Elevating to the Profound

I nightly enjoy another episode of Outlander and I'm awestruck by its brilliance (except for one or two episodes out of dozens), about how they lift the everyday into the extraordinary. They’re always elevating things to the profound by invoking standing stones, oceans, the passage of time, life and death, etc. There’s also a lot of blood (because she’s a surgeon, and because of battles) and sex, which seems to ground everything into the most basic and relevant things. I am daily humiliated by the brilliance of what Diana Gabaldon has done, and I think every day. Ditto The Weight of Ink, the book that Unlocked might have been.  I can either give up and feel bad that I’m not as talented and skilled as those authors are, or I can make it happen with the best I’ve got. That’s how I get back to my desk every day.

In other words, feeling your pain, and seconding it.

I’m also really aware that it’s not appropriate for all works to constantly hark back to that level of the elements, eternity, profundity, etc. Every work is different, so there’s plenty of room for us to create our own blend of brilliance... :-)

Strength, patience, and perseverance to us all!

Storm Petrel

PROTECT YOUR VOICE

I'd like to offer a few thoughts about voice and editing.

There are times for rules and times for forgetting the rules.  Craft is always something to master, even if only to ignore.

Despite my repeated warnings about adhering too obsessively to “rules,” it’s still true that some of my editing clients have craft trip-ups that make for tough reading.  I see clumsy grammar gremlins, over qualifying, unnecessary attribution to POV characters, cart-before-the-horse descriptions, etc. They can be distracting and thus detracting. 

None-the-less, your voice might lead you to break rules,

In my opinion, great voice walks right up to the edge of troubled writing… That cliff and its risk make up the writing sweet spot.

Write brave but keep clarity in mind.  And always be careful to protect your voice.

Remember: It may not be perfect, but it may be right.

Write well.  All best from the Inkpot.

So Many Memories

So many memories.... Sisters of the Quill... Love this photo!

SOTQ Blog: Grand Canyon

“The English novelist J. B. Priestley once said that if he were an American, he would make the final test of whatever men chose to do in art, business, or politics a comparison with the Grand Canyon. He believed that whatever was false and ephemeral would be exposed for what it was when set against that mass of geology and light…”
― Kevin Fedarko, The Emerald Mile: The Epic Story of the Fastest Ride in History Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon

These two sentences express a truth so close to my heart it had never occurred to me to express it. But as I prepare to send off my thirteen-years-in-the-making book, I realize I’m holding it to this standard. Are the characters and story line true and worthy enough to give readers the tiniest hint of the feeling of gazing at the Grand Canyon? That awareness that things are much more beautiful and awe-inspiring than you recalled, and why hadn’t you looked up sooner to notice? The feeling that you always want to carry this awareness with you, because life would be emptier without it? That’s what I want people to feel when they close the back cover of my book.

P.S. The Emerald Mile, if you haven’t read it yet, is an amazing mix of historical exploration (first third), politics and hydrotechnology (second third), and adventure (last third) that shouldn’t work but does because of great writing. It passes the Priestley Grand Canyon test for sure. Also, the non-fiction characters just happen to be better than any we fiction writers could invent. 

 

--Stormy

 

How the Sisters of the Quill came to be

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 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.

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 we relished celebrating 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 Tainted Mountain and Broken Trust she has already submitted the third in that series as well as what we hope will be the first novel in a new, long-lived series. 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.

Lessons from young writers

Part of my work is mentoring high school students in writing. Without exception the students tell stories that are worthwhile and interesting, even profound. The challenge is to coax their voice and substance past their barriers so we make contact. The other day I had a flash of insight: I should listen more carefully to my own advice.

A few lessons from young writers:

1.     Write as if you’re speaking. Many of us immediately erect a barrier between our readers and ourselves by becoming stilted and formal in prose. When writing, my students often start a sentence with “However,” or “Therefore…” I always ask them when they last said those words in conversation. The fix? Speak your words, and either record them or try to recall how you expressed yourself when you were speaking. I often ask them to read their creations out loud when they’re done. You never forget this lesson once you’ve ever read your own work aloud at a signing or other event. J

2.     You’ll probably know this one, but: cut to the chase/start with Chapter Three. Forget the background until you’ve hooked your reader.

3.     Reduce the number of points you’re trying to make in any one section. For maximum effect narrow your focus, like concentrating a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass.

4.     Leave out excessive detail; it slows the action.

5.     Ask yourself, when you finish a piece, “So what?” If you think about it, even in fiction, the writing has to be pretty good to distract the reader from that question.

6.     Use quirks. Find something unusual, visually interesting if possible, and latch onto it. One student wrote a great piece about how much she enjoyed wearing pink and other forbidden colors with her red hair. It’s fun and unforgettable, and told the reader a lot.

Now, if I can just listen to my own advice!

~ Stormy

Lessons from "The Dovekeepers"

I’ve confided in you before about my jello elephant novel. Each day I devote several hours to bringing it to its final form. It’s been completed eight or nine times, so it’s not that it’s not done. It’s just not right yet. This week I read The Dovekeepers, by Alice Hoffman, and learned a few things that might help. I hope they might help you, too.

It’s a novel about the two women and five children who survived Masada, and it’s just amazing. She is truly gifted. One of her characters resembles one of mine, which caused me to compare my book to hers closely, even paragraph by paragraph.

As I did, I realized that there was a recurring difference. Every paragraph or two, she would relate whatever action took place to a deeper meaning. To do this, she would use a symbol and build on it—as Jodi Picoult does in all her novels. As a result, many commonplace events are elevated to a higher level. Birds flying in the sky are a sign from God; dust is her body, reduced to ash. The discussion was taken up a notch throughout. We weren’t worrying about how she was getting from A to B in the desert; we were worrying about how her soul would get to the World-To-Come, as her character called it.

For some, this could become tiring. My husband would have put it down after one paragraph, but I’m sure book groups everywhere have decided it’s one of the best books ever. There are plenty of symbols to discuss, hidden meanings to flesh out, the stuff of book groups. And for us as writers, it demonstrates a useful technique.

I find myself now going through the book and seeing where I could use Alice Hoffman’s technique to make reading my plot-driven book a more beautiful experience.  As I do so I’m reminded of an exercise we were given at a writing retreat where we were asked to visualize a symbol and tell a story relating to it. The results were amazing; it really worked.

Examples from my current book: a plum blossom floating downstream on the River Thames becomes a symbol for a family’s return to their property in that direction. Hidden vaults filled with books in a church undercroft become symbols for the secrets of that place. A bird with notable characteristics becomes a symbol for a person, an oldie but goodie. Animals and birds work well because they’re exotic, and evoke speed, strength, sound, smells, and sometimes danger.

Happy writing!

~ Stormy

The Power of An Outrageous Voice

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.

Great Read

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