Tag Archives: craft

In Search of Perfect Sentences

Posted on May 16, 2013 by | 6 Comments

Through the Osher Institute at the University of Richmond, from time to time my friend, Jan, teaches a class called “In Search of the Perfect Sentence.” Isn’t that just the best title?! I spend nearly as many hours reading as I spend writing, and often when I encounter a gem of a sentence or paragraph, I’ll pause to savor the words. Some stun me with their beauty or mesmerize me with their cadence, or just plain make me smile. And always, these writers challenge me to dig deeper to hone my craft.

From character-driven plots to organic settings and realistic dialogue, good books take so long to write that, come on, isn’t it nice when someone notices the effort? Here are a few of the awesome efforts that have recently kept me turning pages. In some cases, I’ve paused to read lines out loud. Try it. Try reading your own writing out loud. Does it flow? Will a reader pause and marvel at your word choice? Your phrasing? Your voice?

From Justin Torres‘ 2011We the Animals debut, We the Animals, which sings with a cadence all its own: “We wanted more music on the radio; we wanted beats; we wanted rock. We wanted muscles on our skinny arms. We had bird bones, hollow and light, and we wanted more density, more weight. We were six snatching hands, six stomping feet; we were brothers, boys, three little kings locked in a feud for more.”

 

From Sheila Turnage‘sThree Times Lucky Three Times Lucky, in which the language is real and funny and compelling: “Already I didn’t like him. Didn’t like the starch in his shirt, or the crease in his pants. Didn’t like the hook of his nose, or the plane of his cheekbones. Didn’t like the skinny of his hips, or the shine of his shoes. Mostly, I didn’t like the way he didn’t smile.”

 

From Virginia Pye‘s debut,River of Dust River of Dust, just out from Unbridled Books, in which the beautiful ending still haunts me: “As she continued to study him, a humming began in her head: a slight bothersome background murmur that was not altogether a noise but could grow to become one if she was not careful.”

 

From Robert Goolrick‘s debut, End of the Worlda memoir, The End of the World as We Know It, in which he plays with phrases in a most delicious way: “Now people wiped away tears when they imagined her sitting there again, so witty and pretty and chic, the way she had been before it all, or not before it all, but before it all got out of hand.”

 

From Louise Hawes‘ retellings Black Pearlsof fairy tales, Black Pearls: A Faerie Strand, in which classic characters from Rapunzel to Sleeping Beauty—characters we’ve taken for granted and thought we already knew—reemerge with cunning and complexity: “Yet clear as a stone dropped in a still pond, loud as the call of geese across the sky, I heard the music of my own heart. It played a stream burbling in the shade of apple trees, and the warm, solid thrum of waking bees.”

 

From Cori McCarthy‘s Color of Raindebut, The Color of Rain, in which she crafts the dystopian setting so organically that it’s oh-so-easy to suspend disbelief: “High above us, silver starships hang in invisible parking spots like stars lured too close to earth. Some are as large as skyscrapers while others are only big enough for a captain and crew, but they all gleam with blue light, the pulsing proof of their mighty engines… Engines that run the Void and weave between the stars. I’ve always been drawn to that blue…”

 

I’ve always been drawn to words and stories so perfectly crafted that the room I’m sitting in—or the airport or the screen porch or the treehouse—falls away and the literary magic transports me to another place. Ah, the encounter with perfect sentences…

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Where to Begin a Novel

Posted on April 8, 2013 by | 2 Comments

How and where is it best Come August, Come Freedomto enter into a particular story—which moment, which sounds and which smells should a writer introduce in the opening scene? When I first read Come August, Come Freedom: The Bellows, The Gallows, and the Black General Gabriel by Gigi Amateau, I was fascinated by Gigi’s decision to begin the story the way she did. I asked her why she chose that approach, and am privileged to feature her answers here. I found Gigi’s comments as engaging as the novel.

A. B. Westrick: Come August, Come Freedom is the story of Gabriel, the enslaved blacksmith who organized a massive but ultimately unsuccessful rebellion in Richmond, Virginia, in 1800. What I found intriguing was the way you chose to enter into Gabriel’s story. The first line is, “Ma believed,” and the chapter unfolds to show Ma nursing him when he was six months old. Why did you choose to begin the book with Ma?

