My process

So there’s been a lot of talk around the interwebs about people and their process. I almost hate talking about my process because I feel very much the amateur. Usually, I’d step aside and say something like, “I’ll tell you why feeling like an amateur is so scary to me another day.” But not today. Today, you get the whole story. 

Once upon a time, I wrote a novel. It was a story that was too big for its britches, but I wrote it anyway. I was too dumb to realize the mistakes I was making, and in retrospect, I learned a ton about writing. At the time, however, I thought I’d be the next hot thing. Thinking my manuscript was awesome sauce on toast, I gave it to a friend of mine. He had a degree in English (isn’t that the degree you’re supposed to get if you want to write?), and I had a degree in Geology. I figured that my grammar might be a little unfortunate, but what the heck, anyone can fix grammar. Neither of us knew anything about critiquing, good, bad or otherwise.

After he read my manuscript, he sat me down (first clue things weren’t going to go well) and said to me “This is hopelessly amateurish.”** Then he went on to say that it would be too much work to give a real critique because it was so bad. A whole novel boiled down to one line. I won’t lie, it was crushing, but even as my poor heart lay bleeding on the floor I felt like my 75,000 words deserved more than a four word sum up. I’d been reading and commenting on his manuscripts for eons by this point, so I figured I deserved something more than amateurish. He thought my manuscript was so hopeless that it didn’t even deserve the time to say things like “I found your main character to be unbelievable, if you added some details about her life, it might have cleared things up,” or “I have a hard time visualizing your world because you don’t set the scenes well.” Nope: hopelessly amateurish.

I was so thoroughly disregarded that I’m forever fearful of being amateurish again. From that one incident, amateurish became synonymous with worthless, hopeless, and not even worth the time it takes to scrape dog s&*t off the bottom of your shoe.

At this point, I’m so scared that I’ll be perceived that way again, that I can’t even start working on something until it’s the only thought in my head. I wait until I can’t contain so much as one more thought about a novel before I start writing it. In that obsessed place, even my fear gets blotted out and all I can do is write. If it all goes to hell, then at least I’ll have gotten that damned novel out of my head, because seriously, I have other things to do than obsess over ideas that aren’t even on paper yet.

So the short break down of my process:

Step 1: Get initial idea. I usually refer to this as the lightning strike because I get these in crazy flashes. Sometimes it feels like the muse opens my brain and sticks a whole novel inside my head in the space of a microsecond. (note: my most recent draft was not the product of a lightning strike, more to prove to myself that I could write a novel that wasn’t given to me by some arcane flash of whatever).

Step 2: Wait to finish whatever is currently on my docket. This is the hardest step. During this time, I usually start dreaming about my next project. Sometimes this phase is much longer than expected. It’s really difficult to finish up a piece of writing when you want to be working on something else. This is the step where fear bogs my every step. I find myself thinking things like, well, it would be great, but if I write it, it’ll suck because it will sound like an amateur n00b wrote it. I basically have to wait until that voice is completely destroyed before I can move on to step three.

Step 3: when brain is ready to explode, write novel. I seem to take right around three months regardless of the length of the novel. I have a 120,000 word novel that took 10 weeks, and a 60,000 word piece that took every scrap of three months. I don’t know why, it’s just the way it is for me.

So there you have it, my writing process. Subject to change.

** It should be noted that my friend has since apologized profusely for giving such lame criticism (his words not mine). I won’t relay his excuses, but if you keep writing, you’ll end up with an experience almost word for word like mine. It’s just the way things are. But forewarned is fore armed: at the time my friend actually didn’t know much about providing feedback to other people (he’d been getting it from me for free for years, and just hadn’t thought about how to apply it to other manuscripts).

One who panics

So, I don’t know how many of you have ever been in a place where you have a piece of writing that’s been… well, the nice word is critiqued. The truth is, someone tore a mile wide hole in it. There’s enough red ink to start a blood bank. This happened to me, and it made me mad. The whole thing wasn’t just a problem here or there, it was major ‘this whole section sucks’ kind of comments (over 100 of them, for a 20 page paper). And while I fumed and wallowed in my “But how can this be, we talked about this, isn’t this what he asked for? It’s impossible to fix this,” I had *that* moment. 

