Blog Posts

Posted in Flashbacks, Historical Fiction, YA Historical Fiction Challenge

YA Historical Fiction Challenge: Flashbacks in Jacqueline Davies’ LOST (One Spoiler)

Posted on by beckylevine

I have a thing about flashbacks. Actually, I have a thing about not liking them. Usually. In most cases. I blogged a bit here about making sure they have a function, that they aren’t simply a fallback safety-net when we can’t figure out a better way to weave stuff in. As a reader, though, I don’t typically like being pulled that far out of the story to get background details, whether they’re in a flashback or an info dump.

Except, apparently, when Jacqueline Davies does it.

This is going to be an impossible review to write without at least one spoiler, but I’ll do my best not to give away anything you wouldn’t realize in the first few chapters. And I won’t tell you how anything turns out. Promise

When the story starts, Essie is knee-deep in her daily routine of turning out enough work in her job at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. (Yes, that Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, but Lost is anything but yet another story about the fire.) She has to train a new girl who acts as though she’s never touched a sewing machine before, all while getting enough of her own sewing done that she isn’t fired. And then she has to avoid her best friend who wants to walk home together, so she can spend the evening shopping for silk for her little sister’s new hat.

Except…and here’s the SPOILER. Essie’s little sister, Zelda, is dead.

Essie is in major denial. She moves forward during the day as though everything is fine at home, as though it’s her friend Freyda who’s talking crazy, every time she tries to talk to Essie about Zelda. In the evenings, she shops for the silk for hours, coming home after Zelda “is” already asleep and leaving in the mornings before she can find Zelda, who “is” in the middle of her favorite hiding game. Davies writes these moments beautifully and subtly, letting the reader grasp in their own time (and, yes, much more slowly than I’ve let you) what’s going on. Which makes it hurt all the more.

Maybe Davies could have written the book without the flashbacks. Maybe she could have woven in Essie & Zelda’s past in bits and pieces mixed into in-the-moment scenes. Maybe she could have built the tension across the book to the crisis and kept us with her the whole time. She’s a fantastic writer, so those maybes are actually, I’d say, probablys.

But…the flashbacks add things that even Davies would have been hard put to manage without them. We get to know Zelda. Oh, how we get to know Zelda. The child jumps off the page at us as immediately and energetically as she jumps around the family’s tenement apartment. She is a wonder, a ball of fire whom Essie adores so much that we think Mama may actually be right when she accuses Essie of spoiling her too much. She is bright and beautiful, she can sing and dance, she charms everyone who meets her, except perhaps the mothers whose children Zelda tends to roll over like a tiny steamroller. And Essie loves her. Essie loves her more than anything, which we also get to see–with crystal clarity. The flashbacks let us see the depth of Essie’s denial and worry, really worry, about if she’s going to come out of that denial and what will happen if she does.

The flashbacks give a reason, a substantial, specific reason–for why Essie lets go of her old friendship with Freyda (or tries to) and why she needs to build her new friendship with Harriet, the new girl that first day at the factory. Freyda knows about Zelda; Harriet does not. Harriet becomes the only person to whom Essie can speak of Zelda in the present tense; Harriet’s apartment is the only place Essie can relax into the belief that her sister is still with her. Again, I am blown away by the way Davies manages the dialogue between Essie & Harriet when they’re talking about Zelda. Amazing. Yes, Essie’s friendship with Harriet is more than a crutch, much more, but the roots of their relationship are firmly grounded in Essie’s need. Which, again, we wouldn’t understand nearly as well without the flashbacks.

There is so much more to this story than I have touched on. The grimness of work in the factories–of which the Triangle is only the most famous. The risks for children every day–especially for those growing up poor in the tenements. The layers and layers of different kinds of love, different ways of showing that love, and the cruelty and pain tangled between those who withhold it and those who wish for it. Yes, the famous fire is here, but I love that Davies makes sure to use the event as a single, if devastating, plot point, not as the emotional crux of the story.

