It's been a busy week for me: meeting new people, explaining that I'm a writer, trying to answer their questions when they ask what I write.
Sure, it's easy enough to tell someone about your current project, but if you're like me and you write in a variety of genres (novels, short stories, poetry, nonfiction) and also for a variety of readers (children, teens, adults), chances are the questions get deeper, especially when you're talking to a non-writer.
So how do you explain to others exactly what you write without going into a twenty minute long explanation of all you can do?
I've found a simple way to do just that. Now, it won't stop questions from the most determined person, but it seems to be an alright explanation for most people.
Why We Write:
We write to describe something new and unusual in a simple and attainable way. Or, to describe something simple and commonplace in a new and unusual way.
What exactly does this mean?
It's easiest to explain with poems. Have you ever written or read a beautiful poem about washing the dishes or dusting the TV set that made you in awe of how someone could describe something so everyday in a beautiful way that made you never look at dishes or dusting the same way? I have. That's describing something commonplace in a new way. And it's definitely needed.
On the flip side, there are situations that are unique to a subset of our population that not all of us experience in our lives. Genre fiction, like fantasy, sci-fi, and mystery are great examples of this. Fantasy writers have to introduce you to the characters of their world and the rules of their setting. This is something none of us have ever experienced before, since the author is setting up the world from scratch. However, they must do their writing in a way that makes even the most outlandish idea possible for readers to understand. In that way, they explain something new and unusual in a simple way so we don't get lost. And it's definitely needed.
So, the next time you find yourself, drink in hand, speaking with someone about what you do, feel free to use this explanation to help people understand your drive to write.
[Special Note: I'm not sure if this idea came from a famous writing quote or from a previous professor of mine. However, if you ever find the origination of this idea out there on the internet, link me in. I'm sure whomever described it first did a better job than I, and I'd love to see that!]
Showing posts with label Critics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Critics. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
What To Do When You Hate Your Novel
This being my first post of the new year, I wanted to say something really positive. But I've heard from a lot of my writer friends lately that they've been in a funk. That novel they've been working on that seemed so promising and lovely...now they hate it.
Literally, hate it.
Like, think of it and groan. Look over a terrible paragraph or two and cry. Want to chuck your laptop out the window, kind of hate.
They think, why has this happened, it was going so well? Great, now I've wasted four months of my life on this thing that sucks.
I've been there. I've thought those same thoughts. The thing to remember is, this happens to all of us. As creative people, we doubt ourselves. This is beneficial because it stops us from doing something crazy - like quitting our careers and trying to write the next great American novel on a mountain in Tibet. It is also the driving force behind revision - because we want our work to be the best it can be, which means it needs to be better than the draft I wrote the first time around.
However, self-doubt can also be crushing. It can make you hate your work for really no reason whatsoever. Maybe your own voice annoys you. Maybe you can't riddle out the meaning of a scene. It's so frustrating that soon, you tell yourself you've never been an artist at all. You suck at writing and you should stop writing this novel right now.
What I'll tell you, faithful blog reader, is exactly what I tell my friends when they're in this funk. This is entirely normal behavior, but please, take a break.
First, you need to know that most every writer goes through this - especially with long materials like novels. Sooner or later, you will hate it - either from reading and rereading it too many times or out of frustration with your muse, but it will happen.
Now, it's important that you don't then delete the whole thing, burn your hard drive and spend all your savings on a new car you don't need. What you must do is set writing down for a moment and take a break. Go to the coffee shop for a few hours. Lock yourself in your room and reread Harry Potter. Go sky diving. Take a month or two and travel and meet new friends. Take a year and don't worry about writing.
If you're truly meant to write - if it's something you MUST do - you will always come back to it, and it will be waiting for you. Because, at this point, writing has chosen you as much as you have chosen it.
However, if writing truly does give you unneeded stress and torture, perhaps it hasn't chosen you after all. Perhaps you're not meant to be tortured by it.
For most of us who do the research on blogs and internet videos about the craft, and for those of us who've lost sleep pounding away at the keys in a fit of sheer elation, we're stuck in the writing life forever. Embrace it. But sometimes you can embrace it too strongly and smother the poor thing. This is when you need to take a break. Whether it's an hour or two years, do what you have to do to love writing again.
I promise it's worth it.
Just don't - whatever you do - delete your hard drive in a fit of rage.
Literally, hate it.
Like, think of it and groan. Look over a terrible paragraph or two and cry. Want to chuck your laptop out the window, kind of hate.
They think, why has this happened, it was going so well? Great, now I've wasted four months of my life on this thing that sucks.
I've been there. I've thought those same thoughts. The thing to remember is, this happens to all of us. As creative people, we doubt ourselves. This is beneficial because it stops us from doing something crazy - like quitting our careers and trying to write the next great American novel on a mountain in Tibet. It is also the driving force behind revision - because we want our work to be the best it can be, which means it needs to be better than the draft I wrote the first time around.
However, self-doubt can also be crushing. It can make you hate your work for really no reason whatsoever. Maybe your own voice annoys you. Maybe you can't riddle out the meaning of a scene. It's so frustrating that soon, you tell yourself you've never been an artist at all. You suck at writing and you should stop writing this novel right now.
What I'll tell you, faithful blog reader, is exactly what I tell my friends when they're in this funk. This is entirely normal behavior, but please, take a break.
First, you need to know that most every writer goes through this - especially with long materials like novels. Sooner or later, you will hate it - either from reading and rereading it too many times or out of frustration with your muse, but it will happen.
Now, it's important that you don't then delete the whole thing, burn your hard drive and spend all your savings on a new car you don't need. What you must do is set writing down for a moment and take a break. Go to the coffee shop for a few hours. Lock yourself in your room and reread Harry Potter. Go sky diving. Take a month or two and travel and meet new friends. Take a year and don't worry about writing.
