Kathleen Mix's Blog, page 4

My Favorite Book

When I attend a book fair or signing, one of the questions readers frequently ask is which of my books is my favorite.

The stock answer to the question is that none of an author’s books are their favorite because our books are like our children and mothers love all of their children equally.

Hogwash. I have favorites, and other multi-published authors have favorites. From a marketing standpoint, we don’t want to discourage sales of any one of our books. But deep in our hearts, some books are more special to us than others.

An author’s first published book will always hold special memories. It may not be our favorite, because we believe our writing has improved and our first product would be better if we were allowed a do-over, but the thrill of holding that first copy in our hand will never fade.

Sometimes a particular story means more to us than others. Perhaps it deals with an issue close to our heart, such as forgiveness or redemption. Perhaps, as in the case of one of my own books, River of Fear, the story was sparked by real events in the life of a friend and we’ve written a fictionalized version to share something wonderful with the world.

Often authors are most attached to the most recent book they’d completed. The characters are still fresh in their minds, and the emotions still resonate.

Parents try not to show favoritism, but they rarely love all their children equally. A love child may be resented or given special attention. A well-behaved or accomplished child may receive more smiles than frowns. Even in the Bible, Joseph is Jacob’s favorite.

An author spends months or years giving a book life. I’ve never run across a writer who hates any book he or she has written. But we are human, and we do have favorites. We’re just not anxious to reveal our negative feeling about a book that hasn’t sold well or a character we never loved quite as deeply as others.

Why single out one book as better than another when our bias may be unfair to our readers? The book we praise most may not speak to a reader with the same force. Maybe they’d enjoy our least-favorite more.

I’ve found that the best way to answer the question of which book is my favorite is to be honest. I answer that River of Fear is my personal favorite, but that each of my books is special in its own way. Then I take a minute to explain the special feelings I have toward all the other books I’ve cared enough to create.

Seeing Our Mistakes

Human nature makes us see others’ flaws more clearly than our own. For writers, that self-blindness extends to our work. We can read a paragraph a dozen times and not realize we’ve left out a word. We can have a detailed picture of a character in our minds and not realize we’ve failed to describe her in our text. We may overuse our favorite words or a character’s name. Some of our sentences may be awkward or rambling. We may have included subtle breaches of viewpoint, but we’re too close to the work to see the mistakes.

To get our work in front of a pair of fresh eyes, we join a critique group, pay an independent editor, or ship our manuscript off to a beta reader. The problem arises when we have the wrong person, or persons, critique our work.

Not all first readers are helpful. My mother, for example, loves everything I write. Words of praise are usually her only comments. While praise is good for my ego and always welcome, it doesn’t help me improve my manuscripts.

A beta reader or critique partner who gives useful feedback is difficult to find. Some readers are unfamiliar with story structure and the mechanics of writing, and their lack of knowledge means they are less critical of craft issues than necessary. Some readers are too harsh or downright vindictive, sometimes because they dislike the genre you write, sometimes because they read while they’re in a foul mood and fail to be objective.

On the flip side of the problem, a critique partner who is perfect for one writer may be completely wrong for another. Not all writers have thick skins and want a no-holes-barred, tell-it-like-it-is critique. Some people are more sensitive and want gentler comments. We have to communicate our needs to our first readers or they won’t know what level of feedback we expect.

When we search for a good first reader, we’re a little like Goldilocks. Our quest is for insightful feedback rather than perfect porridge. We’re looking for a critique with not too much vinegar, but not too much sugar. We’re seeking a first reader whose critique is just right.

Writing with Passion

My story idea folder occupies a place of honor on my desk. Whenever I get a lightbulb moment, I jot down the idea or concept that might someday evolve into a story. The ideas that I stash in my folder don’t have a use by date. But many get stale and never receive more than a cursory second glance.

My best ideas don’t remain in the folder long. They crawl into my brain and refuse to leave. The stew of elements that will become a story begins to bubble quickly. Details fly into my head at odd moments of the day. Soon I’m clipping together multiple pages of notes and assigning the idea its own folder.

As my passion for an idea grows, I add notes about characters, scribble down bits of dialogue, ponder themes, analyze potential conflicts, and develop a rough outline. If I have enough passion, and know where the story is going, I begin to write.

