~ Sisters of the Quill ~

“Happy Fiftieth Birthday Karen Lin!” Tribute: Fifty Nifty Tips On Writing and the Writing Life Collected From Our Beloved Inkpot Over Twenty Years

2012-02-01T08:27:00.002-07:00

Happy Birthday, Karen! You’re an amazing writer and writer-friend, loved by all who know you. Thank you for your willingness to be a patient teacher of the craft, manuscript after manuscript, draft after draft, year after year. Even more heartfelt thanks for being a treasured friend who walks this path with us every day. Don’t know where we’d be without you!

The First Ten Tips On Writing and the Writing Life From Karen Lin

1. If you know of a writer-friend who’s been accepted, rejected, discouraged, or approaching a deadline, take food! Writer-friend food possesses magical powers.
2. Search and delete your ms for the word “then.”
3. Don’t be afraid to be a poet and use words in unusual and evocative ways, as long as it doesn’t distract your reader.
4. When using color in a description think of something that evokes a vivid image of that color, not the name of the color itself, e.g., emerald grass.
5. There is a shadow side to even the sunniest story and character. Don’t ignore it, or your story will suffer.
6. Don’t circle around what you want to say; come out and say it directly. Help the reader (and the acquiring editor/agent) move through the story effortlessly and without distractions.
7. Your villain is the hero of his own story. Give him his due.
8. Be careful not to pop the balloon of suspense. Tell the story as it unfolds, not by looking backward from a position of safety, which reveals that your character survived to tell the tale. (Unless you’ve chosen that style deliberately, for a Daphne du Maurier effect, with all that entails.) Also, don’t remove tension by starting with temptingly dramatic statements like “It was over” before you describe what happened.
9. Keep the thesaurus open on your screen!
10. Be on the lookout for passive statements that suck the energy out of prose.

Happy Birthday, Inkpot, with heartfelt thanks from a grateful Sister of the Quill and all your pupils!

I’m Joining the Movement!

2012-01-25T14:35:00.002-07:00

I’ve decided to join the movement – to self-publish! While I thoroughly enjoyed having two books "traditionally" published and hope to walk that path again, the idea of self-publishing a collection of short stories is rather exciting.

It’s been over a decade since I submitted one of the stories to a few magazines, only to learn there was no interest in my anthropomorphic blackbird. But as I looked over my somewhat dusty drafts I also found flaws in the writing, which further explains the rejections. So there’s editing in my immediate future along with additional research on which service to use. Amazon? Smashwords? Lulu? Do I want an ebook and hard copies or just an ebook? What about the title? Do I really like Tail Winds or should it be Trail Winds? Decisions, decisions, decisions! All good. All fun.

Speaking of fun, as you can see I’ve already developed the first draft of my cover, though it needs more work. Now that was a blast! No fretting over what the publisher or cover artist might want, just me and Photoshop in the dark of the night. Heh!

I’m joining the movement! Are you?

~ Folio

TEARING DOWN CHRISTMAS

2012-01-06T12:47:00.003-07:00

One ornament broke this year. Maybe a record. A snowman left without a head. It makes for a good picture and a great symbol of the pain-after-Christmas blues and one of the worst realizations that comes during my edits. For me, tearing down Christmas (or the remnants of the celebration) is like pulling out a beloved chapter from my book after so many drafts. I’ve realized those lovely twenty pages are not necessary to the plotline.

Christmas season is when the chapter emerges and grows, takes better shape and gets cut and paste into the rest of the book. The ornaments added, friends seen after a long time. I love it. It's pretty. It's festive and brilliant.

But Christmas is crazy. Too busy. So many emotions associated with soldered memories. Rushing about getting ready for parties: cleaning, cooking, and decorating. Essentially it is the equivalent of writing the book. And when it's all over, the worst part comes: tearing it all down and stuffing it under the crawl space. For the book, editing and letting it simmer.

But the infatuation with the words, like the Christmas decor, must go. It crowds the living room. It crowds and waters down the book. It must go. Snip snip, into the dump folder.

What does removing a precious chapter from your work-in-progress feel like to you?

The Book Release Blues

2011-12-23T06:23:00.003-07:00

Is post-liber libero depression (also known as PLLD) afflicting you? Don’t worry, books are released every day and you don’t have to suffer alone!

Symptoms of PLLD vary, but may include:

-Social media overload
-Desire to check your Amazon ranking several times a day
-Lack of desire to continue working on your new manuscript
-Inability to be witty when signing a book (especially for friends)
-Vague embarrassment when people rave about your book
-Vague embarrassment when you explain to a stranger that you’re a writer
-Vague embarrassment when you re-read your new book – and really enjoy it

Writing a book and getting it published requires an extraordinary amount of effort, focus, and care. Research suggests that PLLD could be a functional component of an author’s post-book release decision making process, supporting the notion that PLLD is a normal phenomenon experienced by authors in varying degrees, and most typically alternating with a sense of euphoria and delight. (See “Whiplash Effect.”)

There are many methods of coping, including strategies such as long trips to the Arctic or learning to read hieroglyphics, but it might be helpful to understand that these may not resolve the problem and could negatively impact the author’s long-term work strategy. So it’s best to avoid avoidance. Seek support from writer friends. Re-read every positive book review. Celebrate. You really are an author. Give yourself permission to be proud.

Then get back to work.

~Folio

The Power of An Outrageous Voice

2011-12-15T13:10:00.002-07:00

I plunged in twenty years ago, started writing from the seat of my pants, and just kept going. (Definitely leaving myself open to scatological humor there!) Well, over the past year or so it’s been time out for continuing education. I feel as though I’ve awakened to writing skills after a long slumber. A great deal of what I’ve learned has come from the wise Sisters of the Quill, but precious nuggets have also been gleaned from teachers at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. A powerful lesson on voice came from that source.

For Gordon Mennenga’s Beginning the Novel course this past summer, we submitted our first fifty pages in advance. By the time the class gathered he’d read and evaluated them all. He’s wonderful; he may have saved my writing career.

But I felt sucker-punched when I read his comments scrawled across the top of my first page. They delivered a hard truth: You haven’t found your character’s voice. My first instinct was to scramble a defense. But but but…I’ve been working on this novel for many years now (many many years, in fact). I know how my character looks, what makes her tick, where she sleeps, what she eats, whom she loves, what she’s proud of. I even know her dreams. How could I not know her voice? This reaction was exacerbated by having once been utterly at one with the voice of an earlier character, the subject of six published mystery novels in the 1990s. I thought I understood voice.

But beneath it all I recognized the still, calm voice of truth. From the start I’d had trouble with how my new character expressed herself. She was too bland, too nice. Her voice didn’t flow easily, with the force of a real person. If I were honest with myself, deep down I’d known it all along.

I’ll never forget walking back to my room after that class in a sort of daze, a form of shock, and immediately hunkering down with the laptop. I was excited; I could feel I was on the edge of something big. Starting over in a new voice was like jumping off a cliff. Did I have the courage to make such a daring departure? My character’s “out there” voice had been lurking in the back of my mind, but I’d been ignoring it. I opened a document called New Voice and started typing. It came. She was there, ready and waiting.

How do you capture your character’s pure, authentic voice? I have a few ideas. But first you have to be honest enough with yourself to admit that you don’t have it, and that sort of honesty can be difficult. Ask yourself right now: are you certain your character grabs your reader and doesn’t let go? No excuses allowed; it won’t matter to the editor how many years you’ve been working on it. Do you have a “Call me Ishmael” power opening? Will something about your character linger in your reader’s mind? If not, you’d better fix it. You know the mantra: don’t give them a reason to reject your book.

Once you’ve decided to head into the fray, here are some tips for capturing your character’s voice:

Don’t be afraid to make your character different from you. Really different from you. In fact, the more different your character is from you, the more easily their voice will come. I hate offending people, so it was helpful to make my character the opposite of myself. My character is now so offensive to others, and so unconcerned about it, that it’s impossible to slip into a bland voice again. And writing with attitude is fun!

Get extreme. Look at Lady Gaga: she wants you to notice her, so she isn’t subtle. And it works! She’s met the Queen, for heaven’s sake! Yes, she’s good at what she does, but you’re probably good at what you do, too. You just need to get noticed to get published. So don’t be subtle. Go over the top. My current protagonist’s voice feels over the top to me, but I don’t think she would be to you. And you might remember her.

Go deep. The things that make a character memorable are often painful. Dig into the ugly truth of what makes him/her behave this way, talk this way, think this way. The kernel will probably be some sort of pain or loss. This may well come from your own experience, so it can be tough to go there. Discipline yourself for the sake of your craft, if you want a breakthrough onto a new level. Visit the hardest places to go within yourself, your toughest memories, most painful lessons. That’s where the power is. That zing you feel? You want your readers to feel that.

To illustrate, here are my before-and-after first lines.
Old voice: “They came for him at midnight.” This sentence isn’t bad, but it’s passive, distant, impersonal. It doesn’t tell you anything about either character. And the 449 pages that followed were rejected about a million times.
New voice: “Pepys calls me his Stormy Petrel.” This reveals a relationship, and something about each character. It’s active, and starts out talking about “me,” not “him;” it’s more immediate and direct. It has attitude, at least for the year 1670. I’ll let you know what happens.

Go for it! Jump off that cliff and open a new file. What have you got to lose? Nothing but a rejection.

Wishing you joyful writing,

Stormy P.

How the Sisters of the Quill Came To Be

2011-12-02T10:58:00.004-07:00

Each Sister of the Quill was pursuing her writing dream independently in 1994 when, suddenly, she discovered kindred spirits walking alongside and linked arms. The group’s name only attached itself recently, after Storm Petrel created an imaginary and tightly knit society of seventeenth-century penmen called the Brothers of the Quill for her current novel.

Storm Petrel struck up a conversation with Ink Pot at a Montessori School Christmas play, and discovered they lived in the same neighborhood. The core of an enduring critique group was born.

That spring, Storm Petrel spotted an unusual “Niwot” listing on Folio’s nametag at a Pikes Peak Writers Conference. They too discovered that they lived in the same neighborhood, and the fledgling critique group enfolded another kindred spirit.

We met Nib at a writing conference when she lived in the Nebraska Sandhills. The resulting e-mail correspondence paved the way for our daily (sometimes multiple daily) e-mail progress reports. Over the years Ink Pot, Nib, and Folio in particular became famous for hosting a party at each conference. Agents, editors, and writers shared the joy of their common obsession and became friends.

Because we were each at a different mile marker along the writer’s journey, we were equipped to help one another in unforeseen ways. Storm Petrel had been multi-published and her wisdom and willingness to share lessons learned has proven invaluable to her sisters. Now, Storm Petrel is not only putting the finishing touches on a carefully wrought, 17th century prequel to her Plumtree mystery series (Unsolicited, Unbound, Unprintable, Untitled, Unsigned, and Uncatalogued), an imaginative world of legendary libraries and nobility of spirit, she mentors high school students through the sometimes daunting and always complicated process of successfully applying to the colleges of their dreams. (Just so you know, Folio put all the generous adjectives and compliments in this paragraph!)

Ink Pot was a literary writer who had been published in poetry journals. She apprenticed herself to commercial writing with a vigor that intensified over the years until she was writing a novel and a several screenplays in a single year—this in addition to being Mother of the Year in everybody’s book. She won nearly every prize offered in regional writing contests, and over her long apprenticeship has experienced all the agony and ecstasy an aspiring writer could know. As she acquired more and more expertise in the craft, she began to teach, first her sisters and then at conferences. Now she edits and presents courses regularly. Ink Pot is also known for delivering magical soup and sustenance of all kinds when her sisters hit rough spots along the way.

For more than a decade Folio had been getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to write by the time we met. She would rise daily at three-thirty or four to write for a couple of hours before heading off to run one of Colorado’s hottest architectural firms. Folio already had several works in her drawer, having served a long apprenticeship to fiction writing. She possesses a naturally effortless writing style that everyone just wants to keep reading forever. If you’ve read her first novel, Soliloquy, you understand. Folio is, like Ink Pot, an extremely detail-oriented editor and a topnotch brainstormer, and recently celebrated publication of Fogg in the Cockpit, a collaborative non-fiction effort between Folio and her husband. Folio came up with the titles for all of Storm Petrel’s books after the first, including the unifying title theme.

Nib was cranking out chapters of an ambitious novel with great determination at the counter of her family’s feed store in Hyannis, Nebraska when we met. She is our action-packed, hot-topic thriller writer and has also served a long and fruitful apprenticeship to the craft. Several eventful years only served to make her more dedicated and prolific, and since publication of Ashes of the Red Heifer she has already turned out and sold Sacred Balance, what we hope will be the first novel in a long-lived series. Despite her demanding work as manager of a cool non-profit in Arizona, she manages to turn out ideas and pages constantly, a real powerhouse.

Ink Pot, Folio and Nib have volunteered tirelessly at local writers conferences for many years, and are now famous in their own right for the generosity of their service. Storm Petrel’s modesty and gentle tenacity inspires all. Sisters of the Quill. Sisters of the heart.

Storm Petrel (with generous contributions from Folio, Nib and Ink Pot)

HOW many inches?!

2011-11-30T05:55:00.002-07:00

I had the very great pleasure of attending World Fantasy Con this year, and fortunately my friend Laura warned me about the bag of books given to attendees. Free books?! How wonderful! But oh my aching shoulders - what a heavy carry-on bag and suitcase!

While in the midst of unpacking, I realized yet again that our bedroom bookcase was absolutely stuffed, and my bedside table already moaned beneath two piles of books stacked to the edge of the lampshade. I put away my suitcase and wandered into our office. Nope, that bookcase was also full, as was the one in the hallway, and there were even three unread books on the coffee table in the living room. I shrugged and headed back to the bedroom, where I stacked the new books between my dresser and chair.

Then I wondered how many inches of unread books I really had.

