Say wha?

By Pamela

Last week author Kelly Corrigan came to Dallas and unfortunately, we weren't able to hear her speak but I did enjoy this TEDx talk Susan told me about. If you have a few minutes, it's certainly worth your time to listen to her speak about literacy and what impact reading has on your life.

Here are some startling statistics she shares:

• After high school, 33% of graduates never read a book.
• After college, that number jumps to 42%.
• When the state of Arizona forecasts the number of beds they'll need for their prisons, they look to the number of kids in fourth grade who read well.
• The number one cause of divorce: poor communication. 
• The number one predictor of occupational success is vocabulary. 

It's no secret that reading results in a better command of language, and Kelly goes on to talk about how reading builds vocabulary. I'm so grateful my young life began with a mother who read to me. I went on to love reading on my own and count my school librarians as some of my favorite educators. Today, I don't read as much as I wish, but no place feels more like 'home' to me than snuggling up with a book.

If you are a parent, you have the awesome responsibility of fostering a love of reading in your child. My three started out gnawing on board books and eventually 'cut their teeth' on reading solo the BOB Books and later Berenstain Bears and Dr. Seuss. When we closed the cover on one story, we often switched on a CD to listen to Junie B. Jones' antics (Lana Quintal is fabulous!) or The Boxcar Children as they drifted off to sleep. While it's too soon to see if they'll become a statistic and not read after college, I certainly hope they'll love to read as adults.

I think Kelly's comments about communication resonated the most with me, and at times I'll write a word and pause to consider 'Is this the best word? Is this really what I'm trying to say?' and it's not about using a big $5 word either--one that looks or sounds impressive. Simple, direct, succinct can go a long way in communicating my ideas. Like my girl said the other day: "I possess an amazing vocabulary ... in other words ... I know a lot of words."

Writers need to communicate not only their ideas to readers but also to those with whom they interact. If you're part of a writing critique group, expressing yourself effectively is key to not only giving feedback but receiving it as well. If you hand off your work to a reader for critique, are you expecting a line edit? A copy edit? Changes tracked? Overall impression? The same goes with giving feedback to someone else. Make sure you outline your expectations and ask what's expected in return.

Joan and I recently participated in a webinar which included an agent's 'critique' of the first two pages of our manuscripts. We both got ours back the other day with similar feedback--what we considered to be fairly nonspecific comments at the bottom of the second page. Apparently 'critique' can be interpreted many different ways and we, perhaps unjustly, expected something more than we received.

So, before this becomes a post about how reading affects how we drive, what we eat, who we marry and where we vacation (trust me, I think I can connect these dots), I'll close with a final caveat: You'll never regret time spent reading--to your child, by yourself, to an elderly friend. The challenge begins with: What should I read next?

Hurry Up and Wait

You can also play with cover ideas!

By Kim

A couple of weeks ago I edited the complete manuscript for The Oak Lovers and sent it to my first round of critique partners and Beta readers. Fellow What Women Write contributor, Joan Mora, advised patience.

“Don’t be too surprised, or too frustrated, if your Beta readers don’t read as fast as you’d like them to,” she said. Joan’s recently been there, done that, and she knows of what she speaks.

Of course, I thought. Just because people have been telling me for years that they can’t wait to read my book doesn’t mean they will open the document the moment it hits their inbox. Some of them have edits of their own to do or deadlines looming. Many have jobs, kids, or both. One just had a tornado hit her house. Really. Others may be overwhelmed by having a four-hundred page document that they have not only agreed to read, but to comment on. What if they don’t like it? What if something doesn’t work? How can they break it to me? (Hint: Just tell me.)

All writers encounter this no-man’s land between composition and submission, so I thought it may be helpful to offer some suggestions for how to pass the time.

Research agents and compose your query. A no-brainer.

Google yourself. Has your blog been neglected? Do you have a website? If not, do you need one? If so, does it need a facelift? Mine did! (Check out my handiwork here.)

