Chip MacGregor .com

Erin's Favorite Book...

While Chip is vacationing in Hawaii, look for posts from the rest of the MacGregor Literary staff. Not surprisingly, “Favorite Books” is the topic of choice for our crowd of book lovers. Don’t be afraid to chime in with your thoughts on these top picks.  

 

Erin Buterbaugh is our newest agent; her areas of interest include children’s, middle-grade, and YA fiction, as well as women’s fiction, suspense, and non-fiction.

Okay, first of all, I want everyone to appreciate the fact that I’m writing this blog entry at 12:49 a.m. the day it’s supposed to be posted, not because I put it off all week, but because that’s how crippling I found the task of picking my “favorite” book to blog on. Seriously. I’m one of those people who stand, helpless, for hours in the deodorant aisle, eyes glazed over, unable to cope with the four dozen choices before her, so you can imagine my complete apoplexy when attempting to pick out one favorite book from my overstuffed bookshelves. Suffice it to say, there was a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Since I have more to do in the next three months than to create a system by which I compare every book I’ve ever read and definitively pick the favorite, I decided instead to narrow it down to my favorite book within a category, which I realize is a total cop-out, but one that I’ll hopefully get away with because I’m the new kid and everyone’s still being really nice to me. In honor of last Friday being Friday the 13^th, I decided to go with my favorite ghost story. One of Poe’s, you ask? Nope. Well, then, perhaps Washington Irving’s THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW? Wrong again! My favorite ghost story comes from that well-known master of the supernatural thriller, Charles Dickens, and is entitled A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

(If you think I’m cheating further by trying to pass off a Christmas book as a ghost story, I appeal to the original preface to the work, from the pen of Mr. Dickens himself: “I have endeavored in this ghostly little book, to raise the ghost of an idea, which shall not put my readers out of humor with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their houses pleasantly…” Ha! It’s a ghost story.

I’ve kept a yearly Christmas Eve date with A CHRISTMAS CAROL since I was in high school, and though Barbie, VeggieTales, the Muppets (my favorite), Looney Tunes, and countless made-for-tv movies have done and re-done the Scrooge storyline nearly to death, the book somehow never seems the least bit threadbare or faded when I revisit it. Dickens’ prose is sparkling, comical, overflowing with characterization that never makes it into the movie versions. (My personal favorite is the account of the water-plug in the freezing London streets on Christmas Eve, which, the men laboring on it having left it to gather around a fire: “…being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice.” Yes, this is a fire-hydrant the man is writing about with such color and animation.)

In the shops on Christmas Eve, description that might seem excessive in the average book (when’s the last time you savored a three-page description of a grocery store?) flaunts its extravagance, tantalizing the reader with the bounty and luxury of words as unnecessary but as delightful as the seasonal treats in the grocers’ windows. “…there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle-deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk biffins, squat and swarthy,  setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner.” I can’t read that without craving a Norfolk biffin, and I don’t have the slightest idea what a Norfolk biffin is.

Now, I admit that A CHRISTMAS CAROL doesn’t fall into the normal family of “ghost stories” in that that its four main ghosts—Marley, Past, Present, and Future—aren’t supposed to be particularly frightening, but there are several darker phantasms in the book that are absent from most (though not all) stage and film treatments. Consider the children found clinging to the second ghost’s robes at the end of his time with Scrooge, children whom a “stale and shriveled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled…into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing.” Yeesh. The children, Want and Ignorance, show in stark relief to the revelry and plenty which otherwise characterize the second spirit’s visit, and their appearance and contrast to the preceding part of the chapter chills me quite as much as it does Scrooge.

The moral of most Christmas-themed stories and movies, at least, those purporting to have a “moral,” seems to be that the trappings of Christmas aren’t important, that the real focus of the holiday should be on Jesus (or family, or the warm fuzzy feeling we get from Santa Claus—the “morals” of these Christmas stories have gotten more wishy-washy over the years). And while I agree that the real focus of the holiday should be Jesus, the argument A CHRISTMAS CAROL makes is that the trappings of Christmas—food, parties, gifts, games—are important, that compassion and hospitality are graces granted to us exclusively during our time on earth, and which we should revel in being able to employ during our short pilgrimage here.

One of my favorite passages, describing Scrooge, post-visitations: “Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.”

And now it’s about time for the second ghost to appear (on the stroke of two, if you remember), and I’m typing with one eye shut, but quite as well to have bags under my eyes tomorrow because I stayed up late rhapsodizing about one of my favorite books as to have the malady in less attractive forms. Merry Christmas! 

Shannon's Favorite Book...

While Chip is vacationing in Hawaii, look for posts from the rest of the MacGregor Literary staff. Not surprisingly, “Favorite Books” is the topic of choice for our crowd of book lovers. Don’t be afraid to chime in with your thoughts on these top picks. 

 

 

 

Shannon Potelicki is the agency's International Rights Specialist. In this role, she handles MacGregor Literary's international deals and enables authors to maximize their income potential. She also serves as Chip's assistant and handles the ever-present slush pile.