For a true picture I would need to include the unread books on my Kindle as well as the ten or twelve books tucked here and there on the bookcase. Oh, and then there’s the thirty-some odd books I have noted on my Goodreads “to-read” list – books I know I want to read but haven’t yet purchased. Could I count those? Should I? My husband has a stack of books that he’ll eventually share with me, and there’s usually at least a few books stashed beneath the Christmas tree as well as those three on the coffee table.

Hmmm. Forty-four inches beside the dresser, approximately twelve inches on the bookcase, seventeen inches on the bedside table, and on my Kindle I’d estimate at least twenty-five inches. My husband has to have more than twenty inches, and…

…books, book, BOOKS!

How many inches do you have?

-- Folio

Gratitude

2011-11-24T12:18:00.004-07:00

I’m grateful for my sisters…who have helped me never give up. Today I review my submission spread sheets - those that query agents and publishers, those that approach directors and producers, and those that offer fiction and nonfiction to magazines. I find 200 + entries detailing what I sent, why I chose to send to that person, and when I can expect to hear back.

Occassionally good news arrives. I record acceptances and requests for fulls, etc. More often my work is praised but not a fit, close but not there, doesn't fit with the exact needs at this time...Writers know this drill.

The one change I’ve recently made to my attitude about it was inspired by Sister Folio. Instead of typing in Rejected … I now type Declined . Feels less permanent, less personal, less negative. I’m grateful after all these years that I’ve finally learned to be kinder to myself in this small way.

My sisters inspire me every day. In uncountable ways.

Someday I’ll be published to a wide audience and I’ll be able to use these spread sheets to demonstrate to other aspiring writers that it takes hard and focused work and unending perseverance. I am grateful for my gifts. That includes the small ones and the greatest ones: Folio, Nib, and Storm Petrel.

Love and gratitude spilling from the Inkpot.

A QUESTIONABLE MOVE

2011-11-02T11:16:00.002-06:00

I made a questionable move this week. I offered up erotica (or as my husband dubbed it – porn that could come back to haunt you if you become a big-time author—--now let’s go do research). Two flash fiction pieces to be exact. They were published in the Halloween issue of an on-line magazine that seeks: “sexually adventurous and sexually ghoulish works” – Tawdry Bawdry.

I treated it like any other publication of flash fiction.

I posted the links to the two stories. The only difference between advertising for this and my last G-rated flash fiction publication was a pseudonym. Not meant to hide from writers I know but to hide from readers I don’t know.

Response to the post: virtual silence. No doubt many writers had their notification dump right into their JUNK/SPAM files (X-rated was in the subject line after all), some must have burned with disdain and deleted it faster than a rabbit….

A few women feigned neutrality, were embarrassed, or refused to go see such a thing on line. I did get four male responses to the story. Three complimentary…”va va voom” “didn’t know you had it in ya” sorts of responses. One a suspiciously grateful one.

I won’t name the responder who asked “paper or plastic?” You had to have read one of the stories to know what plastic he referenced. Coincidentally, yesterday after posting about the explicit pieces, I HAD gone to the grocery store and HAD asked for paper bags for the first time in ages.

I understand. Truly, I understand. I even blush. The stories were far from tame, but what the heck, I’m an adult and followed the rules: no animals or children or violence. Was it a mistake to bring attention to that particular genre of the many genres I write? Maybe. Who’s lining up to judge me? Who is now wishing they hadn’t deleted that posted announcement? Smile.

- from the Inkpot

Lifelong Homework

2011-10-24T09:16:00.005-06:00

I read something the other day and I just had to share it. I picked this up from a Desert Sleuths’ newsletter and that writer picked it up from Ira Glass. He’s the interesting and wildly successful guy who does “This American Life” on NPR. If you’ve ever listened to his show, you can hear him speak these words:

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative

work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you

make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has

potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you

into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work

disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they

quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work

went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have

this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through

this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this

phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing

you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so

that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going

through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and

your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone

I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way

through.”

IRA GLASS

Did I mention he’s wildly successful? And yet, he admits that he, like the rest of us, was riddled with doubts. He didn’t start off being great. He worked at it. Worked really hard.

I find this encouraging and inspirational and disappointing all at the same time. It means I can’t quit. I’m not as good as my hero-writers and suspect I’ll never rise to their level. I’d like to settle for “good enough.”

I really liked school and was a pretty good student. I knew exactly what was expected to get the A and when I’d accomplished that, I couldn’t go any higher. (This was in ancient times before weighted grades and advance placement.) I knew when I could quit working.

Mr. Glass’s quote tells me I can never stop trying to be a better writer. That’s daunting. But he also tells me that hard work will pay off. I will improve over time. And so, thank you, Mr. Glass for giving me the proverbial homework for the rest of my life.

Nib

How about you? Does Ira Glass’s quote inspire or exhaust you?

Multi-Author Bookfair! November 12, 2011 at Barnes & Noble in Boulder, Colorado.

2011-10-22T10:50:00.003-06:00

. .

Please join us at a bookfair to benefit Pikes Peak Writers!

Saturday, November 12, 2011
4 p.m. to 6 p.m.
Barnes & Noble "Crossroads Commons"
2999 Pearl Street, Boulder CO

Richard and Janet Fogg will sign Fogg in the Cockpit

Laura E. Reeve will sign The Major Ariane Kedros Novels

Esri Allbritten will sign Chihuahua of the Baskervilles

Pikes Peak Writers is a national nonprofit that helps writers learn, connect and grow through workshops, resources, contests, scholarships, and one of the best writer's conferences in the country. To help PPW continue in their support of writers, Barnes & Noble is hosting this and other benefit bookfairs and signings.

If you shop at B&N during the benefit period, a portion of what you spend goes to PPW. It costs you nothing extra, and you can use your B&N member discount. So we hope you'll join us at the signing, but if you can't make it please consider shopping at BN.com/bookfairs between November 12th and 17th, and reference bookfair number #10553048.

For more info about this bookfair and the list of authors signing at five Colorado Barnes & Noble locations, visit: pikespeakwriters.com/html/book_signings.html.

Hope to see you at the bookfair!

And how does that make you feel?

2011-10-07T12:04:00.004-06:00

Ever have the feeling the universe is trying to stuff something into your big, fat, ugly head? Maybe it’s not so much a “woo-woo” experience as it is your inner mind focusing on something before it tells your everyday mind about it. Sort of like I kept seeing pregnant women right before I decided I wanted to have a baby. (And what was I thinking then?) I don’t like subliminal messages from myself. I rely on my normal shallow nature to protect me from deep emotion.

This week, Cricket McRea, author of the Home Crafting Mystery series, posted a blog about Splat. http://tinyurl.com/43dshyl This is a technique for discovering the inner workings of your own mind so you can plumb the depths of your fear and anxiety to create more complex and interesting characters.

Now doesn’t that sound like fun?

Less than a month ago, at Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer’s Colorado Gold Conference, I attended a three-hour workshop given by romantic suspense writer and amazing writing coach, Laura Baker, of Story Magic fame. The workshop was entitled The Fearless Writer: Discovering Your Story. Among the eye-opening and light bulb-illuminating tidbits in this workshop, Laura walked us through a bit of psychoanalysis all in the name of finding a good story. Talk about stepping out of my six inch deep comfort zone.

At the most basic, The Fearless Writer course is about discovering what made you begin writing. Before you learned you couldn’t write because you didn’t know about stimulus and response and point of view and voice and character arcs and turning points, what gave you the passion to tell the story inside of you?

Before we can answer this question, we have to go through a series of exercises, dredging up all the good, bad and ugly we’ve squirreled away throughout our lives and find out what our purpose is in storytelling. Like cats, some of us are particularly good and burying our, ahem, “unpleasantness.” And like Methuselah, some of us have enough years on our bones to have accumulated a lot of said “unpleasantness.”

Laura had us look at stories and characters we found easiest to write and those we couldn’t complete. Using our own life experiences, we drew links to our stories and can then discover what our strengths are as writers. The exercises took the pain and joy in our past and associated that emotional gunk (that’s my technical term) with our stories to find themes we return to.

I’m not about to tell you all the personal dysfunction I discovered in just three hours of this workshop. It’s embarrassing how much of my therapy has been worked out in the pages of my books. But it makes for some particularly flawed characters with lots of growth potential. Obviously, Laura’s workshop is way more involved than what I’ve plastered here and I urge you to check it out. www.fearlesswriter.com

When I fearlessly and foolishly decided I wanted to be a writer, no one told me I was going to have to pull out all the nasty little bugs hiding in the dark recesses of my brain. Like spiders in my house, I’m way happier if I don’t see them. I’m not all that into self awareness, we shallow people shy away from that. I have honed the art of denial until I’m a true master. And now the dagnabbed universe is banging me on the head with a sledgehammer and telling me to dig deeper. Fine, okay, I’m not stupid, I get the message. But if I have to cry to write this next book, somebody is going to be in trouble.

What about you? Do you enjoy the process of baring your soul, even in disguise, in your work?

A Lost Day

2011-09-23T06:02:00.001-06:00

I recently spent the day fighting a computer virus on one of our computers, and remained fairly calm most of the morning, but by afternoon, when I realized this virus would likely defeat my somewhat limited abilities, I became quite angry. First, I was heated over the time I lost, but then, I became enraged for the lost potential of whoever engineered this particular worm.

As a thunderstorm grumbled through, I fear my (somewhat colorful) language provided a poignant counter-tempo to the growling overhead. Then, after a particularly virulent crash from on high, I laughed.

The jerk-savant who created the malware or virus, whatever the heck it was, wanted my rage. Well, I hate to break it to you sweetheart, but if you happen to read this, my anger was short lived. Instead, as the growling storm swept past our home and a rainbow crested over the eastern plains, I found myself pitying you. Someday, when you look back on your life, and your child gazes at you with adoring eyes, what story will you relate? How can you ever explain this part of your life? Worse yet, what happens much later, when the end of your life is near?

Let me explain a few things. First of all, you are not Neo, saving mankind from evil. I know that’s hard to accept, but trust me, you’re not a hero, and soon I hope you realize how you can fruitfully spend your time, efforts, and your undoubted brilliance. There’s so much to be accomplished in this world, and instead you choose to lurk in the sewer. I hope the stench soon drives you out and you find not only a new life, but some way to make amends, to ask forgiveness. I realize that is optimistic, but you see, writers have to be optimistic. We work in an incredibly tough profession, where rejection is the norm.

Ah, but those hours I lost playing your game. I’d planned on drafting and sending out six to eight queries, and instead, accomplished nothing. But here is my gift to you, along with this blog. I give you those hours I lost, to claim as your own. That way, since I give them to you freely, you cannot take any pleasure in thinking that you took them from me.

I’ve already delivered the computer to a geek to have your thumbprint removed. Poof! It shall be gone. Now, I’ll write my queries and spend time outside, enjoying the kiss of fall weather and high skies. I’ll consider my next chapter and that brings me great joy. Oh, and I might spend another moment or two pitying you, but I should caution you about that pity. You see, over the decades speculative fiction writers have predicted the future with an alarming rate of success, and I don’t foresee joy in your future, or any true satisfaction. Alas for you. Alas for a lost day.

~ Folio

AN EFFORTLESS READ

2011-09-15T21:13:00.000-06:00

I returned from the CO Gold Conference on Sunday with a head full of inspiration and a heart filled with gratitude for our amazing Colorado writing community.

One of several workshops I attended stood out because it addressed head-on a difficulty I’ve been having with the beginning of my book. Sara Megibow (from the Nelson Literary Agency) taught a workshop entitled:

Bang! Zoom! Pow! Those First 30 Pages and Why They are so Important and How to Make Them POP.

I’ve been to many similarly titled workshops and have found most impart the same information. But I figured it couldn’t hurt to have it all reinforced again -- especially in light of the feedback I’ve been receiving about my book, Mu Shu Mac-N-Cheese. It works extremely well except the very beginning.

My query letter is effective; I’m usually asked to send full manuscripts. My voice, I’m told, is courageous and works well with the characters and storyline. I’ve even been told by agents that it is a marketable, commercial novel. So what about the beginning is holding it back from earning representation in this tough market?

I have a lot in my first chapter, clearly too much. Mario Puzo got away with it, and one agent suggested I study the beginning of The Godfather. Puzo detailed the back-story of the various characters who sought the aid of the powerful Godfather. The lesson seemed to be that I needed to give the reader more to latch onto about the motivation of the few characters I introduce in the beginning of the book. I was also advised that my voice was so strong that it “overwhelmed the narrative.” That was more difficult to decipher. My critique groups helped me interpret this. I have a rather unusual way with language sometimes. Maybe it is the poet in me. Maybe it is my twisted sense of metaphor. Maybe I try too hard to have an atypical approach to word play. I think it is all of the above.

Back to Sara’s helpful advice. She explained four things that automatically earn rejections from their agency.
1) Data dump
2) Work not written with genre requirements
3) Awkward dialogue
4) Weak character or voice

Great advice. But none of these seemed to address the dissatisfaction over MY beginning. I’d pretty much pounded out the above common problems working over the years with my critique partners and taking a long detour writing screenplays.

Then Sara talked about what makes a beginning POP. First:

INCITING INCIDENT

She emphasized that the inciting incident shouldn’t be in a prologue, and, in fact, “mainstream fiction shouldn’t even have a prologue.” My book is mainstream women’s fiction and the story takes place twenty years after my Midwest-raised protagonist marries into a traditional and dominating Chinese family. In the PROLOGUE, my protagonist meets her future husband on the dance floor, beginning the dance of their marriage. It’s only one page long. One page. One page! ONE page!!! It sets up the marriage! Right?

It seems I’ve started my book with one of those gnarly, dreaded darlings. And that I should work the information in, as needed, later in the book. Ironically, I taught a workshop at the conference about back-story in its various forms and specifically about writing flashbacks. I warned against flashbacks that come too early. Guess I’ll have to review my own notes.

