Ute Carbone's Blog, page 12

How the Sausage is Made:My #Writing Process

There are about a zillion books on writing process. What's your process?  is a questions writers, particularly those who aspire to write a first book, often ask other writers.  And since I call my blog Inside the Writer's Garret, I thought I'd let you in on how I make up stories.

The first thing you need to know is that books do not come wholesale from the heavens. No writer I know locks themselves in a room for three days, takes divine notation and comes out with a good book. There are some writers who write fast and can finish a draft in a month or two, but they'll be quick to emphasize the word draft.  The words they have are like batter, a delicious mess that still needs to be baked into a cake.

The second thing is that no two processes are alike. Writers, like snowflakes, all have a favorite way of working. Some make meticulous outlines and have the blueprints for their book ready before they ever sit down and write a single sentence. Some, like me, often begin with a handful of characters and a rough idea . They write and see where it leads. Neither way is perfect, each has merits and problems, and whichever works best for you is the way forward.  The process can even change book to book—each story presents its own challenges and each time, you have to sit down and figure out how best to meet them.

So, caveats out of the way, here's how I work. I am what in writing circles is called a pantser, that is I tend to write 'by the seat of my pants'. I begin with a vague idea, some form of structure I'd like to use, and a few characters. Then I figure out a 'way in' to the story and I have at it. I write longhand, scene by scene. I write quickly as I can, getting all the thoughts down on paper (regurgitate the thoughts, I was going to say but let's not) I make notes along the side of my notebook, things like "put this first" or "no, no music".  I cross out words and sentences. I put things in parenthesis, which is my shorthand for 'think of a better way to describe this' . I put arrows here and there meaning switch this around. I end up with something that looks like a big soupy mess-o-word.

Then I do one of two things. I scrap the scene entirely, because it isn't moving the book forward and taking it a good direction, or I rewrite the scene, pretty much entirely, into my computer.  I work more slowly now, stopping to think and breathe. I use the handwritten scene as a template, keeping the parts I really like and getting rid of or changing the rest.

The book begins to come together as I lay out the scenes one by one like ties on a railroad track, but I need to make sure it has life and emotion and that it works.  I run through it again, getting rid of stray words and excess wordiness. I unpack some of the emotions—so sentences like "He was depressed." are rewritten to say "Each morning it became harder to find a reason to get out of bed. " Then  I hand pieces off to my critique partners  to get more eyes on it and take a careful look at their reading and advice.

  I rinse, lather, and repeat these steps until I have a story that reads, well, like a story.  This is, still, just the beginning. I send it to some beta readers; people who will read the entire book and let me know what they think. I make more changes. Then I still have to interest an editor, who has more ideas on how to make improvements. It's a long process, but when done right, it works.  For me, anyway.
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If you are a writer, what is your process? 

A Good #Cause and Some Neat Stuff

Photos by Kate Preftakes of children at play at the Harrisville Children's Center in September, 2014. http://www.preftakesphoto.com/hcc/ I was tickled pink when Linda MacGilvery, the director of the Harrisville Children's Center asked me to donate a signed copy of Blueberry Truth to their auction. The center, nestled in the Monadnock region in a town near my Southern New Hampshire home, is a non-profit early care and learning center for children six weeks- six years old that serves the needs of families in 14 towns. For the past 44 years, the center has offered a safe and nurturing environment for the care and early development of children. 
Each year, the center has an online auction to help fund their programs. This year, they've amassed a staggering 762 items up for bid. With items ranging from garden supplies, to weekend getaways to books and music, there's a little something for everyone. All proceeds go to the center. 
Maybe you'll find something (like a book by yours truly) that you'd like to bid on. Go have a look!
http://www.hccauction.org/

