Mette Ivie Harrison's Blog, page 95
March 7, 2011
what it sounds like in my head today
I often wonder about we writerly people, if we are more emotionally fragile to begin with, and that is what draws us to the arts (WHY--since it certainly doesn't make us less emotionally fragile?) or if we become more emotionally fragile because we are in the arts and the arts are a place that tests us emotionally in ways that other people are no tested. You know the obvious stories. Van Gogh. Hemingway. Virginia Woolf.
I am pretty sure that programmers don't sit around crippled with fear about whether or not they can write their next program. At least, my husband tells me they don't.
But I remember when I was in grad school, that there were a lot of the same problems:
Grad Students Writers
"I feel like a fake." "That book was a fluke."
"I don't belong here." "I'm one book away from failure."
"I'm too afraid to even start writing my paper." "I can't show my work to anyone."
"My dissertation will never be good enough." "I'll never be that kind of writer."
Sound familiar?
Today in my head, this is what it sounds like:
"I can't revise this book. I've never done a revision like this before."
"I don't know if this revision will compromise my original artistic vision of this book."
"I hate writing. Maybe I don't want to be a writer anymore. I could get a job at the supermarket, bagging groceries. I am very good at bagging groceries."
"This is too hard. I want to write an easier book."
"What if after all this work, the book still sinks like a stone and is never heard from again?"
"It's too painful to write this because it is true and I will be exposing myself to the world."
"Writing doesn't matter. Why do I worry about it so much, anyway?"
"If I change every single word, in what sense am I still writing the same book?"
"I will probably get it wrong anyway and then my career will be over."
"I'm not good enough."
"Critics will chew this book to pieces."
"What makes me think that I have the right to do a book like this anyway? Who do I think I am?"
"I'll put the book in a dark place and just wait until I'm a good enough writer to finish it. Though I probably never will be."
At some point, I suppose I will have to decide if I have the courage to ignore those voices and keep working on the book. What do you think? Does it take more courage to be a writer? Or are writers just naturally more cowardly to begin with?
I am pretty sure that programmers don't sit around crippled with fear about whether or not they can write their next program. At least, my husband tells me they don't.
But I remember when I was in grad school, that there were a lot of the same problems:
Grad Students Writers
"I feel like a fake." "That book was a fluke."
"I don't belong here." "I'm one book away from failure."
"I'm too afraid to even start writing my paper." "I can't show my work to anyone."
"My dissertation will never be good enough." "I'll never be that kind of writer."
Sound familiar?
Today in my head, this is what it sounds like:
"I can't revise this book. I've never done a revision like this before."
"I don't know if this revision will compromise my original artistic vision of this book."
"I hate writing. Maybe I don't want to be a writer anymore. I could get a job at the supermarket, bagging groceries. I am very good at bagging groceries."
"This is too hard. I want to write an easier book."
"What if after all this work, the book still sinks like a stone and is never heard from again?"
"It's too painful to write this because it is true and I will be exposing myself to the world."
"Writing doesn't matter. Why do I worry about it so much, anyway?"
"If I change every single word, in what sense am I still writing the same book?"
"I will probably get it wrong anyway and then my career will be over."
"I'm not good enough."
"Critics will chew this book to pieces."
"What makes me think that I have the right to do a book like this anyway? Who do I think I am?"
"I'll put the book in a dark place and just wait until I'm a good enough writer to finish it. Though I probably never will be."
At some point, I suppose I will have to decide if I have the courage to ignore those voices and keep working on the book. What do you think? Does it take more courage to be a writer? Or are writers just naturally more cowardly to begin with?
March 4, 2011
YA Mafia
A lot of writers are going out of their way to deny the existence of the YA Mafia, which is, of course, precisely what mafia people do. It's not just that they aren't in the mafia, you see. They deny the entire existence of such a mafia because they know that you know that if there were such a thing, they would be in it.
I will tell you, I have seen the YA mafia and I know that it is real. I will be your informer. I am not a member per se, but I am friends with friends of people who are members. I've seen it from the inside. And it is EVIL!
What the YA Mafia does is:
1--Get together in writing groups and write books as a collective. Yes, this really happens. It's like a giant hive mind that spews out incredibly good novels. The hive mind has good ideas in the first place and then because of the number of minds in the hive, the novels become better by intense criticism. Also, because of the threats of death or maiming to those who do not produce a novel a year that is good, everyone keeps writing at a ridiculous rate. And they keep getting better because that's what hive minds do. They evolve. They improve. And they take over the world because they are so efficient and perfect.
2--Promote their books. Together. The YA Mafia is a group of people who know one another and they are friends with each other. They enjoy each other's company. Thus, when they have a chance to go on tour, they beg and plead to be allowed to go with other people they love on tour. And then they appear at bookstores together. This is where the secret assassinations of other writers careers happen. They stay up late at night, devising plans to destroy other people and then they put them into place by speaking to bookstore people about books they love and hate, and talking to readers about books while they are doing their signings.
3--Live in New York. Since this is where all the editors live, the YA Mafia invites editors to parties. And that's where they take over their minds and infect them with the YA virus. They make the editors like them back, and so those editors read their books and sometimes buy them. Also, they get agents this way because they are likeable and nice--on the surface, of course! Mafia people are always nice in polite conversation. You can't tell they are killers from a few meetings.
4--Tweet. Everyone knows that Twitter was invented by the Mafia so that they can coordinate their movements moment by moment and evade capture by law enforcement. It is the same with the YA Mafia, who talk to each other publicly on Twitter, promoting books they love and being silent about books they hate. Everyone knows that silence is the worst thing that can happen to any book, and that is what Twitter is really about. The silence! It is deafening!
