The G-word

There are a few words in the English language that make a shiver of revulsion travel down my spine every time I encounter them. Some are innocuous words like romance, pink, and Valentine that for one reason or another have a negative association. A few only make me cringe when spoken by someone with a particular accent. For example, folks from a particular corner of Washington state say "warsh" instead of "wash." There are other words that are more obviously objectionable like the F-bomb. However, there is one word that has always been able to make my stomach churn.

Goal.

(Shiver)

I don't know why this word sends me into a fit. It's not the word's fault. In fact, it's a perfectly fine word. One that I celebrate during sporting events. (Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!) But those positive associations seem to vanish the second I leave the arena.

Why is that?

Perhaps it's because I had to fill out so many goal lists in school that I have a trained aversion. They are one of those things that we never see the usefulness of until we're adults. Or maybe it's because once I've taken the time to set them, I feel obligated to follow through? Hmmm. Could it be that simple? Could my fear of failure cast an unnecessary pall on what should be a good and noble word? Perhaps. They are kinda like New Year resolutions and pirate laws. They're only made to be broken.

Regardless of the reason, I haven't let my aversion prevent me from setting them. I just use other words in its place: promise, objective, benchmark, deadline, thing-that-I-must-do-before-I-die. I also have a pretty awesome incentive program to ensure that I don't forget why I want to accomplish them.

My ultimate (gulp!) goal is to be a NYT bestseller. I know. It's a lofty aspiration, but it's certainly not unreachable and it is what I ultimately want. Besides, I figure I'm never going to become a bestseller if I don't try. As a daily reminder, I have these on my bookshelf.

These are the Matchbox versions of two of my favorite cars. The silver one is a 2010 Nissan GTR and the black one is a 2011 Audi R8. (For those of you who aren't motor heads, they're really fast, really sexy, and really expensive cars.) When I reach the top 10 of the NYT (I say when, not if because I'm trying to think positive) I'm going to buy myself one of these cars. It'll most likely be the Audi because I fell in love with the real one at the Portland Auto Show. I named it and everything!  :)

Behold, Excaliber!

While the Matchbox cars are pretty effective, let me tell you, nothing will put a fire under your ass faster than coming face to face with the object of your desire. (Especially when said object is a smoking hot V10 convertible.) When I saw Excaliber, I was finishing the first draft of my YA novel. I'd been writing at NANO speeds for three months in order to finish it by my self-imposed deadline and was really burned out. But all of my creative fatigue disappeared when saw her gleaming carbon fiber and titanium alloy. The cruel fence that sepererated us only made me want her more. I was so close and yet so far away. The symbolism of the moment was quite poetic. It made me re-evaluate my feelings on the G-word. I can call it what I want at the end of the day but my promises, objectives, benchmarks, deadlines, and things-that-I-must-do-before-I-die are at their heart, still goals. Those goals and subsequent rewards have kept me going for the past two years and will continue to fuel my determination as I inch toward achievement. That night I realized that as long I felt that fire, I couldn't be defeated by publishers, bad reviews, depression, or really, anything. I am an unstoppable force.

In the immortal words of Wayne Campbell, "She will me mine. Oh yes, she will be mine."

Can I rephrase your question?

I’m fortunate to have a league of friends and associates that like to keep tabs on how my work in progress is coming along. It’s wonderful being surrounded by people who are as excited to know a writer, as I am to be one. However, some of their questions perplex me. One of the questions I hear most often is “how is your novel coming along?” It’s a pretty standard question and I have no problems answering it. But it’s also a question that is a bit more complicated than these individuals realize.

I always have at least one work in progress. Usually it’s a primary project and two or three side projects. The primary project is the one with the deadline (self-imposed at this point) and the side projects are various stories and series that I’m playing around with or still developing. Most of my time and creative energy is spent on the primary project and when I need a short break to clear my brain I’ll spend a few hours on one of the secondary projects. The primary project also the only one I talk openly about.

Until recently, there’s been only one novel that I've been public about.  But I finished the first draft of said novel in January and the edits in April. I was so excited and proud of myself that I announced it to the whole world. My friends should know that “the novel” is complete and that I'm on to the next. If they asked "are you going to publish it" that would make more sense. So why are they still asking about "the novel's" progress? Is it habit? Do they doubt that I actually did it? Is their memory so faulty that they don’t remember? I’m willing to write off a few repetitive questions to faulty memory, but not all of them. A few of the update seekers are that spacey, but not all of them; which still leaves me wondering why are they asking for a status update on a finished project?

I can't help wondering if it’s because of how non-writers view the craft. I suspect that these individuals think the creation of a novel is an insurmountable task that can never be finished. Whether this pre-conceived notion is conscious or not, I don’t know. Either way, it would certainly color their perception. To use last week’s jigsaw analogy, it’s as if they think there are an infinite number of pieces to be placed. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that the puzzle only has a thousand pieces and that all of them are in place, they still think there are more hidden in the box.

