...is a confusing phenomenon.

 

The story books talk of love at first sight. That blissful moment when two minds and hearts meet through a single glance, eternity shaped through a chance encounter. Neither ever recover from that first moment.

 

But what about love wished for and hoped for? The yearning for that feeling of completeness, of the rounding out of sharp corners. A place wherein lies safety and contentment, and a wonder for life that feels brand new.

 

And then there is the love that springs up like a quiet flower, hidden in the shade of a larger bush. It pushes through the soil gently, unfurling its petals in a silent moment that no one ever planned for. It's scent makes one giddy, and for a moment memory is only a matter of the present. Duty is the far off future that lingers in the distance like a dark cloud, hovering and unwanted, and somewhere else.

 

For a moment the stars shine with the bright promise of now, but they fade with the night, burned away by the presence of the sun. They leave behind their memories in the pages of a book.

 

~Dara, Princess of Adel 

 ...is a bunch of fiddle faddle.

Oh, you hear the minstrels sing of it, the young maids swoon over it, and the young men knock each other senseless because of it. They tried to impress upon us, once we agreed to become fairy godmothers, that love is the greatest of all virtues, but since becoming a wicked fairy godmother, I've seen the light, er, dark so to say, and have to disagree.

If love is such a wonderful virtue, then why does it generate such envy, malice, and misery?

Take my current DID (damsel in distress) for example. Helen was beautiful. Men fought over her. A kingdom nearly rose, and another nearly fell because of her. But was she happy? No. Oh, she got all dewey-eyed over the whole thought of love and eventually settled down. I'm sure it was coincidence that the one she fell in love with the was best-looking and least smart of the bunch.

Enter death. Love crumbles. Fairy godmother duly summoned.

I sent her to another that had also been visited by death, busy fellow that death, thinking that they could at least console each other. Never once did I imagine that she would find love in a place as dull as this, wrapped in black, the shadows of yesterday. But it was only a moment before she started to get jealous, of her beloved's daughter of all things. She wants the girl out of the picture, marginalized until that beauty fades and withers without ever fully blooming.

*sigh*

I gave up the normal sort of fairy godmothering because of how demanding the DIDs could be. Never did I imagine that fairy godmothering is fairygodmothering. Good and evil are two sides of the same coin, and I'm still stuck doing all the work.

Fortunately, the DID-to-be can see through not only her step-mother-to-be's thin veneer of elegance, but she can also see through illusion. Somehow, beyond all reason, she saw me as I was helping love along in the form of magical amnesia with a dash of dementia and a pinch of docility.

Sometimes that's all it takes.

~Esmeralda, Wicked Fairygodmother-in-training

 

 

 

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Well that certainly explains a lot! Thanks, pjthomson for the link! :D

 I must admit that I felt a little blue after finishing the first draft of Moon Flower. I had spent at least a thousand words with it, six days a week for as long as I can remember. That last bit would pack more punch if it was not a well established fact that I am lucky to remember what I had for breakfast this morning. :P

Then something smacked me between the eyes yesterday. If you guessed that it was a flying frog, you'd be right! I had planned to work on Ebony, Blood, and Snow next, but Myles turned up and took over the Muse. Again. >.< It wasn't enough that I had to change the entire POV structuring in Goose Feathers for him, but now he's demanding his own story. Now. 

The first step was to find a suitable fairy tale. Since the Feathers collection will have three books in it, I thought it fitting to base each of them loosely on a fairy tale that deals with a bird. Goose Feathers comes from the story of Swan Lake. Frog Feathers, the story Myles is demanding be written, will be based off of The Bluebird. Once I found the story, everything clicked into place. The story. The structure. The characters. Everything.

The words are flowing. The blues are gone. And Myles is happy. And, very importantly, I'm happy too. I can't wait to get to the end because I want to know everything that happens along the way. I can't wait for the witty, but snarkish, comments Myles will come up with to make his story shine.

And most of all, I can't wait to get to the part where he's under another enchantment. This one is supposed to turn him into a bluebird, but due to Eadric's meddling in the first book, he ends up a frog with the wings of a bluebird. A veritable flying frog. Myles is not amused, but I am. :D

Computers and printers seem to be a lot more sentient than I gave them credit for. All those times I joked (well, sort of) about the satisfaction of dropping Fenimore (the computer) off of the Sears Tower building. The cost of replacing Fenimore and the possiblity of gaining a criminal record were strong deterents against actually carrying out the plan.