If you're truly meant to write - if it's something you MUST do - you will always come back to it, and it will be waiting for you. Because, at this point, writing has chosen you as much as you have chosen it.
However, if writing truly does give you unneeded stress and torture, perhaps it hasn't chosen you after all. Perhaps you're not meant to be tortured by it.
For most of us who do the research on blogs and internet videos about the craft, and for those of us who've lost sleep pounding away at the keys in a fit of sheer elation, we're stuck in the writing life forever. Embrace it. But sometimes you can embrace it too strongly and smother the poor thing. This is when you need to take a break. Whether it's an hour or two years, do what you have to do to love writing again.
I promise it's worth it.
Just don't - whatever you do - delete your hard drive in a fit of rage.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Tailor Fit Stories
Today we're going to tackle the classic debate: What came first, the story or the publisher?
Indeed, for every writer the answer differs, and for every story it differs as well.
Some writers fall very strictly in the "story first" category. They argue that, because the story is the most important aspect, it should be completed in full and revised and shined up all nice and 'perdy' before you even begin searching for a possible magazine or publisher to send said story to.
Those on the other side argue that stories (and probably most commonly, nonfiction articles) should have a clear focus and should be tailored specifically for each publication. That means, you might research one or two and then write your story tailored specifically to their specifications. On another hand, it could mean researching publications and magazines and garnering ideas from their sites or guidelines (like the list of things they're "currently looking for") and writing your story by inspiration from that.
No matter which camp you fall into, remember not to get bogged down in the cons of each method. If you're a "story first"er, remember that eventually, your story does need to be finished. Without a market in sight, you could get trapped revising, reworking, and editing forever and ever.
And if you're a "publisher first"er, keep your spirits up. If your target magazine or publisher rejects the story you tailor made for them, don't give up on it. Don't throw it away in a box somewhere or delete the file off your computer. You can take that story somewhere similar and submit (sometimes with little to no tweaking involved) and it could find a perfectly happy home in plan #2.
Personally, I've crossed the fence into both camps. I write stories because the stories need to be told, and then struggle to find the right market for them afterward, and I also keep my eye on new and emerging markets and what they're in desperate need of, then write a story from that.
Both have worked out. Both have been published. Both have made me very happy.
So, tailor made or out-of-the-slush? What do you think?
Indeed, for every writer the answer differs, and for every story it differs as well.
Some writers fall very strictly in the "story first" category. They argue that, because the story is the most important aspect, it should be completed in full and revised and shined up all nice and 'perdy' before you even begin searching for a possible magazine or publisher to send said story to.
Those on the other side argue that stories (and probably most commonly, nonfiction articles) should have a clear focus and should be tailored specifically for each publication. That means, you might research one or two and then write your story tailored specifically to their specifications. On another hand, it could mean researching publications and magazines and garnering ideas from their sites or guidelines (like the list of things they're "currently looking for") and writing your story by inspiration from that.
No matter which camp you fall into, remember not to get bogged down in the cons of each method. If you're a "story first"er, remember that eventually, your story does need to be finished. Without a market in sight, you could get trapped revising, reworking, and editing forever and ever.
And if you're a "publisher first"er, keep your spirits up. If your target magazine or publisher rejects the story you tailor made for them, don't give up on it. Don't throw it away in a box somewhere or delete the file off your computer. You can take that story somewhere similar and submit (sometimes with little to no tweaking involved) and it could find a perfectly happy home in plan #2.
Personally, I've crossed the fence into both camps. I write stories because the stories need to be told, and then struggle to find the right market for them afterward, and I also keep my eye on new and emerging markets and what they're in desperate need of, then write a story from that.
Both have worked out. Both have been published. Both have made me very happy.
So, tailor made or out-of-the-slush? What do you think?
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
The Pacifier Predicament
When I was three years old, my mother finally convinced me that I was too old to be using pacifiers. She did this in a very stealthy way, like many mothers. She told me that poor children in Africa needed pacifiers, and could I donate a few of my pacifiers for the children who cried all day and night because they had none?
I, of course, agreed. I scurried around the house, digging my pacifiers from their hiding spots. I flung them into the cardboard box my mom set out in the living room. I found every single pacifier, and then I took the final pacifier out of my own mouth and added it to the box. My mom labeled the box for a phony African children's organization and we taped it shut.
Then, my mom and I walked the box of pacifiers down to the mailbox at the end of the driveway and slotted it in. She let me put the little flag up and I said goodbye with no reservations to every pacifier I had.
Little did I know, my mother snuck down to the mailbox during naptime and removed the box because, of course, the African children's pacifier organization didn't really exist.
That day my mom successfully did two things. 1. She became the spring board off which I would further my activism later in life, and 2. She allowed me to give up the things I no longer needed when I was ready.
This is something you need to remember when you write, too.
I bring up this little anecdote because it's something I'm struggling to remember at this very moment. I'm currently working on a story written in separate installments. My brain thinks that once I'm done with one part, I should go back and reread it and revise where necessary. But my heart tells me to keep writing. If I don't keep up the pace and flow of the next story, they won't seem cohesive.
What I keep telling myself to remember is that even if a scene doesn't feel complete or feels a little off for some reason I can't fathom right now, I don't need to worry about it. I just need to keep writing. When I finish the whole story - every single part - then I can go back and reread to see what's wrong.
Right now, I'm not ready to give anything up in my writing process. And it would be traumatic for me to be forced to.
This same advice works if you're already in the revising stage, too. Let's say you submit the next chapter of your novel to your trusty beta readers. They come back with HUGE problems in the plotting and characterization. However, you just can't seem to bring yourself to kill your darlings just yet.
