Silk & Shadows

I saw in the news there was some controversy over Britney Spears’ latest video and the fact that she had a lot of product placement in it.

But do you ever come across things that make you happy, that you want to share? Call me Britney! I’m going to share some of mine.

Here’s my desk — at least for now. I tend to relocate and write all over the house. There are a few things there I’d like to recommend.

First off is my coffee.

I know a lot of you are rabid coffee fans like I am. I’m interested in buying from smaller, local producers, and while this might not be “local” for a lot of you, I’ve fallen in love with Lola Savannah‘s coffee. My husband grinds our coffee every morning, and our favorites are Cozy Winter’s Night or Hawaiian Grog.

Next are the note cards you see.

I use these half-sized note cards for everything, but mostly writing down scene ideas or reminders, or final revision notes for my manuscripts. For me, they are the perfect size. They also come in colors, so if you want to use pink for character related notes, yellow for scene, green for plot, etc., you can do so. I carry them in my purse, in my agenda, and keep them around the house in drawers so I can snag one whenever I need to scribble something down. They are made by Mead.

Finally, one product I’ve really learned to rely on in my writing is the software WritewayPro. While I don’t actually write my manuscript in the program, which you can do, I organize all my research, character worksheets and scene/plot outline here in a very “friendly” and useable fashion.

Are there any products you can share, that make all the difference to you? Tell me about it!

When I first began writing, my idea folder was really a folder—one of those manila things that hang in your desk drawer. It was filled with newspaper clippings, notes scribbled on napkins, and one-page starts to stories. Now my folder is a file on my computer—but the point is I still have one.

If you’ve ever had the urge to write, even a temporary yen that quickly passed, I would encourage you to start an idea folder. Why? Because some ideas mature with time.

The good news? You can jot down the gist of your idea, toss it in the folder, and forget about it. This is a great way to relieve any feelings of guilt over not writing it, because it’s now officially on the back burner, waiting for the Right Moment. And the information is not lost. (Unless your computer crashes—which is why you should have back-up software, but that’s another post).

In my idea folder, I have all my manuscripts that have never been published (except one, which I actually typed on paper using a typewriter. Yup. I’m that old). I’m not sure any of those ancient stories will see the light of day, because they’re a mess. Let’s just say it took me a while to figure out plotting and pacing. They would require major revisions to become enjoyable reading material.

In that folder, there are also notes on ideas I’m reasonably certain I will never pursue, because my love for them died. Often quickly. Before the end of chapter one.

Which brings me back to the reason for having an idea file in the first place. In my file are also five ideas that still give me goose bumps when I re-read them. They make me smile. They make me want to pull up a chair and start pounding on my keyboard. I’m convinced that one day I’ll write those stories–even though a couple of them are…well…odd.

So, keep that idea file. Yes, your brilliant notion might bore you to tears in a year or two. But there’s also a chance it will rekindle your urge to write and motivate you to flesh it out. Life is full of detours, many of them great fodder for angst-ridden stories. Write down those ideas. Then let them stew a while, guilt free.

I use mine to remind me that I’ve always been a writer, even when my nametag said something else entirely.

I don’t have a lot of “tricks” or rules when I write. Most of how I string words together is pure instinct. I don’t think about adverbs and dangling whatevers because, despite the English degree, I’ve lost what grammar rules I knew. I have just enough remaining to keep editors this side of abject despair. In case of emergency, I have some decent reference books.

On the other hand, I use my ears a lot.

One technique I think is very underused is being attuned to the effect of certain vowel sounds on atmosphere and pacing. For instance, these are the first two lines of Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn”:

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time

We hear the long “i” five times in those two lines, like a tolling bell under the rest of the sounds. As well as the (for want of a better term) harmonic value of the vowel, it slows the reader down. It’s stately and measured. This is totally appropriate to the situation of the speaker (standing around looking at an ancient vase) and also to the timeless dance of the figures around the artifact.

For descriptive passages, the value of this technique is obvious, but it could be used just as easily in dialogue or an action scene. Different vowels give different effects—imagine if all those long “i” sounds were shortened. The rhythm as well as the tone would be dramatically altered to a clippity-clop.

Another thing that I love to play with is meter. Yes, time for another quote, this one from Coleridge:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree;
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

Cool imagery aside, look what he does with the structure of the words. He keeps pushing the verse forward by making one line complete the idea of the one above it. We keep reading to finish the thought.

