So, November, NaNoWriMo, and Kelsi and Joran have all come and gone. Have I mentioned that it had to have been a man who came up with the brilliant idea to put NaNoWriMo in the same month as my birthday, Thanksgiving and Black Friday? Seriously! Who's bright idea was that? Had to have been a man. (I say that even though my husband is the one who does all the Thanksgiving cooking, so it's not like I can claim days of slaving over the stove in preparation. However, there is no way on God's green earth that he is stepping foot in a store on Black Friday, so all the Christmas shopping is left to me, shopping and writing are not compatible.) I know. Excuses, excuses.
Anyway, K&J are out of the dungeon, they have a new start, and they are now kind of cooling their heels waiting for me to get done with the dragons before I go back to them again. We shall not discuss word count, but I can assure one and all that I was never in any danger of hitting the 50,000 word mark. That is what next year is for. Which means that in the next eleven months I have to come up with a really good story idea. I mean, I couldn't even write the book when I'd already written it once and knew it inside and out. Or maybe that's my problem. The last two years I've tried to rewrite something I'd already at least started on once. Maybe what I need to do is wake up November 1st and start writing. I guess we'll find out in eleven months. At least I had a good time getting together with my writing buddies. Who says writing isn't a social activity? (Though not one to be carried out while shopping.)
Friday, December 10, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Nanowrimo
Nanowrimo starts in just over an hour. Am I ready? No! Am I doing it anyway? Yes! Kelsi and Joran are being freed from the dungeon. They are seeing the light of day after six long years. Fresh start, blank page (screen). Better, stronger, faster. The bionic first-book-I-ever-wrote.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
day five and four months later
Okay, so I'm not technically writing on day five, which would have made me actually achieve my goal for writing every day of the conference. However, I am writing about day five, which is nearly the same. (And don't give me grief about it being four months later. I came home to two extra, not-completely-rotten-but-far-from-perfect kids living in my house for the summer. And after they left I had other excuses, not the least of which being the focus of this whole little post here today).
On the last morning of the conference we took turns having one on one time with Brandon out in the hallway where we could ask him questions/talk about our writing/have a staring contest. Because of my deep-seated, long-standing need to become invisible in situations where I feel inadequate, when people were writing down which order we were going to talk to Brandon in, I never really raised my hand. Well, not very high, and certainly not with any kind of vocal attention-getting techniques attached. So I was last. I think everyone was supposed to get something like 8 minutes alone with Brandon, but it's not like there was a timer or anything, and it's not like he's going to quit talking mid-sentence if somebody did come out and tell him exactly when time was up. So by the time it was my turn, I think I had maybe two minutes. I may have taken three. Anyway, while others were taking their turn and I was looking at the clock realizing my turn was going to be extremely short, I was trying to think of the most important question I could ask him. I don't know if I came up with the most important question, but by the time I went out in the hallway, I knew which one was bothering me the most (aside from the obvious 'why did I only get two freakin' minutes?')
So what does Michelle ask well-known, accomplished authors when she has their ear all to herself?
How do you know when it's ready?
That's the question I asked. I finished my dragon story several years ago. I gave it to people to read and they said it was good and to send it out. Now, granted, those people were family and friends, but they were family and friends who actually know a bit about the business of writing. My uncle is an actual editor, though an editor of non-fiction, schoolbook stuff. He said that there was nothing glaringly obvious that needed to be fixed and that any corrections would be personal to the editor who got it and couldn't be guessed at ahead of time. I have to say that makes a certain amount of sense. And Ethan, well, Ethan is co-authoring a book with Brandon Sanderson for pity's sake (though he wasn't at the time, it's true). I did send out one query letter to one editor (both Ethan and my sister knew her and said I should) and though she was not interested, she gave me some suggestions that sent me off on the not-quite-major overhaul. A couple of years after that, I started going to a class/writing group. The teacher was CRAZY about my book. Thought it was the best middle grade fantasy he had ever seen from a completely unknown, never-done-this-before person. I had my manuscript critiqued through chapter four and he wanted to start seeing query letters. I couldn't keep taking the class, so I kind of sat and twiddled my thumbs for a while, then last year I went to the writing conference. An actual author of actual children's books looked at my very own first chapter of my story. And told me to change it. (I should probably note that the very original first chapter was in the real world at bed time, which the editor I sent it to didn't like. She wanted it to start in the magical world to capture the kids right off. The children's book author at the conference thought it was too confusing starting in the magical world, that it needed to start in our world so the kids would be grounded in 'reality' before they went off trying to understand some made-up place.) I went from real world to Hiraeth to real world again, all on the suggestion of other people who didn't quite 'get it' the other way. (For the record, I now have a prologue in Hiraeth and the first chapter in the real world.) And at this conference, this year, they wanted yet another first chapter, which turns out to be the ORIGINAL first chapter, but without the kids going to bed (because who wants to read about that, right?). (Also, Anne was completely right about that. She has been telling me FOR YEARS that she wanted the original first chapter back and thought I never should have left it.)
