Posted in Uncategorized

Pacing: Some Thoughts from Me and a Few Others

Pacing.

I haven’t talked a lot about it here, because, well…it’s hard. Pacing feels a lot like voice to me: I can recognize (and love) strong pacing when I see it, and I sure as heck know when the pacing is off. But how to achieve the strong and avoid the weak? That gets a little trickier to figure out and to explain.

So I thought I’d take a little stab at it myself, and then share some links from other writers giving their take on it.

Anyway,pacing sounds simple, right. Action, action, action…think. Action, action, action…think. Well, sure, at some level, you can make a basic equation out of it, and I think-in today’s fiction–action is going to be a bigger part of the equation. But the simple formula doesn’t account for the magic that happens when someone gets it right. Or the clunkiness when they don’t. (And please note I’m not talking only about high-suspense, gun-fighting novels. Every book has its own pace–oh, dear, that’s another whole topic!–and within that pace, every book will have scenes or more action and less.)

Maybe the magic happens when we get out of the formula and into the scene. Into the narrator’s head. I’m thinking that maybe point of view and pacing are intertwined–so that when you’re as close to the narrative character as you need to be, then you can see the scene as they see it and share it, from that close perspective, with the reader. So you know when they’re feeling tense, and you know when they feel like they can take a breather. You know when they’re in conflict mode, ready to take on the world, and you know when they need to retreat into their quiet place and let the world go by for a bit. Of course, this doesn’t take into account distant third point of view, or even that old standby–omniscient point of view. And of course, it doesn’t tell you how to get there!

As an editor, as a reader, I can see pacing that’s rushed or that’s too slow. Prose that feels too fast, to me, often steps too far away from the narrator’s thoughts and feelings, too close the author’s outside point of view. The dialogue in a rushed scene often comes in a quick back-and-forth, with no space or time being given to dialogue beats. It only takes a few words to give us physical response or a panicked thought. And those few words can make the story, the pacing, feel layered and full. Without taking us out of the drama.

Pacing that feels too slow can do the reverse–cause us to spend too much time in the narrator’s thoughts/internal reactions. It can read as though the character herself, not just the reader, is stepping out of the action to think about it, to analyze the problems they’re facing, to look too far ahead into future possibilities. Slow pacing takes us further into response than the character has time for–often, the narration starts to feel like it’s coming from the author, not the narrator. Really slow pacing shows up, I think, when the author lets himself and the characters get pulled out of the in-the-moment scene. Yes, you need a bit of that background story, but you don’t need it at a time when the conflict and tension are running high, when they should be running high. Save it for later, for that moment of retreat and shelter, when everybody-especially the character–has time for a little peace.

I think pacing may be one of those elements that we can really help by reading a passage or a scene or a whole manuscript out loud. When I critique, I’m obviously further outside the story than the author has been while they were writing it. Reading out loud seems, to me, to be a way of taking ourselves closer to that outside point–closer to wearing our own editor hat, than just staying under the writer’s chapeau. Try it with your manuscript and see what you hear–and what you don’t!

All right–those are some of my thoughts. Pretty rambly and not necessarily helpful. Let’s see what a few other people have to say.

  • Some good tips from Heidi M. Thomas at The Blood Red Pencil.
  • Here’s a vlog on pacing in the YA novel that Sara Zarr did for WriteOnCon.
  • Excellent, specific advice from Holly Lisle.

Any thoughts of your own? Happy pacing!

Posted in Uncategorized

Research: Facts AND Feelings

As I work on my historical YA, I’m finding that the longer I do research for it, the more specific I start feeling that research needs to be. It’s relatively easy, I think, to find books and other information about the general history of a place or era. It’s trickier–at least for me–to find the concrete details that will add the depth of realism to my story.

So I keep looking. One of the areas I’ve been struggling with finding more about is the daily life and economic realities of a small-shop owner  in the 1910s. These people and their families seem to fall into a sort of gray area–if not in terms of actual class, at least in terms of class that I’ve been able to find out about. I can find plenty about the big factories, and I can find plenty about the people who worked in those factories, but show me some really specific writing about a family making a decent, if not wonderful, living selling dry goods, and I’ll be dancing.

Well, I kept searching, and a few weeks ago, I came across Robert Spector’s The Mom & Pop Store: How the Unsung Heroes of the American Economy are Surviving and Thriving. I guessed from the title (note the word “are”) and from the description of the book that it wasn’t going to be about the turn of the last century, but I hoped there might be some pieces of history woven in.

