Dust it Off

Oh man, I can't believe it's already the last day of the blog hop! I feel like it just got started, and I don't want it to end (mostly because when it ends, it's time to get back to the real work: rewriting it!). 

I'd like to thank our gracious hosts, this has been fantastic, from concept, to hosts, to meeting all the other bloggers with dusty old manuscripts. Thank you Courtney and Theresa, you've had a great blogfest here. 

Day 3: Post what you learned from this WIP. You become a stronger, more rounded writer with each manuscript and we want to know what this particular work taught you.

Wow, I’m not sure I could get everything I learned into one post. I learned a lot. It’s not like THE ACCIDENTAL GODMOTHER was my first novel, but it was the first novel I wrote to be a novel for other people. In all of my previous attempts, I knew for certain that I could never sell those books, and when I started writing TAG, I knew I wanted to share it with people.

And that’s lesson number 1: I always knew that I wanted to write novels, but it was always something in the nebulous, distant future. Maybe I’d write after I was successful as a scientist/mother/dragoncatcher. It was a whispy dream for an uncommitted mind. It wasn’t real. TAG made it real. I HAD to write that story. It downloaded into my brain while I was doing a workout, and I literally stopped at minute 17 to start writing my story. It poured out of me. So Lesson #1: I want to be a writer now. I have stories to share right now. I’m done waiting.

Lesson #2: When I started writing it, I really wanted to write it in First Person Past. I wrote it in Third Person Close, because that’s how most fantasy novels from my youth were written. I should have gone with my gut: I should have written it in FP past. I went with third person because I needed a few chapters from other people’s points of view to paint the whole picture. It was a bad choice. So lesson #2: Go with what I want in the first try, it can always be edited.

Lesson #3: The story is not set in stone. When I wrote this, I had a specific story in mind, and I told it. Then I wanted to revise it, but I was scared too. In the end, I sent it to agents with a very unfortunate beginning. It got a number of requests for pages, but never a request for an upgrade to an actual partial. That’s because I started in a boring place. I didn’t know how to fix it, so I polished the crap out of those first pages, and it just didn’t help because it was missing lesson #4.

Lesson #4: Voice. I wrote TAG to be as voiceless as possible on purpose (I know, if Vader were every chasing me in a TIE fighter he’d say “The Dumb runs deep in this one”). I took out the voice because I’ve read tons of fantasy novels where the writing is designed to sort of come from a distant third person perspective. Not all fantasy, but certainly the fantasy I was reading at the time was very much “Just the facts, Ma’am.” I was trying to be professional. I succeeded in being a fool. After I’d spun my tale of dragons and magic and wizard and dresses, I knew something was missing. That thing was the way I had wanted to write it. If I’d followed my heart, I’d have had a very different novel, but my desire to share it with the world over road what little good sense I have. So I stripped it of the voice so it could be professional. And I should never ever EVER try to sound like someone else. EVER. It doesn’t work. If I’d just stepped out on my best foot instead of trying to dance on someone else’s toes, this novel could have been much better.

Would it have had the IT factor to snag that elusive agent? No. I believe that no set of circumstances could have taught me as much about writing as writing the next two books did, but that was just a matter of practice. I think I could have been closer to my dreams if I’d had the courage to just write, write it the way I wanted it, and said to hell with publishing and being professional. There’s a time and a place for everything, and let me just say this: the first draft is the only draft that is exclusively for the writer. I should have taken that draft and cherished it, not turned it into a stiff business letter.

Lessons I’d like to be able to tell my younger self, but my younger self would completely ignore:

1. If you want to write, write! Preferably now (okay, my younger self would have jumped all over this one).

2. Go with what you want. You can always change it later. 

3. The story is not set in stone and rearranging the chapters might actually be the best idea. Don’t worry that you got it perfect on the first try, change it up. 

4. Voice: I can only ever be me, and there’s just no point in trying to deny that. Use your own voice, it's the one you've got.

Thanks for hanging out with me as I take a stroll down Nostalgia lane. 

Tomorrow or Wednesday, I'll be posting my thoughts on a statistically sound population from the Voice entries (you won't want to miss my take on this, I have stats). 

Dust it off day 2

Today is day 2 of the Dust it off blog hop. We’re supposed to share our favorite excerpt today. This excerpt is close to the end and spans the last bits of one chapter and the beginning of the following chapter, so don’t worry when you get to the Chapter marker, I’m not dropping a whole chapter in here, just 300 words.

