Emma Scott's Blog, page 5
March 1, 2015
5 Reasons Why Writers Need to Exercise
Writing is a sedentary job. You park your butt in the chair and you get to it. Some of us are lucky to have long stretches of uninterrupted creative bliss. Some have to grab an hour here, and hour there. But regardless, it's important for body, book, and soul to exercise, and it's SUPER easy to neglect that, especially whilst in the throes of creative fury.
And while it's common knowledge (though not necessarily practice) that exercise in general is good for us, for writers there are some distinct, added bonuses.
1. Mood Boosting
I don't know about you, but I can't write in a funk. Every sentence is terrible, every word is boring, and the whole thing sucks everyone is better than me, this is a giant waste of time and why amIdoingthistomyself??? We've all been there, but we don't have to stay there. Talk a walk. Go for a run. Get those serotonin levels up. The higher the better. So after a brisk walk or run, you come back to your work and you realize it doesn't suck the big one like you thought it did, and while it may need some fixes, you can tell the difference between a sharp edit and thinking the whole thing belongs in a bonfire.
2. Can help erase writer's block.
Now, I'm not a big believer in writer's block if the definition is "sitting there, staring at the screen, having no idea how to proceed or what needs to come next." To me, that's a symptom of a larger problem and we just call it "writer's block." If I'm ever faced with that phenomenon, I know it's not a block, it's a mistake. If I was rolling along, typing away and all of a sudden I'm "blocked", I know that somewhere I screwed up. The narrative went off the rails. A chapter written in Character A's POV should actually be in Character B's., etc. I go back to where I was doing really well, and just ahead of that I'll usually find what went wrong. Where the exercise comes in is how to fix it.
Serotonin, apart from being a mood-booster, is also responsible for the speed in which messages are moved around ye olde nervous system. So once I've identified my problem area, I'll usually discover how to fix it during my six mile run. It is so much easier to untangle something this way, as opposed to staring with frustrated impotence at the screen. I find too, that if I step away from the words, I can more easily come back and change/delete them if I need to. You can't murder your darlings if they're staring up at you, all cutesy-like saying, "But you already wrote us, therefore you must use us. It's too much hassle to kill us all and start over, amirite?" Not so. Take a walk, come back, and you'll find swinging the axe is suddenly a helluva lot easier.
And on that note, ideas and exercise go hand-in-hand, and sometimes can just jump out at you when you didn't even know you were searching. The idea for my third novel came to me in mile 5 of my 6 mile run in the form of a conversation between the two leads. It was like I was eavesdropping, it was so clear and detailed. I raced home, wrote it down, and from that convo sprung the entire premise of Book III.
3. Not doing it is bad for you, period.
Some people who have jobs in which they sit at a desk and think they're better off than people who race around on their feet all day. While neither extreme is optimal, sitting is NOT healthier. Not by a long shot. The health problems associated with sitting all day are starting to make themselves known in the medical community in the form of back problems, poor circulation, increased risk of diabetes, obesity, muscle problems, etc. (Google "sitting all day" and you can see for yourself)
I invested in a stand-up desk. I don't stand all day to write, but I split my time. 20 minutes up, 20 minutes down, to keep the blood (and ideas) flowing. It's very, very easy to let hours slip by in the chair, but those hours add up, and the last thing I want is to be plagued by poor health. Writing is hard enough as it is!
4. Get inspired
While sometimes there is nothing--nothing--I want more but to hole up in my darkened room and write by candlelight and coffee, it actually pays to get out into the world. People watching, beautiful views, spectacular architecture, street music, snippets of conversation, sunsets...you just never know where and when inspiration can strike. Plus, it's a huge, fantastic world out there. Take a walk in it...and bring something to write those ideas down, because we all know a good idea loves nothing more than taking a writer unaware.
5. Live long and prosper
This one sort of goes with number 3, but I want to keep doing this writing thing for a long, long time. I don't want my body to break down, leaving me to struggle to get words on the page while suffering some ailment or pain. I want my body to be a powerful, strong tool that I keep in good working order so that I can continue to do what I love to do.
I do not believe old age starts at 40. I don't believe in little aches and pains being the signs of "getting old." I think getting old starts when we neglect the machine that is our body and it starts to show it. When we start to give up on it, and start thinking, "it's all downhill from here."
I ran my first half marathon at age 40. I'm going to run a full one by age 42, and in the meanwhile, write four books a year. I want my mind AND body to be sharp for as long as they can be, so I can keep doing what I love to do for as long as I want to do it. I want to quit on my terms, if I ever do. Not have to give it up because I failed to take care of myself.
I don't want to take any stories with me when I go, and I don't want you to either.