It's okay. Go have a cup of coffee. Work on some poetry or the next chapter. Wait until you have enough distance from the criticism to truly take it in.
Because if my mom had come to a two year old Alyssa and asked her to give up her pacifiers, even if it was for a good cause, I would have screamed and refused. If she persisted, I probably would have developed some life-long thumb sucking habit. But instead, I got the space I needed to nurture the idea of giving up my beloved pacifiers. I was only approached with the idea of change when I was ready.
Don't feel bad if you leave a scene unfinished to continue the rate at which you're writing. Don't feel bad if you thank your critiquers for their comments, but don't look at them or use them for months. Everyone has a different time frame with change. Find yours and you'll be sending those pacifiers off in no time - no looking back.
I, of course, agreed. I scurried around the house, digging my pacifiers from their hiding spots. I flung them into the cardboard box my mom set out in the living room. I found every single pacifier, and then I took the final pacifier out of my own mouth and added it to the box. My mom labeled the box for a phony African children's organization and we taped it shut.
Then, my mom and I walked the box of pacifiers down to the mailbox at the end of the driveway and slotted it in. She let me put the little flag up and I said goodbye with no reservations to every pacifier I had.
Little did I know, my mother snuck down to the mailbox during naptime and removed the box because, of course, the African children's pacifier organization didn't really exist.
That day my mom successfully did two things. 1. She became the spring board off which I would further my activism later in life, and 2. She allowed me to give up the things I no longer needed when I was ready.
This is something you need to remember when you write, too.
I bring up this little anecdote because it's something I'm struggling to remember at this very moment. I'm currently working on a story written in separate installments. My brain thinks that once I'm done with one part, I should go back and reread it and revise where necessary. But my heart tells me to keep writing. If I don't keep up the pace and flow of the next story, they won't seem cohesive.
What I keep telling myself to remember is that even if a scene doesn't feel complete or feels a little off for some reason I can't fathom right now, I don't need to worry about it. I just need to keep writing. When I finish the whole story - every single part - then I can go back and reread to see what's wrong.
Right now, I'm not ready to give anything up in my writing process. And it would be traumatic for me to be forced to.
This same advice works if you're already in the revising stage, too. Let's say you submit the next chapter of your novel to your trusty beta readers. They come back with HUGE problems in the plotting and characterization. However, you just can't seem to bring yourself to kill your darlings just yet.
It's okay. Go have a cup of coffee. Work on some poetry or the next chapter. Wait until you have enough distance from the criticism to truly take it in.
Because if my mom had come to a two year old Alyssa and asked her to give up her pacifiers, even if it was for a good cause, I would have screamed and refused. If she persisted, I probably would have developed some life-long thumb sucking habit. But instead, I got the space I needed to nurture the idea of giving up my beloved pacifiers. I was only approached with the idea of change when I was ready.
Don't feel bad if you leave a scene unfinished to continue the rate at which you're writing. Don't feel bad if you thank your critiquers for their comments, but don't look at them or use them for months. Everyone has a different time frame with change. Find yours and you'll be sending those pacifiers off in no time - no looking back.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
The Modern Pronoun
I've noticed in many online profiles where it is asked you identify your gender, that the options are changing. Gone are the "he" and "she" of the past, replaced with more modern and understanding pronouns.
The one I especially want to talk about today is "they".
Much like the use of alright (if you missed it, check out this post to learn about my alright crusade), I've always had trouble attributing gender specific pronouns to anything.
Maybe it's because I was raised post-modernly. Maybe it's because I want to be politically correct. Maybe I want to respect everyone's life choices and lifestyles.
Maybe I was just never taught proper English. Who knows!
What I do know is this emergence of non-gender-specific pronouns has led me to start another crusade against the modern English language.
In my opinion, "they" should not only be allowed to replace a plural noun (like ducks). It should also be appropriate for "they" to replace a singular noun of unknown gender identity (like writer).
Let me throw out some examples:
In the sentence, "The protagonist has a major flaw", we should not have to choose between assigning "the protagonist" a male or female pronoun (He has a major flaw; She has a major flaw), but rather, it should be acceptable for "the protagonist" to be abbreviated as "They have a major flaw."
It's always bothered me having to choose one gender pronoun over the other, and so many times on this blog I've used the he-slash-she (he/she) cop-out or just gone with "they" as my pronoun, ignoring the previous lectures I've had from professors.
But no longer! Today I can say, "The protagonist has a major flaw. If it isn't corrected they will seem flimsy. The reader will see right through them", not because I don't know that "they" is traditionally only used for plural nouns, but because I simply won't prescribe to this notion anymore.
I'm wholeheartedly embracing the modern pronoun.
From now on, I will not be ashamed to use "they" in my blog posts - especially when talking about protagonists, artists, or writers of unknown gender. I'm taking off my tutu, throwing it to the wind, and running naked and wild through these posts. Who's going to join me?
The one I especially want to talk about today is "they".
Much like the use of alright (if you missed it, check out this post to learn about my alright crusade), I've always had trouble attributing gender specific pronouns to anything.
Maybe it's because I was raised post-modernly. Maybe it's because I want to be politically correct. Maybe I want to respect everyone's life choices and lifestyles.
Maybe I was just never taught proper English. Who knows!
What I do know is this emergence of non-gender-specific pronouns has led me to start another crusade against the modern English language.
In my opinion, "they" should not only be allowed to replace a plural noun (like ducks). It should also be appropriate for "they" to replace a singular noun of unknown gender identity (like writer).
Let me throw out some examples:
In the sentence, "The protagonist has a major flaw", we should not have to choose between assigning "the protagonist" a male or female pronoun (He has a major flaw; She has a major flaw), but rather, it should be acceptable for "the protagonist" to be abbreviated as "They have a major flaw."