I’ve long been convinced that Margaret Mitchell read my diary before she authored one of my favorite books, GONE WITH THE WIND. And yes, I realize this also means she discovered time travel and utilized it specifically to read MY diary. (Kudos to her, by the way, because even my brothers couldn’t find it under the... Nope, better keep that secret in case they’re still looking.) To understand my theory—as well as the reasons GWTW  falls at the top of my list—you need only know the topics of my diary entries in junior high, when I first read the epic novel. 

First, that sneaky Margaret Mitchell lured me in with my love for gigantic tomes. True confession: I was the weirdo who would go to the library specifically looking for the longest books. Mom’s rule was three books per trip (which didn’t happen nearly as often as I would have liked), and I wanted some bang for my library card. Margaret must have discovered this from the entry I wrote about an interaction with a librarian—I asked where they kept the “good stuff,” and she looked at me as if I was talking about drugs.

On one fateful trip, in the “good stuff” section, I spotted GWTW. The cover displayed Clark Gable and Vivienne Leigh on the brink of making out, just like the poster for the movie (which is fabulous in its own right). I thought Clark Gable’s mustache looked creepy, but at 1000+ pages it was sure to keep me busy for at least a week... so I read the first paragraph to break the tie. (Creepy mustaches are strong deterrents for 13-year-old girls.)

Once again, Margaret Mitchell (the sleuth!) won me over. “Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were.” How did she know to write this? The numerous entries I wrote about my awkward adolescent phase, of course. Scarlett’s features were “too sharply blended” for her face and my head was too big for my body—a match made in heaven. Of course I wanted to live vicariously through Scarlett! I wanted to have the Tarleton twins begging for all the waltzes with me and scratching their heads when I didn’t invite them to dinner. I wanted that mealy-mouthed Charlie Hamilton to ditch Honey Wilkes just because I batted my lashes. I wanted all of the other girls—Suellen and Carreen included—to be jealous of the attention I received. I was too shy for anything like that to happen in real life, but Margaret helped me to feel powerful through Scarlett.

Not only did Margaret get me to check the book out, but she also got me to start reading GWTW on the way home. Despite its long length and thick paragraphs of description, I found it to be incredibly readable. This was, no doubt, because of the quick bonds I made with the characters—particularly Scarlett. I quickly found myself enveloped in the story. It’s not that difficult for a 13-year-old girl to understand being bored by boys who only talk about fighting, competing with siblings for attention, and crushing on a boy who likes someone else.

While I’m sure those topics (among many others) were passionately discussed in my diary and utilized by Ms. Mitchell accordingly, I would be remiss if I failed to mention the character she created to solidify my love of her novel: Rhett Butler. You see, my obsession with bad boys runs deep and started early. As a result, the vast majority of my diary entries were filled with dreamy thoughts of brooding, mysterious, and dangerous boys I had crushes on. From the moment Scarlett and I first saw this swarthy non-gentleman on the staircase at Twelve Oaks, I was hooked. He adds humor, tension, and power to nearly every scene, which makes it difficult for me to pick just one, but I’ll try. There’s a scene following the death of Scarlett’s second husband, Frank Kennedy. Rhett comes by, under the guise of paying his respects, to mock Scarlett... and to propose:

        “Don’t frown. Name the day, Scarlett. I’m not urging instant matrimony because of your reputation. We’ll wait the decent interval. By the way, just how long is a ‘decent interval’?"

         “I haven’t said I’d marry you. It isn’t decent to even talk of such things at such a time.”

         “I’ve told you why I’m talking of them. I’m going away tomorrow and I’m too ardent a lover to restrain my passion any longer. But perhaps I’ve been too precipitate in my wooing.”

         With suddenness that startled her, he slid off the sofa onto his knees and with one hand placed delicately over his heart, he recited rapidly:

         “Forgive me for startling you with the impetuosity of my sentiments, my dear Scarlett—I mean, my dear Mrs. Kennedy. It cannot have escaped your notice that for some time past the friendship I have had in my heart for you has ripened into a deeper feeling, a feeling more beautiful, more pure, more sacred. Dare I name it for you? Ah! It is love which makes me so bold!” (p. 827-828).

Now that is a leading man I’d like to see more of! Why Scarlett even remembered Ashley Wilkes’ name after a proposal like that, I’ll never quite understand.

Time and experience have made me a different person than I was in junior high—I’ve come to appreciate smaller books, I’ve grown into my head, and... nope, I still have a thing for bad boys. But, like Scarlett, I always go back to Tara. It really is a place of comfort, a place to regroup and reconsider, and a place to call home. And each time I read, I find I appreciate something new and different than I did the last—perhaps because Scarlett and I have been growing up together. Since that first reading, we’ve spent too much time on the wrong guy, loved and lost a friend we didn’t deserve, dealt with financial struggles, overcame obstacles by sheer will power, and came to the right decision a day late and a dollar short.

As long as I leave diary entries for Margaret Mitchell to exploit, I’m sure Scarlett and I will continue to find parallels in our lives—though I hope to avoid shooting a Yankee raider in the face. But if I do, it won’t be hard to find me. Scarlett and I will be thinking about it together at Tara.

NOTE: In Sandra’s post yesterday, in reference to GWTW, she wrote “But that’s another blog post for another day...”  Who would have thought that tomorrow really would be another day? Not any of us. We figured that (given the multitude of titles to pick from, differences in age and taste, etc.) there would be limited possibility for crossover and didn’t share our picks for favorite book with one another. Margaret Mitchell thought it, though. And apparently she’s added thought planting to her arsenal. We got the message— “Tomorrow is another day.”