And for those of you who missed it, this is a bit from THE ACCIDENTAL GODMOTHER, a story about Tessa, a faerie godmother who wanted to be the princess. A touch of background so you can understand what’s going on: Tessa can cast any spell she’s ever seen (even from cartoons), but the rest of the story comes true too. Oh, and this hasn’t been edited since I put it down over a year ago, man my voice has changed (That’s why I’m rewriting this from scratch).

And Tessa’s mind cleared. Her will flooded back into her command, and she flinched away from the Wizard. She could make a choice to destroy him now. Was it worth becoming a villain to destroy one? 

Would I forgive myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to stop this man?

No. Not ever. She took a deep breath.

Then it’s time to show the world Maleficent was a rookie.

Chapter 28: Turnabout is Fair Play

The words of the spell didn’t matter, so Tessa didn’t quote the villain. “No one screws with my happily ever after.” Power flooded into her. Green and yellows, occasional blue, the spell rushed through her, almost taking control. The tipping point when she could turn back came, and Tessa watched it go. 

The Wizard turned to look at her, puzzled. Then he saw her. He backed away from the cell until he pressed against the table. Tessa thought the cell shrank around her, but then she saw her hand growing. She swelled to fill the last of the space in the tiny room, crushing the makeshift bed beneath her knee. Pressing against the cell door, she grabbed it, bracing to push. The door crumpled in her hand, and she spilled out of the cell. Her stomach burned, and she coughed as a foul taste swept through her mouth. Her lungs filled with the smell of sulfur, and she choked, gasping as she tried to breathe. Her eyes watered. She tried to cry out as the burning sensation ate away at her gut.

She roared. The Wizard shook with fear, and Tessa saw that fire leaked from her mouth, dripping to the stone floor below. She had no idea how to use it, but when she spit, the burning eased. Her vision shifted and she saw magic differently. Magical confinements hung about the room, glittering up at her with black diamond eyes. She crushed them individually, tearing the magic apart with her claws.

And that’s it. Thanks for stopping by.

The Voice!

Wow, after much shaking, I managed to message Mr. Linky into letting me join the Writer's voice contest (as contestant number 151, so no one is happier than me when I saw that they decided to take an extra 25 entries).  I am sorry for not using my name in the contest, but as you can see here, I'm sort of between names at the moment (feel free to vote and enter).

So without further shakiness, here is the query letter and the first 250.





Plot Summary:

Allyson has never met her father. She has moved more times than she’s had birthdays, and she has never had a best friend until Beth. With legendary acne, worsening asthma and abysmal grades, Allyson just wants to meet the father who turned her mother into a paranoid move-across-the-nation freak, but when Allyson accidentally spits fire on kidnappers at the mall, she starts putting the pieces together: Allyson is half dragon and never knew it. Her acne? Emerging scales. Her long time asthma? Actually a fiery breath weapon. Through it all, best friend Beth doesn’t bat an eyelash; she’s half troll after all, and trolls have an even worse reputation than dragons.

When kidnappers steal a half-unicorn child prodigy, Beth gets blamed, and the unicorns solve their problems through death. Allyson is determined to prove Beth’s innocence and keep her off the unicorn chopping block, but when they search for the kidnappers, they get a call from the last person they expected, Allyson’s father. He knows where the kidnappers take their victims, there’s just one problem: he works for them, and he’ll do anything to stop someone from taking the victims back. Now Allyson has to choose between exonerating her best friend or joining the father she’s dreamt of to claim her heritage.

LEGACY, a YA urban fantasy novel, is complete at 65,000 words.

First 250 words:

 

I always assumed meeting my father would open a door to me, like he held the key to my secret life. My mother and I moved around the US, never staying longer than six months. I thought it was the witness protection program—one with dingy apartments and ramen dinners—and someday my father would show up and say “I’m done, we can be a family now.” But my mother lied to me for 15 years, and the day I met my father, he died.

Seven Days Before: Mall in Albuquerque, NM

Muzak filled the mall, and the place smelled like cheap plastic, fake gold and too much perfume. I stood in front of a shop for full figured women with my only friend Beth. “That’s awesome,” Beth said, pointing at a blue jacket. 

“Try it on,” I said. 

Beth shrugged. “The clothes in that store never fit right. I just don’t have the breasts of other full figured women,” she said, rolling the r in breast. “Just look at me, Allyson. I can bench a bull, but I’m not wining any wet t-shirt contests.”