And because that's a sort of morbid thought, here's a pic of a super cute kitten.
Happy writing!
And while it's common knowledge (though not necessarily practice) that exercise in general is good for us, for writers there are some distinct, added bonuses.
1. Mood Boosting
I don't know about you, but I can't write in a funk. Every sentence is terrible, every word is boring, and the whole thing sucks everyone is better than me, this is a giant waste of time and why amIdoingthistomyself??? We've all been there, but we don't have to stay there. Talk a walk. Go for a run. Get those serotonin levels up. The higher the better. So after a brisk walk or run, you come back to your work and you realize it doesn't suck the big one like you thought it did, and while it may need some fixes, you can tell the difference between a sharp edit and thinking the whole thing belongs in a bonfire.
2. Can help erase writer's block.
Now, I'm not a big believer in writer's block if the definition is "sitting there, staring at the screen, having no idea how to proceed or what needs to come next." To me, that's a symptom of a larger problem and we just call it "writer's block." If I'm ever faced with that phenomenon, I know it's not a block, it's a mistake. If I was rolling along, typing away and all of a sudden I'm "blocked", I know that somewhere I screwed up. The narrative went off the rails. A chapter written in Character A's POV should actually be in Character B's., etc. I go back to where I was doing really well, and just ahead of that I'll usually find what went wrong. Where the exercise comes in is how to fix it.
Serotonin, apart from being a mood-booster, is also responsible for the speed in which messages are moved around ye olde nervous system. So once I've identified my problem area, I'll usually discover how to fix it during my six mile run. It is so much easier to untangle something this way, as opposed to staring with frustrated impotence at the screen. I find too, that if I step away from the words, I can more easily come back and change/delete them if I need to. You can't murder your darlings if they're staring up at you, all cutesy-like saying, "But you already wrote us, therefore you must use us. It's too much hassle to kill us all and start over, amirite?" Not so. Take a walk, come back, and you'll find swinging the axe is suddenly a helluva lot easier.
And on that note, ideas and exercise go hand-in-hand, and sometimes can just jump out at you when you didn't even know you were searching. The idea for my third novel came to me in mile 5 of my 6 mile run in the form of a conversation between the two leads. It was like I was eavesdropping, it was so clear and detailed. I raced home, wrote it down, and from that convo sprung the entire premise of Book III.
3. Not doing it is bad for you, period.
Some people who have jobs in which they sit at a desk and think they're better off than people who race around on their feet all day. While neither extreme is optimal, sitting is NOT healthier. Not by a long shot. The health problems associated with sitting all day are starting to make themselves known in the medical community in the form of back problems, poor circulation, increased risk of diabetes, obesity, muscle problems, etc. (Google "sitting all day" and you can see for yourself)
I invested in a stand-up desk. I don't stand all day to write, but I split my time. 20 minutes up, 20 minutes down, to keep the blood (and ideas) flowing. It's very, very easy to let hours slip by in the chair, but those hours add up, and the last thing I want is to be plagued by poor health. Writing is hard enough as it is!
4. Get inspired
While sometimes there is nothing--nothing--I want more but to hole up in my darkened room and write by candlelight and coffee, it actually pays to get out into the world. People watching, beautiful views, spectacular architecture, street music, snippets of conversation, sunsets...you just never know where and when inspiration can strike. Plus, it's a huge, fantastic world out there. Take a walk in it...and bring something to write those ideas down, because we all know a good idea loves nothing more than taking a writer unaware.
5. Live long and prosper
This one sort of goes with number 3, but I want to keep doing this writing thing for a long, long time. I don't want my body to break down, leaving me to struggle to get words on the page while suffering some ailment or pain. I want my body to be a powerful, strong tool that I keep in good working order so that I can continue to do what I love to do.
I do not believe old age starts at 40. I don't believe in little aches and pains being the signs of "getting old." I think getting old starts when we neglect the machine that is our body and it starts to show it. When we start to give up on it, and start thinking, "it's all downhill from here."
I ran my first half marathon at age 40. I'm going to run a full one by age 42, and in the meanwhile, write four books a year. I want my mind AND body to be sharp for as long as they can be, so I can keep doing what I love to do for as long as I want to do it. I want to quit on my terms, if I ever do. Not have to give it up because I failed to take care of myself.
I don't want to take any stories with me when I go, and I don't want you to either.
And because that's a sort of morbid thought, here's a pic of a super cute kitten.
Happy writing!
February 27, 2015
Excerpt Book III
I know the ink has hardly dried on Book II but this just came busting out of me for Book III. Thought I'd share. :)
NoahI race down the Grand Couloir, in Courchevel, France. The icy wind slaps my cheeks as I slalom between jagged rocks, kicking up sprays of snow, faster and faster, down and down, until I’m nearly vertical. My heart pounds, my breath in my mask bellows like a charging boar. Adrenaline pumps in my veins instead of blood.
