Disappointed

My goal was to read 52 novels in 2009. I only read 31. I will have to do better next year.

My Own Book Club: Population One

I spend a lot of time reading what I like to call pre-Jane Austen literature. Some of the writers are actually contemporaries of Jane but there are drastic differences in the writing styles that make the stories harder to read in a modern setting. The themes and literary devices that are applied often feel dated, hysterical, and abhorrent to a modern sensibility. The reason I mark Jane Austen as a change of era is that her characters, particularly her female characters, are written in such a way that while they feel classic and traditional they don’t feel like doormats for all the other characters to stomp around on, being thrown from one ridiculous situation to another. Compare Lady Susan or Elizabeth Bennet to Emmeline Mowbray or Camilla Tyrold and the differences are so striking that one can hardly believe that the heroines were written within a very short time of each other.

After reading many, many of these stories over the years, I have a few critiques I would like to pass on to the writers of some of this pre-Jane Austen literature. Yes, I am aware that they are long dead. I am not a crazy person who talks to dead people...most of the time. But at the end of each story, I find myself thinking, “Wow that was a great story except for this, this, and this.” And the this, this, and this, have become common themes that can be found in most literature from this time and genre. And since most readers do not subject themselves to the often frustrating (but secretly enjoyable) task of reading this particular type of literature I have no one to discuss these themes with…except apparently the dead authors themselves who may take so much exception to my critiques that they band together to greet me upon my own death with critiques of their own. Being relatively young and healthy however, I have decided to put that worry on the back burner and plunge headfirst into my opinions of their work.

Open Letter to the Following Authors:

Dear Henry Fielding (Tom Jones, the History of the Foundling)-

I enjoyed Tom as the feckless, lovable hero who sleeps his way through the story. It was a little bawdy but it worked. But why, oh why, did you create such a double standard for Sophia at the end at the mere hint of a man entering the building where she was? I was so shocked and disappointed that I threw my very nice hardbound copy across the room as soon as you took that ridiculous course. My copy survived the hurl but unfortunately the story’s ending does not survive your conclusion. Badly done, Henry…and I had such high hopes after Shamela.

Dear Charlotte Smith (Emmeline)-

What is with the fainting and the hysterics? Considering your own strong character I am surprised that you left Emmeline Mowbray, your heroine, no other option other than fainting to keep herself from being carried off, dishonored, raped, and ruined. Instead of crying and passing out you should have had her screaming her lungs out, “I don’t want you!” Or, “You are a rotten uncle!” Those two simple phrases could have gone a long way.

And I was a little disappointed by the double standard of Godolphin being accepted as the child’s father rather than the true mother. I know you wrote this story in 1788, which was two hundred and twenty-one years ago, so I will not judge it too harshly but I still really feel like you could have pulled the true parentage out in a manner that wouldn’t have made that particular storyline sexist and dated in my day and time.

That being said Charlotte, I cannot believe the twists you gave to one of the heroes at the hands of Bellozane, the forward thinking story of Lady Adelina, the desirable Godolphin as a hero, and the worthy friend you provided to the heroine. Even with your faults, I suppose I will read your book several more times in my life…I mean after all, I’ve already read it a second time haven’t I?

Dear Ann Radcliffe (The Mysteries of Udolpho)-

What is with the immense detail on every page depicting every flower and every leaf that the heroine passes? I thought I might claw my own eyes out. One word: Editor. At 300,000 words, I think you over-specified and under-economized. I bet you could have done the story in 200,000 words without batting an eye at what was left on the editing room floor. And the heroine hardly seems fit for the time period you assigned to her. She would have blended better in 1794 than she does in 1584.

However, I loved the twists and turns of the story. The mystery of the black veil was satisfying and the twist with the hero near the end was truly a surprise that I did not see coming – and that, Miss Radcliffe, is saying a lot. Although I would have preferred it if Emily St. Aubert had stabbed Montoni with a dagger viciously and repeatedly and smothered his wife with one of her own dresses, I have to admit that after all the fainting and loyalty to evilness you did pull their respective demises out satisfactorily. Well done Ann. Your two hundred and fifteen year old story is still a keeper in my library.

Fanny Burney (Evelina and Camilla)-

Oh, Fanny…where do I begin. I really like the letter format for Evelina and I enjoy the twists and turns of your stories but I have a hard time loving them.

