I’m in that stage in writing a book where I’m completely obsessed. It’s all I think about. While I’m doing the dishes, I think about how to tweak lines of dialogue. While I’m eating dinner with my husband, I’m planning what to write next. While I’m trying to have a nice little coffee date with a friend, I’m giggling about the scenes I wrote. While I’m walking the dog, I’m working out new paragraphs (and, if I am good and have remembered, speaking them into my voice recorder).
A lot of people emailed me the other day about the Harper Collins reorganization. I read the news on Publisher’s Marketplace and Gawker, but honestly, I’ve been so consumed by my book that I only heard about this late Tuesday afternoon when my critique partner IMed me about it. This is my second publisher in three months to experience a similar shuffle, with publishers leaving, imprints being dismantled, etc. When it happened to Random House in December, I was especially shocked, as I’d literally just returned from seeing my editor in New York. I am so sorry for those who have lost their jobs, editors, or imprints as a result of this reorganization.
As an author, there is little one can do in such a situation other than keep writing. My new book for Harper is still due in a few months. Tap & Gown is still being released in May. My secret project is barrelling along. I’ve got a new secret story coming out at the end of the week. This is a dual-pronged attack. The only way I can materially affect whether or not I have a book coming out is to write a book. Everything else — if a publisher buys it and releases it — is sadly out of my hands. Also, if I’m writing, I get into this absent-minded professor mode, where I really can’t think of anything else but this book.
I will be honest: this was not advice I followed in December. Rather, I wallowed but good. Didn’t write for ages. Grew a bit pessimistic about my future in this career. I haven’t spoken about this, but it was pretty pathetic. And all the encouragement, and — when that failed — friendly slaps across the face from friends really didn’t do much to snap me out of my funk. My battle against my own latent pessimism is an ongoing project. Writing helps. Being really, really excited about my writing helps a lot.
Thing #1: It’s less than 100 days until the release of Tap & Gown. Double digits! W00T! I’m so excited about this book y’all!
Thing #2: Fuse #8, I think I love you. Or at least your currentfascination with killer unicorns. Either way, I owe you a drink.
Thing #3: Speaking of killer unicorns and Fuse #8’s blog post, it’s ironic that I just found out that RAMPANT is getting a new cover. They decided to go pinker. Hey, Alea, what do you make of this?
In other news, the killer unicorn takeover of the known world continues apace. At the School Library Journal, kidlit blogger Fuse #8 casts her vote in the ever popular “What supernatural beings are next?” discussion:
“Werewolves turn out to be the obvious answer, though there’s a surprising push for mummies, mermaids, and angels. My vote is for evil unicorns. And if Rampant is any indication, I’m on the right path.”
I am always surprised to see the question framed thusly, as if the point of any smash book is dependent on the type of supernatural creature that appears within its pages. However, Tea Cozy isn’t the only one to ask it. Publisher’s Weekly was doing so three months ago. I remember, back before Twilight ever came out, attending conferences where the industry pros inisted that vampires were played out. I know several folks whose vampire YA novels, out before the zeitgeist, withered on the vine, and others who chug along merrily, such as Scott Westerfeld’s Peeps books or the novels of Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. Christine Feehan has been peddling vampire romance since 1999, but it was Anne Rice who reinvented the genre in the mid seventies. Buffy’s cult-classic status revitalized the genre of urban fantasy. And vampires are still super strong. The saga may be over, but Meyer is still on the top of the bestseller list, and ongoing series, such as the Casts’ House of Night or Richelle Mead’s Vampire Academy novels (I’m a huge fan of these!) keep her company there. Not to mention the reissues of LJ Smith.
Tea Cozy says, “First it was vampires, then zombies.” There may be a rash of zombie novels in the YA field right now, but the vampires haven’t gone anywhere, and for my money, it’s fairies that are all over the place. Fairies and boarding school girls. I can think of half a dozen fairy books that are either out or out this spring, and three times as many boarding school books. I heard a rumor that a large chain bookstore declared a few years back that “fairies would be the next big thing.” A few authors may have consciously responded, but in most cases, these books were written by people who were unaware of market edicts, and were just telling a story that spoke to them.
I don’t believe that ‘the next big thing’ comes courtesy of a certain strain of supernatural creature. People didn’t buy Twilight because it was about vampires. (In fact, it was advertised heavily as “a vampire book for people who don’t like vampire books.”) They bought it because the book spoke very strongly to them. After all, before it became popular, everyone was basing their opinion of “the next big thing” on a far younger series starring a boy wizard. Now of course, the people who may not have liked vampires are converted, and many will buy anything with a fang on the cover.