5--Write secret hidden messages in their books. If you read all my books backwards, you will see the hidden messages about other writers' books. If you don't read them backwards, it won't matter. The effect will be the same. You won't read the books I hate because I have programmed you, but you won't be conscious of it, either. This effect has nothing to do with becoming more intelligent or discerning by reading my books, sadly. If that were the case, then schools would have to start actually buying books to put them in libraries. But no studies have to date ever proven that the actual reading of books improves memory, coordination, or tax paying.
I will tell you, I have seen the YA mafia and I know that it is real. I will be your informer. I am not a member per se, but I am friends with friends of people who are members. I've seen it from the inside. And it is EVIL!
What the YA Mafia does is:
1--Get together in writing groups and write books as a collective. Yes, this really happens. It's like a giant hive mind that spews out incredibly good novels. The hive mind has good ideas in the first place and then because of the number of minds in the hive, the novels become better by intense criticism. Also, because of the threats of death or maiming to those who do not produce a novel a year that is good, everyone keeps writing at a ridiculous rate. And they keep getting better because that's what hive minds do. They evolve. They improve. And they take over the world because they are so efficient and perfect.
2--Promote their books. Together. The YA Mafia is a group of people who know one another and they are friends with each other. They enjoy each other's company. Thus, when they have a chance to go on tour, they beg and plead to be allowed to go with other people they love on tour. And then they appear at bookstores together. This is where the secret assassinations of other writers careers happen. They stay up late at night, devising plans to destroy other people and then they put them into place by speaking to bookstore people about books they love and hate, and talking to readers about books while they are doing their signings.
3--Live in New York. Since this is where all the editors live, the YA Mafia invites editors to parties. And that's where they take over their minds and infect them with the YA virus. They make the editors like them back, and so those editors read their books and sometimes buy them. Also, they get agents this way because they are likeable and nice--on the surface, of course! Mafia people are always nice in polite conversation. You can't tell they are killers from a few meetings.
4--Tweet. Everyone knows that Twitter was invented by the Mafia so that they can coordinate their movements moment by moment and evade capture by law enforcement. It is the same with the YA Mafia, who talk to each other publicly on Twitter, promoting books they love and being silent about books they hate. Everyone knows that silence is the worst thing that can happen to any book, and that is what Twitter is really about. The silence! It is deafening!
5--Write secret hidden messages in their books. If you read all my books backwards, you will see the hidden messages about other writers' books. If you don't read them backwards, it won't matter. The effect will be the same. You won't read the books I hate because I have programmed you, but you won't be conscious of it, either. This effect has nothing to do with becoming more intelligent or discerning by reading my books, sadly. If that were the case, then schools would have to start actually buying books to put them in libraries. But no studies have to date ever proven that the actual reading of books improves memory, coordination, or tax paying.
how my subconscious writes novels
So I've been working on a revision of a project that I fell in love with last year and wrote an exploratory draft of. The draft was almost completely unusable, as those drafts usually are, sadly. But I did get to know the characters so well that they live in my head and say things to me sometimes. That doesn't always happen. Some characters are shy and live in their own world. Other characters are loud and live in mine.
Over the last few weeks, I have outlined and outlined the novel again and again, as it twisted and turned with each chapter unfolding. I think this is an interesting process to watch, as it teaches me again and again that I need to trust my instincts in the moment of writing and not pretend to think that my conscious mind knows more about story than my unconscious mind does. Sometimes I describe this as needing to let the reader take charge rather than the writer. The reader is the greedy one who wants to be surprised all the time, but also the readers is the one who has read thousands and thousands of novels and knows how they "feel," how pacing needs to be. My conscious writer side has written maybe fifty novels, which isn't nothing, but still.
What happened this week that I loved was that I needed a code between the two MCs. It was a code that one of them had to discover, but I didn't know what it was going to be. The female MC had just realized her brother was sending her messages and she didn't know how to decipher them. Well I, as the writer, didn't know how to decipher them, either. This wasn't something I had set up in advance. And I always feel a little breathless, wondering if I can pull it off. Also, terrified that I can't. That's what I call the editor. I try to offer sacrifices to the editor in my head so that it can quiet down, but it doesn't always work. Also, I tell myself that if worse comes to worst, I can take out the part about the code and work something else in. Or, you know, just throw away the whole book and try something else.
But it worked. I figured out the code. Or rather, my subconscious uncovered it and allowed me at last to see it. The weird thing is, it came from the first line in the book. I honestly can't tell if my subconscious planted that first line from the first, knowing that this was going to be important later on, or if it was just that when I reached this point in the novel, my subconscious reviewed what I had written before and picked that out as the most promising way to deal with the code problem. The first line of the book that I wrote as kind of a throwaway, assuming I'd change it later, though it does tell a very important detail about the brother.
I know there are outliners out there who think this is an insane way of writing. It IS an insane way of writing. I keep trying to outline, which is they way that I wish writing worked for me. And I still think it's useful for me to have a general framework which I can jump off of onto a cement concrete floor if I need to. But I try not to mess with my subconscious too much. It has served me well. I think it tells a truer story than I do. I don't poke around in there, trying to figure why or how it does what it does, because I am superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. And also, I don't think it would make any difference.
One of the reasons that I read so many books (besides loving them) is that I believe that the more I read, the more raw material I have for my subconscious to twist around and make into its own. The story strategies that other authors use I can steal for my own devices on either a conscious or subconscious level. I talk about what I can see them doing, but there is always stuff that I can't see the first time around. I believe my subconscious sees it, though, and learns from it. Not just from books, either. From movies and TV and everything in life.
