Should You Protect Your Bubble?

I've been thinking a lot about bubbles, lately. Protective bubbles. I recently read a post about book reviews and whether or not an author should read them once their book is out. This post doesn't have to do with only published authors, however. I want to talk to everyone today about the bubbles you write in. Do you write in a bubble?

Davin and I have talked about how we both need a bubble in which we write. When I'm working on a rough draft, I'm pretty fragile in the emotion department. I don't want to be poked at by people criticizing my work - even if it's work that's already published. Well, especially if it's work that's already published because, you know, I can't really go and change any of that stuff. It's kind of permanently out there. When I put Cinders out there last year I read EVERY SINGLE REVIEW I could get my hands on. It was like this hunger I couldn't quell. I wanted the validation that my work was good enough since I had self-published it and didn't have the validation of a publisher. I've made it clear that when my novel, Monarch, comes out I won't be reading the reviews unless my publisher sends them to me or they are part of my blog tour or from a friend or family member. That might be all of them at first...but, my point is that I learned from from my Cinders experience that once you read a certain amount of reviews, you pretty much know what everyone else is going to say. You start to see a pattern, and there doesn't seem to be much reason to keep reading the reviews if you know the bad ones are going to start nagging on you. Read 50 5-star reviews and 1 1-star review and the only one you'll remember or care about is that 1-star. I'd rather stay away from that, personally.

For those who aren't published yet, maybe it's not reviews that you wish to avoid - but reader feedback on other work you've put out there on your blog, or beta readers giving you advice, or even blog posts you read every day which might make you start doubting your ability. You might read a post about some rule you're breaking, and lo and behold, you can't think about anything else as you write your draft. All of a sudden you are stunted and your creative energy withers. That happens to me all the time.

So what's best? Do you think you need a bubble where you can write your drafts? I know it's good to be aware of what others say out there, and it's wonderful to grow from feedback, but I think there is a time and a place for those things.

Writing Face to Face

There are only a couple of people on Earth who read my works in progress: Mighty Reader, Domey, Michelle and my agent (and his reader). I don't have a group of "beta readers" and I don't belong to a critique group, online or otherwise. I am not taking any sort of writing class and so, in general, most of my writing is done alone, with as little feedback as possible from other people. The main reason for this is that I know very few people who read the sort of fiction I write and will talk about the issues in my own work that concern me. If I ask someone to read something, I don't really want to hear about misspellings or split infinitives. I want to hear if the story and the characters work in the way I want them to work. In general, I trust my own instincts and taste more than those of anyone else, though I will of course listen to my agent and the three other people listed above.

Lately, however, I have begun to write more short stories, and I'm in a loose sort of online writing group who share our bits and bobs of stuff every two months. That's very cool, especially because I continue to struggle with the short story form and it's nice to have feedback from people who do it better than I do. It's also nice to be part of a writers' community that meets, virtually anyway, every so often. I also have a standing invitation to go drinking with a group of writers here in Seattle, but it's on a school night so I haven't gone yet, though I have gotten together a few times with one of these guys and it's a blast. He and I talk about writing in very similar terms and I get what he means and he gets what I mean even though the waitress and the folks at the next tables think we're just insane. Which is fine.

The thing is, then, that while I still see writing as primarily something done alone, in isolation, it is an activity that's brought me into contact with others doing the same thing. There is a lot of value, certainly, in the online community of writers. But the interactions I've had with writers in real life (and I include the groovy Skype conversations I've recently had with Domey and Michelle), including going to readings/book signings, means that writing has become something larger to me than just writing down stories. Some folks I know here in Seattle are thinking about organizing a regular series of public readings, and I think that would be a lot of fun and I think I'd like to try out my short stories in that venue.

Anyway, my point--if I have one--is that I think it's important to have real-world interactions with other writers if you can. So I'm wondering how many of you have met any other writers in real life? How many of you are taking a class or are part of a critique group/reading group that meets in person? How many of you take part in readings on a regular basis, either as audience members or as readers?

Bad, Bad, and Worse

Beginning #1
Naomi couldn’t remember how she had been kidnapped. She didn’t know why two men were keeping her in a motel room, untied, free to move around, but threatened with her life if she tried to escape. She didn’t know why the man named Eric was tall and handsome, angrier than a roiled hornet’s nest, or why the younger man, Jesse, spent most of his time lying on the opposite bed from hers reading novels and collections of poetry.

