Narrative Drive

Amy here. When I lived in Washington, DC, I rented a WWII-era studio on Capitol Hill. Fabulous. Every day I walked to work and passed Folger Shakespeare Library; the Supreme Court and Library of Congress; and, the most beautiful building on earth, the United States Capitol. One day, a woman befuddled by her map stopped me and asked, "Where's the Capitol?" I pointed to the ginormous building before us. A couple of Congressional aides strutting by snickered (yes, they absolutely did), and she wilted a little. I reassured her that there's no such thing as a stupid question. None at all.

Having worked for the most convoluted bureaucracy on planet earth, the United States Government, I can say with utmost sincerity that publishing is a close second. Lots of unspoken rules and unknowable expectations. I don't know what I don't know and neither do you. Ask away; we'll give it a go or pose it to one of our special guests. So if you have a question, whatever it may be, know you're safe here: writersgroupquestions@gmail.com.

Q) I have representation for my first novel from a successful agent. Many editors have reviewed my full MS and have said that they enjoyed my writing and characters but found that my novel lacked narrative drive. I have revised extensively a few times, but am getting the same concern with each submission. I used to think that my novel was getting better each time, but for the first time I think it may be getting worse. I'm afraid I'm removing too much in order to achieve the "what happens next" suspense factor. Can you offer any advice about what editors are truly looking for when they assess a novel for narrative drive?

Lynne Griffin
Imagine that every detail you give readers is a stone you ask them to carry for a long journey up a mountain. As the load becomes heavier, the reader will reevaluate his or her load, asking if each is integral to the experience. Once at the mountain top, all the stones the reader carried for no reason will add up to pile of bad feelings and negative impressions of the author.

Narrative drive is story force. If you’re in what you believe to be your final revision, before sending your manuscript to an agent or editor, you must take accountability for every sentence, every word. When you come upon dialogue that says nothing, cut it. When you read scenes that do nothing to move the story forward, sorry, they must go. Glorious phrases that don’t tell the reader something worth carrying—kill those little darlings. When you revise with narrative drive in mind, you will eventually get to the heart of your story. After this humbling experience of accountable revision, you may have to go back to the drawing board to add scenes rich in conflict, loaded with compelling details. Now is the time to rework the piece with the goal of asking your readers to care, inviting them to embrace what you're asking them to hold.

Amy MacKinnon
In a word? Compelling. Suspenseful. Page-turner. Even children's picture books -- take Where the Wild Things Are -- make us care deeply about the character and wonder what will happen on the next page. Do that.

Lisa Marnell
All you have to know is this:
YOUR CHARACTER MUST SUFFER FROM THE TORTURE OF HER INTERNAL ANGST.

This will drive your narrative and this will force the reader to stay up late into the night to find out what happens. Things must get bleak for the old MC, then bleaker still. She has to want something so, so badly, but in chasing it, she must face the worst decision and struggle of her life.
Now, if you want to know how to achieve this, it's a simple answer as well. YOU must suffer internal angst in the writing and revising. What you must do is - as Amy says - up the stakes. Then, add a surprise, shock yourself. Next, sit somewhere by yourself in the middle of the night and think of one more thing to make it worse for your character. Tell yourself this isn't good enough and make it more compelling. This is not fun. I know. It's actually torture, until you have a breakthrough. This feels like heaven on earth. I know, I had a breakthrough last night.

What you cannot do is think that an okay story is good enough to make it. IT WON'T.

Yes, you can do this if you are not afraid to go back to square one and look at the story again and again, until it sings. You can do this!

Hannah Roveto
Not that a group blog needs narrative drive, but like a novel, we do not want to wallow in repetition, nor do we want to put down words for their own sake. So I offer this as you do revisions. Everyone works differently, but this helps me. Absorb every wise word above, and then sit down with a cup of tea and write an abbreviated summary of each scene, each chapter. Two lined sheets of paper at the most. Identify troublesome passages. Highlight where they are and take a close look at them and how they fit into the whole. Why does the reader need that section? Do we need it at that moment, in that way? What physicality in that scene provides movement and action, even if the passage takes us into a character's thoughts? Does this involve the reader, or simply inform? Sometimes it helps to reread a book like The Time Traveler's Wife, that ties every moment in time, every thought to a purpose. Dig at it and explore the why. Then return to your own work. Sometimes I find when a section is not pushing the narrative forward, something is missing in the story that my brain tried to fill without success. Why did I write that passage, what did I want to say, and how can I deliver with more impact? Doodle your thoughts next to your summary. You will find yourself finding ways of being more compelling, of upping the stakes, and before you know it, you will be adding words and not deleting them, and the result will be exactly what you need.

Absence

Posted by Lisa Marnell

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Perhaps the other old adage is true as well: Out of Sight, Out of Mind. After being away visiting family in Montreal, I must admit that I've come to the conclusion that both of these sayings are wise.

You see, I decided to leave my WIP behind when I went away. For a full eight days I didn't read or write a word of my manuscript. This may not seem like a long time to some writers, but I check in with my main character nearly every day, writing as little as a paragraph or reading a scene.

Of course, common advice is to let your manuscript rest. To take a break from it so you can try to come back and see it with new eyes, a fresh perspective. I can't say I've ever done this. I decided to give it a try.

