Marvin the Manic Meadow Lark or When to give up.

For some reason, we attract the loony Meadow Larks. The sane ones go someplace else to live. For the last few years, we had a female who nested in the rain gutter by our front door. She wasn’t happy when people came in and out that door. Each year, her protests became more aggressive until people feared for their lives. Bet you haven’t ever heard the words aggressive and Meadow Lark used together.

Last year, she became so belligerent, we had to have her humanely put down. End of the Meadow Lark problems—until a few weeks ago. Enter Marvin.

We have birds fly into our front windows all the time, usually when the light is right, and the window looks like a mirror. Marvin, however, is a little different. He’s started trying to fly through the window, the closed window, about every half hour.

After considering several suggestions, I taped paper over the window, the consensus being that he could see himself and was protecting his territory. He continued to try to enter around the edges of the paper. Silly bird.

Last week, he expanded his attempts. He tries the small window he first used then moves around the corner to the picture window. He flaps along, banging his beak against the glass. When he gets tired, he sits in the cottonwood tree and plots. We’re going on four weeks with Marvin blasting at the window every half hour. Now that’s perseverance . . . or stupidity, I don’t know which.

What does this have to do with writing, you ask? You didn’t ask? Well, pretend you did. I have a book I wrote five years ago. It’s the first book I ever wrote, and it has a sentimental spot in my heart. The problem is it isn’t very good. It’s full of all the mistakes a new writer makes.

I’ve been attempting to revise this story for quite a while now. The characters are engaging and the story is pretty good, it’s just the writing that’s crap.

I’m kind of like Marvin in that I can’t seem to just quit with this book. I keep bashing my beak against the pages until I get tired and go sit in the tree (work on another book). Then a few days, weeks or months later, I’m back.

How do you know when to give up and just hide a book under the bed? Have you ever totally rewritten a book you loved?

 

What, Why, and How of Line Edits

Line edits have dominated my writing time of late.

What are Line Edits?  These are the sentence-level edits — trimming and rearranging words without losing content, clarity, or voice.

Why Line Edits?  I aim for what I’ve heard termed “window pane prose” — clean prose that doesn’t draw attention to itself, but displays the story to the reader.  Trimming unnecessary gunk allows the prose to flow smoother and the story to shine.

How to Line Edit? There are lots of ways to edit at the sentence level.  Reading out loud can be very helpful — the tongue trips over things the brain doesn’t.  Often I do this, but I tend to get wrapped up in the story and miss the trees for the forest.  Sometimes changing the font can help the manuscript look new.  I know some folks who start with the last sentence in the book and work their way to the front, but I’m not coordinated enough to do that.

So I keep a list of potential “problem” words, then search through the manuscript for every instance of it.  This helps me ignore the story and focus on the words.  My awesome husband recently programmed me a macro for Word to streamline the process, and kindly shared his work here.

I don’t always cut the words on my list.  They’re not bad words.  Sometimes they’re even the best word.  But I’m often able to find cleaner prose by cutting them.

Filtering Words: Wondered, Hoped, Thought, Realized, Considered, Could see/hear, The sound of, Saw, Watched, looked

I believe I have Janice Hardy’s excellent blog to thank for this list.  All of these words appear in my manuscript, but I cut most of them.  Often, these words act as a filter between the reader and the POV character, instead of letting POV pull its own weight:

Example: Lizzie glanced up at the diner clock and sighed.  She realized she was late for the night shift again.

Lizzie glanced up at the diner clock and sighed.  She was late for the night shift again.

Result: Cut two words, kept everything else.  Tighter POV. -2 words.

Example: Lizzie stared down at the open ring box in Rick’s hand.  She thought about his offer.  She wondered if she’d be happy with him.  She could see that the pawn shop ring was gold, with a small diamond, inside a velvet box that looked fancier than the ring itself.  Her throat tightened.  No, she shouldn’t accept — she never could convince herself that their relationship was anything more than a second-hand love in fine trappings.

Lizzie stared down at the open ring box in Rick’s hand.  Could she be happy with him?  The small pawn-shop diamond and its gold band gleamed coldly in a velvet box fancier than the ring itself.  Her throat tightened.  She should say no.  Their relationship had never felt like anything more than second-hand love in fine trappings.

Result: Rearranged the prose to let the description show time spent thinking and reinforce her emotional state.  -18 words.

Example: “I saw Rick proposing outside,” June said, handing Lizzie a fresh mug of coffee.  “Want to talk about it?”

Result: Without the “I saw”, this sentence would read like June is trying to relay new information to Lizzie, when Lizzie obviously knows this.  Clarity, content, and voice are the goal, so this stays.

Overused Words: was, were, just, very, a little, started, began, even

I’ve cobbled this list together over time, noting words that I either use too often, or that could often be replaced with stronger, better words.

Example: Lizzie was going to lose her job over this, but feeling badly about dumping the boss’ son just wasn’t going to pay the rent.

Lizzie would lose her job over this, but moping about dumping the boss’ son wouldn’t pay the rent.

Result: More clarity, -6 words.

