Writers in the Storm

We're huge Donald Maass fans here at WITS. We've got all his books. Mine are dog-eared. He has a way of breaking down critical craft points and making them easy to understand. He's graciously allowed us to repost a blog that originally appeared on a blog we're also fans of, Writer Unboxed.

Note: If you don't have Writer Unboxed on your 'must read' list - go do it now - we'll wait. *whistling*

Okay, here's Don:

It’s Not About The Cougar
by Donald Maass

Last month I looked at how tension emerges on the page when apparently nothing is happening. The inverse of that is when high action hits with bullets whining, cars careening and explosions mushrooming.

You’d think that high action would be the most riveting stuff in any novel, but strangely it often is easy to skim. C’mon, be honest. You’ve skimmed some action, haven’t you?

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of spending a day with Chi-Libris, a group of published authors of Christian fiction. Late in the day we tackled micro-tension. A participant offered a paragraph from a WIP in which a cougar carried a toddler across a stream (in its mouth, in case you were wondering), pursued by the story’s protagonist.

The passage was well written, visually clear—and not particularly scary. When I asked, “What do you think will happen next?” hardly anyone was stirred to speculate. I then asked, “How can we add tension?”

As I expected, most suggestions focused on making the cougar more menacing, raising the stakes (the toddler is a Senator’s child!), changing the protagonist’s actions, etc. No improvement. The outcome still didn’t matter to most.

Then came a suggestion that held the key to increasing tension: heighten the emotions of the point-of-view character. Even better, create conflicting emotions. Bingo. Suddenly the moment sprang to life. Both the interest level and uncertainty of the outcome spiraled up…

…except for a group of a male authors, who were mostly clustered in a back row. “But what if the cougar reared up on its hind legs?” “Cougars have vicious fangs, what if its lips curled back?” The men didn’t want to let go of the idea that tension comes from guns, or in this case claws.

Finally, I improvised a version of the passage that went something like this:

The cougar splashed across the stream, the toddler limp in its jaws. Jim splashed after it, snapping off a branch. No way was he backing down. Forget it. It was man against nature. And this time man was going to win.

Simple as that was, interest increased. Someone noticed that the hero’s determination was undercut by the words this time. Another participant wondered, “What happened last time?” Exactly. It’s the contrast between bravado and fear (both implied) that creates tension and makes the outcome uncertain…

…except for the guys in the back row. “But seriously, what if the cougar…” I shook my head in despair. “It’s not the cougar,” I said, “it’s the emotions.”

Guys. Ah-yee. What are you going to do?

Donald Maass is president of the Donald Maass Literary Agency in New York. His agency sells more than 150 novels every year to major publishers in the U.S. and overseas. He is a past president of the Association of Authors’ Representatives, Inc. (AAR).

SAVE THE DATE! Don't miss our guest, DONALD MAASS, blogging at Writers in the Storm this Friday.

Ever since Jenny wrote about her dog Hoshi, I've thought I should write about my cats and what they've taught me.

Anticipation:  When I was in first grade and we moved from our apartment to the house my parents built, they made good on their promise to give me a kitten.  I had no idea what to name her, but since Mitzi was her mother's name, Mitzi became my little Siamese kitten's name.

Patience:  Mitzi had patience with a capital P.  I used to dress her in doll clothes and walk her around my new neighborhood in my doll buggy.  When women would come over to see what they thought was a doll they were surprised to see a sealpoint face peering out from under a bonnet.  Mitzi never bailed out of that buggy.

Unconditional love:  I was fortunate to have two parents who loved me, so I grew up surrounded by unconditional love.  I didn't understand their love at the time, but I understood that no matter what I did or didn't do to Mitzi, every night she hopped on my bed and purred when I petted her.

I have to admit that I didn't learn responsibility from Mitzi.  My mother fed her and since Mitzi was an indoor/outdoor cat, there was no litter box to clean.

When I got married, Mitzi came to live with me.  My husband never had a pet (His mother thought they were dirty and unruly.)  Very quickly he found himself wound around Mitzi's little paw.