#Adventures in #Dieting

I think I'd like it better if my scale forecast the weather. Like so many people I know, I've battled weight gain for most of my adult life. I've tried a lot of diets over the years, from the fish diet (all fish, all the time) to the fat-is-evil diet, to the program Oprah now touts on TV.  Sadly, for every pound I've lost, I've gained back two and my jeans grow tighter until, eventually, I need to buy them in a larger size.
Last fall, I got a Fit-Bit for my birthday. I love to walk, and the Fit-Bit seemed like just the thing to keep me active. I'm wearing it right now, even though typing does not translate into steps. Fall is a lovely season here in New Hampshire, the skies are clear, the air is crisp, the mosquitoes have gone underground (or where ever it is they go). I took advantage of the season, and my Fit-Bit reported that I was logging 26 to 28 miles every week, an average of nearly four miles a day. Some of these were hilly miles—and I often exceeded the 15 flights of stairs that is the recommended daily goal.
I was trying hard to get fit and I was on the right path. Or so I thought. I did not get on the scale—I have a long and tortured relationship with my scale and it was a relationship I would just as soon end as continue—but I felt healthy. Then I went to the doctor, where the scale is a necessary (and to my mind, evil) part of protocol.  To my horror, I had gained thirteen pounds since my last visit. This on top of what had already been an odiously large number. (There are reasons I despise the dreaded scale).
After a day of disbelief followed by several days of depression, I went into full diet-woman-warrior mode. These numbers would not stand! In the name of all that was holy, I would not be defeated! I went on a strict calorie diet. I kept walking.  I was tired and miserable most of the time.
By Thanksgiving, I had lost six pounds. Although I knew dieting would be all but impossible over the holiday (It's Thanksgiving, people!), I was determined to go back to battling pounds once the turkey was made into soup. Only, I didn't. It was December, the season of bright lights and gifts and cookies and stress. Cookies and stress are a bad combo when it comes to the do-or-diet wars. I ate. I drank.  I did not get on the scale.
At least not until after the decorations were all packed away in the storage space under the stairs. I faced the music. It was not pretty—I had gained the six pounds back and added two extra pounds for good measure.  To say I was distraught would be an understatement.
I have a few friends who are into glucose-free, no bread diets. One of them posted an article by Dr. David Ludwig, an obesity expert, online. I'd never been a fan of no bread diets. I'd tried one once and had dreams of French baguettes floating over my head just beyond my reach. My cravings were so bad I would have joined bread-eaters anonymous had such a group existed. Unfortunately, no such group existed and I eventually gave in to those cravings.  
Still, desperate times were at hand and so I read the article. Dr. Ludwig addressed exactly what I had been going through for most of my life—that is, periods of hard dieting where I am both miserable and fatigued followed by weight gain that exceeded the weight I'd started at originally. He explained food in a whole new way. And it made a lot of sense.
Basically, what he said was that calories aren't equal. That what we've long believed—eat less, exercise more and you will lose weight has never worked in the long run. You don't have to look far to see evidence of this. Besides myself, I can name countless people who have dieted and regained the weight they've lost. It's a sad statistic, but a true one.  Dr. Ludwig suggests that, although a handful of walnuts and a glass of soda might have the same number of calories, how they act in your system is vastly different. I was fascinated. So fascinated that I went and bought Dr. Ludwig's book, Always Hungry, and read through it with a voracious hunger.
Still, I considered not following the plan. Following the plan would mean giving up bread again. And not only bread, but pasta and potatoes and added sugars. It would mean more cooking, more planning. Even if he did allow for wine and chocolate (and trust me, no wine and chocolate would have been a deal breaker) and did include things like butter and cheese, it would be a big change and a difficult one.
I decided to give it two weeks. I can do about anything for two weeks.  I bravely stepped into the breach and, although I didn't follow the diet to the letter (there's a menu in the book which I didn't follow to allow for personal taste), I certainly followed it in spirit and ate all the kinds of food in all the recommended combos and avoided all the foods that the diet recommended I avoid.
I can't claim a happy ending. Not yet, anyway. I can tell you I've been on the program for three weeks now. I've lost five pounds, which is good news. The better news is that I'm never hungry, I have more energy than I've had in quite some time and , best of all, I do not crave anything. Not even French baguettes.  Also, I love the food I'm eating. It tastes great and it's satisfying.
I'm hopefully optimistic. From time to time, I'd like to share some recipes with you. Not diet food, exactly. Just good honest, clean food without additives and sugars. 
This is a simple salad that makes a great side for dinner or lunch.
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Tomato, Cucumber and Kidney Bean Salad
I tomato, diced
I cucumber, peeled and diced
I 15oz can of kidney beans, drained
6T olive oil
2T balsamic vinegar
I-2t basil
I garlic clove, minced
Toss tomato, cucumber and kidney beans in a medium sized bowl.
In a small bowl, combine olive oil, balsamic vinegar, basil, and garlic to make a dressing. Mix well.
Pour dressing over tomatoes, cucumbers and kidney beans. Toss until vegetables are covered.
Enjoy!
 
