Surprise! I write real books, too!

*Spoiler*  - The "Surprise" in the title is pure, beautiful, and somewhat bitchy sarcasm.

Okay, mostly bitchy.

What follows might come across as a re-hashing of an old topic, but since it seems to keep rearing its fugly head I'm not going to apologize for making you read it yet again. This one just really got my hackles up.

What happened? On our recent honeymoon (yes, I promise a post is coming about that soon, too), we were on a cruise with some of the most well-educated and interesting people that I've ever met. Keep in mind, we were the outliers in average cruiser age by about 35 years, but these people have done everything - taken over banks, vacationed in Antarctica, built working test farms in drought-ridden African settlements, the list goes on. And I could have listened to the stories of 90% of these brilliant people until the sun rose. But that other 10% - pardon me while I take a drink for courage - were entrenched academics in primarily liberal arts disciplines.

Let me clarify here: The liberal arts are my lifeblood and where all of my passions go to snuggle up with a book, a surrealist painting, and a tangy wine and cheese pairing. But, in the darkest and narrowest parts of that arena, you can find the most immovable and pompous know-it-alls in the entire population of people with heads up asses.

You guessed right. This is the embodiment of the 10% I'm talking about here. These were the people who, despite the gloriously diverse selection of wine bottles paraded by our dinner table every night, tut-tutted with disapproval over every sip. Somehow conversation at these tables was always eventually guided to the topic of literature, an arena in which our resident academics were practically frothing over with wisdom they were dying to share. Whether we wanted it or not. And, without fail, they drew their prim little lines in the sand and placed fantasy, SF, and all popular fiction on the opposite side from 'Real Literature.'

The incident that got under my fur the most (and the one that left me lying awake in bed wishing I were more confrontational and not just a passive-aggressive blogger), was the dinner with the lady I will refer to as the I-can-quote-articles-I-read-on-Slate-Lady. Maybe I'll just call her Slate Lady for brevity.

This time the topic came up before I could even wave my Author Flag (they have those, right?), and Slate Lady made it clear immediately that she only read 'Real Books.' This, it turns out, is a literary unicorn of non-fiction and obscure authors who devote their lives to developing dark symbolism that would be a wet dream for any classic Russian novelists. I couldn't help myself. I asked the question:

Me: "What about Fantasy and Science Fiction?"
Slate Lady: *Sniff* *Derisive laugh* "Um, just no."

 That was mere moments before she launched into her tirade of shaming adults for reading YA that came almost verbatim from this Slate article that ticked off readers and writers of all genres this summer.

And no, *sigh*, I didn't call her out. I didn't acknowledge the immediate surge of brilliant rebuttals including this one from the Washington Post and this one from CNN. I did at least turn to another lady at the table (one of the sassiest and my favorite from the trip) and started talking loudly about how awesome it is that popular fantasy and even comic books are bringing a new generation of previously non-readers, especially among young boys. Remember that passive-aggressive thing I mentioned before? Damn it.

Eventually, that same awesome lady (an angel, she is) next to me pointed out to Slate Lady that I was an author.

Slate Lady: "Oh? And what do you write?"
Me: "Young Adult Fantasy and Satire."
Slate Lady: "Hmm."

I didn't say a word. I'd love to say it was because I just didn't want to spend the rest of the cruise on a small ship with someone at whom I'd thrown my glass of wine, but I just plain suck at confrontation. With or without alcohol. Eventually I'd have just gotten emotional and flustered and ended with an eloquent "Up yours," so I decided to save my venting for you lucky readers on the blog.

What I WISH I could have said to her is something along these lines:

I write a series about a young girl who was abandoned by her parents and forced to discover who she was all on her own in a world that wasn't forgiving of her 'gifts.' It's about a child in what amounts to slavery who's never known a life outside of abuse and neglect, but who overcomes her pains and heartache by retreating into her imaginary world.

It's about laughing at ourselves and the empty traditions we value without knowing why and taking stock in our instincts before we let our fickle brains over-rationalize us out of the right choice.

It’s about learning the hard way that maturity, at any age, is no match for experience. And finally, it’s about remembering that the right thing to do is still the right thing to do when no one is looking. It's a novel for anyone who’s struggled with how they identify themselves and learned to define their own niche in a world that doesn't have a place for them.

It just happens to be set in an alternate universe filled with magic, gods, and creatures. But yes, it is a REAL book. 

So this blog, I suppose, is as much about venting as it is a rallying cry for all of the writers and readers who've faced the accusation that fiction has nothing to offer because it "isn't real." Authors might seem magical to those who don't write, but we don't have wands that create mystical social, family, financial, or political situations that could never exist. It's pure insanity to think that our stories are anything other than a reflection of the world we live in, with the good and bad of personal experience all rolled into one literary package.

