Posted in Character, Revision

Writing Lessons from Tiffany Aching

Okay, Tiffany Aching isn’t Steven Tyler. But if we’re learning anything from Jo Knowles’ “unintentional blog series” about Tyler, it’s that writing advice comes where you find it. And, probably, most people would agree that Terry Pratchett would be right up there with authors we could all learn from.

BTW, if you didn’t know who Tiffany Aching is without that Wikipedia link, stop reading this post , go out to the bookstore or get online, and buy yourself a copy of The Wee Free Men. If you’re smart, you’ll just buy the whole series now and save yourself the extra gas and shipping charges. And then be prepared to spend the next few days laughing hysterically, having moments of philosophical clarity, and pretty much bowing down to the genius that is Pratchett.

Anyhoo…

Tiffany Aching is a witch. Not your typical witch, unless you’re talking typical to Discworld. She’s a witch for many reasons–the first and foremost probably being that she chooses to be one. Another reason, though, is that Tiffany has First and Second Thoughts. Occasionally, she has Third Thoughts, but when that happens her Second Thoughts step in and say, “Let’s all calm down, please, because this is quite a small head.”  (She’s only nine years old.) Tiffany’s thoughts let her see things more clearly than other people; they let her stand outside herself and observe what’s really going on, separated from her own feelings at the moment. It’s a powerful ability, better, in my opinion, than all the magic the wizards at Unseen University can do.

So where does the writing lesson come in? Here: To really use these thoughts, to really see past all the illusion and even all the things she’d like to believe, Tiffany has to be still. She has to, as another witch tells her early in the book, “open your eyes…and then open your eyes again.” She has to look.

I’m a bit stuck on my picture book revision. I’m at the point where I really have to get closer to the dynamic/relationship/conflict between my young hero and the other character. Which means–yes, here we go again–really figuring out what each of them wants and what that want makes them do. Once again: goal+action. You’d think I’d have it down by now.

All weekend, I was busy with weekend stuff, but I thought maybe I could let the problem bubble away in the back of my mind and see what that back-of-my-mind came up with. The internet is full of writing articles and blogs about people getting brainstorms in the shower or while they’re cooking dinner or just before they go to sleep. Well, I occasionally get this happening to me, but not all that often. For whatever reason, when my brain is showering or cooking or drifting into unconsciousness, it is pretty busy doing just that. The membrane between front and back seems to be relatively non-porous.

Apparently, when I want to figure out a story problem, I have to–yes, you’re getting it–I have to be still. Like Tiffany.

So this week, I’m scheduling time for stillness. I will take myself away from the computer. I will stretch out and close my eyes. I will open them to look at my characters. And then I will open them again.

I’m betting I actually get somewhere.

Posted in Blog Contest

Contest: What’s Your Revision Metaphor?

WARNING: MIXED METAPHORS (or possibly even analogies) AHEAD:

You know that stage in revision, when things are FINALLY coming together? When you start to see the light at the end of the tunnel (and it’s NOT a train)? I have struggled for years to come up with a good way to describe. Something concise, cohesive, and coherent that really hits the nail on the head. See? There’s already that whole nail/hammer imagery going on, and we haven’t got to the contest yet!

I’m heading off to yet another workshop where I will be talking about this moment WITHOUT a metaphor. Without one that really says it all. Oh, sure, I’ll talk about weeding out the stuff that doesn’t belong, I’ll describe sanding off the rough spots. I’ll tell them how the puzzle pieces start to fit, even fall into place on their very own. I’ll mention Michelangelo’s (or was it daVinci? Someone else altogether?) idea that the statue is already in the chunk of rock, and that if you (only he?!) chip away long enough, the complete thing will emerge. If I’m crazy enough, I might even mention the idea that it’s kind of like carving something out of soap and watching all the spare flakes fall to the ground (and hoping that the darned thing doesn’t snap into pieces).

Okay, no, I won’t talk about all these things. The workshop is only an hour, for pete’s sake. Plus, I don’t want the people who come to listen thinking I’m completely crazy.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, to come back to the answer. A description of one or two (okay, MAYBE three) sentences that just…says it? You all know what I’m talking about–if you haven’t hit it yet, yourselves, you’ve heard other people talk about it and you’ve dreamed about it happening to you. Yes, you have. I’m not saying it’s the moment of “done.” But it’s that time when all the work you’ve done starts to feel worthwhile. When you see a glimmer of resemblance between the words on the page and the vision in your mind. When you at least start to believe that you may possibly create something that holds together, stands on its own, doesn’t–as my husband is fond of saying–roll on square wheels.

