So, you know how when you start a story and you pick your POV? You settle comfortably (or realize half-way through draft one that you're in the wrong one) and that is that. Sometimes you might have a multiple POV or alternating POVs.
What about tense? Sure, there's present, past and future tense and they all have their place in writing. I for one, am sick of novels that give me the prologue/intro in past tense and then dunk me into present tense for the rest of the book (especially in first person). The sensation is very similar to being doused in cold water. Shock. It's a difficult tense/POV combo to do well and without it sounding intrusive or repetitive. There are maybe three authors I've read where I didn't even realize they'd done it until it was pointed out.
That's how how well it was done. A POV/tense combo should be a backdrop. It shouldn't get in the way of the story your telling, but be the tapestry into which the story is woven. If it stands out, people are going to notice. This is one of those fundamental issues you'll probably hurdle early on in your writing.
But what about more delicate matters of tense? That's right, I'm going to talk about intentionally switching tense in a story for effect.
I had a writing professor in college who saw that I had done this very thing, noted it and told me to keep doing it. It's something you may have to fight a bit over, and it has to be used sparingly. But tense is something that can really showcase a narrator, other characters, settings, etc.
For Example:
The castle's gloom stretched across the valley.
The castle's gloom stretches across the valley.
The castle's gloom will always stretch across the valley.
So, in past tense this implies that perhaps this gloom is gone. Present tense implies it's a constant, something that is and always will be. Future tense also gives this implication, though using more words and has a bit more clarification for a reader who may be briefly confused by a tense change.
That said, they might not be at all.
This works for character traits as well.
My sister might be the most frustrating person I knew, but I wasn’t
about to leave her alone in a graveyard crying.
My sister might be the most frustrating person I know, but I wasn’t
about to leave her alone in a graveyard crying.
See that? Knew becomes Know and now the reader gets the feeling that this is state of permanence. It lends something the voice of the character. A bit of world-weariness even. Know has more impact that Knew in this context. Technically, yes, you are switching tense within the sentence, but this is also first person. A narrator's voice may not always be perfectly grammatically correct.
A narrator's voice may not always be perfectly grammatically correct.
I thought that needed to be repeated. In all, changing tenses is a tool that you can use when shaping your narrative. Use it well, and sparingly, and you can deepen the reader's understanding of your characters, settings, and themes.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Monday, March 20, 2017
Solo VS. Series
I have a brain for sequential fiction. It's my curse. I write a story, and then I see exactly where those characters are going next the minute I write the end. Now, not everyone thinks this way. There's nothing wrong with that. I like a good stand-alone novel. But...I also adore a well written series. It's limits the number of authors I'm exposed to though, I admit it. A series is an investment, you don't want to get three books in and discover the author isn't what you expected.
Or worse, that the a subplot you were invested in doesn't pan out in any way. Or that the ending is awful. It can be utterly disappointing to see a lackluster ending to a series you love.
So as a writer and a reader, I never want my own readers to go through that. I want them to be satisfied at the end of the arc.
You've most likely seen this diagram before.
This is generally referred to as "Freytag's Pyramid" and is the most commonly accepted diagram for a story arc. Any kind of story. Short stories, novellas, novels, etc. Now, with a stand alone novel, this diagram (along with it's variations and genre specific versions) is usually all you need to plot with.
Now this is a trilogy. So you have the individual pyramids inside an arc. This is how your plot details are going to be worked in. Your arc should terminate when the last book does (as illustrated). Every book is going to share in the arc. So no matter how many novels make up the arc, you'll always finish in the same place.
You should also note that the arc is taller than the pyramids. See, only a little bit of information to tease the overall arc should be included in book one. It's a subplot, not the main plot. You need to be focused on the main plot while carefully asking questions that lead into your main arc. Book two will require more of the subplot. You need to make sure that the latter half of this book involves the series arc in a more meaningful way so that it all ties into the final book. The final book won't be be a plot within the series arc, it's going to be the series arc. Sort of in miniature. It'll recall things from each proceeding novel and then pull you into that plot you've been teasing of the past books and bring it to conclusion.
I generally know the finale of the series by the time I've finished the first draft of the first book. It's important to at least have an idea of where you're going. Sure, you can (and there are many an author that has) jump from stand-alone to series after publication.
But if your already thinking about what's going to happen in books two, three and four while writing book one? You might be a sequential author. That's when things like Series Bibles come in handy. There's a lot of organizing, plotting, planning, and timelining that goes into writing a series. It's always better to do that work at the front end, rather than have to go back in later and do it after you've written three novels with no end in sight.
It might seem like a lot of work, but it's definitely worth it. Obviously, there's no iron clad "right way" but I can tell you that this preliminary work makes my life a lot easier.