Good prose writers do this, too. Forget the schoolroom lessons on how to structure a paragraph with an opening sentence, details, and summary sentence that make it a closed unit. Wrong! Bad!

What we’ll see in exciting prose is paragraphs that follow seamlessly one to the other, one thought picking up from the next just as in “Kubla Khan.” This may be achieved in several ways:

*Sometimes this is done by relentlessly following an action or idea with no real resting place between paragraphs (kind of an expanded version of what Coleridge is up to).
*Writers can use linking words (and then, just as, so, well y’know, etc.) to glue one paragraph to the one before it. This works especially well with a folksy narrative in first person.
*The first line of one paragraph can echo a word from the ending sentence above.
*Sometimes a question is asked and then answered
*Sometimes sentence fragments are split between paragraphs
*Sometimes one uses repeated initial words to bounce the rhythm forward
* and lots of other things—just go look for them.

When they want the flow to stop, often a short, sharp sentence will deliver the needed punch.

This is an excerpt from FROSTBOUND, in which I’m attempting some of this by using the beats of the action to keep the reader moving from paragraph to paragraph:

His quarry was only a stone’s throw ahead now, dark clothing a blur against the night. Lore lengthened his stride as far as he could, lungs straining against the chill air. The pavement was slick with frost, the sound of pounding feet magnified by the cold. He lunged forward, snagging the rough wool of the runner’s sleeve.

The figure jerked away, springing forward with a desperate burst of energy. Lore bounded, using both hands this time to grab the coat. The runner crumpled to the ground with a frightened cry, Lore pinning him with his weight.

They both grunted as they hit the ground. Lore rolled the figure over, smelling the sharp tang of smoke on his clothes.

“Madhyor!” cried his captive. Master.

With a wrench, Lore saw the runner was one of his own people.

Crafting the prose so that the eye keeps going forward is stock in trade to thriller writers. I learned the technique from poetry (see, that degree was good for something!) but the principle is exactly the same. If one wants to keep the audience up all night turning pages, tidy blocks of prose won’t do it. It has to spill forward in a rush, tumbling the reader with it.

And that, class, is the end of the lesson. I can put my Norton Anthology of English Literature away now.

Currently working on: Revisions of Book 4
Mood: Dooooomed

I am bad at math. I am like one of those Neolithic people who allegedly could only count to three: you, me, somebody else, and “many.”

Which is why I need deadlines. Preferably dropdeadlines. Especially dropdeadsoondeadlines.

The joy of short deadlines

Deadlines that are too far away just don’t get my blood pumping. I fritter away the early days of a long deadline because, from a distance, it’s hard to see how sharp its teeth are. I do better with small numbers. One month fits on a calendar page. Two weeks is the length of a great vacation. Three days — a long weekend — makes intuitive sense to me.

Short deadlines are inspiring. They are also impressive. Telling my loved ones that I only have one month/two weeks/three days to finish a project gets me out of pretty much every chore. There’s very little around the house that can’t wait a month, with the possible exception of grocery shopping to restock perishable snacks.

The horror of short deadlines

Of course, only having a month/week/day to reach an important goal can be terrifying. Hyperventilating about looming deadlines is almost as much fun as not vacuuming. (Probably because they are both about sucking.)

I have one week left to finish revisions on Book 4 of the Marked Souls. I had much longer, but this is what I have left. Even though I’ve been working on it for awhile, now is when the adrenalin rush of facing the deadline kicks in.

Managing the deadline

1. Know your ideal productivity chunks.

When I hot draft, I work best in daily increments: X words per day for a finished draft by X time. I find scheduling revisions is harder. A blank page is a constant, but dirty pages (pages that have, ya know, writing on them) require different amounts of work to get cleaned up. Some are only dusty but some need a haz-mat team. So for me, X chapters revised per week works better than a daily goal.

2. Remove distractions.

Damn you, constantly flowing Twitter stream. (Follow me and say hi; I’ll follow back.) On dropdeadline, sometimes going dark is the only option. (Uh, so if you follow me on Twitter, I’ll follow you on March 1.) I also make sure I have a fresh bucket of cookie dough to fuel the mayhem so I don’t waste time with deciding what to have for a midnight snack.

3. Ride the killer wave.

It’s kind of sick, but I sorta like the frantic exhaustion of dropdeadline time. Many of my worst writing habits — impossible perfectionism, overthinking, indecisiveness — will get cut as insupportable self-indulgence in this last week. What’s on the page becomes more important than what’s in my head. The story takes precedence over the writer. I allow myself to have caffeine!