It's always bothered me having to choose one gender pronoun over the other, and so many times on this blog I've used the he-slash-she (he/she) cop-out or just gone with "they" as my pronoun, ignoring the previous lectures I've had from professors.
But no longer! Today I can say, "The protagonist has a major flaw. If it isn't corrected they will seem flimsy. The reader will see right through them", not because I don't know that "they" is traditionally only used for plural nouns, but because I simply won't prescribe to this notion anymore.
I'm wholeheartedly embracing the modern pronoun.
From now on, I will not be ashamed to use "they" in my blog posts - especially when talking about protagonists, artists, or writers of unknown gender. I'm taking off my tutu, throwing it to the wind, and running naked and wild through these posts. Who's going to join me?
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Pertinent Details
I once had a professor who, when he critiqued my work, would always want more. More adjectives, more description, more characterization, more detail, etc. I didn't understand why he would do this, especially since my pieces were always the longest in the class. Recently I came across a few old stories he had critiqued while packing up some more of my stuff for the (hopefully soon) upcoming move. Nearly four years later, I finally grasped that what he had been trying to do was exhaust our writing abilities. He wanted us to expand, to pour out everything we had onto the page. He wanted us to give up every word we could think of, detail every event and blade of grass, explain every aspect of our characters' appearance, countenance, and inner thought process.
His class, I understood, was like a giant brainstorming session. Put everything out and don't hold back.
Occasionally, I run into similar situations with beta readers and critique buddies. Someone will latch onto a passing detail and not let go.
"I'm really interested in this coffee machine," they'll say. "When the protagonist sees it, is it something she recognizes? Is it a single cup machine, or is it brewing great quantities at a time? And what about this steam coming from behind the counter? Does she know it's normal for the machine to steam or is she worried that this giant chrome machine is going to explode? Really, if you're not going to focus on the coffee machine, I'd skip it entirely. Otherwise, the reader's mind will be pulled out of the story."
In your mind, the coffee machine was nothing but a grounding detail in the coffee shop. A little sight detail, maybe some smell, sound, and taste. Nothing more.
You never thought it'd be so important to some people.
As the writer it's your job to discern which details require your and the reader's attention. Whether it's a pushy professor or a detail oriented critiquer, ultimately, it's your job to find the pertinent details.
Are those limbo poles going to resurface later in the story in an important way? No? Then cut their half a page description.
Is it going to matter whether the coffee machine can brew one cup or multiple at a time? No? Don't mention it.
Will your protagonist's hair color really make or break this murder investigation? No? Don't sweat plopping it awkwardly into the text.
Toss the things (whether they be details of your own creation or comments from a critiquer) that aren't pertinent details. Only keep what characterizes your characters, advances the plot, or adds tension. Everything else,
yes, everything,
must be deleted.
His class, I understood, was like a giant brainstorming session. Put everything out and don't hold back.
Occasionally, I run into similar situations with beta readers and critique buddies. Someone will latch onto a passing detail and not let go.
"I'm really interested in this coffee machine," they'll say. "When the protagonist sees it, is it something she recognizes? Is it a single cup machine, or is it brewing great quantities at a time? And what about this steam coming from behind the counter? Does she know it's normal for the machine to steam or is she worried that this giant chrome machine is going to explode? Really, if you're not going to focus on the coffee machine, I'd skip it entirely. Otherwise, the reader's mind will be pulled out of the story."
In your mind, the coffee machine was nothing but a grounding detail in the coffee shop. A little sight detail, maybe some smell, sound, and taste. Nothing more.
You never thought it'd be so important to some people.
As the writer it's your job to discern which details require your and the reader's attention. Whether it's a pushy professor or a detail oriented critiquer, ultimately, it's your job to find the pertinent details.
Are those limbo poles going to resurface later in the story in an important way? No? Then cut their half a page description.
Is it going to matter whether the coffee machine can brew one cup or multiple at a time? No? Don't mention it.
Will your protagonist's hair color really make or break this murder investigation? No? Don't sweat plopping it awkwardly into the text.
Toss the things (whether they be details of your own creation or comments from a critiquer) that aren't pertinent details. Only keep what characterizes your characters, advances the plot, or adds tension. Everything else,
yes, everything,
must be deleted.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
It's Alright.
Today, I'd like to express a little grammar rant. I've fought over this for years with teachers, friends, other writers, passing people at the coffee shop, etc. The giant debate (and source of my raised blood pressure) is the word:
ALRIGHT.
That's right. Alright.
The definition of alright is "satisfactory" "permissible" or "adequate".
Now, are you jumping out of your seat? Do you want to scream at me like many an English professor that the correct spelling is "all right" and that "alright" is not a real word?
That's why I'm here to stand up for alright. Because it is a word. I use it often and anytime I can.
After all, if:
cannot
lifetime
elsewhere
anybody
meantime
everything
nowhere
sometimes
anyone
therefore
and somewhere
can be compounded words acceptable in the English language, why do we deny that simple liberty to alright?
Even other A-L words are allowed to be compounded. Take:
already
and always
as prime examples.
So why not alright? Why do we discriminate against such a perfectly readable and acceptable word?
I will never understand it, but I will always fight for alright's rights. In the name of lower word counts and easier spelling around - alright is the way to go.
Comment if you agree. Or simply keep using alright in your manuscripts and school essays. Take the grade hit for the future of our English language. For the future of alright's freedom.
ALRIGHT.
That's right. Alright.
The definition of alright is "satisfactory" "permissible" or "adequate".
Now, are you jumping out of your seat? Do you want to scream at me like many an English professor that the correct spelling is "all right" and that "alright" is not a real word?
That's why I'm here to stand up for alright. Because it is a word. I use it often and anytime I can.