I always think that this way of seeing writing is borrowed from Stephen King's On Writing which I read years ago when it first came out and thought was brilliant. But I suspect that if I went back and read it again now I might be surprised to find that he didn't say the things that I think he did about reading and the subconscious, that I've twisted them and made them my own. Loke I always do.
Over the last few weeks, I have outlined and outlined the novel again and again, as it twisted and turned with each chapter unfolding. I think this is an interesting process to watch, as it teaches me again and again that I need to trust my instincts in the moment of writing and not pretend to think that my conscious mind knows more about story than my unconscious mind does. Sometimes I describe this as needing to let the reader take charge rather than the writer. The reader is the greedy one who wants to be surprised all the time, but also the readers is the one who has read thousands and thousands of novels and knows how they "feel," how pacing needs to be. My conscious writer side has written maybe fifty novels, which isn't nothing, but still.
What happened this week that I loved was that I needed a code between the two MCs. It was a code that one of them had to discover, but I didn't know what it was going to be. The female MC had just realized her brother was sending her messages and she didn't know how to decipher them. Well I, as the writer, didn't know how to decipher them, either. This wasn't something I had set up in advance. And I always feel a little breathless, wondering if I can pull it off. Also, terrified that I can't. That's what I call the editor. I try to offer sacrifices to the editor in my head so that it can quiet down, but it doesn't always work. Also, I tell myself that if worse comes to worst, I can take out the part about the code and work something else in. Or, you know, just throw away the whole book and try something else.
But it worked. I figured out the code. Or rather, my subconscious uncovered it and allowed me at last to see it. The weird thing is, it came from the first line in the book. I honestly can't tell if my subconscious planted that first line from the first, knowing that this was going to be important later on, or if it was just that when I reached this point in the novel, my subconscious reviewed what I had written before and picked that out as the most promising way to deal with the code problem. The first line of the book that I wrote as kind of a throwaway, assuming I'd change it later, though it does tell a very important detail about the brother.
I know there are outliners out there who think this is an insane way of writing. It IS an insane way of writing. I keep trying to outline, which is they way that I wish writing worked for me. And I still think it's useful for me to have a general framework which I can jump off of onto a cement concrete floor if I need to. But I try not to mess with my subconscious too much. It has served me well. I think it tells a truer story than I do. I don't poke around in there, trying to figure why or how it does what it does, because I am superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. And also, I don't think it would make any difference.
One of the reasons that I read so many books (besides loving them) is that I believe that the more I read, the more raw material I have for my subconscious to twist around and make into its own. The story strategies that other authors use I can steal for my own devices on either a conscious or subconscious level. I talk about what I can see them doing, but there is always stuff that I can't see the first time around. I believe my subconscious sees it, though, and learns from it. Not just from books, either. From movies and TV and everything in life.
I always think that this way of seeing writing is borrowed from Stephen King's On Writing which I read years ago when it first came out and thought was brilliant. But I suspect that if I went back and read it again now I might be surprised to find that he didn't say the things that I think he did about reading and the subconscious, that I've twisted them and made them my own. Loke I always do.
March 3, 2011
high school and real life
There are a lot of ways in which high school is not like real life. And there are ways that it is, sadly, like real life.
1. Grades
The older I get, the more I feel the need to debunk the grade myth. Grades are not real. That is, grades do not reflect accurately on intelligence or even work habits. The reason why? Because there are personalities involved. Teachers sometimes hate a particular student and grades are effected. Thus, the students who tend to get straight A's also tend to be students who make sure no teacher hates them (you've met people like this). Or they have parents who make a fuss and intimidate the teacher into a good grade (*shudder*). Or simply have good luck and good genes to keep them healthy (and are blissfully unaware of how lucky this is).
In real life, however, there are grades of different kinds. There are performance reports at big businesses, where the people in charge of the money can't see what is going on downstream. In the book world, there is the New York Times Bestseller list, which can be manipulated. And PW reports on advances, ditto. And reviews that are completely confused, wrong-headed, or overly nice. There are the raw numbers of book sales, which don't include satisfaction, library use, or other important information.
These ways of measuring yourself as an author can be destructive, to say the least. There are places that use them as ammunition, just as colleges stupidly use grades or even standardized testing as a major portion of a student's desirability score. They are rightly rewarded when such students turn out to be greedy grade grubbers in college, as well. I had far too many of them in my college classes, back in the day. I still have a fantasy of saying the first day of class, everyone gets an A. Those of you who care about learning, stick around. The rest, see you next semester and good luck with life.
2. Social life
A lot of high school seems to be about dating, being "popular," being a cheerleader or in the school play or in school government. This, too, is a mirage. It doesn't matter. Having a date to Junior Prom (this from someone who didn't go, of course) won't predict whether you will be successful in life. It won't predict if you will marry a great person and have a happy family life. It won't predict whether you will have many dear friends in life. It doesn't mean anything at all, except that you went to Junior Prom and got a photo of it. Really, seriously.
In real life, that is after high school, there are occasions in which you will have a small group of people like in high school. There are petty one-upmanship games. I see it in my small church group and even at the local elementary school PTA. I see it occasionally in the local book world. But just like when you move from high school to college and suddenly, there are too many people to worry about, that is the real world. You don't bother with stupid arguments about whose dress cost the most in the real world. You get on with life. You find the people you connect with and the rest you either ignore or deal with politely and coolly.
3. Gate Keepers
There are a lot of gate keepers in high school. This drove me insane when I was in high school, and it drives me insane now, watching my kids in high school. Counselors and principals and teachers who seem to delight in telling people what they "can't" do, what the requirements are, how they must conform to silly rules that are made for people who don't really seem to exist.
