As Debra was saying, the edited manuscript was scant of a full book, and I'd left out a lot of the interesting story.
Tonight I finished the "Here, kitty kitty" chapter and the aftermath chapter. It seems a good time to stop and count words, since it's at a bit of a neutral position.
Cataclysm v4, the version sent to the editor: 247 pages, 76,012 words.
Cataclysm v5, current version: 285 pages, 84,680 words.
Difference: 38 more pages, 8,668 more words.
Addition: 11.4% increased word count.
That's a lot. What's left to go? I still need to add the scene showing Crystal helping people deal with post-cataclysmic losses. I still need to beef up the library scene a little to make sure people know how they survived. I still need to beef up the Olympus scene to get to know the relationship between the deities more. I still need to beef up the final battle to--well, beef it up. I have some really cool ideas for it, but you'll have to wait. I also still have to add more magic training scenes.
That's a lot left to do. On the other hand, I've already done quite a lot, and it's not quite 1/3 of the way through August. Whew.
Time to go to bed. G'night, all!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Reading aloud
A writer, I believe, should always read his work aloud.
Trust me, that's not really as self-evident as it sounds, having now been through the process from start to--well, nearly finish. Writing is, after all, a solitary and, except for the motivational music that many writers utilize in the background, a quiet pursuit. Yes, some good people write screen plays and stage plays that are meant to be read aloud, but I'm not limiting my suggestion to those folks. All writers should read their work aloud before passing it off as complete.
Part of the reason I perform that ritual is, honestly, anchored in narcissism. It feels good to hear words that I craftily placed in a specific order uttered out loud as though they matter, even when the voice doing the uttering is my own. It's a silly thing, but why else am I writing? It's not for the money. Yes, some authors--a very few--make serious bank on their writing skills. I'm hoping to be one of them. Still, hoping is one thing, but expecting that type of success would just be silly. My editor and others have suggested that the book is, or at least will be, very salable once I'm done with revisions, and for that I'm glad, but I'm also only reasonably looking at a $6,000 - $10,000 payday expectation. I know, that sounds like a large amount. However, if you deduct what I've paid for professional editing, as well as the costs I'll end up sinking in manuscript transportation, you'll end up with a significantly smaller sum. Then, if you take the amount I make on a rough hourly basis in my day job, and multiply it by the number of hours I've invested in this project, you'll see why even the higher number represents an insultingly small compensation. Ah, well. As I said, it's not for the money.
There are a couple more practical reasons for reading your work aloud, of course. One is that you read differently when your mouth is trying to form the words at the same time. I don't know why. I presume that somewhere in the psychology or education literature there's a study done on what happens when you read mentally, to yourself, versus reading to speak the words, but I don't care enough to go find it. Whatever the literature says, I'm much more likely to find errors in the text when I'm reading aloud. I think it has something to do with the brain's ability to compensate for syntax when I'm blazing across the printed word. Last night, for example, I excitedly printed off the nine perfect pages of the newest chapter ("Here, Kitty Kitty!") and ran in to the other room where my family was, looking forward to the joy not only of listening to my own work but also of having them heap me with praise--or the other stuff, depending on which it deserved. I started reading, and didn't get half of the first page out before I came across an error I hadn't seen. I'd used a singular noun where a plural was needed. I'd gone over it several times at the keyboard and hadn't caught the error. One verbal read through, though, and gotcha!
The other reason to read aloud, I think, is because a well-constructed bit of prose sounds--well, good. Well-constructed, as it were. It's especially true for combat sequences. When you've written a good battle scene, you can pass your eyes over it dozens of times without really hearing the rhythm of the linguistic dance that the words take on. When you read it aloud, though, it's clear when you have a winner. The piece becomes more than just a collection of words. The sentences and paragraphs seem to leap into life.
And it only happens when you read it aloud, I've found.
Trust me, that's not really as self-evident as it sounds, having now been through the process from start to--well, nearly finish. Writing is, after all, a solitary and, except for the motivational music that many writers utilize in the background, a quiet pursuit. Yes, some good people write screen plays and stage plays that are meant to be read aloud, but I'm not limiting my suggestion to those folks. All writers should read their work aloud before passing it off as complete.
Part of the reason I perform that ritual is, honestly, anchored in narcissism. It feels good to hear words that I craftily placed in a specific order uttered out loud as though they matter, even when the voice doing the uttering is my own. It's a silly thing, but why else am I writing? It's not for the money. Yes, some authors--a very few--make serious bank on their writing skills. I'm hoping to be one of them. Still, hoping is one thing, but expecting that type of success would just be silly. My editor and others have suggested that the book is, or at least will be, very salable once I'm done with revisions, and for that I'm glad, but I'm also only reasonably looking at a $6,000 - $10,000 payday expectation. I know, that sounds like a large amount. However, if you deduct what I've paid for professional editing, as well as the costs I'll end up sinking in manuscript transportation, you'll end up with a significantly smaller sum. Then, if you take the amount I make on a rough hourly basis in my day job, and multiply it by the number of hours I've invested in this project, you'll see why even the higher number represents an insultingly small compensation. Ah, well. As I said, it's not for the money.
