Alexandra Bogdanovic's Blog: That's life..., page 14
June 27, 2013
The devil is in the details
One of the authors groups over on LinkedIn is currently having a very interesting discussion about descriptive writing.
Questions and answers are being bandied about faster than an Olympic ping pong ball as members share their experiences and opinions. Why does descriptive writing come easily to some writers? Why do others struggle? What is the best way to include description in your story? Where is the line between too much description and not enough?
It's a conversation I happily jumped into because of my experiences as a reporter and an author.
As a reporter who excelled at feature writing I swore by the mantra, "put the reader there." So few details escaped notice as I wrote award-winning stories about truck traffic in a quasi-rural Virginia community and a former Long Island firefighter's recollections of 9/11 on the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks.
As an author I swear by the same mantra. But after reading the second draft of Truth Be Told: Adam Becomes Audrey, my editor cautioned me against including too much detail that would distract from my story. Heeding her advice, I deleted a lot of the extraneous details -- but not all of them.
Based on early feedback about my book, it seems some readers feel I didn't remove enough. And that's perfectly OK. In fact, they may even have a valid point.
But the truth is, I deliberately included a lot of minutia and mundane details about our marriage to show that my ex-husband and I were two ordinary people living very ordinary lives until I learned his secret.
Far from detracting from my story, I think the fact that I share details about burning the pancakes one morning, and about a disastrous Thanksgiving meal make the rest of the story even more shocking. One day everything was "normal." Then all of a sudden, it wasn't.
Readers who choose to skim these details in hopes of finding some signs that something was amiss in my marriage before I learned my ex-husband's secret will be disappointed. There weren't any. But that too makes the rest of the story more shocking.
Readers in search of a scandalous, celebrity tell-all type book will also be disappointed. This isn't tabloid fodder. It isn't the basis for a reality TV show. This is a book about real people and real life. And it it can't be more realistic.
Until next time, "That's life..."
Questions and answers are being bandied about faster than an Olympic ping pong ball as members share their experiences and opinions. Why does descriptive writing come easily to some writers? Why do others struggle? What is the best way to include description in your story? Where is the line between too much description and not enough?
It's a conversation I happily jumped into because of my experiences as a reporter and an author.
As a reporter who excelled at feature writing I swore by the mantra, "put the reader there." So few details escaped notice as I wrote award-winning stories about truck traffic in a quasi-rural Virginia community and a former Long Island firefighter's recollections of 9/11 on the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks.
As an author I swear by the same mantra. But after reading the second draft of Truth Be Told: Adam Becomes Audrey, my editor cautioned me against including too much detail that would distract from my story. Heeding her advice, I deleted a lot of the extraneous details -- but not all of them.
Based on early feedback about my book, it seems some readers feel I didn't remove enough. And that's perfectly OK. In fact, they may even have a valid point.
But the truth is, I deliberately included a lot of minutia and mundane details about our marriage to show that my ex-husband and I were two ordinary people living very ordinary lives until I learned his secret.
Far from detracting from my story, I think the fact that I share details about burning the pancakes one morning, and about a disastrous Thanksgiving meal make the rest of the story even more shocking. One day everything was "normal." Then all of a sudden, it wasn't.
Readers who choose to skim these details in hopes of finding some signs that something was amiss in my marriage before I learned my ex-husband's secret will be disappointed. There weren't any. But that too makes the rest of the story more shocking.
Readers in search of a scandalous, celebrity tell-all type book will also be disappointed. This isn't tabloid fodder. It isn't the basis for a reality TV show. This is a book about real people and real life. And it it can't be more realistic.
Until next time, "That's life..."
June 20, 2013
We are family
Yes, I know. I usually do new blog posts on Wednesdays.
But I'm not slacking -- I promise. I just had a really hard time coming up with something to write about this week. In fact I was stumped... until an interviewer asked me a routine question about my book.
She wanted to know how my family reacted to it. The answer came fairly easily. After all my mom, who is my only immediate family and my only relative in the United States, has been extremely supportive. I never would have had the courage to write my book, much less have it published, without Mom's unconditional love and encouragement. She is definitely my hero.
I also wanted to say something about the rest of my family, but I wasn't thinking about the relatives living all over the world.
Because I'm an only child, my closest friends are more like brothers and sisters to me. They're the people who helped me pick up the pieces after my divorce and the people who've put up with all sorts of drama. They're the people who encouraged me to share my story and pushed me to be a better person.