Gigi Amateau:  As I read and studied about the institution of slavery during Gabriel’s lifetime, I learned (in a way that I hadn’t really integrated into my thinking about slavery before writing Come August, Come Freedom) that the crucible of slavery was the childbearing role of enslaved women. The laws governing a person’s status as free or enslaved were grounded in the concept of maternal descent—the mother’s status (not the father’s) determined a child’s status. So, the impulsion of the plot is maternal descent. Also, I wanted to create the character of Gabriel as a person who was not the first freedom fighter in his community or in his family, but one who was born into a tradition of resisting oppression and fighting for freedom. So, I surrounded him early on in the novel with men and women imagining freedom and rebelling against slavery.

ABW:  The opening chapter establishes a strong sense of place—a footpath, the creek beyond the fields, an apple seedling. While it grounds Gabriel and his story, literally and figuratively, it also sets a tranquil tone for a story that’s anything but tranquil. Again, can you talk about choosing to begin the story in this place rather than in, say, a blacksmith’s shop or marketplace, or some other place that Gabriel would have frequented? You might even have chosen to begin it with the scenes that became chapter two—glimpses of slaves treated harshly and slaves dashing for freedom—but instead you chose this tranquil tone. Can you say more about that?

GA:  First of all, thank you. Writing a convincing sense of place both in the countryside and in the city was important to me, as was conveying a feeling of tranquility and beauty at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end. To me, it’s valid that Gabriel would have experienced beauty as well as terror. That’s the human experience, right? Even in the darkest days of our history, the human spirit fights for beauty, for love. It would’ve been wrong for me to write this book by dismissing the real suffering and unbearable oppression that was an everyday part of enslavement. All of history shows us how the human spirit insists on faith, hope, and love, so I think it would have been wrong of me to lead with anything but such a spirit.

Gigi Amateau

Gigi Amateau

As I studied the primary source documents related to Gabriel’s Rebellion, I saw that much of the recruiting and planning took place outdoors—on the river, at Young’s Spring, under the bridge at Littlepage. For sure, the blacksmith forge, taverns, and the cityscape were key, too, but the people gathered outside for worship, funerals, weddings, fish feasts, and barbeques. You know, I feel like the evidence suggests that the natural world offered Gabriel some refuge, a place where he and his men could speak candidly. Trial testimony shows that the men did discuss the rebellion at taverns and on the street, and in these places they often spoke in code: The boys on the brook are ready to do the business.  When they gathered outside, their words were direct: We have a plan to rise and fight for our freedom.  ­­

ABW: Writers are encouraged to begin a novel “in scene” rather than in back-story. You manage to do both: your opening chapter is very much a scene, and at the same time, it depicts Gabriel’s life before he set out to organize the rebellion. I think your approach works because of the sense of yearning, of desire, of feeling that emanates from the opening pages. But I wonder if you worried about this opening. In early drafts of the novel, was this your opening scene, or did you craft it later?

GA:  Hmmm…I always liked that beginning! When I look back at the earliest draft, the first line is: Ma believed. You know, I just feel like this is a story about a man who was part of a multi-generational rebellion, a freedom-movement that started well before him and continued, or continues, long after 1800. So, to me, the story had to start with a linking of generations and end there, too.

ABW:  How long did it take you to write Come August, Come Freedom, and can you tell me a little about your process in writing it?

GA:  Well, my first research notes are dated 2004. I thought a lot about Gabriel, saved clippings, and dabbled in the research before really starting to write the pages in 2008. My editor, Karen Lotz, and I went on a candlelight tour of Mount Vernon one Christmas… maybe in 2006 or 2007? There, we shared a profound moment while we were standing in the area where the quarter had been at Mount Vernon. The only way to describe it is that we experienced a lingering, a really deep encounter—for me and, I think also for Karen—with the history of our nation’s enslavement of men, women, and children. That’s about when I moved more into researching seriously. The research informed my writing constantly. I never stopped researching! I wrote, then researched more, then wrote more, then researched. It was a very circular and layered process.  I’m still researching the story. Who knows, I might stick around the 1800s for a while yet.

