Go ahead, laugh if you want to

Today, I’m giving you valuable writing advice. It’s not original. I’d read it more than once online and off. I also ignored it. The tip was this: When you think you’ve cleaned up your manuscript as best you can—think again. Put it away, preferably for months, then read it through one more time.

As I told you, I’m in the midst of that “final” read. So far, I’ve found bits here and there to improve, a little embarrassing, but nothing major. Nothing that would have made an agent roll their eyes and fire off a form reject. Except maybe …

In an earlier draft, I had a scene where Jalal had angered and hurt Renee, so she avoided him for several days. Then they run into each other in the grocery market and he tries, unsuccessfully, to apologize. She rushes out in tears, leaving her purse and cart behind. He grabs her purse, rushes after her, and they talk in the parking lot. She drives off.

In a later draft, this scene occurs later in the story and under slightly different circumstances. Renee is still hurt and angered and avoids Jalal, but the stakes are higher for him now. Fearing he’s lost Renee forever, he desperately searches the town for her. Finally he spots her car in the market parking lot, rushes inside, finds her, tries to make things right. She’s not having it and exits, leaving her purse and cart behind. He grabs her purse, rushes after her, and they talk in the parking lot. She drives off.

Still following? Here’s where my earlier editing of the final version failed. After Renee drives away, Jalal goes back into the store, adds his things to her cart, and pays for it all.

Did you catch that? This frantic man, who ten minutes earlier had run into the market, desperate to find this woman, had apparently browsed through the aisles and picked up a few items before he bothered looking for her!

I realize this ridiculous error is an artifact from the previous version, when they were both shopping and accidentally met. But it should have been edited out during the last revision. It’s evidence of sloppy editing. I can’t say for sure how I managed to miss this mistake during two visual and one oral readings. I suspect I happened to read this section all three times long past when I should have quit work for the day.

So, I guess that’s another tip I can share with you. When you edit your manuscript, end the session before your eyes glaze over.

If you hadn’t noticed …

It’s Monday, if you hadn’t noticed, and I should have had a post ready at my usual time (pre-dawn PST, if you hadn’t noticed.) Actually, I should have posted yesterday because I try to keep to an every-other-day schedule, if you hadn’t noticed. In either case, I failed, if … nah, I won’t say it again. So, you’re now reading another of my tip of the brain meanderings. This could get ugly.

Yeah, I wish ... for many reasons!

Despite the fact that I’ve started reading four different novels, I put them all aside to start reading my own. Initially, since I added a new first chapter and demoted the old one to second place, I planned to read just those, but then I thought, Why not? and printed out the whole book. I’m dismayed to see how many of those pretty pages have developed a case of strange red markings.

After almost five months away, I can read a bit more like a first-time reader. Enough to see a few sentences I thought were perfectly clear were not. Enough to spot a couple lapses in logical flow. Enough to see that I have an unseemly fondness for section breaks. Oh my.

I’ve always been unsure of my ability when it comes to section and chapter breaks, though I think I’m okay on paragraph breaks. (But now, of course, I’m wondering if I should recheck those too.) Whenever I doubt my formatting, I pull a dozen or so novels from my shelves to see how the pros do it. Do you do this too?

Sometimes I read a book that uses both double-drops and breaks denoted by some little squiggle. That confuses me. Are double drops and section breaks two different things? This is an example of something I don’t know the rule for … if there is one. What say ye?

In other news: You may have noticed that I sent out my last post in abbreviated form. I admit, yes, this was an experiment to see how many of you would click through to read the entire post. As it turned out, I saw only a marginal rise in blog hits. Plus, one reader emailed to ask me to please return to full feeds. So, I have … if you didn’t notice. :-)

Okay, time’s up.

Your turn: I read all weekend, what did you do?

How to make a novelist melt down in 5 minutes … or less!

Rant alert, you have been warned. As previously stated on this blog, I no longer read “how to” writing books and blogs because they are generally either contradictory or repetitive. But some of you, my blogging writer friends, are sabotaging me.

I’m almost afraid to read your posts because you might have written about the three-act structure, the novel hook, author intrusion, unbelievable plot elements, or—heaven forbid—the 10 biggest mistakes writers make. You’ve probably written a brilliant post. You’ll probably get dozens of comments thanking you for such helpful advice. You won’t get one from me.

It won’t be because I disagreed with what you wrote. It’s just that your words had a strange effect on me. I read your post with a smug smile because the problems you talked about are not in my novel. Not my perfect novel. No, no, no.

Well … but …

[eyes dart wildly, shaking commences]

What if? And what about that? Is it? Could it be? Do I even have three acts? Is that too much a coincidence? And what exactly is a hook anyway?

[assumes fetal position]

My novel is a mess. I just know it. Now that I think of it, I’m sure I made all 10 mistakes. Where on earth did I get the idea I could be a writer? I was too arrogant to use spreadsheets, or flow charts, or even index cards for Pete’s sake. I can’t blame anyone but myself. I’m just too stupid to live.

[beats head on desk]

So, dear friends, go ahead. Keep writing those evil excellent posts. And if you wonder where I am, you’ll find me sniveling in the corner, sure that somehow—somehow—you’ve read my novel and aimed those posts straight at me.

Please note: This has been a Fun Friday post. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. Really.

How my anniversary led to a writing epiphany!