The slope angles up. A cliff. I don’t turn, I hunch down and then there’s nothing beneath my skis and I’m flying……I’m flying, gliding, the nylon flaps above me. I grip the bar in a white-knuckled vise. The air is warm and the sky is gold and blue—twilight has fallen over Kahului. My glider dips and soars, and I feel the wind’s changes. I move with it, flying higher and higher, until the islands are puddles of sand wreathed in green.I swoop low, curve up, nearly flip. I let loose a cry of triumph, and ride the edge of the current, higher still, until I can almost touch the sun, like Icarus, only I don’t burn. Not me. I soar.And when I’m high enough, I drop the glider down into a nosedive, my harness straining until it breaks apart, the nylon tearing away, and it’s just me playing chicken with the ocean, and I will not blink first. I streak down, hands ready to cut the water like a knife. I’m diving……I’m diving off La Quebrada, Acapulco, one hundred and thirty-six feet high with five seconds of safe depth before the waves recede again. A three second journey, and I crow my triumph even as my heart plummets with me. My nerves are electric fear—that perfect sizzle that is nearly orgasmic, nearly unbearable.The water rushes to meet me and I cut it perfectly, an arrow into the cool green-blue, down, down, where gold motes dance in the viridian infusion. I don’t stop, I don’t even slow. I can’t. Down deeper, and I begin to choke on my victory. My lungs constrict, my eardrums explode, and still I go down. The water is now dark green, now dark, now black. So deep. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. My head strikes the jagged teeth of the sea and all I know is pain……A scream tears out of my throat, one last scream, I think, before I drown in the black abyss. But no, I can’t breathe and then I can. I can scream, so I can breathe. I’m not submerged. I’m not lost in the deep. I’m in a bed, in New York City, my body covered in sweat, my hands clutching the sheets.Relief sweeps through me like the adrenaline once did, and I open my eyes. But my eyes are already open. I’m no longer in the black deep but I’m just as blinded. Blind.I’m blind.
NoahI race down the Grand Couloir, in Courchevel, France. The icy wind slaps my cheeks as I slalom between jagged rocks, kicking up sprays of snow, faster and faster, down and down, until I’m nearly vertical. My heart pounds, my breath in my mask bellows like a charging boar. Adrenaline pumps in my veins instead of blood.
The slope angles up. A cliff. I don’t turn, I hunch down and then there’s nothing beneath my skis and I’m flying……I’m flying, gliding, the nylon flaps above me. I grip the bar in a white-knuckled vise. The air is warm and the sky is gold and blue—twilight has fallen over Kahului. My glider dips and soars, and I feel the wind’s changes. I move with it, flying higher and higher, until the islands are puddles of sand wreathed in green.I swoop low, curve up, nearly flip. I let loose a cry of triumph, and ride the edge of the current, higher still, until I can almost touch the sun, like Icarus, only I don’t burn. Not me. I soar.And when I’m high enough, I drop the glider down into a nosedive, my harness straining until it breaks apart, the nylon tearing away, and it’s just me playing chicken with the ocean, and I will not blink first. I streak down, hands ready to cut the water like a knife. I’m diving……I’m diving off La Quebrada, Acapulco, one hundred and thirty-six feet high with five seconds of safe depth before the waves recede again. A three second journey, and I crow my triumph even as my heart plummets with me. My nerves are electric fear—that perfect sizzle that is nearly orgasmic, nearly unbearable.The water rushes to meet me and I cut it perfectly, an arrow into the cool green-blue, down, down, where gold motes dance in the viridian infusion. I don’t stop, I don’t even slow. I can’t. Down deeper, and I begin to choke on my victory. My lungs constrict, my eardrums explode, and still I go down. The water is now dark green, now dark, now black. So deep. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. My head strikes the jagged teeth of the sea and all I know is pain……A scream tears out of my throat, one last scream, I think, before I drown in the black abyss. But no, I can’t breathe and then I can. I can scream, so I can breathe. I’m not submerged. I’m not lost in the deep. I’m in a bed, in New York City, my body covered in sweat, my hands clutching the sheets.Relief sweeps through me like the adrenaline once did, and I open my eyes. But my eyes are already open. I’m no longer in the black deep but I’m just as blinded. Blind.I’m blind.
February 25, 2015
What I Will and Won't Do as a Romance Novelist: A Handy List
1. No billionaire CEO's who are assholes/broken/tortured and who buy the heroine for the night--or longer--or in some other way make her "his." I have--and will again--have a rich guy now and then but he's not going to fit the mold as described above.
