Category Archives: WRITING

The secret to writing and the reason why this is Awesome!

Writing

Writing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Do you want to know a little secret? Come closer and I’ll tell you. Now, are you sitting comfortably, got a drink? Go on, go get one, your favorite tipple or a hot chocolate, I’ll wait…

You all set? Great,

Ready, Set, Here it comes……..

“Writing isn’t easy.”

Phew, I said it. Did you think I was going to give you the secret sword of wordsmithing? Do you think that there is some sort of magic bean that instantly transforms you into a genius who wee’s excellence? Or perhaps one ring that rules them….. Sorry got carried away there.

We all wish there was and we’ve all seen the sales patter..

“Sign up for my webcast where I show how you can write a bestseller with next to no effort on your part…” and all for just 500 fat ones… Ohh PURLEASE

Ever thought that if you could just…… find the magic keyword that opens the door to blockbusterville closely accompanied by the six figure publishing contract (where we don’t have to market or speak to people), that everything will be okay? It won’t.

Success in life is about persistence and luck. You have to keep at it and be ready when luck comes knocking. But before luck can pull up at the welcome mat (you are not naked are you? Good Gracious, put something on… No not the jogging bottoms.) you are there prepped and ready for it. So here’s my reason/s why it’s great that writing is so hard.

1. If it was easy everyone would be doing it….

If writing a novel or writing in general was a cake walk then everybody would do it. I know that at times it may seem that everyone IS doing it but they’re not. It’s just the writers resources and blogs where you have hung out. Most people don’t do it or can’t do it and that’s just great for you and me. Less writers, less competition – mwah, ha, ha, ha….. I am stroking a cat, she is long haired but she definitely does not have a diamond collar.

2. If it was easy everyone would finish it…..

Most people never finish. There are hundreds and thousands of dusty manuscripts and half written poems or short stories lining drawers everywhere. If you’re gonna do this writering you have to finish. A half-written story is a broken promise. Now you are not the sort of person who breaks a promise are you? Good. I thought not. (Please in the name of all that walks and crawls do not let this be me…. 9,600 and a full stop to go.)

3. If it was easy everyone would do it well….

Yes, I know a lot of poorly written and unbelievably dire books are out there. If everyone did this well, how would you and I distinguish ourselves against the rest of them? It’s  our error free original wonderful creative voice that makes us special. We don’t just ship, see point 2, we ship rainbows and cream cakes and the smell of grass after summer rain.

So yes this writing is hard and it takes time, persistence, sweat, tears, anger, frustration and love to create.  But that is why the fact that we are writers and we write is AWESOME.

Comments, as always are welcome.

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Foetal Writer – My list of baby steps.

fashion faux pas

This is my writing. (Photo credit: Judy **) But I’m working on it :)

It’s not all joy and expansive prose when you’re new at this writing schnizzle. Sometimes it just plain sucks. I’ve made a list of all the things I’m good at and all the things I’m struggling with. These are the things where I need to engage the force and shut up and just get on with it!

Good At:-

1. Procrastination. I’m sure that draw needs re-organising, the cat needs feeding and if really in a rut, I may even talk to the husband.

2. Using the words:- Turned, saw, look, looked, began, begin/s, started, while (and whilst, I like to mix things up y’know?), was, had, told, knew and heard.  – I opened Scrivener to see how many words I had in my search list and trust me, – this wasn’t all of them.

3. Editing, because I can’t get past Chapter twenty-two.

4. Fear of finishing (hmm linked to number three above) and the ensuing fear of failure to sell any books because I’ll have to talk to lots of people and be nice and let’s face it the reason I write is because I’m a bit of a depressed loner.

Baby Steps:-

1. Dialogue tags:- I forget the rules and no-one should use that many descriptions of the word said, often with an adverb. I counted seven in one particular piece of dialogue, they sounded like bad thespians rather than characters, she whispered quietly – err DOH!

2. Getting in and out of rooms. My characters seem to get stuck by some invisible force sometimes in doorways or in front of doors. It’s really difficult getting them in and out of blasted rooms.

