Showing posts with label WIP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WIP. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Silence! Work in Progress.
I don't like silence. Even as a kid, I would beg and plead for the radio to be turned on while I had a textbook open. Of course, when I was really little, no one paid me any mind, they just sent me outside where I whooped and hollered like a banshee. Once I got to teenager status, I turned the radio on and damned the consequences while I studied. Test times would really just make me squirm. Nothing like a silent classroom to really mess with your mind. I NEED background noise. I can't survive without it. I might not be able to tell you exactly what is playing at the moment, but you'll catch me bobbing my head around and unconsciously dancing around if I'm standing. To me, music is nearly the air I breathe. So it always fascinates me when people say they can't stand to have noise when they are trying to focus.
I mean, does this mean they work-out with no headphones?
Wake up to the buzzer on their alarm?
Heaven forbid, could it be that they don't sing in the shower or in the car?
For work to be in progress, there actually has to be noise in the background. Somewhere inside of your head, there actually has to be something going on- a conversation, imagery that you can hear being described. While writing, if there is silence, it's like the TV being on after midnight.
Hellion- "You know that they play stuff on TV after midnight, right? It's just not a black screen with no sound."
Sin- *puzzled look* "What?"
*pirates shake their head at the non-observant Sin*
Marnee- "There hasn't be white noise on TV since 1989."
Sin *still puzzled* "Hm. Oh. Hm. Very curious indeed." *readjusting her leg warmers*
Terri *shaking her head*- "Soon we're going to have to lock her up in a home if she doesn't quit wearing the Flashdance outfit and thinking she's still cool."
See, if you only hear silence then you become very unobservant and this applies to your writing as well. Silence is understated because we crave it so much in our daily lives that we really don't realize what silence actually means to our creative side. Work in progress demands we listen to everything around us for any little thing we can use, laboring deep into the night and along the early fringes of light. This might work us into a "temporary" silence, but that's because at this point you're so mentally exhausted the thought of having one more moment disgust you.
But there's something about waking up the next morning with eyes swollen from the lack of sleep that brings that low buzz of your thoughts right to the forefront. What would it be like to have constant silence? To never hear your thoughts. To never hear your voice? How would this effect your overall writing? I'm not talking about the superficial hearing but the type of hearing that feeds your characters. If your work-in-progress is just an extension of your thoughts, if there was only silence, would your writing be flat and two-dimensional? I think it would. I know at times when I'm frustrated and nothing seems to work out write and the static is at an all time high, my writing and my voice suffer to the point it doesn't even sound like me.
So, with all that being said- How do you hear things? Do you hone in on one thing or do you hear it all from the thoughts in your head to the shouting kid in the candy aisle? Do you require silence to focus? (And this applies to readers too!) And if you have too much silence does that stifle your creativity?
I mean, does this mean they work-out with no headphones?
Wake up to the buzzer on their alarm?
Heaven forbid, could it be that they don't sing in the shower or in the car?
For work to be in progress, there actually has to be noise in the background. Somewhere inside of your head, there actually has to be something going on- a conversation, imagery that you can hear being described. While writing, if there is silence, it's like the TV being on after midnight.
Hellion- "You know that they play stuff on TV after midnight, right? It's just not a black screen with no sound."
Sin- *puzzled look* "What?"
*pirates shake their head at the non-observant Sin*
Marnee- "There hasn't be white noise on TV since 1989."
Sin *still puzzled* "Hm. Oh. Hm. Very curious indeed." *readjusting her leg warmers*
Terri *shaking her head*- "Soon we're going to have to lock her up in a home if she doesn't quit wearing the Flashdance outfit and thinking she's still cool."
See, if you only hear silence then you become very unobservant and this applies to your writing as well. Silence is understated because we crave it so much in our daily lives that we really don't realize what silence actually means to our creative side. Work in progress demands we listen to everything around us for any little thing we can use, laboring deep into the night and along the early fringes of light. This might work us into a "temporary" silence, but that's because at this point you're so mentally exhausted the thought of having one more moment disgust you.
But there's something about waking up the next morning with eyes swollen from the lack of sleep that brings that low buzz of your thoughts right to the forefront. What would it be like to have constant silence? To never hear your thoughts. To never hear your voice? How would this effect your overall writing? I'm not talking about the superficial hearing but the type of hearing that feeds your characters. If your work-in-progress is just an extension of your thoughts, if there was only silence, would your writing be flat and two-dimensional? I think it would. I know at times when I'm frustrated and nothing seems to work out write and the static is at an all time high, my writing and my voice suffer to the point it doesn't even sound like me.
So, with all that being said- How do you hear things? Do you hone in on one thing or do you hear it all from the thoughts in your head to the shouting kid in the candy aisle? Do you require silence to focus? (And this applies to readers too!) And if you have too much silence does that stifle your creativity?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Killing Me Softly With Character
He placed the shot glass on the bar in front of Lacey. She stared at the liquid enemy until the bartender interrupted her thoughts.
“Shot of bourbon straight up, right?”
Lacey’s gaze slid to his then back to the offensive liquid in front of her.
“Yes, thank you.”
The bartender shrugged his shoulders and continued down the bar waiting on other customers.
Her hand shook as she reached toward the glass. It seemed as if she waited her entire life for this moment. To any unsuspecting person she would appear as a woman seeking a drink in a local bar; but it was far more. It was her 21st birthday, and her day to taste what her mother loved more than her.