Well, there were, but–as I was expecting–they weren’t from the history I needed. Still, I kept reading. Because, guess what? While Spector’s books didn’t have the facts I needed (and probably still need), it goes deep into the feelings I hadn’t yet got close enough to, either, to write the story I want to write.

Feelings of pride in coming every day to the business you’ve built, feelings of frustration at being expected to inherit that business when you aren’t the one who built it. Feelings of independence at working for yourself, feelings of imprisonment at having no choice about who you work for. Feelings of anger and resentment toward “ungrateful” children, feelings of anger and resentment at “demanding” parents. All of which feelings I’ve seen in real life “today,” and all of which I need to think about for my story in the past.

Here’s the thing: history may be facts, but it is also story–historical fiction even more so, perhaps. And story is people–people who interact and resist interaction, who love and hate, work together and fight. And sure, the facts impact the feelings, but there is a universal to those feelings and the people who have them that transcends facts, that transcends time.

If I didn’t believe this, how could I be writing about history for teens reading today?

Posted in Uncategorized

Social Media: Cleaning House

Last week, Debbi Michiko Florence blogged about online time management, how to find the balance with keeping up/keeping in touch and, yes, well…overdoing it.

This discussion comes up a lot, but I think Debbi hit on one of the important points–how it feels when we find ourselves doing what we “should” versus what we want. Basically, it feels wrong.

I think things like this go in cycles. MySpace made way for Facebook and Twitter, and who knows what will dominate now that Google+ is here. Blogs seem to have staying power, although I’ll bet you, just like me, find yourself sticking with a few bloggers that matter to you, for content or personal reasons, and watching others come and go on your blogroll. I also think that Social Media changes for us as our lives change. We shift where and how we want to spend our time.

With my son getting older and more independent (yikes!), I recently added one more piece of life to my weekly hours–a step that (hopefully) inches me back toward real-income-earning work. The step comes with a lot of mixed feelings, mostly good, but is also making me take another close look at how I spend my time. And how I want to spend my time. And I’m with Debbi–I think less of it has to be on social media.

I love my blog. I love talking about writing and critiquing and life, and I don’t see this piece going anywhere soon. I do think you may see a few less posts, which I keep telling myself has to be fine. I also, like Debbi, enjoy reading other people’s blogs, but I do find myself commenting less and less–another thing I think I may have to just accept.

And then there’s Facebook and Twitter. I love Facebook. It’s the big reason I haven’t jumped ship to Google+…I just like it on Facebook. I like the feeling of being connected, and I like how the connection works there. Twitter not so much, and I’m considering if/how I should ease myself away from that world. Honestly, I “know” and interact with some great people there, so it’s not going to happen overnight, but the idea-seed has been planted.

The one thing I have done was get rid of my Goodreads account. I haven’t updated that account with a book review in I don’t know how long, and it’s easier for me to post reviews here & just put up a link at Facebook (and Twitter). I had whittled my Goodreads “friends” down to a very small list, and–you know–I keep up with all those people at their blogs or–you got it–on Facebook and/or Twitter. Goodreads was feeling like one of those niggling little time-consumers, in that I’d get friend requests in my email that I felt bad saying “no” to, or updates that I’d feel guilty about not reading. Yes, I get my book recommendations…other places!

So, for me, I guess this is what it comes down to. What really can go, without you missing it? If you’re happy where you are, with whatever social media you’re using, keep it up. If something’s nagging at you that it feels excessive or unnecessary, take a closer look. What would it feel like to get rid of it? Can you run a test? I’m thinking of a Twitterless September, as a trial run, to see how it feels (I’m guessing just fine!).

How is Social Media feeling to you today? Are there any changes to your commitments/use patterns you’re thinking of making? Any “drastic” shifts you’ve made in the past? Drop a note into the comments and share!

Posted in Uncategorized

Friday Five: Around the Blogosphere

For today’s Friday Five: a few writerly things other people are saying around the blogs:

  1. Janet Hardy on following through on the tension you’ve created.
  2. Jama Rattigan is celebrating the 4th anniversary of her delicious blog by welcoming everyone to her new site.
  3. Kurtis Scaletta talks about the five ways writers have to describe their story and gives tips on them all.
  4. Shrinking Violet Promotions on revising the BIG stuff.
  5. Jeannine Atkins shares a bit about her own, personal plot school.

