Reading for Writers…

In surfing through the writer communities I am allowed to be in (yes, allowed is the correct term here, think of who’s writing this, peeps!), I’ve noticed a comment that seems to be uttered often.  It goes along the lines of this:

“Writers who read are better writers for it.”

Maybe it’s just me, but I kind of thought writers were avid readers. I mean, we create these worlds, give birth to characters that are more real than our family, and create plots that make spiders weep because we are storytellers.  How can one hone the cutting edge of their craft if they don’t constantly rub against the skilled whetstone of others around them?

Yes, writing can be a solitary art, but still…

If you don’t read, in your genre, in other genres, new and old authors, fiction and non-fiction, how on earth can you learn what works and what doesn’t?

Discovering new voices can spark the germ of a unique idea for you.  Perhaps after reading a first person point of view story told by the family pet, a germ of an idea on how you can create a unique POV for your own story will begin to take root.

Maybe the way one author’s turn of phrase captures your heart enough for you to dabble in the art of languages.

Perhaps some unique historical happening suddenly has you asking, “What if?” and viola! A story begins.

Writers find inspiration in a number of areas–music, TV, movies, society, newspapers, PEOPLE magazine, you name it, we’re good at finding creative sparks. Yet, maybe it’s just me, but I find some of my best ideas come about because I read EVERYTHING.  Fiction. Non-Fiction. Urban Fantasy. Erotic. Romance. Military Suspense. Mystery. Thriller. Horror. Exposes on old government groups. Reports on scientific trends and developments. You name it, I’ll read it. I go no where with out my Kindle or an actual book.

What makes your creative spark light?

Who’s Head Are We In?

As a writer, you are made aware that there are a number of rules by which you must write.  Part of me, the one pepetually stuck in my teenage years, wants to thumb my nose at this never ending list of Do’s and Don’ts.  However, I’m a logical, thinking adult…and I still want to thumb my nose at the damn list.  Since writing is a craft you are continually perfecting, I have no doubt that I have broken several of these rules without even thinking about it. 

Yet, until my latest WIP, there is one rule I’ve been very careful of not breaking–keeping a consistent point of view.

If you’ve read (or are planning to read) my first two books, you’ll note that we are always in Raine’s point of view.  Since I’m easily confused, will just label my style as Third Person Limited–basically the story is told from the protagonist’s POV using “he” and “she”.  This has worked quite well for me, until Xander and Warrick decided to show up. 

I’ve tried the First Person POV–everything told from the protagonist’s POV.  This style lures you in with the promise of pulling your readers in closer to your character.  Those snickers you hear as you dive in? That’s the style laughing it’s ass off at you because you have stepped into the quagmire of “I thought…”,  “I moved…”, “I…”,  “I…” and it so hard to drag yourself free.  I have mad respect for all those writers who’ve used First Person POV brillantly.  I’ll even admit to having a partial story in this style.  It’s now sitting in a corner by itself until it learns to behave better.

There is this term–”Head hopping” that most writers hear.  For those not familiar with this term, pick up a book and tell me, how many of the characters are telling the story?  Are there chapter or scene breaks inbetween each character’s scene?  If so, the writer is skating the thin edge of the rules, but doing well.  But say you go from John’s perspective to Mary’s, then to Roman’s all within a page, back to John’s, then to Roman’s, then to Mary’s, all within two pages, that’s called head hopping.  It’s a bit like standing in the center of the room with the characters surrounding you and you spin endlessly trying to follow along.

Now, one of my favorite authors (and no, I’m not sharing the name) likes to head hop, and they have TONS of books out there.  As a reader I’m okay with it, those stories work for me. As a writer, I’ve tried very hard never to head hop.  For me (THIS IS MY OPINION!) I always felt like I was cheating if I had to use multiple perspectives to get the story across to the readers. 

*clears throat* 

Recently, I’ve had to change my mind.  Those who’ve been following along know I’ve struggled to get Shadow’s Moon under way as I searched for the correct POV to do the story from.  Finally, this weekend, it hit–this story is about two very distinct people, therefore the reader needs to hear both of their voices. 