After all, if:
cannot
lifetime
elsewhere
anybody
meantime
everything
nowhere
sometimes
anyone
therefore
and somewhere
can be compounded words acceptable in the English language, why do we deny that simple liberty to alright?
Even other A-L words are allowed to be compounded. Take:
already
and always
as prime examples.
So why not alright? Why do we discriminate against such a perfectly readable and acceptable word?
I will never understand it, but I will always fight for alright's rights. In the name of lower word counts and easier spelling around - alright is the way to go.
Comment if you agree. Or simply keep using alright in your manuscripts and school essays. Take the grade hit for the future of our English language. For the future of alright's freedom.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Pondering Lit Mags and some Advice from Doug of Pixar's UP
You know when you go to a favorite literary magazine's submissions page and read their guidelines? About two paragraphs in there's a page-long rant about how you NEED, DEAR GOD, NEED to read their magazine at least for a good year so you understand what they like and accept. So you understand what kind of story they'll publish. Then you'll understand that if your story isn't a carbon copy of these previously published stories, you shouldn't waste their time and your own by submitting it to them.
I often find myself turned off by these rants. Even when it's a literary magazine I've subscribed to in the past or one I really look up to. It can sometimes feel that the literary community has turned against us as writers. If they want nothing new and inventive - if they want us to write only what's already been published - then why are we here? What are we striving toward?
This is something I've been grappling with for years. The American culture puts so little value into the arts. If you're a creator or an innovator, whatever you make had better generate its own cash-flow or you're worthless.
However, other cultures, like Japan, can see the value in the arts, and they respect things that are beautiful and innovative not solely from a basis of profit but from the aspect of a cultural advancement.
Because, really, what are we without art? Will we ever grow as a species if no one thinks outside the confines of what we already know and accept? Why do we put so little heft into the words or pictures brought forth by artists that wish to broaden our definition of humanity? Why do we ridicule the artist herself so?
These questions are the ones that boggle me. They are even more boggling when the community that is supposed to be supportive of the artist and his work turn against him.
Unfortunately, I don't have an answer for these questions, or a reason that America seems to dislike those who wish to allow us to grow and see things through new eyes. Perhaps it will not be within my lifetime that our thoughts switch and we value art.
Most humans, after all, dislike change.
But we keep doing it, why? Because we love it, and we can't stop. Even when no one else believes in us or shows us any support.
To keep you rolling with your writing, even when the haters get you down, here's a list of 22 tips on better storytelling from Pixar:
http://www.pinterest.com/pin/191403052888669266/
I often find myself turned off by these rants. Even when it's a literary magazine I've subscribed to in the past or one I really look up to. It can sometimes feel that the literary community has turned against us as writers. If they want nothing new and inventive - if they want us to write only what's already been published - then why are we here? What are we striving toward?
This is something I've been grappling with for years. The American culture puts so little value into the arts. If you're a creator or an innovator, whatever you make had better generate its own cash-flow or you're worthless.
However, other cultures, like Japan, can see the value in the arts, and they respect things that are beautiful and innovative not solely from a basis of profit but from the aspect of a cultural advancement.
Because, really, what are we without art? Will we ever grow as a species if no one thinks outside the confines of what we already know and accept? Why do we put so little heft into the words or pictures brought forth by artists that wish to broaden our definition of humanity? Why do we ridicule the artist herself so?
These questions are the ones that boggle me. They are even more boggling when the community that is supposed to be supportive of the artist and his work turn against him.
Unfortunately, I don't have an answer for these questions, or a reason that America seems to dislike those who wish to allow us to grow and see things through new eyes. Perhaps it will not be within my lifetime that our thoughts switch and we value art.
Most humans, after all, dislike change.
But we keep doing it, why? Because we love it, and we can't stop. Even when no one else believes in us or shows us any support.
To keep you rolling with your writing, even when the haters get you down, here's a list of 22 tips on better storytelling from Pixar:
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
What's Hiding Behind That Beautiful Prose? (Why I Write YA)
When people ask me what my current novel is about and I tell them it's YA, they often look at me sideways. This one's not right in the head. She never grew up. Why would she write for children when she could write for adults?
The criticism is harshest from other writers (especially those who harbor disdain for anything that isn't "artistic" "insightful" or "literary").
They never seem to ask me out loud why I love writing YA (and am considering a new fantasy MG idea - I'll keep you posted). But, I'm going to answer them anyway.
I write YA because as a writer, you can't hide behind beautiful metaphors or long strings of gorgeous prose. You guys know what I'm talking about: Those novels where every stinking sentences is a metaphor (most obscure) and the beautiful prose flows unbounded from overly-long chapter to overly-long chapter. Now, adults will read this. Millions of books like this sell every year. Adults will sit there and think, "There must be some artistic reason this character has done nothing for 150 pages but look at a stain on his favorite coffee mug. It must mean something!" or "I know I've already read 500 pages and nothing has happened other than me following this character to and from work, but in the 548 pages to go, I know this boredom is going to be revealed as something amazing and insightful."
Adults will ponder your philosophy. They'll say it's existential or Darwinian.
Teens don't care. They don't have time for that, and they definitely won't read 500 pages just hoping that eventually they'll figure out the meaning.
Teens want a good story with fast pacing and connectable characters. They want to feel, smell, and taste what your characters are experiencing. And they want it every chapter, every sentence, every word. No where in a YA novel can you hide behind your good writing. No where is there room for brainy dribble. Because teens don't care about it and they definitely don't want to read it.
To write YA you need both great writing and fantastic storytelling ability.
So, my answer to those sideways glances and bulging, judgmental eyes is this: I write YA because it forces me to be a better writer. It forces me to cut the crap and keep only the things that propel the story. I can't keep a paragraph of useless but fantastic writing - I must save that for my journal and my eyes only.
