Writers in the Storm

by Charlotte Carter

Every writer gets rejects. But they don’t have to be demoralizing.

Some years ago I was writing magazine articles. I’d allow myself ten rejects per article then moved onto something else. (I did manage to sell a ‘few’ articles, but what a struggle!)

During that time I had my annual physical exam. The first thing my doctor asked was “How are you feeling?” I responded I was depressed and explained about the rejections. What he said next has stuck with me all these years.

“If you know why you are depressed, you’re okay.”

Years later, when I started writing novels and began to pile up rejects, I remembered his comment. I was much better able to shrug off the pain and disappointment of a rejection letter.

Sure, I grieved a little. Twenty-four hours was the max. Then I got back to my writing. I did not let the rejection get me down.

Here’s another trick I use: As soon as I send one manuscript or proposal off, I start on another project. If the first proposal is rejected, I know the new project I’m working on will sell. Editors will be clamoring to buy my brilliant work! (Well, maybe not clamoring, but my optimism buoys my spirits and keeps me going.)

I’m also adamant about not keeping rejections I receive. (I do, however, keep a record of where I or my agent has sent my material and the result.) I read the rejections, learn from them if I can, and toss them. I don’t even paper the bathroom with the clever and potentially deflating prose. I don’t need to keep that negativity in my house.

Having a lot of writer friends, either online or in person, helps too. You can whine to them and they understand. Every published author has tales of their own rejects and how they overcame the disappointment.

So don’t let those pesky rejects stop you. Keep on writing.

Books that leave you smiling
 from Love Inspired:
    Big Sky Reunion, 4/2011
    Big Sky Family, 11/2011
www.CharlotteCarter.com

 

By Laura Drake

This novel writing is very hard stuff.  Trying to learn craft while balancing plot, ideas, genre, and market. How anyone finishes a novel amazes me.

Sometimes it feels like I’m golfing and juggling . . . at the same time.

We all have our own ways not to write. You know what I mean – the conscious or unconscious things  we do to avoid writing the damn book. Mine is the “I can’t write because I don’t know what happens next,” model.  It even sounds legitimate, until the quandary stretches out two weeks, and I’m forced to face the fact that I’m avoiding.

It wasn’t until I joined a writer’s group though, that I found that everyone has their own way of not writing a book. The excuses below are a few of the categories I’ve noticed:

• Too busy; life is too disorganized. I’ll get back to it when . . . fill in the blank.
• I’m blocked.
• I have to do more research. I need to take more classes. When I know more, then I can write.
• I have so many ideas swimming around in my head that I can’t decide which one to write about.
• I start a story, but when I get to the middle, it peters out, and I move on to a new idea.
• I’ve completed the novel, but it’s not ready. Years of revision – it’s never ready.
• I’ve finished the story and edited it, but I never get around to sending it out.
• I’ve written the first six chapters, polished it, and entered every contest known to man. It’s even placed in contests. I just never finish the book.
• I have this wonderful idea. No really, no one has ever thought to do a book on this fascinating subject. Why don’t you write it, and we’ll both share in the riches we’ll get from it?
• I’m afraid the person (family member) I wrote about in a novel (and disguised) is going to recognize themselves. My family will implode.
• I don’t understand the character well enough. I need to do character studies, interviews, horoscopes on them to be able to write.
• And mine; how can I write on, when I don’t know what happens next?

I may have missed a few, but you get the idea. Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not being critical. I am right there in the mix, and I believe every author, from Plato to Stephen King, has their own way of not writing the book.

BUT.

One of the most important things that separates the successful published author from one who never finished the book is that they plowed through the above. One of my favorite quotes is from Randy Pausch:

“Brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want something badly enough. They are there to keep out the other people"

Those reasons are just roadblocks our brain throws up to cover up the fact that we’re scared.  We can’t live with the thought that we’re too afraid of failure to reach for our dreams. Instead of writing, we  use a perfectly legitimate excuse. I know, because I do it too.

But guess what? When I ignore the fact that I don’t know what comes next, and sit down and type, something happens. . . The words flow and they are usually better than I imagined.

All the reasons above are perfectly legitimate.  They’re all true.  The question is: are you going to let them keep you from your dreams of holding that published book in your hand, and opening it for the first time? From  seeing someone in a coffee shop  reading your book?

I’m not. I’m going now to write the next part, in spite of the fact that I don’t know what it is.

By Sharla Rae

I preach Like With Like to my critique partners all the time and once in a while, they remind me to practice what I preach. So what do I mean by like with like? It’s not as easy to explain on paper as it is to point out the mistake in a WIP but here goes.

Like with like has to do with story flow.

I’m certain we’ve all read drafts and realized a certain tidbit of information was in the wrong place. It interrupts the flow of the scene and the action. Think of this interruption as a speed bump in the middle of a race track. If a race car were to hit one it would spin out of the action.

These speed bumps are not to be confused with a data dump, sections of lengthy description, background or character internalization that detour a reader off the path before returning them to the action.

Speed bumps are misplaced bits of information that amount to a word or a couple of sentences that need to be cut and pasted elsewhere. They’re more jarring than data dumps because they pop up out of nowhere. Readers may even reread a section or two because they feel they might’ve missed something.