Chop off my prologue, and luckily I still have a strong inciting incident. That is not the problem. Sara’s last observation about beginnings that POP was less straight forward than items of craft and as elusive as voice.

AN EFFORTLESS READ

We’ve all experienced it. We open a book and force our way through the first few pages, slogging along, debating whether or not to take more of our precious time to unravel a tangle of too many ideas, dense prose, flowery overkill, or a mess of complicated sentences. Hers was not a surprising suggestion. But somehow, the way she stated it became an aha moment for me. I and my critique partners know my book so well that we don’t recognize the introduction of too many conflicts, each on the heel of the other, and the story promise with too many angles. The morass of too-tight writing.

I cared too much about getting it right, about dragging the reader in with so many questions to be answered, and not one spare word. I’ve over edited the beginning of Mu Shu Mac-N-Cheese to the point of being dense compared to the rest of the book that manages to breathe. It wouldn’t be too far off to call the beginning constipated while the rest is…well… smooth moving.

I now have a plan of attack. Not an easy plan, especially for this freelance editor who usually deals with tightening chubby prose. But what in a writing career is easy? I am going to make my entire book breathe.

Make it an effortless read.

Thank you Sara.

From the InkPot

Fogg in the Cockpit Book Signing at the Leanin' Tree Museum of Western Art on August 30, 2011

2011-09-09T06:01:00.003-06:00

Thank you again, Julie and Karen, for organizing and hosting such a special event. You created a magical evening, one we shall never forget. And thank you as well to the Trumbles, who so generously shared their spectacular Museum of Western Art with all of us. ~ Dick and Janet Fogg

Figure Out the Fix

2011-09-02T10:28:00.003-06:00

Time for another go at Mu Shu Mac-N-Cheese. After many glowing rejections, one agent was able to spell out more clearly what’s wrong with it.

Others came tantilizingly close to grabbing it up, loved the writing, the characters, the storyline, the premise…but…something was not quite connecting. When it comes to editing, it's pretty hard to work with a vague feeling.

Today, in contrast, I feel I have something more to work with. The new plan: after brushing up the last two chapters I wrote on my new one…I’ll put it aside and go back to Mu Shu, do a read and summary, and try to figure out how to make each chapter "swell under its own crescendo." That is the writing life: Figure out the Fix. Thank you Barbara Poelle of Irene Goodman Literary Agency.

1,254 days from query to contract (but then again, who's counting?)

2011-08-11T13:08:00.009-06:00

Fogg in the Cockpit was released on July 28, 2011.

Finally.

The journey to publication of this WWII military history book about my husband’s father, Captain Howard Fogg, seemed long and arduous. Was our journey abnormally difficult or fairly typical? I just don't know. What I do know is that I kept records of the query, rejection, and contract process, and thought I would share that information so you can judge for yourself.

My husband (Richard) and I began to work on this book in late 2004, and over the next two years we did a great deal of research and wrote text to interweave with the text from Howard’s diary and other document excerpts. We completed the first, 60,000 word manuscript draft in early 2007. We were so excited! Now it was time to send out queries!

1st Query: 03/24/07 to Talbot Fortune Agency – rejected

2nd Query: 04/02/07 to Dystel & Goderich Literary Management – rejected

3rd Query: 05/07/07 to Stackpole Books – no response

4th Query: 07/30/07 to Potomac Books – rejected

5th Query: 05/08/08 to University Press of New England – rejected

6th Query: 05/08/08 to Naval Institute Press – rejected

7th Query: 05/11/08 to Carlton Publishing Group – no response

8th Query: 05/11/08 to Burford Books
06/12/08 – Burford requested sample chapters
06/20/08 – sent sample chapters
06/21/08 – declined

9th Query: 05/11/08 to Westholme Publishing – no response

10th Query: 05/11/08 to Camroc Press
05/13/08 – Camroc requested sample chapters
06/20/08 – Camroc requested full manuscript
07/03/08 – declined and suggested we try a university press

11th Query: 05/18/08 to W.W. Norton & Company – no response

12th Query: 05/28/08 to Skyhorse Publishing – rejected

13th Query: 05/29/08 to Hellgate Press: No response for 21 months

14th Query: 05/30/08 to Schiffer Publishing – rejected

15th Query: 07/08/08 to Utah State University Press
07/09/08 – USU requested 2 copies of full manuscript
07/10/08 – mailed 2 copies - USU acknowledged receipt of manuscripts via email – no further response

16th Query: 7/25/08 to University Press of Kentucky – rejected

17th Re-query: 11/21/08 to Stackpole (referral from one of their authors) – rejected

18th Query: 03/09/09 to University of Oklahoma Press (referral from one of their authors)
03/16/09 – requested full
No further response despite several follow-up emails

Demoralized, we decided, “The hell with it, we’ll self-publish!”

Over the summer I read Lulu’s guidelines, registered with them, and requested an ISBN. Then we decided to try a couple of additional queries, but if we had no offer by the end of the year we would self-publish. This was our last salvo, so to speak.

19th Query: 05/01/09 to FPP Aviation
05/03/09 – requested full manuscript
05/05/09 – sent full manuscript

Who said silence is golden?

20th Query: December 29, 2009 to Norlights Press – rejected

21st Query: January 3, 2010 to Casemate Publishers

Back to the 19th Query that we sent 05/01/09 – 9-1/2 months later…
02/18/10 – email re: wants to make an offer
02/23/10 – met with publisher, received verbal contract offer, contract to follow
03/27/10 – we sent follow-up email re: status of contract – No response

Then everything happened at once.

03/29/10: Received charming response to 10th query we sent 21 months previously. In summary, our query and sample chapters had been misplaced during a move. Hellgate requested a full manuscript which we sent 03/30/10.

03/31/10: Received an email from Casemate (21st query) expressing interest. “We would be very interested to discuss this project further as we feel this is a very interesting story and perspective on the war.”

04/06/10: Casemate scheduled a conference call with us.

04/08/10: Received a verbal offer from Casemate contingent upon increasing word count from 60,000 to at least 75,000. (Minimum 75,000, maximum 125,000 words.)

04/09/10: Sent additional material to Casemate to show that we could, indeed, increase the word count.

04/13/10: Sent even more additional material.

04/13/10: Received an offer from Hellgate Press, the one that misplaced our query for 21 months.

Now what? Casemate was interested but we had a bird in the hand. Two, if you counted FPP, though we were now skeptical about them.

04/15/10: We let Hellgate know that we had an offer from Casemate. The Hellgate editor was terrific. He assured us his offer would remain while we decided who to go with. He complimented Casemate, said they were a great press and much larger than his. Could offer a color insert whereas he couldn’t.

Stewed and debated the pros and cons of the offers.

04/21/10: Let Casemate know that we had an offer from Hellgate.

Paranoia reigned. No word from Casemate.

05/13/10: Sent follow-up email to Casemate, inquiring about status of offer.

05/14/10: Casemate scheduled conference call to review contract terms.

05/25/10: Back to the 19th Query, FPP. Still no response to our follow-up emails or a voice mail, so we sent a letter and email withdrawing our manuscript.

05/25/10: Let Hellgate know that we were going to accept Casemate’s offer.

06/16/10: Still no contract draft from Casemate, sent follow-up email.

06/20/10: Sent additional material to Casemate with estimated new word count.

07/08/10: Still no contract draft from Casemate, sent follow-up email.

We were now considering going back to Hellgate.

07/26/10: Phoned Casemate and left a message re status of contract.

07/28/10: Casemate phoned us, explained the delay, and reinforced their interest in the manuscript. Reviewed terms, deadlines, and estimated publication date. They would need the bulked up manuscript by 11/01/10. Yikes! Could we have one more month, until 11/30/10?

09/01/10: Received contract. Deadline for submittal 11/01/10. Wait! What happened to 11/30/10!? Oh well, we can do it!

09/03/10: Mailed signed contract to Casemate! Time for champagne!

Pop!!!

Elements of successful novels: the first two pages

2011-07-12T11:24:00.000-06:00

I've just returned from two glorious weeks at the University of Iowa Writing Festival in Iowa City. It's always a little like drinking through a fire hose; as usual a great deal of useful information on writing was exchanged. I have a fun and useful tip to share.

We all know the first few pages are crucial to keep the agent or editor reading, so I signed up for the week-long course, "Beginning the Novel." The tone of the workshops tends to be literary rather than commercial, so our wonderful workshop professor, Gordon Mennenga of Coe College, apologized for coming dangerously close to being formulaic before sharing this. He'd gone into a bookstore, the classic Prairie Lights (Iowa City's Tattered Cover), and picked up all of the bestselling and otherwise successful novels of the past year or two. Each of them had all of the following on the first two pages (brace yourself!):

a sentence containing three commas

a one-word sentence

alliteration

food (the universal ritual)

body fluid--sweat, blood, tears, urine

reference to sex or death

something sinful or painful

a color

a physical feature

a personality trait

question mark

mention of nature

anything with a brand name

furniture

body part or parts

smell/odor

metaphor, each of which saves five pages of description

city, state or street

walk/gesture/overbite/musculature

He had us go through our first two pages and check off how many of these we had included. Most of us had two or three; one of us had ten or so (way to go Alan!). As far as evoking sensations in the reader, we realized we were writing at about 1/10 power. You might enjoy going through your first two pages and seeing how many you instinctively included...and then add the rest! You can always take them out again if it feels too much, or too contrived, but it's a useful exercise in writing vividly with all the senses.

Happy writing.

Storm Petrel

Point of View - Rules and Breaking the Rules

2011-07-06T21:00:00.010-06:00

Point of View is a tricky thing. The popularity of each approach varies over time. 1st person (especially in Young Adult books) and deep 3rd person have the benefits of connecting directly to the reader and drawing on empathy early to maintain that sense of personal-stakes-in-the-conflict (when done well with a fascinating character). In the current reading climate I vote for a novel limited to one POV in a scene, if not chapter, if not entire book.

In my own books, I've mixed it up. I've used a single 3rd person POV in an entire book, 3rd person alternating (every other chapter) between two characters, and a more complicated method of three POVs - two of them 3rd person protagonists and one 1st person serial killer.

I tend to have a personal theme running through my books that is essentially: "The bad guy is a misunderstood good guy." That requires that I paint skin-crawling, dangerous bad guys that have motivations that can be understood and even sympathetic to the good guy and reader by the end. This is particularly tough to pull off with a character that kills, but being deep inside the antagonist and slowly revealing the cause of his/her behavior is easier to pull off using very deep 3rd person or 1st person. It is a challenge, for sure, the reason I didn't attempt it until my forth book.

If we decide to change Points of View within a scene, each change in POV needs to be handled so deftly that it is a huge challenge (or more simply handled with a drop down as a signal) Rarely can a writer pull off abrupt changes in POV with no signal.

Omniscent is still used, as is 2nd person and present and future tense; but they often fall into the experimental category now rather than popular fiction. I frequently catch slips of POV in popular fiction, but in the context of deep 3rd person POV it is often ignored, forgiven, or missed by readers (unless they are also writers or editors who are trained to flag the slips - you should see me putting sticky notes into novels - sometimes it is a curse to be an editor) It isn't a cardinal sin, just head-bouncing if done frequently. And editors give less leeway to new writers - thus my seeming obsession over it.

In the spirit of "exceptions proving rules," if you'd like to see every writing guideline broken in an amazing, magnetic and shocking way, capturing even the Pulitzer Prize, take a luxury dip into TINKERS by Paul Harding. If I tried my entire life, I couldn't do what he did. I believe devoted writers, on the other hand, could do something off the beaten track after 100% mastering the more accessible POVs. A strong writing voice would carry the reader over the waves of atypical craft - not because it is easy to read, but because it is poetry to the heart. TINKERS may have still worked and had a wider readership if Harding had stayed within today's expectations. We can't know for sure.

Do you have any favorite books that break POV "rules" successfully?

I'd love to hear about them - Inkpot

Reflections on Time (Spent Writing)

2011-07-01T07:50:00.003-06:00

I’ve spent thousands of hours writing, perhaps even tens of thousands of hours, and the very magnitude of that number made me pause to consider how I might otherwise have spent that time. My house might be less dusty, though I should emphasize “might” since I dislike housecleaning and avoid it as much as is possible. I would definitely have read more books, many, many more books, and my garden would be much larger. What else? Ah yes, I would have taken more classes…

Despite working full-time I used to regularly register for classes to study all sorts of things: how to ride a motorcycle, throw and fire clay pottery, knitting, beginning ballet, and though raised in Colorado, rock-climbing and mountaineering. I climbed two dozen Fourteeners, some dangerous, some not. In the midst of all that I also decided to write a novel, high-fantasy, no less. I completed that first draft oh so many years ago, and back to Lifelong Learning I went to learn how to get published.

How to get published; now there’s a challenge. Semi-annual writer’s conferences soon usurped Lifelong Learning classes and critique meetings decorated my calendar. Writing, writing, writing and new, cherished friends. And so the years passed.

Would I have ever met such dear friends, my sisters and brothers of the quill, without penning that first manuscript and attending that class? The odds are poor and quite sad to contemplate.

What of that book on the shelf, with my name on the spine? And soon there will be another, penned with my dear husband. Oh my. Yes, oh my.

Writing books. All those hours of anguish and hope, of deliberation and delight. All those words. All those worlds.

Time well spent, don’t you think?

~ Folio

Cooking Our Bounty

2011-06-18T22:46:00.005-06:00

Last time I wrote about planting our literary seeds, weeding, and harvesting. Today I ponder tools, secrets, and tricks for turning our produce into an enjoyable meal.

Equipment is important. It’s almost impossible to cook or write without the proper tools. Cutting boards, knives, and woks are a few of the tools necessary to prepare vegetable stir-fries. For writers it’s not only about the laptop. It’s about collecting the skills essential to our craft. Taking classes, attending workshops, reading books on writing, finding a good writing coach or critique group.