Sandra's Favorite Book...

While Chip is vacationing in Hawaii, look for posts from the rest of the MacGregor Literary staff. Not surprisingly, “Favorite Books” is the topic of choice for our crowd of book lovers. Don’t be afraid to chime in with your thoughts on these top picks.

 

 

 

Sandra Bishop is a literary agent with MacGregor Literary, Inc. and represents fiction and nonfiction authors in multiple genres and with varying levels of publication background. She was recently named Vice President of the agency.

 

When I was growing up, my grandmother always kept a copy of GONE WITH THE WIND by her chair. Always.

When she needed to put her feet up and rest from her work, she would grab it and read a passage—it rarely mattered where she’d left off. She didn’t use bookmarks. She’d just pick it up and “visit with Scarlett,” sometimes out loud.

I have a fondness and appreciation for the commercial success of Ms. Mitchell’s book, of course, but mostly my fondness is driven by how much the book reminds me of someone I loved dearly. I consider it one of my most fav-o-rite treasures, though I hesitate to leave it out in its condition. It lives on my bookshelf, its pages tattered and torn, and its cover made over with a scrap of wallpaper from Grandma’s last kitchen.

I’ve heard it said that if it were being sold today, it would never make it. Too much description. Pacing problems, etc. But that’s another blog post for another day, perhaps by someone who has read it more recently than have I.

I may not have inherited grandma’s everyday huger for tales of Tara, but I did retain her habit of reading a passage of a favorite book on occasion—just picking it up and thumbing to a random spot to read for a bit. It’s been awhile, though, since I’ve allowed myself the joy of stopping in for brief visits with Reuben, Swede, and Jeremiah Land of PEACE LIKE A RIVER by Leif Enger.

Having just pulled it from my shelf, I’ll do so now, though. In fact, I’ll just flip it open and see where it lands. I promise not to cherry pick, but to share a passage from wherever it falls open… 

Here goes:

Remember August Shultz, in whose barley I made the most panicked job a boy ever did of shooting a wild goose?

 At the bottom of a January cold snap we received a three-cent postcard from August:

 Hello All

     Old friend Speedy came by last night. I wondered if he would and By Goodness he did. Weaselly skinny but strong, sends regards, we were glad to have him, Birdie had kielbasa, it went fast!

 Aug & Birdi

 PS: Best to your friend Andreeson

 Agghhhhh!!!  I landed on a tough patch from which to make my point about this book, and my love for reading it over and over and over. And over again.

It’s still possible, though, just by looking at the first three words of this passage. “Remember August Shultz…” Don’t you love that? It’s Reuben, the protagonist, asking if we remember, with him, a story he remembers about his father’s life long friend, a character to whom he’d actually not introduced us in person, though we’ve long by now gotten the feeling by now we know him just by sheer proximity to him having always been a part of their lives—if not in it on a regular basis.

To reinforce this, rather than just referencing August and explaining his importance to the family, he threads his own memory into the present, and brings us along with him, so we feel the weight of the moment when this important note arrives. In doing this, he warms us to his ongoing affection for this family friend, and it’s as if we’re family too. Which is perfect given the cryptic nature of the three-cent postcard which lets Reuben, Swede, and Dad know that their son and brother, Davy, is safe, and that they took a risk to love and feed him, even with someone menacing afoot. Of course they did. That’s what a lifelong friend of the family would do, right?

It seems simple, his way of asking “Remember August?” but it isn’t simple at all. It’s brilliant. Think of this: when you think of people who have always been in your life, how do you think of them? Do you see just their face? (Well, actually, perhaps in this day of Facebook you do!) Or do you usually, instead, feel their presence in relation to experiences you’ve shared? I am convinced that’s what the author was up to here. Maybe it just happened, and he used it. But, based on other “clever-but-not-feeling-clever” spots in the book, I don’t think so.

Like this one:

There’s this passage, later in the book, after Davy is long on the lam, in which Reuben and his kid sister Swede are invited to read an obit which had been tucked into a scrapbook by Roxanna, the woman who pumped gas for them after they’d miraculously driven for hours on no gas, through “wind-sacked, immobile towns with Presbyterians and Lutherans, and secure Methodists standing around their church doors.”  (Not having come from the plains, I wondered, did Methodists need to be extra secure to stand outside?)

Anyway, the reading of the obit at this point in the story is, particularly to Swede, a nine year old girl who had “lost her heart to the West early on” (how much earlier could it have been, one briefly wonders, but then marvels at the charm of it) is significant because it invites her (and us) to ponder Roxanna’s theory that Butch Cassidy didn’t actually die in Bolivia, a fugitive. That he died in Kansas, Jonas Robert Work, a decade and half before, in the wind swept town of Reece. This notion is introduced to them by Roxanna, just when they need to know that that she knows the adventure, the quest, they are on to find Davy will, quite possibly not end as anyone expects, and that things are not always only as they appear, and that sometimes, even, regular stories disguise the most ambitious legends. Or is it that legends disguise the most regular of stories?