3. Action:- Now this is the sticky bit. If an arrow pierces a shield the reader knows that it didn’t pierce the person in the next sentence because it’s in the shield. I do this a lot. I’ve taken to watching u-tube action sequences and listening to swordplay. I’m also learning a lot about archery so that I get it right. Especially, because you just know if you don’t know this stuff, someone is going to nicely point out you got it wrong, wrong, wrong….

4. Moving the story on, there’s a lot I need readers to know and whilst I am desperately trying to show not tell, I sometimes do a little too much back story… Mystery is my friend, readers are surprised not, Oh I knew that was going to happen five chapters ago. If they’re still there….

So these are my failures and my top faux pas. What did/do you struggle with?

Comments, as always, welcome.

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Sit at your desk writing and all you’ve got is a book about a desk.

A game of squash

A game of squash, if this was a photo of me, I’d be on the floor, sweating and purple (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A double yellow squash ball.

A double yellow squash ball. These are slow balls and we play with the blue……(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have been killing myself, learning something new over the past few weeks. I have learned how to run around a squash court. I’ve learned that puce is the colour I turn just before I get to full purple and I’ve learned that a desk job and sedentary lifestyle is to blame for a complete inability to move with real pace and grace.

The day after the first match, my legs felt like someone had driven a steam roller over them and as I had fallen over trying to hit a couple of shots, I also had the bruises to show exactly which part of this frame, hit which part of the court when I went down. My legs now resemble a rainbow of yellow greens.

Laying in bed, nursing both bruises and dented pride, I got to thinking about how good I felt after the exercise and how competitive my nature truly is. I knew I was never going to win as my lovely husband used to play Squash for a county up North. Out on that court, I just didn’t care. For every four points in a row he got, I won one back and it was hard-earned, it was hard-won and I rejoiced inside.

My husbands not the type to let me win either and whilst the sensitive are thinking, “how mean!” He knows damn well, I’d hate it any other way.

So a sense of competition and running around doing something to stimulate oxygen to my brain has had an unexpected impact that I think was missing before.

I used to think the hard part was sitting down and writing and continuing to write until it’s finished. That is what everyone tells you isn’t it? A thousand blogs telling you to sit down and write until those digits bleed, until your sick of the sounds of the keys and the cold coffee your nursing.

I don’t think that’s a productive way to produce quality work. I think to write about what you know, if all you do is sit at a desk, well, that’s all you know. The pain and frustration of trying your very best and still sounding stilted, contrived and wondering why you’re not as creative as other people just sucks as a strategy.

You need to get out and smell the roses, do something that you enjoy and like doing. Meet some new people in real life. Do something that stimulates your emotions and your creativity is not going to be far behind.

Make the minutes you spend writing count, by filling the rest of your time with things that matter. I’m not giving you a license to procrastinate but sitting at a desk torturing yourself doesn’t help you achieve your goals. Living life in a full and authentic way is the best and most rewarding road to writing well..

The absolute best thing about doing this from a writing perspective, is a speech impediment I noticed that one of the receptionists had and an incident with a small child and their parent at a roller-disco they host in the sports hall. I’d never have the exact quirks or nuances of those situations – if I hadn’t been going to do something I enjoyed.

Live well, write well. In my eyes – they are intrinsically linked.

Comments, as always, – welcome.

Finding a Niche – Writing to read not writing for readers.

Niche Syndrome

Niche Syndrome (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I started writing again because no one was writing what I wanted to read. There are some amazing books that I really enjoyed but there were no books that really hit what I wanted and that’s why I picked up my creativity and got cracking again.

I was away for the holiday this weekend and I took my net-book and whilst thinking out some plotlines, I realised I was falling into a bit of a trap. The snare of thinking about the reader too much. I was trying to craft situations that I thought the readers would want to read and not remaining true to my original vision of the story.

It’s quite easy when you’re a newbie writer to do this because you are often second guessing what you think. Whilst it’s okay to think about plausibility and originality and to make sure your story is authentic, the minute you begin thinking about the end-user just take a moment.

Writing for other readers doesn’t work if it did then there would be a magic formula that all writers would follow that would result in endless bestsellers and residuals. Don’t believe the hype and all the books that promise just that.. Are savvy (if immoral) authors getting rich off your naïvety rather than any original novels they’ve written.