2. If the guy is an asshole in general, (H in my third book starts out as one) the h isn't going to be impressed. She will not be "intrigued" or seek to "fix" his asshole-ness. When he sees the error of his ways and ceases aforementioned asshole behavior, only then will the h give him a chance.
3. No covers featuring naked torsos. I'm a big believer in "never say never" but in this area, I'm going to go for a different, unified look for all my covers that eschews that trend. Hopefully this will make them stand out a bit.
4. Diversity. If the main characters aren't POC, then someone sure as shit will be, and not for the sake of being hip and cool--a white gal shoe-horning in some diversity to show how "open-minded" she is. The world is a big place filled with lots of different people. Therefore different people will show up in my books, in minor or major roles, in all races, creeds, and sexual orientations. It just makes sense.
5. Long stories. I don't/can't/find it impossible to keep it short. I like being submerged my worlds for a bit and I want to fill them out to make them as realistic as possible. So if you like short reads, my stuff probably isn't for you. (the exceptions being purposely short shorts or holiday novellas)
6. No insta-love. Insta-attraction, yes, but the real love takes time, even if the physical action gets going sooner.
7. Big, fat, over-the-top HEAs. Looks like each book's ending is going feature a proposal or wedding at some exotic local already referenced early in the book as a sort of clue. Love me some schmaltz and fluff, esp, if it took a long time for the characters to get there.
In no way do I mean to disparage authors who do or do not employ one or more of the above in their novels. To each her own. But the romance field is a big place and if I have to "market' or "brand" my stuff in some way, then this list is to that end.
I like good people. Good people who are doing the best they can. I like respect between the H and h. I like stories where the love is strong and sweet, and the sex hot but emotional as well, and I love building up to a (hopefully) satisfying relationship that the reader doesn't have to worry about later. :)
2. If the guy is an asshole in general, (H in my third book starts out as one) the h isn't going to be impressed. She will not be "intrigued" or seek to "fix" his asshole-ness. When he sees the error of his ways and ceases aforementioned asshole behavior, only then will the h give him a chance.
3. No covers featuring naked torsos. I'm a big believer in "never say never" but in this area, I'm going to go for a different, unified look for all my covers that eschews that trend. Hopefully this will make them stand out a bit.
4. Diversity. If the main characters aren't POC, then someone sure as shit will be, and not for the sake of being hip and cool--a white gal shoe-horning in some diversity to show how "open-minded" she is. The world is a big place filled with lots of different people. Therefore different people will show up in my books, in minor or major roles, in all races, creeds, and sexual orientations. It just makes sense.
5. Long stories. I don't/can't/find it impossible to keep it short. I like being submerged my worlds for a bit and I want to fill them out to make them as realistic as possible. So if you like short reads, my stuff probably isn't for you. (the exceptions being purposely short shorts or holiday novellas)
6. No insta-love. Insta-attraction, yes, but the real love takes time, even if the physical action gets going sooner.
7. Big, fat, over-the-top HEAs. Looks like each book's ending is going feature a proposal or wedding at some exotic local already referenced early in the book as a sort of clue. Love me some schmaltz and fluff, esp, if it took a long time for the characters to get there.
In no way do I mean to disparage authors who do or do not employ one or more of the above in their novels. To each her own. But the romance field is a big place and if I have to "market' or "brand" my stuff in some way, then this list is to that end.
I like good people. Good people who are doing the best they can. I like respect between the H and h. I like stories where the love is strong and sweet, and the sex hot but emotional as well, and I love building up to a (hopefully) satisfying relationship that the reader doesn't have to worry about later. :)
February 24, 2015
February 10, 2015
Cover for Unbreakable coming soon!
Just squeeing. Nothing to see here. Move along... ;)
February 3, 2015
It's Okay to Cry
Let's face it, publishing a book can really suck. I'm not limiting this statement to self-publishing; I'm sure that trad publishing has its moments of complete suckage, because ultimately it's not the final product nor the vehicle by which the book is birthed that can be painful, it's the entire process.
(Probably what I'm saying could apply to all forms of art but YMMV.)
Writing is a solitary endeavor. I don't know who said that first or in which precise order and word choice but the gist is the same. It's a lonely thing, to live within a laptop's screen and craft a world, and people it with characters who do, experience, and feel more than you do while you write them. And that's...okay. You expect that part to be lonely; in fact it probably should be. Best Writer's Group Ever member or not, you don't write by committee (or you shouldn't! Feedback is great up until the moment you subconsciously let your group write your story for you). I get up at 5a.m. several times per week in order to achieve that solitude. But what I didn't realize is that the solitude extends beyond the initial butt-in-chair work.
