 |
Tomorrow I’ll be 27, which is a cube birthday, and the last one I’m going to have until I’m 64. Better take advantage of that while I can. Sailor Boy is trying to think of as many cube-shaped foods as possible to serve at the party. So far we’ve got brownies cut into cubes and cheese cut into cubes, salad with croutons and some drink with ice cubes. We decided that Swedish meatcubes might be a bit hard to swing. So if you have any ideas, let us know!
(It might be a very subtle theme.)
Anyhoo, as I am wont to do, I saved up my New Year’s resolutions for my birthday, because that is when I really feel like the year has started. New Year’s is such an arbitrary date. My birthday is not (to me at least). So this is always an interesting time for me to sit down and take stock of myself, and think about what I want. I only got to be 26 once, and it was damn good. TOTALLY made up for the shite that was most of 25. So, as my friend from work said to me today, how in the world am I going to get 27 to top it?
A nice segue into the real topic of this blogpost, which is competition. I possess a disturbing tendency to compare myself, either consciously or subconsciously, to everyone else. (not someone else. Everyone else.) Naturally, in these comparisons, I come up lacking, because there’s always someone younger, richer, smarter, prettier, healthier, faster, more accomplished, more talented, a better harmonica player, with better hair, and better arches, who speaks more languages, has sculpted more monumental works of art, found more subatomic particles, discovered more cures for cancer, and has been to the moon more times than me. Always. I haven’t been to the moon at all. Not even once.
But that knowledge doesn’t stop me from falling into this death spiral wherein I mentally list the things other people have done that I haven’t done, and then wonder mournfully how come they can do all of those things and ALSO accomplish the things I have accomplished that I’m especially proud of? If I’m any good at all, how come I haven’t done what I’ve done AND what they’ve done as well? They can do it. They can go to the moon and cure cancer and write a novel. Apparently I can only write a novel. Wah.
My resolution for my 28th year on this planet is to stop doing that. To stop indulging in these periods of negative energy that don’t do anyone any good, to stop trying to measure unmeasurable things, or compare apples to oranges, or forget huge swaths of my life because I’m busy focusing on someone else’s C.V.
Basically, to count my blessings instead of the other way around.
 Tangent: One of my favorite lines from The West Wing is, “Half-full, half-empty, at least we can agree that the glass isn’t full!”
I’m going to stop dwelling on the things I don’t do, won’t do and haven’t done, and start focusing on the things I have done, am doing and intend to do. I’m not going to think about ways to “top” anyone, or even to “top” 26. I’m going to think about ways to make 27 as wonderful as it can be. I think the “growth” bit that encompasses all the other, minor resolutions will be a natural extension of that. So that’s my plan, and my resolution, and my main goal. And I think if I can accomplish that, then my glass will be so much closer to being full, and so much farther away from being empty.
Oh, that reminds me. Also, I resolve to drink more water. 
After all that discussion with Alison Kent and Julie Leto abotu the different ways to use plotting boards, I thought it would be fun to post an example of my style of plotting board.
And actually, to tell the truth, this one isn’t even mine, either. It belongs to my CP Cheryl. But they are done the same way, and isn’t it a thing of beauty? As you can see, every chapter is divided into squares, and every plot thread is given a different color code. Then for any given scene, you post a post it note in the correct color describing how that plot thread is addressed in that scene. As you can see, even from this modified image, there are certain plot threads (purple and yell;ow jump out at me) that were at this point in the development of Cheryl’s story, forgotten for long stretches of time.
I doubt highly that you’d even recognize the new plot board of her book as being the same story as this one. But anyway, that’s what we do. It’s actually quite helpful, because then you can see where your story is underdeveloped. And you don’t have to sit there wondering, if I stick a scene in here, will it help prop up a sagging plotline? You can see exactly how it will in full technicolor.
