First Line Power

Hey all! This week's topic at the SFF Seven is The Importance of the First Line: Do We Buy It or Not?

Back in 2009, when I decided to start writing again, I wanted to learn everything I could about the craft. I can't begin to list all the writerly advice I absorbed that I've since realized doesn't work for every writer or every book. That said, one bit of advice seems to apply to most everyone in the publishing game: A catchy first line can hook your reader. But does it have to?

A hooky first line can act as a sales tool. If someone picks up your book or opens the sample online, that first line can make them curious enough to want to keep reading, thus hopefully purchasing your novel. A strong first line can deliver voice, theme, POV, and cause the formation of the first story question in the reader's mind.

Here's the first line from my novel, The Witch Collector:

It’s been eight long years since the Witch Collector took my sister.

Hopefully, that line entices the reader to want to know more about the above situation, who the Witch Collector is, why he took the POV character's sister, and why the POV character is stating this at the opening of the story.

Here are some of my favorite first lines. Note how each one creates a question for the reader--a desire to know more:

From The Golem and the Jinni:

The Golem's life began in the hold of a steamship.

From A Discovery of Witches:

The leather-bound volume was nothing remarkable.

From Circe:

When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.

But here's the thing about writing advice: it isn't always true. Great novels don't always have great first lines, and yet can still go on to be blockbusters.

I was absolutely enthralled by the novel Dark Matter by Blake Crouch. It's fantastic. But the first line? I love Thursday nights.

Granted, the author relies on the question tool--Why does the character love Thursday nights? Yet that line in no way encapsulates the sci-fi/mind-bending novel that this book is. It does, however, create a question for the reader. Apparently enough of one to keep millions turning pages.

So do I buy into the advice of crafting a great first line? Most of the time. Is it wise for newer writers to craft strong first lines? I believe so. As a newly-published author, I try very hard to intrigue the reader with those first words because I can't risk the opposite. I don't have years of books under my belt or a massive fanbase that would overlook a weak first line. (Not that I'd do it anyway...it's not my style.)

But do I believe it's a must 100% of the time? No.

I'll leave you with the first line from my upcoming novel, City of Ruin, book two in the Witch Walker series:

Thamaos’s ancient temple is deathly quiet, save for the crackling flames of a hundred candles and the sizzle of my blood burning in the offering bowl.

What do you think? Would you read further?

~ Charissa

Go Forth and Write

This week's topic has the SFF Seven questioning a writing adage: 'If you're bored writing it, the reader will be bored reading it.'

Is this true, though?

No. I can tell you that I was bored out of my mind at times while writing the love scene for The Witch Collector. For me, sex scenes and fight scenes are HARD. So hard that they make me nap and I don't nap. There's so much choreography, and I have to not only make both types of scenes easy to read but there's certain pacing for each, along with certain genre expectations. When I'm writing love and fight scenes, my brain is ALL IN. It's tedious, time-consuming work that I will revise several times before it feels right. In both types of scenes, there's an emotional layer as well, so there are times when I have to sit and dig deep into the heart of the story and unearth the deeper meaning. In my stories, love scenes change the dynamic between the main characters and fight/battle scenes tend to end up with them losing something they treasured, needed, or hoped for. Nothing is gratuitous. Everything I write has a purpose for what's ahead. 

So, the question is, are these scenes boring just because I wasn't bouncing in my seat while writing them? Absolutely not. If I've done my job, they're kick-ass. The battle scenes are intense, fast paced, gritty, a little gruesome, and they deal my main characters a load of change to face. As for my love scene/s, they're sensual and provide the reader with the climax (pun intended) to the romance arc they've been hoping for, as well as...change. 

Change can be key to preventing a story from falling into a boring flow. One technique is to try turning a scene on a dime. This is something I've been working on, and I try to make the ends of many of my chapters change the whole game the characters are playing. It's fun for me, and as a reader, I know I respond to books that do this. This is just one way to avoid the novel doldrums.

But, no. Just because YOU might write a scene or chapter with little zeal in your fingertips, doesn't necessarily mean that the writing is dull. Writing is work, and it isn't always a thrill to sit down and craft a scene. The thrill often comes later, when you've had a little distance and you read it and think...Wow. I did that? Or for me, when my kid calls me and says, "Wait...how did my mother who doesn't even watch violence on TV manage to write THIS?" OR, even better, when a reader writes a review and is so affected by your work that they want to tell the world. 

Sometimes writing is work. Sometimes you have to force yourself to sit at the computer and try to get words down, and while that might not be boring, it might also not be exciting. Sometimes it's a tedious writing session that makes a scene tick. Sometimes the words flow like water and we writers grin the entire time. The goal is to write something you love and something you're proud of. How that happens will differ many times over the course of a novel's creation. Writing is a craft, and though there are some rules, few are universal, and most hold different meaning for different writers.

So, go forth and write. Don't let an old writing adage make you feel like you're doing something wrong. 

XOXO,

Add THE WITCH COLLECTOR to Goodreads

How to Write Shorter Works Successfully

THE SORCERESS QUEEN AND THE PIRATE ROGUE comes out April 19! This is Book Two in Heirs of Magic, and you can preorder a copy at the links below or via my website. :-)

   

This week at the SFF Seven, we're examining the differences between writing a short story, novella, novel, series. We're asking each other: Do you prepare for length beforehand or edit down (or add new stuff) afterward?

So, I have Strong Opinions about this. Something that may come as a surprise to exactly none of you. 

I am primarily a novelist now and the shortest works I write are novellas that are typically no less than 25K words. (My novels range from 90K-120K.) When I first started writing, I wrote essays and short stories. My first book - Wyoming Trucks, True Love, and the Weather Channel - was an essay collection. Writing those shorter lengths came naturally to me from work in school. 

When I transitioned to writing novels, it was MUCH more difficult than I expected. I had this idea that it would be like writing a really long essay. 

Reader: it was not. 

