Finding the end

I'm 20K words into a new book and I'm having some problems.  I like the idea, I like the characters and the world I'm building, but I don’t know where I’m going with this book.

I have lots of ideas for the end, but nothing feels right, I don’t yet know what the end should be. I’m not a plotter. I don’t like to know everything before starting a book, but usually about 10k words in I have a pretty good idea where the story is going. I stop and write the end, then I know what I’m shooting for. All I have to do is figure out how they get there. 

This book isn’t working like that. 

I feel aimless. Part of that is maybe that my character right now is aimless and doesn’t know what she wants. Part of it may be the difficulty I've been having writing due to stress the past year or so. Either way, I need a goal. I need something to shoot for, so I know how to write this thing. 

What do you do with an aimless book? How do you find your goal?

Do you like me?

Someone I know has been reading Dale Carnegie’s book HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE and they read this quote to me. 

First, Carnegie Quotes Alfred Adler: “It is the individual who is not interested in his fellow men who has the greatest difficulties in life and provides the greatest injury to others. It is from among such individuals that all human failures spring.”

Then Carnegie goes on to say: “I once took a course in short-story writing at New York University, and during that course the editor of a leading magazine talked to our class.  He said he could pick up any one of the dozens of stories that drifted across his desk every day and after reading a few paragraphs he could feel whether or not that author liked people. ‘If the author doesn’t like people,’ he said, ‘People won’t like his or her stories.’”

As writers we are analyzers of people, of emotions. We take that information, break it down, then rebuild it in a fictional setting. The trick is making sure to build it realistically. Have you ever read a book and thought “wow, that author must not like people”? I have, and those books aren’t comfortable to read. It’s like looking at life through a veil of frustration and discontent.

Our work is people. Our work is knowing them; what makes them tick, how they think. How can we do that if we don’t like what  we’re studying? It would similar to someone with arachnophobia trying to do a study of Tarantulas. They wouldn’t like them enough to get near them, or care enough about them to be detailed. Why would people want to read our stories if we don’t like what we’re writing about?

We often hear of the reclusive writer, and indeed many of us would probably prefer to stay behind our computers writing than go out and lead a parade.  But that doesn’t mean we don’t like people. In fact, I would be willing to bet that writers, even the most reclusive of them, are avid people watchers. 

The person who read that quote to me did so because they worried I would never be a great writer. I was a little surprised. I may never be a great writer but it won't be because I don't like people. I do. But because I prefer to be at the back watching them, rather than performing in front of them. I would guess that this is not uncommon among writers or other artists.

So if you want to be a good writer, learn to like people. That doesn’t mean you have to be center stage, but it does mean you need to spend time among them.  And who knows, the next time you go to that activity you thought about ditching you might just end up with a great story idea.

To dialogue or not to dialogue

I once toyed with the idea of writing a novel without using any dialogue.  No really.  Anyone else ever think of trying that?  At the time I disliked and feared dialogue.  It was hard, it was clunky, everyone sounded the same, it was impossible.

I no longer feel like that.  I can't say exactly when my feelings changed but now I really like dialogue. I've even received compliments on it. (Hmmm, maybe I should write a book that's all dialouge......okay, not really)  I know practice had a lot to do with the change.  Also, finding a story and characters I was passionate about. When I loved the characters, when I knew them, it was easy to know what they would say and how they would say it.

Of course, study and craft research helped too.

Durring the A-Z challenge (so it maybe went unnoticed by a lot of people)  there was a three part series on dialogue over at The Blabbermouth. Here is the first part, second, and third. I found it a fun and interesting read.  And even though I don't hate dialogue anymore, there's always room for improvement.

E is for Easy

Most of you  have seen the easy button on the Staple's adds.  Sometimes we wish for a button we can push and instantly have a polished manuscript, a moving query letter, and a book deal.  But what would we lose?  Everything we've learned over the journey, the person we are now, because we wouldn't be that person if we had taken the easy way. 

False Start Friday--Valentine Edition!

No, it's not really Friday but Suze thought a Valentine edition would be fun.  Here's a list of participants.

It turns out that my older work is shockingly lacking in romantic, tender or emotional scenes.  So I had to cheat a little.  This is from a WIP that will become a false start if I don't sell the first of the trilogy.

I should maybe mention that Anna is a selkie.  A fairy-tale creature that is a seal in the water but when they come on land can peel off their skin and become human. She and her husband are reuniting after a year apart.

Paul’s arms tightened around Anna, “When I think you could have—” his voice choked off.

“I didn’t.  I’m fine.”  Her voice was soft in the dark, her breath tickled his cheek.  He couldn’t see her, only feel and touch.  She was much thinner than a year ago.  Frail.

“Fine?  This is fine?  Anna, I can’t stand to see you like this.” 

“You can’t see me at all.”  There was a laugh in her voice.  “Just as I can’t see you.  But I can tell you are too skinny.  I can feel all your ribs.”  She traced her finger over his side. He squirmed and let out a sound that was remarkably close to a squeal and Anna laughed.  “Still ticklish though.  That’s good to know.”

“Anna…”  he trailed off and tightened his arms a little more.  His eyes were wet and he blinked, the moisture falling onto her hair. 

“Don’t worry.  I’ll feed you up.  Starting tomorrow. For breakfast there will be ham, eggs, hotcakes, hash browns, and fresh milk.” 

