Jennifer R. Hubbard's Blog, page 74
July 3, 2012
Little things mean a lot
Consider this scene:
"... [Danny] came forward on the board, muscles swirling, and executed a running forward somersault, knees tucked, toes taut, so perfectly, uncoiling into the water through a soft splash as symmetrical as the handles of a vase, that one of the judges flashed the 10 card. ... a patter of applause from both teams greeted the diver as he surfaced ... But on his next dive Danny, aware that we were all expecting another miracle, tensed up, lost the rhythm of the approach, came out of the one-and-a-half twist a moment too soon, and slapped the water with his back. ... 'Well,' my father said, 'the poor kid gave it all he had.' And when Danny surfaced this time, my father, and only my father, clapped."*
I've always loved that last line: my father, and only my father, clapped. It tells us much about the narrator's father. Throughout the book, the narrator shows us similar scenes: his father damages his own car trying to help a fellow motorist, picks up a hitchhiker (who steals his gloves), and greets a drunken panhandler with the utmost courtesy. These little gestures build a portrait of a character who is kind, who sympathizes with the underdog, who goes out of his way to help others. And the portrait isn't sappily drawn: the narrator is fifteen**, and as exasperated and embarrassed by his father as teenagers often are by their parents. The phrase "only my father" carries frustration and an attempt at sophistication, as well as an undertone of admiration and affection.
When I think of important details, the ones that fit naturally in a story yet reveal much, I often think of this example: the lone man applauding effort despite its failure; the son observing this. When I write, I try to make my small details resonate and reveal in this way.
*source: The Centaur, by John Updike
**Technically, he's older, looking back at things that happened when he was fifteen. But while some of the scenes are definitely written through the narrator's adult viewpoint, others remove that filter and put us right into the teenager's mindset. The dive scene is one of the latter.
"... [Danny] came forward on the board, muscles swirling, and executed a running forward somersault, knees tucked, toes taut, so perfectly, uncoiling into the water through a soft splash as symmetrical as the handles of a vase, that one of the judges flashed the 10 card. ... a patter of applause from both teams greeted the diver as he surfaced ... But on his next dive Danny, aware that we were all expecting another miracle, tensed up, lost the rhythm of the approach, came out of the one-and-a-half twist a moment too soon, and slapped the water with his back. ... 'Well,' my father said, 'the poor kid gave it all he had.' And when Danny surfaced this time, my father, and only my father, clapped."*
I've always loved that last line: my father, and only my father, clapped. It tells us much about the narrator's father. Throughout the book, the narrator shows us similar scenes: his father damages his own car trying to help a fellow motorist, picks up a hitchhiker (who steals his gloves), and greets a drunken panhandler with the utmost courtesy. These little gestures build a portrait of a character who is kind, who sympathizes with the underdog, who goes out of his way to help others. And the portrait isn't sappily drawn: the narrator is fifteen**, and as exasperated and embarrassed by his father as teenagers often are by their parents. The phrase "only my father" carries frustration and an attempt at sophistication, as well as an undertone of admiration and affection.
When I think of important details, the ones that fit naturally in a story yet reveal much, I often think of this example: the lone man applauding effort despite its failure; the son observing this. When I write, I try to make my small details resonate and reveal in this way.
*source: The Centaur, by John Updike
**Technically, he's older, looking back at things that happened when he was fifteen. But while some of the scenes are definitely written through the narrator's adult viewpoint, others remove that filter and put us right into the teenager's mindset. The dive scene is one of the latter.
July 1, 2012
Circling the airport
I'm reading a book I won't name in which many of the secondary characters bother me. It's not that they aren't well-drawn. It's that I have no idea what they're doing in the book. I can easily imagine the book without them and their subplots. In fact, I've been getting impatient with them and their subplots, because our spending time there is only delaying the showdown that will be the centerpiece of the main plotline. (I know because I peeked ahead to see whether this book is worth finishing.)
