Jennifer R. Hubbard's Blog, page 99
May 1, 2011
Out and about. Also: setting.
First up, I want to let you know about a couple of events.
On May 7 (10 am - 4 pm), over 100 children's writers and illustrators (including me!) will be signing books and leading activities at the Hudson Children's Book Festival (NY). It's a stellar crop of authors (just to name a few: Amanda Marrone, Eric Luper, Jeannine Atkins, Jo Knowles, Kate Messner, Sarah Darer Littman, Michelle Zink ...) I'll also be appearing on a panel with Alissa Grosso, Wendy Mass, Colleen Murtagh Paratore, and Kristi Cook. I attended last year, and the enthusiasm in the room made it an incredibly fun event. If you're anywhere in the area, I urge you to stop by! Admission is FREE, and the books are for all ages: picture book through young adult.
If you're anywhere in the Philadelphia area, and you read The Secret Year (or plan to) and want the chance to discuss it with other readers, it is the featured title at the Big Blue Marble bookstore's YA book club for their May 26 session (7 PM). More information about the store and the YA book club are here.
Now for the writerly topic of the day:
I've been thinking about setting--the settings in which we live vs. the settings we find in books. Setting is one area in which I often crave the exotic, the sensory details of places in which I've never lived. It's often difficult for me not to view the setting in which I live every day as boring, commonplace, unworthy of description. Yet sometimes when a writer captures the small details that are so much like places that have been part of my life, I fall in love. This happened to me while reading The Centaur (set in 1947 Pennsylvania) and Main Street (set in early 20th-Century Minnesota). Although I haven't lived in either of those exact settings, I recognized little details. From The Centaur: a cocoa-colored welcome mat, the heady chlorine-scented air of an indoor pool, overheated high-school halls with their milky reinforced windows and waxy floors, the old dental sink (still in use when I was a child) with "the bright little bent pipe shooting water into it" and "the little comet-tail-shaped smear of rust" at the bottom of the circular basin. Main Street has several passages on people's parlors (souvenir ashtrays, school pennants) and kitchens (the drainboard soft from years of use and scrubbing) that remind me of real places. Whether familiar or not, it's those specific details that bring a setting to life.
There are at least two settings in my head where I've spent time and where I want to set a novel, but I haven't quite found the right story for those places yet. It's something to aim for, anyway!
On May 7 (10 am - 4 pm), over 100 children's writers and illustrators (including me!) will be signing books and leading activities at the Hudson Children's Book Festival (NY). It's a stellar crop of authors (just to name a few: Amanda Marrone, Eric Luper, Jeannine Atkins, Jo Knowles, Kate Messner, Sarah Darer Littman, Michelle Zink ...) I'll also be appearing on a panel with Alissa Grosso, Wendy Mass, Colleen Murtagh Paratore, and Kristi Cook. I attended last year, and the enthusiasm in the room made it an incredibly fun event. If you're anywhere in the area, I urge you to stop by! Admission is FREE, and the books are for all ages: picture book through young adult.
If you're anywhere in the Philadelphia area, and you read The Secret Year (or plan to) and want the chance to discuss it with other readers, it is the featured title at the Big Blue Marble bookstore's YA book club for their May 26 session (7 PM). More information about the store and the YA book club are here.
Now for the writerly topic of the day:
I've been thinking about setting--the settings in which we live vs. the settings we find in books. Setting is one area in which I often crave the exotic, the sensory details of places in which I've never lived. It's often difficult for me not to view the setting in which I live every day as boring, commonplace, unworthy of description. Yet sometimes when a writer captures the small details that are so much like places that have been part of my life, I fall in love. This happened to me while reading The Centaur (set in 1947 Pennsylvania) and Main Street (set in early 20th-Century Minnesota). Although I haven't lived in either of those exact settings, I recognized little details. From The Centaur: a cocoa-colored welcome mat, the heady chlorine-scented air of an indoor pool, overheated high-school halls with their milky reinforced windows and waxy floors, the old dental sink (still in use when I was a child) with "the bright little bent pipe shooting water into it" and "the little comet-tail-shaped smear of rust" at the bottom of the circular basin. Main Street has several passages on people's parlors (souvenir ashtrays, school pennants) and kitchens (the drainboard soft from years of use and scrubbing) that remind me of real places. Whether familiar or not, it's those specific details that bring a setting to life.