If you’ve never been in the place where your job depends on a piece of writing that’s been kicked back with the big ole “Really? My two year old could have done better,” you know what I mean. It’s terrible. Your back is against the wall, and if you don’t figure out how to fix your unfixable pile of crap, that’s it, no job. It’s a lot like saying “I’ll query 75 agents before I trunk this project,” and then getting 75 form rejections. 

But then, back against the wall and in a dark place, you see things differently. With novels, it could be the moment you trunk it (for the time being), or maybe it’s when you realize that if you do a complete rewrite everything will work out. Cornered and in a panic, the world looks different, and for me that’s really good. 

I don’t talk about it too much, but I’m dyslexic. Not terribly, mostly with the little things (pbqd—I hate these letters) and I read very slowly. The big problem is that my brain and my writing are products of my coping mechanisms. I skip things. I’ve never read the whole word, I read a few key letters and guess what the rest of it is (reading is really hard). And then I write like that. I skip logical steps (hence the comments about 2-year-olds out performing me), and I have circuitous ways of explaining things in my own head. They don’t work for other people. Sometimes, I can pull myself back and look at the world from the eyes of other people, and sometimes, not so much. 

Sometimes I need panic. 

I had to scrap the pile of poo, but I know how to write it now (sadly, this doesn’t mean cranky mean professor will like it). My guess is, this is one of those moments people mean when they say “Dig deep.” It’s not a pretty place, but the results of that place are incredible. I’m always amazed at how suffering taps into abilities not available in normal, everyday life. Someday, I’ll be able to just go there without being prodded with red hot pokers.

It feels awesome to type The End

I’m always amazed at how accomplished finishing a first draft makes me feel. It’s not like I haven’t typed “The End” before, but every time, I feel like I should go shout it from the mountain tops. I love that feeling. It’s a powerful drug, and I’m surprised I was able to overcome its addictive qualities when I first wrote those words at the ripe old age of twelve (that was the pegasus/starship Enterprise Fan fic, for those keeping track). This work has been harder than most. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I feel like I had to dig down and pull this one out in the clutch. Most of my work just flows, but I had to bleed for this one.

And so, in celebration of finishing a completed rough draft I’m putting up the query letter for some help (no, I’m not planning to query for a long time, heck, I’m not even going to start the rewrite until August, and I’m not querying with a project that hasn’t been through the meat grinder editing force of my beta readers).

First, some stats because it’s as close to statistics as I’ll ever get.

Title: From the Blood of Dragons

Words: 60,000 (that makes it the shortest rough draft I’ve had so far)

Date started: April 9, 2011

Date finished: July 1, 2011

Words per day: 712 (see, when you put it like that, writing a novel must be easy)

FROM THE BLOOD OF DRAGONS (working title, as in, I’m trying to figure out if it’s working).

Like most girls her age, Allyson Carter hates everything about herself. She’s had acne to shame a pepperoni pizza since she was ten. Her asthma’s so bad, she keeps three inhalers (backpack, pocket, bed stand). She can’t catch the eye of her crush at school, Steve, and her best friend is a troll. Okay, technically Beth’s only half troll. When a group of kidnappers corners Allyson and her friend at the mall, all hell breaks loose when Allyson spits fireballs to escape. Allyson is half dragon and never knew it. Her acne? Emerging scales. Her asthma? Actually a fiery breath weapon.

After they escape the kidnappers, Allyson learns that Steve has disappeared, and he wasn’t just any hot guy from school. Steve is descended from unicorns. The police think it’s a simple runaway case, but Allyson knows better. Someone is kidnapping the other halfs and taking their powers. If the police won’t find him, Allyson will.

Mistakes are like taxes: We all do them

I learn by doing. This means I make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Probably the first of my mistakes was that I didn’t think the rules applied to me (how could they? Won’t the first agent I query just fall all over my brilliant idea and my hidden genius? Maybe I hid my genius a little too well). Heck, when I first broke rules, I didn’t even know what the rules were. See, when I do things, I usually just try something out and see how it goes. When it doesn’t work out, well, I change a variable or two and give it another go (yeah, I know, I have the experimental petrologist’s approach to life; I said I was nerdy). It’s my process, and while I’m not good at many things, boy howdy, I know how to make mistakes. One could say I’m a professional mistake maker. And my writing mistakes, well, they’re awesome, cringe worthy, and I’m just getting started. Heck, even posting this is a mistake, but they’re good for a laugh. Seriously, feel free to drop your cringe worthy head desk moments.