*sigh*

So those rules you hear all the time, take them with a huge salt lick.  Rules are a great way to help you start out in writing, but don’t be afraid of ignoring them and jumping off your creative cliff occassionally. You’ll be surprised what meets you half way down! 

 Wicked

So BZZZ Busy…

So looked at my calendar and realized that OMG I NEED TO GET A POST DONE!  So huge apologies for the very brief post this week but man, oh man, has it been busy. Small fires flaring up everywhere, the Prankster Duo turning my hair gray (not like it had far to go), and then just hours ago realizing that the third revision of chapter 2 for book 3 must be re-written.

And here’s why Chapter 2 is up for another rewrite and a small peek into a writer’s brain–

You have a rogue werewolf who’s chasing down his ex-girlfriend who’s dumped him and was out clubbing with friends before hooking up with a new guy.  Furball takes exception to the rival and leaves him in a bloody heap, not breathing.  Then proceeds to corner ex in a club.  There they argue and she turns her back on him and walks away. Now, what’s more believable?

A.  Furball gets mad, Xander confronts him and he proceeds to head to the alley and the rumble between him and Xander ensues.  This means the humans are still in the dark about the existence of shifters.

or

B.  Furball gets mad, Xander confronts him and he proceeds to lose control tearing apart the varied humans around him causing a panic which limits Xander’s ability to reach him.  When she finally does, they rumble admist a screaming storm of body parts and panicking humans.  Now Division gets called in, Warrick the Alpha gets called in and it’s one big cluster.

So which makes more exciting reading?

Yep, I’m with you..so back to the drawing board and we’ll start drafting Version B.

*SIGH*  Even with an outline this book is being a stubborn ass from the get go.  Just when I think I have it all figured out, my characters snicker, slap me across the face and dash away.

I love being a writer…

–Wicked

Pesky Internal Voices

Here’s the deal with diving into your next work in progress after spending an incredible amount of time editing your last piece–your inner critic refuses to shut the hell up!

We’ll refer to mine as VON (voice of my nightmares).

Von showed no fear when I threaten to take her out and dump her in the hole I dug out back in the swamp just last week for such an occassion.  Oh no, she kept right on.  “Don’t tell me, show me!” 

Show her?  Ohhh, I could show her all sorts of cutting repartees that will leave lasting impressions.  Instead, I gritted my teeth and tried to drown her under the pounding melodies of Seether and Nickleback.  When that didn’t work, I brought out the big guns–Korn and the greatest of them all…Trent Reznor.  But still, Von’s venemous whispers wafting through my mind.

I was in the midst of getting Xander back to her partner and a dead body in book 3, when Von broke through.

“That is not going to work. Who told them about the body? Who found it? How come the Pack knows, but no human is involved? And where’s Warrick?”

Really? I refrained from slamming my head into the wooden surface of the table next to my laptop by the barest fraction.  Wouldn’t do to upset my baristas, besides I might spill my drink.  Gritting my teeth, I went back an re-read what I had written.  Damn it…Von’s right…so I went back and rewrote. 

For awhile Von was placated with frappacinnos and coffee cake, while Xander and I worked through a few challenges.  Yes, some of them involving the alpha of the Northwest Pack, but still, we were getting there.  Then Von butted in…

“Why?”

Stumped by the strange question that contained no extranous commentary, I sat there blinking.  “Huh?”

“Why? Why kill this one?  What does his death do to the pack?”

Umm, okay, because…and I explained to her-again-why we were doing this.  She hummed under breathe and sipped her frappacinno.  “Okay, that should work, but we’ll have to see..”