So, Mr Mull, with all of this conflicting input from people who supposedly know what they're talking about and at the very least are intelligent, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to know when to send in my manuscript to somebody? When do I stop listening to other people, and how much weight do I give their comments if I do listen to them? (Quite frankly, of all the people who have actually looked at any part of my actual book, Brandon Mull is the ONLY person who writes/edits/does middle grade fantasy. Nobody else has. Either they do fantasy but not middle grade, so they have no idea what is expected of middle grade books, or they do middle grade but totally don't 'get' fantasy. And it really kind of breaks my heart a little bit that I didn't get any real feedback from Brandon about my manuscript. Just a little.)
And now for his answer, which was crazy short (his 'assistant' was standing a few feet away, waiting to take him to lunch, but even so, the answer is so brilliant it wouldn't have taken more time anyway).
He said, DUM DUM DUM--
Trust yourself.
Seriously. Who'da thought?
When your manuscript is as good as you can make it, when you're only making it worse by fiddling around with it, send it out.
And how, Mr Mull, is one supposed to know when that has happened? Well, that's the tricky part. That's getting to know yourself as a writer and what you are capable of, and it comes with time. He said he certainly didn't know those things when he first started sending things out, but now that he's been doing it a while he has a better feel for when he's at that point. And I would dare say that once you have been through the editing process with an editor (or agent, even) you learn things that you really can't pick up on your own.
That answer fits in nicely with the other voice that's been in my head all these years. It comes most loudly from Dave Wolverton (I subscribe to his Daily Kicks) but I've certainly heard it from countless sources. Send out your best stuff. Polish and polish and polish some more. Don't figure that just because you've typed "The End" that it's ready to go.
So that's where I'm at. I've listened to comments and suggestions, which is good, because I've made improvements to my story because of them. However, this time around I am trying to listen to myself more. Am I saying something the best way possible? Is my plot exciting and clear? Are my characters lovable/hatable? Are they growing? Over confidence has certainly never been my problem, but I'm hoping that I am at least developing self-awareness.
On the last morning of the conference we took turns having one on one time with Brandon out in the hallway where we could ask him questions/talk about our writing/have a staring contest. Because of my deep-seated, long-standing need to become invisible in situations where I feel inadequate, when people were writing down which order we were going to talk to Brandon in, I never really raised my hand. Well, not very high, and certainly not with any kind of vocal attention-getting techniques attached. So I was last. I think everyone was supposed to get something like 8 minutes alone with Brandon, but it's not like there was a timer or anything, and it's not like he's going to quit talking mid-sentence if somebody did come out and tell him exactly when time was up. So by the time it was my turn, I think I had maybe two minutes. I may have taken three. Anyway, while others were taking their turn and I was looking at the clock realizing my turn was going to be extremely short, I was trying to think of the most important question I could ask him. I don't know if I came up with the most important question, but by the time I went out in the hallway, I knew which one was bothering me the most (aside from the obvious 'why did I only get two freakin' minutes?')
So what does Michelle ask well-known, accomplished authors when she has their ear all to herself?
How do you know when it's ready?
That's the question I asked. I finished my dragon story several years ago. I gave it to people to read and they said it was good and to send it out. Now, granted, those people were family and friends, but they were family and friends who actually know a bit about the business of writing. My uncle is an actual editor, though an editor of non-fiction, schoolbook stuff. He said that there was nothing glaringly obvious that needed to be fixed and that any corrections would be personal to the editor who got it and couldn't be guessed at ahead of time. I have to say that makes a certain amount of sense. And Ethan, well, Ethan is co-authoring a book with Brandon Sanderson for pity's sake (though he wasn't at the time, it's true). I did send out one query letter to one editor (both Ethan and my sister knew her and said I should) and though she was not interested, she gave me some suggestions that sent me off on the not-quite-major overhaul. A couple of years after that, I started going to a class/writing group. The teacher was CRAZY about my book. Thought it was the best middle grade fantasy he had ever seen from a completely unknown, never-done-this-before person. I had my manuscript critiqued through chapter four and he wanted to start seeing query letters. I couldn't keep taking the class, so I kind of sat and twiddled my thumbs for a while, then last year I went to the writing conference. An actual author of actual children's books looked at my very own first chapter of my story. And told me to change it. (I should probably note that the very original first chapter was in the real world at bed time, which the editor I sent it to didn't like. She wanted it to start in the magical world to capture the kids right off. The children's book author at the conference thought it was too confusing starting in the magical world, that it needed to start in our world so the kids would be grounded in 'reality' before they went off trying to understand some made-up place.) I went from real world to Hiraeth to real world again, all on the suggestion of other people who didn't quite 'get it' the other way. (For the record, I now have a prologue in Hiraeth and the first chapter in the real world.) And at this conference, this year, they wanted yet another first chapter, which turns out to be the ORIGINAL first chapter, but without the kids going to bed (because who wants to read about that, right?). (Also, Anne was completely right about that. She has been telling me FOR YEARS that she wanted the original first chapter back and thought I never should have left it.)