And yes, Ms. Slate Lady, I used the word 'literary,' because whether you believe it or not, I write real books, too.

Guest Post - Benjamin Epstein, Author of 'Captive of the Orcs'

I've had the pleasure of meeting so many new and interesting people since good fortune (yes, and hard work) favored me with a publishing contract. Some of them I've met through social networking and others have reached out and contacted me via email. But possibly the most fun of all has been getting to know my fellow authors in the Center One stable. Writers tend to be interesting characters (though I've been told 'sociopath' might be a better word), and I have the pleasure today of introducing you to one of the interesting characters I've gotten to know since joining the publishing world. 

Benjamin Epstein is the author of 'Captive of the Orcs' and was kind enough to write a post on his writing process for me to share. Here's the quick list of how to find him:

His Book on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16173854-captive-of-the-orcs 

The Blog on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6870983.Benjamin_Epstein/blog
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CaptiveOfTheOrcs?fref=ts

Amazon: http://amzn.com/0983002266

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/captive-of-the-orcs-benjamin-epstein/1113753877?ean=2940016151168

Thanks for joining us today, Ben!

One of my fellow Center One authors suggested that if I write a blog post about writing, she would repost it on her own website.  So, in the interest of cross-pollination, that will be the subject of my current essay.

           The funny thing is, I haven't often been asked about strategies for writing.  Not that I'm exactly sure what the best way is.  I think there's a lot of stereotypical responses one could get: The types you might find from books, or creative writing classes.  Funny thing is, my old College classes nearly destroyed my writing forever.  My confidence was shattered when I was an undergrad, and I lost all conviction to my own opinions.  If it wasn't for my mentor during my literary internship, I don't know if I ever would have gotten it back.  How that happened is a story I'll save for another time.  

           But if I were to teach a writing workshop, and decide on a way that was generally helpful for aspiring writers, what would I say?  Let me suggest some important components, without much of a sensible order.

           #1: Coffee.  

           Yes, I am serious.  For me, writing without this glorious little stimulant is like driving a car without gas.  I might be able to roll downhill in neutral, but not much more than that. Most of my work was composed in the local Starbucks or Coffee Bean.  I find very little gets done at home.  Too many distractions.  But if I uproot myself and go in public with the intention of getting work done, it's more likely that I'll get a few pages of worthwhile material.  Not a certainty, of course, but it's a little trickier to waste time.  Though hardly impossible.  

           Once I made the separation of home for rest, and coffee shop for work, I grew more productive.  And it gives my day some regularity.

           #2: The slush pile

           This is something I learned back during the above mentioned internship.  If you don't work in the editing business, or a related field, I'd recommend a little gem of a book by Denny Martin Flinn:  "How Not to Write a Screenplay."  Flinn gives a front row seat to the mistakes of unskilled authors.  Flat dialogue. Terrible description. Non-sensical plots.  Too much or too little exposition. Overwriting. Underwriting.  Lack of word variety.  But my descriptions are not doing this justice.  Nothing can make you appreciate a good book until you read a bad one.  

           That may well be a problem with your old High School English class.  Remember how Mrs. Jones gave you great works to read by Shakespeare, Dickens, Twain, Melville?  Works with enough genius and profound insight to withstand the test of time? But if she had you read, say, the short stories left behind by the previous graduating class, maybe you'd have an appreciation for the type of dreck that ends up on the desk of an overworked, underpaid editorial assistant, in a company that's looking for one good manuscript in a pile of a thousand bad ones.  

           It's a life changing experience.  And if you realize that when you submit your own query for publication, even if your work is wonderful, it's going to be tough for that intern to pick it out from the other incoming envelopes. Needle in a haystack indeed! And how do you really know that you're better than the rest?  

           And I ask the same questions of myself: Do I have talent?  Or am I just another egomaniac, hoping that my little thimbleful of ability can compete with the likes of a  J.K. Rowling or a Steven King, let alone the literary voices that still echo from previous centuries?  Sounds awfully presumptuous on my part, even if I recognize that at one point, King and Rowling were also first time writers, and undiscovered.  

           When you become conscious of what the incoming manuscripts are like for the editing company, it may grant a bit of humility to your own efforts.  Not that I'm saying you should give up writing.  Every author hopes that they're the cultural inheritors of an J.R. Tolkien, or a Virginia Woolf.  But we may be another Joe and Jane Unknown Writer, fated to obscurity. So be it.  It is a hard but necessary lesson to learn that the world doesn't revolve around us.  

           #3 Literacy

           Let's be honest: we have moved from a literary culture to a visual one.  Television is accessible to all.  And if not TV, there are movies, video games, and other modes where moving images replace using your eyes to track the printed word.  

