Tag: writer

About Writing

The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Writing Captivating Characters

Autumn

My Venus is in Pisces, which is the astrological way of saying that I’m the quintessential hopeless romantic. This was not a personality trait of mine that was ever supported during my formative years, and as a teenager I was frequently warned that I was setting myself up for disappointment; I was also told that I shouldn’t expect to get married.

When I talk about romance, I mean the earth-shattering, butterfly-inducing, dizzying, elevating, whirlwind of excitement sort. The kind that we’re constantly told doesn’t exist. That kind.

A major motivation behind reading is to enjoy stories that I can’t hear by simply talking to the neighbors (even if they are sordid and juicy). I like stories that are larger than life and inspirational; I just can’t find books like that.

Most romance novels are about an attractive, powerful, rich guy, and since I frequently indulge in that fantasy myself as a writer, I’m not going to knock it. It’s obvious why she would fall for him, but why does he fall for her? The heroines range from mediocre to psychotic harpies; with heavy heapings of selfishness on top.

That question, ‘Why does he fall for her?’ is often left unanswered, and that kills every chance of deeply capturing the spirit of romance. If I hate the heroine, I’m not going to empathize if she captures the attention of Mr. Mega Hunk. I usually declare, “This book is stupid!” and give it a bad review on Amazon. No vicarious butterflies, no point in reading.

When I write my female characters, I write them as someone that I could fall in love with myself, and I have zero interest in Anastasias or Bellas. Perhaps I relate to novels in the wrong sort of way, but I like to think that’s what differentiates me from the Mary-Sues.

My hope is that if I write a scene that gives me butterflies, others will experience that as well when they read it.

I am a hopeless romantic, after all.

About Me

Facebook

Autumn

[////]=I quit Facebook completely almost two years ago.

(^ Baby help. I didn’t notice it until several hours after posting.)

I created my account as a teenager because it was the cool thing to do (back when you needed to have a school e-mail address to sign up), then over the years that followed it  mutated into a sense of obligation. That whole, “I need to keep people up-to-date on my life,” thang.

Facebook was never a big source of dopamine addiction for me. I was never viewed as being trendy, so instead I mostly felt the anxiety of not being ‘like’-able enough for anyone. But, you know, I was obligated, even though I grew to hate it.

Then the summer of 2017 happened. As I contemplated posting about personal events, I thought about how stupid it was to feel enslaved to people who were never going to see or talk to me again. And why was I keeping up on their lives anyway? They never cared about me before Facebook came along. You know what? Screw them all.

I haven’t looked at Facebook since.

I also highly recommend quitting social media to everyone. Doing so had a surprisingly beneficial effect on my life, even though I never considered myself much of a user in the first place.

So…

This year I published a book on Kindle. I’m not terribly concerned about making money off of my writing, I just want to connect with readers (you know, the peeps who appreciate the way I think). Since I have four small children, I don’t want to do anything that intrudes on my life too much — motherhood comes first above all else for me, and kids are time-consuming. I confess that the thought of Facebook has crossed my mind as something easy.

But I swore never again, and I meant it.

Not to mention, I’m not going to find readers on Facebook, considering that I, as myself, did not enjoy any sort of popularity on the site. Not the right crowd.

I haven’t the foggiest if I have any chance of finding anyone with my self-imposed restrictions, but hey, I’ve never been known to be conventional. The important part is, I still have time for homeschooling and baking cornbread.

At the end of my own life story, I want to say that I kept myself.

About Me

Real Life

Autumn

It always feels a bit strange when I draw from my real life with my stories. I never include the Big Stuff; truth be told, I have a possessiveness over my experiences that lends itself towards secretiveness. Barriers, and all that.

Hey, if I was perfectly well-adjusted, I wouldn’t be a writer!

Often, I’ll be out and about, see some curtains that I think are beyond gorgeous, and make a mental note to use them the next time I ever need to describe curtains. Is it deep? Not remotely. At the very least, reading my books will give you a good idea of my tastes in fashion and home decor.

You will not, however, get any sort of autobiography about my life.

Barriers, and all that.

White_Mask_Unveiling.jpg

About Writing

Improving Story Progression Through Handwritten Drafts

Autumn

I’ve mentioned before that I write all of my rough drafts by hand. One of the benefits of doing this is that ink is permanent, thus effectively neutralizing the urge to edit as I go. My main focus with my rough drafts is getting the story down on paper with as little critical thinking as possible.

