What's playing on the ipod: King for a Day, Thompson Twins
Our life can change in a moment. I really thought about this after 9/11, when you could feel the world changing in the course of a few hours. On a personal level, my life has changed quickly due to a cross-country move, a drastic change in careers, and the birth of a child.
Not all changes are permanent. I'm sitting here in Northern New England, looking out my window at snow, bare branches, mountains. In less than forty-eight hours I'll be in Provence, speaking French, eating tartes aux framboises, and a world away from my cares at the inn. For obvious reasons, I might not be checking in here for awhile after tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Facile
What's playing on the ipod: Big Yellow Taxi, Joni Mitchell
Doesn't it seem like the "issues" raised in modern media are no deeper than the aforementioned Joni Mitchell song? Mitchell sings: "You pave paradise, put up a parking lot...they took all the trees and put 'em in a tree museum. Charged people a dollar and a half just to see 'em."
That's great for a pop song, but sadly, most books don't go further in depth than that. They're either polemics, or they shorthand the talking points of our day. Just like Disney makes its cartoon villains evil with big noses and beady eyes so that it doesn't have to show us evil, so writers characterize people by showing them pro-life or xenophobic, or that they don't recycle. We know that if they double up their plastic grocery bags they're going to be bad in other ways too. I remember a friend commenting on Party of Five, how the Neve Cambell character put up with her boyfriend's abusive behavior, his substance abuse, and all manner of other evils, but god, how she flipped out when he made a casually racist statement. She broke up with him then and there and nothing he could do could repent of that sin.
Here's a surprisingly controversial statement. Not all racists are evil. I've got one elderly relative, product of her times, who lets slip shockingly racist comments on occasions. She can be generous, stubborn, kind, cranky, and plenty of other things that make up the complexity of human experience, but she's also a racist. It's one thing that makes up her personality, and no, it's not a pretty thing, but neither is alcoholism or a bad temper, or other things that we are willing to forgive.
I've been thinking of this because of the Imus controversy. Had Imus been convicted of faking prescriptions (Limbaugh) or stealing money via insider trading (Martha Stuart), he'd have done his penance and moved on. But the crime of speaking rudely about race could not be tolerated. He also committed thought crimes about class and gender, but these were nearly forgotten when the trump card of race hit the table.
As a white guy, I'm not brave enough to deal with race in my books, except in the most oblique way. I feel comfortable poking at religious issues, as in The Righteous, or at our class/meritocracy society in my current book, and I like to think that I consider these issues from an unusual angle. I'm just not willing to do the same with race. I'd either hit the facile talking points in an intellectually dishonest way, or I'd venture into dangerous territory.
Doesn't it seem like the "issues" raised in modern media are no deeper than the aforementioned Joni Mitchell song? Mitchell sings: "You pave paradise, put up a parking lot...they took all the trees and put 'em in a tree museum. Charged people a dollar and a half just to see 'em."
That's great for a pop song, but sadly, most books don't go further in depth than that. They're either polemics, or they shorthand the talking points of our day. Just like Disney makes its cartoon villains evil with big noses and beady eyes so that it doesn't have to show us evil, so writers characterize people by showing them pro-life or xenophobic, or that they don't recycle. We know that if they double up their plastic grocery bags they're going to be bad in other ways too. I remember a friend commenting on Party of Five, how the Neve Cambell character put up with her boyfriend's abusive behavior, his substance abuse, and all manner of other evils, but god, how she flipped out when he made a casually racist statement. She broke up with him then and there and nothing he could do could repent of that sin.
Here's a surprisingly controversial statement. Not all racists are evil. I've got one elderly relative, product of her times, who lets slip shockingly racist comments on occasions. She can be generous, stubborn, kind, cranky, and plenty of other things that make up the complexity of human experience, but she's also a racist. It's one thing that makes up her personality, and no, it's not a pretty thing, but neither is alcoholism or a bad temper, or other things that we are willing to forgive.
I've been thinking of this because of the Imus controversy. Had Imus been convicted of faking prescriptions (Limbaugh) or stealing money via insider trading (Martha Stuart), he'd have done his penance and moved on. But the crime of speaking rudely about race could not be tolerated. He also committed thought crimes about class and gender, but these were nearly forgotten when the trump card of race hit the table.
As a white guy, I'm not brave enough to deal with race in my books, except in the most oblique way. I feel comfortable poking at religious issues, as in The Righteous, or at our class/meritocracy society in my current book, and I like to think that I consider these issues from an unusual angle. I'm just not willing to do the same with race. I'd either hit the facile talking points in an intellectually dishonest way, or I'd venture into dangerous territory.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Self Reflection
What's playing on the ipod: Paloma Negra
The only other thing I remember about the aforementioned semi-girlfriend with the sexy voice is that she once said, in the gentlest way possible, "Michael, you're very arrogant" and I was shocked. SHOCKED! The thought had never occurred to me before. I was arrogant? Self-assured, certainly. Confident of my intellectual abilities, while less sanguine about my appearance, my work ethic, my ability to make friends, or a host of other personality traits. But did my self-assurance equate as arrogance in other people's eyes.