Because, for me at least, that emotional crux is Essie and Zelda, their dynamic, their love. And I truly believe that, without the flashbacks, that crux would have had much, much, less power.

Posted in Writing Fears

Thanks to Jo Knowles and Steven Tyler

Posted on by beckylevine

I’m a scene and a half into the second draft of my historical WIP. The last few days, with writing time, have been wonderful–just letting myself relax back into the happiness of putting words on the page. And, yes, with all my words about research, I’m still leaving placeholders for specifics. I hunt for a while and, if I really can’t find the details I need, I add them to a list I’m calling RESEARCH I NEED HELP WITH. And when the list has a few important items on it, I’ll take myself down to San Jose Library and prostrate myself at the feet of the research librarians there. But the pull to write is there, and I am listening.

The words are flowing, my fingers are doing slow jigs on the keyboard. And, yet, as I write, I marvel at the way I can feel so good and still be telling myself that maybe it’s not fast enough, maybe the tension isn’t high enough, maybe I’m not getting enough conflict in, am I seeding enough of the problems early…

Bottom line, I am wondering whether it’s going to be anywhere good enough to catch an agent or an editor and make them say, “Want!”

I’ve been nudging the questions away, because–for pete’s sake–it’s only the second draft. It took a blog post from Jo Knowles this morning, though, to really wake me up and remind me to write. Just write. As if, Jo says by way of Steven Tyler, “there’s no one in the room.”

That’s what I’ll be doing this morning.

Thanks, Jo.

Posted in Early Drafts, Research

More Research: AKA Resisting the Rush

Posted on by beckylevine

Last night, I took down books down from my shelf to do a bit more research. I’m starting to move into the less general research stage and focusing on specific details I need to create Caro’s world–her world, within that of 1912 Chicago.

Yes, more research.

As I looked at TOCs for the information I wanted, some of “those voices” started playing in my head. You know the ones–those that tell you you’re doing this wrong. Specifically, in terms of research, they tell me I’m wasting time, that I can add these details later, that I’m only on the second draft & I still need to get the story down, the characters talking to me more, that this book is taking long enough to write & I’m just adding hours on hours to the journey. On top of that is, of course, my own tug to just get writing.

I took a breath and told those voices to shush.

Who knows? Maybe they’re actually right. Maybe everything they’re telling me is the truth–that I would be “better off” pushing the research further along the timeline. Maybe I am writing too slowly. Maybe I should get the story and characters solid and then add history and setting.

I can only know one thing for sure and that is that, right now, the voices are wrong. Yes, I want to write. Yes, I want to get back to Caro and Chicago and her huge choices. When I take a close look at how it feels to be writing ahead without the layers of what a city street looked like in 1912, what daily chores she had to face, what her mother is doing while Caro is sneaking out of the house–what she’s doing that lets Caro sneak out of the house–I get a bad taste in my mouth and a sourness in my stomach. It’s not going to make me happy.

I did this on the first draft. I think it was necessary, and I think it paid off–I ended up with some big revelations about the story that I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t pushed past all the history details. And, yes, it might very well pay off again. But I hated it. No, I didn’t hate all the writing, but I hated the feeling of skimming over the top of Caro’s world, of missing the layers that–to me–create a picture in my mind as I put words down. A picture that has images, tastes, smells, physical sensations, feelings.A picture that lets me connect more tightly with what Caro is experiencing, immerse myself more in her point of view, and lose myself.

One of the things I think many of us have to remind ourselves about, is that we’d better like what we’re doing with this writing thing. Even if/when it starts paying, it’s not going to pay big. (Checks skies for fairy godmother and her Turn-Me-Into-JK-Rowling wand…nope!) Hopefully, eventually, people will buy and read our books. Hopefully, what we’ve written will touch someone’s heart, maybe even a few hearts. But if you add up the minutes of our lives, most of this journey to a book is taken up with the actual process of writing. And if we’re unhappy while we’re doing it…well, for me, that defeats a bit part of the purpose.

