My husband and son for being my Valentines whether or not they admit, accept, or enjoy it. I don’t think they’ll turn down the chocolate.
My cat, whose eyes pretty much light up like flashing, neon ***LAP*** signs when she sees me sit down on the couch.
My critique partners, who have been one of the most important pieces of my life for anywhere between ten and, OMG, almost TWENTY YEARS.
People who are living through, like…the WORST winter of their lives and aren’t throwing any hate at California. At least, you know, not on Facebook where I can see it.
Everybody who has ever written a book that they thought they were either writing for someone else or were sending out into a big world of unknown readers, and whose book ended in my hands, touching my heard and brain, and–really–being just for me. Or who is writing that book now. You know who you are.
If you’re my friend on Facebook, right about now you’re probably making that really mature, fake gagging gesture and saying, “Oh, puh-lease! Have we not heard enough about that cat in the last week?!” But for those of you who haven’t seen all the pics and those of you who just, you know, LOVE CATS, let me introduce you to Alice.
We went to Humane Society Silicon Valley last Saturday, basically all a-twitter at the possibility of finding a cat, or–you know–being found by a cat, and at the possibility of not finding one. I cannot recommend this shelter enough. The animals went way beyond clean and healthy; they were all happy, relaxed, and friendly. And the people who work there, with the animals, are also happy, relaxed, and friendly! There were lots of cats we could easily have decided to take home.
But I fell in love with Alice.
Five things about Alice.
She is bee-yo-ti-ful. I know, I know. beauty is only skin fur deep. But she is. At first I thought she was a funny mix of grey tabby and orange tabby. (No, I wasn’t listening when we did the whole Mendel pea thing in school, so what do I know?!) But then I thought, hey, no, she’s a calico-tabby cross. Because she’s all calico colored, but each patch has tabby stripes. And then someone on Facebook said something about diluted or pastel calicos. So now I think she’s a pastel-calico-tabby cross. It doesn’t really matter, because all they want to know at the vet is that she’s a DSH (Domestic Short Hair). They probably wouldn’t put DSHT (Domestic Short Hair AND Tail) into the computer, even if I asked nicely.
She is probably somewhere between a year and two years old. Old enough to be NOT a kitten (one of my criteria), but young enough to act kitteny a little bit of the time AND to not put us back on the elder-kitty path too soon. I loved, loved, loved our last cat, Lacey, but the past couple of years were pretty stressful. Obviously, I’ll go through that stage again and again with every cat we have, but I am ready to see it as way off in the distance for now.
She likes low places and high places. She likes to be under things–under the chair, the coffee table, the couch, the futon in my office. Obviously, part of this is her transitioning into our home and family and just taking shelter to feel quiet and safe. And her time underneath things is already lessening, but she still does it enough that I’ve taken to using the laser pointer to find her–flick that around a couple of times, and out she comes, saving me from having to get down on my knees and peer under all the furniture. She also loves to be up high, though, and she will climb onto your shoulders and use them as a launching pad–she landed on a shelf so high in my office that she accepted my help in getting down, and she was eyeballing the oven hood while she rode around on my son’s back the other day. That would have been interesting to watch…KITTY SLIDE! She is an awesome jumper, which is not making Bard, our cockatiel, the happiest bird on the planet. We’re trying to keep an eye on things, make it more difficult for her to get to his cage, and see if they’ll work out their own relationship.
Like most cats, she rejects all the actual toys we offer, and chooses her own playthings. She spends a little time each day “killing” a rope that hangs down under the futon in my office, is making it clear that I can no longer leave hair bands just laying around, and is true to the bag-loving nature of all felines. Where’s Waldo Alice?
We’re celebrating Halloween tomorrow, with a party, and we don’t get trick-or-treaters on Monday (too far up in the mountains without being in a little mountain “neighborhood.”) So a few days early, here are some of my favorite things about Halloween.
1. Candy. Yes, you knew I was going to say that. My favorites? Butterfingers, peanut-butter cups, and the little pumpkins that come in candy corn this time of year.
2. Cute little children in cute little costumes. Oh, yes, and cute dogs in cute costumes, too. Our cat Lacey does not dress up. Or eat candy (like I’m guessing those dogs do!).
