NaNoWriMo – O – Rama

It’s a big question this month, all over the Internet: are you nano-ing? Yes, once again it’s National Novel Writing Month.

I am not participating in NaNoWriMo, and never have, but I think it can be a useful tool for a writer, or for a non-writer who wants to become a writer. I think a lot depends on your expectations for the month. For example, 50,000 words is not always enough to be an entire novel. Most novels sold these days are in the 80,000 – 100,000 word range. However, some young adult and middle-grade novels might in fact be that length, as well as some category romances. If you chose a shorter length of novel, you could be entirely finished with a draft at the end of a month. An entirely-finished draft is nothing to sneeze at.

I’m a big advocate of the Zero Drafting method, as well. In zero drafting, you get down the basics of the story without obsessing over the details. It’s a lot easier to revise and refine once you have a whole story. It helps you to see the forest, as it were, instead of the trees. I’ve never been fast enough, or willing enough to give up other activities, to write 50,000 words in one month. But if you are, and you are willing, then more power to you!

If you’ve never written before, or never written regularly, the challenge of writing so much in so short a time lends itself to developing consistency. I think consistency, discipline, rear end in chair, whatever you want to call it, is a major skill for a writer who wants to finish things. There’s folk wisdom that doing anything for 21 days in a row can make it a habit. Getting the habit of writing every day, or nearly every day? Worth quite a lot if you’re already a writer and don’t have the habit. Worth just as much to a new writer, as a quick way to learn what’s entailed in this business of putting words on paper.

Also, pushing so hard so fast to make wordcount sometimes has a strange effect on one’s brain and the connections it makes, some conscious and some unconscious. Similar, perhaps, to marathoners who get a “second wind.” The draft produced might not be perfect, but it might have the seeds that, after revision, will nudge writerly skills a bit higher or defeat a plateau. In other words, get you out of a rut.

And there’s simply the fun of the challenge. If I, as someone who writes consistently anyway, were to ever participate in NaNoWriMo, I’d choose a novel of the approximate length, and then I would write something completely different than I usually write. It would be a month out of my usual schedule, a month out of time, just to stretch myself and see what I could produce.

Hey, I think now I’m tempted.

Related posts: Zero Drafting.
How To Learn To Write.
The Art of Letting Go: Finishing the Novel.
Pithy Writing Advice.
Learning Who Your Characters Are.
Caring About Your Characters – Or Not.

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How to Make Money in Publishing (and other writing jokes)

How to Make Money in Publishing and other writing jokes

Question: How do you make a small fortune in publishing?

Answer: Start with a large fortune.

Question: How many screenwriters does it take to change a light bulb?

Answer: Ten.
1st draft. Hero changes light bulb.
2nd draft. Villain changes light bulb.
3rd draft. Hero stops villain from changing light bulb. Villain falls to death.
4th draft. Lose the light bulb.
5th draft. Light bulb back in. Fluorescent instead of tungsten.
6th draft. Villain breaks bulb, uses it to kill hero’s mentor.
7th draft. Fluorescent not working. Back to tungsten.
8th draft. Hero forces villain to eat light bulb.
9th draft. Hero laments loss of light bulb. Doesn’t change it.
10th draft. Hero changes light bulb.

Question: If you were lost in the woods, who would you trust for directions: the publisher who prints everything you write, an agent, or Santa Claus?

Answer: The agent. The other two indicate you are hallucinating.

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A jolly Halloween….

And it’s especially jolly for me since I received my author copies of The Moonlight Mistress!!!

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Spooky Book Recommendations

In honor of Halloween, I offer recommendations of creepy, scary, horrifying fiction.

The Bloody Chamber, a collection of short stories by Angela Carter, all explicitly based on fairy tales. Warning: these stories are not for the squeamish! Really, they’re not. At all. But they’re powerfully written and well worth rereading and pondering.

Cherie Priest is a contemporary author often placed in the Southern Gothic subgenre. Her first novel is Four and Twenty Blackbirds. Here’s an interesting review of it from a Bulgarian blogger at Temple Library Reviews. “Perhaps the biggest strength here at play is the writing itself, since the author possesses this quality about her prose that entrances the reader and erases all perception of time.”

