Writers in the Storm

by Tiffany Yates Martin

Author Liz Fenton—half of the writing team, with Lisa Steinke, behind bestselling novels like The Good Widow—recently told me about her fitness regimen at Orange Theory.

“I hate working out!” she said. She dreads it every time she goes, and doesn’t enjoy it while she’s there. “But I love the way my shoulders look, and my arms. That’s what editing is like.” 

Liz and Lisa’s latest book, Girls Night Out was released earlier this year after a more than usually grueling edit process. Despite their author’s note in the book that the revisions for this one nearly broke them, “It’s a much better book,” Liz says simply—just the way she loves her body as a result of the workouts she hates. 

Genius may not be quite "one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration,” as Edison famously said—but it’s at least a solid fifty-fifty, and after the thrill of creating your manuscript (especially in the breakneck rush of NaNo), much of the “perspiration” part comes in the editing process.

Editing is where the magic of a story really comes to life—but it’s often a lot of work—and not in the immediately satisfying way of first-drafting.

I liken it to sculpting: A first draft is when the figure is roughed out, and form begins to emerge from a meaningless chunk of stone. This is the thrilling, godlike process of creation in its purest form, when the artist’s imagination literally creates something from nothing, and it can be intoxicating, seductive, even deliciously reckless as the artist follows the Muse wherever she dances.

But then the detail work begins—the amorphous shape of a face must be chiseled and polished again and again and again in ever finer adjustments to create and define precise features, details, proportions. Pull up a picture of Michelangelo’s David and imagine the dedication, work, and patience that went into creating such a detailed, luminous work of art. Roughing out the initial form is merely the first step; the real work of sculpting—or of writing—often happens in the endless, minute, painstaking fine-tuning.

That’s not the romantic vision of being a writer that may have first lit the fire in us (although that glowing illusion is probably a long way in your rearview mirror if you’ve been at this for any time at all). It’s more the quotidian reality of a master craftsman. If you want to be a concert violinist, an opera singer, a ballerina, a brilliant actor, you practice over and over and over—often on the same piece of work. You are exploring, honing, fleshing out, developing your craft along with this particular piece of art.

What separates artists from hobbyists is the willingness to do that work, to persist in a project past the immediately gratifying part of inspiration and creation. It’s easy to head to the gym right after your New Year’s resolution, or at the beginning of your weight-loss program, or starting a fitness regimen with a group of friends. But the people who grow strong and healthy and fit are those who show up—day after day, lap after lap, lift after lift, till their muscles tremble and ache. They may hate working out—but they love the effects of having worked out.

I do think there’s joy in editing—and even a great deal of that same creative fire that draws most writers into the craft in the first place. I work with a number of authors who tell me that they are “editing” or “process” writers—the first draft is almost a glorified outline for them; the revision process is where they dive deep and immerse themselves in the story, and much of the delight they take in their craft comes from that in-depth exploration and figuring out all the options, like the thrill of those locked-room games where participants have to use their imaginations, determination, and resourcefulness to find the way out. (These may be the literary equivalent of those “feel the burn,” endorphin-high crazy people who actually love working out.)

But if you’re not one of those folks—if editing (or working out…) feels like the specter of Death before you, how can you find the positives in the necessary editing and revision process?

• Try to enjoy the process: I recently started doing yoga again, and even when I am holding a pose that’s making one group of muscles scream in agony, I like the mindfulness part of practice that also lets me notice the pleasure of a gorgeous stretch across others; or enjoy the newfound ease of a posture that was impossible for me to sustain when I started; or even relish the effort I’m putting forth into holding a side plank and the way it works underemployed muscles (and the ache the next day that makes me feel like a workout badass). Even in the midst of a hard revision, there’s pleasure to be found in working parts of your craft and your mind that you may not use in first-drafting.
• Find the “workout” that works for you: A few weeks ago I accompanied my husband to his gym on a guest pass, and realized why I joined a yoga studio—I’m not comfortable in a gym atmosphere; it makes me feel inadequate, self-judgy, and overwhelmed in a way yoga never does. Gyms are not for me—but I’ve found a way to achieve my fitness goals that does work for me. There are lots of approaches to editing—find the one that resonates with you.
• Use the pain: Liz Fenton also told me that the worst of the edit process for Girls Night Out, when she lost faith in her own ability to get her story where it needed to go, wound up informing and deepening the main characters’ struggles, bringing them more fully to life in a way readers and reviewers have called out as among the most impactful and authentic parts of the book.
• Explore the unexpected: Despite the lack of coordination that’s been a hallmark of my six-foot-tall existence, it turns out I love balancing poses. I would never have thought, but I’ve found that tree pose or eagle or warrior three sharpen my focus and make me feel more centered, and lately I notice I am developing an equilibrium and grace I never thought I’d lay claim to. I’ve worked with countless authors who discover unexpected storylines, character arcs, and plot developments in editing that wind up forming the heart of their story.
• Revel in your progress: I’ve been at this yoga thing now for about six months—time enough to notice that I have much greater flexibility and strength, more energy and balance, and I love the way I look. I also know that it’s a process: I’ll continue to reap these benefits—but only if I stick with my practice. Mastering edits and revisions for one manuscript doesn’t necessarily guarantee the next ones will spring from your mind fully formed and beautifully polished. You will likely always have to plow through edits and revisions—but like working out, the more you do it the stronger you become—and the easier it gets. And just like working out, with each edit you push yourself a little further, making yourself capable of more with every subsequent story you write.