To mention some specifics, telling my daughter who has been on the swim team for two years that she has yet to fulfill her PE requirement seems ridiculous to me. Also, telling my daughter who has been handling money since she was two that she needs a financial literacy class also seems ridiculous. If they taught something she didn't know, fine. But I don't want her time wasted. I don't want my time wasted in useless meetings with counselors who encourage my children to go to college. They are going to college already! Seriously, let's move on.
Yet there are gate keepers in real life, too. In the book world, there are agents who now act like gate keepers to the editors. And to the publishing world in general. There are librarians who act as gate keepers to libraries and kids who can't afford to buy their own books. There are certainly gate keepers in politics and elsewhere. Sometimes this annoys me, but it's useless to be annoyed. You must learn to deal with the system and not let it change who you are or entangle you too deeply. Keep focused on your writing, not the periphery.
1. Grades
The older I get, the more I feel the need to debunk the grade myth. Grades are not real. That is, grades do not reflect accurately on intelligence or even work habits. The reason why? Because there are personalities involved. Teachers sometimes hate a particular student and grades are effected. Thus, the students who tend to get straight A's also tend to be students who make sure no teacher hates them (you've met people like this). Or they have parents who make a fuss and intimidate the teacher into a good grade (*shudder*). Or simply have good luck and good genes to keep them healthy (and are blissfully unaware of how lucky this is).
In real life, however, there are grades of different kinds. There are performance reports at big businesses, where the people in charge of the money can't see what is going on downstream. In the book world, there is the New York Times Bestseller list, which can be manipulated. And PW reports on advances, ditto. And reviews that are completely confused, wrong-headed, or overly nice. There are the raw numbers of book sales, which don't include satisfaction, library use, or other important information.
These ways of measuring yourself as an author can be destructive, to say the least. There are places that use them as ammunition, just as colleges stupidly use grades or even standardized testing as a major portion of a student's desirability score. They are rightly rewarded when such students turn out to be greedy grade grubbers in college, as well. I had far too many of them in my college classes, back in the day. I still have a fantasy of saying the first day of class, everyone gets an A. Those of you who care about learning, stick around. The rest, see you next semester and good luck with life.
2. Social life
A lot of high school seems to be about dating, being "popular," being a cheerleader or in the school play or in school government. This, too, is a mirage. It doesn't matter. Having a date to Junior Prom (this from someone who didn't go, of course) won't predict whether you will be successful in life. It won't predict if you will marry a great person and have a happy family life. It won't predict whether you will have many dear friends in life. It doesn't mean anything at all, except that you went to Junior Prom and got a photo of it. Really, seriously.
In real life, that is after high school, there are occasions in which you will have a small group of people like in high school. There are petty one-upmanship games. I see it in my small church group and even at the local elementary school PTA. I see it occasionally in the local book world. But just like when you move from high school to college and suddenly, there are too many people to worry about, that is the real world. You don't bother with stupid arguments about whose dress cost the most in the real world. You get on with life. You find the people you connect with and the rest you either ignore or deal with politely and coolly.
3. Gate Keepers
There are a lot of gate keepers in high school. This drove me insane when I was in high school, and it drives me insane now, watching my kids in high school. Counselors and principals and teachers who seem to delight in telling people what they "can't" do, what the requirements are, how they must conform to silly rules that are made for people who don't really seem to exist.
To mention some specifics, telling my daughter who has been on the swim team for two years that she has yet to fulfill her PE requirement seems ridiculous to me. Also, telling my daughter who has been handling money since she was two that she needs a financial literacy class also seems ridiculous. If they taught something she didn't know, fine. But I don't want her time wasted. I don't want my time wasted in useless meetings with counselors who encourage my children to go to college. They are going to college already! Seriously, let's move on.
Yet there are gate keepers in real life, too. In the book world, there are agents who now act like gate keepers to the editors. And to the publishing world in general. There are librarians who act as gate keepers to libraries and kids who can't afford to buy their own books. There are certainly gate keepers in politics and elsewhere. Sometimes this annoys me, but it's useless to be annoyed. You must learn to deal with the system and not let it change who you are or entangle you too deeply. Keep focused on your writing, not the periphery.
March 2, 2011
pushing the future back
People tell moms with little kids all the time to enjoy those times because they end so quickly and then the kids become TEENAGERS. Well, I have 4 teens right now, and I am loving this stage. In fact, I find that for the first time, I want to keep them this age forever and I am actually dreading the stage that will come very quickly when they start leaving the house.
It made me think about my writing career and how I wanted so often to be in the next stage, whatever it was. When I was unpublished, I was sure that I would be happy once I was published. But as soon as I got that first offer, I was working madly on getting more books published. Not just one, either. And then there was a long stage when I wanted to write a bestseller. Or if not that, a book that won critical acclaim and made me a household name. Success--that was what I wanted. The elusive, never to be found ending place where I knew I had "arrived."
I don't think that place will ever come. And more than that, I think back fondly on some of the previous stages, not sure that I enjoyed them enough while I was in them. There is a certain pleasure in writing whatever book you feel like. I'm not saying that I write now to please an audience, in hopes of more sales. But I think I have reached a point where I know what I do well and I know that I don't do other things well. Yes, I could ignore that and keep trying new genres. Believe me, my agent knows that I do. But there isn't the sense of discovery, the belief that anything I write could be the perfect thing for me.
When I was waiting for my first book to come out, I thought that what I was feeling was terror. Of course, there was an element of that. But just like on a roller coaster, I knew I would live through it. The sense of anticipation is something to hold onto. Your first book never comes out a second time. That debut book is a wonderful thing.
