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What’s Your First Step After The First Draft?

Seriously, before you ask, yes, I’m way ahead of the game. I’ve fast-drafted Act I, but that still leaves Acts II, III, & IV to go. (Did you notice that higher math there?) And, right, Act I is shorter by far than, at least, Acts II and III. Don’t panic. I’m not worrying (too much) about what I’ll do after that first-round typing of The End. But I am getting curious about techniques for moving, effectively, from drafting to revising.

Here’s what i did last time I fast-drafted a novel. I took probably a week or so away from it, and then I sat down with the manuscript and started reading. I will tell you right here that I never finished reading that manuscript (at least not just reading). Instead, one big, huge problem jumped out at me: I had made the sidekick character way more active than the hero; the hero was (unconsciously, I think) doing a Nick Carraway and telling the story as he observed it happening, rather than as he made it happen. So I put the first draft down and started revising, pushing my hero as far to the front of every scene as I could. These were the scenes I sent to my critique group, as I wrote them. And from that point on, I was revising from my critique group feedback, as well as from my own ideas–a pretty happy state.

At this point, I feel like I’ll probably try this technique when I finish the first draft of this new MG (I have got to come up with a sharable working title). This whole fast-drafting thing is a return for me to something that actually worked once upon a time, and–since it seems to be working a second time–I’m feeling a bit tremulous about reaching out into experimentation. I know it’s a good thing in general, but last time it left me in a pretty big pit, so maybe I need to get my process base a little more solid before I slide out onto the ice again. (My apologies for the majorly mixed metaphors. And the alliteration.)

Anyway, I am curious about how other people handle this stage. I’m going to share a few links to a few other processes. Some of them I’ve played with, some look effective, some are intriguing. And then I’d love if we got this conversation going in the comments-what do YOU do?

Just the other day, David Lubar linked to a WriteOnCon post he wrote about how he deconstructs his novels. I thought his process looked really interesting and valuable; I like how he really sticks to the basics.

Martha Alderson’s Plot Planner is another wonderful tool. Martha is brilliant at nailing the holes and flaws in a plot, and her planner is a good tool for laying everything out and seeing what you have and what you don’t. I’ve used this tool with Martha and with my critique partners. What usually happens for me is I get excited about what I’m seeing (and perhaps a bit lazy), and I run back to writing. While it is good to be writing, I’m not sure I’m using the tool to its fullest strength.

The other thing I’ve heard people talk about doing is writing a synopsis. I know people hate synopses, and maybe the only reason I don’t is that I’ve only done them at the extreme ends of the writing process–as a conference assignment when I’d barely started a story and as a required submission piece when I had a completed manuscript. (When I have written them, I’ve used Hélène Boudreau’s very doable synopsis steps.) I’m assuming people use them at other stages to identify holes and weak spots, but I’m not sure how exactly that works.

So those are my thoughts and my pointings to other thoughts. What about you? What do you do with that first draft manuscript once it’s done, and what processes have helped you bridge from that stage into second draft revision? Thanks in advance for your ideas and tips!

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Review: I DARE YOU NOT TO YAWN

I dare you not to love it. Okay, yes, that was a cheap play on the title of Hélène Boudreau and Serge Bloch’s picture book, I Dare You Not to Yawn, but it’s true. And I’m going to tell you why, or at least why I loved it.

But first, here’s your warning:

Basically, I can’t tell you why I like this book without telling you what I like. So here goes.

I’ve been wanting to read this book for a while, because I love the premise. We all know  how hard it is not to yawn once you get started, and we all know that–as Boudreau’s little hero says, “Yawns are like colds. They spread!” What I hadn’t thought about, but what Boudreau did, is that yawning could have a consequence. And the consequence she chose is what makes this book special, what makes it totally about and for children. (Okay, for me, too, but you know what I mean.)

If you yawn, AND HERE’S YOUR SPOILER, someone will decide that it’s your bedtime.  Ack! When this disaster strikes, the narrative and the illustration combine to capture the child we all know, the one that cannot believe what the adult world is handing him. Seriously?! One little yawn?! Beautiful.

And then…MORE SPOILERS! Boudreau amps up the story. She absolute rocks the concrete detail throughout the book, from the specific activities that a yawn can interrupt (“dressing up the cat”) to all the pieces that make up a single yawn (“your eyes squish tight”) to the steps along the path to lights-out time (“sleepy-time songs”).  And this is just in the first part of the book. In the second, she brings in an entirely new layer of tension: all the “threats” of bedtime become irresistible temptations: “huggable stuffed animals, soft cozy pajamas…”  So, while the little boy still doesn’t want to go to bed and still fights the yawns with all his power, we can see his resistance weakening and–as with only the best stories–we are right there with him every second.

