Strangled Melody is out in the world and I’m here working on other things. I thought it worthwhile to take a moment to comment on the key things I learned from the project. First the obvious: writing is a discipline that must be practiced daily and that there are no excuses for failure to do the work. Do it or don’t. Either way, it’s on your head.
There are several things that came together for me in this project in ways that I don’t think would have occurred without the hellish deadline. There’s something about landing in the deep end of the pond that lends crystalline clarity to your motivation to learn to tread water.
Organization. I’m not talking about your desk or your pencil holder. A story is like a basket of snakes, a writhing, amorphous mass that only makes sense when you tease it apart. Consider your characters, plots (main and subplots), setting (place or world), and the overall picture. Each of them must stand independently, or they will never hang together. Then consider the timeline – the beast that flogs us all and the glue that holds the entire story together. The clock is ticking all the time, don’t lose track of it.
Fortunately, there are tools that make this easier to visualize. Outlook has a feature called My Calendars that allows you to create discrete calendars, separate from your personal/professional calendar. Fictional timelines play out nicely when scheduled day by day in Outlook and they are accessible at the click of a check box.
People often make lists or outlines, but I find these can be quite limiting when dealing with complex subjects like world-building or juggling multiple suspects and pieces of evidence in a crime. Mindmaps are a great tool for capturing and envisioning such multi-dimensional ruminations.
There are lots of tools out there that are used in business or academia that will work just as well for writers building fictional worlds or journalists collecting and developing stories for any media. Screenwriters seem to have figured this out and they make use of many different tools that speed them toward “The End.” The rest of us could take a lesson from them.
Finally, I internalized the fact that writing is both an art and a business. I’ve known that intellectually for years. After all, I’m a businesswoman. But learning that down to the bones has been a struggle until I slapped postage on that box and sent it off. Just in case I don’t get a positive nod from the judges, I’m working on a promotion and marketing plan for the book. And I’ve got a partner who’s just and committed as I am. One way or another, Strangled Melody is going to be published in 2010.
Just Think Differently.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Never Give Up
In mystery novels, as in life, it’s all a matter of perspective. Depending on their positions in the room, characters will see different things. A witness’ memory is a frail thing at best, failing the truth despite best intentions. Misinterpretation and preconceived notions are the enemies of accurate reporting, adding to the confusion. Evidence is a somewhat better source, but only if investigators successfully sift through the mountain of irrelevant material to find the meaningful pieces of evidence hiding in plain sight.
Sifting and sorting through the details of the novel, scene by scene, chapter by chapter, I soon felt like I was drowning. Not only was I trying to deconstruct the original story, but I was creating a new book out of the ashes of the old. The characters were a decade older, so I had to figure out how their relationships with the people in the story had changed. What motivated the murderer? For that matter, who was the murderer? And why did my amateur detective get involved in the case in the first place?
Answering those questions gave me a fresh perspective on the story and the characters soon began to take their places on stage, waiting to deliver their lines. I still had to write them, creating the scenes that would bring the drama and tragedy of their actions to life, but by the end of the first week, it was starting to take shape. And I hadn’t written much of anything yet.
The other challenge I faced was shifting the main character from third person to first person perspective, a change I felt was warranted to bring the reader closer to the lead character and her world. That alone would take some very picky editorial work, ferreting out every third person reference (I can’t tell you how many hundreds of references to “her” and “she” I changed).
I took a cue from the creators of Dramatica Pro, Melanie Anne Phillips and Chris Huntley, and started to deconstruct the manuscript into its component story throughlines. Five character throughlines provided the perspectives of the murderer, several suspects and the amateur sleuth, while a six throughline covered the events leading up to a pivotal event in the story. Throughlines are a powerful method for tracking a character or subplot from beginning to end. I found it exposed missing elements and structural weaknesses, enabling me to quickly address problem areas that I likely would not have seen in the context of the entire book.