I don’t often mention him here, but I do have a husband, and today is our wedding anniversary. Which one? Well … let’s just say it’s closer to Golden than Silver. My husband tells me his co-workers can’t believe he’s still married to his first wife. I was thinking about that yesterday when I realized I could relate it to writing. You’re not surprised, are you?

We married young—way too young—and, on the surface, we had little in common. (He’s not even a reader. *gasp*) But the most important thing we shared was the concept of marriage as a commitment, not an experiment. We had some very rough times, times when the temptation to give up appeared like a key to the Promised Land. “This is too hard. This is not what I wanted. This is insane.” At times, that was a daily litany, but always we kept going. We had a commitment we would try our best to honor.

Can you see how this applies to writing?

Everything I wrote before the last two years was only an experiment. Could I do it? Would it make sense? Would I like it? Then, for what reason I may never know, my purpose for writing changed. On the lowest level, I could say I just switched “I” to they in that last question. Would anyone else enjoy my writing? That’s still an experiment, you say. Ah yes, but almost immediately my attitude toward writing also changed.

No longer was it enough to see if I could write something a theoretical They might like. I had committed to learning how to write so the well-read They would like it. I committed to learning the craft of writing. I committed to learning the whats and whys and whens of writing so the quality of my work would depend on skill rather than luck.

Quite often since then, my writing litany has echoed my marriage litany –writing/editing/querying/whatever is too hard, it’s not what I expected, why am I doing this? Then I remind myself nothing worthwhile comes easy; those authors whose work I admire worked long and hard to produce it. Writing is not an experiment; writing is a commitment. And it’s another one I’m determined to honor.


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What is your writing worth?

Today, I’m thinking I should add another post category called Reality Check. But that might be too discouraging—to me as well as you. Even though I’ve been querying my novel for a while, it took Duotrope to make me say, “What was I thinking?”

I made my decision to seek publication in ignorance. I had no idea how hard reaching my goal would be because I had no idea how many other writers would be in competition with me. Now I know—there are at least a gazillion. And half of them are better writers than I am.

My goal this year was to see a story I’d written published, so I‘ve been using Duotrope to search for magazines I think might accept my work. No easy task that. I can eliminate those who only publish sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, thriller, erotica, western, etc. It’s just as easy to weed out some others by their rejection rates. If their acceptance rate is in the single digits—or less—I don’t even bother. Many of those magazines publish well-established authors; what chance do I have against the Joyce Carol Oates of the world?

Duotrope shows a description for each magazine, usually taken from their own website, and often I read this description and think the magazine sounds perfect for my work. Then, I go to the site and read samples of what they publish and my hopes are dashed. It’s either completely different in style or tone from what I write, or “too literary,” or “too amateur.” So those are more mags I can ignore.

So now, I’ve established what magazines I need not apply to, but how do I choose among the rest? One big question is whether I want to receive payment for my story or poem. Of course, searching for magazines that pay even a token amount turns up many I’ve already crossed off. And if my search term is “semi-pro and up” I’m going to see a lot of those names I’ve put on my too-elite-for-me list.

Do I need to receive payment to feel good about having a story or poem published? What if a magazine’s acceptance rate is over fifty percent? Some show over ninety percent! How would I feel about being published in one of those magazines?

I think to answer those questions, I have to ask another. Why do I write? It’s clearly no longer for my own entertainment or I wouldn’t be querying agents with a novel. I want my work to be read. But do I only want to be read? By how many people? If I don’t care about payment, and I don’t care how many people—or who—reads it, why not just publish on my blog? What is my writing worth to me? Questions, questions, questions.

Do you have an opinion to share?

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Mistakes I’ve made as a writer … so far

Today, I’m going to swallow my pride and make an admission. I’m not perfect. I know. Hard to believe, right? But it’s true; I’ve made mistakes in my writing life. Some were minor, some not. Here’s a few biggies.

My first mistake was joining a critique group. Not really. The group was fine; it was the critique I didn’t know how to take. My previous work wasn’t written with an eye toward publication. Two years ago, that changed, and I decided I needed feedback. Inexperienced, I assumed every member of the group knew more about writing than I did. I took every bit of advice to heart and edited accordingly. Eventually, I learned to evaluate the feedback and use only what I felt made my work stronger.

My second mistake was in thinking my book was finished—again and again. Almost exactly one year ago, I thought I had finished at 69,000 words. Then, beta readers said, “Think again.” They were right. So, I edited and revised, finishing again at 82,000 words. I was embarrassed to think I’d quit 13,000 words too soon, but it was done for real this time. Right? “Not quite,” said one final beta reader. Dang. But she was right too. Back to work. Finally, at 84,000 words, I was truly finished. Or not. Something still didn’t feel right to me. I’m now working on another chapter, which will add at least 4,000 words more.

You can probably guess where my “finishing” too soon mistake lead. I also queried agents way too soon—and with a query letter I wasn’t crazy about. So, I guess that’s two mistakes in one! I think the only thing I got right at that point was my 2-page synopsis.

At least some good has come from these mistakes; I’m learning to trust my instincts more. If a suggested change doesn’t make sense to me, I don’t follow it. No matter how much I want to be done with a story or novel, unless I feel deep down that it’s finished, it’s not. And if I’m not confident a piece is my best, it’s not ready for submission.

Your turn: I’m sure you avoided these mistakes, but do you have one of your own to share?