So what causes speed bumps?

Here’s the kicker. To avoid data dumps, writers are told to dribble information throughout the story. However, dribbling it into the wrong spot creates a speed bump.

Let’s say a scene opens like this – excuse the paraphrasing:

Tom the race driver settles into his car. As a reader we’re riding shot gun, hearing Tom’s thoughts, seeing the inside of his car and watching him perform all his checks before the race. Then he takes his place on the track. The flag is waved and we’re off!

          Tom is dodging spinouts, speeding faster and faster and trying to get around Don Dingbat in car number 4. Tom thinks: Dang, that Don. The man will do anything to win, even if it gets another driver killed. Last month, he caused a three car pileup that put two drivers in the hospital.

          Caboom!

No, the car didn’t crash. Tom is still flying around the track. The reader, however, was thrown through the windshield.

Okay, this is a silly example, but you get the picture. Readers would have remained in the car for the thrill of the ride, but segueing into Don’s character background tossed them out of the action or in this case the race.

If Tom had seen Don pass by before the race or during his systems check, the info wouldn’t have been so jarring. Don Dingbat needs to make an appearance at the beginning of the scene along with the rest of the set-up information. Like With Like. Another solution might be to paste the rivalry between the two men at the end of the race where perhaps they air their differences.

Let’s try this again:

Tom settles into his car and is checking out the dashboard like the cockpit of a Leer jet. Through his windshield he spies Don Dingbat getting into his car. Tom Thinks: The man’s a wild card, a danger to every man on the track. He’d do anything to win a race and usually got away with it too. Last month, he’d caused a three car pileup that put two drivers in the hospital. Tom scowls and yanks his safety belt across his body. This is one race Don Dingbat will not win.

          The flag is waved and we’re off!

          Tom dodges spinouts, speeding faster and faster as he tries to pass Don in car number 4. Don swerves back and forth across the track trying to hold his place. Tom races around hairpin curves, steadily moving ahead of the other drivers. It’s an exciting ride and in the end Tom flies over the finish line ahead of Don, and the reader is still sitting right beside him.

In the second example we pasted the speed bump into the set up scene. Doing so actually enhances the action because now the reader is invested in the race. He/she wants to see Tom win and Don lose. The actual action/race was not interrupted. Details about both men can be dribbled in as the story proceeds. No data dump and no speed bumps.

Not every scene is an intense action scene like a car race, a police chase or even an Indian uprising. But in every scene something is happening. Conversation/dialogue and internalization may not be as exciting, but they are a form or action and speed bumps are just as jarring in these types of scenes. Be on the lookout.

Split descriptions are one of the most common and overlooked of speed bumps. For instance, a character walks on stage and the writer describes him through another character’s POV. A few paragraphs later, another description is stuck in that really could’ve been linked to the original. Sometimes a scenic description or the detailing of a room or building layout surprises readers because down the page an unexpected extra detail pops up out of nowhere.

On top of their jarring nature, split descriptions often steal the power of the words. Read the following example.

The air shifted and teacher, Peter Hunk, glanced toward the door. A woman stood there, scanning his classroom. She was so beautiful she seemed a figment of his imagination. A gossamer dress better suited for a wedding than a classroom draped her petite form and short jet hair cupped the perfect oval of her face. Then her head jerked in his direction, her unusual eyes flashing with anger . . .

            Blah blah blah . . . the woman gives Peter a piece of her mind, and he doesn’t understand what she’s talking about. Down the page we go. And Peter Hunk thinks it’s a shame she sounds so nuts because under different circumstances, he’d definitely ask her out. He hadn’t even heard her first words because he’d become lost in her eyes, eyes so striking they were almost spooky. It was like looking upon lovely blue lace curtains, then green and no, brown. But how could that be . . .

On the first read, this type of speed bump isn’t always as noticeable as the one in the race car example, but a smart reader, will stop and say, “Huh? When did that happen?”

Remember, the revelation about the woman’s eyes is half a page or more from the paragraph where she walked on stage. If the woman’s eyes had been normal, when she walked into the room, Peter wouldn’t have noticed them except for maybe their color and their angry expression. That wasn’t the case. Peter did notice they were unusual. So we must keep like with like.

The air shifted and teacher, Peter Hunk, glanced toward the door. A woman stood there, scanning his classroom. She was so beautiful she seemed a figment of his imagination. A gossamer dress better suited for a wedding than a classroom draped her petite form, and short jet hair cupped the perfect oval of her face. Her head jerked in his direction and he started. Anger flashed in her eyes, eyes so striking they were almost spooky. It was like looking through lovely blue lace curtains, then green … no, brown. But how could that be? Who was she?  . . .  

            He started, realizing the woman was yelling gibberish at him . . . And now Peter Hunk listens to the gibberish and we get his reaction and so forth without interruption.

Moving the eye description delivers a more powerful description in that it screams to the reader, “Whoa, there’s something woo-woo about this woman."

The good thing about speed bumps is that they’re an easy fix. While not all of them will fit into a set-up scene, most can be eliminated with a simple cut and paste to another location.

I hope my examples, silly as they are, illustrate how keeping like with like improves the flow of a scene. If you have more examples or questions, please share them with us in a comment below.