TLIF - When it's Time to Walk Away

I'm going to make a confesion about my writing, and hope that it doesn't make me neurotic and that I'm not the only one.

I love my male characters. They're like...my own personal imaginary harem. Except some of them don't get along. But I have shaped these main characters out of molds of traits I find attractive. Even their flaws are ones I can tolerate. Sometimes they're even endearing flaws...to me anyway...I don't suspect what I find endearing is anywhere near what a lot of people can put up with.

My female characters...they're a little different. I don't like them as much. I mean, in a way I do. I love writing them. Being in their heads. Seeing the world through their eyes. Because like the guys, they're based off certain ideals. They all share aspects of my personality, and in addition have traits I wish I had.

Yes, I live vicariously through my writing. It's true.

It is possibly why, even though it's never been intentional, my girls are never rescued by their knight in shining armor in the story. Not in the end. Not because I'm a hardcore femenist, but because that's just the way I am. My daydreams aren't about someone coming and taking me away from it all. They're about a kind of give-and-take where both parties learn and grow.

Yeah, I'm boring like that ^_^

This is all awesome fun, and makes it really easy to write certain things, and very emotionally draining to write others. It also means there's always a potential for my girls and guys to be attracted to each other, even if they're not intended to hook up with each other.

It has...occasionally...completely destroyed restructured some of my plots. Usually I just hook them up in my head to see how things go and then I use their reactions to build stronger characters on paper.

So...I've been going really strong on my revisions this week. I've been patching up 2, 3, 4 chapters a day. And then I hit yesterday. It wasn't a good day emotionally, and it had nothing to do with my writing.

But I knew what I wanted to write. And I got it on paper and it was absolutely epic (okay, it was decent enough to be acceptable). And I started to write more...and my brain was like "Oh, you know what would be REALLY epic? If we hooked Ronnie up with that one guy she's never meant to couple with ever. You've already mentioned he's nearby. It'll be fun. You know how much you love him..."

And I knew it was time to walk away. Because yes, I adore him. But she doesn't. Well, she does, but not like that. It's a very platonic relationship, and she'd probably stop talking to me again for many months if I tried to hook her up with someone other than...

Anyway. When my brain starts trying to write in plot elements I know don't belong, it's time for me to take a break and walk away.

I'm not the only one who lives vicariously through my chracters, am I?

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Second Wind For Revision

I can tell by some of the dates on my files that I started this revision of Rhamiel's Fall back in May. When it was still Uriel's Fall. Which it has been since the beginning of its existence. And it's not any more.

/weep

Anyway...Back in May when I started I got about 1/3 of the way in and got stuck. Like major hardcore super stuck. At the beginning of September I managed to power my way through the rest, but I'll be honest I've always known (for like a whole three weeks now) that I half-assed the ending. The ending being the last 2/3 of the book in this case.

When I was in Denver I picked it up and started again. I started with the points I knew I'd slacked off. And then for some reason I couldn't explain to myself, I went back and started at the beginning. This was last week sometime when I made the POV change.

I hit that spot yesterday where I've been stuck. And flinched because I knew it was coming. The middle 1/3 of this book has always been my least favorite part. I've always struggled with the scenes and why they exist and what I can do to make it less...boringish...

(I actually have a term for it and I compare it to a certain author who writes vampire novels but not Stephanie Meyer, before her, and all of the books that I've read of this particular author's start to drag right around page 200 and I have a paralyzing fear that my stories will read like that too and it's why I only ever finished Interview with a Vampire and none of the other books of hers that I started. And I tried.)/tangent

So I dreaded this point and hit it and slid right through the beginning of it. I'll admit there are still some voice problems I need to address. But for some reason yesterday so much of the middle of the story clicked. And when I stopped writing for the day I was so psyched because I knew what came next and it's not what was there before but it's something I really wanted to add and didn't know how and now I know how and...

Anyway...

I really wanted to share what I wrote yesterday, but in theory it's a distinct spoiler...since it's where Ronnie starts to really understand why - out of all the voice she hears (because she hears voices, but not because she's insane) - one of them is distinct. Kind of like Sesame Street: one of these things is not like the others.

So instead...you all were awesome with your advice yesterday and I'm going to finally push myself to write Apathy's Hero next month. And this is my inspiration...and not spoiler-y because it's from my short story of the same name that's been available in A Thousand Faces magazine for about a year now.

