Roadmap to Writing
As a self-confessed SOTP writer—and a lover of all things analogous—I must go on with the analogy of the road trip/roadmap and writing. So I’ve come up with six stages of the writing roadmap:
Stage A
–Drive from Nashville to Dallas.
–I want to write a romance novel.
Stage B
–Take the interstate to Little Rock where you’ll get on another interstate that goes all the way into Dallas.
–Hero and heroine meet; they develop feelings for each other; something threatens to tear them apart; they reconcile and live happily ever after.
Stage C
–Take I-40 West out of Nashville through Memphis to Little Rock. In Little Rock, get on I-30 West toward Texarkana. Stay on I-30 West until you reach Dallas.
–A wedding planner thinks she is falling in love with a client. But he is a man with a secret. When the secret is revealed—the real identity of the man she’s planning the wedding for—he could lose her forever. After several conflicts that seem to finally tear them apart, she realizes he is the one she truly loves and will go to extreme lengths to make sure she doesn’t lose him. They reconcile and live HEA.
Stage D
–Take I-40 West toward Memphis—which is about a 3.5 hour drive, unless you stop in Jackson, which is about halfway. Go through Memphis on I-40 (be careful not to end up on I-55), and cross the Mississippi River into Arkansas. Stay on 40 about 2 more hours until you get almost to Little Rock, where you’ll take the I-440 West loop that will connect you to I-30 West toward Texarkana. It’ll take about two hours to get to Texarkana where you’ll cross into Texas. Then just stay on I-30 another three hours or so and you’ll be in Dallas!
–Anne Hawthorne, a wedding planner, meets and is attracted to a mysterious Englishman, George Laurence. She is excited at the prospect of getting to know him better . . . until he shows up with a much-younger woman at her office for a wedding consultation. George, a personal assistant to a wealthy, famous man, is only posing as the groom to protect his employer’s privacy. Anne struggles with her growing attraction to George, whom she believes is an engaged man, and considers risking not only her professional reputation but her business by canceling the contract she signed with him—until he reveals he is not the one getting married. Their relationship develops slowly as Anne learns to trust him again. Then, she learns the man she’s really planning the wedding for is someone from her past who used her and then dropped her at the worst possible moment—three days before they were supposed to get married. She must work through her anger at her ex-fiancé and forgive him if she is ever to have a chance at happiness with George. But when it appears George has also used her as part of his own agenda, Anne turns down his proposal of marriage. When she finally sees and understands the truth, she must stop George from leaving—and to do so must face her greatest fear. Just when she thinks he is gone forever, he finds her; they kiss and become engaged to be married.
Stage E
I don’t have room to go into all the details of E and F, but here’s a summary:
–Turn by turn directions with mileages, estimated times, and exit numbers—pretty much what you’d get in the driving directions on Mapquest or Mappoint.
–This would be the equivalent of the 5-7 page novel synopsis—all of the major events of the story instead of just the general ideas above.
Stage F
— Turn by turn directions of how to get from your driveway to the driveway of your final destination. Map with mileages. A list of every city you’ll pass through. Road construction and speed limit zones marked. Places of interest to stop along the way—and the best restaurants and rest areas to stop at.
–Chapter by chapter synopsis. The Snowflake Method. A detailed outline of all major and minor events with character descriptions and setting information.
When I sit down to start something new, Stages A and B pretty much go without saying. So I start at Stage C—figuring out the basics of the story. Who are the characters? What brings them together? What threatens to separate them?
I’ll do some pre-work with my characters—back story, family, education, career, outlook on life—that leads up to the “meet.” Because I started learning craft from people who write category-length romances, I start writing my story with the “meet.” In both HEI and RH, I use the first chapter as a place to show the characters interacting with their natural environments and set the scene, establish “normal,” and introduce the characters to the reader. By the time I’m at Stage C, I already have in mind a “meet” scene. It most likely will be changed in revisions—perhaps many times—but it gives me a good point to start exploring the relationship. And how the characters react to each other when they meet can give rise to all sorts of ideas for conflicts to arise further along in the story.
By the time I’m about 1/3 of the way into the story, I’m at Stage D. I know the major events and conflicts—internal and external—but am still in the discovery process as I write every day (or whenever it is that I write, which isn’t usually every day).
I completed Stage E after I completed the first draft of HEI. This was actually a helpful exercise, because so many things changed mid-stream when writing it, that I needed the long synopsis to make sure I had one consistent story when I went back to start revising.
I have not—and hope never to have to—gotten to Stage F. While I’m about 50/50 right brain/left brain, Stage F is WAY too analytical for me! But I do know people who work through all six stages before even beginning to write the story. But no matter where we each fall in the Stages, what’s most important is enjoying the journey and arriving at the final destination.
Next time . . . how writing is like cooking.
Road Trips and Writing
One of my favorite quotes about writing/the creative process is from American novelist E.L. Doctorow: “It’s like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” As a “seat of the pants” writer, this is how I approach my story—I know my ultimate destination and the general direction of how to get there, but I spend most of my time writing in that pool of light, seeing only what is immediately before me—in other words, what I happen to be writing at that particular moment.