Purge office of clutter. Obviously, I’m not about to throw out family documents, but I no longer need files on secondary characters or books on Ojibwa ceremonies. Vintage postcards of settings used in The Oak Lovers can be stowed away like old love letters. This is a break up of sorts. If old voices linger in my mind, it will be harder to hear any new ones.

Brainstorm new projects. I have a few ideas.

Cook. This tip may work better in other homes. In mine it's a futile exercise. I have yet to find a single thing that all members of my family enjoy.

Clean. Dust those high shelves. Organize those cabinets. Dare to face your child’s closet.

Tackle unfinished house projects. Paint a room. Hang new blinds. Install new flooring. Garden.

Read. I don’t know about you, but my to-be-read pile has became a bookshelf, and it's overflowing!

Have a glass of wine. Or two. You’ve earned it.

What you should not do: Open your manuscript. You will think every word you've written is crap. Trust me on this.

Switching Gears

By Kim

Untitled landscape by Carl Ahrens

As some of you know, I completed The Oak Lovers last week. I expected to feel emotional as I typed “the end” and I did – for about ten minutes. Carl and Madonna’s story has haunted me since childhood and I’ve lived it for years. Now it’s over. I imagine I feel much as Madonna did after she lost her precious invalid. Free of a giant burden, but too loyal to celebrate and too numb to mourn. Exhausted.

Shortly before Carl died, he commented to Madonna that it felt “wonderful to be empty.” I have a new understanding of what he meant now. The only voice in my head is my own. It’s refreshing, though it may take me some time to adjust to being alone. When I do, I suspect another voice will invade, another story will demand to be told. Such is a writer’s life.

My manuscript is now in the hands of critique partners and beta readers. The “hurry up” has turned into “wait” for the first of  many times on the path to publication. I've no shortage of things to do during my downtime. There's a website to update, agents to research and queries to write. The dreaded synopsis lurks in my dreams, as do the inevitable rejections.

I know better than to look at my novel now. What gleamed last week will appear tarnished, even rusty. I would attack it with literary Brasso and rub away the stains that give the story heart. I would polish it to death.

So, I wait. I clean my house. I dig into my to-be-read pile. I tinker on my website. I open Query Tracker and take a deep breath.

I listen to the silence.

A Critique Partner | Defined

By Pamela

Why should a writer have a critique partner? What do they really do? It's really hard to take what I have here and define it. And critique partners can mean one thing to one writer, another to the next. To put it as simply as possible, I'll say that ...

... a good critique partner:

• knows and respects your writing goals
• is familiar with and appreciates your writing style 
• doesn't try to conform your writing style to match her own
• probably isn't related to you--your family members aren't likely the best to judge your work
• is fair in her criticism as well as her praise
• reciprocates
• understands The Sandwich principle: praise (bread) + criticism (meat and cheese and sometimes mayo--but never more than you can stand) + praise (bread)
• respects your time when asking for your input
• respects your deadline when you ask for input
• knows the value of an encouraging word 
• understands the publishing market (if your goal is to be published)
• admits when a particular genre is not her forte
• admits when grammar isn't her forte 
• reads--and reads widely
• is honest in her assessment but never harsh

If you haven't found a critique partner, check online for area writing groups. Attend a few and see who you connect with. You might enjoy the support of a group that meets in public or find that an online group better suits your schedule. For us, a mix of both works well--much of our communication takes place via email but we meet for lunches two, three, four at a time and as a whole group whenever possible. 

In closing, may I add that the Track Changes feature in Word can be a critique partner's best ally? If you're not using it, check it out.

Reevaluating

By Pamela

The day after Thanksgiving, I stood in my mother-in-law's kitchen with my sister-in-law and the conversation turned to dieting. Uncomfortable with her weight, SIL teared up as she confessed to less-than-spectacular eating habits. Fast food. Chips as a late night snack.

I passed along some advice I'd been tossing about in my own brain: Focus not on losing weight but on being healthy. Move more. Pack your lunch. Don't even bring the chips in the house. Forget about dieting and counting calories and just think, What can I do to get healthy?