There are at least two settings in my head where I've spent time and where I want to set a novel, but I haven't quite found the right story for those places yet. It's something to aim for, anyway!
Unlikable characters
I was reading some customer reviews of a biographical memoir the other day. (I call it a "biographical memoir" because the author had personally known the biography's subject, and the author's personal remembrances were woven in with the biography.) I've read the book and enjoyed it--in fact, I've checked it out of the library a few times and now I'm thinking I should just go ahead and buy it. So I was on the book's online page, debating whether to order it now or wait a bit before bringing yet MORE books into this house, when something struck me about the customer comments.
Several of the reviewers had favorable comments about the author's writing (and I agree), but there were also comments about the subject of the biography. Specifically, many people found the subject to be less than charming. Fascinating perhaps, compelling yes, but not likable. And I realized how many times I've seen reviews and comments about books, and had conversations myself about books, that involve this simple subjective evaluation: do we like the characters?
Readers usually prefer to like someone--though not necessarily everyone--in a book. But they don't seem to mind having characters they "love to hate." After reading Wuthering Heights, I wondered if anyone really likes Heathcliff and Cathy. They certainly give readers every reason to dislike them. Yet this book has found readers, generation after generation, and its most pleasant characters are totally overshadowed by the cruel pair. Then there are Alex in A Clockwork Orange; Rochester in Jane Eyre; Humbert Humbert in Lolita ... characters who do despicable things, characters we wouldn't choose as friends, but whose stories we read nonetheless. I admire all three of those books without admiring those characters.
So I don't think characters must be likable. They must only be interesting.
Several of the reviewers had favorable comments about the author's writing (and I agree), but there were also comments about the subject of the biography. Specifically, many people found the subject to be less than charming. Fascinating perhaps, compelling yes, but not likable. And I realized how many times I've seen reviews and comments about books, and had conversations myself about books, that involve this simple subjective evaluation: do we like the characters?
Readers usually prefer to like someone--though not necessarily everyone--in a book. But they don't seem to mind having characters they "love to hate." After reading Wuthering Heights, I wondered if anyone really likes Heathcliff and Cathy. They certainly give readers every reason to dislike them. Yet this book has found readers, generation after generation, and its most pleasant characters are totally overshadowed by the cruel pair. Then there are Alex in A Clockwork Orange; Rochester in Jane Eyre; Humbert Humbert in Lolita ... characters who do despicable things, characters we wouldn't choose as friends, but whose stories we read nonetheless. I admire all three of those books without admiring those characters.
So I don't think characters must be likable. They must only be interesting.
April 28, 2011
Why?
Once when I was discussing my book, The Secret Year, with a book group, a reader asked me why one of the secondary characters had to be gay.
As it happens, that character’s coming out was the perfect subplot for a book about secrecy. Coming out is a move from secrecy to openness, from isolation to community. Secrecy doesn’t ever seem to have made anyone straight, but it’s made a lot of people suffer. In The Secret Year, coming out is ultimately a move toward honesty, self-confidence, and happiness. The main character’s secrecy isn’t about sexual orientation, but when he finally faces the limits of his own secret world, he already has a model before him of a more honest way to live.
It’s an interesting question, though: Why does a given character have to be gay? In one sense, a writer knows that every detail we reveal about a character should be both true to the character and relevant to the story. But another natural answer to that question is, “Why not?” YA GLBTQ literature is moving out of the “coming-out” phase, and into the phase of the “incidentally gay” character. While coming out will continue to be an important theme, it is, after all, only one part of a life story. Why can’t the characters—whom we’re following around because they’re solving mysteries or training for the big race or just coming of age with witty observations—also just happen to be GLBTQ?