There are a couple more practical reasons for reading your work aloud, of course. One is that you read differently when your mouth is trying to form the words at the same time. I don't know why. I presume that somewhere in the psychology or education literature there's a study done on what happens when you read mentally, to yourself, versus reading to speak the words, but I don't care enough to go find it. Whatever the literature says, I'm much more likely to find errors in the text when I'm reading aloud. I think it has something to do with the brain's ability to compensate for syntax when I'm blazing across the printed word. Last night, for example, I excitedly printed off the nine perfect pages of the newest chapter ("Here, Kitty Kitty!") and ran in to the other room where my family was, looking forward to the joy not only of listening to my own work but also of having them heap me with praise--or the other stuff, depending on which it deserved. I started reading, and didn't get half of the first page out before I came across an error I hadn't seen. I'd used a singular noun where a plural was needed. I'd gone over it several times at the keyboard and hadn't caught the error. One verbal read through, though, and gotcha!
The other reason to read aloud, I think, is because a well-constructed bit of prose sounds--well, good. Well-constructed, as it were. It's especially true for combat sequences. When you've written a good battle scene, you can pass your eyes over it dozens of times without really hearing the rhythm of the linguistic dance that the words take on. When you read it aloud, though, it's clear when you have a winner. The piece becomes more than just a collection of words. The sentences and paragraphs seem to leap into life.
And it only happens when you read it aloud, I've found.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Strange dichotomy
I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote last night, hoping to complete a scene that I think is going to be absolutely awesome once I'm done. It's the "Here, kitty kitty" scene; it got added in draft 2 to heighten the tension a bit by having Aphrodite lead the kids into danger, but Debra pointed out that it didn't heighten the tension enough. Now, I'm injecting the prose version of steroids. The kids--Matt and Crystal's thirteen-year-old twin daughters, to be specific--are, as of my departure for work this morning, cowering terrified behind a flimsy wooden desk that's all that is protecting them from the grand melee and rapid-fire spell-chucking going on in the war room. Their hair's already been singed, and one got blood spattered on her face. It's delicious with a capital D. Only problem is how long it's taking me to craft.
I woke up this morning having gotten them successfully and quite sneakily to the war room in the first place (in the first draft of the scene, Aphrodite leads them happily down thataway, but that seemed too preposterous for the girls to believe). Three cups of coffee went into fueling my pre-shower writing, then, as I ploshed along through the scene rewrite.
Battle scenes are fun to write, by the way. They're vivid. They're energetic. They have a pace and a heartbeat of their own. All that leads to the fact that you really can't stop in the middle when you're writing one. It was a weird bout of strangeness this morning, a dichotomy I couldn't help but feel at my core, when I went from writing a combat scene of grand melee to sitting at my Dean's desk, surrounded by papers and folders rather than claymores and flails. It's not something you can just wash out of your head, this vivid visualization you have when you write about battle.
It's lunchtime now, in fact, and I'm just now getting into the rhythm of my work day. Speaking of which, there's real-life work still to be done, so this blog entry must remain short. Have a great day!
I woke up this morning having gotten them successfully and quite sneakily to the war room in the first place (in the first draft of the scene, Aphrodite leads them happily down thataway, but that seemed too preposterous for the girls to believe). Three cups of coffee went into fueling my pre-shower writing, then, as I ploshed along through the scene rewrite.
Battle scenes are fun to write, by the way. They're vivid. They're energetic. They have a pace and a heartbeat of their own. All that leads to the fact that you really can't stop in the middle when you're writing one. It was a weird bout of strangeness this morning, a dichotomy I couldn't help but feel at my core, when I went from writing a combat scene of grand melee to sitting at my Dean's desk, surrounded by papers and folders rather than claymores and flails. It's not something you can just wash out of your head, this vivid visualization you have when you write about battle.