The Haunting of Hill House or We Have Always Lived in the Castle are classics of New England Gothic by Shirley Jackson. Did you ever have to read her creepy short story The Lottery (direct link to story) in this collection in school? That story creeps me out to this day, and has kept me awake at night, thinking. I’ve often wondered if it would be good for a compare and contrast with Ursula LeGuin’s The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. (Link leads to a PDF of the story.)

Children of the Night by Dan Simmons is one of the most interesting vampire novels I’ve ever read. The setting is roughly contemporary, with a science fictional approach to vampirism. It’s not scary, exactly…or rather, the scary feels more like real-world scary. It reads like a mainstream book that happens to have vampires.

A book I loved as a kid is Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury – the movie made from it introduced me to actor Jonathan Pryce for the first time, in the role of Mr. Dark. I love Bradbury’s style.

Brrrrrr.

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Time Well Bent – ed. Connie Wilkins

I don’t have a story in this anthology, but a friend of mine edited it and others wrote stories for it, and I’m really looking forward to reading it!

Time Well Bent: Queer Alternative Histories
ed. by Connie Wilkins

We have always been here. For as long as there’s been such a thing as sex, alternate sexual identities have been a fact of life. So why have we been so nearly invisible in recorded history and historical fiction? Editor Connie Wilkins, a Lambda Literary Award finalist, has assembled fourteen stories that span the centuries-from ancient times to the Renaissance to the modern era-and explore alternate versions of our past. Their queer protagonists, who bend history in ways dramatic enough to change the world and subtle enough to touch hearts and minds, rescue our past from invisibility, and affirm our place and importance throughout all of history, past, present, and future.

Table of Contents:

Introduction by Connie Wilkins
A Wind Sharp as Obsidian by Rita Oakes
The Final Voyage of the Hesperus by Steven Adamson
Roanoke by Sandra Barret
A Marriage of Choice by Dale Chase
The High Cost for Tamarind by Steve Berman
A Spear Against the Sky by M P Ericson
Sod ‘Em by Barry Lowe
Morisca by Erin Mackay
Great Reckonings, Little Rooms by Catherine Lundoff
Barbaric Splendor by Simon Sheppard
Opening Night by Lisabet Sarai
A Happier Year by Emily Salter
The Heart of the Storm by Connie Wilkins
At Reading Station, Changing Trains by C. A. Gardner

Lethe Press, October 2009
ISBN: 9781590211342
Paperback, 184 pages
Retail price: $15.00

Time Well Bent: Queer Alternative Histories

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Wacky Story Elements and Laura Kinsale

So, there’s this novel, and it’s about a virgin who thinks she’s doomed to nymphomania and a ninja who used to be a child prostitute.

Or in this one, the hero is afraid of heights, and the heroine has a pet hedgehog who is vital to the plot and also she invented radio and wants to make a flying machine.

No, this one: see, there’s this fat girl, but she’s a princess, and there’s this guy with PTSD. Oh, and there are also penguins.

If you haven’t read Laura Kinsale’s books, those lists of story elements sound a little silly, don’t they? But she makes them work, and work to perfection.

Part of the reason why they work, I think, is the wackiness. In and of itself, a wacky story element gets your attention because it’s different. If you describe a book as having a rake and a virgin, a hundred readers could each name a different book that included those elements. However, only Seize the Fire has an overweight princess and a rake with PTSD, at least so far as I know. And if there’s another one, I want to read it, so please give me the title and author.

Aside from standing out solely through difference, though, Kinsale follows through. She doesn’t rely on the wacky story elements. They’re just there, inextricable from the rest of the story. They’re facets, just like her plots and her themes and her thoroughly-imagined and thoroughly-presented characters. All of the elements interconnect and support one another, creating a strong framework for the most essential element of a romance novel: the emotion.

When I think of The Shadow and the Star, what I remember is the first sexual encounter between the hero and heroine in all its pain and neediness and confusion. In Midsummer Moon, it’s the agony of the hero as he confronts his fears. In Seize the Fire, I never fail to be exhausted by the emotional breakdowns of both hero and heroine.