 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Photo by Thomas Guignard What's not to love about a holiday that celebrates love? 
I have a little  Valentine's Day gift just for you--a free e-copy of my novella, The Whisper of Time. All you need do is go to SMASHWORDS  and paste in the promo code  BH77V

An Excerpt from The Whisper of Time
​The kiss was flight, the kind of kiss that had magic I hadn’t known existed. Or maybe it was the kind of kiss I had known long before and had all but forgotten, like the scent of roses once they’re no longer in bloom.
We came apart, the kiss still fluttering in the air between us, but muted now and then it plunged with a heavy thought. Kyle. What was I going to do about Kyle? I had married him in the Wedding Chapel at Caesar’s Palace, canned Elvis singing “Love me Tender.” I was still married to him. I wanted Kyle to be someone different. I wanted him to be Slate. Slate, who I seemed to have travelled back in time to find. Slate, whose violet blue eyes were watching me with such intensity it made my heart hurt.
“I need…” I began, not able to put words to my feelings. “It’s a lot to take in. I’m not sure how to move forward from here. And yet I have this sense I belong here, with you.”
“Maybe it is,” Slate said. “Where you belong.”
 

#Write-a-thin

No, it's not a typo. Well, actually,once upon a time it was to be called Write-a-thon, but someone made a mistake and the new name stuck.  At any rate, each year, the Women's Fiction Writer's Association sponsors a month-long writing manuscript writing-editing-reworking-revising-submitting-tweaking-re-submitting-and-whatever-else-you-need-to-do-to-get-the-sucker-done event. 
The idea is to set a goal for the month and then work to make it happen. There are 128 participants in the event this year, which means lots of support and advice if you need it. And it's a lot of fun, too. This is my third Write-a-thin. The first year, I wrote part one of Sweet Auralie. Last year, I wrote a chunk of a new book called The Fall Line. This year's goals include giving the Fall Line a final polish now that it's finished and sending it off on submission. I'm also planning to add 5000 or so words to the book I'm writing. 
So far, I'm nearly done with The Fall Line polish, which I'd hoped to have done the first half of the month. So, I'm ahead of schedule. Not too shabby. :).
If you write women's fiction, you may be interested in joining WFWA and maybe I'll 'see' you at next year's Write-a-thin. Here's the website link: http://womensfictionwriters.org/index...

Blueberry Outtake. And a #giveaway, too.

The first few drafts of Blueberry Truth were called Beanie and Blue. The book was written in three first person voices., alternating between Beanie, Mac, and Blueberry. I liked the format, but after some good advice, decided to cut it back to a single narrator. The resulting book, written from Beanie's point of view, was a faster and better read than the original. Yet I was sorry to lose Blue's point of view, because it was her voice that first inspired me to write the book. 
Seven year old Blue came into my head fully formed and fiesty. I loved her from the start. Here's a little bit of her voice, from an early draft of Blueberry Truth:

My granny the one who call me Truth. Ma call me Blueberry because that what she like to eat when she have me. I live with my Ma and Julio and Frostie before she gone off to Florida and I have to go to Granny house and she change my name. No baby be called Blueberry is what she say. I say there no baby here. I am seven years old, old enough that I go to the store by my own self. Granny say I seven years old with a mouth. That be Ma fault, she say. Ma ought to have said me some manners, but Ma run off with  trouble, is what Granny say. 
            Teacher at the new school show us to write, but my letters come in crooked. Child write crooked, teacher tells Granny. Uncle Dee say it cause I stupid. I ain’t stupid, I say. You a little bitch like your Ma, he say. She can’t write good neither. I throw a cup at him, hit him in the nose and make it bleed. Uncle Dee got a good job that pay twenty dollars an hour, Granny say. Don’t you be messing with him. She make me sit in the closet. One hour for being disrespect. One hour, but when I see the clock she let me out it been one hour and one half. I can tell the time. I ain’t stupid.
I'm giving away a signed copy of Blueberry Truth at Goodreads this month. 
Click the link below to enter the contest. 
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Giveaway ends February 29, 2016.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

And All is Well: Where The Story Ends.

