmer longer and wait for the story to form. Others get upset with me. I once had a writer complain to conference organizers about me because when she plopped her 300 page memoir down I hadn't had the "decency" to read a few pages (while she sat there watching, inside of the 15 minute appointment she had booked with me), and then I had the "nerve" to tell her that memoirs require a plot, the same as fiction, and that they need to be about something specific, not simply snippets of life stories strung together by long, loose threads. I said all of this gently, but she said I had been rude. The truth is hard to swallow when you've got a "finished" manuscript that you've worked so hard on. I get that. But a writer shrugs at all those hours of work and says, I can do better.

She got me back, though. As she stood to leave our little table she told me she had an appointment with D___________ (insert name of important publisher) and she would prove everything I told her was wrong.

When I graduated with a degree in English Literature and Elementary Education, I skipped off to teach a roomful of fourth-grade students, believing I was prepared to make that year the best learning year of their lives. I was almost right. It was a great year of learning, for me! And I kept on learning the art of teaching and still do. When I plunged into writing, I had a trophy case of As to prove some really smart people thought I could write. That wasn't enough either. And the books I read on fiction writing or a clinic or two I attended weren't the beginning and end of making me into a writer. It takes TONS of practice.

My biggest mistake--and I still struggle with this, although I'm getting better--was not giving my characters enough conflict, interior and exterior. This is the mistake I see in the contests I judge. The result is a story where nothing happens. Boring! We want to be nice to our characters and show them in their best light. Conflict doesn't develop at all, or it's resolved too quickly and easily.
We need to get real.

The mistake I've seen most often, as Bonnie observed, is the rushing. Rushing to put the proposal in the mail, rushing to pitch the story to an editor, rushing to find a shortcut to publishing. I think it's destined to increase with the rush to self-publish. An author who has already sold a book to a publisher and gone through the experience of edits, rewrites, and marketing has an education under her belt. She knows the value of hiring an editor and not cutting corners that compromise the integrity of the work. But even for a published author, self-publishing is uncharted territory. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't self-publish, but don't rush the process. Get a professional opinion. There are many legitimate editorial services available. Read through it one more time, and if at any point - ANY - point in your manuscript you stumble over a word choice or have to stop and clarify something or you yawn, it's time to at least do some tweaking, and possibly a bigger rewrite.. Never accept 'good enough.'

Mediating the Duelling Poets.

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Grove) — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 17:49:00 +0000

April is National Poetry Month and we've been celebrating at my house by talking about poetry, reading poems aloud to one another, and even trying our hand at writing one or two. My children have long loved Edward Lear (Who doesn't? He was Shel Silverstein before being him was cool) and loved my reading of The Jumblies so much I had to read it twice before they agreed to go to bed.

Later this month my husband and I will read poetry to a group of grade 4 and 5 students. Guess how much fun we're having as we assemble a reading list.

In the midst of the jamble of reading poetry, I've also been reading about the lives of several poets over the centuries and a few things struck me.

First, the luxury of being able to gaze back in time and line up facts, quotes, and biographies stretching back to the dawn of Western civilization is an unspeakable honour. Let us not waste such a vast opportunity to the cell phone drone of today. Let's teach our children (and reteach ourselves) to look up from our screens and dive deep into history, thinking long about anything at all.

Second, I found it thrilling to read about the diverse--even polemic--attitudes the poets themselves held about the art of poetry. As I've been skidding across time like a teenager at a sock-hop I've hit upon these bulwark positions about what sort of subject matter makes for great poetry:

"I think it will be found that grand style arises in poetry, when a noble nature, poetically gifted, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject." Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)

Dover Beach

by Matthew Arnold (1887)

The sea is calm tonight,
The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night air!

Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Arnold believed that great poetry comes when it's aimed at a worthy, grand subject. His poetry examines faith, politics, self inside of society, loss of faith, and the question of how best to live. His most famous poem, likely, is the one above, a gloomy piece about losing faith.

Now, race ahead in time and set Arnold's opinion beside that of Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) who wrote poems and was described by John Ashbery as "a writer's writer's writer." She once told Robert Lowell, "I'm not interested in big-scale work as such. Something needn't be large to be good."