Or worse, that the a subplot you were invested in doesn't pan out in any way. Or that the ending is awful. It can be utterly disappointing to see a lackluster ending to a series you love.
So as a writer and a reader, I never want my own readers to go through that. I want them to be satisfied at the end of the arc.
You've most likely seen this diagram before.
This is generally referred to as "Freytag's Pyramid" and is the most commonly accepted diagram for a story arc. Any kind of story. Short stories, novellas, novels, etc. Now, with a stand alone novel, this diagram (along with it's variations and genre specific versions) is usually all you need to plot with.
You should also note that the arc is taller than the pyramids. See, only a little bit of information to tease the overall arc should be included in book one. It's a subplot, not the main plot. You need to be focused on the main plot while carefully asking questions that lead into your main arc. Book two will require more of the subplot. You need to make sure that the latter half of this book involves the series arc in a more meaningful way so that it all ties into the final book. The final book won't be be a plot within the series arc, it's going to be the series arc. Sort of in miniature. It'll recall things from each proceeding novel and then pull you into that plot you've been teasing of the past books and bring it to conclusion.
I generally know the finale of the series by the time I've finished the first draft of the first book. It's important to at least have an idea of where you're going. Sure, you can (and there are many an author that has) jump from stand-alone to series after publication.
But if your already thinking about what's going to happen in books two, three and four while writing book one? You might be a sequential author. That's when things like Series Bibles come in handy. There's a lot of organizing, plotting, planning, and timelining that goes into writing a series. It's always better to do that work at the front end, rather than have to go back in later and do it after you've written three novels with no end in sight.
It might seem like a lot of work, but it's definitely worth it. Obviously, there's no iron clad "right way" but I can tell you that this preliminary work makes my life a lot easier.
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Show and Tell
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the first piece of writing advice most of us have ever gotten was that grand chestnut, "Show, don't tell." It's repeated in near constant refrain and here's the thing: It's only half-right.
This particular piece of advice crops up for two reasons. One, it's an easy shorthand for describing a pretty common problem and two, it's easy to remember.
But writing is not that simple. The advice is well-intentioned, but it has an inherent flaw. That is, that one is always supposed to show and never tell. And that's simply not true. There is a balancing act between show and tell. Show too much and prose drags, your pacing slows and readers can get...bored. Tell too much and the story move too fast, there's nothing there to stick to the ribs.
You can't take the advice as gospel but merely as a reminder to be more conscious. There is a time for you to show the moonlight streaming through the window and a time for you to say, the moon is full. (80% of the time I see people touting this bit of advice, they use that "moon glinting" quote. Like...all the time.)
Different genres have different linguistic styles. Different authors will have different styles within those genres. I write MG differently from YA and Adult and I certainly write historical differently from contemporary.
There's another term you may have heard through the years, purple prose. This is, in my opinion, showing gone wild. It's elaborate, extravagant, over the top. It's taking a page and a half to describe a picnic table before finally telling me that the table is on fire. It's saying a thousand things, burying the really important things in the morass of your descriptions.
When description begins to interfere with pacing, you know there's a problem and when your pacing is moving too quickly, you know you have room for description.
I know that seems ridiculously simplistic, but it is that simple. So here it is again.
If the pace of your story is moving too quickly, you need to add description.
If the pace of your story is moving too slowly, you need to cut description.
Or, to put it another way.
If the story is moving too fast, stop and show.
If the story is moving too slow, start telling.
That's it. That's the big secret. You know what else can speed up or slow down a story? Dialogue. But it still comes down to how you're writing that dialogue. Is it descriptive or is it pointed? Is it between two people or six? Complex ideas, complex sentences, they slow down the reader. Short sentences are fast.
And it all goes back to show vs. tell. This craft of ours has a thousand nuances. You can learn every rule, every word and piece of punctuation and you still won't have mastered the craft. Because the greater part of mastering this craft is finding your voice. Voice is a mixture of show and tell. It's your personal recipe of mannerisms and broken rules, how you show and how you tell that combines to create your voice.
Finding that balance, that recipe, is hard. It can be even harder when you're being torn in a thousand directions. When you're being told that there is the one true way and your way doesn't match. There is no one true way to write. There are elements. There are rules. And you have to decide if you're going to incorporate them, follow them--or not. Keep writing. Find your own way. Find your way.
Show and tell.
This particular piece of advice crops up for two reasons. One, it's an easy shorthand for describing a pretty common problem and two, it's easy to remember.
But writing is not that simple. The advice is well-intentioned, but it has an inherent flaw. That is, that one is always supposed to show and never tell. And that's simply not true. There is a balancing act between show and tell. Show too much and prose drags, your pacing slows and readers can get...bored. Tell too much and the story move too fast, there's nothing there to stick to the ribs.
