Writing helps #2, aka a swift smack upside the head

I follow several writers’ blogs that constantly offer useful, practical and inspirational advice. Today, I saw a post from Seth Godin that nicely summed up the truth about pursuing a dream.

Quote:

It would be great to be picked, to win the random lottery, to have a dream come true.   But when we rely on a wish to get where we want to go, we often sacrifice the effort that might make it more likely that we get what we actually need. Waiting for the prince to show up is a waste of valuable time, and the waiting distracts us from and devalues the hard work we might be doing instead.”  

Thanks for the reality check, Seth.

Gonna get back to work now–there’s a novel waiting in the wings.

Naming your characters

Apparently, a rose by any other name smells just as sweet.

Really? What if a rose was called something else, like skunk cabbage?

Skunk cabbages are a particular type of foul greenery that, “when leaves are bruised or crushed, the plant releases a strong odor which smells like rotten meat. This smell attracts insects.“

Nope, I want my roses to stay roses.

But isn’t that point? When we name our characters, we need to choose something that will stand out, be memorable in our readers minds. It’s really no different from naming your children. You want something unique, individualistic, but not too strange lest he (or she) get tormented mercilessly through middle school and high school.

Frankly, I think the name’s gotta fit the book. For example, for a romance, I’d choose something like Sir Percival Cabot Montmorency III for the swashbuckling hero and Lady Penelope Lucinda Cartwright (of the heaving bosom) for the plucky heroine.

Since I’m writing more of a plain spoken sort of mystery, my choices are a little more constrained. Unfortunately, this translates to my main character experiencing several identity crises over the past few weeks because I keep bouncing between two monikers. Hmm, X has more oomph but then again, Y sounds like it’s got roots.

Thankfully, I think I’ve finally settled on something that should wear well in the wash. It may not have the immediate grittiness of Jack Reacher, the polished tinge of Gabriel Allon or the superbabe punch of Charlie Fox, but it works.

How have you named your characters?

Novel outlines: Are they worthwhile?

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The next time you want to really piss off a group of writers, tell them that only fools refuse to outline their novels. Locate the nearest exit before making this grand declaration, however. You may need it.

Outlining (or the refusal to indulge in such logical Vulcan OCD behavior) is a perpetual hot button topic. Typically introverted writers will whip themselves into quite the extroverted frenzy whenever it’s raised. On the one hand, an outline is a helpful guide preventing novel stall out. On the other hand, outlining can drastically curtail any sense of spontaneous creativity in favor of sticking to The Plan.

Do I outline? It depends.

Freelance articles, yes, I outline. It decreases the overall time I spend writing, increases the quality of my first draft, and smooths the sometimes painful revision process.

For my novel, not so much.

For example, when I followed a strict outline for the first attempt, the work in progress felt (and sounded ) too stiff, too formal and frankly, too boring. More laxity was allowed for the second attempt, but even that version got dumped because the novel ended up going all over the place and nowhere at all.

My current version is a blend of both.

Since my novel is based around a historical event, outlining is necessary for the research part. I have to thoroughly understand both the big and small picture first before creating the story around it.

I’m more flexible with my characters, though. The essential players are there, along with their general backstory, but for the most part I’m content to let them develop as we go along. I’m amazed at who ends up popping out of the woodwork when I take this path.

Do I have a set of chapter blueprints? Kind of. They’re more notes than anything else. They’re pointers on how to keep the novel moving  without locking me into specific actions that MUST happen. Again, I’m surprised at what appears when I loosen the reins.

The last thing I do is restrain the editor within. If I get a creative brainstorm after finishing up a chapter, I’ll insert the idea via a comment balloon next to the paragraph in question. Once the draft is done I’ll review the comments and incorporate the valuable ones into the revisions  while tossing the worthless ones.

So there you have it.

Purists might say I lean more toward the stricter outline camp than the let-it-all-hang-out camp. They’re probably right but what’s more important is this blended, half-and-half method is doing the trick for me.

And the next time someone decides to incite a writers’ riot on outlining, I’ll be standing far away on the fringes.

Novel, (slightly) interrupted

Had to shift gears last week to handle some unexpected article edits. It felt weird emerging from the warm cocoon of half-forgotten murders only to plunge into the icy waters of how re-branding impacts medical facility affiliations.

To tell the truth, it threw me off balance for a few days.

So after finally re-submitting the revamped piece at 1.30 am, last Friday morning, I took a leaf from the Patricia Cornwell interview in the October issue of Writer’s Digest to help hot wire my stalled novel. (Note: non-subscribers can’t access the article but you can get a tasty overview at Andi Marquette’s blog).