So, Mr Mull, with all of this conflicting input from people who supposedly know what they're talking about and at the very least are intelligent, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to know when to send in my manuscript to somebody? When do I stop listening to other people, and how much weight do I give their comments if I do listen to them? (Quite frankly, of all the people who have actually looked at any part of my actual book, Brandon Mull is the ONLY person who writes/edits/does middle grade fantasy. Nobody else has. Either they do fantasy but not middle grade, so they have no idea what is expected of middle grade books, or they do middle grade but totally don't 'get' fantasy. And it really kind of breaks my heart a little bit that I didn't get any real feedback from Brandon about my manuscript. Just a little.)
And now for his answer, which was crazy short (his 'assistant' was standing a few feet away, waiting to take him to lunch, but even so, the answer is so brilliant it wouldn't have taken more time anyway).
He said, DUM DUM DUM--
Trust yourself.
Seriously. Who'da thought?
When your manuscript is as good as you can make it, when you're only making it worse by fiddling around with it, send it out.
And how, Mr Mull, is one supposed to know when that has happened? Well, that's the tricky part. That's getting to know yourself as a writer and what you are capable of, and it comes with time. He said he certainly didn't know those things when he first started sending things out, but now that he's been doing it a while he has a better feel for when he's at that point. And I would dare say that once you have been through the editing process with an editor (or agent, even) you learn things that you really can't pick up on your own.
That answer fits in nicely with the other voice that's been in my head all these years. It comes most loudly from Dave Wolverton (I subscribe to his Daily Kicks) but I've certainly heard it from countless sources. Send out your best stuff. Polish and polish and polish some more. Don't figure that just because you've typed "The End" that it's ready to go.
So that's where I'm at. I've listened to comments and suggestions, which is good, because I've made improvements to my story because of them. However, this time around I am trying to listen to myself more. Am I saying something the best way possible? Is my plot exciting and clear? Are my characters lovable/hatable? Are they growing? Over confidence has certainly never been my problem, but I'm hoping that I am at least developing self-awareness.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Day four
I am in the midst--THE VERY MIDST--of rewriting chapter one. I am writing this only because I set a goal to post every day this conference, darn it, and I'm not going to drop the pen now (so to speak). (And don't tell me I can't mix/mess-up metaphors. I do it all the time. I am the champion of the mangled metaphor!)
That's all you get today. The new and improved (also known as the old, very-first-but-back-again-completely-different) chapter one awaits.
Come on, Rebecca, be brilliant.
That's all you get today. The new and improved (also known as the old, very-first-but-back-again-completely-different) chapter one awaits.
Come on, Rebecca, be brilliant.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Day three
Okay, so I didn't have to mention Lloyd Alexander at all. Nobody had issues with my names, except for Liosalfar, because it was in the Fianovar Tapestry by Guy Gavriel Kay (which I read, and loved, years ago but had forgotten that name was in it), and Jambalaya. Just wait till they find out about Mulligatawny. And I'm going to rewrite my first chapter (AGAIN) but I can't talk about that right now. It may be the right thing to do, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.
I went to a panel on net-working, which I am terrible at, but I'm going to try to be better. Writers have a tendency to be introverts (at least this one is). Introverts are not known for being extroverts.
There was more I was going to say, but my brain is mush. Oh! The comment yesterday about British rights. I certainly don't have such a thing yet, but someday I hope to. Those foreign sales are something to think about, according to Dave Wolverton (and I believe him). I'm just trying to learn from the masters. (I still haven't actually spoken to Dave, or given him a hug or anything. He's always surrounded by people and I don't want interrupt. And I don't think I would dare give him a hug right now anyway. Apparently he was in an accident a while back and he moves like he is in so much pain. I guess I'm afraid just hovering around him will add to his discomfort, so I don't linger.)
Tomorrow is the booksignings. Duncan has asked me to get an autograph from Brandon Mull. He doesn't care what it's on, he just wants his name and Brandon's name on the same piece of paper. I'm taking The Candy Shop Wars to get signed. I think he will enjoy the book.
I went to a panel on net-working, which I am terrible at, but I'm going to try to be better. Writers have a tendency to be introverts (at least this one is). Introverts are not known for being extroverts.
There was more I was going to say, but my brain is mush. Oh! The comment yesterday about British rights. I certainly don't have such a thing yet, but someday I hope to. Those foreign sales are something to think about, according to Dave Wolverton (and I believe him). I'm just trying to learn from the masters. (I still haven't actually spoken to Dave, or given him a hug or anything. He's always surrounded by people and I don't want interrupt. And I don't think I would dare give him a hug right now anyway. Apparently he was in an accident a while back and he moves like he is in so much pain. I guess I'm afraid just hovering around him will add to his discomfort, so I don't linger.)