The irony is, I do not approach road trips this way. When traveling somewhere by car, one of my most favorite things to do several weeks ahead of time (usually because I’m so excited about going) is to get on MapQuest, MSN’s Mappoint, and pull out the trusty old Rand-McNally atlas (so I can see it larger than 4” x 4”) and either refresh my memory of the route—the interstate numbers/street names, exit numbers for places I like to stop, etc.—or start memorizing and writing out detailed, meticulous “turn by turn” directions when it’s somewhere I’ve never been. I do this even with a trip I’m as familiar with as Nashville to Baton Rouge or Nashville to Dallas. When someone gives me directions to his/her home, not only do I write down what they say, but I get online and look it up, too, to get the image of the map in my mind, as well as see actual calculations of distances, as most people (including me) can’t estimate distance accurately.
I am now at the dreaded “middle” point of RH. For most SOTP writers, this is where we start getting really bogged down. We know where we need to be at the beginning and the end of the book, but because we haven’t outlined or written a detailed synopsis before we started writing, the details in the middle are rather foggy. We need conflict. We need character development. And we need the plot to move ever forward (in the right direction). But really, we’re flip-flopping around like a fish on the beach because all we can see is what’s in that tiny radius generated by the headlights of our imagination.
For me, this is usually when things either start coming together and I get one idea after another, conflict building on conflict, that drives me to the ultimate climax and the ending I knew I would eventually get to; or it’s when I start to realize that the story isn’t working quite right and some major changes are needed—either to the characters, the plot, or the conflict before I can get to the climactic ending I want. So far, RH has been cooperating and new and interesting conflicts have arisen which I’d never imagined until the heat of the moment with fingers on keyboard.
But I just had a daunting realization today. I face writing FOUR middles in this story. As I have planned this as a trilogy, I have three novels for which I pretty much know the beginning and ending points, but the middles are foggy . . . and then on a bigger scale, there is the second book—the ultimate “middle.” I know for certain how Book 1 (Honor) must end. I know the main action, conflict, plot, and ultimate climax in Book 3 (Quest). But I’m not really sure what happens between the end of Honor and the main action of Quest. I have to get them from England to Jamaica, but I don’t know how important the journey is—nor what problems they may face on the voyage. I know Book 2 (no name yet—maybe Crossing) has to begin after the, uh, last event of Honor and before the action that happens once they arrive in Jamaica, which is the story for Quest.
I wish I could approach my writing like I do road trips—mapping out every turn, nearly every signpost. But one thing I’ve learned about myself, from having to do this exercise in grad school, if I write out all the details of the story, I’m no longer interested in writing it. Strangely enough, although not knowing exactly where I’m going on a road trip sends me into abject panic, most of my joy in writing is derived by not knowing where I’m going until I suddenly find myself somewhere I never expected. It’s like the feeling we derive by reading a new book or seeing an original movie (not one of the remakes of TV shows or novel-to-film versions)—we’re just along for the ride. And yet the feeling is multiplied ten-twelve-ninety times when writing because of the internalization of the events and the characters—they came from somewhere deep within me.
Scientists have proven that the creative process releases endorphins in the body that give us a “high,” very much like exercise or drugs. Now, I’m not saying that those who plan out their entire novel before writing it don’t get the same euphoric feelings as they craft the story on the page, but there’s just something so exciting and daring about sitting down and seeing where my characters are going to take me today, what they’ll do or say, whom they’ll meet, or what challenges they’ll face. It must be the same type of rush that extreme-sports junkies get from nearly killing themselves time and time again.
So, I’ll leave mapping for the road trips and keep meandering along the backroads, seeing no further than the headlights of my creativity, for my writing.
What others say about Happy Endings, Inc.
I received my first and second round scores back from the ACFW Genesis contest today and thought I’d share some of the wonderful comments I received from the five judges:–Great dialogue! Very impressive.
–You have a great grasp of POV and the plot moves very well.
–I am completely intrigued to find out what George’s real purpose is, and I think you did an excellent job stringing me along and dropping a few little hints that piqued my curiosity. Nothing’s predictable about this story, which is wonderful.
–The dialogue in this story is easy to follow and reveals details about the character interaction.
–You’re a good writer and your writing is easy to read . . . I can totally see this as a published book. And I can’t wait to read the rest of it.
–I admit I was skeptical because it’s another ‘Wedding Planner’ scenario. But you’ve pulled it off!
–George: Terrific mystique about him. He’s strong hero material!
–You have a unique, memorable voice, especially suited for romantic humor and suspense. You’ve mastered the techniques of fiction writing and have developed your own distinct style.
–You are a sparkling jewel on the Nile ready for sail-sale! Really! If you don’t already have an agent, get one ASAP!
With only one or two exceptions (and a judge who I don’t think read the same manuscript as everyone else based on her very negative feedback and questions/“I don’t understand what you mean here” comments throughout the pages), all of the places where I got scored lower are on areas of the chapters I have since edited. As I read through them all I kept thinking was, I changed that. I took that out. I deleted that paragraph. I took out those repeated words. I took out that character completely. . . . and so on. So, I guess I’m definitely headed in the right direction!
By Any Other Name . . .