On the flight back to California, I took out a journal and opened it to a blank page. And I thought.

At first I thought about my ending. Next, I thought about my theme. The notes I scribbled over the course of half and hour, were barely legible, full of criticism. I must, I decided, raise the stakes, write a novel that's more "edgy". Then, as I reached the end of that journal page, scattered with inspired chicken scratches, I came to a realization.

I like my story.

It's that simple. I felt relieved and happy. Is that how writing is supposed to make us feel?

A Pause on the Journey

by Hannah Roveto

The journey becomes so encompassing, we sometimes forget to pause and look around. Today, stop. Look around and breathe it in.

Five years ago I was known as "the writer" at work, the first to be assigned press releases and speeches and reports and executive correspondence. I walked the aisles of bookstores and libraries and ran my finger along the spines of novels I loved and ones yet to be discovered. Once I was old enough to spell, I wrote short stories, snippets of long stories. I even had friends who'd been published. Still, theirs was another world.

Then comes the moment. Enough. I cannot live another day without releasing that part of my insides that insists on taking this writing thing seriously. The notice is up on the library bulletin board: a writers' group, hosting an author. A writers' group; are you a writer, or not, Hannah? A phone call, and I am part of the group -- a dysfunctional one, but it is a declaration of intent, a physical and mental step forward. Every year, more steps, tentative and yet increasingly certain.

Five years later, I am picking up my child at that same library. A large poster promoting an author's appearance is behind us, and my daughter points with a big smile on her face as she turns to her friend's mother. "She's in the mall, too, and there's another picture downstairs with the book." This is true. The long glass-fronted bulletin board in the lower entrance features a fall author series. Amy is there, leading the way, and nearby is Hallie Ephron, whom I had the honor of interviewing for this blog.

"You know her?" asks the woman.

"She's my friend." This is not enough. Amy's gorgeous black-and-white photo nudges me. "She's in my writers' group."

A neighbor passes by at that precise moment, overhears. "Really? How's your book going?"

"I've started to query agents," I tell her. "And I'm starting a second one."

"Anita Shreve and Hannah Roveto. Quite the neighborhood." She smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. The low-slung, brown shingled house was the home of the senior Shreves, but I won't quibble.

I get home and open my child's backpack. This is the same day, I kid you not. A notice falls out; a writer and parenting expert is coming to the school complex's massive Performing Arts Center to speak. The story was in the weekly newspaper, as well, Lynne's name in bold type, her Web site -- her beautiful sea-glass site -- listed for more details on her parenting work and her fiction, coming out in April.

On my computer is a recent email, promising that a full revision of a lyrical, stunning story coming soon for my reading pleasure -- before the agent sees it. How cool is that? (That's not how Lisa described it, but her voice is so distinctive, this character and situation so compelling, it will be that!) Before I switch to my PR email, I check blogs I love, your blogs about writing and life, all names I know and voices I hear in my head from the words on a screen. I glance at the list on my desk, too. Agents names. Real agents with real offices, with notes on whom they represent, their contact information not only jotted down, but in a few cases now, used.

This is my real world, five years later. This is a journey for all of us, a unique individual journey; mine certainly has been made clearer because of Amy and Lynne and Lisa, but there is still the do-ing of it all that has unfolded within me. While it feels unreal some days, yesterday it felt crystalline solid. Where this journey will lead, I don't know, but I am moving every day deeper into that territory. When my boss says, "You're the writer, you take this," I smile. Today that has a whole different meaning. Today I really am the writer, evolving as the writer I wished I could be years ago, step by step.

Hurrah for... the Day Job?

by Hannah Roveto

"It's fine for writing teachers to talk in self-help jargon about how their lives require 'balance' and 'shifting gears' between teaching and writing, but below that civil language lurks the uncomfortable fact that the creation of literature requires a degree of monomania...It's hard throw your whole self into something when that self has another job." -- David Gessner, "Those Who Write, Teach," The New York Times Magazine, September 21, 2008

Mon-o-ma-ni-a: an excessive interest in or enthusiasm for some one thing. (Definition two: a mental disorder characterized by irrational preoccupation with one subject.)

How many of you are independently wealthy? How many of you have no families or friends, no homes save the hotel with staff who serve up each meal and deliver your laundry neatly folded? If only we could make our entire living by writing. How simple and glorious life would become. Hallie Ephron once announced in a class I took with her that she'd recently realized her entire income came from the literary life, at last. She taught, wrote bylined articles, wrote her wonderful mysteries. No more "other job." Those of us around the table sighed happily on her behalf and dreamed the whole way home of reaching that goal.

Into this comes Mr. Gessner's article in the New York Times, asking whether "an artist can survive success in the academy." I saved his article for dead last this week, hesitant to read it. Turned out, for good reason. He quotes Mike Magnuson as saying, "What teaching has done for me is make me not want to read anything, written by anybody, for the rest of my life." Holy cow. Now what am I supposed to do when I grow up?