By thinking too long and hard about the reader and not the story, you’re sure to end up with a confused and stilted mess. The minute, I reset my expectations and began again, with what I wanted to read, the niche that no one else inhabits and the story that makes me light up in dark moments, my flow and my creativity raced back in.

Trust yourself and your story and your future readers will too.

So what do you think?

Comments, as always, welcome.

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The GAP – Are you playing at this?

Mind_The_Gap
Mind The Gap!

Mind The Gap! (Photo credit: BuhSnarf)

It’s been a while… Sigh.

In fact it’s been about six months or is it more? I forget, even though this blog calls to me at the strangest moments to pick up my little netbook and jot a few thoughts down. I’d reached the saturation point I think, before.

Before, I decided that everyone has done it better and more succinctly elsewhere. Other writers with words more clever and funnier than mine. What do I have to offer except repackaged duller versions of other writers words.

And yet, it still calls to me. This little spot, my unadulterated stream of consciousness. I still think in the middle of the night of the small things I could say in my way. I’d hoped for further forward and feeling brighter and yet there it is in the stats, a big fat huge six month gap and I can’t take it back.

But pausing doesn’t have to mean failing and my words are here on the page.. I am going on. It’s just a little gap….

I hope you will welcome me back and now that I think about it – I never really left. I was just waiting for a space to slide myself into.

A gap.

Hello! I’ve missed you all so much.

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Why? But is that the only question a writer needs to ask?

My story for the book (the one that i am writing slow-er-ly) has an opening scene that sets up the rest of the plot. However the first few paragraphs are more observational than gut punching?

In my case, a small happy boy sits on top of tower and contemplates a day of duty, which doesn’t end the way he expects it too. So far so fantasy trope…. I have an ace up the sleeve in the small boy is not the focus of the story, the men and women that surround him are the focus. ..

Does every story have to start with a battle aftermath or a battle or a dead body?

Or actually are we all churning out the same opening scen

Question Writer

Question Writer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

e? Trying to impress in two hundred words or less?

I am not sure I know the right answer. I know what the advice is…

But what do you think?

 

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Scenes from My Novel and some stuff from my life.

The book gets written, scene by scene and moment by moment. I’ve taken to getting up early and really working at it. I don’t edit as I go any more. Getting the first draft out is more important. I’ll worry about the spelling and the grammar later. I’m a plotter too. Through and through.

The scene below is inconsequential really except for an exchange with Gadrial, the Gypsy who’s about to sneak up on our poor bard below and scare the living daylights out of him. Kenrati, is a difficult character to write as I don’t like him. He whines and he’s a coward. But I do understand him, he’s arrogant and self obsessed and difficult. People don’t listen to him because he bores them. His heart is empty. It makes him a pretty rubbish bard but actually a really interesting character to write.

I guess not all characters are heroic types. You have to have some balance, the world is full of a myriad of different souls and who would believe if they were all the same?

So here’s a scene, we’re at chapter 12 here I think. As always it’s a first draft.

Campfires and hot salty broth have caused Kenrati’s delicate disposition to want to rid himself of the food in the most expedient way. He’s wandered some way from the camp not wanting the others to hear the noises his arse is sure to be making, a dead weight laying on his stomach.

He makes his way through the trees. Damn gypsy talking about the world like he owned it. Kenrati is not a warrior or a scholar but he knows the teachings of the Chantry and he’s studied in the old archives with the original scripts from just a thousand years after the cataclism. Who did that old man think he was. Everyone knew the gypsies were not to be trusted. Possessed by Demons half of them, probably. They wouldn’t submit to giving up their children if they had talent like all the others. He is unsure why the Chantry tolerates it. Something about laws made when the Elanati had assisted in a war some thousands of years ago. They were left to manage their own when it came to the talents.