           The worst offenders of the above slush pile are those, I think, spend their time watching television, to the point that they can tell you more about the Kardashians than the works of Agatha Christie. (By the way, can someone tell me who the Kardashians are, and why people pay attention to them?)  

           I don't make any claims to be widely familiar with the literary canon, and I am conscious of large gaps in my own reading history.  And I am aware of how many hours I misuse in my leisure time that could be better spent with books. Still, I do remember reading Crime and Punishment and Don Quixote  during long commutes aboard the New York subways.  Not to mention Moby Dick, Treasure Island and the Bible during my dead time in one of the most boring jobs I ever had.  And though I was a little old for Harry Potter when it came out, I still made my way through the series.  It's foolish to be unaware of a cultural phenomenon, past or present. 

           Ah, but here I am again, offering criticism for potential writers, in the form of pointing out the same bad habits I struggle with.  And who am I to be giving this sort of advice?  Is this just my pedantic side of me, the part that wants to lecture and sound high minded, without giving actual description of the craft?

           Maybe so.  So tell you what.  I'll write another essay soon, on some of my personal tricks that probably won't work for anyone else but me.  Call it my coming attraction.  

The Sit-Down-Shut-Up Method

Sit down and shut up.  No, no, I didn’t mean you. I meant me. This is my process, you see.

At least, it was.

I tend to be very easily distracted by just about anything; noises from outside, noises from inside, cats needing cuddles, sparkly motes of dust floating by the window (oh, look at that one!)... This has led to many challenges in finding a writing process that works for me. There have been a few iterations in the past involving everything from blaring Atari Teenage Riot or recorded heartbeats to timed brainstorming and word association games. Not surprisingly, most of these didn’t work. Let’s take a look at a few of my past attempts...

1.       The old Drown-Out-The-World method. It’s safe to call this one my default method with a few variations. This is what I always return to when nothing else I’ve tried has helped my sad level of focus. I’ve used white noise, thunderstorm sounds, loud repetitive rage music, trance music, non-vocal jazz, loud fans + music, and even some of the kooky alpha- wave beats from YouTube. The result? I just end up humming along and not writing. 

2.       The mind-focusing game method. This was one I picked up out of some forum that I thought might have merit. The idea is to start focusing on a problem or a strategy (anything from Free Cell to Risk) and let your brain naturally start weeding out distractions for you before your writing session begins. I’m sure it probably does work for some writers out there, but for me it just led to hours wasted because apparently strategy games are my digital crack.

3.       The cardio method. This one is pretty much exactly what it sounds like and it probably came from the same forum as the above failed method.  Basically I was supposed to do 20-30 minutes of any form of cardio and it was supposed to have a dual effect: Eliminate physical stress allowing me to mentally relax, and flush some unknown toxins (possibly the beer) from my blood stream to let me think more clearly and without distraction.  The problem? If I could make myself do cardio I’d still be in last year’s pants.

4.       The reward method. This was the short-lived method in which I tried rewarding myself with chocolate for a high word count. Although it resulted in a lot of words written, it also meant erasing entire crappy chapters that were hastily written in a desire for chocolately satisfaction. Incidentally, it also coincided with the worst acne break-out since my teens and probably a big part of the reason I still can’t get into last year’s pants.

5.       The punishment method. Even more short-lived, this one was probably the silliest and most desperate I’ve tried. Anytime I found myself getting off-track and distracted whilst writing, I had to hold my breath until I finished a sentence. All I really got out of this was a bunch of very short sentences and a few dizzy spells.

Sad, isn’t it? However, all of the failed attempts at finding my own personal writing process did help lead me to one major discovery: Dealing with the external distraction isn’t my problem. In fact, since I sat down to write this blog I’ve darted off on about 10 other tasks that somehow popped into my mind and are not even tangentially related to this blog. I’ve been checking Facebook, re-checking Facebook, researching a hand-held vacuum cleaner, checking my bank account to see if my utility payment posted, Googling for a picture of a hobo spider, etc. I just plain can’t control myself.

I always thought that “Sit down and shut up” was the first step to writing, but it turns out that this might be my first obstacle to writing. Sitting down and shutting up is apparently handing the reins over to my brain and giving it carte blanche to start spinning its wheels wherever it wanted to go. Sometimes it trips over a good story element on the way, but usually it’s more like trying to walk 5 dogs on 5 leashes who all want to go a different direction. 

So it was with this in mind that I tried the exact opposite approach when I got to a road block in my writing this time. I stood up, walked around, and talked to myself about the book for about twenty minutes. Loudly (thankfully Steven wasn’t home so his doubts about my sanity still haven’t been confirmed). In this twenty minutes of talking to walls, cats, and houseplants I managed to advance three plot lines, flesh out a character that was giving me trouble, and devise a solution to a complicated plot problem that needed a big finish. By the time I sat back down to write I was ready to do backflips in excitement and I got another 1,500 words out in no time at all.