“What?  You’re not going to slaughter a cow and feed it to me whole?” 

Anna laughed.  It was the best sound in the world, all warm and velvety and he kissed her again.

“That’s for lunch.” She said when he released her mouth.  “I’ll have you big and strong before long.”  She ran her hands over his still broad shoulders.

“What of you?  Will you be big and strong again?”

“I already am.”  She nuzzled her face into his cheek, feeling the rasp of his beard.  “You will have to shave tomorrow though.” 

“Stick to the point.”  He gasped as he spoke, he was forgetting the point himself. 

“Was the point not how happy I am that you’re back?”  She smoothed her hands through his shaggy hair and set a lingering kiss on his lips.

“No,”  His breath was ragged.  “It’s not…” he kissed the spot where her jaw met her neck and ran his hands down her back.  He could feel her spine, and he could circle her waist with his hands.  To skinny.  She had always been lithe and graceful, but curvy in all the right places, now she was pointy and angular, straight like a stick.  He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back, breaking his lips away from hers.  “Anna.  I can’t bear you being like this.  I can’t bear being the reason you’re dying.” 

“I’m not dying Paul.  I was sick.  But being here, by the ocean, has helped.  With you back I’ll be plump again in to time.”

“The ocean,” he said, resigned.  “That’s what you need.”  He pulled something from his pocket.  Fumbling in the dark he found her hand and placed the soft fur in it.  She gasped and her hand tightened convulsively.  “Please, go back to the ocean, be well.” 

“Paul, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying I want you to live.” 

“There is no life without you.  I’ve always known that.  Since the night I chose you over the ocean I’ve needed you.”  He was silent and she gently reached out and touched his arm, lightly drawing her finger down from his shoulder to elbow.  “You are my life. I’m getting old Paul.  I’ll die someday anyway.  As will you.  But I want to spend what is left of it with you.”  He felt something soft touch his fingers as she thrust the skin at him.  “Keep this for me as you have all these years.  Come, hold me in your arms.  That is a better embrace than any I could get in the ocean.” 

Gender Confusion

I just finished a book that has been getting some buzz in the book world.  I enjoyed the book, liked the concept, the writing was good, BUT it took me 70 pages to figure out that one of the MCs was male. 

70 pages! 

Now, before you all laugh at me, there were clues to his being a guy but he didn't feel like a guy.  To me (and maybe this is just me) he read like a girl.  Even at the end after constantly telling myself "remember he's a boy" I still couldn't quite get a feeling for him in my head.



What can I say?  We always talk about the subjectivity of writing and the reader/writer relationship. Maybe he came across as typically male to some people (though I can't figure out how)  I guess this reader couldn't see what the writer was trying to convey. 

Have you ever had this happen?

The Importance of Being Named

I just started a new novel.  It's so much fun to draft and explore this world and characters and I'm very excited about it.  The only thing is none of my characters have names yet.  I know, it's weird. Whenever I come to a place where I need a name I end up writing some sort of identifying information like GHM, which stands for Golden Haired Man, or Young Soldier, or Hired Man. 


All these characters have names, they just haven't trusted me with them yet.  I know the characters will tell me when they're ready, but I hope they get ready fast.  It's quite awkward.  In the meantime I might just read a few name databases to see if anything resonates. 

How do you come up with names?

Social what now?

Like many writers I’m a fairly reserved person.  When I was younger I was extremely shy.  I couldn’t call the electric company without getting sick to my stomach.  The Engineer has spent a lot of time trying to help me come out of my shell.  He’s been very patient and I am now able to carry on conversations without vomiting or passing out.  Really, I can. Even a few years ago when I joined my writers’ website I was a mess.  For the first few months every time I posted I would email my mom and ask her to look at the comment and tell me if I was a dork or if I should delete it.  I’m blogging, when once this would have been impossible.  To achieve this amount of social freedom my husband has often pushed me out of my comfort zone.

The other day he was trying to get me to do something and he brought up the old “you need to be more social” argument. 

“I’m social.”  I argued.  “I blog or am on my writers website every day.” 

Then he said something truly outrageous.  “The internet doesn’t count as social.” 

So now I’m wondering, do you believe interactions on the internet are social?  I do.  They’re different than face to face interactions but they are still interactions with other people.  There are different considerations to take into account, but the skills I’ve learned by interacting with people on the internet have only helped my face to face encounters, and phone calls, because those were particularly terrifying. 

It would be easy to let the internet become the only way of communicating and I don’t believe that’s a good thing.  But I do believe the internet is a form of socialization.  What do you think?  How do you define socializing?

Cheese

Truck Boy thinks that all robots walk around saying “Cheese. Cheese.  Cheese.”   As far as he knows that’s all a robot says.  That sounds pretty weird, huh.  What if I tell you that at an early age he loved a cartoon that had a large robot walking around saying "cheese" because he wanted his picture taken?  Makes more sense now, doesn’t it?  It doesn’t rationalize the belief that all robots say "cheese" but it helps us understand why our son believes that.  

Have you ever read a book where the characters actions or assumptions are so far out there you can’t understand them, let alone relate to the character?  The story falls flat and we put it away with a “meh”. If we understand what is motivating the character, what from their past causes them to believe or act like that then we get a little closer to that character.  Even if it’s not a choice we would ever make, if we understand why they made it we can accept it.