Ironically, that comment was the catalyst for all manner of self-doubt. By arrogant did she mean that I was a jerk? And wasn't I perhaps overconfident in my intellect? After all, the world is full of smart people. I'm tall too, but I occasionally run into people even taller than I am. And there was a damn good chance that I was not as smart as I was tall, relative to the general population. But people don't wear their IQ tatooed on their forehead; would I recognize these people if I met them? Or would my very mental inferiority render their thought processes inpenetrable to my feeble intellect.
The only other thing I remember about the aforementioned semi-girlfriend with the sexy voice is that she once said, in the gentlest way possible, "Michael, you're very arrogant" and I was shocked. SHOCKED! The thought had never occurred to me before. I was arrogant? Self-assured, certainly. Confident of my intellectual abilities, while less sanguine about my appearance, my work ethic, my ability to make friends, or a host of other personality traits. But did my self-assurance equate as arrogance in other people's eyes.
Ironically, that comment was the catalyst for all manner of self-doubt. By arrogant did she mean that I was a jerk? And wasn't I perhaps overconfident in my intellect? After all, the world is full of smart people. I'm tall too, but I occasionally run into people even taller than I am. And there was a damn good chance that I was not as smart as I was tall, relative to the general population. But people don't wear their IQ tatooed on their forehead; would I recognize these people if I met them? Or would my very mental inferiority render their thought processes inpenetrable to my feeble intellect.
The Long Winter
What's playing on the ipod: Malinche, Lila Downs
My ancestors came from Scotland. In Scotland you’re more likely to need a coat in July than air conditioning or sun block. Maybe that’s how I ended up in Northern New England. I’m the sort of person who starts to eye the thermometer nervously when it edges above seventy. I’d sooner pull on a sweatshirt than a t-shirt. I’d just as soon go to bed when it’s cool and I can hunker down under the blankets. What’s more, I like to ski. I live about two miles from a major ski resort and try to get up once or twice a week during the ski season, even if only for a couple of hours. I track winter storms, praying for snow and bemoaning the rain.
Having said that, winters up here are too long. By late October, stick season is upon us and the leaves don’t reemerge until well into May. That’s a seven months of leafless existence, with the bookend months of November and April delivering cold rain and mud (or, in this year's case, snow). Apart from building a pipeline to Arizona to pipe in sunlight and send out excess rain and mud, there is nothing to be done but count the days until summer comes.
Thankfully, I'll be in Provence in four days. Takes the sting out of the weather.
My ancestors came from Scotland. In Scotland you’re more likely to need a coat in July than air conditioning or sun block. Maybe that’s how I ended up in Northern New England. I’m the sort of person who starts to eye the thermometer nervously when it edges above seventy. I’d sooner pull on a sweatshirt than a t-shirt. I’d just as soon go to bed when it’s cool and I can hunker down under the blankets. What’s more, I like to ski. I live about two miles from a major ski resort and try to get up once or twice a week during the ski season, even if only for a couple of hours. I track winter storms, praying for snow and bemoaning the rain.
Having said that, winters up here are too long. By late October, stick season is upon us and the leaves don’t reemerge until well into May. That’s a seven months of leafless existence, with the bookend months of November and April delivering cold rain and mud (or, in this year's case, snow). Apart from building a pipeline to Arizona to pipe in sunlight and send out excess rain and mud, there is nothing to be done but count the days until summer comes.
Thankfully, I'll be in Provence in four days. Takes the sting out of the weather.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Writing Plan
What's playing on the ipod: Shadow Boxer, Fiona Apple*
Okay, so I'm close enough with the pre-writing that I can come up with a tentative writing schedule. My goal is to finish pre-writing by the time I leave for Provence next Wednesday. I hope to start writing first draft stuff after I decompress from the trip, say, by May 5. At my 1,000 words a day, I should finish a first draft by the end of July.
I'll give it another two months to do rewrites, another six weeks for beta reads and further rewrites, and then hopefully get it in my agent's hands around mid-November.
Of course, my plan might be sidetracked if I have to do extensive rewrites on The Righteous at my editor's request. Hopefully, not.
*There's something about the contralto voice that is incredibly sultry. I had a sort-of girlfriend in high school with that kind of voice. She was seventeen, but didn't sound it. She called once and my father said, "A woman called today. Said her name was A-." Pause. "Is she in college?"
I think Apple was about 18 when she recorded Tidal. I soured on her a bit when I saw the video for Criminal. I'm not into the heroin look: pale skin with bruising around the eyes and skeletally thin. But god, what a voice.
Okay, so I'm close enough with the pre-writing that I can come up with a tentative writing schedule. My goal is to finish pre-writing by the time I leave for Provence next Wednesday. I hope to start writing first draft stuff after I decompress from the trip, say, by May 5. At my 1,000 words a day, I should finish a first draft by the end of July.
I'll give it another two months to do rewrites, another six weeks for beta reads and further rewrites, and then hopefully get it in my agent's hands around mid-November.
Of course, my plan might be sidetracked if I have to do extensive rewrites on The Righteous at my editor's request. Hopefully, not.
*There's something about the contralto voice that is incredibly sultry. I had a sort-of girlfriend in high school with that kind of voice. She was seventeen, but didn't sound it. She called once and my father said, "A woman called today. Said her name was A-." Pause. "Is she in college?"