I'm not sure if she will heed my advice or not, but later I decided the same mindset applies to writing. (See, Elizabeth, you're not the only one who relates food to writing!) If I continually strive to be published and fall short, I get caught up in the disappointment of rejection--rejection, like love-handles, that's hard not to take personally.

My goal instead should be to write well. Write fabulously. Write the most compelling prose my brain is capable of. Read books for inspiration. Attend workshops and conferences. Surround myself with people and places that motivate me. Stay focused. Make writing a priority. Connect with other writers who willingly critique. Focus not on the ultimate prize but the means to help me reach it.

As a result, logic tells me, my goal will be met. I just have to heed my own advice.

Critique is ...

By Julie


Critique is fun.

Critique is hard.

Critique is flattering.

Critique is confusing.

Critique can be helpful.

Critique can hack you off.

Critique is thought provoking.

Critique can mess up a good scene.

Critique can really improve your writing.

I could put a stamp on this and mail it in right there, but I won’t, because that would be cheating a little on my scheduled blog post. It should be clear from those sentences alone, though, that critique can be a mixed bag.

Used correctly, it can really improve your writing. Used incorrectly, or if you end up in the wrong critique group, it can really mess things up, too.

It is not easy to find a great critique group or partner. Several of the six of us searched for years for the right group before What Women Write was formed through a providential series of events. We don’t take each other for granted and often wonder at the serendipity of it all.

During our annual retreats, we spend time several evenings reading scenes aloud and offering each other critique. In the past, we’ve offered the same service to each other over lunch. Frequently, we exchange work for feedback via email. Any way we slice it, it has been a great way for the six of us to grow our writing skills by leaps and bounds.

Instead of telling you how to form a critique group or what makes one work, I decided to use this post to paint a word picture of how ours works. (Your ideal group will likely look very different.)

First and possibly most importantly, during our retreat critique sessions, we almost always laugh.

Last year, we got the giggles as we started out whispering the love scenes we’d labored over all year and spontaneously decided to read for critique. Our landlords were unexpectedly on the premises, and we had no idea how well they could hear us through the walls of their private suite – right next to the dining room where we met. We figured they’d think we were up to no good if they could. But I’m pretty sure the whispers escalated as the wine and chocolate flowed, and eventually, we no longer gave a hoot if they thought we were reading bodice rippers out loud to amuse ourselves.

This year, we laughed so hard we cried as Elizabeth read a scene she’d composed that day using real life experience, though she apparently changed it up a bit to make it unbelievably hilarious. I suppose if any one of us hears the word sugarbugs in the future, we’ll be snorting out loud once again.

But we also gripe at Elizabeth to “SLOW IT DOWN, WOMAN!” because she reads out loud faster than the Roadrunner finds new trouble.

We holler at Joan to “SPEAK UP!” because we’re dying for her to reveal the compelling new scenes she’s created in the faraway lands she’s always writing about, but she reads so softly we can’t hear her at times!

We are baffled by Susan’s flushed face and neck, because she is really quite a confident woman and her writing is downright breathtaking.

We sigh with envy over Pamela’s soothing voice that seems to float out effortlessly as she reads from the emotionally spot-on women’s fiction she’s writing.

We marvel at Kim’s detailed research and dedication to telling her great-grandfather’s story as true as she possibly can.

And my tongue stumbles ridiculously over words, and I gag when what seemed so lovely in my head sounds like drivel when I speak it. But in the next moment, I’m overcome with emotion when my fellow writers tell me they really think I have a good thing going and forbid me from quitting.

Most of all, we trust each other.

We trust each other to take the hard stuff – no sugarcoating allowed – and not throw temper tantrums when we don’t like it.

We trust each other to take the changes we suggest and weigh them carefully to determine whether it’s just one person’s opinion or a real problem in the writing.

We trust each other to believe our words of praise; sometimes they are hard won.

We trust each other not to withhold praise or be overcritical when we are just the slightest bit jealous because one of us received a request for a full manuscript or another has written a scene so mesmerizing it makes the rest of us want to stick forks in our heads and give up.