I write YA because everything counts.
Does that make me juvenile?
Maybe. Think what you want, but I still make a wicked frozen pizza.
The criticism is harshest from other writers (especially those who harbor disdain for anything that isn't "artistic" "insightful" or "literary").
They never seem to ask me out loud why I love writing YA (and am considering a new fantasy MG idea - I'll keep you posted). But, I'm going to answer them anyway.
I write YA because as a writer, you can't hide behind beautiful metaphors or long strings of gorgeous prose. You guys know what I'm talking about: Those novels where every stinking sentences is a metaphor (most obscure) and the beautiful prose flows unbounded from overly-long chapter to overly-long chapter. Now, adults will read this. Millions of books like this sell every year. Adults will sit there and think, "There must be some artistic reason this character has done nothing for 150 pages but look at a stain on his favorite coffee mug. It must mean something!" or "I know I've already read 500 pages and nothing has happened other than me following this character to and from work, but in the 548 pages to go, I know this boredom is going to be revealed as something amazing and insightful."
Adults will ponder your philosophy. They'll say it's existential or Darwinian.
Teens don't care. They don't have time for that, and they definitely won't read 500 pages just hoping that eventually they'll figure out the meaning.
Teens want a good story with fast pacing and connectable characters. They want to feel, smell, and taste what your characters are experiencing. And they want it every chapter, every sentence, every word. No where in a YA novel can you hide behind your good writing. No where is there room for brainy dribble. Because teens don't care about it and they definitely don't want to read it.
To write YA you need both great writing and fantastic storytelling ability.
So, my answer to those sideways glances and bulging, judgmental eyes is this: I write YA because it forces me to be a better writer. It forces me to cut the crap and keep only the things that propel the story. I can't keep a paragraph of useless but fantastic writing - I must save that for my journal and my eyes only.
I write YA because everything counts.
Does that make me juvenile?
Maybe. Think what you want, but I still make a wicked frozen pizza.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Pondering the Writing Professor
Over the years, I've had a number of writing professors. Some have stayed in my life for years, others lasted only a few days. Recently, I was discussing a writing professor with my friends. I didn't stay long with this professor because I didn't like his teaching style. My friends, on the other hand, all had fantastic experiences and learned a great deal from this professor.
How can four people - dedicated to writing - think so differently about the same teacher?
Here are my thoughts:
Writing professors (and writing degree programs) are subjective. They all teach you mostly the same thing, but in completely different ways. It's much like reading a plethora of different books on writing instruction. Some you'll think are amazing, others are going to suck.
Writing professors are the same. Some you will connect with. They'll tell you about setting and it will make every piece of advice you've ever heard about setting click into comprehension in your mind. Other professors will try to teach you about setting and it's like they're speaking in Ancient Alien Runes.
All in all, you need to do your research and decide for yourself what works best. Sure you can ask the advice of your friends, but if I had accepted that advice three years ago, I wouldn't have taken a class (and then another) with one of the best writing professors who has helped me understand the craft.
So, don't worry about which schools have the highest ranking, and don't worry about the doubt those other professors have sewn in you.
You need to do what's right for you.
How can four people - dedicated to writing - think so differently about the same teacher?
Here are my thoughts:
Writing professors (and writing degree programs) are subjective. They all teach you mostly the same thing, but in completely different ways. It's much like reading a plethora of different books on writing instruction. Some you'll think are amazing, others are going to suck.
Writing professors are the same. Some you will connect with. They'll tell you about setting and it will make every piece of advice you've ever heard about setting click into comprehension in your mind. Other professors will try to teach you about setting and it's like they're speaking in Ancient Alien Runes.
All in all, you need to do your research and decide for yourself what works best. Sure you can ask the advice of your friends, but if I had accepted that advice three years ago, I wouldn't have taken a class (and then another) with one of the best writing professors who has helped me understand the craft.
So, don't worry about which schools have the highest ranking, and don't worry about the doubt those other professors have sewn in you.
You need to do what's right for you.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
The Art of the Short Story vs. The Art of the Novel
I have safely returned to my frozen Wisconsin wasteland. It was a balmy -30 when I landed and now is slightly warmer - warm enough to produce a 5-8" snowstorm over the next two days. If nothing, the cold weather forces me to be dormant and work on my writing.
It also forces me to have extended Facebook or text conversations with old friends. Yesterday, I was speaking with a friend of mine who was just accepted into an MFA program for fiction writing. I asked if she was excited and she said yes, but no. Throughout her undergrad experience, she wrote short stories, then created a portfolio of short stories to get into the MFA program. Now, she learned that the extent of her MFA program would be writing, critiquing, and perfecting even more short stories.
"Don't get me wrong, I want to write fiction, but I want to write a novel. Short stories aren't my calling," she told me via technology. "I read this article that said writing a short story is like making a row boat, whereas writing a novel is like building a yacht. You can't build a yacht by building thousands of rowboats."
She didn't remember who wrote the article or where she read it, but the quote stuck with us both. Writing a short story - from the plot to the character development - is a completely different world from writing a novel. That's why I enjoy the "novel writing" seminars I attend over the "short story seminars". Though both can help you tame your craft, you have to pursue what you love. You don't see poets in forestry class, or painters spinning at the ceramics wheel. You have to follow your calling. If you want to write short stories, take the MFA classes and become a short story master. If you want to write novels, then find a writing group and novel writing seminars that most often take place over a span of weekends or at a month-long retreat.
Just as we understand the difference in craft between clay and oil paint, it's about time we start realizing that not all fiction is identical. It takes different abilities and techniques to write short stories than it does to write novels.