You may never be one of those authors who honestly loves editing—but you’ll appreciate the benefits when you parade your tight, lean, hot-body manuscript in front of agents, editors, and readers. 

What is your favorite part of the editing process? Your least favorite?

Tiffany Yates Martin is privileged to help authors tell their stories as effectively, compellingly, and truthfully as possible. In more than 25 years in the publishing industry she’s worked both with major publishing houses and directly with authors (through her company FoxPrint Editorial), on titles by New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestsellers. She presents editing and writing workshops for writers’ groups, organizations, and conferences and writes for numerous writers’ sites and publications.

by Lori Freeland

If you write your characters like real people, they’ll read like real people. 

But, in order to bring them to life, we first have to figure out who they are. Some writers want to understand their characters before they type a single sentence. Others like to learn about them on the way. Think of it like meeting online versus a blind date. 

When you meet a potential date online, there’s an opportunity to get to know him before you’re face to face. You might discover that his blue eyes remind you of a cloudy day, that he works at a law firm, loves sushi, hates politics, and lost his mom to cancer in college. After you meet, there’s still more to learn. The same goes for your characters. As the creative process works itself out, be careful not to get stuck in your “online” first impression. Be willing to be flexible. You’ll get a better story. 

When you meet on a blind date, you don’t know what to expect. You’ll probably notice those blue eyes right away, but the rest might take time. The same goes for your characters. You’ll be writing “blind” at the beginning. Be careful not to plow ahead without developing individual personalities for your characters. Once you feel you know them well, be willing to go back and tweak who they are.   

Writing Descriptions

Give the most description the first time we meet a new character. Otherwise your reader might form an incorrect picture. Maybe you meant to write an elderly woman, but your reader sees her as a young mother. Once your reader gets a feel for who a character is, those first impressions are hard to erase.  

Example: Two silver hoops stuck in his eyebrow. Long-sleeve tats started at his knuckles, crept like vines around his arms, and disappeared underneath his black T-shirt. But it was the matching silver barbells—one stapled through his nose, the other tacked to his tongue—that made my mouth go dry and gritty.

The “most description first” guideline doesn’t always hold true for a POV (point-of-view) character who’s describing herself. We’ll come back to that later. 

What Does Your Character Look Like?

Think in movie terms. Having to squint at blurry characters to figure out what they look like distracts me from getting caught up in the plot. Write clear characters. 

Example: Papa Joe’s trimmed mustache matched his gray ponytail. Tall, reedy and wearing a threadbare Jimi Hendrix T-shirt and a pair of wide-bottomed dark jeans, he looked like a first-generation hippie who’d found his way home from Woodstock after a forty-year detour. 

For an instant “visual,” compare your character to people most readers know. 

Example: Even though Dad wore his best black suit and only pair of dress shoes, the strands of brown hair sticking up on top of his head made him look early-morning rumpled. Sort of like Bryan Cranston before he went bald and  Breaking Bad.

What about writers who believe less is more and that readers should create their own character interpretations? Even crossword puzzles give clues. At least offer readers some visual hints to help fill in the blanks. Otherwise, all they’ll see is a shadow of who you created your character to be.  

Personality: What Does Your Character Act Like?

Personality descriptions can be as telling as physical descriptions. Not every beefy guy and busty girl will need a math tutor. This gives you a chance to break stereotypes and come up with distinctive people to populate your story. 

Example: Papa Joe stood in the middle of the room shaking his backside, and what I hoped was a drained bottle of Budweiser, at a field full of life-size football players on a TV screen that covered the entire wall.  

Try combining personality traits with physical attributes. 