The world is changing, he smiles to himself and wonders how long before the Chantry manages to overturn the old laws. It’s said that the Gypsies are spreading some sort of plague because of their contact with demons as the talented have no watchers. He stubs a toe on a branch and curses under his breath. He giggles, now the language he just used wasn’t exactly fit for the Chantry either. He looks up between the branches of the trees’ in the clearing and looks for the constellations he learnt at Black Rock. Master Briggs, had hit their hands with a birch cane if they’d got even one stars name wrong. His memory hadn’t made him popular with the masters or the other students. He’d been hit with that birch cane across his hands and back a few times too, even though he’d never got a single test wrong. Something about teaching him humility. He’d never really been sure why those monks had hit him. Whatever they’d been trying to teach, he could never remember. He shivered lightly. He’d been eight when his parents had left him there. They’d thought him possessed by a Demon, his memory was so good he could remember everything he read and anything that was said with perfect clarity. It was the headaches that made them fearful and then the terrible fits.

He hadn’t been a popular child, he’d been fat and preferred the books in his father’s library, to playing with the other children.

For fates sake, the Easenters may use slaves but at least they gave their children up. Make sure the world remained safe from the underworld. His thoughts have taken him a little further than he’d like but there was nothing for it. He unlaced his trousers pulling at the string fastening, once loose he pushed the soft moleskin fabric down over his thighs and as he crouched he felt his bowels loosen, not a moment too soon, he thought.

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Three things that make Characters POP!

I have been writing furiously for the last few weeks and have neglected my blog somewhat, so apologies for that. I had some serious planning and structuring to do around the novel, which has become a trilogy….

One of the hardest things to get right for us writerers in this little pen monkeys humble opinion is Character.

So here are my three top tips to make your character pop.
1. Characters show themselves in many ways, most of them are not just about what they say or what their eyes and face are doing. There are thousand different little ques that people give off, these are non verbal and not centred around just the eyes. Try livening up your character by talking about areas other than the peepers. Notice how that makes the character pop a little more on the page? As a novice writer it is sometimes tempting to write about our darlings like walking eye sticks. Stay away from this approach unless you’re writing sci-fi.

2. It is not always what they say but also what they leave out. Whilst you’ve heard the words “Show” don’t “tell” since you have been able to pick up a pen. This also applies to not telling. How much do you hate it when an author info dumps in dialogue. Keep it short, keep it snappy and keep it real. This is a person talking not a plot device!

3. Tension reveals character. Know you characters really well. If you are a writerer of a novel. Character sheets are a god-send. It’s not so much about stifling your creativity more about really knowing who you are writing about. The better and more worked out their wants and needs, the easier it is for your character to tell you something about themselves. It is also easier for them to stay in character and lets you get on with the exciting task of developing that tension.

So that’s it from me and thanks for listening.

Comments as always welcome!

Just a scene. And a first draft at that…

Jarant is sweating profusely as he uses his legs to kick down the villa door, the boy’s body is covered in blood and it drips off his clothing onto the floor of the main hall. It is late and he has run with the boy in his arms to reach the villa.

Where the fates is Bear or Marianne? The hall is empty except for a frightened  house servant who is backing away from the black warden.  Mordin knows that the boy looks half dead. Jarant worries she may bolt and begins to issue instructions in what he hopes is a commanding voice.

“Clear this table, move the candles, we need to lay him out and then fetch the Lady Ranaya.”

The woman considers this and in shock starts to lift the candle-sticks, one at a time. Jarant feels his patience wearing and forces her to take the boy in her arms whilst he swipes the content on the table to the floor.

“Get Marianne, Now!”

He lays, Mordin out on the table, and starts to remove some of the bloody clothing, gently, to check his injuries. There is a lot of blood, but Jarant is unable to work out whether it belongs to the  beggar from the alley or Mordin? Purplish bruises are rising all over the boy’s body, they need to clean him up, the blood is obscuring everything. His injuries seem excessive for a mugging in a back street and Jarants natural suspicions are already bubbling. Why kill the beggar unless there was something distinctive about whoever had done this?

He feels guilty about doubting the boy and decides that these thoughts can wait, he needs to focus on ensuring the boy lives. He hears an intake of breath from behind and knows Marianne has arrived.

“Jarant, has he fallen? Is he, oh please my gods he’s not..”

“No he’s alive, mugged I think.” Now is not the time to give his suspicions voice. He needs to galvanise Marianne. He remembers her healing touch from the war, “Prepare some cloths and hot water, can you stitch, there are some bad cuts. I don’t think most of the blood is his. There was a beggar..”

