Saturday, January 28, 2012

Writing and forcing are like oil and water

One of my Christmas 2011 gifts was a book—yay!—called Writers Workshop in a Book: The Squaw Valley Community of Writers on the Art of Fiction. (edited by Alan Cheuse and Lisa Alvarez) As you might guess, it’s a compilation of essays; some nearly put me to sleep and others that had me saying “yes! I know exactly what you’re saying!”

I’m 90% of the way through the book and my favorite essay so far is by Lynn Freed called “On False Starts: How Not to Begin a Novel When You Don’t Have One to Write.” What an awesome title! It speaks directly to one of the things I sometimes mention when I give critiques. Namely, when you get seriously stuck while writing a sentence or a paragraph, you need to pay attention to the fact that nothing seems to complete the passage. For myself, I’ve found that if I force something to go where I think something needs to be, it’s usually a round peg stuffed into a square hole.

Lynn’s essay extends that thought logically. If getting stuck within a novel is your inner editor’s way of saying that nothing further needs to be added, what’s the lesson when you get stuck before you’ve written the first word?

I bet you can guess, but I’ll explain in case you have too many characters talking to you to think straight. (Even that’s a good problem to have.) When saying to yourself, “I want to write a novel” or maybe “I’m gonna sit down and crank out that short story”, you’ve got to be sure you have something to say.

Not all works of fiction need to be grand pieces of insightful and pensive material; there’s a place for stories that simply entertain us. Either way, you need some idea of what story to tell. Lynn describes two years of writing the beginning of a novel. She gifts us with this eloquent literary shoulder-shrug: “Several times, I threw the book out and decided that that was it, I would not willingly and knowingly play Sisyphus with fiction.”

I love her honesty. I think that’s the secondary message of her essay. As writers of fiction, we are driven to weave wonderful lies. It can be hard to know when to face the truth. It’s a cruel and inhuman thing to admit to ourselves that we just don’t know what to write about; or we don’t have any idea what this character wants or what their personality might make them do; or how the hell to wrap up that damn story at last.

When spinning cloth is the most important thing in the world, you’re upset and scared when you reach for more thread and the spool is empty. But being a writer is about having blind faith. When you stop frantically grasping empty spools, and learn to wait, you’ll find that one by one the spools become full again.

While you’re waiting, smell the roses. Practice writing metaphors J

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Our stories may be our children, but we don't always know what's best for them

Critiquers and fellow writers are often heard to remark: “These ideas are just for you to kick around, because this is your story and you know best what direction it should go in.” I disagree.

Well, sometimes I disagree. Thing is, as inexperienced and/or unpublished writers, we ask for critiques because we want help with our work. If several readers comment that the mystery seemed to be solved easily, or the main character’s motivation to uproot her family and move everybody to Tibet seemed weak, that means something. It isn’t only editors who can pick up an “off” vibe.

It’s nice that people can be polite enough to say they don’t want to change your work. Let’s face it, though: sometimes that’s exactly what it needs. As the author, we’re usually too involved with our work to see all the weak parts and/or how to fix them. Somebody coming into your project cold, without the emotional attachments that you have, is more able to see reality.

In my own WIP, I know the plot needs help. That’s why I’m trying to hash out an outline before delving into the thing too far. There are plenty of things I’m not aware of that others are able to spot. In my first couple of drafts, critters told me that Sandy was just too nice; where was his motive for wanting to help a gangbanger who’d just tried to kill him?

Well says I, I did show how Sandy spent a few hours with this gangbanger, then realized the guy was a just a young dude who never had positive role models. Wouldn’t anybody want to help someone living by their wits on the street?

—Uh, no. Truthfully, most people would have a very different reaction. It took me a while to come around, but I did realize that Sandy needed better motivation. I’d been trying to make a story out of basic scenes that were three decades old. Youthful optimism gave me tons of scenes that I fell so in love with, I didn’t see that they couldn’t hold water in a serious story. The idea of changing the characters and therefore, what they did, was like changing my own past.

I cried and carried on about it, then picked myself up and asked: Do you want to make this a marketable story? Yes? Then fix it.

Sure we need a basic, solid idea to build on. Publishers and agents don’t agree to take on a work unless it has potential and intrinsic value. If the writer is unpublished up to that point, the work is going to need revision. Plain and simple. Indie-published stories that are not *superbly edited* will not sell as well as they could.

Any number of things may wind up changed from the manuscript we submitted. Because we don’t always know best. Even many-times-published authors get rejected, and their accepted manuscripts don’t go to the printer without spending time with an editor.

Not every suggestion from critiquers needs to be taken, but you want readers to like your stuff, right? Their gut feelings are important. You don’t have to throw out previous versions, but don’t scoff when the people you asked for their opinion give it to you. If you’re not ready to make changes, drop me a line when you win a literary award for “didn’t need any editorial help.”

