"Clearly, the fact that stories have plots in common is of no more account than that many people have blue eyes...The plot is they Why. Why? is asked and replied to at various depths; the fishes in the sea are bigger and deeper we go." --Eudora Welty On Writing
I get it. Romance writing is not taken especially seriously -- by me, by the writing community, by most readers who have walked past the blurred and toned bodies, covering the glossy paperbacks in that row in Barnes and Noble. It's okay. We're all cynics when it comes to love, but some of us are willing to set that cynicism aside to read a love story that only asks us to be swept away by the fervor of two characters that we find compelling.
Admittedly, my well of genre knowledge is pretty shallow. It includes a large number of works written by Jennifer Crusie and that one racy plantation-style library book that was passed through the hands of all of the more curious girls in my high school. I remember reading that novel with morbid fascination, and finding myself more than a little out of sync with the aggressive male lead, and the swooning (by the end of the book) bride.
When Ms. Crusie was passed my way, I reacted with a resounding yes. Sure, there was sex in the book, but there was also drama and fun and ugh the kind of love that you love and you hate and you want more of. I realize that once a book is marketed as romance, there are expectations, and I imagine that many genre readers don't react very well if those expectations aren't met. So, I have been resting back on my heels, wondering if I want to go for the commercial gold mine, or give my literary chops a go. With romance, it feels like there really aren't any examples of crossovers written within the last 100 years.
Regardless, I am still writing the love story that I want to write. Stumbling across the above quote by Ms. Welty gave me a renewed sense that the plot work that I am currently doing is going to be key in getting this book where I want it to be. I wrote a new chapter today, and it was the first time that I felt anguish for my lead's pain. That felt like something big.
In other news, I compiled the book with my new software, and found that I currently have 185 pages of first draft (more now that I've written two chapters since then and have yet to incorporate page breaks between chapters). When I first started this blog, I gave myself a deadline based on my kiddo's school year. Of course, all sorts of heinous life stuff took over only a few months into writing, and I lost the childcare that I had hoped to keep through the Summer. So, now with school ending in June, I would like to have something worth optioning by then. It's attainable, it's realistic, and I am well on the way to achieving it. Now, it's time once more to plot. I am about to write yet another chapter of mid-story rock-throwing. I don't want to watch my character endure the things that are going to happen, and yet I realize she has to if either one of us is going to get anywhere.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Friday, December 4, 2015
The Thing
Today I am sitting with Amy Poehler's voice in my head:
“You do it because the doing of it is the thing. The doing is the thing. The talking and worrying and thinking is not the thing.”
Time to do the work. I already mentioned the James Scott Bell book that I'm working reading, and now it is time for the Chapter 1 exercises. This is me being accountable.
Exercise 1 - 10 minute essay on understanding my approach to plot
When readers read my novels, I want them to feel whole at the end. That's because to me, novels are explorations into the choices we make. Novels provide comfort in presenting characters who also stumble and stress and miscalculate. My favorite novels show portraits of fully-formed people, trying to navigate a landscape of complex choices and relationships. There is very little place for security in a novel, except through the trust formed in character relationships, and even that isn't sacred. I want a reader to enter the novel feeling compelled to know more about the characters on the page, and exit with their heart in hand, grateful for the journey. I don't require a perfectly packaged conclusion to feel satisfied when I read, but I do require a perfect conclusion. I like to feel lit with possibility and full with love and tragedy and comedy. I like chaos when I read and I don't mind feeling lost while I wander through a novel, as long as there is an element of simplicty. I don't like being told the hows and whys of character action. I prefer to glean these from the character, as if they were a true friend who requires no explanation or defense. I love when the plot feels organic and unhurried. I do fnd myself driven to turn pages in commercial novels, but I also find myself pulled from the page to question plausibility more often than not. I prefer to feel deeply entrenched by a novel, moving through it as it were a waking dream - unavoidable and without intention.
It's Friday I'm in love.
“You do it because the doing of it is the thing. The doing is the thing. The talking and worrying and thinking is not the thing.”
Time to do the work. I already mentioned the James Scott Bell book that I'm working reading, and now it is time for the Chapter 1 exercises. This is me being accountable.
Exercise 1 - 10 minute essay on understanding my approach to plot
When readers read my novels, I want them to feel whole at the end. That's because to me, novels are explorations into the choices we make. Novels provide comfort in presenting characters who also stumble and stress and miscalculate. My favorite novels show portraits of fully-formed people, trying to navigate a landscape of complex choices and relationships. There is very little place for security in a novel, except through the trust formed in character relationships, and even that isn't sacred. I want a reader to enter the novel feeling compelled to know more about the characters on the page, and exit with their heart in hand, grateful for the journey. I don't require a perfectly packaged conclusion to feel satisfied when I read, but I do require a perfect conclusion. I like to feel lit with possibility and full with love and tragedy and comedy. I like chaos when I read and I don't mind feeling lost while I wander through a novel, as long as there is an element of simplicty. I don't like being told the hows and whys of character action. I prefer to glean these from the character, as if they were a true friend who requires no explanation or defense. I love when the plot feels organic and unhurried. I do fnd myself driven to turn pages in commercial novels, but I also find myself pulled from the page to question plausibility more often than not. I prefer to feel deeply entrenched by a novel, moving through it as it were a waking dream - unavoidable and without intention.