Marianne, launches herself into tasks directing the servants who have gathered. They fetch hot water, clean cloths and she calls for the sewing kit and asks for Mordins bed to be remade with clean sheets.

She wrings out the  linen in the bowl of hot water and begins to wipe Mordins body and face, revealing large clusters of bruises. He is almost un-recognisable as the handsome boy who left the house excited and vibrant with life this morning. His face is lumpy with the swelling, both eyes swollen shut and the cuts are bleeding steadily on his face. The water in the bowl as she works, quickly turns from pink to red.

Marianne, starts to check each part of her son, softly touching and prodding trying to assess if there are any broken bones. Jarant watches her and assumes that the boys ribs are broken. There is no gurgling in the breath sounds so none of the ribs have pierced a lung. The worry is the boys silence, not a single whimper has issued, since he found him in the alley.

The breaths the boy takes are shallow. So much for a time supporting Bear in the training of his son. He could support Marianne, he knows a lot about medicine yet he knows she needs to do something, holding the pieces together. The hair in her braid has started to come loose. He wants to run his fingers through it. He puts the thoughts of many years ago from his mind. The choice was made and he loves his friend.

“Jarant, I don’t understand why is he not talking or crying, was he awake when you found him?”

“No. I think he is in the slumber. I am not sure what we can do except dress the wounds and set him to bed with a nurse”.

“I’ll need to dress these cuts, this one will need stitches” She points to a nasty cut by Mordins left eye.

Marianne asks for her sewing kit and begins to close up the small wounds, she works diligently yet quickly and he admires the purpose of her movements, she climbs up on the table to work closer and the dress she is wearing gathers by her knees exposing pretty feet and calves, her shoes discarded. Fates help him, he wants to lift her off the table and gather her in his arms, the urge to smother her in kisses and release those curls almost unbearable.

“I shall fetch Bear.” Jarant doesn’t trust himself to stay, yet glances again at the beauty of his friend’s wife, storing it with a thousand other pictures, before turning and heading towards the castle.

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HOW TO MAKE GOODREADS FRIENDS AND ALIENATE PEOPLE

I have in the space of one week been befriended by a “hot” author and rejected by another!

Author 1

The first Author who approached me unsolicited for my friendship is famous. I was so convinced that she was an imposter, I demanded proof that I wasn’t being conned by a thirteen year old teenage boy. When this was duly provided, it left me feeling simultaneously star-struck and guilty. I may have written an unkind comment about this person resembling a chirpy librarian in another post somewhere on this blog…
Having a famous GOODREAD friend can be hazardous to your blogging health. Especially as I commented angry (which they will never know or care about) in the feedback section of a very popular blog. I read an article that was swimming with jealousy, literary snobbery and hypocrisy.

The article itself was a great idea and could have been brilliant. The mistake (in my opinion) was commenting based on other people’s opinion of my new GOODREADS BFF work, and not sticking to the facts or even giving a “personal” assessment.

I think my argument went something like “if you haven’t read the books then don’t write about their validity, language or quality content”.  I think the phrase that made me angriest from the original article went as follows:-

“But I do hope you’ll join me, fellow self-publishers, in being glad that this isn’t one of ours.
“I rolled my eyes at myself?” Don’t our books get enough stick as it is?

I was shocked and surprised to receive a response that picked me up on the grammar of my feedback.  It went a bit downhill from there.  I have to admit in all honesty that I am ashamed of my original comment and angry when I replied to the Grammar rebuff.  I should have waited until I had calmed down after reading the article and then given constructive points and not ranting – It appears however, that I am a very flawed and deeply opinionated human being.

Author 2

The second Author sent me a personal note saying that she would actually rather not, when I sent out a GOODREADS request from the look for your friends app. At first I felt slightly miffed, in a  “Who does she think she is?” Kind of way – I then totally got it.  How would having another wannabe author as a mate, help her get her work out there to readers? Especially as GOODREADS restricts the number of friends you can have to a maximum of five thousand. I ended up feeling happy and supportive of the author, after all she took the time to write me a note and her reasoning was sound. Who knows maybe that will be me one day…

Unable to accept a friend request because there are four thousand and nine hundred and ninety-nine other readers I want to reach out too.

A girl can dream….

Comments, as always, welcome.