You're on your own. Period.
That's not a self-pitying statement, by the way, despite the fact it smacked of that as I wrote it. It's just fact. And as with all facts, you can either choose to ignore it, deny it, fight it, or accept it. Over the course of publishing my first book, I've come face to face with it, and have chosen accept it. But until then, it's been a little bumpy.
Ignore It
You have a writer's group. You have beta-readers. You have your spouse, your friends, your mom, supporting you. You feel like you go into the process with an army at your back. Not necessarily (except for your mom) Because life. Because every one is writing their own stories and living their own dramas and they don't always conform to your schedule. You're left prodding, gently nudging, biting nails and sending tepid emails, trying not to sound like a beggar, wondering why on earth your masterpiece isn't Priority One in the lives of every person you've met, or ever made eye-contact with.
(Full disclosure, I almost deleted that above paragraph. For obvious reasons)
Secondly--and here's where the solitude really comes back--no one, and I mean NO ONE, understands what your art means to you like you do. No one. One careless comment--or god forbid, NO comments--and you can be sucked down in the vortex of bruised ego hell, a place that you find thoroughly ridiculous, even as you're dwelling in it. (It's like checking-in to a fleabag hotel and saying "This sucks...I'll only stay here a week. Or ten.")
You can have the most supportive, smartest, dedicated friends in the world (like I do) and it will never feel like enough. Never. Only you will know what it took to not only craft your baby, but to drop kick it into the world with the hopes and prayers it becomes the most popular kid in school, and not be tormented at recess or--worse--ignored completely. Only you--and other writers--know this, but other writers are too busy fretting over their own babies to worry about yours. The circle of solitude goes on, like the circle of life but without the uplifting African music and baby animals.
Deny, deny, deny...
This is where that endless hunger for feedback becomes needy. Instead of pleasantly ignoring the truth of your solitude, you deny it and start to DEMAND that the world acknowledge your work. Sometimes this pays off. You have to market the ever-loving fuck out of a book to get just a fraction of the world's eyeballs to find it. But the sales surge after a successful ad run flattens like a wave at low tide, and suddenly you're wondering what the hell everyone's problem is. How much money do I have to spend to make my 35 cents off a 99-cent book that took me a over a year to write?
Don't get me wrong; this isn't rational. The world owes you payback in direct proportion to the amount of hard work you give out. (E.L. James and the dude who raised $55K on a kickstarter for potato salad being the exception). It's a big world. You gotta do a lot of work and you do it alone.
Fight It
"Fighting it" is a machismo phrase for complaining. It's starting self-pitying, passive-aggressive Facebook posts and then deleting them--thank god--before hitting "post". It's blowing up at friends over something marginally related because that's easier than admitting that no one cares as much as you do.
And not to put to fine a point on it, people who love you DO care, just never as much as you. They don't, they never will, and they shouldn't have to, so stop fighting it.
Lastly, acceptance.
Ah, feels good, no?
No.
It feels like the trudging goes on, the butt is in the chair, the next book written, or painting painted, or song practiced in the bedroom again and again. Because that is the ONLY thing you can do with your art. While only you will even know how much it means to you, it does mean something--quite a lot hopefully, and that makes all the other bullshit worth it. Keep doing it. Alone. Persevere. Never give up, never surrender.
But it's okay to cry a little bit along the way.
(Probably what I'm saying could apply to all forms of art but YMMV.)
Writing is a solitary endeavor. I don't know who said that first or in which precise order and word choice but the gist is the same. It's a lonely thing, to live within a laptop's screen and craft a world, and people it with characters who do, experience, and feel more than you do while you write them. And that's...okay. You expect that part to be lonely; in fact it probably should be. Best Writer's Group Ever member or not, you don't write by committee (or you shouldn't! Feedback is great up until the moment you subconsciously let your group write your story for you). I get up at 5a.m. several times per week in order to achieve that solitude. But what I didn't realize is that the solitude extends beyond the initial butt-in-chair work.
You're on your own. Period.
That's not a self-pitying statement, by the way, despite the fact it smacked of that as I wrote it. It's just fact. And as with all facts, you can either choose to ignore it, deny it, fight it, or accept it. Over the course of publishing my first book, I've come face to face with it, and have chosen accept it. But until then, it's been a little bumpy.
Ignore It
You have a writer's group. You have beta-readers. You have your spouse, your friends, your mom, supporting you. You feel like you go into the process with an army at your back. Not necessarily (except for your mom) Because life. Because every one is writing their own stories and living their own dramas and they don't always conform to your schedule. You're left prodding, gently nudging, biting nails and sending tepid emails, trying not to sound like a beggar, wondering why on earth your masterpiece isn't Priority One in the lives of every person you've met, or ever made eye-contact with.