I had to learn the rhythm and pacing of a novel, which feels like an entirely different art form than writing novellas or shorts. Because... it is. It's a common error for an author to attempt to stretch a short story concept into a novel. Readers notice that the story feels "thin," stretched out for too long, and filled with stuff that's boring because it's unnecessary. Or, sometimes, a story that's novel-length gets wedged into a shorter format. Then it feels rushed, over too soon, and never fully explored.

So, my answer is that I *always* prepare for length beforehand. The story concept MUST fit the planned length. It's a matter of choosing a story with the correct scope for that length. Shorter works have fewer secondary characters and more straightforward conflicts. Very short works should explore a single idea. One surefire way to confine a story to a shorter length is to have it take place over a much shorter span of time. For example, my novella, THE LONG NIGHT OF THE CRYSTALLINE MOON, which is the prequel to Heirs of Magic, takes place over the course of a single night. This helps to make up for the fact that I have a lot of secondary characters - more than any other novella I've written. It wasn't ideal, but I made that choice because I was introducing a new series.

Naturally, there are no actual rules. Or, if there are, they're made to be broken. But I do think that adding or deleting to winnow a novel into a short, or fattening up a short to make it a novel, almost never works. 

Making it Personal: Backstabbing Best Friends

 

Our topic for the week is all thanks to the Ides of March and legendary backstabbers. Who's the best backstabber in fiction?

Dear people, I give you Fernand Mondego.

What a jerk, right?

I have ridiculous love for The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. I've been taken with the tale since I was a teen and am currently working on a fantasy novel inspired by it. When the movie with Jim Caviezel and Guy Pearce released in 2002, you can imagine my delight. Though the story and characters had been changed pretty drastically, the essence of the original work remained. And I LOVED IT. Still do. I will never turn down an opportunity to catch a viewing, and I'm re-reading the book this year, too.

In my opinion, The Count of Monte Cristo is one of the best revenge tales ever written--if not THE best. However, the betrayal in the film felt even more severe than in the novel. How? Why?

Because Fernand's character received an excellent revision, IMO.

In the film, Edmond and Fernand are best friends. In the book, the young men are merely acquaintances (Fernand is Mercedes' cousin). Because there's no personal history between the men in the book, the knife of Fernand's betrayal, though still buried deep, doesn't strike the reader's heart quite so sharply. 

Until I prepared for this blog post, I'd known the villain in my novel was missing something, some detail, some WHY for his dastardly behavior, but wildly enough, even given how much I adore The Count's tale, both film and book, I couldn't put my finger on the issue. Last night, the answer hit me.

The deception is awful, but it's not personal enough. It doesn't cut to the bone.

I even recalled some old writing advice I'd read and stored in the cobwebby corners of my mind: MAKE EVERYTHING PERSONAL. MAKE IT HURT. The stakes, betrayals, loss, etc. will affect our characters and readers much more if raised to that next degree--the emotional degree.

It was like a lightbulb went off in my brain, though I felt dim for not having seen the answer before. Thus is the writer's life, I suppose. Betrayal hurts more when committed by someone we believe loves us, or at least a person who possesses some level of loyalty and familiarity. This also affects the villain/protagonist relationship across plot points, because the game totally changes when a character is up against someone they know well--or thought they knew well. There's soooo much writers can do with this type of conflict, so many twists to explore. It's FUN, y'all!

So, if you're wondering how to amp up the conflict in your tale or if something feels off, examine the emotional layer. Is the conflict personal? Can you revise and dig deeper? Don't be afraid to try.

Remember: If Dumas can benefit from a revision, we all can ;)

The One Resource Every Writer Needs

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is references. We're asking our bloggers what one writer's reference do you often consult? Database, community, club/org, book, etc.

I'm going old school and picking my ragged, much-beloved paper copy of The Synonym Finder by J.I. Rodale. My copy is the 1978 edition and I may have had it nearly that long. I'm pretty sure I had it in high school. I used it for writing papers all the way through high school and now I use it for writing novels. 

You guys, this is THE BEST RESOURCE EVER. 

It's not a thesaurus, which tends to lead the casual user down twisted paths of etymological absurdity.

It's worlds better than anything I've been able to find online. (I have looked, because sometimes I want a quick reference and I don't want to have to step off the treadmill to pull this bad girl off the shelf.) Online references are so much more limited.

What The Synonym Finder does is allows me to explore and refine a concept. It leads me to branching and diverse terms for the Thing I'm Trying to Describe. You'll note I have sticky notes in place for words I often use - like "blue" and "black" - that I want richer, more precise and more interesting images for. 

Everyone should have one of these!

Writing in the Time of Covid-19

9/11 Memorial Site NYC

I’ve read one novel centered around the 9/11 tragedy. I’ve watched one movie about it as well. Both stories had other plot threads, but the Twin Towers attack filled the background, enough to be the painful reminder I suppose it was meant to be. I remember that day so clearly, sitting with my little girl, watching in disbelief as the disaster unfolded on a television screen. It was traumatic, and when I visited Ground Zero in 2019, all those emotions I felt so many years ago bubbled to my surface, raw and fresh.

I’d expected to be affected, but as tears welled behind my sunglasses, I felt sick and lightheaded. Hollowed out. So many young people roamed around the memorial laughing and smiling because they didn’t live through that day. The significance seemed lost on them. While part of me felt saddened that they may never grasp the horrors of 9/11 and how that day changed much of how we all went about life, another part of me felt relief that they didn’t own such a grim memory. The changes we watched happen have always been their norm. Standing there, I realized I was watching the effects of time on our world’s awareness and reality.

Covid is a different beast, an ongoing tragedy not pinned to one specific day in our past, and for most, this is certainly a time we will never forget. But, there are children who are too young to understand how much the world they could have known has transformed. One day, people will look at a memorial to those we’ve lost in this pandemic, and it won’t hold the same significance that it does for the rest of us. This, again, is the nature of time as our present becomes history.

So how do we make certain that people of the future know what we went through? How do we make sure they understand the impact on our lives, so that they might do or know better? Old newspaper articles and internet chronicles will float around, of course, and the events will be documented in history books. Other non-fiction texts will become references for research papers and book reports.

