All About Blogging

I've only had my blog up since September of last year - it's still a baby, really. In this entry, I want to re-visit my initial reasons for starting the blog. And to encourage those who are thinking about it to jump on in. The water is fine!

The conception of my baby blog was a combination of things, really. I'd visited a hilarious blog of a good friend of mine, Becky. And I saw that she could have fun with it, could make me think, and could make me laugh. Shortly thereafter, I saw the movie Julie and Julia. I was underwhelmed with the movie itself, but LOVED the idea of a blog. Of someone having an idea and starting something from scratch. And for the first time, the notion hit me, "Hey, maybe I could do something like that."

The wheels in my head started turning, and I asked myself what I could possibly blog about. I'm not a good cook (like Julie), and I didn't really want a strictly-personal blog (I'm a little shy online, with people I don't know -- hence, no use of my last name, even now). But what I did know about was writing. Creative writing. I've taught creative writing courses for 6 years, and have been writing (mostly novels) for over a decade. I've been to numerous writing conferences, joined a writers' association, and had the experience of researching, submitting to (and being rejected by) literary agents. I've been in the trenches, waiting on agent responses, re-writing and re-submitting, and yes, seeing my fair share of "thanks, but no thanks" letters.

So, my blogging purpose was established. I knew I would focus my blog on writing - sharing both my personal writing journey and the wealth of information that others had taught to me throughout the years. And that was it. I asked Becky a few questions, did a bit of research, and dove right in - I was up and running in one afternoon and I haven't looked back since.

For anyone out there who's ever contemplated starting a blog, here's a great article - Now What?

Blogging can be addictive - but in a good way. And even if your readership is, say, petite - just putting your ideas "out there," into cyberspace, is quite exhilarating. I'm so glad I made the decision to blog all those months ago. I don't know if it's something I'll do forever (I always worry about running out of ideas), but as long as I enjoy it, and as long as there are readers to read, I'll stick with it.

Read It Aloud...

My students get tired of hearing me say this over and over, but it's TRUE - reading your own work out loud is crucial. Whether you're writing an essay about Othello, a poem, a novel, even an important email. There's something about hearing your own words that brings them to life in a different way. And - an even better reason - you'll hear things like missing words, choppiness, and unnatural dialogue that you wouldn't otherwise recognize. If you stumble over a sentence or phrase, you'll know that particular section should be re-worded, clarified, tightened.

Esther Freud states it well: A story needs rhythm. Read it aloud to yourself. If it doesn't spin a bit of magic, it's missing something.

So, there's yet another good reason - even prose should have a sort of rhythm to it, a natural ebb and flow. And reading your work aloud will help you to hear that rhythm (or the lack of it).

Children's Books!

My primary focus on this blog has been adult fiction (since that's what I write), but I wanted to branch out today and offer a GREAT LINK for children's fiction: 5 Articles on Children's Books (from Chuck Sambuchino's awesome blog).

My mom writes children's poetry/stories, and so I know a little bit about that genre/age group from watching her work. Lest anyone think that writing for children is "easy" because it's a younger audience, be warned. Writing for children is a complex endeavor. In fact, so much so, that I've told my mom it's too hard for me to attempt. The crafting of poetry and toning down of complex ideas to fit small spaces is so much harder than it looks.

So today, I salute childrens writers. They have a special gift, and an even more important goal than I do (as a writer of adult fiction). I write to entertain. They write to teach and inform our children. A weighty, wonderful responsibility.

Less Is More...

I have a tendency sometimes to over-describe things in my fiction. To try too hard to paint a picture of a scene with my words. Of course, my honest intent is to provide a richness of detail for the readers, to "put them there," inside the scene with the characters. Sometimes that sort of description is okay. But as I tell my students, too much description can bore the reader, and worse, can slow down the pacing of the story. Not good. Put yourself inside the readers' heads for a moment - are there passages they'd be tempted to skim over quickly, to get back to the "good stuff," (ie, the plot)? If so, TRIM it down.