In Evelina, we know we are supposed to think of Lord Orville as the hero but at the end of the story I feel like he is a two-dimensional cardboard cutout of what a hero ought to be. I want to look behind him and nothing of substance is ever there. In some ways, Edgar Mandlebert is written better in that respect as the hero in Camilla, as he is drawn with more flavor and understanding. But somehow Sir Clement Willoughby of Evelina and Sir Sedley Clarendel of Camilla are drawn with so much more to interest a reader than the actual heroes. The transformation of Sir Sedley from a mere fop into a witty, thoughtful, engaged character was alluring and could have been carried much further. However, you chose to keep him static rather than letting his true underlying character run free. I was left wanting more with regard to him, but perhaps that is just the side of me that loves the Scarlet Pimpernel.

While on that note, it is interesting to skip to the new topic of the sheer and utter ridiculousness that your write into some of your characters. Madame Duval of Evelina may get a pass due to the fact that she is newly introduced to the heroine but the Captain who torments Madame (and you may say rightly so) and then passes for good society doesn’t pass the test. Another scene that comes to mind in Evelina is the sport that the ‘gentleman’ of the era choose to lay bets on, namely that of making little old ladies from the town race it out for the ‘gentleman’s’ pleasure. How could that ever be considered a part of good society in any society, excepting our own modern day morally empty society? In Camilla, you created Mr. Dubster, who says a lot of things of sense in a nonsensical way. I suppose he may stay as a quirky character but Lionel Tyrold is just plain irksome. His sisters love him and, in turn, he uses them in a way that they ought not to feel any wish to see him ever again. There is not a single scene written where Lionel appears as anything but cruel to his own family and yet we, as the readers, are meant to fervently believe that Camilla ought to relinquish Edgar and marry Sir Sedley as a way to settle her brother’s debts when he himself shows no remorse or redemption. Lionel comes out flat, Fanny. He ought to have been given some redeemable qualities so that we readers could understand why Camilla would even think of sacrificing Edgar for her brother. He is poorly written and bothersome to read.

So while I might (probably) read your stories again and again, I have a strong urge to skip the scenes involving Lionel, Madame Duval, The Captain, and Mr. Dubster.

In conclusion, dear authors, may I suggest that next time you write a book that is destined to be a classic, and therefore read by me, that you would skip fainting heroines as a means to avoid necessary communication, avoid the hint of outrageous double standards and sexism, and fully develop the heroes and heroines so that they may truly stand the test to be read several centuries later with much pleasure by the reader. Although, I suppose I ought to admit that even with these obvious and rampant literary defects, I have found enjoyment as a reader of all your works and will continue to do so in the future. Except you Henry Fielding…I am still smarting over your treatment of Sophia which was very, very badly done.

Projects

I've spent most of the last month working on edits for Heroine in Paradise and making little Halloween books with the boys.

Heroine in Paradise is now revised and ready for a first reading. I feel as if I am about to give my much flawed child to a modeling agency and ask, "Please, I want you to point out every single flaw in my new and darling creation to me."

Gut-wrenching but necessary. I truly want to fix my baby's flaws. I want my story to grow, to complete its potential. But first must come the wrenching - the pulling apart of every decision I made in my little one's formation and construction.

So what is this story? Well, for one it is obscenely long. It consists of three volumes and over 100,000 words. It's way too long for the target genre. And we all know that you can only break the unbreakable rules of writing if you can make it work. I'm not sure I can.

Heroine in Paradise is a heavenly adventure that takes place in...well...Heaven. I took the words of Benjamin Franklin literally when he said, "A man is not completely born until he is dead."

So I kill a lot of people. What? How else are they allowed to participate in the adventures if they are still living and breathing? I have to admit, I had a tremendous amount of fun with all the ways my beloved characters get to die. Death is always a major theme in my stories.

I should probably do a more traditional synopsis (something I am terrible at) instead of bouncing around. Here goes:

Emberlin Avery, bright, athletic and filled with all the potential of youth, looks upon her own empty body, a separation created by her recent, unfortunate, and untimely death and wonders, "Does anyone choose to die?" Understanding that she is dead, but not understanding what death is, Emberlin leaves her body and ascends to Paradise Holding, a place where, even in death, adventures may be had, sorrows may come, and surprises may delight. Learning to live, even if one is dead, may be the hardest thing she will have to do in her life.

So there it is. I hate writing synopsis'. I should really get a ghost writer for them.

Now that Emberlin is ready for a reading I was looking at my other writing projects and wondering, "What next?"