But what about fiction?

Fiction has always mimicked real life, and it has always endured and educated. Storytelling is the language of our ancestors, after all. It’s the vehicle for passing down legends, myths, folklore—and real-life lessons and experiences. Even though I can’t say I want to read Covid-19 fiction any time soon, I can say that telling writers they shouldn’t write about this awful point in time would be a mistake. However, my advice to anyone tackling that mountain is: Be wise and tread lightly.

As an editor, I would be quicker to lend an eye to an emotional story about how the pandemic has altered our connection to the world rather than a story focused on the virus and the horrors brought about in its wake. I’m still living through all of this, still thinking about old friends who lost their lives, still worried about my loved ones contracting a virus that could take them from me. Reading is my escape. It isn’t an escape if I pick up a book that carries me back to the fears I’m trying to avoid. But a book that resonates because it provides a lesson about humanity? That, I might be able to do, and so might others.

This is why I enjoy dystopian novels. Granted, I prefer witches and magicians, romance and happy endings, but dystopian is one of the genres outside of those realms that I love to venture into. Dystopian fiction teaches us about ourselves and reveals deeper truths about the (often faulty) constructs of our society, as well as becoming literary think-pieces on the future. Experiencing the last year has been a lot like walking inside a dystopian dream, from quarantines and lockdowns to corrupt government failures to an ever-changing landscape of life. I remember thinking that I never imagined living through times like these, and yet I have and I am. That gives me, as a storyteller, a unique perspective, as it does every writer alive right now. Whether we choose to infuse this experience into our fiction is up to us.

My hope is that writers handle any Covid-19 story inspiration with a delicate touch and much respect for their readers. I also hope that—even in this time of difficulty and change—writers are able to nurture their creativity and write about something, because the world needs stories. It needs feel-good tales and scary science fiction, colorful Regency romance and gritty vampire fantasy.

If a writer so desires, any of these stories can resonate with the times we’re living through. Over the last year, we’ve endured personal, emotional, and physical struggles, witnessed more bizarre events than I can count, and watched while our government let people die. We’ve also witnessed acts of heroism, kindness, perseverance, ingenuity, and triumph. All of the above can manifest through our fiction in ways that don’t perfectly mirror our current reality, allowing us to reach readers on planes they feel safe to explore.

This is literary alchemy, the writer’s gift of transmuting life into fiction. We are one-day ancestors, leaving behind stories for those who come after us.

We just have to write.

Kill the Rabbit: Death to Plot Bunnies

 

THE PROMISED QUEEN has a cover! I just love how those jewel colors pop off the screen. This is book three in the Forgotten Empires trilogy, out May 25, 2021. But you can preorder now!

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is all about those Plot Bunnies: How/where do you corral them? How much room do you give them to grow?

For those unfamiliar with the term, a "plot bunny" is an idea that catches a writer's attention and imagination, but isn't what they're intending to focus on right then. I did a bit of (very causal, not all thorough research) and found this definition: From the metaphorical image of the writer's brain producing ideas with the abundance and speed with which rabbits are fabled to breed. There's also this: the term is thought to be related to the oft-quoted John Steinbeck quote about ideas and rabbits.

The Steinbeck quote is: “Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.”

That makes some sense, although I'd point out that the Steinbeck quote treats the cultivation of ideas as a positive where most writers seem to use the term "plot bunny" as a non-productive distraction.

I'd always associated the term with Alice chasing the white rabbit down its hole and ending up in Wonderland, the source of our metaphor "going down the rabbit hole." You chase the plot bunny and you end up in a place where you've left your project - possibly with deadlines - behind and pretty soon you're talking to caterpillars and having tea with insane creatures.

I'm not really a fan of plot bunnies. 

But you all know me: I'm not a fan of anything that interferes with getting a book written. 

So, I treat plot bunnies as what they are to me: distractions and procrastination bait.

Writing is difficult. Writing novels in particular requires focused concentration on a single story over a long period of time. It's the nature of our minds to look for ways out of that difficult work. It's also the nature of the universe to test our resolve. I look on plot bunnies as challenges to the work. If a plot bunny is the universe's way of asking if I *really* am determined to write that book, then my answer is not to chase the bunny down the rabbit hole. 

Sometimes I jot down the idea. Mostly I just it run away. If it's a good one, it'll come back. 

Do You Knit... or WEAVE?

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is... knitting? Did our calendar guru pick this for Mother's Day week, or is it a coincidence?

Anyway, it's not the knitting you think. (Or not the knitting *I* thought.) We're asking each other if we write scenes piece by piece and knit them together, or if we have ever had to knit-in scenes?

I am not a knitter. If I go for a textile metaphor, I'd say I'm a weaver. I line up all the threads, begin at one end with nothing but a lot of colors and textures, and then I weave them gradually into a tapestry. That said, I've occasionally had to weave scenes, themes, and clues into the finished story - which is probably what the topic poser is getting at here.

It just doesn't feel like knitting to me.

For example, for developmental edits on THE FIERY CROWN (out in only two weeks!! preorder now!! Eeee!!!), my editor Jennie Conway asked me to add in some scenes early in the book. She wanted to see some of the secondary characters sooner. She also wanted discussion of a later issue to happen sooner. So I ended up adding two scenes and fleshing out a couple of others.

The thing is, this isn't like patching a tire or splicing a soundbite into a podcast (which I've learned to do!). Nor is it like reworking some part of a painting. That's why I think of it as weaving. In order to add scenes and characters to an earlier point in the tapestry, I have to adjust the warp and weft before that to accommodate them. Then I have to alter the pattern of the threads thereafter, to keep the texture even and the pattern tight.

It was all for good reasons - and made for a better book - but yeah... I don't knit. Either in my writing or in real life!

Available at these Retailers

         

Laughing Off Writing Advice

NEWS: Finally all the official stuff is in place and I can tell you I have a five book contract with The Wild Rose Press for my SFR series. This is the series that started with Enemy Within and Enemy Games. This contract is for the complete series. So in the near future, I should have fun stuff to share.