You can't take the advice as gospel but merely as a reminder to be more conscious. There is a time for you to show the moonlight streaming through the window and a time for you to say, the moon is full. (80% of the time I see people touting this bit of advice, they use that "moon glinting" quote. Like...all the time.)
Different genres have different linguistic styles. Different authors will have different styles within those genres. I write MG differently from YA and Adult and I certainly write historical differently from contemporary.
There's another term you may have heard through the years, purple prose. This is, in my opinion, showing gone wild. It's elaborate, extravagant, over the top. It's taking a page and a half to describe a picnic table before finally telling me that the table is on fire. It's saying a thousand things, burying the really important things in the morass of your descriptions.
When description begins to interfere with pacing, you know there's a problem and when your pacing is moving too quickly, you know you have room for description.
I know that seems ridiculously simplistic, but it is that simple. So here it is again.
If the pace of your story is moving too quickly, you need to add description.
If the pace of your story is moving too slowly, you need to cut description.
Or, to put it another way.
If the story is moving too fast, stop and show.
If the story is moving too slow, start telling.
That's it. That's the big secret. You know what else can speed up or slow down a story? Dialogue. But it still comes down to how you're writing that dialogue. Is it descriptive or is it pointed? Is it between two people or six? Complex ideas, complex sentences, they slow down the reader. Short sentences are fast.
And it all goes back to show vs. tell. This craft of ours has a thousand nuances. You can learn every rule, every word and piece of punctuation and you still won't have mastered the craft. Because the greater part of mastering this craft is finding your voice. Voice is a mixture of show and tell. It's your personal recipe of mannerisms and broken rules, how you show and how you tell that combines to create your voice.
Finding that balance, that recipe, is hard. It can be even harder when you're being torn in a thousand directions. When you're being told that there is the one true way and your way doesn't match. There is no one true way to write. There are elements. There are rules. And you have to decide if you're going to incorporate them, follow them--or not. Keep writing. Find your own way. Find your way.
Show and tell.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Don't Throw It Away
So I was digging through some old files and came across some of the earliest words I ever wrote for a novel. I'm not going to share that one, because...reasons. But I am going to share with you the opening of the second novel I ever finished (At sixteen). Because I rewrote this one recently. That's write, I dug out a decades old novel and rewrote it. And I'm pretty happy I did. So, without further ado, one of the earliest examples of my writing.
Version One
It was dark by the time she came home. She snuck in through her bedroom window. Her feet had just touched the floor when the lights came on. Bringing her face to face with her angry mother. She looked around for an escape route but the only way out was through her window, and she doubted she could get out and down, before she was pulled back in. "Hi mom. Been up long?"
"Don't 'Hi mom' me! Where have you been? I've been up all night worrying! You are in so much trouble! This goes beyond grounding. I can’t believe you! Every night this week! I thought that you would have known better than this! First, you've been expelled from every school I've ever put you in. You spend most of your time away doing who knows what. Then you dare to break curfew. This is exactly why I'm sending you to private school.” Gwen eyes bugged out as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard.
"What!? I can't go to private school! They brainwash you and make you into little robots that act all snobby and not only that but, I'll look stupid. They'll make me wear a uniform and...eww."
"Not just any school. Darkcastle Boarding School for Troubled Youth. Besides you should have thought about that before you blew up the gym."
"I didn't blow up the gym. The moron, who decided to explain how dynamite works set up right next to my display about fire, blew up the gym."
"Yes but you lit the fuse."
"Not on purpose. I thought it was my candle! I was only expelled because the principal hated me so much!” she said trying to recover the upper hand. “ Anyway isn't Darkcastle in Europe?"
"Yes. But that's not important. They've accepted you on the reasoning that your uncle went there."
"Which one?"
"You have to ask?” she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It was your uncle Eric." Ah yes the good for nothing uncle Eric who lived in Europe and apparently had no job.* At least he got away from my psycho mother she thought bitterly.* Her mother plowed ahead, ignoring her daughter’s look of chagrin." Besides, since he lives over there you can live with him while on break or you can stay at the school that is up to you. You'll come home for the summer, of course, but I can't afford for you to come back during the holidays this year, so I'll just send you your gifts."* I can't believe this. She's planning the rest of my school career for me she thought angrily.*
"Don't I get a say in this!?"
"No. You have a day to pack. Meaning tomorrow. Then the next day you leave."
"You couldn't have told me earlier? I won't have time!"
"Oh don't worry. Anyway, I didn’t want you running off. You just have to pack clothes and a few personal items. They provide everything else. Food, uniforms, soap. The essentials. Don't worry about it." *Oh my God. She was really gonna send me away she thought.* "The travel buddy I got for you has your ticket so you can't tear it to pieces or whatever. Now get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow." She left the room and turned off the light, leaving the girl in the dark. Gwen flopped onto the bed and fell asleep.