So I daydreamed about it. Vividly sometimes. Computers are great, and I wouldn't want to be hammering away at a typewriter, but there are times when those computer imps have too much time on their hands.

Hitherto, Fenimore took my threats stoically. But he was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment.

And then he struck. The very week I decided (publically) that I would send off queries. And of course some of them needed to be sent by snail with sample pages. >.<

I finally accepted last night that the printer had printed its last and would be printing no more. Soon it will be recycled for parts or whatever it is they do at the electronic recycling place.

Perhaps I should have been more discreet with my frustrations. Or perhaps I should have given the printer a name. If it had felt as though it belonged, perhaps it wouldn't have rolled over and died.

*tries very hard to be sad at old printer's death while she's enjoying the upgraded features of the new printer*

There comes a time when the Muse falls silent. When the story screeches to a halt behind an impenetrable wall. Some people call this writer's block. Some people don't believe in writer's block, but I'm not sure what they call it. ;)

I call it Taking a Wrong Turn in the Story.

Case in point: I'm nearly finished with the first draft of Moon Flower. I know the next step I need to get to to reach the ending, but I was stuck trying to figure out how to get there. The words dried up and the Muse stepped back, her arms folded, waiting. It was then that I asked myself why I was stuck. Where had things gone wrong?

After only a moment of intensely listening to my inner voice (as opposed to the voices in my head), I realized where I went off the Story Path and knew how to get back on. This reminded me how important it is to stay in tune with the voice of the story. I've noticed that every time I get stuck, it's because I veered off a bit, trying to write in a direction different from the natural flow of the story.

Muse nodded her approval, uncrossed her arms, and leaned forward to read over my shoulder as I typed.

What I have learned, besides the fact that my writer's brain sounds very strange when put into words, is the fact that the worst remedy for writer's block or Taking a Wrong Turn in the Story is to stop writing altogether. It's not a solution, but part of the problem. Like any relationship, that connection between the author and the story requires clear, open communication from both directions. It also requires listening.

Muse nods again, thankful she's finally getting through, and begins to whisper . . .

I've found that when there are things I need to do that aren't necessarily going to make my cup even trickle with joy, it helps if I make things public. For some reason that gives me the extra umph to do it. So if you see odd little posts about how I'm going to get the bathrooms cleaned this week for sure, or that I'm going to file the paper work from last year today, I haven't lost it, I'm just trying to get up enough motivation to do it. In truth, I'd rather be writing.*

So. I'm going to be sending out around four queries this week and two more the week following. Oh well. I suppose I could be editing.** Oh, wait. That's right. I have nearly two novels that need to go through their first round of edits. >.<

Lady Glamis has graciously posted a character interview on her blog. Her blog is a wonderful resource for writing, not to mention her brilliant taste in lituature. ;)

*insert shameless self plug*

Squee!***

So, if you have time, please feel free to check it out. Or, if you have need of inspiration for procrastinating, feel free to check it out. Pretty much, check it out. Please. 0:) Feel free to let me know what you think. ****

Also, apologies for so many *s. Evidentally, when I'm very tired, I think in footnotes. >.< * As opposed to editing which is a whole n'other ball game. Somewhere near scrubbing the toilets while balancing the checkbook.

** Editing: that wonderful operation one performs on the manuscript that makes it shine and sparkle and is a great way to experience morning sickness without the whole pregnancy thing. For me, anyway.

***Have you ever noticed how the word squee sounds the way it feels? Like someone jumping up and down and making joyful exclamations.

**** I'm beginning to feel nervous at how often the word free creeps up here. Generally when that word pops up a lot, you can be sure it's going to be expensive. This isn't one of those times. Promise. 0:)

 Flycon has been awesome. I'm still trying to figure it out, so there are many gems left to discover.

Many great panels to check out. Many new people to meet.

 

The only one I was able to make it to in person was the Fairy Tale Retelling Workshop. I enjoyed it very much. It was fun getting together and discussing our favorite fairy tales, our favorite retellings, and why. I'd never really thought about why I was so drawn to fairy tales before.

 

I think I like them because of the magic, the golden apples when one has forgotten the wonder of the ordinary ones. I like them because they teach. Because of the transformations many of the characters go through.

 

I like retelling them because it lets me step in their heads and ask the question, Why? In many of the tales, there is little of the characters, their personalities and motivations. I want to understand what makes them tick and why. Yes, psychology is my second love. Neurology is my first. :P I love the symbolism that's in them, waiting just around the corner to trounce you in your dreams. I like the ability to give voice to those that had none.