Filling Station

by Elizabeth Bishop

Oh, but it is dirty!—this little filling station,oil-soaked, oil-permeatedto a disturbing, over-allblack translucency.Be careful with that match!

Father wears a dirty,oil-soaked monkey suitthat cuts him under the arms,and several quick and saucyand greasy sons assist him(it’s a family filling station),all quite thoroughly dirty.

Do they live in the station?It has a cement porchbehind the pumps, and on ita set of crushed and grease-impregnated wickerwork;on the wicker sofaa dirty dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books providethe only note of color—of certain color. They lieupon a big dim doilydraping a taboret(part of the set), besidea big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant?Why the taboret?Why, oh why, the doily?(Embroidered in daisy stitchwith marguerites, I think,and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily. Somebody waters the plant,or oils it, maybe. Somebody arranges the rows of cans so that they softly say: esso—so—so—so

to high-strung automobiles. Somebody loves us all.

“Filling Station” from The Complete Poems, 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop. © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved. www.fsgbooks.comSource: The Complete Poems (Farrar Straus and Giroux, 1983)

It's interesting that, while Bishop uses the "small" subject of a filling station, she alights on a vast one: Love. And Arnold, giving full attention to the vast night and sea, manages to sulk his way to the very same subject. Maybe that's the trick to all poetry, all writing, all art? That we're all reaching for the great subject of love. That all things lead us there, even when we thought we were going in the opposite (or smaller) direction.

What do you think? Grand subjects, or small things? What are you doing to celebrate National Poetry Month? We love hearing from you.

Discovering the City of Sodom

noreply@blogger.com (Latayne C Scott) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 09:00:00 +0000

It’s finally here, friends. The book I researched on the shores of the Dead Sea. The book I wrote on a lap desk in the passenger seat of my car in hospital parking lots for four months while my husband lay comatose and paralyzed, in his own Dead Sea.

The book of archaeology and excavations and heartbreaking dead ends and nerve-jangling discoveries. The chronicle of dislimbed bones and pottery heat-blasted into trinitite glass. The book of a lost city that wouldn’t stay lost.

It’s here, and it’s stirring up trouble.

Discovering the City of Sodom: The Fascinating, True Account of the Old Testament's Most Infamous City (Howard/Simon & Schuster) describes how, why and where God detonated a literal firebomb over a targeted spot in a valley in the Middle East early in human history. It is about dirt, but not just any dirt: Dirt honed in on, like GoogleEarth zooming in from outer space. Or, more accurately said, from Infinite Space.

My co-author, Dr. Steven Collins, did something that many other professional archaeologists scoffed at. He used the Bible to track down a major archaeological find: what is now the largest official dig in the entire Jordan Valley of Israel and Jordan. Off limits to excavators for decades because of the regional wars and now a joint project with the government of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, the hulking mound of Tall el Hammam is a massive site with hundred-foot-thick battlements, fertile with finds.

I was privileged to give its history a voice.

I’d like you to share in my excitement. I want you to have a copy of this book. I’ll randomly choose two of you who tell me why you'd want to read this book.

THE WRITERS WHO CHANGED ME a guest post by Ariel Allison from She Reads

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Grove) — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 09:00:00 +0000

“The greatest part of a writers time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.” – Samuel Johnson

Something odd happens to me in the months before I begin writing a novel. At some point after finishing one novel and beginning the next, I stumble across a book that moves me. I always feel the same after finishing one of these books: shaken, delighted, in awe. These books become landmarks in my own journey as a writer and their authors an unknowing mentor. While I read dozens of books between projects, there is always one that rises up and becomes the new standard for my own writing. Three books come to mind now, each having found me in that very moldable state prior to beginning a new work of my own:

Quicksilver by Neal Stephenson. This book was recommended to me while I was still in the concept stage with my first novel. An editor who knew my love of smart historical fiction suggested I give this thousand-page tome a try. I adored its intricately woven plot and abundance of historical minutia. I marveled at the creativity and top-notch writing. But there’s something else that Stephenson does very well. He gets you by the throat at the beginning and ending of every chapter and scene break. I won’t soon forget the opening line: “Enoch rounds the corner just as the executioner raises the noose above the woman’s head.” Who is this woman? Why is she being hanged? How can you notkeep reading after a line like that?! Neal Stephenson taught me how to weave history and plot in a way that forces the reader to keep turning page after page.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. I’d heard about this book for years before I finally picked it up. A long road trip with my family proved to be the perfect excuse to see what everyone was talking about. Five hundred pages and two thousand miles later I was completely changed as a writer. In my opinion, Setterfield writes mystery better than anyone else on the market today. Not in the traditional, Agatha Christie way, where the red herring is king. But in this fantastic, sprawling, intelligent, trust-your-reader sort of way that makes for epic fiction. Setterfield takes you on a journey and sets the most delightful traps along the way—not just for her characters, but for her readers as well. She never inflects her writing. Never makes it easy for us. Never assumes that we can’t follow along. Diane Setterfield taught me that readers are smart enough to figure it out, and if by some chance we don’t, even better! We will love you for the thrill of not having figured it out!

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I read all eight hundred pages of this novel in three days last November. She has two profound talents in my opinion. The first is that every scene, every character, every piece of dialogue in her novels serves a purpose. There is nothing superfluous. No dead weight. Every single thing matters. She may introduce a seemingly random character or plot thread at the beginning of the book only to build upon it so that it becomes the pivotal twist at the end. The second is that she takes her reader to the broken, exhausted, exhilarating point of every emotion. Whether writing a knife fight, a journey, a love scene, a homecoming, a betrayal, or even torture, she builds her scenes (none of them are short) until the page quivers with tension. Where a lesser writer would have mercy on the reader and cut the scene short, she takes it to the most brutal, unexpected, and profound conclusion. Her characters and readers suffer alongside one another. They weep together. They are redeemed together. Her devoted, almost rabid following is proof that readers invest themselves entirely in her work. Diana Gabaldon taught me to earn the trust of my reader by never, ever letting them off the hook. When I pick up one of her novels I know that I will be shaken and grateful at the end.

All of these are things I have needed to learn before beginning a new project. And I believe they are lessons that can only be fully grasped through the act of reading. I couldn’t have learned them in a classroom. I had to feel them first.

Question for you: what authors have changed you as a writer? How? What did you learn from them?

Some Vagueness

noreply@blogger.com (Kathleen Popa) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 14:20:00 +0000

A painting requires a little mystery, some vagueness, some fantasy. When you always make your meaning perfectly plain you end up boring people.
- Edgar Degas, 1834 - 1917

Is it possible? Was Edgar Degas writing for the Novel Matters crowd at the turn of the century? Have we been having this conversation that long? Or longer?

Oh, okay - he was talking about paintings. But he was talking about art, and a novel is a work of art painted with words, and the principle holds, doesn't it?

It has always struck me odd that Christians of all people should struggle with this one. The working title of my first novel, To Dance In the Desert, was Ten Easy Steps, because of Finis' presumption that The Ten Commandments were God's ten steps to getting what you want.

A little mystery, some vagueness, some fantasy. It's what separates a grand story from a self-help manual, and a growing faith in a magnificent inscrutable God from a trick of mind to cheer the way.

Here's an exercise for your Friday.

Study this picture. What do you suppose this woman is feeling? What is her name, and what has happened to her? And what is happening with all that light? Does she see it?

Tell me her story. I'd love to read your mysterious thoughts.

Tip of the Iceberg

noreply@blogger.com (Debbie Fuller Thomas) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 11:00:00 +0000

I felt myself being absorbed by this beautiful artwork displayed on the wall near our booth in Mimi's Cafe recently. It is Philip Craig's Lavender Fields. I put my fork down to study it.

I love his choice of color and the peace this scene exudes. You can almost smell the lavender breath, see the bees flying their dance. I want to follow that row straight into the villa in the distance, find a chair and watch the people go by. The muted, indistinct edges of color invite me to connect the dots in my own way, drawing me in, like I was participating in the painting of it, interpreting it for myself. It's not work - but discovery.

I think this is why I like reading the style of writing that Hemingway termed in his iceberg theory. (at least, a variation of it) He said, "If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only the one-eighth of it being above water."