It's lunchtime now, in fact, and I'm just now getting into the rhythm of my work day. Speaking of which, there's real-life work still to be done, so this blog entry must remain short. Have a great day!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Measuring progress
This is the strangest project I've ever had to manage. That's saying a lot, too; I've managed all sorts of projects before. I've built "tank buster" lanes in the military, overseen the construction of roads and even a wolf den for the zoo, installed and improved major and minor computer and telephone networks, and launched academic programs. I've even managed writing projects, from the 50-page response to the three comprehensive examination questions in my Ph.D. program to 300-600 page self studies to a 2,400-page response to the response to a self study. You know what? It's all measurable. When you build a road, there is a certain order of steps that has to happen, and you can estimate how long each will take and then manage to the milestones plan you create as a result. When you write a self-study, yes, it's writing, but it's not creative writing in the slightest. To lay the project out, you determine how many questions and sub-questions you'll have to answer, give extra weight to the longer ones, and divvy them out appropriately. You can track progress on an Excel spreadsheet or a Gantt chart, or whatever. It's measurable, predictable, and to a great extent, controllable.
This isn't any of the three.
Writing the book was. I was able to set a minimum number of words and a word goal, and with an ultimate word count threshold in mind I was then given to calculate the total amount of time it should take me to write the novel. Everyone following the blog got to watch the project take shape, too, because as an accountability measure I included the word count at the bottom of each blog entry, and I tried to blog about something interesting every single day if for no other reason than to require myself to publish how much progress I'd achieved.
Now, hell. It's a jumble. I'm halfway through making the red-line revisions, and I could be completely done with those if I weren't taking a certain amount of time to stop and rework some of the prose. Some--most, in fact--of the rewriting I'm doing along the way is prompted by Debra's comments, but not all is. Directly, anyway. For example, Debra wanted a bit more of a hook in to the trip to Atlantis, and I made one today. I'm pretty proud of my idea, in fact. Meanwhile, there are other parts of the rewrite that I'm sailing right by, setting those red-lined pages to the side for later. The scene where Callie gets the kids in trouble, for example, is on the list for a complete rewrite, to be done once I'm mentally ready.
If it's just word count, I suppose I'm doing fine. Over the past week, including two weekends, since I received the manuscript back, I've added nearly 8,000 words to the story length. That's a 10% increase, which sounds awesome if you think of it that way. Keep in mind, though, that I've been known to write 10,000 words on a weekend day when I sit down and really work at it. For the sake of comparison, I spent nearly all day yesterday working at it, and only added about 3K to the count. I don't feel bad about the lower word count per day; even 3K is pretty good considering I'm going page by page removing and cleaning as well as adding.
What I do feel bad about is the lack of predictability and control this work offers. It took me all last weekend and most of the week just to get in to the first few words of the original manuscript. That was because first I wrote a prologue and a stronger beginning of the first scene, and then I revised them, and then I revised them again. I have to say that I'm really quite pleased with the new beginning of the story, and Heide applauded the work I've done, but--it sure was slow going.
Yes, I want it done now. Can't help it.
So, for lack of any better control mechanism, I have to just put the blog down, turn back to the manuscript, and keep on chugging. I still have a couple of hours to write tonight, and so write I shall.
Good night!
This isn't any of the three.
Writing the book was. I was able to set a minimum number of words and a word goal, and with an ultimate word count threshold in mind I was then given to calculate the total amount of time it should take me to write the novel. Everyone following the blog got to watch the project take shape, too, because as an accountability measure I included the word count at the bottom of each blog entry, and I tried to blog about something interesting every single day if for no other reason than to require myself to publish how much progress I'd achieved.
Now, hell. It's a jumble. I'm halfway through making the red-line revisions, and I could be completely done with those if I weren't taking a certain amount of time to stop and rework some of the prose. Some--most, in fact--of the rewriting I'm doing along the way is prompted by Debra's comments, but not all is. Directly, anyway. For example, Debra wanted a bit more of a hook in to the trip to Atlantis, and I made one today. I'm pretty proud of my idea, in fact. Meanwhile, there are other parts of the rewrite that I'm sailing right by, setting those red-lined pages to the side for later. The scene where Callie gets the kids in trouble, for example, is on the list for a complete rewrite, to be done once I'm mentally ready.
If it's just word count, I suppose I'm doing fine. Over the past week, including two weekends, since I received the manuscript back, I've added nearly 8,000 words to the story length. That's a 10% increase, which sounds awesome if you think of it that way. Keep in mind, though, that I've been known to write 10,000 words on a weekend day when I sit down and really work at it. For the sake of comparison, I spent nearly all day yesterday working at it, and only added about 3K to the count. I don't feel bad about the lower word count per day; even 3K is pretty good considering I'm going page by page removing and cleaning as well as adding.
What I do feel bad about is the lack of predictability and control this work offers. It took me all last weekend and most of the week just to get in to the first few words of the original manuscript. That was because first I wrote a prologue and a stronger beginning of the first scene, and then I revised them, and then I revised them again. I have to say that I'm really quite pleased with the new beginning of the story, and Heide applauded the work I've done, but--it sure was slow going.