ABW:  Thank you so much for sharing some of your thoughts and process in writing Come August, Come Freedom. I even enjoyed reading the comment Candlewick Press printed on the book jacket: “Gabriel’s story illustrates how one individual’s pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness can intersect with a nation’s pursuit of a more perfect union. Gabriel went all in for freedom. To me, he is one of American’s greatest patriots.” Thank you, Gigi, for bringing his story to life!

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The bully character: when less is more

Posted on March 13, 2013 by | 19 Comments

I’m so glad toYacqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass have had the opportunity to interview Meg Medina, author of Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass, coming out this month from Candlewick Press. It’s a tense, tightly written novel about surviving high school. Click here to watch the trailer, and read on to hear what Meg had to say about crafting her bully, Yaqui, and her protagonist, Piddy Sanchez.

A.B. Westrick: From the opening line, Yaqui Delgado’s threat carries the tension even though her physical presence is (relatively) minimal. Here, less bully makes for more bully. A brilliant story structure! What was your process in writing the story this way? Was that first line always your first line, or did it emerge in the course of revisions?

Meg Medina: The first line of this novel has never changed, and that’s not something I can say about anything else I’ve written. It was plucked from real life, which we’ll get to a little later. As an author, it provided me with a way to reveal the main problem of the novel in one crude and forceful blow.

Keeping Yaqui as a threatening presence, rather than fleshing her out was tricky. At first I wondered if I should develop her more. Readers would wonder, I thought, about what fills someone with such rage.

In the end, I decided to tell the story squarely from Piddy’s perspective and to let Yaqui loom in the way that a scary idea looms in your mind. It haunts you and crowds out everything else.

To help me do that, I wrote in first person present and was able to get far inside Piddy’s thinking, moment to moment through all of her frightening experiences. This made it Piddy’s story, the story of being on the receiving end of random abuse.

Yaqui would have had a very rich and probably sad story of her own. But I wanted this novel to be about how a strong girl gets undone and eventually survives violence like this.

ABW: More than once Yaqui’s posse delivers her threats. This felt very real. To what extent did this character and situation come from personal life experience, and to what extent from researching bully behaviors?

Meg MedinaMM: Sadly, the events were based mostly on an experience I had in middle school in New York. The opening scene is virtually identical. A girl I’d never laid eyes on approached me to deliver the news that someone was going to kick my ass. Like Piddy, I had no idea who she meant. I can tell you that those were two very long and scary years, and I was able to pull a lot from memory.

As for research, my own children were teens while I was writing, so I had the benefit of a front row seat to high school today. I paid close attention to their accounts of notes being passed, “slut folders” on people’s desktops, hateful comments during class, girl fight websites, and Facebook “drama.”  The girl posse, I’m sad to report, is alive and well.  I also did some formal digging into how schools are responding now, the rules for suspensions, and so on. My cousin, a retired NYC principal, was very helpful.

ABW: Many secondary characters, especially Joey, Lila, and Ma, emerge as complex, warts and all. How do you go about creating your characters? How much are they based on people you know, and how much comes from your imagination?

MM:  Every character I write is a compilation of so many of the imperfect and troubled people I have loved in my life: My mother, my old neighbors, aunts – parts of them are there. But there are plenty of characters that are completely fabricated.

The key thing about characters is that they need qualities that make them irresistible and revolting all at once. If they’re imaginative, they might be liars. If they’re loyal, perhaps they’re dangerously controlling. Or they might be generous but also thieves. What I love about the contradictions and flaws is that they force you to ask good questions as a writer. Why is this character like this?

I start with a general idea of the characters, an idea about the types of people who might populate the landscape. I look around and see who has shown up for auditions, so to speak. In this case, I filled my mind with old boyfriends and cops; a building superintendent; neighbors; the owner of a beauty shop, teachers, deans. As I wrote the scenes, the individuals stepped in and revealed themselves. It was in watching them deal with problems that I really got to know them better. Lila is probably my favorite character. She’s sensual and gorgeous, but she’ll brain you with a plunger handle if you mess with her. She has such trouble with being a responsible adult and yet she is a lifeline to Piddy.

