Liz Michalski's Blog, page 10

Revising

Many of my writer friends appear to be in the middle of revising their manuscripts.  I can tell because they are making the noises I hear when I hurry past the waxing section of the salon.  To ease the sting, I thought I’d share how I revise these days.

First, go read this.  It is the most helpful revising strategy I have ever found — Elana Johnson is brilliant.  Her plan makes revising seem possible.  (Not painless, because no one is that brilliant, but possible.)

Back?  Okay.  So when I’ve finished a complete manuscript, I do what Elana suggests.  But I do mini-revisions every 100 pages or so.  I finish a 100 page section, send it off to my long-suffering and amazing beta reader, and while I’m waiting to hear from her, I go back 100 pages, revisit her comments on that section (much easier to do now that some time has passed) consult my own notes that I’ve scribbled off to the side, and whip that puppy into shape.  Around the time I’ve finished, beta reader extraordinaire will have sent back the newest segment.  I read through her comments, flag any that I need to keep in mind going forward, and stick the whole package in a deep, dark drawer to rest. (Or compost, depending how I’m feeling) until it’s that section’s turn for attention.  Then it’s off to write the newest section.

Sometimes a comment from my beta or an inspiration means going all the way back to the beginning.  For example, the manuscript I’m working on right now has several points of view, told in alternating chapters.  One character is not behaving, and I’ve just figured out why.  That means pulling out every chapter that’s told from her point of view and working on them together to make her voice more believable and her actions seamless.  (For stuff like this, I ‘m finally seeing the value of Scrivener.)

Revising in stages like this might not work for everyone, but I like feeling that my manuscript isn’t  an enormous mess when I type ‘the end’ — somehow chunking it as I go makes revising less intimidating.

How about you?  Do you revise in stages, at the end, or both?

 

Memory

Ten years ago, I sat down in the house of a woman who had lost her son on September  eleventh.  She’d been out grocery shopping that day and hadn’t heard the news.  She came home to a message from her son, who worked in one of the towers.  ”He told me a plane had hit the building, but that he was fine and not to worry,” she said. “He told me he loved me.” She paused.  ”Would you like to hear it?”

She’d saved the message, of course.  She’d tried to call her son back that day, but he hadn’t answered. The message was on a digital machine, and I remember being glad, because it wouldn’t wear out. She could listen to it over and over and over again.

After I listened, she showed me her photo albums, pictures of her son as a little boy, as a handsome man. I stayed as long as I could, because I could see she wanted to talk about him, wanted to remember, wanted to pass those memories along to whoever would listen so that her son, who died, would come alive again in her words and in the minds of new people, people he’d never met.

I went home and I wrote my story. I never saw the woman again.  A few years ago, I looked up her name, and I found out she’d passed away. I saw what the obituary said, the disease it named, but it was wrong.  She died because her son did. 

I wish I’d seen her just one more time, so that I could tell her I think of her on beautiful fall days, when the  air is crisp and the sky a brilliant, heart-breaking blue, so beautiful you think that nothing bad could ever happen.  I think of her, and I remember her son, the one I never met.  He was funny and brave.  He was handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and he had a nice voice.  He loved dogs, and his mother.  I carry his memory with me, and now I share him with you. I think his mother would have liked that. 

Review

Audio books listened to:  Nine

Favorite: No Passengers Beyond This Point, by Gennifer Choldenko (Caveat: The Graveyard Book will always be my very favorite.  As my children grow, I find it more mournful, but each summer that we listen it’s like running into an old friend.)

Sharks sighted: None (Thank God!)

Boat rides taken: Two

Lobster rolls eaten: Five

Oysters consumed: Embarrassingly, too many to count.

Summer Song: Call Me Maybe (What can I say — blame the US Swim Team.)

Summer Wine:  Grangia, from the winemaker Elvio Tintero

Meltdowns by children: none

Meltdowns by mother: one

Blue moons witnessed: One

Emergency trips to the vet: One

Emergency trips to the dentist: Three

Number of teeth pulled: One

Chapters written: Let’s not talk about that, shall we?

Perfect sunsets watched from the beach: Three

Days I would love to have back so I could live them all over again: Every single one

How was your summer?

Lost

 

Has anyone seen my summer? It was here just yesterday.

I swear, I took good care of it.

I might have taken my eyes off of it, just for a moment, to look at a sunset.

I did forget to hold it tightly on the water slide, but we were going so fast.

It could have slipped away that day at the beach, the one that lasted till it was too dark to swim.

Or maybe it disappeared when we were at the amusement park.  The kids promise they didn’t lose it on the teacups.

It’s possible it escaped when we were napping on the sun porch yesterday.  I only dozed off for a second, but when I woke, it was gone.

I miss it, and I want it back. If you find it, would you please return it to me?

Keeping Cool

Is it hot where you are?  It’s been brutally hot here.  We’re keeping cool by dipping into the ocean, into pools, having water gun fights.  Some of us are devouring our own weight in watermelon, others (ahem) are quietly turning into iced green tea addicts. Listening to The Graveyard Book again in the car — my favorite audio book ever — helps create a few chills, too.