Equally, being in the trenches, working through a revision or a series of revision with an editor you trust absolutely may feel like hard work, but it is also one of the most profound times. It is hard work and I wanted to be finished with it so much that I don't think I enjoyed it much. I didn't see how lucky I was to be at that moment.
In races one of the goals I had last year was to have at least one moment during the race in which I saw how lucky I was just to be in the race, to have my health, to have enough money to enter, and to feel my body move in this wonderful way. Regardless of the outcome of the race, whether I met a goal or didn't, whether I finished or didn't, there should always be this moment of profound gratitude.
That is what I am trying to find in my writing. Being able to be a writer is a wonderful thing. I have the skill at it that I need to tell stories I love. Not perfectly, no, but well. Enough that others can read them and enjoy them. Enough that I am pleased with myself. Enough that I can give advice about writing that helps others who are around me. I am not saying that I don't want more. I think that grasping part of me is very human. We are never content with the moment. But to look at it, to be fully in it--that is something I am trying to do more and more.
I have fingers to type with. I have a computer and an internet connection. I am writing this blog and some people will read it. For right now, I don't need more than that.
It made me think about my writing career and how I wanted so often to be in the next stage, whatever it was. When I was unpublished, I was sure that I would be happy once I was published. But as soon as I got that first offer, I was working madly on getting more books published. Not just one, either. And then there was a long stage when I wanted to write a bestseller. Or if not that, a book that won critical acclaim and made me a household name. Success--that was what I wanted. The elusive, never to be found ending place where I knew I had "arrived."
I don't think that place will ever come. And more than that, I think back fondly on some of the previous stages, not sure that I enjoyed them enough while I was in them. There is a certain pleasure in writing whatever book you feel like. I'm not saying that I write now to please an audience, in hopes of more sales. But I think I have reached a point where I know what I do well and I know that I don't do other things well. Yes, I could ignore that and keep trying new genres. Believe me, my agent knows that I do. But there isn't the sense of discovery, the belief that anything I write could be the perfect thing for me.
When I was waiting for my first book to come out, I thought that what I was feeling was terror. Of course, there was an element of that. But just like on a roller coaster, I knew I would live through it. The sense of anticipation is something to hold onto. Your first book never comes out a second time. That debut book is a wonderful thing.
Equally, being in the trenches, working through a revision or a series of revision with an editor you trust absolutely may feel like hard work, but it is also one of the most profound times. It is hard work and I wanted to be finished with it so much that I don't think I enjoyed it much. I didn't see how lucky I was to be at that moment.
In races one of the goals I had last year was to have at least one moment during the race in which I saw how lucky I was just to be in the race, to have my health, to have enough money to enter, and to feel my body move in this wonderful way. Regardless of the outcome of the race, whether I met a goal or didn't, whether I finished or didn't, there should always be this moment of profound gratitude.
That is what I am trying to find in my writing. Being able to be a writer is a wonderful thing. I have the skill at it that I need to tell stories I love. Not perfectly, no, but well. Enough that others can read them and enjoy them. Enough that I am pleased with myself. Enough that I can give advice about writing that helps others who are around me. I am not saying that I don't want more. I think that grasping part of me is very human. We are never content with the moment. But to look at it, to be fully in it--that is something I am trying to do more and more.
I have fingers to type with. I have a computer and an internet connection. I am writing this blog and some people will read it. For right now, I don't need more than that.
March 1, 2011
Books Read and Recommended for February 2011
Pathfinder by Orson Scott Card (i)
How to Train Your Dragon (a--again)
How to Be a Pirate by Cressida Cowell (a)
How to Speak Dragonese by Cressida Cowell (a)
Dead Air by James Goss (a)
Will Grayson Will Grayson by David Levithan and John Green (i)
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Book Club book)(i) by Amy Chua
The House of Dead Maids by Clare Dunkle
The Passage by Justin Cronin
Falling for Hamlet by Michelle Ray
Small is for Elephant by Jennifer Richards Jacobson
Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
The False Princess by Eilis O'Neal
Plain Kate by Erin Bow
The Strange Case of Origami Yoda by Tom Angleberger
An Artificial Night by Seanna Maguire (a)
How to Train Your Dragon (a--again)
How to Be a Pirate by Cressida Cowell (a)
How to Speak Dragonese by Cressida Cowell (a)
Dead Air by James Goss (a)
Will Grayson Will Grayson by David Levithan and John Green (i)
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Book Club book)(i) by Amy Chua
The House of Dead Maids by Clare Dunkle
The Passage by Justin Cronin
Falling for Hamlet by Michelle Ray
Small is for Elephant by Jennifer Richards Jacobson
Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
The False Princess by Eilis O'Neal
Plain Kate by Erin Bow
The Strange Case of Origami Yoda by Tom Angleberger
An Artificial Night by Seanna Maguire (a)
February 28, 2011
writing your way out of the pit
I just watched Lost in Austen with 16 and 15 last night. 15 was very emotionally invested in the show. Early on, she started to "stab" characters on screen. At one point she asked me if it ended with everyone bleeding with stab wounds. It is certainly a good thing for a writer when your readers are so invested in the characters that they care desperately about the ending. I am not sure, however, if 15 cared about Jane Austen's characters more than she cared about the characters written into this show. Was she just angry that Jane Austen's character's lives were being disrupted?