Tomorrow is the booksignings. Duncan has asked me to get an autograph from Brandon Mull. He doesn't care what it's on, he just wants his name and Brandon's name on the same piece of paper. I'm taking The Candy Shop Wars to get signed. I think he will enjoy the book.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day two
I am destined to sleep through this conference, I can tell. It's even later than it was last night and I almost slept through one of the lectures today. Honestly. It's hard being this pathetic. But I am, so this has to be quick.
Our assignment from yesterday was coming up with a one sentence pitch. Here goes.
Three siblings discover they are the lost heirs of a magical land.
Done before, yes, I know. But it's something, and something I haven't had before. I'm working on the paragraph pitch, and will hopefully have that tomorrow (later today). Also tomorrow (later today) I will be getting feedback on my prologue and first chapter. My nerves are jangling, to say the least. I am anticipating comments on prologues in general, and names (Liosalfar and probably Hiraeth). I intend to stick to my guns, siting Lloyd Alexander as the president for funky words in middle grade, and also Welsh.
In other 'news' Dave Wolverton's presentation was wonderful. However, I don't have enough brain cells awake right now to say how or why. Except that I will probably also be siting him too. I want that British contract too.
Our assignment from yesterday was coming up with a one sentence pitch. Here goes.
Three siblings discover they are the lost heirs of a magical land.
Done before, yes, I know. But it's something, and something I haven't had before. I'm working on the paragraph pitch, and will hopefully have that tomorrow (later today). Also tomorrow (later today) I will be getting feedback on my prologue and first chapter. My nerves are jangling, to say the least. I am anticipating comments on prologues in general, and names (Liosalfar and probably Hiraeth). I intend to stick to my guns, siting Lloyd Alexander as the president for funky words in middle grade, and also Welsh.
In other 'news' Dave Wolverton's presentation was wonderful. However, I don't have enough brain cells awake right now to say how or why. Except that I will probably also be siting him too. I want that British contract too.
Monday, June 14, 2010
WIFYR day one
I have the best husband in the world. That's just the way things are, there's no reason to get upset and nothing to argue about. He signed me up for the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers conference this year. I went last year and LOVED it and kind of wanted to live in an alternate writing-conference universe forever by the time I was done. I could really get into spending my day with adults talking about writing, and not doing laundry, dishes or dinner EVER AGAIN. However, I don't live in a world of alternate universes, so I've spent the last year with laundry, dishes and dinner. When I got the announcement about this year's conference I took a brief mental vacation to that universe and imagined spending a week with Brandon Mull as my mentor. An actual writer of middle-grade fantasy, just like me. (And a nice guy, if you can trust impressions from book signings, which I think I was safe to do on this one.) Then the vacation was over and reality came knocking, in the form of bills and expenses. I honestly didn't go back.
Then three weeks ago Matthew gave me my anniversary present (sixteen years!). He had signed me up for Brandon Mull's class (a miracle in itself, since it's been my observation that the fantasy ones are some of the first to fill up). So, today was my first day at the conference. I'm not as ready as I would like to be and I would like to blame that on Matthew for not telling me about this until three weeks ago. I didn't get over the whole school-stress until the actual last day of school, and then I had an Assassin's Creed costume to make for my son's birthday (thank you, Lis, for making all the parts that I couldn't) and then I had to get ready to have our niece and nephew come live with us for the summer. The 'getting ready' part still hasn't happened, even though the kids have been with us for a week and a half. I'll tackle that again this weekend.
It sounds like I'm making excuses, and I am, but not sincerely. The truth is, I could have submitted to the agent and editors who were at the conference last year, but I never had anything ready enough to do it. And that was a whole year, not just three weeks. So I am turning over a new leaf (pardon the cliche). I am not just going to attend this conference this year. I am going to participate, starting with blogging something that I've learned every day. Here goes.
I had an aha moment in Brandon Mull's breakout session this afternoon (it wasn't my only aha moment, but it's the one I'm picking on at the moment). He was quoting Orson Scott Card (basically): "What is in the story should be in the story for your character to react to." And I thought of the saying in mysteries (either books or movies, I'm not sure) that if there is a gun on table in the first chapter it had better go off by the end of the book (or something along those lines). Not that everything your character sees, hears or smells has to change the course of the story, but if it's in there, your character should be aware of it, it shouldn't just be there for the author. I don't know if Brandon or Scott would put it that way, or even agree with me, but it's a way of thinking about description that I think will help me decide what to put in and what to leave out. I think it was especially helpful coming after Alane Ferguson talked about description in her class right before Brandon's. Description is something I struggle with. Because I am so afraid of putting in too much, I usually start out not putting in enough and have to add more, which then becomes too much. Between the two of them I believe I have a better understanding.