ABW: You wrote Yaqui Delgado after having written a middle-grade novel, a YA novel, and a picture book. What is different about the process of writing a novel versus writing a picture book? Writing YA versus writing for younger readers? What are you working on now?

MM: I just sold my second picture book manuscript to Candlewick, so I am now working on that. It’s about a girl whose grandmother comes to live with the family. Only trouble is, abuela does not speak English, and my narrator speaks so-so español. It’s a story about how we create connections in family, how we cross divides and reach understanding.

Picture books are so joyous for me. There is no other way to describe it. They are little poems that you have to get just right. And even after my poem leaves me, it’s still fun. For example, right now, the team at Candlewick is doing the illustrator search. I go to sleep imagining how my part will merge into something entirely new through art.

But I do love novels, too. The biggest difference between writing novels and picture book is similar to the difference between Impressionism and Realism. In picture books, I am using dabs of story and dialogue to suggest a larger world of how the family works and how the child fits into that family.

With novels, I am taking the time to draw in the hard lines, to really explore and show my characters and their troubles, step by step. Also, novels take stamina. You could be working on a piece for years, after all. And more, if you’re writing a novel for teens, you’ll be exploring the hard questions we face as we’re reaching for adulthood. I tell you, it’s not for the weak.

ABW: Thank you again, Meg, for opening up about your process in writing Piddy’s heartfelt story. I’m looking forward to giving away the ARC!

And for Richmond, VA-area folks: Meg’s book launch party for Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass is this coming Saturday, March 16th, 2-4:30 p.m. at Art 180, 114 West Marshall Street, Richmond. I’ll see you there!

To win the ARC of Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass, signed by the author, leave a comment below. I’ll choose one winner randomly from the comments received. Deadline: March 25, 2013.

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The desire for a glass of water

Posted on February 23, 2013 by | Leave a comment

Last month, a friend entrusted me with the privilege of skimming and commenting on her draft of a novel. Her writing was excellent, the setting unique, and the characters engaging, but there was something not quite right. I paced around my room, tracing the edge of a braided blue rug, mulling over the disconnect, and eventually got to thinking that the protagonist’s desire was not in alignment with the trajectory of the story. The novel drifted like an untethered canoe—one floating past the dock, just beyond reach.

Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut

As novelists, we learn to figure out what our characters want and send them in search of their desires. We’ve all heard what Kurt Vonnegut had to say on this topic during an interview posted in the spring 1977 issue of The Paris Review: “When I used to teach creative writing, I would tell the students to make their characters want something right away—even if it’s only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaninglessness of modern life still have to drink water from time to time.”

But how dull, right? A glass of water. And what if the character desires something immaterial, such as acceptance or a sense of belonging? It’s hard to communicate ethereal desires in an opening scene and hook the reader there. A novel has to build to them. I suspect Vonnegut would agree, but I think he’d tell writers to give a protagonist an interim motive—something to strive for en route to the climax. Something concrete like thirst. All desires (immaterial or otherwise) lead characters to take action in a world experienced through the senses—taste, touch, sight, sound and smell. Characters do stuff (they’re boring if all they do is sit around and think about meaninglessness or feel despair), and readers connect with them when they do stuff. When a writer describes a scene so well that it pulls readers in, inviting them to experience the world in which the character lives, details as seemingly insignificant as a glass of water matter.

My friend crafted unique and endearing characters and set them in a story that holds tremendous promise. Now her protagonist needs to want that glass of water that is… look… over there… in that glass tumbler on the windowsill… the one with the ribbon of yellow-green pollen dust at the base where the condensation has pooled… the one just out of reach… just past the edge of the bunched-up rug she’ll have to step over when she wants a sip, but she’s not looking down and her heel is going to get caught, and… uh-oh.

Many thanks to The Paris Review for posting the entire 1977 interview with Vonnegut.

Many thanks to The Paris Review for posting the entire 1977 interview with Vonnegut.