In the comments of the Tea Cozy post, some postulate that angels or demons will be “the next big thing.” If so, they should probably thank Cassandra Clare, who has been writing a bestselling series about part-angel demon hunters (a very few of the “demons” are, in fact, vampires) for years. People don’t love this series because it’s got demon hunters in it. They love it because it’s great.
Another thing people love: future dystopias populated by action heroines. But I’ve yet to see the article that credits the immense popularity of Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies series with helping to boost the enormously well-received The Hunger Games last year. (For the record, I loved both.) But instead of people going, “Oh, I think the next big thing is these futuristic female-focused thrillers,” they are still talking about “insert paranormal creatures here.”
HUNGER GAMES SPOILER WARNING (mouseover): Or does The Hunger Games count as a “werewolf” novel? END SPOILER WARNING
And sometimes, these “trend” books have very little in common. Take the so-called zombie trend. Generation Dead is a satirical metaphor about discrimination. You Are So Undead to Me is a humorous, Buffy-like approach to the topic of zombies, Soulless is a classic horror novel set up: “escape from New York’s zombie apocalypse”, and — my personal favorite — The Forest of Hands and Teeth is a literary exploration of human survival that doesn’t even mention the word zombie. (The zombie novel for people who don’t like zombie novels?)
I may be in trouble now for calling it that.
Seriously, though, “the next big thing” as defined by “what there will be twelve dozen books out about” may be based on a particular paranormal creature, as publishers scramble to recreate the Meyer magic. But the “next big thing” as defined by “what will capture the public’s imagination en masse?” That will not be so simply defined. I believe it is the love story that draws Meyer’s fans, not the bloodsucking. (There is, in fact, very little bloodsucking.) But the last big thing, Harry, had only very minor romantic elements, and that only at the very end.
Is the next big thing unicorns? I’m sure Bruce Colville Coville (sorry, curse my butterfingers!) would be thrilled to hear that. I, on the other hand, write unicorn books for people who don’t like unicorn books. (Or maybe, based on the stories I’ve heard of people who have refused to read the book on the grounds that the characters kill unicorns, what I write is books that people who like unicorn books don’t like? Hmmm… something to ponder.) When I sat down to write Rampant, it wasn’t from a position of “hmmm, what paranormal creature is next?” And that is probably because unlike many of the usual urban fantasy creatures, I’m not writing about something humanoid — they don’t blend (except for their fangs/wings/fins/tendency to howl at the moon). They aren’t magical creatures falling in love with mortals (or other magical creatures) and causing romantic/political/cultural/physical agony. It’s a gorgeous paradigm, but I’m not writing it.
The book I’m most excited to read this year* is Leviathan, by Scott Westerfeld, which I’m positive will start the alternative World War I living airship trend. It’s totally the next big thing.
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* Because I’ve already read the other two I’m most excited about: The Forest of Hands and Teeth and Justine Larbalestier’s newest. Yeah, I know you’re jealous.
Tiff asked for details. Um… I don’t really have a lot. I got invited by Carrie. She text messaged me and asked “Do you want to go to a writing retreat in a castle in ireland?” Even without my cool new text messaging phone, I sent back “YES!” at the speed of a killer unicorn on the prowl. Then we bought plane tickets. (I think I got a deal on them.)
Maureen is lending me her power adaptor. I will be packing sweaters, but in a litle bag, just as she advises.
If I finish the draft for KU2 in time, I will be working on one of three sekrit projects. If not, I will be working on the draft for KU2.
Given that approximately seventy-five people have emailed me about the “Yale” episode of Gossip Girl, I suppose I should not be surprised by the fact that the episode was hot news on the Yale campus — hot enough, indeed, to inspire an article about the use of Yale in pop culture in the Yale Daily News.
I’ve never seen the show (though everyone tells me I’d love it), but it seems to follow the standard pattern of Yale-as-Exotic-Other. A college friend informed me that the thrust of the episode centered around figuring out answers to an impromptu quiz given by the dean of admissions at a private party — answers which would guarantee your admission before you even tendered an application. Senior Molly Fischer, who wrote the article, described it thusly:
“It is easy to grouse about factual inaccuracies — the dean doesn’t have a private admissions party! Skull and Bones doesn’t tap freshmen! The campus is neo-Gothic, not Beaux-Arts! — but it is not very interesting. More profitable, then, to consider the “Gossip Girl” Yale as a dream you might have if you fell asleep while reading the University’s Wikipedia page: there’s Handsome Dan, and something about Hillhouse Avenue, and Chuck Bass, looking oddly plausible in red pants and an ascot.”