_____________________________________________________________
So...you can see that I hadn't quite grasped "craft" at this stage. But that's okay, I was sixteen. I didn't have anyone who could provide feedback on my work. I didn't want to show it to my parents, or my teachers and at that particular moment I wasn't speaking to my friends so...yeah.
But, I kept coming back to the ideas I presented in the book. Because some of them were good. There were, as they say, good bones. So I tore it apart and came back at it once in college, and then again more recently. And that scene above? It's still in the book actually. Sort of. It's no longer chapter one, it's not the opening and my craft has been refined to some degree. So for comparison's sake, the newest version of that scene.
Chapter Three: Run
Astrid
The lawn was damp with morning dew before the sun had risen. I could feel the cold of it against the flesh of my bare feet as I made my way back to the house. It was sandwiched between two other homes; to which it was indistinguishably different. A cookie cutter home in a bushel of cookie cutter homes. A testament to the ingenuity of the American city planner. I crept across the dampened lawn like a thief, silent as I could be. The second story’s left hand window was still cracked ever-so slightly, just as I had left it. My hands met the twining greenery of the ivy trellis as I pulled my way up the side and towards the window.
My legs were already protesting as I had made my way across the lawn, and now they screamed at me. I could feel one of the muscles coil and tighten beneath my flesh, cramping. I gasped, letting a little hiss of air escape as I tried not to make too much noise and wake my guardian. I reached down and massaged the leg as best I could and pulled myself up the rest of the way to the window. Fingers slid under the metal pushing the window up far enough to enter.
My fingers were followed by my hands and arms as I pulled myself into the room beyond the window. “Ow.” I muttered, head slamming into the floor at my miscalculation of the drop from window to beige carpeted floor. As hand went to head the lights over my head flickered on and panic set in as I glanced around for the intruder. “Oh hi, Silvia.” I forced a smile and scrambled to my feet, waving at her with the hand not currently clasping my head.
"Don't 'Hi Silvia' me! Where have you been? I've been up all night worrying!” she shouted, waving her arms about in an effort to make her point of just how exasperated she was. I wasn’t really in the mood for theatrics.
“I took a walk.” Now was not the time to explain my midnight excursions into the forest. I didn’t want to worry her.
“You took a walk.” She turned away from me, arms wrapped around her chest. “I...” She turned back, face pale and eyebrows drawn down sharply. “You and I will discuss this over breakfast. Go to bed.”
She shook her head and marched out of the room, slamming my door closed behind her. I glanced down at the floor for a moment, marveling at the way the carpet sucked away the damp from my feet before I turned and closed the window. I took a quick shower and rubbed some ointment into my leg. I turned the light off with a sweep of my hand as I hobbled over to my bed, collapsing into its soft, warm embrace.
“She worries too much.” I whispered into my pillow, burrowing into the feathered puff and into a dreamland I could only hope would be friendlier than that which had driven me out into the woods.
__________________________________________________________________
So that's different, right? It's amazing what a decade, writing classes, critique partners and betas and a whole host of amazing writers can do. My point is, we all start somewhere. We all have those terrible first drafts buried in our hard drives and in battered Composition notebooks. It's okay. And if you find one of those novels and see something in it worth saving, you should trust your instincts. Your younger writer self may not have been fully-baked yet, but all that creativity you have now was present then, and you might just find yourself with a real diamond in the rough.
Happy hunting!
Version One
It was dark by the time she came home. She snuck in through her bedroom window. Her feet had just touched the floor when the lights came on. Bringing her face to face with her angry mother. She looked around for an escape route but the only way out was through her window, and she doubted she could get out and down, before she was pulled back in. "Hi mom. Been up long?"
"Don't 'Hi mom' me! Where have you been? I've been up all night worrying! You are in so much trouble! This goes beyond grounding. I can’t believe you! Every night this week! I thought that you would have known better than this! First, you've been expelled from every school I've ever put you in. You spend most of your time away doing who knows what. Then you dare to break curfew. This is exactly why I'm sending you to private school.” Gwen eyes bugged out as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard.
"What!? I can't go to private school! They brainwash you and make you into little robots that act all snobby and not only that but, I'll look stupid. They'll make me wear a uniform and...eww."
"Not just any school. Darkcastle Boarding School for Troubled Youth. Besides you should have thought about that before you blew up the gym."
"I didn't blow up the gym. The moron, who decided to explain how dynamite works set up right next to my display about fire, blew up the gym."
"Yes but you lit the fuse."
"Not on purpose. I thought it was my candle! I was only expelled because the principal hated me so much!” she said trying to recover the upper hand. “ Anyway isn't Darkcastle in Europe?"