This is a series, and I'm thinking maybe these secondary characters reappear in a future book, and that's why I don't fully understand their function now. And yet--part of me thinks there must have been a better way to do this. So far, these characters feel like filler. I seriously bogged down in this book, and it was only my loyalty to the main characters that made me look ahead to see if we eventually get back to the interesting stuff. And it's only my knowledge that the main characters will eventually retake charge of the storyline that keeps me slogging through this less-interesting stuff.
The secondary characters are linked to the main plotline, but only loosely, and I can easily imagine how the plot could be tweaked to make these characters unnecessary. Also, certain revelations in the story were held back longer than they needed to be, in my opinion. The book is about 400 pages, but I'm thinking it could've done its job in about 275.
I love this author's other work and wish this book matched it. Right now, I feel like I'm in an airplane that's circling the airport: just get us to the gate already. And naturally, I'm trying to take this as a lesson for my own work: the difference between building up suspense and dragging things out.
This is a series, and I'm thinking maybe these secondary characters reappear in a future book, and that's why I don't fully understand their function now. And yet--part of me thinks there must have been a better way to do this. So far, these characters feel like filler. I seriously bogged down in this book, and it was only my loyalty to the main characters that made me look ahead to see if we eventually get back to the interesting stuff. And it's only my knowledge that the main characters will eventually retake charge of the storyline that keeps me slogging through this less-interesting stuff.
The secondary characters are linked to the main plotline, but only loosely, and I can easily imagine how the plot could be tweaked to make these characters unnecessary. Also, certain revelations in the story were held back longer than they needed to be, in my opinion. The book is about 400 pages, but I'm thinking it could've done its job in about 275.
I love this author's other work and wish this book matched it. Right now, I feel like I'm in an airplane that's circling the airport: just get us to the gate already. And naturally, I'm trying to take this as a lesson for my own work: the difference between building up suspense and dragging things out.
June 29, 2012
Reading, writing, community
In his book, How to Be Alone, Jonathan Franzen discusses the work of Shirley Brice Heath, who did research on why and how people become readers. One type of reader she identified was the "'social isolate--the child who from an early age felt very different from everyone around him.'" According to Heath, such readers find a strong imaginary community within books: "'And so the important dialogue in your life is with the authors of the books you read. Though they aren't present, they become your community.'" She also found that this type of reader is especially likely to become a writer. As Franzen puts it: "If writing was the medium of communication within the community of childhood, it makes sense that when writers grow up they continue to find writing vital to their sense of connectedness."
This is probably the first time I've seen anyone put into words my experience as a reader and a writer. I have always found reading to be a strong and intimate form of communication, one that has been very satisfying to me all my life. It does provide me with emotional and social sustenance, not just cerebral exercise. It did serve me especially well in the years when I had fewer "real-life" friends, the years when I rarely found others who shared my interests and viewpoints. I have become a writer, and I find writing to be not so much a chosen activity as it is a vital part of my life.
I also think this is why I embrace blogging and Twitter: they are written exchanges, and my correspondents are not limited by geography. Those of us with similar interests and viewpoints tend to find one another even if we are miles apart.
Do you recognize yourself in any of this?
This is probably the first time I've seen anyone put into words my experience as a reader and a writer. I have always found reading to be a strong and intimate form of communication, one that has been very satisfying to me all my life. It does provide me with emotional and social sustenance, not just cerebral exercise. It did serve me especially well in the years when I had fewer "real-life" friends, the years when I rarely found others who shared my interests and viewpoints. I have become a writer, and I find writing to be not so much a chosen activity as it is a vital part of my life.
I also think this is why I embrace blogging and Twitter: they are written exchanges, and my correspondents are not limited by geography. Those of us with similar interests and viewpoints tend to find one another even if we are miles apart.
Do you recognize yourself in any of this?
June 27, 2012
Appearances, and a farewell
It was my turn to blog at YA Outside the Lines, which I did here, on the topic of "Appearances: revealing and deceptive." It's about our characters' appearances, and when and why appearances matter. An excerpt: "When physical details are mentioned, I like them to matter to the theme, plot, or characterization."