Obviously, writing a novel is not an insurmountable task (shelves, both physical and cyber, are overflowing with the proof) and I don’t think it’s a reflection of any doubt that they have in me. They are my friends after all. I think what it’s actually a reflection of is doubts they have of their own abilities. Because writing a novel is something they believe they could never do or even aspire to do, they think that no one in their social circles can either. Even that would be too much to aspire to.

That’s an incredibly depressing thought. I'd like to think that my friends have a more positive outlook, but I'm not so sure. I hope that I’m wrong for their sake.

The Jigsaw Novel

This past weekend I took a couple of days off of outlining the new series. Work had left me completely  drained and I really needed the break. I put together a jigsaw puzzle that I bought earlier in the month, while I watched the Olympics. As I was assembling it I had an interesting thought:

"Writing a novel is a lot like putting together a jigsaw puzzle."

No really, it is. Think about it. Inside of the box there's a fragmented image. You know from the picture  what the finished image is, but when you look at all of those small, irregular pieces it's hard to see how a streak of brown on a field of green is part of a leaf. Is that flash of gold part of the knight's gilded armor or the fair maiden's locks? Is that white speckled grey piece the spray at the foot of a waterfall or part of the dappled mare drinking at the edge of the pool?It's a complete mystery. Only when you dive in (to the puzzle, not the pool) and start testing the fit that you understand what each speck and smudge belongs to. There's also no one correct method of assembly. Yes, there's only one way for the pieces to go together (unless you're doing an Impossibles, but I digress), it doesn't matter if you start with an interesting bit in the middle or the border, the end result is the same.

Now, I should clarify that I'm not talking about the 25 piece puzzles that you put together as a kid. I'm talking about the 500 - 1000 piece monsters that take up the entire dining room table, a few days to assemble, and cause you to shout profanities at the cat when they walk across it.

Personally, I'm a border starting girl. I like knowing what parameters I have to work within and exactly how big it's going to be when it's done. I also have to have all of the pieces in front of me, face up. I know what sections of the image I'm going to work on first, second, third, and last -- I usually save the most difficult and tedious part for last. But once I've started, it becomes an obsession. Every spare minute is spent scanning the pieces and waiting for that "aha!" moment when I find the piece with the right squiggles and curves to fit the hole that's been bugging me for the past hour. I'll even forgo checking my e-mail (gasp!) in order to have a few more minutes to work on it.

Sometimes the cacophony is too much and I have to walk away for a short while or view the pieces from a different angle in order to make any sense of it (I find that upside down works the best). Occasionally I'm tempted to give up and throw the whole lot back in the box and I have to remind myself that I've come too far and spent too much time on this to quit now. Usually within a short time my perseverance pays off and victory is mine.

And you know what? My writing process is exactly the same (minus the upside down viewing). I do preliminary research and outline so I know what parameters I have to work within. All of my notes on what the finished piece should be are at my fingertips at all times. Whenever something doesn't work out the way I thought, I go back to my notes and look them over until that "aha!" moment arrives and when I feel discouraged I remind myself that I've spent too much time and energy on this to simply quit. Then last but not least, when the final words are in place I can look at the finished product, reflect on the journey, and say "yeah, I did that."

Pretty cool, huh?

The method behind the madness

It's kinda funny that every time I start a new story, I realize how little I know about a particular subject. It doesn't matter if I can carry a conversation about said subject, the moment I sit down and outline, it either flies out of my brain or I discover that a working knowledge just isn't enough. I'm currently working on the outline for my cyberpunk series and for this particular project, the latter is true.

I originally started work on it in December of 2010. I was bouncing between four books back then and while I spent most of my time on my primary project (the YA fantasy), I worked on one of the others when I needed a break. I thought that I had all of the worldbuilding in place and the outline filled in enough that I could at least get started on the first few chapters. But when I read through my notes, I realized that not only had I left a lot unfinished, but I hadn't checked facts on a lot of the tech. In fact, when I realized how much research I'd need to do, I just about had a heart attack. It's going to take most of the month to complete the outline.

Now, I know a few of you are shouting "No! Don't get bogged down with research! Write the book and do all of that later."

As much as I'd like to, I can't. If the information I was missing was how much recoil a gun has or the average airspeed of an unladen swallow, than yeah, I could look that up later. But the things I need to check are along the lines of "can silicone even do that?" and "that's a great gadget, but how are you going to power it?" You know, essential things. I can't justify writing a scene, let alone many scenes, that rely on a gadget that may not even be feasible. It's a waste of time and creative energy. It's better to work out the details now. Besides, in the process of figuring all of this out, I'll gain a better  understanding of what can and can't be done with the gadget so I can use it more effectively in the story.