I thought of my own day job in public relations. I can't count the moments when I grind my teeth against the compulsion to get back to my fiction. At least once a week I finish my PR checklist and pull up my work-in-progress and the phone rings and I gaze longingly at the screen before admitting defeat, because it will be a good hour before I can attend to it. Of course, at that time the kids will come home, and crazy me pulls up the WIP again as though that will make them instantly dive into homework without a fuss or cross word to each other. (The faint laughter you hear from my corner of the world at that point is, well, monomaniacal...)

Gessner's article made me think of my mother, who is an artist, who went back to school when I was young to get her master's degree in library science. She chose a job that had nothing to do with her art, on purpose. The work was satisfying, concrete and produced a paycheck. Most important, she would say, was the fact that she literally left her job behind her when she'd put in her time and could focus on her weaving or jewelry with every ounce of her creative soul intact.

Gessner also is making me rethink my day job to some degree. Have I given up my glowing vision of a fully writerly life, whatever that may be? Not a chance. However, I appreciate what I do have a little more, thanks to him. I am paid to write, first and foremost, and to think strategically and creatively in a way that does not fill my head with fiction other than my own or what I choose to read. Between us, I even love the rush when a television producer or newspaper editor agrees to interview my client.

Maybe the writerly life doesn't have to be fiction 24/7. Maybe there are day jobs that make writing possible on a financial level, and help keep it fresh on the artistic level. The answers, therefore, have to come from proportion and determination when it comes to the writing itself. Maybe someday a little less PR, a little more fiction could be a personal ideal in my particular case; who knows? After all, if we're really being honest, everything interferes with writing at one point or another. Showers and meals, everything and everyone. Which may be bad news for our WIPs, but it's not bad news for us. We are writers. We are monomaniacal. Which is what it takes to get the job done.

What it's all about

Posted by Lisa Marnell

As a writers' group we have broken bread together, or more specifically, we've shared many meals; bagels for breakfast and lunches at Grub Street's Muse, dinner at restaurants, dinner at Lynne's. We've dug into tarts, cakes, pies and cookies. We've drunk multiple cups of tea and we've sipped sparkling cider as we've toasted to each other's successes and accomplishiments.

We all managed to get a decent night's sleep when shared a (tiny) hotel room.

When we've car-pooled together, we've managed to find a parking spot for our car in almost-full parking garages in Boston, and we've been able to find said car in said parking spot hours after attending a literary event.

Each of us have shared dreams and disappointments. We've talked about aging parents, loss, and regret.

Over the past four years, we've seen each other's children grow older.

We've problem solved parenting issues; I've benefitted from Lynne's expertise and Amy and Hannah's insights. Yes, we've talked about men and our preferences regarding that subect: big or small, blond or brown-haired, hairy-backed or Olympic-swimmer smooth (we never claimed to be sophisticated).

But of all the experiences we've shared, what I think I love most is reading fresh work from Amy, Hannah, and Lynne, new pages that surprise and entice me. Pages that are e-mailed as attachments are presents wrapped in colorful paper, waiting under a Christmas tree. The creativity of these three women, the places they go, the people they discover (or create) never fail to draw me in.

The Voices

Posted by Lisa Marnell

There are many voices that speak to me. They don't come from little creatures, sitting on my shoulders, helping me decide between good from evil. Besides, I don't have enough room on my shoulders to carry about the number of voices that speak to me. Perhaps I should explain.

One voice is gruff and deep like a rumble of thunder. It always says the same old thing: "Hey! Lisa! The stakes in your story aren't high enough." You, again? I complain, But I upped the stakes already! "More stakes! More!" It shouts to me day after day after day.

One voice is soothing, low-pitched female. She's less persistent. She doesn't talk to me as often and when she does, I tend to listen. "Excuse me," she whispers with the trace of a British accent. "What do you say to adding a more poignant detail in this description? And perhaps you should paint this setting more clearly." Her suggestions are fun; I could Word Paint until the cows come home.

The third voice is probably the most annoying. She speaks in a flat tone and only says five words, time and time again: "I don't get this story," she complains. What don't you get? I ask. The character's actions? The plot turns? "I don't get this story," she repeats ad nauseum. Oh, she's annoying, and she's the one that fills me with self-doubt. She's right, I tell myself. I need to change everything, absolutely everything. I must never pay attention to her.

Another voice I love. "Fantastic," it calls out to me in celebration. If this voice were a person, he'd look like Rafael Nadal. Strong. Confident. Awfully cute and definitely either Spanish like Rafael, or maybe Italian. He sings to me that it's time to celebrate! My novel is on track! It's working!

Every day, I hear these voices. Every day I must choose which voices to listen to, which to ignore. I will stay on track, tie my threads, get ready to send it to my writers' group in a few weeks time. In a way, I've won already.

The Essence of Us

by Hannah Roveto

I didn't know it was Wednesday this morning. Between the holiday weekend and the trips to Staples and Target and signing my name to a thousand papers, between a store grand opening and some national media outreach for my client, and between the pages of the revisions I have been doing between it all, I lost track of the days, as we all do.

Funny, but the post forming in my mind even over the weekend was about rushing, about looking ahead so often that you forget to look around at where you are and what you are doing. Living the moment.

The reason for this kernel of an idea was an article written by the wonderful Kathleen McKenna in a local magazine on some writers' group that has been churning out pages of material for quite a long time, the result of which are books like Tethered, Life Without Summer, and... yes, more to come, we are sure!

