Once upon a time there was a girl who decided to write a book. And in this book, she made up a world where magic existed and dubbed it a fantasy. She had a heroine who faced personal loss and was rather quite cardboard and didn’t even meet the hero until well into the book. The movement was bland and boring with only a few moments of brilliance. Underneath all the lackluster writing was the making of a good story.

The girl, of course, is me. And the book is the one that just got rejected.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And while I’m thinking about this book (working title MAGIC WITHIN), I’ve been working on the second book. And I think it finally hit me. What’s wrong with the book is the writing sucks.

Yes, I can admit that. The writing just bloody sucks. I can tell a difference between it and the stuff I’m writing today. It’s a lot more fluid and vibrant than this piece of shit I call a novel.

Hey I can say that – it’s my novel.

So I was a terrible newbie when I wrote it and it’s so obvious to me now. I’m embarrassed I even submitted it anyway.

Which brings me to my writing mistakes.

Mistake #1: The H/H don’t meet until well into chapter 3. Hello!

This is supposed to be a romance, so typically, the H/H meet right away. This an obvious romance novel faux pas which needs to be rectified. I know - the rule of thumb is they can meet as late as chapter 3, but do readers really want to wait that long for Mr. Wonderful to make an appearance? I think not.

Mistake #2: The writing just sucks.

She did this. She did that. She felt this. She felt that. BO-RING. Too many “shes” and too many wooden movements. It needs to be livelier. Tighter. Better. Interesting, for God’s sake!

Mistake #3: Too many characters.

In the opening chapter I flooded the reader with – get this – FIVE characters. FIVE. I mean, I think this can be pulled off introducing a lot of characters at once, but it has to be done delicately. And a lot of description just makes the reader want to stop reading. No one really gives a shit if the bad guy has blue eyes or green eyes. Do they?

Mistake #4: Weak Worldbuilding

Yeah, it’s a fantasy. But just because you throw in some made up words and a few weirdly named places doesn’t make it a fantasy. The world has to be real. Worldbuilding requires figuring out what sort of money these folks use and how. Do they barter? If so, with what? Are they poor? Are they rich? Where do they live? What is the royal hierarchy? What about religion? What about the economy? The culture? What do they wear? How about the world itself? What does it look like? Countries? Provinces? Kingdoms?

See? Tons of questions that need to be answered.

So how does one fix these mistakes? (I’m just talking out loud here, folks.)

This is the answer I’ve come up with so far. I suppose one begins by breaking down the story into the simplest form. In one sentence – what is the story about? And if the story can’t be summed up in one sentence, then perhaps it’s too complex.

Then perhaps the story needs to be started from a completely different standpoint. A new setting. A more vibrant setting. Have the H/H meet a helluva lot sooner. Par down the number of characters at the beginning. Show, don’t tell.

I have to admit, though, it’s hard to see these mistakes in your own writing. And even harder to admit you just might suck. And harder still to face those mistakes and try to fix them.

Do other writers face these demons? If so, how do you identify and fix your writing mistakes?

One day while listening to music on the internet, I wondered about the song writer. Where does he get his ideas from?

So I asked him.

I was curious to see if his writing process differed from mine as a romance author. We are both telling a story though his is a condensed compact get to the point quickly versions of a boy meet girl, boy gets girls and the many variations. I was surprised at the similarities as well as the differences.

My guineas pig, er ah that is to say wonderful MySpace chum Chad Holland from Wave Pool dared to answer the challenge of my questions. Q=questions, A=his answers, D=me :-)

Q: When did you first become interested in writing your own music?
A: I first started playing the guitar when I was about 16. And I immediately was trying to create my own songs on the guitar. They certainly were the equivalent of a 5 year old drawing a stick figure at first. lol. But over time I gradually got better, and frankly still feel I have a lot of growth in me.

D: ME TOO – well the growth part. I think all artists have an ever evolving style that keeps us excited and interested and drives most of out motivation.