Here’s the thing with Von. As exhausting as she is to work with when I’m writing, she’s an even bigger pest as I’ve been trying to figure out the cover of Shadow’s Soul.  Last week, I asked for feedback on Shadow’s Edge cover over at Cover Art Review blog and got exactly what I asked for.  Don’t mistake me, I’m actually really happy with what I got back.  There were no rave reviews, but the actual feedback was helpful.  However, it did give Von some serious ammunition as she peeked in on what I was considering for Shadow’s Soul.  I have a feeling that until I hit the big leagues or discover some unknown artistic genius residing deep inside me, I’m going to have to make what I have access to for cover art–work.

As for Von–I’ve tried luring her over to Eerie and Mischevious’s neck of the woods, but short of tranqualizing, blindfolding, and trucking her out that way, she seems determined to stick around and torment me.  Even making her play darts with the Muses doesn’t seem to do anything except make her more crabby!  Maybe if I turn up my music, she’ll get bored and go pester Snarky!  With my luck she’ll have a twin or hell, be part of triplets, and then all three of them can torment the rest of the Evil 7 and drive us all insane!

–Wicked

What’s in a name?

Welcome back, all! Sorry for the disappearing act last week.  Wish I could tell you the reason behind it involved fame and fortune, instead it was more along the lines of bills were due and if I want the ability to pay them to continue I must fulfill my oath to the cubicle gods and do what I promised. So I did.  All week long.  I even survived the strange liquid they call “rain” for it.  Oh the sacrifices I make.

Enough wallowing…on to our last editing piece of advice–the usage of names.

I’m not sure about other writers, but I snagged slots of time where I can to sneak away and put my stories to paper (or input into a computer, as the case may be).  The drawback to this approach is that while your story’s timeline maybe cruising right along, your writing timeline is not.  Therefore, what eventually reads as a mere five minutes for your characters across five pages, in reality took you two weeks to get down just right.  In this strange time warp of writing, I found that I have a tendency to think my readers may forget who they’re reading about. Probably because I’m so frustrated by various bumps and detours in those five pages, I’d rather give up and start with fresh new characters.  In a whole new story.  But I digress.

Imagine how shocked I was when one of my brilliant editors pointed out, quite gently and so compassionately, that perhaps I needed to discover the word “she” and “he” once more as prospective readers may suffer severe brain damage from being bashed continually over the head with my character names.  Mortification was immediate.  Said brilliant editor, then went on to explain that the words “she” and “he” are invisible to the readers unless you start too many sentences with those pronouns.

In keeping with my sharing actually examples, here’s my last one for you from Shadow’s Edge (if you want more, you’ll have to buy it when it comes out in November!)

Gavin came at her in a blur. Barely blocking his first hit, she responded with a snapping series of punches and kicks then dodged back out of reach. He pursued her. His hands struck out, followed by a quick foot-sweep.

She landed on her back, twisted to the side, crouched, and got her feet set, before kicking out. A solid hit to his thigh knocked him off balance just enough for her to pull back and set up for her next move. Back and forth they moved, focused and deadly, the silence broken by occasional grunts and the thick sound of flesh hitting flesh. Fifteen minutes later, they stepped back and bowed to each other.

Raine, chest heaving, was grateful to see Gavin breathing equally hard. There would be bruises and aches tomorrow, but the rage was banked for now, leaving her calmer, steadier. She met his eyes and found an echo of the primitive joy she always felt after a fight. Watching Gavin in predator mode touched her primal female core. Without thinking she gave him a fierce grin, receiving a similar baring of teeth.

“So, now that the preliminaries are out of the way,” she said. “What next?”

Gavin chuckled and shook his head. “You’re one of the few females I know, Raine, that gets off on fighting.”

“Hey a girl has to have a hobby.” Raine’s voice was muffled as she wiped the sweat off her face with a towel. “You have to admit it was fun.”

“It’s definitely one way to blow off a little steam.” Grabbing his own towel, he began to wipe his chest. Her eyes caught the motion.  Her breath hitched briefly before steadying out. His chest was truly fascinating, but looking was a dangerous indulgence, especially right now. However, her silent warning did not stop her damn hormones from clamoring for attention.