So, yes, I told those voices to shush. And I found the perfect chapter, one with detail after detail that let me see Caro moving around in the scene I want to write, one that told me specifically what she is bored with, what she’s pushing away, what her conflict with her mother is about.  I spent more time looking at images and google maps of Chicago, reminding myself that–oh, yeah, the buildings all touch, and they’re narrow at the front but really deep, and brick comes in different colors. This morning, I’m going to dig a little further into some stuff I touched on last night.

And then? And then I’ll write.

It’s a process. It’s my process. It might only work for a day, a week,  three months. For now, though, it leaves a sweet taste in my mouth and lightens my mood. And I’m sticking with it until that changes.

When do you have to tell your voices “shush?” What’s a part of your process that you have to follow–at least for now?

Posted in Writing Conferences

Why I Love Writing Conferences

Posted on by beckylevine

I’ve got a couple of writing conferences coming up in the next couple of months. At the start of April, I’m off to the Sacramento area, as an attendee at the SCBWI Spring Spirit conference. Then in May, I’m off to Pennsylvania to present at the Pennwriters conference in Pittsburgh. Obviously, things are going to be different at each–there’s a different speed to a conference where you’re on faculty to one where you are part of the audience. I love both ways of doing a conference, and here’s why:

  • I love hanging out with writers. For too many years, it was just me and my pen/computer. Then I found my critique partners and suddenly I had a world I was part of–every conference I go to opens up that world to me and lets me totally immerse myself in it for a solid day or three.
  • I get to talk about writing. Yes, I do more of this if I’m up at the podium, but believe me–I do plenty when I’m an attendee, chatting with people in the workshops (NOT while the speaker is talking…usually!), at meals, in lines.
  • I get to travel. Okay, this isn’t quite as much fun as it used to be (but don’t quote me on that until after I see if I get the full-body pat down at the airport in May!), but I still love the feeling of going somewhere, surrounded by other people going somewhere. There’s a feeling of expectation and anticipation–a who-knows-what-might-happen tinge to the air.
  • I stay in a hotel. Every now and then I do the drive-there-and-back on the same day, but I try to treat myself to at least one night in a place that makes my bed, replaces my towels, delivers food (if only in the form of the candy machine down the hall), and basically makes me feel pampered. Honestly, I’m easy–I don’t have to stay anywhere particularly expensive to get this feeling. I just have to be somewhere where my laundry and my kitchen aren’t staring me in the face.
  • Conferences give me a break from work. Yes, sure, speaking is work–but such a different kind. A lot of the work we do–writing, editing, freelancing–whatever, has a bit of a delayed-feedback reaction. At a conference, whether I’m talking about critiquing, discussing someone’s manuscript, signing a book–I pretty much always get a smile in return: instant gratification. Something we all need & don’t get often enough, as far as I’m concerned.
  • A conference makes me shift my mental gears. It’s all to easy to get into a groove–not always a good one–as we go along, doing the same things, following the same patterns, day after day. Conferences push me out of this–they wake me up and let me look at things from a different angle, usually a pretty happy one.

That’s me. Those are the big reasons why I love writing conferences. What about you? Why–other than to learn the craft or make a contact–do you head out to conferences?

Posted in Critique Groups, Critiquing

Friday Five: Goals for your Critique Group…as a Group

Posted on by beckylevine

I talk a lot about figuring out your personal critiquing goals. If you’re just starting out on your hunt for the right group, I recommend spending a little time thinking about who you are, what kind of a writer you are, and what you want a group to do for you. If you’re in a group that isn’t working quite as well as you want it to, the same kind of self-assessment can help you pinpoint what you’d like to change.

BUT…once you’re in a group, it isn’t all about you. It’s often about how that group works, as a unit. How everybody helps everybody else and, because of that, how strong the group gets.

So…for today’s Friday Five, here a few of the benefits and strengths of a good group.

1. Increased productivity. Groups are the best motivator I know for getting everybody writing and revising.

2. Brainstorming. Yes, you can share ideas back & forth with one other person, but there is a magic that happens when several people are tossing ideas back and forth, and that magic is exponential, not incremental.