Q: When you write, do you construct the lyrics first or the music?
A: It really depends on the song, it takes its own course. Most generally the course it takes is a bit of both at the same time, first starting with a guitar riff or pattern that I come across that begins to connect with me, and I’ll repeat it over and over just kind of sinking into the rhythm and sound of the chords or picking pattern. And I start to get a feel for where the sound wants to go, and try to take it there. And often in the mix of that the tune that I have started playing will begin stirring emotions in me about something that has recently been on my mind a lot, the tune usually being a somewhat crude translation of the emotions and or thought I have been mulling over inside. Sometimes I’ll start humming or singing a melody along with the tune, try to find the pattern to match the guitar and the emotions/thought inspiring it. And then the words begin to surface, like a simmering pot on the stove.  Sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Sometimes organized into a coherent thought, sometimes scrambled and cryptic at first. Sometimes the song gets written in 10 minutes, some times it takes several days repeating parts before other parts come along to fill gaps or connect sections.

There are occasions when the lyrics come first. Sometimes I’ll just sit down and begin writing what I’m feeling at a point in my life, kind of like a diary or journal entry. And sometimes those thoughts take the shape of a poem or potential song. And then sometime later, usually in a fairly close amount of time, I’ll be goofing around on my guitar and start writing a tune and realize the words I wrote down two weeks ago would likely go well with this. And then I start seeing if I can fit the two together. Sometimes the whole thing more or less lines up, sometimes it gets cut into pieces and reorganized, and some times some extra lines get added to connect the dots.

D: Novels are much the same way. For me, I get hung up on an idea, “What would happen if…” and I will construct the entire book around that. Connecting the dot for me is laying in extra levels of the characters that lends to their growth and motivation through the story.

Q: Where do you get the inspiration for your lyrics?
A: Girls! Where else! lol. Actually, I say that half jokingly. Others things inspire me too of course. Good and Bad experiences with Family and Friends. Experiences in my life, negative and positive, that stand out in my mind and stay with me over time. Or things that I want to happen in my life, things that I dream about. But mostly it’s relationships that inspire my songs, and not necessarily my relationships directly. Sometimes it’s relationships and experiences of those around me.

D: I can relate. Someone makes us mad (okay I mean me) and we put them in a story and do some evil things to them. Something makes us (me again) laugh and I give it to the hero or heroine to endear the other to them.

(more…)

So recently my cohorts in crime blogged about Fear, Divorcing your Work and Michelle has an upcoming blog on Mistakes in Writing which makes me think I should blog about something writerly-like since, you know, we’re writers.

*scratching head* I’m having a hard time coming up with something sufficiently witty to add to the fray. And to be honest, I’m reluctant to hand out advice like granny hands out Pumpkin Pie on Thanksgiving, so I think I’ll just sit here and be brutally honest–which will probably get my ass in big trouble but it won’t be the first time…after all I’m just throwing paint on the elephant that everyone ignores so you can all see it for what it is. But something recently happened that left tme thinking some pretty rotten things about…some folks…and reminded me once again of something I already knew.

There’s something rather scary about getting a bunch of women together–YOU KNOW there’s going to be trouble. Don’t deny it. It’s funny how they say the world would be such a better place if women ran things but you know what? I think they’re full of shit. I think we’d still have problems if women were the majority in charge instead of men becuase we’re all a bunch of bitches.

I’ll admit I’m a bitch but I tend to be a pretty up-front bitch. I absolutely possitively don’t deal in bullshit and I have a tendancy to view everyone wtih a rather sceptical eye–blame it on being burned one too many times by, you guessed it, a woman.

I’m not sneaky. I don’t like games. So don’t play games and act the bitch on me cause you can damned sure bet I’ll call your ass on it, and call you seven kinds of a bitch in the process. I’m not a schemer, I’m not cunning, but most women are, throw in the competitiveness of the writing industry and you have a bonfire in the making.

A big bonfire!