As I came down to the wire the weekend of October 10th, I needed to integrate all the pieces of the book into a cohesive whole and run a final edit on the entire manuscript in time to put it in the mail on October 14th (my goal was to have it in New York on October 15th). Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that weekend. Despite my efforts, I was not going to make the deadline unless I could free up one more full day to focus on the book. I took my last remaining vacation day and worked until midnight, finishing the manuscript. I wrapped up the final editorial on Tuesday night and prepared the manuscript for mailing on Wednesday.
That was when the train went off the tracks. The competition information on the website was written in a singularly confusing manner, and I must admit that I misread the requirements. Although the manuscript was due October 15th, applicants were advised to submit the entry form, which was only available by mail. And the package was supposed to be sent to a judge, whose address would be sent along with the entry form.
So, I’m standing in my office, staring at this convoluted language while I realize that I’ve spent the better part of a month preparing for a competition I will be unable to enter and I’m surprised by my reaction. I didn’t care because I hadn’t written the book for them. I realize that I’ve done all this work for me and nothing, least of all an incompetent copy-writer of competition rules, is going to stop me from taking this book to market. I scroll through the webpage and discover that the Edgar First Crime Novel competition has a deadline in November. So, I draft a letter and send it off, requesting the entry form and judge’s name and address. Life is so good. I’m entering the Edgar competition.
When the letter arrived in November with the entry form and my judge’s mailing information, I had that little rush of happiness that comes over you when you realize there’s no place to go but up. I put that package together (carefully checking everything so I missed no detail) and sent it off.
Then I jumped right off the cliff, posting an announcement on Facebook that I had entered the competition. That was harder than sending the manuscript, but I felt like I owed it to myself to own my success or failure in front of family and friends. Lots of wonderful comments and support. I dropped a line to Karen Gilb, thanking her again.
Kicking back with a virtual glass of sherry by the fire. A good month’s work and more to come. I am galvanized and working anew on my other project.
Just Think Differently.
Sifting and sorting through the details of the novel, scene by scene, chapter by chapter, I soon felt like I was drowning. Not only was I trying to deconstruct the original story, but I was creating a new book out of the ashes of the old. The characters were a decade older, so I had to figure out how their relationships with the people in the story had changed. What motivated the murderer? For that matter, who was the murderer? And why did my amateur detective get involved in the case in the first place?
Answering those questions gave me a fresh perspective on the story and the characters soon began to take their places on stage, waiting to deliver their lines. I still had to write them, creating the scenes that would bring the drama and tragedy of their actions to life, but by the end of the first week, it was starting to take shape. And I hadn’t written much of anything yet.
The other challenge I faced was shifting the main character from third person to first person perspective, a change I felt was warranted to bring the reader closer to the lead character and her world. That alone would take some very picky editorial work, ferreting out every third person reference (I can’t tell you how many hundreds of references to “her” and “she” I changed).
I took a cue from the creators of Dramatica Pro, Melanie Anne Phillips and Chris Huntley, and started to deconstruct the manuscript into its component story throughlines. Five character throughlines provided the perspectives of the murderer, several suspects and the amateur sleuth, while a six throughline covered the events leading up to a pivotal event in the story. Throughlines are a powerful method for tracking a character or subplot from beginning to end. I found it exposed missing elements and structural weaknesses, enabling me to quickly address problem areas that I likely would not have seen in the context of the entire book.
As I came down to the wire the weekend of October 10th, I needed to integrate all the pieces of the book into a cohesive whole and run a final edit on the entire manuscript in time to put it in the mail on October 14th (my goal was to have it in New York on October 15th). Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that weekend. Despite my efforts, I was not going to make the deadline unless I could free up one more full day to focus on the book. I took my last remaining vacation day and worked until midnight, finishing the manuscript. I wrapped up the final editorial on Tuesday night and prepared the manuscript for mailing on Wednesday.
That was when the train went off the tracks. The competition information on the website was written in a singularly confusing manner, and I must admit that I misread the requirements. Although the manuscript was due October 15th, applicants were advised to submit the entry form, which was only available by mail. And the package was supposed to be sent to a judge, whose address would be sent along with the entry form.