First, I have to address the changes I am making in Kindley's Sorrows. Some edits are done but several scenes have to be changed and while I feel good about the changes, I am a little weary of editing. I want to create!

I was looking at a couple of short story writing contests and while two look interesting I will probably only enter one right now. There is something to be said for knowing, that whether some people want to or not, they are forced to read something I've written. For whatever reason, it gives me a strange sense of satisfaction that I get to torture people other than my friends - who I guilt into helping me with my stories. So I am editing one of my short stories for this purpose.

Then, I will take my little story about Princess Azalea, which is currently only two pages of outline, and I will try to flesh out her story. She has been waiting patiently for about a year for me to work on her. Note to self: research troll-hunting.

My musical will have to wait a little longer. Outlined for almost four years now, I am still missing a few pieces, not of my own doing, I might add. I am waiting for some of the pieces to become available. And I really wish that the person I was waiting on would hurry up and oblige me. This work will probably be for my own pleasure only but the story has been bouncing around in my head so long, I feel bad that I am putting it off one more time.

So that is where my writing lies. Always somewhere in between.

Editing

For a month now, I have been editing my story AHIP. Almost every night, I would work on a chapter or two. My ridiculously long, three volume novel, is now ready to be altered in the computer.

I opened the notebook where all my changes are, and I noticed a little extra editing. Apparently Andrew, my darling two year old, saw fit to add a few edits of his own. Unfortunately for me, he used the same color editing pen as I did. There are all kinds of marks and lines and I am having a deal of a time deciphering his changes from my changes.

I suppose I should add this to the list of steps in the writing process - literary critiques from a two-year old.

Readers

I met with one of my readers last week to talk about writing. She's a writer too which makes the conversations a little easier than talking with a 'non-writer reader'. 'Writer-Readers' understand the process a little more - they tend to know how to help in a more constructive way.

And this reader in particular suggested some juicy ideas for K.S. Originally one character was intended to carry the evil load, but in the first draft the evilness merely came out flat and formulaic so I adjusted this character a bit and liked how she came out in the second draft. Unfortunately that meant that my evil load was left sitting on the editing floor.

My reader helped me figure out a good - and very plausible way - to add the evilness back in. She started throwing out a few ideas and my creative juices started gushing out. I had to grab a paper and pen before they spilled onto my friend's lovely white carpet. I dashed off the new changes to the storyline as quickly as my borrowed red sharpie could ink the words down.

Now I am left with a page filled with thick red lines and a writer who is chomping at the bit to fold the improvements into my beloved baby. Although, my baby has been through so many upgrades since the first draft that, at this point, I should probably refer to it as a toddler. As a writer I write in layers - I write and rewrite until I can get it right. So if K.S. is a toddler now then it might be a while until it is full grown. But I don't mind...because I truly love the writing process and if it takes me twenty years to get it right, then so be it.

The best part about my fabulous reader is that she is diligently working on her own work and when she is ready to swap I can send AHIP her way and I get her work to go through. While we were talking she was describing some of her scenes and characters to me and I swear I could feel the heat of Africa, the desolation of the orhpanage, and the clean red-tiled floor that ran the long hallway.

Readers are great and I am grateful to have some and to be one for others.

Dreams

In the midst of a move, AHIP is sitting...rather impatiently, I might add. While I spend my days packing boxes, my characters have been visiting me while I slumber, eagerly reminding me of this or that to add to their story.

I know that my creations are not really real but at what point do they become alive to us as writers? For me, it seems that they come to life as soon as they are named. Their characteristics start to form, creating their inner character...making them tangible.

I think there is something wonderfully magical about the ability to create delightful new worlds. So I will not complain about my fictional children's nightly visits where they criticize how I write them. Instead I will thank my lucky stars for such a colorful imagination. Even I could not imagine a more deliciously desirable gift to give myself.

AHIP Ready

I just finished adding new scenes, smoothing others, removing poor Ferris, and editing in general. AHIP is not ready for the world but AHIP is ready for it's first printing and to be seen by a few readers for what I like to call a content edit.

This is not the time to be checking that all the commas are in the right place. This stage of editing is for my readers to point out content issues to me, the writer. If I can't get the content right, there is no use fixing punctuation and grammar errors.