She brought the glass to her lips and in one swallow, the liquid demon disappeared. She placed the glass back on the bar as the sting of the bourbon took her breath. Her eyes watered as she felt the heat slowly invade her body like a sickness. A calm feeling washed over her, and the hooks of the drink sank deep in her soul.
A school counselor once told her the alcohol didn’t influence her mother, it was the addiction. But, it was easier to hate something substantial, and visible. She didn’t need intangible evidence of why her mother never loved her, she needed something to hold. Now that something was coursing through her bloodstream, trying to convince her that she would love it just as much as her mother, if only she would give it a chance.
She quickly slid off the bar stool and headed for the restroom, she barely cleared the door before she spewed the liquid from her stomach. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and walked over to the chipped sink barely hanging on the wall. She rinsed her hands and mouth and caught her gaze in the broken mirror above the sink. Her eyes were still haunted; she hadn’t found the answer she was seeking from her little experiment.
Did she really believe that with one drink she would understand why her mother never told her she loved her? Why she wasn’t a homeroom mother, even though she never worked an honest day in her life? Why she stopped off at a bar, the night of Lacey’s high school graduation for some liquid courage and never saw her deliver her speech as the Valedictorian of Valley High?
Lacey’s mother watched her seventeen-year-old daughter leave home because she couldn‘t bear staying afloat in the tide of her mother’s demons one more day.
For the first time in years, tears silently flowed from Lacey’s eyes. Tears suppressed because it would give the alcohol more power.
Lacey looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face divided by the broken crack in the middle of the glass. She began laughing uncontrollably through the tears. How could one small crack define her?
The laughter died on her lips as the truth of the moment settled around her. She was broken, and no matter how she tried to repair the crack all the hate kept seeping through, over and over again.
She reached up and covered the crack from end to end, but the rough edges brushed against her palm reminding her that she was only hiding the pain.
She dropped her hand at her side. The crack reappeared, and the vulnerability she felt resurfaced. But in its wake was an underlying current of anger.
It was time to stop living for what could never be, and wishing for a do over. Life was a one-time deal, and she was in control. She could ask herself why for the rest of her life, or choose to put the negative energy behind her.
By facing a shot of bourbon, she had already started.
We all experience a gamut of emotions throughout our lives. Whatever we deal with in everyday life provides us with a source to channel when we write. I deleted the previous scene from my WIP because I thought it contained too much back-story to work in my overall story. I may work it in at some point, but it isn’t time wasted. It was a difficult scene to write, because I have never experienced that kind of anguish. Allowing myself to get inside Lacey’s skin at that moment was a stretch for me, but sometimes you have to go with your gut instinct and become one with the pain.
Even in scenes that will probably never see print, I learn so much about myself as a writer. I struggle daily to get a handle on my characters, and make them appear as if they are real flesh and blood. It’s not always an easy task, because it’s hard to know how to keep a reign on someone that can easily get out of hand from scene to scene. I find myself backtracking in my scenes, comparing one set of actions to the next, hoping for consistency. This in itself is a chore, especially when my heroine is dealing with emotional circumstances that are all over the scale. I want to transfer personal emotion to my characters, but not personal reactions. I want it to be about them, not about me. Sometimes this is easier said than done, a perfect example of why I try to create a character that has a life much separated from mine. Thus bringing back the issue of not being able to fit into my character’s shoes. Building characters is hard work, with one wrong reaction I can damage the work of previous chapters. But I have to admit it’s nice to come home from a days work and slip into the skin of a supermodel with a hot mysterious man from her past wrecking havoc on her life, and a handsome senator acting as her boyfriend. Now that’s the kind of anguish I like to channel.
How do you keep your characters consistent throughout your WIP? Do you channel personal emotional circumstances when writing angst, or do you try to relate to your character without personal involvement? Do you follow a character sketch, and refer to it while writing?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Chain, Chain, Change
re-vise (ri viz) to change or amend the content of.
This week we revised our surroundings. We moved to a new ship, and embarked on our journey with a view from a new deck. Sometimes it is important to look at your surroundings and evaluate a need for change. Maybe you need a larger home, for added space, or a new wardrobe because the spring clothes from last year shrank in the drawer during the winter. *g* That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
In all aspects of our lives at one time or another, we face a need for change.
How many times in your writing do you revise your journey? Some writers set out to write their stories and never revise until the story is complete. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. I feel if I revise as I go, it will be less work in the end. This is a total cop out. My thoughts about revisions turn into thoughts of procrastination, and I have a word count that is lower than my IQ.
I encounter a multitude of people during a workday. I have conversations and interactions with people that fit specific scenes in my WIP. I can never turn off my writer’s mind. If my body is idle, I am writing in my mind.
I’m a revisionholic.
Just when I think I’ve hammered out the best plot since sliced bread, I think of another twist. If I’m not thinking of a twist, I’m thinking about conflict and emotion. When I think I’m satisfied, I study the plot for follow through, never wanting to leave a lose end. I cannot get beyond planning my outline.
Author Ken Follett, spent a year writing the outline for The Pillars of the Earth. He is the epitome of a planster. Mr. Follett is a pirate who depends on a specific map to coordinate his direction. He wants to know his destiny before the ship leaves port. I’m failing before I ever attempt to leave port. I’ve tried to revise myself into a planster when I’ve always been a panster. I need to write as I have in the past, by the seat of my pants.