We sat on the couch for fully ten minutes after, as she kept asking when we were going to watch the real ending. I myself was not as frustrated by the ending, but I ended up having a discussion with her about the pit that writers put the characters into and the difficult of writing them out of it. A good writer puts the main characters of a plot into a difficult situation. Usually, the difficult situation gets worse and worse as the story moves on. Often, it gets worse even as the characters are desperately trying to get out of the situation. This is the "pit." Its depth depends on the writer.
The problem is that it is easier to write a deep pit than it is to figure a way out of that pit. Whenever I see the season enders of Dr. Who or almost any episode of television, I have the same problem with the solution. It doesn't work for me. The pit is too deep and the writer's way of getting out of it is too neat and simple. The doctor is aged a million years and people chanting his name together heals him? Nope, doesn't work for me. Booth gets a brain tumor and then he has an operation and is healed and never has any after effects from that again?
On the one hand, this kind of hand-wavium works perfectly well for many, many viewers and readers. They are willing to forgive the easiness of the solution because they have suspended disbelief. For others, it does not work as well.
The truth is, we writers are always cheating a bit, aren't we? We always write our way out of impossible situations in ways that wouldn't work in real life. Or maybe not. Maybe that is just me. When I write an ending to a novel, I really experience it like a reader, in that I do not know how I am going to get out of it. This is one of the pleasures/horrors of being a pantser, a writer who does not outline. I have to hope that my subconscious will be working madly to figure out the ending because my conscious mind doesn't know how it will turn out until I write the words.
Sometimes, it works. Often it doesn't, and I get subsequent chances to fix things, to plant clues in the beginning. More on this tomorrow.
We sat on the couch for fully ten minutes after, as she kept asking when we were going to watch the real ending. I myself was not as frustrated by the ending, but I ended up having a discussion with her about the pit that writers put the characters into and the difficult of writing them out of it. A good writer puts the main characters of a plot into a difficult situation. Usually, the difficult situation gets worse and worse as the story moves on. Often, it gets worse even as the characters are desperately trying to get out of the situation. This is the "pit." Its depth depends on the writer.
The problem is that it is easier to write a deep pit than it is to figure a way out of that pit. Whenever I see the season enders of Dr. Who or almost any episode of television, I have the same problem with the solution. It doesn't work for me. The pit is too deep and the writer's way of getting out of it is too neat and simple. The doctor is aged a million years and people chanting his name together heals him? Nope, doesn't work for me. Booth gets a brain tumor and then he has an operation and is healed and never has any after effects from that again?
On the one hand, this kind of hand-wavium works perfectly well for many, many viewers and readers. They are willing to forgive the easiness of the solution because they have suspended disbelief. For others, it does not work as well.
The truth is, we writers are always cheating a bit, aren't we? We always write our way out of impossible situations in ways that wouldn't work in real life. Or maybe not. Maybe that is just me. When I write an ending to a novel, I really experience it like a reader, in that I do not know how I am going to get out of it. This is one of the pleasures/horrors of being a pantser, a writer who does not outline. I have to hope that my subconscious will be working madly to figure out the ending because my conscious mind doesn't know how it will turn out until I write the words.
Sometimes, it works. Often it doesn't, and I get subsequent chances to fix things, to plant clues in the beginning. More on this tomorrow.
February 25, 2011
how to be a Nazi moderator
I have ambivalent feelings about being a Nazi moderator on panels. On the one hand, I think I am a good moderator. I hope that isn't my ego speaking, though it might be. But on the other hand, I don't particularly enjoy being the moderator because when I am moderating, I am constantly thinking about the time, about who still needs a chance to speak, about how I should change the questions to deal with the direction the panel seems to be going in (which is sometimes too interesting to let die). I worry a lot more when I am moderating about whether we're on track, whether I sound like an idiot, and who isn't working on the panel. When someone else is the moderator, they often do a wonderful job and they don't seem to be nervous at all (this may be wrong). I feel like the panel blissfully goes on and I have a good time without needing to control it. But I like to control things, so . . .
I have started simply announcing when I am moderating that I run a tight ship. I don't mind a (very) little wandering off the questions, but if I feel like one person is taking over, I will intervene, especially if it feels like that one person is just doing self-promotion. (Unless I think this is what the audience came for.) If you're telling everyone the plot of your latest novel for more than about one minutes, you're taking too long. If you're talking about the plot of almost any novel for more than a minute, you're taking too long. Mention the title and the author and a one sentence explanation of why it's important and move on. I do tend to write questions down before the panel, but they change as the panel goes along because the energy of every panel is different. I love/hate that. It's like improv comedy, I suppose.
I also like to make sure that the audience does not take over the panel. You've been there when that happens, right? Instead of asking questions, audience members decide that they actually are on the panel and say, "This isn't really a question, but I had a comment . . ." And off it goes. The thing is, most of the audience doesn't want to hear from other audience members. They are there to hear the panelists and are annoyed when they don't get to. So, I say from the beginning that I will stop the panelists talking with precisely 10 minutes left to ask questions. That usually means 3-5 questions, depending on what they are and who wants to answer them. I tend to leave that part up to the panelists. I also insist that the questions are repeated with the mike, so people can hear in the back.
Another thing I tend to do is try to avoid super controversial topics. I mean, there is a certain fun in seeing a knock-down drag-out fight between panelists. I suppose I like it as much as anyone, as long as I don't have to be on the panel. But if I have the sense that we're skirting close to a dangerous topic, I will move us right along to something else. On the romance panel this week at LTUE, I wonder how many people noticed the moment when I tried to veer away from a violent argument about whether or not the two romantic leads should hate each other at the beginning of a novel and whether the author's job is to keep them apart. I have strong feelings on this myself and I was more worried about what was going to happen if *I* had to delve into them than if anyone else did.