The build up to this notion is perfect, and casual, and yet I can feel Swede hanging on the edge of her seat, wide-eyed, her imagination pining at every word as it develops. The drawing out is purposeful and well placed and masterful, and feeds our own hope, as well as Swede’s and Reuben’s, just when we all need it.

This is an amazingly clever book, and yet it doesn’t feel clever, somehow. On one level, it’s just a story about a widowed Dad trying to raise his kids in the 1950’s. It’s Americana, and a fresh story about miracles. It’s a quest for justice, and a time worn tale about the power of familial love and sacrifice. It’s a story that inspires us to believe that the memories of our lives will live on, and one which reminds us that we can be just as much in the making of them, as in their telling later.

I’ll admit, I read the beginning and the end most often, just to feed my need for the story. And when I do, I am at once transported and reminiscent. I remember the before and the ahead of it. All that led there, and everywhere else we’re headed. And each time, I practically swoon—though never as hard as the first time, the time when I’d first closed the cover, tears streaming down my cheeks, and had literally clutched it to my chest, then turned immediately back to page one to start again.

But it’s been too long, actually, since I’ve allowed myself to wander in and out of this family’s quest for their Davy. I’m feeling inspired to do so again. Tonight though, my eyes are heavy. I’ll start tomorrow. For, after all, tomorrow is another day.

What are some good resources for writers?

Dan wrote and said, "I hear you've taught a couple classes for colleges, and I know you do the occasional conference. For those of us who can't get to another state to hear you, what would be some resources you'd recommend for writers?"

One of the best things you can do for yourself as a writer is to attend a good writing conference. They have conferences all over the country, usually featuring experienced writers and publishing professionals. It's a great way to meet people, ask questions, and connect with others who are also trying to make it as writers. There's undoubtedly a GREAT conference happening somewhere close to you in the month, as the conference season kicks off (for example, I'm attending the Left Coast Crime conference in Sacramento in two weeks). You'll rarely regret investing in a good conference.

Another thing to consider is a critique group -- a chance to sit down with a small group of fellow writers and compare notes, critique each others' work, and talk books. It offers you perspective from others, and it gets you talking writing with people -- something many writers have discovered is hard to find. You can often connect to them online, and many local bookstores will help authors in the area come together in order to network and critique one another. A third resource is one of the online writing groups -- one helpful such gatherings is the Yahoo group "The Writers View," but there are numerous others. Most of these groups discuss writing and publishing, and many have a panel of experts to bring some wisdom to the discussion.

If you're already involved in some of those things, let me suggest a writing course at your local college. It can be a lot of fun to take a literature course or participate in a creative writing class, and the instructors can often give new insight into your work that can help move your craft to the next level. When I was in college, I got to take a class from Ursula Le Guin, one of America's foremost fantasy writers. It was a wonderful experience, and one you can't get just anywhere. Check to see who teaches college courses near you. Another idea is to take a look at the world of writing by subscribing to Writer's Digest Magazine or The Writer, and carefully checking out what's new in the "writing" section of BAM or Barnes & Noble. There are more new resources being created every few months, so if it's been a year since you looked at books about the craft, by all means check out the latest.

Two more thoughts for you... If you're a nonfiction author, the folks at www.bestsellingauthor.com have re-released their CD set, "Become a Bestselling Author: Lessons from an Anonymous Publishing Giant." This is like a master's level course in publishing -- a freelance writer interviews the president of a major publishing house, who gets into the mechanics of publishing, the psychology of editors, and the methods for creating a great proposal. They cover things like "landing a literary agent" and "generating free publicity" and "conducting great book interviews." It's a wonderful resource, but it's not cheap. I think the cost was about $300, but now that they've re-packaged it and are re-releasing it, they're selling for something like $149. Still spendy, but WELL worth the investment. (And no, I don't work for them.) Check it out.

If you're a novelist, by all means go to my friend Randy Ingermanson's site www.advancedfictionwriting.com. Randy gives away some great information (make sure to look at his free e-zine and his famous "snowflake" method), and also sells his Fiction 101 and Fiction 201 classes as downloads or on CD. All of his stuff is well done, and he's one of the few people out there who has something realistic to say about fiction writing and marketing. And Gina Holmes' "Novel Rocket" site has some of the best mix of interviews and insights into the writer's life. 

Of course, if you really want to move forward in your career, consider a writing career coach. I blogged about what Lisa Samson is doing last week -- her company, Luminary, offers manuscript guidance from one of America's great novelists... what more could you want? And, of course, by doing a bit of hunting online, you can discover a number of others who offer similar assistance. 

Hope this helps. What are the resources all you like to recommend?

 

And the winner of the "My Book Therapy" is...

A Guest Post from Rachel Hauck of My Book Therapy

 Hey everyone. I’m back with My Book Therapy Live. Thanks to all who commented on the blog for a chance to win.

I picked Amy Simpson because not only did she leave a funny comment, but several of you voted for her to win, too.

Amy shows great promise as a writer and many of the craft points I highlight in her piece are craft points I see in almost every book therapy I do. In fact, I learned from doing this therapy myself.

Leave a comment if you have a question or a thought to add. Amy, I applaud your work and your bravery to be the live therapy guinea pig. Also, for your willingness to learn!

Thanks to Chip, Sandra and Amanda for lending us this cyber space.

Rachel

 

 And here is the winning entry, complete with Rachel's notes...

