Two of the chief ways an essayist can prove interesting are, first, by telling readers things they already know in their hearts but have never been able to formulate for themselves; and, second, by telling them things they do not know and perhaps have never even imagined.
~ Joseph Epstein
The writing class I’m taking has that writing quote of the day feature, and this one keeps popping up. Every time I see it, I think. You know, that works for fiction, too.
Ah, I love the smell of revisions in the morning. Smells like coffee and a brand new scene from Darcy in my inbox. Okay, so maybe it was closer to the noon smell of revisions.
Darcy and I chatted yesterday and that really helps, hashing out what it is we need to do and how we’re going to do it. Of course, sometimes we get stymied, like when we search for the perfect song that would cause a geek girl cheerleader some embarrassment to dance to. We had “the stripper song,” which most people know, if you hum a few bars.
Problem is, you can’t hum a few bars in a manuscript. So we considered:
We went with I’m Too Sexy (for My Shirt), since even Andrew knows that one (it’s in one of the Shrek movies). But we’re open to suggestions.
Today, Kyra helped out around the house. She cleaned the bathroom (with a washcloth and water–I don’t give her toxic cleaning supplies). She folded laundry. Sort of. It’s difficult when some of the laundry is bigger than you are. And she gave me a makeover:
You only wished you looked this good and had a little smiley friend in your hair.I’m thinking of using this if/when I need an author photo.
Your Personality Cluster is Introverted Intuition |
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A visionary with a complete life plan Intuitive enough to understand difficult problems, ideas, and people |
What’s Your Personality Cluster?
Revisions are … happening. Sorry for the delay between postings, but I don’t have a lot to say. I mean, what can you say when your day consists of: well, I stared at this scene for a while, then I deleted the word even. Then I put it back in.
You get the idea. Andrew was up early with me this morning. Actually, he woke up at four! He has a stuffy nose and couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’s on his computer, and in my internet, sucking up bandwidth.
I hope to be back later this weekend with some “witty junk” (to quote one of Darcy’s characters) to say. In the meantime, I will reflect on how multilayered and complex I am.
You know, there’s something sexy about the title “freelance writer.” At least once a month at the writing site I frequent, someone will post the “how do I get started in freelancing” question.
Goodness knows I’ve thought about it. I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind. These thoughts are usually accompanied by images of sun-drenched mornings pecking away at copy while sipping a latte at the local coffee shop, or soaking up the quiet atmosphere at the library while researching salient facts.
This, however, is not the reality.
I bring this up because I’m writing an article for the Wet Noodle Posse ezine. Actually, I’m supposed to be doing many things, such as judging a writing contest, oh, and a little task called revisions, but never mind.
I came up with the idea for the article. I know what I want to write about. I have notes. Even so, I had a major case of: mind, screen, both are blank.
Because when you get right down to it, writing articles feels like homework.
For the longest time, I never thought I was a writer; I never embraced the 500-word essay on my summer vacation, or even the topic of my choice.
The topic of my choice would be: I choose not to write this.
I have no problem with technical writing. I can tell people to chmod 777 all day long. But I can’t tell people how to make five fun crafts for under fifty bucks. In fact, just writing that sentence caused several synapses to misfire.
Ironically, the topic of my article is: making the most of online writing classes.
My favorite line so far (which will probably be cut): What if they gave a writing class and nobody came?
Indeed.
I’ll leave you to ponder that.
I found this over at Marianne’s this morning:
Your Inner Muse is Melpomene |
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I’m gloomy. Nice. Real nice. Although the whole muse thing is appropriate, since we have a running muse joke in Geek Girl’s Guide.
Here are some things I did this week, all in the name of revision.
Looked into Krispy Kremes. Did you know they now have multigrain Krispy Kremes. Cuz you know, when I’m reaching for a Krispy Kreme, I’m thinking heart healthy.
Couldn’t remember how to spell L-tryptophan, so I Googled sleepy turkey chemical.
Looked up The Art of War and Sun Tzu.
Looked up Lara Croft and Tomb Raider (although this reference I may cut).
Sent Darcy lolcat inspired notes such as: IM in yr scene, makin’ changes.
Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers are coming to town. Not to be confused with Santa Claus coming to town, although both events could cause the same amount of frenzy around here.
Andrew likes the Jonas Brothers. Kyra likes/loves/reveres Hannah Montana/Mylie Cyrus (yes, the offspring of Billy Ray Cyrus for those of you not up on your pop princess factoids–and honestly, I don’t blame you).
I’m not worried about content. I know this will be a kid-friendly venue. I took Andrew to the American Idols concert a few years back (the Carrie Underwood/Bo Bice year) and he had fun. It was good, clean fun.
The problem: it is also good, clean, LOUD fun. Kyra has very sensitive hearing, which I don’t want to damage. But I did a massive Google search on earplugs and that might be the answer. For all of us, since I’m not wild about the whole head ringing, slightly punch-drunk feeling I have after concerts.
Clearly, this is an all or nothing deal. I either take them both, or we don’t go at all. Besides, Kyra already has a concert outfit: “rock star” jeans, a Hannah Montana t-shirt, and hot pink cowboy boots.
These are definitely on my mind. Saturday I was, quite honestly, a little scared. It was silly really, because if we make a change and it doesn’t work, we can change it back or do something different.
Darcy and I chatted (via IM) on Sunday and that helped. Well, when we weren’t chatting about other things and I wasn’t fielding questions from Kyra (who spent part of that time on my lap–yay wireless keyboard), such as:
Do raccoons pee? (Yes.)
Does Darcy have a baby in her tummy? (No.)
We went to the dentist yesterday, so Darcy can anticipate questions related to her dental hygiene. (D., you’ve been warned.)