Yes, I want it done now. Can't help it.
So, for lack of any better control mechanism, I have to just put the blog down, turn back to the manuscript, and keep on chugging. I still have a couple of hours to write tonight, and so write I shall.
Good night!
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Who plays whom?
One of my guiltier pleasures in regards to the book writing efforts--aside from imagining how I'm going to spend the millions of dollars I'll make because of its publication, of course--has been casting the movie that will be made out of it. That's a practice my entire family has been involved with, in fact. Some day I hope to be famous enough to be able to ask other writers if they engage in the same speculative practice without fear of being laughed out of the room.
They must, yes?
It only sounds narcissistic. It's actually a fun activity, putting real actors into imaginary roles. It's also useful in helping to visualize the characters, to breathe a little bit more life into them. Debra advised me to take a drive with my characters in order to talk to them and get to know them. This is the aspect of writing--the personalization of the characters--that makes stories capture our hearts and our minds and our spleens. Well, maybe not that last, but still....
Anyway, what male writer wouldn't prefer to take a drive to get to know Angelina Jolie rather than a mental sketch of a book character?
Yeah, she was the hands-down uncontested winner for the role of Aphrodite. The goddess of love in Cataclysm has to be omigod sexy to the point where men want to rip their shirts off and women want to either destroy the movie screen or join the men in forcibly disrobing. At the same time, there has to be a depth to her character. She's kookoo for cocoa puffs, to be sure, but it's over a god. Besides, she's been around for a long, long time. Thus, the role of Aphrodite has to be filled by someone who can do stop-your-breath sexy and delightfully evil at the same time while carrying along some slick personality. Oh, and auburn hair. Ten or fifteen years ago there would've been a few names I would've put forth, including/especially Sharon Stone (who is, incidentally, playing Aphrodite in the upcoming book-to-movie Gods Behaving Badly, which is kinda sorta not really at all like my book). Now, though, I only think of one person: Angelina.
The other half of the famous celebricouple, Brad Pitt, came up when discussing Matt's actor. I like Brad Pitt. A lot of people like Brad Pitt, as a matter of fact. He's a solid action actor with a nice depth of character to him. Thing is, I see him as a great action guy, but not as a Greek god sort of guy. He's great in shoot 'em, run fast, drive fast kinds of roles, but...Greek God of War? His portrayal of Achilles in Troy was close, but didn't sell me; frankly, I thought he was miscast in that role. I fear that seeing him as Mars would give me much the same reaction I had when watching the movie Thor: yeah, nice abs, but you're a god? Really?
I suppose, though, that you can't ask the question of who should play your Greek/Roman/Norse/Egyptian/Californian god to a household of women without getting a lot of feedback. Tom Cruise was another name tossed my way, but he's in the same category as Brad. Worse, I don't see Tom Cruise as even having a sense of humor to speak of, while Matt's subtle humor shows itself several times in the book. Heide suggested Antonio Banderas with a swoon in her voice, but Latin Lover as Greek God? Not even I could be that irreverent. I mean, yeah, I recognize that we're talking about the same geographical region when we talk of Roman stuff and Latin stuff, but you get two very different male aspects out of the archetypes. No, no, no.
There were three candidates, then, that made it to the "Hmm, interesting idea" stage of Matt's Imaginary Casting. Before the reveal, though, I have to make mention of the Avatar of God himself, Sir Sean Connery. Yes, he's great, and yes, twenty or thirty years ago I'd strongly suggest him. But let the man have the graceful retirement he deserves. A tip o'th' hat, then, to Sir Sean, along with a grand sigh that he's not a candidate for this one.
Ashton Kutcher was a top candidate. He's a fine actor, and he brings a ton of humor to the table. I'm not not sure I could see the guy who played Kelso on That 70's Show as the god of war. Kutcher's characters tend to be lovable goofballs, which is one occasional aspect of Matt's personality--but not the whole of it by any means. I don't think, then, that Kutcher's right for the role.
Both of the women picked as their choice: Vin Diesel. I like him, too. He's got the gritty, manly, stick-a-sword-in-your-face side, and he's got a loving, caring, cuddle-bunny side as well. He clearly is in touch with all aspects of his manhood, and his characters show that depth. Also, I've enjoyed the sense of humor he brings, and a sense of humor is, as I've said before, a key aspect of Matt's character. The god of war in my book has to be able to slice the head off of a troll, hug his wife tenderly, and crack a joke about the dichotomy of the situation all at the same time. Vin Diesel could do that, I think.