Example: Lizzie started to drink a little of the coffee.  “Just what I needed.  Thanks, June.”  She knew that she was smarter and stronger than this.  Tomorrow, she would start applying for every job that she was qualified for.  Rick wasn’t in control of her life anymore.

Lizzie sipped her coffee.  “Just what I needed.  Thanks, June.”  She was smarter and stronger than this.  Tomorrow, she’d apply for every job she could.  Rick didn’t control her life anymore.

Result: Note that while I cut a lot, I left the “just” in the dialogue, because deleting it didn’t make sense, and rewording it would sound stilted (“This is exactly what I needed”).  -15 words.

Going through the manuscript, cutting one or two words here and there takes time.  But in the end, I get a novel that’s easier on reader’s eyes.  Time well-spent.  The more I search for problematic words, the more my lazy brain refuses to type them in the first place.  Anyone else have a list of line edit words they keep?  Any other favorites to watch out for?

 

Boring

When I get a pedi, I want a neutral color.  I like to say that I am boring.  I have had enough drama in my life.  I seek boring.  I appreciate boring.  I embrace boring.

That’s my problem…as a writer.

In real life, it’s okay to live a boring life.  Do you know why?  It’s never really boring.  There is always something going on.

My appreciation of boring creates problems in my writing.  I don’t want to torture my characters.

Hello, my name is Lynn, and I hate to throw wrenches at the characters I create.  Wrenches are heavy and they can inflict a lot of damage if someone takes a direct hit.

For many years I was in denial.  It took a long time for me to realize I suffered from the dreaded disease, protective characteritis. 

You know the commercial, the mother jumps out on the gym floor and stands directly in front of her son and knocks balls away.  While doing this she says, “Don’t worry, Mommy’s here.”

You can’t do that if you are creating a fully developed person.  While I have admitted this on several occasions, it will be a lifelong struggle. Even now, I’m having a problem throwing problems in my people’s path.

What problems do you face with your writing and what are you doing to overcome the issue?

 

 

Kind of Over It

I’m not a trendy gal. In fact, I have been known to run the opposite direction in order to avoid a trend. As a reader and a writer, I don’t pay much attention to trends either. I read for the stories and the characters, and if the main character is a ghost or a wizard or an alien, I go with it. Sometimes, publishing trends coincide with things I like, and for a while I’m happy.

For example, I love dystopian novels—which I describe as utopian gone awry. Somebody had an idea for a society that seemed perfect at the time, only in practice it has turned out horribly wrong. Hunger Games. Nineteen Eighty-Four. Matched. Fahrenheit 451. All dystopian. I love a really good dystopian. However, in recent years, the market, especially the Young Adult (YA) market, has been saturated with this genre, and it’s grown a bit tiresome. Especially dystopian trilogies. Now, in order to catch my attention, a new dystopian has to be highly recommended by friends or other authors. Otherwise, I’m kind of over it.

Also trilogies in general. Sadly, the market is run by the need to make money, and I think what happens is publishers get a little greedy. They launch the first book with huge acclaim and publicity budgets, and often the first book is really, really wonderful. Here’s where the greed enters in: I think that the publishers push the author to write the second and third books quickly in order to get them out while demand is hot. Often resulting in rather lackluster books. Several trilogies I’ve started in the last few years kicked off with a bang, but the second book was so uninspired that I didn’t even open the cover of the third. (If you’re a publisher and you’re reading this, please feel free to dispute my claim.) Possibly the subsequent books in a trilogy aren’t as good because the author put in ten years writing the first, and only six months writing the second. I don’t know. But I’m kind of over trilogies.

I’m also over YA “issue” books. You know the ones. This is a sex abuse book. This is a cancer book. This is a runaway book. I just want a story, not a sermon, not a cause. I can say this with a grain of salt, because some of my books might be categorized as issue books, but I didn’t set them up that way, so I hope they are just good stories.

I never really got into the zombie/vampire/paranormal trend in the first place, so I can’t even say I’m over that. But I am. Over it. Same with teen romance. I think you know the one (with vampires).

Which begs the question: what am I NOT over? I’m not over historical fiction—although I am definitely over the ruthless monarch who wants to marry daughter off to gain world power. But other kinds of historical fiction, along the lines of Between Shades of Gray (never to be confused with—UGH—50 Shades of Gray) or The Diviners (which has a paranormal aspect, sorry). I’m not over good stories about teens who are trying to figure out life. I’m not over funny stories.

In writing, the tendency to buck a trend is a good thing. Because usually by the time a trend in publishing hits the bookstore shelves, publishers really aren’t buying any more manuscripts in that genre or subject. So it’s usually too late to jump on the bandwagon. Yay for ignoring the trend. I just keep on writing what I write, and hope other people want to read a good story without any vampires or magic or romance that oozes disgustingly out of the pages.

 

BONUS NOTICE: the Utah/southern Idaho region of SCBWI is holding The Great Critique event. It’s free, but there is an opportunity to sign up for a paid critique by a publishing professional (editor/agent).  Basically, if you sign up, you’ll get to critique and be critiqued by other authors in your geographical area. This is a fabulous opportunity if you don’t have regular critique group or partner, or even if you just want your manuscript read by a fresh set of eyes. See  
http://thegreatcritique.eventzilla.net
for details.

