Well, I’m not in California, but I am in Urbana, at my sister’s house. Chicago was wonderful.
And check out what my sister got me for my birthday!
Look closely. That’s a copy of Twenty Years at Hull House in her hand and the Nobel Peace Prize Medal around her neck.
Yes…it’s a Jane Addams doll!!!
Stay tuned. More to come in the next few days.
This’ll be me tomorrow morning—bright, early, and probably surprisingly chipper!
We kind of go down, over & up, then down again (if you’re looking down at the map, that is!), with lots of layovers, so we probably won’t get to Illinois much faster than if we WERE in this little plane. But we’ve got books, music, podcasts, a deck of cards with Gin Rummy instructions, and–best of all–anticipation! Son is probably looking forward to midwest-cousin time as much as I’m looking forward to Chicago, so we’re both going to be in great moods.
Hopefully, those moods will last through security checks, over-crowded flights, and a dearth of free airplane peanuts.
I’ll most likely be off-blogs and Twiter/FB for a few days. Just think of me walking museum halls, burying myself in research stacks, and eating Chicago pizza to find out WHY it’s so different from California’s.
Have a great week, everyone!
1. In four mornings, son and I will get on a plane–okay, THREE planes–to Urbana, Illinois, where my older sister & family live.
2. In five mornings, I will hug son good-bye and travel with my sister (in her cool Prius; think she’ll let me drive?) to CHICAGO, where we’re staying for two nights, basically two days, and many, many research stops.
3. We’ll probably eat, too. Any can’t-misses in downtown Chicago? Chicago foods I HAVE to try? Throw recommendations into the comments!
4. In 7 days, we will drive back to Urbana, where I will spend the next few days hanging with nephews (and TOTALLY owning them at Pictionary, thank you very much!) and trying to process all the information I collect in Chicago. Can you say BRAINTWIST? I will also post MANY photos on my blog, assuming I can get them from camera to laptop.
5. In 11 days, I will get back on three planes and come home. In 11 days, it will also be my birthday, and I can’t think of any better way to celebrate than to come back to California, full of history and images and FEELINGS to weave into my WIP.
Excited? Me? Oh, no. 🙂
The last few days have been traumatic ones for my WIP, my characters, and me. I’ve been whining (or whinging!) about it on Twitter & FB, and today it’s going to stop. Not the trauma. But definitely the whining.
After this explanation.
It’s not that I don’t want to do the work when I write. It’s that, honestly, I don’t like the pain. That the characters go through. I have this problem often as a reader, with books that really (even necessarily) take their characters through the wringer. Even as I am glued to the page, wanting to find out what happens, loving the story, I’m worrying. Fretting. Wincing. Wiggling around in my chair & wishing I had a magic wand and could make them (and the real people they represent) happy.
Which may be why my first book was a fun, light MG mystery. That kind of problem–a mystery problem–a kid can solve. And while he gets in danger along the way–along with being totally humiliated AND busted by parents–well, I knew he was going to solve the crime, catch the bad guy, AND get to ride the roller coaster. My mystery MC and I, we have fun together. I love the book and think there are a lot of kid readers out there who would love it, too.
Working on my new WIP is, well…it’s exciting. It’s scary. It’s shocking. And, yes, it’s gut-wrenching.
I’ve been talking to my characters. What with the research trip coming up and summer vacation still going strong, I had stalled out a bit on writing forward. So I thought I’d use my more piecemeal time to get to know these people better (suspecting, too, that NOT knowing them quite well enough might have contributed to the stall).
Wow. Okay, first of all, these people all have BIG troubles. Some in their presents, some in their pasts, but throw it all into the mix, and you get this bubbling, simmering soup of pain, loss, and holes that need to be filled. If they even can. And, of course, everybody’s soup is bumping up against everybody else’s and just making things worse. There are, apparently, no happy people in this story, and everyone’s got a heck of a lot of work to see if they can even make things better by the end.
I know, that’s a GOOD thing.
Here’s what’s been trickiest for me, I think. It’s not just the bad things that are rocking my boat. It’s something about learning all this new stuff at this stage. In my other writing–the mystery and other books I worked on before–I usually made these discoveries during revision. When I could see–yes, with some work–where the new details fit, how they played out in the story. I could weave the changes into my existing story, plant new seeds early in the book, play with resolutions at the other end. This time around, for some reason, I need to know this stuff NOW, before getting very far into the story. Why is the pattern changing now? I have no idea.