(And, um, strong language warning. My characters aren't the most polite people when they're upset).

Lexi whirled to face him, straight locks streaming in an arc before settling on her back again. Her eyes narrowed, exaggerating the puffy skin surrounding them. “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, just leave me the hell alone.”

“Whoa.” Her red-rimmed glare prickled Conner's skin. He took a step back, raising open-palmed hands. “What did I do?”

“What do you think?” A growl rolled through her question, not hiding the crack in her voice. “I can take care of myself.”

A car door slammed in the background and he ignored it. “You’re welcome. You do know what my job is, right?”

She rolled her eyes and turned away. A sob floated through the air, fading into the passing traffic. Her keys rattled, scraping the red paint on her compact sedan several times before sliding into the lock. “Apparently not.” She took a shaky breath. “You never told me they pay you to be an intolerable ass.”

Anger nudged at the leash Conner kept on his power and he forced it back, a calming mantra repeating in his head. “The guy couldn’t keep his hands off you.”

She spun to face him again, keys rattling from their spot in the lock. Her voice raised an octave. “You didn’t have to break his fucking arm. I almost lost my job because of you. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“What?” Guilt nudged the anger further into the background. “Why?”

“Because I’m obviously the problem, right? Some drunken asshole paws at me, you lose your shit, and it’s my fault. What about that doesn’t make sense?”

He swallowed. A hint of smoke brushed his skin, making him wish he hadn’t tossed his cigarette aside. “I’m sorry.”

Leaning back against her car she crossed one arm over her chest, resting the other elbow on top of it and burying her face in her hand. “If you’re sorry, leave me alone.” Her voice cracked again. “Please, just leave me alone."

What kind of epic breakthroughs have you had recently? Share!

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Left Shoe or Right Shoe

I have a question for all of you out in writer-blog land. It's a simple question, but it's one I don't have an answer for.

When I was growing up, my family didn't have a lot of money. A small side-effect of this was that I hated my socks. Yes, you heard me right. They were always those tube socks with the colored stripes at the top - but the cheap version. And I would do everything I could to hide the fact that my socks drooped and were ugly. And my mother said to me on more than one occasion that I needed to stop worrying because it's not like people were going around staring at my feet.

Later in life - right around my mid-twenties - I developed an affinity for wearing mismatched socks. At the time it was a fashion statement spurred by laziness. Then it became my trademark. How? Because a guy at work one day said "How come your socks never match?"

I have a different habit now. I wear sandals in the summer, and I rarely wear them at my desk. I don't like the texture against the soles of my feet - regardless of the sandal - but I like the open toe, easy on/off feeling. So I get to work, I slip my sandals off.

Last Friday I was talking to a couple of people at work. I hadn't had time to slip my shoes back on before I spun to carry on this conversation, so I just kind of passivly hoped no one would notice. No such luck. Less than two minutes into the conversation one asked "where are your shoes?"

This morning a different coworker said "Can I ask you something? How long does it take you after you get to work to take your shoes off, because I happen to know you just got here."

My feet are under my desk. There's a cubicle wall between us.

Apparently my mother was wrong. People are going to go around staring at my feet.

But winter is almost here and that means socks and shoes instead of sandals, which means mis-matched socks, but it still means I will probably take my shoes off when I'm at my desk. But now I have to wonder if people at all my jobs noticed. If you're reading this and I used to work with you - you know who you are - reassure me that not everyone notices or cares that I take my shoes off at work, as long as my feet don't smell? Though now that I think about it, it might be funny to be remembered as the girl who didn't wear shoes. What a legacy.

Almost winter means something else, though. NaNoWriMo. I'm an addict. Every year I struggle with what to write about. I've heard that you're supposed to pick a brand new idea so that you're not already attached to the characters and it's easier to place them in the midst of bad writing.

Yeah, I can't follow that rule. For the last three years it's been super bad though. I have a story idea. It's one a lot of people have heard of, you've probably heard of it too since you're here and it's the name of the blog. It's my domain name. It's my brand (or will be if I ever make it such). It's my baby. Or my baby's daddy. That's probably more accurate ;-)

Apathy's Hero. I want to write this story. For the last four years, right around November, I decide I'm going to. Except I always have another competing story idea. The 'other' idea has won out every year.