"Yes. But that's not important. They've accepted you on the reasoning that your uncle went there."
"Which one?"
"You have to ask?” she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It was your uncle Eric." Ah yes the good for nothing uncle Eric who lived in Europe and apparently had no job.* At least he got away from my psycho mother she thought bitterly.* Her mother plowed ahead, ignoring her daughter’s look of chagrin." Besides, since he lives over there you can live with him while on break or you can stay at the school that is up to you. You'll come home for the summer, of course, but I can't afford for you to come back during the holidays this year, so I'll just send you your gifts."* I can't believe this. She's planning the rest of my school career for me she thought angrily.*
"Don't I get a say in this!?"
"No. You have a day to pack. Meaning tomorrow. Then the next day you leave."
"You couldn't have told me earlier? I won't have time!"
"Oh don't worry. Anyway, I didn’t want you running off. You just have to pack clothes and a few personal items. They provide everything else. Food, uniforms, soap. The essentials. Don't worry about it." *Oh my God. She was really gonna send me away she thought.* "The travel buddy I got for you has your ticket so you can't tear it to pieces or whatever. Now get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow." She left the room and turned off the light, leaving the girl in the dark. Gwen flopped onto the bed and fell asleep.
_____________________________________________________________
So...you can see that I hadn't quite grasped "craft" at this stage. But that's okay, I was sixteen. I didn't have anyone who could provide feedback on my work. I didn't want to show it to my parents, or my teachers and at that particular moment I wasn't speaking to my friends so...yeah.
But, I kept coming back to the ideas I presented in the book. Because some of them were good. There were, as they say, good bones. So I tore it apart and came back at it once in college, and then again more recently. And that scene above? It's still in the book actually. Sort of. It's no longer chapter one, it's not the opening and my craft has been refined to some degree. So for comparison's sake, the newest version of that scene.
Chapter Three: Run
Astrid
The lawn was damp with morning dew before the sun had risen. I could feel the cold of it against the flesh of my bare feet as I made my way back to the house. It was sandwiched between two other homes; to which it was indistinguishably different. A cookie cutter home in a bushel of cookie cutter homes. A testament to the ingenuity of the American city planner. I crept across the dampened lawn like a thief, silent as I could be. The second story’s left hand window was still cracked ever-so slightly, just as I had left it. My hands met the twining greenery of the ivy trellis as I pulled my way up the side and towards the window.
My legs were already protesting as I had made my way across the lawn, and now they screamed at me. I could feel one of the muscles coil and tighten beneath my flesh, cramping. I gasped, letting a little hiss of air escape as I tried not to make too much noise and wake my guardian. I reached down and massaged the leg as best I could and pulled myself up the rest of the way to the window. Fingers slid under the metal pushing the window up far enough to enter.
My fingers were followed by my hands and arms as I pulled myself into the room beyond the window. “Ow.” I muttered, head slamming into the floor at my miscalculation of the drop from window to beige carpeted floor. As hand went to head the lights over my head flickered on and panic set in as I glanced around for the intruder. “Oh hi, Silvia.” I forced a smile and scrambled to my feet, waving at her with the hand not currently clasping my head.
"Don't 'Hi Silvia' me! Where have you been? I've been up all night worrying!” she shouted, waving her arms about in an effort to make her point of just how exasperated she was. I wasn’t really in the mood for theatrics.
“I took a walk.” Now was not the time to explain my midnight excursions into the forest. I didn’t want to worry her.
“You took a walk.” She turned away from me, arms wrapped around her chest. “I...” She turned back, face pale and eyebrows drawn down sharply. “You and I will discuss this over breakfast. Go to bed.”
She shook her head and marched out of the room, slamming my door closed behind her. I glanced down at the floor for a moment, marveling at the way the carpet sucked away the damp from my feet before I turned and closed the window. I took a quick shower and rubbed some ointment into my leg. I turned the light off with a sweep of my hand as I hobbled over to my bed, collapsing into its soft, warm embrace.
“She worries too much.” I whispered into my pillow, burrowing into the feathered puff and into a dreamland I could only hope would be friendlier than that which had driven me out into the woods.
__________________________________________________________________
So that's different, right? It's amazing what a decade, writing classes, critique partners and betas and a whole host of amazing writers can do. My point is, we all start somewhere. We all have those terrible first drafts buried in our hard drives and in battered Composition notebooks. It's okay. And if you find one of those novels and see something in it worth saving, you should trust your instincts. Your younger writer self may not have been fully-baked yet, but all that creativity you have now was present then, and you might just find yourself with a real diamond in the rough.
Happy hunting!