3. Commitment. If one or two of you show up at every critique session, that’s okay. But unless everybody puts the group at the same level on their priority list, the group is not going to have the same power. Knowing that everybody thinks this critiquing thing is as important as you do–that’s the foundation for a strong core.

4. Education. The more you critique, the more you learn about the writing craft. The longer you critique with a solid group, the more that group becomes a repository of knowledge and skill. That every single members shares in.

5. Confidence. Yes, we all have to grow our own writing, we all have to push our own limits & find our own path. And, when you first start out with a critique group, the critique process can definitely burst a few of your bubbles. In the long run, though, knowing that you have a group you trust lets you take risks, cross lines, and know they will give you an honest reality check on everything you write. I truly believe my critique partners help me to go further and to find out–always a delight–that I CAN make something work. A strong group is a great help to the backbone, to our sense of ourselves as making progress and getting better.

Posted in Plot

Moving Forward: When to Let Go of Plotting

Posted on by beckylevine

Everybody has their own style of writing. We talk a lot about plotters and pantsers, but-just like anything in the world–these are pretty black-and-white divisions. I admit I’m more of a plotter than most writers I know–I love the feeling of creating the puzzle pieces before I get started with decorating them. I love to see the points connecting, building the structure around which I’ll layer and weave.

Even I, though, know there’s a time to let go of the plotting and write. I’m coming up on it now–I can see that by next week, I’ll be putting scenes on paper. I have a feeling, despite the varied way we come at these things, that the feelings that push us into writing are pretty similar.

Here’s how I know it’s time:

  • I have plotted, at some level, to the end of the story. (For you pantsers, this might mean you now know the opening scene, the ending, and a few big scenes in between, right?)
  • I have some sense, stronger than in the previous draft, of who my characters are, what they want, and what they’ll do to get that.
  • I find myself, as I plot scenes, throwing in sentences, even paragraphs, into the outlines and bulleted lists. Words are starting to come, whether or not I’m asking them to.
  • I start to see images in my mind of places and people. I get snapshots of moments–a lot like what happens when you freeze a Netflix download to get up for another cookie.
  • I go back to scenes I’ve plotted and throw in reminders that will help me weave in some of the less major plot threads–don’t forget to have Grandma tell them about X, make sure Y shows up in this scene to do SOMETHING.
  • My brain (and fingers) get a strong itch to open a new file (or in this case, Scrivener text item) and head it…Scene 01.

If you’re a plotter, when do you know that you’re “ready” to stop the plotting and start the writing? If you’re a pantser, what do you need, absolutely, to know before you write?

Posted in Uncategorized

Monday Mentions

Posted on by beckylevine

A quick post today, just a few reminders of things you might want to know about.

1. If you haven’t heard yet, Lisa Wolfson, known by her author name of L.K. Madigan, died last week from pancreatic cancer. Lisa was the author of Flash Burnout and The Mermaid’s Mirror, and was deeply loved in the kidlit world. There have been tributes all over the blogosphere. I didn’t know Lisa personally, but she was helpful and generous when I interviewed her for an article about online critique groups. Every tweet, every Facebook update, every blog post I’ve looked at this week, about Lisa, has reminded me how hard life can be, how bravely people face it, and how much love is out here on the Internet.

I want to just put up the address for a trust that has been set up to help Lisa’s son, Nate, go to college. If you are interested, you can donate to the trust by sending a check to:

Becker Capital Management, Inc.
Attn: Sharon Gueck/John Becker
1211 Fifth Avenue, Suite 2185
Portland, OR 97204

Lisa’s husband has posted about this on her blog.

2. On a lighter note, I am still running my contest for a copy of Megg Jensen’s Anathema. Leave a comment at the contest post, and I’ll draw a winner this coming Wednesday.