My problem is that I see Vin Diesel more as Thor in my book than as Matt. Many people see the god of war as someone who goes out and revels in any battle available at the moment, and starts one if there isn't one readily available. But as you read through the book you will hopefully see a different god of war. Different as in Nicolas Cage, that is. His role of Balthazar in the Sorcerer's Apprentice was pretty much spot on with what I've envisioned as Matt: powerful, yet caring, and a wisecracking smartass to boot. National Treasure showed a very similar personality profile in a different setting, and I loved that movie mostly because of the personality. I hated City of Angels, which I think was a universal sentiment, but a major source of my hatred was the depth to which Cage played Seth's character. He took an angel doing something really stupid and selfish and made us all love him.
So yeah, I'm pretty sure that if I'm ever given a say in who plays Matt in the grand movie experience, I'm going to ask for Nicolas Cage. It's still a fantasy at this point, but the whole book project is fantasy, so why not?
Meanwhile, I'm also pretty sure that I'm out of bytes for today. Thus, I'll have to leave off discussion of who might some day play the lead character, Crystal, for a later blog. Time to get to the actual work of writing!
Have a great day!
They must, yes?
It only sounds narcissistic. It's actually a fun activity, putting real actors into imaginary roles. It's also useful in helping to visualize the characters, to breathe a little bit more life into them. Debra advised me to take a drive with my characters in order to talk to them and get to know them. This is the aspect of writing--the personalization of the characters--that makes stories capture our hearts and our minds and our spleens. Well, maybe not that last, but still....
Anyway, what male writer wouldn't prefer to take a drive to get to know Angelina Jolie rather than a mental sketch of a book character?
Yeah, she was the hands-down uncontested winner for the role of Aphrodite. The goddess of love in Cataclysm has to be omigod sexy to the point where men want to rip their shirts off and women want to either destroy the movie screen or join the men in forcibly disrobing. At the same time, there has to be a depth to her character. She's kookoo for cocoa puffs, to be sure, but it's over a god. Besides, she's been around for a long, long time. Thus, the role of Aphrodite has to be filled by someone who can do stop-your-breath sexy and delightfully evil at the same time while carrying along some slick personality. Oh, and auburn hair. Ten or fifteen years ago there would've been a few names I would've put forth, including/especially Sharon Stone (who is, incidentally, playing Aphrodite in the upcoming book-to-movie Gods Behaving Badly, which is kinda sorta not really at all like my book). Now, though, I only think of one person: Angelina.
The other half of the famous celebricouple, Brad Pitt, came up when discussing Matt's actor. I like Brad Pitt. A lot of people like Brad Pitt, as a matter of fact. He's a solid action actor with a nice depth of character to him. Thing is, I see him as a great action guy, but not as a Greek god sort of guy. He's great in shoot 'em, run fast, drive fast kinds of roles, but...Greek God of War? His portrayal of Achilles in Troy was close, but didn't sell me; frankly, I thought he was miscast in that role. I fear that seeing him as Mars would give me much the same reaction I had when watching the movie Thor: yeah, nice abs, but you're a god? Really?
I suppose, though, that you can't ask the question of who should play your Greek/Roman/Norse/Egyptian/Californian god to a household of women without getting a lot of feedback. Tom Cruise was another name tossed my way, but he's in the same category as Brad. Worse, I don't see Tom Cruise as even having a sense of humor to speak of, while Matt's subtle humor shows itself several times in the book. Heide suggested Antonio Banderas with a swoon in her voice, but Latin Lover as Greek God? Not even I could be that irreverent. I mean, yeah, I recognize that we're talking about the same geographical region when we talk of Roman stuff and Latin stuff, but you get two very different male aspects out of the archetypes. No, no, no.
There were three candidates, then, that made it to the "Hmm, interesting idea" stage of Matt's Imaginary Casting. Before the reveal, though, I have to make mention of the Avatar of God himself, Sir Sean Connery. Yes, he's great, and yes, twenty or thirty years ago I'd strongly suggest him. But let the man have the graceful retirement he deserves. A tip o'th' hat, then, to Sir Sean, along with a grand sigh that he's not a candidate for this one.
Ashton Kutcher was a top candidate. He's a fine actor, and he brings a ton of humor to the table. I'm not not sure I could see the guy who played Kelso on That 70's Show as the god of war. Kutcher's characters tend to be lovable goofballs, which is one occasional aspect of Matt's personality--but not the whole of it by any means. I don't think, then, that Kutcher's right for the role.
Both of the women picked as their choice: Vin Diesel. I like him, too. He's got the gritty, manly, stick-a-sword-in-your-face side, and he's got a loving, caring, cuddle-bunny side as well. He clearly is in touch with all aspects of his manhood, and his characters show that depth. Also, I've enjoyed the sense of humor he brings, and a sense of humor is, as I've said before, a key aspect of Matt's character. The god of war in my book has to be able to slice the head off of a troll, hug his wife tenderly, and crack a joke about the dichotomy of the situation all at the same time. Vin Diesel could do that, I think.