The article then goes on to describe my own books as fan fiction about Yale, which I find a rather interesting way to look at it, and not entirely inaccurate. I’m a fan of Yale; I write fiction set at Yale; it utlitizes the tropes and settings and quintessentially Yale characters to tell a very Yale story. Sure. Sounds good.
“Diana Peterfreund ’01 has proved both more prolific and more successfully entertaining than the legendary [Natalie] Krinsky — she has written three zippy novels set at a thinly veiled Yale, and a fourth, “Tap and Gown,” will be released this spring. The “Secret Society Girl” series follows Amy Haskell’s adventures in “Rose and Grave,” a stand-in for Skull and Bones. “Rose and Grave,” “Eli University”: careful and pointless pseudonyms, are central to these books. The Rose and Grave tomb is on High Street, near the old art-history offices; characters do cups at “Tory’s” and buy burgers at “Lenny’s Lunch.” But this sort of strategy (also employed in “The Skulls,” which takes place at an unnamed university where athletic uniforms bear blue Ys) means that the anonymity actually becomes the point. The painstaking avoidance of Yale’s name seems intended to remind us of how daunting and dramatic and potentially dangerous Yale might be.”
That’s not an uncommon perception, but one that I think might be a generational thing. When I was at Yale, there were NO stories about Yale in contemporary popular culture. Harvard, sure, but I remember reading articles in the YDN about how fervently Yale protected its trademark — or maybe not “trademark,” but something similar (moral rights, maybe? There was even a lawsuit going on at the time with Yale trucks, or locks, or something….). Harvard had movies filmed on its campus all the time, while Yale forbade it. The Skulls, which came out while I was at school, had several articles written on all the things they were forced to change by the Yale corporation. (Likely because of the very negative outlook the film takes toward its administration hushing up campus murders.) Harvard was where all the kids in movies wanted to go, Harvard was what everyone talked about. Yale was known mainly as the alma mater of the Simpson’s antagonist, Montgomery Burns. (Who always presents a very Dink Stover outlook in his flashbacks to undergrad).
The author discussing her first pop culture mention of Yale being during a 1th grade viewing of Lost in Translation: “Not everyone went to Yale!” the main character’s neglectful husband throws at her. Funny, my high school Yale-on-the-silver screen experience was the exact same line: except this time, it was a cabinet member throwing the epithet at a White House staffer in Air Force One. (Golly, I’m old.)
After I graduated from college, the Yale Corp. seemed to change their mind. The Gilmore Girls moved to Yale, and either filmed there or created a pretty identical set. Harrison Ford set off for the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull from Yale. And suddenly it was Yale, and not Harvard, where all the teens on TV shows were setting their sights. I’m not sure what prompted the change. Perhaps it was George W. Bush’s campaign, where his Yale experience seemed so newsworthy, his subsequen place in the White House, his daughter’s matriculation, the Yalie vs. Yalie, Bonesman vs. Bonesman 2004 presidential race… Yale was all over the map.
But, growing up, my fictional Yale surrogate was Walden, of Doonesbury fame. For years, Walden U. had appeared, Yale-like, on the funnies pages, with its Yale-friendly storylines and its Yale-esque campus and deans. At Yale, I discovered that the strip had started out as a YDN comic, and when it was syndicated, the names (and associated Ys on, say BD’s helmet) changed to Walden. I thought it was cute and clever, and allowed Trudeau some latitude in his storylines he would not have had at “Yale.” So, I followed his example. Rather than being a “Yale” that didn’t act like one 9Hello, Gossip Girls!), I wrote an “Eli” that acted like Yale.
“Still, Peterfreund’s vision of Yale seems more founded in actual lived experience than Krinsky’s recycled tropes. The devices that move Peterfreund’s plots ahead are appropriately mundane. As one book chugs toward its climax, Amy attempts to write a paper: “But the words didn’t come, and the rereading-significant-passages phase failed to uncover any paper-worthy insights. This was going to be a painful one.” I find it winning that this is how Peterfreund applies pressure to Amy’s situation — by assigning her a paper or putting her on MetroNorth. These cumbersome trappings of Yale life in fact become the stuff of fantasy.”
