Woo-hooooo!

Happy Halloween!

Hooray for those of you who cut! That is a pretty damn hard part of writing: (1) recognizing that you need to cut words; and (2) doing it. What do you think: more exercises in the future? I do like getting my hands on actual text.

I'm sitting on some excellent news today, which has got me floating pretty high up in happy-land. Unfortunately it's personal, not share-able news, but trust me, it's good. Yay.

AND I finished the gosh-darned 3 essays due today, and I get to skip class tonight to take my little princess trick or treating. Life is sweet.

Medieval Word of the Day: hallow: A holy personage, a saint. Also hallow- in Comb. (chiefly in Sc.) is used for ALL-HALLOW- = All Saints'-, in HALLOW-DAY, HALLOW-E'EN, HALLOWMAS, HALLOW-TIDE; also hallow-fair, a fair or market held at Hallowmas; hallow-fire, a bonfire kindled on All-hallow-e'en, an ancient Celtic observance.

Tightening: 4th Snippet

See the below post (Okay, good! And now...) for rules. Take your edited version of this original, and cut cut cut.

I found the queen in the arboretum, a great big glass room chock-full of plants. The sun had already crested the horizon, bleeding through the iron gray clouds. How long had I been tortured and left unconscious? Unless my watch was broken, I showed the time as two o'clock in the morning. The gardener was with her, but when she saw me, she dismissed the gardener, and we were alone.

Tightening: 3rd Snippet

See the below post (Okay, good! And now...) for rules. Take your edited version of this original, and cut cut cut.

I covered my eyes, squinting across the freshly-ploughed field into the bright afternoon sun. Dad was riding along on the tractor singing some old 80’s song loudly to himself, and I smiled.

Tightening: 2nd Snippet

See the below post (Okay, good! And now...) for rules. Take your edited version of this original, and cut cut cut.

Her carriage slid around the last curve in the road, rounding the lawn of the Jackson home. The wagon she'd seen was pulled close to the steps with the back fully exposed. Blood saturated its floor, dripped through the cracks, and pooled on the ground beneath. The snow glistened in stark contrast to the encompassing scarlet puddles.

Tightening: 1st Snippet

See the below post (Okay, good! And now...) for rules. Take your edited version of this original, and cut cut cut.

Alec was startled to hear sounds at his door. The execution was not supposed to take place until the morning. It had been but an hour since the lass—his wife!—had left him.

Okay, good! And now...

Woke up to 2 inches of snow and a brisk 9 degrees this morning. It's a rule that it has to be snowy and freezing for Halloween. {g}

How are you feeling about the tension snippets? Having fun?

I think many of you did manage to up the tension, and maybe let the authors look at their snips in a new way. However, you also added {cough} quite a few more words. So if there are no objections, let's carry this exercise on a little farther, and practice tightening.

NEXT: I'm going to start new threads again for each of the snippets (I'll just post the original). You need to take YOUR edited version of that original, and tighten the heck out of it. Take out any unnecessary descriptors and extra words. Use active verbs instead of adjectives if you can. See how many words you can cut out, and still keep the sense of the scene plus that tension you added.

(I've had to write to a 350-word count for a whole article, and it's one of the best exercises I ever did. Be ruthless, but don't lose anything vital.)

GO!

Tension: 4th Snippet

And #4!

I found the queen in the arboretum, a great big glass room chock-full of plants. The sun had already crested the horizon, bleeding through the iron gray clouds. How long had I been tortured and left unconscious? Unless my watch was broken, I showed the time as two o'clock in the morning. The gardener was with her, but when she saw me, she dismissed the gardener, and we were alone.

Tension: 3rd Snippet

Snip #3: (look below for rules)


I covered my eyes, squinting across the freshly-ploughed field into the bright afternoon sun. Dad was riding along on the tractor singing some old 80’s song loudly to himself, and I smiled.

Tension: 2nd Snippet

Remember: try to add tension to this snip. Make it more intriguing! And don't look at other people's changes until you make yours!

Her carriage slid around the last curve in the road, rounding the lawn of the Jackson home. The wagon she'd seen was pulled close to the steps with the back fully exposed. Blood saturated its floor, dripped through the cracks, and pooled on the ground beneath. The snow glistened in stark contrast to the encompassing scarlet puddles.

Tension: 1st Snippet

Remember: try to add tension to this snip. Make it more intriguing! And don't look at other people's changes until you make yours!


Alec was startled to hear sounds at his door. The execution was not supposed to take place until the morning. It had been but an hour since the lass—his wife!—had left him.

Have at it!