As I writer, I rely on content editors to read through my story and mark it up where the story doesn't make sense, needs work, or yes, even in some cases, where I have done a particularly good job with this scene or that. Because AHIP is almost like a baby to me, I, as the writer, have a hard time seeing all my baby's natural flaws. The content editing helps to point some of those flaws out to me.

Sometimes, the flaws become immediately apparent once a reader points a flashing neon sign at it. Other times, I don't necessarily agree but the reader's points may point to a flaw in my story in other ways.

Even after removing and smoothing some scenes, I added four additional pages to the story and I topped the 100,000 word mark. In total this first printing of AHIP will be 194 single space pages and 101,009 words.

I know that AHIP won't stay like this. I know that it needs further work. But, I am so excited to let my little story take a few small steps into the world to see how it stands up.

Goodbye

In the throes of editing my delicious heavenly adventure, I realized that I had to kill off a character. Alexander has too many people in his posse and one of them has to go. Which is rather harsh because all of my characters are dead already. Which means I have to do more than kill off a character. I have to completely obliterate him from the universe.

I narrowed the candidates down to two and I took my two character cards to my husband.

Me: I have to kill off a character.
Him: Kill Martha.
Me (waving the two cards in his face): Hello...these cards are yellow. Obviously that means a male character.
Him: Okay...
Me: So it's Benji or Ferris.
Him: Oh, get rid of Benji. Why would you name a character after a dog?
Me: No, I think it needs to be Ferris.
Him (passionately pumping his fist in the air): Save Ferris!

After I recovered from my fit of giggles, I took my cards and made my decision. In memory of the dear, departed Ferris, I decided to honor him with a song.

Save Ferris
Goodbye

That feels better. Now, 80 pages into a 190 page manuscript, I have to start over. I have to remove all traces of Ferris from the story and give any lines that he might have to other members of Alexander's posse. Sigh...it's a good thing I love my story or this could be a seriously painful re-edit.

Roaring Bellows

The soft, delicate whispers have become loud, frantic shouts. The post-its have piled high and spilled over into notebooks. I am chagrined...

And unable to continue losing myself in other novelist's works.

I have put off the day of first read-through for a myriad of reasons...but now it is here.

I will probably shiver in fright at all the mistakes that three months ago would have been invisible. I will probably shrink in embarrassment at how much work is actually required to get section three in line with the rest of the story.

But I am ready to begin my first read-through of my heavenly adventure. I'll start off with a quick bloody death and work my way through the mucky mud that needs to be shaped and smoothed into a piece of work that I could actually show to another human being.

A man is not completely born until he is dead.
-Benjamin Franklin

Kindley's Sorrows

I've finished my edits and it feels so good. I hadn't read my story for months and I loved reading through it, polishing a little here and there. It is now out for a read and we'll see what the reader thinks.

Now, I am free to address all the little yellow post-its that have been gathering for AHIP.

On to the next revision!

More Unplanned Editing

Instead of editing AHIP (formerly DIAC) I have been dreaming of edits for KS. One writer once said that you never actually finish a story, you just abandon it. I thought I had abandoned KS (at least until I could get it in the hands of an agent) but I suppose I haven't. Scenes and little layers and finishing touches have been bugging my subconscious for a few weeks. I kept dumping the ideas on little yellow post-its to get them out of my head but more just kept coming.

After a small stack had accumulated on my desk, I surrendered to the siren call. Yes it may dash me on the rocks or be all for naught but I cannot leave a scene untouched once the idea has made it on to a post-it. It would be unconscionable.

I hate to sound arrogant but I really love my story (as I am sure most writers do)as I read through it and do all my little edits. I haven't read it for a few months and I forgot about the little sparks of wit that I was able to write for my clever, sassy Emmalina.

Editing

I've spent the last two weeks working on an editing project for a new writer.

I am not a professional editor and there are clearly some editing and writing rules that I blatantly disregard in my own work. But, I read an awful lot, I have worked and reworked my own little babies for years, and I have seen what my editors (both soft and professional) have helped point out in my work that was helpful to me. So, I gave it the old college try.

I loved it. I found myself looking up AP Style rules on the internet. (I gave away my hard copy years ago - thinking I would never need it. Ha!) I, at first, was only going to comment on the content, but I was soon correcting spelling, grammar, and punctuation mistakes. I gave suggestions on scenes I wanted to see enhanced or created to help make the story smoother and gave praise when a scene or paragraph was particularly well done.

The writer was grateful and excited. But for me, I was able to get a broader perspective of the writing process which is particularly helpful for the revision process that I am currently in with my latest novel.

