Phyllis Anne Duncan (P. A. Duncan)'s Blog, page 54

I Hate Colds

I’m a bit–no, a lot–under the weather with a good, old-fashioned cold, but I hope to do the regular Monday Unexpected Paths post tomorrow. Sorry, and now more fluids.

Friday Fictioneers On the Wing

The Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompts are always challenging as well as inspiring, but this week’s is especially meaningful. It represents where I spent more than half of my adult life–in and around airplanes.

I’m a little dismayed that many of this week’s stories went for the stereotype–crashing airplanes abound–and I was a little startled by the reaction to my providing what I thought would be reassuring statistics. But, in the end, Rich Vaza’s stunning photo brought out the occasional poet in me.

I’ll confess it. I love airplanes. I love the look of them, the feel of them, the smell of them. The emotions evoked while flying are sometimes better than sex. I can relive my first solo from thirty-plus years ago step-by-step, and I loved working around airplane people for three decades. We used to do a little riff in the office, usually to enliven a Monday morning. “I love the smell of jet fuel in the morning!” one would offer. “It’s the smell of freedom,” came the reply. A far more appealing use of that phrasing that than offered by Robert Duval in Apocalypse Now. I’m tickled pink that a recent switch in approach paths to Shenandoah Valley Regional Airport brings planes over my house. I love that noise, and I’d missed it.

And, yes, I take it too personally when someone, usually someone not in the know, says they’re dangerous or that they’re too afraid to get on board. Bottom line? You’re safer in an airplane than staying in your house, where home accidents take far more people a year than commercial aviation.

“Ad Astra” is a 100-word prose poem, one that’s probably far too maudlin and laudatory, but it’s how I feel. If you don’t see the link on the title, scroll to the Friday Fictioneers tab at the top of the page and select it from the drop-down list.

Author Interview – Jennie Coughlin

As a follow-up to the review I posted last week of Jennie Coughlin’s debut novel, All That is Necessary, I thought an author interview would round things out nicely.

Indie authors, take note: Ms. Coughlin has some excellent advice for you in this interview, so read and reflect.

Duncan: All That Is Necessary is the first book in a series, but it also reads well as a stand-alone. Describe your process in creating a novel that establishes characters and events, which you’ll continue in future installments but which also has to “wrap up” at a specific point? That is, how did you decide what to reveal and what to just hint at?

Coughlin: I’m not sure there is a short answer to that question. I can say that the original first book in the series is now set to be book three. Both the 1991 events and some of the present-day events in All That Is Necessary set up what’s coming in later books. Ditto for some of what’s coming in book two. So, from that perspective, there were pieces that were easy decisions to show. There also are details and events that need to stay hidden for now, so those also were easy decisions. The tougher parts tended to be figuring what I could put in this book to foreshadow what’s coming, or lay clues that will make sense later, without tipping my hand about what’s coming. There’s one line in this book that isn’t going to make sense until much later in the series — I think book three, possibly late in book two — and I had to be careful to make sure it was there without causing readers to notice it.

One interesting thing has been people’s reaction to the ending. For me, the ending thematically fits with the rest of the book, and also reflects the resolution of the two key threads — Dan and Rick’s attempts to come to grips with a past different from what they had always known. Some readers have really liked it and seen it as tying things up while also giving them something to look forward to in the next book. Some have hated it and felt that it was abrupt and unfinished. In the context of the series, it’s definitely the right spot to end it. I’m hoping the majority of readers will fall on the like/anticipate side of the spectrum.

Duncan: Significant to the novel is the relationship between Dan and Chris, a gay, married couple. That relationship is so typical of any spousal relationship, the reader can “forget” the characters are gay. Was that deliberate? And if so, what do you want the reader, gay or straight, to take away from that glimpse into their lives?