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Retrospective
I've been writing down stories since I learned how to write and telling them came before writing them. Making up strange creatures that lived in other lands, vast back stories for the Lego people my brother and I played with. I'm from a family of storytellers. We're loud and talkative and every conversation is usually five people all talking with multiple threads of conversation going at once where each person is expected to jump from one to the other, to follow those threads without losing track.
It's a daunting sort of thing to grow up into. I certainly have friends who've told me they're not quite sure how to join in these conversations that are half spoken, half remembered and entirely within the language of the family. It's English, but it's our English. Three of us are writers of the fictional variety, but everyone has dabbled at least a bit in storytelling.
My brother writes music and my dad likes to build viciously intricate campaigns for table-top gaming. It seemed only natural then, eventually, that I would wind my way back to storytelling. (At least, in retrospect). This past year I think I've found my way back to the initial story threads I first created. The ones that say more about me than I ever expected them to. This year showed me my weaknesses as a writer, and my strengths.
And more than anything, it made me feel like I'd progressed forward. For a long time I'd sort of felt like the apprentice aspiring higher than my skill level but now... I feel like I took a master level course in writing last year. I was pushed and prodded further than I have been in a long time and more than that--I feel as though I actually made it out with a greater understanding of my voice.
Grief over the death of my grandmother prompted a month long writing binge the likes of which I've never experienced. I wrote 5-6K words a day, clocking out the month with over 160K words. I didn't know what to make of the accomplishment, beyond that by the time I had finished the stories I was working on, I did feel a hell of lot better than I had before.
I'm not totally happy with everything I wrote in 2016. I wish I'd finished more of my WIPs. I wish I'd gotten a little further in my career. But what I did accomplish? Well, it's a hell of a lot more than I did in the year before.
I'm proud that I beta-read, I'm proud of my critique partners. I'm boggled by the number of people I've met and the writers that I'm now friends with. It's hard for me to believe some times that the little girl that wrote about a magical island with a unicorn living on it has become the woman who writes about...everything. I hope six-year-old me would be impressed.
I haven't quite mastered my craft yet, but I know that I'm getting closer. (As close as one can get to mastering the written word) With every story I tell, every word I force onto the page, I'm click-clacking closer to it.
I can't wait to see what words I write this year. I can't wait to see what my friends write this year.
In that, at least, I am looking forward.
It's a daunting sort of thing to grow up into. I certainly have friends who've told me they're not quite sure how to join in these conversations that are half spoken, half remembered and entirely within the language of the family. It's English, but it's our English. Three of us are writers of the fictional variety, but everyone has dabbled at least a bit in storytelling.
My brother writes music and my dad likes to build viciously intricate campaigns for table-top gaming. It seemed only natural then, eventually, that I would wind my way back to storytelling. (At least, in retrospect). This past year I think I've found my way back to the initial story threads I first created. The ones that say more about me than I ever expected them to. This year showed me my weaknesses as a writer, and my strengths.
And more than anything, it made me feel like I'd progressed forward. For a long time I'd sort of felt like the apprentice aspiring higher than my skill level but now... I feel like I took a master level course in writing last year. I was pushed and prodded further than I have been in a long time and more than that--I feel as though I actually made it out with a greater understanding of my voice.
Grief over the death of my grandmother prompted a month long writing binge the likes of which I've never experienced. I wrote 5-6K words a day, clocking out the month with over 160K words. I didn't know what to make of the accomplishment, beyond that by the time I had finished the stories I was working on, I did feel a hell of lot better than I had before.
I'm not totally happy with everything I wrote in 2016. I wish I'd finished more of my WIPs. I wish I'd gotten a little further in my career. But what I did accomplish? Well, it's a hell of a lot more than I did in the year before.
I'm proud that I beta-read, I'm proud of my critique partners. I'm boggled by the number of people I've met and the writers that I'm now friends with. It's hard for me to believe some times that the little girl that wrote about a magical island with a unicorn living on it has become the woman who writes about...everything. I hope six-year-old me would be impressed.
I haven't quite mastered my craft yet, but I know that I'm getting closer. (As close as one can get to mastering the written word) With every story I tell, every word I force onto the page, I'm click-clacking closer to it.
I can't wait to see what words I write this year. I can't wait to see what my friends write this year.
In that, at least, I am looking forward.
Monday, January 2, 2017
2017 Goals
I don't like the word "resolution" because it infers I have some sort of control over every aspect of the year. And I know better.
Instead, these are my goals, lofty at times, for the upcoming year.
Read: Read all off the books on my nightstand. There are like 30 of them and if I don't start reading them I'm almost positive the tower will topple, killing me in my sleep. It's practically my entire TBR list, honestly, plus some new books. I just...I didn't get a lot of reading done.
Write: I have a few unfinished projects that are too near completion to ignore and I'm going to finish them, dammit.