A few of you might find this difficult to believe, but there was a time when I often wrote non-fiction papers about literature and how it changes our view of the real world. I did this for many years. Some university even gave me a big piece of vellum scribbled all over in Latin for doing so. And now, the lovely and talented Jennifer O’Connell has given me the opportunity to do so again — and this time, it doesn’t mean 15 years worth of student loans:
As reported in Publisher’s Marketplace:
January 17
Non-Fiction
BACHELORETTE #1 author Jennifer O’Connell’s anthology EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT BEING A GIRL I LEARNED FROM JUDY BLUME, with essays by such authors as Meg Cabot, Megan McCafferty, and Julie Kenner (and Diana Peterfreund), which looks at how Blume’s novels shaped a generation of girls and celebrates the women they’ve became, to Lauren McKenna at Pocket, by Kristin Nelson at Nelson Literary Agency (world).
I really don’t know how that red bit got left out of the official announcement. That Michael Cader, what a joker! Ahem. No, but in all seriousness, I am going to be in the anthology. They just wanted to give some of the other authors some time in the spotlight.
I’m so excited to be a part of it, because I love love love Judy Blume’s books. When Jen asked me, I couldn’t say yes fast enough! My favorite of Blume’s works (and the one I shall focus on in my essay) is Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself. What’s your favorite and why?
Another one of those infernal “blog tag” quizzes: (I’m just kidding, they’re fun and helpful on days I don’t have anything too enlightening to say!)
What were you doing ten years ago?
I was a junior in high school, gearing up for my second semester. I probably had strep throat, since I got it every January. I was probably auditioning for Guys and Dolls (or possibly Damn Yankees, I can’t remember which one we did junior year). We had an incredible theatre program at my high school. Really. Anne Reinking choreographed our dance numbers.
What were you doing one year ago?
One year ago today I was getting in my moving truck and driving to DC. We had to race a snowstorm at the end of it.
Five Snacks You Enjoy:
Popcorn, peaches, pickles, nutty bars and oranges.
Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
(Just five? Okay, but I do think that song lyrics take up valuable gigabytes in my brain.)
Baby Got Back by Sir Mix A Lot (because soemtimes I think it’s my theme song)
We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel (we had to learn the words in fifth grade, AND what they meant)
Fortress by Sting (because it was my first solo)
Little Plastic Castle by Ani Di Franco (because it was my recorded solo)
Cursum Perficio by Enya (because I once trnaslated the Latin for a school project)
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
One million dollars? I’d probably be that “millionaire next door” person. I’d invest, I’d buy a house, I’d have the leisure to write books without worrying about where the rest of my income would come from, I’d travel more, and I’d buy new furniture
Five Bad Habits:
I’m messy, I procrastinate, I don’t exercise like I should, I’m addicted to email, and I rarely floss.
Five Things You Like Doing:
Reading, writing, hanging out with friends, cuddling with Sailor Boy, napping.
Five Things You Would Never Wear or Buy Again:
Overalls, scrunchies, anything with big shoulder pads, all-lace underwear, a trapper-keeper.
Five Favorite Toys:
My laptop, my iPod, my Palm, Sailor Boy, and the super secret thing that My friend Max got me for Christmas
Leave an author alone for a weekend of plotting and this is what happens. I can only guess what will be the reaction of my lovely agent when she comes back from her ski trip. Or my lovely editor, when she returns from her Adriatic-soaked vacation. Their fledging author, who unto this point has always been at least mildy reasonable (I *am* a writer, after all, you must expect a few quirks), has gone completely around the bend.
Some of the thoughts I had this weekend:
 1. Would a digital photographic representation of my plotting board be sufficient in lieu of a written outline for the sequel?
 2. No? Well then, how about a Venn diagram detailing the relationships and allegiances of my characters?
 3. Or maybe a flow chart delineating the logical steps my protagonist must take in order to achieve her growth arc?
 4. Perhaps I should describe my storyline through interpretative dance?
5. How about a haiku?
Strong-willed Digger girl
Traditions failed, love-life shot
How will you go on?
6. I’m seriously considering a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure style of outlining.
“If this book is to be the last in the series, turn to page 7. If I contract to write another Secret Society Girl Novel, turn to page 5.”
I think there is something to be said for reining in the creative mind if it decides to exert itself through analytical means. 