 

Log line: The only thing more dangerous than the man bent on taking her life, is

the risk of living and losing her heart to her sworn enemy.

I like this. It’s a bit awkward. And it kind of sounds like she’s going to fall in love with the man bent on taking her life.

So, maybe…

The only thing more dangerous for HEROINE than the man determined to take her life is falling in love with a man who might lose his.

Something like that. Gives a hint of the story problem and question, gives a window onto the journey, raises questions. Indicates a romantic suspense. Nice!

 

 

 

Chapter 1

            “I’m all in.” Finn Carson shoved the heaping stack of poker chips to the center of the table, challenging anyone to cross him. The pocket aces in his possession were just about a sure thing, considering Ryker and Jones couldn’t bluff to save their lives and Wally, well, he could lift a ton, but he sure couldn’t spell it.  LOL.

            The past few months had been pretty uneventful. Kirkwood, the quaint suburb in West St. Louis County, was one of the few towns yet to be hit by the “5-Alarm Arsonist.”

            “Jeeze, ß Believe it or not, any time of Jeeze or Sheez might not pass in CBA. It’s a derivative of “Jesus.” Finn, why do you always have to push it to the limit?” Jones threw down his cards. “I hate poker.”

            Finn couldn’t help but laugh. Okay, I like this. I get the feeling we’re watching firefighters, but I’m not sure. We need a bit more story world. Where are we? What time of day. Sights? Sounds? Clinking of the poker chips? A cold fluorescent light overhead. “All right, any takers?” Poker always provided a nice distraction. And of course, winning didn’t hurt matters either.

Teaching point: Instead of saying “Finn couldn’t help but laugh,” show is the action of scraping the chips across the table, adding to his pile. Let us see his actions, see his winnings. We can feel and see that he’s smiling because he’s winning.

Dialog point: What’s Finn’s response to his co-worker/friend? “All right, any takers?” is a good line, but said too soon. Jones threw down his cards and said he hated poker. A good response for Finn might be:

“No you don’t, Jones, you just hate losing.”

“Especially to you.”

“All right, any takers? Carter, what about you? Do you have more guts than Jones?”

This rounds out the feel of the room and lets us get a bit more of Finn’s character and personality. Don’t cut us off too soon. Add some action and senses and you have a good opening.

Ryker folded and all eyes zoned in on a bewildered Wally.

            “I, uh . . . I guess I’ll . . . call?”

            Finn slapped his cards down with satisfaction, ready to rake in the spoils.

            “Aww, you win. I just got these five and seven of hearts.” Wally shook his head.

            Finn’s smile faded in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You have a flush.”

            “I do?” His dopey expression morphed into something akin to enlightenment. “Does this mean I won’t be on bathroom duty for once?”

            Finn rolled his eyes. There was no money on the line, but he still hated to lose. And very seldom did. 

Teaching point: Again, give us action. Eye rolling doesn’t show us any of his character or emotions. Show us he hates losing by pushing away from the table and uttering a “low hot word.”

Also, by now, we need to get a bit of Finn’s internal struggle. Hint at his fear and lie. Can he be a bit more on edge? He really wants to win. Needs to win. Not because he wants off of bathroom duty but because something underneath is broiling and winning would prove he’s… not such a loser? Or wimp? Or brute? Or something…

What’s going on beneath the surface with him? Great that we are seeing his “surface” world – playing poker with fellow FF but he also needs to be struggling beneath the surface.

            The ribbing and heckling commenced as the guys scrawled “J.P. Wallace” on the wall, knocking Finn’s long standing streak off the record board.

            “All right guys, I’m out. I think I’m gonna go get some shut eye. See you losers later.” Finn climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Ryker, chuckling at the insults following his retreat.

            After turning out the lights, he stared into the consuming darkness, praying that a dreamless sleep would come. Most nights, he’d get an hour or two before the nightmares kicked in. Then he’d spend the remainder of the night waking at thirty minute intervals in a cold sweat. Finn was a grown man, he shouldn’t be afraid of sleep. But he was. Fear of the terrors to come strangled his even breaths as he settled in for slumber.

Good. We see something bothering him. But instead of delivering it here in one graph, weave it into his emotions.

Let’s flip this. If he’s nervous to go to sleep, having him staying up, calling for another poker game, trying to get the guys to stay up later and later to play poker. Or watch a movie. Or work out. The Captain can ask, “You okay?”

“Yea, sure, just hate losing. I’d rather clean Ryker’s dirty dishes than clean bathrooms.”

            He hadn’t told the captain, but the lack of sleep was starting to affect his performance, a shadow of weariness had become his constant companion. Doubt and fear wormed through the cracks in his armor, taunting him for his weakness. The only person who knew about his insomnia and night terrors was Ryker. And Finn wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t need the guys badgering or second guessing him. He was doing enough of that all by himself.

Guilt pricked Finn’s conscience, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that no one else would lose their life because of him.

Great, but we still don’t know he’s a fire fighter for sure. A bit more of his world. One or two lines.

* * *

            The blaring alarm jolted Finn upright, balmy sweat glued the sheets to his legs as he struggled to disentangle his feet. ß Oo, I can see that. Good. 