Okay, that's saying a mouthful. So we don't take the reader by the hand and explain everything. We trust readers to get what we're saying. I like what Les Edgerton adds about the iceberg theory in his book, Finding Your Voice. "The writer should provide the "bones" or skeleton of the story and the reader furnishes the flesh..." To do otherwise dumbs down the writing and makes for boring, passive reading. In other words, it makes lazy readers of us.

I like something in between the minimalist Hemingway style and the style of writing that doesn't quite trust the reader. I like a wee bit of flesh on the bones, as in this passage from David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars. This scene comes at the end of the first chapter, so we haven't had time to learn about the characters. (I've shortened it for brevity) The local reporter has been sent to cover a murder trial in their small coastal community:

At ten minutes before nine that morning, Ishmael has spoken with the accused man's wife on the second floor of the Island County courthouse..."Are you all right?" he'd said to her, but she'd responded by turning away from him. "Please," he'd said. "Please Hatsue."...

"Go away," she'd said in a whisper, and then for a moment she'd glared..."Go away," repeated Hatsue Miyamoto. Then she'd turned her eyes, once again, from his.

"Don't be like this," said Ishmael.

"Go away," she'd answered.

That's how their scene ends. We deduce that Ishmael and Hatsue have known each other but we don't know what their relationship has been. We know her husband's life may be at stake. They speak with a veiled intimacy that is implied rather than explained. It's the tip of the iceberg, and we discover what lies beneath as the story unfolds.

I think this is why I dread the unavoidable information dump that happens with a book series. The writer must bring the new reader up to speed in some fashion, and I guess there's no graceful way around rocking the iceberg.

How about you? How much flesh do you want on story bones? Is it work or pleasure? We'd love to hear.

Enduring

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Grove) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 09:00:00 +0000

In March, my husband took a little trip to New York state, and brought back with him some rescues from a warehouse that was abandoned and about to be repurposed.

Books. Orphaned books left behind in the rush or perhaps deemed not worth transplanting in new digs. My husband brought a handful of them home because their faded hardcovers pricked his soul. He knew they'd be loved and cared for in our home.

Among the treasure were two volumes of poetry: the slim Academy Classics/Selected Poems of Pope, Gray, Goldsmith (1899), a badly neglected copy of Longfellow poems, the tattered pages of which remind me of a homesteader's family Bible (the copyright is missing, but one Beulah C. Hitzel kindly wrote on the first page that she received the volume in 1919), and an illustrated copy of Ivanhoe (1903) designed to assist the student understand the history and geography of the time in which the story is set.

I took one look at the battered, raggedy things and understood immediately why they moved my husband enough to risk paying an overweight luggage fee to bring them home.

It's not that I have some fantastic insight into the reasons these books/stories have endured the ages. That's not why I'm writing this today. I suppose what I would like most is to sit beside you, thumb through and ooo and ahh at the familiar strangeness of old words. Maybe dream a little about the people who read them before we did. Maybe just wonder about what the whole thing means.

Here, look:

The blue hardcover of Selected Poems. This was Viola Lawrence's book back when she attend Hamburg High. Later, Alice A. Schwartz pasted a sticker with her name on it on the back of the cover. Cheeky, don't you think?

The editors of the volume believed "that the added poems will materially assist the student to a fuller sympathy with the spirit of the respective authors and to a clearer comprehension of their time." Can their be any doubt they achieved their goal?

These editors rankle me. Look how unkind they are on page 69: "Apart from his career as an author, the life of Alexander Pope was uneventful." Hey now, wait just a minute. Uneventful? Says who? Makes you want to run out and do something eventful just to prevent future editors from saying this about you, doesn't it?

They weren't any kinder to Goldsmith, "Oliver's school-days were spent in idleness. At Trinity College (1744-1749) he did not mend his ways, and during the two years that followed his graduation he was contentedly dependant on the industry of his mother and the generosity of his friends." and "He lacked the force of character that would have enabled him to fix a definite purpose and carry it out."I shudder to think what history might make of my school days. Isn't it interesting that the world wants very much the product of the minds of people very creative and different, but wants those who possess such minds to act like everyone else? Still, they must have liked the guy in the end since he's included in the volume.