Coughlin: I wasn’t trying to make readers “forget.” Dan and Chris are just being themselves. When I’m writing them, it’s how their personalities interact. That’s true of all of my characters. Just like Riordan’s comment later in the book about this year being the forty-third time he’s asked Becca to marry him is how those two interact. It’s not a statement on getting married or not getting married.

For all the characters, I hope readers take them on their own terms — who they are, what they do, why they do it, how they interact with others. I think we see some of that with Tom Murray. From the opening scene, there’s a logical perception of who he is that is easy to assume. As the story unfolds and we start to learn more, I think there are things that come up that can challenge those assumptions. And if I could throw a single question out for a discussion topic for book clubs, it would be Tom and how his motives and his actions played out. Did he handle things the right way?

Going back to the original question, I saw a blog post recently on Indie Reader, also picked up on HuffPo, that questioned why there aren’t more gay characters in books where their being gay isn’t the defining factor. Getting the characters out of the LGBT genre closet, as it were. I think in traditional publishing, a lot of that is marketing pressure. YA authors have been forced to “straighten” gay characters for years unless the storyline was about the character’s orientation. The only really deliberate choice I made was to stay away from publishers until I get a few books into the series so nobody tries to make me straighten out any character or otherwise make them conform to marketing pressures. Dan and Chris are gay, but that’s not what defines them in this book. Even the one plot thread that veers in that direction is as much about Dan learning that his perceptions of people and events as a child were very black and white, and now as an adult he discovers there are shades of gray, ones he needs to wrestle with.

Duncan: Did this novel turn out exactly how you envisioned it initially? Or were there major shifts? Were they character-driven or plot-driven? Is this the better book than what you first envisioned?

Coughlin: Originally, this was going to be a novella set entirely in 1991. The “marsh mess” (discovering the Irish mob had been using Exeter’s marsh as a body-dumping ground) had such a big impact on so many of the Exeter residents that readers needed to understand what happened then or a lot of the events in the first three books in the series won’t make the kind of sense they’re supposed to. Then my editor pointed out that all the other books are set present day. So I fiddled with bookending the 1991 events with present-day chapters. The set-up was that they were telling Chris what happened, since he wasn’t around back then. That led to the need for an inciting event — some reason to tell the rest of the story when he’d never heard it even after a dozen years in town, most of those either dating or married to Dan. Somehow I got the idea that a) Rick Murray had existed, and b) he was now back. I figured I could deal with the aftermath of his return in book two.

After drafting the entire book in 1991, plus those bookends, my editor hated it. And after thinking about it, I realized that I needed to combine the first two books. That led to this novel’s final structure. The evolution was driven both by plot and by character, but the end result is something I think is much stronger. I’m glad I wrote everything that happened in 1991 first because it forced me to work out exactly what happened and how, but only the scenes that I felt were necessary to the present-day story made it in. Two big scenes in the 1991 version didn’t get in at all: The shootout that kills Dan Reilly’s Uncle Billy and the final confrontation between Dan and Tom Murray. In the end, those scenes just didn’t feel like they added enough to understanding the present to make it worth stopping the story to flash back. The scenes that did make it in did either because they showed how something had happened compared to how the then-teens remembered it or because they showed an aspect of somebody’s character.

I think it’s a better book. Having something from the long past pop back up without warning is a weird experience, especially when in the meantime the people involved have grown from kids to adults. You remember things differently, or remember some things and not others. You see that with the variation between who remembers that Evan Czarnecki was involved and who doesn’t. Evan’s never going to forget that; nor will Dan or Liz (Dan’s cousin, eventually Evan’s wife). Because Evan was so new to town, he wasn’t the one people were talking about back then, and many people just don’t remember he was there. That juxtaposition of past and present highlights how big an impact the marsh mess had on everybody in a way we wouldn’t see if it were all set in the past.

Duncan: The novel is set in New England and definitely has a New England flavor—from the local colloquialisms to actual locations. What do you think gives it a broader appeal? What about it will make a reader from the South or the West relate?