I think Apple was about 18 when she recorded Tidal. I soured on her a bit when I saw the video for Criminal. I'm not into the heroin look: pale skin with bruising around the eyes and skeletally thin. But god, what a voice.
Domestic Stuff
What's playing on the ipod: Left of Center, Suzanne Vega
This isn't exactly a news flash to those of you who have kids, but boy, toddlers can be naughty. And maybe I'm just getting older and less enamored of the difficult parts of being a parent, but this little guy seems naughtier than any of the others. Oh, he's plenty cheerful, so it's not like I'm dealing with a fussy child, but that cheerfulness extends to all manner of destructive behavior.
So, about a week ago I hear a grinding noise and discover that he's up on the office chair, sharpening pencils. Problem is, his little finger could fit down in that hole, and here he is poking at it. Given that a week ago he got the iron off the shelf and plugged it in and then (lightly) burned his fingers, I decide to move the pencil sharpener. No problem, Dad, I'll just push this chair up to the shelf. So I unplug the pencil sharpener. Ah, but that's not a problem, either. It took him all of about ten seconds to figure out why the sharpener was not working, another ten to find which cord was unplugged and ten more before it was plugged in and he was shoving pens and pencils down it again. While I admire the problem solving abilities of a 17 month old baby, I wish they would manifest themselves at a later date.
Other favorites: pouring salt into piles on the floor, feeding cereal to the dog, experimenting to see how hard dishes have to fall in order to break, feeding himself waffle mix or sugar, pushing the power button on the computer and then running away with a squeal of delight, and banging randomly at the keyboard and/or mouse until something interesting happens.
Good thing they're cute.
This isn't exactly a news flash to those of you who have kids, but boy, toddlers can be naughty. And maybe I'm just getting older and less enamored of the difficult parts of being a parent, but this little guy seems naughtier than any of the others. Oh, he's plenty cheerful, so it's not like I'm dealing with a fussy child, but that cheerfulness extends to all manner of destructive behavior.
So, about a week ago I hear a grinding noise and discover that he's up on the office chair, sharpening pencils. Problem is, his little finger could fit down in that hole, and here he is poking at it. Given that a week ago he got the iron off the shelf and plugged it in and then (lightly) burned his fingers, I decide to move the pencil sharpener. No problem, Dad, I'll just push this chair up to the shelf. So I unplug the pencil sharpener. Ah, but that's not a problem, either. It took him all of about ten seconds to figure out why the sharpener was not working, another ten to find which cord was unplugged and ten more before it was plugged in and he was shoving pens and pencils down it again. While I admire the problem solving abilities of a 17 month old baby, I wish they would manifest themselves at a later date.
Other favorites: pouring salt into piles on the floor, feeding cereal to the dog, experimenting to see how hard dishes have to fall in order to break, feeding himself waffle mix or sugar, pushing the power button on the computer and then running away with a squeal of delight, and banging randomly at the keyboard and/or mouse until something interesting happens.
Good thing they're cute.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
More Progress
What's playing on the ipod: Hands, Jewel
I've made some more plot and character progress this morning. My goal is to have the prewriting done by the time I go to France on the 18th. I'll take a couple of days to get settled when I get back and then I'll probably get going on the book. My original goal was to have three chapters ready for the retreat this summer, but that's not until August. If I start producing first draft stuff by mid-May, my normal pace would see me closing in on a complete first draft by the time of the retreat.
On an unrelated note, I'm feeling rather fat at the moment. I get a fair amount of exercise in the winter, skiing 1-2 times per week, but I've been excessively hungry, and there's been a lot of time sitting in front of the computer or on the couch. Normally, I'm out walking the dog around the beaver pond at least once a day by this time of the year, but the trails are still inaccessible due to the snow. I keep meaning to get some decent snow shoes, but I don't have them yet, and when the snow is 3-4 feet deep, I'd need them for the dog as well.
I am active on my trips, but I can't imagine I'll come back from France having shed any pounds. Between the cheese, the pastries, bread, and other offerings of the French cuisine, I'll be lucky if I don't add a kilo or two.
I've made some more plot and character progress this morning. My goal is to have the prewriting done by the time I go to France on the 18th. I'll take a couple of days to get settled when I get back and then I'll probably get going on the book. My original goal was to have three chapters ready for the retreat this summer, but that's not until August. If I start producing first draft stuff by mid-May, my normal pace would see me closing in on a complete first draft by the time of the retreat.
On an unrelated note, I'm feeling rather fat at the moment. I get a fair amount of exercise in the winter, skiing 1-2 times per week, but I've been excessively hungry, and there's been a lot of time sitting in front of the computer or on the couch. Normally, I'm out walking the dog around the beaver pond at least once a day by this time of the year, but the trails are still inaccessible due to the snow. I keep meaning to get some decent snow shoes, but I don't have them yet, and when the snow is 3-4 feet deep, I'd need them for the dog as well.
