Tag Archives: writers

New Connections and the NaNo Thing

was not as enthusiastic about MileHiCon this year for a couple admittedly ego-centric reasons, and because I was tired and had had such a wonderful and unique Sirens experience. But I’d made commitments, and so I went.

Thank. Goodness.

At the SFWA meeting, I in-person connected with Nathan Lowell–a wonderful indie writer I’d communicated with online, and waved to once at another local con. We chatted until needing to run off to respective panels, then met up again for whiskey in the afternoon. Eventually we were joined by three other writers–indie writers!–from Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and I much enjoyed the three-ish hours we all spent together sharing experiences and encouraging more connections. There were dog stories, too, which makes everything more wonderful.

So now I’m looking at connecting with Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, joining their indie publishing group, and picking brains about audio books and the like. And I’m looking at enjoying it.

(That last bit is important, you see, because I’ve determined life is too short to deal much and long with assholes. Yes, this limits my opportunities. Yes, I’m fine with that.)

Next year, I won’t be at MileHiCon, though. It’s the same weekend as Sirens. So I did spend some time convincing the folks I met they’d like to check out Sirens. 🙂

As for NaNo… I’ve mentioned elsewhere I’m not doing the “real” NaNoWriMo. Truly, signing up on yet another website, proving my wordcount, and so on does not appeal to me. Besides, I’m starting with a pile of already-written material that will be shuffled in with newly written material, and methinks that’s not in the NaNo rules. But for the first time ever, the month of November is one during which I can give writing more time and focus because I do not have children at home, holidays with family do not require extensive travel, and my son’s early December birthday doesn’t require much planning. Thus I’m doing the nose-grindstone thing for thirty days.

So this is what the next Desert Rising book looks like this morning:

IMG_20161031_100742_615

Most of that will end up trashed or set aside for another novel, since it was first written years ago. Today’s task is to shuffle through those piles and pull out all the pieces I might want to use going forward, to integrate those pieces with the existing multiple-viewpoint outline, and translate those pieces onto the Magic Index Cards that will permit me to write the novel.

In other news, I’ll be making three frittatas and homemade caramel for apple-dipping so we can have a Halloween family dinner + trick-or-treat this evening.

#SFWApro

Dichotomy Is Easy, and Easily Dismissed

playOr, “What I Learned About Indie Publishing At 4th Street.”

Last weekend was for 4th Street Fantasy, and not even the thief who stole my driver’s license and debit card on Saturday could dull my overall enjoyment.  In addition to attending great panels and having fantastic writerly conversations, I took the opportunity to discover what writers—published and about-to-publish, new(er) and up-and-coming—want to know about indie publishing.

Y’see, SFWA’s new VP Maggie Hogarth recently talked me into working with the Self-Publishing Committee.  (It was the Hopeful Jaguar Eyes that did it.  That, and I didn’t want honey badgers sicced on me…:)  Having so many smart writers at 4th Street offered the perfect chance to gather some helpful information.

Continue reading Dichotomy Is Easy, and Easily Dismissed

Obviously, No.

(ye gads, y’all knew this was satire, right??)

Some professional writing organizations have opted to admit self-publishing writers at an alarming pace, insisting three or four or five years is plenty long enough to spend debating the issue.  It would be best to invest another two or three years at least, but the push just won’t stop.  Under such pressure to act in haste, it’s important to understand the reasons self-publishers should be kept out.

First, it’s always been understood that who pays the author is of upmost importance.  Purchase decisions made by thousands of readers—even tens of thousands of readers—should not be deemed equal to the decision of a single third party that has been properly vetted and approved.  The approval of one or a few readers with proper job titles is what marks the professional.

And the money.  Unless the money comes from readers instead.  Then it shouldn’t count.  Obviously.

Continue reading Obviously, No.

The Light Beyond the Wet Blanket

100_2648Back at this post, we talked about throwing away the Wet Blanket—turning off the part of your prefrontal cortex that inhibits creativity—in order to use new writing skills and be creative at the same time.

It’s easy to say.  There are writers who have, it would seem, a natural ability to bypass the Wet Blanket or perhaps have no Wet Blanket at all.  Hearing their advice—”Just do it!”—can be so frustrating because the fact you can’t just do it makes you feel like a failure or an imposter.  It’s even worse when the advice is coupled with judgment about a writer’s worth that’s based on this single measure.

But know this, my darlings: Very few writers can “just do it,” and natural ability is no indication of future success.  The fact your creativity doesn’t perform on command is normal.  Tapping your creativity can be learned.  But it is also, unquestionably, difficult at times.  And the most difficult time is when you’re actively working to improve your skills.

Research performed at the University of Pennsylvania found free and creative thinking could be enhanced by inhibiting the left prefrontal cortex with a mild electrical current.  Shocking your brain sounds a tad extreme for home use—not the sort of DIY project I’d recommend—so let’s see what else we can do, hmm?

Continue reading The Light Beyond the Wet Blanket

What the Reader Expects

100_2471Once a storyteller hits a certain level of competency, much of her reader’s investment comes down to how well expectations are established and met.  I’m not talking about genre tropes a writer uses and a reader expects.  Rather, I mean those methods of storytelling that convey, build, and sustain emotional investment.