Especially when I’m still working out how it all ends.
_________________________
* Deidre and Kerri! Put down your ski poles and bottles of ouzo. I’m just kidding!
Ugh, I’m STILL not done with my outline, which is rather annoying, but I got a really, REALLY cool idea for the end when I was lying in bed last night. It’s one of those things where you lie there going, “Do NOT forget this. Remember it. Remember, remember remember…” and then of course, when you wake up, you’re like, um, it had something to do with George, I think…
Anyway, wish me luck remembering.
So, I don’t know if you all know this, but I am probably the least visual-artistically gifted person you will EVER meet. Seriously, I have a problem with drawing smiley faces. It’s pathetic. So, naturally, I’m in awe of people who can draw ANYTHING. As if I needed another reason to be envious of Meg Cabot, it turns out that’s she’s one hell of an illustrator, and she’s currently doing art shows on her blog.
And, elsewhere on the blogosphere, Scott Westerfeld has unearthed some fan art for his Midnighter’s series. It’s AWESOME. (and in two parts) Man, I would love some of that for my book. How cool is that, that someone loves the book enough to do soemthing totally new and different with it… that if the author were me, she’d NEVER be able to do?
Seriously, I get all these great images in my head, but I’m unable to translate them to the page in a visual manner. That’s why I got my cousin Beth to draw the Rose & Grave symbol, and my photog friend Tara to make the “secret society girl” icon that’s on my business cards. Because I can’t do it. Seriously, I can’t draw a frickin’ rose, that’s how bad it is.
Ah, well, at least I can write.
This is the point on the blog where I’m really REALLY tempted to excoriate another writer who is writing for my parent company and is talking serious smack about chick lit, even though she’s WRITING IT. It’s kind of random (no pun intended!) that she insists that she doesn’t write chick lit and her editor says it is and my editor is saying mine isn’t chick lit and I’m saying it is. Ah, grass is always greener. And of course I think this all goes back to the argument I’ve been making for a few months that the industry scions have been diminishing the definition of chick lit by saying that only the fluff is chick lit and if you write anything more than that then it “isn’t really chick lit” rather than recognizing that chick lit “isn’t all fluff.” And I think she is contributing to that little ongoing problem, and if I was the kind of person who started blog wars, I’d say so. But I won’t. Because I’m actually really nice. But, self hatred? So not cool.
Finally, I just finished the first book in the His Dark Materials trilogy, which was very strongly recommended to me by a friend, and, let me just say, not strongly enough. Whata grogeous, frightening, fascinating, fantastic little book (fantastic in the fantasy sense). Seriously, go read. They’re making a movie out of it, too. It’s called The Golden Compass in America and The Northern Lights in Great Britain and probably down under. But it’s His Dark Materials, Book 1, by Phillip Pullman. I’m very excited to read books 2 and 3 now.
Speaking of book 2, I’d better get back to that outline.
The weird thing about the internet is that it’s so easy to read totally wrong intentions into the mildest of actions. Especially if you’re as paranoid as me. (If there’s one thing I have in common with my heroine, it’s a healthy dose of paranoia.) If you don’t receive a response to an email then the person is giving you “the silent treatment.” If you don’t recieve a response in a day and a half, and the person is your agent, you’re about to get fired and your career is over. If a question you post gets lost in the shuffle of a busy message board, then they’re a bunch of cliquey bitches and you’re getting the heck out of their sandbox. If you post anonymously to a blog then you’re obviously the blogger’s ex-boyfriend and you’ve got an ax to grind. The list goes on and on.
So the upshot of all of this is, I try to be very careful before assigning agency to anyone with whom I carry on a conversation in a blog discussion, message board, or email loop. I’d hate to rush into a snap judgment that I was somehow receiving a cut when really the person’s DSL went down for a day or so, or my message never made it, or was utterly corrupted when it did, or so-and-so didn’t translate that I was the same person as I was somewhere else. )Which I am guilty of all the time! Hi, Charlene and Charlene.) There are just too many variables going on in this crazy online world.