Generally, I think the quality of the panel depends less on the moderator than it does on the panelists. If the moderator has picked the panelists, then s/he can take credit for that, but that's not often true. Panelists who either know each other and respect each other or who simply have interests in common work better than those who are talking at something from a completely different angle. Honestly, if you are that different, you aren't even going to be on the same planet. So, best advice on being a good moderator is to get yourself on some good panels. Be polite. Be generous. Don't take over the panel yourself. Be even-handed in allowing time to others. Don't play favorites. Don't make faces. Think madly while you're in the midst of it, and be relieved when it's over.
I have started simply announcing when I am moderating that I run a tight ship. I don't mind a (very) little wandering off the questions, but if I feel like one person is taking over, I will intervene, especially if it feels like that one person is just doing self-promotion. (Unless I think this is what the audience came for.) If you're telling everyone the plot of your latest novel for more than about one minutes, you're taking too long. If you're talking about the plot of almost any novel for more than a minute, you're taking too long. Mention the title and the author and a one sentence explanation of why it's important and move on. I do tend to write questions down before the panel, but they change as the panel goes along because the energy of every panel is different. I love/hate that. It's like improv comedy, I suppose.
I also like to make sure that the audience does not take over the panel. You've been there when that happens, right? Instead of asking questions, audience members decide that they actually are on the panel and say, "This isn't really a question, but I had a comment . . ." And off it goes. The thing is, most of the audience doesn't want to hear from other audience members. They are there to hear the panelists and are annoyed when they don't get to. So, I say from the beginning that I will stop the panelists talking with precisely 10 minutes left to ask questions. That usually means 3-5 questions, depending on what they are and who wants to answer them. I tend to leave that part up to the panelists. I also insist that the questions are repeated with the mike, so people can hear in the back.
Another thing I tend to do is try to avoid super controversial topics. I mean, there is a certain fun in seeing a knock-down drag-out fight between panelists. I suppose I like it as much as anyone, as long as I don't have to be on the panel. But if I have the sense that we're skirting close to a dangerous topic, I will move us right along to something else. On the romance panel this week at LTUE, I wonder how many people noticed the moment when I tried to veer away from a violent argument about whether or not the two romantic leads should hate each other at the beginning of a novel and whether the author's job is to keep them apart. I have strong feelings on this myself and I was more worried about what was going to happen if *I* had to delve into them than if anyone else did.
Generally, I think the quality of the panel depends less on the moderator than it does on the panelists. If the moderator has picked the panelists, then s/he can take credit for that, but that's not often true. Panelists who either know each other and respect each other or who simply have interests in common work better than those who are talking at something from a completely different angle. Honestly, if you are that different, you aren't even going to be on the same planet. So, best advice on being a good moderator is to get yourself on some good panels. Be polite. Be generous. Don't take over the panel yourself. Be even-handed in allowing time to others. Don't play favorites. Don't make faces. Think madly while you're in the midst of it, and be relieved when it's over.
February 24, 2011
bad writing advice
I think mostly the inevitable happened on this panel, which was largely that we gave good writing advice and not bad writing advice. However, there were two pieces of bad writing advice I was given, which I shared and warned people not to perpetuate:
1. It doesn't matter what genre the people in your writing group write. Good writing is good writing.
2. Always outline before you write your first draft.
But basically, the problem with writing advice is always that it assumes that the giver of the advice is like the receiver of the advice. This is rarely true, although as an aspiring writer, I did tend to hang on the words of those who seemed to write as I did. I sought them out because I could tell fairly early on that not everyone wrote as I do. My style is very much the jump in and see what happens. Which isn't to say I never outline. I do. It just tends to happen in the second draft stage, not in the first. I have learned to call my first draft "an exploratory draft" so that those who actually write something that other people might be able to make sense of understand. And yes, I have tried to outline before I do that first draft. It never seems to work for me. I lose all interest in the book.
Good writing, it turns out, is not good writing. This pains me to admit. I tend to derive some of my own self worth from the idea that *my* writing is *good* and even if I don't have the success in numbers that other writers do, it doesn't matter. Because someday it will be recognized as good. Or even if it isn't, I will always know that it is good. This viewpoint has certain advantages, because I don't have to go crazy reading reviews or watching my amazon numbers to see if my book "works." I do allow a certain amount of criticism to get through, but I'm trying to develop a harder shell and a better sense of what I care about on my own about my writing. The disadvantage to this is that I end up sticking my foot in my mouth sometimes when I am talking about the elements of good writing.
Good romance writing is different than good fantasy writing. Good adult writing isn't good writing for children. Good academic writing isn't good fiction writing. A great race report doesn't necessarily make for a great chapter in a novel. Good writing is not good writing, and a critique group who hates the genre you aspire to write will confuse you. Yes, there are things to be learned regardless. But you may also have to work to unlearn things.
Good writing advice:
1. Finish the book
2. Get an agent
3. Take out the boring parts
4. Never pay for your book to be published. The money always flows to the author.
5. Write a second book before your first one comes out to avoid sophomore slump.
1. It doesn't matter what genre the people in your writing group write. Good writing is good writing.
2. Always outline before you write your first draft.
But basically, the problem with writing advice is always that it assumes that the giver of the advice is like the receiver of the advice. This is rarely true, although as an aspiring writer, I did tend to hang on the words of those who seemed to write as I did. I sought them out because I could tell fairly early on that not everyone wrote as I do. My style is very much the jump in and see what happens. Which isn't to say I never outline. I do. It just tends to happen in the second draft stage, not in the first. I have learned to call my first draft "an exploratory draft" so that those who actually write something that other people might be able to make sense of understand. And yes, I have tried to outline before I do that first draft. It never seems to work for me. I lose all interest in the book.