Writing Advice to Laugh Off
The worst writing advice ever is as much a peel back of my psychology as it is terrible writing advice, but here it is. "Write to market". Don't get me wrong. There's a time and place for worrying about the market. You need to know stuff like sex scenes do not a romance make. That much market, okay. That's more an issue of knowing your market.

No, when I hear someone say 'writing to market', I hear someone suggesting that we al learn how to read minds and predict what's going to be popular two years from now cause that's how long it will take to write, sub an get a book through the publication process with a traditional house. You might only have to predict six months of future if you go with an indie press or self pub something. There are people who do it, though, I hear you say. I'd argue that those people found or created a niche, recognized what their readers loved about the niche and then those writers stay faithful to reader expectation book after book. In a way, that is writing to market - your market. That's totally learnable.

But writing to The Market as if you're in possession of some kind of literary crystal ball? That is a key that opens the door to crazy. When someone says 'write to market', it kicks me straight out of being immersed in my story and into high insecurity. I spend all my writing time slogging through the 'yer doing it wrong' voices. Have you ever read one of those stories where the heroes have to fight their way through some kind of compulsion? That's what it feels like. There. You have insight into my legion of neuroses. C'mon in. They don't bite. Much.

What would I prefer over 'write to market'? Easy. Write the story that needs to be written. Write what matters to you. Worry about the market once you're in the editing phase. That's when you're in analytical brain and that's when you can entertain all those critical internal voices. That's when it makes sense to look at what's out there in the book world and decide where your darling might fit. Until then, write what's in your head. Someone somewhere needs that.

Really, but No

Happy St. Patrick's Day! David and I are both from Irish families. You can see it in those smiling eyes, yes?

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is "I don't think so. Name a piece of writing advice you do not agree with and explain why."

Some of you might be able to guess which bit of advice I'm going to say. It's been on my mind lately and I've mentioned it often enough that I already have a tag/label for it.

It's this one: "If You're Bored Your Readers Will Be Too."

Really, but no.

When I've posted about this before (Looks like I did nearly a year ago, so that's not TOO recent), people have argued with me. "People" meaning other writers. They contend that they must FEEL the feels in the story or their readers won't. I can't argue with anyone else's process - the First Rule of Being a Writer is Own Your Process - but I don't think the writing experience should be conflated with the reading experience.

The two are VERY different. In the most basic sense, reading is faster than writing. I suspect if we did a cage match of the slowest reader with the fastest writer, the reader would still prevail. Also, absorbing a story is different than creating one. Finally, "boredom" is a relative term.

I'm going to focus on this last one.

Anyone who's been a parent, or spent any time around kids, is familiar with the "I'm so boorrrrred" complaint. It's usually ill-timed, delivered when the adult is working hard on some necessary but unexciting task of their own.

Merriam-Webster - the dictionary with the most politically on-point Twitter feed of its ilk - defines boredom as the state of being weary and restless through lack of interest. That "weary and restless" part is what makes the complaint from kids irritating. They're expressing a restlessness of youth, and the weariness is mostly emotional. The usual temptation is suggest various household chores to absorb their energy, but we all know that doesn't answer the complaint.

What they need to do is solve their own problem, and find something to invest their energy into.

I argue that "boredom" in writing is much the same. When we feel weary and restless while writing, it's a sign that we're working on a problem that needs our attention and energy. When a reader is bored, it's a sign that we've failed to engage their interest.

See how these are two totally different problems?

That's why I think it's terrible advice. If the writer is bored, they need to work through it, knowing that feeling restless with the slow pace of writing is part of the process. If you're worried about the readers being bored, then you need to look at other factors, like plot, pacing, emotions, investment in the characters, and so forth.

Éirinn go Brách!

Dear Author, Please Stop

Dear Author,

You wrote the thing! Good for you! Now, you're going to fling that thing into the bright sky and see if it will fly.

I want you to stop.

No, no. By all means, hit publish or accept that contract - whatever is going to get your book out into the world, do it. What I want to do is tell you what I wish someone had told me.

Stop being a people pleaser if you are one.

Remember why you started writing in the first place. Whether it was to entertain yourself, or keep yourself company, or to right a wrong done in another story - no matter the reason, at some point, writing became your own little act of rebellion. Maybe sedition. It's a portion of yourself that refuses to bend to the dictates of your society and your culture. It's the part of you that you reserve for you. Keep that firmly in mind and in your heart.

Once you hit publish, your story may grow wings. Or it may crash and burn. Or it may flounder in obscurity. You have no control over how your thing is received. But if you're a people pleaser, you'll spend too much time and energy obsessing over why someone liked it/didn't like it/failed to notice it. And that will warp your relationship with your stories. Eventually, it will warp your relationship with yourself.

So stop being a people pleaser. Only one person needs to love your stories. You. If you do, then and only then is it possible for anyone else to love them, too. It isn't a guarantee that everything you produce will meet with unconditional love. It likely won't. What is guaranteed is that if you allow people pleasing to drive your writing, no one will be happy. Least of all you.

Love,
Me

PS. Debut year? WTH? Every single book you release is a debut. It's all new. It's all fun. It's all scary and overwhelming and guaranteed something will go sideways because of all the moving parts. But if you keep writing, you have infinite chances to roll out the perfect debut. Even if it's of your 67th book.

Decoding 'I've Always Wanted to Write a Book'

You've always wanted to write a book, you say. Crow will give you a few seconds of attention before he tips over asleep. It's a kitten thing.

Anyone who tells me they want to write a book is going to get encouraging noises from me. Always. I recognize there's a gap between wanting to do something and knowing how to do something. If it's the how-to someone lacks, I'll step up for that. Won't hold hands, necessarily, but pointers to writing groups and classes teaching writing - I'll absolutely lay that list on you.

And then I expect absolutely nothing is going to happen.

You know that 'I've always wanted to write a book' is code for the same thing as 'I should exercise', right? It's code for 'never going to happen.'