One of the most familiar lines penned by Shakespeare comes from Romeo and Juliet: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet . . .” (Romeo and Juliet, II ii). Four hundred years later, I beg to differ. (Hold tight—this does tie in with writing.)
A friend of mine has recently legally changed her name by adding three letters on the end (I know that’s vague, but I don’t want to betray a confidence). Not a huge change, but something she feels expresses the maturity she has grown into as a woman—and a name that goes better with her one-syllable last name. Her mother is furious, and swears she will never talk to her again, as she feels my friend is betraying her father who picked out her name in the first place. She still plans to go by her original four-letter, one-syllable first name, but for legal paperwork and for when she starts being published, she will use her new full name.
In trying to offer her some encouragement, I started thinking about when I changed my name. No, not legally, but my “go by” name. You see, I grew up being called Kathy. Which was fine—I tried briefly when in junior high to start going by Katherine, but every time I heard it, I felt like I was getting in trouble, so I went back to Kathy. After that, I never really considered trying to go by anything else.
But then in 1994, I started working at a 3-person advertising agency—and the other girl’s name was Cathie. On my first day of work, my new boss told me he’d decided he was going to call me “K” to differentiate between the two of us. I decided to embrace this new nickname with the spelling for it that I’ve always preferred: “Kaye” (like Ann-with-an-E from Anne of Green Gables). But at home and with my friends and extended family, I was still Kathy—which was difficult if they ever called the office and got Cathie!
Then, in 1996, God did a miraculous work in my life and led me to take a leap of faith and move to Nashville—with no job, no contacts, and no place to live. Upon moving, I had a choice. I could go back to being “Kathy” or I could do what the Native Americans do when a young person goes through a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood—change my name for good. So on Sunday, April 7, 1996, the day I moved to Nashville, I officially became “Kaye Dacus.”
You may be thinking, Big deal! You’re still the same person inside. That’s where I differ with Shakespeare’s Rose Name Theory. Unlike Shakespeare, I believe that a lot of our identity is wrapped up in our names and that we can mark significant changes in our lives by changing our names. I am a different person now as Kaye than I was as Kathy. Kathy is that insecure adolescent/teen/young adult who had trouble interacting in social situations, dropped out of school, and fell in love with someone who didn’t return the feelings. Kaye is the woman who took a huge leap of faith and moved to Nashville with no job, no place to live, and no contacts. Kaye went back to school part-time at age 29 and finished her bachelor’s and master’s degrees. Kaye is the person who can walk up to two of the most respected agents in the CBA and tell them I would like to submit my proposal to them. And when I refer to myself as Katherine, that’s another persona (usually when I’m about to chew out someone at Comcast or Cingular for screwing up my account).
Throughout the Bible, a name change was made to mark an important life event, whether a crossover from youth to adulthood, a momentous happening, or a new calling on one’s life:
- When God called Abram (high father) to be the progenitor from which His chosen people would spring, God renamed him Abraham (father of a multitude). He also gave Abraham’s wife Sarai (contentious) the name Sarah (princess).
- Jacob (supplanter) wrestled with an angel and because of his strength and perseverance, God changed his name to Israel (he struggles with God).
- After her husband’s death, Naomi (pleasant) changed her name to Mara (bitter).
- When Jesus gave Simon (listening) the assignment/position as the founder of the Christian church, He changed his name to Peter (rock).
Now, how does this tie in with writing?
When I started writing Stand-In Groom, my heroine’s first name was Nell—my middle name. She was very insecure, her business was in financial trouble, and she was very emotionally needy—especially with her family. I always figured I would change it, since I plan to publish under my full name and using my middle name for the heroine’s name wouldn’t go over well with a publisher. But I could never find just the right name to change it to, so the first semester I was at Seton Hill, I submitted it with the heroine’s name as Nell. In the workshop critique, one of the other students asked if it was supposed to be autobiographical, since she saw my middle name on the header. I knew then that before I got any further into writing it, I had to change her name.
I struggled so hard with coming up with a name that was similar to Nell—old fashioned, one syllable, mature, and strong. I finally settled on Anne (yes, with an –e). And then I struggled to write for a couple of months. Since I kept typing Nell when I wrote, I would have to go back and do a search and replace. But then when I re-read it with Anne in the text, it just didn’t feel right. I agonized over this for the rest of the semester, trying to get a feel for Anne Hawthorne. I submitted another chapter of SIG for workshop in my second semester and had several of the same people in there. They pointed out to me how much more they liked Anne than they did Nell—and I finally realized they were two different characters! Anne had confidence. Anne ran a successful business and was respected in the community as an entrepreneur. Anne had even had a feature article written about her in Southern Bride magazine. Although she had emotional needs, Anne wasn’t needy.
A character’s name is usually one of the first things I know about him or her—usually along with the Real World Template on which I’m basing the physical appearance. I love names. I collect names. I refer to a 1990 yearbook from LSU when I need a good Cajun last name for one of my contemporary Bonneterre-set novels. I have gone through and started a preliminary database of names from Jane Austen novels and the other original source materials I have from the Georgian era in England so that my names in my historical trilogy are authentic. The names I give my characters are significant—not necessarily for their technical meaning, but for the connotation the name provides:
George Laurence: Englishman, old-fashioned, no nonsense, boldly battles dragons and maintains his saintly demeanor
Anne Hawthorne: old-fashioned, straight-forward, loves literature (majored in English), a bit irreverent at times.