My advice to my friend as well as to you, blog reader and fellow scribe, is to follow your heart. Don't worry about the professors telling you you won't go anywhere without an MFA. Don't worry if everyone else is singing up for the Carver-esque class. If you want to be the next Grisham or Patterson, write your novel. Read more novels and find the correct classes for you.
It also forces me to have extended Facebook or text conversations with old friends. Yesterday, I was speaking with a friend of mine who was just accepted into an MFA program for fiction writing. I asked if she was excited and she said yes, but no. Throughout her undergrad experience, she wrote short stories, then created a portfolio of short stories to get into the MFA program. Now, she learned that the extent of her MFA program would be writing, critiquing, and perfecting even more short stories.
"Don't get me wrong, I want to write fiction, but I want to write a novel. Short stories aren't my calling," she told me via technology. "I read this article that said writing a short story is like making a row boat, whereas writing a novel is like building a yacht. You can't build a yacht by building thousands of rowboats."
She didn't remember who wrote the article or where she read it, but the quote stuck with us both. Writing a short story - from the plot to the character development - is a completely different world from writing a novel. That's why I enjoy the "novel writing" seminars I attend over the "short story seminars". Though both can help you tame your craft, you have to pursue what you love. You don't see poets in forestry class, or painters spinning at the ceramics wheel. You have to follow your calling. If you want to write short stories, take the MFA classes and become a short story master. If you want to write novels, then find a writing group and novel writing seminars that most often take place over a span of weekends or at a month-long retreat.
Just as we understand the difference in craft between clay and oil paint, it's about time we start realizing that not all fiction is identical. It takes different abilities and techniques to write short stories than it does to write novels.
My advice to my friend as well as to you, blog reader and fellow scribe, is to follow your heart. Don't worry about the professors telling you you won't go anywhere without an MFA. Don't worry if everyone else is singing up for the Carver-esque class. If you want to be the next Grisham or Patterson, write your novel. Read more novels and find the correct classes for you.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The New and The Old of it
I'm going to let you know something that bothers me. It happens all too often, especially in literary or student work. It's experimental styles - not to enhance the story or contribute to plot, but for the sake merely of experimentation.
Now you're saying, "Alyssa, if writers didn't experiment there would be nothing new."
And I agree. I experiment with my writing all the time. However, the difference between experimentation for the betterment of the story and experimentation "just cuz" makes all the difference. It's like the difference between writing for publication and writing for only yourself.
There's a reason all those writing books and programs focus on traditional plot, character, and setting elements. There's a reason genre sections in the bookstore are so popular. Readers expect a certain reliability on these elements from the writer. In fact, when traditional style elements are followed, the story can be really far out there in content. Readers are more apt to put up with digesting it.
In review: Experimental styles and elements are just fine - if and only if - they contribute to enhancing the story, or they make sense for the tale you're telling. Experimental elements for the sake of experimentation should stay on your hard drive for your eyes only. Then we'll never have to read another book review or hear another teacher comment that, "Well, I appreciate he tried something new," which we all know means, "it sucked, but I need to find something to say."
Be better. Be braver. Let your writing and your story speak for itself.
Now you're saying, "Alyssa, if writers didn't experiment there would be nothing new."
And I agree. I experiment with my writing all the time. However, the difference between experimentation for the betterment of the story and experimentation "just cuz" makes all the difference. It's like the difference between writing for publication and writing for only yourself.
There's a reason all those writing books and programs focus on traditional plot, character, and setting elements. There's a reason genre sections in the bookstore are so popular. Readers expect a certain reliability on these elements from the writer. In fact, when traditional style elements are followed, the story can be really far out there in content. Readers are more apt to put up with digesting it.
In review: Experimental styles and elements are just fine - if and only if - they contribute to enhancing the story, or they make sense for the tale you're telling. Experimental elements for the sake of experimentation should stay on your hard drive for your eyes only. Then we'll never have to read another book review or hear another teacher comment that, "Well, I appreciate he tried something new," which we all know means, "it sucked, but I need to find something to say."
Be better. Be braver. Let your writing and your story speak for itself.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
An Update and a Question for You
The back-to-school commercials have aired and a bombardment of first-day-of-school photos clutter the Facebook news feeds. Yes, it's that time of year again - school is in session.
I want you, my loyal blog readers, to know that I will not be joining the fray this year.
Why does this matter to you whether or not I am a student? Well, because a few of you have been there from the beginning when I started this blog out of my college dorm. Others have perused the multiple college class/life posts I wrote at the beginning of this blog's life. But more importantly, I think I can sneak another message out of this one.
Here it goes: You don't need a fancy degree to achieve your goals or get the places you want to be. Especially if you're a writer. (If you want to be, say, a doctor, you may just have to stick it out. Sorry.) But to be a writer you need to...what?...Write! This goes back to the very first post I made in this blog. We're writers not because we have agents or ebooks or publishing deals. We're writers because we write. Plain and simple.
Ask yourself this question - would you rather have the degree you're "supposed to" get, but be no better of a writer than when you started; or, would you rather be degree-less but have worked your way into the writer you always longed to be?
Yeah, that's the question that got me thinking.
Now, I'm not trying to discourage people from going to college, or encourage our current college students to drop out, but I do want to get you thinking. What is going to be most beneficial to you in the long run? If, say, you're in college now and it's strengthening your skills and helping you sort out your weak points - great! You've hit the jackpot. For many of us, this doesn't happen. If, like me, your high school counselors and college professors told you you'd go nowhere without a degree, but the whole process just isn't working for you - this is the time to step back. Think about what you really want.
For me, it was to be the best writer I could possibly be. This meant dropping the student loans, school colors, and cramped living quarters. It meant picking up a job, a writing group, and a few stand-alone writing classes that got me no closer to graduation but a lot closer to publication.