I haven’t been to the Yale campus since the summer before my book came out. When I first came up with the idea for the series, I’d graduated a scant three years earlier (my husband, only 2), and still felt like a recent college graduate. I hadn’t held any one job for more than a year at a time, hadn’t lived in one place for more than six months or so. My four year tenure at Yale, therefore, was an anchor. It occurred to me recently that now, at thirty, in my fourth year living in the same neighborhood (indeed, I think I moved farther when my dorm went from being on Old Campus to being in my residential college), a wife, a homeowner, with a professional career as long as my college one, how very different I am from the current crop of college kids. I’m not a recent college graduate anymore. Next month, I’m going on vacation with a current Yalie, and I want to compare notes. I know Mory’s and the Doodle are closed — that my dean is now the president of Duke — and who knows how many other changes have taken place at Yale in the past eight years?
From the Mixed-Up Files of Ms. Rio McBeo, Puppy Extraordinaire:
On Tuesday, I decided to go play with the white lab who lives next door. By the time I was done, she was a black lab, and I was a little bit black myself. Okay, a lot black. I still don’t understand why that meant that mommy put me straight into the bathtub upon my muddy arrival at the back door. I hate baths.
This picture is from when I was eight weeks old. My ability to sell pathos, however, has only increased with time.
But I retaliated. That evening, when they went to put me to bed, I decided to pee on the floor. Specifically, on the throw rug. I have not done this in over two months. That should show them.
Although what it seemed to show them was that I ought to be sleeping in my kennel, instead of in bed with them. I protested this, loudly, all night long.
On Wednesday, I refused to eat. Call it a hunger strike. Also, I didn’t get to go for a walk in the morning, because mommy had a “writing date.” (She writes here all the time. I don’t get why she needs to go to a coffee shop sometimes and leave me all alone. It’s not like she gets work done there anyway. She still has IM, plus friends to chat with.) Of course, this backfired on her, as the Fed Ex man came with her new cell phone, and she wasn’t here to get it. I don’t understand why the Fed Ex man wouldn’t leave it with me. I would only have eaten the box it came in. Instead, Mommy got something called a door tag, which didn’t look half so appetizing as a cardboard box.
So as it was a beautiful day, and Mommy was having some pretty bad writer’s block (ha! see what happens when you don’t write with a puppy on your feet?) she decided that taking me for a hike in Rock Creek Park would be the best way to jog her creativity. So, off we went into the frigid, golden afternoon.
You must allow that I’m an excellent walker…
It was perfect. Rock Creek Park was a sea of mud. I was black again in no time flat. Black and frozen and stringy. So. Much. Fun. Also, there were a bunch of other dogs there that wanted to play with me. I’m very popular, you see. This is probably because of the mud.
And then at the height of the walk, Mommy’s friend called. His car had gotten towed and he needed a ride to the towing lot to retrieve it. So Mommy said we had to run back, which was fine by me, except, you know, for when we passed other dogs. I seriously can’t help how popular I am. I didn’t ask to be born so beautiful and charming.
So anyway, the walk back was pretty treacherous, as the storms had washed out a lot of the trail, and there were all these steep little fjords cutting through the path and down to the creek. I got much muddier even than before, and mommy despaired of putting me back inside Nikita.So then we reached this one area where you can run down the bank to the creek. Usually, this is where mommy and daddy like to throw sticks into the creek for me to retrieve them. But mommy kept running past it. Naturally, I went down to the bank, because some stupid towed car should not get in the way of my schedule. Mommy called me, though, and because I actually am a very good puppy, despite what you may have been reading on Twitter recently (I get very bad press), I came running straight back to her.
So I’m running and running, and then the ground suddenly dropped out beneath me and I fell right into one of those fjords. It was about nine feet, which is about six mes, paw to snout. Mommy says her heart leapt into her throat, which really, I’d pay to see because I don’t believe that for a second! — and she came sprinting back toward me, but, tough as I am, I shook it off and had jumped and scrambled my way back up the bank before she even got there. Not even limping! You’d think I hadn’t just fallen off a cliff.
Everyone else in the park was staring though. I think it was because mommy was screaming like a car alarm. (I hate car alarms. Mommy set one off in the garage the other day, and I barked and barked.)
So we got home,a dn I was actually incredibly well behaved and sat in the back and didn’t jump over and get Nikita’s leather seats all dirty or anything.
But did I get a treat? NO! Something about me not eating all day and so I had to have a whole bowl of kibble before I got any cookies. Which, fine. Whatever. So unfair.
Also, I got put in the kennel AGAIN last night. But don’t worry. I made sure to make as much noise as possible. Mommy has hardly had more than two or three hours of sleep. Let’s see her write on that!