This was supposed to be short and sweet but I got a bit carried away. (I had to sing Matthew's praises, especially because he took the whole week off work so I could go to this. Long before I had resigned myself to not going this year, my sister had agreed to watch my kids for me if I did go--to the extent of even having the three of them stay at her house all week so we wouldn't have to worry about ferrying them back and forth. (Not only do I have the best husband, but I also have the best sister.) Then we got two extra kids for the summer, and having her watch all five just wouldn't be right, especially since the two extras are from Matthew's side of the family, not mine. So Matthew took the week off to stay home and be Mr Mom to five kids, with no car to run errands in and a bathroom to finish putting together.) I need to get to bed and I still have homework for tomorrow. A one sentence pitch for my book, and a one paragraph pitch for my book. This is not something I am good at. In the many years I have been writing/revising/trying to hatch this book, I have never had a one sentence pitch for it. There is a reason for that. I am feeling stress. Pitches are for baseball, and I can't do that either. I am a non-pitch person. Except that come 8:30 in the morning, I won't get to be one any longer.
Then three weeks ago Matthew gave me my anniversary present (sixteen years!). He had signed me up for Brandon Mull's class (a miracle in itself, since it's been my observation that the fantasy ones are some of the first to fill up). So, today was my first day at the conference. I'm not as ready as I would like to be and I would like to blame that on Matthew for not telling me about this until three weeks ago. I didn't get over the whole school-stress until the actual last day of school, and then I had an Assassin's Creed costume to make for my son's birthday (thank you, Lis, for making all the parts that I couldn't) and then I had to get ready to have our niece and nephew come live with us for the summer. The 'getting ready' part still hasn't happened, even though the kids have been with us for a week and a half. I'll tackle that again this weekend.
It sounds like I'm making excuses, and I am, but not sincerely. The truth is, I could have submitted to the agent and editors who were at the conference last year, but I never had anything ready enough to do it. And that was a whole year, not just three weeks. So I am turning over a new leaf (pardon the cliche). I am not just going to attend this conference this year. I am going to participate, starting with blogging something that I've learned every day. Here goes.
I had an aha moment in Brandon Mull's breakout session this afternoon (it wasn't my only aha moment, but it's the one I'm picking on at the moment). He was quoting Orson Scott Card (basically): "What is in the story should be in the story for your character to react to." And I thought of the saying in mysteries (either books or movies, I'm not sure) that if there is a gun on table in the first chapter it had better go off by the end of the book (or something along those lines). Not that everything your character sees, hears or smells has to change the course of the story, but if it's in there, your character should be aware of it, it shouldn't just be there for the author. I don't know if Brandon or Scott would put it that way, or even agree with me, but it's a way of thinking about description that I think will help me decide what to put in and what to leave out. I think it was especially helpful coming after Alane Ferguson talked about description in her class right before Brandon's. Description is something I struggle with. Because I am so afraid of putting in too much, I usually start out not putting in enough and have to add more, which then becomes too much. Between the two of them I believe I have a better understanding.
This was supposed to be short and sweet but I got a bit carried away. (I had to sing Matthew's praises, especially because he took the whole week off work so I could go to this. Long before I had resigned myself to not going this year, my sister had agreed to watch my kids for me if I did go--to the extent of even having the three of them stay at her house all week so we wouldn't have to worry about ferrying them back and forth. (Not only do I have the best husband, but I also have the best sister.) Then we got two extra kids for the summer, and having her watch all five just wouldn't be right, especially since the two extras are from Matthew's side of the family, not mine. So Matthew took the week off to stay home and be Mr Mom to five kids, with no car to run errands in and a bathroom to finish putting together.) I need to get to bed and I still have homework for tomorrow. A one sentence pitch for my book, and a one paragraph pitch for my book. This is not something I am good at. In the many years I have been writing/revising/trying to hatch this book, I have never had a one sentence pitch for it. There is a reason for that. I am feeling stress. Pitches are for baseball, and I can't do that either. I am a non-pitch person. Except that come 8:30 in the morning, I won't get to be one any longer.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Anne's birthday
Today is Anne's birthday. We met at Rick's College, the first week of Herr Schwartz's German class in September 1985. Any German I know, I learned in those two days of class before we started studying together. 'Studying' took the form of watching Starsky and Hutch, eating Wizard sandwiches (still the best subs ever, and so mystically named) and watching as many viewings of Ladyhawke as we possibly could (it was possible to watch it over a dozen times in those two semesters). Not only did we have the movie memorized word perfect, but we also had the audience reaction down. We knew when every sigh, every gasp, every groan would happen (never look up from putting your boots back on until after the groan so you don't have to see the blood dribble out of the Bishop's mouth).
And then there were the conversations about books. I think she won't disagree too strenuously when I say I had a longer list of books I thought she needed to read than she had for me. Of course, top of the list was getting her to read Lord of the Rings, which she didn't do until they made a movie of it. Somehow we stayed friends through all those years of her being uncultured and me being a nag.