And most of the people I’ve met online have seemed very nice, or at least, very interesting to talk to, and eager to discuss craft and industry and the weather. And I’m eager to discuss it right back. With anyone. Pubbed, unpubbed, agent, editor, bookseller, reader, writer, candlestick lighter… And no one has ever told me that I’m difficult to talk to. Unless they are saying that it’s difficult to get a word in edgewise. I do hear that upon occasion. In fact, I think the only person better at preventing edgewise words than me is Julie Leto. She’s a master, really. I never listen so much as when I’m on the phone with her.
However, as the old saying goes, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t actually after you. I get very weirded out when I feel that I’ve made polite overtures of friendship, or even colleagueship, and am being rebuffed. Especially when the rebuffer has made it quite clear that I’m being singled out for said buffing. I wish my reflex was, “Ah well, their loss,” but it’s usually more along the lines of “Wait, what’s wrong with me?”, “What did I do to piss her off?”, and, worst of all, “What can I do to fix it?”
I’m writing a character right now who has that response to everything, so this is much on my mind. So perhaps I should be thankful that this has come up and that I can now explore this characterization on an intimate, method level.
Or maybe it’s symptomatic of something else. You know how some people get paranoid when they smoke pot? (Disclaimer: I’m not smoking pot.) However, I’ve found that periods of great paranoia usually come when I’m particularly under the weather, and right now, I’ve got a cold. (Again! DEATH TO ALL VIRUSES!!!!!!) So perhaps I am being paranoid.
Quoth Sailor Boy: It’s good that you have identified your unusual presentation.
The bottom line is that I need to stop expending energy wondering why this person dubbin’t wike me, and get back to work on… you know, work.
Seriously, though, what the fuck did I do wrong? I’m nice, dammit!!!! NIIIIIIICE!
Ahem. Right. Back to work.
(Achoo!)
I’m trying to put together an FAQ for my website, so I’m going over chats and blogs and things and trying to figure out what ARE the most frequently asked questions.
So far I’ve got:
1. How did you get an agent and sell your book?
2. Are you in a secret society?
3. What are you working on now?
4. Where do you get your ideas?
5. Do you have any advice for aspiring writers? (Actually, I don’t get that question, because it’s pretty obvious that I do.)
6. What parts of your book are real?
7. How do you write your books?
So, here’s your opportunity to make your Q an FAQ. Post ‘em here. Be immortalized on the on the new secretsocietygirl.com
I judge a bunch of contests, and I highly recommend the activity to aspiring writers. There’s nothing that teaches you what makes published and publishable work as reading unpublished and unpublishable work. I’d love to say that I learn the most about what makes good writing when I read good writing, but that’s not often the case. When I read good writing, I get caught up and I don’t notice it. Maybe subconsciously. When I read bad writing, then my internal editor is on alert. This scene drags, this part is unnecessary, this character is acting out of character for no good reason…
(Of course, I always “retune my ear” as Nephele Tempest (Knight Agency) says, by reading good books. If you don’t retune after reading something bad or mediocre, you’re in danger of writing that way yourself, I think. But this is a new discovery of mine. Your mileage may vary.)
Most of the contest entries I judge are in the “chick lit” or “mainstream with romantic elements” categories of RWA-sponsored contests (And of course, the Stiletto, which is ALL chick lit). And though in general, I’d say the main problem I see in contest entries is that the story does not begin in the right place, lately I’ve been noticing a new primary snag: The Meh. And it’s not the Meh that Red Pen Diaries discussed a few months back, the one that often gets published — or rather, it is. But not for a debut (these contests are all for unpublished novelists) and not in today’s chick lit market. Because it’s really not enough to be writing a chick lit book about a single girl in the city struggling with jobs and a guy. Those books have been written, and the authors writing them are under contract already.
Chick Lit Author Melissa Senate discusses this here:
You don’t much see “traditional” any more. Editors and agent will tell you chick lit manuscripts need to be “different” and “fresh” and “have a twist.” Then again, a “traditional” Chick Lit novel about a young woman in the city, dealing with that evil boss, dating woes, meddling relatives, and searching for her own happiness and peace of mind, will always have a place on the shelves if the author’s voice is both entertaining and honest.
