It's the time of year when everyone puts together lists. Best TV Shows, Worst Movies, Top-Selling Books, etc.
While I might still do that, I wanted to put together a list of my favorite Christmas books. Then I tried to think of books with memorable Christmases. None of the usual books came to mind. I didn't read How The Grinch Stole Christmas, I only remember the television show. A Visit From Saint Nicholas aka The Night Before Christmas was always recited in my home, not read--so much so that at 5 I was the one who recited it in front of the fireplace.
There are two scenes from books that I always think of this time of year. They seemed to define for me what Christmas is all about.
-Little House on the Prairie. I remember being amazed and humbled when Mr. Cameron, my third grade teacher, read to us about the little girls who were thrilled to get one penny, warm gloves and a piece of candy each for Christmas. Our Christmases growing up weren't extravagant by any means, but there always seemed to be lots of gifts for everyone. I wondered if I could ever be that thankful for so little.
-Little Women. I read this for the first time in fifth grade. I had seen the movie with June Allison and Peter Lawford several times by then, but the book is what stuck. Their father is away serving in the Union Army during the Civil War. Money is tight. Marmee and the older girls work to keep food on the table. Christmas morning, they awake to a feast for breakfast, but Marmee isn't there. She's gone to help the Hummel family, a family in even more desperate circumstances than the Marshes. So the girls pack up their breakfast and take it to share with the Hummels. I could understand the resistance of Jo and Amy-I wouldn't want to give up my special breakfast either-but loved that they finally agreed.
I like to remember at this time of year that Christmas isn't about how much you get or how much you spend--regardless of what all the adds say--but how grateful, kind and generous of spirit you are.
Merry Christmas.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
And Another Thing
I learned about writing from Room.
4. Inspiration only gets you so far.
Emma Donoghue has said that Josef Fritzl case was the original inspiration for the book. He is the man who imprisoned his own daughter in the basement as a sex slave.
Now I would understand how a crime writer would use a case like that for inspiration, as a psychological thriller, a case study of the man.
But Donoghue turned this inspiration on it's head and, of course, changed it. It is not the woman's father who abducts her. It's not a crime story. It is a psychological study, but of the boy and his mother.
Her website explains the extensive research it took to get everything right. Some of that research was, as you can imagine, harrowing. Then there was the mundane, like looking at decorating sites to get the room just right.
I'm going to look at headlines a bit differently from now on. Instead of dismissing certain stories with "that wouldn't fit my genre," I'll look at how it could if I took it from a new angle. This could open up a whole new world for my writing.
How about you? Where do you find inspiration? How much research do you do for each book?
4. Inspiration only gets you so far.
Emma Donoghue has said that Josef Fritzl case was the original inspiration for the book. He is the man who imprisoned his own daughter in the basement as a sex slave.
Now I would understand how a crime writer would use a case like that for inspiration, as a psychological thriller, a case study of the man.
But Donoghue turned this inspiration on it's head and, of course, changed it. It is not the woman's father who abducts her. It's not a crime story. It is a psychological study, but of the boy and his mother.
Her website explains the extensive research it took to get everything right. Some of that research was, as you can imagine, harrowing. Then there was the mundane, like looking at decorating sites to get the room just right.
I'm going to look at headlines a bit differently from now on. Instead of dismissing certain stories with "that wouldn't fit my genre," I'll look at how it could if I took it from a new angle. This could open up a whole new world for my writing.
How about you? Where do you find inspiration? How much research do you do for each book?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
What I Learned About Writing From
Room by Emma Donoghue.
Since the book is showing up on so many Best of 2010 lists, including my own, it seems like a good time to talk about what I learned from it.
First, the blurb: Jack has lived his entire five years in an eleven foot by eleven foot room with Ma. Ma has been there for seven years, ever since she was abducted and imprisoned there. On his fifth birthday, Jack starts asking questions, and learns about "Outside."
The book is told in first person from Jack's point of view.
1. Kids can be resilient, which some writers forget.
Yes, Jack has been a prisoner his whole life. BUT it's the only life he's known. And Ma makes that life as pleasant as she can. They exercise, read, play games, watch TV--but no too much, dance and laugh. Jack loves Room and his life there. The only exception is Old Nick, who sometimes visits at night, while Jack is supposed to be asleep in Closet.