3. The shift into a new season. I know, autumn has already technically arrived, but for me it comes right around Halloween. This year, we got cold a couple of weeks earlier than usual. Typically, here in NorCal, we spend the week before Halloween thinking, “Boy, that costume is going to be awfully warm.” Then, the day before the big night, temperatures drop suddenly, and our thoughts shift to, “Wonder if I can persuade the kid to wear a coat over that costume.”
4. The lights and decorations. Yes, I love Xmas lights, too. There’s a several-blocks-long street in town, where the town kids and an awful lot of the mountain kids go to trick-or-treat, and that street maxes out on the decoration. Tacky, gaudy, and oh, so bright–I love them.
5. The thought of all the time off, time with family, time with festivities coming in the next two months!
As you read this, or shortly after, I’ll be on the road (or many roads) on my way to the SCBWI Spring Spirit conference in Rocklin, California. For us non-geography experts, that’s right up in/near Sacramento. To get there, I head out of my mountains, through the heart of Silicon Valley, up into some lovely green hills (really green, this week!), and over toward the tip of the Central Valley. Not a long drive, but long enough that I’m taking an extra day, rather than rushing up and back the same day.
Road Trip!
Here are a few things I expect to do this weekend:
1. Drink “my” drink: Nonfat, decaf, light caramel macchiato. Just so you know. Yes, I do get that all out at the order station, and, yes, it’s worth the embarrassment. I’m not a big coffee drinker in every day life, but there’s something about sipping hot coffee from behind the wheel of a car that seems to work. And don’t push me to get the “hard” stuff–you don’t want me driving around on a full-caffeine hit!
2. Stop at the California Automobile Museum to do research for my WIP. I’m (hopefully) going to see a 1908 Model T, a 1911 Pierce-Arrow (think back to the car the dad bought in Cheaper by the Dozen), and a lot more. I’m going to figure out how you accelerated a car back in those days, which (if not all) had cranks to get things going, and–most important–what you might possibly bang your head against…hard!
(Note: I’ll be there on April 1st. I’m SO tempted to walk in, say, “Which one do I get to drive?!”, watch their faces fall, and then shout “April Fools!” Honestly, though, no chance I’ll have the courage.)
3. Hang out with kidlit writers and illustrators.
4. Meet Bruce Coville. Wait, let me say that again. MEET BRUCE COVILLE!!!! He’s the keynote speaker at the conference, and I pretty much think he is brilliant in his ability to understand what makes kids laugh and what gives them the perfect world of fantasy to escape into.
5. Get back a critique from some professional (not sure who yet) on my picture book. Stick the still-sealed envelope in my bag and don’t open it until I’m somewhere quiet and safe? Tear it open upon receipt and block everybody else in the registration line until I’ve read it? Sneak a peak at lunch? What would you do?
Can you tell I’m ready to go? Have a great weekend, everybody!
Write what you know. I’ve talked about that concept before, how I really think part of creating a story that we love writing (and others hopefully love reading) is stretching ourselves beyond what we know. Still, all of us have histories and worlds that we’ve lived in that could, possibly, add a layer of something extra to a WIP, whether that’s one we’re working on now or one we haven’t even got the idea for yet. The thing is, we never know what that is until and if we need it.
I thought it’d be a fun Friday Five to share pieces of my past that might, in some happy time, be the thing that adds that layer–the detail that flows into a setting, adds a quirk to a character, twists a plot, or amps up some dialogue.
And then I want to hear from you. 🙂
1. I know what happens when you step on a bathroom scale holding a dog that tops out just under 100 pounds. Awake. And moving. And I know just how big the window of time is before you either drop the dog or, with the dog still in your arms, go over backward in a big, big thud. (Luckily, I also know what it feels like to hold a newborn, and I mean newborn, puppy in your hands and rub its belly to get it circulating and wriggling and happening.)
2. I know what an avocado looks like when a possum has been at it. Think vampire.
3. I know what it feels like to drive through Hollywood on your way to the graveyard shift you’re working, and realize the thin girl walking along the sidewalk is not on her way home from ballet class. At 11:30 at night. In a not-so-great neighborhood. Gut punch.
4. I know what it feels like to get way too much sand and salt water in your face, bodysurfing in Mexico. And then be stung by a jellyfish. In the elbow. The one you might, you know, just possibly want to bend, sometime before the end of the day.
5. I know that peacocks, perched on a fence in the rain, are no more attractive or appealing than a bunch of turkeys in the same position. And that you have to be just as careful where you put your feet, when you walk near them.