I still find it interesting how writers use different methods to reach the same result. We all start with an idea. We create characters to act out the story, and we develop conflict to keep the characters apart. We throw in a couple of hair pulling moments, a big awe moment, and end with a scene that pulls a sigh from the reader. In the process, we hope we created something that stays with them long after they place the book on the shelf.
Revisions are difficult at best, but they can make the difference between a forgotten manuscript and a book deal. Each bead of sweat on our brow, every minute of lost sleep, every liter of ingested caffeine is worthwhile if the changes we make turn 100,000 words into the best story we have ever written.
We should view revisions as a means to a deserved end, and compare them to a way of life. We exercise to improve our physical well-being. We do home improvements to increase the value and enjoyment in our homes. We make revisions in our WIP in order to make it presentable; overall, it’s an investment in words.
Maybe we didn’t need a new ship, but we wanted one. Maybe your WIP needs revisions, and maybe it stands corrected. Maybe one day the only revisions you’ll need to make are to your Keynote Speech at the RWA conference.
Maybe the aroma of linseed oil on the new ship is getting to me, but nothing else has changed.
I’m still trying to make the best of what I have in hopes of writing something worth noticing.
This week we revised our surroundings. We moved to a new ship, and embarked on our journey with a view from a new deck. Sometimes it is important to look at your surroundings and evaluate a need for change. Maybe you need a larger home, for added space, or a new wardrobe because the spring clothes from last year shrank in the drawer during the winter. *g* That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
In all aspects of our lives at one time or another, we face a need for change.
How many times in your writing do you revise your journey? Some writers set out to write their stories and never revise until the story is complete. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. I feel if I revise as I go, it will be less work in the end. This is a total cop out. My thoughts about revisions turn into thoughts of procrastination, and I have a word count that is lower than my IQ.
I encounter a multitude of people during a workday. I have conversations and interactions with people that fit specific scenes in my WIP. I can never turn off my writer’s mind. If my body is idle, I am writing in my mind.
I’m a revisionholic.
Just when I think I’ve hammered out the best plot since sliced bread, I think of another twist. If I’m not thinking of a twist, I’m thinking about conflict and emotion. When I think I’m satisfied, I study the plot for follow through, never wanting to leave a lose end. I cannot get beyond planning my outline.
Author Ken Follett, spent a year writing the outline for The Pillars of the Earth. He is the epitome of a planster. Mr. Follett is a pirate who depends on a specific map to coordinate his direction. He wants to know his destiny before the ship leaves port. I’m failing before I ever attempt to leave port. I’ve tried to revise myself into a planster when I’ve always been a panster. I need to write as I have in the past, by the seat of my pants.
I still find it interesting how writers use different methods to reach the same result. We all start with an idea. We create characters to act out the story, and we develop conflict to keep the characters apart. We throw in a couple of hair pulling moments, a big awe moment, and end with a scene that pulls a sigh from the reader. In the process, we hope we created something that stays with them long after they place the book on the shelf.
Revisions are difficult at best, but they can make the difference between a forgotten manuscript and a book deal. Each bead of sweat on our brow, every minute of lost sleep, every liter of ingested caffeine is worthwhile if the changes we make turn 100,000 words into the best story we have ever written.
We should view revisions as a means to a deserved end, and compare them to a way of life. We exercise to improve our physical well-being. We do home improvements to increase the value and enjoyment in our homes. We make revisions in our WIP in order to make it presentable; overall, it’s an investment in words.
Maybe we didn’t need a new ship, but we wanted one. Maybe your WIP needs revisions, and maybe it stands corrected. Maybe one day the only revisions you’ll need to make are to your Keynote Speech at the RWA conference.
Maybe the aroma of linseed oil on the new ship is getting to me, but nothing else has changed.
I’m still trying to make the best of what I have in hopes of writing something worth noticing.
What do you dislike most about revisions? Do you revise your WIP when it is complete, or do you revise while writing? Do you have more than one-person critique and edit your work? Do you always take a critique partner’s advice about revisions, or do you go with your gut instincts?
Monday, February 18, 2008
Pirate Turned Hooker
I'm not what you would call a fisherwoman but I have been before and there are times, when floating about on this pirate ship looking for anything to do to avoid writing, that I've dropped a line or two. Unfortunately, I've never caught a thing. (Remind me to pick a fishing guide hottie one of these weeks.) In analyzing why I fail to get any bites, I realize it might have something to do with my hook. Maybe the lack of a hook or I'm putting the hook in the wrong place. Fishing is a precise science, believe it or not, and just throwing any old line into the water won't get you very far.Writing is the exact same way. You not only have to have a hook, you have to have the hook in the right place. You bury that hook in chapter three and you might as well forget it. Needless to say, I've learned this the hard way and I'm still learning it. In desperately searching for a topic for this blog, I found a series of articles called Romance writing: Tips for crafting that crucial first chapter and learned a great deal by reading Hook Them In and Keep Them There by Wendy Mackrell. What I learned is that putting the hook on page twenty or even on page five is not a good idea.
For the benefit of my point (which I somehow never seem to make in these blogs) I'm going to use my WIP as a guinea pig to show you how starting with the hook can make a difference in so many ways. Here's my opening right now…
"The universe is conspiring against me. It's trying to drive me crazy. Lucky for the universe, it's a short trip."