There are too many people to thank and too many to name. And anyway you guys know who you are...
Check out the interview at: http://www.widowsphere.blogspot.com.
Until next time, "That's Life."
But I'm not slacking -- I promise. I just had a really hard time coming up with something to write about this week. In fact I was stumped... until an interviewer asked me a routine question about my book.
She wanted to know how my family reacted to it. The answer came fairly easily. After all my mom, who is my only immediate family and my only relative in the United States, has been extremely supportive. I never would have had the courage to write my book, much less have it published, without Mom's unconditional love and encouragement. She is definitely my hero.
I also wanted to say something about the rest of my family, but I wasn't thinking about the relatives living all over the world.
Because I'm an only child, my closest friends are more like brothers and sisters to me. They're the people who helped me pick up the pieces after my divorce and the people who've put up with all sorts of drama. They're the people who encouraged me to share my story and pushed me to be a better person.
There are too many people to thank and too many to name. And anyway you guys know who you are...
Check out the interview at: http://www.widowsphere.blogspot.com.
Until next time, "That's Life."
June 12, 2013
Daddy's girl
For some strange reason we still don't have Caller ID, so answering the phone at our house is always an adventure.
Needless to say, ninety-nine percent of our calls are from telemarketers. Ninety-nine percent of the time I'm rude.
Let's face it, I don't need to lower the interest on my credit cards. I don't need to get out of debt. I don't need a new home security system. I don't need the siding power-washed. And I certainly don't need some idiot who can't even pronounce my last name asking for my dad.
An unfortunate caller recently learned that the hard way.
If you're looking for my father, I told her in a voice filled with contempt, you will need to call the the Psychic Friends Network. He's been dead since 1997.
She hung up -- and aside from laughing about the incident with my mom a few days later, I can't say I gave it much thought.
Now as Father's Day approaches, I can't help but think about my dad. It's hard to believe he's been gone so long. It's hard to believe how much I still miss him.
You see Dad and I weren't always close. In fact we were so alike we spent years fighting like cats and dogs. There were times when we were raging and we both used words as weapons. But no matter how hard I tried to hurt him, he always knew he could hurt me more. So he did.
He did it in the car when I was ten or eleven. We were driving up I-95 in Greenwich when he said he never wanted to have children but he accepted me once I came along. That's just great, I remember thinking. You felt the same way about the cat.
As a kid I couldn't understand it. As a teenager, I couldn't forget it -- and I hated him for that. But as a young adult, I found a way to forgive him.
No matter what's happened in the past, I want you to know that you're my dad and I love you, I told him a few months before he died.
I still do.
Until next time, "That's life..."
Needless to say, ninety-nine percent of our calls are from telemarketers. Ninety-nine percent of the time I'm rude.
Let's face it, I don't need to lower the interest on my credit cards. I don't need to get out of debt. I don't need a new home security system. I don't need the siding power-washed. And I certainly don't need some idiot who can't even pronounce my last name asking for my dad.
An unfortunate caller recently learned that the hard way.
If you're looking for my father, I told her in a voice filled with contempt, you will need to call the the Psychic Friends Network. He's been dead since 1997.
She hung up -- and aside from laughing about the incident with my mom a few days later, I can't say I gave it much thought.
Now as Father's Day approaches, I can't help but think about my dad. It's hard to believe he's been gone so long. It's hard to believe how much I still miss him.
You see Dad and I weren't always close. In fact we were so alike we spent years fighting like cats and dogs. There were times when we were raging and we both used words as weapons. But no matter how hard I tried to hurt him, he always knew he could hurt me more. So he did.
He did it in the car when I was ten or eleven. We were driving up I-95 in Greenwich when he said he never wanted to have children but he accepted me once I came along. That's just great, I remember thinking. You felt the same way about the cat.
As a kid I couldn't understand it. As a teenager, I couldn't forget it -- and I hated him for that. But as a young adult, I found a way to forgive him.
No matter what's happened in the past, I want you to know that you're my dad and I love you, I told him a few months before he died.
I still do.
Until next time, "That's life..."
June 5, 2013
I rest my case
The news spread like wildfire.
Earlier this week, the world learned that Chris Beck -- a retired member of one of the U.S. military's most heralded special operations units -- is now Kristin.