So, I’m standing in my office, staring at this convoluted language while I realize that I’ve spent the better part of a month preparing for a competition I will be unable to enter and I’m surprised by my reaction. I didn’t care because I hadn’t written the book for them. I realize that I’ve done all this work for me and nothing, least of all an incompetent copy-writer of competition rules, is going to stop me from taking this book to market. I scroll through the webpage and discover that the Edgar First Crime Novel competition has a deadline in November. So, I draft a letter and send it off, requesting the entry form and judge’s name and address. Life is so good. I’m entering the Edgar competition.
When the letter arrived in November with the entry form and my judge’s mailing information, I had that little rush of happiness that comes over you when you realize there’s no place to go but up. I put that package together (carefully checking everything so I missed no detail) and sent it off.
Then I jumped right off the cliff, posting an announcement on Facebook that I had entered the competition. That was harder than sending the manuscript, but I felt like I owed it to myself to own my success or failure in front of family and friends. Lots of wonderful comments and support. I dropped a line to Karen Gilb, thanking her again.
Kicking back with a virtual glass of sherry by the fire. A good month’s work and more to come. I am galvanized and working anew on my other project.
Just Think Differently.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Deadlines Trump Resistance
Alanis Morissette recommends, “…biting off more than you can chew to anyone.” Apparently, I subscribe to that notion as well and I soon discovered that I have more capacity than I could conceive when driven to deliver by a looming deadline.
Here are the stats on Strangled Melody as I reviewed the folder:
Original novel 84,000 words, 455 pp
Rewrite-in-progress: 8,000 words, 44 pp
I knew the original was too long, with some extraneous characters and subplots that would hit the cutting room floor. But I still needed 60,000 words to meet the competition requirements – a target that felt like just the right ballpark after my planned clean-up and rewrite. Knowing where I stood and where I intended to end up, I realized that the only way I could complete the work was by restructuring my life to make it happen.
My game plan: no social or other distractions, all time outside my job would be spent writing or researching, and I had zero room for excuses to goof off. Fortunately, I have a very supportive spouse, who made it possible for me to do all this. I re-designed my schedule so I could write every morning from 5:30-7:00 and all evening until 10:00 or 11:00. The weekends would allow me to dive deep, digging into the characters and subplots so the finished novel would fit together in a tight package.
As I reviewed the manuscript, it became readily apparent that I could not afford to waste time. Every aspect of the editorial and writing process had to be efficient, and I needed to execute flawlessly. Much as I needed a rigorous schedule, I had to establish a set of ground rules that would prevent me from second-guessing myself and losing momentum. After a bit of intellectual gyration, I arrived at a simple principle: lay it out, clean it up or cut it and go.
I needed to establish a clear picture of the timeline of events and actions for each character, identify plot points, clues (hints dropped in along the way to help the fictional detective and readers figure out whodunit), and timing down to the last detail. Anything that didn’t drive the story had to go, holes needed to be identified and filled, and then it all had to be patched together into a cohesive whole that flowed for readers who would never know that the picture had started as a big jigsaw puzzle.
Since I tend to write in an organic way, this would be great discipline for me. I was not giving myself permission to wander off on tangents and paddle around in backwaters of color and marginal relevance, no matter how interesting or fun the writing might be. My old habits had to go; I had to take a different tack to meet the deadline.
Just Think Differently.
Here are the stats on Strangled Melody as I reviewed the folder:
Original novel 84,000 words, 455 pp
Rewrite-in-progress: 8,000 words, 44 pp
I knew the original was too long, with some extraneous characters and subplots that would hit the cutting room floor. But I still needed 60,000 words to meet the competition requirements – a target that felt like just the right ballpark after my planned clean-up and rewrite. Knowing where I stood and where I intended to end up, I realized that the only way I could complete the work was by restructuring my life to make it happen.