“I can think of other things that work just as well, if not better,” he offered, his voice darker, seductive. The flare of arousal in his green eyes let her know she’d been caught staring. “Like what you see?”

More than he’d ever know. “It’s distracting, but I’ll live,” she responded, knowing this attraction was a mess, just waiting to happen.

In this scene, if we remove a few proper names we get a more fluid scene.

He came at her in a blur. Barely blocking his first hit, she responded with a snapping series of punches and kicks then dodged back out of reach. He pursued her. His hands struck out, followed by a quick foot-sweep.

She landed on her back, twisted to the side, crouched, and got her feet set, before kicking out. A solid hit to his thigh knocked him off balance just enough for her to pull back and set up for her next move. Back and forth they danced, focused and deadly, the silence broken by occasional grunts and the thick sound of flesh hitting flesh. Fifteen minutes later, they stepped back and bowed to each other.

Raine, chest heaving, was grateful to see Gavin breathing equally hard. There would be bruises and aches tomorrow, but the rage was banked for now, leaving her calmer, steadier. She met his hooded gaze and found an echo of the primitive joy she always felt after a fight. Watching Gavin in predator mode touched her primal feminine core. Without thinking she gave him a fierce grin, receiving a similar baring of teeth.

“So, now that the preliminaries are out of the way,” she said. “What next?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re one of the few females I know that gets off on fighting.”

“Hey a girl has to have a hobby.” Her voice was muffled as she wiped the sweat off her face with a towel. “You have to admit it was fun.”

“It’s definitely one way to blow off a little steam.” Grabbing his own towel, he began to wipe his chest. Her eyes caught the motion and her breath hitched briefly before steadying out. His chest was truly fascinating, but looking was a dangerous indulgence, especially right now. However, her silent warning did not stop her damn hormones from clamoring for attention.

“I can think of other things that work just as well, if not better,” he offered, his voice darker, seductive. The flare of arousal in his green eyes let her know she’d been caught staring. “Like what you see?”

More than he’d ever know. “It’s distracting, but I’ll live,” she responded, knowing this attraction was a mess, just waiting to happen.

So now that we’ve covered some of the basic editing rules in the last few weeks, go forth, prepare and get ready to write.  Besides, NANO is just around the corner. Put your new-found skills to work and create your masterpiece!

Until next week! I’m going to go enjoy my Blood Red Eerie brought me!

Wicked

So How’s that Journaling Working Out?

Well…I have to admit I’m not fully up to speed yet, but I’m working on it. It’s interesting how ideas develop as you talk to yourself on the printed page. Playing what if with pen or pencil is enlightening. When a crap idea pops up, it’s easy enough to either destroy it or ignore it. Scratching lines through it is satisfying.

When the germ of a good idea pops up, it invariably leads to further ideas. Mashing around in ‘idea land’ is much easier than trying to work out the same ideas in your manuscript. It can be a real pain to get 5,000 words down a path and find out it’s not working.

One handy thing I found about keeping a journal is a list of words. Like most writers, I’m constantly coming across words I’d like to use in the future. In the past, I’d always noted the word and committed it to memory. You probably know how well that works. Now, in the back of my current journal, I jot the words down along with various meanings. Haven’t used any yet on my WIP, but I know it will come in handy in the future.

So…journaling is growing on me.

Smokey

the frightening world of a writer’s mind…

In one of my many writer group links (yep, I belong to some and my inbox tends to crash on occasion at the many conversations running around out there) someone sweetly shared a link to a very insightful blog about being a writer. After picking myself up off the floor, I quickly forwarded it on to the other ED’s, and then, because I’m mean, I made my hubby sit down and read it.

I sat on pins and needles (okay so I basically stood over him with a blunt object) and waited for him to be swept away by the genius evident in the post.  He laughed, which was good–nice to know the warped sense of humor I married him for all those eons ago is still there–and then he looked at me with (gasp!) pity?!!! What the hell?  No, no, no, he was suppose to say, “Oh honey, now I understand why the Prankster Duo and I have to exist on unidentifiable left overs and delivery, while you sit in a dark office illuminated only by the flicker of a computer screen and why you sometimes resemble Gollum from Lord of the Rings (that’s the weird little dude who glows in the dark for you non-nerds).  It all makes sense!”