There was Hal and Alan (thank you, Nancy Springer!), which to this day is code between us. If either of us finds a Hal and Alan book, movie or TV show, the other knows it will be good and can't wait to get her hands on it. Aragorn and Legolas had a Hal and Alan relationship (in the movies). Sam and Dean Winchester, Will and Jack, Frodo and Sam. You get the picture. Oh, and the biggest and most enduring, Duncan and Morgan, from Katherine Kurtz's Deryni books (and eventually Kelson and Dhugal, though how they could be blood brothers when Dhugal was never even mentioned in the entire first trilogy was always a bit of a concern). So many hours we spent talking about Duncan and Morgan. Which eventually gave way to David Eddings' Belgariad until Kathering Kurtz wrote some more. And then David Eddings. It went on like that for several years.
And we talked stories. At that point I wasn't yet a writer. Well, I wrote poetry, silly me, but I only talked stories. I had had other friends that I talked stories with when I was younger (I still remember some of those scenes so vividly it amazes me I wasn't watching them in a movie), but Anne was the first friend I ever had where the stories were fantasy (though the others were certainly not reality). To this day, we still have a group of characters stuck in a dungeon. We talk about them from time to time, but I'm afraid they are destined to live in limbo in a dungeon for all eternity. We've decided that though it may be mean and cruel to kill off your characters, truly, the worst thing you can do as a writer is to just abandon them in a dungeon and never tell the rest of their story.
Though I didn't become a writer until years after I met Anne, she is largely responsible for me being a writer today. (And when I say 'writer', I mean 'person who writes' (stories, specifically)). At some point, if/when I become an actual published writer (or 'author'), I have no doubt she will still be somebody I will be pointing a finger at for getting me there. Through the years of us writing our various stories (she's a little bit scifi, I'm a little bit fantasy) her brain has kept me going when my brain had thrown in the towel. Brainstorming with her is creative bliss. Even when I'm brainstorming her work, my work has benefited later. And she has talked me through more writer's blocks than I can begin to count. I can't imagine writing a book without using her brain along the way.
The only time we ever even went to the same school was that first year at Ricks. We've never been roommates. We often haven't even lived in the same state. Now she lives three houses down from me. It's almost as good as being roommates, but she doesn't have to live with my complete lack of motivation to dust. My kids call her Aunt Anne, and they adore her. My husband considers her part of the family (sometimes, I'm afraid, whether she wants to be or not). She's been my best friend and sister for going on twenty five years. I'm pretty darn lucky.
Happy birthday, Tarly
Love ya
Tawny
And then there were the conversations about books. I think she won't disagree too strenuously when I say I had a longer list of books I thought she needed to read than she had for me. Of course, top of the list was getting her to read Lord of the Rings, which she didn't do until they made a movie of it. Somehow we stayed friends through all those years of her being uncultured and me being a nag.
There was Hal and Alan (thank you, Nancy Springer!), which to this day is code between us. If either of us finds a Hal and Alan book, movie or TV show, the other knows it will be good and can't wait to get her hands on it. Aragorn and Legolas had a Hal and Alan relationship (in the movies). Sam and Dean Winchester, Will and Jack, Frodo and Sam. You get the picture. Oh, and the biggest and most enduring, Duncan and Morgan, from Katherine Kurtz's Deryni books (and eventually Kelson and Dhugal, though how they could be blood brothers when Dhugal was never even mentioned in the entire first trilogy was always a bit of a concern). So many hours we spent talking about Duncan and Morgan. Which eventually gave way to David Eddings' Belgariad until Kathering Kurtz wrote some more. And then David Eddings. It went on like that for several years.
And we talked stories. At that point I wasn't yet a writer. Well, I wrote poetry, silly me, but I only talked stories. I had had other friends that I talked stories with when I was younger (I still remember some of those scenes so vividly it amazes me I wasn't watching them in a movie), but Anne was the first friend I ever had where the stories were fantasy (though the others were certainly not reality). To this day, we still have a group of characters stuck in a dungeon. We talk about them from time to time, but I'm afraid they are destined to live in limbo in a dungeon for all eternity. We've decided that though it may be mean and cruel to kill off your characters, truly, the worst thing you can do as a writer is to just abandon them in a dungeon and never tell the rest of their story.
Though I didn't become a writer until years after I met Anne, she is largely responsible for me being a writer today. (And when I say 'writer', I mean 'person who writes' (stories, specifically)). At some point, if/when I become an actual published writer (or 'author'), I have no doubt she will still be somebody I will be pointing a finger at for getting me there. Through the years of us writing our various stories (she's a little bit scifi, I'm a little bit fantasy) her brain has kept me going when my brain had thrown in the towel. Brainstorming with her is creative bliss. Even when I'm brainstorming her work, my work has benefited later. And she has talked me through more writer's blocks than I can begin to count. I can't imagine writing a book without using her brain along the way.