Because I didn't know how to write Apathy's Hero. I know the main characters so well...I adore Conner more than I do Loki. They'd be nemesis if Conner cared more. (Technically they are, but only in Loki's head). And I know the basic plot outline. I have almost since day one.

But I know how the story goes this year. Or at least, I know how it could go. Because I've decided to write the story I'll cheat just a little and consciously use the hero's journey to outline the blasted thing.

But I have another idea too. And I love this idea just as much. It hits a lot closer to home. No one knows what this story is about except me. One person has heard snippets of the idea, another knows where I got the ideas for the characters, but this one is secret and in my head for the most part.

Two stories very close to my heart, for very different reasons. And I don't know which one to write.

That's my question: left shoe or right? How would you decide?

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Redefining the Standard...for the Greater Good

I was talking to (harassing maybe) someone on Facebook yesteday, and honestly Breanna is fantastic to put up with my 'my-brain-is-drained-because-its-three-pm-and-i-still-have-work-to-do' ramblings. She's moved the discussion to her blog and you should all go check it out because it's about flashbacks. Good. Bad. Indifferent, go share your opinion :-D

(and for the record, I'm not picking on flashbacks or Breanna. I could substitute adverbs, prologues, or third person present tense for 'flashback' and still feel the same way.)

I'm going to take it a step further though. A lot of people say flashbacks are bad. A lot of people say prologues are bad. A lot of people say angels are gender-neutral messengers of god with no free will and demons are a product of the devil.

I say a lot of people are myopic.

Picture this. A group of 10 writers is stuck in a room together. They don't mind, they call it a critique group. Every person takes a turn reading from their story. Every time one of them segues into a flashback (or opens with a prologue or uses an adverb, whatever), the same person tells them they can't do that.

Someone finally gets sick of hearing this and asks why not. The person explains it to them. It's explained well. It's a valid reason. Everyone nods and says 'okay, we'll be careful with our flashbacks'.

One person leaves the group and is replaced by another. As is prone to happen organically in situations like this. The new person hasn't heard the explanation, all they know is that no one in the group likes flashbacks. And they learn flashbacks are bad.

More people rotate out over the months and years, until the original 10 are replaced with an entirely new set of people. None of them like flashbacks. A new person joins the group. They introduce themselves. "I write fantasy and contemprorary fiction. I use flashbacks as a storytelling device."

And the room gasps. "You can't do that." "Flashbacks are bad." "You'll have to find a different way to tell your story."

And the new person says "Why?"

And the group says "Because that's the way it's done. That's the rule."

(Originally this analogy involved monkies and hoses and a banana but I thought I'd modify it to suit our needs)

No one can tell new writer why flashbacks are bad. And new writer decides to drop them without ever getting feedback. The thing is, new writer's flashbacks aren't normal. They aren't a character sitting around musing about the past in their own head. Their flashbacks are their own chapters. An entirely separate sub-plot. Same levels of action, etc.

But, new writer's flashbacks will never see the light of day because as a new writer, they were told flashbacks were bad.

My point is (beyond self-justification for being a flashback snob ;-), you have to know why things are done a certain way in order to know whether or not you need to keep doing that way. Passive voice has its place. An adverb is not always the lazy way of describing an action. A prologue is no worse than a first chapter...if it's used properly.

Which writing 'rule' do you think you break well and how have you made it shine?

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The Whisper in my Head

Even though she's only been mortal for a short while, Ronnie knows normal people don't hear voices. She really wishes she was normal.

There's something draining about writing intense scenes. At least to me there is. There's something even more draining about writing them in first person. Once again, at least to me there is.

Though it does make me grateful I'm not the one hearing the voices.

And even though I'm supposed to be adding 20,000 words to this story, so far I'm down about 1,000. I know I've got a lot of space to grow toward the second half of the book, but I cut a whole chapter today.

I didn't need it. It had to go. But why do I keep removing all this dead weight from a story that was finished months ago?

I need to stop feeding it donuts instead of salads. It's getting thin. But at least it has some extra padding in sexy places after today's round of revisions.

And I added a new character. She won't play much of a role in this story. In fact, I don't suspect she'll be back at all. But she's got a lot of potential in other books. I just figure, my hero (like actual Greek hero, not like main character) has been around for thousands of years, and tagged a lot of women, including his share of goddesses...he's probably got at least one kid he doesn't know about, right?

How do you fill in the spaces in your story when you have to cut out large chunks during revision?

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