The Dumb I’ve Done:

Queried a project not yet polished *D’oh!*

Used a mirror to get a description of my main character

Had an entire story take place in a bar where no one does anything but talk 

Queried with a character waking up in the first scene *head desk*

POV merry-go-round

Queried with a letter no one else had read (Could I get an extra helping of dumb on the side please? Thanks!)

Mary Sue and Gary Stew save the world then fall in love (nah, I didn’t see that coming)

Queried One. Agent. At. A. Time. 

I wrote the sequel without having representation or a publishing contract

I wrote a sequel to my sequel (And could I get my fries smothered in stupid sauce?)

When I finally pulled my head out of sequel land, I wrote the cheesiest, most trend chasing piece I could lay my fingers on. Yeah, that’s me, trying to write the ‘marketable’ book (but not to worry, I’m sure I’ll edit the marketability out of it in the end; I’ve got 5k1llz like that.)

Manuscript adultery (but it was just the one chapter! How could I have known it wasn’t 18 yet?)

So yeah, I’m winding up the first draft of my WIP, and I’m struggling not to repeat my dumb (hence the post, it’ll keep me honest… well, maybe). I’ll probably be posting a preliminary query letter soon, cause, that’s my weakest area. Whenever I’m trying to sell myself, I sound like a pretentious pain in the butt, so it’ll take me longer to get my query letter squared away than to let the manuscript stew *and* rewrite *and* edit. (Yes, my query letter skills are that pathetic unfortunate.)

Strange, I thought there'd be more random in random....

I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I’m trying too hard. Yeah, I know, not very surprising given my overachiever tendencies. So today I’m going to talk about Blogger. 

Yeah, I know, blogger? Who wants to hear about blogger? 

As a highly trained observer (yeah, I’ve been training in the sciences for over a decade now), I spend more of my brain cells than I’d care to admit remembering stuff from the day (and often from many days previous). Lately, the comment verification words have been strangely appropriate. 

I keep getting words that have something to do with writing: Novel, editor, writering (yeah, seriously). Blogger doesn’t always give me these great words. Once while I vacillated (to post the comment or not), my verification word let me know exactly what blogger thought of my indecision: dumbing. I guess that makes Blogger a verbifyer. 

I could go on, but I sometimes wonder if there’s a sort of Dr. Horrible watching over blogger saying to himself “what verification word would just put him over the edge today?” 

Or maybe it could be a benevolent, yet sentient computer program that’s taken pity on us writer types. 

Or maybe Blogger really can augur the future, and is just giving us hints, one verification word at a time. 

Or maybe I’m just a little too tired and should try caffeine. Yeah, probably the caffeine…

Guilty Pleasures

This was spawned by Elizabeth, and I liked the idea, so here it goes, my top ten guilty pleasure (not in order)

1        I love playing D&D characters with…charm. I’m the girl with the character who says things like “And by subtle, I mean fireball.” I also had a character who wanted to name our stolen ship “Of Dubious Provenance.” Yes, I’m that player. 

2)      Big Budget Summer Movies. I’m not saying I don’t really enjoy beautiful movies (Room with a view, or the King’s Speech), but I love action flicks aimed at 14 year old boys. Bigger explosions. 

3)      Baking. Seriously, I love to bake, and over the years I’ve gotten fairly competent. The only problem with being able to whip up a cake from scratch is that I’m always only an hour and a half away from a really great cake. (Seriously, flour, sugar, butter, egg, baking powder and salt are my friends).

4)      Dragons. Dragons in jewelry, art, books. I love dragons, and I feel like such an eight year old for being so into them. If I can write a story about dragons, I do. It’s a problem. Considering my obsession, it’s really impressive I have so many stories without dragons. 

5)      I like using big words. I think it’s pretty ridiculous too. I have terrible English scores on all my standardized tests. It’s absurd that I write, considering how my vocabulary is so miniscule. 

6)      Chocolate. I’ve only met a couple forms of chocolate that I didn’t like, and I had to search the world over to find those. Mostly, chocolate and I go way back.