"I thought I was the drama queen."
"I'm not being dramatic, Miranda, it’s the truth. I’m resigned to my fate." Celi Cooper switched the cell phone to her right ear, gave a quick glance over her left shoulder and changed lanes. "Everything went wrong today. I'm sure a giant boulder will fall out of the sky at any minute. Right on my car."
"Tempting fate with that one, aren't you?" Miranda joked. Celi didn’t mind Miranda finding humor in her bad day. If it were anyone else’s life, she’d be laughing too.
"You want to know how my morning started?" Celi didn't wait for Miranda to answer. "Fatal Error. Those are the words that greeted me on my monitor this morning."
"Nice. Makes me feel better my scissors can’t talk to me." Miranda said, "Put your head down, hon" to the customer in her chair.
"I shouldn’t be bothering you while you’re working." Celi glanced to the rearview mirror and saw shades of pink, red and blue in the sunset behind her. She hoped to catch that same sunset on film over the weekend. "How much longer until you’re off?"
"Another hour."
Miranda spoke to her client again. "I need to find that gel of mine and I'll be right back." In a muffled voice she said to Celi, "If these heifers do not stop taking my shit, I'm going off."
Celi made the turn into her apartment complex. The management office looked squat between the taller apartment buildings but welcoming with its manicured shrubs and bright flower beds of fuchsia, yellow and violet. "I'm home so I’ll let you
go."
"I want to hear the rest of this bad day story. I’ll drop my stuff in my apartment and head upstairs when I get home. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten?" Celi figured Miranda wasn't talking to her anymore when she said, "I find my stuff on your station again and you're going to find that damn brush where the hair dryer don't blow. You hear me?"
Celi smiled for the first time in hours. Maybe the entire day. "No, I haven’t had time
to eat, but I’ll find something. You get back to work and remember someday you’ll have your own salon and those heifers will be long gone."
"Why is it you can be positive for me and not yourself?"
Celi parked across from her building, turned off the engine and laid her head back on the seat. With eyes closed she said, "Positivity is not what I need. A hot bath is what I need."
"Laid is what you need." Miranda believed sex to be the ultimate cure. "You pick one of the guys on the softball team tomorrow. We'll cut him from the herd at the bar afterward and get you in a better mood."
The only thing I've managed to do here is introduce a whiny heroine who has a funny and upbeat best friend who wants to get her laid and in this bit steels the scene completely. I also imply to the reader that the hero might be the guy they cut from the herd. I assure you, he's not. So, here's the changes I've made to move the hook forward…
"The universe is conspiring against me. It's trying to drive me crazy. It's working."
"I thought I was the drama queen."
"I'm not being dramatic, Miranda, it’s the truth." Celi Cooper switched the cell phone to her right ear, ventured a quick glance into her rearview mirror, and changed lanes. "You want to know how my morning started? FATAL ERROR. Those are the words that greeted me on my monitor this morning."
"Makes me feel better my scissors can’t talk to me." Miranda said, "Put your head down, hon" to the customer in her chair.
"I shouldn’t be bothering you while you’re working. How much longer until you’re off?"
"Another hour."
Celi made the turn into her apartment complex. "I'll stop whining and let you go then."
"You're not whining, you're venting. Totally different." Miranda DiCarlo had been Celi's best friend for nearly five years and her loyalty unshakable. "I want to hear the rest of this bad day story. I’ll drop my stuff in my apartment and head upstairs when I get home."
"Alright, I’ll see you then."
Celi flipped the cell shut and dropped it into the top of her purse. The complex mailboxes set directly across from her unit and a quick check of her box revealed several bills, three credit card offers she'd never open and her latest copy of Photography Today. Tucking the envelopes beneath her arm, Celi slid her key ring on her pinky then flipped through the magazine as she crossed the lot.
Head down, Celi failed to see the black Eclipse coming up fast on her right until it was almost too late. Diving for her life she hit the ground with a thud, landing hardest on her left side and coming to a stop flat on her back.
Afraid to move, Celi remained as still as possible while attempting to catch her breath. Eyes closed, hip throbbing and knee burning, she heard a car door then foot
steps rapidly approaching. With any luck, they were coming to put her out of her misery.
What do you think? I've managed to move the hook from page seven to page two. And all of that conversation (there's even more before we get to the good stuff) can easily slide right back in later. So what have we learned? When determining where to start your story, you need to do two things - A) find your hook and B) get it in as soon as possible.
How about you? Are you pulling out your hair trying to figure out where in the hell your story starts? Do you have ten pages of back story before any of your character's speak? Are you ready to throw something at me for rambling on with no point whatsoever? And if you're a reader, are you willing to stick around for five or ten pages to get to why you should care to read a book in the first place or do you give up much earlier than that?
PS: I'm going to be away from the computer most of the day but I'll check back in as soon as I can!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Laughing Me Right Off the Boat
I grew up in a loud, rowdy Irish Catholic family characterized by equal parts healthy debate (read: scream until you’re red in the face arguing) and side-splitting hysteria. My father had to be the funniest person I knew and my mother was his constant straight (wo)man.