Enjoy!

Posted in Uncategorized

Creating Space for the Lightbulb Moments

Inspiration?

Yes, I believe it exists. Ideas come, and they come from places we don’t understand and can’t identify. They show up, changing  a plot or deepening a character, and they do that at a time when, five minutes before, the well was dry. We can stare and stare and see nothing and then, suddenly, a thought shows up, followed by another thought and another…and we’re writing again.

I do believe inspiration exists. I also believe there are things we can do to help it along.

We can:

  • Write as often as possible. I really think 30 minutes every day is more valuable than three hours once a week, and not just because it adds up to a half-hour more. How many times have you not looked at your story for week or so, then set up a block of time to spend with it, only to find that your work is slow and clunky and moving in circles? Believe me, I know that every day is often impossible, but stay in touch with your manuscript as often as possible.
  • Think about your story. Even if you’re not writing, keep the proverbial notebook handy, or (like me) email yourself messages about new possibilities. Don’t get in a car wreck, but–when you can–get your brain back to your book.
  • Talk to people about your book. No, not the people who come up to you and say, “So when I am I going to be able to buy a copy?” But to your critique partners, to a family member who “gets it” and who actually listens–maybe even tosses a few ideas back and forth.
  • Read. Some of this reading will be for research, some will be for craft, and some will be for pleasure. All of us have our comfort reading, the books that we can read without thinking, without emotional upheaval, and I think they’re actually very important to our lives, our sanity. BUT…stretch yourself, too. Find out what books in your writing genre are winning awards, which are creating buzz, and–yeah–which are being censored and banned. Reading authors who have clearly pushed themselves helps us remember to push ourselves. That’s inspiration.

Each of these things, in itself, doesn’t necessarily contribute a whole lot to the progress of a story. But all together, they add up to keeping us connected to our stories. The brain is a deep, convoluted maze, and the longer we stay away from something, the deeper it gets buried. Daily to-dos pile up on top, and–when we’re ready to head back into a manuscript–we have to dig through that pile to get anywhere close. And close is all we’ll get.

Dipping into your story, whether it’s opening a file and free-writing about a character or venting a frustrating plot-block to a friend, keeps you in touch. It keeps your writing at the top of your brain, and it makes it a gazillion times easier to step back into and actually move forward.

Which is the point.

Posted in Uncategorized

Local Authors Live: Report

I had a great time in Carmel at the Local Authors Live festival. As I mentioned last week, I haven’t done a festival before and, while I sold about as many books as I do when I give a workshop, there was a definitely different feel to the day. Obviously, not everybody there is a writer, but everybody is a reader, and don’t ask me to figure out which group scores higher as my favorite type of person.

People stopped and talked, just to take a look at what books we were selling, and swapped stories–whether or not they ended up buying a book. And, you know, I just can’t see the not-buying as a big downside (says the lousy marketer in me). A lot of bookmarks went away, and I’m pretty sure 3 or 4 people went off with a new idea about getting together with their friend who also writes or finding a group at some time, to start the critique process. Which just feels good.

Everything was very well-organized and, it seemed, also well advertised, because there were always two or three groups of people strolling by, smiling, making eye contact, or stopping at our table to see what was up. The weather was FREEZING–the fog cleared for maybe a half hour, and the wind never really died down. Luckily, I’d brought layers, although the me that grew up next to Pismo Beach must have had a brain fart, to think that sandals were appropriate wear for the central coast in July.

Here’s a picture of me and Jana McBurney-Lin, one of my critique partners and the author of My Half of the Sky. Jana’s wonderful novel is set in China, about a modern young woman struggling to hold up her half of the sky, despite the pushes and pulls of her traditional village. I think the gorgeous Chinese cloths she brought really made our table call out to people.

Another critique partner, Terri Thayer, was scheduled to come down with us, but she had a deadline looming.  We missed her, but all of her fans will be happy to know that she stayed home to write furiously (and brilliantly) on the next book in her Dewey Pellicano quilting-mystery series.

All in all, I’d give the book festival a 10 (despite the fog and the worst sunburn I’ve ever had!). You know, it had a great beat, and you could dance to it. I’ll definitely be keeping my eye open for more festivals in the area.

Posted in Uncategorized

Critique Groups: Good Reasons to Keep Quiet

If you were to visit my critique group and ask, “Who’s the most guilty member of the group,when it comes to interrupting?,” they’d smile and say, “Oh, that’d be Becky.” And then you’d look at me, and I’d be nodding sheepishly.