Yaaaaaawwwwwwwnnnnn. It’s tired in here. I think it’s time for a nap on Mommy’s feet.
Particularly self-censorship (i.e., we shall not include this book in our library collection for fear of the ruckus) and the topics that often provoke this action. Read now!
This article is the topic of much discussion amongst the YA writers I know. One writer, who has experience with her books being challenged, wondered if she should move to adult lit. Others reported that their editors stuck their oars in before publication, concerned about how certain words or topics in their books might “limit the audience.” The thing that is so insidious about self-censorship is the way it can’t be tracked. You don’t know if your books are being “limited” due to so-called objectionable content. A few choice quotes:
“one 2007 study by the University of Central Arkansas shows that less than one percent of school libraries in that conservative state have books containing gay subjects or story lines.”
“Interestingly, [David] Levithan says he intentionally wrote Boy Meets Boy as clean as possible so that if the book were ever challenged, the only logical reason would be because it features ‘happy gay characters in love.’”
My first four published novels are adult novels, and so these issues did not concern me during the writing, despite the fact that books contain many of the hot-button issues the article discusses: sex, homosexuality, religion, etc. They do enjoy a large teen audience and are often recommended for teen library collections. Given that, in my high school, we read classic works of literature dealing with rape, incest, sexual abuse, war, death, impotence, adultery, violence, racism, religious strife, murder, torture… I’m not sure exactly what teens can’t handle. The Crucible, The Magus, and The Sun Also Rises are way more intense than anything I’ve written!
Yes, there is a fear that saying that is going to cause some parent to run into a library and rip Arthur Miller off the shelf. Some dude gets tortured to death by having rocks piled on top of him in the last act of that play. I wonder if people forget sometimes that most of the classic works of literature touch upon these subjects. Romeo and Juliet weren’t playing Parcheesi that night. Neither were Calypso and Odysseus. (Penelope, of course, played Parcheesi and did her weaving. Poor girl.)
Which is not to say that I think my books are for everyone. I recently received a letter from a father who wanted to know if Secret Society Girl would be appropriate for his 13 year old. Personally, I wouldn’t give the book to middle schoolers, though I know some who read them. As I read Clan of the Cave Bear at twelve, I’m not going to freak out over that. I related to him the mature content in the book so that he could make his own decision. But it’s difficult. Asking whether a book is appropriate “for teen readers” (which he did) is a far different thing than asking if a book is appropriate “for a 13 year old” which he later clarified. I think my adult books are appropriate for older teen readers (let’s say 15-16 and up) but not for the younger, “tween” market. I recommended Ally Carter’s spy school series instead, as it has many of the same “classmate camaraderie, comedy, and zany antics” aspects as my books, but in a sweeter setting (with younger characters!) more appropriate to young teens.
But that is not self-censorship. I’m giving my recommendation to a parent. The books are adult books, not YA. (The characters are in their twenties, have been living on their own for years, and hang out in bars legally. Does the thirteen year old watch How I Met Your Mother? There’s a good litmus test.)* However, I’m not in charge of making the books available or not avialable to the reader, as well as there being no expectation that I wrote the book with that reader (middle schooler) in mind. The father is free to make his own decision. A friend of mine gave my books to her 13 year old with no problem. Parents get to make these decisions for their kids.
Of course, then you see in the SLJ article:
“Librarians need to remember that it’s not their job to impose their own ideologies on the kids they serve or to parent or protect them, Scales says. And even though schools are required to act in loco parentis—Latin for ‘in place of parent’—the doctrine only applies to school librarians when it comes to the safety and health of their students, not when it comes to censorship, she adds.”**
Now, my YA novel is written for a teen readership. It’s about teens (the main character is 16), and it’s told in a fashion that takes that sensibility into account. It does deal with mature themes, such as death, violence, and sex, though it does so in a young adult tone, for a young adult audience. Unlike the heroine of the secret society girl books, who is an adult (a young adult, struggling with the trapping of adulthood, but an adult all the same), Astrid is a teenager, who very much lives within the world of childhood and being a minor. She is subject to the will of her mother, of her guardians, or her teachers. She is not ready to face many of the things in the adult world (though she is asked to face far more in terms of life-and-death choices, than the heroine of my comedies is!).
And of course, there’s that strong abstinence message.