7)      Halo, in all its forms. I know I should be writing, but sometimes, I need to take the master chief on a spin through covenant infested waters. And sometimes I just need a n00b sandwich. And sometimes I just need to be the stuffing in a n00b sandwich. I love Red vs. Blue (“I like me”), and I’m totally stoked about the Halo 4 announcement.

8)      Magical Girl w/wo horses. Yeah, I love the magical girl motif in anime, and if there are horses “Yay.” I was a big Rainbow Bright fan when I was a kid (not so much now, of course). In the Magical Girl category we have all my biggest guilty pleasures: Sailor Moon, Valdemar, Full Metal Panic, Escaflowne. Okay, this list could really just go on and on. 

9)      Disney everything. I’m a huge Disney and Disneyland fan. It is very childish, but I used to cut classes in college to go to a theme park.  I still passed.... most of my classes.

10) Office supplies. Yes I’m strange, but really, I love love love blank books, note pads, pens, pencils, paper clips, and highlighters. And seriously, I have enough blank notebooks and journals and pens to keep me writing years after the apocalypse. 

So pretty much, from this list, it should be really obvious that I’m strange. In my defense, I never claimed to be normal, not even in junior high.

Winning, not what I expected.

Right, so this is going to sound like a cross between a public service announcement and an after school special. Feel free to check out if you aren’t interested.

We’ve all heard the adage “Winning isn’t everything.” Growing up, I always assumed this was one of those annoying things adults tell children to make them feel better about coming in second place at nationals. It’s what we always try to tell ourselves when we play on the team that loses Every. Single. Game. I can just imagine poor Charlie Brown sitting in his bathtub after a baseball game.

I’ve been on the team that only scored two goals in a season (one of the goals was because the goaltender was laughing too hard to mind the net), and got mercied every single game. I thought I knew what that stupid saying meant. I thought it was a reminder to spend my time enjoying the game, not focusing on the score, but now I’ve seen the other side. Last night my beer league hockey team won our championship game. In fact, we’ve won every game this season, except our first which ended in a tie. 

Since January, we’ve done nothing but win. This team was like a force of nature. They were, in fact, so good that it didn’t matter what I did. I spent weeks where I worked hard all week long and brought my A game. There were weeks I was so sick that I barely managed to skate. Still we won. My performance didn’t matter at all. So when we won our championship game, I didn’t feel like I’d earned it. I felt like a fraud. 

Undeserved praise is much worse than getting none when it’s due. It feels hollow, and it eats your insides. It’s more soul crushing than stacks of rejection letters.

In those moments where I fraudulently accepted praise for a “well played game,” I realized something important. This unearned-trophy toting feeling was bad when it was tied to hockey, but how bad would it have been if I’d felt that way about my writing? 

With hockey you show up and the outcome is delivered: either you win or you lose and the time and personal investment is much smaller than even a short story. I could see what it would be like to have written a novel that was sometimes my A game, but mostly my pass/no pass game. What if that phoned in novel went on to do great. It would be the worst feeling ever. I could barely face the five fans at the hockey game, how would it feel if droves of fans came out for a book signing in a book that I felt didn’t deserve praise? Yikes. 

So yeah, winning isn’t everything, especially in writing. 

Failure has brought me a lot. Yeah, I know, this is just the sort of thinking espoused by losers, but seriously, failure has taught me more than if I’d landed a hole in one with my first query letter, got an agent and a book deal right out of the gates. From “losing,” I’ve spent more time researching the publishing industry. I know what a query letter needs to do. I’ve made a much better list of agents to query for the future. I understand what real revising means. I understand voice. Yes, I know my blog sounds like me, but my query bait sounds like a casual version of my academic writing: dry. When I wrote it, I thought my job was to get out of the way of the story, but I can see that was a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes. I think I’ll post about that pretty soon. Failure has challenged me to dig deeper, find my voice and pull stories out of myself when I didn’t know I could. 

I won’t lie, my WIP has been hard. I never saw this story as well as my query bait, but I’m out of the saggy middle. I know how it’ll finish. If it had been easy, I wouldn’t have learned anything. But when I finish this WIP, I’ll feel like I earned it—good, bad or otherwise—I’ll own it. It’ll be mine in a way that stupid hockey trophy never will be.

Right, public service announcement/afterschool special is over now.