I’m going to go with it, though. This is a totally different kind of book for me, so why should the old techniques work? And I was stalled, so maybe this change is a gift from the muse or my pysche, or just from the stage I”m at on my writing path. I’m going to look at it that way–as a gift, a plus, a positive.
And I’m going to stop whining. Really. From now on, I’ll be doing the happy dance, waving bright banners, and tossing glitter at all of you out there on FB & Twitter.
With maybe an occasional eeep! of panic.
Remember “edgy?” Okay, the word is still here. And I like it–I like edgy books. I admire the strength these authors put into their words, the sharp and almost painful voice with which their narrators tell their stories, and the power that pulls me in and keeps me turning the page, at times faster than I can really keep up with.
BUT…
I also like books that AREN’T this way. Lately, I’ve heard the word “quiet” tossed around. People are talking about it on Twitter & Facebook. Writers are trying to figure out what it means, when they hear it from publishers and agents, and they’re trying to figure out–I think–if it has to be a bad thing. Because I think there is some sense out there that it may, indeed, be something that, well…won’t help your book get picked up and sold.
Honestly, I hope that’s not true. Not only because I suspect that my own writing may be more quiet than…edgy? Loud? Whatever that other thing is? But because–if my understanding of quiet books is right–I value them so much for the reading experience they bring me that I don’t want to see them go away.
I’ve been thinking about a few authors whose books I’ve read–some recently, some not so recently–books that I think of as “quiet.” (Some of these authors have also written what I’d called edgier books that I also loved, but I’m not talking about those today.) I’m going to name these books, and I want you all to take this labeling as a STRONG recommendation to go out and read them. Because they’re all incredible, powerful writers. Just…in a different way.
All of these books, like the edgy ones, deal with teens who face problems. BIG problems. MODERN problems. The two things that seem to be different, to me, are the pacing and the voice.
These books don’t rush. I’m not sure the edgy ones do, either, but I find myself rushing through them, often, to find out what’s coming next. These “quiet” stories don’t feel slow, I just feel like I have time to sit with them, to follow the explorations the author is making into character and choices and connections and to make my own explorations at the same time.
The narrative voices in these books also give me time. Somehow, there is a strength of character in the hero (even if they’re not 1st person, we’re almost always getting the story through the hero’s perspective) that makes me feel confident and safe. I’m not saying I read their stories knowing that they’ll be okay, or expecting a predictable ending. That’s not it. It’s that somehow I believe the hero has the strength to make it through their pain and their experiences, and that strength lets me breathe a bit more slowly and read for HOW they’re going to do that–to watch their choices with curiosity, sympathy, and hope.
I’m not doing this very well–telling you what I like so much about these books, without sounding like I’m putting down the others. Honestly, I like them all. I just get sad when I hear writers worrying about whether they shouldn’t write these books. I want to stand up and shout, wave my arm frantically to get their attention, and say, “Yes! Please! Keep writing!” I want to tell them that I crave their kind of story, and that I’m not the only one who feels that way.
Am I? 🙂
I’m not someone who jumps instantly for the latest and greatest thing. I don’t own an e-reader of any sort, my cellphone is a phone and camera, and that’s about it. And it’s taken me a while to really accept electronic editing.
I did a little bit of it when I was freelance editing. And I stick notes to myself into my writing all the time. But I still considered that I couldn’t read as “well” or as deeply on the computer, as I did with a paper manuscript and a pen.
I’m changing my mind. The shift happened when, with the edits for The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide, I was on the other end of the feedback. All my edits, both developmental and copyediting, have come to me over email, in the file. Changes were marked with Word’s Track Changes feature, and all the editors have left nice, detailed, helpful comments in the margin, through Word’s Comment tool.
Putting the changes in was great. Not only was everything marked at the place where there was a problem, but I could read everything so easily–no trying to figure out whether a letter was an o or an a, no translating of entire words that I couldn’t read at first glance.
And lately I’ve been critiquing for other writers in the file, using these same tools. So far, it seems to be working great. Maybe it’s just taken me this long to be able to read deeply on a computer, but I don’t seem to be struggling to stay with the manuscript, and I’m not missing the feel of the pages in my hands. Actually, it just makes it a lot easier to be able to open up my laptop whenever I’ve got some work to do, rather than tote the messy, loose stack of 200+ pages around the house. Or to the coffeehouse.
The writers I’ve been doing this for seem happy with the results as well. I check with them first, just in case they hate the idea of not having my handwritten notes to think about. They all seem to prefer the in-file changes, probably because those handwritten notes have never been all that legible! And, really, they can work with the feedback on-screen, with their own computer, or they can get a print-out and read the notes on a hard-copy while they revise.