Beginning #2
She wanted to get her mother’s attention. A desperate need, something she had been feeling the entire sixteen years of her life, throbbed beneath her skin. She pushed the gas harder and glanced at her mother in the passenger seat.

Beginning #3
Naomi vanished during one of these foggy mornings. Nobody saw her except two men. They were breathing heavily, standing in the moist darkness of an empty parking lot, the heat from their mouths drifting through the air in thin, filmy wisps before it dissipated into the surrounding fog. They stared down at the young teenage girl clothed in jeans and a faded brown jacket. She was blond and delicate, like a pale flower thrown onto the pavement, her legs and arms bent at awkward angles, her face almost translucent in the soft red glow from the taillights of an idling car a few feet away.

Beginning #4
Naomi gripped the tan leather-wrapped steering wheel of her mother’s Mercedes and pressed on the gas as hard as she could. It was the first time she had ever felt any sort of rebellion flow through her, and she liked it as the pearl-white sedan zipped along the gentle curves of the California coastline. The sky was a clean azure blue, like thick paint or the underbelly of some exotic sea creature. It made the ocean outside her window look sullen and gray.

Beginning #5
There was an unusual amount of fog the spring Naomi disappeared. Each evening near the end of February, it rolled heavily from the ocean to the coastline, gradually spreading itself over the city until the warmer hours of morning chased it away. It was unsettling how everything appeared and dissolved within seconds, like some elaborate magic act.

Beginning #6
Naomi knew the man could kill her.

“My name’s Jesse,” he stated softly. Kindly.

She held still, immobilized from the pain in her head. She had been awake for several hours, but everything was blurry and dark, until now.

“Where am I?” she asked with a voice drier than cotton. “Who are you?” A sudden urge to cry washed over her. Throbs of pain spread like wildfire through her body, and she gasped. Pain everywhere! As if she’d been beaten with a baseball bat.

Beginning #7
A book of poetry. Naomi didn’t know why the man looking down at her was pressing a thin volume of poetry to his chest, but it was the first thing that fueled her hope of staying alive.

“My name’s Jesse,” he said in a hushed voice. He pulled the book from his chest and bent his knees, reaching down to touch her arm. “How are you feeling?”

That was embarrassing.

I have a trainer novel. It's the first novel I ever wrote, and it's a complete and utter mess. I've had it for 14 years now. It comes back to me whenever I take on a new project and wonder if I should be working on the trainer novel instead. This novel has bad prose and a structure that looks like a labyrinth. I thought I was being clever. As you can see from above, I've rewritten this book a bazillion times. Nothing seems to work for the dang thing.

I thought I was being clever every time I wrote this book. I finally participated in NanoWrimo to get this trainer novel out of my head. Now I have another book that I've been working on for 2 years and I can't seem to get anything to work for it, either. I thought I was being clever when I wrote it, too.

Clever.

We all think we're pretty clever, don't we? Then many of us hand our clever little stories to a reader who is honest and thumps us over the head with reality. "Your prose needs work. Your characters are flat. Your themes are mixed. Your structure is a nightmare. Your dialogue sucks." And what hurts is when more than one person says these things. Or an agent says them. Or someone we admire.

I have a feeling my NaNoWrimo book, which has evolved greatly, is still only a trainer novel. It seems to have the same deep flaws as the other one. So I wrote another novel, a novella, that I'm currently in love with. I think it's clever.

See the pattern here?

My point today is that as writers, we follow patterns we unconsciously set for ourselves. We tend to keep the same deep flaws in our writing, and you know what? I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing over the long run. I'm beta reading a novel right now for a good friend of mine, and I'm impressed with many things and unimpressed by others, just as I am with any piece of writing I pick up. Many people enjoyed my first novel. Nobody has read my 2nd novel. Many people have enjoyed my third novel. Many people will enjoy my fourth one. Perfection isn't attainable and we all have to pick and choose the things we improve upon in our writing. We can only perfect what makes sense to us as the writer.

I'll repeat that.

We can only perfect what makes sense to us as the writer.

All those beginnings you see up there are the result of too many opinions and my feeble attempts at trying to please everyone. Imagine the time - the years(!) I've spent with those attempts. See, I'll bet that most of you like some of those beginnings and dislike others. I'll bet some of you don't like any of them - probably because I never got around to writing the book just for you.
__________

Davin wanted me to put a note here today that lets you all know he won't be around this week. He's at a conference on the East Coast and although he thought he would have internet access there, it turns out he doesn't. He'll be back next Monday. Scott and I will attempt to hold down this fort in his absence...