I think, too often, when we write about people in dire situations, the tendency is to write them as always down and depressed. People often rise above their situations. Most of us have experienced a time when everything has gone wrong, and everyone involved ends up laughing. Not after the fact, but during it. Adding a scene like that can make the story seem more true to life.
2. Anticipate the readers' questions/realizations
It seemed that every time I had a question about why Ma was doing what she was or wondered what would happen if . . . , Donoghue let me wonder just long enough and then answered the question or set that event I wondered about in motion. That makes for a satisfying read.
I've been in group critique situations where people wrote things like "Where is this? When is it happening? Who is Jack? What does he want?" on the very first paragraph of the story. Maybe I needed to attach what I thought the back of book copy would say. But critiques like that lead the writer to want to dump all the back story in the first chapter.
Resist this. If I know everything I need to know on the first page, why should I read the next 250?
3. Staying in character is key.
Donoghue does slip a few times--at least I thought so--especially toward the end of the book. Jack's narration seemed too emotionally and relationally savvy for a character with his history. Jack can do math and read better than most third graders. So there are times he sounds older than five, but that is with good reason.
I'm working on a novel with an eleven-year-old boy as the narrator. Not an easy task. Donoghue has set the bar pretty high for writing a realistic child of the opposite sex. I will do my best to write up to her level.
I highly recommend Room to all writers. It's not always an easy read emotionally, but it is a quick one. The pages just kept turning, because I wanted to know what would happen to Jack and Ma next. I think you'll want to know, too.
Since the book is showing up on so many Best of 2010 lists, including my own, it seems like a good time to talk about what I learned from it.
First, the blurb: Jack has lived his entire five years in an eleven foot by eleven foot room with Ma. Ma has been there for seven years, ever since she was abducted and imprisoned there. On his fifth birthday, Jack starts asking questions, and learns about "Outside."
The book is told in first person from Jack's point of view.
1. Kids can be resilient, which some writers forget.
Yes, Jack has been a prisoner his whole life. BUT it's the only life he's known. And Ma makes that life as pleasant as she can. They exercise, read, play games, watch TV--but no too much, dance and laugh. Jack loves Room and his life there. The only exception is Old Nick, who sometimes visits at night, while Jack is supposed to be asleep in Closet.
I think, too often, when we write about people in dire situations, the tendency is to write them as always down and depressed. People often rise above their situations. Most of us have experienced a time when everything has gone wrong, and everyone involved ends up laughing. Not after the fact, but during it. Adding a scene like that can make the story seem more true to life.
2. Anticipate the readers' questions/realizations
It seemed that every time I had a question about why Ma was doing what she was or wondered what would happen if . . . , Donoghue let me wonder just long enough and then answered the question or set that event I wondered about in motion. That makes for a satisfying read.
I've been in group critique situations where people wrote things like "Where is this? When is it happening? Who is Jack? What does he want?" on the very first paragraph of the story. Maybe I needed to attach what I thought the back of book copy would say. But critiques like that lead the writer to want to dump all the back story in the first chapter.
Resist this. If I know everything I need to know on the first page, why should I read the next 250?
3. Staying in character is key.
Donoghue does slip a few times--at least I thought so--especially toward the end of the book. Jack's narration seemed too emotionally and relationally savvy for a character with his history. Jack can do math and read better than most third graders. So there are times he sounds older than five, but that is with good reason.
I'm working on a novel with an eleven-year-old boy as the narrator. Not an easy task. Donoghue has set the bar pretty high for writing a realistic child of the opposite sex. I will do my best to write up to her level.
I highly recommend Room to all writers. It's not always an easy read emotionally, but it is a quick one. The pages just kept turning, because I wanted to know what would happen to Jack and Ma next. I think you'll want to know, too.
Monday, December 6, 2010
And Another Thing. . .
I learned about writing from my critique group.
5. Listen to all the feedback.
Even if you disagree. Violently.