The best part of the dropdeadsoondeadline is that it is right here. Which means just on the other side is the light at the end of the tunnel, the gold ring, the winner’s circle, The End.

But I can tell ya now, my post next Monday will be late.

How do you deal with looming deadlines in your work? Are you the diamond who shines under heat and pressure? Or are you the ticking time bomb that makes everybody run away?

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m at a coffee house working on pages for a new proposal.

My friend, Kim Frost, author of the awesome Southern Witch series, is sitting across a little circular table from me, working on a story that will be included in an upcoming anthology.

We’ve talked a little. I’ve shown her cool pictures from my historical research. She’s pitched a great new idea to me. Mostly, we’ve just co-existed and worked on our own projects. But we’re cheering each other along in silence.

Most writers I know are social introverts. They love people, but need their space and creative silence too. This sort of “writing date” is pretty common for me. Not only does it get me out of my cave, but I draw an immeasurable amount of motivatation and inspiration from the writers I know. This sort of camraderie is just as integral to my writing success as great ideas, discipline and quality coffee.

It’s the same here on the Silk & Shadows blog. Time and time again, I’m impressed by our talented group, and so glad to be a part of it. What about you? Do you have a regular group of pals that have been drawn together by a common interest? Reading? Knitting? Cooking?

On Monday, Jessa wrote about false starts or what I call variously the Chapter 3 or Chapter 5 crisis. It usually comes once the initial burst of wonderfulness has faded from a new idea and the real work begins. Sometimes, the result is major book stall.

At this unfortunate point, one might be tempted to give up because:
a) There isn’t enough plot to hold up the story
b) The story started okay, but it doesn’t feel right anymore
c) A prettier butterfly just went past.

Problem A is solved by doing the necessary homework. If there’s no structure holding up the story, it’s going to collapse like melting Jell-o. What works for me is to plan a new crisis point every two to three chapters and work toward those high points one at a time. The benefit is twofold—it’s like a fresh burst of energy every 20 to 30 pages, and it keeps plot movement in manageable chunks. I think of those plot points like the pilings of a bridge; the more there are and the better they’re placed, the sturdier the structure. No sagging middles.

Of course, to do this effectively (that is, to come up with disasters at once logical and surprising) means layering in all sorts of perils for your characters, whether emotional or of the man-eating variety (who left their alligator in the bathtub?). That’s a whole other blog.

Problem B is a bit more airy-fairy. I’ll often start a book that has a certain something I really like – atmosphere, feel, flavour, whatever. Fifty pages in, I’ve lost it. Since I can’t name what the magical something was, I can’t figure out how to get it back. The only solution I’ve come up with is to backtrack to the point where I still like the manuscript and pick it up again from that point, doing everything I can to preserve the vibe. Sometimes this means wearing a certain sweater, drinking the right tea, putting on the right music, and other silly writing rituals. Once the book is solid, I can usually return to my haphazard ways, but until I’ve got it on the right track, I have to rely on authorial voodoo to woo my muse.

The above method works about half the time. Sadly, sometimes the book just turns into compost. Not all ideas are winners.

Problem C (butterfly chasing) can be put down to lack of discipline (who, me?) or the fact that sometimes books just aren’t ready to be written. The prettier butterfly comes along and we chase it because it’s the worthier prize. Our poor little caterpillar books will have their day, just not yet. I had a recent encounter with this, and the proposal had to be released back into the wild. It’s nearly there, but there is still some cocoon time in its future.

How do I deal with letting go? There is a balance between forging ahead because we refuse to give in and knowing when to walk away. I have faith in my “nose” about my own work. The hardest part for me is being patient and sitting with an idea until it shows its true colours. Is it a hummingbird or an eagle? A bon-bon or raw steak?

All you writers out there—what’s your acid test to know whether an idea is a firecracker in waiting, or just a dud?

Ever struggled to identify the ‘fatal’ flaw in your character? That one personality trait that constantly gets him or her into hot water? The one that just might cause a black moment between the two main characters?

There are lots of flaws to choose from; as humans, we suffer from many.

But one place to look for a flaw, if you’re having trouble defining one, is within the character’s strength. Most writers have no trouble describing the utter awesomeness that is their main character. They instinctively know what unique skills she has, what finer qualities he possesses. But strengths are funny things. They are often two-sided, like a coin. There’s the side that makes your hero or heroine shine, and the side that’s a little tarnished. Let me give you an example.

