Tag Archives: writing

February 23, 2010 · 2:57 pm

The Thrill of Victory

I couldn’t let the Olympics go by without mention. It was easy to think of an angle that related to the topic of writing, how athletes (like authors) have to train so hard (engage in the discipline of writing), develop their skills (learn their craft), work as a team (find critique partners, join Agent Query Connect), get a coach (attract a literary agent), and then face the reality that there are only three medals to go around (many more authors than publishing opportunities). That they’d better love what they do for the sake of doing it, because most will never achieve a significant victory. But what I really want to talk about is those shoes that the curlers wear.

First of all, Curling? It’s only been an Olympic event since 1998, but somehow has recently garnered more evening air time than all the other events combined. Or at least it seems like it! My older son and I have watched, trying to discern the rules of the game. We find it oddly fascinating, yet restful, sort of like watching bowling or golf. Maybe that’s why they have it on so late, so that people can just drop off to sleep.

Wanting to know more about the sport, I googled it, and came across a fabulously in-depth post on Wikipedia.com: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curling which lists everything you might ever want to know about it, including where it originated. (Scotland! And I had assumed Canada.) 

But back to those shoes. Every winter when I was little, I had a pair of cheap winter boots that were great for sliding on the ice. Each year, the first thing I usually did in my new boots was to test their sliding factor. Did they keep me from slipping, yet allow me the luxury of a good long slide when I was in the mood? As I’ve aged, the quality of my boots has gotten better, but I miss being able to slide so easily.

According to the Wikipedia article, the curlers’ shoes actually have teflon on them! I was wondering how the curlers keep from falling, but now know that one of the shoes has a textured surface, and the “slider” shoe has a textured cover that slips over it for better traction. For those who cannot afford a pair of official slider shoes, electrical tape on the bottom a tennis shoe may be utilized.

I’m going to try it.

a

P.S. Doesn’t China having a curling team make you think of those Jamaican bobsledders?”


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February 18, 2010 · 2:03 pm

I Cannot Tell a Lie

George Washington was born on February 11, 1731. Until 1752. Then he was born on February 22, 1732, because Britain abandoned the Julian calendar in favor of the Gregorian*. (No wonder he was annoyed with them.)

For many years, the United States celebrated our first president’s birthday on February 22nd, but eventually the public tired of celebrating both Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays in the same month (Lincoln’s is February 12th). In 1968, Congress combined the two in a happy compromise by having President’s Day fall somewhere in between, on the third Monday in February.

In honor of that day, school children still learn the story of George Washington and the cherry tree. For those of you who didn’t, young George received an axe for his birthday and went into the yard to play. Later that afternoon, his father discovered that their most prolific cherry tree had been chopped down, and inquired as to the culprit. George, caught red handed, said wisely, “Father, I cannot tell a lie. I did it.”

In the spirit that George might have replied differently if he’d been quick enough to think of something, I am posting a game that I got from my AQ friend, Cat Woods. [Link to her blog post with the same title: http://catwoods.wordpress.com/2010/02/13/i-cannot-tell-a-lie/]

In this game, the author lists two truths and a lie, and the readers guess which is the lie. All of mine have a patriotic theme. Sort of.

1. I used to have a parakeet that figured out how to escape his cage, and my cat ate him while I was at a Fourth of July carnival.

2. When we were young, several of my siblings and I dressed up our little sister as Uncle Sam, put her on top of the newel post in the front hall and left her there.

3. I once was driving my car and a firework shot through the open window and caught the back seat on fire.

Can you tell the lie? Make some guesses in the comments, and I will post the answer on Monday.

*http://www.archives.gov/legislative/features/washington/

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February 9, 2010 · 12:30 am

Great Expectations

When my sons were very little, both of them had an allergy to cow’s milk. We were assured that they would outgrow it, and they eventually did, but for a while we lived in solidarity, milk free. I frequently told my husband that the first thing I wanted to eat when we could have milk again was a pizza, dripping with cheese.