Julia Witherington: wise beyond her years, deep family roots, a “jewel” waiting to be discovered
William Ransome: lion-hearted, leads his men into battle instead of staying safely behind the lines, righteous, and one who “ransoms” others (double-entendre of the last name in a story-arc of the trilogy)
What meaning do your characters’ names convey about them? What does your name convey about you? Have you ever changed your name to mark a passage in your life? If you were to change your name (or your characters’ names) because of a momentous event, what would you change it to?
Mission Accomplished!
And only a day late.
By the time I got home from the gym last night, and after talking on the phone with a friend for the first time in a long time, I must admit that I crashed in front of the TV last night and watched CSI: Miami and The Daily Show and then went to bed instead of making the minor revisions to my query letter and proposal and going out to the late-night post office.
But I did get it done today!
At lunch, I came home, made the necessary changes, printed everything including the mailing labels, and clipped the two proposals together, ready to be taken to the P.O. tonight. Now I had two choices of times to go: right after work before the six o’clock water aerobics class or after class. When five o’clock rolled around, I knew that if I didn’t go right then, I wouldn’t go after class—and tomorrow night is church on the other side of town from the P.O. I need to go to. So, I fought rush-hour traffic on Donelson Pike and got to the P.O. around 5:30, where I purchased four Flat Rate Priority Mail stamps—two for the outgoing package and two for the return mailers. I double, triple, and quadruple checked to make sure that I was putting the correct proposal in the correct envelope (something I learned through embarrassing circumstances when I was job hunting eight months ago), said a little prayer over them, and put them in the outgoing priority mailbox.
Feeling somewhat exhilarated and somewhat apprehensive, I turned to walk out of the P.O. Then I hear, “Ma’am! Ma’am!”
When I turned, I saw one of the postal workers running after me with a priority mailer in her hand (she was just starting the pickup as I dropped my envelopes in the bin). “Did you just drop off a priority mail envelope?” she asked.
Stomach dropping to my knees, I answered, “Yes.”
“To a . . . lawyer in South Carolina?”
Stomach back where it’s supposed to be. “No.”
So, now I’ve joined the big-girl table of those who are brave enough to send our “babies” out into the world to face either acceptance, rejection, or suggested changes. And believe me, as soon as I know anything, good or bad, it will be posted on this blog!
Ode to the Synopsis
To write a book is a
Blessing, an act of
Creative will,
An epoch of rapturous
Joy.
It is time spent with friends
New or old,
Experiencing life though
Different eyes. What an ecstasy to
Write “the end” and
Wish
For the world to
Fall in love
With what I have
Wrought.
But how shall they read
It?
How shall my joy become
Theirs?
To an editor I must appeal;
To an agent, my soul bare.
They ask, “What is
It
About? I do not want to read
It;
Send me a
Synopsis.”
Oh, thou dreadful word:
Synopsis!
I have written my story;
It
Is wonderful! Please do not make
Me summarize
It
As if
It
Is capable of being told in
Five to seven pages
Instead of three hundred thirty-four.
Do not make me skip
Wonderful scenes of humor and
Whimsy
Which I long labored over.
What’s this I find as I
Read through
It
Chapter by chapter
Trying to summarize the most wonderful
Story
In the world?
Some beloved
Scenes
I wrote may not be important?
Maybe I should
Edit.
(Oh, thou dreadful word!)
But that comes later.
And so there
It
Is. On six and a half pages—my
Story.
Then off to the editor and agent
It
Goes, bearing with
It
My hopes and dreams.
What’s that you say?
You like
It?
You want to read the
Complete?
Oh, thou beloved
Synopsis!
Writing What I Know
A conversation came up on the Romance board at ACFW a couple of days ago that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind—so naturally, I’m blogging about it.
One of my fellow romance writers who happens to be unmarried reported a conversation she had about books with a few other people. Apparently one mentioned that she does not read romance novels if they are written by someone who isn’t married, as single people can’t possibly know what they’re talking about when it comes to romance. Another person apparently voiced approval of this statement, adding that unmarried women who write romance are just showing their desperation to be married so much so that they have to make up stories about it—oh, and they’re ugly, too, which is why they aren’t married in the first place.
It’s a good thing that I was not anywhere near where this conversation was taking place, because I probably would have lost my religion—all over them. One of the things I am most passionate about in my life, aside from writing of course, is Singles ministry. As someone who is still single at age 35, I have experienced most of the ups and downs of the single life. And part of my passion is trying to break through the long-standing prejudice against singles in the Christian community, especially within the church congregation–but that’s not the point of this entry.
“Write what you know” is one of the most misunderstood instructions given about writing. Most people take it at face value, interpreting it as, “Write about only what you have personally done or experienced in the confines of your own life.” If fiction writers were to interpret it this way, we would eliminate entire genres: science fiction, fantasy, horror, historical, and 99% of mystery/crime/suspense/thriller. There would be no Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk, no Luke Skywalker, no hobbits and Middle Earth, no Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin, no Scarlett O’Hara, no Sherlock Holmes, no James Bond or Jason Bourne, no Superman or Batman, and no one would have ever heard of a man named Steven King.