Did he say that? Um, nope.  Instead his response is, “It’s okay baby, I knew that when I married you and I still said ‘I do’.”

Seriously?? Did he not see the mad genius that exists in each writer’s mind? The mad babble of voices that fight for supremacy while leaving things like groceries, doctor appointments, eating, basic hygiene in their frenzied wake?  There’s a reason a writer will stare at you with a bemused smile while their eyes keep darting off to the side in the midst of your conversation.  Really, they’d love to listen to you but it’s a bit hard when the worlds in your head start to get pushy and demand exclusive attention.  I know, it sounds a bit psychotic, but it’s not our fault.  It’s why we write!

This week I read something that clicked. They said to make great art, you had to expose your soul and some things are better left safely in the dark. Those that fear exposing such darkness are constantly tormented by the fact they can almost touch the creative beast, while those who grit their teeth and reach out may burn, but the beauty of such exposure ensnares those around them.  Much like music, playing or creating, writing demands a price from its creator.  Every writer uses their own experiences in some way or fashion to help put life into their words, but it’s one of the scariest things they’ll ever do.

The next time you run across one of us, be gentle and understand, regardless of the genre (poetry, children’s books, songwriting, screen writing, mystery, romance, etc.) published or unpublished, we are writers and it’s not as simple as sitting down and typing out a string of words.  We’re sharing with you something infinitely precious, so if you damage it expect repercussions.  We may not all be Stephen King, but we are all story tellers.

So here’s the link:

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/08/10/what-its-like-being-a-writer/

For those with sensitive minds, please don’t go there and check it out. I really don’t want your family members contacting me and insisting I pay for  your medical bills.  For those who can stare into the abyss and survive, go forth and enjoy!

 

Wicked

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

Greetings once again my my loyal minions,

Mischievous and I are grateful to be home.  The Zombies are looking a little haggard, I’m thinking that Wicked’s Prankster  Duo might have taken a toll on them in my absence.

The 7 Evil Dwarves first annual writing retreat was a huge success.  Situated in the White Mountains, deep in troll country, we convinced our muses to buckle down and get the word count soaring.  When we arrived we had enough electronic gear to launch a space shuttle.  Yet, I believe if the power went out we would have been scratching away with pens and paper.  It was very intense.  We squeezed in lots of good food and fellowship along the way.  Every now and then someone would say something like “I need a smell, or what would you call a flesh eating humanoid, ect.”  Random answers bounced off the high ceiling of our cabin in response.

When the evening wound down we’d take a break in the hot tub and compare notes.  Then back to the keyboards where we worked until well past dark-thirty.  Of course some of us are more resilient than others and speaking for myself, well I’ve got to get my rest if I’m expected to look this good everyday.  Writing is not for the faint of heart.

I am both blessed and proud to be a member of such a dedicated and generous critique group.  My writing partners are my friends, and I count myself one, very fortunate writer to be able to sit amongst them.  When I do my daily devotions I always thank God for the many blessings He has bestowed upon this sinner.  My friends are always on that list.

When Sunday rolled around we packed up mission control.  Mixed emotions abounded as we were sad to be leaving and looking forward to getting home to our loved ones at the same time.  It took us several years of planning to actually make this happen, but I know everyone is already thinking about next year.

As is my custom I  leave you with a quote this one is from, Richard Bach.

“A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.”