Yeah. I get excited about the ideas going around, or I’m thinking along two tracks at once–what the critiquer is saying and what I “know” about my story, and I’m trying to put it all together, and I forget to do it quietly. Silently. In my head.

You’ve probably heard that, when you’re being critiqued, you don’t get to argue with the critiquer or defend what you’ve written. You may have heard threats about duct tape being used to keep a critiquee quiet. I’m pretty sure those are just urban legends. But there are good reasons for not interrupting while someone’s presenting their critique. And, if you’re in an online group, those reasons are just as good for not sending off a “But….!!!!” reply too fast, without giving yourself and the critique time for the feedback to settle in.

Thought I’d share a few today.

  • Not interrupting is partially just manners. But you can also throw off your critique partner by cutting off the flow of what they’re saying. Yes, hopefully, they’re reading the overall comments they’ve written up before the meeting, but they’re probably doing a lot of other stuff at the same time: listening to themselves to see if they’re actually making sense, watching your face to see how you’re reacting, and trying to catch the new ideas that are bubbling in their brain as they talk. I don’t know about you, but if I get interrupted while I’m trying to handle all that, I’m going to get confused and forget what I was trying to say. And, yes, this does get worse as I get older, thank you so much for asking.
  • The no-arguing, no-defending rule actually makes a lot of sense. Your critique partners are letting you know their feedback about what they read, what you managed to get on the page. These are the words that, if you sent them out today for publication, would be read by the agent, the editor, your readers. None of those people are going to have contact with the very-possibly-different ideas in your brain. If you didn’t make it clear enough for your critique partners, you haven’t made it clear enough for your readers. That’s why you’re here, in this group.
  • Here’s another thing about your critique partners: They have feelings. Really. If you argue too often, or question what they’re saying, or just make it hard for them to give you their critique, guess what they may start doing.  Giving you a less thorough critique. Not necessarily on purpose, but in unconscious reaction. When we face an obstacle too many times, what’s our likely response? To go around it. To avoid it. And, even if there are days when you might feel like this, you really don‘t want your critique partner backing off. You want all the help they can and will give you.
  • Sometimes you have to let critiques sit. Let me rephrase that: Often, you have to let critiques sit. Your initial reaction about what a critique partner is saying will very likely change after an hour, a day, by the time you get around to revising. While you’re listening, your brain is going very fast, trying to keep up with the feedback, trying to align it with what you know about your book, trying to visualize a hundred possible revision changes all at once. Honestly, sometimes, it’s just too hard to listen and think at the same time. So take notes, let the comments drop into your brain, and–yeah, keep quiet.

It’s not always when you’re being critiqued that you feel like jumping in. You can be listening to a critique partner give feedback on someone else’s book, and get a lightbulb moment that you just have to share. Now. Immediately. Your impulse is to just blurt it out.

Hello. Been there.

Resist the temptation. Keep a pen and piece of paper handy and take notes. Scribble down your idea or your question, and wait for your turn. One of the most important things a critique group can do is leave time after the critiques for discussion and brainstorming.  Use that time.

And, meanwhile, pass around the duct tape.

Posted in Uncategorized

My First Book Festival: Local Authors Live

This Saturday, July 23rd, I’ll be heading down Highway 1 to Carmel with a couple of writer friends to attend my first book festival. I know, what was I waiting for? Well, probably just the right timing, and–yeah–company. I’m not sure which one of us will drive. Probably the one who gets carsick on curves if they’re NOT driving:

or the one who worries that the person who IS driving will lean over to look at the incredible view and take us all off the cliff:

Have I mentioned I love Highway 1? Which probably means they won’t let me drive. Sigh.

So Saturday, from noon to 4:00, you can find me and a lot of other authors signing away at Local Authors Live. If you’re anywhere in the area, please do stop by.

And for those of you who’ve done this before, I’m trolling for ideas to make my table a little more cheerfully busy. I’m thinking a mini critique kit to give away with every book I sell–if I can find those really little gift bags & put in some tea, chocolate, and a must-have red pen. Some of those, in different colors, scattered around the table maybe? I’m up for any other EASY ideas!