If we wrote only about what we have personally experienced, what a boring world this would be. But God gave us imaginations with which, as the character of Chaucer (Paul Bettany) said in A Knight’s Tale, we “give the truth scope!”
Lest anyone should argue that this is un-Biblical, let me give the ultimate example. In his life on earth, Jesus grew up in a small town and learned the trade of a carpenter from his stepfather, Joseph. Yet he crafted stories of farmers, of masters, of vineyard owners, of slaves, of widows, of husbands and wives, of profligate young men who ran away from home—of people whose lives and experiences were vastly different from his own.
I have chosen romance as my genre. I love the process of crafting my characters and taking them through the intricate dance that is the progression of their relationship. And as we discussed whether or not singles are fit to write romance novels, a very important thought struck me:
Romance novels are about SINGLE people! Yep, you read that correctly. Think about it. With the exception of two small subgenres (romance in marriage and stories featuring extramarital affairs), romance novels feature as their main characters two UNmarried people facing and dealing with everything that comes along with being SINGLE. And for me, being unmarried and having lived by myself for more than ten years, I find it very easy when I read romance novels to determine if the author was married at a very young age or if she experienced some of what it is to be a single adult out on her own in this world. Those who married later—in their late twenties or after—have a much more authentic voice when creating their characters’ SINGLENESS than those who married straight out of high school or college.
Those who married later as well as those who are unmarried know the loneliness that can creep unawares from our subconscious to our conscious mind and hit us like a Mack truck—even when we’re at the top of our game or feeling the most confident we ever have. They know what it’s like to be the “sole supporter” of our household—having to provide for all of our own needs with no relief of someone else to share the burden (unless there’s a roommate in the situation, but that brings its own inherent problems). They also understand, especially when writing characters over the age of 30, it’s not necessarily “romance” we desire most—not the flowers, fancy dinners, or quoted poetry (although we still like all that)—it’s a longing for companionship, for support, for understanding, for someone to walk with hand-in-hand down whatever is left of life’s road. Someone to help us pay the bills. Someone to comfort us when facing the illness or death of a loved one. Someone to help us take care of our aging parents. Someone to be there when the rest of the world seems to shut us out. Someone to start our car and scrape the ice from the window on a winter morning, or to make our favorite dinner at the end of a long, hard day.
Yes, many of us who are single writing romance novels do so because we desire to experience the fulfillment of our soul’s longing for that companionship. We also write romance because we are in love with falling in love. We write it in reaction to relationships we’ve experienced, or as a “what if” scenario after a chance encounter. We write it to counter the rejection we have experienced in our lives.
A question we single-writers-of-romance have for those who see our writing romance as a sign of our desperation to be married, what, then, does that say about married women writing romance? Do they desire to not be married and go through meeting someone and falling in love again? Are they writing them because they are discontent with their own husband and are desperately living out their fantasies of being married to someone else?
Of course not! Like the singles who write romance, they write it because they, too, are in love with falling in love, or because of past relationship experiences, or because of the wonder they experienced in their own path to marriage.
Therefore, when I write romance, I’m writing what I know. Not because I’m married or even in a relationship. But because I have been in love. Because I know the longing for companionship. And because I have the experience of the ultimate “romance”—Jesus’ love for me.
Oh, and one final thought . . . most people, whether readers of romance or not, when asked what the greatest romance novel ever written is, will most likely answer either Pride & Prejudice or Jane Eyre–both of which were written by SINGLE women!
Critiquing: Why?
Maybe the question of why to get into a critique group should have been the first question I tackled, but is, nevertheless, an important part of this discussion. Before I ever got hooked up with my first two critique partners, I was scared of the prospect of letting someone else read my writing and point out all of my mistakes. I wouldn’t even let my grandmother or mother mark grammatical corrections when I first started letting them read my stuff.
Then I entered my first writing contest.
Well, let me go a little further back. As I’ve mentioned many times, I attended my first writing conference in 2001, the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference at Ridgecrest, an early 30th birthday present to me from my parents. The fact that I was excited to go spend four or five days surrounded by strangers, not to mention sleeping in a hard bed away from home, told me this was going to be an important milestone in my life. And it was. It was the first time I’d ever heard about contests for unpublished authors or “critique partners.” It was also the first time that I sat down and read aloud my writing to people I barely knew and received some feedback from others who knew what they were talking about. They’re also the ones who encouraged me to join what was then known as American Christian Romance Writers (which grew to encompass all fiction genres in 2004 as American Christian Fiction Writers).
When ACRW announced the first annual conference would take place in October 2002, and along with it a contest for unpublished authors, I was excited about the conference—to meet face-to-face all the ladies I was getting to know through e-mail—but didn’t give the contest a second thought. I’d started working on what would be my first completed manuscript, What Matters Most, but had barely worked up the nerve to print the first half of it to give to my mom and grandmother for Christmas. As the deadline grew closer, I couldn’t get the contest out of my mind. Finally, on the day which the package had to be postmarked, I made the decision to enter the ACRW Noble Theme contest. (Thank goodness for a 24-hour post office!) I expected to feel sick when I handed “my baby” over to the postal worker. But instead, I was elated. And I turned out to be an honorable mention finalist, too!