To Amy's post last week, many people have approached me to comment on the story, offered their support and best wishes, which has been lovely. Over the weekend we were at the beach, kids swimming to and from the float, when a neighbor with whom I have one of those nice wave-in-passing relationships made it a point to come over specifically to say she'd seen the story. So used to looking ahead am I that I said yes, the group is wonderful, and in a rush of words, explained that I am finishing my revisions (last inning!) and expect to send agent queries this month. (Didn't I once swear I would never make excuses?)

A slow smile came across her face as she said, "You're doing something that is all yours, something just for you all the time. I think that's wonderful."

All my forward-motion, rush-to-what's-next line of thinking came to an abrupt halt. The bustle of the beach, the shouts of the divers off the raft sharpened. I thanked her, and inside thought, hey, it IS cool! The smile didn't come off my face for hours.

Whether or not it's writing, it is important to do something that speaks to your soul, to follow that desire to do... something... to be someone beyond how you are defined in relation to other people. Every stolen minute or every stolen hour (or couple of hours!) with a story is a bit of Being Hannah, and that makes it all the more pleasurable. When I returned to my revisions the next day, I enjoyed them more than I had for weeks. And today is Wednesday, and I am writing now, working some, and writing some more before the door bangs open this afternoon. In the moment. Doing what we love, all for ourselves. What is better than that?

Dreaming

Posted by Lisa Marnell

I was away last week - spending time in BEAUTIFUL! Santa Barbara and beyond, but I'd love to play catch-up with Friday's MLLF question: What's Cool About The Writing Life?

My answer is simple. It's cool to daydream.


Just yesterday, I was walking back from our neighborhood pool, I meandered along a series of walkways that are hidden away by stone fences and pine trees. I was so very alone. It was delightfully relaxing. And yes, of course, I was thinking about my WIP. How could I not be? That ten minute walk was time I gladly share with my characters.

What, I wondered, should be Ava's reaction when she finds out Rose is in danger again?

Just how friendly should I allow my two main characters become?

It's fun - to daydream. It's a lovely perk of being a writer. I get to be a child, to daydream, to fantasize.

Ah, did we choose writing or did writing choose us?

Five Remembrances

By Amy MacKinnon

I've written in this space before about the Five Remembrances of Buddha:

The Five Remembrances
1. I am of the nature to grow old. I cannot escape growing old.
2. I am of the nature to have ill-health. I cannot escape having ill-health.
3. I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
4. All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
5. I inherit the results of my actions in body, speech and mind. My actions are the ground on which I stand.

Though I'm not a person of faith, these aphorisms appeal to my sense of perspective on the world. To some, they may appear bleak. To me, they are a way of coping with the inevitable. Acceptance is a powerful thing.

How does it all apply to this writing life of ours? When we dream of the possibilites of having our words appear in print, we may include buckets of money, best-seller status, glowing reviews in the New York Times, scads of charming notes from readers, and, if we are so bold, a place on a certain talk show host's nightstand and then her bookclub.

And so you should dream. Dream beyond all reason, but be prepared to balance out the glory with the guts of this business. Prepare yourself so you don't succumb to either the glory or the guts of this business. Seek balance. Know that you're never as good as the sycophants claim, nor are you ever as dim as the critics proclaim.

As many wonderful experiences as I've had over the past ten months, and I know just how blessed I am, I am prepared for the downside of putting myself out there. One week before publication and already people are wondering about the details of my personal life, how they measure up to the trauma of my protagonist Clara Marsh. Others will criticize the writing, the subject matter, the overall quality. I am now fair game. For someone who's spent most of her life hiding among the shadows, I expect some days the naysayers will engulf me. This is the price we pay.

So here are my Five Remembrances for Publication

1) I am of the nature to become irrelevant. I cannot escape being irrelevant.
2) I am in the business of being harshly critiqued. I will be cruelly critiqued.
3) I am of the nature to fail miserably. There will be times when I will fail.
4) My words are of the nature to be misinterpreted by those who cannot understand their intent. There is no way to prevent this.
5) I inherit the results of my actions in body, speech and mind. My actions are the ground on which I stand.

You'll notice I didn't change a word of the fifth one. No need. From this point forth, that's all I can control.

------

A big thank you to blog friend and dear, dear reader Larramie. Your post on Tethered is the most magnificent review a writer could ever dream of. I count it among the dearest gifts I've yet received.

Happy launch day, Kristy Kiernan! You know her as the author of Catching Genius, but her second novel, Matters of Faith, is out today and you will love it. It's already an IndieBound pick for September. If you haven't pre-ordered it, I urge you to run out to your local indepedent bookstore today and grab one for yourself and another for your best friend.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Posted by Lisa Marnell

I'm editing final chapters of my second first draft. Huh?

Let me explain. Last year I completed a draft of my YA work in progress, sent it to my writer's group, discussed it with them, and realized it had a FATAL FLAW: Rose, my young protagonist, was telling her mother's story, not hers.

It happens.

I was sitting in the study of our rental house, reflecting on feedback, suggestions for changing the ending of my novel, when I came to terms with the fact that I had to change more than the ending. I pretty much killed that story, poor thing. It's changed hugely, hopefully improved, and I see the light at the end of the tunnel now.