No more quiet time for me. Apparently there is nothing like the sound of your own voice to drown out your thoughts. Now I’ll talk to myself in the car, when I’m doing the dishes, in the shower, pretty much any time I’m alone. The only thing left that can't seem to drown out is the happy little chirping I keep hearing while I work out solution after solution aloud: “I found my process, yippee! I found my process, yippee! I found my process, yippee!”

Now that you've seen a few of my oddest attempts at methods, what are the strangest you've tried?

Taking Out The Garbage

If I still wrote on paper...

Hi. My name is Ashley and I have a problem. An action problem. Let me show you... 

Hilary was so very tired when she finally let her head hit the pillow. She yawned and stretched like a cat as she nestled down into the blankets and began to drift off to sleep. The last thing she wanted to hear at this point was the urgent knocking at her front door. She pushed aside the temptation to ignore it and pushed the covers back in irritation. Her fingers automatically brushed the face of her badge lying on the night stand as she rose and slid into her robe. She crossed the bedroom and opened the door into the living room where she could see the shadow of a man as he knocked furiously at the door. She crossed the room slowly to make him wait for waking her up. Hilary pulled open the door and faced the man with a stern look. 

“Agent Davenport?” He asked. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

Now you see the problem. This is an illustration and not from anything I’m writing, but just a little something I concocted to show you what’s making me bang my head against a wall these days. Every time I go back to reread or edit a section I find waaaaay too much detail of physical action that is completely unnecessary to the story and does nothing more than slow it down and make it cumbersome to read. In the immortal words of the English teacher who did so much to shape the writer I am today: “This is garbage.”  If a book opened up with something like the blurb above I’d probably definitely put it back on the shelf and keep browsing.

Tell the story. NOT the action.

Part of this I blame on brainstorming. While I’m still mentally building the story for myself I tend to include every little detail as though I were writing choreography rather than telling a story. That’s how the garbage sneaks back into the story. A really great mantra I heard regarding this problem last year at the Clarksville Writers Conference in Tennessee was ‘Skip the Door,’ meaning that to write that someone has a visitor you don’t have to start off with the doorbell ringing. You start where the story starts.

As writers we’re all anxious to paint a picture of the world we’re writing for our audience and that temptation can lead us quickly down the road of telling vs. showing that we all hear so much about. I did that on purpose for illustration in the above sample with Hilary waking up, but I do it on accident constantly in my actual writing, as well. I have to stop and think – What part of this is the story and what part of it is garbage?

So, back to the example above. If I were going back and editing this for a book I’d do two things: 1^st, I’d groan and make a new dent in the wall with my head, and 2^nd, I’d try to figure out where the story started.

Unless this is a novel about Hilary’s desperation for a good night’s sleep, the story probably doesn’t start with her being tired and going to bed, so I’ll strike those first few sentences. Next, though the badge on the night stand tells us that she’s in law enforcement of some kind, so does the man at the door when he calls her an agent. Strike that sentence as well. Now that we’re rid of so much garbage it’s getting easier to see that the story itself starts with the man at the door. He’s the important element to kick off the suspense here, not Hilary’s experiences in bed (unless it’s THAT kind of story, that is). Without the garbage and focusing on the key elements, here is the cleaned-up and right-to-the-point intro:

Hilary awoke to the pounding at her front door. She fumbled in the dark to open it and found a man waiting impatiently, his dark suit soaked through with rain. 

“Agent Davenport?” He asked. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

Granted, this is a bit of an exaggeration, and I’m certainly not saying give up all background description - just know the difference between background that feeds the story and background that should feed the trash pile.  If I could be more aware of the garbage vs. story content as I’m writing maybe editing wouldn’t take me four times as long as the rough draft takes to write.

What about my fellow writers? Do any of you have this same problem?

Passive is for Pansies

I, as a writer, am formally renouncing my habit of overly using the passive voice in my fiction. For the sake of readers everywhere, I will also henceforth ban the use of the following formulaic sentence structure in my writing: "As the Noun Verbed Adverbly..."

Adverbs and adjectives do not necessarily improve prose. But they do improve word count, if we can define 'improve' in this case as 'to increase in size.'

Nobody wants to read that 'the doe's heart was pierced by an arrow flown from the hunter's steady hand." They just want to know that the hunter shot the deer and his hungry family had venison for dinner instead of old potatoes.

There are thousands of possible active verbs that I could be using, and if I can't think of one at the time, then I'll make one up. Yes, you heard me. I will make one up. You can't tell me that doesn't take balls.

Now, as manifestos go, I'm sure this one is pretty weak. But from now on I'm standing by my new conviction - The passive voice truly is for pansies.