In 2003, I entered the first chapters of The Best Laid Plans, which I’d finished shortly after the 2002 conference, and Love Remains my work in progress at that time. Neither finaled, and I got some pretty strong critical feedback on them—and I realized that, after the initial shock and feeling of despair wore off, I needed to find some critique partners if I ever wanted to improve my writing. By the time I arrived at the 2003 ACRW conference in Houston, I had already started working on Happy Endings, Inc., and God blessed me by putting me together with two of the most wonderful women I’ve ever had the honor to know, Marci Burke and Cindy Woodsmall. Although we had each considered signing up to be put in an “official” ACRW critique group, the three of us decided to form our own. What followed was a year of discovery, of learning, of growing as writers. (Cindy’s first book comes out TOMORROW! Please buy it: When the Heart Cries.)
Not only did my writing improve by leaps and bounds as I worked with Cindy and Marci, but I learned several important lessons.
Critiquing helps us look at our own writing with objectivity. By objectively critiquing someone else’s work, we learn how to look at our own work through the eyes of a critiquer, and not as a “Mama” or “Papa” so proud of our “baby.” Then, once we get into the revision process, we are able to make changes or cuts without feeling like we’re cutting off an arm. The revision process can be looked at more like getting a manicure, pedicure, and haircut—yes, we’re losing bits and pieces of ourselves, but will look and feel so much the better for it afterward. Then, once the manuscript is sold, it will make working with an editor that much easier—we already know how to receive criticism of our work, as well as make revisions to it.
Critiquing clarifies our writing. By receiving feedback from multiple critiquers, we learn whether or not we are communicating our story the way we want to. If my critique partners just don’t get a passage I’ve written set aboard ship where my characters are using language appropriate for the setting and time period, although I love it because I know it’s authentic for the way they would have talked because of the research I’ve painstakingly done, it doesn’t enhance my story—in fact, it detracts from it. That doesn’t mean I need to get rid of the colorful, period-appropriate terminology, it just means I need to delve deeper in the narrative surrounding the dialogue to show actions that will explain through context what they’re talking about. It makes my story more enjoyable for my readers and enhances my skills as a writer.
Critiquing makes us better writers. In the last three years, I have worked with ten different critique partners (mostly because of having different partners each semester at grad school), each with different skill levels and talents for writing from my own. Marci helped me bring out the personalities of my characters. Cindy helped me with developing scenes that would reveal the characters without taking away from the plot. Kim helped bring out the humor. Penny made me see how to bring out the underlying tension and sensuality. Melissa helped me see how to keep my writing historically authentic while also writing it so a modern reader with no background in the era could understand and enjoy it. In critiquing their works, I’ve learned deep POV, showing rather than telling, mounting tension, plot movement, amping up the suspense, and much more, by researching these subjects so I could give constructive feedback.
Writing is a constant act of making choices. And as our creativity leads us down certain paths, having a voice of reason, someone to question our choices, or to cheer us along the way and make us stronger is one of the most important tools a writer can acquire.
Critiquing Step 4: Putting the Crits to Work
Okay, you’ve completed the critiques for your partners and they have done the same for you. So what now?
Before you can decide how you’re going to put the information to use, you need to know if you should put the information to use.
Now that your crit partners have given you their honest (and hopefully encouraging and constructive) comments, you must carefully consider each comment before deciding whether to implement it or not. If you are getting conflicting messages from your partners, you have a couple of options. If it’s a technical issue (grammar, POV, word choice), you can research it for yourself and go with what you think best serves your story. If it’s a matter of personal choice/opinion, weigh your partners’ comments with your own insights into your story (after all, you know your story better than they do) and then make the choice, again, based on what best serves your story. As I’ve said before, it is first and foremost your story. I would suggest, though, that if you make a decision to go against your critique partners’ advice, you advise them of this choice—thanking them for taking the time to point it out—and explain why you’ve decided to continue with it the way it is. (e.g., Thank you so much for pointing out areas where I’m dumping a lot of information and “telling” about my characters or the history of the era. As this is my first draft and I’m just trying to get everything in, it’ll probably happen again as that’s just the way I draft, so if you’ll just mark anywhere you see one with INFO DUMP, I’ll be able to catch them in the revision process.) That way, they know you saw and understood their comments and won’t get frustrated or offended when they see it hasn’t been changed, and you won’t have to read the same comments every time.
If you don’t understand a comment—or the point the critiquer was trying to make with it—ask clarifying questions. If you have gotten hooked up with the right critique partners, they won’t have a problem with your asking for clarity on their comments—and you might even get more feedback or ideas than they originally gave as you dialogue about the issue. Just keep in mind: don’t be defensive or make assumptions about what the person was saying nor a perceived intent.