Moving auto-pilot, he darted out of his room, wrapped himself around the pole and descended to the garage. ß Do they call it a garage? Isn’t it a bay?

Fighting back the panicked rhythm in his chest, he stepped into his boots and pulled on his Turnout gear, vaulting up to his spot on the truck.

            In the blur of a few moments the fire truck left the safety of the Kirkwood Fire Station and found its way to an infernal blaze consuming a small craftsman home.

Actually, I think this scene is your opening scene. I love jumping into the action like this. All the detail of the above scene can be woven into this scene. Because all we need to know is he’s struggling with nightmares. You could write something like, “his nightmare became reality at the sound of an alarm.”

“Finn shook his head, drew a long hard breath, desperate to free himself from the feeling of dying in his sleep. This was real life. He had to focus or die for real.” Something like that….

            Even after seven years as a firefighter, Finn knew he would never get used to seeing someone’s home burn to the ground. As he watched ß Why? I like the hint of his heart here, but why does a house burning down bother him so deeply? the flames leap into the sky, fear paralyzed him. It was the same feeling that kept him sidelined, working the hose for the past four months. It wasn’t where he belonged, yet he couldn’t find his way back. His courage had been stripped from him and his fear held him hostage. ß Love this. A hint of his fear and problem, of his lie and if this is our first scene, you’re hitting it by the end of the first page! Excellent.

            As orders were barked to exceed the sound of the roaring flames, Finn trekked into position. Then, like a cry in the night, something tugged at him. Something beyond the realm of reason wove through the chaos and pierced his heart with unwavering resolve.

An undeniable force set his legs in motion. His heart stuttered in his chest, his skin tasting the flames even from a distance. But he couldn’t turn back, even as every fiber of his being begged him to retreat. Before he could change his mind, he radioed the chief, and entered the house.

Lord, guide my steps. ß This is okay, but not great here. His adrenaline is flowing, his heart his pumping, he’s engulfed in fear, I’m not sure he’d form a full prayer here.

Also, we need a lot more drama before he goes into the house. He needs to be on the hose, doing his job and then something happens, something big and now he’s faced with his big fear. Being called on to go in. He’d not want to go. He’d resist. We need a confrontation – quick one – with his Captain – telling him to “do your job.” Then we see him go in, feel his fear, wondering what is going on with this guy.

You might have some dialog with the Captain, “Finn, I need you. Get a hold of yourself. The bla-bla fire was six months ago. Now go.”

So we get more of a hint of what’s going on with our hero.

Another thought is to start in the heroine’s point of view. Most women are readers and sometimes connecting with the heroine first is best. Plus, you log line is Her story. Not His.

Nice writing! Good set up. Interesting opening. A frightened firefighter? We instantly feel for him. Good job!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Failing Forward - a guest blog by Alton Gansky

A 2010 issue of Wired magazine contains “The Master Planner,” an article/interview with Fred Brooks, an early computer programmer and former department head for IBM. Thirty-five years ago he wrote a small book, The Mythical Man-Month in which he argued against the idea that two programmers can achieve twice as much work as one in a month. This became known as “Brooks Law.” He has written another new book The Design of Design, a collection of essays dealing with leadership, hardware systems, and more.

Two comments from the interview caught my attention; comments that deal with life and creativity. Author/editor Kevin Kelly brought up a statement Brooks made about some of his early work. Brooks called the IBM 360 OS “the worst computer programming language ever devised by anybody, anywhere.” When Kelly asked him about the frank self-appraisal, Brooks said:

"You can learn more from failure than success. In failure you’re forced to find out what part did not work. But in success you can believe everything you did was great, when in fact some parts may not have worked at all. Failure forces you to face reality.”

This bit of honesty is difficult for some to swallow. People in my profession are often insecure about their work and become defensive. Who can blame them? They work alone and try to create from nothing a piece of work that will entertain, educate, and please not only readers but a phalanx of editors, pub boards, professional reviewers, amateur reviewers, bookstore managers, and more. Sometimes writing for publication seems akin to baring one’s back for flogging. So, we become sensitive souls; tender in all the wrong places.

Writing, however, is a craft and an art, one which requires the writer to have the guts to commit to self-examination. You need to know this: I am the poster boy for insecurity. I always have been. I’ve felt that way in every career I’ve had--and I’ve had several of them. Yet I’ve learned that creative growth comes faster when I focus on what I could have done better rather than what I did right.

Writing is a continuous process of learning. I have trouble reading my books after they've been published. Not because they're bad, but because I keep seeing little "failures."

The second quote—an anecdote—that caught my eye is this:

"Edwin Land, inventor of the Polaroid camera once said that his method of design was to start with a vision of what you want and then, one by one, remove the technical obstacles until you have it."

I’ve heard similar statements, but this one hits the bull’s-eye. What do you want from your creativity, from your writing? Can you see it? Does it seem real to you? Good. What stands in your way? Start removing obstacles. Al’s Axion #45: See it, believe it, do it.

Consider Brook’s quotes together: Learn your from your mistakes; start removing obstacles. The key is to learn to fail forward.

