Hello and Goodbye

Happy New Year, WWKers! I do hope that you had a fine end to 2015 and have had a stellar start to 2016.

I said goodbye to 2015 by staying up to 9:30 (I'm such a wild child) reading a few pages of Lauren Groff's amazing Fates and Furies. I said hello to the new year by attending what was basically a moving meditation—high-intensity interval training with mantras thrown in—at a friend's studio. At the end of 75 minutes, sweat dripping down our faces, we were asked to write down three words we wanted to focus on in the new year.

My words for 2016 are above: create, imagine, believe.

Oh, and there's "work" with an asterisk because all of the things I want take work and nothing less and I felt that part needed to be documented too. We were told to put that little sheet and a 24/7 token into our wallets as a tangible reminder of what kind of energy we're putting forth in the new year.

I absolutely love this idea. I love the thought of focusing on single words rather than specific goals. Mostly, because many of my goals take other people to solve them and it's not fair to myself to make a resolution that revolves around others' actions. I'm in control of myself and nothing else—a hard thing to remember sometimes...especially after the 2015 I experienced.

2015 was a year of change of me. I said goodbye to my younger and only sister at the end of 2014. I lost my grandmother three weeks into 2015. While I was on bereavement leave for my grandma's funeral, some jerk blasting through an unprotected left turn totaled my car. I was fine, but when the tow truck driver came, I broke down and started crying. I really felt like I'd hit a major low. Personally, professionally, and now literally, I felt like I wasn't going anywhere.

Exactly three months later I had an offer for my first book deal. Hard cover. Major house. Amazing imprint. Fabulous editor.

Everything after that has been amazing. I'm on an uphill climb out of that valley and I'm up so high now that when I look back on 2015, it doesn't feel like it was a bad year at all. Even though it began with such loss, it was actually a dream year.

2015: the year of new adventures ahead.

But with new adventures bring change. I'm on a different path than I was even a year ago and I need to respect that. And I need to make space for others who desire to bring change to their own lives. Therefore, I've decided to leave the WWK.

I am very conscious of what a wonderful resource the WWK is for mystery writers. It's a wonderful community both within the readership and the blog internally and I want to make sure I'm not filling a spot that someone else can use. My book deal is for YA fantasy, not for the mysteries I have locked in Dropbox, and it feels selfish of me to squat on a space on this wonderful platform when someone else currently writing mystery could benefit on so many levels from joining.

I will be back often to say hello to the WWK in the comments and keep up with the mystery community—my first love. The words in this space are always inspiring, thought provoking and interesting. I couldn't imagine my life without them. I'm very grateful to have been a member of the WWK for so long and I really enjoy each and every one of the writers and readers.

Take care, WWK. Love and light to all of you and have a very happy 2016.

The Great World War II Meet-Up

Like many people my age, both of my grandpas served in World War II.

My generation is attached to the Greatest Generation by a few degrees of separation and the kind of time that makes it difficult to associate either grandpa with his vitamins and cranberry juice and attachment to Matlock with the square-jawed young men raising the flag at Iwo Jima or posing in uniform in the German countryside.

And like many grandchildren of vets, the stories I know I only know in fits and starts. Either because I was too young to understand or the stories, even decades later, were still too fresh to be told.

Still, what I do know is that home was a talisman, at least for one of my grandpas.

R. Gregory Warren was only a year into military school in Claremore, Oklahoma, when he enlisted and was sent to Germany in May 1943 as a paratrooper. He was an only child, famously ornery, and pretty much joined up to learn some discipline along with the fact that he was compelled that fighting against the Nazis was the right thing to do.

He doesn’t tell many stories about the war. Mostly mentioning how he was super careful about having clean socks and took up smoking because personnel got cigarettes for free. (He quit smoking when he returned but has been obsessive about cleanliness ever since.) No stories of bravery or killing Nazis or saving innocents, though, I’m sure there’s some mixture of those things locked up tight in his 89-year-old mind.

But the story he does tell, and that I’ve heard many times, is about when a piece of home found him in the middle of Germany.

As I’ve mentioned, he was an only child—The Great Depression kind of ruined his parents on having other kids—but he was very close to his twin female cousins, called Bob and Frank by the family and everyone else (though their names were Barbara and Frances). They were like his older sisters and they were extremely important to him and he missed them dearly, though both had wartime jobs as nurses.

One day, in the middle of Germany, Greg’s supervisor drove up in a Jeep and said, “Warren, come with me.” Of course, he did, because by then the orneriness was under wraps, and he was pretty good at doing as he was told. Plus, in an active war zone, you always do as you’re told.

He followed the commanding officer over to a Jeep. There, in the back, was a woman. And as he got closer, his heart started racing.