I'm sad today about the loss of Nora Ephron, one of my favorite writers. I think I own every book of essays she ever published, as well as her novel, Heartburn. For many years I reread her books of essays from the '70s and '80s and wished she would write more. Instead, she was writing screenplays. And while I liked her movies, I've never been nearly as big a fan of movies as I am of books.
And then she did publish more short nonfiction, just as I'd hoped. I snatched up I Feel Bad About My Neck (2006) and I Remember Nothing (2010) as soon as they came out. The latter collection especially is about mortality; there are many pieces about getting older, about change and loss. She essentially wrote her own valedictory: the last two pieces in the book are simply lists, titled "What I Won't Miss" and "What I Will Miss." And still, the book is also sharp (as her writing always is) and often funny. For example, "The Six Stages of E-Mail" sums up, in just four pages, how the human relationship with technology often evolves (from "Wheeeee! I've got mail!" to "Help! I'm drowning. I have 112 unanswered e-mails").
From the list of what she will miss: Paris. Pride and Prejudice. Twinkle lights. Laughs. Thanksgiving dinner.
And pie.
I'm sad today about the loss of Nora Ephron, one of my favorite writers. I think I own every book of essays she ever published, as well as her novel, Heartburn. For many years I reread her books of essays from the '70s and '80s and wished she would write more. Instead, she was writing screenplays. And while I liked her movies, I've never been nearly as big a fan of movies as I am of books.
And then she did publish more short nonfiction, just as I'd hoped. I snatched up I Feel Bad About My Neck (2006) and I Remember Nothing (2010) as soon as they came out. The latter collection especially is about mortality; there are many pieces about getting older, about change and loss. She essentially wrote her own valedictory: the last two pieces in the book are simply lists, titled "What I Won't Miss" and "What I Will Miss." And still, the book is also sharp (as her writing always is) and often funny. For example, "The Six Stages of E-Mail" sums up, in just four pages, how the human relationship with technology often evolves (from "Wheeeee! I've got mail!" to "Help! I'm drowning. I have 112 unanswered e-mails").
From the list of what she will miss: Paris. Pride and Prejudice. Twinkle lights. Laughs. Thanksgiving dinner.
And pie.
June 25, 2012
Tell me a story
Have you ever gone to a show where you scrunch down in your seat when the person onstage asks for a volunteer from the audience?
Have you ever felt resentful at a concert where the musician, instead of inspiring people to clap or dance by playing with energy and enthusiasm, tries to force the audience into participation by nagging them ("Come on now, everyone, come on!")?
Do you shun participatory theater where "the audience is part of the show?"
These aren't rhetorical questions. I really want to know if I'm the only one who feels this way.
I enjoy giving talks and being on panels and doing other things onstage, when I'm a featured speaker. But when I'm part of an audience, especially if I've paid to be part of an audience, I want to be entertained. I love clapping or dancing when I'm genuinely moved; I'll ask a question if there's something I really want to know. But generally, I prefer not to be forced into the spotlight when I'm expecting to sit with the house lights turned down.
I bring this up because people talk more and more now about interactive media in the book world; for example, this post on Nathan Bransford's blog about whether black-and-white text will come to seem old-school. I remember seeing or hearing a report once (on TV? Radio?) about how interactive TV hasn't progressed as quickly as people thought it would, because the audience seems to enjoy a passive viewing experience. They don't necessarily want to come up with the lines, direct the show, figure out the ending; they want to sit back and enjoy a good story. And while pictures, music, hyperlinks, and video clips may end up enhancing e-books, I wonder how far we will really go with interactivity. Even our current audience participation at live events tends to be very formal: the audience comments at Kabuki theater conform to certain rules; musical groups in the US prepare to do one encore and audiences clap long enough to get them to do it, but quickly abandon the applause afterward because they know one encore is it. Audiences have rituals at sporting events and parades. And having marched on Washington, I can tell you that even our protests follow rules and rituals!