So, while I’m gone: A contest.

Normally, I am a totally random contest-winner chooser. I put all the names in the hat, and I draw one out. Not this time. This time, I will be…A JUDGE.

Here’s what I want. Post your entry in the comment section of this post. I’ll give you UP TO 3 sentences to come up with a metaphor (or an analogy or a simile or a comparison or a whatever) that gets these elements across:

  • That feeling that you’ve gotten rid of most, if not all, of those big extras you THOUGHT you’d need but that you now see have no place in the story.
  • That feeling that, when you make a change in one chapter, you (almost) instantly think of one or two more places in the book that you need to change, and you’ve got a pretty clear idea of what change is going to work.
  • That feeling that, as you revise, you’re connecting your characters at a deeper level, that everybody’s story is starting to link up with everybody else’s. In a good way.
  • And, finally, that feeling that you may still have a long way to go, but that–right now–you’re very busy turning this story into something.

Okay!

Wait, what? Oh, a prize? Yes, there is a prize.

If you win, and you don’t already have it, I’ll send you a signed copy of my book, The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide. But I don’t want to cut out ideas from anybody who already has the book. SO…if you win and you do already have the book and don’t want a copy for a friend, I’ll send you, INSTEAD, a copy of Colin Cotterill’s The Coroner’s Lunch. Just because this series is my newest happy reading discovery, and I like to share. Basically, your choice!

I’m going to run the contest for a week, and I’ll announce the winner on Wednesday, May 18th. I’m going to make no claims about knowing the BEST entry; I’m just going to pick the one that feels the most right with the way I feel when I get to this point in revising. I’m still working on an early draft of my WIP, so all these entries are going to be nice reminders of what I have to look forward to–good motivation for writing along, so I get to revise.

Enter away. And have fun!

Posted in Plot

Moving Forward: When to Let Go of Plotting

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

Friday Five: Around the Blogosphere

I take you today to a few posts that caught my eye, and my imagination, over the past couple of weeks.

1. PJ Hoover lists her top ten reasons to have a writing group (different than a critique group).

2. Beth Revis gives her answer (for now) on the question of how to define success.

3. On a similar thread, lit agent Erin Murphy guest-posted over at Shrinking Violet Promotions about the many different paths to success.

4. Janni Lee Simner coaxes her protagonist to join her on the first steps into Draft 3 of her their WIP.

5. Terri Thayer asked us to share our snow-day stories. Being a native Californian, I had to make mine up. 🙂

Happy Friday, everyone, and here’s to a wonderful weekend.

Posted in Revision

2nd Draft: Focusing the Telescope on…?

So, that first draft is done. The last chapters are off to my critique group. I’m reading and reading and ordering more books and reading, trying to get some more history and psychology into my brain.

I’ll also be cleaning my office–all those piles that have just gotten added to and sort of pushed into neatness the last few months need to be dealt with. I need to get the 1st draft binder on the shelf, start one for the 2nd draft, get all the notes I made while I was writing toward “The End” at least stuck in there for me to contemplate.

And then I’ll get revising.

For me, the 2nd draft is a huge deal, but–at the same time–another pass where so much doesn’t get touched. In my first book, when I looked at my first draft, the thing that jumped out of me was that my hero was way too passive–he was playing sidekick to his sidekick. So the 2nd draft was all about turning that around, putting him in charge, getting him to take the risks and have the failures and figure out the next thing to do–in other words, actually turn him into a hero.

Yes, of course, I revised smaller things to–I worked big-time on his goals, I’m sure, and played with setting and dialogue as well. But the revision had a main focus–that “thing” I had to change before I could really move on. Again.

For Caro’s story, I’ve got two biggies. The one I’ve talked about before–letting go of the 2nd plotline (and stashing it somewhere safe to write into another book) and bringing the storyline I’m choosing now to the forefront. The second thing I have to do is really figure out my antagonist–Caro’s mom. I have to get much closer to who she is and what she does–both in terms of making things really hard for Caro and in terms of all the hours of the day that she isn’t on the page. I have to understand her fear and come up with actions she takes, because of that fear.

So…to start, I’m reading. More history on immigrants in Chicago, on how bad things were and how long the problems lasted. The fact that people were fighting this battle for at least two generations (and, yes, are still fighting it) is a big part of my story, and I need to hone in on that sense of This is STILL happening?! I’ll also be reading about mothers and daughters, the not-good stuff…okay, the really not-good stuff. Light, pleasure reading? Um…no. Has to be done, though.

