I've recently learned that there are two kinds of writers.
The first kind is called a "Planner." These kinds of writers do things like create outlines of their entire story (probably with bulleted sub-categories), take classes on how to improve their writing (and then implement suggestions), and they set aside specific times of day to write (likely 8 am - 12 pm, then a half hour lunch break, then back to the work in progress from 12:30pm - 4:30pm). The "Planners" are generally an obnoxious breed, always bragging about things like "words per day", meeting deadlines, or well-mannered, orderly children.
I am not that type of writer.
I am what is known as a "Pantser." As in, I write by the seat of mine. I write furiously when I get the inspiration to do so. I let my characters speak to me at their own pace. Often, this means going days without writing, then having a bit of a binge and banging out 8 pages at once. Sometimes it means I stay up until 3 am writing and sleep until 2 pm the following day. The cats like it when I do this; the dog, not so much. It also means that I don't know very far ahead of time exactly what my characters will do, or say, or where they will go, or how long it will take them to get there. I don't write my scenes in order, because I don't always see how they are supposed to be written in a chronological manner. I skip around, then go back and fill in the gaps because suddenly, the puzzle pieces can fit together.
It's really fun being a Pantser. One of the best things about reading a really good story is that anticipation at the end of each chapter, the exquisite torture in the second it takes to turn the page and begin the next sentence. As a Pantser, I get to experience the same pleasure.When I give them a sample, my test readers usually say something about wanting to know what happens next. Me too, guys, me too! I'm dying to know! Gaaah!
Lest you think I'm completely out of control, I DO have the last sentence already written. The very last sentence for my epic trilogy, of which Book One is still being written. I know exactly where my characters will end up, they've already made that VERY clear.
The details leading up to that last sentence...well, what fun would creating a story be if I had to be all organized about it?
Monday, March 5, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
In Defense of Katniss Everdeen
Spoiler Alert- If you are about to read this but have not yet finished reading The Hunger Games trilogy, stop. Read the books first, then come back to my post!
I read something yesterday that burrowed in my brain and gnawed at it for a while. I don't remember the site or the names (I read a lot yesterday) but someone guest blogged for someone else and listed his top ten reasons for liking or disliking The Hunger Games. All well and good- excellent art always inspires controversy- but the part that stuck with me was that this reviewer didn't seem to understand the main character, Katniss Everdeen, one little bit. I got the impression he thought her character was cold, undeveloped, mercenary, and not very likeable.
My impression was quite different. Within the first few chapters, I recognized something very important about Katniss. She is a trauma victim. Think about it. She lives in a harsh, demanding world that seeks to control and punish its inhabitants both physically and psychologically. She not only loses her father at a very young age, but sees the explosion that kills him. Her mother then has a mental breakdown, and Katniss, who is still a mere child, is left to figure out a way to provide for her self, her baby sister, and their invalid mother.
In our world, a girl experiencing these events would probably be diagnosed with PTSD, medicated, and in therapy for the rest of her life.
In Katniss' world, she can either lay down and die, thus also allowing her sister and mother to die, or she can shut off the warm, fuzzy notion that adults protect children and get down to the business of survival. She chooses the latter, which is what many, many children of today are also forced to choose. I certainly can't speak for the author's intentions, but to me, Suzanne Collins was clearly illustrating the challenges our youth today also face.
I work with adults and teens who have experienced trauma, and this was the face I recognized on Katniss. Many trauma victims shut off their ability to experience a full range of emotions, because they fear they too would collapse in upon themselves like Katniss' mother does. In order to keep putting one foot in front of the other, they begin to see the world around them, and the people in it, very differently than people who have never experienced a traumatic event.
In Katniss' world, the people you trust end up betraying you, even if they don't mean to. Her parents both do, by "leaving" her and her sister. Feelings are almost never logical; we can't help what we feel in response to situations. It takes her a very long time to even see the possibility that Peeta burns the bread on purpose in order to give it to her, yet this was something many of us recognized immediately.
She makes a vow to her sister that she will do her very best to survive the games, and she realizes that in order to do this, she cannot become friends or trust anyone else involved in the games, including Peeta. Does she use him? Absolutely. How many of us wouldn't choose to do the same in her situation? She has no reason to be loyal to him, and again, the very world she lives in eschews the idea of interdependence, trust, and friendship.