Given Beck's service on SEAL Team 6, the Navy veteran's decision to detail her transition and share her new identity in her memoir "Warrior Princess" will no doubt ruffle some high-ranking feathers. But it could also prompt America's armed forces to revisit policies that now prohibit transgender men and women from serving their country.
If the latter happens -- or better yet, if the memoir helps to promote compassion and understanding as Beck hopes -- it's definitely a good thing. But in any case, Beck's decision to come forward took tremendous courage -- the same courage it no doubt took to face our enemies overseas. She should be commended.
Sadly the same cannot be said for the mainstream media, whose coverage of the story was once again designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator.
For all of the sensational headlines splashed across the Internet and all of the details about Beck herself, I found myself thinking about her family and friends. Beck says they've been supportive, and while there's no reason to believe otherwise, I can't help but wonder how they felt when they first learned the truth. Were they shocked? Scared? Angry? Hurt? Did they feel betrayed? Who helped her through her transition? Who walked away?
Perhaps Beck answers these questions in her book. But from what I can tell from mainstream media accounts, no one has bothered to ask.
That's sad.
And until next time, "That's Life..."
Earlier this week, the world learned that Chris Beck -- a retired member of one of the U.S. military's most heralded special operations units -- is now Kristin.
Given Beck's service on SEAL Team 6, the Navy veteran's decision to detail her transition and share her new identity in her memoir "Warrior Princess" will no doubt ruffle some high-ranking feathers. But it could also prompt America's armed forces to revisit policies that now prohibit transgender men and women from serving their country.
If the latter happens -- or better yet, if the memoir helps to promote compassion and understanding as Beck hopes -- it's definitely a good thing. But in any case, Beck's decision to come forward took tremendous courage -- the same courage it no doubt took to face our enemies overseas. She should be commended.
Sadly the same cannot be said for the mainstream media, whose coverage of the story was once again designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator.
For all of the sensational headlines splashed across the Internet and all of the details about Beck herself, I found myself thinking about her family and friends. Beck says they've been supportive, and while there's no reason to believe otherwise, I can't help but wonder how they felt when they first learned the truth. Were they shocked? Scared? Angry? Hurt? Did they feel betrayed? Who helped her through her transition? Who walked away?
Perhaps Beck answers these questions in her book. But from what I can tell from mainstream media accounts, no one has bothered to ask.
That's sad.
And until next time, "That's Life..."
May 29, 2013
On fame, fortune, and the lack thereof
Ah...those were the days.
Just about a year ago, I was putting the finishing touches on my book -- and I had big plans.
I dreamed of becoming a best-selling author and pictured myself doing book tours, television and radio interviews. Maybe my memoir could become a TV movie or major motion picture!
Naturally I'd need an entourage if all that happened, so I carefully selected the members of my inner circle. I couldn't think of a better makeup artist than my former Mary Kay consultant and I promised my hair stylist I'd take her on the road. With hundreds of cops to choose from, I knew picking my security chief and a few body guards would be a piece of cake...
But by the time warm spring days and sultry summer nights finally began to yield to cooler autumn climes and I finally held the very first copy of my book in my hands, reality set in. Sure, I could have fame and fortune. The only question was -- at what cost?
I didn't write "Truth be Told: Adam Becomes Audrey" to "out" my ex-husband or to exploit him in any way. And I definitely don't want to exploit my own life.
So imagine my marketing gurus' disgust when I put the kibosh on any publicity involving social networking. "No Twitter? No Facebook? No way!" they practically screamed in incredulous email messages.
"Pitch the book to a select group of media outlets, colleges with classes specializing in gender studies, and mental health professionals," I told them. "We can pitch it to the general public too -- but only as a secondary strategy."
So far, the mainstream media pitches haven't resulted in the publicity I once envisioned -- and the last time I looked, my memoir ranked No.2,194,764 in books on amazon.com.
I still have my day job, but I also have my integrity. I guess super-stardom and world domination will just have to wait.
Until next time... "That's life"
Just about a year ago, I was putting the finishing touches on my book -- and I had big plans.
I dreamed of becoming a best-selling author and pictured myself doing book tours, television and radio interviews. Maybe my memoir could become a TV movie or major motion picture!
Naturally I'd need an entourage if all that happened, so I carefully selected the members of my inner circle. I couldn't think of a better makeup artist than my former Mary Kay consultant and I promised my hair stylist I'd take her on the road. With hundreds of cops to choose from, I knew picking my security chief and a few body guards would be a piece of cake...