Ivanhoe wobbles from page one: "The purpose of this edition is not to supplant the teacher, but to lessen, if possible his duties. To do this by placing in the hand of the pupil such historical material and suggestions for study, with questions upon the text, as he will be expected to answer." Gee, thanks fellas. Their hearts were in the right place, though, as they explain a bit further down the page, "Experience has also shown that comparatively few pupils have access in their homes to a large dictionary, or to other reference books, and that the school library does not always furnish these in numbers sufficient for the pupils desiring to use them."

Can you see the flocks of desperate students descending on the library, desperate and a little angry at having to line up for a peek into the large dictionary? Well, Josephene Ruda from study room 102, and Aloise Hiedrowski from study room 112 were not among those disparaging crowds, I can tell you that much. Both these ladies took full advantage of this book. Oh how they must have giggled and hugged themselves with glee knowing they had been spared the agony of non-access to knowledge.

I like The Companion Books, Longfellow Poems best. Three pages listing the contents of the book,
followed by 487 pages of poetry. No need to comment on the stuff, just read and see how it goes. That's pure enough isn't it? Doesn't it say so much that they've compiled all this works into one place? Isn't that enough to prove they are worth reading, studying, memorizing? This book belonged to Beulah C. Hitzel in 1919, but someone, at some point, wrote below her name in pencil, "Yesterday with some authors. Fields." No idea. But I hope it has some wonderful meaning. I'm going to pretend it does.

Thanks for meandering through with me today.

Have you rescued orphaned books? Stumbled upon a thrift store classic? Do you have a heart for ratty old hardcovers? Will you spend some time thumbing through a forgotten book? Let us read over your shoulder a minute, too.

Petty Me

noreply@blogger.com (Sharon K Souza) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 09:00:00 +0000

I enjoyed both of Patti's posts this week on characterization, especially Wednesday's excellent and informative post on the risk of overpopulating a novel with superfluous characters. But I had to laugh at Patti's characterization that her post on Monday was "snarky," because our dear Patti can't be anything but sweet -- even when she's being snarky. Now me, I can be snarky. And petty. Case in point: I just finished reading a novel by a best-selling author whose name equals celebrity, and whose publisher is one of the most prestigious in the business. I enjoyed the novel tremendously. It was an engaging and complex story, which is why this author has achieved the success she has.

However.

There's a plethora of italics used for emphasis. They're practically everywhere, on every page. And not only are they a nuisance, they portray a level of inexperience this author is way beyond.

See what I mean?

According to Harbrace College Handbook, Eleventh Edition, italics are used for: certain titles (books, magazines, newspapers, plays, films, etc.); foreign words and phrases; words or letters used as illustrations (ex: The letter A is the first in the English alphabet); emphasis; and in a few other instances. Regarding the use of italics for emphasis, Harbrace cautions: "...overuse of italics for emphasis defeats its own purpose." The Chicago Manual of Style backs up the assertion: "Overused, italics quickly lose their force." Evidently, the best-selling author and her publisher didn't get the memo. As a result I was pulled out of a compelling story with every unnecessary italicized word/phrase, because I knew this author should have known better. Compounding the problem was the extensive use of foreign words that were also italicized. And a story within a story that was all in italics.

I was cautioned about the overuse of italics for emphasis in my early writing life, because I used them like they were pepper in my grandmother's chicken'n'dumplin' recipe. There could never be too much. Wrong. Well, not about the pepper, but certainly about the italics. I learned that instead of italicizing any and all words one would emphasize if reading the text aloud, one should only use italics to emphasize a word that would not otherwise be emphasized. It's even becoming less the norm to use italics for internal dialogue or a character's thoughts.

I tend to backslide often and without thinking when it comes to the use of italics. They populate my writing on a consistent basis. But I whack them mercilessly when I edit. In fact, the re-released versions of my novels, Every Good & Perfect Gift and Lying on Sunday, have far fewer italics than the original versions.

Okay, perhaps I am being petty about the overuse of italics. In the case of the novel I just read, they won't make it any less of a best seller or the story less stellar, and the author won't have any trouble getting her next seven-figure advance. But if our hope and our goal is to produce the best manuscript possible, then we'd do well to remember it's the little foxes that spoil the vine. Let's give that editor or agent who reviews our work one less reason to turn us away.