Write On,

Eerie

Back to Troll Mountain

Welcome my friends, once again we are not at home.  No sooner did Mischievous and I arrive back at our beloved Swamp, when we find ourselves off again with most of the dwarves in tow.  It appears that while Mischievous and I were running for our lives the rest of the crew decided they wanted a little adventure too.  So, Snarky, Wicked, Smokey, Quirky, and all of our muses are headed out to commune with the writing Gods.  We are going to seek out those sneaky adverbs and adjectives where they hide and eradicate them.  Smash sentence fragments and put those commas in their place.  Envious aren’t you.  Maybe you didn’t know that writing could be so much fun.  So as I look out over the troll ravaged mountain the  I can see the trolls pacing around below us.  The muses already told them, if they want to see a real can of whoop ass, just come on by.  Thus far they’ve elected to leaves us to write in peace.

This weeks topic is about excess words.  Here are some pearls that are loosely tossed about in writing circles.  ”Write Tight,” William Brohaugh; “Omit needless words, and Vigorous writing is concise,” Strunk and White;  ”Superfluous words and phrases soften prose,” Sol Stein.

All of these phases have been lifted from chapters dealing with adverbs and adjectives.  ”Adjectives and adverbs often weaken their subjects,” Noel Lukeman.  Of course killing off every modifier in your prose is not the answer to tight, concise, sharp, focused writing either. As in the example set in the last sentence, more is less.  Here I need to select the strongest and most appropriate adverb.  One is sufficient.  Concise seems to be the easy winner here as it describes the style desired.  By the same measure eliminating all the adverbs ruins the meaning of the sentence.  So the lesson here is some modifiers are good, too many are bad.  The decision is solely the authors as to which ones to keep.  Mr. Lukeman suggests that we start with a single page and remove all of the adverbs, and read it through once.  How does that flow?  Will a stronger verb do a better job than adding an adverb to bolster it.  He then suggests, where we are sure we still need an adverb we use one that is unique and stay away from the over used or clichéd adverbs.  Such as sparkling eyes.  If the eyes in question sparkle or not is not at issue.  What is at issue here is that the phrase has been over used and like dialogue tags it will get skipped over while your reader registers a moment of boredom.

If your work is fraught with similar phrases your reader may decide they’ve read this before and set it down.  The job of a writer is to tell a tale with unique characters and a fresh turn of phrase.  Every sentence is not going to contain these pearls, but neither should all your sentences contain recycled phrases.  In order to give your characters a distinct voice they will need some dialogue quirks, that’s what  I to call them.  Phases that are uniquely theirs so that the reader doesn’t need a tag to know who’s speaking.

So this is my goal for the coming weekend of writing in the mountains.  It is what all wordsmiths aim for.  And so as miscellaneous body parts drift down the river in front of our cabin from the last zombie attack.  I throw myself on the mercy of the writing gods in hopes they will show me favor.  I leave you with these words from a writer known for his concise style.

“For a long time now I have tried simply to write the best I can.  Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can.”  Ernest Hemingway

Write On,

Eerie

Joining the social network…

Okay so I’m trying to set up a Facebook page for Jami Gray because, my whip-mistress, Snarky, has made an “impression” and “pressed” upon me the importance of broadening my social networking. Here’s the deal, I am constantly amazed I can manage a weekly blog, but add in an actual page and I start to panic.  I can be sarcastic (stop snorting Eerie or I’ll sick Raven on you!) but witty and engaging may escape me. Yet no matter how much I protest (read scream and throw a tantrum) if you want people out there to read what you’re putting to paper, you’d best step up and become a social creature.

Now how big of an oxymoron is that? Most writers I know, would rather huddle down in whatever little cubby hole they’ve crawled into so no one can find them, and let the world disappear.  That way, they can lose themselves in their world, because, let’s face it, it’s a lot more interesting. It’s why we write what we do.  So back to point…one of the hardest things about being a writer is the fact that I have to overcome a lifelong practice of sitting back and watching those around me as their actions/words/situations spark my creativity, and I have to be…gasp…SOCIAL.

So yes, I now have a Facebook page.  I’m not sure I have it set right, but I’m sure I’ll be getting lots of pointers at the next gathering over at Dusty Tomes Library just pass Eerie’s swamp.  So bear with me as I make my way into the treacherous world of social networking.

–Wicked