Alton Gansky is a professional used-to-be who is now a full-time writer, the author/principle writer of over 40 books including novels and nonfiction work. He is also the director of the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference (www.brmcwc.com). When not writing he likes to torture hardwood into furniture or capture reality with his Canon digital camera. (Who is he kidding, he's always writing.) www.altongansky.com

More of "The Best Advice on Writing"

Today's guest blogger is Russ Masterson, author of 40 Days Without Food. Russ never cared much about writing until one day, as a 20-year-old college student, he found himself stuck in a hotel room in Ghana, Africa, with a nasty rash and an urge to pick up the pen. After the birth of his writing dream, Russ went on to earn a degree from the University of Georgia. His first book released last year. 

What's the best advice I've received about writing? Two tips which I've found helpful:

1.      Keep writing. The only way to discover your voice and strengthen your skill is to write more. There’s no shortcut. You can talk and dream about writing, but at some point you have to get work done. Sit down and write. So you’ve received sixty-three rejection emails – feel like a failure for a few minutes, then sit down and write some more. This idea of rejection brings me to the second bit of advice...

2.      Glean your self-worth from somewhere more stable than that which you produce. When my first book was published, and the reader reviews began to appear on the Amazon sale page, the third review contained several negative comments about my writing. Initially I wanted to search for the lady’s home address, drive to her house, and jam her cat in the microwave. I decided that may not be prudent, so I lay in bed wondering if any of this is worth it—putting yourself out there for such a beating.

I knew my value, or even giftedness, shouldn’t be judged by one person’s opinion, and even while remembering all the compliments from my agent and publisher and friends, I couldn’t shake that review. It sounds ridiculous, even shallow to write those words now, but it’s so easy to glean from approval, or even comparison, building an inner case for value.

I wrote this in an online interview shortly after becoming published:

“You think becoming published will give you some feeling of completion; that reaching this achievement will do something inside of you, and for a few weeks you do feel some gratitude for the opportunity and the work you've been able to do. Then you see the books ahead of you on lists and form reasons why your book should be selling more copies than those books. So, yes becoming published was exciting and rewarding, but then you, in some way, recalibrate to the new position and end up feeling the same as you did when you were unpublished. The entire process has helped me see that trying to squeeze value out of achievement is tiring and pointless.”

 We all justify our existence with something—cars, jobs, relationships, book sales. Grace brings rest because our existence is validated before we produce. We can detach from the shortcomings in ourselves and our lives. The differential between where we think we should be and where we are can wash away. Becoming comfortable in your own skin sounds cliché, but I see no other way to liberty.  

More notes on "the best writing advice..."

Diana Crosby wrote to say, "At a conference, Nora Roberts said, 'Give yourself permission to write crap. You can edit crap, but you can't edit a blank page.'"

Shirley Brosius noted, "The best writing advice I received came in the form of the book HOW TO WRITE FAST WHILE WRITING WELL, by David A. Fryxell. The way I apply his teaching as a newspaper writer is to mark topics in the margins while reading over notes from an interview. At the same time I look for a theme for the piece and a catchy lead. Then I create an outline. By the time I am ready to type the piece, I know in what order I will present the material. No need to keep rereading notes. I just write until finished, then polish. It is a great time saver."

And college writing prof Philip Patterson sent this: "Write what you know. I’ve been published in Christian self-help books, journalism textbooks (8 editions), devotional books, a 365 day Bible with applications for each day, and every time I was in my comfort zone. I am out of my element in novels, for instance, and my forays into that genre have only been exercises in frustration. I still try, because I believe in stretching as a writer, but all of us have a 'sweet spot' and the unpublished author should find it and stay in it until he or she gets a name doing that and then move one to other genres."

Thanks, everyone, for participating. Happy new year!

What's the best writing advice you ever got?

I've had several people write to share the best writing advice they've ever received. 

Vince Zandri, who has done numerous novels and sold more than a quarter million books, wrote to me and said, "The best writing advice I ever got came from Ernest Hemingway in the form of his memoir, A Moveable Feast. If writers are worried about one thing, it's the ability to keep a story moving from day to day. To avoid the 'block,' as some people call it. Papa wrote slowly and methodically in the early morning hours, and trained himself to stop at a point where he knew what was going to happen next. That way he could be sure of getting started the next day -- and it left him the afternoons to play, exercise, fish, drink, or do whatever he wanted." 

Successful nonfiction writer Mel Lawrenz wrote to say, "The best advice? Take the long view. See the long process of publishing as an advantage -- the stages of writing, editing, rewriting, and revising make for a more refined end product. Don't miss the opportunity to rethink what you originally wrote." 

Harlequin author Dana Mentink sent this: "The best writing advice I got as a pre-pubbed author was that I should act like a professional. My mentor encouraged me to treat my writing like a business, not a hobby. Put in the hours, describe yourself to others as a writer, and really put yourself into the mindset of a professional. She explained to me that there's a big difference between 'I want to write a book' and 'I want to be an author.' The latter requires professional dedication." 

Children's author Kayleen Reusser noted, "Believe in yourself, even if no one else does. At my beginning I was the only one who believed I could write and get published. Even my mother told me I could not write -- no money, no time, three small children to care for. But I swore I would die trying. (Thank goodness it has not come to that.)"

And novelist Dianne Price wrote to say, "Know your characters. LIve with them. Talk to them. Listen to their words and the cadence of their speech. Make them your constant companions. Argue with them. Commiserate with them. Ask them questions. You must know them to make them believable."

