Lessons from Baby Writers

I want to ramble a little about inspiration and, perhaps, motivation in the context of something that might seem a little surprising. Earlier this month I had the privilege of sitting down with three young writers. My niece's fourteenth birthday party was upon me and two of her best friends had come to stay with her

"Aunt Michelle," my niece asked. "Would you mind if I walk my friends down to your house so they can meet you? They are writers and so are you... so *dot, dot dot*"

At first I was confused albeit flattered by the request. I'm nothing special -- what could I possibly have to say to a gaggle of aspiring teen writers? I'm not even the published pea. I have no secrets of the trade. Nor do I have a history of vetted publications to hold up as a guidepost that says, "this is how you become a successful writer." I realized that I suddenly felt under-qualified. But, of course, I obliged. I call myself a writer after all, and my niece is family. These are the things one does for loved ones. We endure a certain amount of embarrassment and pander to how we think those in our lives see us. In the end, what I'd envisioned as a potentially awkward experience -- where crickets chirped in the background and finally I was exposed for the fraud I knew I was -- well,  the experience ended up being one of the most rewarding of my young writing life.

I don't know if you've ever sat down to tea and cookies on a Saturday evening with three teenaged girls, but it's an experience no writer (or self-aware human, for that matter) should ever turn down. The incessant chattering, dramatic flourishes,  awkward mannerisms, statements of certainty based on limits that often make no sense...

In a word, it was awe-inspiring.

One can learn a lot if one just watches and really listens. Observational skills are the mark of a good writer, after all. What I found is emotion and internal dialogue ooze from a teen girl's pores, stinking up the room with raw unfiltered truths. It is a thing of true beauty.

You see... what I experienced with these three young ladies was a bit like staring into a mirror. A mirror that revealed the inner workings of my own mind. Young writers, all of us, wear our insecurities -- about ourselves and our writing ability -- on our sleeves. Some fake it -- and hide it -- better than others. But I've been to conferences where even the most incredible New York Times writers divulge that, yes, even they are still worried about failure, about readers not responding, about finishing the project. They worry about all the same things that new writers worry over, although in a slightly different context, because those are the worries of the writer.

What I saw during that precious moment with these three young ladies was a manifestation of what every writer feels. Insecurity, doubt, trepidation, and even the impulse to toss about a couple 'Hail Marys'! Curiously, each girl had a role in the conversation. On the surface, there was the supportive cynic, the overly-excited chatterer, and the nearly mute self-doubter. I recognized them all. Because we writers -- definitely this writer -- are all those things and many shades in between. A writer of any age can identify with the teen girl writer because we feel all those things too.

For four hours, I became immersed in their world. I got to see firsthand what it meant to them to be writers. I found it not so different from what is means to me. They worry about characters being genuine and believable. The exalt the books they love and criticize the books that they don't think work. They worry about not knowing what their story is about. They worry about grammar issues and spelling errors. They worry about the amount of work being done on a collaboration. They worry about, "are the funny parts really funny?" and "are the scary parts really scary?" They worry about finishing. Mostly, they worried about what readers think...

Girl 1: "Didn't you think it was great when my character did 'x'?"

Girl 2: "I love that part!"

Girl 3: *nods and smiles*

Girl 1: *beams* "That's my favorite part." (translation: I spent a lot of time on that bit.)

At the end of the day, we all want validation that our labor of love is worth it. We want readers that see what we see in the stories and characters that move us. We want to know that our creation is worth the time, the energy, and the blood, sweat and tears.

What do I think?

Of course it's worth it. Everything else aside, it's worth doing because we love it!  Because it's our passion. And because we can't envision ourselves ever giving it up.

This particular evening I got to talk to three passionate girls about the thing I love most. Crafting story. We shared insights about our projects. We asked each other questions. We laughed, joked, and snickered about the pitfalls of crafting a story.

At the end of the evening one of them said, "I got so much out of this. Thank you."

I replied, "I'm glad."

In retrospect, I should have said, "So did I. Thank you!" Because as writers, we are always learning. And it isn't necessarily from our mentors and idols that we learn the greatest lessons. These young ladies reopened my eyes to the love of writing and why I choose a writing life. They taught me about myself, about my writing, and about what it means to be a writer. The writing life should be about hope, creation, and the love and excitement of the craft. Success in terms of the end game (publication, sales, the coveted movie deal) should never be what it's about. It's arbitrary. But the passion and need to hone craft is not. It's passion and craft that attracts readers. So it's there that the real rewards lie.