The Strategy

Okay, folks, ready to play? Here's what we're going to do:

I will post each snippet in a separate posting; all changes will go in the comments. Read the post and play with your changes to make it more tense. DO NOT READ THE COMMENTS until after you've done your suggestions. Then when you're ready, post yours in the comments section and see how it compares with other people's. Did any of us make it more tense? More compelling? More intriguing?

We have 4 to start with, but feel free to send more if you'd like. Hopefully this will be fun. Just a note: I'm going to have to come back and do my changes lately, as I have a really busy day today. Are you surprised? {g}

The Return of Discussion Friday

I'm going to try Discussion Friday again, and see if some of y'all will hop in and respond.

Actually, this one is not so much discussion as a mini-workshop/exercise, something we did at Surrey that proved quite interesting.

How can you ratchet up the tension in even one or two lines of text? How can you up the stakes, play with the words, or make the situation more interesting?

I'll do an example, first, from TMT.

Original:
Someone was in the kitchen. I could see the lamp glow shining down the hall, hear the soft crackle of the fire and murmuring voices. An odd sort of murmuring, like singing.

Without even knowing context, how can we make this more interesting? Okay, I'll give a little context. It's the middle of the night, and my MC is trying to sneak out of a dark, quiet house. Well, I ruin the tension a little right there in the first line, by telling you someone is in the kitchen. Would it be more intriguing if I held onto that information until the end of the paragraph? Let's see.

Suddenly the darkness was broken by the glow of a lamp, and the sound of murmuring voices. An odd sort of murmuring, like singing. Who could be singing, at this time of night?

Is that better? I'm not sure. It does seem more tense, doesn't it?

How about you--would you like to try this experiment? Let's give it a shot. Email me a couple lines of your text, and later today I'll post them anonymously. Then we can all try our hand at making them more tense. Let's have a little fun for Friday. :)

Medieval Word of the Day: yever: Greedy, covetous.

Hello...

Yes, I know. Long time gone.

Surrey was amazing as always, but it does run me to the ragged point of exhaustion, and I always need several days to recover, let alone catch up. It's worth it.

Some random Surrey highlights:

-My favorite workshop was the historical panel, with Jack Whyte, Diana Gabaldon, Anne Perry, Mary Balogh, and Bernard Cornwell. I LOVED when they went down the line, each affirming that we should only put words in historical character's mouths that they actually said, and Bernard (last) said "Fuck that. Do what you want." {snort} I also loved seeing Anne's face when Bernard said that the Victorians were boring and he didn't see how anybody could write about them. But beyond these, there was just so much valuable information in this panel for me; I sucked it right up.

--Hanging out with Jay Clarke/Michael Slade in the lounge until 1 AM
or so, drinking Sambuca, was pretty cool too--he's a great
storyteller. And he listened to all of our stories too.

--I liked Don Maass's talk, and Diana's. Oh, and Jack's. And Anne Perry and Michael Slade. I think all the workshops I attended were excellent this year.

--My meeting with the agent went well; she was very fun and interesting, so I enjoyed just talking to her.

--I stiffed Jenny Crusie on the blue pencil--I messed up the time. {sigh}

--But best (best, best) of all was hanging out with my friends. Good God, these chicks are amazing. I'm already looking forward to next year!

Medieval Word of the Day: sweerness: Indolence, laziness, sloth.

And away I go...

Last day before Surrey!!

I made the mistake last night of taking nighttime cold medicine, in the vain hope that it would knock the cough out and let me sleep. No. It did stop the cough-tickle, but unfortunately I also have this thing with pseudophedrine...it keeps my brain not only awake but hyperactive, with these horrible anxiety-ridden repeating thoughts. {sigh} Got about an hour of sleep.

Off to the store today to get real cough suppressant medicine that will work.

Today I have to finish nitpicky last-minute Surrey prep, mostly printing out various copies of different pieces to workshop. Yes, we do actual work there!! Socializing too, but lots of running around and thinking about/working on our projects. I'm planning to go to sessions with Bernard Cornwell, Jenny Crusie, Diana Gabaldon/Anne Perry/Jack Whyte, and an agent session with Nadia Cornier, Daniel Lazar, Rachel Vater, and Jack Whyte. Yay! Okay, now I'm getting excited.

See you all when I get back!

Medieval Word of the Day: kith: Knowledge, acquaintance with something; knowledge communicated, information.

1st Person again

Argh, my cough is worse. Damn, damn. Well, if I end up hacking my way through the first day or so of Surrey, y'all who are there will have to forgive me. {sigh}

This morning my oh-so-helpful daughter informed me that I couldn't wear this v-neck sweater without something under it, because "you can't let the people at work see your skin." Hmmm. I guess she's getting the privacy thing finally, but carrying it just a little too far. The pendulum.