What about you? Does the overuse of italics interfere with your reading experience? Do you have a particular pet peeve when it comes to the do's and don'ts of good writing style?

Does This Novel Seem Crowded to You?

noreply@blogger.com (Patti Hill) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 08:00:00 +0000

[Author note: If you’re a pantser, sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'm hoping to show that some pre-writing activity can save you work later without killing creativity. Honest!]

Character, characters everywhere! But do they have a job to do? That’s a good question to ask. Just like you’re created with a purpose in mind, your characters should be, too.

It’s so easy to overpopulate a story. That’s how I’ve collected so many dynamite deleted scenes. But creating a cache of deleted scenes is not my objective. I need to look at my characters as part of an organic whole, not as detached individuals. Each character should help define the others.

According to John Truby in The Anatomy of Story, we learn the most about our protagonist when we can compare her to the other characters on four different levels: by story function, archetype, theme, and opposition.

Today, I’m going to talk about the story function of your characters, because this helped me the most with crowd control—and revolutionized the way I think about developing characters.

This is my gift to you after being so snarky about Maass’s chapter, “Standout Characters.” Deepest apologies again, Mr. Maass, sir.

Every novel starts with a premise. The premise is what your story is about in one sentence. For instance, the premise of The Hunger Games (HG) is: In post-apocalyptic America, a teen-aged huntress takes her sister’s place in a last-man-standing battle against representatives of the eleven other districts of Panem.

Once you know your premise, you create characters. Start with your protagonist or hero. She’s the one with the central problem. (Katniss must take care of her sister.) She’s the one who drives the action in an attempt to solve her problem. (Katniss volunteers to take Prim’s place in the hunger games.) The protagonist drives the action, but she isn't without her weaknesses and needs. (Katniss is a loner, but she must partner with other contestants to survive, knowing she will later need to kill them in order to solve her problem.)

This is where things get interesting. All other characters in your novel will represent an opposition, an alliance with the protagonist, or a combination of the two. Every character has a job to do to tell your story according to the premise.

Antagonist: The antagonist should want the same thing as the protagonist, which will bring them in direct conflict. This doesn't mean they hate each other, necessarily. Think of them as opposition, a less brick-wall kind of word. (Katniss has one big antagonist, the government, plus twenty-three contestants that want to live to take care of their families, so they must kill her.)

Ally: An ally helps the protagonist solve her problem. They listen to the protagonist, giving the reader a chance to hear in the protagonist's own words what she values and wants. Again, their goals are usually the same, but sometimes the ally has her own goal. (In HG, Katniss has an ally in Gale, her hunting partner in District 12. Also, Cinna, her stylist uses his cunning and skill to make Katniss a favorite in the games.)

Fake-Ally Opponent: This is where things get really interesting. This character seems to be on the protagonist’s side, but is really an opponent. This is how twists and turns are added to a story, as well as tension. (Effie Trinket plays this role for Katniss. She’s very proper and gathers a team to help Katniss, but she represents the government, the source of all Katniss’s problems. As the government’s representative, she facilitates the death of at least one, if not both of her charges, Katniss and Peeta.)

Fake-Opponent Ally: These are fun characters to write but not as common in storytelling as the Fake-Ally Opponent, but HG is full of them. This opponent appears to be fighting the protagonist but is actually a friend. (Peeta, of course, is the first of Katniss’s opponents to come to mind, but don’t forget about Rue. The most powerful Fake-Opponent Ally is Haymitch, Katniss’s supposed mentor. He is drunk and useless most of the time, but he sees something in Katniss that makes him believe she is finally the one who can survive. He recruits sponsors and sends supplies at just the right moment.)

Subplot Character: Their role is to give another opportunity to define the protagonist through comparison (they want the same thing or have the same problem but go after the solution differently) and to advance the plot. In HG, Katniss’s mother is a subplot character. She wants the same thing, to take care of Katniss and Prim, but her grief has paralyzed her. In this way we see the heroic side of Katniss. The mother moves the plot along by her passivity. Katniss is all Prim has in her broken world.

HG might not have been the best example because there are lots of characters, but they fit very nicely into their roles. Let’s look at a “smaller” story world to see how this works. Feel free to disagree with me.