I am active on my trips, but I can't imagine I'll come back from France having shed any pounds. Between the cheese, the pastries, bread, and other offerings of the French cuisine, I'll be lucky if I don't add a kilo or two.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
More On Pre-Writing
What's playing on the ipod: Read My Mind, The Killers
The pre-writing stage is tricky to get a handle on. Am I half done? A third done? More like two thirds? It's hard to tell, because while I can feel things coming together and I can see the page count increasing by 1-2 every day, it's mostly just a jumble of notes and snippets of dialogue. My gut feeling is that there are still one or two things left to come together and then I'll be ready to roll. I overcame a major hurdle character-wise this week. That leaves mostly plot stuff to figure out.
In other news, there's another big snow storm coming tomorrow. One week from today we go to Provence. Naturally, I won't be updating the blog during that time.
The pre-writing stage is tricky to get a handle on. Am I half done? A third done? More like two thirds? It's hard to tell, because while I can feel things coming together and I can see the page count increasing by 1-2 every day, it's mostly just a jumble of notes and snippets of dialogue. My gut feeling is that there are still one or two things left to come together and then I'll be ready to roll. I overcame a major hurdle character-wise this week. That leaves mostly plot stuff to figure out.
In other news, there's another big snow storm coming tomorrow. One week from today we go to Provence. Naturally, I won't be updating the blog during that time.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Three Stages of Writing: Rough Draft
What's playing on the ipod: The Phoenix, Kate Price
So the time comes when I've got a bunch of notes, know my main characters, my major plot points, etc., and I am ready to start writing the first draft. It's important to give enough time to the initial brainstorming stage or I'll have a much tougher final rewrite stage. The key is to know enough to know where I'm going but not so much that I can't enjoy some of the discovery excitement during the first draft stage.
The first thing I do is start a log, where I track my daily word count. It will look something like this.
chapter one:
4/1 - 0,800
4/2 -1,500
4/3 - 2,100
chapter two:
4/3 - 0,200
4/4 - 1,400
4/5 - 2,500
4/6 - 3,400 (5,500)
chapter three:
4/6 - 0,300
4/7 - 0,600
4/8 - 1,400
4/9 - 2,900
4/10 - 3,800 (9,300)
That is, I keep track of both my daily word count and, when I finish a chapter, of my overall word count. I don't worry too much about keeping this 100% accurate when I go back and fiddle with earlier chapters. I'm not keeping a record so much as forcing myself to mark daily progress to keep myself on my word count goals.
That goal is 1,000 words per day. I don't hit that every day--it's especially tough in the early chapters when I'm still fumbling around--but I stick to that more than you'd expect. Around the middle of the book my count starts creeping up to the 1,200 to 1,400 count and there are occasional days toward the end when I'll hit 2,000. The key for me is momentum. I force myself to add to the story each and every day at a certain rate; it's surprising how quickly I reach the end.
Nevertheless, there inevitably comes a point a month or two into the book when I'm far enough from the end that the initial enthusiasm is gone but not so close to the end that I can feel the excitement of pending completion. It's here that it's easiest to slip for a day or two, which can quickly become a week or more. I cannot give into this urge.
I also discover some serious flaws in early chapters at this stage. On occasion, I'll go back and write in a new scene that will help set up the current action. In most cases, however, I make a note to my file of known problems and continue forward. This file usually has 60-80 issues noted by the time I finish my first draft. This is my springboard for my rewrite. I think it's easier to start that final, least favorite phase when I've got all manner of minor and major issues to attack.
If I've done my prewriting work, I'll write the first draft of the novel in 2-3 months. This is the most satisfying stage, but also the one where I need to work the hardest and the most consistently.
So the time comes when I've got a bunch of notes, know my main characters, my major plot points, etc., and I am ready to start writing the first draft. It's important to give enough time to the initial brainstorming stage or I'll have a much tougher final rewrite stage. The key is to know enough to know where I'm going but not so much that I can't enjoy some of the discovery excitement during the first draft stage.
The first thing I do is start a log, where I track my daily word count. It will look something like this.
chapter one:
4/1 - 0,800
4/2 -1,500
4/3 - 2,100
chapter two:
4/3 - 0,200
4/4 - 1,400
4/5 - 2,500
4/6 - 3,400 (5,500)
chapter three:
4/6 - 0,300
4/7 - 0,600
4/8 - 1,400
4/9 - 2,900
4/10 - 3,800 (9,300)
That is, I keep track of both my daily word count and, when I finish a chapter, of my overall word count. I don't worry too much about keeping this 100% accurate when I go back and fiddle with earlier chapters. I'm not keeping a record so much as forcing myself to mark daily progress to keep myself on my word count goals.
That goal is 1,000 words per day. I don't hit that every day--it's especially tough in the early chapters when I'm still fumbling around--but I stick to that more than you'd expect. Around the middle of the book my count starts creeping up to the 1,200 to 1,400 count and there are occasional days toward the end when I'll hit 2,000. The key for me is momentum. I force myself to add to the story each and every day at a certain rate; it's surprising how quickly I reach the end.
Nevertheless, there inevitably comes a point a month or two into the book when I'm far enough from the end that the initial enthusiasm is gone but not so close to the end that I can feel the excitement of pending completion. It's here that it's easiest to slip for a day or two, which can quickly become a week or more. I cannot give into this urge.
I also discover some serious flaws in early chapters at this stage. On occasion, I'll go back and write in a new scene that will help set up the current action. In most cases, however, I make a note to my file of known problems and continue forward. This file usually has 60-80 issues noted by the time I finish my first draft. This is my springboard for my rewrite. I think it's easier to start that final, least favorite phase when I've got all manner of minor and major issues to attack.