Since we lived with coyotes walking through our yard, Mitzi was restricted to being an indoor cat.  That was fine with her, because she was definitely "retired" as a seventeen-year-old cat.  Though I fed Mitzi now, I just couldn't stand scooping the litter box, so my husband did that.

The Pain of Loss:  Before our first anniversary we lost Mitzi.  It was the first time I saw my husband cry.  A few weeks later he asked me if I'd like to get another cat.  No, it would hurt too much, I told him.  But he said, "I never had a Mitzi, and I'd like to have my own pet."

Joy:  Soon thereafter, we were given a Siamese kitten, which my husband promptly named Mitzi.  She was his cat.  He would lay on the floor and she would crawl all over him.  She would fetch the little knit ball he threw.  My former light heavy-weight wrestling husband, who ordered a sixteen ounce "cowboy steak" when we went out to dinner, now ordered lobster.  And he brought half of it home!  You got it.  He was bringing the rest home to hand feed to his cat.

Sharing and Devotion:  Don't get me wrong, she was just as much my cat as his.  She was an equal opportunity lap-sitter.  But he trained her to walk on a leash and to wear a life preserver when he took her to our boat.  She would wait at the kitchen door for him to return home.  I didn't know that I had learned so much about devotion until years later.

My original Mitzi was seventeen when we lost her.  We expected "new" Mitzi to live even longer since she had always been an indoor cat and been given healthy food from our vet.  Unfortunately, we lost her when she was just sixteen years old.  We had helped her fight kidney disease successfully once, but we didn't win the second battle.

Loneliness:  For five years we lived a catless existence.  We were unwilling to deal with the sorrow that we knew would ultimately come if we loved a new kitty.  My father decided to take matters into his own hands and rescued a feral part-Siamese female cat.  He told us to come over, he had a surprise.  When he tried to hand me the cat, she jumped away and hid under the couch.  Unfortunately we still weren't ready to live with a cat and told my dad we couldn't take her.  Shocked--and grumpy--he looked at my mother and said, "Well, then, I'm keeping her."  And he did.

Three years later my husband was diagnosed with cancer.  We'd been seriously talking about finding a new cat, but when he found out he was so ill he said he didn't want a cat.  One morning, a month into his treatment, he woke up and said, "I want to get a kitten. Today."  I was amazed.

Excitement:  I had looked six months before for a breeder of traditional Siamese cats--not an easy find.  To my surprise, the woman who taught the two writing courses I'd just completed at the local college was a third generation breeder of the old "apple head" Siamese cats.  When I called she said I was lucky.  She hadn't bred her two mother cats for two years, but she did have kittens that were ready to come live with us right now.

We drove ninety minutes to her house, then spent two hours with seven kittens.  Well, I spent the time with seven kittens.  My husband picked up the kitten that reached for him and never put that one down, even though I held each of the other six to find the perfect one, as my former writing instructor told me the personalities of each.  We added the kitten that picked my husband to our family.  My husband named him Shogun, Emperor's Warrior.

Healing:  Since my husband couldn't work during his treatment, Shogun kept him company, entertaining him with the typical antics of a kitten--chasing a twirling ribbon, or popping up from an empty flower pot or box. hiding, When my husband was having a bad day, Shogun would jump in his lap and within three minutes my husband would fall asleep.  An hour later he'd wake up feeling better.

Discipline:  My husband had definite ideas about proper feline behavior.  Shogun was not allowed on the dining room table, the kitchen counter, or in the garage.  My husband would pick Shogun up from the verboten area and say, "That's a kitty no."  If Shogun persisted he was put in "Kitty Time Out."  Really.  My husband trained Shogun to sit in a corner of our bedroom until he was picked up.

One time when I came home from work,  Shogun was nowhere around.  My husband was working outside on a project.  I asked him where Shogun was and my husband froze.  "Oh, no!"  He ran to our bedroom and swooped Shogun into his arms.  "I forgot I put him in Kitty Time Out!"  Shogun had been sitting, waiting patiently for over two hours.