Having passion for a story gives me a sense of comfort. It means I’ll be able to stay engaged day after day throughout the long months I’ll need to write, rewrite, and revise.

My passion doesn’t always lead me in a familiar direction. Most of my published books are romantic suspense. But many of my ideas overlap with mainstream, mystery, and sci-fi.

Marketing professionals tell writers that branding is important. They advise we chose a genre and then stick with it. If we have an idea for something completely different, we’re told to pass and focus on building a brand.

I wish ignoring my non-romantic suspense ideas was that easy. I’ve recently finished a futuristic manuscript because I had a great idea and my mind refused to travel a straight and narrow road. I’m not sure if going with my passion and writing stories in a genre other than romantic suspense will turn out to be good or bad for my career. But it has led me to writing in multiple genres.

I believe that the most important aspect of writing is that my words come from the heart. I’m betting that passion beats logic. The best stories aren’t always the ones a writer chooses, but rather the ones that reach out and choose the writer.

Stranger Than Fiction

Some of the magazine articles I’ve read recently involved topics that could be considered stranger than fiction. For example, Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos is making plans to use unmanned aerial drones to deliver packages in the future. Scientists are developing plants that glow in the dark, with one possible use being to replace sidewalk and driveway lights. Marijuana sales are now legal in several states, but banks aren’t allowed to handle money from the sale of federally illegal substances. So marijuana dealers are forced to keep sizable amounts of cash in their possession and must constantly worry about being targeted by thieves. Robbers are stealing the horns from rhino heads mounted and displayed on the walls of European museums and selling the horns for large sums on the black market.

Stranger than fiction? Maybe not entirely. Many great books have been written with stranger elements in the plots without being considered science fiction or fantasy. The big difference between real life and fiction is believability. If an author presents an idea or event in a convincing and logical manner, readers nod and accept the possibility.

Life becomes strange when reality is farfetched, confusing, contradictory, or difficult to comprehend. When no author has written the words to explain how an event could occur or why something is possible, we shake our heads in disbelief. When we hear about people doing outlandish things with no explanation of why or how, we question the story’s veracity and wonder if someone is pulling our leg.

Fiction, however, must explain why and how in a logical manner and supply answers before a question is asked. Well-written fiction can make us believe practically anything by giving it the appearance of reality. The reason we say life is stranger than fiction boils down to one basic premise: fiction must make sense. Life? Not so much.

Making the most of your Circadian Rhythm

Like most of you, when I sit down to complete any task, I want to accomplish as much as possible in whatever time slot I’ve carved out of my busy day. Lately, I’ve been trying to improve my writing productivity and reduce the time from start to completion of a manuscript. To that end, I’ve been noticing my circadian rhythm.

Human circadian rhythms are the rise and fall of physical and mental performance levels over the course of a day. Scientists have found the average person has their lowest level of performance in the wee hours of the morning and peak levels in the late afternoon. But everyone has his or her own unique rhythm that may be the complete opposite. A morning lark will accomplish more by waking with the roosters. A night owl does his best writing when the rest of the household is asleep. And we can accomplish more if we’re aware of when we should dig in or walk away.

To improve my performance and make the most of my creativity, I decided to track when I was most productive for several weeks. I’ve discovered I write best in the morning, but not extremely early. If I sit down to write at eight a.m. with a clear idea of where my story is going, I can produce a significant number of pages before two p.m. My brain is sluggish when asked to work with individual words and sentences in the late afternoon; those are my best hours to plot, outline, or work on a synopsis. As the day progresses, my concentration moves outward from details. My best ideas for titles, themes, and overall concepts come late at night or while I lie in bed, just before I fall asleep.

This information has helped me plan my work better. I can schedule my time based on the type of task I need to complete.

Anyone who wants to be more productive in any aspect of their life needs to, as much as possible, match their work schedule to their individual rhythms. By studying our internal clocks, we can discover when we’re most likely to be successful at whatever we strive to accomplish.

If your passion is to write, find a few minutes before you leave home for your day job, on your lunch hour, after work, or after the kids have gone to bed. Pick your most productive time. Whether you’re a lark or an owl, good luck.

Two from my Keeper Shelf

Like most writers, I tend to be a critical reader. While I’m reading a novel, I study the author’s craft and techniques, making note of the good and the not so good.