Ultimately, we trust the group to help us little by little and bit by bit hone the rough material we’ve produced into a thing of beauty.

I’m no expert on how to form or find the perfect critique group, but I can attest that when you do find it, it’s a treasure you guard carefully.

(This picture is totally posed. You should see where we had to put the camera.)

Five reasons to find a writers' group: Joan, Julie, Kim, Susan and Elizabeth

By Pamela

During the school year, we at What Women Write regularly meet for lunch to recharge, reconnect and reestablish our writing goals. No one brings a spreadsheet of word count calculations or an outline of a project, but we talk for hours about writing, books, movies and whatever else six women find to chat about.


Over the summer, it’s a bit more difficult. Last year we met one afternoon at the botanical garden, kids in tow, for a picnic. This year has proved to be more sporadic. Susan and I managed a lunch last month. Joan and I met for tea last week. We email constantly and are in the early stages of planning our second annual fall writing retreat.

As a writer I find it imperative to have a support group outside my family. My mother, my sister, my spouse and especially my children see me in a role best suited to their needs. To my family I provide a listening ear, a sympathetic shoulder—emotional support and physical care. If I were to solely depend on those closest to me to provide enthusiastic feedback on my writing or encouragement when I receive yet another rejection letter, my writing would suffer. Family members can tell me how wonderful they think I am, or silently nod while inwardly thinking, Don’t get so worked up over a ‘hobby.’

But Joan, Julie, Kim, Susan and Elizabeth offer me a unique perspective. They know me in a way others do not. They’ve read early, early drafts and offered much-needed feedback. They aren’t afraid to tell me something I’ve written is horrible because they understand they’re doing me no favors by encouraging a project that has no market potential. When I get a rejection letter, at least one has probably queried the same agent with a similar response. Stuck for a way to phrase a sentence, I can email it out and within the hour have two or three unique twists on it. Without the support of these five women, I would not be the writer I am today. I doubt I would have ever attended a writing conference—let alone four. And I’m fairly certain I would have stopped writing fiction after my first manuscript had been rejected by dozens of agents.

Much of this is speculation, but one thing is certain: I am the writer I’ve become because of them. Thanks, all of you!

If you are a writer without a support system, I encourage you to find one soon. I met Joan and Kim at a local writers’ group, Elizabeth at a critique group and Susan at a conference. Check your local library or book store for writing groups or critique groups. Join a book discussion group to get a feel for what readers want. Do an online search. Don’t be afraid to talk to people. But one caveat: Make sure the environment is healthy, positive and honest. The last thing a fragile writer needs is negativity; we provide enough of that to ourselves.

Raising a Writer

By Pamela

When my children were born, I read to them as soon as their eyes could focus on a page. They devoured their first books—literally! Teething rings had nothing on board book versions of Goodnight, Moon! or The Runaway Bunny.

I was raised a reader, not by example necessarily, but by encouragement. Books were readily available and school librarians were some of my favorite teachers. But I think raising a writer calls for a unique approach.

Having the necessary tools available certainly helps—paper and crayons to start with, advancing to pens and computers later. But learning the structure of a good story is something I wasn’t taught until later in life. In fact, I’ll admit I’m still learning the components of writing fiction, long after I feel I’ve mastered the basics of grammar and spelling.

After I wrote my first manuscript and then took the bold leap of allowing others to read it, I was shocked to learn how much I didn’t know about the elements of story. Point of view issues abounded. “Head-hopping,” Kim wrote frequently in the margins. Joan kept encouraging me to up the conflict. Me? Conflict? I avoid that at all costs in my personal life.

Determined to plant early seeds for my daughter, should she decide one day to be a writer, I’ve started grooming her, so to speak, as she learns to read. (I have two teenage boys who raise an eyebrow if I try to offer a helpful writing tip, so they’re exempt from this experiment.)