If I could have a do over. A moment to tell those girls what I know now -- what I know because they retaught it to me -- I would say, "Keep writing. Trust your stories. Trust yourself. This is the writer's life. You're living it! So embrace it, grow, and have faith."

Rewriting the Rewrite

Apologies to our few, steadfast and dear imaginary readers for the late Tuesday post. If you haven't heard, we're having a hurricane! It's official. Hurricane Isaac is on the way... and Mississippi and Louisiana are in his way. Needless to say, the Peas have been a little distracted with storm preparation and giggling at the repercussions of The Weather Channel's reference to our state as a land mass. Ah... the entertainments provided by the clash between social media and the national media. It's endless. But enough on that. Let's get to my actual blog topic today. Rewriting.

Every writer knows writing means rewriting.
(At least any writer worth their salt.)

And every rewriter knows that there's always a chance of another rewrite. Often times multiple rewrites. In some cases, years of rewrites. That is where I'm at right now with my own manuscript. Rewriting the rewrite. For me, its a daunting frustrating experience. Even when I fully understand and accept the necessity of it.

To catch ya'll up...

I've been on the cusp of completing a manuscript for about a year. I've long since written the last page. I've pitched it at ITW's Agentfest with great response. I've queried it with no response. I've had full manuscript requests for it from agents and even an editor. But I've never finished it and sent it out in earnest. Because I know it's not ready. Not ready enough to stand on it's own two feet and exist as a thing of true publishing potential.

It's my first finished book.

I'm not that good a writer yet.

This summer I let out my little creation to some non-biased readers. An old mentor, a friend who happens to be an agent, several renown instructors at a writing conference, and even a beta reader or two of known published authors. The feedback was staggering. And quite confusing. I've gotten everything from "send this to my office immediately" to "I'm sorry, you don't have any business sending this out."

What's an insecure upstart writer to do?

Rewrite.

It's all I can do.

At least if I want to ensure that I've written the very best book I possibly can. And why wouldn't I? With so much competition in a rapidly changing publishing landscape, I have to write the very best book I can if I want to have a hope of publishing success. Which, for me, means picking my book up off a bookstore shelf and knowing it's reaching as many people as it can. Why else would you write a book and publish it?

That said, I have to stay true to the story I'm trying to tell. And let me tell you...
Everyone has an opinion on how you should write your book, how you should change it, what will make it better, more sellable, more likable, just.... more.

As a writer you have to learn to filter through all that. Which is the hard part. Anyone can sit down and rewrite a book -- transfer changes to the page and hit save. But it takes a real writer to make the right choices which actually enables that book to take flight.

That's where I'm at.

Daunted, overwhelmed, and terrified I will make the wrong choices and may nudge my manuscript off kilter and send it careening off course where it it crashes and becomes a fiery pile of horse manure, ending my nonexistent writing career before it starts. So what do I have to do to save it?

Cut the cast of characters in half.
Make the protagonist likable.
Show the reader who to root for.
Create a more commercial conflict.
Narrow the focus.
Widen the social/cultural conflict and commentary.

And...well... there's a laundry list of suggestions from a multitude of critics I have to consider. Now whether I consider and toss away or consider and apply...that's the real test isn't it? Will I make the right choices to attract the largest audience I can? No one knows -- least of all me. All I can do is rewrite the best rewrite I can and put it out into the world again until either someone else or myself decides... yup, it's ready.

In the end, I'm the only person who can decide when it's done because it will never be finished. I know I can write a better book and I will try my damnedest to do so. Then when I'm happy enough to close the laptop on this bugger, I'll send it out and move on. Until then, I'll be right here, rewriting.

Because writing is rewriting. Every author worth their salt will tell you so.

Stay safe world in the path of Isaac. The winds are picking up here and the rain is starting. I'm going to shut this down and post before the storm lands. Peas be with you, always.