There. How about you? Don’t take the easy route. Push yourself to think of things that you can actually imagine in a book or an article, that little tidbit that only you know. Or at least that not everybody on the planet knows. Go ahead–I want to see what you come up with!
True story: I’m in a yoga class years ago. I’m trying the poses, feeling the stretch, even though–at no point when they’re supposed to–do my fingers get anywhere near the floor; at many points when I’m supposed to be standing with balance, I’m tipping over & bumping into the wall. There is a woman a few mats away from me who can, pretty much without trying, touch her nose to her knees and twist so that–I swear–she’s all the way around facing the mirror at the front of the room again. Most of the rest of us are fighting back jealous; a few perhaps even plotting revenge.
The teacher gets the sense of what’s going on. And she takes time to explain that, even though we think this woman has it easy, in reality it’s harder for her to learn the poses, because–basically–her body flops over so loosely that she has to work harder to actually be in the pose, hold the pose, etc. And then the teacher–who I really do love–says, “On the other hand, Becky has an easier time/better chance of getting the stretch that the pose should give you.” Or something to that effect. I know my name was said, I know everybody turned to check me out, I know the teacher meant well, and I know that it all added up to the fact that I was the least flexible person in the class.
Well, you know, that wasn’t exactly news. 🙂
Not me.
Of course, there are also some people whom, if you asked, would theorize that I’m not always the most emotionally flexible person either. And I’m okay with that, too.
But…TRANSITION: I believe that being flexible in your critique group is a must. The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide is full of tips for building a group, for holding meetings, for developing critiques, but the thing is–the bottom line is that we need to run a critique group in a way that works for us. We need to run a critique group in a way that helps us put more writing on the page, helps us support each other with strong, deep feedback and as-needed hugs. We need to run a critique group so that every member wants to be there, wants to submit, and feels like–yes–they can revise this mess they’re making.
So, after that very long wind-up, here are five ways you can keep your group flexible.
1. Be flexible about reading submissions of varying length–from a two-page scene to a full manuscript. And if you’re the author with the full manuscript, be flexible about how fast you expect your critique partners to read that big pile!
2. Be flexible about who gets to submit. I know there are groups that assign specific dates to specific group members. If you miss your window, because you didn’t have a chapter ready, you have to wait till your next turn. If you have chapters ready for three meetings in a row, you might not be allowed to submit for all those meetings, because it’s not your time slot. I really believe that when a writer in our group is being productive, we should support them by basically standing with our arms open ready to catch all the pages they can throw at us. Yes, of course, if it’s more than people can really read–if members’ critiquing time starts cutting too much into their writing time, there might need to be a “discussion” about maximum pages, but I’d rather see the auto-pilot response be “Yes, sure,” instead of “No way.”
3. On the flip side of that coin, be flexible about the times when a group member isn’t submitting. I know writers who need to write a first draft without being critiqued, because feedback at that stage can just open the door to their nasty inner editor and, basically, stall out their writing. Sometimes, life just rears its ugly head and gets in the way of a writer’s progress. That’s not a happy time, but it’s also not a time when a critique group should make things harder for that writer. They’re still coming to the meetings; they’re still critiquing other people’s work; they’re still a big part of the group. Support everybody’s different processes.
4. Be flexible about when you critique. I’m a big advocate of submitting pages for critique before a meeting (for in-person groups), rather than reading and critiquing at the meeting. I actually think it’s a very important part of having time to really read deeply & think about a manuscript, to develop a strong, helpful set of feedback. BUT…if the members of your critique group really don’t have time to set up this kind of schedule, to take those extra hours out of the week, do not let this stop you from setting up your group or from going on with one you’re already in. Do your best to spend that concentrated time at the meeting reading carefully and thoughtfully and share your feedback clearly. Sometimes we can’t manage the ideal, so we manage the next best…as well as we can.
5. Be flexible about life’s changes. When I started with my first group, I wasn’t married & I wasn’t even thinking about motherhood. While I was in the group, all that changed. Those first months of mommyhood were not easy ones for me, and my group made it that much easier by totally supporting me in bringing my son with me to the group for a few sessions, until I worked out a babysitting situation I was happy with. It meant so much to me that I didn’t have to step out of the group or miss those sessions that were one of the huge highlights of my month. I talk a lot about commitment to your critique group, but membership is not a black-and-white, ground-in-stone rulebook. If your group members are worth critiquing with, they’re worth accommodating when that new baby comes, when a job schedule changes, when an elderly parent needs attention and assistance.