1: The Measure of a Lady - Basically a gender-swapped, steampunk, Count of Monte Cristo with necromancy, ghosts and shenanigans - Currently sitting at 39K words, I believe I can wrap up the draft in 20-30K words.
2: A Caper in Crete - MG Steampunk - Currently sitting at 26K words, I believe I can wrap up it up in 10-15K words
3: Rule of Steel - YA steampunk, third book in a trilogy I've been working on with spies, an Irish empire, fairies inspired by Twelfth Night. Is at 46K words, should be able to finish it in 20-30K words.
4: Cyril : Sort of secret project. Currently just in beginning stages because of things. Need to finish ASAP.
5: Children of the Mountain: Adult fantasy, sitting at 17K words, an overhaul of a previous novel and sequel to another adult fantasy. Should be able to finish in 40-60K words
6:Are You Happy Now? - YA paranormal mystery - Started this end of December, I think it'll wrap up in 60K words or so, currently at 6K. Relatively hopeful.
7: The Merlin Cipher - Adult contemporary fantasy - Merlin's grand-daughter takes on Mordred. Basically. I needs to be finished. It's over the halfway point.
Edit:
The only project I know I'll be editing majorly is Scout's Honor my Nanowrimo project from 2016. I've got a beta reader for the project and once feedback is in I'll start overhauling in preparation for possible submission.
Rule of Sword: Got the comments back from the lovely Chelsea, who beta-read this for me after the holidays, and once I've got a feel for where it needs help, I'll start on it. Not as exhaustive an edit as the other project, that's for sure.
Art: I need to get back into the habit of drawing or painting at least every week if not every day. We'll see how that goes.
The Truly Lofty Goal
Get an agent.
Well, that's it for work-related goals. I'm also hoping to finish some fanfics I have out there, meet at least one author in person for the first time and perhaps travel outside of the state. Fingers crossed.
Cheers.
Instead, these are my goals, lofty at times, for the upcoming year.
Read: Read all off the books on my nightstand. There are like 30 of them and if I don't start reading them I'm almost positive the tower will topple, killing me in my sleep. It's practically my entire TBR list, honestly, plus some new books. I just...I didn't get a lot of reading done.
Write: I have a few unfinished projects that are too near completion to ignore and I'm going to finish them, dammit.
1: The Measure of a Lady - Basically a gender-swapped, steampunk, Count of Monte Cristo with necromancy, ghosts and shenanigans - Currently sitting at 39K words, I believe I can wrap up the draft in 20-30K words.
2: A Caper in Crete - MG Steampunk - Currently sitting at 26K words, I believe I can wrap up it up in 10-15K words
3: Rule of Steel - YA steampunk, third book in a trilogy I've been working on with spies, an Irish empire, fairies inspired by Twelfth Night. Is at 46K words, should be able to finish it in 20-30K words.
4: Cyril : Sort of secret project. Currently just in beginning stages because of things. Need to finish ASAP.
5: Children of the Mountain: Adult fantasy, sitting at 17K words, an overhaul of a previous novel and sequel to another adult fantasy. Should be able to finish in 40-60K words
6:Are You Happy Now? - YA paranormal mystery - Started this end of December, I think it'll wrap up in 60K words or so, currently at 6K. Relatively hopeful.
7: The Merlin Cipher - Adult contemporary fantasy - Merlin's grand-daughter takes on Mordred. Basically. I needs to be finished. It's over the halfway point.
Edit:
The only project I know I'll be editing majorly is Scout's Honor my Nanowrimo project from 2016. I've got a beta reader for the project and once feedback is in I'll start overhauling in preparation for possible submission.
Rule of Sword: Got the comments back from the lovely Chelsea, who beta-read this for me after the holidays, and once I've got a feel for where it needs help, I'll start on it. Not as exhaustive an edit as the other project, that's for sure.
Art: I need to get back into the habit of drawing or painting at least every week if not every day. We'll see how that goes.
The Truly Lofty Goal
Get an agent.
Well, that's it for work-related goals. I'm also hoping to finish some fanfics I have out there, meet at least one author in person for the first time and perhaps travel outside of the state. Fingers crossed.
Cheers.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Subjectivity and Criticism
I've seen this word floating around quite a bit on the PitchWars feed, and I thought I would talk a little bit about it.
When I was in college (art college mind you all), this word was bandied about with abandon. "Art is subjective" is probably the most commonly spoken phrase in any art curriculum. It was a vicious, competitive environment at times. There were occasions when students were bullied by other students ( and even by some professors). There were occasions when professors brushed off complaints of bullying with soft-mouthed reassurances that "things would be done", to no real effect.
Seeing the word has brought back memories of round table critiques with my work pinned up on a board with the rest of the class where we'd all pick a piece and start talking. You were supposed to follow a pattern. The critique sandwich, as it's called. Something positive, something that could be improved on, end with something positive.