It’s best if we weigh carefully the flavors we work with. Our choice of genres can be thought of as our garden’s herbs and spices. Mix too many genres and we’ve got confusing flavors. Hybrid genres are one thing. A post apocalyptic fantasy thriller that takes place in the Wild Wild West with SF and romantic elements will taste like some of the confusion foods that try to pass as fusion foods. Know what we are writing and write it boldly.

Just as gardeners and cooks approach produce differently, each writer has a unique style and brings to his work different strengths. Some focus on plot and some excel at developing characters. Some are all about the beauty of the sentence. Even thin or unwieldy plots can sell well if the writing is brilliant, just as one chef’s simple, local offerings can succeed as can the creations of another who focuses on complex and exotic ingredients.

Writing, like gardening, is all about hidden secrets. Seeds are the most obvious and miraculous secrets. But there are countless other garden secrets. Sure, a zucchini plant can net enough fruit to feed 100 armies, but if plucked at the just the right time, the blooms can be used to make one of the best appetizers in the world, stuffed squash blossoms. In a writing career and in each of our books (regardless of genre) there are hidden mysteries. The secret is to find and share them.

We grow veggies to eat them. It’s important, then, to do them justice, but not too much justice. Cooking them too long turns them into paste. Some of us writers cook our books so long we never consider our work finished. Sometimes we fear failure; sometimes we fear success; sometimes we hesitate to start a new project. If we are aware of our fears, we may be less likely to overcook our produce.

On the other hand, there are those of us who don’t let the sauces simmer long enough to meld the flavors. We whip through a draft or two then send our books off, false hope in the mail. Tomato sauce doesn’t belong on noodles unless it’s had a good long time to simmer the flavors to Italian perfection. We’re better off considering five drafts half simmered.

We could layer in discussion about our lives as the soil we start with, fertilizers that inspire our words, bad-habit weed barriers, and selling our produce in the farmer’s market. But metaphors are like truffle shavings, too much of a good thing overwhelms.

Words are food for thought. We grow them so we and others can enjoy them.

The clouds are cooperating. Inkpot wishes you good gardening and good eating! Bon Appetite!

GARDEN TO TABLE

2011-05-31T17:12:00.004-06:00

Writing is gardening, the result a feast. The metaphor is obvious: plant seeds, water, fertilize, weed, harvest, and enjoy the result in the form of a fabulous meal. Why does this metaphor feel so right? Every stage of growing food to nourish our bodies has a counterpart in growing stories to feed our minds.

Planting
A plot is like the garden map; if we throw seeds randomly the result is a confusing mess. Subplots are like carrots; if we have too many of them, it’s as if we’ve planted seeds too closely. The row is so tightly packed that no carrot can grow to its potential. Plots need room to breathe.

We find the perfect spot to plant our strawberries, radishes and scallions. We space the seeds just so. But darn it if the neighbor didn’t plant a fast growing Ausstree Willow that sucks the water right out of our bed and throws shade on our nascent plants all but ten minutes of each day. Likewise, the shade of negativity can stunt the growth of stories, even those begun with the best seed. There will always be interruptions and backslides but we needn’t pout. Maybe the neighbor would be willing to trim his tree or help us dig out a new bed on the other side of the yard. It serves us well, in gardening and in writing, to seek and accept support from others. If we surround ourselves with sunshine, the veggies and fruit will thrive.

Weeding
You’ve got to edit. And edit. And edit. Enough said.

Harvesting
How should we look at our bruised fruit? With admiration! Do you want taste or shiny wax? Good characters are like bruised fruit. The imperfect ones often taste sweeter and are full of authentic flavor.

Unlike farmers competing with their 1,000+ pound pumpkins, we writers compliment and even combine our crops; my zucchini, her parsley and garlic, his onions and tomatoes and your eggplant mix to make an unbeatable ratatouille. That’s what critique groups and involvement in the greater writing community are all about. It’s in our best interest to cooperate rather than compete.

Writing and gardening are emotional roller coasters. There are exquisite highs (a bumper crop of jalapenos) and agonizing lows (that damn rabbit ate the strawberries). Expect them. Celebrate them both as forward movement. Even a rejection gets you one step closer to publication, as long as you listen to the reason you were rejected.

Next time we can talk about my favorite subject (as a foodie and food writer): cooking up our crops.

Publication and sharing our bounty is the purpose of planting our garden. Go grow some cucumbers and a ton of fans!

Inkpot wishes you good gardening!

A Two Crit Litwit?

2011-05-22T07:20:00.004-06:00

Hello, my name is Folio, and I’m a two crit litwit. A litwrit? A critwrit? Okay, a nitwit! Ahem.

Let’s try that again.

Hello, my name is Folio, and I belong to two critique groups. I love them both. Benefit from both. Why two? Because they're different. Yet some writers wonder whether they should even belong to one, let alone two.

I credit my friends in my first group (Uff Da!), with pushing me up the mountain. Or perhaps we linked hands and climbed the Fourteener together. We met at a class on How to Get Published, so we were all ambitious and at somewhat similar levels of experience. This proved invaluable. While there’s certainly an appeal to joining a group with members that have far more experience, consider whether that makes the slope a bit slippery. You might be an amazing talent, but if you’re trudging up the hill and don’t even know what to carry in your backpack, have to be guided every step of the way, it could be frustrating for everyone. Some groups I’m aware of require an “audition” before an invitation to join for exactly this reason.

Uff Da Cum Laude meets monthly, exchanges pages at one meeting and critiques them at the next. We’re friends, supporters, and cheerleaders. We love good stories. We’ve been through the battles of trying to get published and some of us have. Once, disaster visited. A man I’ll call Big Bad John asked if he could join our group. What an arrogant, unhappy person. He was loud, uber ambitious, and voiced the opinion that kindness had no place in critique. He preferred the slash and burn method. Didn’t care if there was blood on the trees.

After that first meeting our “old” members privately critiqued him as a potential member, and we disinvited him. Because of John we closed our group. That one encounter taught us how important it is to learn if you’re a fit for your critique group, and vice versa. I want critique and I’m pretty tough and resilient, but who needs deforestation? Not me. John apparently thought he did. I hope he found a group that shared his goals and preferences.

Enter my second group, the Sisters of the Quill. Oh sisters, was I ever flattered to be approached at a writer’s conference by an incredibly gracious author, Storm Petrel. She introduced herself, noted that we were from the same small town (displayed on our nametags). She belonged to a critique group with only a few members. Would I like to join them, try a meeting or two? Would I!?

That was many years ago and these days we meet weekly to work and critique. And to enjoy our friendship! Camaraderie is good in this solitary profession of ours. We have one long-distance member, and several years ago we began reporting our progress on a regular basis, sometimes daily, via email. We’ve found that one sister’s success can be celebrated, shared by all, as can coping with angst. Then every once in a while we meet for an all day or multi-day retreat. Talk about fun! We brainstorm and work hard, pound out plot points and eat wonderful food.

As you might gather, we’re supportive but at the same time aggressive, about getting published, that is! “What iffing” is sought out and appreciated. If something doesn’t work we say so, then it’s up to the sister to decide if she agrees. Or not. During this journey we've truly become sisters, in every best sense of the word. Such a treasure.

I know a few writers who think their voice will be massaged to a homogenized mush if they run their words through critique. I think it could happen. So remember that every comment should be filtered by you. After all, how many times have you started reading a bestseller and found it wasn't worth turning the pages? Opinions really do vary. So remember to be open, to really LISTEN to the comments about your work, and THEN decide whether to edit. At the same time, if you're not interested in changing and learning, and argue about every suggested improvement, then why bother with critique?

I hope you’re as blessed as I am with your friends in critique. In both of my groups what started as nervous meetings of strangers flourished, grew tall and strong, and now reach steadfastly for the quill or pen or keyboard.

Uff Da! SOTQ!

Folio

“Being Gretchen”: Happiness for Writers Who Second-Guess

2011-05-11T10:55:00.000-06:00

We writers are blessed with extreme sensitivity; it’s what allows us to write. On the other hand, it can be a curse: we constantly gauge reactions to our work, even our own, as we self-edit. But self-editing is essential! (Sound of pulling hair out.) I constantly second-guess my approach to my current novel; with every rejection—and nearly every reading—I’m tempted to rethink the entire project.

But there’s help! The other night I was reading an enjoyable book called The Happiness Project. In it, author Gretchen Rubin discusses her own second-guessing paralysis.

On pp 77-78 of The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin explains that along the way to her immensely successful New York Times bestseller, many people gave her advice. One friend suggested she change the title; another recommended she emphasize different aspects of her life such as conflict with her mother. When she protested she had no conflict with her mother, he harrumphed that she was in denial.

With each suggestion she worried: was her tone wrong? Was she wrong to talk about her own experience so much? Perhaps the answer was yes, and yet… “I didn’t want to be the novelist who spent so much time rewriting his first sentence that he never wrote his second.” Gretchen decided that if she wanted to accomplish anything, she needed to push ahead without constantly second-guessing herself. She needed to "Be Gretchen." And there I was, holding her beautiful and worthwhile book, now in reach-the-masses paperback, in my hands.

Possibly because I had just read about Gretchen’s experience, I felt much more relaxed about heading back into my jello elephant of a novel yesterday for one more go-round. And something wonderful happened: a new idea took off and made magic. At least I felt that way, though I’ve heard that a chemical released in the brain during creative bursts gives that euphoric sensation of having created something special…

Oh no! There I go again, second-guessing. Today I will choose again to “Be Storm Petrel” and push ahead with my own vision of the project, and encourage you to do the same.

Thank you, Gretchen Rubin!
- Storm Petrel

Very Superstitious

2011-04-28T14:57:00.004-06:00

Is it just me or do lots of writers focus on the bad and underplay the good? How many times do you have to hear, “I loved your book!” to counter the one furrow-browed reader who says she thought the love scene was not very tender. Never mind that you wrote that scene to illustrate how wrong the relationship was in the first place. Now you are convinced your whole book is an example of what every writer should not do.

The agent can say they like your style or that you have talent and the full manuscript you sent isn’t right for them but they’d love to see anything else you have. You don’t see the offer to send another story, you see “You couldn’t write an application for a grocery store discount card. You have bad hair, could stand to lose some weight and your feet stink.” And when I say you, I mean me.

I delay celebration. A publisher sent me an offer… in writing. It looks pretty darned official. As with dear Folio and her husband when the publisher accepted the book but seemed to take forever to send the contract, I refuse to break out the champagne or go for a celebratory dinner until my name is on the dotted line. Underneath the logical, accountant brain of mine lurks a superstitious mind. I’m afraid if I rejoice too soon, the bottom will drop out and I’ll be disappointed beyond repair.

We’ve all heard the horror stories of writers who sold books only to have their editor leave the house and the book is dropped. Do you suppose one of the writer’s friends threw them a party with a multi-layered chocolate cake and that somehow jinxed the deal? Think what would happen if, for instance, my husband took me out for steak and lobster and we toasted the deal with the publisher, and then, for some reason, I never got the contract.

Just what WOULD happen? I’d have had a nice evening, a terrific meal and feel special and successful. I’d feel awful if the contract didn’t materialize. On the other hand, if I don’t celebrate the offer and the contract doesn’t happen I’d just feel awful, without the feel-good evening.

But just in case, contract first, champagne later.

Nib

What are your writing superstitions?

Patience is a Virtue!

2011-04-23T06:03:00.006-06:00

My mom used to tell me that patience is a virtue. That means I’m mind-bogglingly virtuous, when it comes to writing that is! Though I think I’m a very patient person anyway, choosing to pursue writing as a career has certainly reinforced that particular trait.

It takes patience to write a book. One-word-at-a-time patience. Not everyone can crank out a novel in three months, certainly not without a team such as James Patterson employs. Okay, so I do have a team of three – me, myself, and I – and none of us are particularly speedy. For a new book I’d say think more along the lines of eighteen months, minimum. I haven’t truly tested that theory though, as I haven’t written a “new” book with a contract deadline hanging, sharp and sword-like, above my head, so I think two years is probably more accurate.

Ah yes, mustn't forget the requisite patience needed to research agents and publishers to make certain they’re appropriate for your book, to track every query, dates sent, and the response or lack of same, since so many agents and editors are now letting a non-response speak for them. Hurry up and wait.

Finally though, success! An offer’s been made! But patience is needed yet again. Actually, patience multiplied times six months, waiting for the actual contract to arrive. Are we there yet?

Didn’t think I’d need an extraordinary amount of patience during the editing process. Wrong! Near the end, suddenly the editor wanted eight more pages, or to delete twelve. Our choice. Sigh. Can you be patient and hyperventilate at the same time? Let me assure you, you can. Scrambling for eight more pages of material while remaining patient made for an exhausting week.

Edits are done, galley proof complete. Yay! But wait, there’s more. Now you need even more patience! You’re tapping your toe in anticipation of the happy event, of the day a heavy box arrives in a nice little brown truck. You’re watching the clock, waiting for the minute when you’ll tear apart strapping tape and cardboard to reveal hidden treasure. But guess what? Until that moment you need to find the patience (and discipline) to keep working! It’s time to blog, to read and research, to update marketing materials and paint your house, to set up signings and speaking engagements, and most importantly, to write, write, write, while you wait, wait, wait for months, and weeks, and days…

Are you mind-bogglingly virtuous, too? -- Folio

THE THREE FATES

2011-04-17T13:53:00.003-06:00

This week I have orange-hot irons in the fire. I’ve trained over many years for the Olympic sports of novel and script writing. But since who-you-know, timing and luck obviously play a role, I contemplate fate. More specifically what the Greeks personified as the Three Fates.