Last week I blogged about the 10,000 hours it takes to master a skill. The theory is that we need to practice and work at something for 10,000 hours to become good at it. This is not always the case, but how many authors who are "overnight successes" have been writing for years and have at least one novel in that bottom desk drawer. I know, I know, there are exceptions; some first attempts at novels are shoved far under the bed, toward the bedroom wall.

I am excited and happy at this point in my writing life. The light at the end of the tunnel draws me a step closer to it each day. Seeing the successes and inevitable success of my writing friends (those whose tenacity drives them to get up and dust themselves off with each and every writing disappointment) tells me my goal is within reach. I keep on keeping on. And so should you.

Besides, writing is really fun!

Dimensions

by Hannah Roveto

The surest sign of summer is the clonkety-clonk of large and growing feet around my house. Two voices have joined the cat and I, insisting they are exhausted when asked to do something, and bored beyond belief as soon as I let them rest. One critical detail: we are the only family in town, in New England, in the U.S. and perhaps the world to not have a gaming system.

Not that we aren't considering a system, although not as an immediate option or even a summer addition to our home. Not that the system wouldn't replace limited time on the TV, computer, and DS and come with rules. We haven't made the leap yet, and we are hesitant to do so. We do not see it as anything we really want. "Augh!" They groan, eyeballs spinning. "But why not?"

Because... I want them to live in three dimensions. Instead of playing Guitar Hero, one kid actually plays the guitar and the drums, and the other sings and is thinking about keyboard lessons. Instead addition to watching tightly edited television, one kid makes and edits videos and has done one for a local grocery. Instead of playing Dance Dance Revolution, one kid dances, dances on stage and can play both goalie and kick goals. Because both my kids are a bit obsessive and I worry it will be a battle to keep the primary focus on the 3-D worlds they have found for themselves in that time and space that being bored allows just before you decide what you want -- need, in your soul -- to do with your time.

Then I hear this: "You spend all your free (!) time on the computer." True enough. I spend my time writing, creating new worlds and new beings whom I need to see in three dimensions in order for others to experience them as well. I need to relive long-ago family vacations spent in piney campgrounds, or the feel of a baseball bat in my hands when it connects with the ball, or the summer spent working at a veterinary hospital, the sweet smell of disinfectant and the musk of dog and cat, and the paralyzing tension in the steps of a German Shepherd being brought into a room soon after an old, ill dog was put to sleep. I need to remember how a face crinkled just so with laughter, the precise pitch of a shriek of happiness and not anger, whether a particular person strode or lumbered or sashayed. I need to pull from the 3-D world to build a dream in the 3-D world: a real story, start to finish that may make its way into the real world some day.

I want my children to know how to live in three dimensions and to find their dreams. I want them to be bored, to have space and time to find what they want most in themselves, to nurture it themselves, to live it for themselves. Maybe because I waited so long in my life to dig deep and push my own dreams forward, I am being a bit obsessive myself on this issue. I freely admit this. What's the big deal, right? Maybe it's enough to realize that there is a 2-D and 3-D world at all, and that the rewards of 3-D are richer and fuller. Maybe by living life in 3-D and leading by example, we can all show -- rather than tell -- children in our lives and others as well how to realize their dreams in multiple dimensions, too.

A Story in Pictures

Posted by Lisa Marnell

Perhaps I was inspired by the Muse & the Marketplace conference last weekend. Maybe it was the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) summer conference flyer that came in the mail, but when I sat down to write early Saturday morning, I couldn't. I did something better.

I am not a visual person, not really. I'm the person who can tell you every song that has been playing on the overhead speakers in a store for the previous twenty minutes. I listen well. I don't need a picture.

However, this Saturday, I searched images online. I looked through photographs from my dad's old place in New Hampshire. For my YA story to come to life, I needed to see the place I was writing about. How could I write about December in fictional Sugarton, New Hampshire, with now-drying Southern California mountains watching me from my window. And the birds! They were lovely, yes, but quite the distraction. So, I searched for photos that would bring me to my protagonist's world. Take a look at my album: photos taped on the wall above my laptop now.




The bowling alley where I first saw Rose, the real Rose, a girl with stringy hair and not enough change for a Coca Cola.






The house Rose returns to after her hospitalization. This is the start of my novel, and this picture helps me visualize Rose's home. It's dark. It's dreary. Her house is actually half this size. It's not somewhere she wants to be. I found this photo on Google images.

















This is the storm that arrives the night that Rose walks to her friend Ava's house.




Here's the ski hill where, well, you'll have to buy the book. And I have to finish writing it.

How to Live Forever

by Hannah Roveto

A blog is a conversation, and we here at The Writers' Group are polite if sometimes pointed in our conversations. We don't discuss religion or politics or money, even as they relate to writing. Until now.

I have a question for you and I want you to take this quite seriously:

Do you believe in reincarnation?

Yes, I really want to know. Do you believe you will come back to another life, that the world or God or gods have made this not just a one-way trip, but a cyclical experience?

If you do not believe, the next paragraph is for you. If you do believe, please drop down two. Thank you.