I have few writer friends, some people I admire, tons of acquaintances and just as many women out there that I’d as soon spit on as trust.
(more…)

So this is Black Friday, the shopper’s delight, the merchandiser’s dream.  Appropriately named, in my humble opinion.  As one who has a genuine phobia about the crushing sensation caused by crowds, you couldn’t get me into a store today for love or money.  But then, several holiday traditions leave me baffled, and I tend to see a slightly twisted side of some things…

Fruitcake, for example.  In my family, those suckers were passed along like a hot brick in the hand.  If Mom got one for Christmas, you’d better believe somebody got that same fruitcake for New Year’s, then a birthday, President’s Day, funeral–whatever.  Once, just as we were about to pass the brick cake on to an aunt in another state, I alerted my mother to the fact that the plastic wrapping was slightly torn.  “Doesn’t matter,” she said easily.  “It’s a fruitcake.  No one will care.”

And we worry about what to do with toxic waste??

When I was a kid, I always watched the Macy’s parade, as many people did.  But I must confess–as I get older and look at it with an increasingly warped mind, it starts to haunt me…the sight of all those monstrous creatures filled with hot air, hovering menacingly over crowds of hundreds of children as their parents look on, grinning happily.  There’s something Stepford-scary about that image, folks. 

To celebrate the holiday today in our town we had the annual Turkey Bowl.  No, it’s not a football game–it’s exactly what it sounds like.  A lot of very peculiar people gather at a bowling alley and bowl with frozen turkeys instead of balls.

Yeah, buddy.  I certainly can’t think of a better way to show how thankful I am for life than to toss the dead carcass of a mutilated bird down a wooden aisle… 

Then there are those people who stand on corners with hanging kettles and little silver bells.  I’m sure their cause is a just one–but I always wonder where they’ve been all year?  Do they just come out now because they’re the Anti-Clauses, little frost-loving demons especially trained to take instead of give, or because we’ll feel guiltier about not giving now?  And what about those kettles?  Have they been using them to cook soup or souls all year—or is that the proverbial pot nobody had to piss in?  And why have they been stolen?

Think I’m being foolish, huh?  Oh yeah?  Have you noticed the preponderance of poisonous or dangerous plants available this time of year?  Why now?  Is it a subtle sort of message, a hint that you’d better like your gift—or else?!  Think about it when you’re lip-locked under a little deadly mistletoe, or your sweetie gives you that lovely laxative-inducing poinsetta.  Coincidence?  I think not. 

Today is Black Friday.  Welcome to the dark side. 

Oh, and lest I forget—hope everyone’s Thanksgiving was just ginger-snappy!

(…And by the way—have you noticed the Mr. Bill-look of absolute horror many gingerbread men have plastered on their faces??…) 

I hope everyone is enjoying this day of thanks. I know I will be.

I’d like to take a minute to say what I’m thankful for this year (yeah, I know it’s totally sappy but it’s been a long hard year for me…so… bear with me).

Despite the fact I got divorced this year, I have to admit that it’s the best thing that’s happened to me. My writing has been better than usual, I’ve sold two books (and am hopeful for a third). I bought my very own house. I bought new furniture. I got a raise and a promotion at my Day Job. I’m dating The Man (a restraunt manager who has very little time but still manages to squeeze me in. Wow that sounded odd…). And I have my son who’s just the center of my universe. It’s been rocky and it’s been wild but it’s been exhilirating. I’m thankful every day I have what I have and I’m not out on the street because things could have gone from bad to worse. But I managed and I’m still here. And for the first time in a very long time, I’m happy.

So. What are you thankful for this year?

No not the kind between a man and a woman but the kind between a writer and their words.

I very belatedly found this discussion on some of the books from the ebook challenge here, including THe Big Gir’s Guide.

Laura sums it up with this very pointed comment which I think is true of most of what I write (and a good reminder as I struggle through writing Nailed):

Whatever the sub-genre, romances seek to make sense of many of life’s most challenging problems, particularly the doubts and fears that stop individuals finding true emotional intimacy.

Doubts and Fears, as you know from Raine’s blog post last Friday, are universal and they play a big role in TBGG for both Jade and Rowdy.

Now on to our story which is 100% true. Once upon a time there was this guy. And this woman. And they met on the internet, on an email list for a country music singer. They were both damaged, they both had huge trust issues, among others. But they got to talking and talking and they opened up to one another and the woman fell in love with the man, she loved him more than any other man she’d ever met and she didn’t even know what he looked like.