Sure, there are times and places for rich, elaborate descriptions -- but the descriptions should be vital to the story, to the plot.

Two great quotes to ponder on this issue:

Don't overwrite. Avoid the redundant phrases, the distracting adjectives, the unnecessary adverbs. Beginners, especially, seem to think that writing fiction needs a special kind of flowery prose, completely unlike any sort of language one might encounter in day-to-day life. This is a misapprehension about how the effects of fiction are produced....a deliberately limited vocabulary can produce an astonishing emotional punch. ~Sarah Waters


Description must work for its place. It can't be simply ornamental. It ­usually works best if it has a human element; it is more effective if it comes from an implied viewpoint, rather than from the eye of God. If description is coloured by the viewpoint of the character who is doing the noticing, it becomes, in effect, part of character definition and part of the action. ~Hilary Mantel

Brilliant advice! I hadn't ever looked at description in quite that exact way before -- the idea of seeing description through a character's eyes, or making it valid/important to the character so directly, rather than simply "setting a scene" in a sort of vague, omniscient way.

I love it when I find a quote or idea that changes the way I've looked at something for years. And I hope I can apply the lesson to my own fiction: that less really is more...

Earning the Endings...

I fully admit it. I'm a planner. I make lists, write reminders on Post-Its, think ahead to tomorrow and what it might bring. I like to know what's ahead of me, what's coming next. Perhaps it's the teacher in me (organization and lesson-planning are key in my profession). This can be a good trait to have when mapping out a novel. Or, it can be bad trait. Because sometimes, I tend to over-plan, overthink my characters' destinies. I sometimes try to plot every little thing that will happen in the novel, which doesn't give the characters a chance to breathe, to act out on their own.

I read a quote by Rose Tremain yesterday that challenged me, but it's a notion I fully agree with. She says: In the planning stage of a book, don't plan the ending. It has to be earned by all that will go before it.

Yes -- I do think that an ending must be a natural by-product of all that has come before. And how do you know that by-product, until you write "all that has come before?" So, in that sense, absolutely, an ending should be earned. I still think it's perfectly fine to have a vague idea of where the plot is going - to know where the characters will probably end up. But - I think that I shouldn't stick so stubbornly to an ending I conceived at the beginning of the book, before I knew my characters inside and out. I should, instead, write toward an ending, giving the characters freedom to change their minds, or even to change the ending! A difficult prospect for me, The Planner. But I'm going to try harder to let my characters breathe.

Actually, I've been doing that already, in little baby steps. For instance, a few months ago, I had "mapped out" a scene in which my protagonist was angry with her father. I knew the conversation they were about to have, knew the tone of it. Or, thought I knew. As I wrote the dialogue, something happened. The protagonist became less angry with her father, and more empathetic. And by the time I had finished the scene, instead of there being a rift between them, there was actually a deeper understanding, a bonding. I was proud of myself for letting the characters dictate the scene, for following them where they wanted to lead me. And, I think it made for a better scene.

Question: As a writer, are you a Planner, or a Go-With-The-Flow-Er? Do outlines help or hinder your creativity? (By the way, I really don't think there's a right-or-wrong answer, here. I think it's up to the individual writer. Many writers can write off the cuff, having no idea the direction of a scene or story when they begin. And other writers lean upon an outline of some sort, even a rough one. I think it has a lot to do with the writer's personality and what's most natural).

Antidote for Panic

Have more than one idea on the go at any one time. If it's a choice between writing a book and doing nothing I will always choose the latter. It's only if I have an idea for two books that I choose one rather than the other. ~Geoff Dyer

Mr. Dyer is entirely correct. Any writer that hopes to be more than a one-hit-wonder must always, always have at the ready a rich reserve of ideas, plots, characters.