It's a futuristic world emulating the brutal and sadistic Gladiator days of ancient Rome. Kill or be killed. We are told that even Katniss' volunteering as Tribute in place of her sister is a completely foreign concept to the inhabitants of this world. When she finds herself realizing that Peeta is truly trying to help her and has feelings for her, she immediately tries to shut off this dangerous line of thinking. Dangerous, because it can't be trusted. People she trusts betray her, remember?
At one point in the story, Gale tells Peeta that Katniss will choose whichever one of them will help her survive. Initially, I had the thought that this meant she would choose Gale. He is the hunter, the schemer, the survivor. He is most like her. When she ends up with Peeta, I understand a different meaning to Gale's statement.
Ever hear the saying, "Everyone has baggage. What's important is finding someone who can help you unpack." Peeta is the balm that can heal Katniss' damaged soul. His kindness, his unswaying values, his forgiving and generous nature, and his patience are the very traits that will be what allow her to survive herself.
Katniss may not be written as the pious, self-sacrificing hero many of us are familiar with, but she is honest. Humans have ugly thoughts. We use other people to get what we need. We do what is necessary to live another day. We are products of our environment. And if we are lucky, we meet someone like Peeta who balances out our damaged side.
I read something yesterday that burrowed in my brain and gnawed at it for a while. I don't remember the site or the names (I read a lot yesterday) but someone guest blogged for someone else and listed his top ten reasons for liking or disliking The Hunger Games. All well and good- excellent art always inspires controversy- but the part that stuck with me was that this reviewer didn't seem to understand the main character, Katniss Everdeen, one little bit. I got the impression he thought her character was cold, undeveloped, mercenary, and not very likeable.
My impression was quite different. Within the first few chapters, I recognized something very important about Katniss. She is a trauma victim. Think about it. She lives in a harsh, demanding world that seeks to control and punish its inhabitants both physically and psychologically. She not only loses her father at a very young age, but sees the explosion that kills him. Her mother then has a mental breakdown, and Katniss, who is still a mere child, is left to figure out a way to provide for her self, her baby sister, and their invalid mother.
In our world, a girl experiencing these events would probably be diagnosed with PTSD, medicated, and in therapy for the rest of her life.
In Katniss' world, she can either lay down and die, thus also allowing her sister and mother to die, or she can shut off the warm, fuzzy notion that adults protect children and get down to the business of survival. She chooses the latter, which is what many, many children of today are also forced to choose. I certainly can't speak for the author's intentions, but to me, Suzanne Collins was clearly illustrating the challenges our youth today also face.
I work with adults and teens who have experienced trauma, and this was the face I recognized on Katniss. Many trauma victims shut off their ability to experience a full range of emotions, because they fear they too would collapse in upon themselves like Katniss' mother does. In order to keep putting one foot in front of the other, they begin to see the world around them, and the people in it, very differently than people who have never experienced a traumatic event.
In Katniss' world, the people you trust end up betraying you, even if they don't mean to. Her parents both do, by "leaving" her and her sister. Feelings are almost never logical; we can't help what we feel in response to situations. It takes her a very long time to even see the possibility that Peeta burns the bread on purpose in order to give it to her, yet this was something many of us recognized immediately.
She makes a vow to her sister that she will do her very best to survive the games, and she realizes that in order to do this, she cannot become friends or trust anyone else involved in the games, including Peeta. Does she use him? Absolutely. How many of us wouldn't choose to do the same in her situation? She has no reason to be loyal to him, and again, the very world she lives in eschews the idea of interdependence, trust, and friendship.
It's a futuristic world emulating the brutal and sadistic Gladiator days of ancient Rome. Kill or be killed. We are told that even Katniss' volunteering as Tribute in place of her sister is a completely foreign concept to the inhabitants of this world. When she finds herself realizing that Peeta is truly trying to help her and has feelings for her, she immediately tries to shut off this dangerous line of thinking. Dangerous, because it can't be trusted. People she trusts betray her, remember?
At one point in the story, Gale tells Peeta that Katniss will choose whichever one of them will help her survive. Initially, I had the thought that this meant she would choose Gale. He is the hunter, the schemer, the survivor. He is most like her. When she ends up with Peeta, I understand a different meaning to Gale's statement.
Ever hear the saying, "Everyone has baggage. What's important is finding someone who can help you unpack." Peeta is the balm that can heal Katniss' damaged soul. His kindness, his unswaying values, his forgiving and generous nature, and his patience are the very traits that will be what allow her to survive herself.