See? There is a method to my madness.

There's also a passion behind my madness. I mentioned back in June (Just the Facts, Mam) that I love it when authors do their homework. Now, I'm not going to spend two years on research like Diana Gabaldon does. I like doing research, but not that much.

You see, it all goes back to that oft repeated advice: Know yourself.

I know I have a tendency to do too much research and to even stop writing so I can look something up. That's why I gave myself the month to finish researching and outlining. This will force me to focus on finding the answers that I need so I don't get lost in the bowl full of deliciousness that is link salad. This is the first time I've tried this tactic so we'll see how well I actually follow through on this, but it should work because I hate missing deadlines.


Side note: I apologize for the irregularity of my posts lately. Summer is my busy season and I've been running ragged for the past few weeks. Instead of updating the blog every Friday, I'm going to do it on Mondays now. I tend to have more free time on Mondays so that should help me get back on track. Thanks for bearing with me!

Plot Nazis at Midnight

Staying up inordinately late seems to be a new habit. (Be assured that it’s being formed out of necessity and not will.) Wednesday night, after having dinner with some Canadian friends, I had a long conference with Tracy Erickson concerning my final edit of a recently finished short story. If you’ve ever been to a book signing at Powell’s or scanned the comments on an author’s Facebook page (including mine), chances are you’ve run into him. Tracy has a keen eye for what a story is lacking and isn’t afraid to tell you. He’s the kind of alpha reader that I searched high and low for. (Tracy, don’t let that go to your head. :P)

When I finished my YA fantasy I found myself in a scary place. I had a manuscript in need of critique and no Alpha readers. I’d never edited a manuscript. How was I to know the difference between what I thought was terrible and what actually was terrible? Left to my own devices, I probably would’ve tossed 75% of the manuscript.

I sent it my writing group, and their critiques were wonderful (as always), but I needed more than three opinions on it. To be more specific, I needed opinions from people who hadn’t read any of the previous drafts. I couldn’t expect my writing group to be objective about my worldbuilding when they know all the bits I cut out. Yes, I could’ve hired an editor. However, there’s no way I was going to be able to afford it. (I work two jobs so I can afford to live with my mother.) Besides, my legion of friends were more than willing. Perfect! So, I sent my manuscript to a couple dozen friends and eagerly awaited their constructive criticism.

I know some of you are groaning right now, and you’re right. It’s far from a perfect plan. But in their defense, most of them followed through.

In my experience, new Alpha readers fall into three categories:

1. Plot Nazi

2. Church Lady

3. “I’m an illusionist!”

Lets start at the bottom. The third category is the vanishing category. They are the friends that are really excited to read the story, but as soon as they receive the manuscript, the excitement disappears like an airplane on a David Copperfield special. There were a few people that misjudged the time commitment this was, or life happened and they just never got around to it...

Regardless of the reason, I never heard back from them and I’m ok with that. I understand why they didn’t do it and I still love them. I’m just not going to send them further manuscripts.

The second category is where a lot of my friends fall. They have good things to say, however it’s usually a variation of “I really liked it” or “you’re so talented. I wish I could write a book like that.”  That’s great, but it doesn’t help improve the manuscript. Call me crazy, but I can’t honestly believe that my manuscript is perfect after one cursory edit. A few of them did point out a few misplaced words and the occasional confusing passage. However, in all, it’s not enough to make me eager to seek out their help in the future. (Sorry guys)

The first category is the most precious and rare. This is where Tracy and my writing group fall. They scrutinize every paragraph for any imperfection. They catch mistakes and oversights that, for one reason or another, I missed in my first pass and they’re not afraid to tell me when a sentence, a paragraph, or a whole chapter needs to be tossed. When something works, they give me a high five and I do a happy dance.

Now, I don’t want you to think that I cater my writing to please my Plot Nazis. I don’t. Rather, I meditate on their comments. What can I say? I’m Japanese. It’s in my nature to do so. We’re genetically and culturally predisposed to seek out perfection in everything we do. If we do something wrong, we want to know why so we can fix it and prevent it from happening again. If we do something right, we want to know why so we can do it every time.

To phrase it in a more Zen-like manner, we yearn for wisdom with every breath.

The wisdom I extracted from these breaths was not only a greater understanding of my friends and who I can count on for what, but a greater understanding of my writing. I’m starting to see the difference between what I think is wrong and what actually is. I’m getting better at identifying a darling that needs to be killed and one that needs to be preserved at all costs. And when I have a specific problem, I know who to turn to in order to find the solution.

Thank you, Tracy, for being the Plot Nazi I needed in the middle of the night. 

(That, you can let go to your head) :)

Must...not...squee...

