Help, I can’t look!

Aug 2, 2007 | Writing | 5 comments

I realized last night that I have a problem. One I simply must push past. When I know bad things are coming, in a book or a movie or a tv show, I don't want to watch it. I don't want to continue, even when it's a cliffhanger. For example, hubby loves The West Wing (if you haven't watched WW, then a mild spoiler is coming — be aware!). We came to it late, so we've been watching it on DVD, and we just ended Season 4 about a month ago. This is where Bartlet's daughter is kidnapped. Most people would just be dying to get to Season 5, to find out what happens.

Not me. I resisted his efforts to get me to watch the next episode until last night. And of course I loved it! I loved the resolution to the crisis, the way all these characters work together, the way the story is always told so well.

So why do I resist when I know it will be good? Maybe I'm afraid it won't be good, that somehow they'll disappoint me. Or maybe I'm afraid that something worse will happen and I just don't want to know. But if I have this trouble with well-crafted stories, both print and visual, how am I to know that I'm capable of doing bad things, really bad things, to my own characters?

I think I can, but then last night I got to thinking about it when I was resisting and finally caving on WW. Why do I want to avoid the bad stuff? Do I do it when I write? Do I make bad things happen, but not bad enough? Do I need to look deeper, think harder, and make it worse?

Am I the only person with this kind of wacky problem? Do you have trouble watching the bad parts of television shows, or reading beyond the first really bad thing in a book?

I guess maybe the lesson here is that when I'm writing, I know I have to watch for this. I know I have to look doubly hard at the bad stuff and make sure it's bad enough. Maybe it's good to know I have this issue.

What about you? Do you have something to watch out for in your writing?

Where do you write?

Jul 31, 2007 | Writing | 12 comments

I've explored this subject before, last year when I was living in Hawaii and experienced a series of regular power outages in my neighborhood. I have a laptop, so it wasn't the electricity by itself that sent me to Starbucks. It was coffee (can't brew without electricity) and the laptop battery (uh, don't mention the Alphasmart — I know, I know). I'd always thought writing in Starbucks would be difficult. The music, the customers, the movement all around me.

It wasn't difficult at all. Pop the headphones in to listen to my own choice of music, sip the macchiato, fire up the laptop, and type. Worked just fine, especially when I couldn't check my email or blog.

So fast forward a year. I'm living in Alabama and I have a gigantic room all to myself. Bookshelves, internet, desk, daybed. A view. Lots of peace and quiet. And I'm seriously considering packing up and heading to a coffee shop.

My hubby looked at me like I was a nut when I mentioned this the other day. I'm no longer sitting on the couch with laptop and writing, like in Hawaii. I have an office to myself. (I had an office in Hawaii, but it had frosted jalousie windows and I hated that I couldn't see. Felt like I was in a shower all day, so I moved to the LR.)

And I DO feel nuts for considering it. This room is what I wanted! It's all mine, ready to go, perfect for long sessions at the computer. But, you see, there's laundry downstairs. And there's a junk room where everything we unpacked but didn't know where to put just yet is still waiting for me to sort through. And there are two needy cats who regularly interrupt me with meowing, loud and frightening noises (did they break the lamp? Oh heck, must go see!), and begging.

So, I end up thinking it would just be easier to remove those distractions. Best way to do that is to not be in the house. There was a discussion on one of my loops the other day about this issue. Some folks write in their jammies all day long. Others have day jobs and write when they can — before or after work, while on the subway, etc. And some get dressed and go to a cafe.

Hemingway wrote in cafes, but not just there. He actually rented an apartment (when he could afford it) to use strictly as an office, getting up, getting dressed, leaving his wife and child in their shared apartment in Paris and going to his office apt.

(Okay, just NOW, there was a loud noise from downstairs. Cat knocked over a picture that hasn't been hung yet, but didn't break the glass — he has broken the glass on another picture before this one. So, have to run downstairs, determine noise, pick things up, lock cat up. Meanwhile other cat shows up and tries to get into my coffee which is sitting on the desk. This is why Hemingway rented a separate apartment.)

While I consider packing up and heading out, I feel guilty about it. But I also think it may be necessary, at least from time to time, in order to clear out the cobwebs and get something moving. And now I'm asking you, where do you write? Do you find a quiet corner of the house, have a great big office, hunch in a closet, write on a train, or head for the nearest cafe?

Let me know, because I'm very interested in how this works for you and if you'd do something differently if you could.

A box of ideas

Jul 24, 2007 | Writing | 4 comments

I've decided not to be too obsessive about the blog anymore, so posting every single day is probably a thing of the past. Unless I find something really interesting that I have to talk about. Today, I found it at Bookends LLC:

What I think is that there are very few amazing and original ideas out there. The truth is that most of you are writing from a box of ideas, and what really matters when writing your book is the execution. I’ve seen a thousand different cozy mysteries and hundreds of vampire submissions. None of these are really new ideas. What makes a book dance for me (and for editors) is the execution.