CLOTHO spun the thread of fate, giving us the inexplicable and irrational drive to be writers. Even now she sets us on a course that includes shearing the wool and combing the cotton, a million skeins worth. We choose colors, concoct patterns, then go about spinning our tales and repairing broken threads. She watches from a distance as we finally tie off our creations.

ATROPOS was the smallest of the Fates but most powerful. She could snip the thread at her whim. She teases us writers with her cruelty. She sends jaded pessimism off in the mail with submissions. She threatens to allow persistence, patience and dogged determination to atrophy. She chooses the manner of a dream’s demise if you let her. She’s the Fate to fear, for she can clip short a tenuous career with two simple words: give up.

LACHESIS stood between the two other Fates. She measured the thread of life, guiding the ups and downs, the spices that salt and pepper our lives. She is your critique partner’s feedback, the scores from a contest judge, the nudge or shove from an agent or an editor. If you pass her tests, she offers up compliments, first place awards, agents’ calls, sales, and bestseller lists.

When the Three Fates show up on the hearth when your author self is born, enlist Clotho (your flaming first words) and Lachesis (your magical path) in keeping sneaky, sabotaging Atropos at bay.

As I await word from producers and agents, I try to honor and be humble before the three Fates.

What mythical characters do you relate to most as a writer?

-From the Inkpot

Grab Your Tire Iron

2011-04-12T11:10:00.010-06:00

A few days ago, Julie Kazimer, author of The Body Dwellers (her link) commented on this site about writers wanting something so badly they’d kneecap someone to get it. I thought of Tonya Harding and how she risked everything to get what she wanted. She decided what stood in her way and took the tire iron to it. I am really sorry it was Nancy Kerrigan’s knee. Obviously, Tonya was sick and a criminal to boot, and I know we writers would never sabotage another writer to get a book deal, but what, I wondered, would I risk all for?

Today, one of my dearest friends told me the story of her son, who is a senior in high school. Aside from the test scores and grades that mark him as a brainiac, he’s also a stellar athlete and all around great kid. When applying for scholarships, he was asked to write an essay on a controversial topic such as, perhaps, striving for world peace. This was not some local couple of hundred of dollars, but a full ride to a prestigious university. He chose to write about LaBron James’ “Decision.” My friend tried to talk him out if it. Too risky, she said, for something so important. The young man felt strongly about his choice and went ahead. He won the scholarship.

He didn’t stop there. He sent the essay, along with news of his scholarship, to Mr. James. Again, my friend shrugged, thinking he’d be disappointed not to hear from the very busy superstar. A few days ago, not only did the young man receive an amazingly supportive letter from Mr. James, but a book bag, with a note from Mr. James saying he thought the young man would need something with which to haul his books.

No one likes to fail. To avoid that awful feeling, many of us avoid risks. Look at poor Tonya Harding. She risked, she failed and now her fame is tied to celebrity wrestling. But people do win. If my friend’s son hadn’t risked writing an unexpected essay, he wouldn’t have an excellent scholarship. And if he hadn’t risked rejection by a VIP, he’d never have the encouragement and congratulations, not to mention the really cool book bag.

I’m pretty risk averse. I have a 30-year mortgage instead of an ARM. I work for salary instead of being an entrepreneur. And yet, I get up at 4:30 most mornings to write with no guarantee the book will ever see the light of a publishing day. I have sent out hundreds, maybe thousands, of queries over the years, knowing that even though it only takes one yes, I will have to suffer agonizing no’s. I’ve given up weekends to edit manuscripts. And I’ve quit more times than I can count, only to get up the next day and try again. Maybe I’m not as attached to security as I think I am.

Why play it safe? Today I’m advocating we take big risks to achieve our dreams. Let’s start kneecapping everything that stands in our way. Like my friend’s son, let’s kneecap doubts, those inside us as well as those around us. Let’s kneecap fear of failure and pain of rejection. Kneecap an extra hour of sleep or the urge to sit on the couch and watch 30 Rock reruns.

Don’t be afraid. Join me with now. Grab your tire iron and tell me, what do you want to kneecap?

--Nib

To edit or not to edit

2011-04-06T19:08:00.002-06:00

My newly reworked manuscript was rejected by the first agent I sent it to. Par for the course, I know.

But now I’m in a quandary: do I rework it with her feedback, or keep sending out the status quo, hoping it strikes others differently? If it has a fatal flaw I hate to use up all the remaining agents by continuing to send it out.

The Sisters of the Quill advise sending it to a few more; if I get the same responses then I should probably rework it. They’re always right, so I’m going to follow their advice.

Other words of wisdom, anyone?

I’m taking a few days for one more objective(?!) hardcopy look at how it might strike someone for the first time. With a hard copy in hand, I feel free to cross out big chunks that might be slowing the story. I’m more tentative editing on the computer, lest my “darlings” disappear forever into the circular cyberfile.

It takes courage to do what we do: we’re completely free, and with that freedom comes a million little choices. At the start of each sentence infinite paths beckon. We courageously embark on one, only to question it minutes later: backtrack or carry on? Every decision we make evokes another question.

Somehow we must find the courage to plunge moment by moment into the sea of arbitrary ideas…thank goodness for the lifesavers of our critique groups.

I’m going to dive in again, fast, before I think about those other 999,999 paths.

- Storm Petrel

Demand More

2011-03-18T12:07:00.006-06:00

I was staring at the interesting patterns cast by the full moon through the light tube in the bedroom ceiling at three, twelve this morning. Before I was a women-of-a-certain-age, I never had insomnia. That thought struck me with a sigh of frustration. Then I remembered what one of my wise Sisters (of the Quill) said about her wakefulness. She said she thinks of that quiet time as a gift she can use to think. Who couldn’t use some uninterrupted brain time?

I started reworking a particularly hairy plot issue in my latest WIP. Why would my villain do this thing I needed her to do? The motivations I’d come up with previously didn’t seem to be strong enough. I threw my original idea back and asked my brain for a better one.

And that’s when the train derailed and I started out across the barren prairie of my mind on foot. Where had I come up with the idea to throw my idea back and ask for another? Fully distracted now, I thought back to an RMFW conference. It was the year Bouchercon was in Denver the same weekend as our annual Colorado Gold so we had a two-day workshop instead of the full conference. What year was that? And the guest speaker was—I’m ashamed to admit I can’t remember—someone with the last name of Cook.

I bought Mr. Cook’s tape of the event (tape, you understand, that’s how long ago it was). He talked about trusting your subconscious. I can almost hear him say, “If you don’t like the idea your imagination gives you, throw it back and demand another. It will keep working until it gives you something you can use.”

I can’t remember what else he had to say although it seems he gave us that quote about only having to see what is directly in your headlights to keep driving. But these words about demanding more from my brain have been with me every day since then. I know I benefited by his other words of wisdom but this is the gleaming gold, the nugget panned out of a river of good writing advice.

I jumped from this to thinking about Sister Janet’s blog about the Rule of 10 on Chiseled in Rock blog. http://chiseledinrock.blogspot.com/2011/03/rejection-angst-try-my-rule-of-ten.html It is such wise and thoughtful advice. I thought about the precious jewels I’ve collected from writers--those I know, those I admire, published and not-yet pubbed--that have made my journey easier and my writing better. And I thought of the advice from my Sister about using my wakefulness that started this convoluted trek through my consciousness. I think that might have been my last thought until the alarm woke me.

When I got up, I looked for that long lost tape of Mr. Cook. But it must be in a storage box in the garage and I don’t have a cassette player, anyway. I did find a bunch of conference CDs I’m anxious to listen to again.

I would really love to hear from any RMFWers who remember this conference and what Mr. Cook’s name might be. And I’d also like to hear what golden nuggets you’ve retained from your various writerly digs

Nib

Forever

2011-03-16T05:06:00.001-06:00

Wish we could hold these moments in our hands forever...

Many months ago I penned that phrase in an email to one of my sisters. We were discussing her reaction to a joyous event, but as I sent the email it occurred to me that in my books, I have the opportunity to create moments that might just endure forever. Forever? Forever is a really long word. But I take the lives of my characters seriously, analyzing their reactions, considering character strengths and flaws, carefully allocating each word they speak. If I’m then able to capture the joy and pain and hidden emotion in their lives, well, I will have succeeded. Forever.

Every writer I know spends weeks delving into the backgrounds of their characters to create a true reaction to every encountered obstacle, while at the same time matching the cadence of that character’s voice to an upbringing that is only imagined, yet to the writer, so very real. Our characters live and breathe. Their goals are ours; their beliefs and love and family, all of it, forever.

And then there’s world building. Whether based on reality or fantasy, that created world has its own rules, bureaucracy, construction, inhabitants, flora, and physical reality. Our characters live there. For them, that world is as real as it is for me, forever.

Forever intimidates me, just a little. What if 40 or 50 years from now, my books are pulled off a dusty shelf to be read or re-read? If my words impact someone’s life that far in the future, well, that kind of feels like forever.

Forever! What an unreasonably long word! -- Folio

The unskied slope of the mind: laying first tracks

2011-02-25T17:01:00.005-07:00

At a Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers conference years ago, a psychologist told us that the best time to write is first thing in the morning. Our thought processes are clear and unsullied then, like a ski slope newly powdered with snow. We get to lay the first fresh tracks. He explained that with each task we undertake before writing—calling Mom, arranging dental appointments, reading the paper, paying bills—we sully the fertile ground of our creative minds. The slope still has powder, but it’s been skied over by so many others that it’s harder to see how or where to make our mark.

I’ve tried first-down-the-slope writing and found that it really does work. Amazing! But why is it so hard to do? After many years of fiction writing I have finally learned to keep mornings clear of phone calls…at least those I instigate. But e-mail is still a sneaky first-tracks thief, closely followed by non-fiction writing. I only seem to manage it on retreats, where there is no dog to let out and even the family knows I’m turning off my phone.

Here’s the other conundrum: at what price creativity? What about those little things that make life apart from writing possible and even joyful, like husband, family and unconditionally loving dog? I’ll choose them over a purer, more beautiful creativity every day.

Well, there’ll be fresh snow tomorrow and I still love skiing...so I’ll hope to hit the slope at some point between untouched and completely skied in. -- Storm Petrel

TURN OFF THAT EDITOR!

2011-02-17T18:31:00.001-07:00

I’ve got to get through it, that first attempt at getting my story down, living as my characters live, moving toward an inevitable yet unpredictable end. Those sh__ty first drafts, as Anne Lamott calls them in her brilliant book, Bird by Bird. All the workshops, all the books, all the talented and successful writers I know tell me to cage up the editor and whip through the sentences, to puke out the chapters, clean up the mess later. My brain, however, thinks more like an editor. I spit out a sentence, stop, fix that sentence, spit out more, notice that I didn’t backload a paragraph with the most powerful sentence, then the grammar checker is indicating I need to look at a word back where I wrote that clever reversal. Then there’s that pesky run-on sentence…

I’m not talking about scrolling back a few pages to edit and refresh my memory, then moving forward into my next chapter. I’m talking about scrolling back each paragraph and, on a particularly critical day, scrolling back each sentence. Yes, I’m an obsessive editor. I’ve always written that way. In fourth grade I did it. Back then I wrote mostly poetry, a very tight and disciplined form. That didn’t help. Next I graduated to a twelve-year-old version of erotica--wish I’d kept some of those scenes to compare to my adult notes. But I digress. Doesn’t it go figure, I’ve reinforced the early analyzing habit by becoming a professional editor.

Some tell me not to worry over it. I’m still prolific, having written almost a dozen screenplays, three novels, a literary cookbook, newspaper and magazine articles, and short stories (some of them erotica--hopefully different than my grade-school imaginings). I wrote all that while raising two boys. Sure, pat myself on the back, but get on with the writing, and slap that hand that continues to go back, go back, go back. As if I just can’t do my book justice without making every entence perfect as I go. What's up with that?!

To make matters worse, I write my sh—ty first drafts long hand, scrawling my additions and corrections all over the yellow pad –yellow to boost creativity. Unfortunately, yellow also nourishes my editing fixation. To make matters doubly frustrating, I have the worst handwriting known to the literate world. So my crazy first drafts are often indecipherable. Even to me. I have only my sisters to turn to when I’m puzzled to the point of pop-eyed madness, for they know me so well that they often step in to save my sh__ty first draft by interpreting my Gs that look like Ss and my Rs that look like Is and my ups and downs and arrows and my bubbles with sentences that are absolutely necessary to the line above or below or up the side and let’s not forget the middle phrase in the run-on sentence near the bottom of the page. This is no exaggeration. It’s a joke between us.

But when I’m working away solo at a restaurant over lunch, it’s not a joke. Sometimes I wish I could ask my waitress just what it was I wrote half a page up. Ten minutes ago. But then they’d think I wouldn’t be able to read the menu and so would bring me the picture menu. If they had one. OK, now my train of thought has drifted from editing to first drafts to penmanship. I think I need to go back and consider giving this blog entry a work out. Yes, the above photo is of a typical sh__ty rough draft page of mine, taken by my sister Storm Petrel. Is there a 12-step program for this obnoxious inclination?

It’s no use for me to seek advice on what I can do to improve my penmanship; teachers have been trying to help me there since my early erotica days. But I do ask, dear blog visitor, if you have any hints about how I can turn off my editor.

Gratefully, Inkpot

What our bookshelves say about us

2011-02-08T11:11:00.000-07:00

We recently celebrated our family’s annual New Year’s Day Festival Clean-out, an energetic annual clutter purge accomplished to the driving beat of power tunes. Though usually we tackle our closets, this was the Year of the Bookshelf. Our daughter got in the act too, wisely perceiving that a day of sorting, organizing and cleaning the upstairs bookshelves would calm her college application angst.

Around this time a Sister of the Quill forwarded an article that made me think about our books. The article covered someone who used books solely as décor, and this clever sister suggested a Plumtree baddie patterned on him; anyone who so misused books would have to be villainous. A great idea!