Let’s say your hero is a police officer, and you decide his strength is that he’s selfless. This is a guy who defends the weak and rescues the innocent. Very heroic, right? What could be flawed about that?

Surprisingly, there are several possibilities:

- If he leaps to the defense of the helpless all the time, is he careful about his own safety? Or is he the type to lay his life on the line every time? I could see that causing problems with his heroine, couldn’t you?

- If he really enjoys saving people, maybe he makes assumptions about their ability to handle danger. Wrong assumptions. I could see that causing problems with his heroine, couldn’t you?

Let’s pick another one. Perhaps you decide your heroine’s strength is that she’s independent and self-reliant. The not-so-wonderful side might look like this:

- If she’s self-reliant, she might have a bee in her bonnet about asking for help. Which means she probably won’t, until it’s too late. I could see that causing problems with the hero, couldn’t you?

- If she’s independent and strong, she might see attempts to smooth her path as suggestions that she’s incapable of handling things herself. I could see that causing problems with the hero, couldn’t you?

- Strong, self-assured people can occasionally be abrasive, rubbing people the wrong way, especially when they are under stress. I could see that causing problems with the hero, couldn’t you?

One more? What if you give your heroine a strength of intelligence? Is there a negative side to that? Yes.

- If she’s smart, she often knows all the answers. If she regularly shares those answers, she can inadvertently make other people feel stupid. Think Temperance Brennan on Bones. I could see that causing problems with the hero, couldn’t you?

- If she’s smart, she might think two or three steps ahead of other people she’s working with, leading to her facing the villain without support. I could see that causing problems with her hero, couldn’t you?

So, next time you’re stuck trying to identify a character’s flaw, flip the strength coin.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

First things first, random.com has chosen a winner for the early galley of VOWED IN SHADOWS – Congratulations to Kayleigh! Email jessa@jessaslade.com with your address and I’ll make a PO run. Thanks (and virtual butter cookies!) to everyone who commented.

Second item of business: We’re going to be shifting things around here at Silk And Shadows. This has been a place of us to meet people and play with ideas. Now we’re going to settle down to some of the finer points of writing and we’ll be ranging further afield on weekdays, instead of concentrating on one topic a week. Why the change? Because the writing world is always changing and we’re eager to explore.

And now onto my regularly scheduled post…

False starts

My writing group met this last weekend and I was on a Q&A panel of new published authors. (OMG am I still considered new? I feel ancient.) We A’d all sorts of Q’s from our fellow writers, and one that particularly caught my attention was this:

What do you do about false starts?

I thought this was interesting because there are so many ways to interpret the question. False starts in what? A story? A career? (Or a blog?  ) What constitutes a false start? Is a false start different from a test run? Who decides it’s false?

I think it’s inevitable that everyone has experienced this: You’re going along, thinking everything’s cool… Right up until it isn’t. The smooth-rolling wheel catches, and suddenly you’re airborne.

(And then, at least according to this illustration, your head pops off.)

False starts don’t always happen near the start, which makes it worse. But when that sinking feeling comes (and it comes shortly after the airborne feeling ends) I try to deal with a minimum of moaning.

1. Is this a false start?

Sometimes what feels like going off track is really something else. Exhaustion, boredom, burnout, lack of needed information or skill or confidence, all these can manifest as the feeling I’ve gone astray. I have to stop and assess: Am I lost or do I just wish I was lost so I could make my way back to a path I already know?

If it’s the latter, if I’m secretly just trying to weasel out of a difficult moment and lying to myself about it, then I scold myself soundly and get back to work. (Not really. I have other, crueler techniques too but that’s not this post.) If I have legitimately gotten lost…

2. Ditch it and do something else.

There’s a school of thought that says finish what you start. And pathological non-finishers should recognize that weakness in themselves and correct it. But most often, I don’t believe in throwing good energy after wasted energy. I have projects that will never be finished and some of those give me a twinge of regret. But I had good reasons for letting those go, and I know I’ve put that time and effort to better use elsewhere.

3. Make truth out of false starts.

Usually I find a note of truth in every false start. When I’m writing the hot draft, I often start my story about three chapters too early. I have a lot of back story, info dumps, and unnecessary characterization. It’s painful to realize that the start is all wrong, but in those soon-to-be-cut words, there are pieces I can use: a hint of the character’s issue, a telling detail of physical description, whatever. Because I know to watch myself now, I try to NOT write those false starts and JUST keep the diamonds buried in the dust.