We had the option for interactivity back in the days when storytelling was entirely oral, and now I'd like to be a fly on the wall and see how much the audiences shouted out suggestions to the storyteller or changed the direction of the story. I imagine that it happened, but was it spontaneous or did it quickly become predictable, ritualized? As anyone who has read to a child knows, part of the fun the child has in rehearing a story is in knowing how it's going to turn out. Knowing what's supposed to happen next because it always happens that way. And so I wonder: How much do people want to control and change stories, and how much do they like passivity and familiarity?
Have you ever felt resentful at a concert where the musician, instead of inspiring people to clap or dance by playing with energy and enthusiasm, tries to force the audience into participation by nagging them ("Come on now, everyone, come on!")?
Do you shun participatory theater where "the audience is part of the show?"
These aren't rhetorical questions. I really want to know if I'm the only one who feels this way.
I enjoy giving talks and being on panels and doing other things onstage, when I'm a featured speaker. But when I'm part of an audience, especially if I've paid to be part of an audience, I want to be entertained. I love clapping or dancing when I'm genuinely moved; I'll ask a question if there's something I really want to know. But generally, I prefer not to be forced into the spotlight when I'm expecting to sit with the house lights turned down.
I bring this up because people talk more and more now about interactive media in the book world; for example, this post on Nathan Bransford's blog about whether black-and-white text will come to seem old-school. I remember seeing or hearing a report once (on TV? Radio?) about how interactive TV hasn't progressed as quickly as people thought it would, because the audience seems to enjoy a passive viewing experience. They don't necessarily want to come up with the lines, direct the show, figure out the ending; they want to sit back and enjoy a good story. And while pictures, music, hyperlinks, and video clips may end up enhancing e-books, I wonder how far we will really go with interactivity. Even our current audience participation at live events tends to be very formal: the audience comments at Kabuki theater conform to certain rules; musical groups in the US prepare to do one encore and audiences clap long enough to get them to do it, but quickly abandon the applause afterward because they know one encore is it. Audiences have rituals at sporting events and parades. And having marched on Washington, I can tell you that even our protests follow rules and rituals!
We had the option for interactivity back in the days when storytelling was entirely oral, and now I'd like to be a fly on the wall and see how much the audiences shouted out suggestions to the storyteller or changed the direction of the story. I imagine that it happened, but was it spontaneous or did it quickly become predictable, ritualized? As anyone who has read to a child knows, part of the fun the child has in rehearing a story is in knowing how it's going to turn out. Knowing what's supposed to happen next because it always happens that way. And so I wonder: How much do people want to control and change stories, and how much do they like passivity and familiarity?
June 23, 2012
When it isn't working
I read two interesting posts recently about knowing when to give up on a project, and knowing when to back up and start over.
The first is by Lydia Sharp on "Knowing When to Let Go." A sample: "But this is normal for anyone who pursues creative work. In the beginning you will have abandoned more work than you complete. It's part of the learning curve."
The second is actually about quilting, but Marina's "Lessons Learned" post applies equally well to writing. It's mostly about taking the time to do things right, and being willing to go back and do them over if necessary. A sample: "... maybe you tell yourself that’s the best job you can do when really deep down you know you could make it better ..."
To me, both of these posts are about reaching the next level in our work. Knowing when to move on. The first is about abandoning what doesn't work; the second is about paying attention and then fixing what we can. Both experiences are part of growing and getting better at what we do.
The first is by Lydia Sharp on "Knowing When to Let Go." A sample: "But this is normal for anyone who pursues creative work. In the beginning you will have abandoned more work than you complete. It's part of the learning curve."
The second is actually about quilting, but Marina's "Lessons Learned" post applies equally well to writing. It's mostly about taking the time to do things right, and being willing to go back and do them over if necessary. A sample: "... maybe you tell yourself that’s the best job you can do when really deep down you know you could make it better ..."
To me, both of these posts are about reaching the next level in our work. Knowing when to move on. The first is about abandoning what doesn't work; the second is about paying attention and then fixing what we can. Both experiences are part of growing and getting better at what we do.