But by the time warm spring days and sultry summer nights finally began to yield to cooler autumn climes and I finally held the very first copy of my book in my hands, reality set in. Sure, I could have fame and fortune. The only question was -- at what cost?
I didn't write "Truth be Told: Adam Becomes Audrey" to "out" my ex-husband or to exploit him in any way. And I definitely don't want to exploit my own life.
So imagine my marketing gurus' disgust when I put the kibosh on any publicity involving social networking. "No Twitter? No Facebook? No way!" they practically screamed in incredulous email messages.
"Pitch the book to a select group of media outlets, colleges with classes specializing in gender studies, and mental health professionals," I told them. "We can pitch it to the general public too -- but only as a secondary strategy."
So far, the mainstream media pitches haven't resulted in the publicity I once envisioned -- and the last time I looked, my memoir ranked No.2,194,764 in books on amazon.com.
I still have my day job, but I also have my integrity. I guess super-stardom and world domination will just have to wait.
Until next time... "That's life"
May 22, 2013
Here I am!
So here I am.
As I start to write this, it's 6 p.m.(give or take a few minutes) on a Wednesday night and I should be home having dinner before racing off to my next assignment as a reporter for a community newspaper. Instead, my boss insisted that we all stick around until the final edits of this week's papers are completed for reasons that are best not publicly disclosed.
One of my colleagues is killing time by doing some "creative" writing and another is trying to finish a last-minute assignment. As I glare at the blinking cursor on my own computer screen and try to focus on writing my very first blog, the frantic tapping on the computer keyboard in a nearby cubicle slows and then stops.
Apparently one of my co-workers has succumbed to writer's block. I'm somewhat annoyed because it's contagious,but at least I know the cure. Write something. Anything. And don't stop until you've run out of things to say.
The process is called block writing and it's a technique I learned while working at a daily newspaper in high school. It's also one that I've relied upon as an award-winning journalist for more than 20 years -- and one I often used while writing "Truth be Told: Adam Becomes Audrey."
The memoir that's now available through my official author page (sbpra.com/alexandrabogdanovic/) and major online book sellers sums up more than 20 years of my life in approximately 50,000 words and took more than two years to write.
In it, I share the story of how I met, fell in love with and married the man of my dreams, only to find out that he self-identified as and wanted to "become" a woman. I also share what happened after I learned the truth.
Part comedy, part love story imbued with just a hint of tragic irony, "Truth" was written to help those who find themselves in similar situations and to share another side of an oft told story.
I hope that those of you who are generous enough to read it enjoy it -- but if not, that's okay, too.
Until next time, "that's life..."
As I start to write this, it's 6 p.m.(give or take a few minutes) on a Wednesday night and I should be home having dinner before racing off to my next assignment as a reporter for a community newspaper. Instead, my boss insisted that we all stick around until the final edits of this week's papers are completed for reasons that are best not publicly disclosed.
One of my colleagues is killing time by doing some "creative" writing and another is trying to finish a last-minute assignment. As I glare at the blinking cursor on my own computer screen and try to focus on writing my very first blog, the frantic tapping on the computer keyboard in a nearby cubicle slows and then stops.
Apparently one of my co-workers has succumbed to writer's block. I'm somewhat annoyed because it's contagious,but at least I know the cure. Write something. Anything. And don't stop until you've run out of things to say.
The process is called block writing and it's a technique I learned while working at a daily newspaper in high school. It's also one that I've relied upon as an award-winning journalist for more than 20 years -- and one I often used while writing "Truth be Told: Adam Becomes Audrey."
The memoir that's now available through my official author page (sbpra.com/alexandrabogdanovic/) and major online book sellers sums up more than 20 years of my life in approximately 50,000 words and took more than two years to write.
In it, I share the story of how I met, fell in love with and married the man of my dreams, only to find out that he self-identified as and wanted to "become" a woman. I also share what happened after I learned the truth.
Part comedy, part love story imbued with just a hint of tragic irony, "Truth" was written to help those who find themselves in similar situations and to share another side of an oft told story.
I hope that those of you who are generous enough to read it enjoy it -- but if not, that's okay, too.
Until next time, "that's life..."
That's life...
All you may -- or may not -- want to know about my adventures as an author and other stuff.
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