Then something terrible happened to the man. He didn’t die but he did run, far away from his life, his friends, the internet but he promised to be back in six weeks. Five days later, the woman lost her mother in a freak accident. Life was very tough but she struggled through. She finally heard from the man six months later. He was sorry about her mother but he wasn’t coming back. She resigned herself to writing him off even though it hurt like hell. She met a real man (real meaning flesh and blood and nothing more), dated, broke up, and 18 months after the guy disappeared, decided that she needed to get her shit together. She started writing. She finished her first manuscript in three months and felt better than she’d felt in years. She quit smoking, she started exercising. And she kept writing. Life was pretty damned good. She was making progress. She was going somewhere.

Then one day she got an email from an old friend, asking if she knew this guy–yes THAT GUY–and she got an email from him. He wanted back on her old friend’s email list and wanted her to vouch for him. She did so, and was vocally reluctant about it to the list owner. She emailed the guy and said, “It’s done.”

He emailed her back and flirted. Deep down inside she knew she couldn’t take herself back to that place again so she told him to shit or get off the pot. He never wrote back, his decission was made. And of course, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. The woman went to Target. She bought a bra, and some panties and Milano cookies and diet Dr Pepper and she got home and she tried on the bra and the mother fucker didn’t fit.

At that moment she knew she had a story to tell, even if she could never tell the real story, because fact really IS stranger than fiction, she could tell a different one. Something close, but not exactly the same. Something involving a trip to Target and things she wanted every woman to know.

And she never ever bought another George Strait CD again.

The End

“‘Come to the edge,’ He said.   They said, ‘We are afraid’.

‘Come to the edge,’ He said.

They came.  He pushed them…and they flew.” ~~Guillaume Apollinaire

Let’s talk FEAR.

No, I’m not talking little things that go bump in the freaking night.  I’m talking about the little things that go bump in your overcrowded mind and in your wee, vulnerable heart.

I’m posing this as a question to writers, since they seem to frequent this blog most—but feel free to comment on anything that affects you.

As an author, what are your greatest fears regarding your writing?

I’ve heard various comments before, such as running out of ideas, never finding the right editor/agent/publisher, books not selling, genres burning out, losing the ‘muse’, etc.  But I think sometimes the fear goes even deeper than we realize ourselves.  And recognition is the first step to cure, yes?

Dig deep, and let us know what you come up with.  Maybe it’ll be of some help–or inspiration-to someone else.

Me?  

I suppose I have a few, actually.  But I know that one of the big ones is the fear that my writing isn’t as good as I try to make myself believe it is.

And maybe—just maybe—I may worry that my writing is competent, which would eliminate any excuses for lack of progress.  And where would I be without excuses?!

So, how about you?  C’mon, feel free to lay your guts open for the common good.  Why not?

After all—what are you afraid of?

Doesn’t it? I mean, you send off your project into the big wide world with high hopes. You wait for at least six months to hear something and then you get the letter back that says – no, thank you. It’s hard getting any rejection. And even harder to make yourself keep writing when you get one.

I’ve finally received my rejection from Harlequin/Luna. Which is really fine. But you know… you think you have a great story but when it’s been rejected umpteen times, you just want to throw it away.

For me, I get to a point where I start wondering if the project is worth believing in anymore. Do I try to rewrite it again? Do I try to sell it elsewhere? Or do I just throw it in the trash and call it done? Maybe it’s truly time to retire that book and forget about it. Maybe it’s time to throw it away and stop trying to publish it.

Or maybe I could stick my finger in the air and just try again.

Maybe.

Tag … you’re it
 

He said

she lamented

. . . . laughed, cried, yelled, whispered, questioned, replied, asked, answered, snorted, choked, groaned, moaned, etc, etc, etc . . . .

I will admit though, writers are the harshest critics and we tend to have one or two things that we can pull our self up on the SOAP box about and inhale deeply before we let it rip, so take what I say with a grain of salt.

(and again… for those who regularly read my personal blog – thank you so very much and you may recognize this from last Spring – I apologize for the repeat but as I am in the throes of Nano, AND I am in the middle of edits!)