 

Stories make real life livable. Bearable when reality gets too hot, too bright. 

 

Oh, yes. We were also assigned to rewrite one of our favorites and breathe new life into it. This works out well as I'm almost done with Moon Flower. Just about 6000 words left to go before the first draft is complete.

 

So, in about a week, I'll start working on Blood and Snow. Snow White isn't one of my favorites, but that's what I saw in my head. A young queen pondering the words of her grandmother, "The point of living is to learn how to die when your time comes." Perhaps it was my subconscious. The one that knows I have revisions coming up in not one, but two novels.

 

Who needs sleep, right?

One of my characters strongly believes that what they are living is real life, not something out of a story. Her advisor, believes the opposite, that real life is what stories are made of.

And I wonder why.

Real life is a lot messier than a story. I mean, even the hero tales where the brawny guy takes out larger than life monsters with his bare hands, splattering blood all over in the process, is a lot neater than, say, doing it in real life.

Conflicts are not always resolved. Good people die. The good does not always win, and the underdog does not always triumph.

And, then again, sometimes those things happen. And they become stories.

For me, a story is a somewhat distorted view of life. Sort of like the images in a carnival mirror. The mirrors are bent or shaped oddly and so distort what they reflect. On purpose. Sometimes real life is only made bearable by telling it as a story. Sometimes truths are better seen through the filter of a tale.

The danger is in living a story in real life. Life is a hard, precious thing. It shouldn't be wasted. Dreams should inspire, not enslave or entrap. They should elevate, not ensnare. Life is a wonderfully vivid, colorful, messy thing that doesn't always make sense and isn't always fair. Life is not a box of chocolates because the chocolate companies simplified matters by making little chocolate maps in the lids. Life has no such map, except, perhaps in stories.

But what exactly does caramel pecan taste like?

 It's interesting watching the trends in writing evolve. I've noticed (in children's and YA fiction) a shift from telling to showing. Many times new writers are given the advice to: Show, don't tell. I've even found myself guilty of doing this. While this is good advice to consider, I don't believe it's an iron clad rule. I'm finding that the more I write, the less emphasis I put on The Rules. Of course there are always grammar rules that are there for very good reasons. If the medium isn't formatted in a way that people can make sense of, it doesn't matter how brilliant the story line is. But as for the rest of The Rules, I'm finding them to be better labeled as suggestions rather than rules. 

I think the most important thing is finding the cadence of the particular story one is trying to tell. For me, that's the starting point. Then, there's the voices of the characters to consider, along with the type of story. Some stories are made stronger by visuals, others find their strengths in the telling. The extreme on the telling side would be a computer manual. Great for curing insomnia, but not a very interesting read if one is not so inclined. The extreme for showing would be graphic novels, comic books, or movies. All showing, very little telling. And yet, for me, these can become very tedious.

So what to do?

I recently finished reading Jessica Day George's Princess at the Midnight Ball. I enjoyed it immensely, and believe this is her best yet. What struck me the most, besides the humor, was the perfect balance between showing and telling. The story alone would have kept me reading, but as I paid attention to the way she told the story, I found her mix of showing and telling to be intriguing. I'm going to be studying the book in more depth to see if I can learn from it.

One of my theories in the shift from telling to showing is the fact that we are inundated with visuals like never before. With television, the Internet, billboards, etc. our society has become more driven visually. At least, that's how it seems to me.

 What makes a story so compelling that prompts one to spend money on a book?

As a bibliophile, I can't imagine not buying books, but as a writer this is a question I often find myself wondering. What makes great writing great? I'm not talking about what makes a book popular, but what makes a book well written. There are thousands of rules in writing, but rarely are they iron clad.

For me, the beginning of the answer begins with defining what the writer's job is. Writers have the task of taking something intangible, a story that only they can see, and clothing it in words. But like any suit of apparel, one really shouldn't mix plaid with checkered prints, and I'm all for leaving the animal prints for the animals. The words that a writer chooses to dress their story up in will mean all the difference between whether or not anyone else will be able to see what they see. Because...

Writers make windows to other worlds--even if that other world is our own. How well words are used determines how clear and pristine the glass to the story window is. The story itself may be one of the greatest ever told, but if the window is covered with soot, dirt, and splotches of mud, the person trying trying to peer through will have a rather rough time of it. Revising, editing, and rewriting are the windex for the story window. They help clean it up and make it presentable so the next person with their face pressed against the window pane can see a bit of the wonder that captivated the author in the first place. The story window is a way of sharing that magic.