The wacky story elements are a reason to read these books, but not the primary reason. Kinsale does not allow them to take over the story. And that’s why they work.

The books I mentioned, in order:
The Shadow and the Star

Midsummer Moon

Seize the Fire

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Writers, Live and In Person

Yay, the French edition is now for sale at Harlequin France!

You can also buy it at Decitre.

And now for some actual content:

Normally, my writers’ workshop meets once every couple of months, but it’s been a little less often lately. Some of us are engaged in big projects that must proceed too quickly to take time out for critique; others are dealing with life and health issues. Our founding member is living overseas this year, and we all miss her terribly. There’s email, but it’s just not the same.

I’ve been thinking once again about what a valuable thing a workshop can be to a writer. The critique is useful, of course. Over many years of shared critiques I have a good idea of the literary tastes of our members, but that doesn’t mean their comments aren’t useful; knowing what they generally like and dislike helps me to properly gauge what they’re saying about my work. We’re up-front about such things, anyway: “You know I hate all prologues, but I think this one serves a useful purpose”; or “I loved this story as soon as I met the talking space-squid!”

Perhaps more importantly, everyone in the workshop has different talents. I can count on some for noticing tiny details that I left out, or that need more explanation; others for sensing that the emotional arc might be made more intense with a change just here; others for pointing out that this character’s motives are completely obscure unless a certain element of his past is revealed. Not everyone attends every meeting, but even if there are only three or four people present, I still feel I get a good range of opinions.

Because I’m getting those opinions in person, I can also ask questions. Often, the post-critique cross-talk is just as valuable, or more so, than the critiques themselves. New connections and new inspirations are sparked, and critiquers remember other small items they meant to bring up but had forgotten earlier.

The best part of a workshop meeting, though, is the camaraderie. Writers spend so much time alone, working. It’s a real joy to meet face-to-face and just chat about our lives and our writing in general as well as the pieces we’re critiquing that month. We eat together, and rebuild our friendships, and remember the value in each of us.

Related posts:

Digesting Critique.

Dissecting Critique, Dissecting Manuscripts.

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Linkgasm #2

A Writing Revolution at Seedmagazine.com. “Nearly everyone reads. Soon, nearly everyone will publish.”

That’s not a new idea. “Consumers” who write have been around for a long, long time. I was reminded immediately of The Organization for Transformative Works. And Henry Jenkins’ Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide as well as Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers: Media Consumers in a Digital Age, published in 2006.

I was recently looking for an online newspaper article, and found useful link amalgamation sites: Online Newspapers (U.S.) listed by state, and HomeTown Free Press, which features links to newspapers worldwide.

LibriVox “provides free audiobooks from the public domain” by volunteer readers (sometimes a single book might feature multiple readers). They’re also looking for volunteers!

Finally, Cybereditions “publishes quality non-fiction books as ebooks online or as print-on-demand paperbacks available through bookshops or online suppliers, including Barnes&Noble and Amazon. As an independent publisher, we specialise in academic works or new editions of out-of-print works updated with new introductions, supplementary chapters and revised bibliographies. We welcome submissions by authors.”

Related post: The Desire to Publish.

Linkgasm 1.

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Jane Austen Didn’t Let Other People Tell Her What To Write

“My Dear Sir,

I am honoured by the Prince’s thanks and very much obliged to yourself for the kind manner in which you mention the work. …

You are very kind in your hints as to the sort of composition which might recommend me at present, and I am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on the House of Saxe-Cobourg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as I deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive than to save my life; and if it were indispensable for me to keep it up and never relax into laughing at myself or at other people, I am sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. No, I must keep to my own style and go on in my own way; and though I may never succeed again in that, I am convinced that I should totally fail in any other.

I remain, my dear Sir,
Your very much obliged, and sincere friend,
J. AUSTEN.

Chawton, near Alton, April 1, 1816.”

— Jane Austen, letter to J. S. Clarke

More letters from the Brabourne edition of Jane Austen’s letters.