Coughlin: I think the flavor is as much “small town” as New England, and there are small towns everywhere. I live in a small Virginia town, and I think people here will probably see spots where they think I’ve put Staunton in. I went to college in the Midwest, and I think there probably are aspects of Exeter reflect that, since it also is a college town.

One thing I tried really hard to do was to make sure the New England regionalisms I used were clear from the surrounding text — you don’t need to know what a packy or a bubbler (pronounced bubblah) are because the meaning is clear from the story. Also, I think the specific locations will resonate more with Massachusetts residents, but it shouldn’t bother non-New Englanders that they don’t know what Ken’s Steak House is (or that it’s really a restaurant). I did make a conscious effort to have a couple of people with no connection to the region review it so they could flag things that didn’t make sense.

Beyond the technical details, the story’s about people that I think all of us know, or feel like we could know, regardless of where we live.

Duncan: The complexity of the plot—interpersonal relationships, old and new; historical preservation; mob violence—is a high point for the reader. Describe how you manage to keep the various threads straight without either tangling them too much or snipping them too soon.

Coughlin: Keeping the threads straight wasn’t too difficult. There’s a definite arc to the first few books in the series, and so I had that guiding a lot of the plotlines in this story. Likewise, I had the entire 1991 sequence of events drafted before I decided on the structure that actually appeared in the book. That made it a lot easier to extrapolate out from there for present-day impacts.

The biggest challenge for me was the ending and making sure I tied up all the places that needed to be tied up without tying up the threads that can’t be resolved in this book. There’s one particular thread that some readers have flagged because I left it hanging. That was on purpose — the issue in that plot piece doesn’t get resolved for quite a while — in fact, it drives a lot of what happens in the next few books.

Duncan: Again, on the plot. It has many, many subtle layers, some which aren’t obvious without reflection or re-reading. That’s a very bold choice—to assume the reader is looking for something intelligent rather than fluff. Does that reflect on the type of reader you are?

Coughlin: My choice in books is somewhat like my choice in music, and my coworkers have dubbed the shuffle on my iPod the musical whiplash playlist. I like fluff as much as the next person, but this particular story, and the stories that will follow, aren’t simple. Small towns aren’t simple. There are lots of connections between people that aren’t obvious, and subtext underlies so much of what happens in most small towns that the setting made those pieces integral to the story. There are some layers in this book that won’t even be obvious until readers get further into the series.

Regarding your earlier question about plot threads, that’s where things got interesting. Laying those breadcrumbs without tipping my hand took a lot of doing.

Duncan: You’ve made a good case for self- or indie-publishing, especially for a work that’s not easily mashed into a specific genre. Here’s another soap box, so explain why self-publishers need to approach their work as if it were going to be traditionally published. Why is an editor, even beyond beta-readers, important?

Coughlin: Well, if I didn’t have an editor, this would have all been set in 1991 and would have been much worse. I think it’s just sensible. Why put ourselves and our work out there unless it’s as good as it can be? There’s one segment of writers that’s of the “good enough” mindset. They would rather write books that are good enough and produce them faster.

We all improve as writers over time. An artist friend and I were talking recently and he said he looks at his old works and thinks they were done by somebody else. When I look at old stories I’ve written, both fiction and nonfiction, I see all the ways I could have written it better, both in style and substance. And yes, some of them I think were written by a whole different Jennie.

We need somebody who can push us to make those changes, to keep evolving as writers and to become the best we can be at this point in time. I’m fortunate to have both an editor and a critique partner who are skilled enough at what they do to make me grow and evolve. But I’m also lucky. Not everybody stumbles into those situations, which is basically how I met both women. That’s why this book wasn’t a novella set in 1991.

Also, we can’t catch everything in our work. I went over this manuscript dozens of times, marked it backward and forward. And I could still probably pick it up and find a typo or line that needs changing. That’s after critiques and editing and more editing.