The word “edgy” is batted around a lot in YA circles. Books like 13 Reasons Why and Living Dead Girl are pronounced “edgy,” whereas there is also the “sweeter” fare of I’d Tell You I Love You But Then I’d Have to Kill You or Twilight. I was having a discussion with another author last weekend who asked if my YA book is “edgy” or “sweet”. I didn’t know what to say. There are long battle sequences in Rampant, with a fair amount of blood and injury to the main characters. There’s a body count, both human and unicorn. The storyline deals with the question of sex (though, so does Twilight), though it does come down pretty strongly on the side of chastity (they are nuns, after all). A friend told me that in the US there is more tolerance to violence in books than sex, while in the UK, it is the opposite. I wonder, then, if my book would be considered more edgy overseas.
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* Interesting note: it is published as a YA novel in Brazil. As I do not speak Portuguese, I couldn’t tell you if there is any substantive editing going on.
**Hee hee. Does anyone remember that scene in A Series of Unfortunate Events where Mr. Poe (I believe?) is trying to explain to the children what “in loco parentis” means and the kids are like, “drop dead? We know!”
“Mary’s observant, careful narration pulls readers into a bleak but gripping story of survival and the endless capacity of humanity to persevere. That Mary maintains emotional distance serves to render her yearnings and romantic feelings even more poignant and powerful. Fresh and riveting.”
Took Rio to Dog Training Class (she would have been a superstar, except for an unfortunate “Leave It” incident)
Went to Lunch with Friends I Haven’t Seen in Weeks
Took a Nap
Updated the Web Site with Some Cool New Content
Tried to Navigate My Way Around Verizon to Figure Out How to Get My New Cellphone… and Failed (I’m really nervous about screwing this up, because the last time I was in charge of figuring out our cellphones, I accidentally deleted Sailor Boy’s number and account, which we were using for our contact info and which was listed on the top of all the job resumes I’d just sent out. That was quite the picnic, let me tell you. Especially when I tried to get it reinstated and was told, sometime around call 17 of 30 in trying to get it reinstated, that I had no right to access the account — well then, bub, put back the number that I illegally deleted, would you?)
Things I Did Not Do Yesterday
Watch the Superbowl
Or Any Superbowl Commercials
Write
I also tried to make one of those nifty “To Do in 2009″ lists like I’m seeing all over the blogs of other writers, and I failed. Because, I realized, that I’m not so interested in talking about nascent projects in public. So my To Do list looks a little sad: write KU2 (see, I am not even sharing the working title for that yet), write something for an anthology I can’t talk about yet, and, um… other stuff. You know how some writers say they can’t do outlines or synopses for their book in advance, because then it ruins it for them? I have what I call a “darkroom” phase, which is similar. If I open the door and talk about something in a fragile, embryonic state, then it burns out and vanishes. I need to know there’s “there there” — that a book has legs and all other manner of cliches — before I can start talking about it. I odn’t even chat with my critique partners until then. Sailor Boy hears, but he’s SB, and therefore the exception to all sorts of rules.
And, unfortunately, I’ve had a few darkroom burn out experiences recently, so I’m keeping things close to the vest for a bit.
What is not in this phase: KU2. It helps that is it both contracted and a sequel to a book that is coming out in a few months. I’m really excited to write this book, though it is vastly different from what I intended when I sold it, as well as when I envisioned the series. It’s about a different character, to start with. But I love Astrid, and I can’t wait to get back into her head, almost as much as I can’t wait for readers to meet her.
February marks the beginning of deadline days Chez Diana, so I may not be around as much as usual. However, I will be posting a Valentine’s Secret Story on that page in the middle of the month, so that’s some February excitement. (We all need excitement in February. It’s the worst month in the year.) I also have some rather big news I’m bursting to share, but I’m told I must hold off on it. Le sigh.
Not yet? Awww, Heck. Fine, I’ll just snooze while I wait. Bum, de bum bumzzzzzzzz.
So the other day, my fiend Justine Larbalestier asked for advice on answering one of her “writing advice month” questions about voice. So I did, but most of my advice is just a riff on Julie Leto’s excellent articles on the subject.
Like Julie, I believe that a writer’s voice is something that develops over time, through the process of putting words on the page, over and over. She writes that it’s one of the hardest aspects to define, because it is so different depending on how it manifests. With one writer it could be the way they choose to put sentences together, or their propensity for wacko similes (or avoiding them like the plague, as they always come out cliched “like the plague”), or the fact that they write super short chapters, or that they always write XYZ kind of characters. It’s what makes you love one writer’s historical romance but not care very much for her contemporary thrillers. Or vice versa.
Like that famous quote about pornography, you know it when you see it. But that doesn’t mean you can define it.