I often feel like I try to make a good sketch on the first pass through as I write. The revisions that follow add color and depth to my sketch, making it tangible and accessible to the reader.

Now that the editing project is complete, it is time for me to go back to my own story and revise, revise, revise. I'm excited and ready to tackle the problems, add detail to the scenes, and work it until it works.

A Little Twist

There has been a little surprise with regard to the contest I entered.

I was a finalist in the contest...but when I checked the postings they didn't print Rosaline - they printed Doris's Letter.

They emailed me back about Rosaline so I am not sure what happened. I am still happy...just a little surprised.

To see all the finalist entries and the winner you can go here. There is a booklet you can download. I am on page 22 and my little bio is at the end of the booklet.

Writing Contest Extras

In honor of Valetine's Day I decided to post my other two contest submissions.

Petunia's View is a letter from Petunia to her love, Chase. I was going for subtle.

Doris's letter is the opposite. Doris is, perhaps, the least subtle character I've written. She likes to tell it like it is.

Both of these were meant to be a little off-key and more light-hearted than the heart-breaking and dramatic Rosaline.

Petunia's View

Dear Chase,

I remember the day that I first saw you. It was a clear, crisp autumn day. I was bundled up like the Michelin man in my great white coat and you, man that you are, wore a light gray fleece that matched your sea gray eyes.

I know you didn’t immediately feel for me all that I did for you. You’re shy; a little reticent to open up. See? I know the man that I love.

You were shy when I called you and asked you to dinner but your heart was clear to me when you accepted my proposal. Later at dinner, you were a little introverted as we ate, unsure of yourself. Never mind that dear. I certainly don’t mind it. Whatever you may think, I feel that you are perfect just as you were made.

Your extreme bashfulness prevented you from asking me out again but I didn’t mind. I can do that work for the both of us. It doesn’t bother me in the least.

And just in case you were worried, I should tell you that I didn’t mind it when you had to change your phone number. I found your new number easily enough on anywho.

I am quite good with schedules. It is one of my finest qualities and is a quality I am sure you will come to appreciate in time. I took the liberty, my sweet reserved one, to match our class schedules up almost exactly. The vast university campus is now but a few feet at any given time of the day that you and I are there.

Your tremendous affection for me is enough of a surety that I was not troubled in the least when I saw you ask Marcie Simmons out to dinner on that special February night. Your kindness to a girl like Marcie only endears you to me more, my love.

What is one night, albeit a night usually reserved for sweethearts, when I can see you every other night of the month?

Yes, my darling, even though you are a bit inhibited, I still take the time to see you every night, as you pull into your driveway. I sit outside and watch you to make sure you make it inside safely. Sometimes, I stay for a few minutes and I play our song to myself in my car as I watch you walk through your home, turning on lights and closing the blinds.

Don’t worry dear. Your timid ways only spur me on; caring for our love for the both of us. And, please, do not concern yourself with me when you are out with Marcie. I will happily eat my heart-shaped pancakes alone. I could never replace you, my sweet. And when your time with her is through, never fear, I will be waiting and watching as always.

Love,
Petunia

Doris's Letter

Dear Gerald,

You’re not as handsome as the man I married. Yes, I know you are the same man, but today you are not as handsome as yesterday. And yesterday you were not as handsome as the day before. Add up all the yesterdays of the last thirty years and you will see what I saw this morning.

And while we are on the topic, may I remark that you are not as thin, except on top of your head. Speaking of your hair, it has migrated everywhere but where it ought to be.

Your once taut tummy has been replaced with a bowl of raspberry jello; the surface puckled from years of good eating. And what isn’t fatter, since the day we married, is now horribly wrinkled.

Gone are the days when you felt it necessary to open the door for me when we were out. Vague memories exist of you offering to pick up your own clothes or heat up soup for me when I was sick. I am not even truly sure of the memories as they are of such a fuzzy and indeterminate nature as to be unreliable.

But, this morning when I awoke to find a tender little lily on my bedside table, a new memory was formed; clear and wonderful in its innocence.

I love you Gerald and I want to wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love, your longtime sweetheart,
Doris

Happy Valentine's Day!

Red Heart :: Black Heart Writing Contest

There were 650 submissions and 46 finalists. My love letter, Rosaline, was chosen as a finalist in the contest.

Click here if you want to see the complete list of finalists. My entry is listed as unititled.