And somewhere in here, I’ll be plotting. I just downloaded the beta version of Scrivener for Windows, and I’m really excited about that corkboard. I’m going to dig out some of my plot books and think about connections and tension and layering.

Does this sound like it’ll take a while? It sure does to me. But it is part of the process. The first draft did a great job showing me what I don’t have figured out–and I’m going to get at least some of that cleared up before I start writing again. Will I go on and on and on forever before I revise. Nah. Don’t worry. I can only sustain not-writing for so long. Pretty soon, half the books will be read, some of the plot will be figured out, and I’ll start itching. 🙂

Until then, though…

Posted in First Drafts, Plot, Revision

This is My Brain. This is My Brain on Plot.

This post is dedicated to Terri Thayer, for listening and not once telling me I’m crazy.

What my brain tells me when I announce that, in the second draft of this WIP, we may be dropping one entire, MAJOR plotline:

  • Wow!
  • Wouldn’t this be a betrayal of Character X? Who just happens to have been a real person in real life that you totally love and admire and want to write about?
  • Hold on!  Does that mean you don’t have to finish the 1st draft??!!!
  • You could buy fewer index cards for the re-plotting party.
  • You’d be writing less broadly and more deeply. That would be a good thing.
  • Are you just copping out? Is this just the cowardly easy easier road to take?
  • Does this mean you’re thinking of a second book? Another historical fiction? You swore there’d be no more historical fiction!
  • You’ll cry more, if you write it this way.
  • This story is supposed to be about the girl and her mother. Have you seen the mother on the page yet? No, you haven’t. Because that other plotline keeps getting in the way. Get back to the mother.
  • You’ve written almost 250 pages, and now you’re telling me it’s a different story?

What I tell my brain:

  • Shut up and let me write.
Posted in Picture Books, Revision

What’s Harder about Picture Books—#4,385

Okay, maybe I should have said “different” in the post title, instead of “harder.” As I work through my first picture-book attempt, I’m finding lots of things that do just qualify as different, and some that are actually easier than, oh, say, a historical novel. Did someone say *cough*, “Research?”

This week, though, I’m heading into some more revision, and I had a lightbulb moment about what exactly I’ve been struggling with.

When I revise a novel, I work in threads. Or chunks. Or arcs…however you want to describe it. Basically, if I know that a character’s arc isn’t strong enough, I’ll follow her story all the way through the book, tweaking her interactions with other characters, amping up her responses to events, making connections tighter and layers deeper. Or if I drop a new plot point in toward the end of the book, I go through and plant seeds for that point in earlier chapters, making sure (hopefully!) that they mesh well with the rest of the story. The nice thing about this is that it lets me pay attention to something specific and not bounce around as randomly as I would if I were just revising page-by-page with whatever I noticed not working.

The other nice thing is that I can spend some time around each of these threads. As I work, I do notice other things to play with on another revision pass, and I spend more time with my characters, themes, and voice–getting to know them all that much better. It’s not a fast process, but I think the hours are valuable and add to the quality of my project.

Here’s the thing about a picture book. Each “thread” has maybe a dozen sentences to it.  Even if I stare at each of those sentences and think (a la Winnie-the-Pooh) really hard about them, I’m not getting hours worth of revising time for any of them. I realized this was a problem, when I’d tried to revise about a half-page of text and hit overwhelmed. Because…yeah, I was trying to revise three character threads at once.         

I can’t DO that.

So, this week, I’ll be taking it a thread at a time. Which may sound easier, and–in terms of keeping my brain INSIDE my skull, will be. In terms of letting me dig into my story, though, really immerse myself in the characters and plot, I’m just not sure. Even if each revision thread goes quickly, I’m not sure that I can shift onto another and another that quickly. Still…if I spend a half hour or hour per thread each day, I should have another solid revision done by the end of the week, and that’s a goal I can live with.

How do you revise? And does it vary for you depending on the length (or other quality) of the manuscript?

Posted in Dialogue, First Drafts, Revision

Dialogue: My Least Favorite/Most Favorite Writing Tool

What’s the toughest thing for me to write? Dialogue. What’s the writing element I probably revise the most? Dialogue. What’s my favorite, favorite thing to read in a book? Good dialogue.

(Hint: I’ve been reading & rereading some of S.J. Rozan’s Lydia Chin books. You want great, snappy, fast, real, funny character-specific dialogue? Go pick up some of this series.)