I think I’ve made the change. It feels good–yes, the trees can still get used up for the print-out (although with my new, two-sided printer, it’s only HALF the trees), but not always. My guess is the more we do this, the less we’ll need the hard copy to work from. And it means we can really critique back & forth with anyone we want–local or distant, without having to make that stop at the post office, with the big, heavy manuscript envelope. It’s widening our writing community at the same time as it tightens the connections we already have.
It’s going to make it easier to find critique partners and groups. And you know I think that’s a good thing.
So maybe an e-reader is a good thing, too? 🙂
The times, they are a-changing. Well, a little bit. For me and my blogs. 🙂
Yes, I said blogs. Plural. Some/most of you may know that I’ve had another blog, over at LiveJournal for a few years. I started that site when I first got into blogging and met such wonderful writers that I couldn’t bear to shut it down, when I started up here. Well, I’ve changed my mind. Not about the wonderful writers (and I’m really hoping they’ll come hang out over here!), but about closing down that blog. For a few months now, I’ve been feeling a bit too split-brain trying to keep up with both blogs, and by trying to track what/how I was blogging there versus here. No more. It’s all going to be coming together in one place now–right here.
One of the LiveJournal “things” is to post a Friday Five. The five things can be related, or random, depending on your mood. So, in celebration, I thought I’d bring that format over here today, to tell you what you’ll now be seeing at this blog.
1. More of ME. Hopefully, this is a good thing.
My LJ blog has always been more personal. I tend to blog more about life, family, and my own writing ups and downs. So now, here, you’ll get to hear me fret. Lucky you.
2. A (subtle?) slant toward kids and YA writing/books.
This is what, for my fiction (and dipping into nonfiction), I write. And read. Hopefully, most of the writing ideas and tips I’ll post will apply to lots of genres, across the board, but you’ll get many examples from the “younger” world. You’ll also see me passing on links about books and events in the kidlit world. Let’s just call it my Add-to-Your-Reading-Pile effort.
3. Perhaps more photos.
Okay, definitely more photos. Especially in a couple of weeks. One of the impetuses (impeti?) for making this shift was when I realized I wanted to blog, with pics, about my research trip to Chicago, and I couldn’t figure out WHICH blog to post them at. Sheesh. So you all will get to come along and see Hull-House and Macy’s (formerly Marshall Field’s) and maybe even the house my grandmother lived in when she was a little girl.
You know you can’t wait.
4. Meat.
That’s what I call the hopefully helpful, instructive blogs I’ve tried to post here. My other blog has always been looser, more chatty and casual. I want to add that here, but I also intend to keep playing out theories and processes and tips about writing and, of course, critiquing. So if you’ve been liking that stuff, don’t worry. It’s not going away.
5. More frequent posts.
I’ve been posting here once or twice a week. And I’ve been posting at the LJ blog once or twice a week. That’s too much math for me, but you can do the addition. You’re going to see me here more often, probably with some shorter-than-usual posts. I won’t be putting up links on Twitter, Facebook, or Writer’s Market for all the posts–I don’t want to drown people with updates, you know. I’ll still link to anything I think may be really interesting or helpful, but if you check in on your own, you’ll be more likely to see something new. And hopefully fun.
So, it’s basically in with the new, but not out with the old. Stick around & see what you think!
Yesterday, I picked up a book I’ve been wanting to check out–Amy Butler Greenfield’s A Perfect Red: Empire, Espionage, and the Quest for the Color of Desire. I started reading, got hooked, and realized something about myself.
I now read nonfiction. For pleasure.
In the past year, between working on the nonfiction sections of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide and doing research for my historical YA, I seem to have undergone a transformation. I was someone who did notread nonfiction (other than memoir) by choice, who figured she’d untrained her brain by immersing herself so happily in four+ decades of novels. And then I was reading to find excerpts for my book and reading to learn more about settlement houses and the suffrage movement and…bam! I was changed.
I picked up Amy’s book for two reasons: 1)I know her from the blogs and love her posts and 2)I thought the subject sounded really interesting. In other words, I chose to read a nonfiction book that had nothing to do with my own work–just for fun.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m still VERY picky and get SERIOUSLY irritated with writers who drone on and on, giving me lists of dry facts and try to show me, in that long-winded academicy voice, that they’ve done their research and they are proving their thesis, so don’t argue with them, please. (Yes, pet peeve, sorry!) But I’m also finding out what makes good nonfiction, like Amy’s. Here’s what I’m seeing that makes me happy.