Agent Jessica Faust talks about Idea versus Execution and how the ARC of a manuscript she was reading echoed a manuscript she'd rejected. Have you ever had that eerie feeling that you've read something before, but you can't put your finger on it? I sure have.

Still, how do we handle this as writers? Everyone says that no two writers will write the same idea the same way, and I agree, but have you ever known anyone who was rejected because an editor or agent just took on a similar manuscript? It happens all the time.

Jessica says we are writing from a box of ideas. I find that somehow frightening and comforting too. Sometimes, I see the blurb for a book and think, “Wow, how'd they come up with that idea?” And then I wonder why my idea machine doesn't work that way. Sometimes, I think I'm not creative at all.

I think the box of ideas is like Jung's collective unconscious, though. Ideas are floating like messages in a bottle and any one of us can pluck them out of the sea. But the messages aren't unique. It's what you do with the message that makes your idea different.

On the other hand, are there some people who go beyond the box or the collective unconscious and tap into something truly extraordinary? How about J.K. Rowling? Where did that woman come up with muggles and flue powder and stuff like that?

But isn't Harry Potter the manifestation of the archetypal hero? His journey follows Campbell's mythic steps, and there are echoes of popular myth and archetype throughout the stories. Yet it's Rowling's clever presentation of her ideas that keeps us enthralled, no matter that Harry Potter and Odysseus, for example, essentially share the same path.

And that's what Jessica Faust is talking about.

More National Notes

Jul 23, 2007 | Writing | 5 comments

I'm working like crazy, trying to finish up this novel I started eons ago, and looking forward to working on the next one that I wrote the first pages to at National. I've got ideas, ideas, ideas! Always a good thing.

Finally, my calendar is fairly clear. No classes, no hint of classes, no plan to take any classes (what was I thinking anyway?!) and no company. I took two grad level classes for a certificate, and there's still an internship to go. At this point, I don't plan to do the internship anytime soon. Don't want to. If I never get this certificate, too bad. I'm not losing sleep.

What other lessons did I learn at National? Well, there's certainly a wealth of stuff that you can come across on the blogs. Folks are still talking about National. What to do, what not to do, who said what, pics, etc. I forgot my camera, so no pics of me other than the ones I ended up in with others.

But the most important thing I think I learned was to write my way. The process isn't important. The final product is. La Nora sits down and writes without any idea what will happen on page 2. Suz Brockmann outlines extensively and makes charts with multi-book plot arcs. I am definitely more of a sit down and write kind of gal. I tried the charts, but I got hung up on what happened when I didn't follow what I'd envisioned. That was depressing for me because I love Suz's work and think she's awesome. I figured I'd never be that good if I couldn't make plans for my books in advance.

Allison Brennan, in her fabulous workshop on No Plotters Allowed, says that she wrote the first chapter of one of her published books six different ways before she got it right. You just can't be afraid to redo something, or throw something out if it isn't working. Great advice.

So here I sit, writing forward and typing in words like STUFF HAPPENS when I don't yet know what's going to go in a scene. It's freeing and silly all at once.

Other things I learned at National:

Nora Roberts is COOL, y'all. She is well-spoken, hilarious, and so gorgeous. And her shoes are amazing. Patricia Gaffney is a hoot as well. Her intro of Nora was so good. (I remember once, many eons ago, when these two ladies did a booksigning in Waldorf, MD. Nora was not NORA then, and they sat at the table without huge lines waiting and I was too petrified to go up to them. I wanted to be an author too, and I was terrified of talking to them. Duh. I hadn't written the first word of a romance novel yet, but I'd decided that's what I was going to do. I wish I'd spoken to them.)

Comfortable shoes may be sensible, but fabulous shoes are better. I wore heels. Tall ones, but they were platforms so not too bad, and I loved every minute of it, even when my feet were screaming at me. 🙂

The bar is THE place to be. Writers like their diet coke and their alcohol. (On the plane back, for instance, I sat next to Gayle Wilson, previous RWA president, and across the aisle from us were the ladies of the Writing Playground. When the flight attendant came around asking what we'd like to drink, we all ordered diet coke (2 ladies ordered reg coke, but only because they prefer diet coke with Splenda).) Margaritas seemed to be the alcoholic drink of choice, though I went against the trend and had red wine. 🙂

Be nice to everyone. You never know who you are talking to, or who may overhear something you say. Thank heavens my mother ingrained in me the necessity to be polite at all times because I'm not afraid that I said anything bad. I did hear stories about bad behavior, editor/agent/fav author stalking, but didn't personally witness any of this. Whew.

Mostly, I learned that I will go to National again. I'd avoided it for years, simply because of the expense and the fact I usually lived a looooong way away, but it is a worthwhile way to spend a week. There's nothing like being in the company of 2000 other people who share the same compulsion. It freaking rocks!