“How do you know unless you try it on?” I pushed her towards the window, and she stumbled forward into the foot traffic. I must have caught her by surprise because no one just pushes Beth anywhere. Refrigerators are intimidated by Beth. She’s tall, blond, and could go pro-wrestler/roller derby diva at the drop of a hat.

Beth bumped into a guy even taller than her.

The Dust it Off BlogHop and a little news

I’ve signed up for the dust it off bloghop being hosted by Courtney and Theresa. Head on over and sign up, they have some great prizes, and who doesn’t want to talk about their old projects.

The first day, May 3rd: We want you to post a 1-2 sentence pitch (Great way to practice pitches) about the shelved WIP.

The second day, May 5th: Post your favorite excerpt (300-350 words)

The third day, May 7th: Post what you learned from this WIP. You become a stronger, more rounded writer which each manuscript and we want to know what this particular work taught you.

The novel I’ve decided to pull out and dust off is probably to be expected: The Accidental Godmother. I wrote this novel in 2009. I spent most of 2010 writing a sequel, then decided to clean up the typos and query it. To say that may have been premature is a lot like saying there are some ideological differences between republicans and democrats: the biggest understatement of the year.

But today is Pitch day, so I won’t go into the shortcomings of my first foray into query/agent submission land (that way lies madness).

Title: THE ACCIDENTAL GODMOTHER

Pitch: Tessa Rapporin is about to graduate high school with a dire need to become an animator, a crush on Jason Garvy, and a serious case of princess envy. When her crush crushes her heart, Tessa lights out of the graduation dance and runs into the strange new boy in town doing a light show in the park. Only it isn’t a light show: he’s making a magical portal and Tessa gets sucked into a world of princes, Kings, faeries, and wizards, but even in the magical world, Tessa isn’t a princess. She’s a Faerie godmother, and they never get happily ever after.*

Okay, that’s a pretty long pitch, but that’s basically what I was using to lure agents to read my little novel (sighs from an overdose of nostalgia). As you can see it lacks a number of things, like motivation and stakes, and even with these shortcomings, some agents thought they’d like to read some pages…let’s just say that’s where the party ended.

If you’ve been around my blog for a while you recognize this as the piece I agonized over (was that really only a little over a year ago??? It seems longer).

And my news:

I don’t know why I feel compelled to give everyone updates on stuff, but I do. Last week I typed my very favorite words: THE END. That’s right, I polished of the Super Hero Novel of Awesome. Since it is a first draft, I happen to know that it’s full of crappy-crap and stinks to high-literature, but it’s a finished first draft. Ah, I love drafting.

But then I feel like I’ve hit a brick wall, what do I do now? I must have a drafting project on my plate. Seriously, it is the strangest thing, but I get shit done when I have a draft in progress. My productivity in every other venue of my life goes through the ceiling when I have a drafting project I’m excited about because I use the draft as a carrot: finish writing that science paper and you can have two uninterrupted hours of blissfully enjoying your characters in a world unlike this one.

So I need a draft. They help me. And I’m resurrecting THE ACCIDENTAL GODMOTHER. When I stopped querying, I knew that what that manuscript needed was a third to first person POV change. I needed to restructure the story and motivate my character so she was doing something and not being tossed around on the tides of Circumstance. Yes, the ending worked well, and even my toughest critic found he had a hard time critiquing because he was enjoying it so much, but the beginning… well, let’s just say it needed help. So I’m starting over from scratch with a POV change, a story restructure, and a lot of enthusiasm. I even have a shiny new title, but it turns out I’m really secretive about my titles… how silly is that?

*that's my original pitch and by no means an indication of my current ability to write a pitch or even the right pitch for this novel.

IWSG

I’m going to write about something that not many people talk about. We all know about the process of trunking a novel and how much it hurts.

I know, I trunked a novel.

I told the world that the novel and I weren’t right for each other. I said things like the novel didn’t really represent me well, and it would be a blunder to try to step out with that novel.

People said it was a wise decision. They said that trunking a novel can hurt, but it’s much better to set it aside than burn so much power trying to get it ready for the publishing world if I couldn’t put my all behind it. They were right. I was right. So imagine my surprise when six months later I’m falling in love with my silly broken novel.