I had this conversation with my mother just yesterday -- there's a specific sort of panic that sets in each time I finish a novel. It's the irrational feeling that I'll never write another book again. That the well has forever run dry, that I've stopped knowing how to write, that the Muse has abandoned me and will never return. See? Irrational. But very real.

One powerful antidote to counteract that sort of panic is to have an ongoing, eternal brainstorming file. Whether kept on your hard drive or in a notebook, every writer should have one. That way, the well won't ever run dry.

Thankfully, I'm in the middle of a book series that has a long end in sight. I've just finished Book 3, and could probably easily go up to Book 10, if I so desire. I have familiar characters and a familiar setting, with stories still to be told.

But even so, I'm not settling into my comfort zone. Only yesterday, I started getting ideas for yet another possible series - a young adult series along the lines of Anne of Green Gables. So, rather than let those ideas flit into and out of my mind, I sat down and added them to my "brainstorming file." With as much detail as I could, I wrote about 2 pages of future ideas, for characters and plots and themes. I might not even see those ideas come to fruition for a few years, but at least I know they're there. And that's extremely comforting.

You Can't Please Everyone...

Great advice from Margaret Atwood:

Hold the reader's attention. (This is likely to work better if you can hold your own.) But you don't know who the reader is, so it's like shooting fish with a slingshot in the dark. What ­fascinates A will bore the pants off B.

So true. She brings up two important points:

1) If you, as the writer, are bored with your own work, so will be your readers! Have there ever been times you're trying too hard as you write? You're forcing a scene to work when you know it's not? I have. Here's an example: In my last novel, I wanted something important to occur at a birthday party. It was a child's party, and I did everything I could to make it interesting. I had the cake, the party games, even a clown. But I was bored stiff as I wrote it. It just wasn't interesting to me. There was no spark to it, no energy.

So, finally, I decided to scrap it. I still kept the "important thing," but changed everything else. This time, I decided to let the birthday belong to the older main character (instead of her young sister). Except that nobody remembered her birthday. Not her father or her sisters or any of her friends. This added a whole new dynamic to the scene, and also gave her some extra character development. The point is, I was totally bored with the first version of that scene, and I have no doubt my readers would have been, as well! So, use your own internal "radar" to tell if a scene is working or not -- and then make the necessary changes!

2) This next point actually ties directly in with Point #1 - you've got to please yourself first. If you're constantly trying to "write to the market," or to think of what your reader will approve of, you'll never win. Like Ms. Atwood says, readers are totally subjective. You might adore romance novels, while your friend finds them shallow and dull. We each have a specific taste in literature, and there's no pleasing everyone. Thus, if I tried to determine what my (future) readers would love, I'd be wasting my time. So, I write for myself. And when I do that, I think the writing becomes more authentic because I believe in it more.

Which leads me to another fantastic quote, a philosophy I agree with, 100%:

Write a book you'd like to read. If you wouldn't read it, why would anybody else? ~Hilary Mantel

The Likability Factor

It's true in real life, isn't it? We all want to be liked. It's human nature, to want people's approval, to gain people's good opinion, to want to be valued by someone else.

So, what about in fiction? Should we, as writers, consciously strive to have our main characters be likable?

Yesterday, I posted the link to a book called Save the Cat! I haven't read it yet, but apparently, it adheres to the philosophy that readers must CARE about the characters in order to turn the pages. That characters must have some sort of likability factor.

I agree with that philosophy, but as I look back on fiction, I'm a bit conflicted. I start to wonder if this "likability" issue is more of a MODERN philosophy. Here's an example. Honestly, I hated Mr. Darcy (I realize I'm terribly alone in my way of thinking, here). I personally considered Darcy to be arrogant, distant, dour, and downright rude. Sure, he had reason to be, as we find out at the end of the book. But even finding out "the truth" never stopped me from disliking him. In fact, if Pride and Prejudice hadn't contained the spunky, lovable characters of Elizabeth and the entire Bennett family, I'm not sure I would have continued with the story at all.