3. Martha Alderson, The Plot Whisperer, is on Step 22 (The Beginning of the End) of her YouTube Plot Series. There are a few more steps to come, but I thought I’d link you to Step 1 in case you haven’t heard of the series & want to get started. Plus, for those of you still stuck in the cold of winter, Martha’s background of Santa Cruz, California, will give you hopes for spring.  To see Martha’s series from the beginning, go here.

4. Whether you’re a picture-book writer or not, you shouldn’t miss this Has Your Picture Book Already Been Published? flow chart that Tara Lazar posted at her blog. Warning: Many roads lead to “Yes.”  🙂

5. If you know (or are!) a teen writer, don’t forget about Capital City Young Writers’ literary journal. The journal is in its first year, and submissions are open for another two weeks–until March 15. The theme is “the undiscovered,” and teens can submit in many genres–all listed here.

Posted in Character, Plot, Scenes

Cause: The All-Important WHY

Posted on by beckylevine

Those of you who’ve been reading this blog for a while know I’m a plotter. I had to “pants” for a while on the first draft of this WIP, and it was not a happy place for me. Effective, yes, but not happy. So, of course, I’m in love with being back to plotting as I work on the second draft.

When I got started, I basically threw a bunch of scenes into Scrivener–things I knew needed to happen. And then I started filling in cards for them–my MC’s scene goal, the obstacles she’d face, and a few details that I wanted to weave in. I took a break from this story to get that picture-book revision done, but now I’m back and I’m trying to tie these scenes together with a bit more connectivity. In other words, I’m figuring out why one scene follows another. Why my character does things. What causes her actions.

I’m big on this when I critique–I tend to push people to really look at the character actions and connect them to the story, ground them in something specific that has actually happened. And I love the magic of staring at a scene in my own work, knowing I’m not there yet, and then…Flash! The lightbulb goes on, and I’ve got it.

It’s easy, when we write, to know the big stuff–the major plot points that will lead to the ending, that will build to the crisis and the character change. In between those plot points, though, is a lot of space. Yes, it can be maddeningly vast and intimidating, but it’s actually there for a reason. It’s where you build to each of those big events, where you layer in the smaller things that show us who your character is, that push her in new directions, and that–yes–cause the big things to happen.

Let’s take an example. Say you’re writing about a teenage boy–Clive–who is about to get his driver’s license. You know that, oddly enough, Clive doesn’t want to drive. So, he’s going to miss his driving test. Fine. Good. Plot point. If you’re one of those amazing people who can write scenes out of order, you write that scene. (If not, you put notes about it into a Scrivener note card!) Just as his dad is coming upstairs to get him for the appointment, Clive climbs out his bedroom window and down the rose trellis. Except the trellis breaks, and so does Clive’s arm. Dad’s truck is a stick-shift. Clive has successfully delayed the inevitable.

Why?

You can start with the general. Let’s say, really early in the book, Clive sees someone die in a horrible accident. Okay–there’s your big why–that’s the reason Clive doesn’t want to drive. But you can’t just let us know this and then, ten scenes later, pop Clive out his window. You have to do some set up. You need to show Clive trying to talk to his parents about not driving and getting no support. You need to show him in driver’s training failing dismally at parallel parking. You could, of course, throw in the ghost of the dead drive who makes Clive relive the crash over and over. You should probably let us know about that rose trellis before the big day, maybe show Clive using it safely when he sneaks out to ask his girlfriend to run away with him.

These are all good. You need to take it one step further, though. You need to determine the single, very specific story moment that sends Clive out that window. You can’t just have his worry build and build over scenes and then–on that day–out he goes. Something concrete has to propel him into action. Like…his dad coming upstairs and “jokingly” waving around the belt he hit Clive with when Clive was a little boy. Or his mom showing him the new wallet she bought him, with the space for his driver’s license, then telling him it’s time to go. Or his irritating sister singing “Little Deuce Coupe” over and over, as she dances back and forth outside his bedroom door and blocks his escape route.