My problem is that I see Vin Diesel more as Thor in my book than as Matt. Many people see the god of war as someone who goes out and revels in any battle available at the moment, and starts one if there isn't one readily available. But as you read through the book you will hopefully see a different god of war. Different as in Nicolas Cage, that is. His role of Balthazar in the Sorcerer's Apprentice was pretty much spot on with what I've envisioned as Matt: powerful, yet caring, and a wisecracking smartass to boot. National Treasure showed a very similar personality profile in a different setting, and I loved that movie mostly because of the personality. I hated City of Angels, which I think was a universal sentiment, but a major source of my hatred was the depth to which Cage played Seth's character. He took an angel doing something really stupid and selfish and made us all love him.
So yeah, I'm pretty sure that if I'm ever given a say in who plays Matt in the grand movie experience, I'm going to ask for Nicolas Cage. It's still a fantasy at this point, but the whole book project is fantasy, so why not?
Meanwhile, I'm also pretty sure that I'm out of bytes for today. Thus, I'll have to leave off discussion of who might some day play the lead character, Crystal, for a later blog. Time to get to the actual work of writing!
Have a great day!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Here, kitty kitty....
Part of Debra Ginsberg's editorial service is a telephone conference after the writer has received and had a chance to digest the editorial report, and last night was mine. I don't know if other editors do the same; I'm not sure they can be entirely effective if they don't. The English language is, at best, an imperfect means of communicating ideas from one person to another, and despite the clarity of phrase her report maintained, there were still parts of it where I crinkled my forehead and emitted an intellectual-sounding expression of confusion that sounded kinda like "Huh?"
It was a good call. I have a complex book--hard to imagine 80K words not comprising something a bit complex. There were things she didn't know, couldn't know, about the story and about what I have planned for future novels. There are, after all, a few levels of omniscience working. Matt, certainly, is a god, and has been around for hundreds of millions of years, so he knows a whole lot of a lot. Gods in my world aren't omniscient, though. It's simple, really; you can't have omniscient gods in a polytheistic system or else they'll be in each others' lanes the whole time. Then there's the narrator, who isn't omniscient at all. In fact, the story is normally told through Crystal's eyes, and she's really rather clueless. Finally there's the omniscient writer, but if you go back through some of the blogs you'll note that I'm really not completely omniscient either. I'm good at making crap up, and I survive as a writer by adding to that a fair level of omnipotence. If I realize that there's a kitty in a scene, poof! There's a kitty (dragons, after all, like kitties a great deal, especially with catsup).
Bottom line for part of the call, though, was that she, a fairly high level reader, hadn't "gotten" some of the story that I'd intended to be there. It's easy to point out where she'd missed the artifacts in the prose, making it her fault, but that wouldn't have been intellectually honest. She missed it. Readers miss stuff, in general. Whose job is it to make sure readers "get" the important points? Yeah, it's not the readers' job, is it? Each time, then--and there were only a few--it was clear indication that I need to go back to that point and buff it out a little, make it sparkle out of the story so that the reader does, unfailingly, "get" it.
That conclusion isn't a natural one, now. The natural one is what I mentioned at first: blame it on her. But I did that with my beta readers. One guy in particular brought up something about the timing of the cataclysm that he'd clearly missed in the text. Silly man, he should read more closely, right? Thus, I ignored the comment. Had I fixed it then, I wouldn't have seen the same comment in the report I actually paid for. Silly man, he should write more clearly, right?
To clarify, probably eighty to ninety percent of the report was spot on and easy to understand. Much of the call, meanwhile, centered around topics where she hadn't missed anything at all, but instead I needed further discourse either on her comment or on how best to fix it.
In addition, we also discussed a couple of things that aren't working so much with the plot. I like that she's an idea person. For example: at one point, Aphrodite gets the kids into danger by leading them to a forbidden room. What, are they stupid? Granted, the word she used in the report was naive. I mean, yeah, all kids are a little naive, but these aren't that much. They're pretty bright kids. But, Debra said, break out of the mindset, oh writer, and see things for what could be. What if it were something else? Maybe Aphrodite can lure them there some other way--gods can shape change, right? Sure...ding! Here, kitty kitty. Matt wouldn't keep cats at the estate because dragons like to eat them and because the storyteller isn't a fan of felines, but the girls don't know that. This will be good....
I left the call with a crystal-clear view of what I need to do to get this book published and on the market. Now all I have to do is--well, the work. There's a fair amount ahead of me, adding to several scenes and rewriting parts of others. Still, it's exciting work, and I'm actually looking forward to doing more.