What about you? What's the best writing advice you've ever heard?

 

The Best Writing Advice: A guest blog from novelist Kaye Dacus

“Writing a first draft requires from the writer a peculiar internal state which ordinary life does not induce.”  ~Annie Dillard (The Writing Life)

Back in 2001, I attended the Blue Ridge Mountains Writers’ Conference in Ridgecrest, North Carolina. Up until that time, I’d been writing and writing and writing for years. I’d even majored in creative writing (and hated it) many years before that. At the conference, I took the Fiction 101 track, taught by author T. Davis Bunn. It was pretty early on in the first day’s workshop that I heard the piece of advice that had the most profound influence on my writing career of anything I’ve learned since: “Above all else: FINISH YOUR FIRST DRAFT.”

It seems like a pretty simple thing, doesn’t it? Almost too simple to have to be said aloud, right? But how many people out there are like I was: content to just “play” with our characters by either revising/rewriting existing stuff we’ve already written or writing scenes/vignettes that don’t necessarily tie together into a story, but that’s okay, because we’re writing and entertaining ourselves, without ever having a story that has, as Meg Cabot explains, a beginning, middle, and end.

I think this is probably a bigger trap for those of us who’re character driven than for those who’re plot driven. Those of us who start writing because we’ve fallen in love with a couple of characters really are writing to spend time with those characters. If we don’t have a clear idea of a story for them, we can write stuff about them for years without ever “finishing” anything. Take it from me and my 200,000-word unfinished opus that I spent ten years playing with.

One of the questions I’ve seen most often in the interviews I’ve been doing recently is what advice would I give to “aspiring” writers. My response is this: Just like someone cannot one day pick up a stethoscope and scalpel and “become” a doctor, one cannot just pick up a pen and notebook (or start up a computer) and “become” a writer. Writing fiction is as much about learning and studying as it is about composing and creating.

I’ve heard it said that no one can consider himself a “real” writer until he has written at least one million words. I’m not sure it takes quite that many. I would revise that to say that it’s really hard to truly learn how to write well without having written at least two or three complete manuscripts, attended a few writing conference or workshops/classes, and read many writing-craft books and/or websites.

To all aspiring writers: get your manuscripts finished! STAND IN GROOM was my fourth complete novel and the first I’ve ever completely revised, and it was an almost three year process from beginning to end. With each manuscript I wrote and completed, I learned more and more about the craft of writing. So instead of just concentrating on polishing and repolishing those first three chapters for contests or submissions, get the whole book written and revised, then start on the next one while you’re in the process of submitting.

Am I suggesting that no writer is ever going to get their very first manuscript published? Absolutely not. But I’ve talked to a plethora of writers who did get one of their first finished manuscripts published—and now they cannot abide to even split the covers of that book because they’re embarrassed by the lack of quality in the writing.

By writing a story through to completion, you’ll learn more about yourself as a writer than you will from any seminar, workshop, conference, mentor, or critique partner. You’ll learn how long it takes you to write something to the end. You’ll learn what your natural rhythm for pacing and character development. You’ll find out that you have a tendency to write chapters of a certain length (which can change, based on what genre you write in if you write multiple genres). You may find out that you’re really better suited to romantic suspense rather than romantic comedy or to women’s fiction rather than chick lit.

But more important than any of that, you will feel a sense of accomplishment and confidence in yourself and your calling as a writer when you write those two most glorious words: THE END. Nothing else in the writer’s life can compare with writing the ending of a story—whether it’s a happy ending, bittersweet, melancholy, or tragic. Forget trying to make it perfect as you’re writing it. Just write. Turn off the internal editor. Ignore the analytical side of your brain. Don’t worry about rules and finding the perfect descriptive verb. Don’t write for anyone but YOU. As Stephen King told us in On Writing: you write the first draft with the door closed, you revise with the door open.

Every time someone announces winners of writing contests—whether it’s online at ACFW or in the back of the RWA magazine—I always read them, because I know I’m going to see familiar names and want to congratulate friends and acquaintances. However, there are some people I worry about—their names regularly appear on finalists’ lists for multiple contests, and have been there every year for five or six or more years. A few I’m close enough with that I’ve talked to them about this phenomenon and I’ve come to discover that there are certain writers out there who have what many of us call “contest addiction.” They spend most of their writing life revising and implementing suggested changes on the first ten, fifteen, twenty-five, or fifty pages of their stories—but never really go past that. Either they never finish the story, they just keep entering those few pages into contests, hoping the editor/agent judge will miraculously offer them a publishing contract, or, when they do get a request for a submission, the rest of their manuscript has suffered from severe neglect and can’t live up to the quality of the opening pages.

I’m a big proponent of writing contests. Entering the Noble Theme three times helped me overcome my fear of letting others read and comment upon my writing. And it was entering Stand-In Groom in the Genesis contest in 2006 and being a finalist that gave me the confidence to approach two agents and ask if I could submit it to them. But do you see the difference? I took the comments and feedback that I received from those early contest entries and applied the feedback I received to all of my writing—and I moved on, kept writing, kept finishing manuscripts, kept building my confidence.

--Excellent advice, Kaye! Thanks for participating in the discussion. You can read more from Kaye over at her own website, www.kayedacus.com