In books like Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You (Peter Cameron) and Hero (Perry Moore), the characters’ sexual orientation is part of who they are, but the plots are about something more, or something other, than coming out. Gradually, our literature is coming to resemble more closely the real world in which we live.
cross-posted at GayYA.org as part of the "Gay in YA" Blogathon
April 27, 2011
Asking the characters
Some work I'm doing on my current project reminded me of a story I once shelved because it didn't quite work out. I think both projects have the same issue: elements that were a little forced, because I wanted or needed the book to go in a certain direction.
With my current project, the flaw is not fatal; it's a minor plot point that I can easily fix. With my former project, the flaws were much more a part of the structure, and I believe they fatally weakened it. I have to thank C. Lee McKenzie for helping me understand what wasn't quite right with my stories: when she recently posted on her blog about not letting the character lead the way, something clicked in my head.
I've actually blogged about this concept before, which just illustrates all over again why I keep this blog: because I need to keep reminding myself of truths about writing, even the things I supposedly already know. So here's my lesson for this week:
Events in the book must arise out of the characters' needs, not my needs. Plot points must evolve naturally from the characters, rather than being imposed upon them.
It can be a scary lesson, because when I don't know where a story needs to go, it's tempting to impose a structure on it, in a top-down manner. Instead, I need to listen to the characters. They will tell me.
With my current project, the flaw is not fatal; it's a minor plot point that I can easily fix. With my former project, the flaws were much more a part of the structure, and I believe they fatally weakened it. I have to thank C. Lee McKenzie for helping me understand what wasn't quite right with my stories: when she recently posted on her blog about not letting the character lead the way, something clicked in my head.
I've actually blogged about this concept before, which just illustrates all over again why I keep this blog: because I need to keep reminding myself of truths about writing, even the things I supposedly already know. So here's my lesson for this week:
Events in the book must arise out of the characters' needs, not my needs. Plot points must evolve naturally from the characters, rather than being imposed upon them.
It can be a scary lesson, because when I don't know where a story needs to go, it's tempting to impose a structure on it, in a top-down manner. Instead, I need to listen to the characters. They will tell me.
April 25, 2011
Why celebrity books don't make me cranky
Celebrity books often make writers cranky. It’s easy to see why. If you’ve spent twenty years mastering your craft, struggling to write the perfect sentence, scraping through layers of your own self-protectiveness and naivete and unoriginal ideas, learning the difference between active and passive, pruning useless modifiers and cliches out of your work, honing your powers of observation—if you’ve done this while making no money, or making money at something else and stealing bits of hours here and there in which to write—then it can be annoying to see someone who hasn’t traveled the same path pick up a book advance that is a hundred times what you will ever be offered. It can be heart-breaking to see that person showing up on national TV to plug a book he or she may not have even written, when you had to struggle to get your local paper to mention your book and when they did, they misspelled the title. That is the soil in which the sour grapes grow.
However.
The truth is that when people shop for books, they are drawn to familiar names. As readers, we all do this. And a celebrity begins with a huge advantage in this department: name recognition. An unknown writer must pull in readers with a catchy title, an awesome cover, or a fascinating synopsis (better yet, all three)—and that writer must deliver an amazing story.
Publishers invest in celebrity books because they get a return on that investment. Not every book every time (but that’s also true, and some say even truer, of non-celebrity books). Sometimes people say that the celebrity books bring in the money that allows publishers to sign the rest of their writers--the writers who will have to build their audience from zero, the writers who will have to earn that precious name recognition book by book.
I actually think it’s a good thing that so many celebrities still want to write books. Every night, talk shows feature politicians, actresses, or athletes who are plugging books. It can’t be just for the money. Although celebrities may pull in big advances, they make bigger money in other areas of their lives.
I think we’ll only be in trouble if the day comes when celebrities don’t want book contracts. Think about it: In this world where there are so many entertainment alternatives, having your name on a book cover still carries enough cachet that people who have made millions on other endeavors want that for themselves.
April 24, 2011
Inspiration
The last time I visited the museum at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, I was seized with a longing to write stories sparked by a few of the artworks I'd seen that day. I wanted to bring a notebook and sit in front of a few pieces and write whatever came to mind.