This week Diana Peterfreund is speaking in defense of 1st-person POV. I've had to fight this battle myself a few times, and I'm not even published, so I understand exactly where she's coming from.

What is it that bothers people about 1st person? Well, this is what I've heard:

1. It's too close to the character; you never get a break from that one POV.
2. The MC is hyper-aware, noticing things she shouldn't, particularly about herself.
3. This POV creates the need for contrived scenes to explain things that happen when the MC is not present, or to force the MC to be present when she shouldn't be.
4. It's difficult for most writers to stay in 1st person, so slippage occurs.
5. There are too many "I"s.

Hum. Well, I have to say that 2-4 can be handled by a skilled writer so that they're not a problem. Yes, it takes more work perhaps, and a more careful read, but it can be done. (Actually, I've seen these problems in 3rd person too; just maybe more often in 1st.)

5? There's not much you can do about that if it bothers someone. They'd probably likely be bothered by too many "she"s too. But you can pay attention to sentence structure so you don't use the same structure 40 times in a row.

As to 1, I think that's just a matter of whether the reader can like and identify with a character. Of course not everyone is going to identify with your heroine/hero, or like them enough to spend many hours with them. But let's face it: not everyone is going to like your book anyway. Seriously. If you've done a good job, though, you'll be able to connect with enough readers to make it work.

Any other objections you have to 1st person? Objections you've seen that I haven't mentioned?

Medieval Word of the Day: forslow: To be slow or dilatory about; to lose or spoil by sloth; to delay, neglect, omit, put off.

Love and Horror

I was reading DaMomma this morning, about a heart-stopping moment when her 5-year-old just dashed out in front of a car. God, they are so fragile, these children that we love with our whole beings and will protect with our lives. Once you become a parent, the world is at once far more beautiful, full of surprises and wonder, and far, far more menacing.

We had our own moment last week: we lost Child for the first (and please, please the last) time.

Just like in DaMomma's story, it happened in a moment. We'd taken Child to a concert at the local big theater, and had gone down to have a cookie and drinks at intermission. We were tucked in a corner of the crowded lobby, enjoying our treats, until they flicked the lights. "Okay, sweetie, time to go back to our seats!" I said. I turned back to make sure Husband was behind us, and then turned around again.

She was gone. Just...not there. I guess she'd taken me literally and started marching off to our seat without waiting for me, and the crowd had closed in behind her. I looked back to husband, puzzled, the panic just starting to rise. "Where is she?" I said cautiously. He looked back at me, astonished. I dashed forward down the little hallway; no pink dress, no blonde hair. I looked right, left. No children at all.

"Where IS she?" I demanded.

"What do you mean where is she? Where did she go?" he said. I just shook my head, fully panicking now, looking every which way. No sign of her.

"She must have gone ahead!"

"You go up to the seats," he said quickly. "I'll stay here and look."

Oh my God. I ran up the ramp, asking every usher as I passed. "Did a little girl come this way by herself? Have you seen a little girl?" Nothing. I pelted up the second ramp, around the corner. Nothing. All the way to the end. Could she have come this way all by herself? I went into the theatre part, up to our seats. No one. Now I understood what they mean by "my heart was in my throat." I couldn't swallow, couldn't think of anything but Where is She. I've lost her.

I ran back down the ramp full speed, around the corner again...

and saw them coming towards me, Husband with Child in hand. I nearly cried right there, in front of all the well-dressed people. Instead I snatched her up. "Where were you?" I demanded. "Where was she?"

Apparently she'd gone the wrong way, into the main section of the theatre instead of up the ramp to the balcony. And fortunately--this is a small town--she'd immediately run into someone she knew, who'd taken her gently by the hand back to wating Daddy in the lobby. The whole thing had probably taken 3 minutes. The longest 3 minutes of my life so far.

Loving that much makes you vulnerable. I would never give up that love, even at the cost of vulnerability, even with that terrifying tangle of emotions that I felt when she just went the wrong way. But I'll admit that I hope I don't have that particular horrible feeling again.

(Oh, and it's snowing this morning!)

Medieval Word of the Day: radly: Quickly, promptly, without delay, soon.

Damn and Blast!

Last night about an hour before bed my chest started to get tickly, and my throat scratchy. I had trouble sleeping--trying not to cough--and now this morning I have a full-blown chest cold. Damn damn damn! I will not be sick for Surrey. Grrr.

Fortunately it's Sunday, so all I have to do is keep up minimally with Child, who is happily dressing her itsy-bitsy dolls in rubber swimsuits (don't ask--Polly Pocket is pervasive) right now and singing to herself.