Porter Anderson recently focused on Writer Unboxed about a growing shift among agents to seek out authors they feel have promise and manage them and their careers. No more query letters! No more wrangling business deals! But that means we need to be putting out work that makes agents think, “Hell, yes, I want in on the ground floor of that.” That trend, combined with the recent print-only deals that a couple of publishers have made — possibly the beginnings of another trend — create a vision of a much different publishing ecosystem — one where you don’t really want amateurish work out there.

Duncan: Describe why a marketing plan is important for self- or indie publishers. What has and hasn’t worked for you in promoting your work?

Coughlin: This is the area I struggle the most. I don’t have a great sense of what works and doesn’t work for my books. A lot of the traditional advice out there works great for books that fall into a genre that’s easy to categorize. Exeter books don’t. My biggest focus has been to just connect with readers. In my case, that’s generally worked best with people who have a connection with New England, and a lot of that is just through being myself on social media. I’m much chattier through pixels than in person, especially with people I don’t know. I’ve met some wonderful people that way.

Because there’s no good genre — beyond literary, which I have issues with — for All That Is Necessary, it’s more difficult to market it than it is for something that’s a little easier to shelve on a virtual collection of bookshelves. So, I rely on word of mouth and recognize that I’m in this for the long haul. Most of the people I have some contact with who read my first book of short stories, Thrown Out (and many of them I know because they read the book and we later connected online), have already picked up All That Is Necessary. With each Exeter book, the number of fans will (hopefully) grow.

The other thing I’ve done that seems to have raised attention are Goodreads giveaways and some of their targeted advertising options.

Duncan: Your first book, Thrown Out, was a collection of short stories featuring the same characters as in All That Is Necessary. Was that limiting on what you could do with those characters in a novel? Or was it more liberating, i.e., a way for you to expand what we know about them? Or both?

Coughlin: I don’t feel as though it limited what I could do, beyond some specific details in the short story that references the marsh mess. It certainly gave me a better feel for the characters, and I found some things that happened in the short stories showed up as mentions in the novel. The one thing I did have to do was be careful that the novel stood alone. At one point, a character’s actions didn’t make much sense if you hadn’t read the short stories, so I had to revise and fix that.

Duncan: You’ve hinted that when we go back to Exeter in future books in the series, other characters will move to the forefront, while others will move to the background. Is that a “seat of the pants” decision, in the moment, as the plot unfolds, or is it more “J.K. Rowling and her notebooks” planning?

Coughlin: Yes, to both. I have certain characters I know are taking center stage at certain points, but I generally work with three “main” characters. The second and third characters in each of the next two books has changed some as I’ve played around with the best way to tell those stories. The driving factor is which stories need to be told and which characters are best suited to tell them. The plotting comes from knowing how all the main plotlines are going to unfurl as I go. Beyond that, it’s a little seat-of-my-pants in how I structure things.

Duncan: Now that novel number one is done, will novel number two be easier? How long will you keep us waiting?

Coughlin: It would almost have to be, since I’m not writing the darn thing twice. Also, I have a feel for how Exeter stories work in novel form in terms of POV shifts and the number of characters who can be POV characters, so I’m saving a lot of time there compared to All That Is Necessary, where I was working out the best ways to structure the story. I’ve been working on the sketch for the next book, and I’d like to make it available in the fall. Since a lot depends on what things are like at my full-time job, I don’t know how feasible that is.

Both of Jennie Coughlin’s books, Thrown Out and All That Is Necessary are available as paperbacks or eBooks from Amazon.com. Visit her web page at Welcome to Exeter.

An Artful Friday Fictioneers

I’m off to my first writing conference of the year today–the Roanoke Regional Writers Conference at Hollins University. It was supposed to be last weekend, but The Weather Channel convinced the organizers that Winter Storm Khan (cue William Shatner voice) would make the road messy. So, they postponed the conference to this weekend.

Winter Storm Khan didn’t materialize, at least here in the Shenandoah Valley, but it was too late to make a change to the change. I’ll report on the conference next week.