If I've done my prewriting work, I'll write the first draft of the novel in 2-3 months. This is the most satisfying stage, but also the one where I need to work the hardest and the most consistently.
More on the Growth of the Blog
What's playing on the ipod: (Hold on, let me start it) Why Worry? Clannad
Just got a blog report from my site meter. Nobody yet links to this blog and my blog is ranked roughly 3,000,000. Big time, here I come!
Okay, so my unique visitors only top single digits about once a week, but even so there is value in keeping a blog. It's not quite like a journal, in that I need to guard my thoughts, but it still serves a clarifying purpose. I wear many hats in life: writer, innkeeper, father/husband, language aficionado, traveller. Writing can easily become overwhelmed by more pressing demands. For example, a small, but insistent person is tugging on my hand as I write this, so I'll have to return in a minute.
Okay, so where was I? Ah, well, the thing about writing about writing is that it focuses the mind on the subject at least once a day. Even if I have a lazy stretch, I'm forced to consider writing, and myself as a writer. It helps me view television, books, and even real life interactions as a writer.
Just got a blog report from my site meter. Nobody yet links to this blog and my blog is ranked roughly 3,000,000. Big time, here I come!
Okay, so my unique visitors only top single digits about once a week, but even so there is value in keeping a blog. It's not quite like a journal, in that I need to guard my thoughts, but it still serves a clarifying purpose. I wear many hats in life: writer, innkeeper, father/husband, language aficionado, traveller. Writing can easily become overwhelmed by more pressing demands. For example, a small, but insistent person is tugging on my hand as I write this, so I'll have to return in a minute.
Okay, so where was I? Ah, well, the thing about writing about writing is that it focuses the mind on the subject at least once a day. Even if I have a lazy stretch, I'm forced to consider writing, and myself as a writer. It helps me view television, books, and even real life interactions as a writer.
Ouch
What's playing on the ipod: S.O.S., Abba
Had a tough afternoon yesterday. I was alone at the inn with the little guy and trying to deal with a phone call from a guest coming this summer who had a million questions. That's fine, if we hadn't already had the same conversation two other times. Some people are just very nervous and need to verify things again and again. I understand that, but it still makes them exhausting to work with.
Anyway, I look up and realize I have to run out to get the kids off the bus. I cut short the conversation, then hurry across the street, holding the baby. Reach the other side and promptly twist my ankle and fall. I've got a bad ankle, weakened by a basketball injury from many years ago, and I sprain it a couple of times a year. This was worse than usual because I had the extra weight in my arms and no way to brace myself. Baby and I face plant in the snow.
Here comes the bus. I drag myself to my feet and pick up the now screaming baby as it comes down the hill. The other kids get off the bus which stops up traffic in both directions to let us get across the highway. Only I can't move and I certainly can't carry the baby across the highway; I'm barely staying on my feet. The next few minutes were ugly.
So now I'm crippled up and trying to run the inn and take care of the kids by myself as M. is in Massachussetts until Thursday, when I really should be lying in bed with my leg propped up and a bag of ice on my ankle.
Had a tough afternoon yesterday. I was alone at the inn with the little guy and trying to deal with a phone call from a guest coming this summer who had a million questions. That's fine, if we hadn't already had the same conversation two other times. Some people are just very nervous and need to verify things again and again. I understand that, but it still makes them exhausting to work with.
Anyway, I look up and realize I have to run out to get the kids off the bus. I cut short the conversation, then hurry across the street, holding the baby. Reach the other side and promptly twist my ankle and fall. I've got a bad ankle, weakened by a basketball injury from many years ago, and I sprain it a couple of times a year. This was worse than usual because I had the extra weight in my arms and no way to brace myself. Baby and I face plant in the snow.
Here comes the bus. I drag myself to my feet and pick up the now screaming baby as it comes down the hill. The other kids get off the bus which stops up traffic in both directions to let us get across the highway. Only I can't move and I certainly can't carry the baby across the highway; I'm barely staying on my feet. The next few minutes were ugly.
So now I'm crippled up and trying to run the inn and take care of the kids by myself as M. is in Massachussetts until Thursday, when I really should be lying in bed with my leg propped up and a bag of ice on my ankle.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Snow
What's playing on the ipod: (Nothing)
You'd never know we were approaching mid-April. More snow fell last night and another storm is approaching later this week. Crazy. If we'd had this weather in December and early January the inn's bank account would look at lot fatter. We've got a few die-hard skiers but most people are ready for spring and the inn is mostly empty.
All things considered, I prefer cold and snow to hot and dry. My idea climate would have summers like San Diego, autumn like New England, spring like Utah, and a cold, snowy winter that lasted about six weeks from mid-December through the end of January. Let me know if you hear of this mythical place.
You'd never know we were approaching mid-April. More snow fell last night and another storm is approaching later this week. Crazy. If we'd had this weather in December and early January the inn's bank account would look at lot fatter. We've got a few die-hard skiers but most people are ready for spring and the inn is mostly empty.