It's taken me years, but today I finally did it. I invited intrepid writers Kelly Fineman and Angela De Groot to join me for this session of ekphrastic writing. It was a great way to spend a drizzly Saturday morning, especially as a break between copy edits on one novel (just finished) and resuming work on another novel (which I'd temporarily laid aside for the copy edits on the other).
I decided to work with flash fiction today, and the four pieces I chose as inspiration were "The Wave," by Alexander Harrison, "Apple Blossom Time" by George Inness, "Gladiolus" by Charles Demuth, and "Pandora" by Aaron Bohrod (which doesn't seem to be included in the online images from the museum's collection). For the first, "Pandora," I set a ten-minute time limit and used it all. It took me a while to get started, and that piece rambled all over the place. For the other pieces, I didn't need to set a time; they were much shorter, and came to a natural conclusion more easily. (I think I was warmed up by that time!) I didn't come home with finished stories, of course. I have first drafts that may or may not turn into anything else.
Although you can view the museum's collection online through the above link, I can see that the online images don't do many of the paintings justice. There is nothing like viewing the works in person, being able to see the brush strokes, the texture of the marble, the true colors. The museum's atmosphere is also wonderful: amazingly high ceilings for a feeling of spaciousness, thick stone walls that give a peaceful atmosphere. Kelly, Angela and I compared notes on our experience before heading out to lunch--we had all written something new. It's nice to have local writer friends who are willing to try these projects!
It's taken me years, but today I finally did it. I invited intrepid writers Kelly Fineman and Angela De Groot to join me for this session of ekphrastic writing. It was a great way to spend a drizzly Saturday morning, especially as a break between copy edits on one novel (just finished) and resuming work on another novel (which I'd temporarily laid aside for the copy edits on the other).
I decided to work with flash fiction today, and the four pieces I chose as inspiration were "The Wave," by Alexander Harrison, "Apple Blossom Time" by George Inness, "Gladiolus" by Charles Demuth, and "Pandora" by Aaron Bohrod (which doesn't seem to be included in the online images from the museum's collection). For the first, "Pandora," I set a ten-minute time limit and used it all. It took me a while to get started, and that piece rambled all over the place. For the other pieces, I didn't need to set a time; they were much shorter, and came to a natural conclusion more easily. (I think I was warmed up by that time!) I didn't come home with finished stories, of course. I have first drafts that may or may not turn into anything else.
Although you can view the museum's collection online through the above link, I can see that the online images don't do many of the paintings justice. There is nothing like viewing the works in person, being able to see the brush strokes, the texture of the marble, the true colors. The museum's atmosphere is also wonderful: amazingly high ceilings for a feeling of spaciousness, thick stone walls that give a peaceful atmosphere. Kelly, Angela and I compared notes on our experience before heading out to lunch--we had all written something new. It's nice to have local writer friends who are willing to try these projects!
April 22, 2011
Play
As part of an ongoing poetry project with Laura Purdie Salas, Susan Taylor Brown posted this about line breaks in poetry, including some exercises playing with line breaks. Since I've played with poetry and toyed with the idea of verse novels (my next book actually started its life as an attempt at a verse novel, although it turned into standard prose), I found this play with line breaks fascinating.
While taking a break from my current manuscript, I was also sneaking a look at some poetry files in which I wrote a few pantoums. A pantoum is a form of poetry in which certain lines are repeated, but the order of those lines changes. This challenge, of repeating lines while changing the order and having the whole poem make some sort of sense, excites me. I've written a few pantoums, as I said, but they all suck. Which is okay, because I did not write them in the hopes that they would earn me the Nobel Prize for Literature. I was challenging myself and having fun.
More projects that excite me (not all of which I do myself, but I like to read about others doing them): Quilting. Collage. Pinhole cameras. Sugar eggs (Pat Esden posted about sugar eggs this week, and my first question was: Where have they been all my life?)
The common theme here is excitement. It's about the joy of creating something, the challenge of learning new things, the fun of play. Whatever else writing is, it is a creative endeavor, and I think it's good not to let one's process get too repetitive or formulaic. It's good to play, to try some new form or even a different art/craft, to be a beginner again. To keep that excitement alive, the excitement of saying, "That sounds like fun! I wonder if I can do it? I'm going to try!"