I began to wonder about our motivation for wall after wall of books in our home, on every level and nearly every room? Were we like the villainous collector who displayed them for appearance only?

I took a good hard look at our books as we disassembled and reassembled our shelves. The first task was to replace the mantel books I’d removed to make way for the advent calendar. There was no hiding from the fact: these twelve books were chosen for the gold on their bindings. Uh-oh...

I tried to evaluate them as a stranger might. Their bindings were works of art, like paintings one might put on the wall. But they passed another test: their insides were art as well: Kim, by Rudyard Kipling; The Silver Chalice, by Costain; The Cornerstone, by Zoe Oldenbourg; The Works of Stevenson; The Works of Gautier (okay, I admit to not even knowing who this is, but my mother gave me the beautiful gold-stamped leather volume); A Gentle Madness, by Basbanes (every bibliophile’s favorite); London, by Peter Ackroyd; and The Illuminator, a historical bibliomystery that helped inspire my current book.

Opposite this mantel is the real family bookshelf, a true wall of books. There is an entire shelf devoted to the novels of Diane Mott Davidson, my patron saint of fiction writing. Just looking at this shelf is an inspiration; she holds the quadruple titles of kindest mentor, most dedicated professional, most voracious reader and most generous giver of books (in addition to other titles). Once I asked her how she could possibly read so much. She said breezily, “That’s what writers do!” Many years later, I get it: Writers. Must. Read. Everything. It is what we do.

Moving along that same line of shelves, there’s a Bill Bryson section that kicked off an invaluable non-fiction reading spree for our oldest daughter. My much-thumbed college thesis books on Willa Cather sit side by side with books on women of the West, and women writing the West. Included in two of these, Leanin’ Into the Wind, are essays by Sister of the Quill Shannon Baker.

Immediately above and below these are shelves on London, English royal history, Colorado hiking/wildflowers/birds, a cheap complete Dickens recalling a day trip to Hay-on-Wye, a childhood set of World Book Encyclopedias, the Left Behind series, all of Jan Karon, American and British political history and speeches, typography, writing, contemporary literary book-club category fiction, and more precious works by my Sisters of the Quill, Soliloquy by Janet Fogg and Ashes of the Red Heifer by Shannon Baker. I can’t wait for the day, not far away, when I slide Karen Lin’s multiple brilliant works onto the shelf beside them.

I see now that the wall o’books fills multiple roles. It’s meaningful memorabilia, it’s storage for useful books we want to revisit, and yes, it is beautiful.

The sets make especially attractive bursts of color. The red 1950s World Book Encyclopedias evoke the distinctive scent of their pages, and the memory of school assignments done with them in my childhood home. My sister’s name is written in the front of one she must have taken to school once, in the careful hand of a twelve-year-old. I smile ruefully at the hole drilled partway through the cover of the Volume H, the top of a stack I used to brace something while drilling a hole for one of the girls—another school assignment.

There are other reminders of our origins: my father’s Boy Scout Handbook from the year 1935; a treasured English literature anthology from the college my mother never thought she’d attend as a farmer’s daughter, and in it the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe, unconsciously memorized in childhood, which still sends shivers up my spine. Up high sits the thick Iain Pears novel given me by a college friend, An Instance of the Fingerpost, which helped inspire the book that has enriched the last eight years of my life. There’s the paperback teen Bible my sister gave me that helped cement my faith at age fifteen, and the book of O. Henry short stories from my other sister that inspired a love of reading. The shelves dedicated to the ocean and sailing make me think of my heroic husband, who piloted us through sailing trips in foreign oceans. Nestled alongside these is the copy of Moby Dick I paraphrased for two little girls before a memorable trip to Nantucket.

Enough! Suffice it to say that I want to keep these precious memories close, so a casual glance might graze them at any time, and pass them on as heirlooms. They’re more than books, they’re our lives; a record of where we’ve been, and emotional and spiritual support for the journey. - Storm Petrel

Raising a book

2011-02-04T08:32:00.000-07:00

I was a stay at home mom when my daughters were young. Not only was it a privilege and luxury, I considered it my career at that time and undertook the task with the same determination and care I would have given the job of CEO of Ford. But raising children is a vocation closer to entrepreneur of a start-up than a suited-executive of an established accounting firm. Every day was full of uncertainty and fraught with a Murphy’s Law of disasters from spilled juice on a white carpet to a fever and trip to the emergency room, to a shopping excursion gone too long ending in a tantrum in the grocery store. All to the tune of underlying angst that if I was too firm or too soft I’d ruin the child.

And yet, while I was in the middle of this precious duty, most days felt like treading water. Progress was slow, with frequent setbacks. There were so many nights I crawled into bed, exhausted, and tried to tally my accomplishments. In a “real” job, there are quotas, sales, profits, and product. In the mommy business, there were toys put away that would soon be scattered again. Meals prepared and eaten and forgotten and prepared and eaten and forgotten again. Every day seemed pretty much like the one before it and I could look forward to tomorrow being pretty much the same.

And yet, most days had a sprinkling of indescribable joy. Random moments of pure delight made up for the endless toddler questions and repeated nursery rhymes. A two-year old’s hug and whispered, “I love you, mommy,” can erase years of dirty diapers and discipline. Truly, there is no memory sweeter than stories read at bedtime.

Today, two young women are making their mark on the world. They are bright and funny and courageous. I won’t take credit for the amazing women they are but I have the unique privilege of sharing their earliest existence in this world, helping them grow day by day. I am overwhelmed with the wonderful people they’ve become.

And so is the writing life. Every day I can look forward to doing pretty much what I did yesterday and what I’ll do tomorrow. I will suffer and worry that whatever I’m writing will be just the wrong thing. Bit by bit, my book will grow, whether I see real progress or not. And there are those moments of pure joy, when the perfect idea springs into my head, or I write something so funny I laugh out loud.

One day, amazingly, I’ll have another completed book. Maybe it will go into the world and achieve great success. And if it does, wow, I’ll be happy. The only control I have over that hopeful outcome is to do the best job I can do today, to keep putting the words down and letting the book develop. When I get bogged down in the tedium of the work, I’ll think of two giggling girls playing dress-up in a room strewn with toys I’d just put away and remind myself that the trail to success can seem long and hard sometimes but there is always the chance of delight around the next bend. In the end, it’s all worth it.

Nib

What about you? Where do you get inspiration when writing feels like slogging through mud?

I'm in Oz

2011-02-01T14:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, as a writer, I feel like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. A misunderstood dreamer, I try to be myself only to encounter the irritating and instigating Miss Gulch who is an unrelenting mirror of my weaknesses, yet an itch of inspiration that pushes me to know and understand myself better. I’ve got my own true Toto, my husband, supporting me with unconditional love through my time-consuming and expensive adventure.

Like Dorothy, I encounter exotic munchkins, themselves leery of taking the yellow brick road, wicked witch-nasty rough drafts that are unacknowledged heroes of their own stories, spear-wielding castle guards (the gatekeeper agents) and self-protective trees (editors bent on minimizing risk). I trudge through opium fields of intermittent successes: writing awards and small venue publishing – just enough to keep me high, at least anesthetized. Then there’s the traveling psychic/wizard, an ambiguous and well intentioned internal con artist that has me barking up wrong trees that turn out to be distractions.

Most important are three true friends that help along the way.

Nib turns out to be the least cowardly of lions, rearranging her personal life to find elusive happiness, braving new adventures, earning an advanced degree to move forward in her career, confidently writing until success explodes. She virtually shivers with an unrelenting and sincere energy. She says it as she sees it, never cowering. She’s my role model of success born of courage.

Folio is the brainy scarecrow, collaborator extraordinaire, always the modest voice of reason. She’s tall and lean and strong, inside and out. She offers sage advice, both personal and professional, not to mention rides to the doctor. She’s saved the day more than once with her generous suggestions. She’ll tie herself up with you in a project and drag you to higher ground.

Storm Petrel is a gentle tin-man, all heart, an exterior of metal with an interior of velvet sweetness. Patient and kind in a million ways. If I call, she’s there for me and my family with soothing sustenance and treats and help whenever it’s needed. Supportive and loving and modest despite her own wild writing successes.

It is nice to know that heart, courage and reason have my back. What more can a writer on this sometimes disheartening adventure ask for? My sisters have always been there for the discouraging days and for the celebrations of triumph. Without them I may have taken the easy way and gone home to Kansas prematurely, unchanged.

There’s not enough gratitude in the world for the journey shared and the heel-clicking aid of my sisters. Thank you! Love always, Inkpot

Free Writing

2011-01-29T19:45:00.000-07:00

In the immortal words of the song: “Come on and take a free write…yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah….” (Anyone remember Edgar Winter Group?)

Recently a Sister of the Quill told us she was going to do some “free writing.” I asked her what she meant by that, and realized it was exactly how I’d started my first novel and the resulting series: brainstorming by writing.
Wonderful memories flooded back…
There was a tremendous excitement the first day I turned the corner from dreaming to creating. I had no idea how to write a novel, but knew I had to gather my thoughts. So I bought one of those chubby little spiral notebooks and, on that very first free writing day and every one that followed, I went to an outdoor bookshop café in Menlo Park called Café Borrone.
Perhaps it was the presence of all those books behind me in Keplers Bookstore, but the moment I sat under that magic umbrella with my magic toasted raisin bread chicken salad sandwich and magic notebook, I changed. I was no longer just a mommy, much as I treasured that title. I was a member of the intelligentsia, the literati, blossoming with confidence and creativity and dreams and energy and ideas. In that environment, it seemed incredible stories might come to life.
I sketched out my characters first, listing everything I could about them. I knew I had to have a main character, an unattainable eternal love, family, a sidekick/foil, employees, and bad guys. Not just one, of course, but a few: the ultimate one was known as SBG (super bad guy).
From time to time I remember looking up and rejoicing, incredulous that this could possibly be happening, that I was actually writing ideas for a book. Now I marvel that I ever imagined my first book would be published. Such idealism! Such hubris! Such a blessing that I was young and foolish enough to hope.
Then attention turned to the story. I’d write things in my weird private journalist’s shorthand like: “Char unwittingly sucked into dngrous intrnat’l intrigue w/bsnss. Difficult au, bk stirs up controv, or smthg in bk smeone dsn’t want knwn. He trvls wrld to solve myst & save own life…”
This is perhaps the most joyful part of writing for me. We’ve probably all found that the longer we run with ideas and let them go, the more intriguing paths appear and link to bits of research…and the more painlessly they translate into a full-blown story. Some of those paths are dead ends, like the character who wouldn’t work until I changed her gender: Alexandra Plumtree.
Those of us who “free write” regularly when eating alone in restaurants know the feeling of pride mixed with embarrassment. On the one hand, it’s a privilege to have such a joyous internal life that you can entertain yourself for hours on end. On the other hand, we can tend to appear, um, unbalanced. Many’s the time I’ve realized how crazy I look, scribbling on a napkin or receipt, wild lines connecting one part of the paper to another, or bold lines saying “NO, HAVE HIM COME TO ENGLAND HERE”. Or three big stars, inside a wobbly-lined box, “Oh! Oh! Actually, that was why he came in the first place!!!!” After two cups of coffee, the letters get wilder and squigglier, and the page becomes dark and crowded with writing, until it looks like the rambling nonsense of a truly crazy person…
But crazy in a happy way. --- Storm Petrel

The magical fellowship of writers

2011-01-06T18:32:00.000-07:00

The Sisters of the Quill share the magical fellowship of writers. We’ve been knit together by more than a decade of shared writing and experience and friendship into a tight and beautiful weave. A special atmosphere descends on our group, wherever and whenever we meet, a sacred trust. When we’re together and writing, or even talking about writing, all things seem possible. A writing fellowship feels a little like walking into church: the moment you enter, you see only the purest and best intentions of your fellows. Together you are free, emboldened and strengthened to strive wholeheartedly toward the goal.

This miracle repeats itself to some degree at every writing conference, be it Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers or Pikes Peak. It’s wondrously present in every workshop at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. One summer my mother, daughters and I had the unbeatable experience of feeling it together. Miraculously, it eliminated our generational differences and reduced us to a common denominator: we were writers.

Once I had a remarkable experience with complete strangers that seems to confirm we writers share a certain understanding. It was an Algonkian Pitch Conference at a place called the Roundhouse in Western Massachusetts. Three stories high, this teepee-shaped log building had “niches” instead of beds; we crawled into them like squirrels into treeholes. Isolated together in remotest countryside, sock- or slipper-footed by house rules with the owner’s new puppies frolicking at our feet, we had entered a magical kingdom. It even snowed.

On a surface level, we completed writing assignments and honed our novel pitches to present them to top agents on the last day. But it was like a sauce at a great French restaurant: magically more than the sum of its parts. I’ll never be sure what added the crackle of energy to the air. No doubt many elements contributed, including the setting and our shared intense motivation. Some of it was brilliant organizer Michael Neff’s expertise in teaching and facilitating, and his own extraordinary passion for helping us get our novels published. The poetry group sharing the facility also added to the feeling of intense creative stimulation. But over the course of two or three days our disparate group of a dozen or so novelists—doctors, secretaries, stay-at-home moms, executives, full-time intellectuals, and a retired military officer—became connected spirit to spirit.

Miraculously, we could only see the best in one another. We genuinely cared as much for one another’s novels as for ourselves. It seemed we all felt the magic and understood this was a moment set apart in time. Though we would compete for the agents’ nod on the last day, there was not the least hint of competitiveness. If most of us had completed our writing exercises and honed our pitch for the day, but one writer was still struggling at midnight, we all stayed up to brainstorm. (I think the poets were up all night, every night.) We felt a strange sort of high, though no substances were involved. It was the pure joy of being constantly inundated in one another’s most focused creativity, the best we had to give. There was no attitude separating literary and commercial writers; we were writers, and that was all.