All things considered, I prefer cold and snow to hot and dry. My idea climate would have summers like San Diego, autumn like New England, spring like Utah, and a cold, snowy winter that lasted about six weeks from mid-December through the end of January. Let me know if you hear of this mythical place.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
From My WIP
What's playing on the ipod: Eye of the Tiger, Survivor
An excerpt from my work in process. I'm still in the pre-writing stage, but I've written a few snippets of chapter one, which sees the murder of a retarded man in a long-term care facility. This is how the chapter ends.
A single eye watched the crime. This belonged to Chad Lett, drool trickling from his mouth, hands clenched and twisted, feet clubbed, muscles on his back, legs, neck immobile but for the occasional spasm. A chart on his bed marked the times when aides entered to turn him to prevent bed sores or to change his diaper. The file in the nurse’s station listed his IQ as 4. The test had found Lett unable to recognize his own name, unable to track an object, unable, in fact to do so much as chew and swallow food placed into his mouth.
The single digit on his chart gave one number. The reality, buried deep within Lett’s brain, was far different.
And that eye, that single window to the world, had seen everything.
An excerpt from my work in process. I'm still in the pre-writing stage, but I've written a few snippets of chapter one, which sees the murder of a retarded man in a long-term care facility. This is how the chapter ends.
A single eye watched the crime. This belonged to Chad Lett, drool trickling from his mouth, hands clenched and twisted, feet clubbed, muscles on his back, legs, neck immobile but for the occasional spasm. A chart on his bed marked the times when aides entered to turn him to prevent bed sores or to change his diaper. The file in the nurse’s station listed his IQ as 4. The test had found Lett unable to recognize his own name, unable to track an object, unable, in fact to do so much as chew and swallow food placed into his mouth.
The single digit on his chart gave one number. The reality, buried deep within Lett’s brain, was far different.
And that eye, that single window to the world, had seen everything.
Natural Abilities
What's playing on the ipod: Sweet Surrender, Erasure
It's amazing to me how many professional writers put together a well-written, interesting story, without thinking too hard about what they're doing. I know they're doing this because I'll come across something that so clearly goes against established wisdom, and is so clearly done so unconsciously and, in failing, proves why it's generally done in the traditional manner. Some examples from my recent reading include climax scenes summarized off-screen, characters passively falling into solutions for their problems, and authors who don't seem to know where a book should begin or end.
JK Rowlings' early books are a prime example of this. Harry Potter is gifted in every way, his first instinct is the correct one, Rowling skips the try/fail cycle, and her plots are entirely linear. Of course they work anyway, but I'd argue that this is in spite of her plotting, not because of them.
Bully for the naturals. Can't say that it doesn't frustrate me that many writers have a natural ability and thus feed the lay perception that everyone has a book in them. More, I think a lot of these skilled writers would be even better if they worked on their technical proficiency instead of natural ability.
Or maybe I'm jealous because I entered the writing world bereft of natural ability. Every skill I've learned, every tiny improvement in my writing has come only because my natural talents are lacking. I had no natural insight into characters, no special ability to create setting or to build tension. I still struggle with dialogue. Hell, even my command of the English language was lacking; English was my worst subject through high school in spite of my voracious reading and I scored lower on the college entrance tests in English than in math, science, or any other subject.
In fact, the only thing I brought to the table was imagination. Even from the beginning, when I was writing largely science fiction and fantasy, people liked my ideas, even if they thought my execution of same was worse than bad, it was boring. Too bad that's not enough, eh?
Come to think of it, I came with one other skill. Stubborness. It's served me more than all that other stuff put together.
It's amazing to me how many professional writers put together a well-written, interesting story, without thinking too hard about what they're doing. I know they're doing this because I'll come across something that so clearly goes against established wisdom, and is so clearly done so unconsciously and, in failing, proves why it's generally done in the traditional manner. Some examples from my recent reading include climax scenes summarized off-screen, characters passively falling into solutions for their problems, and authors who don't seem to know where a book should begin or end.
JK Rowlings' early books are a prime example of this. Harry Potter is gifted in every way, his first instinct is the correct one, Rowling skips the try/fail cycle, and her plots are entirely linear. Of course they work anyway, but I'd argue that this is in spite of her plotting, not because of them.
Bully for the naturals. Can't say that it doesn't frustrate me that many writers have a natural ability and thus feed the lay perception that everyone has a book in them. More, I think a lot of these skilled writers would be even better if they worked on their technical proficiency instead of natural ability.
Or maybe I'm jealous because I entered the writing world bereft of natural ability. Every skill I've learned, every tiny improvement in my writing has come only because my natural talents are lacking. I had no natural insight into characters, no special ability to create setting or to build tension. I still struggle with dialogue. Hell, even my command of the English language was lacking; English was my worst subject through high school in spite of my voracious reading and I scored lower on the college entrance tests in English than in math, science, or any other subject.
In fact, the only thing I brought to the table was imagination. Even from the beginning, when I was writing largely science fiction and fantasy, people liked my ideas, even if they thought my execution of same was worse than bad, it was boring. Too bad that's not enough, eh?
Come to think of it, I came with one other skill. Stubborness. It's served me more than all that other stuff put together.
The Three Stages of Writing: Prewriting
What's playing on the ipod: No More Rain, Erasure
There are three stages of writing and they require different skills. Weakness in any one area is enough to destroy a story or novel.