While taking a break from my current manuscript, I was also sneaking a look at some poetry files in which I wrote a few pantoums. A pantoum is a form of poetry in which certain lines are repeated, but the order of those lines changes. This challenge, of repeating lines while changing the order and having the whole poem make some sort of sense, excites me. I've written a few pantoums, as I said, but they all suck. Which is okay, because I did not write them in the hopes that they would earn me the Nobel Prize for Literature. I was challenging myself and having fun.
More projects that excite me (not all of which I do myself, but I like to read about others doing them): Quilting. Collage. Pinhole cameras. Sugar eggs (Pat Esden posted about sugar eggs this week, and my first question was: Where have they been all my life?)
The common theme here is excitement. It's about the joy of creating something, the challenge of learning new things, the fun of play. Whatever else writing is, it is a creative endeavor, and I think it's good not to let one's process get too repetitive or formulaic. It's good to play, to try some new form or even a different art/craft, to be a beginner again. To keep that excitement alive, the excitement of saying, "That sounds like fun! I wonder if I can do it? I'm going to try!"
April 21, 2011
Marking time
For me, one danger sign when writing a manuscript is if I'm waiting to get to the good part. "Can't wait to write that scene! Have to build up to it," I think. This can result in filler: boring scenes that are just marking time.
Now, this is not a danger sign for outliners. Since outliners know exactly what's going to happen and when, their build-up scenes don't just kill time or delay the inevitable. And any writer can look forward to a book's payoff--the big battle, the point where the lovers finally reunite, etc.--without having that anticipation signal danger.
But I'm not an outliner, and often when I'm holding off on "the good part," I find that the best thing I can do is go ahead and write that good part, and then figure out what's next. If two characters are going to kiss, I don't put them in scene after scene after scene where they almost kiss. There are plenty of writers who can make that kind of suspense work. Not me. I may delay the kiss a bit, but once I know they're going to kiss, I'd rather have them lock lips already--and then figure out what happens next.
I always want to get to the part I don't know. I'm the same way as a reader. Once I figure something out, I don't want to wait too long for the main character to catch up with me.
Pacing is a balancing act--not rushing, not dragging things out.
Now, this is not a danger sign for outliners. Since outliners know exactly what's going to happen and when, their build-up scenes don't just kill time or delay the inevitable. And any writer can look forward to a book's payoff--the big battle, the point where the lovers finally reunite, etc.--without having that anticipation signal danger.
But I'm not an outliner, and often when I'm holding off on "the good part," I find that the best thing I can do is go ahead and write that good part, and then figure out what's next. If two characters are going to kiss, I don't put them in scene after scene after scene where they almost kiss. There are plenty of writers who can make that kind of suspense work. Not me. I may delay the kiss a bit, but once I know they're going to kiss, I'd rather have them lock lips already--and then figure out what happens next.
I always want to get to the part I don't know. I'm the same way as a reader. Once I figure something out, I don't want to wait too long for the main character to catch up with me.
Pacing is a balancing act--not rushing, not dragging things out.
April 19, 2011
The Reinvention of Edison Thomas
I've mentioned this book before, but I'm mentioning it again because the author is giving away a copy here on this blog!
The Reinvention of Edison Thomas, by Jacqueline J. Houtman, is about science fairs (find out how to make a tornado!), living with autism, and figuring out who your real friends are. Not only did I enjoy the book, I admired the way Jacqueline celebrated its launch with a Periodic Table of Cupcakes. (Actual quote from Jacqueline, worthy of John & Hank Green if you ask me: "Cupcakes were flavored according to their chemical group, noble gases were lemon, lanthanides were chocolate mint ...")
To qualify for the book, you must be at least 13 years old and able to receive mail in the US or Canada. Then just leave a comment below listing your favorite cupcake flavor (imaginary flavors OK), your favorite element of the periodic table, or just any old suitable-for-prime-time comment. Provide a way to identify/contact you if you win, and get your comment in by 7 PM EDT on Thursday, April 21. The winner will be chosen at random. In a twist from my usual one-entry-per-person rules, for this contest you can leave up to five comments, each one entitling you to an entry. This post will appear on both LiveJournal and Blogspot, and all the entries will be pooled to pick the winner.