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On Plots

Posted on February 5, 2013 by | Leave a comment

Plots. So hard to conceive. So necessary to craft well. You’ll often hear writers talk about the struggle to tease the plot out of the characters, but when I asked YA author Megan Shepherd about her process, she reflected more on the joy than the struggle. She wrote:

The Madman's Daughter“One of the trickiest parts of writing for me is also one of the most fun: plot twists. I adore books with surprising twists in them, and so I always try to add unexpected turns in my own. However, it’s a fine balance to plant enough clues so that readers don’t feel cheated when the twist hits them, but not too many so that they guess the twist way in advance. My rule of thumb is to set up a situation where there are two possible outcomes, Outcome A or Outcome B, and you try to make readers guess which one it will be, and then bam! You hit them with Outcome C.”

Okay, that paragraph alone made me want to read Megan’s debut, The Madman’s Daughter, just out from Balzer+Bray/HarperCollins. Megan made it sound tricky, but … easy… when I know it’s not at all. I turned to another YA writer, Lenore Applehans, and asked about her plot-process. (Lenore’s debut, Level 2, has just been released from Simon & Schuster.) I wanted to know whether her approach was similar to Megan’s. But do any two writers have the same process? Of course not. Lenore told me:

Level 2“When I got the idea for Level 2, the main plot twists and characters kinda showed up at the same time. I worked hard with my editor to make sure that the plot made sense within the context of character motivations and choices. While I wrote with a minimal outline, I did have a vision for the story—so that everything I wrote was in service of the ultimate character arcs and I didn’t have to go back and cut a lot of filler.  In fact, my first draft was very spare, so revision was about adding instead of subtracting.”

So Megan and Lenore came at their stories from very different angles, but both crafted plots that made sense and didn’t make the reader feel cheated. What I find interesting is the notion that if writers do their jobs well, they become transparent; readers don’t see or feel the writer’s presence on the page. It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? The writer puts in all the work, but in the end, it’s not about the writer. It’s about the story. The characters. The surprising twists. The vicarious experience of another world… And just thinking about it makes me want to curl up in an overstuffed chair with a good book. Okay, I’m done here…

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Loglines and “The Next Big Thing”

Posted on January 3, 2013 by | Leave a comment

LoglineAsk a novelist what he or she is working on, and you’re apt to get a rambling answer because the process of writing a novel is often long and messy. Novels explore the lives of multiple characters, develop multiple plots and subplots—you get what I’m saying. Novels are complicated. So it almost seems unfair that if the writer hopes to query an agent with the completed masterpiece, it’s necessary to boil the whole thing down to a single sentence. Known as a logline (novelists have screenwriters to thank for this term), this one sentence gem can take weeks to perfect. But the time spent is worth the effort, as a well-written logline can lead to a quick sale.

To craft a logline, the writer must focus on the protagonist and his/her emotional journey, letting go of sub-plots and secondary characters. To read examples of loglines, take a moment to peruse posts in “The Next Big Thing” blog chain.

Thank you to writer Virginia Pye, author of the 2013 debut River of Dust, for inviting me to participate in “The Next Big Thing”—a set of questions for writers about what they’re working on, or what book is coming soon. Here are my answers:

What is your working title of your book (or story)?

Brotherhood

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

A 14-year old boy struggles to protect a friend from the gang he has joined (the K.K.K. in 1867).

Where did the idea come from for the book?

This book began with a feeling more than an idea. As a young boy in the South in the 1930’s, my father felt stuck and vowed never to raise his own children there. Growing up in Pennsylvania, I would ask why he wanted out, and he’d duck my questions, shake his head, grow pensive and say things like, “You can judge people in any number of ways, but don’t ever judge them by the color of their skin.” Never the answer I expected. So I began to wonder what would make a shy, gentle white boy vow to flee the South. What did he see that he refused to talk about? While my dad never got involved with the Ku Klux Klan, I know that the Klan wreaked havoc in the South during Daddy’s growing up years. I began to imagine what sorts of influences would lead a boy to join a gang—a brotherhood—then yearn to get out but not be free to leave. The book grew from that sense of yearning.

What genre does your book fall under?