Example: Cade Brody. The guy at the top of my unattainable list. Six feet of packed lean muscle. Messy brown hair. Deep-ocean eyes. Oak Cliff’s very own tattooed and barely tamed bad boy cliché. 

Example: Trace might be two inches shorter than Cade, but he makes up for it in ego.

First Impressions Count

We tend to form an impression the first time we meet a new person. We do the same when we meet a new character. 

Make sure to introduce us the way you want that character to be perceived. Do you want us to swoon over him or root for her? Really think about this. Be intentional. You might come up with the most fabulous description ever, but if it doesn’t fit your character, the reader will get the wrong idea. And once ideas are formed, they stick.    

Example: Emma still appeared to be in love with Derek—who seemed as oblivious as always. She was crazy to give up the sophistication of a man from Paris for a corn-fed lumberjack from Wisconsin.

How does this make you feel about Derek?

Example: Hendrix’s grandpa, Papa Joe, had been everyone’s grandpa ever since I could remember, his kitchen table more popular than Runaway’s one and only bar.

How do you feel about Papa Joe?

POV Characters 

It’s time to talk about how your POV characters see themselves. Your point-of-view character is the person telling the story. Some stories have one, others have more. Think of a typical romance. You see the world from behind both the hero's and heroine’s eyes at different times.    

*Confused about POV? See the beginning of my blog on The Ins and Outs of Internal Dialogue. 

Sometimes it helps to think of the POV character as yourself. For example, you don’t think about your hair or eye color unless there’s a reason. The POV character won’t describe those things without a reason either. I don’t flip my “blonde” hair over my shoulder. I flip my hair over my shoulder. 

How POV Characters Can Describe Themselves

Since it’s “cheating” to use a mirror, and a POV character doesn’t think of her own age, size, skin, hair, or eye color, what can you do?  

• Compare with Another Character

Example: Unlike me, Claire spent time to style her hair. Today it spiraled over her right shoulder. The twist highlighted the natural red streaks, swirling them through the blonde like an artist had brushed paint across the strands in symmetrical lines. But it was her eyes—one vivid green, the other electric blue—that held Kyle, and every other boy we knew, in place. 

My hair. My eyes. My face. Sort of. I brushed my fingers over my low ponytail. Claire pulled off our unusual traits in a way that said unique. On me, they screamed mutant. 

• Get Creative

Example: I’ve been an adult half a day, and it already sucks. Eighteen. A joke of a number the court picked that proclaims me ready to deal with grown-up crap when I haven’t even graduated from high school.

• Focus on Personality

Example: I chewed on my pinky nail, mangling my day-old, raging-red manicure. Maybe I was paranoid. Maybe I only imagined that prickle scraping up my spine like a thorny sixth sense. 

• Have Another Character Comment

Example: “Not the way to get the guys.” I pulled the towel off Jennie’s shoulders to reveal her new swimsuit. 

She grabbed it back and looked at me. “Some of us don’t have a Barbie body or a tankini tan.”  

When POV Characters Can Describe Themselves

Earlier, I encouraged you to give the most description right up front—except when a POV character described herself. 

Why hold back? Because real people don’t think about themselves in terms of descriptions. They think about their physical and personality traits in terms of the world around them. 

Give us enough to start to form a picture, but don’t be afraid to take your time to build a description based on the POV’s internal thought or to use other characters to color in the holes. 

Example: (First physical snapshot of a POV) I knew by the time I called the Plano police the SUV would be gone, and I’d be the one in the report—Kate Thomas. B Student. Blonde. Seventeen. Ridiculously paranoid.  

Example: (First personality snapshot of a POV) Telling the truth. Dodging drama. Staying invisible. Painting butterflies on my toes. Things I used to be good at. I glance at my perfect pedicure. I’m down to one out of four. 

Sometimes a person’s view of himself can be inaccurate. He can elevate or demean the way he sees himself. You can use that to your advantage in your story.  

Make Your Characters Pop

Another way to make characters real is to make them stand out.    

Try Using—

• Physical Differences

Example: His clothes matched the sparse office décor, but not each other. Brown-and-orange striped tie. Gray dress shirt. Black pants. Brown shoes. But it was the slight limp slowing his progress that drew my gaze.

• Personalities 

Example: Vi and her lavender bedhead spill into the room from the hallway, crumpled pantyhose in one hand, yesterday’s dignity in the other. 

• Habits

Example: Dad scrapes a hand over his buzz cut. Front to back. It’s what he does when he can’t find words. He probably should be bald by now.