Good writing, it turns out, is not good writing. This pains me to admit. I tend to derive some of my own self worth from the idea that *my* writing is *good* and even if I don't have the success in numbers that other writers do, it doesn't matter. Because someday it will be recognized as good. Or even if it isn't, I will always know that it is good. This viewpoint has certain advantages, because I don't have to go crazy reading reviews or watching my amazon numbers to see if my book "works." I do allow a certain amount of criticism to get through, but I'm trying to develop a harder shell and a better sense of what I care about on my own about my writing. The disadvantage to this is that I end up sticking my foot in my mouth sometimes when I am talking about the elements of good writing.
Good romance writing is different than good fantasy writing. Good adult writing isn't good writing for children. Good academic writing isn't good fiction writing. A great race report doesn't necessarily make for a great chapter in a novel. Good writing is not good writing, and a critique group who hates the genre you aspire to write will confuse you. Yes, there are things to be learned regardless. But you may also have to work to unlearn things.
Good writing advice:
1. Finish the book
2. Get an agent
3. Take out the boring parts
4. Never pay for your book to be published. The money always flows to the author.
5. Write a second book before your first one comes out to avoid sophomore slump.
February 23, 2011
YA and family
On the panel about YA and family, I think we had some really interesting ideas. The panelists were (if I remember correctly): Tyler Whitesides, J Scott Savage, Elana Johnson and me.
Family and the absence of family seem to be more important in MG novels. MG novels are really about family, but YA novels seem to be about moving away from the family. It's not so much that the family in a YA novel has to be missing or neglectful as in MG, in order to give the protagonist power to act on his own. In YA, family is often simply irrelevant.
We started with the above and then sort of argued about whether or not this is true. One of my thoughts was that YA novels are about creating a better family, and that this family is often a family of friends or an untraditional family unit in some way. Books that I used as examples included Rampant by Diana Peterfreund, in which a group of girls who are unicorn hunters create a family unit of all girls, and Dicey's Song by Cynthia Voigt, in which a young teen girl has to take her mother's place when she abandons the family, and get everyone to her grandmother's safely some distance away.
Making friends into family is, in some ways, the primary task of adolescence. You start out by loving your parents and then begin to look at them more critically, start to hate them, and then become determined to never make their mistakes, never be anything like them. At least, this is what adolescence felt like to me and I think I see my teens going through a lot of the same things. In some ways, the task of adolescence is made more difficult by sympathetic parents. Easier if you can see the flaws and reject them entirely. That way you can attach to friends and think about which of them are going to have the traits of a proper family. Also, marriage isn't part of adolescence, but thinking about marriage certainly is. Looking at others you think of as possible mates is part of it, as well.
I also think that many YA novels are about "trying out" adulthood. In Dicey's Song, Dicey becomes the adult parent and she is mostly successful at it. But by the end of the novel, she is happy to give up her adult role and trade it back to a real adult so she can be a regular teen again. Hmm, maybe say she is somewhat ambivalent about this. She's not eager to give up the role, but she sees that it is the right thing to do. There is a tension there still, because she isn't sure the real adult will do the proper job, but she knows she isn't quite ready for it, either.
Adolescence is about trying on lots of different adult roles, actually, and seeing which one fits the best. I think this narrative is completely different from the MG narrative, which is about fixing the broken family in one form or another. Look at the difference between Well Wished by Franny Billingsley (MG) and The Folk Keeper (YA). Or The Thief (MG) and The Queen of Attolia (YA).
Family and the absence of family seem to be more important in MG novels. MG novels are really about family, but YA novels seem to be about moving away from the family. It's not so much that the family in a YA novel has to be missing or neglectful as in MG, in order to give the protagonist power to act on his own. In YA, family is often simply irrelevant.
We started with the above and then sort of argued about whether or not this is true. One of my thoughts was that YA novels are about creating a better family, and that this family is often a family of friends or an untraditional family unit in some way. Books that I used as examples included Rampant by Diana Peterfreund, in which a group of girls who are unicorn hunters create a family unit of all girls, and Dicey's Song by Cynthia Voigt, in which a young teen girl has to take her mother's place when she abandons the family, and get everyone to her grandmother's safely some distance away.
Making friends into family is, in some ways, the primary task of adolescence. You start out by loving your parents and then begin to look at them more critically, start to hate them, and then become determined to never make their mistakes, never be anything like them. At least, this is what adolescence felt like to me and I think I see my teens going through a lot of the same things. In some ways, the task of adolescence is made more difficult by sympathetic parents. Easier if you can see the flaws and reject them entirely. That way you can attach to friends and think about which of them are going to have the traits of a proper family. Also, marriage isn't part of adolescence, but thinking about marriage certainly is. Looking at others you think of as possible mates is part of it, as well.
I also think that many YA novels are about "trying out" adulthood. In Dicey's Song, Dicey becomes the adult parent and she is mostly successful at it. But by the end of the novel, she is happy to give up her adult role and trade it back to a real adult so she can be a regular teen again. Hmm, maybe say she is somewhat ambivalent about this. She's not eager to give up the role, but she sees that it is the right thing to do. There is a tension there still, because she isn't sure the real adult will do the proper job, but she knows she isn't quite ready for it, either.
Adolescence is about trying on lots of different adult roles, actually, and seeing which one fits the best. I think this narrative is completely different from the MG narrative, which is about fixing the broken family in one form or another. Look at the difference between Well Wished by Franny Billingsley (MG) and The Folk Keeper (YA). Or The Thief (MG) and The Queen of Attolia (YA).
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