I have often found that letting the story sit for a few weeks allows me to see it with new eyes. I experience the wonder of the story all over again, and find those small errors that I missed in the previous round of revising. The ones that are now lit up in flashing neon lights. 

Writing well is work. Hard work. But I think all that is balanced out by the wonder and the magic of being the first to peer through that particular story window long enough that it becomes etched in a memory that one day becomes a book.

Overcoming Perfectionism isn't easy.


I thought, hey with 1) a deployed husband, 2) four young ones to chase, love, and teach, 3) CFS, 4) a cold, and 5) lots and lots of stress, that I could go easy on myself. Why kill myself to get 50,000 words? It's not worth it. I'm not able to just type any old thing to pad the word count. I hate revising, and want to make the experience as easy for myself as possible. So what if I'm a little slower?

Then the Perfectionistic Fairy landed on my shoulder, her wand sparkly and pointed, her hair perfect, her gown shimmering and wrinkle-free.

"But you've committed to doing this. If you keep up your pace you only have five days left to do this. You'll feel awful if you give you. You know you will."

*sigh*

( Read more... )

I did it! I got caught up as much as I'm going to tonight. As of now, I'm at 15,000 words. Technically, I'm just a thousand behind. Even more technically, I should be at 20,000.


It's come slower than I'd want--well, what I'd really want would be to type the 50,000 straight through over the course of one day. Nothing like being realistic. Fortunately, as an unpublished writer, I don't always have to be realistic. I just have to remind myself that slow isn't bad if it means there will have to be less editing done when I'm through with the story.

Which brings me to an interesting observation: stress and what it does to the creative functioning.

For some reason, the stress of the deadline isn't looming large for me. Strangely, I feel very confident in my ability to create the 50,000 words required to complete Nano successfully. (As a Recovering Perfectionist, anything short of the goal is not successful. Bad, I know, but deeply ingrained.) It's the personal stress that really kills the Muse, or at least stuns her for a ridiculous amount of time. She hears the clock ticking. I am, after all, holding it a mere centimeter away from her nose, and yet she refuses to revive.

But then, out of sheer stubbornness, I discovered something that works for me. I struggled on without the Muse. I simply put the smelling salts in easy reaching distance and tackled the thing myself. Eventually she became so appalled at my pitiful efforts that she revived herself and commenced to mutter behind my back.

But at least we are now communicating again. The first 500 words were like pulling teeth with rubber pliers. The other 2500 words were like inhaling the scent of roses as they first begin to bloom.

And now, I shall go to sleep. Just in case, I'll leave the computer in a place the Muse can easily reach it on the unlikely event that she will continue typing while I dream...

Today I finally finished the first book in TCAP.

*much celebrating*
The Frog Prince finished at just under 6,000 words. Half of that was done in the last two days. :)
Now, onward to...the next one. :D

The Wand.

It's small, simply designed, and oh so powerful.

To the untrained mind, it is a stick. Usually one without knobs or twists, but a stick nonetheless. Sometimes there is a small ball of light or a glittering star affixed to the top, and in a few rare instances, ribbon streamers.

But wands are so much more than just a stick with tacky decorations. They are the physical link between the Then and Now. Between the Was and Is. Between the This-Is-How-It-Is and This-Is-How-It-Is.

Wands are neither good nor evil. Rather, they are the tool. The servant that does its mistress's (or master's) bidding.

They feed on magic and filter it out so that what is left glowing inside of them is pure, unadulterated power. Power to transmogrify idiot princes. Power to turn a bit of water and air into tea with toast and jam. Power to see the world between this one and that one. Power to change the mind, clear the eyes, and revitalize the heart.

It is not by accident that children use wands most often after a certain type of elderly looking ladies with wings. The very nature of the wand is to give one power to see what's really there and nudge reality until it sees it too.

After all, the term 'imagination' is just another word for magic.

~Esmaralda--part time Fairy Godmother and part time Wicked Fairy

Lately I've been very envious as I've considered people that can outline their entire novel and then write the story. I've tried to outline time and time again, but it's never worked for me beyond the first chapter or two. Perhaps my inability to write an outline, let alone stick to one, is a problem somewhere in my cerebral cortex and beyond the help of anyone but a neurosurgeon. In short: there might be something wrong with me.

After all of the voices in my head--the ones clamoring for me to get their story written--assured me that this was not the case, I had a new problem: what was my problem with outlines then?

1) I get nauseous thinking about drafting one. All the time it takes when a little voice in my hindbrain whispers that it's all probably just going to be a waste of time anyway.