(Full disclosure, I almost deleted that above paragraph. For obvious reasons)
Secondly--and here's where the solitude really comes back--no one, and I mean NO ONE, understands what your art means to you like you do. No one. One careless comment--or god forbid, NO comments--and you can be sucked down in the vortex of bruised ego hell, a place that you find thoroughly ridiculous, even as you're dwelling in it. (It's like checking-in to a fleabag hotel and saying "This sucks...I'll only stay here a week. Or ten.")
You can have the most supportive, smartest, dedicated friends in the world (like I do) and it will never feel like enough. Never. Only you will know what it took to not only craft your baby, but to drop kick it into the world with the hopes and prayers it becomes the most popular kid in school, and not be tormented at recess or--worse--ignored completely. Only you--and other writers--know this, but other writers are too busy fretting over their own babies to worry about yours. The circle of solitude goes on, like the circle of life but without the uplifting African music and baby animals.
Deny, deny, deny...
This is where that endless hunger for feedback becomes needy. Instead of pleasantly ignoring the truth of your solitude, you deny it and start to DEMAND that the world acknowledge your work. Sometimes this pays off. You have to market the ever-loving fuck out of a book to get just a fraction of the world's eyeballs to find it. But the sales surge after a successful ad run flattens like a wave at low tide, and suddenly you're wondering what the hell everyone's problem is. How much money do I have to spend to make my 35 cents off a 99-cent book that took me a over a year to write?
Don't get me wrong; this isn't rational. The world owes you payback in direct proportion to the amount of hard work you give out. (E.L. James and the dude who raised $55K on a kickstarter for potato salad being the exception). It's a big world. You gotta do a lot of work and you do it alone.
Fight It
"Fighting it" is a machismo phrase for complaining. It's starting self-pitying, passive-aggressive Facebook posts and then deleting them--thank god--before hitting "post". It's blowing up at friends over something marginally related because that's easier than admitting that no one cares as much as you do.
And not to put to fine a point on it, people who love you DO care, just never as much as you. They don't, they never will, and they shouldn't have to, so stop fighting it.
Lastly, acceptance.
Ah, feels good, no?
No.
It feels like the trudging goes on, the butt is in the chair, the next book written, or painting painted, or song practiced in the bedroom again and again. Because that is the ONLY thing you can do with your art. While only you will even know how much it means to you, it does mean something--quite a lot hopefully, and that makes all the other bullshit worth it. Keep doing it. Alone. Persevere. Never give up, never surrender.
But it's okay to cry a little bit along the way.
January 30, 2015
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January 15, 2015
City Lights Book II: Los Angeles
I made a teaser thingy for the new book. NOT the cover but I'm 99.9% sure I'm locked into that title.
January 11, 2015
The Characters are In Charge; I Just Work Here
This phenomenon is probably familiar to a lot of writers: You're cruising along, maybe writing some dialogue and all of a sudden Character A busts out with something shocking or surprising, and the entire course of the scene--maybe the entire plot--is forever altered. Or you had planned for Character B to kill someone and instead they had an epiphany and rescued them instead. And the best part is, there is nothing you can do about it.
To non-writers, that last part sounds insane. Or perhaps silly; as if it's just a subconscious decision that we've made and if we don't like it, we can always change it, no big whoop. But it doesn't feel like that, does it? It feels like the characters are running the show and when they veer off-script, we're just helpless to do anything but let them go. You can't change it, it would feel totally wrong! So now you have to work with it, to make it fit the rest of the novel, sorry, hands tied.
I actually love it when this happens. I think it's what Stephen King said in his fabulously invaluable writing memoir/how-to On Writing when he said (paraphrasing) the story is a treasure buried in the ground and our job is not to make it but to dig it up. To chip away at the layers of dirt to get to it. In other words, we may have a pretty good idea of where we're going, story-wise, but sometimes that's not what happens. It's not what's not meant to happen. You go in thinking your going to dig up a Ming vase and instead it's a pile of doubloons and there's nothing you can do about it.
My characters did this recently. I have my hero working at a job-site with his fellow co-workers. It's going along fine, according to plan, and all of a sudden a minor character (VERY minor) saunters in, starts mouthing off about the Hero's woman and the next thing I know, a fist-fight has broken out and the hero is in danger of losing his job. BOOM. All of a sudden I've got extra conflict--is he going to become unemployed when he really cannot afford to be unemployed?--and character development--he's defending the woman's honor even when she's not there to see it. Not planned. Not consciously included, and yet it happened and now I have to work with it.