If you do not beieve in reincarnation, this is it. You are living it here and now. And if you read this blog, you are truly living it, or at least ready to take steps to make it happen. If we truly only go around once, nothing matters more than living your purpose. Care for your loved ones, even when they roll their eyes at you. Eat and enjoy. So what if bathing suit season is around the corner? Dairy Twist is open for the season, with its hand-lettered signs and 43 ice creams and cherry dip and the Pepto-Bismol pink antique car out front. One small cone won't hurt. And write. Make a little time every day to write. What are you waiting for?

If you do believe in reincarnation, here's the flip side of the coin. If we are reincarnated, there is something we are supposed to learn from this life, yes? We are supposed to challenge ourselves, learn about ourselves, improve and inch closer toward a true clarity of being. There is a reason for writing. No matter what words come from the pen or printer, they demanded introspection about what you need, what others need in their lives. At leaat, this time around.

If you are here on Earth with a need to write, follow what your soul says it must do. Do you have a choice? Of course. You can let time slip by, let other pressures push the writing aside. Doing nothing is a choice. But think of it this way. Whether you're here once or again, there is a reason you are compelled to write. Listen to that voice.

Stand up, stretch, peer out the window at what I hope is a beautiful day where you are, take a deep breath and sit back down, close out Blogger, and write. Enjoy. It is one way for certain to live most in the moment, and one way you will, no doubt, live forever.

(With thanks, I confess, to Jesse Ventura. Yes, Jesse Ventura, who is on a book tour. After seeing Stephen Colbert and Donnie Deutsch both interview him, I haven't the darndest idea what his book is about. However, when asked what motivated him to be a Navy Seal, then a wrestler, then a Governor, and now a writer, he said: "I can't get my head wrapped around the idea of reincarnation. I don't want to be seventy and say woulda-coulda-shoulda. I want to say, I did this, I did that." And by the way, his publisher overrode him on his book cover.)

Fate

Posted by Lisa Marnell

“I was in the right place at the right time.” That’s how my father explained two things (good things) that happened to him in his life. He always said those words with a sigh and he seemed to forget where he was during his moments of blind staring afterward. If he was sitting in our kitchen in our suburban home outside of Montreal, he’d study the linoleum floor and not notice how the edges close to the door were peeling. If he was driving at the time, he’d relax his hands on the steering wheel and turn into a cool and collected driver for once.

It was fate, in his mind, that he got hired as a pilot for Eastern Airlines. It was destiny he should meet and marry my mom, a flight attendant, Calendar Girl for the airlines, no less.

There are moments, some small, some huge, that change the direction of our lives in some way, enough to make a difference.

In 2004, I bought the book, Word Painting by Rebecca McClanahan. I had made the decision to write a novel. I didn't know her book would be the inspiration that would open the door to whatever talents and drive I had to write. It taught me the difference between good writing and bad, and it helped me to strive to improve my own skills.

In 2006, I attended Michael Lowenthal’s session at the Muse & the Marketplace, Boston’s Grub Street conference. Though Michael, alone, was inspiration enough - his enthusiasm and charisma were tangible – his topic, timeline in fiction, helped my writing enormously. Events in the imaginary worlds we write about happen chronologically, but their revelation in a story rarely do. As writers of fiction, we use flashbacks, flashforwards, foreshadowing, reflection. Where do we start a story? At the beginning? Most oftentimes that’s unlikely. As my peers in our writer’s group can attest, timeline and revelation of events is key in my WIP.

As some of you know, I moved in July, to sunny California. Boxes and boxes arrived from Massachusetts. Books were put on shelves, but some ??? were missing. Over the past few months I have turned to my bookshelf for two books I love and rely on for both inspiration and craft. Word Painting and Avoidance. sadly, were missing. Until tonight.

I’ll admit, I was not engaged in anything profound at the time; I was searching for my blow dryer – how mundane – and I reached into a box of winter clothes I had pushed to the back of my closet. I hoped my hand would close around the blow dryer’s cord, instead I felt the spine of a book. As I pulled out the book, I noticed the beige color, the light blue painting: Word Painting. I gasped (really, I did). As I reached into the box again, I wasn’t looking for the wire of my blow dryer. When my fingers touched the smooth cover of a book, I knew it was Michael’s book. It was Avoidance.

It was fate, of course, those books were together, those bound, neatly packaged, symbols of inspiration. Odd, too, I finalized my plot last night: it’s time for the writing, the meat, the revisions.

I never had a sign before though other members of our writing group have. Amy has. Lynne has too, I think. Hannah? Finding these books as I feel good about my story is a sign. Avoidance and Word Painting will sit on my desk, to the right of my laptop. I will read them when I need to remember what good writing sounds like. I will drink in their covers and feel their presence and run my fingers along their well worn pages when I need to know I was meant to finish what I started.

Making a Literary Life Friday: Fiction Challenges?

The four of us were writers before we turned our attentions to fiction in a serious way. Journalism, public relations, technical and educational writing are discrete disciplines, nothing like fiction. Thus, our thought this morning is: what kind of Other Writing did you do before turning to fiction, and what did you find most interesting, or more difficult, or most amazing about the transition?