This can be a hard one--it is for me. But even if you don't agree with the feedback, you should listen. Because something didn't work for that person. It may be a style thing, which you don't want to change. But the thing is, what they may have given as the reason in the critique may not be the real cause of their discontent with your story.
I'm not saying that anyone is lying to you or purposely obfuscating. But sometimes a piece of a story doesn't gel for us, and we can't quite say why. So we might look at the things we can identify: sentence structure, pronouns, adverbs--anything to try and help the author.
So do yourself a favor and try to figure out what really went wrong. Remember that one reader in your group represents a lot more potential readers for your finished work. Do you really want to lose that many people for something that you could have fixed, without giving up your personal style?
5. Listen to all the feedback.
Even if you disagree. Violently.
This can be a hard one--it is for me. But even if you don't agree with the feedback, you should listen. Because something didn't work for that person. It may be a style thing, which you don't want to change. But the thing is, what they may have given as the reason in the critique may not be the real cause of their discontent with your story.
I'm not saying that anyone is lying to you or purposely obfuscating. But sometimes a piece of a story doesn't gel for us, and we can't quite say why. So we might look at the things we can identify: sentence structure, pronouns, adverbs--anything to try and help the author.
So do yourself a favor and try to figure out what really went wrong. Remember that one reader in your group represents a lot more potential readers for your finished work. Do you really want to lose that many people for something that you could have fixed, without giving up your personal style?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
December Goals
I've been pretty wishy-washy about my goals lately. But it's felt like I needed that in order to figure out my next steps. Which story to work on. That sort of thing. I've definitely decided to work on MMG, since it's the one that's been in the queue the longest (it hates being called "the oldest").
So, without further ado:
--Finish CWC critique(s) (1/1)
--1,250 words a day on MMG
Okay, maybe a little more ado. Since critiques are now due the 1st Sunday instead of the last Monday, I'm counting the December critique. Which is Jenny's for this month.
Where did 1,250 come from? That's about 5 pages. When things are percolating, I can get 5 pages in about an hour. Doable. AND that should get me to Done about the end of January, which is what I was shooting for. All good.
Easy peasy.
So, without further ado:
--Finish CWC critique(s) (1/1)
--1,250 words a day on MMG
Okay, maybe a little more ado. Since critiques are now due the 1st Sunday instead of the last Monday, I'm counting the December critique. Which is Jenny's for this month.
Where did 1,250 come from? That's about 5 pages. When things are percolating, I can get 5 pages in about an hour. Doable. AND that should get me to Done about the end of January, which is what I was shooting for. All good.
Easy peasy.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
What I Learned About Writing From
Critique Groups
I have been a member of two different critique groups over the past 10 years. Which, I hear, makes me pretty lucky. Some writers bounce around a lot more than that. I met all the members of my current group, Creek Writers Council, at the first one, Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group. Many lessons were picked up along the way. Here are some of them.
1. If you have to explain it . . .
I've been on both sides of this one. A reader will say, "I don't understand how George went from standing on a hill in Italy to hanging from a flagpole in Quebec." Once the writer starts explaining that, "Well, you see, he boarded a blimp in Tuscany, then he flew to Madrid where he hopped a train for Calais . . ." Yeah. But if it's not on the page, the reader doesn't know this. And you, as the writer, don't get to sit down with every reader to explain that. At least you hope not.
My friend, Jenny, calls it "getting it on the page." What I see left off the page most often is setting. Where am I? What's it like there? How's the weather? All things that the writer has in his head when he's writing, but that he needs to show me as the reader.
I'm trying my best right now to overwrite my submissions. Most of my critique group find it easier to show where to cut than trying to figure out what was left out.
2. Don't assume everyone knows what you do.
I stand by my previous lesson of "Don't underestimate the intelligence of your readers." However, not everyone has the same specialized knowledge. And the terms from that specialized area may not be easy to decode for someone not in the club.
Dancers, musicians, computer programmers, accountants, teachers, doctors, etc. all use terms that people outside of those realms may or may not know. Or it may mean something different to other specialties. A paradiddle in dance sounds like a paradiddle in drumming, but one is executed with the feet and the other with the hands.