For now, though, it's time to head off to work. My day job sort of work, that is. Happy writing today!
It was a good call. I have a complex book--hard to imagine 80K words not comprising something a bit complex. There were things she didn't know, couldn't know, about the story and about what I have planned for future novels. There are, after all, a few levels of omniscience working. Matt, certainly, is a god, and has been around for hundreds of millions of years, so he knows a whole lot of a lot. Gods in my world aren't omniscient, though. It's simple, really; you can't have omniscient gods in a polytheistic system or else they'll be in each others' lanes the whole time. Then there's the narrator, who isn't omniscient at all. In fact, the story is normally told through Crystal's eyes, and she's really rather clueless. Finally there's the omniscient writer, but if you go back through some of the blogs you'll note that I'm really not completely omniscient either. I'm good at making crap up, and I survive as a writer by adding to that a fair level of omnipotence. If I realize that there's a kitty in a scene, poof! There's a kitty (dragons, after all, like kitties a great deal, especially with catsup).
Bottom line for part of the call, though, was that she, a fairly high level reader, hadn't "gotten" some of the story that I'd intended to be there. It's easy to point out where she'd missed the artifacts in the prose, making it her fault, but that wouldn't have been intellectually honest. She missed it. Readers miss stuff, in general. Whose job is it to make sure readers "get" the important points? Yeah, it's not the readers' job, is it? Each time, then--and there were only a few--it was clear indication that I need to go back to that point and buff it out a little, make it sparkle out of the story so that the reader does, unfailingly, "get" it.
That conclusion isn't a natural one, now. The natural one is what I mentioned at first: blame it on her. But I did that with my beta readers. One guy in particular brought up something about the timing of the cataclysm that he'd clearly missed in the text. Silly man, he should read more closely, right? Thus, I ignored the comment. Had I fixed it then, I wouldn't have seen the same comment in the report I actually paid for. Silly man, he should write more clearly, right?
To clarify, probably eighty to ninety percent of the report was spot on and easy to understand. Much of the call, meanwhile, centered around topics where she hadn't missed anything at all, but instead I needed further discourse either on her comment or on how best to fix it.
In addition, we also discussed a couple of things that aren't working so much with the plot. I like that she's an idea person. For example: at one point, Aphrodite gets the kids into danger by leading them to a forbidden room. What, are they stupid? Granted, the word she used in the report was naive. I mean, yeah, all kids are a little naive, but these aren't that much. They're pretty bright kids. But, Debra said, break out of the mindset, oh writer, and see things for what could be. What if it were something else? Maybe Aphrodite can lure them there some other way--gods can shape change, right? Sure...ding! Here, kitty kitty. Matt wouldn't keep cats at the estate because dragons like to eat them and because the storyteller isn't a fan of felines, but the girls don't know that. This will be good....
I left the call with a crystal-clear view of what I need to do to get this book published and on the market. Now all I have to do is--well, the work. There's a fair amount ahead of me, adding to several scenes and rewriting parts of others. Still, it's exciting work, and I'm actually looking forward to doing more.
For now, though, it's time to head off to work. My day job sort of work, that is. Happy writing today!
Monday, August 1, 2011
Fillory, Sweden, and the Breakout Novel
Back when I was reading simply for the fun of it, a time that admittedly was many years ago, I only read one book at a time. I thought that more than one at a time couldn't be read, that I would be lost in the plots and characters if I swapped back and forth. I even vaguely recall having an argument about it with a friend; her stance was that it was easy to read more than one book at a time, and mine was that it was not.
My, what an opinionated snit I was at the time. I hadn't even tried.
It stands to reason, in any event, that if you cannot read more than one at a time, you certainly cannot combine writing and reading. Only, you can. I've been doing it, and I enjoy doing it. I've even gotten into multiple books, from multiple genres, at once, concurrently with my writing efforts.
It's more than possible and interesting, in fact; it's beneficial. One of the reasons I'm reading these days is to improve my writing. Each book becomes a sort of real-life lab exercise. My imagination flies along with the story, disbelief safely suspended, while my analytical mind watches for key aspects of storytelling. Try it yourself, if you haven't; it really does work, and it's a much more interesting way to learn to write than sitting in a grand lecture hall. No offense is intended, my fellow lecturers....
Add to the mix a book on writing, and you have even more to busy your analytical engine with while reading. My latest effort in that regard is Writing the Breakout Novel by Maass. He's got a very interesting and highly commercial approach to writing. So far, he hasn't mentioned anything I haven't heard before, but that's not a bad thing. I'm teaching a class this semester called College Mathematics to our nursing students. It's called College Mathematics because the correct title for the class--Algebra--is a word that causes involuntary tremors and other panic attack symptoms to break out through entire flocks of allied health students. In this class, I don't think I'll be presenting anything at all that the students haven't had presented to them before. The key is going to be presenting the same material in a manner that is engaging, that the students can lock onto and walk away with understanding. Same with books on writing, then. I've read several times the importance of characterization, but this book has such a different way of approaching the topic that it's worth what I paid for it for that subject alone.