It's because in our heads, a sentence that starts 'I've always wanted . . .' or 'I should . . .' ends internally with 'but I won't.' It's a weird psychological thing but language matters and the 'always wanted' and 'should' statements are victim positions. When someone makes a 'should' statement, try immediately asking 'why don't you?' Watch the excuses flow. The person may even become irate and defensive. Until the language changes, the brain won't change, victimhood won't change, and that book sure as hell will never be written. (Nor will the exercise get done.)

The people who are eventually going to get a book written are the ones who confess in a shaking voice that they have this story knocking around inside their heads and they've set aside a half an hour every day to play around with it. They've taken ownership of their own longing and identified a small first step forward. Even if someone sidles up to ask what tiny first step they should take, I'm all enthusiastic because that's action-oriented, not an excuse to not take a tangible step in direction of a dream.

I don't mean this to sound harsh. Writing can be hard. You start with this grandiose mountain of an idea that you distill down to paper only to find out you've birthed a tiny, misshapen mouse. Some days the mouse is prettier than others, but almost never does it resemble the noble edifice towering in our imaginations. Writers have to learn to find joy somewhere in between the ideal in their heads and what ends up in the hands of readers. There are a lot of ego purges in writing. I suspect on some level the 99.5% of people who say they want to write a book but who are clearly never going to do so actually understand that they don't really want to *write* a book. They want to have written one. They want what they imagine follows from writing a book - notice, attention, adoration, money. Maybe a book tour that requires a passport.

But I know of almost no one who says 'I am SO looking forward to hours and hours of toil on something that may never see the light of day!'

That's why, if you're brave enough to decide  you no longer want to write a book, instead you ARE writing that book, feel free to ping me so I can cheer for you.

Do the magic, write the book

I always wanted to write a book. Yet I didn't succeed in doing so until I was almost 40.

Which was totally coincidence and not at all biological. I mean, there's no verifiable link between crackly kneecaps, elongated nose hairs, and understanding of story structure. It's not like I woke up one day, realized my kids were no longer climbing the furniture and watching Dora the Explorer and thought, "Today is the day I will finally write a book, because oh look I finally have scads of time!"

Nope. I'd been writing diligently since childhood, and doing it every day and producing a certain number of words and which-hunting and search-and-destroying the verb "to be" wasn't making me a better storyteller.

Between the ages of 5 and 40, I wrote dozens of [terrible] short stories and possibly hundreds of [even terribler] beginnings of books that never got finished. All that practice was not completely useless. It did yield mad sentence-crafting skills. Eventually I could even produce a fairly decent scene. But when it came to putting together a coherent narrative longer than 10k words, I was worse than incompetent. I was clueless, just a gal consumed by want-to, staring at a wall of thou-shalt-never.

Two things helped me over that wall:

1. I joined my local chapter of Romance Writers of America and attended all their talks and workshops and read the craft books my chapter mates recommended.

2. I found a private ecosystem of critique partners, beta readers, and cheerleaders. 

The Austin RWA built out my resources, but my circle of CPs was the pixie dust. The magic. I have three critique partners, plus a handful of awesome beta readers who are almost CPish in that they know how to offer feedback that is both helpful and not soul-killing. We all write in different subgenres, sometimes in different genres entirely. We are all on a similar level of experience and commitment. We speak this weird story-structure nerd language. We respect each other and lean on each other and support each other. We do not compete. We build up.

At first all I could offer this community was the aforementioned mad sentence-making skills, but the more I learned the more comfortable I got with the process, both mine and theirs.

At this point, we have all completed novel-length books. Some of us have sold those books.

So if you were to come to me and say -- with some sincerity, mind, not just making idle chitchat -- that you've "always wanted to write a book," I would lead you to the head of this path:

1. Find your tribe.
2. Find your crit partners.
3. Read a shitload of craft books.
4. Forget the details of those craft books, but remember the essence of structure.
5. Find your process.
6. Do the magic.

And then I'd applaud like hell when you climbed the wall.

Always Wanted to Write a Book? Do Tell!

So, you've always wanted to write a book? Isabel is at her leisure to listen.

Me? Well, that depends.

Don't get me wrong - I'm willing to help aspiring authors. I mentor through several organizations and do my best to be generous with helping people looking to build careers as writers.

The problem comes in when people are only talking and not wanting to do the work. That's why this week's topic is phrased the way it is: What do you want to tell someone who says 'I always wanted to write a book'?

There's this great story Ann Patchett tells in her memoir THE GETAWAY CAR: A PRACTICAL MEMOIR ABOUT WRITING AND LIFE. She's at a party with her husband and another guest discovers that Ann is a writer, and the woman says she believes everyone has at least one great novel in them.

Like most of us, Ann is very used to hearing this kind of thing. It's one of the five things likely to pop out of someone's mouth in a social setting when you say you're a writer, along with "Have I heard of you?" and other similarly predictable and difficult-to-answer sallies. Small talk is small, no matter your profession, and we all have our pet peeves. Most of the time we all can find ways to avoid rolling our eyes at the nonsense and provide reasonably polite replies.

On this particular occasion, Ann was tired and had heard that one too many times, and she asks, "Does everyone have one great floral arrangement in them? One great algebraic proof? One Hail Mary pass? One five-minute mile?"

I tell you, folks. This is always what I want to say.

But, when someone tells me "I always wanted to write a novel," I bite down on the urge to ask if they always wanted to play professional football or write a symphony, too, and instead I nod and ask for more information.

Because this is the key: most people who say this don't mean it. It's small talk at its smallest, party conversation that sounds good. I usually follow up with "And why haven't you?" which most often gets the standard "Oh, I just never found the time." That's actually a decent polite-conversation answer, because we can then segue into other socially acceptable topic like how they DO spend their time. One of the great conversational secrets - and often recommended - is to ask people about themselves. It has the added benefit of letting you off the conversational hook. All the better to swill wine while they talk.

Not that I've done that.

The few people who answer this question with something substantive? Those people I can offer advice to. Sometimes they have started and got bogged down. Sometimes they don't know how to start. If people really want help, it's pretty clear.