I’m having lots of fun with this, too.  I bought it on sale last year, and this year I sprang for the tool kit, which is completely unnecessary but awfully fun.  We’ve made chocolate pops, lemon-lime pops, and various juice flavors, but my favorite is this recipe from Orangette.  I’m thinking about trying green tea and honey (the kids say yuck!) and after the kids are in bed I might try my hand at a few adult recipes I’ve come across.   How are you keeping your cool?

See You Later, Aligator

Yes, it’s that time of year again.  The demands of summer — baking pop rock cookies for the Fourth of July, watching sunsets, and trying to finish freelance deadlines — has created the perfect storm of anti-blogging pressures.  I’ll still be posting, just not on a regular schedule.  At least not until minion one and minion two, as I have dubbed them, are back in school. See you in September!

 

Summer Lovin’

I have lofty blog posts, planned, people.  Lofty.  Posts about the spaces I consider sacred and how they influence my writing, posts about character development and settings and plot, or the lack thereof.  The problem is summer keeps getting in the way. 

Somehow, summer manages to have an abundance of time, and yet not enough hours. When I wake each morning, the day stretches ahead, empty and inviting, and yet somehow I blink and it is night and nothing on my to-do list has been done.

So I’m making an official record, right now.  This summer, I want to:

Spend an afternoon with my daughter stretched out on the couch reading.
Watch a movie outside under the stars.
Find the perfect strawberry ice cream cone and eat it.
Learn how to make a flawlessly balanced raspberry lime rickey, neither too tart nor too sweet.
Take a trip on a sailboat and feel the wind on my face.
Watch a minor league baseball game with my son.
Hike with the Slobbering Beast and actually tire him out.
Finish a few chapters of the novel I’m working on.
Steal an afternoon away with my husband.

 

What’s on your summer list?

Garden Spells

My daughter took this picture this morning.

Summer in New England is short and temperamental.  The warm weather comes and goes in a flash, the sun visits and then retreats. It’s fickle and gorgeous and a season to appreciate but not to count on.

Because we were away for two weeks, and then recovering for another week or so, I missed the narrow window of opportunity for planting out my garden.  It’s too late for my sweet pea and nasturtium seeds, although I did manage to throw some radish and lettuce seeds in the ground before we left.  And because we are getting the house painted this summer — and the vegetable garden is right next to it — and because we spend most of these warm months bopping about, making the most of the sunshine — I’ve decided not to do anything else.  This will be the first time since I’ve owned my own house that I won’t have at least a pot or two of tomatoes.

I’ll miss it, miss the intoxicating scent of home-grown basil, the fun of making my own salsa from scratch with ingredients I’ve not only chosen but grown.  But I’ve decided to focus on what I have this summer, on the unexpected delight and abundance that can occur when you cede control. We never pruned the roses this year, we’re letting the mint grow rampant (I know, I know — we won’t be able to find the house) and the wisteria and clematis received only the most cursory haircut.  The lavender is so full and lush it has fallen over, and I can’t decide whether to cut and dry it or simply enjoy it the way it looks today. It’s a jungle, but a beautiful one.

The lavender hedge smells amazing in the hot sun.

The wisteria and the mint may take over the house.

The clematis is taller than the shed.

Wherever and however you spend your summer, I hope it is a beautiful one, filled with unexpected pleasures and delights.

Dia Dhuit!

I’ve been cheating on you, my pretties.  Whilst you thought I was here, slogging away at the computer, I was actually there, eating scones with clotted cream, drinking pots of tea, and walking about the Irish countryside.

You know all that stuff about how poetic the Irish are?  It’s true.  One rainy day, I asked an old codger how long a particular hike was, and he turned to me and said “How long is a piece of string?”

(The answer, as I found out after walking for two hours, is damn long.)

I got to see my husband down a pint, show my daughter the Book of Kells, and watch my son charm the local populace in two languages. (If the Irish for hello didn’t work, there’s always his signature “Hellloooo, ladies!”)

I watched my parents and MIL experience Ireland for the first time.

And saw a white horse upon a green hill. (A gray and brown horse too.)

I did a little tiny bit of research for my next book.  I’d like to write it in this sweet cottage.

Tea, anyone?

Failing that, if I ever make the best seller’s list I’ll celebrate by staying at this country home, which I didn’t discover until my last day of the trip. Anyone care to join me?

House Keeping

Hello there!  We interrupt this blog to bring you a few announcements.

I’ve updated my News section (feel free to check and send it to all your New England friends!) but I wanted to let you know where you can find me this summer.   On June 30th I’ll be at one of my favorite farmers’ markets, which is in Old Saybrook, Connecticut. They have such great vendors that it is a pleasure to be hanging with them.

Then on July 19th, I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be visiting the Preston Public Library as part of the Connecticut Authors Trail. My daughter read her very first library books here, and somewhere in the stacks is a book about a cat that we bought for the library with her name on it  because she read it so many times– I’m hoping the fabulous staff (who watched her take some of her very first steps) will help me dig it out so I can take a picture to show her.

In August, the beautiful Cromwell farmers’ market at Covenant Village has invited me back for a Q&A on writing. It’s a gorgeous spot, and I can’t imagine a better location to while away a summer afternoon.

And finally, on September 13, I’ll be at the Mohegan Sun for the final event of the Connecticut Author Trail.  I don’t usually gamble, but I’ll hit up the slots if you promise to come!  See you there?