I'm also reading The Magicians by Grossman. Good book, that. I know it's a repeat of the basic boy goes to school tale. People who complain that it's just a new version of Harry Potter only have authority with me if they also complained that Harry Potter was just a new version of X-Men. Big deal. There are no new plots. Haven't been for a great many years. The key, as Maass puts it, is to use the same plot in a new way with solid conflict and good characterization. Grossman, I think, did that, though I'm not far enough along in the book yet to render a real opinion on any of those. Still, it's interesting to read a chapter from Maass in the morning while getting ready, and then hop in the car and have Grossman's book on the kid who wanted to live in Fillory read to me, listening specifically for how he did, or didn't do, what Maass said to.
At the same time, I'm reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Gosh, I wish the author of that book was still on the planet with us, writing more. It's not even my genre, though "my genre" is admittedly tough to nail down for certain. Still, it's a great book, set in Sweden, with traces of historical information running through it. The main character--He Who Shall Remain Nameless ('cause I can't remember his name)--is set up immediately as somebody I really care about, despite his status as a journalist. Then there's the protagonist, the girl who has a dragon tattoo, whom the author deftly sets up as a likable and respectable force in the book well before he reveals her background. Had he done it the other direction, the respectability might not have been there. It's really quite an expert touch, despite being his first novel.
Lunch hour is over at my day job, though, so it's time to get back to work and quit wishing I were reading, or writing. Have a great Monday!
My, what an opinionated snit I was at the time. I hadn't even tried.
It stands to reason, in any event, that if you cannot read more than one at a time, you certainly cannot combine writing and reading. Only, you can. I've been doing it, and I enjoy doing it. I've even gotten into multiple books, from multiple genres, at once, concurrently with my writing efforts.
It's more than possible and interesting, in fact; it's beneficial. One of the reasons I'm reading these days is to improve my writing. Each book becomes a sort of real-life lab exercise. My imagination flies along with the story, disbelief safely suspended, while my analytical mind watches for key aspects of storytelling. Try it yourself, if you haven't; it really does work, and it's a much more interesting way to learn to write than sitting in a grand lecture hall. No offense is intended, my fellow lecturers....
Add to the mix a book on writing, and you have even more to busy your analytical engine with while reading. My latest effort in that regard is Writing the Breakout Novel by Maass. He's got a very interesting and highly commercial approach to writing. So far, he hasn't mentioned anything I haven't heard before, but that's not a bad thing. I'm teaching a class this semester called College Mathematics to our nursing students. It's called College Mathematics because the correct title for the class--Algebra--is a word that causes involuntary tremors and other panic attack symptoms to break out through entire flocks of allied health students. In this class, I don't think I'll be presenting anything at all that the students haven't had presented to them before. The key is going to be presenting the same material in a manner that is engaging, that the students can lock onto and walk away with understanding. Same with books on writing, then. I've read several times the importance of characterization, but this book has such a different way of approaching the topic that it's worth what I paid for it for that subject alone.
I'm also reading The Magicians by Grossman. Good book, that. I know it's a repeat of the basic boy goes to school tale. People who complain that it's just a new version of Harry Potter only have authority with me if they also complained that Harry Potter was just a new version of X-Men. Big deal. There are no new plots. Haven't been for a great many years. The key, as Maass puts it, is to use the same plot in a new way with solid conflict and good characterization. Grossman, I think, did that, though I'm not far enough along in the book yet to render a real opinion on any of those. Still, it's interesting to read a chapter from Maass in the morning while getting ready, and then hop in the car and have Grossman's book on the kid who wanted to live in Fillory read to me, listening specifically for how he did, or didn't do, what Maass said to.
At the same time, I'm reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Gosh, I wish the author of that book was still on the planet with us, writing more. It's not even my genre, though "my genre" is admittedly tough to nail down for certain. Still, it's a great book, set in Sweden, with traces of historical information running through it. The main character--He Who Shall Remain Nameless ('cause I can't remember his name)--is set up immediately as somebody I really care about, despite his status as a journalist. Then there's the protagonist, the girl who has a dragon tattoo, whom the author deftly sets up as a likable and respectable force in the book well before he reveals her background. Had he done it the other direction, the respectability might not have been there. It's really quite an expert touch, despite being his first novel.
Lunch hour is over at my day job, though, so it's time to get back to work and quit wishing I were reading, or writing. Have a great Monday!
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