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Scene, Sandy and Sophie recording, pt 7

This scene takes place somewhere in the middle of Street Glass, so the year would be '89 or '90. As currently written, this scene is not intended to be included in the novel. Its purpose is to practice writing, explore the earliest beginnings of Sandy and Sophie’s relationship, explore a bit of her relationship with Adam, and have some fun that wouldn’t be appropriate for the novel. As everything is in this novel, the scene is in close third POV.

Background: Adam and Sophie are members of the rock/pop band Xenith. Sophie has also started the band Obsession to showcase her solo work; she’s active in both bands. She and Adam went through a very public and acrimonious breakup of their romantic relationship a few years prior, though they’ve continued to play in Xenith.

The term “track” is sometimes used here as a synonym for the verb “record.” The term “cans” is used as a synonym for “headset.” Lennie is producer as well as engineer for Sandy’s song, with only Neal assisting him; that’s why I don’t mention anyone else. The term “studio” can be a bit confusing. Used here, it refers to the specific room that the artist stands in to sing or play, not a building. If anything else confuses you, drop me a comment.
________________________
Sophie glanced at the ceiling and her lips thinned into a line. She hung the headset on the mic stand hook.

“He just can’t give you a simple compliment,” Sandy said, hanging up his own cans.

“He’s said it before. He’s such a—whatever. You wrote a beautiful song. How did you come up with that rhythm?”

“I was thinking about how the ocean creeps up and slides back, and keeps going up and down. I just don’t get how the two of you can work together.”

A tired smile touched her mouth. “Well, we’re both too stubborn to quit Xenith. Without the outlet Obsession gives me, I might have strangled him ages ago. Honey, if you want help with lyrics or music, come over to my place sometime. I like to keep busy.”

Maybe he’d died and gone to heaven. “Really? You mean it?”

“Sure. If Adam knows I’ve got a friend over, he’ll leave me alone. Mostly though, it’s very satisfying to help somebody do something they didn’t think they could. I’ll leave you my private number and you let me know.”

“Damn! I’d love that. I’ve got a bunch of stuff that’s been giving me headaches for months. You know, all you have to do—never mind. I’ve got some tracking coming up but as soon as that’s done, I’ll call you.” All you have to do is tell Adam not to come over, or just don’t let him in. But you guys must have one hell of a complicated relationship and I don’t want to get in the middle of it.

They went into the control room. Lennie’s hands flew over the board. “Listen to this, everybody.”

He played the whole track with a touch of reverb added to Sophie’s vocal. That was the proverbial frosting on the cake. Sandy nodded along as he listened. A shiver ran up his spine. He grinned. It might be the first of his songs to go gold.

Sophie asked for some paper and didn’t seem to listen as Lennie and Neal enthused about the song. She waited until everybody was saying goodbye to slip Sandy the paper with her number.

Adam must have seen though. On his way out, he winked at Sandy and said, “Another one bites the dust.”
#

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Scene, Sandy and Sophie recording, pt 6

This scene takes place somewhere in the middle of Street Glass, so the year would be '89 or '90. As currently written, this scene is not intended to be included in the novel. Its purpose is to practice writing, explore the earliest beginnings of Sandy and Sophie’s relationship, explore a bit of her relationship with Adam, and have some fun that wouldn’t be appropriate for the novel. As everything is in this novel, the scene is in close third POV.

Background: Adam and Sophie are members of the rock/pop band Xenith. Sophie has also started the band Obsession to showcase her solo work; she’s active in both bands. She and Adam went through a very public and acrimonious breakup of their romantic relationship a few years prior, though they’ve continued to play in Xenith.

The term “track” is sometimes used here as a synonym for the verb “record.” The term “cans” is used as a synonym for “headset.” Lennie is producer as well as engineer for Sandy’s song, with only Neal assisting him; that’s why I don’t mention anyone else. The term “studio” can be a bit confusing. Used here, it refers to the specific room that the artist stands in to sing or play, not a building. If anything else confuses you, drop me a comment.
___________

She took her headset off, peered at Sandy then looked down again. “You did great.”

Me? Oh my God, Sophie! You just elevated ‘Summernight’ to something holy! I had no idea it could sound like that.”

“I always do live tracking with Obsession, I think the vocals are better that way. But you did the work here. You just needed a little encouragement.”

Sandy put his headset back on, gestured at her to listen in her own and waited till she raised one of the cans to her ear. Pressing the button on the mic, he toward the control room window. “Tell her she turned this into something that belongs in a church.”

“He’s right,” Lennie said. “I’ve heard Sandy do the vocals several ways and nothing comes close to this. This one’s a hit. It’s too bad we didn’t film you guys. A blind man could’ve seen the electricity between you.”

“Don’t sell him short,” she said. “I wouldn’t have been any help if he hadn’t been capable of singing like that anyway.”

Standing beside Lennie, Adam leaned toward the mic. "You're a freak and a genius and you know it. You'd really have something if you'd control the freak part."

[to be continued in one more part]