This is the point in the process where we can start second-guessing ourselves, our talent, our story, our characters, and our “calling” as writers. If you find yourself getting bogged down in the critique comments and losing heart step back and consider the bigger picture. If it seems like your critique partner is nit-picking every little thing—from commas to overused words to your setting to your characters, go back to the list of overview questions I gave in Step 2. Look mainly at the comments that address those First Read-Through questions. You may find that your critiquer got nit-picky on trifling little things (some that may just be a matter of personal taste or preference) because they really didn’t have much else to say about your piece.
Unfortunately, the critiques we receive won’t always be helpful. I’ve found this most often when first getting started with critique partners or being critiqued by people who’ve never read my writing (or even my genre) in workshops. Once you get hooked up with a critique group, set specific goals of what you are trying to achieve and ask your partners to help you by looking for whether or not you are achieving those goals. (Refer back to Step 1, point 3 for some examples.) The longer you write, the more you learn, and the longer you work with your critique partners, you will learn what you each need looked at in your writing—and your goals will change as your skill level increases.
HOW TO USE YOUR CRITIQUES
This is the step that depends greatly on what kind of writer you are, so you may have to go through some trial and error before figuring out what method works best for you. But let’s look at how to use the critiques you have now received. From personal experience and through talking to others about it, I’ve boiled it down to two basic practices:
Stop, Revise, Continue
For some writers—and I would imagine these are the writers who have their entire novel outlined and plotted before they start writing—when they receive a critique, they stop writing anything new until they have implemented all of the revisions they deem necessary from the critiques. This process of revision on a work in progress doesn’t impede their forward progress, they are able to revise and then pick up right where they were and continue writing—while also implementing anything they learned/changed from the critiques/revisions. They don’t get mired down in the changes and start changing other stuff—like plotlines or characters!
My personal experience with the critiquing process is that this doesn’t work for me (but I would love to hear from those of you who can do this!). As a seat-of-the-pants writer, I always have a general idea of where my story is going, but many things can change along the way. In my first critiquing experience, I submitted the first ten chapters of Happy Endings to my ACFW critique partners. As they sent back their critiques, I started revising those chapters, and the story began to change. I sent those revised chapters back to them and they had even more feedback and suggestions. I revised the chapters again and this time submitted them to my SHU critique partners. By that time, though, I knew I had only a limited amount of time to get the entire story written, so I couldn’t go back and revise. That’s when I really figured out this method isn’t best for me.
Glean and Go
I learned that what works best for me as an SOTP writer is to “glean and go.” In other words, I read the critiques I’m given, save them for future reference, but continue writing new material rather than going back for revisions. I take into consideration all of the comments, from what isn’t working with the characters to the use of too much technical language (e.g., too many 19th century ship/Navy terms that aren’t explained in the context of the scene). I have had crit partners give me suggestions of scenes that might work better than what I have. There are occasions when these suggestions are given that it is so much better than what I have written—and I have an immediate and clear picture of it in my head—that I do go ahead and write it, which is how I end up with files named 04.doc followed by 04a.doc or 04addendum.doc. But, rather than trying to revise the original chapter and work the scene in and revise everything after it, I leave it for the revision process and go back to the forward progress—but now I’ve “seen” this new scene and can include any consequences, memories, or repercussions into the later part of the story.
Then, once I have a complete first draft, and after I’ve set it aside for several weeks, I open up my draft file along with the critiqued chapters (which is why I keep each chapter in a separate file), as well as any e-mails where we’ve discussed their comments, and start revising.
Again—I can only speak to what I’ve tried and what I’ve found works for me. I’d love to hear back from you on how you’ve discovered the critiquing process best works for you!
Critiquing Step 3: Remember the Golden Rule
I occasionally watch the “reality” TV series Super Nanny on ABC, where this British lady goes into people’s homes and teaches them how to discipline their unruly children. The children range from just somewhat boisterous and disobedient to down right mean and angry—I even saw an episode this weekend where the little girl was so full of rage that she started hitting, biting, and slapping Nanny Jo. After witnessing what complete heathens the children are, she sits down with the parents for the “parents meeting,” which is basically a critique session. As a viewer, I cannot wait to hear what she has to say about the little beasts, yet I feel for the parents, too, who are already on guard because they feel like they’re going to be berated for being bad parents.
Instead of just lambasting them, Nanny Jo always starts out the same way: “You have three beautiful, active little girls.” “You have two wonderfully creative and smart little boys.” Only after complimenting the parents on the positives she’s seen (which usually isn’t much), she then starts the critique. “The children follow you around all day, scream, yell, kick, bite, trying to get your attention because they’re bored. There is no structure . . .” (After a while of watching this show, I usually have a pretty good idea of what’s “wrong” in the household that Nanny Jo is going to try to fix, and discipline and structure are usually two of the major areas). Now, she could just come in and tell the parents what they’re doing wrong—but would that help them improve their parenting skills? No. That’s why she works with them for several days, teaching them through action and explanation how to overcome the problems she’s pointed out. She then goes away for a few days, and the cameras stay behind to record how the parents do at implementing the new skills. They usually don’t do well, and she returns for a few more days, reinforcing the techniques until they can do them with confidence.