Writers, I cherish our mysterious and precious fellowship.

- Storm Petrel

Forecast 2011

2010-12-31T19:02:00.000-07:00

The challenge, should you choose to accept it:

Summarize your 2010 writing world in three words.
Forecast your 2011 writing world in three words.

mine: 2010=searching, distracted, needed
2011=finding, focused, settled

Carl Sandburg said it best: "Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you."

Happy 2011 from the Inkpot.

Writer Recovering From the Holidays

2010-12-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

Christmas anticipation, strategic planning, elaborate preparation, unbridled partying and tedious cleanup beat all the energy out of me. And we haven’t even taken down the tree. Despite the exhaustion, every year the holidays retain the sparkle of magic and allow for thoughts of writing BUT NO TIME FOR IT. Do I resent that? Yes, a bit. I know this is common; I know the alternate focus contributes to the memories of my children (including one who comes back from art school for holidays); I know the tree will soon be tucked away in its box. What I don’t know is how soon the muse will visit me again, in what form, and with what energy. I’m recharging in hopes that I can dive back in where I left off and make the words sparkle as brightly as did the Christmas lights. - best wishes for 2011 from the half-drained inkpot

Ghost of Words Past

2010-12-17T05:54:00.000-07:00

I received an unexpected parcel in my mail last week. A column I’d written in 1995 was included in a glossy coffee table book of 20 years of “best ofs.” What a delight to open the slick pages and find my article about a man I hadn’t thought of in some time. Albert Hebbert was well into his 90’s by the time I spent one spring on a series of interviews with him. And here he was, in one condensed article on page 127.

My mind reeled back to the Nebraska Sandhills one rainy spring fifteen years and a whole other life ago. I’d pull up and Albert would be waiting for me. He’d climb in and direct me all around the countryside telling me tales of his life. I think we ended up with ten articles published in a regional magazine and collected for his loving family. He was a talker but we’d discovered he needed prompts to get him started so we drove the ‘hills he loved so much and he told me his stories.

I don’t think much about the Sandhills anymore, my leaving felt like an escape and the longer I’m away, the more myself I feel. But the book reminded me of good memories of that place, of people I love, beauty I found there.

Like the ghostly visits to Scrooge, these words, written so long ago, brought me a change of heart. Maybe a little forgiveness, for myself as much as for anyone else. Maybe a little closer to peace with my past.

Words are magic.

Nib

Have you ever been visited by your own ghosts of words past? How did you feel reading something you’d written many years ago?

Thoughts on motherhood and writing

2010-12-10T22:07:00.000-07:00

Is there a connection between mothering and publishing?

Yes! Early on there was a positive correlation, on the side of publishing. Every time a baby popped out a book did too. It only happened twice, as there were just two babies--but it looked like a trend.

Then the correlation, er, shifted. My first year without a contract was 2001, the year I home-schooled my daughter to save her sparkle from the bullies. At the start of September that year, I called my agent and pushed back the appointment in New York we'd set for September 11th. That appointment was never rescheduled. While this was a setback career-wise, it was an advantage for child-rearing: it's pretty hard to fulfill two full-time career obligations at once. One thing I know for certain: it's not about quality time with children, it's about quantity time. I was blessed with just two priceless and fragile lives to nurture, whereas on the other hand, "Of making many books there is no end." (Ecclesiastes.)

Some mischievous force often seemed to present direct choices between mothering and career. In the early years of my series my agent came to Colorado for a conference. It was the exact weekend my daughter received a surprise invitation to the National Ski Team qualifying weekend at Breckenridge. Anguished, I consulted our older and wiser Brother of the Quill Jim Hester, the father of three grown sons, about which to choose. He said, "I've never known anyone who regretted choosing family over career." Another year I was asked by Dartmouth to give an alumni seminar on my own work. I was thrilled until I realized it was the exact week our daughter would compete in the bagpiping World Championships in Edinburgh. Fortunately, by then I knew which was the better choice. Jim was right: I have no regrets.

Yesterday a feature on Jan Karon in the Wall Street Journal said her hugely successful writing career started at age 50, roughly my age now. My youngest daughter leaves the nest next year; perhaps the correlation will shift again.
-Storm Petrel

Be hopeful; be very hopeful

2010-12-04T12:30:00.000-07:00

My first eight books were written and published before I knew anything about writing. Now that I can almost distinguish good writing from bad, my ambitious, carefully crafted new novel languishes without agent or publisher. It's been eight years, but I'm still rewriting, more hopeful than ever. Writing is all about hope, because with it comes the confidence to sit down day after day with bottom in chair, hands on keyboard (BICHOK).

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. My trouble began when I paid a man to read my sixth Plumtree series novel for accuracy in British English. He pointed out an unfortunate "chime" in the prose, meaning the way words sounded in proximity to each other. At the time I had no idea what he meant, and as I sought understanding, my journey began into the depths of all that I didn't know. I undertook an ambitious novel that I wanted to make truly beautiful in a hundred different ways. It's taken a dozen drafts, constructively scribbled upon by fellow Sisters of the Quill--thank you sisters and brother--to raise my awareness. I'm too horrified now to go back and read the earlier books with all their painful mistakes. In writing as in other aspects of life, we can only forge ahead and use what we learn to do better next time.

Here's cause for hope: if an untrained, bumbling neophyte can stumble (unfortunate chime?) into publication, you who have apprenticed yourselves to your craft should be shoo-ins.
-Storm Petrel

Chew on Writing Goals

2010-11-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

As we get closer to 2011, I taste and spice and chew earnestly on my writing goals. Signing with a new agent within a couple of months is one goal, as well as working on my new novel with the urgency it deserves. I'll continue to market screenplays, poetry and short stories when opportunities arise, teach workshops when invited, consult and edit for other writers. I will enjoy time with my writing friends, especially my sisters of the quill. Resolutions from the Inkpot

velvet imaginings

2010-11-16T18:02:00.000-07:00

Overheard Lately between the SOTQ:

"Alas for my sisters' vast talents that lay obscured beneath the smothering velvet of their own imaginings."

"I'm having one of those days where I wonder why I'm even bothering. Frustrated. Feeling like a big loser. Just all around wondering if it's too much effort."

"Not that all the loserness has gone away, but I can see the good things, too. We must cling to the things that make us happy."

Request Full

2010-11-16T00:29:00.000-07:00

I love it when an agent asks for a full manuscript! My Inkpot spilleth over.

Clean

2010-10-03T20:13:00.000-06:00

When you clean up your house, you clean up your mind. It may look like writing avoidance, but it allows the imagination to play while the hands are busy with the mundane. And it all looks better afterward. So says the unspilled Inkpot.

Craft versus Voice

2010-08-27T20:56:00.000-06:00

A writer friend, Frank Dorchak, poses the question of craft versus heart of writing fiction.

http://fpdorchak.wordpress.com/2010/08/28/what-is-writing-really/#comment-74

I say both are important and many others have said it better:
Craft:
“Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.” – Lin Yutang
Heart:
“When a thought takes one’s breath away, a grammar lesson seems an impertinence.” – Thomas W. Higginson

Inkpot says: We don't write just to show off craft or just to share our voices and hearts with others. We write like addicts when it seems we should give up. Why? Because the writing itself is cathartic and cheaper than a psychiatrist and drugs – unless they are generic.

2010 HOLT Medallion Contest

2010-06-27T17:36:00.000-06:00

Soliloquy was selected as an Award of Merit recipient in the HOLT Medallion contest in the Best First Book category!

Pulling Weeds

2010-05-18T11:20:00.000-06:00

Our Dear Sister of the Quill, Folio, pulled weeds yesterday. She teased that it may be somehow bad that she calms when doing it. I'd say that is a very good sign for a writer. For what is more like pulling weeds than editing. Among the good words are those that just don't fit, that are disadvantageous, that choke the other words until they die on the page. So weed away, sister. You are letting the good plants (and words) shine through with all their colors. Inkpot admires many tools you have for pulling those pesky weeds!

Braggin' (not really bloggin')

2010-04-18T05:41:00.000-06:00

A Four Star Review for Soliloquy! Just have to share it!

“You’ll be hooked from page one of this mesmerizing tale, which uses a beguiling method of transport to the past. The prose is smooth and satisfying, and the characters come alive. Passion and promise fill the pages, as well as fear and deception.” Donna M. Brown, RT Book Reviews, May 2010

Light My Shoe?

2010-04-07T21:34:00.000-06:00

OK, some creepy guy on a flight to Denver sets his shoe on fire to cover up his stink. He gets national attention. So that's what it takes! Silly me. I thought writing a book (maybe also to cover up my stink), succeeding with contests, then marketing it with all my might, was the way to go. Silly, silly me. I'm getting out the matches! Oh, sisters, I may need to go into a pyromania 12-step program soon! Heat generating from the Inkpot

Dear Sisters:

2010-03-20T20:10:00.000-06:00

I think I went through the same thought and emotional process with Soliloquy as you did with Ashes, Shannon. I was tired of querying agents and decided to look at small presses and see if I could sell my manuscript myself, and I'm absolutely content with having it published by TWRP. While I intend to look for an agent again when I'm finished Melting, if I don't find one, I'll probably look at small presses again. It's certainly fun to dream about a huge advance or an auction, but it's also quite fulfilling having my book on the bedroom shelf next to Harry Potter!

Sisters, we all have to be a half-a-bubble off to even write a book, don't you think? Then another quarter-of-a-bubble out of whack to keep pounding away in this crazy industry. But I also know that I am blessed. I'm currently traveling in space after my trip to World War II where I visited heroes of the highest caliber. I've learned from you three about the strength of family and delivering calves and the source of fine vellum, not to mention being terrified and brave and sometimes terribly amused. I've conquered evil and composed a musical lament. I've also found amazing sisters who buoy me up when I'm down, and give me a swift (but gentle!) kick upon occasion. I could go on and on. Our stories are waiting, pushing, shoving to be free. And I can't wait to visit them! Love. Folio

Book signings!

2010-03-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

With the long-anticipated and slightly-dreaded first book signings now tucked firmly beneath my belt, thought I'd post these pictures and reflect back for a moment.

Most importantly, I now view signings as a celebration, not a pressure cooker to worry about and sweat over. Even the signing that was poorly attended was pleasant as we visited with the book store owner and reminisced with the few friends who defied the slick roads to attend.

Having a "veteran" with two novices also served us well. Carol advised us as to what might work well for reading topics and she surprised us with a quick "Ten at Eight" at the end, when she posed quick questions for immediate answers - everything from "how long did it take to write this book" to "are you a pantser or plotter?" Fun for us and for our vast (Ha!) audience!

And then there were the delicious after-signing parties - champagne and pear-brie and a cupcake keyboard accompanied by conversation about books with good friends.

Hey! Who ate the A and Z and P and L keys?

Great Signings

2010-02-21T18:12:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of attending two out of four of my sisters' signings for their debut books. So proud to report that Janet and Shannon (as well as Carol of course) were poised and perfect speakers. What a great celebration. Having a first book out is like reaching the top of Mount Everest. Hope you two (three) will find the oxygen canisters on the way back down from your celebrations. Breathe breathe breathe. Now get back to work on your new novels! Julie, that counts for you, too. You made the after signing parties so tasteful (double meaning) and wonderfully intimate! Love ya sisters!

Real Life Characters

2010-02-02T04:20:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading Spirit Lens, another incredible fantasy novel by Carol Berg. The world and characters are still swirling in my head and I am now picturing everyone in my life in hues of magic, castles, royal court and above all, character.

What if my dear sisters were players in a fantasy world such as this? One sister would be the queen. She is regal, has an unwavering sense of duty and the unflinching ability to discern right from wrong. Head high, she faces whatever life throws at her and handles it with grace.

One sister is undoubtedly the high-spirited knight. Always open to laughter and teasing, she’s the first to action, standing in front with sword raised should any of the others be threatened. Her loyalty is unwavering.

The other sister is obviously the wizard. Wise beyond earthly measure, her counsel is sought in all matters large and small. Her magic calms nerves, soothes injured hearts, and grants courage to all in her care. She is able to conjure whatever tool or weapon is needed in any battle, saving the day over and over.

As much fun as it is contemplate these roles, the reality is messier and more delightful. At any moment the crown, sword and wand can be juggled from one hand to another and the magic of friendship sparks in our hearts.

The metaphor has gone on long enough. Just wait until I read a western!

Love to all,

Nib

2010-02-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

Beeeeeautifuuuuuuul!

2010-01-29T12:23:00.000-07:00

Sister! I touched your new book...Firy! Eye-catching! And your name right there! So much has happened for you in the last few years...all well earned. You brave brave woman. I admire you so much. Can't wait to get my own and jump into your story. There aren't enough !!!!!!!!!!!!! on the keyboard to tell you how great your book looks! All! Ashes of the Red Heifer.... buy it! A thousand !!!! And a thousand rounds of claps congratulations from the Inkpot (see you soon sister)

Up One Side...

2010-01-14T04:37:00.000-07:00

…and down the other.

Clearly amused, my husband wandered into my office yesterday, his copy of my novel, Soliloquy, in hand. He read this excerpt to me:

“I thought you did,” Daniel replied. He shifted into a lower gear to steer around the sharp curve in the road. “I visited the professor’s grave the other night, right after you and Mom were there, and Gerard praised your efforts up one side and down the other. He’s been wracking his brain, trying to figure out how to help you without endangering everyone else.”

I looked at Dick, waiting for the punch line. “Up one side and down the other!” he exclaimed. “That’s my line!” We both laughed. Dick does say that frequently, to describe an abundance or excess, and since I’ve never heard anyone else use it we agreed that he deserved credit for coining that particular phrase.

Writers are advised to “write what you know,” and that brief conversation with Dick made me reflect on our patterns of speech and use of favorite words or phrases as we write. I certainly try to give each character a unique voice, yet rhythms and phrases may be so ingrained that I now think I might need to study not only my own voice, but expend even more effort on the subtleties of my character’s voices. In other words, an effort that is up one side and down the other!