It's Friday I'm in love.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
All You Have To Do Is Read
I have come to the conclusion that I should probably stop coming to conclusions. It is a terrible habit. I can distinctly recall the look on my professors' faces, so many years ago now, as they watched me struggle to establish a conclusive endpoint to every conversation. It was this half-pity half-eyeroll expression that often triggered in me the feeling that I had just barely stutter-stepped off the mark again. I would toe so close to the plane of understanding, only to fall away from it entirely by trying to pin the thing down. It took me a while to adjust to the idea that my liberal arts education was not preparing me to present the right answers, but to ask the right questions. The coolest part about writing and reading is the exploration of possibility. It would be made utterly less cool if authors simply regurgitated facts and thesis sentences and punchlines and sent you on your way.
Conversely, in business, people love it when you present and adhere to an idea as if it was the only available possibility. I am sure there are some great progressive enterprises out there that enjoy paying their employees to ponder without conclusion, but my anecdotal experience is that management does not really find thinkers good for the bottom line. It is no wonder that I adapted so well to that environment and moved up the ranks as a result of my willingness to dedicate myself to efficacy, efficiency and righteousness. I am a focused, driven, motivated and successful employee. I am a foolish, bumbling, backwards student.
I struggle with focus when a world of possibility is available. I find myself revisiting my writing with a whole new mind of whatifs, especially if I can only visit sparingly (as in the case of holiday or sick weeks, when the world is rife with interruptions). I guess it makes sense then when I share that I have been avoiding learning about writing since I started my endeavor into the career a year ago. I know that avoidance is pretty juvenile behavior, but I was not quite ready to let go of my self-indulgent righteousness. I mean I have only recently started really staring down the fact that I am new at something again. And I sort of hate that fact. I really liked feeling like an expert, even if it was on the regulatory environment of good laboratory practices for medical device work.
How do I get to be a writing expert? There I go, asking the wrong questions. I have to start learning again. Shame on me for spending years poring over court hearings and preambles and white papers about something that made me feel sick to my stomach most of the time. Shame on me for hundreds of hours and dollars spent pursuing a professional certfication that I did not even really want. I could have been spending that same time continuing my college education with books and seminars and conferences on writing. I love writing. My undergrad thesis was in creative writing. Yet, I did not even require convincing to abandon it. I assumed it was such a natural progression to give up the dream for something that brought home a steady paycheck.
Gross. Clearly I have some unsettled guilt, but that's enough self-effacement for one blog post.
Now I am reading. I have a pretty decent unfinished first draft to one novel, and 10,000 words started on another that could lead to a promising short story. I also have been doing the leg work to put together a third serial project, and I purchased some new writing software. That being said, I have no idea how to do any of this. So, I am reading. I picked up Eudora Welty's and Stephen King's books, both titled On Writing, and borrowed this amazing plot and structure book by James Scott Bell from a friend. I am relearning how to ask questions and revel in ambiguity. I am unlearning the mindset that made me an expert and sitting in my humility in order to make something good happen. We can only hope.
Conversely, in business, people love it when you present and adhere to an idea as if it was the only available possibility. I am sure there are some great progressive enterprises out there that enjoy paying their employees to ponder without conclusion, but my anecdotal experience is that management does not really find thinkers good for the bottom line. It is no wonder that I adapted so well to that environment and moved up the ranks as a result of my willingness to dedicate myself to efficacy, efficiency and righteousness. I am a focused, driven, motivated and successful employee. I am a foolish, bumbling, backwards student.
I struggle with focus when a world of possibility is available. I find myself revisiting my writing with a whole new mind of whatifs, especially if I can only visit sparingly (as in the case of holiday or sick weeks, when the world is rife with interruptions). I guess it makes sense then when I share that I have been avoiding learning about writing since I started my endeavor into the career a year ago. I know that avoidance is pretty juvenile behavior, but I was not quite ready to let go of my self-indulgent righteousness. I mean I have only recently started really staring down the fact that I am new at something again. And I sort of hate that fact. I really liked feeling like an expert, even if it was on the regulatory environment of good laboratory practices for medical device work.
How do I get to be a writing expert? There I go, asking the wrong questions. I have to start learning again. Shame on me for spending years poring over court hearings and preambles and white papers about something that made me feel sick to my stomach most of the time. Shame on me for hundreds of hours and dollars spent pursuing a professional certfication that I did not even really want. I could have been spending that same time continuing my college education with books and seminars and conferences on writing. I love writing. My undergrad thesis was in creative writing. Yet, I did not even require convincing to abandon it. I assumed it was such a natural progression to give up the dream for something that brought home a steady paycheck.
Gross. Clearly I have some unsettled guilt, but that's enough self-effacement for one blog post.
Now I am reading. I have a pretty decent unfinished first draft to one novel, and 10,000 words started on another that could lead to a promising short story. I also have been doing the leg work to put together a third serial project, and I purchased some new writing software. That being said, I have no idea how to do any of this. So, I am reading. I picked up Eudora Welty's and Stephen King's books, both titled On Writing, and borrowed this amazing plot and structure book by James Scott Bell from a friend. I am relearning how to ask questions and revel in ambiguity. I am unlearning the mindset that made me an expert and sitting in my humility in order to make something good happen. We can only hope.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)