2)Perhaps I have some commitment issues.

3) I don't know my characters well enough at the beginning to adequately predict what they will do in any given situation. The way writing works for me is that I keep quiet while opening an invisible set of ears that hears inaudible conversations and sees an invisible movie playing. I stay quiet and let the characters do the talking, debating, and ultimately the writing of the story. It's the journey of the story that allows me to get to know my characters well enough to know what they would do. That, and the fact that they're dictating the story to me.

Once I analyzed my list, I realized the problem--for me at least. My stories aren't driven by a plot I can write down in more than the vaguest ways. I know the general shape of the story, but that's about as specific as I can get. It's the characters that drive the story and the plot. I can't outline what they're going to do twenty chapters down the road because I don't know them well enough yet. That and the fact they don't really let me in on what's going to happen twenty chapters down the road.

And here we have a happy ending. I may not get as much sleep as I want as they seem to be more talkative at night. Ditto for not getting as much housework done in a day because laundry and dust keeps whereas the story doesn't. But I am getting the story. From the character. Eventually. :)

My writing group is working on doing some exercises that focus on setting the mood and atmosphere for whatever the prompt is.

The first prompt was to describe a barn in which an old man receives a letter that his only son was killed in war. Or the other in which a person has just been proposed to. Oh, and we aren't allowed to explicitly mention love, marriage, death, or war.

I picked the first:

He stared at the sky, the letter sitting in his hand like a wilted flower. There was nothing here, not anymore. Home had a past and a present, but no longer any future. The sun sank gently, like an overripe melon, staining everything red and gold as it slid beyond the horizon.

That’s where his son was now: somewhere beyond the horizon.

In the distance of the gathering twilight he heard the whufflings and stirrings of the animals as they settled down for the night. The air was pungent with the scent of earth and animal. The chittering of crickets and other nighttime insects slowly made their way into his consciousness.

He looked down at the letter and uncurled his fingers, allowing the wind to ease it from his grasp. He raised one hand in farewell as the wind carried it beyond his sight and into the valley of the sun.

Heh. My problem was that I focused more on the character than on the setting. >< (oops)

What amazed me was how fun it was to write--especially when we couldn't state certain things flat out. This isn't something I would ever expand on, but it was great fun to write.

What I learned:

1) If I use something more tied to his feeling of loss and sadness to describe the sun, it might work a little better. Honestly, I hadn't thought about that. I'd just been looking for an interesting visual. I saw something rather like half of a large grapefruit, juices dripping like sun rays.

2) I need to transition better. The second to last paragraph was supposed to transition between the future (and lack of it) to the present (people still have to live.)

How about you?

Discipline.

Writing is all about discipline. Sitting down each day and writing something above the clamor of one's Internal Editor and the Procrastinator. It says something for the story that manages to make itself not only heard, but coherent above all the din.

But I have a PLN. Right here in my pocket. :)

My brain is like a toddler. It is in a constant state of wonder at the world, is constantly moving, likes to think in big, bright colors, and has the attention span of about .0005 seconds.

So, the adult scientific being within ponders, how to make this work to my advantage? How to make the revision process not feel like long-term morning sickness? And then my inner child handed her the PLN.

Step One: Write about half a novel.
Step Two: Start a new novel and write it all the way through to the finish.
Step Three: Finish the first novel.
Step Four: Revise the second novel.
Step Five: Revise the first novel.
Step Six: Rinse and Repeat. :D

This should give me time to be more objective to each while still being productive. And hopefully make the whole process work a lot more smoothly.

Hopefully.

Writing is also a lot about hope.

There.

I've committed to doing it. This will be the first year I've ever participated. And just for fun, I'll do a practice run during October.

I'm thinking it won't be too difficult--just 2000 words a day, six days a week. My favorite part is spitting the story out on the screen, so it won't be too bad. There are times when I get stuck, but overall, this is doable.

And in December, I'll have two novels to 1) finish if 50-60000 words isn't enough, and 2) revise and rewrite.

December's not going to be pretty.

Rewriting is a very necessary step in getting the story to shine and sparkle, but for me it's one of the least favorite aspects of writing. It's not fun and it's a lot of work. But it's work that pays off. It takes something that's good, or at least has potential, and transforms it into something greater. Sort of like a baby bird working its feathers off to Get Out of the Egg. Come to think of it, the way they look when they're able to stagger out is about how I feel by the end of the process.

But the story. That's what makes it all worth it.

That and getting those pesky voices to be quiet. Or at least give me a five minute break. :D