Also, if you follow Jacqueline on Twitter (which you should because you want to hear about tornadoes, cupcakes, and the periodic table, don't you?) at @jjhoutman, your followership can help put books in classrooms. Here's how.
The Reinvention of Edison Thomas, by Jacqueline J. Houtman, is about science fairs (find out how to make a tornado!), living with autism, and figuring out who your real friends are. Not only did I enjoy the book, I admired the way Jacqueline celebrated its launch with a Periodic Table of Cupcakes. (Actual quote from Jacqueline, worthy of John & Hank Green if you ask me: "Cupcakes were flavored according to their chemical group, noble gases were lemon, lanthanides were chocolate mint ...")
To qualify for the book, you must be at least 13 years old and able to receive mail in the US or Canada. Then just leave a comment below listing your favorite cupcake flavor (imaginary flavors OK), your favorite element of the periodic table, or just any old suitable-for-prime-time comment. Provide a way to identify/contact you if you win, and get your comment in by 7 PM EDT on Thursday, April 21. The winner will be chosen at random. In a twist from my usual one-entry-per-person rules, for this contest you can leave up to five comments, each one entitling you to an entry. This post will appear on both LiveJournal and Blogspot, and all the entries will be pooled to pick the winner.
Also, if you follow Jacqueline on Twitter (which you should because you want to hear about tornadoes, cupcakes, and the periodic table, don't you?) at @jjhoutman, your followership can help put books in classrooms. Here's how.
April 18, 2011
Confessions and Chocolate Brains
For those who've been asking when my next book comes out: Not until early 2012. But to tide you over, I have a short story in this anthology, Truth & Dare:
This collection of contemporary YA was supposed to come out in May, but it's available now! It's subtitled, "20 Tales of Heartbreak and Happiness," and the stories range from the tragic to the comic.
I wanted to try a lighter and more humorous tone with my contribution, "Confessions and Chocolate Brains," so you'll notice that it's not quite as dark as The Secret Year or my upcoming novel, Try Not to Breathe. But since a story is not a story without conflict, there's trouble, too. Mostly, this story is about what happens when the "perfect couple" starts facing their flaws.
"Confessions" is written from a female point of view (unlike my novels). Also, there are ugly bridesmaid dresses. And of course, chocolate brains!
I'm very proud to share space in these pages with Jennifer Finney Boylan, Sarah Rees Brennan, Cecil Castellucci, Emma Donoghue, Courtney Gillette, A. M. Homes, Heidi R. Kling, Jennifer Knight, Michael Lowenthal, Liz Miles (who also edited the collection), Saundra Mitchell, Luisa Plaja, Matthue Roth, Sherry Shahan, Gary Soto, Shelley Stoehr, Sara Wilkinson, Ellen Wittlinger, and Jill Wolfson. Even if you don't read my story, read theirs!!
This collection of contemporary YA was supposed to come out in May, but it's available now! It's subtitled, "20 Tales of Heartbreak and Happiness," and the stories range from the tragic to the comic.
I wanted to try a lighter and more humorous tone with my contribution, "Confessions and Chocolate Brains," so you'll notice that it's not quite as dark as The Secret Year or my upcoming novel, Try Not to Breathe. But since a story is not a story without conflict, there's trouble, too. Mostly, this story is about what happens when the "perfect couple" starts facing their flaws.
"Confessions" is written from a female point of view (unlike my novels). Also, there are ugly bridesmaid dresses. And of course, chocolate brains!
I'm very proud to share space in these pages with Jennifer Finney Boylan, Sarah Rees Brennan, Cecil Castellucci, Emma Donoghue, Courtney Gillette, A. M. Homes, Heidi R. Kling, Jennifer Knight, Michael Lowenthal, Liz Miles (who also edited the collection), Saundra Mitchell, Luisa Plaja, Matthue Roth, Sherry Shahan, Gary Soto, Shelley Stoehr, Sara Wilkinson, Ellen Wittlinger, and Jill Wolfson. Even if you don't read my story, read theirs!!