When I come across a book with fascinating characters, a well-crafted and complex plot, a heavy dose of conflict, strongly motivated character actions, and a well-described and unusual setting, I put that book on my keeper shelf so I can read it again.

I’ve recently pulled two books off that shelf and given them a second read. In each case, the second read was as enjoyable as the first. My first read may be fast if the story is a page-turner. But when I know how the story will end, I can slow down and appreciate the details that give a book deeper meaning, and I can better understand why the stories resonate.

One of the books I reread was Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. The first time through, I fell in love with the protagonist and was fascinated by the author’s descriptions of circus life in the early 1900s. The second read showed the book to be a wonderful study in character development and building reader empathy.

The second book is The Impersonator by Mary Miley. This is a mystery set in the days of vaudeville and prohibition. Like Water for Elephants, the time frame and setting was unusual and made the book stand out from the hundreds of other cozy mysteries published each year.

The protagonist of The Impersonator is flawed, but we understand her actions and don’t judge her harshly. She does what she has to do to survive, and we root for her to succeed. The character was developed perfectly for the first book in a series, because readers will want to spend more time with her after the last page and will want to follow what happens in her life.

Writers can learn much from analyzing the work of others. But whether you’re a reader or a writer, don’t miss either of these books. Study them or just enjoy the ride. Read them once or twice. You’ll love them every time.

Love Those Winter Woes

In everyday life, ice and snow may be a minor nuisance or cause a major delay during a morning commute. But in fiction, snow and frigid temperatures are always welcome as a means of wrecking havoc.

Conflict, or an antagonistic force, helps stories hold our interest while they test a hero’s intelligence, strength, and courage. Man has been in conflict with nature since the earliest days of our existence, and cold climate conditions are an ever-present danger to our warm-blooded body’s survival.

Snow and ice can have hundreds of uses in fiction, limited only be an author’s imagination. Blinding snow or roads slicked with black ice hinder a hero’s ability to drive when he is being pursued or rushing to save a life. Trudging along in freezing temperatures without a hat or gloves puts him at risk of frostbite, but he has nowhere in the wilderness to shelter. Blizzards knock down power lines and can leave a defenseless heroine or child alone in a drafty cabin lit only by a flickering candle. The ice on a windswept lake might be too thin to cross and crack under a character’s weight.

Cold weather gives characters things to do: split and stack firewood before the storm hits, warm their numb hands in front of the hearth, cuddle under a thick blanket, or try to stop shivering by sipping a mug of steaming cocoa.

Snow cover holds clues in a mystery or suspense. Tire tracks can lead investigators to the make of a get-away car. Footprints can create a trail for a detective to follow. Drag marks can reveal where a body was moved. A depression in an otherwise level snowfield can be a clue to the location of a pit or shallow grave.

All the things about cold and snow that we consider hardships or nuisances in our everyday lives have the potential to ramp up the conflict in a story and make our hero show his true grit. So if you live in a part of the country where snow falls frequently, let your winter woes enliven your fiction.

Go ahead, let it snow.

A Matter of Time

Time flies. Time drags. Occasionally, when I’m deeply involved in a project, time blurs or disappears. Time is difficult to control in life, but in fiction, time can and must be managed carefully.

Historical or contemporary is our first consideration but by no means the last. Every story has an optimal span of time in which to take place. Some stories span a month, a year, or a decade, some a day or mere hour.

Thrillers tend to be packed into relatively short time slots. A ticking clock creates high tension. If the hero has time for a long, relaxing nap or a casual approach to the problem, he might fail to save the world.

Family dramas can unfold at a more leisurely pace as the emotional stakes slowly simmer then boil. Tension can be drawn out by delaying actions and decisions. Making a reader wait for the solution to a character’s dilemma can be as effective as a ticking clock.

My romantic suspense stories can span up to two or three weeks. When a man and woman are falling in love in the midst of a life-threatening situation, emotions can flare quickly. But enduring love rarely happens overnight. A couple that takes the time to resolve the issues keeping them apart has a better chance of staying together happily ever after. The suspense element of romantic suspense requires speed, the romance requires duration. When I’m writing, I’m performing a precarious balancing act between the two.