Otherwise, I can always ask if everyone has one great vintage and suggest we revisit the bar to find out.

The Cursed Blinking Cursor

Have you ever undertaken telling a story you love? You set up something to pass as office space. You sit down. You begin telling your story - the story that has haunted you and spoken to you for months, if not years. It's going great. You're making tracks. And then it happens.

Something in your head stutters and your story stumbles to a halt. And there you sit. Watching the cursor blink at you. Eventually, you imagine you hear it laughing in time with every pulse. Maybe whispering 'you suck' as it blinks. No? Just me. Huh.

Here's how to break it up, silence that cursor and get back into flow.

1. Master the mundane - find the most mind numbing household chore you can find. Get up and do it. For me, it was ironing. Hates ironing. HATES it. But. It's a mindless task of repeated motion that lulls your ego into a stupor. You may be pressing your pets by the time that happens, but when it does, tidbits of scenes, snippets of dialogue, and new story ideas will crop up because you are SO bored, your story-teller's brain will rise to rescue you.

2. Immersion - If you've exhausted yourself working in the word mines, stop. Cook supper, eat. Relax. Head to bed a few minutes early. Take a notebook and a pen with you. Not a computer. Not a tablet. Archaic tech is your friend here. Do all the things that get you ready for sleep. Then sit in bed and write. Long hand. Write about your story. Your characters. No scenes. No pressure for dialogue or situations. Write ABOUT your story. What do you want from it? What do you want to feel? What do you want the characters to feel? Do you feel like you've gone wrong? Why? Where? Ask the characters what they want. Why won't they talk to you? Do you have a plot outline? A character arc graph? Can you look at either of those and jot some notes about where you are in those documents and what has to happen to move your characters to the next step? Earphones and 30 minutes of unguided meditation piped into your brain from something like brain.fm is legal here, but not anything that will pull you out of focus. The point is to have your story on your brain when you turn out the light and go to sleep. This might take a couple of nights to kick you free. But it will.

3. Change your thinking - this has subheadings that I'm too lazy to enumerate in true a, b, c fashion. But here you go. Often when we're stuck, we're in a synaptic rut and just need a kick in the gray-matter to get imagination firing again. So first suggestion: switch your work space. Writing at home? Pick it up and go to the library. Or the coffee shop. Or a diner that will let you camp a table for an hour or two if you buy fries and a bottomless cup of coffee. See if the change of scenery doesn't shake something lose. Find a deck of tarot cards. No. I am not suggesting that you dive into the woo-woo with me. The water is fine, mostly, but this is about using the cards as story prompts, not divination. Make sure your cards have a book with them, so you can read the meanings. I usually do something like this: Tell me about the story as it stands. I lay out three cards. Then I ask what could happen next and lay out three more cards. It looks like a T laying on its side.

I am not looking for profound here. I'm looking for options. In a story that starts with someone looking for her happy place (The Sun), but buried in endless battles (9 of Wands), she's going to have to rise from the ashes and atone for who and what she's been to this point. (Judgement) What *could* happen next: The Magician at the bottom requires that she use all of her talents and skills - the light and the dark - it's a call to achieve internal balance. The next card, The World is another option - it's about having the world laid out at your feet and having to make a choice - one that will necessarily close all other options off. The final option: the 8 of Wands - just going for it. This is related to that 9 of Wands, right? It's a card about being a bull in a china shop - charging at obstacles all fired up. The problem inherent in that card is burning out before you've gotten very far. So there. One story arc. Three different ways it could go. BUT. Here's the thing. This isn't a means of figuring out what you SHOULD do. It's a means of stirring up how you think about your story and your characters. It's meant to put your brain in a Shake-n-Bake bag and toss it around so that story pieces rearrange or solidify in place as needed. It's meant to broaden your vision of your story and maybe get you to look at options you hadn't considered. 

Sure there are more tactics. But really, I've recently come to embrace the notion that I don't need to know what happens next in my story. I just write. And it is through the writing that I work out what the story wants and needs. Does it mean a lot of material that won't make the final cut? OMG, yes. But at least the writing is happening. 

And that damned cursor isn't laughing anymore. I am.

When the Thrill Is Gone

It's been a crappy week. Really. The eldest cat had the words "atypical cells" mentioned in his proximity. And due to a confluence of other events coming together in a big FU to the fam, we're in the process of moving off the boat and putting it up for sale.

Those of you who know me know this is just about The Worst Thing That Could Happen. (TM)

And here I am to talk about fun. Well, sure. Because let me say that there's nothing like life dishing up a bit of perspective to make you appreciate just how much shelter losing yourself in writing (or whatever thing you love) has to offer. As Hatshepsut (right) so aptly and expressively demonstrates, nothing is fun and games all the time.

I suspect we each of us have our favorite parts of the writing process - the parts that are fun. For me, the first idea stages, proof of concept, plotting, arranging the conflicts and the characters, drafting the first few chapters - that giddy, get lost in the flow stuff. But into every life a little rain must fall, yes? So it is for every project. Every book has bits that defy fun.

Here's my theory on that, though. Writing isn't supposed to be fun. I don't mean that in a 'It's work!' sort of way. My assertion is that the creative process is a PROCESS. That means going through a cycle with identifiable stages. It means descending into the labyrinth and getting utterly lost before working out how to extract yourself before you starve or get eaten by the minotaur. It's maddening and sometimes scary stuff. But it's necessary.

You know Chris Vogler's work The Hero's Journey? Where he describes story arc as a mythic construct with a series of stages? It isn't just the story that is a Hero's Journey. Every time you start a book, YOU are the hero accepting the call to go on an adventure.