The only time we ever even went to the same school was that first year at Ricks. We've never been roommates. We often haven't even lived in the same state. Now she lives three houses down from me. It's almost as good as being roommates, but she doesn't have to live with my complete lack of motivation to dust. My kids call her Aunt Anne, and they adore her. My husband considers her part of the family (sometimes, I'm afraid, whether she wants to be or not). She's been my best friend and sister for going on twenty five years. I'm pretty darn lucky.
Happy birthday, Tarly
Love ya
Tawny
Monday, March 1, 2010
Saint David's Day
My neighbor is an artist. It's not just that she can paint and make pretty things. She actually sees things differently than anyone else I know. She's either an artist or an alien. Since I've never been inside the brain of either one, I'm going to stick with artist. It has nicer connotations. Last month she had an art show at a local theater. I didn't know about it until the last week of the show, and wasn't able to make it until the very last night. Unfortunately, when we got there we found that they were holding auditions for a play in the same room as the art show, and Penny was sneaking in between auditions to take out her pieces as she could. Darn actors (and I'm pretty certain they are aliens). However, being my neighbor, and a very nice lady (not an alien), Penny gave us our own personal show at her house yesterday before she finished putting all of her art away. A writer can learn a lot from an artist.
First I have to say that Penny is amazing. Her house, which has the exact same floor plan as ours, is as utterly different from ours as can be, and it doesn't even have that much to do with the fact that her children are grown and mine continue to trash the place. It is the home of an artist, and if you don't know what that means, then I can't help you. Her home itself is art.
I would be hard pressed to say which of her art I like the best. Her paintings are beautiful, some of them based on other, famous paintings, but somehow they are more vibrant and alive than the originals (she is particularly fond of van Gogh and his Starry Night, which never touched me as much as it does now, seeing her affection for it). She also makes . . . statues? Object? Things? Out of . . . stuff. I might love those the best. She has a series of people made out of cork screws that I dearly love. Those . . . statues are what make me think she's an alien. I flatly don't have the ability to draw or paint, and I don't know how other people do it, but I 'get' that they do. You look at something and you recreate it in a picture. That makes sense, even if the thing you see is only in your head. But taking wing nuts and steamers and funnels and spoons and circuit boards and cheese graters and . . . stuff I don't even know the name or function of and turning them into things . . . That's magic. That's creativity I can't comprehend. That's alien and beautiful and makes a little ache inside of me that I'm not like that too.
When I was young I wanted to be a poet. Truth to tell, I wanted to be Robert Frost reincarnated. His words make pictures in my head and those pictures take my breath away. I wanted to do that for other people. I wanted to make pictures with words that would make people see what I see, because what I saw was so amazingly beautiful (it was western Oregon, of course it was beautiful). I did poetry for a while, and I really enjoyed it (though I don't know that I was ever Robert Frost reincarnated). Then I took a class in college that wanted me to write a story along with all the poetry we wrote. I've written very little poetry since, but I write a lot of stories (or at least I start them . . .) I've told myself stories my whole life, and goodness knows I've read them, I just never really wrote them down before. Now I do. And when I was looking at Penny's people, that little voice that seldom leaves me alone said "There are stories here."
That is how I see the world. Where artists see form and color, I see characters and settings. Penny has boxes and drawers of 'stuff' she has collected, just waiting to be turned into something else. I have snatches of conversations, news articles, pictures somebody else took, waiting to be turned into something else, but something made out of words.
Penny showed us a series of paintings she did of the creation. They are beautiful and inspiring and made out of cardboard. One of them had a foot right in the middle of it, a cardboard foot right at the center of creation. It was perfect. As Penny was talking, she pointed to it and said that a friend of hers pointed out that the piece of cardboard looked just like a foot. Penny had never noticed it. She certainly hadn't done it on purpose. I got all excited inside. That happens to me all the time. I'll write something, only to find out later how vital and important it was to the story. I don't know if that makes me completely incompetent or utterly brilliant, but I think I'm sticking with brilliant for now. Penny certainly is, and it works for her.
Penny sold some of her pieces at the show, which is both good and confusing. I don't know how she had anything left to come back with. If I had the money and the room to put it, I would clean her out and she'd have to start all over again. She was both happy and sad to have sold her stuff, and some of her pieces weren't for sale at all. That's when I had another heart-pounding moment, and really the reason I had to write this today. She said she hates working for money. She has to do it for love, and if somebody buys it later, that's okay, but she has to create because she loves what she's creating. And it all made sense to me. I have been struggling for weeks--for months, really--trying to get my book ready to submit. Ready to sell. I have been to conferences, workshops, classes, read blogs and web sites. Only submit your best stuff (even though we all know once an editor gets hold of it there are going to be changes). My sister gave me until Valentine's Day to submit, because it's written isn't it, and all you have to do is send it in. I've wondered how on earth a story about three siblings and their dragons is ever going to sell. Sell. I got hung up on that word. I love my story, but I've been focusing on selling it, not loving it more. When Penny sells her work, it's gone from her. I assume she's taken pictures or something, but she's only got the one, and when it's gone, it's gone. She loves it until somebody else comes along and loves it. I've been trying to make my story good enough for somebody else to love it, which is silly when you think about it. Once my story is published, and it's out there in the world, if I don't love it, I'll still have it on my computer where I can change it if I want to, even if it is only for me. I need to make my story what I love now, and then we'll see what happens. Changes will come again later, I'm certain, but I have to love it first, the best I can, and when I'm doing it just for me, it takes so much pressure off.