Supposed to doesn't always happen. People left those critique sessions in tears. We were sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated teenagers--and some of us were mean, horrible little monsters away from home for the first time in a highly charged environment. You got thick-skinned or you didn't last. Pride was taken in our school's typical freshman class drop-out rate of 50%. (Yes, I said 50%.) Kids had nervous break downs. Kids dropped out. Kids swore off art and transferred to other schools to do something else (I very nearly did). This was the reality of a boiler pot of creative children vying for attention and praying to make it big.
And above it all you had some fantastic teachers and some...not fantastic teachers. And in both camps there were teachers who would use the word "subjective" when explaining why you got a B when Sally got an A and so forth. Imagine being graded every single day, not necessarily wholly on merit or skill but this elusive thing you couldn't describe. It was frustrating. Maddening.
And over and over again, "Art is subjective."
I say all of this so that you'll understand where I'm coming from when I say, that while my art school experiences are the foundation that built my distaste for the word, this business we're in?
It's subjective.
It isn't personal. It isn't always based on facts and figures. There's no magic formula that will get you published. All you can do is do the work. Learn to take criticism (perhaps in a more healthy way than I did) and remember that above all, this is not personal. If you ask me to critique your work and I send back five pages of edits, it's not personal. I want to help you be a better writer. I want you to succeed. I want to cheer with you and for you. The CP's and Betas and Mentors of PitchWars? They want the same thing.
That being said, there are horrible, mean people out there who will tear your work apart just because they can. There are predators in the writing community and it's important that we talk about them. Shine a light on them and keep them away from the fresh-faced writers taking their first steps into our community. We keep track of those people, we make lists and databases (Writer Beware, Preditors and Editors and more) in an effort to keep our community safe and well-informed.
You will also meet amazing, wonderful, loyal friends in this business. You will read amazing books and learn from every encounter.
We may not be in the same exact boat, but we are all on the same ocean. We sink and rise together. There are aspects of this business we can't control. Waves and eddies, storms and bright days but we weather them together.
Just. Keep. Writing.
subjective
-
: based on feelings or opinions rather than facts
When I was in college (art college mind you all), this word was bandied about with abandon. "Art is subjective" is probably the most commonly spoken phrase in any art curriculum. It was a vicious, competitive environment at times. There were occasions when students were bullied by other students ( and even by some professors). There were occasions when professors brushed off complaints of bullying with soft-mouthed reassurances that "things would be done", to no real effect.
Seeing the word has brought back memories of round table critiques with my work pinned up on a board with the rest of the class where we'd all pick a piece and start talking. You were supposed to follow a pattern. The critique sandwich, as it's called. Something positive, something that could be improved on, end with something positive.
Supposed to doesn't always happen. People left those critique sessions in tears. We were sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated teenagers--and some of us were mean, horrible little monsters away from home for the first time in a highly charged environment. You got thick-skinned or you didn't last. Pride was taken in our school's typical freshman class drop-out rate of 50%. (Yes, I said 50%.) Kids had nervous break downs. Kids dropped out. Kids swore off art and transferred to other schools to do something else (I very nearly did). This was the reality of a boiler pot of creative children vying for attention and praying to make it big.
And above it all you had some fantastic teachers and some...not fantastic teachers. And in both camps there were teachers who would use the word "subjective" when explaining why you got a B when Sally got an A and so forth. Imagine being graded every single day, not necessarily wholly on merit or skill but this elusive thing you couldn't describe. It was frustrating. Maddening.
And over and over again, "Art is subjective."
I say all of this so that you'll understand where I'm coming from when I say, that while my art school experiences are the foundation that built my distaste for the word, this business we're in?
It's subjective.
It isn't personal. It isn't always based on facts and figures. There's no magic formula that will get you published. All you can do is do the work. Learn to take criticism (perhaps in a more healthy way than I did) and remember that above all, this is not personal. If you ask me to critique your work and I send back five pages of edits, it's not personal. I want to help you be a better writer. I want you to succeed. I want to cheer with you and for you. The CP's and Betas and Mentors of PitchWars? They want the same thing.
That being said, there are horrible, mean people out there who will tear your work apart just because they can. There are predators in the writing community and it's important that we talk about them. Shine a light on them and keep them away from the fresh-faced writers taking their first steps into our community. We keep track of those people, we make lists and databases (Writer Beware, Preditors and Editors and more) in an effort to keep our community safe and well-informed.
You will also meet amazing, wonderful, loyal friends in this business. You will read amazing books and learn from every encounter.
We may not be in the same exact boat, but we are all on the same ocean. We sink and rise together. There are aspects of this business we can't control. Waves and eddies, storms and bright days but we weather them together.
Just. Keep. Writing.
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