The following is my letter to Romeo from Rosaline. Rosaline is the girl that Romeo is absolutely in love with at the beginning of Romeo and Juliet. He completely forgets all about his love for her when he sees Juliet. I've always felt bad about the way that Romeo treated her and so I wanted to give Rosaline her say.

I took a little bit of literary license but I had a ton of fun. My other two entries were more fun and light-hearted...and less dramatic than Rosaline. I may post them here as well.

My dearest Romeo,

From the very first, you were as beautiful as a God in Heaven; with features shaped from noble granite, eyes as black and fiery as smoldering coal. How could a girl, with a soul as pure as mine and a heart as willing as mine have resisted?

You kissed me and wept like an innocent baby in my embrace. The beauty of our union appeared flawlessly clear to me as I gazed in your burning wet eyes.

A dinner invitation for Mercutio brought you nearer to me at the home of Signior Capulet and when I felt you arrive, my ruby heart rejoiced, flooded with eagerness by your constancy.

Benvolio was the first to work against me. But you, my dear Romeo, stayed true; a claim of pure devout adoring worship dripping from your lovely red lips.

I saw you there across the room. You were looking for me through the wily dancers and gossiping mothers. I wanted to run to you; to have you seize me in your arms again. But your eyes were troubled. They looked elsewhere; they looked naught for me. And then I saw her. I saw your eyes lighting their fire toward her. Your religion showed to me a sham; your words false, your heart now endlessly barren toward me.

I wanted to kill you. I wished to push you in front of a stampeding cart or shoot you with my arrow as you climbed to her window to profess your heavenly love to your angel.

Even my revenge was stolen from me as your own murders and suicides have bound you together with her for eternity.

I loathe your memory and I loathe you for throwing my heart away at your first glance of her. Did my lips not welcome you? Did my body not satisfy?

My bright eyes and scarlet lips are dull and cracked now, Romeo. My heart is blistered and broken. Your son, your only child in all the worlds, now suckles at my empty soul.

Oh, Romeo…Romeo, how could your soul trespass so against mine?

With all the pieces of my broken heart,

Rosaline

Practice

I've never entered a writing contest before.

The other day I saw a contest that sounded like fun. I had seen others before on this particular site but the deadline is usually really quick and as this writer knows, I need to have time revise and rewrite many times before I can bring myself to allow others to see the piece.

Regardless of the short time frame and feeling inspired, I sat down and created three short possibilities for the Valentine's Day Contest (entries are accepted until Feb 6th in time for a final showdown on the 14th). The truth of it is that I don't care to win the contest. The prize isn't all that interesting to me and the odds will be long.

But writing little stories for contests gives me a great reason to practice. So I am revising and rewriting my little miniature babies and I hope to see one of them shape up enough to ship out. One of the themes is a letter from Rosaline's point of view. Rosaline is, of course, the girl that Romeo drops like a hot potato once he sees Juliet. So just for kicks, I put The Killers version of Romeo and Juliet up on the side.

After I choose which entry to make I will post any of my babies that are fit to be seen here.

Season of Revision

Last night I completed the first written draft for DIAC.

Now I enter a new season of revision.

Next to naming my characters, I think the revision step in the writing process is my next favorite. I take the sketch I created and I get to smooth the edges, color in the body, add depth and texture to the face.

It's also incredibly exciting to read the whole story through for the first time. I get to take the whole journey with my characters in one smooth reading.

In addition to completing the first writing step, I also renamed my story. Or rather, I reverted back to a title that is similar to the original title. So DIAC is now titled AHIP. (The original title was AHAW.) I know that the acronyms make no sense if you don't know what they stand for but AHIP, while less direct, is a more accessible title and I think my characters find it less cumbersome. We'll see how I feel about the new title after I've worked through my first revision.

Happy revising to anyone who is currently in the process.

Music

When I write, I often look for music to help direct my mood. It is a rare occasion to write in utter silence.

Music helps me to go to the emotional places that my characters need to go to. For example, I am rarely upset when I have to write about a character who is upset. I don't even know how well I could write if I were upset.

Diac is now within about four chapters of completion. This next chapter is titled Suicide. It is extremely important to hit the right notes with my characters during this scene. I need it to be perfect. In a first draft, some chapters may be allowed to be middling but some must be completely without blemish. In this chapter, Sebastian's emotions need to be spot on.

Do you write to music or do you write in silence?

Love

Do you fall in love with your characters? I do.