And this is where I feel like that person who always breaks up with a particular significant other. They go around bad mouthing their ex, but then two weeks later they’re back together again. That’s what I feel like. I’ve bad mouthed my novel to all my friends, and they said I was right to leave that no good, passive voice bore in the dirt.

And now we’re a thing again.

Do all my writing friends think I’m a hypocrite? Do they think I was a fool to dump my novel in the first place? Should I just try dating my novel in secret for a little while to see if we’ve still got that spark?

I’m second guessing all of my decisions. If I can see that I gave up too easily on this novel, what about the one before? Did I really ride that horse to the end of the race, or did I just quit? Am I dedicated enough to see any of these novels through to the end? Is this why my writing doesn’t have agents salivating to sign me—okay, that’s unfair, I haven’t sent out a query letter since November, so they haven’t even been invited to salivate over signing me, my bad—and editors don’t want to publish my stories? Can they see that it’s my utter lack of discipline in my novels that has handicapped them?

So I picked up a trunked novel, and found that, much to my dismay, it solved nothing. I thought I’d be able to jump right back into this story and query it in a week or two. But as I’ve been going through it, all I see are the broken parts. Am I just delusional about my own work? Can I just not even see the beauty in it because I can’t freaking get my homonyms right?

And then I read something that makes me laugh. I wrote the damned thing, and it makes me laugh? I am delusional.

Was I right to trunk it? Was that the right decision? Am I, even as I type, flirting with heart-breaking disaster because I’ve picked something up that I’d already turned my nose up at? Or is this a case of bad timing. Did I put it down because I knew I couldn’t do with it what I can do now? Were both choices—putting it aside and picking it back up—the right choices, and the only difference between them perspective and time?

I had thought I’d crossed all the terrible self esteem eating sarlacks in the desert of Writing, but alas, I was mistaken. Sure, I’m pretty inexperienced and I haven’t dealt with any of the ones that come with actually publishing a book, but I was pretty sure I’d cleared all the evil hurdles associated with the process of getting up to agent signing.

Nope. This is a whole new breed of gut wrenching agony. Sorry, I wish it were different. I wish this wasn’t true, but picking up a previously dead novel, even one still very much in its youth, makes a writer crazy. The doubts are worse than ever before because at some point, somewhere in my heart I thought it was time to put this story away forever.

I guess six months is almost forever.

But how do I slay the tummy tying knots of doom?

I have these annoying things I say to my hockey team. When we were trailing by four goals, I pulled our goal tender. My team thought I was crazy. “It’s not like we’re gonna win,” someone complained. To which I responded, “Yeah, I know, but we’re gonna be behind again, and it’d be nice to have some practice in how to handle it.”

Practice. That’s what it all boils down to for me. I’m already lost to this novel. I’m in love again (stupid hot-cold relationships), and even if this isn’t THE ONE, I need the practice. I need the practice getting rejections (yes, this is a skill we must practice, lest it become emotionally devastating). I need to practice the editing. I need to practice the close calls, the almosts, and the contests. I need to give this novel the try, because in another six to eight months, I’ll have another novel, and it’d be nice to have some practice.

Today is Beltane!

Today is Beltane! (Okay, if you're title impaired that might have been useful).

Beltane, for those of you who don’t know, is a pagan holiday of fertility. Now, for the record, the actual interpretation of this is quite literal, but I like to think that it is fertility of many things: ideas, businesses, new ventures, anything you wish to grow. It is about beginnings.

Now I know many of you reading this blog are devote Christians/Jews/Muslims/followers of the old gods, so I just want to put it out there that celebrating a holiday does not make one immediately another religion. Seriously, if you’re British and in the US for the fourth of July, a hot dog off the grill isn’t going to make your UK citizenship shrivel up and die. The same is true for holidays.

I put out this disclaimer because I know a lot of people who could really benefit from the catharsis of a Beltane fire. You see, since this is all about beginnings, you take all of the things from the past that have held you down: bills, rejections, old manuscripts, evil critiques (they do exist), and pretty much anything else that has hurt you or held you back. Then you burn them (I told you it was cathartic).

Then, while gazing out over the effigy of your pain, you make a wish for your new beginning, and jump over the fire.

Ta-da! Beltane.

Traditionally, you’re supposed to dance, drink and be merry, but I recommend making your wish and jumping the fire before one gets too involved in the May Wine…

Oh, and if you have a really small apartment or what not, most parks allow you to have a contained fire, so you can always burn stuff in a big soup pot, they clean up afterwards with only minor damage to the pot.