This is a hard one, because once you learn something, it can be hard to remember that you didn't always know it. This is where critique groups from diverse backgrounds are essential.
3. No two people read exactly alike.
Everyone approaches submissions in his own way. Some read straight through the first time, then go back and dissect. Some mark as they go and only read once. And each person has his own focus for critiques.
I've seen puns be a pet peeve for one reader and a delight for another. Some will add a comma to your sentence and others are just as likely to mark one out. I once had a woman tell me that I had a male character describe a room as only a woman would. The scene didn't bother the man in our group at all.
All of this can be really frustrating. But it is good practice for when your work goes out into the wider world. Get used to people misreading your work, your intention.
I'm learning to weed through the feedback so I can determine what to act on and what to leave as is. Notice I didn't say "ignore." I do listen to and read all feedback. I just don't always agree with all of it.
4. It's your work.
That's the biggest lesson from working with critique groups. Your work has to reflect you. Your voice. Your story. Your style.
We recently shook up how we run our critique group, because the original format was no longer worker for some of us. It's not that it was wrong, just that we are at a different place in our writing. The strength of the group was tested and held. We discussed the issues and made a change that everyone could work with.
I've learned that I need to speak up when something isn't working. Because of Lesson #3. It's my work, and I'm the one who needs to take responsibility for making the best it can be. With the help of my friends.
I have been a member of two different critique groups over the past 10 years. Which, I hear, makes me pretty lucky. Some writers bounce around a lot more than that. I met all the members of my current group, Creek Writers Council, at the first one, Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group. Many lessons were picked up along the way. Here are some of them.
1. If you have to explain it . . .
I've been on both sides of this one. A reader will say, "I don't understand how George went from standing on a hill in Italy to hanging from a flagpole in Quebec." Once the writer starts explaining that, "Well, you see, he boarded a blimp in Tuscany, then he flew to Madrid where he hopped a train for Calais . . ." Yeah. But if it's not on the page, the reader doesn't know this. And you, as the writer, don't get to sit down with every reader to explain that. At least you hope not.
My friend, Jenny, calls it "getting it on the page." What I see left off the page most often is setting. Where am I? What's it like there? How's the weather? All things that the writer has in his head when he's writing, but that he needs to show me as the reader.
I'm trying my best right now to overwrite my submissions. Most of my critique group find it easier to show where to cut than trying to figure out what was left out.
2. Don't assume everyone knows what you do.
I stand by my previous lesson of "Don't underestimate the intelligence of your readers." However, not everyone has the same specialized knowledge. And the terms from that specialized area may not be easy to decode for someone not in the club.
Dancers, musicians, computer programmers, accountants, teachers, doctors, etc. all use terms that people outside of those realms may or may not know. Or it may mean something different to other specialties. A paradiddle in dance sounds like a paradiddle in drumming, but one is executed with the feet and the other with the hands.
This is a hard one, because once you learn something, it can be hard to remember that you didn't always know it. This is where critique groups from diverse backgrounds are essential.
3. No two people read exactly alike.
Everyone approaches submissions in his own way. Some read straight through the first time, then go back and dissect. Some mark as they go and only read once. And each person has his own focus for critiques.
I've seen puns be a pet peeve for one reader and a delight for another. Some will add a comma to your sentence and others are just as likely to mark one out. I once had a woman tell me that I had a male character describe a room as only a woman would. The scene didn't bother the man in our group at all.
All of this can be really frustrating. But it is good practice for when your work goes out into the wider world. Get used to people misreading your work, your intention.
I'm learning to weed through the feedback so I can determine what to act on and what to leave as is. Notice I didn't say "ignore." I do listen to and read all feedback. I just don't always agree with all of it.
4. It's your work.
That's the biggest lesson from working with critique groups. Your work has to reflect you. Your voice. Your story. Your style.
We recently shook up how we run our critique group, because the original format was no longer worker for some of us. It's not that it was wrong, just that we are at a different place in our writing. The strength of the group was tested and held. We discussed the issues and made a change that everyone could work with.
I've learned that I need to speak up when something isn't working. Because of Lesson #3. It's my work, and I'm the one who needs to take responsibility for making the best it can be. With the help of my friends.
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