My game plan: no social or other distractions, all time outside my job would be spent writing or researching, and I had zero room for excuses to goof off. Fortunately, I have a very supportive spouse, who made it possible for me to do all this. I re-designed my schedule so I could write every morning from 5:30-7:00 and all evening until 10:00 or 11:00. The weekends would allow me to dive deep, digging into the characters and subplots so the finished novel would fit together in a tight package.
As I reviewed the manuscript, it became readily apparent that I could not afford to waste time. Every aspect of the editorial and writing process had to be efficient, and I needed to execute flawlessly. Much as I needed a rigorous schedule, I had to establish a set of ground rules that would prevent me from second-guessing myself and losing momentum. After a bit of intellectual gyration, I arrived at a simple principle: lay it out, clean it up or cut it and go.
I needed to establish a clear picture of the timeline of events and actions for each character, identify plot points, clues (hints dropped in along the way to help the fictional detective and readers figure out whodunit), and timing down to the last detail. Anything that didn’t drive the story had to go, holes needed to be identified and filled, and then it all had to be patched together into a cohesive whole that flowed for readers who would never know that the picture had started as a big jigsaw puzzle.
Since I tend to write in an organic way, this would be great discipline for me. I was not giving myself permission to wander off on tangents and paddle around in backwaters of color and marginal relevance, no matter how interesting or fun the writing might be. My old habits had to go; I had to take a different tack to meet the deadline.
Just Think Differently.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
An Electronic Kick in the Pants
Things have been notably still on this blog for awhile and that’s totally my bad (I am the sole author, so it would be ludicrous to blame anyone else). However, I’ve given myself permission to slide as I’ve been working on a couple of other hot projects that have distracted me in a most sincerely good way.
September 20th was a fateful day. One of my long-time writer friends dropped me a quick note regarding a mystery writer’s competition. Karen Gilb reports on the Portland writing scene for the online publication Examiner.com and she came across the competition while researching an article.
I followed the link to the St. Martin’s Minotaur competition page, where the Malice Domestic First Novel competition was listed (among others). Perusing the requirements, I had to agree, it fit my mothballed mystery novel quite well and the deadline for submission was October 15th.
Then the speed bumps started popping up in the roadway.
First, I hadn’t touched the book in years since I’d wandered off in the weeds after it was read by a couple agents who recommended substantial rewrites. I had agreed with their feedback, relating mainly to the fact that the characters were too young (college students) for the reader demographic (middle-aged women). Although I’d started a rewrite that I liked much better than my original manuscript, I lost steam and never finished it.
Second, the submission deadline was October 15th, less than four weeks away. Could I possibly rewrite a full length manuscript, edit it and prepare it for submission on such a tight schedule?
Most people would consider this to be an impossible task. Maybe it was. But in the spirit of thinking differently, how could I say no? So I decided to enter the competition.
Just Think Differently.
September 20th was a fateful day. One of my long-time writer friends dropped me a quick note regarding a mystery writer’s competition. Karen Gilb reports on the Portland writing scene for the online publication Examiner.com and she came across the competition while researching an article.
I followed the link to the St. Martin’s Minotaur competition page, where the Malice Domestic First Novel competition was listed (among others). Perusing the requirements, I had to agree, it fit my mothballed mystery novel quite well and the deadline for submission was October 15th.
Then the speed bumps started popping up in the roadway.
First, I hadn’t touched the book in years since I’d wandered off in the weeds after it was read by a couple agents who recommended substantial rewrites. I had agreed with their feedback, relating mainly to the fact that the characters were too young (college students) for the reader demographic (middle-aged women). Although I’d started a rewrite that I liked much better than my original manuscript, I lost steam and never finished it.
Second, the submission deadline was October 15th, less than four weeks away. Could I possibly rewrite a full length manuscript, edit it and prepare it for submission on such a tight schedule?
Most people would consider this to be an impossible task. Maybe it was. But in the spirit of thinking differently, how could I say no? So I decided to enter the competition.
Just Think Differently.
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