Therefore, I love to laugh. In fact, I would say that my life is defined by laughter. I laugh at crazy times. For example, after breaking a nail which in turn runs my hose which in turn causes me to change my outfit while running incredibly late only to find that the baby needs a diaper after he’s already in his coat and now we’ll never make it on time to church (again), I laugh. When I make a long list to go to the grocery store, only to leave it on the counter, but at least I remembered to put on my lipstick, I laugh. In fact, I laugh while sitting in traffic when people behind me honk as if that is just the catalyst to get the rush hour traffic in NJ jumpstarted. Oh, and I still laugh every time I tell my husband that my nose is running only too hear him say, “you better go catch it, ha ha ha.” (Yeah, it’s just as stupid sounding in person, trust me, but that’s why it’s funny). I just enjoy the amalgam of irony, sarcasm, and slapstick ever present in the world around me.
What does this have to do with writing, you ask? So far it just sounds like I’ve flipped my suburban housewife mind, you say. Not at all. Well, maybe, but that’s a different blog.
Today I want talk about how humor affects my writing. And, because we wenches here on the boat tend to drag the rest of you down with us, by default I’d like to know how humor affects your writing as well.
So many authors do comedy in romance well. Julie Garwood, Julia Quinn, and Sherrilyn Kenyon, to name a few of my favorites.
I think some of my WIP is funny, but I am not sure that I’ve set out to make it funny on purpose. This frightens me a little because humor is such a subjective thing. What I think is funny might leave others cold. I worry about putting humor in on purpose because then I feel like it sounds forced. On the other hand, if the story is playing out in my mind as I am writing it down, removing stuff that I think is funny because I’m worried it really ISN’T funny leaves my voice sounding stilted and forced too. *sigh*
Ultimately, I think “funny” is just something that is. It isn’t something you can force to be in your voice if it isn’t there naturally and it isn’t something you can take out of your voice if it’s there of its own accord.
What do you think about humor in novels? What makes it work, what doesn’t work? Who do you think does it well or not? I think we’re a funny bunch of aspiring pirates. Does that humor show up in your novel(s)? Finally, does anyone else laugh in traffic? Oh, it’s just me huh? Whatever people….
Therefore, I love to laugh. In fact, I would say that my life is defined by laughter. I laugh at crazy times. For example, after breaking a nail which in turn runs my hose which in turn causes me to change my outfit while running incredibly late only to find that the baby needs a diaper after he’s already in his coat and now we’ll never make it on time to church (again), I laugh. When I make a long list to go to the grocery store, only to leave it on the counter, but at least I remembered to put on my lipstick, I laugh. In fact, I laugh while sitting in traffic when people behind me honk as if that is just the catalyst to get the rush hour traffic in NJ jumpstarted. Oh, and I still laugh every time I tell my husband that my nose is running only too hear him say, “you better go catch it, ha ha ha.” (Yeah, it’s just as stupid sounding in person, trust me, but that’s why it’s funny). I just enjoy the amalgam of irony, sarcasm, and slapstick ever present in the world around me.
What does this have to do with writing, you ask? So far it just sounds like I’ve flipped my suburban housewife mind, you say. Not at all. Well, maybe, but that’s a different blog.
Today I want talk about how humor affects my writing. And, because we wenches here on the boat tend to drag the rest of you down with us, by default I’d like to know how humor affects your writing as well.
So many authors do comedy in romance well. Julie Garwood, Julia Quinn, and Sherrilyn Kenyon, to name a few of my favorites.
I think some of my WIP is funny, but I am not sure that I’ve set out to make it funny on purpose. This frightens me a little because humor is such a subjective thing. What I think is funny might leave others cold. I worry about putting humor in on purpose because then I feel like it sounds forced. On the other hand, if the story is playing out in my mind as I am writing it down, removing stuff that I think is funny because I’m worried it really ISN’T funny leaves my voice sounding stilted and forced too. *sigh*
Ultimately, I think “funny” is just something that is. It isn’t something you can force to be in your voice if it isn’t there naturally and it isn’t something you can take out of your voice if it’s there of its own accord.
What do you think about humor in novels? What makes it work, what doesn’t work? Who do you think does it well or not? I think we’re a funny bunch of aspiring pirates. Does that humor show up in your novel(s)? Finally, does anyone else laugh in traffic? Oh, it’s just me huh? Whatever people….
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Every Girl Loves a Bad Boy
‘Tis true.
I grew up loving bad boys. I have this thing for tall, dark and handsome. Just ask my DH. He’ll agree. Because he’s like that. He’s not modest at all. lol.
The ultimate bad boy just makes me tingle all over. The swagger. The way he doesn’t care about what people think. The ability to throw caution to the wind and just do it. (And not just that “do it”. But still they do it well.) There hasn’t been a time in my life when I hadn’t thought about the bad boy and how I was gonna get my hands on him. It’s that initial rush when you’re in a bad boy’s arms, the way he makes you feel about yourself. The way everything is new and exciting. And it stays that way because he’s mysterious. He’d dark and edgy. And he knows how to light you on fire with one single look.
The bad boy is my favorite part of writing a novel. Creating the man who’s gonna make my heroine want to pull her hair out with his sarcasm. The man who is gonna knock her socks off with his looks and make the room feel two sizes too small when they are together. He’s the man, who at the end of the day, when she’s trying to sleep, all she can hear is his smart ass comments. And remember the way his eyes raked over her when she stepped into the room. The way he makes her temperature sky rocket when he brushes up against her. The man who invades her dreams, kisses her lips, touches her bare skin, makes her cry out his name.