It’s been twenty-mumble years since I first decided I wanted to write novels.  I sucked at it.  I sucked hard.  I mean, a lifetime of theater and reading had given me an internalized understanding of story arcs and the importance of emotional investment.  But my plots had holes as deep as the Mariana Trench.  The characters—young and old—indulged in the emotional roller coaster of adolescent melodrama.  Plot stuff happened because those happenings gave me an excuse to shoot the characters into the next Big! Emotional! Scene!

I sucked.

And because I sucked so badly—and because I was so on fire to write I was churning out about two thousand words every day or so, by hand with a Uniball pen on college-ruled notebook paper—I ended up learning a great deal.  I didn’t learn from writing alone, or from writing with a critique group, or from completing an entire long work before begging for feedback.  I learned because I had a friend who’d read every chapter within hours of being handed those loose sheets.

Continue reading What the Reader Expects

Writer’s Blog Tour In Four Questions

I was tagged by the smart, talented, and generous writer Janice Smith to answer questions about my projects and process. If you haven’t already, go read her answers first!

What am I working on?
Right this moment, I’m finishing revisions for Sand of Bone. It’s the first in a desert fantasy series centered around a woman seeking to escape her wasteland prison, destroy her brother’s conspiracies, and reclaim the elemental mastery the gods took from her bloodkin three generations ago. It’s also about civil unrest, savage rivalries, and a dynasty clutching after the power of their ancestors. Some characters fight because honor won’t permit them to ignore wrongdoing; others pitch in because they’re bored with everything else. And there are caverns with lava tubes, people with eyes that glow and shimmer in the dark, and souls wandering the sands in search of redemption.

How does my work differ from others in the genre?
Umm… Actually, I think the search for novelty within the genre is highly overrated. I’ve never put down a book I loved reading with the thought of finding something completely different. I’ve never loved a story because of its niftiness alone. Novelty of technique or topic is a one-off, and the genre now too wide and deep for anyone to even know if what they’re doing is totally unique. So rather than seek ways to be different for the sake of being different, I’d rather develop skills that – when used over and over again – make readers want more of what I do.

(Consistency is all I ask. Immortality is all I seek.)

So what do I strive to do well? Characters – strong, weak, whatever – who have presence on the page regardless of the size of their part or their role in the story. Dialog readers can hear as they read. Pacing that moves rather than dallies, that holds tension behind even the quietest of moments, punctuated with a touch of humor. Prose that flows rather than clunks. Fight scenes compelling enough I can include the details I want. Worlds in which a person’s competence and integrity – not gender – determine how the person is viewed.

Why do I write what I do?
I write the stories I’d like read.
I write to explore ideas that trouble me. My stories are, in a way, conversations with my own conflicting views.
I write to entertain myself, and love it when I’m also able to entertain others.

How does my writing process work?
Every project is different, but most incorporate plotting and pantsing. A huge amount of writing takes place in my imagination long before words arrive on the page, and I tend to envision them as if I’m a director rather than a writer. I’ll run key scenes through my mind – adjusting dialog and tone, blocking, backdrops, and so forth – then remember I need to remove some of those details when committing the scene to paper.

Most of my process has evolved to include Magic Index Cards. I make one card for each scene (NOT chapter). Each card includes the following: POV character, setting, date scene occurs, the number of days since the story started*, primary events, primary character interactions, dialog, realizations or discoveries (if any), key symbolism and/or foreshadowing, and anything else I want to make sure appears in that chapter. Eventually I’ll set all the cards in their proper order and number them. When it’s revision time, I use the backs of the cards for notes. Yes, it’s messy and manual, and I’m sure folks do indeed find the Scrivener option to be awesome, but I get something intangible out of the kinetic process so I’ll stick with it.

I rarely go back to revise before finishing a project, though I will toss notes onto the index cards at any time. I’d rather remodel a finished project than rebuild. It’s a preference requires me to really think through my choices before putting them down. (That, and the fact I once killed off a character early in a story that could have really used him later on.)

When I’m pretty happy with the novel, I’ll send it off to beta readers. I have the most awesome of beta readers, truly. They’re smart, talented, creative, open to possibilities, and damn fine writers. And I never forget how lucky I am that they share those things with me. That’s not to say I use every piece of their feedback (for one thing, they rarely agree on everything!). But they always give me things to think about and consider. It makes for a novel written with awareness of choices rather than plain “instinct” or whatever.

Once revisions are done, off it goes to a copyeditor. I strive to submit as clean a copy as possible to my editor who is, for the duration of the project, my contract employee. And making life easier for my employees is, in my opinion, a matter of good ethics. (Now that I think about it, I’d likely put greater effort into keeping my house tidy all the time if I’d hire a housekeeper. Hmm.) Besides, producing a clean manuscript is just as much a skill as storytelling. It’s worth doing well.

And there you have it – my answers to the questions.

I’ve tagged three marvelous women to pick it up from here: Casey Blair, Tam MacNeil, and Alena McNamara.

*Remember when I mentioned wanting to do pacing well? Tracking the number of story-days is critical to my ability to do that as I tend to write multiple viewpoint, multiple location, multiple storyline novels, and I tend to cram a great deal into a small amount of time. Sand of Bone covers a long time, by my usual habits (four entire months!). Sword and Chant, on the other hand, all took place in less than a single month’s time.