The Call to Adventure - your initial idea. This may include all of that heady plotting and proof of concept work.
Refusal of the Call - the point at which you think this story won't work. Or the dog pukes his bodyweight on carpet and you spend days at the vet clinic in mortal terror, story forgotten.
Supernatural Aid - call it inspiration. A visit from the Muses. You get a bone tossed your way from the story or from the characters. A tiny scene volunteers. Doesn't matter, you get driven back to the work.
Crossing the First Threshold - you've invested in getting this book done.
In the Belly of the Beast - You dive headfirst into this new thing you're creating. It swallows you and for most of us the suck starts here.
The Road of Trials - Obstacles, complications, all the head pounding against desks comes in this stage. You're being challenged. Your creativity is being challenged. Seriously. This is YOUR arc. By the time you finish your story, you will be creatively capable of more than you were when you began, simply because you faced down problems you thought you couldn't solve.

I won't list out every single stage. But you can see it, yeah? The descent into the pit of despair to face your greatest fear, the big battle with your demon(s), the return carrying the Golden Fleece, as it were.

What I hear when someone, including me, talks about writing being fun, is a desire for writing to be easy. That is straight up Refusal of the Call. It's wanting to skate along the surface of writing, never delving into the depths of a story, declining to walk the road of trials in search of something meaningful to bring back from the journey. Writing, and the hero's journey, are meant to be - well - difficult. Challenging. Hard, even. Because only when the writer is forced to grow by some tiny increment (writers have growth rings like trees - each one the pages of a story) does something human and resonant emerge from the writing.

Sure, but dang, how do you face that? You learn to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Redefine fun. I do NOT like being scared. DO. NOT. LIKE. So guess what I'm going to get my face rubbed in every single book? I have a choice - run away from that or turn around and walk into it. I've tried both. I don't recommend running away. Makes it last longer and you just get tired. Whatever you deem unfun, reframe. Turn to face it and make yourself an explorer. Dealing with an emotion set that makes you want to hurl? Take it apart, piece by piece - catalog the sensations for use in writing. Got a scene to write that makes you want to slit your wrists with your felt pen? Walk away from the keyboard. Grab a paper and pencil and sketch out as many ways for that scene to happen as you can think of. Make 'em stupid and ridiculous. Make them serious. Funny. Tragic. Heroic. Somewhere in that exploration, you'll hit on something that speeds your pulse and you'll know you've found The One.

At the risk of sounding like Yoda, I'll say: Don't seek fun. Seek the discomfort, because that's where the jewels are hidden.

But by all means, if you're blocked, change your venue. Change your mode of operation to break up the kinesthetic expression - if you write on a keyboard 99% of the time, go to long hand for a day. Dictate. Whatever shifts you to another part of your brain and muscle memory. Remember to take breaks. Exercise. It shakes stuff loose. Why do you think Frodo had to walk across the whole of Middle Earth?

Treasured Writing Rituals I've Discarded

In honor of this week's topic -  a writing routine we used to depend on but changed and why - I dragged out this old photo of me at my very first book signing. That's January of 2004, when my essay collection, WYOMING TRUCKS, TRUE LOVE AND THE WEATHER CHANNEL, came out. I look so fresh-faced and excited. You can practically see the visions of sugarplums and lucrative multi-book contracts dancing in my head.

~pets past self~

That was before I'd even contemplated writing a novel, or really much fiction at all. And I had lousy writing habits. Actually, I take that back. I had no writing habits. Sure, I'd gone to getting up very early (4 or 5 am) and writing before the day job in the morning. But, in order to coax myself into writing at all, I'd allowed myself to write whatever I wanted to. I don't regret this choice - because it did get me writing - but that's why I ended up with lots and lots of essays. Hey, I ended up with an essay collection published by a university press, so it wasn't a bad thing at all.

But I needed to do better, particularly when I tried writing longer works.

So I developed rituals. I had a dedicated writing desk. (By then I worked the day job from home and, while I had a single room for my office, I had plenty of room for two desks.) I played certain music (the soundtracks of The Mission and Master and Commander were my go-to's.) I did all sorts of things - read the (small-town, very thin) newspaper. I wore certain clothes for writing and others for the day job. A few other things I can't even remember.

You know what? Those things totally worked. I highly recommend establishing rituals, because all of those things, done stepwise, put my mind into the state where the words could flow. They served as a cue to do *that* kind of work.

But I don't do any of them anymore. I prefer silence when I write. I have only one desk - because we live in a much smaller house and I only have room for one. (I write full-time now, but as recently as last fall I was still doing the day job from home and I simply set up two monitors on the one desk. I read most of my news online, but only later, when it won't distract me from writing.

You know why I gave up all those rituals?

I didn't need them anymore.

I didn't even deliberately give them up. They just kind of ... fell by the wayside. As my writing habit became a firmly entrenched part of my day, I started forgetting about the rituals. I just dove straight into writing.

I suspect that's one way of knowing when you've got it down.

I Learned How to Write Novels by ... Training in Kung Fu

I'm headed home from #RWA16, the Romance Writers of America annual conference, which was in lovely San Diego this year. This was a truly wonderful gathering this year.Grateful for this community that always leaves me refreshed and supported.

Also, the first book in my new Sorcerous Moons series comes out on Tuesday. I'm loving on this cover! Yes, I helped design it, but the amazing Louisa Gallie is the one who pulled it off. Love the feel. And here's the blurb:

An Unquiet Heart

Alone in her tower, Princess Oria has spent too long studying her people’s barbarian enemies, the Destrye—and neglected the search for calm that will control her magic and release her to society. Her restlessness makes meditation hopeless and her fragility renders human companionship unbearable. Oria is near giving up. Then the Destrye attack, and her people’s lives depend on her handling of their prince…

A Fight Without Hope

When the cornered Destrye decided to strike back, Lonen never thought he’d live through the battle, let alone demand justice as a conqueror. And yet he must keep up his guard against the sorceress who speaks for the city. Oria’s people are devious, her claims of ignorance absurd. The frank honesty her eyes promise could be just one more layer of deception.

A Savage Bargain

Fighting for time and trust, Oria and Lonen have one final sacrifice to choose… before an even greater threat consumes them all.

Our topic this week is “I Learned How to Write Novels by (doing some other activity).“ It will be interesting to hear what all everyone else has to say. Hopefully Jim won’t just post that he learned to write novels by writing novels.