The night we finally ordered it, I was almost salivating when it arrived. Biting into it, I have never been more disappointed in my life. It wasn’t bad, but not anywhere near as good as I remembered. I recall questioning why people even ate pizza.

A few years earlier, when my husband and I were still living in Arizona, we were invited to my in-laws’ for dinner one evening. All that my mother-in-law, Arlene, wanted to talk about was an upcoming Barry Manilow concert. It was basically going to be a dry run for his soon-to-premiere Las Vegas show, and she didn’t want to miss it.

Coincidentally, that afternoon I had heard about a radio contest for tickets to that very show. Only half-joking, I said that I would win her a pair. The next day, when the D.J. announced the contest, I picked up the phone and started dialing. Miraculously, I did win the tickets and excitedly called Arlene to tell her what a wonderful daughter-in-law I was.

Much to my chagrin, she had already gone out and purchased a pair. Not only that, but her tickets were directly opposite mine, in exactly the same row; I couldn’t even offer her better seats. To make matters worse, she became enamored of the idea that my husband and I would be able to join them.

I’ve never had anything against Barry Manilow, but this was not my idea of a good time. My mother-in-law tends to be rather pushy tenacious, though, and I knew that we were doomed. On the evening of the concert, I put a book in my purse to keep from getting bored, and we got into the backseat of my father-in-law’s Crown Victoria. My husband assumed a philosophical stance, but I was seriously dreading two straight hours of Muzak.

At the Convention Center, we took our respective seats and my mother-in-law waved at us from the other side of the auditorium. I pulled out my book, concerned that the lighting wouldn’t be adequate after the show started.

It wasn’t. But after about ten seconds, I didn’t care. The concert was GREAT!!! From the moment that Barry took the stage until the confetti cannons exploded during the finale, I had the best time I’ve ever had at a concert, and I’ve seen The Rolling Stones. That man can put on a show!

With that in mind, before I sent out my first query letter, I decided that instead of hoping for a spot on the New York Times Bestseller List, I would be happy to net $10,000. Then I learned a few things about the publishing world, realized even that was overly optimistic, and adjusted my hopes to $2,000. Since then, I’ve gone from assuming I’d be published to just hoping for responses to my queries. 

It all boils down to expectations. Mine were way too high for the pizza, and unwittingly low for Barry Manilow. I have eaten plenty of pizzas since, and have realized that I enjoy them much more when I am not anticipating unattainable greatness. It just depends on how you look at things.

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February 5, 2010 · 1:09 pm

The Sound of Music

I used to take voice lessons. Working for a few years between high school and college, I had been looking for something new to do. I have always liked to sing, I enjoy performing and I can carry a tune, so it seemed like a good fit. It turned out that the lessons were fun, but the practicing wasn’t, so I never went beyond the realm of teacher recitals.

At the recitals, I would get to meet my teacher’s other students, who ranged in age from 14 to 65. The younger ones were mostly on track to become college voice majors, the elder folk pursuing unfulfilled dreams.

These recitals took place every six months. The teenagers came and went, but the older crowd stayed pretty much the same. Two that always stood out were an aging Irish tenor with stage fright, and a nun with thick red hair and glasses, who had a non-nun identical twin that came to hear her Sister sing.

The nun was my ace in the hole. Although when I was at home in the shower, I secretly felt that I could blow them all away with my wonderful voice, my main (and much more realistic) concern at the recital was of not being the worst. I had a theory that no one would remember my potentially lame performance if someone else’s was less pleasing. The problem in determining that was that it is very hard to judge how you sound when you are the one singing. Listening to the others, I was never positive that any of them was worse than I until the nun took the stage. A sour note always sticks out, and she had those aplenty.

Writing is like singing in the shower. Privately I think I’m decent, but when I am online and see what other pre-published authors are writing, I am never sure how mine compares. Everyone thinks that theirs is good. Some of them are right, but what about me?