Shortly after Shogun's first birthday, my husband died.  We grieved for him together.  Shogun would curl up at the foot of my husband's empty chair.  I didn't have the heart to keep him off the dining room table or out of the garage.

Serendipity:  My dad died the year after he rescued the feral cat.  When my mother died five years later, her neighbor asked if she could have Mitzi.  I was delighted to give Mitzi to her since she'd just lost her cat and I had Shogun.

Well, two years ago my mother's neighbor died.  Seventeen-year-old Mitzi now lives with Shogun and me.  It was not easy at first, but last week, for the first time, I came home to find them snuggled together, napping.  How wonderful is life?  I have my dad's cat and my husband's cat to love.  And to keep teaching me about life and living.

Mitzi wraps herself around my neck and Shogun sits in my lap while I write.  How good is that?

Have you learned life lessons from a pet?  Has a pet helped you through an illness or grief? We'd love to hear about it.

Fae

by Laura Drake

We’ve been talking about critique groups here at Writers in the Storm lately. Jenny started us out with 10 Power Tips for Critique Groups, and Sharla followed up with her post on how to form a Critique Group.

At crit group this week, we were talking about change; how it seems that everything goes along the same for a while, and then BAM! It all seems to change overnight.  Changes happen all the time in critique groups. Life intercedes, members move on, new members join, disagreements or personality conflicts may happen. People may become discouraged and stop writing, or move on to other passions.  Crit groups are constantly changing, in large and small ways.

And that can be scary. After all, a crit group (providing it’s a good one) is our biggest support group as writers – they’re people who actually getwhat we do!  Members become close personal friends, and the group develops a history, with favorite stories, just like family.

Changes can filter down, effecting or our ability to keep our writerly butts in the chair, and even the quality of the writing itself. I don’t know about you, but my writing looks very different (read: better) after traversing the crit group gauntlet.

Even if you see the change as positive, the gulf between where you are and where you want to go can look like shark infested waters. Group dynamics come into play - you have to take other’s wants/needs into account as well as your own. When the health and viability of the group may depend on these decisions, how do you reach consensus?

The group will morph and change – there’s no stopping it.

But you can prepare yourself. Laurie Maddalena put together some strategies for developing resiliency in dealing with change.

1. Step away, take a breath, and take some time to think realistically about the impact of the change and the strategy for moving forward. We often get caught up in the change itself and cannot think clearly enough to develop a strategy.
2. Adjust your mindset from viewing change as a problem to an opportunity.
3. Think about the different perspectives you could have around the change. What perspective do you choose to be in?
4. Keep sight of the long term vision, not what the change causes short term. How will your perspective be different a year from now?
5. Be open to learning. If we resist change, our energy is wrapped up in the effort to maintain the status quo. Think, "What can I learn from this?"
6. Change often causes stress. Ask yourself, "What can I control in this situation? What can I do to influence this situation? What do I have to accept about the situation?"
7. Focus on the present moment. Don't think about what has happened in the past or what could happen in the future.
8. Trust yourself. Developing an inner equilibrium is essential for being resilient in the midst of change. Trust that everything will work out.
9. Improve your ability to respond to change. Stretch yourself in little ways every day. How will you respond to the terrible traffic? How will you react to trying something new?
10. Be open to self-change. In every experience with change, be open to learning and changing yourself. Ask yourself, "How can I grow from this change?

How about you? Has your experience with change in your crit group been good? Not so good? Please share what you’ve learned with us.

~ Laura

I wouldn’t be the ‘quote Queen’ if I didn’t leave you with a few gems:

Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine.  ~Robert C. Gallagher

If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change.  If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change.  ~John A. Simone, Sr.

There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse!  As I have often found in travelling in a stagecoach, that it is often a comfort to shift one's position, and be bruised in a new place.  ~Washington Irving

Faced with the choice between changing one's mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof.  ~John Kenneth Galbraith

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions.  ~Ellen Glasgow

Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations.  ~Faith Baldwin

If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies.  ~Author Unknown

We spend our time searching for security and hate it when we get it.  ~John Steinbeck, America and Americans