I don't generally like books that don't end well. It's not because I don't understand that, in real life, things don't always work out--people battling illnesses die, lovers become distant, and the homecoming is a terrible disappointment. But fiction is not real life. The very point of fiction is  to experience how good can prevail, how love can conquer, how faith can be rewarded.
This is not to say I don't want bad things to happen in books. In fact, bad things need to happen to characters. The struggle, the heartbreak, the striving against impossible odds, this is what keeps me turning pages. In the end, though, I want those characters to prevail.  And there are many kinds of triumph. Quite a few of the books I've loved end with a characters death. But even in those books, there is a sense that all will be well, that redemption is found, or that love can prevail.
As I writer, I strive to leave my characters in a better place when the story ends. Not a perfect place, perhaps, but a better one. I like to leave them thinking all is well. The world is still full of dark places, but these characters will continue to find their way through. This is as true of comedy as it is of more serious fiction.
My hope is that if the ending satisfies me, it will satisfy readers as well. Do the job right, and you leave readers wanting to linger for a moment in the world the novel has created, to stay in this place, this right-now place, where all is well.


In an effort to put my books where my mouth is, I'll share a few of my endings with you. 
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If you pressed me to tell you which ending I enjoyed writing the most, I'd probably say it's the ending to Afterglow. A romantic comedy needs to end on a happy note and I often struggle to find just the right spot for an ending. But this one, ahh, this one came to me like a gift with a big blue ribbon wrapped around it.  
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​ I imagine that, back on Easterly Street, Allie and Liz are getting into their car, tranquilizer guns tossed into the back, and riding home to the apartment they share. Across the way, Eva is getting an eyeful of Red’s boxers and all that’s in them. Patch, I hope, is calling Laura and telling her she’s terrific. At the bottom of the Tamsett River, sixty-eight singleton shoes are becoming a housing development for fish. And, here at Fat Boy’s Diner, Mitch’s kisses taste like apples and maple syrup, with just a hint of cinnamon. 


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My latest book, Sweet Auralie, is the final book of a series. I wanted to make it an epic story, and searched for a way to turn the love Anton and Lenora share into a legacy upon which a family is built. To do this, I wrote an epilogue,  set long after Anton and Lenora's time. 





​He took a sip of tea, raised the glass to Dorothea and sat back in the chair. “It’s a beautiful day, the view here is spectacular and the company is terrific. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time than to hear the story of your great grandparents.” Dorothea blinked, maybe surprised at his interest, and the bit of wetness is her eyes told him his interest meant a lot to her. “Well then, where do I begin?” “How about at the beginning? How did Lenora and Anton meet?” “Oh, that is a good story. Lenora’s father had died, you see, and her relatives had arranged a marriage to a rather odious man. Lenora, being Lenora, would have nothing to do with the arrangement and stowed away on a ship headed for San Francisco. The ship’s captain was a dashing and bold young man named Anton Boudreaux.” Joshua closed his eyes and as Dorothea spoke, he could feel the spray of salt water on his face as the rigging creaked and groaned under the flight of sails.

Burrrrr Humbug

Wish I were here. Rincon Beach PR photo by Cogito Ergo Imago https://www.flickr.com/photos/3724438... The garret, AKA my office, is a corner room of my house, exposed on two sides to the elements. Today, as I sit and write this, the wind is howling past the clapboards, seeping in through the cracks. Windchills pull the temperatures down towards zero, even at midday.
One of favorite things to do is take long walks in the woods. On Tuesday mornings like this one, you'll usually find me out with a few friends, hiking through the hills.  Other days, I'll put an hour aside to walk at the local park.  On days like today, I look out the window,  watch the branches of a pine tree sway,  and think about the thick layer of ice covering the trail. I'm not hardy--or foolhardy--enough to brave the elements.
I like walking because it calms my mind. I've gotten some great (and okay some not so great) ideas while out on the trail. New twists in the novel I'm writing, an idea for a blog post, the missing element in a revision. The odd thing about writing is that it's when I'm focused elsewhere the muse shows up and starts showing off. 
Today, the muse is, sadly, absent. Maybe she's seeking out a warmer climate, preferring to spend her time on the sun drenched beach of  an island surrounded by clear blue water. Right about now,  I wish I could join her. 