"Just delete if it doesn't work! It's just letters on a page."
Nope. Done is done, and to mess with it would be to dig up the treasure, chuck it over my shoulder, and just play in the dirt. No thanks.
Another weird way this manifests for me is in character naming. Not so much the bit-players but the leads. I do not name my leads, they name themselves. I don't know how or why. I'm not particularly thrilled with it sometimes, as they don't always pick names I like; they certainly don't pick my favorites.
In my last book, the lead female, the heroine, was named Natalie and that's all there was to it. I needed names for her parents and they popped into my head as if she had introduced us. In a way, I guess she had.
In this book, both leads told me their names. I had nothing to do with it. Cory Bishop is the Hero. He told me his name even before I started writing and while I like Cory okay, Bishop was not my first choice. But then it wasn't really my choice anyway.
The Heroine was worse. She introduced herself as Alex Gardener and I didn't like either name. I figured I could live with Gardener, but Alex? Sure, it's short for Alexandra but I didn't like it for a romance heroine. And for you non-writers who think this is a mild form of insanity and might shout, "Just change it for god's sake!" I TRIED. I actively tried to change her name and I couldn't. I started writing scenes using two other names and both times it just devolved back to Alex. Out of my hands.
Then all of a sudden, I'm writing a scene where we learn that Alexandra is a title from ancient times meaning Defender of Men. I didn't know that. I Googled it as a point of research for the scene. And lo and behold, that title fits several themes and plot points of story as if I had planned it that way. As if I had consciously chosen her name and then worked in its origin to make it all fit in a neat, tidy package.
Except I didn't. I just dug up the treasure.
Writer friends, you know how this works. It's crazy to think we're not completely in charge of what we write. After all we're the ones creating the worlds and the people in them. Maybe it's just a happy coincidence that Alex's name worked out the way it did, or that Character B saving instead of killing Character A is just what your mystery needed to give it that extra oomph. Maybe. Probably.
But it sure doesn't feel that way, does it?
To non-writers, that last part sounds insane. Or perhaps silly; as if it's just a subconscious decision that we've made and if we don't like it, we can always change it, no big whoop. But it doesn't feel like that, does it? It feels like the characters are running the show and when they veer off-script, we're just helpless to do anything but let them go. You can't change it, it would feel totally wrong! So now you have to work with it, to make it fit the rest of the novel, sorry, hands tied.
I actually love it when this happens. I think it's what Stephen King said in his fabulously invaluable writing memoir/how-to On Writing when he said (paraphrasing) the story is a treasure buried in the ground and our job is not to make it but to dig it up. To chip away at the layers of dirt to get to it. In other words, we may have a pretty good idea of where we're going, story-wise, but sometimes that's not what happens. It's not what's not meant to happen. You go in thinking your going to dig up a Ming vase and instead it's a pile of doubloons and there's nothing you can do about it.
My characters did this recently. I have my hero working at a job-site with his fellow co-workers. It's going along fine, according to plan, and all of a sudden a minor character (VERY minor) saunters in, starts mouthing off about the Hero's woman and the next thing I know, a fist-fight has broken out and the hero is in danger of losing his job. BOOM. All of a sudden I've got extra conflict--is he going to become unemployed when he really cannot afford to be unemployed?--and character development--he's defending the woman's honor even when she's not there to see it. Not planned. Not consciously included, and yet it happened and now I have to work with it.
"Just delete if it doesn't work! It's just letters on a page."
Nope. Done is done, and to mess with it would be to dig up the treasure, chuck it over my shoulder, and just play in the dirt. No thanks.
Another weird way this manifests for me is in character naming. Not so much the bit-players but the leads. I do not name my leads, they name themselves. I don't know how or why. I'm not particularly thrilled with it sometimes, as they don't always pick names I like; they certainly don't pick my favorites.
In my last book, the lead female, the heroine, was named Natalie and that's all there was to it. I needed names for her parents and they popped into my head as if she had introduced us. In a way, I guess she had.
In this book, both leads told me their names. I had nothing to do with it. Cory Bishop is the Hero. He told me his name even before I started writing and while I like Cory okay, Bishop was not my first choice. But then it wasn't really my choice anyway.
The Heroine was worse. She introduced herself as Alex Gardener and I didn't like either name. I figured I could live with Gardener, but Alex? Sure, it's short for Alexandra but I didn't like it for a romance heroine. And for you non-writers who think this is a mild form of insanity and might shout, "Just change it for god's sake!" I TRIED. I actively tried to change her name and I couldn't. I started writing scenes using two other names and both times it just devolved back to Alex. Out of my hands.