Okay, you’re seeing the pattern. Nonfiction has to tell me a story, as much as any novel I will ever pick up. It has to make me want to turn each page, make me resist putting down the book at bedtime, and make me procrastinate all other tasks so I can keep reading. This is what I want to read. And, yes, the transformation is working more deeply than that–I’m wanting to write this kind of nonfiction as well. I already have an idea for a picture book about two real women who were amazing enough in their own right, that I have no wish (or need) to fictionalize them in any way. And I want to write that book up to the standards I’ve just set out, the ones Amy shows so well in her book.
I’ll leave you with a little tidbit from her introduction, just to give you the first taste that will make you want more.
It was big news, then, when Spain’s conquistadors found the Aztecs selling an extraordinary dyestuff in the great market-places of Mexico in 1519. Calling the dyestuff cochinilla, or cochineal, the conquistadors shipped it back to Europe, where it produced the brightest, strongest red the Old World had ever seen….
The history of this mad race for cochineal is a window onto another world–a world in which red was rare and precious, a source of wealth and power for those who knew its secrets. To obtain it, men sacked ships, turned spy, and courted death.
This is their story.
Adventure tale, anyone? Dig in!
Recently, on Twitter, Susan Taylor Brown tweeted about character traits she was considering for her hero. She tweeted about pairs of traits, because she was contemplating which of each set of two traits was true for this hero. I wish I could remember them now, but what struck me was the very subtle difference between the two qualities. I don’t think this was one of hers, but think about a pairing like “shy/reserved.” Close, similar, but with a difference–an important difference.
Susan’s tweets and staying away from my story for a couple of weeks got me thinking about my hero and who she really is. (Along with who goes why, but that’s the next step.) So this afternoon, I cleaned off the whiteboard, set Pandora to Pat Metheny, and got out the marker. Here’s what I came up with.
I didn’t work in pairs, like Susan did. (I also found nouns, verbs, AND adjectives popping out of the marker & just went wit that.) I broke the story up into who Caro is at/after four big plot points:
Still, even without consciously thinking about pairs of character traits, I did end up with words that “go together.” I started out by thinking she was determined at the beginning, then realized she might not get there until after the first crisis. Even then I realized there was a difference between determined in the 2nd column and focused in the 3rd. I added narrowly to remind myself that she’s heading into a bit of tunnel-vision here. Which goes with furious. Originally, I had anger in that 3rd column, but realized she has plenty to be angry about already in the 2nd column, and she’d better be amping up in response to that revelation.
Yep. Trait pairings. Contrast, change, growth. What’s on your list?
Thanks, Susan!
You can follow Susan on Twitter at http://twitter.com/susanwrites.
I talk a lot here about the structure of a critique group and about the critiquing process. As you all know by now (and are perhaps tired of hearing!), I’m a big believer in the power of a strong group to help us build our writing skills and move our projects forward.
What I haven’t talked about as much is the importance I also place on the community a good critique group gives us.
By now, it’s a cliche to say that writers spend a good part of their work-time alone, even lonely. For some of us, that’s the best way to focus on the writing, to get words out of our minds and into the story. There’s part of that life, thought, that can make it harder to stay writing, to really define ourselves as writers. And that’s the part of spending our non-work time with family and friends who may have no idea what this thing we do feels like.
How many times has someone asked you “How the book’s going?” and then looked confused and muddled when you don’t have a straightforward answer like, “Oh, it’s going to be published next week.”
I once heard an author talk who co-write all her mysteries with her sister. She said the best thing about co-authoring a book was that you had another person who, at any time, on any day, really wanted to talk about your writing. 🙂
A critique group is, at it’s root, a steady reminder that what we are doing is not only important and justifiable, but incredible, exciting, and sometimes just darned fun. As different as we all are, the members of our critique groups are a bit like mirrors–people we can look at and see as authors, people who send that reflection back to us–recognition that we’re authors, too. When someone in our group has a success, that success becomes a possibility for the rest of us; when they “fail,” we’re there to point out how many times they’ve seen us slip, too, then get up and keep writing. A critique group is a statement of value about what we’re doing, one that–if we write alone and in a void–is hard to always remember.
The Internet–with its blogs and social-networking sites is, of course, an extension of this community. Writing conferences, too, are a place to reach out and make more connections, to grow a bigger circle.
A strong critique group, though, is the base on which this circle gets built. And, for me, it’s the base on which I know I can build my own, powerful writing path.
Becky Levine 