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Moonlight Mistress Excerpt – Emotion

Moonlight Mistress is out December 2009 from Harlequin Spice.

#

Crispin hadn’t felt any fear at all as he’d led his platoon into battle, only a strange feeling of intense concentration and heightened senses. Now that the worst of the fighting was over, though, chance had left him stranded far from his company, his twisted ankle swelling inside his boot, each beat of his pulse throbbing up his whole leg. He lay surrounded by mud and metal fragments, corpses and incomplete corpses, and the shattered skeletons of trees. That was a very different thing, and he’d had to work to keep from panicking.

Meyer had arrived after about an hour, and now Crispin couldn’t stop shaking. He’d been holding together rather well when he lay in the mud alone, waiting for death. A blanket of acceptance had eventually settled over his mind: someone else would take care of his men, and either another shell would land on his head and blow him to bits, or it wouldn’t, and he would worry about survival later. Dying that way would be quick. If his legs were blown off, or an arm, he still had his pistol. He could always shoot himself before he bled to death. He thought God would forgive him suicide, if he were dying already and in terrible pain. He needn’t fear the worst, being ripped open by a bayonet, as no German would be insane enough to venture out of his trench during this kind of assault. Being trapped in a shell hole hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d feared.

Now, though, Meyer was with him, and if he was killed, Meyer would likely be killed, too. Crispin carefully unhooked his pistol from its lanyard, reholstered it, and buttoned the flap. His hands were shaking too badly for it to be any good. “Why did you come after me? Where’s your platoon?” He heard the sound of a train rushing overhead and pressed himself deeper into the mud, his arms protecting his face. The shell exploded some distance behind them. Smoke from previous impacts drifted by, like ghosts. Crispin shuddered.

Meyer lifted his head. His spectacles were spattered with mud, his mouth wry. “I thought it was over. My boys headed back. I came to look for you.”

Probably, he’d gone looking for Crispin’s corpse. “I can take care of myself,” Crispin growled, though it wasn’t entirely true. No one could take care of themselves in the midst of a battle. You couldn’t protect yourself from a shell, not really. Crispin wasn’t sure why he was so angry. He’d never been happier in his life, at least for a few moments, than when Meyer had slipped and skidded his way down into this godforsaken hole. Perhaps it was that he’d been ready to die, finally calm about it, and then Meyer’s arrival had reminded him that he’d left something unfinished, and he would regret it for eternity.

“God damn it,” he said. Another shell whistled and he ducked again. That one had been closer. He stole a glance at Meyer, and unexpectedly met his steady blue gaze, or what he could see of it through the mud. His heart stopped. Meyer looked down, fumbled off his filthy specs with an equally filthy hand, and slid them carefully into the breast pocket of his uniform tunic. His slight squint when he looked at Crispin now bore a disturbing resemblance to a look of lustful contemplation.

Meyer said, “I’d give a hundred guineas for a hot bath right now.”

Crispin’s mind presented him with an image of Meyer’s naked form ensconced in a porcelain bath, one leg flung over the side. He closed his eyes. That made it worse. He opened them again and reflected wryly that at least it was better than contemplating his own dismemberment. “I’d give two hundred guineas for any bath,” he said. “There’s a puddle down at the bottom of this hole.”

“Let me guess. You found it with your boots.”

“My arse,” Crispin said. “Good thing my coat took most of the damp.” He rested his cheek on his arm and tried to slow down his breathing. Sometimes that helped. This time it helped for two breaths, until a Screaming Minnie tore the air, then another, then a whole host of them, smaller shells ripping their way towards inevitable destruction. Terror washed him like cold rain, then a vast numbness that he dove into gladly.

#

c. Victoria Janssen 2009

Pre-order on Amazon.com.

More excerpts.

More Snippet Saturday!

Jaci Burton
Eliza Gayle
Michelle Pillow
Mandy Roth
Juliana Stone
Lacey Savage
McKenna Jeffries
Moira Rogers
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Sasha White
Ashley Ladd
Shelli Stevens
Shelley Munro
TJ Michaels
Lauren Dane
Beth Kery
Leah Braemel

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