Posted in Uncategorized

Thankful Thursday: Getting My Butt Kicked

So, this week, I started back in on yoga. Let me tell you a few things about me and yoga:

  • I have never been able to touch my toes. Knees? Okay, yes. Barely.
  • I am not good at the slow, in and out, breathing thing. Especially, and this is important, during yoga.
  • I’m not fond of being told what to do. Like, you know, to touch my toes.

But…in the past year or so, I’ve been getting some of those little aches and pains that I thought weren’t supposed to show up for another decade or three. Sore back. Tight neck. Possible arthritis in, of all places, my left middle finger. (Best explanation I’ve come up with for that one: that’s the finger that has typed oh-so-many Es on various keyboards over the years.)

So, when I saw that a local yoga center was offering GENTLE yoga three mornings a week, at a time of day that I’m basically just puttering, I decided it was time to try again. I’ve gone twice so far: Day 1: not so great, but I gritted my teeth and got through it. Day 2: AWESOME. Probably, yes, because I concentrated on (see above) breathing, more than anything else. I think I remembered to do it about 90% of the time.

As opposed to about 10%, which is my usual.

Result of both Day 1 and Day 2?

Yes, it’s a GENTLE class. Yes, I see the irony. But this goes back to my baby steps vision of life, and I am willing to give up a few hours of brain productivity, now, for more strength and (in my dreams!) the possibility of touching my toes in the future. And, I’m sure, the increased clear-headedness all that breathing will bring me.

So, today, I’m thankful for the OWS! I was uttering all day Monday and Tuesday. I’m thankful for the lessening ows that came on Wednesday. I’m thankful for the incredible sleepiness that has hit me three days in a row, at about 7:30 p.m. and the awesome nights of sleep that have gone along with it. I’m thankful for the need to sit out side in the sun and imbibe a bit of caffeine before getting started in the mornings.

And I’m VERY thankful for my wonderful husband who has happily taken on driving our son to his job at camp, so I can go and (try to) bend into positions I’m still not sure are meant for humans to achieve.

What have you taken on lately that you’re doing for the long-term benefits, rather than the immediate positives? And how’s that going for you?!

Posted in Uncategorized

Friday Five: Baby Steps

“Baby Steps”–I find myself saying this lately–to myself and to other people. When I was younger, I was more of an all-or-nothing kind of person, which, in my case, usually meant a lot of nothing. I think I’d set myself up with this vision of the huge, end goal, which looked so huge I’d too often just give up on it. As I get older, I find myself trying to break those visions into little pieces, ones that feel much more doable. And, thus, get done.

For today’s Friday Five, I thought I’d share some ways I think baby steps can help us move along our writing paths.

1. They let us focus on the short-term and keep the long-term where it sometimes needs to stay: in the future. This means we focus more on writing and less on finishing big drafts, doing the agent search, and getting a published book. You know, until those ARE in the short-term.

2.  They let you work on scenes, passages, paragraphs, dialogue–on the specific words you need to be putting on the page right then. As much as a fan of structure as I am, I do realize there are times you need to let go of the overall plot and the major character development. If you don’t have it all figured out, all that big-idea stuff can block the flow of the little stuff. Get the little stuff down and see what else it shows you. Eventually, all the little pieces will build to a big image.

3. They let you deal with critiques. When I talk about revision, I advise people to start with the small critique comments they’ve gotten–the yes/no questions and the little changes they know they can make right away. As you do this work, the bigger issues, the rest of that feedback, has time to simmer in your brain. When you get to it, and you will, you’ll be much more able to attack and revise.

4. They let you stick a toe into the marketing pond. Don’t sign up for a blog AND Facebook AND Twitter AND Goodreads AND Google+ all at the same time. Pick one, set up an account, and play–for a few hours, days, weeks, month. Whatever makes you happy. The things you learn will make the next social-networking site easier for you, if and when you decide to add it.

5. They let you say “yes” to new (ad)ventures, whether that’s a new project or an entirely new genre. Take a look at the first few things you need to do–are they manageable? Take them on, get through them, and then see where you are. My guess is you’ll be ready to do what’s next in line—a lot more ready than you would have been if you hadn’t already accomplished those first tasks.

Baby steps can feel slow, even sluggish, especially when we set them next to the whirlwind-brain that is telling us we have to do it all, right now, with perfection. I really believe in those baby steps, though, if not for your whole journey, than definitely for the first few steps in. Think about the tortoise and the hare. Or go back in time to playing Mama, May I: How many times did the person who took slow, careful baby steps end up crossing the lawn first–with all those giant-steppers still far behind?