He is her bad boy. He is her crutch. He’s everything she could want and more. If she was looking for someone.
When I started fleshing out my Romantic-Suspense WIP, I had this vision of a man. I could hear his voice in my head as I was driving to work one hot summer day. I was sitting in traffic, minding my own business (okay, so I was flipping off the person who had cut me off) and I could hear him laughing. It was this deep, gruff laugh, the kind that belongs to a man with dark intentions and even darker abilities. Then I heard this woman, very girly voice, yelling about him not sneaking up on her. They got into a very heated argument. And then I knew. I had my leads for my first original.
I wasn’t looking for them at the time. At the time I was in the middle of a very intense and detailed fic about a Colombian drug lord who had almost killed my heroine in the first fic and she was trying to stay alive long enough to solve the mystery. I was thoroughly involved with the story line. I wanted to give it life, watch it soar and remember it always. After all it was a part of the first time I’d ever written for pleasure. Writing 20 page papers on music theory and computer programming are not really up my alley. No matter how much I like to talk about computers. lol
But there are some times no one listens to you, the writer. Sometimes your characters dictate what you’re going to do and what you’re going to write. And so Double Vision was born. A novel created from the insanity that is my mind. A plot that I’ve consistently changed every three months for the past year and a half. My hero/heroine are very hard to please and every time I think it’s right it’s not.
But it is this time.
So this man keeps coming to me. He talks to me in the shower. He talks to me while I’m putting on my makeup. He scolds me when I let people in front of me while being stopped in traffic. And he laughs when I swear at the person I just let in front of me. He tells me I need to get a new job because I can't shoot anyone who pisses me off. And he follows me to the gym while I run on the treadmill, bitching that I don’t stay longer ( I think an hour is long enough, thankyouverymuch! ) and he follows me into my dreams. He shows me what he wants to do, how he wants to do it. Ash is a doer. He doesn’t follow. He blazes the way and he won’t rest until he gets his way from me. And Sadie. However he can get it.
So I guess the question of the day is: Do you have a bad boy in your life? A favorite bad boy from a series or book? And if you have one in mind, does he play a major part in writing your own WIP bad boy?
I grew up loving bad boys. I have this thing for tall, dark and handsome. Just ask my DH. He’ll agree. Because he’s like that. He’s not modest at all. lol.
The ultimate bad boy just makes me tingle all over. The swagger. The way he doesn’t care about what people think. The ability to throw caution to the wind and just do it. (And not just that “do it”. But still they do it well.) There hasn’t been a time in my life when I hadn’t thought about the bad boy and how I was gonna get my hands on him. It’s that initial rush when you’re in a bad boy’s arms, the way he makes you feel about yourself. The way everything is new and exciting. And it stays that way because he’s mysterious. He’d dark and edgy. And he knows how to light you on fire with one single look.
The bad boy is my favorite part of writing a novel. Creating the man who’s gonna make my heroine want to pull her hair out with his sarcasm. The man who is gonna knock her socks off with his looks and make the room feel two sizes too small when they are together. He’s the man, who at the end of the day, when she’s trying to sleep, all she can hear is his smart ass comments. And remember the way his eyes raked over her when she stepped into the room. The way he makes her temperature sky rocket when he brushes up against her. The man who invades her dreams, kisses her lips, touches her bare skin, makes her cry out his name.
He is her bad boy. He is her crutch. He’s everything she could want and more. If she was looking for someone.
When I started fleshing out my Romantic-Suspense WIP, I had this vision of a man. I could hear his voice in my head as I was driving to work one hot summer day. I was sitting in traffic, minding my own business (okay, so I was flipping off the person who had cut me off) and I could hear him laughing. It was this deep, gruff laugh, the kind that belongs to a man with dark intentions and even darker abilities. Then I heard this woman, very girly voice, yelling about him not sneaking up on her. They got into a very heated argument. And then I knew. I had my leads for my first original.
I wasn’t looking for them at the time. At the time I was in the middle of a very intense and detailed fic about a Colombian drug lord who had almost killed my heroine in the first fic and she was trying to stay alive long enough to solve the mystery. I was thoroughly involved with the story line. I wanted to give it life, watch it soar and remember it always. After all it was a part of the first time I’d ever written for pleasure. Writing 20 page papers on music theory and computer programming are not really up my alley. No matter how much I like to talk about computers. lol
But there are some times no one listens to you, the writer. Sometimes your characters dictate what you’re going to do and what you’re going to write. And so Double Vision was born. A novel created from the insanity that is my mind. A plot that I’ve consistently changed every three months for the past year and a half. My hero/heroine are very hard to please and every time I think it’s right it’s not.
But it is this time.
So this man keeps coming to me. He talks to me in the shower. He talks to me while I’m putting on my makeup. He scolds me when I let people in front of me while being stopped in traffic. And he laughs when I swear at the person I just let in front of me. He tells me I need to get a new job because I can't shoot anyone who pisses me off. And he follows me to the gym while I run on the treadmill, bitching that I don’t stay longer ( I think an hour is long enough, thankyouverymuch! ) and he follows me into my dreams. He shows me what he wants to do, how he wants to do it. Ash is a doer. He doesn’t follow. He blazes the way and he won’t rest until he gets his way from me. And Sadie. However he can get it.So I guess the question of the day is: Do you have a bad boy in your life? A favorite bad boy from a series or book? And if you have one in mind, does he play a major part in writing your own WIP bad boy?