So, in future, expect fewer posts about dorm life, class discussions, and microwave recipes (oh stove, how I've missed you!), and more about the business of writing and art. I hope you join me for the ride.
I want you, my loyal blog readers, to know that I will not be joining the fray this year.
Why does this matter to you whether or not I am a student? Well, because a few of you have been there from the beginning when I started this blog out of my college dorm. Others have perused the multiple college class/life posts I wrote at the beginning of this blog's life. But more importantly, I think I can sneak another message out of this one.
Here it goes: You don't need a fancy degree to achieve your goals or get the places you want to be. Especially if you're a writer. (If you want to be, say, a doctor, you may just have to stick it out. Sorry.) But to be a writer you need to...what?...Write! This goes back to the very first post I made in this blog. We're writers not because we have agents or ebooks or publishing deals. We're writers because we write. Plain and simple.
Ask yourself this question - would you rather have the degree you're "supposed to" get, but be no better of a writer than when you started; or, would you rather be degree-less but have worked your way into the writer you always longed to be?
Yeah, that's the question that got me thinking.
Now, I'm not trying to discourage people from going to college, or encourage our current college students to drop out, but I do want to get you thinking. What is going to be most beneficial to you in the long run? If, say, you're in college now and it's strengthening your skills and helping you sort out your weak points - great! You've hit the jackpot. For many of us, this doesn't happen. If, like me, your high school counselors and college professors told you you'd go nowhere without a degree, but the whole process just isn't working for you - this is the time to step back. Think about what you really want.
For me, it was to be the best writer I could possibly be. This meant dropping the student loans, school colors, and cramped living quarters. It meant picking up a job, a writing group, and a few stand-alone writing classes that got me no closer to graduation but a lot closer to publication.
So, in future, expect fewer posts about dorm life, class discussions, and microwave recipes (oh stove, how I've missed you!), and more about the business of writing and art. I hope you join me for the ride.
Monday, July 1, 2013
How the Thin-Skinned Listen to Criticism
Experiment: You've written your first draft (perhaps even revised it into a second or third draft) and you want to share it. You show a small portion to family or friends who you think will be honest and still nice.
Result: They have some "suggestions". They don't like that line you smile at every time you read it because it sounds so great in your own mind. They don't think your character is original, realistic, or even very likeable. They think the story has been done before.
Reaction: Well, if you're anything like me, you're crushed. You thought you could go to this person for help, and while you did say, "Be honest," you didn't mean for them to tear you to shreds. At least, that's what this feels like. It feels like the people you trust and respect are telling you that you are a horrible writer. It's especially painful when the critic is a published writer or a prized writing group ally.
Here's the kicker, though. You CAN hate them. Go ahead, leave their critique session with a few silent choice words you repeat to yourself over and over as you drive home. Tell yourself that they know nothing and you really need to get some new beta readers if you're ever going to get published in this life. Tell yourself your professors are trying to hold you back so the student doesn't surpass the teacher. Tell yourself anything you need. Hate your critic.
But always keep their notes!
Even if you never want to see them again, keep their revision. Because if you sit down a few days after the initial blow - of course telling yourself that beta reader X has no idea what he's talking about and you're going to prove him wrong by making his changes and seeing how horrible the story reads now - you'll see the importance. Open a new document or grab a fresh sheet of paper, make the changes (yes, all of them) to the manuscript, and read it. By this time, hopefully you've cooled down enough to read the story and not see the critic's face looming in a red fog in your mind. Read the story for the story itself and see what happens. Truthfully, some spots may have improved. You may like a few of the changes or at least think they're heading in the right direction. Other revisions you won't agree with. The character would never think/act/or say that or the prose no longer sounds like you. That's fine. But now you've tried them and you don't have to worry about them again. Keep the ones that work, toss the ones that don't. Simple.
In essence, if you want to be a writer and you have a thin skin, (guilty as charged) you can make it. Hate your critic...but then take their advice.
Result: They have some "suggestions". They don't like that line you smile at every time you read it because it sounds so great in your own mind. They don't think your character is original, realistic, or even very likeable. They think the story has been done before.
Reaction: Well, if you're anything like me, you're crushed. You thought you could go to this person for help, and while you did say, "Be honest," you didn't mean for them to tear you to shreds. At least, that's what this feels like. It feels like the people you trust and respect are telling you that you are a horrible writer. It's especially painful when the critic is a published writer or a prized writing group ally.
Here's the kicker, though. You CAN hate them. Go ahead, leave their critique session with a few silent choice words you repeat to yourself over and over as you drive home. Tell yourself that they know nothing and you really need to get some new beta readers if you're ever going to get published in this life. Tell yourself your professors are trying to hold you back so the student doesn't surpass the teacher. Tell yourself anything you need. Hate your critic.
But always keep their notes!
Even if you never want to see them again, keep their revision. Because if you sit down a few days after the initial blow - of course telling yourself that beta reader X has no idea what he's talking about and you're going to prove him wrong by making his changes and seeing how horrible the story reads now - you'll see the importance. Open a new document or grab a fresh sheet of paper, make the changes (yes, all of them) to the manuscript, and read it. By this time, hopefully you've cooled down enough to read the story and not see the critic's face looming in a red fog in your mind. Read the story for the story itself and see what happens. Truthfully, some spots may have improved. You may like a few of the changes or at least think they're heading in the right direction. Other revisions you won't agree with. The character would never think/act/or say that or the prose no longer sounds like you. That's fine. But now you've tried them and you don't have to worry about them again. Keep the ones that work, toss the ones that don't. Simple.
In essence, if you want to be a writer and you have a thin skin, (guilty as charged) you can make it. Hate your critic...but then take their advice.
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