Then all of a sudden, I'm writing a scene where we learn that Alexandra is a title from ancient times meaning Defender of Men. I didn't know that. I Googled it as a point of research for the scene. And lo and behold, that title fits several themes and plot points of story as if I had planned it that way. As if I had consciously chosen her name and then worked in its origin to make it all fit in a neat, tidy package.
Except I didn't. I just dug up the treasure.
Writer friends, you know how this works. It's crazy to think we're not completely in charge of what we write. After all we're the ones creating the worlds and the people in them. Maybe it's just a happy coincidence that Alex's name worked out the way it did, or that Character B saving instead of killing Character A is just what your mystery needed to give it that extra oomph. Maybe. Probably.
But it sure doesn't feel that way, does it?
November 7, 2014
What I've Learned from Reading Negative Reviews
My book is a new release and, at the time of this writing, has 6 whopping reviews. That's great, and I'm grateful for them, but they're not enough. They're not enough from a marketing perspective (as the volume of reviews is an indicator of sales, exposure, etc) but it's not enough from a learning perspective either. Hopefully my free sale, which garnered 1650 downloads will remedy the first situation. As for the second, I'm fully aware (thought probably not prepared) for getting some bad reviews out of that number. From these I will endeavor to learn all that I can about what worked, what didn't, etc. I'm new to the romance genre, haven't read too much, and readily admit that I'm not terribly familiar with the common modalities, tropes, habits etc. Negative reviews can be a teaching tool and I hope to use them as such.
But in the meanwhile, I've been reading the negative reviews of some other popular novels to get a sense of where the readers are at, what they want that they're not getting, and see if I can find some common complaints.
1. Cliffhanger endings. Lord, people HATE those.
Note to self: never ever leave a book on a cliffy, especially as a marketing ploy to get people to buy the sequel. This doesn't really apply to me as my book did not end on a cliffy (well, there's a LITERAL cliff but that's beside the point), but I do feel vindicated in no small part. My hubs read my eight-page epilogue that wrapped up every loose end and finished with a huge HEA. He thought the HEA could have been downplayed and all those loose ends didn't really need tying. Ha HA! Turns out, aside from not ending on cliffies, readers really want a good HEA and loose ends tied up. Score one for my instincts.
2. Too much sex is not a good thing.
This one surprised me. I read several romance novels and was not distracted by "too much" sex, but then read numerous reviews that stated it was excessive. I think the magic Nora Roberts Formula is 2 scenes per book with some other minor bits here and there, and not a lot of body-part naming or play-by-play. (Unless it's erotica, of course) I'm not saying I'm going to tailor my every move to these opinion, but it's something to keep in mind. Romance readers know what they want and it's not all action. On the contrary...
3. Character development is a good thing.
Who says romance readers are just out to be titillated? It should go without saying but I'll say it anyway: it only takes a rudimentary glance at reviews to know that most romance readers demand a strong plot and character development just as they would in any other book. And why not? Take this for granted at your peril.
So that's my primer while I wait for my own reviews to roll in (I hope) at which point Part II--What I've Learned from Negative Reviews: MINE will be forthcoming.
But in the meanwhile, I've been reading the negative reviews of some other popular novels to get a sense of where the readers are at, what they want that they're not getting, and see if I can find some common complaints.
1. Cliffhanger endings. Lord, people HATE those.
Note to self: never ever leave a book on a cliffy, especially as a marketing ploy to get people to buy the sequel. This doesn't really apply to me as my book did not end on a cliffy (well, there's a LITERAL cliff but that's beside the point), but I do feel vindicated in no small part. My hubs read my eight-page epilogue that wrapped up every loose end and finished with a huge HEA. He thought the HEA could have been downplayed and all those loose ends didn't really need tying. Ha HA! Turns out, aside from not ending on cliffies, readers really want a good HEA and loose ends tied up. Score one for my instincts.
2. Too much sex is not a good thing.
This one surprised me. I read several romance novels and was not distracted by "too much" sex, but then read numerous reviews that stated it was excessive. I think the magic Nora Roberts Formula is 2 scenes per book with some other minor bits here and there, and not a lot of body-part naming or play-by-play. (Unless it's erotica, of course) I'm not saying I'm going to tailor my every move to these opinion, but it's something to keep in mind. Romance readers know what they want and it's not all action. On the contrary...
3. Character development is a good thing.
Who says romance readers are just out to be titillated? It should go without saying but I'll say it anyway: it only takes a rudimentary glance at reviews to know that most romance readers demand a strong plot and character development just as they would in any other book. And why not? Take this for granted at your peril.
So that's my primer while I wait for my own reviews to roll in (I hope) at which point Part II--What I've Learned from Negative Reviews: MINE will be forthcoming.