One thing I’ve really been thinking about is back story and the when, where, why, how of it. If you’ve read any fiction writing books, spent time near any fiction writing workshop, you’ve heard the conventional wisdom: delete/delay back story.
Conventional wisdom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Our (!) agent has asked us to not only move some back story closer to the start (!) of the novel, but add some in as well. I know. Color me surprised. But I’m starting to see the real possibilities in this. Anyway, by Sunday evening I was in that writing mode where you rub your hands together and cackle gleefully in delight. Kind of scary for those around you, but them’s the breaks.
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book? It took me years to write, will you take a look? ~Lennon and McCartney
We have perfect revision weather here. Rain, sprinkles, drizzle for the past twenty four hours or so. The kids have been pretty understanding about the whole Mommy working on her book thing.
Kyra played with a beading set for a while. She’d remove a bead, set it on the table, and a moment later, the bead would roll off the table. Then I’d get up (not that I was looking for an excuse to procrastinate) and get the bead. At last I told her to set the beads in the lid, which has a little lip around it.
“Oh, Mommy,” she said. “You’re a genie-us!”
Acknowledged at last.
Andrew’s been a roller coaster tycoon. He finally lost the distinction for “most disappointing amusement park” and earned instead “most beautiful” park. He was crushed there for a while. We also have a deal going that involves room cleaning, but we haven’t made much progress on that.
I’m working in Vista and Word 2007, which adds an extra layer of excitement to the process. I admit to liking the gadget sidebar. I’m not wild about some of the things Windows insists on doing for me that I used to do on my own. Or renaming well-known functions. Add software? Now it’s “hidden” under “Programs and Features.”
Word 2007 has a completely different look. I’m still undecided about it. But there is one thing I like. The status bar now displays your word count, like so:
Obsession — It’s seldom pretty
Which leads me to wonder: how many word-count obsessed people are there?
I did actually use a fork today to eat my lunch. Improvement all around.
I do confess I was pretty taken aback by the email from the our (!) agent. I anticipated a quiet evening of setting up a new computer. (Andrew gets my old one; I get to be the family Vista beta tester.)
I was taken aback because the first email on my new computer was from the our (!) agent.
It was downhill after that. Because clearly, I did not:
Call my own mother (!)
Call my sister (!)
Email Marianne (!)
I. Am. Remiss. Forgive me. Last night was swimming and football. Andrew has words of wisdom on the importance of wearing a cup, but I’ll save those for later.
Yesterday, I discovered a SASE with a rejection in it in the mailbox. I found this highly entertaining.
Today, I found out one of my tech writing haikus made the short list in the Haiku Buckaroo contest.
Marianne and Judy have been working very hard on their new review site: The Long and the Short of It. They have contests and prizes and a grand opening. Visit their sites for more information.
The hotdish, she has an advocate.
For those of you who haven’t been playing along at home–and for those who have, I can be cryptic–I’ve been referring to a “secret” project, code name: hotdish, pretty much all summer long.
And now, I can tell all.
Okay, not really. I can tell some.
The hotdish is actually a revision of The Geek Girl’s Guide to Cheerleading, a book I wrote, revised, and nearly shelved.
It was clear from agent feedback I received earlier this year, that for the book to be marketable, it needed to be in first person. I was ready to shelve it. According to Darcy, all it needed was a little gloss and glitter, and could she give it a shot putting it into first person.
She did all the grunt work of putting it into first person. To make a long story short, I went back through for a final edit, and after getting over the initial weirdness of my story in a different voice, something magical happened.
It wasn’t my story. It wasn’t Darcy’s. Somehow, we’d managed to capture Bethany’s story. When I read it now, I don’t know what she wrote and what I wrote anymore.
And really, it’s been our book all along. She urged me to write it in the first place. She read the craptacular first draft (and it was beyond craptacular), offered advice, a shoulder to cry on, and all the rest. That we’re now writing partners makes total sense.
Yesterday, we received an email from a NYC agent wanting to represent the book. At some point, I’m sure I’ll shout her name from the rooftops, but for now, I’m being discreet. We need to do some revisions. This is only one step in the entire process, although, admittedly, it is a pretty big step.
I posted to the Noodler email loop that I was weirdly calm. I am. Sort of. Of course, at lunch, I tried to eat my salad with a spoon. And I’m both calm and jittery, like I’m regretting chasing that venti latte with a Red Bull.
I’ll post more on our query stats later this week, because they’re interesting (well, if you’re a writer, they might be). But for now, I’m brainstorming new spicies (Kyra’s word for spices) for the hotdish.
Sometimes it takes writing to figure out what you are writing about and then you must go back and start all over again.
My instructor for the children’s writing class said this the other day (I’m paraphrasing slightly).
I have a friend (no, this isn’t me in the guise of friend–for real) who claims to hate writing “under the burden of previously written scenes.” This person is a good writer (but look at how deftly I avoid revealing gender). But I’ve never seen this person (more gender-avoiding waltzing) do more than a rough draft of a novel. In a strange paradox, this person hates “wasted scenes” but has walked away from (by my count) four novels.
Oh, and I’m not talking about anyone who reads this blog. If you thought “That’s me!”
You. Thought. Wrong.
But I’ve been thinking about this. My instructor referred to it as impatience. When you write, it simply doesn’t all come at once. I suppose it could, for some people. I know my brain can only handle so much at a time. When I started the revisions for my current project, I was all about voice. So much so, I forgot about structure. Structure flew out the window, ran down the street, and I’m still calling her name, trying to get her back.
Actually, this week, I’m all about structure. You might say the Hard-looking, Eye-looking is courtin’ structure.
Let’s hope she’ll want to be my steady gal.
Writing Wrongs 