June 21, 2012
Once more, with feeling
The manuscript I'm working on now is in at least its 16th major draft. I can count the drafts by looking at my files, since I number them. If I've nicknamed a project "Starlight" (for example), my files will be starlight, starlight2, starlight3, and so on. When I submit, I rename the file with the formal title, and any revisions then become "rev1," "rev2," or something like that.
I start a new numbered file whenever I'm making such significant changes that I'm not sure how they're going to work out, so I want to preserve the previous version just in case. That's what I'm counting as a major draft. But within each major draft, I've done countless* passes through the file.
Naturally, my editors have not seen all 16 drafts. The first version they saw was much closer to #16 than #1.
Out of curiosity, I looked back at The Secret Year and Try Not to Breathe to see how many drafts they took. The Secret Year was somewhere around its 8th or 9th major draft when acquired, and I did two more post-acquisition. The 11th or 12th version of Try Not to Breathe was the first one that went to my editor, and I did a few more drafts after that. (My brave agent first saw the 3rd or 4th draft of that one, which is much earlier than I usually show a book to anyone, but that project was unusual.)
I'm not sure if I've really been doing more drafts with each project, or if I just save my files more often. It could be both.
I'm sharing these details just because I always find it comforting whenever writers admit they don't pound out perfect prose right out of the gate. And to emphasize just how important revision is. For me, writing is mostly about rewriting.
*Well, one could count them, of course. But I choose not to, for fear it would depress me. Also because I am too blinking lazy.
p.s. If you'd like to talk writer craft in person this weekend, and you're anywhere near Mays Landing, NJ, please consider joining us for this:
Saturday, June 23, 2 - 4 PM: Panel on writing: "I've Finished My First Draft, Now What?" Atlantic County Library (Mays Landing Branch), 40 Farragut Ave., Mays Landing, NJ. Appearing with New Jersey Authors Network.
I start a new numbered file whenever I'm making such significant changes that I'm not sure how they're going to work out, so I want to preserve the previous version just in case. That's what I'm counting as a major draft. But within each major draft, I've done countless* passes through the file.
Naturally, my editors have not seen all 16 drafts. The first version they saw was much closer to #16 than #1.
Out of curiosity, I looked back at The Secret Year and Try Not to Breathe to see how many drafts they took. The Secret Year was somewhere around its 8th or 9th major draft when acquired, and I did two more post-acquisition. The 11th or 12th version of Try Not to Breathe was the first one that went to my editor, and I did a few more drafts after that. (My brave agent first saw the 3rd or 4th draft of that one, which is much earlier than I usually show a book to anyone, but that project was unusual.)
I'm not sure if I've really been doing more drafts with each project, or if I just save my files more often. It could be both.
I'm sharing these details just because I always find it comforting whenever writers admit they don't pound out perfect prose right out of the gate. And to emphasize just how important revision is. For me, writing is mostly about rewriting.
*Well, one could count them, of course. But I choose not to, for fear it would depress me. Also because I am too blinking lazy.
p.s. If you'd like to talk writer craft in person this weekend, and you're anywhere near Mays Landing, NJ, please consider joining us for this:
Saturday, June 23, 2 - 4 PM: Panel on writing: "I've Finished My First Draft, Now What?" Atlantic County Library (Mays Landing Branch), 40 Farragut Ave., Mays Landing, NJ. Appearing with New Jersey Authors Network.
June 19, 2012
Books of our youth: from trees to bees
Today's focus is on writing for the younger set. If you're in the Philadelphia area, consider this workshop by Jessica Dimuzio, who self-published a picture book: "Would I Do It Again?" Self Publishing Workshop: June 21 (for details, see link).
My guest post today is also by a picture-book writer, Alison Ashley Formento. This is the latest installment of my "Books of our youth" series, in which writers talk about the books that have stuck with them:
"Miss Suzy was a little gray squirrel who lived all by herself at the tip, tip, top of a tall oak tree." This is the first line of MISS SUZY, written by Miriam Young and illustrated by Arnold Lobel, originally published in 1964 and re-released in a special 40th anniversary edition in 2004. MISS SUZY is one of my favorite picture books from my childhood, and my very-battered-much-loved copy holds a special place of honor on my desk propped next to my own books.