And the ending…Ha! Got you. You thought, with all the spoilers I’ve included so far, I was going to tell you how things turn out. NOT. All I want to say is that Boudreau made the brilliant choice of letting the art carry the final moment. I am totally a word person, and the whole way through, I was thinking, how is she going to do this? What is she going to write to tie things up as neatly as she needs to. I am not usually a proponent of the 1 picture = 1,000 words theory, but in this case? Oh, yeah.

So, you know, despite all the things I did tell you about I Dare You Not to Yawn, there are so many more that I didn’t. So go out, get yourself a copy, and fall in love for yourself.

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From Concept to Specific: Hunting the Perfect Detail

No, it’s not quite like hunting snipe.

But it matters a lot more.

Yes, I’m working on a picture-book revision this week, so the detail problem is more in my face than when I’m writing early draft thoughts about the YA WIP. But still…it’s relevant for all writing, I think.

Yesterday, on Facebook, Hélène Boudreau said she was craving s’mores. And then she posted this picture:

Look at that. Is that a chocolate bar over which the marshmallow is melting? It is not. It’s a peanut-butter cup.

Besides making me drool crazily and want to run right out to the store for supplies, what does the peanut-butter cup do? It changes the whole thing. If you’re like me and you love peanut butter, not to mention peanut butter inside chocolate, it makes the whole idea of a s’more so much better, I’ll never go back. (Now if someone would just come up with a replacement for those dry graham crackers!) If you are someone who doesn’t like peanut-butter cups (seriously?!), it might make you shake your head in dismay. If you have peanut allergies, I’m guessing you’re not having a happy Pavlovian response right now.

My point? There’s a difference between a plain chocolate bar and a peanut-butter cup. And it’s a difference that can tell us something specific about a person or a character.

You start with an idea, a concept. Let’s say: Friendship. I like that. Now, because you know better than to tell this friendship, you try to think of something that shows friendship. How about a present? Okay. Great. What present? A book? Or a racing-car set? Tickets to the next James Bond movie? Or to that all-nude production of Waiting for Godot?

One more? Concept: Anger. Details: Throwing a chair through the window or curling up into a ball on the couch? Knocking down that tower of blocks or turning your back on everybody else in the room and building that tower slowly, steadily, as close to the sky as you can get it?

I’ve gone on here about how I’m usually on the side of fewer details, especially in historical novels. And I stand by my belief that too many details is just…too many.  I also get that–with a picture book–the writer who supplies too many details is not only overdoing the word count, but is probably also getting in the way of the illustrator. BUT…when it comes time to actually pick a detail, you need the right one. It needs to add to the story, reveal character, and create an image in the reader’s mind.

What will I be doing today? Sitting at my computer, staring into space, letting ideas and words and images saunter through my brain. I’ll have my butterfly net handy, ready to catch any possibilities, drop them into my story, and see if they’re the right fit. Most I’ll set free again, but I’m definitely hoping for one that will decide to stay.

A couple of recommendations for picture books in which the authors have, IMO, done a beautiful job picking details:

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Synopsis: What I’ve Learned So Far

I spent the weekend working on the first draft of my synopsis for my online class. I’m very happy with the class and the teacher, so, for those of you who were wondering, it’s Teresa  Bodwell’s “Developing the Selling Query Letter and Synopsis,” offered through Savvy Authors.

Carolyn Donnell, a fellow member of the South Bay CWC club, asked me if I was going to blog about writing a synopsis. My first reaction was that, as I said, I was taking the class because I didn’t know how to write one! Then I started thinking and writing and, of course, came up with a few things that are working for me, so…time to share.

Just remember, these are random things I’ve tried, I’ve done, or I’ve thought about as I wrote this weekend. These are not in any order, or intended in any way as a lesson. And, fair warning, this post gets fairly long. Even for me. My recommendation: TAKE A CLASS! A fairly quick one, like Teresa’s, so those deadlines are actually real motivators, and push yourself to go through the steps. I’m not going to end up with a finished product after this, but I will definitely be ready to take what I’ve got and send it through my critique group a few times until it is polished and ready.

Here’s what I played with/learned so far:

  • Write a pitch paragraph first, as if you need that query letter today. Even if you don’t. The class had us write a query letter, and I basically used the one that’s been relatively successful for me in the past, but–obviously–I had to come up with a totally new pitch. It helped to remind me where I need the power and conflict to be in the story, even if it’s not there yet. Which it’s not. Yet.
  • Collect your building blocks. If you don’t have them yet, get out the table saw and the paint and make them. I used this post from Helene Boudreau to get started collecting plot points, then added to those with the chapter on “Dissecting the Synopsis” in Elizabeth Lyon’s The Sell Your Novel Toolkit and the article recommended in the class–Lori Devoti’s “Plotting and Synopsis Point by Point.” (Go to her website and you’ll find it here, in her writing articles.)
    Both Lyon and Devoti base their tools on the hero’s journey, which is a good way, I think, to keep tension and rising conflict in mind as you’re plotting/synopsizing.)
  • Track your characters. So far, in my first draft, the middle is pretty muddy, especially when it comes to what everybody’s doing to make Caro’s life harder and what she’s doing in reaction. So I knew I needed to work on that, or the synopsis was going to turn out just as vague and wishy-washy. NOT my objective here. The only way I know to do this kind of plotting is to keep going back to your main characters and thinking of SOMETHING they can do to impact your MC’s life, to create an obstacle. And it has to be something specific, something concrete that can turn into an action–a real plot point.
  • Keep thinking about cause and effect. I really think this is what drives a synopsis. (Yes, okay, it’s what drives the story, too, but it’s still the first draft, okay? Sheesh!) So in my table, where I was throwing in the actions of the characters, I added a column to show what Caro would do in response to each of the problems/obstacles someone else was creating. Funny enough, a lot of those responses were things she is already doing in the book; it’s just that so far, she’s sort of doing it all for no real reason except I tell her to. Now, I think, I’m a lot closer to the causes that create the effects.
  • Pile on the problems. I think we all have a tendency to back away from complications, which is–of course–the exact opposite of what we need to do for our stories. This was the chance, for me, to make things worse and worse for Caro, without letting myself think too much about the fact that, eventually, I’ll have to write these things!
  • One of the things they tell you about formatting a synopsis is that the first time you write a character’s name, you should put it in all caps. They also tell you not to use a character’s name unless they’re really important to the plot. Well, as I worked, it seemed obvious that if I mentioned a character twice, it was much simpler (and made the writing cleaner) to just give them a name. And, guess what, if I wasn’t going to mention them twice (as in 1) they cause a problem and 2) Caro has to deal with/resolve the problem at a later point), then they probably weren’t important enough to the plot to be in the synopsis. I actually “killed off” one, maybe two characters, in the story, just by seeing that they create no situation for Caro to follow through on.
  • As you start writing the actual synopsis, put your hero in the forefront of your brain as the one in charge, the one directing/causing the action and keep her there. If you start a sentence with the action of another character, make sure that your MC shows up quickly in that paragraph, as reacting to that action. Your hero has to drive the synopsis–those agents and editors want to know that she is powerful and strong and capable of taking on all these people and beating them. Yes, of course, she has to hit bad spots; she has to make mistakes and learn from them, but she also has to be acting constantly. If she’s not doing that in your synopsis, they’re going to have a hard time believing she’ll do it in your book.
  • Don’t worry about length. Not yet. I’m writing this synopsis for the SCBWI WIP grant, which requires a synopsis of no more than 750 words. Right now, mine is somewhere between 800 and 900 words. Okay, I can trim. I will trim. But first I need to get the darned thing written. I need to submit it to the class and find out what’s confusing, what’s weak, what’s too crowded. I need to rewrite it and send it through my critique group several times. (Head’s up, guys, it’ll be in your laps soon!) And then, yes, I’ll trim. If you’re shooting for a 3-page synopsis, and you end up with a page to start, great! Layer in a couple more important plot points, add layers to your hero’s conflict, check if anyone’s subplot really is critical to the story. Just don’t check the word count while you’re writing the first draft. Later, dudes, later.
  • Jump around. Normally, I’m a huge advocate of NOT revising while you write. For me, though, I found that it helped to go back and forth between the earlier sections of the synopsis and the later ones. As I got closer to the end of the middle, to the crisis and climax, I would find myself adding a character or an important plot point and realize that was the first time I was mentioning them. In other words, I hadn’t seeded the problem, hadn’t introduced a character that was turning out to be important. So I’d back up, find a place I THOUGHT might be an okay place to weave in an early mention, and I’d drop something into the paragraph. And, yes, when I went back for a quick re-read before submitting the synopsis to the class, I moved a few things around. But I could do that, because they were there. You have to get all the puzzle pieces on the table, face up, before you can figure out what to do with them.

So there you have it. A long, overly detailed, slightly chaotic synopsis “lesson.” The most important thing that I got out of this exercise, besides–yes, a decent first draft–was the realization that this is another one of those places we have to push ourselves. Consolidating an entire story, especially one you don’t fully know, is hard. Intimidating. SCARY. And….? It’s the time to tell yourself, “So what?” How badly do you want to make trips to Chicago for research? How much do you want to be able to shut yourself into museums and libraries, to walk around neighborhoods, to talk to experts? How great would it be to get a grant that would make all this easier? And, bottom line–how badly do you want to figure out your plot and write a story with power.

Yeah, pretty badly.

I told myself that I would take this class, write this synopsis, not just because of the grant, but also because it would help me move forward on this book, help me get a tighter plot before I started revising (which is maybe a dozen more 1st-draft scenes away?). And guess what…I was actually telling myself the truth! I am so happy with all the plot points I came up with, the connections I saw, and the force that my MC is becoming. The story is actually starting to make sense.

What about you? Do you write a synopsis before an agent/editor asks you for one? At what stage/draft do you find it the most helpful? And what does it do for you, for your vision of the story?