The interview’s got some wonderful insights but my favorite is, “Treat your writing like a relationship and not a job. Because if it’s a relationship…it’s like visiting your friend.”

Hmm. I think she’s onto something. I’m not treating my characters like they’re my friends, listening to what they have to say or more importantly, to what they’re not saying.

Instead, my focus has been on maneuvering everyone as if they all have steering wheels implanted in their backs for me to use. Nothing like a little,  pretty-as-a-neatly-wrapped-package-navigation OCD, eh?  So I took a deep breath and this morning, I let go. I sat down with an iced mocha chocolate cookie latte, told my new friends to tell me like it is, and watched the creative engine fire back up.

Cranked out some good writing, although I’m thinking that perhaps the sugar/caffeine rush may have helped.

Building out the novel joints

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Figuring out a readable (and believable) bridge between dramatic scenes is proving a challenge.  Words that typically tumble out through my fingertips for an intense scene, suddenly stop flowing like an abruptly shut off faucet when it comes time to segue.

Today, I slogged through bolting one such joint together and it took forever. It was as if I was digging down through sun-baked, Texas hardtop for the words. The result? Not pretty. The gaping holes here are so big, I could drive my car through them.

Obviously, future revisions are needed.

However, the initial goal is accomplished. I’ve cobbled together a semblance of a bridge and that’s what’s important.  Now, while I wouldn’t recommend walking across it just yet (unless you like these kinds of bridges), I’m not concerned. I expect to get some sort of 2:00 A.M wakeup call one of these nights telling me the best way to monkey wrench the faucet open.

Writing Helps Part I: Surreptitious behavior

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For those of you who think writers simply magic up tightly spun, coherently woven, and logically tied off reams of sentences and paragraphs, let me enlighten you. You’re wrong–unless you’re talking to someone like Gayle Lynds or David Baldacci, whose first novel, Absolute Power, is one of my favorite books of all time.

For the most part, our words spill out over the page like runaway Scrabble bits which we then clumsily attempt to form into something sensible, something readable. And sometimes, ok, many times, we need help. Our characters are flat, we’ve run out of witty repartee or are just stumped on how someone should look. That’s where surreptitious behavior comes in handy.

To put it plainly, writers eavesdrop and spy on other people.

No, we really don’t care about you per se, we just want to hear your choice of words, the tone of your voice, see your intriguing selection of clothing. You could have won the lottery for all we care just as long as you’re dressed in a shocking lime green shirt, pink and blue checkered shorts, wearing white socks with Birkenstocks and speaking in a twangy Boston (that’s Baahstan to everyone outside the east coast) accent. Or you could be the 20-something blond on her very first hike ever, wearing pink, open-toed espadrilles, black biker shorts, a string tank top, grasping your fashionable beige Fendi clutch bag to your chest in lieu of water. What makes the picture even more memorable is your comment about how there seem to be a lot of rocks in the park.

We also look to our relatives and friends for help.  Got a nana who has a collection of smart-ass zingers? We’ll happily steal them. Got an uncle with hair growing out of his ears? Guess what, he may be our favorite uncle but by golly, ear hair is just too good to pass up. Same with behavior patterns. Know someone who always wriggles out of paying the bill, even though she makes twice as much as you? Someone else who’s color blind, but still insists on wearing mismatched colors? A boss who’s a screamer? All fair game.

Now please understand that we lift only that particular habit, comment or clothing style for our use (and Taylor Swift seems to be the master of this trick). That’s it. We don’t go any further than that. Doing so is bad form and just downright dumb considering libel laws.  Nope, we just want your funny comments, odd behavioral ticks, and insightful behavior to give our characters and plots that little extra punch and sparkle.

Sometimes, we’ll even get a whole book idea out of it. Tess Gerritsen did when she went out to dinner one night. She overheard such a frightening conversation that it eventually spawned her breakthrough book, Harvest.

So be warned. The next time you’re in a coffee shop, outdoor restaurant or even the beach, take a look around. Notice anyone paused for thought, head cocked to one side, eyes staring off into the distance as if he/she is pondering the deep problems of the universe? Yes, it’s a good act, isn’t it? Guess what, that person is most likely a writer and is probably scoping out your conversation for interesting bits and pieces.

You’ll know for sure if there’s a little careful scribbling after you say something particularly witty. Or if you are wearing some sort of clashing colors.