Lisa Marnell
When I write for work: reports, children's evaluations etc, I must force myself to start working. With fiction writing, I must force myself to stop. That being said, there are times, often, in either fiction or non-fiction, when I find myself in the zone, so engrossed in the subject of my writing that I barely hear the phone when it rings.

Amy MacKinnon
Sorry, I'm late to the party today. I started writing essays and must admit I find them the easiest of all literary forms. I adore reading them--Elyssa Ely and David Sedaris are favorites--and so enjoy writing them. I think my favorite ones are tailored to radio, i.e. NPR. Those driveway moments are always inspiring. I feel fortunate to have done a few of those. Reporting, though fascinating, especially the research and actual reporting, was hard. Imagine having to report, research, and then write a story under a tight deadline and then your editor throws another story at you with only a couple hours notice. I wasn't that kind of journalist, never could work so well under the gun, but I know plenty who are and that's why I have so much respect for the field.

Fiction? I am passionate about it, but it's like they say: open a vein and write. Gug...

Hannah Roveto
In public relations and journalism, the challenge is to strip a huge concept down to its bare bones, wrap in a call-to-action. Years (decades) of doing that made the most difficult transition for me the number of threads. It took me quite a while to realize the number of threads not just possible, but necessary, that can be worked in without losing readers to frustration!

Lynne Griffin
I had lunch last week with a dear friend and colleague. When we began discussing my passion for writing fiction, there was no need to deliver my latest shtick about why a parenting expert who wrote a book would find her way toward writing a novel. She said, "I've always seen you, first and foremost, as a writer. You wrote about parenting and now you're writing about families in a different way, that's all." Thanks, Nina! It was a lovely moment for me, to hear someone I respect capture my journey so succinctly. Though what I choose to write about may vary, I am a writer. The seeds for my writing come from family life. I express my truths in fact and fiction.

Cosmic Connections

by Hannah Roveto

The two things every writer must do are read and write. We all know this. When people ask me what I am reading, I always answer with fiction titles. Of late my two answers of "best of the recent reads" are Mark Haddon's Spot of Bother and now Roland Merullo's Breakfast With Buddha, a fabulous book that makes you think, introduces you to Eastern concepts in a Western way, with humor.

Yet we all, I know, read multiple books for multiple reasons. Three other books on my coffee table have been non-fiction: a work-related selection, Marketing to the Social Web, by my former boss, Larry Weber; a parental choice dealing with educational issues; and How to Practice, by the Dalai Lama, chosen because he seems so calm and I get to feeling so chaotic. Hey, why not, right?

Bit by bit, I'd pick each up and read a section, and the strangest thing happened. In my book about digital marketing -- which does apply to promoting authors and books, by the way -- Larry shows how to look at marketing from a new perspective in order to maximize connections. The educational book talks about, yes, the need to understand things from a different viewpoint in order to create strategies to streamline and connect. The Dalai Lama? He wants to show me how happiness comes from clearing the mind, from simplifying, in order to become properly connected. Look at things differently, simplify, connect.

A cosmic connection, without doubt. None of these books had anything to do with writing, yet they absolutely affected my revision process. I really needed someone to remind me not only to turn my own world on end, to examine it more carefully, but to turn my WIP on end and see it more deeply from fresh vantages. Another issue I had was allowing myself to get bogged down with multiple threads. I was a bit afraid of them, worrying whether they would unneccesarily complicate my story. As a result, I was dealing with bulky, chunky, nubby yarn threads, like those you'd weave into a loose homemade scarf. Now I've taken control and streamlined my threads into a smoother ribbon form, that -- no surprise -- weave together more tightly and more effectively.

So, yes, read, read, read, about anything and everything. Flowers, the news (of course!), plumbing, Buddhism, digital marketing, parenting, deck repair, whatever. Read for every part of your life, because somehow, I swear, it all comes back to the writing -- not just as a topic, but sometimes as a tactic -- in the end.

First Draft Exhaustion

Posted by Lynne Griffin

I'm tired today.

What-I-would-give-to-stay-in-bed tired. Don't-put-another-thing-on-my-to-do-list tired.

All because of my work-in-progress.

For the most part, I find writing a first draft to be exhilarating. I like naming characters, considering the most appropriate point of view, and I love choosing story structure. Early on, like a child with a present to open, I can't wait to see inside my characters' motivations. I feel blessed to be brought along on their transformative journeys. As Chris Bohjalian says, "it's the joy of discovery draft." I love learning who my characters really are, following their lead I get to go to places I've never been, meet people I might otherwise never know. It's a literal trip.

Then somewhere in the middle of the story, they start to wear me out. Two weeks ago, I was sipping my morning coffee, not even thinking about my WIP, I had so many other things to do that day. My main character decided that was when she wanted to share her backstory with me. Her story popped into my head, and I needed to rearrange the day to write it all down. She was keeping a scandalous secret for a young girl in the 1950's, and I was afraid I might lose the details if I didn't capture them right there and then.

Last week, I lost an entire night sleep because another lead character wouldn't stop niggling at me. Like a toddler, she'd followed me wherever I went during the day. There she was when I unloaded the dishwasher, she poked me on the shoulder while I tried to answer email. Tugging at my sleeve while I drove my son home from school, even he knew she was bugging me. On the way over to pick up a friend he said, "Are you writing? You have that face on." I laughed because I've been told about that face before. Apparently it's a look I get when I'm writing, but I'm no where near my computer when I make it. My husband and children have seen, the I'm writing face quite often these last few months. My son was right, I'd been trying to figure out what my character would do when faced with her mother's deception.