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Faking it... An art form of acquiring perfection.
"Life is like a dirty pirate ship, you never know who your mates are gonna be."
There is a lot to be said for a supportive cast.
Especially when they are a seductive group like aboard the Romance Writer’s Revenge. And in honor of the sultry wenches on board, I’m going to take the time out to talk about a subject that’s near and dear to a lusty wench’s heart.
Faking it.
Now, I know you’re groaning and thinking where the hell is she going to take this. But I assure you there matey, this topic holds no bounds.
There are things to be said for faking it. If you fake it, you don’t have much to worry about if you do it right. Faking it absolves you of a guilty pleasure you might have gotten from it. Faking it allows you to think of the gardener, the hottie half your age that winked at you, next week’s episode of Moonlight *clearing throat*. And faking it can be done at any time of the day, no matter the circumstances. But faking-it just isn’t laying there and taking it. Faking-it is an art form that requires perfection. It’s a well honed skill that, if mastered, can serve you well for the rest of your life in all facets.
But be aware, there is this little place in the deep dark corner of your heart that just gets a kick out of ruining all the fun faking-it can bring you. There are sometimes that faking it isn’t your best option. When you’re so into it, that faking it isn’t even considered. When the only thing in your mind is you and him and the moment. Special times in your life when faking it is very inappropriate- like when the face god graces you with his presence.
Writing sex is the same way.
I’m not going to write today about those truly inspired moments. We all have them. Those moments are worthy of a blog, but not like this. Instead, I’m going to talk about those dark moments in your life when sex is the furthest thing from your mind. The times when faking it is the only option you’ve got to save the relationship of your WIP and the stunted writer in you.
You can NOT know sex and write a good sex scene. Faking a sex scene can be some of the hottest sex ever caught on page. If you allow yourself free thought flow, allow no-holds-barred-anything-goes, then you quite possibly will write something you never thought sexually possible. For a lot of us, plain Jane sex is the norm. It’s something we grew up knowing, it’s something that’s easy for us to get into the groove with. It allows us to be comfortable. And we all LOVE to be comfortable. But when faking-it, you should go for it. Always. Push past that comfortable zone. There is no room for sweatpants in the faking-it territory.
When I write sex, I like to push boundaries. I like to write things I don’t know if I could ever possibly do or would even want to contemplate. The wilder the scene for me, the better I feel about faking-it. Anger, spontaneity, that first taste of ecstasy as you know you’re doing something forbidden. I love it all. And I love the scene that follows directly after when the pair (or group, if you will), realize what just transpired and try to backtrack. But there is no going back from passion like that. But there are times that forcing it is my only option. When my words feel stunted, the scene feels cold, the characters not working together or bouncing off each other. It’s those times when you realize writing a sex scene can feel horribly awkward and there will be times that you pull up the word processor and you’re trying to put those words to fruition but it just isn’t happen. You just aren’t feeling it. These are those times that you need a back-up plan. Your faking-it-plan (FIP).
There is only one phrase that I remember when I resort to my FIP.
“If you’re gonna fake-it, you better bring it.”
This means if you’re going to fake the whole sex scene you better dump all the emotion you can muster up and pull out all the stops. The FIP requires concentration and to write everything you can find at the moment in your little writing brain (it can always be smoothed out and edited later on. The goal is to get something on paper that is half way workable.)
It has to be one of those scenes that literally burns up the monitor, shuts down your word processor, makes you and your momma fan yourselves when you re-read it. (And I know what you’re thinking, “Your momma!? You let your momma read that?” Well, yeah, my mother is a woman. And I’m a writer. If I’m ever going to get out of the rut of being embarrassed, you have to let go. Who better to teach you this than your mother? Your mother has seen you through every embarrassing moment of your life… but this is another blog at another time.)
And PS- Nothing embarrasses me. Just ask Hellion. My mother gets embarrassed at my ability to never be embarrassed.
Faking it requires a certain pizzazz that you wouldn’t normally bring to the table. You have to be spot on perfect; your performance depends on your execution. One false move and the reader is going to laugh you off and shut the book. And they won’t pick you back up. The goal is to be realistic while pushing your limit. Never written a sex scene in a shower? To employ the FIP you have to be willing to take a risk. Writing is always a risk, but be willing to go out on that extra limb for a sex scene you’re stumped with. Give that FIP flava.
In the same respect, there is a fine line to tread when faking it. You get too showy, get too porn-like (ie: “Give it to me daddy! Oh Yeah! Right there!”) I assure you, if your character is screeching that at the top of their lungs and you’re writing a contemporary romance where your character is a little shy and self-conscience, you’re NOT doing the FIP scene justice. Even worse if you’re writing a historical. I’m not saying that doesn’t ever happen. I’m saying it’s not likely and your reader is going to feel the same way. Remember your target audience and your characters when making your FIP. Stay within your realm. If your character is willing to take risks, take that chance with the FIP. Be willing to take a chance for yourself. This goes hand and hand with the risk factor. I know you have guts. You’re a writer for goodness sakes. Trust your instincts. Shut down that inner critiquer and get down to business!