Usually, when I talk about dialogue, I put a lot of emphasis on the dialogue beats–the brief bits of action, reaction, or internal thought that surround the spoken words. Just ask my critique partners. But, in my own writing, I’m actually okay with that part. It seems to come smoothly and simply from my brain into the computer. It’s the actual words the characters are saying that I truly struggle with. Through many revisions.

Here’s a common process:

  • First draft, I just have them saying all the wrong things. I haven’t quite figured out a character’s scene goal or conflict and so I stick in some words, any words, just because I know I need some dialogue there.
  • Next draft, those words just disappear. I get closer to the things these people should be talking about, arguing about, but-oh, boy–are the new words clunky. Think a really bad ventriloquist. Or the villain with the big moustache in a melodrama.
  • Next draft, I’m smoothing things out. Characters are talking more like people, less like puppets. Except, often, they’re all talking like the same person.
  • Next draft, I work on differentiation. Again, I go through a clunky phase, using the same words too often or pushing phraseology too far toward an extreme. Finally, I start to see true individual traits and styles come through.

And it goes on from there. Sound familiar to anyone?

So why do I say that dialogue is my least andmost favorite tool? Because, when you get it right, it’s magic. Like Rozan’s. Good dialogue has more power in it than any amount of description or internal thought. It conveys story information, delivers characterization, causes conflict, and makes us laugh and cry.

And achieving that, in our own stories, is more than worth the struggle.

Posted in Revising, Somebody Else Says, Uncategorized

Somebody Else Says: Beth Revis

Beth Revis’ Writing it Out blog is one of the regulars on my read list. She’s got a couple of posts this week that I wanted to share. She’s looking back at her latest BIG revision, and she’s posted about the things that did and didn’t work (with ideas about how to fix the latter, next time around). Beth has really thought this out and–while I’m not sure all her steps would work for me–she’s got some great ideas and analysis of the process.

Stop by and check out these posts:

Posted in First Drafts, The Middle, The Writing Path

Making it through the Middle

Saturday was November 15th. For NaNo writers, that’s halfway through. I’ve been following people’s journeys on blogs and Facebook, and some people are already finished with their word-count goal (yay!), others are still working hard to get there (yay, again!)

Theoretically, a lot of NaNo-ers are somewhere around the middle of their novels. The MIDDLE. Whether you’re trying to write a whole book in thirty days, or just trying to write a whole book, the middle is often not a fun place to be. Lots of us start out on our projects knowing the start of the story and where we (for now) expect the story to end. We may even have a few big scenes that we know are going to happen along the way.

We rarely, though, have the whole middle figured out.  And that middle, while we’re drafting, can feel vast, bottomless.

In my critique group, we do a lot of brainstorming and, funny enough, lots of that brainstorming is about this middle section.  I thought I’d share one way we go at filling up that big space.

Take a look at your characters. All of them. What have they done so far and what should they be doing next. I literally make a list down the side of a piece of paper of my hero and the rest of the main characters. Then I write down where each of those characters are in their story arc. I might also write down (at the far side of the paper) where each of those characters needs to be, on that arc, by the end of the story. When you’ve got those lists, think about what each character could do–just one thing each–to make progress toward completing that arc.

The other way to look at their progress is goal-based. Each character has a goal. If you get stalled, see where each of your characters are in terms of achieving that goal (or failing to get the goal, if that’s where they’re headed). What can those characters do, what next step can they take, to push forward on their goal path?

Don’t forget interactions. You want these characters, especially your hero, taking steps that put them into contact, and conflict, with each other. Juxtapose your hero, on another sheet of paper, with the other characters. What action, discussion, or argument does your hero need to have with each of these characters, to move the story along?

If you’re still stuck, there’s one more trick. What information do you need to give to the reader. What do you know—about a problem, or a clue, or a piece of background story—that needs to show up on the pages? Once you’ve thought of that, go back to the characters again. Who can help you reveal that information? What pairing, usually with your hero and somebody else, would give you a chance to show the detail, rather than tell it?

And the biggest, most important thing: don’t stress. When you’re stuck, remember that you don’t have to fill up the middle all at once. All you need is the very next action. That action may not be perfect; it may not even be the event you end up using in the next draft. Don’t worry. Just pick it and write it and keep going. Worry about changing it or fixing it later, in revision.

Right now, whether you’re NaNo’ing or not, your goal is to get across this middle. Remember Red Light, Green Light? How many times did Baby Steps win over Giant Steps? Plenty. So Baby Step your way across the middle and, sooner than you think, you’ll have the finish line in sight!

Good luck to all of you!