First I have to say that Penny is amazing. Her house, which has the exact same floor plan as ours, is as utterly different from ours as can be, and it doesn't even have that much to do with the fact that her children are grown and mine continue to trash the place. It is the home of an artist, and if you don't know what that means, then I can't help you. Her home itself is art.
I would be hard pressed to say which of her art I like the best. Her paintings are beautiful, some of them based on other, famous paintings, but somehow they are more vibrant and alive than the originals (she is particularly fond of van Gogh and his Starry Night, which never touched me as much as it does now, seeing her affection for it). She also makes . . . statues? Object? Things? Out of . . . stuff. I might love those the best. She has a series of people made out of cork screws that I dearly love. Those . . . statues are what make me think she's an alien. I flatly don't have the ability to draw or paint, and I don't know how other people do it, but I 'get' that they do. You look at something and you recreate it in a picture. That makes sense, even if the thing you see is only in your head. But taking wing nuts and steamers and funnels and spoons and circuit boards and cheese graters and . . . stuff I don't even know the name or function of and turning them into things . . . That's magic. That's creativity I can't comprehend. That's alien and beautiful and makes a little ache inside of me that I'm not like that too.
When I was young I wanted to be a poet. Truth to tell, I wanted to be Robert Frost reincarnated. His words make pictures in my head and those pictures take my breath away. I wanted to do that for other people. I wanted to make pictures with words that would make people see what I see, because what I saw was so amazingly beautiful (it was western Oregon, of course it was beautiful). I did poetry for a while, and I really enjoyed it (though I don't know that I was ever Robert Frost reincarnated). Then I took a class in college that wanted me to write a story along with all the poetry we wrote. I've written very little poetry since, but I write a lot of stories (or at least I start them . . .) I've told myself stories my whole life, and goodness knows I've read them, I just never really wrote them down before. Now I do. And when I was looking at Penny's people, that little voice that seldom leaves me alone said "There are stories here."
That is how I see the world. Where artists see form and color, I see characters and settings. Penny has boxes and drawers of 'stuff' she has collected, just waiting to be turned into something else. I have snatches of conversations, news articles, pictures somebody else took, waiting to be turned into something else, but something made out of words.
Penny showed us a series of paintings she did of the creation. They are beautiful and inspiring and made out of cardboard. One of them had a foot right in the middle of it, a cardboard foot right at the center of creation. It was perfect. As Penny was talking, she pointed to it and said that a friend of hers pointed out that the piece of cardboard looked just like a foot. Penny had never noticed it. She certainly hadn't done it on purpose. I got all excited inside. That happens to me all the time. I'll write something, only to find out later how vital and important it was to the story. I don't know if that makes me completely incompetent or utterly brilliant, but I think I'm sticking with brilliant for now. Penny certainly is, and it works for her.
Penny sold some of her pieces at the show, which is both good and confusing. I don't know how she had anything left to come back with. If I had the money and the room to put it, I would clean her out and she'd have to start all over again. She was both happy and sad to have sold her stuff, and some of her pieces weren't for sale at all. That's when I had another heart-pounding moment, and really the reason I had to write this today. She said she hates working for money. She has to do it for love, and if somebody buys it later, that's okay, but she has to create because she loves what she's creating. And it all made sense to me. I have been struggling for weeks--for months, really--trying to get my book ready to submit. Ready to sell. I have been to conferences, workshops, classes, read blogs and web sites. Only submit your best stuff (even though we all know once an editor gets hold of it there are going to be changes). My sister gave me until Valentine's Day to submit, because it's written isn't it, and all you have to do is send it in. I've wondered how on earth a story about three siblings and their dragons is ever going to sell. Sell. I got hung up on that word. I love my story, but I've been focusing on selling it, not loving it more. When Penny sells her work, it's gone from her. I assume she's taken pictures or something, but she's only got the one, and when it's gone, it's gone. She loves it until somebody else comes along and loves it. I've been trying to make my story good enough for somebody else to love it, which is silly when you think about it. Once my story is published, and it's out there in the world, if I don't love it, I'll still have it on my computer where I can change it if I want to, even if it is only for me. I need to make my story what I love now, and then we'll see what happens. Changes will come again later, I'm certain, but I have to love it first, the best I can, and when I'm doing it just for me, it takes so much pressure off.
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