The FIP is depicted solely on your writing style. It’s based on what tools you use in order to get in the mood. So tell me, when you write a sex scene what do you require in order to write it? And when you’re in the mood to fake it, what do you do differently?
There is a lot to be said for a supportive cast.
Especially when they are a seductive group like aboard the Romance Writer’s Revenge. And in honor of the sultry wenches on board, I’m going to take the time out to talk about a subject that’s near and dear to a lusty wench’s heart.
Faking it.
Now, I know you’re groaning and thinking where the hell is she going to take this. But I assure you there matey, this topic holds no bounds.
There are things to be said for faking it. If you fake it, you don’t have much to worry about if you do it right. Faking it absolves you of a guilty pleasure you might have gotten from it. Faking it allows you to think of the gardener, the hottie half your age that winked at you, next week’s episode of Moonlight *clearing throat*. And faking it can be done at any time of the day, no matter the circumstances. But faking-it just isn’t laying there and taking it. Faking-it is an art form that requires perfection. It’s a well honed skill that, if mastered, can serve you well for the rest of your life in all facets.
But be aware, there is this little place in the deep dark corner of your heart that just gets a kick out of ruining all the fun faking-it can bring you. There are sometimes that faking it isn’t your best option. When you’re so into it, that faking it isn’t even considered. When the only thing in your mind is you and him and the moment. Special times in your life when faking it is very inappropriate- like when the face god graces you with his presence.
Writing sex is the same way.
I’m not going to write today about those truly inspired moments. We all have them. Those moments are worthy of a blog, but not like this. Instead, I’m going to talk about those dark moments in your life when sex is the furthest thing from your mind. The times when faking it is the only option you’ve got to save the relationship of your WIP and the stunted writer in you.
You can NOT know sex and write a good sex scene. Faking a sex scene can be some of the hottest sex ever caught on page. If you allow yourself free thought flow, allow no-holds-barred-anything-goes, then you quite possibly will write something you never thought sexually possible. For a lot of us, plain Jane sex is the norm. It’s something we grew up knowing, it’s something that’s easy for us to get into the groove with. It allows us to be comfortable. And we all LOVE to be comfortable. But when faking-it, you should go for it. Always. Push past that comfortable zone. There is no room for sweatpants in the faking-it territory.
When I write sex, I like to push boundaries. I like to write things I don’t know if I could ever possibly do or would even want to contemplate. The wilder the scene for me, the better I feel about faking-it. Anger, spontaneity, that first taste of ecstasy as you know you’re doing something forbidden. I love it all. And I love the scene that follows directly after when the pair (or group, if you will), realize what just transpired and try to backtrack. But there is no going back from passion like that. But there are times that forcing it is my only option. When my words feel stunted, the scene feels cold, the characters not working together or bouncing off each other. It’s those times when you realize writing a sex scene can feel horribly awkward and there will be times that you pull up the word processor and you’re trying to put those words to fruition but it just isn’t happen. You just aren’t feeling it. These are those times that you need a back-up plan. Your faking-it-plan (FIP).
There is only one phrase that I remember when I resort to my FIP.
“If you’re gonna fake-it, you better bring it.”
This means if you’re going to fake the whole sex scene you better dump all the emotion you can muster up and pull out all the stops. The FIP requires concentration and to write everything you can find at the moment in your little writing brain (it can always be smoothed out and edited later on. The goal is to get something on paper that is half way workable.)
It has to be one of those scenes that literally burns up the monitor, shuts down your word processor, makes you and your momma fan yourselves when you re-read it. (And I know what you’re thinking, “Your momma!? You let your momma read that?” Well, yeah, my mother is a woman. And I’m a writer. If I’m ever going to get out of the rut of being embarrassed, you have to let go. Who better to teach you this than your mother? Your mother has seen you through every embarrassing moment of your life… but this is another blog at another time.)
And PS- Nothing embarrasses me. Just ask Hellion. My mother gets embarrassed at my ability to never be embarrassed.
Faking it requires a certain pizzazz that you wouldn’t normally bring to the table. You have to be spot on perfect; your performance depends on your execution. One false move and the reader is going to laugh you off and shut the book. And they won’t pick you back up. The goal is to be realistic while pushing your limit. Never written a sex scene in a shower? To employ the FIP you have to be willing to take a risk. Writing is always a risk, but be willing to go out on that extra limb for a sex scene you’re stumped with. Give that FIP flava.
In the same respect, there is a fine line to tread when faking it. You get too showy, get too porn-like (ie: “Give it to me daddy! Oh Yeah! Right there!”) I assure you, if your character is screeching that at the top of their lungs and you’re writing a contemporary romance where your character is a little shy and self-conscience, you’re NOT doing the FIP scene justice. Even worse if you’re writing a historical. I’m not saying that doesn’t ever happen. I’m saying it’s not likely and your reader is going to feel the same way. Remember your target audience and your characters when making your FIP. Stay within your realm. If your character is willing to take risks, take that chance with the FIP. Be willing to take a chance for yourself. This goes hand and hand with the risk factor. I know you have guts. You’re a writer for goodness sakes. Trust your instincts. Shut down that inner critiquer and get down to business!
The FIP is depicted solely on your writing style. It’s based on what tools you use in order to get in the mood. So tell me, when you write a sex scene what do you require in order to write it? And when you’re in the mood to fake it, what do you do differently?
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