Yes, there good ways to run a critique group, and there are not-so-good ways. To grow a group that you trust, that makes you feel safe and motivated, that helps you move forward with your writing, we need to be flexible about those various ways.
It’s an important thing, and it’s one that gets results. Results that are more than worth any aches & pains that the extra stretching brings you.
Here’s the thing about the research bucket. It’s like Mary Poppins carpetbag–never really empty.
I said back here that, in my second draft, I want to be able to weave in a lot of the history I need for the story. So I’ve spent a lot of time the past few months doing the kind of research I need to get closer to the plot–checking out realities and possibilities. I dug far enough into things to be pretty sure that, yes, one of my characters can have an automobile; yes, another can have a job in the beauty industry; yes, my MC can be the daughter of an immigrant; yes, her little brother can play with toy trains. And I’ve been tossing ideas into my plot, based on those green lights.
This week, I’m starting to flesh out the plot and then, hopefully, to put things into a sequence that may, as a starting point, make sense. I’m using Scrivener and filling out scene cards with basic information–which characters are in the scene, where do they go and what do they do, what’s the main conflict and why…that stuff. And I’m also including a list of specific questions I need answers to…for that scene.
This 2nd draft is going to be a lot of stops and starts. (That’s okay…remember my word for 2011? Peace!)
Anyway, during my plotting sessions with Scrivener, I’ve already come up with way more than 5 things I’ll be researching. So for today’s post, just the tip of the iceberg.
1. In 1912, who were the kids that were still in high school? I know that a lot more kids were going to and finishing high school by this time, but there were still plenty having to quit to get jobs, to help out at home, or just because the family didn’t see a reason for them to be going on. I want to have some idea of what the mix was that were still there, in the classrooms, learning for…learning.
2. Did American Flyer sell accessories for their wind-up model trains? Would a “train kid” have little houses and depots and trees and cows? (Don’t laugh: some British train companies modified their models for sale in America by adding cow catchers to the front!) And what would those accessories be?
3. What specific automobile will Caro’s not-yet-maybe-never-boyfriend own? What did it look like, feel like, smell like? And how much trouble is he going to get into when they…Never mind. You’ll have to wait for that one.
4. What kind of injury, in 1912, would put someone at potential risk for death and, if they survived, leave the chance they wouldn’t walk again. I have a doctor friend who will be getting a LOT of questions, and then I’ll have to read up on this stuff in 1912. Oh, yeah, that’ll be fun.
5. What needle craft did German-Jewish immigrant women do–those of the age to come to American in the late 1800s? Knitting? Lace-making? Some kind of embroidery? This is one it would be very nice to have a time machine for–I’d just zip back to Berlin in those years and talk to some of my great-something-aunts. As it is…more reading!
Whether you’re working on a historical novel or not, what are some of the questions you’re wondering about for your WIP? Drop them in the comments–you never know when someone will have an answer. And if not, it’s fun to see some things we don’t have to hunt down ourselves!
1. Son is dressing up as Dr. Horrible. Friend is dressing up as Captain Hammer. There will be no freeze gun or boxing gloves, but lots of singing, I’m sure.
2. I will be going with the usual question…Mom. I’ve added a few more wrinkles to the costume, I think, but–you know–in the dark, probably no one will notice!
3. I’ve been on a committed trying-to-lose-weight program and today saw the 10-pounds-off number on the scale. This should, hopefully, be motivation for not eating ALL the Butterfingers that come home.
4. There are only two things I miss since our move to the mountains. Pizza delivery and trick-or-treaters. I’ve never been big on the costumes and parties, but I did used to love handing out candy to the little guys. And, of course, buying a few too many bags & having to deal with leftovers.
5. Usually, our October is warm, warm, warm, with all of us thinking our kids will roast in their costumes. Then, a day before Halloween, the temps drop and we’re trying to convince those kids that a coat over said costume will NOT look stupid. This year, it’s been cold for weeks, and son is happy his costume includes sweat pants, a jacket, and boots that are so big he’s wearing fleece slippers inside. And the welding gloves, of course.
Becky Levine 