The first stage is the pre-writing. When I first started writing I would begin with a vague idea, thinking to discover the plot as I went. This lead to episodic, meandering plots and bloated, stumbling beginnings. Nothing I wrote in those days was worth crap. If I wrote something good it was only by accident.
The importance of pre-writing cannot be overstated. This is where you develop relationships between characters, the overall structure of the novel, determine your opening and your beginning, and determine what your novel is about.
I write somewhere between 30 and 50 pages of notes, brainstorms, snippets of dialogue, etc., before I ever write "Chapter One." There are a lot of false beginnings and other dead-ends in this stuff. It's a discovery process and, together with idle daydreaming when I'm not sitting at the computer, accounts for at least half of the raw creative juice that goes into my stories.
This is not to say that I know everything about my book before I start. On the contrary, I don't want to know everything, for the same reason that I don't like telling people my plots before they're written; it is the discovery process that keeps the creativity flowing. Once I know everything that's going to happen, the work becomes harder. The spark that is so exciting to blow into flames becomes craft. Craft is rewarding, but craft doesn't give me that thrill.
Next: The First Draft.
There are three stages of writing and they require different skills. Weakness in any one area is enough to destroy a story or novel.
The first stage is the pre-writing. When I first started writing I would begin with a vague idea, thinking to discover the plot as I went. This lead to episodic, meandering plots and bloated, stumbling beginnings. Nothing I wrote in those days was worth crap. If I wrote something good it was only by accident.
The importance of pre-writing cannot be overstated. This is where you develop relationships between characters, the overall structure of the novel, determine your opening and your beginning, and determine what your novel is about.
I write somewhere between 30 and 50 pages of notes, brainstorms, snippets of dialogue, etc., before I ever write "Chapter One." There are a lot of false beginnings and other dead-ends in this stuff. It's a discovery process and, together with idle daydreaming when I'm not sitting at the computer, accounts for at least half of the raw creative juice that goes into my stories.
This is not to say that I know everything about my book before I start. On the contrary, I don't want to know everything, for the same reason that I don't like telling people my plots before they're written; it is the discovery process that keeps the creativity flowing. Once I know everything that's going to happen, the work becomes harder. The spark that is so exciting to blow into flames becomes craft. Craft is rewarding, but craft doesn't give me that thrill.
Next: The First Draft.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Pathological Coupling
What's playing on the ipod: If I Ever, Red Flag
I used to work as a computer programmer and there is a term called pathological coupling to describe software modules that are too tightly connected. The idea is that each module should be discrete, so that it can be unplugged and stuck somewhere else useful. Think about a steering wheel and how useful it would be to take it off an Accord and plug it into a Pilot, rather than having to engineer an entirely new steering wheel for each vehicle you build.
I see this principle in a lot of novels, especially thrillers and mysteries. The characters are discrete entitities who would be equally at home in any setting and can be mixed and matched at will. They may be types, or they may be richly drawn, but they don't seem especially adapted for their plots and settings.
And of course, while this is a virtue in a computer program, it weakens fiction. As a result, I strive to make my characters, plots, and settings as intimately connected as possible. If I've got two characters butting heads, how much stronger is it to make them siblings or former lovers, or otherwise connect them. Add that extra dimension that binds them together, makes it impossible to separate them from the plot. Similarly, the reader finds more satisfaction in characters who are specifically tailored to the plot at hand. Even better, give your protagonist a major flaw that makes her unsuited to resolve this particular problem.
Of course, plenty of writers do a bang-up job of this with book one of the series, and as a result, publishers and audience alike demand sequels. You write the sequel and you divorce the character from her original setting, to set her adrift in some other plot, and...well, it's no surprise that so many sequels are weaker than the original.
I used to work as a computer programmer and there is a term called pathological coupling to describe software modules that are too tightly connected. The idea is that each module should be discrete, so that it can be unplugged and stuck somewhere else useful. Think about a steering wheel and how useful it would be to take it off an Accord and plug it into a Pilot, rather than having to engineer an entirely new steering wheel for each vehicle you build.
I see this principle in a lot of novels, especially thrillers and mysteries. The characters are discrete entitities who would be equally at home in any setting and can be mixed and matched at will. They may be types, or they may be richly drawn, but they don't seem especially adapted for their plots and settings.
And of course, while this is a virtue in a computer program, it weakens fiction. As a result, I strive to make my characters, plots, and settings as intimately connected as possible. If I've got two characters butting heads, how much stronger is it to make them siblings or former lovers, or otherwise connect them. Add that extra dimension that binds them together, makes it impossible to separate them from the plot. Similarly, the reader finds more satisfaction in characters who are specifically tailored to the plot at hand. Even better, give your protagonist a major flaw that makes her unsuited to resolve this particular problem.
Of course, plenty of writers do a bang-up job of this with book one of the series, and as a result, publishers and audience alike demand sequels. You write the sequel and you divorce the character from her original setting, to set her adrift in some other plot, and...well, it's no surprise that so many sequels are weaker than the original.
Back From NYC
What's playing on the ipod: Suddenly I See, KT Tunstall
I got back from New York last night. I had a good time, did some traditionally touristy things like visit the Empire State Building, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, etc. I also had a productive meeting with my agent on Thursday.