I have seen published works that I know are worse than my stuff, and that gives me hope. I may not be the best, but I certainly am not the worst. I also have a new theory: If you like to write, do it, but don’t give up your day job until it sells.

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February 4, 2010 · 12:12 pm

Finding the Right Word

One problem that authors sometimes face is not being in the mood to write. Sometimes, you just need to clear the mental carburetors, and goofing off helps.  I indulged in a little procrastination yesterday, and today am feeling much more motivated.

As a public service, I’ve created a word find for other writers who find themselves in need of a little distraction. There are 24 words, things that all authors need, and are forwards, backwards, diagonal, horizontal and vertical.
a
There are no prizes, it’s just a time waster. Have fun!

a 
Q U E R Y L N F C V B G R A M M A R K A T
E R E U E A P X E P E U J G E V W O R Q I
H O O K B P L C G E N R E J X O P H E C P
S T P I L T Z R W R D J I L O C Y T P O I
B I T H O O Q I R S I B P E I A I U Y N R
R D I Q G P A T I E N C E D H B G A R N W
E E M W X G R I T V U Y G C Q U Z E X E M
V L I N M K M Q I E P A O S K L D K N C O
D I S A V V Y U N R L R U A Z A Y G R T T
A O M L Y U D E G E G O K E E R D V H F S
E T H I C K S K I N S A S R Y Y B L P V O
W P J P W O P R O C R A S T I N A T I O N
B Y K Z Q P T C R E A T I V I T Y X T Q P

a
QUERY

HOOK

PATIENCE

WRITING

EGO

LAPTOP

FEEDBACK

THICKSKIN

CREATIVITY

PERSEVERENCE

OPTIMISM

AUTHOR         

CRITIQUE

PROCRASTINATION

VOCABULARY

GRAMMAR

AGENT

EDITOR

READER

BLOG

AQCONNECT 

SAVVY

ADVERBS

GENRE

P.S. I had to make my blog roll invisible so that the grid wouldn’t be obscured. It will be back tomorrow.

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February 2, 2010 · 10:10 am

Say What?

There has been much hype regarding the premiere of the final season of LOST, including a rumor that the White House actually changed the date of the State of the Union address so that people wouldn’t gripe about missing their favorite show.

I, for one, remain unmoved. I was game to watch the first season, willingly suspending disbelief as an unseen growly monster menaced the survivors, satisfied with glimpses into the characters’ pasts to explain their occasionally unlikely reactions. After awhile, though, the writers began asking just too much from me in that department, and I lost patience with the whole thing.

Frankly, if there is one thing that I cannot stand when watching a show or reading, it is preposterousness.

Yes, it’s a word:

preposterous |priˈpäst(ə)rəs|

adjective

contrary to reason or common sense; utterly absurd or ridiculous : a preposterous suggestion. See note at absurd .

DERIVATIVES

preposterously |priˈpɑst(ə)rəsli| |prəˈpɑst(ə)rəsli| adverb

preposterousness |priˈpɑst(ə)rəsnəs| |prəˈpɑst(ə)rəsnəs| noun

(The New Oxford American Dictionary)

Suspended disbelief is a standard requirement when reading fiction or watching a show, but more and more, it seems that writers are taking advantage of it. In their quest to create something edgy, they push the envelope into absurdity.

Inauthentic dialogue tops the list. Nothing is more annoying than having a character say things that no one would ever really say, or when a character speaks on and on without even an “um hmmmm,” from whomever is being spoken to. When what a character says is just absurd, the story loses its credibility and I no longer care about what happens. 

I also hate it when characters do things that no one would really do, or when a plot twist takes an unbelievable stretch. I was just watching a show last evening where a woman was opening her own beauty shop and kept getting hit with fines. That is certainly a plausible situation. My objection was to the fact that this was supposed to be a pseudo realistic portrayal (however clichéd) and the fines were for very silly things that no one would ever really be fined for. That was a channel changer.