It was his cousin, Bob.

The nurse had been given time off and went in search Greg, and in doing so, both found a little home, there in the middle of Germany, in the middle of a war.

Greg’s commanding officer waited for the pair to stop hugging before clearing his throat and saying, “Warren, can you drive a Jeep?” Greg nodded. And was told he had three hours and the Jeep to do with as he pleased.

The pair jetted off as far as they could go, trading stories and catching up half a world away from the farm in Oklahoma where they’d pal around each summer together, along with Frank, who was on leave in England and missing out on the fun Greg and Bob were having in Germany.

And fun they did have, even taking a picture together in front of a bombed out church: My grandfather’s only picture from Germany during his entire tour.

Today, it’s hard to imagine how amazing that experience must have been for both of them. Now, we’re all so utterly connected, and finding a friend in a crowd or even a foreign country is as easy a single text, an address and time. Maybe an email, if necessary.

It will probably always be exhilarating to get a taste of home when far away, true. But I’m fairly certain that feeling doesn’t hold a candle to his surprise and her delight at connecting a world away.

I hope everyone had a fine Veteran’s Day this week and got a chance to remember those who have served or are serving at this very moment.

NaNoWriMo and the End

Today is November 1, otherwise known as the first day of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo or just NaNo). During November, writers around the world aspire to write 50,000 words (aka a novel-length piece) in a single month.

There’s an official signup where you can track your progress, encourage others, and “win” by completing the task, but there’s also plenty of people who do it unofficially, working on their own with the hopes of cranking out nearly 2,000 words daily to complete the task.

Though I’ve never officially done NaNo, I think it’s a great tool for many writers, especially those particularly affected by writers’ block, or who thrive on a community banded together for a common goal. I also love the spotlight it gives to the writing world and the work and artists who fill it.

That said, I’ve noticed that in years past, most people are focused on crossing the finish line.

They just want to get to 50,000 words in a month—quite the feat, indeed. (Even though 90 percent of the people who do NaNo most likely know that 50,000 words is normally too short for a novel and that they will have to add another 10,000 words at least, and that they will have to do extensive revision before sending anything written in a month out to agents and editors. RIGHT?)

And, with all this focus on “the end,” I thought I’d share a conversation I had this week with a coworker. We went for a walk on our lunch break and began to discuss books. She’s an avid reader, and involved in a book club. When we discussed what she was currently reading, she said she was halfway through Gillian Flynn’s Dark Places. This, of course, led me to ask if she’d read Flynn’s monster hit Gone Girl. She nodded, but then chewed on her words for several seconds.

“Did you like it?” I asked, before adding, “I loved it.”

She bit her lip. “I did—until I got to the end. I mean, what the heck?”

Now, I won’t give it away, just in case there’s someone reading this who hadn’t read the ending. But basically, and this is what I told her, the ending, as innocuous as it is, is the most twisted thing about the novel—which is saying something.

Many people I know didn’t like it. In fact, I didn’t like it, per se, though I totally respect the genius stroke Flynn had in leaving so many readers uncomfortable.

For me, even with the ending, the book was brilliant and I recommended it to many, many people. But for this reader, it left her too uncomfortable. She didn’t recommend it and she didn’t see the movie when it came out, even though it was nominated for all sorts of awards and had an all-star cast. And yet, she was giving the author another chance. Because even though she didn’t like the ending, it, like the book, stuck with her, and propelled her to read more.

So, dear NaNo warriors, when you get to the end—whether it be this month or next—make sure it counts. No two readers will view your ending the same way, so make sure it’s the right one for you.

Point of Preference

I often say that I’m a literary omnivore—I’ll read almost anything. But, of course, even with tastes as broad as mine there are exceptions. There are biases. And we all have them, even if we don’t hold a single genre above all others.

I’ve been thinking about a specific preference of mine while reading Leigh Bardugo’s excellent Six of Crows. The story is told in a multi-point-of-view third person. Meaning, each chapter is told in the third but with a skew toward one character or another, and, in this case, the character’s name is at the top of each chapter.

Taken all together, Six of Crows has that sort of dramatic irony that is completely delicious. Yes, delicious. Because it’s “meaty” when we get so see so many sides at once. For example, this is exactly why the Game of Thrones books are so enticing—you are constantly getting another side of a very intricate story.

When it’s done well, multi-POV third can feel like a movie, because that’s sort of how it’s written—a collection of scenes from different view points that make a full and captivating story when combined.

Now, back to biases. I realized when I was reading this book that I almost never prefer books from third person that have a single point of view. Maybe this is bias from writing exactly that way when I was in newspapers. But most of the time, I just think, “Why not just write this in first person?” I feel like third person’s greatest benefit is the ability to have the reader see more than one side of the story. And if there’s one problem it’s that the voice can feel distant as compared to first person.