I love them as I write them. I love them through their flaws. I love them when they cry and I love them when they laugh.

I have three heroines now and I have enjoyed getting to know each one of them over the years that I have worked to bring them to life on the page.

My first heroine, Abigail, is shy, almost to the point of rudeness. She lacks self-confidence and the esteem to declare what is hers. I enjoyed the journey she and I took to bring her out of her shell and I squealed with delight as she claimed her life as her own. Abigail currently sits in the bottom of a drawer waiting for rewrites but someday I hope to bring her out, improve her, and let her free in the world.

My second heroine, Emmalina, is witty and hardworking. She steps into an unfamiliar world and just takes the bull by the horns. I enjoyed writing her tenacity and grit. She has flaws but she just muscles by the obstacles that are thrown in her way, flaws or no. Emmalina currently sits on my desk, begging to be let loose in the world, eager for the adventure.

My third heroine, E.S.A, is confused and frustrated. She is the first heroine that I have written in first person. I love it! It is a different experience to write through her eyes rather than looking down on her from above. I’ve been able to bring her through the confusion and frustration into a feeling of peace and calmness. Her new found feelings will be put to the test as I finish writing the last third of the story. An old nemesis returns to raise a little hell, perhaps literally, and she deals with heartbreak as she works alongside her lovely, self-destructive brother, Sebastian.

I love all my characters, even the naughty ones.

Do you fall in love with your characters too?

Agent Perspective

I thought it would be interesting to think about what agents probably hear from us nutty, creative writers as we try to hock our wares in the marketplace. How would you answer the following question?

Agent: Why should I represent your work to a publisher?

Fern: My grandma likes it.

Agent: Would your grandmother like anything you wrote?

Fern: Of course. She is my grandma.

Agent: Right.

Agent: Why should I represent your work to a publisher?

Jayne: When you say work, do you mean, like, my idea? Because my idea is original. I own it.

Agent: Can you tell me about your work?

Jayne: It’s awesome, like, literally the best story ever. I mean, it’s all in my head right now. I’ll just jot the story down after I get my advance. I mean, you don’t expect me to produce anything without a little something-something to inspire my creativity, do you?

Agent: I don’t know if I expect you to produce anything.

Jayne: No something- something?

Agent: No.

Agent: Why should I represent your work to a publisher?

Jessica: My high school reunion is coming up and I really ought to have something to show for that last decade.

Agent: So, is it a memoir?

Jessica: A mem-what?

Agent: Okay.

Agent: Why should I represent your work to a publisher?

Finley: I’d like to be a secret agent.

Agent: Oh?

Finley: Yes, I was at this party once and someone mentioned that a great agent cover story is to be an aspiring writer. No one ever asks follow-up questions of aspiring writers.

Agent: Oh. So, then why are you here and not in service?

Finely: Well, I tried the secret agent agency and they turned me down. So, I thought, maybe, that I could at least pretend to be a secret agent when I am at parties by telling people that I am an aspiring writer.

Agent: Uh-huh.

Agent: Why should I represent you work to a publisher?

Travis: I write good.

Agent: Do you mean that you write well?

Travis: No, I write good.

Agent: All right.

Agent: Why should I represent your work to a publisher?

Trina: My boyfriend broke up with me last year. He said he needed space. But, it’s been a whole year. How much space does he need? So, I thought, I’ll just write a bestseller, make gobs of money, he’ll come crawling back on his bruised knees, I’ll take him back, dump him to show him that I mean business, then I’ll take him back for good and we’ll live in our McMansion and make two perfect children, Bobby and Susie.

Agent: Wow. That is a plan, isn’t it?

Trina: Or, I won’t take him back the second time and when Oprah has me on her show to talk about my life-changing bestseller, I will denounce him as a loser. She’ll laugh, of course, we’ll push Gayle aside, and Oprah and I will live in my McMansion, have two dogs that we will refer to as our children, named Bobbie and Susie. I’m okay with either scenario. So, are you going to represent my work?

Agent: I’m sorry. What was your work called again?

Trina: The Girlfriends Guide to Life Planning. I feel so sorry for all the women in the world who wander around with no clue.

Agent: Do you? How ironic.

Trina: My book?

Agent: I’ll get back to you. If you haven’t heard from me in six weeks, know that I loved it, think you will be a wonderful writer one day, blah, blah, blah, but your work is probably better suited for a more talented agent than me, blah, blah, blah.