Sometimes I waffle back and forth between giving up too easily and clinging too long. I think it takes a lot of practice to find the balance, and each step of practice requires a start. So get started.

Which are you, a quitter or a clinger? Do you find that you tend toward the same trait in writing and in real life?

One of my favourite mental games to play around Valentine’s Day is all about fictional dates I would love to have. You know what I mean—an afternoon of bounding through the heather with Highlander, dancing with Mr. Darcy, or skulking through ruins for a candlelit tryst with the darkling doomed. Half the fun of a good hero is to see if he could fit into one of these mental vacations. However, there are a few safety tips one must observe:

1. Tasteful editing is a must. Vampires especially benefit from a buff-up to rid them of blood breath, coffin hair, and that musty basement odor. Ditto for demons and that special eau de sulphurous damnation.

2. Choose your version. For instance, a barbecue picnic with Conan the Barbarian will always work better with the film version of the hero than the original Robert E. Howard. In the movie world, you’re less likely to be eaten by something gruesome while muscle boy spaces out in a big broodfest about conquering the neighbouring kingdom. For another, a Hollywood hero would never burn the burgers.

(Speaking of Hollywood, Last of the Mohicans is a huge improvement with Daniel Day Lewis. The film managed to almost never mention the fact that the hero’s name is Natty Bumpo.)

3. Historical heroes can be brought up to date where it counts. Yes, when it come to things like voting, we like our modern men.

The list goes on, but you get the idea. Once the man of choice is knocked into shape, the fantasy begins. Will the ride be a coach? A phaeton? A Lamborghini? A wild stallion tamed only by the strength of his manly thighs? And you will go to … the opera? A ball? The midnight pillage down at the oasis? Or will you skip all that and dine in on champagne and peeled grapes? The possible permutations are endless.

This is when it’s good to be a romance writer. On a good day, these fantasies are paid employment.

What’s my thrill? I’ve always favoured the idea of swashbuckling through seventeenth-century Europe, convincing the Duke of Buckingham to forget Anne of Austria and give me the diamond necklace instead, but then I’m probably the only person on earth who thinks foiling Cardinal Richelieu would make a fun night out. Lace, swords, and chase scenes … I’m in. The only thing better is to add a splash of magic.

So if you had absolute free rein, who would be your Valentine?

Valentine’s Day. For some it means kisses, roses, and chocolates, and for others just another day to cross off the calendar. I’m not a huge fan of greeting card holidays—days where the greeting card companies remind you to hug a significant person in your life—but I DO like chocolate, so Valentine’s Day rarely goes without notice in my house.

Food and love go hand in hand, don’t they? If Jessa’s butter cookies aren’t enough to convince you, I’ll share a moment or two from my own love life…

I met my husband on the job. He and I were both temping for the same company, assigned to different tasks. Our relationship began with coffee. We were both early risers and the first to arrive at the office in the morning, so we met several times at the coffee shop in the lobby, exchanging polite hellos and typical weather commentary.

As we became acquainted, I discovered he was four years younger than me. My mental image of romance did not include dating a guy who was younger than me, who knows why, so I put him squarely in the ‘friend’ category. My guy was not so easily pegged, however. Nor easily discouraged. He started by buying me coffee. As those of you who know me well will attest, it was a good plan.

He then moved on to food. Lest you think he was unimaginative and limited to lunch at the pub across the street, let me assure you, he was a charmer. He started by asking me my favorite food, which I warily confessed was pumpkin pie, not sure why he wanted to know. The next morning, he arrived at the office with a pumpkin pie…that he cooked himself.

It was delicious. And yes, my heart began to melt.

Once he knew I had a sweet tooth, he pulled out all the stops. Next stop? A local baker, where he ordered a giant donut. I mean, HUGE. Platter-sized. To go with my extra large morning coffee. I shared the pastry and a laugh with the whole office.

You’d have to have a heart chipped out of ice to resist this guy, right? I didn’t.

For our first official date, still determined to win me over, he cooked me a meal—and not just any meal. Poached sole in lemon sauce, braised potatoes, and steamed green beans. Restaurant quality. For a woman who had never poached an egg, let alone a fish, it was heaven. Buckets of charm plus fabulous cooking skills? Sold.

Yes, romance lives. Sometimes it shows up in an especially thoughtful card, a bouquet of red roses, or a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Occasionally, it also shows up in a giant donut.

Got a romantic story to share? Please do.