Katniss may not be written as the pious, self-sacrificing hero many of us are familiar with, but she is honest. Humans have ugly thoughts. We use other people to get what we need. We do what is necessary to live another day. We are products of our environment. And if we are lucky, we meet someone like Peeta who balances out our damaged side.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Soundtracking
Sometimes I get this idea that life would be better if it had a soundtrack. A trip to the grocery store would become infinitely more interesting if accompanied by a banging drum solo while checking out the produce, and a guitar riff a la Eric Clapton could help me choose just the right cereal or yogurt- the possibilities are endless.
I made a mixed tape the other day. Ok, technically it's a burned CD off my itunes playlist, but I'm a child of the 80's and we made mixed tapes, so that's what I still call them. I was listening to said CD tape on my way to work and started imagining scenes from my book. The music was creating a mood and sense of drama for the characters in a totally new, totally AWESOME way! With elbows on the wheel, I grabbed my handy notebook and started furiously jotting down ideas.
Once I finalize this little side project, (who said procrastinators never get things done? We are the hardest working people on the planet!) I will post the song/scene list. It will be a read-and-listen combo that will Blow. Your. Mind.
Seriously. At the very least, you'll get an ear worm as a bonus!
I made a mixed tape the other day. Ok, technically it's a burned CD off my itunes playlist, but I'm a child of the 80's and we made mixed tapes, so that's what I still call them. I was listening to said CD tape on my way to work and started imagining scenes from my book. The music was creating a mood and sense of drama for the characters in a totally new, totally AWESOME way! With elbows on the wheel, I grabbed my handy notebook and started furiously jotting down ideas.
Once I finalize this little side project, (who said procrastinators never get things done? We are the hardest working people on the planet!) I will post the song/scene list. It will be a read-and-listen combo that will Blow. Your. Mind.
Seriously. At the very least, you'll get an ear worm as a bonus!
Friday, January 13, 2012
Why I Loved John Grisham, Then Hated Him, And Now Love Him Again
Everybody knows who John Grisham is, right? If you said no, then please crawl out from under the rock where you've been hiding for the last fifteen years. For everyone else, please pay attention- this is very important.
The first book I ever read by John Grisham was A Time To Kill. Oh. My.God. I was simply blown away.
I could picture it all so clearly. I wept for little Tanya and her Daddy, and again for Roark's unrequited love for the Southern laww-yuuh. The story was brilliant, and original, and the action and drama kept me on the edge of my seat. I was 14 years old and I finished that book in two days of my family's summer vacation in Cape Cod. I was furious when my parents tried to drag me away from the book for sightseeing. I got incredibly excited when I was told it had been made into a Major Motion Picture and as soon as we returned from our vacation, I made my father run to the video store so we could watch it for family movie and pizza night. It was exactly like I had imagined it in my head (which is the first and last time that has ever happened with a book-to-movie translation).
I then made my mother take me to the library where I borrowed every John Grisham book they had and devoured them in a completely ravenous manner. I decided I was going to become an attorney and go to Tulane just like John Grisham. The Tulane dream held until Senior Year when I started narrowing down my college choices and I realized I really hate hot weather and Tulane was in Louisiana where it never drops below 150 degrees all year round. The lawyer dream lasted through my first week of college in Gettysburg, PA when I realized no way in heck was I going to make it through 7 years of THAT bullcrap!
Around the same time as my collegiate and career path disillusionment came about, I started getting really, really annoyed with John Grisham. How many legal thrillers can someone actually read, anyways? Same story, different characters. Even the covers of the books looked identical in one reprinting. I'd like to know who was responsible for that mishugina design choice! Anyways, I stopped reading his work, figuring the Curse of the Formula Writer had finally gotten him in its clutches for good. For many years, this was true, actually.
Then something wonderful happened. John Grisham woke up one morning and said, "Wow! Everything I've written for the past several years has been crap! What is wrong with me? I need to make a change, like, now!" That's how I like to imagine it happened, anyways. It may have been a more complicated financial decision based on falling book sales, or the death of his Editor, or some other horribly boring reason, but nonetheless, John Grisham wrote something truly unique and wonderful once more. A Painted House was published in 2001 and ended his 12 year legal thriller monopoly. One day in 2011, I experienced a series of unfortunate events, and was left facing an interminably long wait without something to read. I rushed into a nearby supermarket, hoping for something to salvage the day, and John Grisham being the only author whose name I recognized amongst the bargain bin novels, I grabbed it with the full expectation that I was going to rue my choice. To my humble surprise, the book grabbed my attention, and I quickly realized that this was not another formula story. This, my friend, was the heart and soul of a phenomenal writer rediscovering what he loved about his job.