This week’s Friday Fictioneer’s inspiration photo immediately brought to mind one of those inane conversations you overhear at a modern art museum. You know the one that usually poses the question, “But is it art?” I’ve even participated in a few of those myself.

On purpose, there are no dialogue tags and no indication of the gender, or number, of speakers. I leave it up to the reader to delve the meanings behind “Hephaestus’ Wedge.” (A Google search for “Athena’s birth” might reveal one of them.)

If you don’t see the link on the title above, then click on the Friday Fictioneers tab at the top of this post and select it from the drop-down list.

A New Book Review

It has been a while since I’ve found an indie-published book I wanted to read, much less review. I started out doing that last year, and, with a few exceptions, it was so dismal, I gave it up.

I’ve reviewed one of those exceptions, All That Is Necessary, by Jennie Coughlin, here. If you don’t see the link, click on the Book Reviews tab above and select it from the drop down list.

I hope you’ll agree this is one indie book you’ll be hard-pressed to differentiate between it and a traditionally published one.

A Sunny Friday Fictioneers

This week’s inspiration photograph was a welcome contrast to the weather we’ve been having here in central Virginia–it was five degrees Centigrade upon waking this morning, and the forecast is for snow on Friday. That’s enough to make one long for tropical shores.

I grew up in a land-locked county in Virginia, and, in fact, didn’t learn to swim until I was an adult because my mother managed to instill a fear of water in me. Having a significant other who owned a boat was impetus enough to be more safe while out on the water, and luckily my local parks and rec gave adult swim lessons. It was one of those times where you learn something and wish you hadn’t wasted all those years avoiding it.

I loved swimming and loved being in the water. The SO and I eventually bought a house on a tributary of the Patuxent River in Maryland, and we vacationed at a lakehouse owned by him and his brother in eastern Connecticut. Both places got me out of being a pool-only swimmer. Then, there was the ocean.

Today’s 100-word story is “And When We Go Back to the Sea.” In addition to the photo, a quote from President John F. Kennedy also inspired it:

“All of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea – whether it is to sail or to watch it – we are going back from whence we came.”

If you don’t see the link on the story title, go to the Friday Fictioneers tab at the top of this post and click on it. Then, you can select the story from the drop-down menu.

Let the Writing Conferences Begin

I was so overwhelmed by the AWP Conference last year (just me and 9,999 other writers), I decided I needed a warm-up to get ready for AWP Boston in March. And at least it’s something close to home.

Hollins University, site of Tinker Mountain Writers Workshop, hosts the Roanoke Regional Writers Conference this coming weekend: a meet and greet and some speechifying on Friday evening, then a jam-packed Saturday of workshops. And, oh, those workshops. They make you want to defy the laws of physics and be in two–in some cases four–places at the same time.

From book promotion to pitches to writing humor and/or cookbooks to marketing and memoirs to self-publishing to craft to blogging, there is something for everyone. It’ll be a long, but invigorating day.

I’m looking forward to attending workshops by writers I’ve not met as well as one by Jim Minick, who is a Tinker Mountain classmate and previous presenter at my local writing group, SWAG Writers. I look forward to all the pointers and advice I know will be forthcoming from all the presenters.

And just so February won’t feel left out, that same SWAG Writers is sponsoring a playwriting workshop on February 23. The location is yet to be determined, so stay tuned for the details. If you find yourself in the Shenandoah Valley that weekend, consider giving it a try. I’ve taken a “writing for movies” workshop before, but I’m eager to stretch my boundaries a little–or a lot.

March will be a two-fer: AWP then the Virginia Festival of the Book. In May I’m attending my first writing retreat, and I’ll write more about that later. June will be a return to Tinker Mountain, so right now I have April open. Suggestions, anyone?

I’ll report on each workshop after it happens, and I hope to see some of my writer friends at each.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Ignore Your First Impressions

When I first saw this week’s photo prompt, I wondered, “Oy! [No pun intended.] How will I ever come up with something for this?”