A Healthy Level of Insanity

Okay, loyal readers, you've read our individual views of genre. It's a complex topic and as you've seen, even the Peas have similar yet differing opinions. Every writer will have his/her own view of genre and, indeed, of fiction as a whole. However, one issue that fiction often presents garners a nearly unanimous agreement: Fiction, regardless of genre, must be believable in the eyes of the reader. There's just one tiny problem with that statement. Fiction, by its very definition, isn't real. How can you make something that is wholly unbelievable seem believable? It's a paradox that drives authors insane. Fortunately, it's a healthy level of insanity so (for the most part) the Straightjacket Brigade stays far, far away.

Thomas C. Foster, in How to Read Novels Like a Professor, says this about the Un/Believable Fiction Paradox (a label I totally just made up on the spot here):

"...the essential artifice of the novel [is that i]t is a made-up work about made-up people in a made-up place. All of which is very real. We are asked to believe in and treat as potentially real a space that is manifestly imaginary." 

Think about it for a moment. Have you ever read a book set in a contemporary time/place that seems far-fetched even for a novel? Maybe the author failed to explain a crucial piece of world building, such as why a person suddenly takes on the appearance of a disco ball after joining ranks of the undead?* Writers, even science fiction and fantasy authors, constantly walk a tightrope between what is believable and what will cause a reader to stop reading. This tightrope is best summed up in the Law of Bogus Locales, as again stated by Foster: "Places in a work of fiction are never real but must behave as if real."

Essentially, the Law of Bogus Locales means that any real-world, identifiable locale in a novel is a fictionalized version of itself. A small Washington state town isn't the real town. Cincinnati, Ohio is a shadow of the real city. The same is true for St. Louis, Louisville, New York, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, London, Tokyo, and any other place that can be located on a map or through a Google search. The version you read in a book exists only in the author's imagination. But...there's still that annoying bit about believability. Someone familiar with the area around Grand Central Terminal in New York will know there's a restaurant called Pershing Square tucked beneath the Park Avenue Viaduct and that the Chrysler Building is to the left when exiting Grand Central on 42nd Street. If a writer places the Chrysler Building to the right, a reader who knows that area may stop reading. To have any reader stop reading your book before the end is a death knell for a writer. These are the issues that drive authors crazy, give us nightmares, keep up us awake at night, and force us to double--triple--check every fact before we send a book to the publisher. And even then we worry.

So what do we do? Well...we cheat. We're kids with Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs; we build and we destroy. We add our own bits of flair. We fiddle with geography to suit our needs. We leave out certain information and trust our readers to fill in the gaps. Yes, we still get called out from time to time by readers who want to know why we did/didn't mention X, Y, or Z. The answers vary from author to author, but the main reason usually falls along the line of "X, Y, or Z didn't fit with the story I wanted to tell so I added/deleted it."

The truth I'm trying to convey here is that all writers suffer from some level of insanity, but it's a healthy level of insanity. We chose to walk the tightrope. We accepted the challenge issued by the Un/Believable Fiction Paradox. We do it because we love the thrill. We do it because we can't not do it.

Until next time...

Peas out.
J

* This is in no way a slam or slight against such an author. Merely a well-known example used to illustrate a point.

Licorice-flavored Brain Slugs and Faulkner

*Warning: This week's post is NSFW due to language. (In other words, it's J's turn!)

I have the Pod to myself this week. A is off giving a tour of an uncharted world. M has a queue of characters lined up for therapy. So this week you, dear readers, have to contend with the Resident Evil. Muwahahahahahaha!!!

What shall we discuss? Autopsy procedures? Crime scene screw ups? Sadistic serial killers and the women who love them? My hatred for the color pink? All of these are worthy topics but I'd actually like to offer up a bit of an explanation behind something that has been mentioned a few times on the blog already. If you read A's post in which she bared her writerly soul (and you should), then you undoubtedly read the following quote from yours truly:

"Pull your head out of your ass. Trust the story. Trust yourself, and WRITE, damn it!"

Yes, I said this. Yes, I stand behind it. I even have a version of it taped to my laptop as a reminder. While the meaning behind the statement is obvious, I still feel the need to explain how this simple phrase has become the unofficial official motto of the Ninja Peas.

It all started about a year or so ago when M was having a minor meltdown as all writers have from time to time. We all reach a point in a project where we hate everything we've written, everything we're currently writing, and everything we're going to write. In short, self-doubt slithers in like an alien slug, crawls undetected up our spines and burrows deep into our brains until we wake up one morning and question everything we've ever done, thought, planned, or plotted, and all we have left is a sudden and inexplicable love of elevator music, licorice jelly beans, and Faulkner. (If you know me then you know I detest all three. Yes, a former English major doesn't like Faulkner. Oh, the horror.) In an effort to help my friend and writing partner, I offered the best advice I could give...in my own way, of course. She has since passed this along to A and thus the unofficial official Ninja Pea motto was born.