A tall oak tree is illustrated on the opening and ending pages, just like in my first picture book THIS TREE COUNTS! Gray squirrels live in my tree story, too, along with several other forest creatures. At author appearances, I show children a photo of the local tree that I love to climb that inspired my first picture book, but I have no doubt that the glorious oak tree in MISS SUZY was a subconscious inspiration, too.
MISS SUZY has to face loss, hunger, and danger to keep her tree home, and along the way she makes friends with some kind toy soldiers, who help her return to her beloved oak. Who doesn't want to feel safe and live in a home that they love?
Miss Suzy is courageous. She appreciates and cares for her home the way we all must care for our planet. I only wish that I could have met Miriam Young and Arnold Lobel to tell them how much this story and its illustrations continue to inspire me and my writing.
Alison Formento is the author of the award-winning picture book THIS TREE COUNTS!, THIS TREE, 1, 2, 3, and newly released THESE BEES COUNT! (And if you go to her website, you can see her in full beekeeper garb--which you yourself can try on when you see her live at bookstores and book fairs.)
My guest post today is also by a picture-book writer, Alison Ashley Formento. This is the latest installment of my "Books of our youth" series, in which writers talk about the books that have stuck with them:
"Miss Suzy was a little gray squirrel who lived all by herself at the tip, tip, top of a tall oak tree." This is the first line of MISS SUZY, written by Miriam Young and illustrated by Arnold Lobel, originally published in 1964 and re-released in a special 40th anniversary edition in 2004. MISS SUZY is one of my favorite picture books from my childhood, and my very-battered-much-loved copy holds a special place of honor on my desk propped next to my own books.
A tall oak tree is illustrated on the opening and ending pages, just like in my first picture book THIS TREE COUNTS! Gray squirrels live in my tree story, too, along with several other forest creatures. At author appearances, I show children a photo of the local tree that I love to climb that inspired my first picture book, but I have no doubt that the glorious oak tree in MISS SUZY was a subconscious inspiration, too.
MISS SUZY has to face loss, hunger, and danger to keep her tree home, and along the way she makes friends with some kind toy soldiers, who help her return to her beloved oak. Who doesn't want to feel safe and live in a home that they love?
Miss Suzy is courageous. She appreciates and cares for her home the way we all must care for our planet. I only wish that I could have met Miriam Young and Arnold Lobel to tell them how much this story and its illustrations continue to inspire me and my writing.
Alison Formento is the author of the award-winning picture book THIS TREE COUNTS!, THIS TREE, 1, 2, 3, and newly released THESE BEES COUNT! (And if you go to her website, you can see her in full beekeeper garb--which you yourself can try on when you see her live at bookstores and book fairs.)
June 17, 2012
Odds and ends
Random thoughts today:
--This line in one of Jack Kerouac's letters made me chuckle:
"What's going on? How can there be so much silence emanating from so many manuscripts?"
Even though he wrote that to his agent, Sterling Lord, in 1955*, it's a sentence that today's writers still utter from time to time. Plus ca change ...
--I wrote a guest post for Jennifer M. Eaton on the topic, "Your Mileage May Vary," about how one size rarely fits all when it comes to writing and publishing advice. A sample: "If I’ve learned anything from knowing other writers, it’s that there are many, many paths through this business. If there were only one path, one formula that worked for everyone, we’d all be using it and we’d all be rich."
--Tying that "find your path" idea in with more from Kerouac: When he was trying to get his second book published, he was advised to "'get away from Beat G[eneration] themes.'"* When that second book was finally published--On the Road, the book still most closely associated with the Beat Generation--it became a phenomenon. Good thing he didn't follow that advice.
--I've sponsored a few Kickstarter campaigns, but I've never experienced anything like the energy of the Kickstarter campaign to distribute the film "Fat Kid Rules the World." (This movie is based on the excellent YA novel of the same name by K.L. Going.) These guys spread the word like crazy, and kept the contributors updated as the campaign raced to the wire (it did meet its funding goal). The whole thing has been great fun to be a part of.