As a preschooler, my daughter eagerly accompanied me to toddler time at our local library. The librarian always introduced a book by stating the title, the author and whether it was fiction or nonfiction. When the librarian would ask what nonfiction books were about, a gaggle of toddlers would shout, “Real stuff!”

So, I took her lead and began to use our time at home as an opportunity to do more than just read texts. I began by naming the book, the author and the illustrator. While reading Stellaluna, I might remind my daughter that Janell Cannon also wrote Verdi plus she illustrated her stories. Books became more than just objects on the shelf; they were written by authors, illustrated by artists. We read bios when available and talked about the individuals as though they were friends. Once we even emailed an author and got a personalized response.

While reading, at times I'd pause mid-page and point out literary devises such as alliteration, and I took pride in the fact that, at three years of age, she knew what an onomatopoeia was. (Even though I never remember how it’s spelled!)

Now, as we’ve progressed to chapter books, I’ve upped the ante by introducing point of view. We’re reading a series of books about a horse farm with characters who are growing up and moving on as the series progresses. I stopped in the middle of book five and said, “Who were the first stories mostly about?”

“Ashleigh,” she said.

“Right,” I said. “They were told from Ashleigh’s point of view. We heard what other characters had to say, but we knew only what Ashleigh was thinking. If Charlie was in a scene, we never knew what he was thinking because it was in Ashleigh’s point of view. She could tell us what she thought Charlie might feel because of his actions, but we never knew for sure. Whose point of view is this book in?”

“Samantha?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Ashleigh is still a character, but now we know only what Samantha is thinking or feeling since it’s in her point of view.”

We talked a little about conflict—about what makes a story interesting—how if everything on the horse farm was always good, then the book would get pretty boring. And if Samantha’s horse won every race, then the parts about the track would be predictable and we’d lose interest.

I’m careful to not make reading too much about the craft for fear she’ll view our “snuggle time” as a sly version of home-schooling. But I want her to know there’s more to building a story than just tossing text onto a page, so we also discuss protagonists and antagonists, conflict and resolution. Big words, maybe, but she gets it in the same way she recalls names of dinosaurs and absorbs concepts such as evaporation and pollination.

My goal here is two-fold: I want her to appreciate writers and illustrators—what makes books treasures, plus I’d like her to understand what’s involved in composing a good tale. Maybe someday she’ll become a writer. Or maybe she won’t. If she does, I’m betting her first critique partners won’t have to do quite as much work as mine.

Thanks!

By Joan

I’m not the first writer to acknowledge how truly embarrassed I am by the first manuscripts I sent to beta readers. One early reader suggested my first attempt (ultimately abandoned!) would be better if reserved for a private journal. That stung a little then, but in retrospect, she was probably right.

In March 2005, I actually sent my first completed manuscript to an author friend with this note: “Well, believe it or not, I’ve managed to finish my manuscript. There is a problem with length; it’s only a bit over 40,000 words.” She was polite enough not to tell me to find another career, quickly. Then she proceeded to read it and send it back, with extremely helpful comments. I didn’t even know enough then to be embarrassed by what I’d sent her!

Thankfully, I quickly figured out I needed guidance and stumbled first upon DFW Writers’ Workshop and then Lesser North Texas Writers (a small group of dedicated writers who meet every week to offer critique). From there I found some new critique partners, many of whom spent hours reading my work. (Finding the right critique partner is essential to improving your writing.)

Then I began querying. As much as I’d thought my first manuscript had improved (now 75,000 words!), it still wasn’t ready. I never received a hurtful rejection—some agents sent generic “Dear Author,” but never, “This is drivel.” Their rejections forced me to become a better writer because I practiced my craft, studied books in and out of my genre, read about both the writing craft and the publishing industry. Last year I ran an agent appreciation post, but it’s time again.

I’d like to thank the agents who requested a full manuscript and encouraged me to keep writing. As I mentioned here, I’ve had some close calls. Now writing my fourth manuscript, with continued perseverance and a little luck, I might soon get THE call.