#Resolved

This Bob Satterfield Cartoon is from 1904. Some things never change. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Fi... Every year, I make New Year's resolutions. Usually, by the time mid-January rolls around I've broken most of them. This year, I've decided to look at things differently. Instead of making a wish list of things, I'm going to work on what I need to move things forward career wise.
                Since this resolutions post is going up the week after New Years, you might think I'd resolve to make better use of my time. It's true that, most of the time, my life is out of balance, my desk is a mess, and I'm late for whatever-it-is.  I've tried hard to balance, to organize, to schedule my days better, but I always end up sideways. What I've decided to do, instead, is to not beat myself up about not being organized and not having a great sense of time. Life often doesn't go according to schedule. And that's okay.
                I have spent some time reflecting on my writing life. I write regularly. I  finish things. I  get my work critiqued and edited. In short, I've passed writing 101. My efforts have let me put five novels and four novellas out into the world. The process of marketing these books, though, and finding readers who love them, hasn't been very successful. I sell very little. I need to figure out how to do this better. I also have six unpublished, finished novels collecting dust on my hard drive. It seems I need to find a way to move things forward.
                Advice is more prevalent than kitty photos on the web. I've been reading and listening until my ears and eyes are ready to pop out of my head. There are a lot of options for writers these days. Choice is a wonderful thing, but it can also muddy the waters. The way forward looks confusing. I have no idea what will work and what won't.  Moving forward is also scary—what if this doesn't work? Then what? This may explain why I have six novels under the metaphorical bed.
                Back when I was teaching writing workshops, I would tell my students to go to the place that scares them, to run along the edge of the cliff. This is where the best writing is, the writing that opens you up, the writing that takes chances, the writing that isn't afraid. I've learned to love the challenge, and each day, when I sit down to my desk, I try to write as deeply and honestly as I possibly can. I've learned to listen to the small resolute voice in my head that says 'go for it.'
                When it comes to publishing and getting my work out into the world, I haven't pulled out the stops. I've let my fear rule me. This year, I resolve to be fearless when it comes to moving my career forward.  This means I have to be willing to go for it, rejection and discouragement be damned.  I have to start listening to the small resolute voice.
How about you? Do you have any resolutions for 2016?
                

True Confessions #Holiday Wrap Edition

Here at Chez Carbone, we're counting down the days until Christmas. The shopping is done, the tree is trimmed, and next on the list is gift wrapping. I'm taking a break from that chore as I write this and letting you in on another secret. I hate wrapping presents.
As I get older, I've begun to realize that some things come naturally to me and they tend to be easy to do. And some things, well, not so much. There are things that, no matter how hard I try I can't seem to get right. Wrapping presents falls into this category.  I want my gifts to look perfect,  beautiful enough to be photographed, but I always end up with lopsided concoctions, crooked ribbons and bows that fall off if anyone in my neighborhood sneezes.
Which brings me to another issue. I'm a bit of a perfectionist. When writing, I'm forever reaching for the stars, then redoing each scene of a story numerous times until I get it right. I wouldn't send anything out into the world unedited. Even this blog post has been rewritten, edited and edited again. Which is not to say there aren't errors in my work. Errors are the bane of my existence. Just when I think I've got it, well, perfect, I find a misspelled word or, worse, a missing phrase. Which brings me back to wrapping.  As much as I want my packages to look as though Martha Stewart herself wrapped them, they end up looking more like they were wrapped by her dog.
I'm striving to forget about to perfection. It's a myth, after all. No one gets it perfect all the time. I have a clay statue of a dragon on my desk, made by one of my kids back when he was in grade school. It's slightly misshapen, with big bulgy blue eyes that look as if they're about to fall out. I love this statue, though. And if I think about it, I love it precisely because it is imperfect. So, the gifts under my tree might lack a bow or two, the wrapping may come undone around the corners.  And we'll have a wonderful time unwrapping them just the same.
Wishing you a wonderfully imperfect holiday season.