A good ninja knows when to strike and when to walk away. Likewise, a good writer knows when to squee and when to be professional. Mary Robinette Kowal talked about this in her blog last week and gave some really great guidance.

http://www.maryrobinettekowal.com/journal/debut-author-lesson-how-to-be-a-professional-when-you-really-want-to-fangirl/

I've been to enough signings and seminars that I don't have much of a problem reigning in my inner fan girl. Plus, as an actor, I know how to hide my emotions so only the desired character shows. (I'm not saying that being professional is a character or facade, it's not, but the skill is pretty handy.) The last time I turned into a fan girl in front of an author was during Laurell K Hamilton's A Lick of Frost tour and that happened to be the first signing I'd ever attended so it was to be expected. Since then I've managed to be calm, clever, and professional.

As Mary pointed out in her blog, it's much better to be seen as a colleague instead of a fan. That's why I don't often take pictures at signings, dinners, and release parties (much to the chagrin of a certain friend). I feel that asking for a photo immediately puts me into the fan category. Granted, if I took Mary's advice and prefaced the request with "May I indulge..."I could get away with it. I'd still feel a little uncomfortable, but I could get away with it. There's nothing wrong with being a fan, but I find it limits your interaction with an author. They'll nod and smile, sign your book, maybe answer a question, and then you're on your way. However, I've noticed that if you establish yourself as a peer (through casual conversation and shop talk) the author you're speaking to will relax a bit and you'll get to see the real individual rather than public persona. It's allowed me to have a more memorable experience with the authors I admire and respect, and conversely, be more memorable to them. Instead of just meeting so-and-so, you're instigating a relationship with so-and-so.

However, on Monday night my spotless record came to an end. That was the night I went to David Brin's signing at Powell's books. I love David Brin. He's an incredibly intelligent, well spoken, funny and clever man that writes absolutely beautiful prose. It's almost lyrical. David is also not afraid to flatter a pretty and intelligent woman -- a category I found myself in when I was talking to him after the signing.

I lost control and squeed. I'm not talking about the "oh my gosh, ______ is standing right there!" kind of squee, but the shy and giggling twelve year old kind of squee. It was shameful and a certain friend will never let me forget that shame.To my credit, I didn't squee in front of David, but I did have to make a hasty and discreet retreat so I could hide my mouth behind my hands and blush (just like Sailor Moon). I have to clarify, I'm not a super girly girl. Marriage proposals don't elicit that kind of reaction from me. I'm a calm, clever professional. Speaking to my writing idol leaves me shaking afterwards (repressed nervousness), but not squeeing.

So what was different this time? David caught me off guard. He complimented me. Not once, but three times in rapid succession. I didn't know how to process that. It was too cool. As guilty as I feel for loosing my control, I've come to realize that I shouldn't beat myself up for needing to run away. (He is contrary Brin, after all. Defying expectation is what he does.) An inner fangirl can only be kept in a box for so long. Eventually she'll burst out and wreck havoc. Walking away and venting the squee was necessary. In his eyes (I'm assuming on this since I haven't been able to confirm it with him) I'm still the intelligent pretty woman he met in Portland. He has no knowledge of the squeeing fangirl or of the razzing I received from friends afterward and that's the real goal.

To see and be seen, but never let them hear you squee.

Mmmm.....brains.

Sorry for the long break. I was suffering from a compounded concert hangover last week. No, it wasn't that kind of hangover. No liquor was involved. The hangover was from wandering around the University Bookstore in Seattle for two hours (signed pretties were acquired), rocking out at the Queen Extravaganza (which was epically awesome), and driving 8 hours round trip in a single day. What compounded it was that I only got two hours of sleep (because of all of the caffeine ingested) before working an insane shift at the day job, followed by a less insane dog sitting job.

That's right. I worked two jobs on two hours of sleep. Yes, I'm insane, but that shouldn't be a surprise to any of you. Be assured that I'm not going to do that again. I don't like being a zombie.

What I will do again is work on my novel on long road trips. Don't panic. I was not typing as I drove. I could have dictated, but I didn't think my passenger would've liked that. What I did instead was bounce ideas off of him. I started working on a short story that I began last year but had to push aside so I could focus on finishing the novel. Ok, in all honesty, I was stuck as well, but it was mostly pushed aside for the novel. So I gave him the gist of the story and explained why I was stuck. We bounced a few ideas around, most of which didn't gain the favor of the other person. Once I convinced him that the story couldn't end up in a fiery inferno (his favorite solution) we finally got to the root of the story's problem and found the solution.

I've used this method many times. I did it with the novel, last month's short story, and some flash fiction pieces I wrote last year. Every time the solution surprised me as to its simplicity and it's always something that I've overlooked. I'm sure that eventually I would have discovered it on my own, but it would have taken days if not weeks. Borrowing a friend's brain (and not in a zombie kind of way) shortened that time frame to a few minutes.

It's amazing what a fresh brain can accomplish.