Young Adult

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

For the brothers, I’d go with Luke Benward and Sterling Beaumon.  For Rachel, the freed slave who becomes a teacher, Keke Palmer would be awesome, but if Hollywood waits five years before filming, then Willow Smith will be old enough for the role.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I’m represented by Leigh Feldman at Writers House, and Brotherhood will be published by Viking/Penguin. My editor there is Regina Hayes.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

About two years for the first draft, and another year and a half for multiple additional drafts.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I’m a fan of Laurie Halse Anderson‘s historical fiction—books such as Fever 1793, and Chains, and Forge. If readers come to compare my book to hers, that would be fabulous!

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

One of my boys is a reluctant reader, so I set out to write a novel that even a boy—my boy—would read.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

My protagonist (a Klan member) befriends a freed slave girl who’s spunky and smart. He must keep the friendship secret, as the year is 1867, a time when distrust smoldered between the races. While most post-Civil War books address America’s political landscape, my book is all about the people—about what it might have felt like to live through the tumultuous times that we’ve come to call The Period of Reconstruction.

I’ve invited debut novelists to participate in “The Next Big Thing” blog chain. Next week, look for blog posts from Melanie Crowder, author of Parched; Cat Winters, author of In the Shadow of Blackbirds; and L.R. Giles, author of Fake ID.

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Self-Doubt

Posted on November 28, 2012 by | 7 Comments

I’m scared right now. Scared that I won’t be able to write another novel, or at least, not one worth reading. Sure, I know that I can finish one—that I can sit for hours and days and weeks and months at a time with a handful of characters and a setting—I’m not scared about the discipline of the process. I love the process. (Ten years ago, the necessary discipline would have scared me, so at least I’ve made progress with the process…)

I’m scared about the content. The voice. The authenticity of the characters. Can I write a novel that keeps readers turning pages? One that matters? This past weekend I watched a movie that entertained me, but at times I could feel the writer trying too hard to make a scene work. He wanted to establish a character’s motivation, create tension, get a laugh… and his presence took me out of the story. I fear that I make the same mistakes with my own writing, and the fear is blocking me from writing anything worthwhile.

Philip PullmanWill people read my books? Will they re-read them? I need to get past the self-doubt! I turned to interviews with prolific author Philip Pullman for advice, and found some here. About one of his own works-in-progress, he says, “I read it all again and think it’s horrible, and get very depressed. That’s one of the things you have to put up with.”

In this pep talk to National Novel Writing participants, he says,

… page 70 is where the misery strikes. All the initial excitement has drained away; you’ve begun to see all the hideous problems you’ve set yourself; you are horribly aware of the minute size of your own talent compared to the colossal proportions of the task you’ve undertaken; that’s when you really want to give up.

Then there are these words from an interview with Pullman at PsychCentral:

… don’t listen to people (such as publishers) who think that you need to write what readers say they want. Readers don’t always know what they want… So the only thing you need to do is forget about pleasing other people, and aim to please yourself alone. That way, you’ll have a chance of writing something that other people WILL want to read, because it’ll take them by surprise. It’s also much more fun writing to please yourself.

Thank you, Philip Pullman! I needed to step away from my fiction to wrestle with my doubts and draft this post… needed to accept the depression and fear as part of the process. This part isn’t fun, but I’ve said my piece and gotten it off my chest. Now I’m ready to dive back in. Come to think of it… I’m working on a scene in a chapter that’s pretty close to page 70…

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Challenge Every Sentence

Posted on October 31, 2012 by | Leave a comment

Tom RobbinsThis past month I was one of the logistics people behind the best-kept secret on the writing conference circuit: the James River Writers conference. High value, low cost (as conferences go). I was privileged to hear the amazing Tom Robbins (Even Cow Girls Get the Blues, among other bestsellers) electrify a crowd. But when interviewer Dean King (Skeletons on the Zahara, etc.) asked him to impart a few words of writing-wisdom to aspiring authors, Robbins stopped kidding around. He grew pensive. The Greater Richmond Convention Center grew quiet. I thought Robbins was searching for a way to dodge the question, crack another joke, craft a literary pun. But no. When he finally spoke, it was this: challenge every sentence.

That was it. Challenge every sentence.

Even if it takes years to complete a novel—and he promised us that it would take years—that it should take years if the book is to be worth reading—as writers we must challenge every single sentence.