Now, other photos have posed quite the challenge, but this one–again, I say, oy!

Then, I stepped back–much like the protagonist in the story–and noticed, ooh, my favorite word, the juxtaposition of the objects. That hinted at a person, an object, and a place, and they brought to mind a game I’ve played with friends for hours at a time–Clue. (You know–Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the lead pipe.)

So, that meant this had to be a mystery, posed, investigated, and solved in 100 words. Easy, peasy, right? And I managed to work in two, other pop culture references into “My Fair Clue.” Can you spot them?

As a writer, sometimes you have to ignore your first impressions. You know, the ones that whisper to you that you’ll never come up with a story. Sometimes, you just have to look at things from a different angle, and, lo and behold, the story was there all along.

As usual, if you don’t see the link on the title above, scroll up to the top of this post and click on the Friday Fictioneers tab. Then, you can select the story from the drop-down list.

Authorgraphs

No, the title’s not a typo. Authorgraph was formerly Kindlegraph, a site where authors can promote their books and offer signatures for eBooks.

All three of my books’ pages (click on the Published Works tab above) now have an icon, which you can click to take you to Authorgraph.com. There, you can request I “sign” your eBook of Blood Vengeance, Fences, or Spy Flash. The personalized signature and message comes to your eReader’s e-mail account.

If you can’t make it to a book signing I’m having, this is a virtual one. Give it a try. You might find other authors–including famous ones–participating.

I look forward to “signing” your copy!

Wealth of Language

The recent movie, Lincoln, is based on a wonderful book of non-fiction by historian Doris Kearns Goodwin, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. Those of us who count ourselves as historians have historians as our heroes and heroines. Goodwin is one of mine. Not only is she a superb scholar, but her writing is down-to-earth. Her histories read like novels and reach a general audience. (Yes, there was a plagiarism kerfuffle a few years back, but I bought her explanation; and it only made her a more careful scholar.)

Screenwriter Tony Kushner took just a small portion of her book–the part about the passage of the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, the one that abolished slavery–and turned it into two and a half hours of engaging film. Sometimes period pieces can be stodgy and pedantic, but Kushner, who won a Pulitzer for Angels in America and co-wrote another incredible historical film, Munich, took a subject for which director Steven Spielberg had already rejected two scripts and wrote one that brought you Lincoln as war president, story-teller, master politician, husband, and father.

Though the major movie award programs give statuettes for writing both original and adapted screenplays, the writing categories rarely receive the notice that Best Actor, Actress, Director, and Movie do. Think about it. You probably remember Titanic won Best Picture (gag), but do you remember who wrote the screenplay? How about any of your favorite major motion pictures? When people stay to read the credits, “writer” is one they tend to skip. A shame, really, because two hours of mindless action and simplistic dialogue can only go so far. I believe, as writers, we have an appreciation for exposition through dialogue we find in truly great movies. An historical piece, like Lincoln, with its richness of sometimes archaic language, is to us like a Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger action flick is to a twenty-something gamer.

Lincoln mesmerized me not only with Spielberg’s attention to historical detail but also with incredibly fluid and pertinent language. As I watched the movie, I absorbed the language and, of course, felt a pang of envy for Kushner’s talent. I knew that Lincoln would win awards right and left during the movie award season to come, but I also knew the writer of that screenplay would get only nominal, if any, recognition.

Then came Daniel Day Lewis’ Golden Globes Best Actor acceptance speech:

“Tony Kushner, every day I live without the immeasurable wealth of your language, which reminds me every day of the impoverishment of my own.”

That one sentence took my breath away. An actor–one whose talent is amazing but without the ego-trip–acknowledged the writer before the director. Unheard of but refreshing.

Next time you go to a movie, listen, really listen, to the dialogue–not just the way the actor says it but how the writer put it together. With ease, you’ll spot the difference between a writer and a hack.