Bolding mine. Naturally, there is a place for that story, but it’s not necessarily the place where an author breaks in. Where do you see the first sales in chick lit these days? Paranormal girls in the city with evil devil bosses and dating werewolf woes; ethnic chick lit where the meddling relatives are lamenting the fact that their daughter is straying from her cultural roots and shoving the heroines into arranged marriages with the nice Indian boys coming over from Delhi; celebrity chick lit where the meddling relatives might well be overbearing managers, and the dating woes take the place of the rock star or the nice, NORMAL boy she meets who has never graced the pages of Vanity Fair; mystery and thriller chick lit where the heroine must find her own happiness WHILE ALSO tracking down the killer; or any number of other permutations that do not necessarily contain any of these elements, but otherwise have something special to offer readers who are full up on the Sex and the City model, but still love them some chick lit.
Please note, I’m not saying these are your only options, nor am I saying that if you write a vampire Indian/Hispanic movie star private detective chick lit will the agents be knocking down your door to get at it. It could still suck, certainly. Because in the end the fresh elements are just window dressing what you really bring to the table, which is your fresh voice. Jess Riley, who might be the most recent chick lit debut sale I can think of, has none of these elements in her work:
“Jessica Riley’s RIDING WITH LARRY RESNICK tells the story of a twenty-five year-old kidney transplant recipient who finds herself the grateful owner of a functional kidney once belonging to a man named Larry Resnick.”
But this work received top scores from all judges (preliminary and final round) in the 2004 Stiletto and sold at auction in a hard/soft deal to Harper (and in December, too, which “everyone knows” is not a month to sell books). So there was something about this that broke the mold (without the benefit of vamps, serial killers, or Southeast Asian ties).
A few years ago (YEARS!!!!), an editor at Red Dress Ink posted an article on eharlequin (since the reorganizing, I can’t find the article — Shannon? Help a girl out?) stating that they, the acquisitions department, were damn sick of the same old same old single girl in the city working in publishing and dealing with bad boyfriends and meddling moms. She called it Bridget Jones’s Diary syndrome. And that was in at least 2003. Now it’s 2006.
When I judge contests, I read a lot of these. Really cute, really adorable stories, well-written, but not saying anything new. Not saying anything that the dozens of chick lit writers already under contract at all the major houses either didn’t say a few years ago or aren’t saying right now.
But, as Teresa Nielsen Hayden (Tor) says, whenever she tells people she’s sick of something, the people she doesn’t want to listen (i.e., the people who do the something she’s sick of in a new, fresh way) are the ones who listen, and the people she’s talking about are the ones that don’t. So I say that if you can read this, and then examine your work with a critical eye, and still say, well, I’ve got the “always a bridesmaid, never a bride, girl in publishing, dating woes, meddling relatives, evil boss, can’t fit into size six, gay best friend” book that’s different, then I say that maybe you do, and you should keep at it! It’s all in the execution, as Leslie Wainger (Silhouette) says.
Shanna Swendson, for instance, took the classic tale of “girl in the city” chick lit and threw in one element that completely permeated the plot and made it into something new and fresh. The result was Enchanted Inc.
And, after all, the heroine of Secret Society Girl works in publishing. Kinda. And she’s deinfitely got dating woes. I took great pleasure in including all of the standard tropes of a chick lit novel and then making them all do headstands.
I even sneaked in Bridget Jones’s Diary. Because I love chick lit, in all its varieated, evolving forms, and for all the potential it contains.
Another month, another cold. Man, I hate living in the wintry north! My head feels as if it’s full of wet sand.
So I’m looking into buying a printer. Time to join the modern world, I guess. Does anyone have any suggestions? I want the printer to be:
1. Fast.
2. Reliable.
3. Fast.
4. Cheap to run (i.e., per page price), and not having super fancy ink cartridges that need to be changed every 12 pages. Should I be leaning towards laser?
Color and scanning/copying capabilities optional.
Post your opinions here.
|
|
|
|
 |