John Grisham has continued to writer legal thrillers, and I've read a few more of them since childhood, although none of his latest ones. These are the moneymakers, of course. The fact that he has broken away every now and then and written something surprising has completely redeemed him as an esteemed writer. This is my opinion, of course, many people never had a complaint to begin with, but I like knowing that John Grisham is a truly gifted artist, and the fact that he CAN still write an amazing, original story allows me to forgive him even when he doesn't!
The first book I ever read by John Grisham was A Time To Kill. Oh. My.God. I was simply blown away.
I could picture it all so clearly. I wept for little Tanya and her Daddy, and again for Roark's unrequited love for the Southern laww-yuuh. The story was brilliant, and original, and the action and drama kept me on the edge of my seat. I was 14 years old and I finished that book in two days of my family's summer vacation in Cape Cod. I was furious when my parents tried to drag me away from the book for sightseeing. I got incredibly excited when I was told it had been made into a Major Motion Picture and as soon as we returned from our vacation, I made my father run to the video store so we could watch it for family movie and pizza night. It was exactly like I had imagined it in my head (which is the first and last time that has ever happened with a book-to-movie translation).
I then made my mother take me to the library where I borrowed every John Grisham book they had and devoured them in a completely ravenous manner. I decided I was going to become an attorney and go to Tulane just like John Grisham. The Tulane dream held until Senior Year when I started narrowing down my college choices and I realized I really hate hot weather and Tulane was in Louisiana where it never drops below 150 degrees all year round. The lawyer dream lasted through my first week of college in Gettysburg, PA when I realized no way in heck was I going to make it through 7 years of THAT bullcrap!
Around the same time as my collegiate and career path disillusionment came about, I started getting really, really annoyed with John Grisham. How many legal thrillers can someone actually read, anyways? Same story, different characters. Even the covers of the books looked identical in one reprinting. I'd like to know who was responsible for that mishugina design choice! Anyways, I stopped reading his work, figuring the Curse of the Formula Writer had finally gotten him in its clutches for good. For many years, this was true, actually.
Then something wonderful happened. John Grisham woke up one morning and said, "Wow! Everything I've written for the past several years has been crap! What is wrong with me? I need to make a change, like, now!" That's how I like to imagine it happened, anyways. It may have been a more complicated financial decision based on falling book sales, or the death of his Editor, or some other horribly boring reason, but nonetheless, John Grisham wrote something truly unique and wonderful once more. A Painted House was published in 2001 and ended his 12 year legal thriller monopoly. One day in 2011, I experienced a series of unfortunate events, and was left facing an interminably long wait without something to read. I rushed into a nearby supermarket, hoping for something to salvage the day, and John Grisham being the only author whose name I recognized amongst the bargain bin novels, I grabbed it with the full expectation that I was going to rue my choice. To my humble surprise, the book grabbed my attention, and I quickly realized that this was not another formula story. This, my friend, was the heart and soul of a phenomenal writer rediscovering what he loved about his job.
John Grisham has continued to writer legal thrillers, and I've read a few more of them since childhood, although none of his latest ones. These are the moneymakers, of course. The fact that he has broken away every now and then and written something surprising has completely redeemed him as an esteemed writer. This is my opinion, of course, many people never had a complaint to begin with, but I like knowing that John Grisham is a truly gifted artist, and the fact that he CAN still write an amazing, original story allows me to forgive him even when he doesn't!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Dresta's Folly-Short Story for YA- Fantasy Fiction Category
http://fantasy-faction.com/forum/writers-corner/january-2012-writing-challenge/
Follow the link for the short story I wrote called "Dresta's Folly." It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have just as much fun reading it!
And as always, feel free to leave thoughts, comments, or feedback :D
Update on March 15, 2012- I won the January 2012 Writing Challenge! Check out the Winner's Circle to read a copy of it :)
Follow the link for the short story I wrote called "Dresta's Folly." It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have just as much fun reading it!