The main component necessary to hook the reader/viewer is empathy. The development of this rests largely in the plausibility of a character’s reactions and responses. How can the reader/viewer hang in there when those responses are absurd? Even when, and perhaps especially if, a character is thrust into a magical world, their reactions need to seem authentic to sustain the reader/viewer’s willingness to go along with the plot. As far as I’m concerned, LOST lost that in the first season. 

This Tuesday night, instead of feeling vexed by LOST, I plan to drink a cup of lemon tea and nibble on a square of dark chocolate while I work on the next chapter of my work in progress. Which will involve psychologically plausible responses by all characters, no matter how unlikely the situations they find themselves in.

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January 29, 2010 · 3:15 pm

Once Upon a Time…

Pitch Fest at CJLA Update:

The agents are critiquing them today. So far, the agent is halfway through the second page and all but two have been (tactfully) rejected. Mine is on page four… I’ll let you know how things went on Monday.

 

Last week on Agent Query Connect http://agentquery.leveragesoftware.com/mypage.aspx there was a casual contest for members to write the best first paragraph of a brand new story. There was no prize other than personal satisfaction. Members were on the honor system to vote only once, and not for themselves.

This week, the contest has been extended to use that first paragraph as a springboard and write a whole first page. My paragraph didn’t even place in last week’s contest, but it’s really just for fun, so I’m going for page one.

What I wrote is not very exciting, because I’m fairly sure there’s going to be a ‘first chapter’ contest next time, and I like to pounce on the reader when they least expect it…

The first one to arrive at the dinner table, Matt sat down and picked up his fork. Mom was over by the stove transferring food from the pans to serving bowls, but he saw that the jello was already set out. Hungry, he snuck a peek to make sure that his mother’s back was still turned and then reached over to scoop up a forkful. Just before he popped it into his mouth, he noticed little squiggly brown things on the top.

“What’s in this jello?” he squawked.

“Oatmeal,” replied his mother. “I’m on a diet.”

Matt groaned. “Cholesterol?”

“See how much you’re learning?” she teased with a smile.

Charlie and Katie walked into the room and pulled out their chairs.

“Where’s Dad?” asked Charlie as their mother brought the food to the table.

“Working,” said Mrs. Smith, no longer smiling.

Matt looked at her with a frown. Dad had been working late a lot lately, and his mother didn’t seem too happy about it.

“What’s wrong with the jello?” Charlie was peering at the brown blobs.

Matt wasn’t feeling too happy, now himself. “It’s oatmeal. Shut up and eat.” He stabbed his fork at a lima bean and it shot off the plate onto the tablecloth.

His mother looked up. “Everything okay, Matt?”

“I don’t know. Is it?” he asked.

His mother frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. Why is Dad working late all the time now?”

“Count your blessings he’s working at all, in this economy.”

Seven-year-old Katie looked over at her big brother. “You sure are grumpy,” she said.

Matt made a face at her and took a bite of his meatloaf.

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January 28, 2010 · 12:57 pm

Pitch Contest at CJLA – Check It Out!

The Caren Johnson Literary Agency is holding an open Pitch Fest today.

They are looking for romance (urban fantasy, contemporary and historical), YA (contemporary and paranormal) and women’s fiction [Caren] and middle-grade and YA novels and series [Elana].

The pitch needs to be under 100 words, and submitted between 12:00 am and 11:59 pm. 

Check out the details at: http://www.johnsonliterary.com/blog/2010/1/25/pitchfest-details-and-instructions.html


Here’s mine:

When Brian finds a box in the attic containing old newspaper clippings and a signet ring just like his grandfather’s, he realizes he’s stumbled across the family secret: Jack. Although Grandpa Jim has good reason to forget his identical twin, the past will continue to haunt him unless Brian can uncover what really happened.

JIM AND JACK is a YA contemporary with a historical twist and a splash of romance, the completed first novel in an outlined series of History Mysteries.