So I’m turning off my internet browser as soon as I post this piece. Just as medicines heal when taken sparingly and poison in quantity, so it is with blogs and social media. Haven’t you had enough Facebook time today? But you are here, and here’s the truth: if we spend more time on the internet than in our imaginations, if we care more about stroking readers than about writing fiction, if we’re tweeting book cover releases rather than exchanging weak adjectives for strong nouns and verbs, if we’re not taking the time to challenge every single sentence, how will we ever hope to produce a novel worth reading?

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Grounding the reader

Posted on August 31, 2012 by | 2 Comments

Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club Fight Clubbegins like this:

         Tyler gets me a job as a waiter, after that Tyler’s pushing a gun in my mouth and saying, the first step to eternal life is you have to die. For a long time though, Tyler and I were best friends. People are always asking, did I know about Tyler Durden.

         The barrel of the gun pressed against the back of my throat, Tyler says, “We really won’t die.”

Over the top? Yes. Gun in the opening sentence? Come on. Spare me. So overdone. But the novel starts to work in the third paragraph:

         With my tongue I can feel the silencer holes we drilled into the barrel of the gun. Most of the noise a gunshot makes is expanding gases, and there’s the tiny sonic boom a bullet makes because it travels so fast. To make a silencer, you just drill holes in the barrel of the gun, a lot of holes. This lets the gas escape and slows the bullet to below the speed of sound.

The narrative has stopped screaming, “Hook the reader on page one.” This is interesting. The gun that began as a gimmick now has a tongue on its silencer holes. Palahniuk has taken the reader to a new place. I’m intrigued. By page two, I’m in the moment with these characters and yes, I’m hooked.

What has hooked me? The details. In chapter one it’s guns and the nuances of mixing sawdust and chemicals into explosives. In chapter two it’s narrowly-focused support groups. Chapter three, movie projector reels, all from the perspective of a protagonist with insomnia. It’s intense. Disjointed. Engaging. No hand-holding here. Instead, it’s my job to keep up, and I cannot turn the pages fast enough. In scene after scene, I latch onto details that ground me in an otherwise chaotic narrative. I’ve suspended disbelief and clicked the seat belt. Now I’m leaning forward, gripping the safety bar, not feeling safe at all. I taste metal, smell tarmac exhaust, and hear the crunch of buttered popcorn on the theater floor.

In my own writing these days, I’ve made the switch from soul-searching and re-evaluating a novel that my agent nixed to revisions—major revisions. I don’t need a gun in the first sentence to wake up my story, but I need details. I’ve figured out what my protagonist wants. Now can I succeed in grounding readers so they’ll suspend disbelief and come along for the ride? If Palahniuk can do it, so can I.

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On listening

Posted on July 28, 2012 by | 4 Comments

SCBWI logoMy debut novel will be released in 2013, so I applied for the SCBWI Book Launch Award—some extra funds to launch my book in an innovative way. And I won! SCBWI announced the winners yesterday afternoon, and I’m still processing the news. So excited!

But this blog isn’t about tooting my horn. It’s about craft—how to write more, write better, and fall in love with the process of writing. My hope is that the very activities I’ll do to promote my novel will get me to engage with students and teachers in ways that will enhance my writing. Ways that will encourage me to ask what matters… why I write the books I write… why I write at all… how my writing might make a difference…

Part of the marketing proposal that won the award was this:Podium Foundation logo encourage students and teachers to use my book as a springboard to create their own “Making a Difference” audio recordings. Partner with The Podium Foundation, a Richmond (VA) nonprofit which holds writing clubs in Richmond’s high schools; lead workshops in each club, guiding students to write, revise, rehearse and record stories of themselves or others making a difference, patterning stories after NPR’s “This American Life”; post the MP3 recordings on my website and Podium’s website.

While the students will be revising, rehearsing and recording their essays, I’ll be listening. I look forward to meeting teens with ideas, strengths and issues that are new to me. I’m excited to hear a variety of stories… to listen… to engage… to encourage… to question… to learn from them and stretch my writing in new directions.

While much of my own writing is for myself (I write stories that speak intimately to me), I also write for a particular audience—for young readers. The greater my ability to listen to kids, the greater is the potential that my writing will engage them. For whom do you write? And how do you go about listening to your readers?

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