The length of a book can also determine its time span. A fifty-thousand word novel must wrap up quickly. At twice that length, the author can include more scenes, and if the story needs time to develop, days or weeks can pass before the start of a new chapter.

I’ve just completed a manuscript with a prologue, then a sixty-one year time gap before the opening of chapter one. But from that point, events proceed in quick succession, and the main story takes place in less than a month.

When considering how many days, weeks, or years a story requires, I find it helpful to consider the question: what is the minimal amount of time in which the plot can effectively take place? Characters challenged and under pressure make choices that are the most revealing of their true nature and, therefore, are the most interesting. And a story that drags is too much like real life. Leave out the boring parts and compress time. Your readers will thank you.

So time in fiction is easy. As for managing time in your personal life and career, that’s another blog entirely. And right now, I’m behind on a self-imposed deadline and don’t have the time to write it.

Finished Manuscripts

When is a manuscript finished?

Some writers dash off a draft and call their story done. I know authors who have spent ten years perfecting a manuscript’s every word and mark of punctuation.

My average time from beginning a first draft to completion is nine months, but I had one manuscript that I tinkered with off and on for several years before I was satisfied with the structure of the story and my characters’ development.

No manuscript should be considered finished until it has been reviewed by a beta reader or critique partner. Before submitting or self-publishing, the text should be read by at least one set of eyes other than the author’s. Most manuscripts can benefit from a second draft, some need a third or a fourth.

Critiques are useful, but the critique process should stop before a story loses its originality or freshness because it’s been revised too many times. And an author must be careful not to let the suggestions of others smother their voice. Submitting the same story to a critique group over and over has diminishing returns: the readers lose objectivity with each subsequent pass.

A manuscript should be considered finished any time revision has become an excuse not to submit to an agent or editor. My personal philosophy is: Get it off your desk before you begin to hate it.

Your work doesn’t have to be perfect. Taking ten years to finish a manuscript is probably too long unless you’re writing War and Peace. Dashing something off in one month is probably too quick unless you’re as prolific and skilled as Nora Roberts. You need a manuscript that’s not too hot, not too cold – sort of the ‘just right’ Goldilock’s sought in the bears’ porridge.

Every story is unique and every writer has their own pace and method. The true answer to when a manuscript is finished has to be: when the author feels satisfied with what he or she has created and knows deep inside that they’ve done their best to translate into print the story that was inside their head.

Today, I’m celebrating that milestone. I have decreed my current manuscript done.

Cursive and Fiction

As millions of children go back to school, a quiet debate is bubbling in the background: to cursive or not to cursive.

The argument against teaching cursive goes something like this: no one writes letters anymore, all work is now done on computers, why do we need it?

My answer? The ability to write cursive may be less crucial, but the ability to read cursive is still important.

We need cursive so children can read early drafts of the Declaration of Independence written in Thomas Jefferson’s handwriting, glimpse the genius of the man, and feel the power and emotion of his words.

We need it so someone who wants to trace their genealogy can read the names of their ancestors who entered this country through Ellis Island.

We need it so a child who studies history can read original documents written by Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and other presidents and statesmen.

Any child who hopes to be a lawyer needs the ability to read handwritten documents that could help prove clear title to a property or be critical to winning a lawsuit or criminal case.

We need to write in cursive to express our individuality. Every person who learns cursive develops a unique signature that hints at his or her personality and is so distinctive it can be used to prove the identity of the signer. Will children who don’t learn cursive have printed signatures that another person can easily falsify?

I once read a short story by Isaac Asimov in which two young boys were raised in a society where audio books were the only available format and people dictated anything they wanted to record. One of the boys discovered an antiquated code called the alphabet, and the two boys learned to duplicate the symbols, group them together, and communicate secretly.

I thought of that story when I first heard the cursive debate. Asimov was a man with unlimited insight. I can only guess at the theme of his story written years before anyone said, “Why do we need cursive?”

Maybe he’d heard: Why do we need art education? Why do we need music education? Why do schools need sports, or why teach a foreign language? His mind may have taken a step further and asked: why will future generations need to learn to write?

So I ask: if we stop teaching cursive, will printing be the next skill to fade away?

Is fiction sometimes a prophecy? Are we headed for a future where a boy will discover our alphabet and consider its use wondrous?