I’m a firm believer in the power of editing and let quite a lot slide through in my rough drafts, but every now and then I do write something that’s so bad, it grinds the story to a halt. Sometimes it’s necessary to rewrite as I go, just to keep the story progressing. I average rewriting about five pages out of a hundred, which is more a testament to how forgiving I am than anything else.

Since transcribing onto the computer is an eventual necessity, that’s where I do the bulk of my rewriting. That’s when I start to think, “How can this be better?” I usually end up rewriting about 90%.

Ever since I started cleanly separating the steps of writing and rewriting, I’ve been able to finish books, rather than collecting files of unfinished beginnings.

Tiny frog
About Writing

Practical Writing Tips for Creative Success

Autumn

I majored in Creative Writing during my stint in college. In one of my regular English classes, that focused on teaching grammar of all things (who does that?), we had a published author come as a guest speaker one day. After class, offhandedly, he commented, “Majoring in Creative Writing is the worst thing you can do as a writer.” He advised me to switch majors immediately.

I can’t remember his name or the title of the book he wrote. Shame, really, because that was probably the best advice I’ve ever gotten.

If you’re on this journey, don’t read books or websites that teach creative writing. Just don’t.

Learn grammar. Learn what prepositions and interjections are. Watch School House Rock. Internalize it. Use it all the time, even when texting. Embrace being seen as snooty. Words are your medium, and you need to understand how to use them correctly. Just don’t turn into a “grammar nazi” who compulsively hyper corrects everyone else — people hate that. Part of the rich complexity of English is that it can, and often does, accommodate oddities and mishmashing, so learn how to use that effectively.

Read non-fiction. I particularly like self-help books, as they tend to be a rich reservoir of foibles and psychology, wrapped up in layman’s descriptions that are easy to understand. And hey, if I happen to also benefit from it, all the better. These sorts of books will give you a better understanding of how to create realistic characters than worksheets ever will.

And of course, research your genre. Don’t write a Highlander romance based entirely off of all the other Highlander romance novels you’ve read; find a history book about Scotland first. This is especially important if you are writing in one of the realistic genres; its easy to alienate those who could be your most loyal fanbase if you completely misrepresent their field.

Finally, practice. Write all the time. Write about everything. Write and rewrite. Write. Write. Write. Compose stories in your head while you’re at the dentist or driving in your car. Don’t start judging anything until the 2nd or 3rd drafts; instead, enjoy the flow of creativity. Just frickin’ write!

You’ll learn far more than Creative Writing classes will teach you.

About Writing

Pinterest and formulas

Autumn

I look at Pinterest when I’m too tired to function, and the site is always eager to suggest infographics and articles about how I should be writing; everything from tips to make scenes more emotional to character questionnaires.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being told that I have to follow a formula.

Ages ago, I didn’t want to go to college, but everyone told me I had to if I wanted to have a future. Two years in, I was so badly burnt out that I cried every morning when I got out of bed. Then one day it hit me: I didn’t have to be there.

I dropped out, got a full time job, and rented my own apartment. Complete strangers had a meltdown over my actions. Didn’t I care about my fuuuuture????!!!

Meh. I was happier. I met my husband during that time period.

And yeah, so life did get crappy when the job market crashed. Having a college degree wouldn’t have saved me from that, however, and experience isn’t a bad thing. I didn’t cease to exist, and I learned how to really appreciate life. I like who I am now, scars and everything.

Unfortunately, formulas seem to make a lot of people happy. You know, guaranteed results in three easy steps! If you follow the formulas perfectly enough, you’ll be rich and famous. And my knee-jerk reaction is: you can’t tell me what to do! I make my own paths.

When I create characters, I don’t fill out worksheets. I give them names, ask them, ‘what makes you tick?” then listen — that’s the important part. It’s chaotic and unpredictable. It doesn’t follow any rules. It’s fun.

I can’t guarantee results. Heck, other than really enjoying myself as a writer, I haven’t seen any myself! But you know what I’ve learned? It’s the journey that counts.

Muse

Keep a notebook

Autumn

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It’s been one of *those* days, so I’m going to leave you with this.

About Writing

The Benefits of Using a Handwritten Binder for Writing

Autumn

I like to work on one novel at a time, as I have found that not only is my focus much better that way, it serves as good motivation to actually finish the story before moving on to the next — otherwise I’d have a million works-in-progress and no endings.

Inspiration, on the other hand, doesn’t follow my schedule. It strikes whenever it pleases. That’s one of the reasons why I prefer keeping a handwritten binder rather than typing on a laptop. My binder is indispensable, always nearby, and never low on battery.

Whenever a new idea hits me, I write a page or two like this:

It’s not beautiful or elegant. In and of itself, it’s too vague to be particularly enjoyable for reading, but it contains everything I need to remember the idea.