Outgrowing Your Peers

This is a sad topic for me, but at the same time I'm trying to convince myself (and others) that it shouldn't really feel that way.

I think all of us have helped each other with our writing, at least a little. At the same time a few of us have struck something deeper, a friendship. But, what can happen as we all become better writers is that we also grow and have different needs, and sometimes we can outgrow each other.

In an ideal situation, we and our peers will continually develop and improve at about the same pace. I have that experience with my wonderful writer's group. We have been together for 5-6 years, and we've all grown as writers and as reviewers, to the point where we are celebrating our different styles and voices while still helping each other get better. Criticisms have diminished because we are all in more control of our art. Now, we can just read each other's work, point out small problems, but generally just enjoy some fine writing among friends. And, our shared high standards inspire us to push ourselves more.

But, I'm not always so lucky. Occasionally I also find myself among a group of writers that are not pushing themselves in the same way that I push myself. For a long time I felt bad about not wanting to work with these people, but in this past week I've come to realize that we have just ended up on different paths. I was so resistant to it, but really it is perfectly natural. Just as we graduate from our various schools, we should understand that we will sometimes graduate from our writing circles. I think we should accept that, maybe even celebrate it, because it is a sign of our improvement and a result of our hard work.

And, most importantly, just because we outgrow some people as writers doesn't mean we must outgrow them as friends. How lovely will it be, when we all get to a place where we can just admire each other's art and enjoy all of the different voices around us?

Have you all ever outgrown your peers or writing circles? Were you able to move on in a way that didn't injure friendships? I feel at peace today because I know that I'm lucky to be in touch with writers that are already good and still wanting to be better.

"They've Adapted"

Even if you're not a Star Trek fan, you've probably heard of the Borg, a collective-conscious race of half human, half cybernetics drones in the Star Trek universe. And they're incredible at adapting to any weapon fired at them. I've been watching a lot of Star Trek lately. Shhh, I'll blame it on my husband.

One of my favorite lines in all the Borg episodes is: "They've Adapted!", meaning "Oh, crap, we have no defenses against them now that they've adapted to our weapons. We'd better come up with something truly creative and unique to defeat them. Again."

As I write and read more and more, I've done something similar against a race my brain unfortunately likes to think of as the Borg: the collective mass of readers who may one day read my work in published form. I've seen readers follow trends, creative marketing and popular groups, oftentimes seeming as if they have no say in what they choose to read. Probably because if it's not marketed well - if it's not easily accessible or seen - they don't bother finding what else is out there to read.

So what do I do?

I panic, of course. I think I'll never get an agent's attention, a large audience, or any attention at all if my work doesn't stand out over everything else.

And what do I do to fix that?

I think, "Oh, crap, I'd better come up with something truly creative and unique to stand out."

Many times this mean upping the shock factor. Or sometimes it means an idea that's not only creative, but really stupid and makes no sense. Do you see where I'm going with this? I'm not really writing what I want to write; I'm writing what I feel will set me apart. That's not a bad thing altogether. In fact, it often drives me to more creative places than I would go otherwise. But, I have to be careful because more often than not that creative place is nothing more than a ploy.

I was the editor of my university's literary magazine over six years ago. I sat on the reading board many times. What did I see the most in all those entries? Obvious attempts to wow the judges, to come up with something so new and off the wall that we'd be blown away and impressed! I think it worked twice. And guess what? Over the years I've done the same thing with my own work to try and stand out against my peers in the classroom, or in a contest or call for submissions. Hmmm, even blogging.

I think what really sets any writer apart is honesty. I can spot an honest story five hundred miles away. Combined with a fine handle on writing, execution, and character development, honesty goes farther than any other writing device I've encountered. An honest writer can take the most boring, mundane subject in the world and make it exciting. An honest writer can blow the Borg out of the galaxy with one careful aim and fire.

Against honesty, resistance is futile.

Couldn't resist, sorry.

Scott wrote an excellent post awhile ago about honesty. A quick excerpt from his thoughts:

I have long thought that in order for a story to be a good story it must say something true, reveal something about us as a species or our times as they are, or some other truth. There had to be a revelation of some kind. This is of course one of the tropes of the modern short story: the epiphanic moment. I still think that a story has to tell a truth of some kind, but I no longer believe that what I write has to be Big and Important. I am beginning to think that I can approach my stories, my themes, my characters and more importantly my audience, with some humility and address them more quietly. I begin to think that it's possibly just as good to say, "This is interesting" as it is to say, "This is important."