Trident Media has a fantastic office space with great views. I don't know how you'd work in that place and not just stare out the window all day. Of course, my own writing space has a view out over the woods and down to the river, with a wooded mountain rising on the far side. Somehow, I manage to get some work done.
Anyway, Kim has a few more changes she wants to see in The Righteous. Nothing major, and it sounds like we're almost ready to go on submission. Kim has been busy, in part arranging major deals for fellow Backspacer Allison Brennan, and I feel fortunate to be Kim's client and a part of the Trident team.
I got back from New York last night. I had a good time, did some traditionally touristy things like visit the Empire State Building, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, etc. I also had a productive meeting with my agent on Thursday.
Trident Media has a fantastic office space with great views. I don't know how you'd work in that place and not just stare out the window all day. Of course, my own writing space has a view out over the woods and down to the river, with a wooded mountain rising on the far side. Somehow, I manage to get some work done.
Anyway, Kim has a few more changes she wants to see in The Righteous. Nothing major, and it sounds like we're almost ready to go on submission. Kim has been busy, in part arranging major deals for fellow Backspacer Allison Brennan, and I feel fortunate to be Kim's client and a part of the Trident team.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Out of Town
What's playing on the ipod: Lounge Act, Nirvana
Just a quick note to say that I won't be blogging or online for the next few days, as I'll be in Manhattan through Friday. A bien tot.
Just a quick note to say that I won't be blogging or online for the next few days, as I'll be in Manhattan through Friday. A bien tot.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Least Favorite Plot Device*
What's playing on the ipod: Man in the Moon, Erasure
I understand why people use snakes in books and movies. They elicit a primal fear learned from our ancestors and their ancestors before. You don't have to walk upright and use tools to know better than to pick up strange slithering things. Still, can you at least get the science right?
Movies are the worst. The anaconda, normally a creeping thing that almost never emerges from the water in its adult form, becomes a lightning-fast hunter. Boas and king snakes--favorites of hobbyists and thus, available for directors--become deadly, poisonous things that live in Egypt, Thailand, or wherever they're needed. Because real snakes don't look threatening enough, the newest movies digitize them so they can hiss, snarl, and fly through the air to attack unsuspecting tourists.
And books aren't immune. There's a scene in Tourist Season where the bad guys dump a bunch of snakes onto a tour boat. Bites. Mass panic. People hurl themselves into the ocean. To be fair, the bite victims do not immediately arrest and die but recover later in the hospital, so maybe I'm too hard on Hiaasen. Still, snakes are not effective weapons.
Okay, I know people are afraid of snakes, so I would point out that only a handful of people die every year of snake bite in the U.S. but I know it wouldn't do any good. And though I swear I'm going to write a scene someday where the hero is put in a cave filled with rattlers and yawns because he's wearing boots and oh, the cave is cool so the snakes are sluggish and hardly in a biting mood, if you can't resist this plot device, go for it. But at least have the good sense to put snakes where they belong and acting in reasonably serpentine fashion. You wouldn't have wild elephants rampaging through a village in Brazil would you? And said elephants wouldn't be lurking in underground caverns or chasing people up trees, would they? You wouldn't glue fur to its back and call it a woolly mammoth.
Okay, rant over. In terms of irritation, I'm more bemused than outraged, but still.
*And given Lis' background, I'd be surprised if this were not one her pet peeves as well.
I understand why people use snakes in books and movies. They elicit a primal fear learned from our ancestors and their ancestors before. You don't have to walk upright and use tools to know better than to pick up strange slithering things. Still, can you at least get the science right?
Movies are the worst. The anaconda, normally a creeping thing that almost never emerges from the water in its adult form, becomes a lightning-fast hunter. Boas and king snakes--favorites of hobbyists and thus, available for directors--become deadly, poisonous things that live in Egypt, Thailand, or wherever they're needed. Because real snakes don't look threatening enough, the newest movies digitize them so they can hiss, snarl, and fly through the air to attack unsuspecting tourists.
And books aren't immune. There's a scene in Tourist Season where the bad guys dump a bunch of snakes onto a tour boat. Bites. Mass panic. People hurl themselves into the ocean. To be fair, the bite victims do not immediately arrest and die but recover later in the hospital, so maybe I'm too hard on Hiaasen. Still, snakes are not effective weapons.
Okay, I know people are afraid of snakes, so I would point out that only a handful of people die every year of snake bite in the U.S. but I know it wouldn't do any good. And though I swear I'm going to write a scene someday where the hero is put in a cave filled with rattlers and yawns because he's wearing boots and oh, the cave is cool so the snakes are sluggish and hardly in a biting mood, if you can't resist this plot device, go for it. But at least have the good sense to put snakes where they belong and acting in reasonably serpentine fashion. You wouldn't have wild elephants rampaging through a village in Brazil would you? And said elephants wouldn't be lurking in underground caverns or chasing people up trees, would they? You wouldn't glue fur to its back and call it a woolly mammoth.
Okay, rant over. In terms of irritation, I'm more bemused than outraged, but still.
*And given Lis' background, I'd be surprised if this were not one her pet peeves as well.
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