Sometimes I don’t know any names, so I write down variables instead, such as “B” or “Z”. Those pages tend to look really weird.

Then it goes into the back of my binder, and waits for its turn. The proximity ensures that I often see it and thus never forget its existence.

When it’s time to start a new novel, I pick the idea that has the loudest voice.

Stories

The Midnight Window

Autumn

I recently came across this short story that I originally wrote in 2008. I liked it enough to use it as editing practice, and brought it up-to-date to my current skill level.

He was watching them again.

He found his nose pressed against the cold glass window, his eyes locked on the room beyond, unconsciously counting the rising and falling breaths of each dark lump snuggled warmly in the bed, and he had no memory of how he had gotten there. They were bigger. They always seemed bigger each time he huddled against the side of the house, watching them sleep. He wondered how many years it had been, then found it absurd that he would even still care.

He used to also watch through the window on the other side of the house, gazing at the sleeping woman with some unknown regret pounding at his frozen heart. Used to, that is, until a man appeared next to her in bed, and he realized that his former position was no longer empty. After that, he lost all desire to venture beneath that particular window, and the pain that seared him never flared up again.

Now he spent his time with the small ones, peering at them through the blackness. Sometimes he would stay there all night, unable to tear himself away until the threat of dawn forced him into hiding. Those two sleeping mounds, buried under blankets, contained the last living fragment of him. When he saw them, he felt calm.

The littlest one woke up one night. Her head had lifted from the pillow and she looked toward him, riveting him in place despite his desire to flee. She didn’t seem afraid as she slowly slid out of bed and tiptoed up to the window. He could see her face clearly, and her long blonde hair that flowed down her back over her lacy nightgown. Her familiar blue eyes met his, as she put her hand against the glass, and he felt compelled to press his own hand against the other side. Then she whispered a single word,

“Papa.”

Something shot through his insides when he heard her speak, and he found himself floating as a silver mist, terrified that the wind would scatter him across the surrounding forest. It was some time before he found the strength to will himself back to solidity. He learned something crucial about his nature that night, and it gave him the resolve to stay away.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he went back, but the longing had become to much for him to deny. There was a third shape now, much smaller than the others, nestled between them with a tiny fist held up into the air. He knew what it was, and was surprised that he didn’t care. Perhaps he was now too far removed from his humanity to experience that emotion again.

This would be the last time that he would gaze at his children. They had moved forward with the life that he could never share, and it was time for him to let go. He was a vampire now, and didn’t belong in the world of the living. The final threads that kept him chained to the place were broken, and soon he would forget that they had ever existed.

About Writing

Why Plot Twists Need Logical Consistency

Autumn

I suppose that one of the side effects of taking lots of creative writing classes in the early 2000’s is that I follow a lot of guidelines that have been tossed aside by my contemporaries. With years of contemplation and analysis, I have decided that they are very good ideas indeed, and I kind of wish that more writers thought the same way.

Plot twists that don’t make any sense.

The most egregious example of this is Disney’s Frozen, with the whole, “Hans is secretly evil” thing. His accounting for his actions is that he wanted to be king, but going through with marrying Anna would have given him exactly what he wanted, especially with Elsa running around crazy — come on, it’s not like marrying into an advantageous position never happened historically. Also, wanting to be king is ambitious, but not wrong in and of itself.

The whole, “I’m going to let you die while I laugh evilly” scene is nonsensical and jarring. After all, if the guy is that much of a sociopath, he’d maintain the act right through the very end, and never reveal his true thoughts under any circumstances.

The worst part is, there isn’t a single ounce of foreshadowing. I know that plenty of people have come up with “epileptic trees” style theories trying to prove there is, but I’ve seen that movie a million times thanks to my little girls, and there isn’t even a calculating look or anything. Rule of thumb: if foreshadowing isn’t immediately obvious the second time around, then it isn’t there.

It’s like the writers didn’t have the slightest clue how it should end, so they randomly threw that in as a drunken late night decision, and it killed the whole movie.

Plot twists must stay in character and make logical sense.

Even if you feel like you’re giving everything away by mentioning that Martha was irrationally jealous five chapters before she runs Jimmy over with a car, remember that the readers aren’t going to know what you’re building up to, but they will feel jilted if they think you’re deliberately jerking them around. Also remember that bragging, “I SAW IT COMING FIRST!” is just as much fun for the readers as being taken completely by surprise.

Or maybe the story will later reveal that Martha was possessed by a demon, and that’s why her actions were suddenly out of character. After all, these are only guidelines.