The main reason I like watching this show is because it’s the critiquing process in action: objective observation without interference (the first read-through), the analysis of areas for improvement (the second-read through), the parents’ meeting and training (giving the critique), and the second visit for reinforcement (positive reinforcement and continuing the critiquing process).
One of Nanny Jo’s tenets is Positive Reinforcement—giving the children lots of praise when they do what they should, and making sure that hugs and kisses are given after a punishment (the naughty chair or reflection room) is completed. I’ve never tried to raise children, but I have trained dogs and seen how far they will go for a treat or a word of praise or pat on the head. And just like them, people respond to praise much better than criticism—and this doesn’t go away as we get older . . . in fact, I think we respond to it even more strongly as adults because we receive it less often the older we get. (When is the last time you got a “Good job!” for doing the dishes or mowing the lawn?)
You’ve completed the two read-throughs and you have your rough notes. Great. Now, set it aside for at least one day, a couple of days if possible. Then, come back to your notes with fresh eyes. As you read each criticism, try to word it in your mind to make it as positive as possible. Here is an example:
Note: The opening is too slow, too much telling, not much showing, too much backstory. The action doesn’t start until page 10.
Critique: You have a great idea for a story. I really like what I’ve seen of the characters so far, but would love to see them in a more active scene right off the top. In Stein on Writing, Sol Stein writes: “Fiction should seem to be happening now.” And also: “The first sentences and first paragraphs of any writing are increasingly important for arousing the restless reader . . . to excite the reader’s curiosity, preferably about a character or a relationship.” If you take the conflict between the character and her mother that you have now on page 10 and make that your opening scene, you’ll drop the reader right into the action and also allow the reader to start getting to know your heroine through her actions, reactions, and words instead of trying to describe her personality while she’s getting out of bed and getting ready for the day.
Yes, it’s much longer than the original note. But which would you rather receive? “Too much backstory, slow opening” or a suggestion of how to rework it and advice from an expert in the field (Sol Stein) on why to make the change?
Cindy Woodsmall, a former critique partner, is the person who turned me onto citing an expert in a critique. It’s much too easy to discount someone’s opinion, but when it’s backed up by someone like Sol Stein, it’s hard to ignore the comment. When critiquing, I quote from Sol Stein, Don Maass, the Chicago Manual of Style (for technical/grammatical issues), the Writers’ Digest series of books—finally putting to use all of those writing how-to books I’ve collected over the years. And you know what? I’ve learned as much or more about writing through researching why I’m telling someone to do something a certain way than I have in any seminar or conference workshop I’ve ever participated in!
Think about the best and worst comments you’ve ever received on your writing. What made the best comments good? They were positive, weren’t they? Even if they were pointing out changes you needed to make? What about the worst? More than likely, they were negative and/or vague along the lines of “I don’t like your characters. They don’t do anything for me.” We’ll all get enough of those kinds of comments in rejections. We don’t need them from our critique partners, too.
So, Step 3 of critiquing is to remember the “Golden Rule.” To paraphrase it a bit: “Critique others as you would wish to be critiqued yourself.”
Before moving on to Step 4, here are some more examples of critiques I’ve given:
On a lot of backstory in a first chapter: The beginning of your chapter is dynamic—active and full of conflict for the POV character. However, nine out of your twenty-five pages (36%) is backstory. In Writing the Breakout Novel, Don Maass writes: “Backstory delivered early on crashes down on a story’s momentum like a sumo wrestler falling on his opponent. Because it is not yet necessary, I usually skim it. Remember that backstory is, for the most part, more important to you, the author, than to your reader. Once the main plot problem is focused and the characters have been launched on their trajectories, however, backstory can be a development, a deepening of what is happening. Breakout novelists hold it back for just the right moment, which can sometimes be quite late in the novel.” Your first three chapters are your opportunity to draw your reader into the action and current emotional state of your characters. Reveal their pasts little by little as the story moves along. I’ve marked several places on the manuscript where something crosses he heroine’s mind, and then I, as the reader, had to stop and go through the entire memory with her. Hinting of things that happened in the past are fine for the beginning of the novel—it gives the reader something to look forward to. Think of your opening chapters as the beginning of a relationship. That first time you meet someone, you don’t automatically tell them every minute detail of your past—you converse in a way and reveal only enough of yourself to make that person interested in you.
On Point of View: You have a good grasp on keeping the scenes only in one POV, which is a really difficult skill to master! I’d love to see you go even deeper–to write in a more active, deep POV. With telling phrases such as “she felt,” and “she thought,” you hold the reader at arm’s length and don’t let the reader get into the POV character’s head. Let the reader experience everything the character does through the character’s eyes without the “signpost” phrases that “tell” the reader the character is thinking, feeling, wondering, etc. Eliminate the word “was” and as many verbs ending in –ing as you possibly can. Using active verbs is the first step in showing rather than telling, and showing takes the reader deeper into the POV.
On Setting: You have a great voice for the historical time period you’re writing about. From the characters’ dialogue and the narrative, I know you’ve done a lot of studying of the era. As far as the setting goes, the sensory detail is good, but could be tweaked even more—more sense of the place, as I didn’t really experience the setting through her senses but through my own experiences.
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