In The Language of Flowers, the premise is that a young woman uses flowers to say the things she cannot say on her quest for love.

Victoria is our protagonist. Her central problem is that she wants to love and be loved but can’t do either. As a product of the foster system, Victoria has never properly bonded with a caregiver, so she probably suffers from reactive attachment disorder (RAD). She uses the language of flowers she learns from her foster mother to try to make connections.

Her antagonist is RAD, I think. She sabotages herself in all of her attempts to make meaningful connections.

The author brilliantly gives Victoria two strong allies, Renata the florist and Grant the flower grower. Renata gives Victoria a job to rescue her from homelessness and allows her room to be ellusive, and Grant is the most patient man in the world, and he loves her, literally and figuratively challenging her flower language.

Victoria’s false-opponent ally, and this is up for debate, is her caseworker. Name? She comes off as making hurtful decisions for Victoria, but she introduces her to the only mother she will ever know because she understands what Victoria needs.

The false-ally opponent is her foster mother, Elizabeth. She needs the same thing as Victoria, love, and she gives it freely until what she loves more than Victoria is destroyed. She ends up wounding Victoria worst of all.

The subplot character is Victoria’s assistant whom she brings in from her old group home. Again, name? She’s there to compare how two foster system kids react to emancipation.

So, there you have it, a purpose-driven approach to populating your novels. Personally, this information has helped me develop a wider variety of characters with greater capacity for conflict and helped me to focus the story on the premise by not adding characters who aren't needed. (This is how adorable yet menacing Fred got booted from Goodness & Mercy.)

I would love to hear what you think of Truby’s story structure approach to populating your stories. Have you tried this approach? What benefits or hindrances did you experience? How do you keep from over-populating your stories? Have you ever asked yourself while reading a novel, "What is this character doing here?"

Getting Snarky at Donald Maass

noreply@blogger.com (Patti Hill) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Dear Mr. Donald Maass, sir,
We're discussing your book, Writing 21st Century Fiction, at Novel Matters today. If you've stopped by to see how much we loved the chapter on standout character, please go away now. My writing career is on shaky enough ground as it is. Being black-balled by a top New York city literary agent would shoot my career between the eyes. So, you just mosey along. Go to the corner and get something highly caffeinated or one of those famous hot dogs they sell on the street. Forget you ever heard my name, please.
Sincerely,
Patti Hill

Reader Alert: I’m a little cranky about this chapter. In fact, I may sound snarky when I don’t mean to. Yes, Maass says true things about characterization, but he also quotes his other books on writing.

Hello? could we have something fresh here?

And he speaks in broad generalities, which sound suspiciously like he really istalking to genre writers. Like this:

A standout protagonist is one who quickly stirs in your reader high admiration. p. 79

Yes. No. Duh! This isn’t wrong. It’s just prescriptive. Are we all writing books about Boy Scouts? This is the kind of stuff I taught my fourth-grade students. Ack!

(Oh my, this is snarky. So sorry.)

My pulse quickened a bit when Maass started a section on characters who lack conflict. This is a huge problem for beginning writers. They want their characters to be nice and not make the writer look bad for being able to think up very human things for their characters to do. The result is a boring story. As we talked about last time, the inner journey—conflict and all—is crucial to creating characters and stories reader can relate to. I was genuinely eager to hear what Maass had to say.

Any character, whether wholly negative or naively positive or somewhere in between (My question: Has he left anyone out?), can be alive, alert, and engaged in life. But how is that conveyed to the reader? There are three key techniques: the use of observation, opinions, and self-awareness. P. 100

Maass uses Aibileen Clark from The Help as an example of a character who is a keen observer, especially of the white family she works for and full of opinions she can’t express. And who was more self-aware than a black woman of the south in 1962? Aibileen knew her place.

But Aibileen is not wholly negative or naively positive or anything in between. She is human! I can hear her voice in my head. “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” Her keen observations, opinions, and self-awareness are NOT add-ons. They’re who she is.

(I didn’t like this chapter very much.)