I did a long post Friday and then it got wiped out with a browser crash; I just didn't have enough patience or time to do it again. The good news though is that I finally nailed Chapter 2 of TMT, and I think I'm ready for Surrey now. I have a synopsis I like, a pitch I like, and a done mss. Thank goodness. I did get a rejection on an outstanding query Friday too, but it was an excellent rejection; the agent read 100 pages and really took the time to comment. She said many positive things and asked to see any other book I might write, but just didn't cotton to my heroine in TMT. That's okay, I can deal with that. So very wonderful to have real feedback!

Anyway, gonna go nurse my cold with lots of food. For some reason chest colds make me hungry.

No medieval word of the day today, as I'm at home!

Surprise!

We had a surprise this morning--Child woke up with pink eye, nastier than mine had been. {sigh} That's an automatic no-go to preschool for at least 24 hours, so she and I have an unexpected vacation day together.

It's been a great day so far. She doesn't feel bad, so we're just having fun: dancing to her CDs, working on sticker books together, making banana bread. I even have the chance to do some laundry and go grocery shopping, which were both sorely needed but hard to fit into our weekday schedule.

And I get to work on TMT during naptime! Woo-hoo!

If you'll excuse me, I have to go click my fingers to a song now...

Deep Thoughts

The universe seems to be sending me a message today. I got a work email from our wellness division talking about the importance of forgiveness and kindness to our health; holding onto resentment and hard feelings hurts US. Then I looked at my planner for today:

"I would rather make mistakes in kindness and compassion than work miracles in unkindness and hardness." --Mother Teresa

Hum. Kindness.

I admit that I am not necessarily a kind person. Empathetic, yes. Supportive, yes. But also impatient, driven, inwardly focused. Realistic, blunt. Sometimes I say things that were better not said; sometimes I concentrate on myself and my own family and friends instead of the stranger who needs help. I just get oblivious.

I also get resentful--I hate that about myself and am working to change it, but there it is. My ultimate push button is if I feel I've been dissed or slighted. It's really hard for me to forget and forgive purposeful slights.

So maybe it's time to reevaluate a little, for myself and the other people around me. Kindness and compassion. Greater awareness of others. Forgiveness. Well, I shall try.

(It's a good thing I still have nasty characters, so I can let my evil side out without hurting anybody!)

Medieval Word of the Day: swenche: To trouble, harass, afflict. To mortify.

(I will not swenche. I will not swenche....)

Motivation

What is the motivation that keeps you at the keyboard, day after day? It makes you stay up that extra hour to work on your book, or get up at 3 AM and fumble your way to the notepad. It makes you put off lunch with your friends or your husband, or turn off the TV when a good old movie is on and ice cream is ready to hand. It makes you keep trying, keep working, even when rejections pile up on your doorstep. What keeps you going? What drives you?

Some say it's the goal. They want to finish a whole book, or see their name in print. They want to touch others with their stories and their words. Some say they can't help it; they've always been drawn to this living between two worlds, this dedication. Some, poor sods, do it for the money. And all of this--except perhaps the money--are valid reasons, real motivators. But they're not mine.

I do it for the high.

If you're a writer, you know what I mean. There's a moment, when you're in the midst of a good scene. You can hear these people, see them. Smell them. They're real and whole, in their own world, in their own story. Living. And you? You made them. Better, you also are them, living in that world. You can cross the barrier, touch the dream on the other side with your own fingers.

I even have this feeling sometimes when I'm just thinking of the book...suddenly it's there. There's the idea, you have it, it will work! Or, Oh My God, if I do it THIS way! I get a rush, pure pleasure and intense excitement. In it is power, certainty, connection to that other, secret world. Fulfillment. A true high.

I'm an addict, I admit it. Sometimes the writing is a slog, or I get disheartened. There's no excitement, no magic, just work. I get another form rejection, and I feel like chucking the whole process in the toilet and giving up. But I remember, see. I remember what that moment feels like, and I want it. I need it. I have to get it back again, just one more time, to feel whole. So I get up, and I close the fun book, and I lock myself in my room, and I write. Because I know, if I keep at it long enough, work hard enough, it'll come back. I'll feel it again.

If you're a writer, you know what I mean. Stand up now and admit it: My name is X, I am a writer, and I'm addicted to the high. If you're not, my friend, be wary of getting started in this crazy pursuit. Once you taste it, you will never be satisfied with boring old reality again.

Medieval Word of the Day: inly: Inwardly (as opposed to outwardly); within, internally; in the heart, spirit, or inner nature; in regard to the inner life or feelings. b. In a way that goes to the heart or inmost part; heartily, intimately, closely; fully, thoroughly, extremely.