So there I am, right in the heart of the story. The place where characters have the power to shock me, distract me and otherwise put me through the wringer. They could let me sleep, but they won't. They could choose to minimize what they tell me, but they can't seem to. They could slow down the pace with which they disclose their secrets, but they don't. And to tell you the truth, as exhausted as I am, I wouldn't have it any other way.

All In Good Time

by Hannah Roveto

I am an author. I do not put these words out there lightly. My work-in-progress is almost – not quite – in agents’ hands, and I am acutely aware of the steps from here toward publication, the uncertainty, the dangers, the challenges. Some day, though, someone will ask, “When did you know you were an author?” and this is what I will say:

The school system in my town is under huge pressure to prepare each and every child for Ivy League colleges, because children who fail in the universal quest to become professional athletes then have a back-up plan. This is what I tell other parents as a joke, although some do take a moment to realize I am kidding. Parents check other people’s kids status on Honor Roll, ask how many A’s were earned, in what subjects. Where they get A’s reflects talent, skill, arenas of future success.

Thus, you can imagine the reaction when I said something along the lines of the following aloud: “Just because a child gets an A doesn’t mean it’s a talent, and the one who doesn’t get an A might be destined to do something great in that subject. There are other factors. Like just plain time.”

Heresy. So I asked them to consider my own journey. I was going to be a veterinarian when I was young. But A’s in math and science did not lead me there. I started college with a major in Soviet Studies and International Relations, and A’s did not get me to the United Nations, either. I ended up in the journalism school, and took my first job in public relations because they would pay me to write. I realized I’d been a writer all my life.

Since I was able to spell, I filled notebooks with stories and story fragments, but fiction is without a doubt its own unique alchemy. I mastered business writing, and finally five years ago sat down to try my hand at fiction with serious intent. It was something I’d dreamed of, played with, but never really committed myself to at that level. (You know what I mean!) Then I put myself out there for a writers group, looking for people whom I trusted enough to push me, and I found them. Two years later, I am finishing revisions on a novel that I believe in. Better yet, my Writers Group believes, too.

“So,” I concluded, “it took me this long to become an Author.” The word slipped by everyone else, but to me, it hung in the air. Now that it is out there, aloud, I own it in a way I never have before. I felt it. Not only a Writer, an Author. Right now. It's time.

Making a Literary Life Friday: AHA! Moments

They're a gift, of course. One you weren't expecting. When you make a sudden realization about your writing or your work in progress (WIP), the fog lifts, you see clearly. There are times when you suddenly perceive a character's motivation or understand why a certain plot point is missing (wasn't it obvious?) Each of us has had an AHA! moment about our work. What's yours?

Lisa
Mine came last week. In a blog entry a couple weeks back, Lynne mentioned a book, The Anatomy of a Story by John Truby. I bought it a few days back and started reading it last week. Well, thanks Lynne (and author John Truby). My AHA moment came when I read these lines in chapter 2:

"Determine your best character in your idea: 'Best' doesn't mean 'nicest.' It means the 'most fascinating, challenging and complex,' ... The reason you want to tell a story about your best character is that this is where your interest, and the audience's interest, will inevitably go."

Well, my best character in my WIP isn't my main character. Sad, but true. My New Hampshire girl has been changing in the past twenty-four hours in my mind. That was an AHA! moment.

Amy
Well, my Aha! came in the mail. Line edits by my editor, Sally Kim. At first I was staggered by the amount of ink, and then by the care she took with each and every word, comma, graf break. I so appreciate her efforts and trust her instincts. Who said editors no longer edit? My second Aha! came when I realized TETHERED was actually going to be published and read by people. Oh my goodness, I never really considered how high-profile this is and just how vulnerable it feels. 1-2-3, breathe...

Another Aha! (not really, I always knew she was the agent I most wanted) was when I opened my copy of Poets & Writers and found my agent Emma Sweeney named Twenty-one Agents You Should Know. She's someone who reads through her slush pile and I'm a perfect example of one of her many clients found that way. Congratulations, Emma, I couldn't agree more!

Hannah
My "aha" came in spelling out my "retroactive outline" (love that, thank you!), the far more detailed, character-by-character and thread-by-thread outline done as I re-re-revised looking for more action. I could not have done it earlier, but I can bring it into my process sooner next time, and am so better prepared and greased for the next effort. Marilyn (protagonist number two) thanks Russell (protagonist number one) from the bottom of her heart.

Lynne
One of my Aha! moments this week was captured in my post yesterday. Another came from my editor at St Martin's, Hilary Teeman. After carefully going over my revision, she pointed out the need for a line or two about a particular character's evolution, and though her suggestion is subtle, to me it carries an important message I want to convey. My final Aha! this week came to me like a hit on the head. A major plot point knocked me off my feet, and will be the bridge I need to get from the beginning to the end of my work-in-progress. The muse has been very kind to me as I journey toward the middle of my second novel.