But let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water. The qualities Maass attributes to a well-rounded and interesting character are valid. They just wouldn’t, in my humble opinion, resurrect a poorly conceived character. I love a character who can see things I can’t and describe them in such a manner that makes me groan with pleasure. And I happen to like opinionated characters, too. They make me squirm and laugh, all as that character turns a mirror on me. As for healthy self-awareness, I’m reading a novel now about a man who makes note of his bowel habits in his journal. Too much?

Here are five nuggets you can take from this chapter:

Heroic protagonists need to show us that they’re human.
Stronger than surprise is selfless focus. Think Enzo in The Art of Racing in the Rain
Put as much planning and work into your antagonist as you do your protagonist.
Don’t skimp on your secondary characters, either. Give them a history and know them well.
Work on your characters until they fascinate you, then they will fascinate millions of readers.

I was going to continue this discussion on Wednesday, but that’s about it. Instead, I’ll share something I've learned from a master storyteller that has changed the way I populate my stories. I promise more of a take-away. Also, I will put my snarky self on the shelf--with that obnoxious elf.

And I’ll be reading ahead to see if Maass has anything more to offer us.

Was I too hard on Maass? Help me out here, what's the most important thing you do to develop human characters? From whom have you learned the most about characterization? Name a character who took your breath away. Can I hide at your house?

Please Pass the Carrot Sticks

noreply@blogger.com (Debbie Fuller Thomas) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 11:00:00 +0000

After Katy's fabulous post about wonder, I'm moving from the sublime to the ridiculous. It's Friday and it just seemed like the time to let loose. My topic today has been on my mind for awhile and I bet I'm not the only one who wrestles with it. I've never heard it mentioned in a writer's conference or addressed in a book on technique or about the writer's life. But it can become a health issue for some.

I'll put it out there - the writing life can make you fat. There, I've said it. We even have an acronym: BIC. Butt (or bottom) In Chair. You're supposed to put it there and keep it there until you've reached your word count for the day or you've finished the chapter or you've exhausted your scene ideas. Granted, it doesn't mean that a writer should sit for eight hours straight. But I've already spent eight hours in an office chair at my job by the time I sit down to write at night. If I take time to make dinner for my family and go for a jog or stop by the (imaginary) gym for exercise, it's nine o'clock before I even get to my manuscript.

Seriously, I love writing. I'm willing to forgo the jog or the (imaginary) gym to either write until midnight or go to bed early to write at the crack of dawn. True confession here, from that kind of writing over the last few years I've added two-count 'em-two dress sizes. But I've discovered that it's not just about BIC and ignoring my need for exercise that packs on the pounds. I'm also a stress-eater, the stress of working under a deadline, the stress of juggling job/writing/family, and most importantly, the stress of story.

American screenwriter Syd Field says to get our protagonist up a tree and throw rocks at her. Raising the stakes just makes a better story. But when the story's really coming together or I'm in the throes of an intense scene, I feel the palpable stress of the heroine or the raised stakes she's not yet aware of and I want chocolate. Oreos with milk. Something with sugar. I want to pat the seat beside me and say to her, "Sit here, honey, I've got something for that." She might even thank me - until I tell her to get back up the tree.

I've always wondered about heroines who, when confronted with a major crisis, 'simply couldn't eat.' It just doesn't ring true to experience, but I suppose the alternative isn't very ladylike. No one wants to imagine the protagonist settling in with a gallon of rocky road and a serving spoon. I understand being so engrossed that you look up and wonder where the time went, that yummy feeling of accomplishment and flush of satisfaction. I've enjoyed that on occasion. But stress only makes me seek the respite of comfort food, not turn away demurely. I should be so demure.

So, I hear ya. Stop whining and figure it out. Planning ahead helps, and I have made progress. Not purchasing Oreos (grumble) or chocolate is a good idea. Keeping low fat, low carb snacks on hand is also a step in the right direction, as is the MyFit phone app which helps me keep track of everything I eat. Walking on my lunch hour would be a great habit to make. Lowering my protagonist's stress level so I'm not tempted to cheat would not be good planning, I'm very sorry to tell her.

Maybe I'm way off base with this and I'm the only one who wrestles with writerly stress-eating. Perhaps it's the bane of the writer who still has wee ones underfoot or must punch a timeclock to pay the bills. But if I'm not the only one, and you find it challenging, too, please share your wisdom with us. We'd love to hear!