Another example - I teach Steinberg's "The Chrysanthemums" short story to my students each semester. It's a classic. It's "serious literature." So, I teach it. But, honestly, I'm not crazy about the characters. Not any of them. The main character, Eliza, is miserable and unhappy and wears a chip on her shoulder the entire time. Her husband is semi-likable, but he's only seen in about 10% of the story. And the salesman who takes advantage of Eliza's good nature is not only unlikeable, he's positively hate-able, by the end.

So, that brings me to modern literature. I think the tide has turned, regarding how important likability is, in modern fiction. If I start reading modern fiction and can't stand the main character - if he/she is irritating or has very few redeeming qualities - then yes, I do believe I would stop reading the book. Because I wouldn't CARE what happens to the character, whether he/she lived or died.

Ultimately, I think that's the true litmus test - asking yourself, "If this character fell off the face of the earth in the next chapter, would I even care?" If the answer is, "No," then I don't know that the book is worth your time. But if the answer is a passionate, "Yes!" then I think the book is absolutely worth your time.

As I type this, I'm re-thinking the focus of it -- perhaps instead of a "classic fiction vs. modern fiction" issue, the likability factor is more of a "serious literary fiction vs. less-serious commercial fiction" issue? Hmm....

So, what do you think? I'd love to hear your opinions. Is likability important? If so, how important? And do you see it as more of a modern trend, or is it something that should relate to all literature - literary, commercial, classic, or modern?

Save the Cat!

I've just read a review for this quirky book called, Save the Cat. The basic concept is this -- in order for a reader to continue reading, it's not about the fantastic plot or even the fancy writing. It's about CARING about the character. Rooting for the character, liking the character. If a reader doesn't care about what happens next to the character, he/she will stop reading. It's really that simple.

Beads

One of the greatest lessons ever I learned about writing came from an English teacher, Mr. D. I was his student teacher when I was about 21. He adored literature and writing as much as I did, and one day, as he read his own short story to the class, I was mesmerized. He reminded me how much I loved the written word - and creating thoughts on paper. Being an insanely-busy student teacher, with my eye on graduation, I had absolutely no time for writing. Or, so I told myself.

But shortly after Mr. D read his short story aloud, I realized how much I'd missed it. Writing. So, I waited until graduation and spent that whole next summer penning my very first novel.

So, back to the greatest lesson -- one day, Mr. D taught his students about the concept of weaving depth into a story. He used the example of stringing beads on a necklace. "You take the necklace," he said, using his hands to demonstrate, "and you add, say, five white beads. Then -- you add one red bead. Then maybe seven more white beads. Then - one red bead..." And so on. The point was, place a red bead - a "something" - a distinctive object, a color, a phrase that the reader will recognize throughout the story. Having that red bead creates depth and layers and familiarity. And consistency.

One of the best "bead" examples I've ever seen is from a David Duchovny film called The House of D (which Mr. Duchovny wrote and directed). The first scene involves the main character, stretched out underneath his bed, sketching in his notebook. Interesting. Quirky.

But then, as the story flashes back to his days as a boy, we see why he's underneath that bed, even as an adult. Growing up, he had a single mother who was emotionally unstable. He worried about her. So, the 13-year-old him would sneak underneath her bed each night, to hear her breathing, to make sure she was okay. He was protecting her. He did this a couple more times during the film, and at the end - in a poignant, fateful twist - he did it one more time. That image of him, underneath her bed, became a consistent "bead." A bright red one that sticks with the viewer. It's something we can point to and nod, and say, "Yes. I've seen that. I get it. There he goes again, under the bed." It's familiar, comforting.

Sure, in its purest form, we could call it a symbol, and that's exactly what it is. But I much prefer calling it a "bead." And from the moment the concept of beads was first introduced to me, I've been attempting to string them inside my writing ever since. Thank you, Mr. D!