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January 27, 2010 · 2:10 pm

Clay Pots


Although we’ve been back in the midwest for well over a decade, my husband and I lived for several years in Tucson, Arizona. In that state, there are twenty-one federally recognized tribes of Native Americans. Some are famous, such as the Navajo, Apache and Hopi, and some are less familiar, like the Paiute, Pima, Tohono O’odham and the Cocopah. Many are known for their ceramics, baskets and silver jewelry, but the Pueblo Indians are particularly renowned for their distinctive earthenware pots.

Traditionally made by crushing shards of old pottery and mixing them with freshly dug clay, a long roll is coiled to form a new pot. The ridges are flattened to create a smooth wall, and then a slip of pigment is washed over it. After being polished, paint is applied and the pot is fired in a backyard oven. Some pots crack in the heat, but when well crafted, many end up in the homes of collectors.

This, to me, is a lot like writing a novel. Each author begins with knowledge gleaned from years of school and personal experiences, combined with a new idea. Coiling words into a rough vessel, the writer smoothes the first draft into shape, polishing by going over it again and again to find extraneous words, vague descriptions, inauthentic dialogue and typos. The final touches are added, and then it is on to the fire of rejection by agents and publishers. Many won’t make it, but if well crafted, some have a chance.

Of course, then the author has to develop a web presence, spend their advance on a marketing campaign and create a book trailer, but that’s another post. 😉

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January 26, 2010 · 4:49 pm

It Was the Worst of Times

One goal of the modern writer is to use as few words as possible to say what one means.  Now, while I like a straightforward read, it does make me wonder how much exercise my brain is getting when I read what the modern writer has written!

Back when Dickens wrote A Tale of Two Cities, it was just a normal book. Dickens was famous for his popularity with the masses, and this was the sort of thing that the masses were reading.

Much to my dismay, my book group decided to read A Tale of Two Cities a few years ago. I had read it in eleventh grade — well, I shouldn’t say that I read it, because I never actually sat down with the book except in class. I had a little habit of never doing any assigned reading. The class read it, though, and I got to participate in the discussion. Although I was able to discern enough of the plot to pass the test, nothing of the experience inspired me to read it.

I had no more interest in reading it for book group than I’d had for English Lit. Being an adult, however, I felt that I should probably do it anyway, so I got it from the library and forced myself to read.

I had to read about fifty pages before I got to the point where I was reading automatically instead of reading each sentence and then re-reading it to get the right flow. Once I did, though, it really started to be a good little book! As I read, things from the class discussions filtered into my consciousness, Madame DeFarge, the symbolism, Sydney Carton’s ultimate sacrifice. I expended more intellectual effort than I typically do when reading, but afterward, I felt as sharp as a certain pair of knitting needles.

When I was in fifth grade, I discovered my first Nancy Drew book in the school library, The Secret of the Wooden Lady. After I’d devoured it, I asked the librarian where I could find more of them, and was told that it was a fluke it was there at all. Nancy Drew books weren’t literature, and if a book didn’t enlighten the reader in some way, it didn’t belong on the shelves.

Over the years, that notion has gone the way of all things in education, and now it’s impossible to go into the children’s section of a library without having to wade through aisles of series (most of which, by the way, can’t even aspire to the caliber of Nancy Drew).

The well-intentioned theory behind the shift was that kids should read more, and they would be more likely to read things that were simplistic and entertaining. When those books started flying off the shelves, librarians (and publishers?) forgot all about edifying the reader. Now Junie B. Jones and The Magic Tree House rule the library while The Pushcart War and The Wolves of Willoughby Chase are sitting in landfills*.

In eleventh grade, I would have gladly subscribed to the current viewpoint; maybe I would even have read an assignment or two, but is it really a far, far better thing that the masses are predominantly reading commercial fiction?

* See my post, “You Can’t Tell a Book by Its Cover.” 😉

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