I’m still amazed at the generosity of other writers. Last month, Charlotte Lanham, author of numerous Chicken Soup for the Soul stories, helped me tweak a short story for submission. She spent much of her valuable time helping me brainstorm and revise my story. Now I find myself eager to do the same. Yes, it takes time from my own writing, but I remember all the people who offered their valuable time to me and know I must give back. And since I’m not yet faced with the task of writing an acknowledgments page, I’ll say it here:

Thank you, beta readers. Thank you, agents. Thanks for encouraging me to work harder and write better.

Who has helped you become a better writer?

Escaping From Word Count Hell

By Kim

When I first began writing The Oak Lovers I didn’t consider the issue of word count. Both my other novels hovered around that magic 80-100,000 word mark. While this book would be longer, surely there was an agent or publisher willing to take a chance on a well-written, compelling, mostly true story even if it soared to 150,000 words.

My muses spoke. I transcribed.

The first hint of trouble came when I got to the point in my story when my protagonists (and great-grandparents) Carl and Madonna are finally together. (No, this is not a spoiler.) My critique partners (Joan and Pamela) sent that chapter back saying something along the lines of, “This is great. How many chapters left? Two? Three? You must be about done.”

I was taken aback. Carl and Madonna indeed surmounted many obstacles to be together, but their story didn’t end with marriage and a happily ever after. Not even close. I said I was about a third done. But how many pages have you written, they asked. I honestly had no idea, as I keep each chapter in a separate file. A quick calculation astounded me – 175 pages - about 44,000 words.

“Can you break it into two books?” they asked.

I considered this, eventually deciding that the answer was yes and no. A stand alone book would sell far easier than two books. I could, however, write the second book about Eleanor Douglas, an artist with a compelling story of her own. She lived with the Ahrens family for six years, including the time they lived on the Ojibwa reservation. Carl was her teacher, and they were close, but not as close, I suspect, as the relationship between Eleanor and Carl’s first wife, Emily.

I kept going, determined to finish and worry about length later. The book would be as long as it took me to tell the story. If that was 140,000 words, so be it. Someone would take it on anyway.

But what if they didn’t? Or did, but told me I needed to slash 30,000 words before submitting to publishers. What would be stronger, my artistic ego or my desire to see this story in print?

I knew the answer to that. I went back through my chapters, tightening dialogue, abolishing chit-chat, and made obvious cuts. Down to 81,000 words. There’s no way I could finish the story in 19,000. Even 29,000 would feel rushed.

I took a deep breath, knowing that if I didn’t do something now, every new word I wrote would be labored, rushed and, frankly, not very good. The only way I could relax is if I bought myself more words.

I started with chapter one and am now up to sixteen (of twenty-seven). I’ve cut 11,000 words so far. Here’s how:

1. I look at the chapter as a whole. If there are any scenes that don’t move the plot forward, enhance character or relationship development, or include something that definitely comes into play later, it must go. I move it to a separate file in case I change my mind. I don’t wallow on how long I struggled to write the scene, or how nicely the words flow. Is it better to spend 500 words on a sweet scene that serves no purpose other than being sweet, or use those words for a visit from the Prime Minister of Canada?
   
   
2. If the scene stays, are there unnecessary paragraphs? Does the reader need 320 words about why Carl fears death, just because the story happens to be true? Yes, it’s interesting, but a sentence or two in a key place would establish his above-average dread.
   
   
3. For what remains, I review each sentence. Is there a shorter way to say the same thing (remaining consistent with the tone of the story, of course)? Is the paragraph stronger without the sentence? Are the characters speaking in complete sentences, when it’s more likely they’d use fragments, as we all do?

Had I waited until the end of the book and then been asked to cut 30,000 words, it would have been agonizing. Cutting 11,000 (and counting) now has been liberating. Do I think I can finish in fewer than 100,000? Unlikely. Under 110,000? Quite possibly. Will this length be forgivable? I sure hope so.

If anyone has any further advice for writers attempting to tame their epic, or simply have any word count stories to share, I’d love to hear from you.