*source: Jack Kerouac: Selected Letters 1940-1956, edited by Ann Charters.
--This line in one of Jack Kerouac's letters made me chuckle:
"What's going on? How can there be so much silence emanating from so many manuscripts?"
Even though he wrote that to his agent, Sterling Lord, in 1955*, it's a sentence that today's writers still utter from time to time. Plus ca change ...
--I wrote a guest post for Jennifer M. Eaton on the topic, "Your Mileage May Vary," about how one size rarely fits all when it comes to writing and publishing advice. A sample: "If I’ve learned anything from knowing other writers, it’s that there are many, many paths through this business. If there were only one path, one formula that worked for everyone, we’d all be using it and we’d all be rich."
--Tying that "find your path" idea in with more from Kerouac: When he was trying to get his second book published, he was advised to "'get away from Beat G[eneration] themes.'"* When that second book was finally published--On the Road, the book still most closely associated with the Beat Generation--it became a phenomenon. Good thing he didn't follow that advice.
--I've sponsored a few Kickstarter campaigns, but I've never experienced anything like the energy of the Kickstarter campaign to distribute the film "Fat Kid Rules the World." (This movie is based on the excellent YA novel of the same name by K.L. Going.) These guys spread the word like crazy, and kept the contributors updated as the campaign raced to the wire (it did meet its funding goal). The whole thing has been great fun to be a part of.
*source: Jack Kerouac: Selected Letters 1940-1956, edited by Ann Charters.
June 16, 2012
Quirkiness
This post is partly just for fun, but it's also related to character quirks.
I was thinking about the things I don't like that most other people seem to, and it occurred to me that in such things (as well as things we're not "supposed to" like that we actually do) may be found some of the uniqueness of our fictional characters. So I came up with these lists:
Things I Should Like But Don't:
--new car smell
--raw cookie dough
--alcoholic beverages
--parades
--driving
Things I Shouldn't Like But Do:
--the Academy Awards (given that I rarely watch movies and usually haven't seen any of the nominees in a given year, it's a mystery to me why I still care who wins; and given my general indifference to fashion, I can't explain why I have to see every gown)
--Cheesy '70s pop music
--shoveling snow
--dandelions
--shag carpeting
In what ways do your characters' tastes depart from those of the mainstream, or their peer groups? Does your 17-year-old male MC have a secret fondness for Lawrence Welk? Does your edgy, rebellious 16-year-old female MC still watch children's movies and get weepy over the endings? Do they get together and form a kazoo band, or study the stock market? How do these characteristics relate to the main plot?
For bonus fun, see this tongue-in-cheek editing chart over at Terri-Lynne DeFino's blog. Sure, you may know the editorial symbols for "delete" and "transpose," but do you know the symbols for "characters should fight" or "remove permanently from your lexicon?"
I was thinking about the things I don't like that most other people seem to, and it occurred to me that in such things (as well as things we're not "supposed to" like that we actually do) may be found some of the uniqueness of our fictional characters. So I came up with these lists:
Things I Should Like But Don't:
--new car smell
--raw cookie dough
--alcoholic beverages
--parades
--driving
Things I Shouldn't Like But Do:
--the Academy Awards (given that I rarely watch movies and usually haven't seen any of the nominees in a given year, it's a mystery to me why I still care who wins; and given my general indifference to fashion, I can't explain why I have to see every gown)
--Cheesy '70s pop music
--shoveling snow
--dandelions
--shag carpeting
In what ways do your characters' tastes depart from those of the mainstream, or their peer groups? Does your 17-year-old male MC have a secret fondness for Lawrence Welk? Does your edgy, rebellious 16-year-old female MC still watch children's movies and get weepy over the endings? Do they get together and form a kazoo band, or study the stock market? How do these characteristics relate to the main plot?
For bonus fun, see this tongue-in-cheek editing chart over at Terri-Lynne DeFino's blog. Sure, you may know the editorial symbols for "delete" and "transpose," but do you know the symbols for "characters should fight" or "remove permanently from your lexicon?"