Well said, Scott.


Question For The Day: Come back here next Thursday for my thoughts on what makes writing honest. First I'd like to hear what you think! What makes your writing honest? Don't tell me you "write from the heart." Think more deeply than that if you can. What blows your Borg out of the galaxy?


~MDA (aka Glam)

Pain, Gain, and Avoiding Both

Something I see all the time while surfing writing websites and blogs when I should be working (like right now), is a writer vehemently defending the weaknesses of his work. We are all guilty of that; goodness knows I am. But, as the old saying goes, argue for your weaknesses and, sure enough, they're yours.

What do I mean by "defending weaknesses?" It goes like this:

Writer: Hey, did you guys read my WIP?

Reader1: Yeah. What's up with this Jonas guy? I don't get why he killed that bear.

Writer: He had to. It shows the change in his character.

Reader1: Really? 'Cause it just seemed random and senseless. And you misspelled "grizzly."

Writer: You just didn't get it. Can you read it again?

Reader2: I agree; the bear business made no sense at all. And Jonas didn't change so much as he just did weird stuff all of a sudden.

Reader3: Yeah, why's he suddenly all pissed off and stuff?

Writer: Did you read the book I sent, or someone else's? It's all about his dad, right?

Readers1-3: Huh? His dad's like...the bear? Is this symbolism?

Writer goes on to explain for half an hour what's going on in the book, and when the readers finally understand what he intended, he congratulates himself on having written a fine novel. Time to work on that query letter!

Here's the thing: When a trusted, intelligent, well-read person (or a group of such people) reads something you wrote and can't figure it out, the problem is very likely not with their reading.* The problem is with your writing. This is true for query letters, too. If you have to explain what you mean, then what you have written doesn't mean what you think it does. You will have to rewrite it. Period.

We all resist rewriting. We all resist the idea that what we have already written isn't perfect, isn't the best we can do. But sometimes it's not perfect, or it isn't even close to saying what we think it says. Yes, sometimes readers are lazy or do miss the point, but if you are consistently being told that something makes no sense or isn't well written, you ought to probably prick up your ears at that warning and take a good look at your novel.

Hearing that you've made mistakes or not been clear in your writing is hard. Fixing mistakes, plot holes, poor characterizations, muddled themes, unclear conflicts or weakly defined protagonists is hard work. It's painful. It's time consuming and can be disheartening. But. We have to do it. There are two very important benefits to going back to something and fixing its flaws. First, the book will be better for it. That's the most important thing, right? But the longer-term benefit is that we become better writers when we struggle and suffer and fix our mistakes. Usually, we learn enough to not make that particular mistake ever again, which saves time and effort the next time we sit down to write.

The only thing you gain by defending your weaknesses is the guarantee that you'll have those same weaknesses in the next thing you write. So if you find yourself giving a lengthy defense or explanation of your novel to someone who's read it, stop for a moment and ask yourself if maybe the problem is the novel itself. Be brave and honest about this. If the book needs work, go to work and make it better.

*Unless you're part of the French Symbolist school, in which case your readers aren't supposed to understand it. You lot can stop reading this post right now.

Pick One (Or A Few)

So pick one. Action or romance? Huge world events and explosions or tight-knit relationships in their own little corners of the world? Wouldn't it be nice to have a scale in which you can easily categorize the type of stories you prefer?

I thought so, too.

So my father-in-law came up with The Fiction Scale. I have found it helpful in so many ways. In fact, I may ask those whose works I beta read in the future to categorize their work using The Fiction Scale so that I have an idea of where the story falls.

I apologize to any of you who have already seen this. I've been a walking zombie the past few days and just need to get some rest.


The Fiction Scale According to Steve Argyle
For my own convenience, I rate fiction on a scale that refers to the balance of characterization and plot. When I say "world events" I do not mean "our world events" but "book world events."

I categorize the books I read on a decimal scale. For example, I would rate the Harry Potter books at about a 5.8. Pride and Prejudice is a solid 1. My own life is a 2.6, so I mostly enjoy reading books in the 5 to 7 range

1. The characters have relationships with each other.

2. The characters have relationships with each other while world events happen vaguely in the background.

3. The characters have relationships with each other while doing things in the background.

4. The characters have relationships with each other while doing interesting things.

5. The characters have relationships with each other AND do interesting things related to world events.

6. The characters do interesting things that shape world events and have relationships with each other in the background.