 

Location, Location, Location

Real estate agents have a mantra – Location, location, location! And they’re right. Location can mean the difference between a successful choice or one that doesn’t quite work out the way you’d thought.

Earlier this spring, a mourning dove built a nest in a pot of pansies hanging over part of our patio. I wish I could’ve told her she’d chosen a poor location. The flowers were near the grilling station and next to an area where we sit outside. It was exposed to all the elements. From inside, we watched her sit on the nest through sun, rain and wind. Our excitement grew as the days went by. Surely little birds would be chirping soon. One day, she flew away, leaving three perfect little eggs behind. We waited, but she never returned.

Now a little wren is sitting on eggs in a nest built into a wreath by our front door. The nest is protected from the elements. Her only problem is that people have to pass the nest to get inside. (I’ve posted a sign on a post outside that warns people that Mama Bird is in the nest and we try not to use the front door too often. She seems to understand we won’t disturb her home.

Why this story? So I can tie it into writing. (I hear some of you groaning! )

Choosing a location for your story is as important as a mama bird choosing a site for her nest. A location or setting can often be a huge part of your story. I love reading about places I haven’t visited.

How about you? What stories have you loved in large part because of their location?

 

208 Words

I read an article the other day about how the most lucrative song ever written is “Margaritaville” by Jimmy Buffett. Quoting from the Bloomberg Businessweek, “To think that all of this poured forth from a goofy, three-chord song—a mere 208 words, roughly half the length of this article—written about being lazy and getting drunk.”

This “most lucrative” title doesn’t stem from the royalties of the song or Buffett’s concerts alone. Margaritaville Enterprises franchises tourist entertainment complexes, sells beachwear, furniture, alcohol, blenders, and more.
While an interesting article, the fact that it all started from 208 words fascinates me. Somehow, the way he put those words together with the melody hooked people and started a financial empire. Was it luck? Or the ability to make listeners feel a certain way. In this case, carefree, relaxed, happy! How many of you can sing a few lines? I can.

BTW, the song’s popular ranking isn’t even in the top 10 richest songs. The two highest-ranking pop songs are You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling, by the Righteous Brothers, and Yesterday, by the Beatles. (No. 1 was Happy Birthday to You.) However, as a branding and a lifestyle having most total impact, Margaritaville wins with a couple hundred million dollars.

Another thing adding to this culture happened when Buffett dubbed his diehard fans Parrotheads in 1989. Parrotheads travel to Buffett’s concerts and party, party, party. These fans support the Margaritaville culture. It’s worth noting the Grateful Dead had Deadheads in the ‘70’s and young Justin Bieber has Beliebers, which was started around 2008 by his YouTube fans.

When we write, we spend agonizing days looking for the right words to communicate our work to the readers. It’s not the number of words, it’s how they are on the page and what they convey.

Sometimes, we think we’ll never get it right. Ah, but when we do…it’s worth it.

208 Words

 

Memorial Day

As a writer, I cannot help but put important events in my life down on paper. Just recently, I lost my in-laws, so I am honoring their lives here.

My mother-in-law was a lesson in being frugal. She taught me that one can get by without the frills in life and still be content. She didn’t hang on to a lot of stuff, only what she needed. What she had was used readily and appreciated. I always enjoyed how she would get a new gift and tell me how she was so happy with the product, whether it was new sheets for her bed or a timer for her eye drops. Once she realized the convenience or comfort, heartfelt thankfulness was in her tone of voice. She appreciated her flowers and nature and taught me to see beauty in a barren tree in the dead of winter. My husband looked forward to talking with her on the phone nearly every week, and I will miss sitting in the background with an ear to their conversations. She appeared to hang on his every word. Who else will care so much about what he is doing with his life?

And who didn’t love my father-in-law? He had a gifted sense of humor and always had a smile. He continued to smile right up to the end of his life. He (and his parents) taught my husband a good work ethic, and to go out and help the neighbors. He had his kids shoveling snow off walkways for those who needed it and he did his share of helping over the years, too. I can’t imagine him not being there when someone needed him, if he was able to help. The most profound thing I had ever heard him say came from a conversation he was having with my husband about a year or two ago. My father-in-law had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and he came to the conclusion that he couldn’t worry about finding the right words in conversation any more, that he had to just let it go. He told my husband that he would probably have to do the same thing at times as regards to his multiple sclerosis. During WWII, he served in the Battle of the Bulge, a well-known battle in France, where the courage and fortitude of the American Soldier was tested against great adversity.

After many years in the Wenatchee area, my in-laws moved to the Spokane Valley to help their daughter care for her family with a new disabled baby. Likewise, they looked out for their neighbors and helped an elderly woman who lived next to them for many years. We were there the day their house sold and the neighbors from literally every side of their home came over to ask about them as they’d grown to care about them so much over the years. And personally, they treated me like I was a gift from heaven for their son, which I so appreciated early on.

They were married sixty-six years and attended Church together most of those years. They passed away less than two weeks from each other. For me, their deaths give new meaning to the expression; see you on the other side. When my time comes, I look forward to hugging them again.