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.

Holiday

I’ve just returned from a self-imposed, scheduled holiday from writing. Having written one full novel already this year, it seemed a little too extravagant and gaudy to complete a second full novel in the same calendar year.

People might think that I neglect my children for my passion. They might guess that my kitchen table is sticky while my computer keyboard is hot. No. No use in being the eager beaver.

So, what did I do during my self-scheduled denial? For starters, I cleaned the sticky table. Then I read a dozen novels, attended a dozen parties, and cheated a dozen times by secretly writing a little here and there while my family slumbered in their beds.

I should probably not admit to the last. After all, for an unpublished author, such as I, with two completed novels and a third well on its way, I ought to at least pretend to enjoy not writing. It is in bad taste to be so devoted to my projects when I have yet to get anyone but my loved ones to care about them. There is an air of wastefulness to that kind of productivity.

However, if I was a published author, these little jaunts into writing holidays could be construed as laziness or worse, a loss of creative vision by the author.

Whatever the status of this novelist, with the new year, I am happy to say that I am ready to get back to my industrious writing schedule of five days a week.