Folio

Baby By The Side Of The Road.

2010-01-09T22:08:00.000-07:00

Why, oh why, do pre-holiday preparations, holiday expectations, and post holiday recovery take so much time from writing? I feel like I've left my baby at the side of the road. This is one time when I can say without hesitation that I was too busy - not just avoiding the challenge of another chapter. This season was non-stop, rush-about trying to accomplish even 3/4 of what needed to be done. I'm hoping I can now relax and enjoy writing over lunches again, editing in the evenings, and wallowing in the nuturing presence of two sisters every Thursday again along with our out-of-town sister's spirit (in the chair next to us). Thank you sisters for being my super-duper, very bestest sisters. Now kick my butt if I don't get back to my suspense novel! In other words, if you see that baby by the side of the road, bring it home to me. Love from the Inkpot.

Still Learning!

2009-12-23T20:35:00.000-07:00

After years spent learning how the publishing industry ticks while improving my writing, I finally achieved my goal. My debut novel has been published and released. I’ve graduated, right? Writing the book, sending out queries, editing, waiting, critique, editing some more, waiting, contracts, waiting, final edits, waiting, galley proof, waiting, release date confirmed, waiting. What else could I possibly need to learn once those lovely two boxes were delivered?

Scheduling book signings? Not too difficult, especially when shared by three friends. Marketing materials? Postcards were a snap. Book trailers? An amazingly talented friend managed the bulk of that task. Networking on various sites? Time consuming and nit-picky sometimes, but kind of fun. Revising my website and links? Yawn. Press releases? Totally blessed to have a Sister of the Quill volunteer to write the most significant of those. (Thank you, Inkpot!)

So what did I miss? My goal has been achieved. A pristine copy of my book now sits on my bookshelf, next to Harry Potter. (Yes, I know that’s completely optimistic, but after all, writers are dreamers.) I know what I’m doing now! Right? Wrong. Why didn’t someone tell me how difficult it would be to pen an intelligent, inspiring note and sign one of my books? Writing in books is forbidden! I learned that as a child. But I want to give copies of my book to special friends and family and I want to inscribe them. Here I am, a writer, used to putting words together in a semi-coherent fashion, yet it took me three hours to personalize just eleven books. Sigh. And I’m not done yet… Folio

Folio Got Her Books!!!!

2009-12-22T10:02:00.000-07:00

Hooray Folio! You got your books! Happy waltz, tango, rumba, swing, jitterbug, salsa, cha cha. Hope the champagne was good! Congratulations on work now tangible! Happy hugs, Inkpot

Obstacles

2009-12-20T16:48:00.001-07:00

November and December have thrown up obstacles to my writing. I blew all my words on composing the annual Christmas letter, all my physical energy on cleaning up and cooking for my holiday bash, my psychological energy on comparing Christmas today to Christmas past, my Mommy energy on reuniting my impulsive college son with my deliberate and serious high school son. I also used and abused my creative thrust knocking my head against the wall trying to figure out what to give to several very-difficult-to-buy-for types.

I can only hope that the delay in getting back to my novel full-steam is giving me a chance to subconsciously chew away at the plot and resolve some of my character issues. If it turns out the time was productive in that regard, I'll have yet another thing to be grateful for going into 2010. Love to all and especially my Sisters, Inkpot

HAPPY DAY!!

2009-12-18T07:53:00.000-07:00

I can't wait to scoop the rest of the Sisters here on the blog by congratulating Janet Fogg on the release of Soliloquy!!! That's right, folks. It's available for sale at Amazon and The Wild Rose Press. I hate being in Flagstaff and unable to give Janet the hugs I can barely contain at this. Sisters--it's up to you to shower the appropriate physical congratulations!

The Secret of the Tree – a Memory of Christmas

2009-12-16T21:16:00.000-07:00

I have never, ever been a good sleeper. Even when young I slept very lightly and would awaken in the silent, early morning hours, my mind busy with my own version of instant replay. Sometimes I’d tiptoe out of the bedroom I shared with my sister, curl up on the couch with a crocheted throw across my lap, and enjoy a few hours of privacy and quiet. If it was close to Christmas I would turn on the tree lights and that gentle, multi-colored glow illuminated my thoughts.

One night, I was awake but still in bed when I heard a scrape and muffled thud. My sister slept on so I slipped out from beneath the blanket and met my Mom in the hallway. Together, we peeked into the living room. The Christmas tree had tipped over and ornaments now decorated the carpet. So, with my Dad and three brothers and sister still asleep, the two of us quietly pushed the tree straight, tightened the screws that pressed into the tree trunk to hold it upright, and used a couple of dishtowels to sop up the water that had spilled from the stand. The silver angel tree topper, older than I was, tilted drunkenly to one side as she gazed down at our efforts, pulled sideways first by the fall and then by the tangle of her heavy power cord. Once the tree was secure Mom carefully straightened the angel, our cherished tree topper, and I plugged her in to test her blue bulb. The angel smiled down at us, her heart glowing.

That angel is with us still though a hole now pierces her bodice, the heat from the bulb nestled there having melted through the old plastic decades ago. So the angel has retired. Each year she briefly supervises my Sister’s decoration efforts when fragile old ornaments are unwrapped and admired, and tremulous smiles capture our lips as we remember our youth, of our Mother taken from us, too young. The angel’s smile remains as sweet and gentle as my memories demand and it was long ago that she plummeted to the carpet, and long ago that my Mom died. But my tears are as fresh as the day we lost her and the hole in my heart is as real as the angel’s.

And now, with the holiday season upon us, I thought I would share the Secret of the Tree, that long-ago adventure I shared with my Mom. In a few days I’ll visit my darling Sister and we’ll scamper downstairs to unpack the old angel. We’ll hug and weep a little and our love will take wing, flying beyond the top of her Christmas tree into the night sky, as we cherish and share the memory of my Mom’s gentle smile, now the smile of an angel. Folio.

Tis the Season

2009-12-14T05:11:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else get flat-out emotional during the holidays? Remember the old Folger’s Coffee commercial where the guy surprises his family by coming home at dawn… “Peter, you’re home!” I cried every time. Each Christmas program my kids performed in--even year after year when they sang about the inebriated grandmother getting run over by a reindeer—had me weeping. I don’t know if it’s the solstice, shorter days with not enough sunshine, memories, expectations, or what, but I am a puddling, sniveling mess all season.

Today I went to a book signing event hosted by our Frontier Market. They had several local authors at tables throughout the store. Mostly, they looked bored and lost and wondering how to attract organic food lovers over to their tables to sell them romances, children’s books, or books on tough love. I wanted to show support and generate good authors’ karma by buying books and hoping it comes back to me. (Does karma work if there’s a mercenary element to it?—a topic for another day.)

I started chatting with an author of several books about speaking to animals and plants and generally being one with the world. I might be a skeptic about just how far the intuitive mind goes with respect to, say, the family goldfish. But the author drew me in with answers to my questions about just how she asks animals questions.

Bottom line: with her talk about dogs and how they react to their human, combined with my seasonal emotional imbalance, tears filled my eyes and I ended up buying a book I’ll probably never read just to get out of there. You see, our old dog “crossed over” this summer and I miss him. It’s also the first Christmas I won’t see either of my grown children and that’s the tough part of this year. I pretty much melted in the middle of the supplements aisle.

I love Christmas. Trees, presents, decorations, cards, lights, tinsel—and tears.

Long Winter's Nap

2009-12-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

SB -- Mid-December, the shortest day of the year approaching and my energy level is as dim as a 20 watt bulb about to burn out. Full of morning optimism, I promised myself a full evening of productivity. Once again, I find myself craving the couch, a nice glass of red wine, the Pendleton blanket and a good book, followed by an early night, all snuggled and cozy. Mama in her kerchief and all that.

A friend, Mario Acevedo, says that being a writer is like having homework every day for the rest of your life. Some days I’m so full of inspiration the words can’t stay imprisoned in my head. Sometimes firing up the computer and--even more challenging--firing up the brain, is impossible after a full day of work.

Difficult as it can be at times, writing is important to me. I don’t know why. It’s probably a disease, but it doesn’t make me itch or require giving up chocolate or alcohol, so as far as illnesses go, it’s not so bad. I’ve learned that no matter my best intentions, I can’t reliably write in the evenings. If I don’t write regularly, I suffer all kinds of angst you don’t even want to know about. So I’ve had to learn what works, and doesn’t, for me.

I get up ridiculously early. The house is quiet, no one calls or texts or wants to carry on a conversation. It’s not the time of day to do laundry or vacuum. More importantly, I’ve trained my mind to expect to write then. It works for me. I don’t have time for long sessions and I am usually frustrated when I have to stop and launch into my paid work day, but little by little my manuscripts grow. Bird by bird.

How about you? When do you write? Do you have a habit, a ritual, a mind game to get you going? Is it the same time every day? Weekly? I would love to hear how others get the job done.

Treading Water

2009-12-03T18:37:00.000-07:00

I can often tell which writers can handle the pressure over the long haul by how well they take critique and rejection. Quitting is taking the easy way out. And those who can quit may not be cut out for the agony of waiting, working, waiting, working, waiting. Those who tread those murky literary waters indefinitely are the ones who will survive until the ship comes along. This Inkpot has enough air still to continue bobbing along. My talented and encouraging Sisters help a lot! Thank you!

Enoy Our Bananas

2009-12-03T10:09:00.000-07:00

On the bright side, bananas do come in between those random shocks. We must enjoy our bananas! Love from the Inkpot.

What's Not Pending

2009-12-02T16:03:00.000-07:00

Folio! What a fun and true look at what's pending! "Pending" allows for time to look forward, for time to reconsider, for time to celebrate those little steps toward whatever we are waiting for.

What's NOT pending for me today: shopping for necessary household supplies, picking up my child from school, shoveling snow, and cooking dinner.

This writing business is a bizarre one. Its slogan could be "Hurry Up and Wait..."

The pain of the business is parallel to the angst suffered by the chimps who were subjected to punishing electric shocks. Those that got them on a predictable time table coped much better than those that got randomly timed shocks. Those in the latter study group spent every moment cowering in corners, full of anxiety. If our industry was more predictable, it wouldn't frustrate so much. Only the bravest and strongest among us can handle this uniquely punishing business. This intrepid Sister suggests we celebrate our persistence and patience and give ourselves the kudos we deserve. Love and strength from the Inkpot.

Pending

2009-12-02T10:47:00.000-07:00

Pending, pending, pending, and… pending! I now leave things pending or am left pending by others far too often. Especially when dealing with anything in this crazy world of books. Working on my new manuscript is pending, let alone an end date to actually complete it. Marketing materials are pending. Blogs are pending. Query letters are pending. Research is pending. Everything is pending! What, you want less whining and specific examples?

Well, one of my Sisters of the Quill is waiting to hear from her agent regarding an editor’s interest in her latest manuscript. Now that’s a fingernails-chewed-to-the-quick pending! Another Sister is anxious for the first glimpse of her book cover, which will coincide with release of that book. Whoa! Talk about toe-tapping pending! A third Sister has just submitted a revised manuscript to an agent who expressed interest, pending penning those revisions. So is her pending over now? No! Now it’s almost worse, knowing there’s a call pending from the agent.

Then there’s the consuming habit of yearning to write books, to actually sit in a chair and write. Who knew that in addition to actually writing books, we would also need to be business professionals and marketers and accountants and public speakers and readers and researchers and mentors? Sigh. So some days, writing is left pending, and that’s not right. But then again, there's always tomorrow, which is always pending. It makes me wish I could perfect that time-travel theory I'm exploring in my new manuscript. I know, I know, it's pending!

Folio

Great Read

2009-11-24T14:17:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading a great book by our dear Sister of the Quill, Julie Kaewert. A brilliant prequel to her earlier Plumtree mystery series. And I got to read it before publication! Look forward to seeing it bound and facing out in the bookstores. May the words, paragraphs and chapters be with us! Love from the Inkpot

Dear Sisters of the Quill,

2009-11-22T21:04:00.000-07:00

Having always been a big fan of writing with pen and paper, I’ve had to work hard to evolve with technology: conquering cut and paste back when Word Star made it infinitely more cumbersome, track changes (which this editor now appreciates as much as the invention of the printing press), the social realm of Face Book and LinkedIn (still amazed my son wanted to friend me!). And - soon to come - zipping and unzipping files (which sounds a bit intimate to me).

May mastering these technological means by which to share our worlds through our words ward off brain rot.

I’m up for the new adventure of blogging because of you: the sisters I never had growing up, friends that will never be surpassed in generosity, and my most precious co-conspirators in literary crime. You understand and share my obsession with pulling the sunshine and dregs from the ether to slap down on paper. I admire you, Janet, Julie, and Shannon. I am grateful for the opportunity to take this journey with you. Love and Hugs from the Inkpot.

Sisters of the Quill Blog Start

2009-11-14T06:45:00.000-07:00

Good morning, Sisters!

My head is now officially spinning around! I think I have finally grasped how to blog. More comprehensively, anyway. Yes, it's taken me all this time. Totally pathetic, I know. Posting wasn't a problem and I've posted on my blog and even sent those to Facebook, but I just got linked to the two blogs for my press. I now understand how to post to those blogs, which feed right to their website. Sigh. This stuff makes for long days and little writing. But enough whining!!!!

A Sisters of the Quill blog! That's what jumped to mind as soon as I received your email, Sister. My only concern is whether I'd then want to continue my own blog. Might be good, though. Could keep one under my name and post to it, plus we could share a Sisters blog. We could all do that even though I suspect this Sisters blog will be more fun!

So we can talk about how we support each other, share the craft of writing and critique, and how we became Sisters. Laugh about some of our pain. Hmmm?

Folio