And as always, feel free to leave thoughts, comments, or feedback :D
Update on March 15, 2012- I won the January 2012 Writing Challenge! Check out the Winner's Circle to read a copy of it :)
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Forgoing sleep for the intoxicating effects of writing
I was planning on going to bed about 2 hours ago. Then I opened my laptop. I checked facebook, email, other email, facebook again, then twitter, then a few blogs, then back to twitter, then a site advertising a fantasy/fiction short story contest. Of course I decided I was going to fool around with an idea for a story and see what I could come up with. A whirlwind ensued, and out came an 1,845 word short story about a Faerie who goes to a village to wreak havoc on the Humans, and instead encounters something much more frightening.
Of course, I am now so in love with my story, and so wound up that I just had to dance a crazy jig with my poor dog as an unwitting dance partner in the kitchen! I will post my story within the next week after I submit the final draft to the contest, and of course, post a link once it is opened for voting! Which is where you, the reader, comes in....
I hope you will love Destra as much as I have begun to, and can begin to imagine the hijinks she has gotten herself into now!
Of course, I am now so in love with my story, and so wound up that I just had to dance a crazy jig with my poor dog as an unwitting dance partner in the kitchen! I will post my story within the next week after I submit the final draft to the contest, and of course, post a link once it is opened for voting! Which is where you, the reader, comes in....
I hope you will love Destra as much as I have begun to, and can begin to imagine the hijinks she has gotten herself into now!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Excerpt 2 from The Sentinels, Work in Progress
Please feel free to leave comments, thoughts, feedback, etc.
The stimulus this time was the bark of one of the dogs. My eyes snapped open, and I crouched in the car shell, ready for action. The dogs had cornered a boy against the stack of cars I was on top of. They held him at bay while he looked around, desperate for a way out. A low whistle brought the dogs to a sit and wait position. I looked around and saw the source of the whistle. The owner, presumably, and two other men were coming at the boy, menace emanating off them, reeking of rancid oil, ammonia, and wet dog.
The boy started babbling. “Hey, it’s all a misunderstanding, see, if I could just explain…” He was terrified, but trying to act nonchalant. I didn’t have to smell him to know it. The lead thug advancing on him chuckled. He twirled the long metal pipe for emphasis and then pointed it at the boy. “You can? You hear that, boys? He can explain this little misunderstanding.” The two men with him chuckled too.
“I give you product, you move the product, you give me the money. Simple. Now you tell me the money is missing? Fine, give me back my product.”
The boy shook his head. “I can’t! Please, I told you. I was on my way to deliver it and some dude stole it!”
“Some dude stole it,” mocked one of the thugs in a baby voice. “Not our problem, maggot.”
“Yeah, we can just take it out of your hide.” Sneered the other one. “Since it got stolen.”
“I swear! C’mon guys, I wouldn’t do you like that! You gotta believe me!” The boy had dropped his cool as a cucumber act, and was flat out begging.
The thug holding the pipe began walking forward, twirling it faster. I figured I’d better make my move now. I slipped out the window area of the hollowed out car on the opposite side of where they were standing below and lightly dropped to the ground.
“Hey guys!” I trilled, walking around the stack of cars to stand by the boy. “What’s going on?”
They all looked at me in shock. The boy turned his head to stare, his eyes huge, and his dark skin still managing to look pale.
The owner stopped swinging the pipe. “Who the frig are you? How’d you get in here?” He looked at his dogs, who were wagging their tails at me; one whined a bit in his throat. He swore at them, and turned his attention back to me. “Listen, girlie, I’m not sure what you think you’re doing but this here is private property, and we got private business, so get moving.”
I nodded my head in agreement with him. “Sure, no problem. He’s coming with me though.” I nodded at the boy.
“Like hell he is!” one of the other thugs blustered.
“OK. Which one of you is going to stop me then?” I smiled sweetly. They looked at each other, confused, then smirking. Each of them had over a foot and a hundred pounds on me, not to mention their crude weapons. They were men; I was a slight teenage girl.
The boy looked at me like I was insane. I smiled at him. Turning my attention back to the men, I gave them the standard warning. “Leave now, and I’ll let you go unharmed. Stay, and fight me, and you will regret it.”
They stared at me, then looked at each other. I smelled indecision and confusion, anger and adrenaline. On some primal level, they recognized the truth in my words, but their conscious, ego-driven minds simply refused to acknowledge what their eyes saw before them as a threat. They hesitated, then laughed, and lunged forward.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)