~Gives Jim the beady-eyed stare down~

For me, I had to teach myself how to write a novel – both by focused, deliberate habit-building, and by an overall effort to improve myself.

As for the first, I didn’t know how to write long. I started out as an essayist and short-story writer. I could hold essentially the entire arc of the story in my head and I usually hammered it out in one writing session. Sure, sometimes an all-session, but still. I’d gone to working four ten-hour days at the day job, and writing all day on Fridays. For a while I wrote an essay or story a week – though most were 1,500 – 5,000 words

When I decided to write longer, I realized this wouldn’t work. I couldn’t hold the whole story in my head, and by writing one-day each week, I’d lose too much of the thread in between.

So, I had to deliberately build a habit of writing every day for a couple of hours – and teach myself how to work incrementally, rather than in a long, focused session. This was a huge change in work-pattern for me. I had always been a binge-worker. I was the girl in college who pulled all-nighters, staying up to write my papers the night before. I’m pretty good at concentrating and working in one long session.

While some people can do this with novels, I cannot. 10,000 words/day is a really good day for me. I can’t sustain that for many days in a row. For a 130,000 word novel? No, no, no.

Therefore I had to learn how to work in slower, steady increments.

But that’s not the subject of this week. What I discovered was that something else I’d been doing helped me enormously in this effort.

I started taking Tai Chi and Pakua Chang long before I decided to become a writer. Those are both internal Chinese martial arts that fall under the collective umbrella of Kung Fu. (I learned several more arts and styles over time, but this was where I started.) I’d been dating David for about six months at that point and he really wanted to learn Pakua. I’d been a religious studies major in college and had become very interested in the idea that practice shapes belief. (Christians, for example, teach that you only need to believe and everything else follows; in Judaism, practice comes first – prayers, rituals, dietary observances – and they teach that belief, and spiritual growth, arises from that.)

All of this is a long way of saying I was up for learning Kung Fu also, as a way for practicing a physical discipline that could lead to personal growth.

We studied those arts for over fifteen years. Along the way, I discovered a level of patience I’d never before possessed. That kind of training in particular depends on incremental work. We did a lot of moving meditation. Tai Chi requires very slow, meticulous and relaxed movements. There are various standing exercises that require fortitude of both body and spirit, remaining in the same very uncomfortable position for a long period of time.

After a while of practicing an activity, it becomes easy to focus on the specific goals – the next demonstration or test – and lose sight of the original reasons for taking it up. I became intent on the trees, pouring energy into the school I belonged to, both taking and teaching classes. It wasn’t until we eventually left the school that I remembered about the forest.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that all that practice resulted in personal growth. I’d developed all sorts of patient focus for working incrementally that dovetailed directly into learning to write novels. I had created work habits that allowed me to move into a new kind of steady and productive creativity.

I get asked a lot these days to explain how I do what I do. I’m regarded as a fast and productive writer. Fortunately I also seem to write good books! The people asking inevitably want to know how to do the same – and I’m afraid my answer isn’t an easy or fast one. Except that I think we all have these other experiences that come into play, skills we’ve built over time that we can move into new 

efforts.

Nothing we do is ever wasted.

How to Write Through the Bad Times

Hi all!!

I'm back online after about ten days away and look what I returned to! The fantabulous Grace Draven shared the cover for her story in our duology FOR CROWN AND KINGDOM. Her story is THE UNDYING KING and, wow - I dunno about you guys, but I'd take him for my forever king anytime!

I like how her story cover works with mine, her hero and my heroine gazing out at the reader with an implicit call to adventure. Both individual covers will be included inside the digital versions, which should be very cool!

The duology technically releases on Tuesday, May 31, the same day as THE PAGES OF THE MIND. That said, I believe buy links will be going up very soon. In fact, it's up on Amazon now!

Our topic of the week is: Writers in the Storm - handling adversity, stress, and generally terrible shit while still producing.

There's a lot to say on this topic, but for me it comes down to this: writing is my job. It's my chosen profession for a lot of really good reasons, but none of them are because it would be easy.

I see two pieces to this question - one is the fundamental dilemma that every human being faces, which is how to go on with the business of living when our hearts are torn asunder. Because, the thing is, everyone has to handle adversity, stress and generally terrible shit while still putting food on the table and keeping the heat on. Some people don't manage to do this, which is why we have a homeless problem. Those are people who get so torn up that they can no longer handle the business of living - for whatever reason. Other people are wounded enough to require institutionalization, temporarily or permanently, in which case they have others to take care of things like protection from the elements and basic needs.

But, above that sometimes tenuously drawn line, we all have to find ways to weather the storms of life while still keeping ourselves and our loved ones alive.

The second piece - and the reason this comes up for artists in particular - is that our creative selves tend to be tied into our emotional lives. For all that I call writing a job, it IS really different than a more intellectual or physical job. I could do day job tasks of data crunching or editing government documents even while emotionally stressed. For me, physical labor is great for when I need to deal with the storms of life. But writing while my emotional life is shot to hell... well, it's harder.

That said, it can be done. Here's a few ways to do it.

1. Use that pain

Writers often joke that a part of us stands back during terrible events, taking notes and thinking, "I'm so going to use this." Use it as it happens. Even if it's as journaling or writing something that's not to deadline, it all goes into the big well. I have a file of fragments that I go back to from time to time, for exactly that sort of thing.

2. There's more to being an author than writing

We often complain that being a writer takes all kinds of hats, particularly in this era of self-publishing and author-originated promo. Some of those hats are the equivalent of manual labor or data crunching. Catch up those book sales numbers. Check out some review sites. Do a bit of wild daydreaming, write down those ideas and think about ways to get there. Sometimes planning positive action can be the best antidote to chaos.

3. Write anyway

Many writers cite that feeling of being in the zone as one of the most fulfilling aspects of being a writer - and most acknowledge that it doesn't always feel that way. Being a career writer means writing even when it doesn't feel good, particularly for novelists. Laying down words is the foundation upon which everything else rests. Write the words anyway - you can always fix them later, and FAR more easily than you can fill all those blank pages.

Anyone else have other advice on this?