• Speech (Accents, Dialect, Inflections, Pet Words) 

Example: “This thing is new, you know?” Pitching my voice in that perfect place between arrogant and sexy, I pull Jess back against me. “We’ll have to see how the week goes.” 

• Body Language

Example: David’s waiting on the porch, one hand in his pocket, the other on the railing, eyes narrowed like I’m on his clock, and he’s mentally docking my pay. 

• Smell

Example: Alek smelled like Abercrombie & Fitch. The cologne. And the store. 

• Clothing

Example: Sunlight streams through the wall of windows, highlighting Vi’s lavender bob and brightening her fuchsia suit. Twenty years past her party-queen prime, she still somehow manages to rock both those colors. 

• Possessions

Example: I sprinted down the back stairs to the laundry room and grabbed the keys to Lola, my middle-aged beige Corolla. 

Avoid Being Vague

Readers don’t like to be confused.  

Don’t introduce a character with a nameless, faceless pronoun. Don’t use a pronoun where it has no name to refer back to. Especially when you’re opening a new scene. You might think you’re being mysterious. You’re not. You’re being frustrating. A generic “she” or “he” could refer to anyone. 

Example: Tucking my earbuds into my pocket, I follow him out of my room. “I can drive myself.” Or stay home and spare my self-esteem a few thousand skid marks. 

“Vi offered to come get you.” Dad throws the words over his shoulder. The first words he’s said to me all morning.          

*Dad needs to be in the first sentence, not him. 

Write your characters like real people, and they’ll read like real people. Your character should act and react like you would if you had his background and personality. When in doubt, put yourself in the scene, close your eyes, and play it out in your head. 

Have any other hints to add? Post them in the comments!

*  *  *  *  *  *

About Lori

An encourager at heart, author, editor, and writing coach Lori Freeland believes everyone has a story to tell. She holds a BA in psychology from the University of Wisconsin and currently lives in the Dallas area. She’s presented multiple workshops at writer’s conferences across the country and writes everything from non-fiction to short stories to novels—YA to adult. When she’s not curled up with her husband drinking too much coffee and worrying about her kids, she loves to mess with the lives of the imaginary people living in her head. You can find her young adult and contemporary romance at lorifreeland.com and her inspirational blog and writing tips at lafreeland.com. Her latest release, The Accidental Boyfriend, is currently free on the Radish app.

Lori Freeland Author/Editor/Writing Coach  

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lorifreeland.com (young adult website)
lafreeland.com  (inspirational blog)

The Accidental Boyfriend out on Radish. Grab the free app. 

Gabriel Wade isn’t a werewolf, he just plays one on TV. Jessica Thorne has never had a boyfriend, she just writes teen romance. But they both know what it’s like to have their lives ripped away. To be crazy desperate to get them back. To suffocate in the restless ache of losing someone who’s still here.  

by James R. Preston

Welcome! Welcome to another exciting installment of Writers in the Storm.

This episode promises, thrills, chills, journeys to foreign lands in search of writing glory, as well as encounters with writing history and deadly foreign bacteria! And, Gentle Reader, there is a Moral to this story.

That’s An Invitation . . .

Writing is sometimes exhilarating, but most often it’s lonely and painful — and the latter can be on a good day.

You must learn the craft, practice, find your voice, practice, complete manuscripts and send them out. See the Notes at the end of this essay for a way to find those steps in detail.

And through all of that, when you wake up at 2:00 am and think, “Am I any good?” even if you answer that with, “Bah! Humbug!” you must, must find the courage to keep going. You must avoid the impulse to say, “I suck! This is useless. No one cares.” If you are a regular reader of this blog (and if you’re not you should be) you have heard reasons to keep going. I’ve contributed some of them.

Well, here’s something new.

At a low point in my writing career the Universe, God, fill in your own idea, stepped up and spoke to me. Here’s what happened.

. . .to Make a Reservation

It was an age long ago, in the distant past, 1978 to be exact. Some college friends, my wife Nancy, and I went on vacation to Great Britain and France.

I’d written book reviews and a magazine called The Pacific Northwest Review Of Books seemed to like my work, or at least they didn’t hate it, so I wrote them and pitched an idea for an article about antiquarian bookstores in London. They wrote back saying they might be interested and could I supply pictures? Sure! (I had a camera, so how hard could it be? Don’t answer that.)

I looked up three London bookstores and about a month before we left, wrote to them, sort of “Oh hi, I’m coming to London, can I talk to you?”

None of the bookstores answered the letters, but no matter.

The first bookstore on my list was Peter Eaton, Ltd. I showed up and met a nice man, and was convinced he’d have everything I’d need, until he said he’d never heard of me. I showed him the letter. He said it must have gone to the owners, who rarely came in to the store. I could try calling back later. He couldn’t talk to me.