Notice that the action-causing events aren’t always that big a deal, although–yeah–that belt could be pretty intense. These things act as a catalyst for the big action; they’re the match you drop onto the pile of gunpowder. Small, inexpensive, available…but absolutely necessary set things off.

They’re the whys.

Posted in Social Networking

Does Social Networking Sell Books: One Tally Mark for the YES Column

Posted on by beckylevine

One of the big discussion topics around the net is whether or not social-networking actually sells books. For me, knowing that I’ve had discussions with writers, on Facebook & Twitter or blogs, who have then gone out and bought my book, the answer is a no-brainer…yes. The corollary question–perhaps the one that publishers care more about–is how many books?

I don’t know.

As far as I can tell, it’s still about word of mouth, about getting interested in a book someone is writing because I know them–whether in person or online–and then, yes, buying their book. Sure, yes, I guess in the old days, these people could have reached me with a mailer–a flyer or pamphlet, and I think they could, theoretically, have reached the same quantity of people in that way. The difference is, a flyer doesn’t mean KNOW that person. And, yes, on Facebook and Twitter, I do know them. Maybe not enough to bare my soul to (like they’d want that, anyway!), but definitely enough to be curious about their book.

I want to talk, today, about a specific case in point. Yesterday, I bought my first self-published novel.

I know. It’s 2011. Where have I been? Well, I’ve been where I think–if we’re being honest–a lot of us are. I am interested in the possibilities that online publishing is creating. I’m intrigued with looking at what’s happening now and with wondering where it’s going to take us in the next year, five years, decade. I’m watching friends and acquaintances experiment (aka letting them be the guinea pigs!) and hoping that the work they’re doing brings them at least a piece of dream-come-true.

I’ve also, I admit, been cautious/hesitant/reluctant to just grab a self-published novel off the shelf and dive into reading it. In this post, I talked about how we, as readers, can know that our work is ready to put out there. Flip the coin and, as a reader, I do wonder how the author decided their book was ready for me to fall in love with. Yes, as hard and challenging and painful as traditional publishing has been, some agent and/or editor has had their eyes and pencil on those books, has said…Go!

Anyway, yesterday I took the leap. I bought a copy of Anathema, written AND self-published by Megg Jensen.

Why? Because I know Megg from the blogosphere and from Facebook. We’ve talked back and forth, she’s been more than encouraging about my book, and I’ve followed her thoughts about her story and her decision to self-publish this book. I know it’s a YA fantasy, a genre I love, and I am seriously hooked by the cover. Because of these interactions, I know that Megg is smart and funny and thoughtful and creative. Yes, I do. Does that mean I know she can write a good book? Of course not. If I meet an author who has traditionally published their first book, do I know that THAT book is good? Of course not, again. But I make my buying decision on the same basis I made this one–my impression of the writer, as I get to know them. Unless you’ve read more books from an author, you take a risk with every book you buy. And even then, we all know there’s no guarantee that Book 5 will get us the same way Books 1-4 did.

Megg does not live in California. I could not have met her through a local writing club, in the YA section of a bookstore, or at a party. I could only have met her online. Through social networking. Which, yes, does sell books.

Will Megg (or I) ever get on the NYT bestseller list? Who knows. (Of course, if it ever DOES happen, you can bet YOU WILL ALL KNOW!) Will she sell more of her books by being “out there” on the Internet. Yeah. I really believe so.

Megg is running a contest through March 11 at her blog. You can win lots of cool things, including copies of Anathema AND an e-reader.  Megg has also offered to give away a copy of Anathema here (paperback OR e-book, your choice) to a commenter.

So…drop a thought into the comments.  Remember, this is not a post about self-publishing; this is a post about the sales effectiveness of social-networking. Any comment will enter you, but I’d love to hear about a book you bought because you knew the author online, or because you heard some online buzz. Also, if you’re published in any way, what do you think social networking has done for you and your books?

Megg’s contest is going until March 11, but I think I’ll wrap mine up sooner than that. Let’s make it a week–I’ll announce the winner Wednesday, March 2nd.

Enter away!