Motto on J's laptop

Now this may sound like a bunch of self-aggrandizing bullshit. It's not. I'm fully aware of my insignificant place in the publishing world, and in the universe as a whole. However, I do know a thing or two about self-doubt and how it can kill a writer. So I'd like to offer up a little bit of hard-earned wisdom, not because I feel the need to stroke my own ego, but because if I can soften the blows for someone else (especially my Peas) then I will. No one can spare any writer the hard knocks. Those come with the territory and must be experienced. That's reality. But that doesn't mean you have to face them unprepared.

1. Pull your head out of your ass. Basically, as writers who actually want to see our names on bookstore shelves, we can't afford to have an obscured view of the publishing world. We can't have romanticized ideas of what it means to be a writer. We don't lock ourselves in a room for a few hours and fart out a manuscript. We write. We edit. We rewrite. We break down. We cry. We wail and gnash our teeth. We curl into blubbering balls of goo. It's normal. Writing is work...and yes, it's fucking hard work. It's not easy to live in your own head with imaginary people in a fantasy land for hours, days, weeks, months, or even years. But it is easy to get caught up in the minutiae of plotting, character arcs, and world building and forget to actually move the story forward by throwing words at the page. We have to pull our heads out of our asses and remember why we do this to ourselves so that when the self-doubt slugs creep into our brains and start doing the Electric Slide to elevator music we can blast them with AC/DC. Self-doubt slugs hate AC/DC.

2. Trust the story. The story knows where it needs to go. It's your job as the writer to guide it and make sure it's hitting certain check points. This is where the fucking hard work comes into play because you may not know all the check points. Yes, you've planned them out in advance but as often happens, the story wants to go in new directions. Don't fight it. Let it happen. Everything can be fixed in the rewrite phase, which by the way is more fucking hard work. Let the story do the Macarena. Unleash the screaming monkeys. Just don't stop throwing words at the page.

3. Trust yourself... This is the hardest part for many writers, thanks to the self-doubt slugs. Those little buggers feed on licorice jelly beans and leave slimy black residue in their wake. This residue eats away at the brain and causes the writer to question her ability to not only tell a story but to even form a coherent sentence. The slime cripples. Every writer has a different way of combating the slime. For me, walking away is the best defense. When the slime reaches critical mass, I shut down the laptop and walk away. I close up shop and spend a day or two on the couch either reading or watching Disney movies. Self-doubt slugs hate it when we read. Books are salt and it shrivels the slugs and dries the slime to a flaky and easily vacuumed powder. Disney movies are also great for this and not as big of a time investment as a book for when you're in a deadline crunch. Oh, deadlines...slugs love them. Have a liberal supply of salt handy.

As I Lay Dying
(Oh, dear gods, kill me now.
Don't make me read this crap!
Salt! I need the fucking salt!)

4. ...and WRITE, damn it! This is self-explanatory. Throw words at the page. They don't have to be good words. Those come in the rewriting phase. But you can't rewrite what you don't have. The self-doubt slugs are going to try to turn you into Faulkner. They will try to make you write like this:

"The path runs straight as a plumb-line, worn smooth by feet and baked brick-hard by July, between the green rows of laidby cotton, to the cottonhouse in the center of the field, where it turns and circles the cottonhouse at four soft right angles and goes on across the field again, worn so by feet in fading precision." - (As I Lay Dying 3.2)

Do. Not. Listen. To. The. Slugs. They. LIE! This is not good writing. This is the work of an overrated hack. (Yes, I said hack.) Just write the path is straight, worn by years of foot traffic, and cuts across the cotton field. BUT only if it's important to the story! Move the action. Move the characters. Move the story forward. Don't get caught up in the minutiae.

The first draft should be dirty and gritty and raw. You clean and polish and cook it later. The best way to combat the slugs is to write quickly and not give them time to burrow into your brain. Once they've become entrenched, they're hard to get out.

So... Pull your head out of your ass. Trust the story. Trust yourself, and WRITE, damn it!

Peas out,

J