Next was G. Greer. This time — good news — they had received my letter but it would not be convenient to talk to me. At all.

Then there was Magg’s. The older gentleman said I could try calling back for an appointment with the owner, but he didn’t come into the shop very often. He couldn’t talk to me.

So I tried a new approach — wandering aimlessly into bookstores to ask about business and see what happened. The kids working the cash registers were about my age and they could tell me how to ring up a sale. The owners, if they were there, basically said, “You want what?! An interview?” when they spoke to me at all.

Dying to Take Me Away

Okay, I was bummed. No joy. Snake-belly low.

So it was all a waste, right? Not just a waste, humiliating. Not only a humiliating waste of valuable vacation time, but also a black mark against my name at a magazine that liked me.

But, of course, this True-Life Adventure story has a happy ending, right? 

Well, England is cold. Apparently even in the summer. And, uh, well, actually I got pneumonia, then turned out to be allergic to the ampicillin I was prescribed, and then didn’t know what was happening so I kept taking it. Later, when I was writing medical training scripts one of our staff nurses heard this story and explained that the germ was foreign and I had no immunity. I had no chance at all once those nasty bacteria got ahold of me. And the allergic reaction? I could have died. Next, most of the friends we were traveling with left Nancy & me behind and went to off to Wales. We later dubbed this the “Eat the Weak” vacation. Yeah, they ditched me. I didn’t blame them; I just waved weakly at the car as it drove away.

But it wasn’t a waste. Here’s why.

They’ve Got Everything You Need

We visited Stratford-on-Avon, yes, that Stratford-on-Avon, home of Shakespeare. And while we were there I saw a framed poster advertising a production of “The Merry Wives Of Windsor” to raise money for restoration of the building.

One of the stars of the charity event was Charles Dickens.

Yes, that Charles Dickens. He was donating time to help save the home of one of his favorite writers. I realized there was this long tradition of writers helping each other as they created stories to entertain and enlighten, a chain that goes back past Beowulf to campfire tales to cave paintings.

And in one of the few true epiphanies I have ever experienced I realized that I was part of that same tradition. A small part but a link in that chain nevertheless.

And you are, too.

It didn’t matter that no one liked my sf novel. It didn’t matter that my article was a disaster. I’m not alone. Neither are you.

Back home, after the rash that covered my back and chest cleared up and I had for the most part stopped coughing, not letting a minor detail like I didn’t get any of the interviews I’d promised to deliver stop me, I wrote the article anyway. Content? We don’t need no stinkin’ content. “Let’s Not Talk About Old Books in London, or, Opening the Mummy’s Tomb” was sent off to the magazine which promptly rejected it despite the catchy title and a nice picture of the front of one of the bookstores. 

Forty years later I remembered Stratford-on-Avon and that Dickens poster and I thought of sharing the story with all of you.

Because, unless you are Stephen King, you will hit low spots. And like all those who came before you, you will have to find a way to suck it up and keep going.

Satisfaction Guaranteed

I can tell you, dear reader, about the adventure and hope to provide a chuckle and — in a way — the article lives. 

There is value in your work. No matter what, there is value in your work.

In 1848 Dickens helped save Stratford-on Avon. A hundred and thirty years later that act helped save my writing career.

Remember, always remember, you are part of that tradition. Some writers are 33rd Degree, we may be 1st Degree, but we’re members of the same lodge, the fraternity of ink-stained wretches, and when you are sitting there at 2:00 am wondering “What happens next?”, thinking “Bah! Humbug! Why am I doing this?” and you feel like Tiny Tim on crutches hobbling through the snow, remember Dickens scribbling notes on a scrap of paper held on his knee as his carriage races through the foggy London night.

If you feel like you’re part of the tradition, share with us the writers you’re proud to be associated with. After all, we’re in this together.

God bless us every one. Happy Holidays!

Have you had a vacation experience, domestic or international, that might appear in one of your novels? How have you worked through those times when you ask, "Why am I doing this?"

Notes: 

Thanks to Robert A Heinlein for articulating the “33rd Degree” idea in his wonderful YA novel, Space Cadet.

Google Heinlein’s Five Rules for Writing for all of them spelled out.

For the Stratford-on-Avon restoration story do a Google search. It’s a great tale, with P. T. Barnum actually trying to buy the building and move it to his collection in the U. S. I’m not making this up.

Even King wondered if he was selling only because he was Stephen King and were the stories any good, and that led to the “Bachman Books.” They sold well. They’re good.