7. World events compel characters to do exciting things. Relationships are a luxury.

8. World events ARE the real characters. People are just props in the background. Relationships are accidental.
____________________________

My first novel, The Breakaway rates 4

My second novel, Monarch rates 5.5

I like 1 - 6 stories

(update: Justus asked some good questions in the comments section pertaining to what "interesting things" means. As I can't get a hold of my father in law right now, I'm taking a stab at answering Justus's question.

I came up with this so far: Knowing my father in law, what he means by "interesting things" is that the conflicts and trials that the characters overcome are either more dangerous or "grand scale" than the simple everyday conflicts and trials we overcome, like deciding who or how or whether or not we're going to marry, like in P&P)

Questions For You: Where does your own writing fall? Does it differ from what you like to read and watch? Do you think a scale like this might help you discuss literature with your fellow writers?


~MDA (aka Glam)

Take It All Off

Taking your clothes off might be a daily occurrence. But how often do you do it in front of other people with whom you are not intimate?

I do it all the time.

Yep. I stand in front of groups of people and strip it all off. It's embarrassing, let me tell you. In fact, I blush. I cry. I start with the outer layers and move on to the ones closest to my skin - closer to revealing what I try to hide so often. Each article of clothing drops to the floor. I shiver under the lights that should feel warm, but they don't. Denim. Cotton. Silk. I'm revealing more and more skin. Layer after layer . . .

Until I'm standing with nothing to hide behind.

And that's it. Now how long I decide to stand there letting people gawk and admire and laugh and criticize is up to me. But at least I do it. At least I'm brave. Right?

Oh, come on! You know I'm talking about letting other people read your work. Sometimes it feels just like you're naked, doesn't it? Haven't you sent your work (querying might be a similar experience to some) out to some readers and a few days later you regret it? You think, "I shouldn't have done that. It could be so much better. Maybe I should ask for it back? Tweak here and there and send it out again? Maybe?"

Don't.

I've been getting feedback on my novel, Monarch. It's a second draft. I know that in many respects, it sucks. It needs help. I took off my clothes to show the few extra pounds I'd rather were not there. I'm still standing naked, letting it all show. And it's great. I'm getting used to it, bit by bit.

(I would never really strip in public, I promise. I'd be labeled all sorts of things I'd rather not say here. . . . And I'd be arrested, but that's beside the point.)


Here's a few pointers for those of you who can't "bare" to strip down yet:

(1) If you don't let others read your work you're doing yourself a disservice. Few people can write in a vacuum. Let others who are willing read and critique your work. Often.

(2) Read Scott's excellent post from yesterday and take all that criticism in stride.

(3) Take that criticism and be honest with yourself. Rework. Write. Edit. Layer. Grow!

(4) Then send it out again. And again. Until you feel like it's solid and the critiques you get focus more on nitpicks than huge issues like plot holes and character inconsistencies.


Here's a few pointers for those of you who strip down all the time with no fear:

(1) Make sure you let your viewers - I mean readers - know where your work stands. Let them know if it's polished, a first draft, almost-there-draft, etc. This makes a difference in the kind of feedback you'll receive.

(2) Please tell your readers what kind of feedback you're looking for! You don't want a line edit when you're only looking for overall advice. That's a waste of your time and theirs.

(3) Don't overburden your readers. Seriously rework your piece before you send it to them again. They don't want to read a draft with just a few sentences changed here and there. If all you have done is changed grammar or minor things - and you think it's as polished as possible - your work might not need critiquing anymore. Save the line edits for a close beta reader who doesn't mind reading your work fifty billion times (I'm lucky to have a few of these readers. They're gold and I love them).


If you need help or have questions about where or how to find Beta and Alpha readers, see my post over on my blog, here.

On an ending note, I loved Jessica's advice over on BookEnds a few days ago about knowing when it's time to start/stop querying. She said:

I made the suggestion that authors should never even start querying until they finish their first book and have started on the second. At that point, continue querying until the second book is done and ready to go, if you still have no bites, put the first book under the bed and start querying the second while writing the third.

That's tough advice, she says. I agree. But patience is key in this business. Apparently, it helps to work naked, too. I come up with strange analogies.

Now, if only we could perfect our bodies just sitting in our chairs in front of the computer . . .


~MDA (aka Glam)