All that said, it’s not that I don’t like single-POV third person—in fact, if it’s done well, I won’t notice the distance and I’ll feel as close to the main character as if they were telling their story in the first person. (Shout out to my Pitch Wars mentees who have achieved this!)

Do you have a preferred POV? Is it different for writing as for reading or are they the same?

Fear and the Ringing Phone

Last fall, I wrote a line in a work-in-progress featuring two teenagers and what I thought was a phenomenon of the younger crowd: being freaked out by a phone call.

You know, just your average, out-of-the-blue ringing phone. The same kind of call we’ve had ever since Alexander Graham Bell patented the thing in 1876. Which also happens to be something today’s teenagers are pretty adverse to because they prefer texting to talking.

So, the scene went like this: My main character (MC) calls her best friend with good news and when her BFF picks up she immediately says, “Please tell me your dad didn’t get shot.”

No, the MC says, her father (a cop) didn’t get shot.

“Christ. Why the hell are you calling then? Wait, it’s not your mom, is it?”

No, the MC says, her mother (who has cancer) is fine. And then she finally gets to the exciting, story-moving news.

I was pretty proud of myself for that scene because I felt it was true-to-life for today’s teens. That it was something that set them apart in their life experience and I felt like it worked well.

But now I’ve developed my own fear of the phone.

Weeks after I wrote that scene, I got some really horrible, shocking news. By phone. Because it’s not something you’d text and the person calling didn’t live near me.

I’ve had a huge fear of unexpected phone calls ever since. Rather than being excited when my husband or my parents call, I freak out if they call without a warning text. My brain automatically flashes horrible images through my mind of something gone wrong—a car wreck, a heart attack, an accident.

I struggle to answer or I don’t answer at all. I don’t want to hear it.

Obviously, I’m hoping that this will change for me over time. But it got me thinking: As writers and readers, we’ve all read or written a scene that takes place over the phone. It’s a utility of modern writing and it’s often crucial to deceive or PI work. Many contemporary books will also include bits of dialogue exchanged in text. Again, this is useful and normal.

How do your characters communicate? What does it say about them? Or what does it say about you?

Dialogue and Critical Thinking

Chances are, dear readers, you have a vague idea who the two cartoon princesses are in the photo collage above. If not, a hint: Anna and Elsa, stars of Disney’s massive hit FROZEN.

FROZEN is a movie loved by many and its songs are ones you can probably hum along with even if you haven’t seen the movie or bumped into a five-year-old singing “Let it Go” at the top of her lungs in the cereal aisle at the grocery store.

But what you may not have noticed—at least I didn’t until I saw this post on Tumblr—was that Anna and Elsa haven’t done themselves many favors in critical thought department.

The above collage has the caption: “These two run a country.”

Yes, they run a tiny kingdom, but they are constantly, painfully saying, “What?” “Wait?” and combinations of those and other “I’m really confused and don’t understand what you’re saying” expressions.

Obviously, many people saw that movie and never noticed these princesses’ penchant for speaking before thinking. I sure didn’t.

BUT, fill a whole book with conversations where your character is constantly exclaiming, “Wait, what?” and you likely won’t have your reader thinking the character is nearly as smart or interesting or worthy of any sort of praise whatsoever.

Case in point: I once read a manuscript blind for someone where the main character was supposed to be this special person with knowledge that could save an empire (yes, it was dystopian). But this main character was constantly and I mean CONSTANTLY having things explained to her. She never was able to put two and two together. Even worse, it was always men in this world explaining things. Not exactly what many young girls would want to read, even though this would-be author was aiming it straight at the high school set.

After reading probably a thousand variations of “Wait, what?” I knew there was no way I was ever truly going to trust that this character could save her people or was worth any of the praise dripped on her. And I wanted to like her. I really did. But there was no way we were going to be friends. And I felt disappointed with the whole manuscript.

So, this is a challenge to you. When you’re revising, see how many times you rely on a crutch such as “Wait, what?” to get to the heart of whatever information needs to be discovered in a scene. You might surprise yourself at how easily you let your character get away with something completely against his or her character.

On Subjectivity and Writing

In my last post, I discussed how I went about combing through submissions for Pitch Wars, a writing contest for which I’m a mentor to an unagented writer of my choosing. As I explained, I was trying to be as logical as possible, but that I couldn’t ignore my gut. And my gut is subjective.

Now, two weeks later, I find myself attempting and failing at writing rejections.

I know the 76 rejections I have to write (I ended up with two fabulous mentees, if you’re wondering why I’m not writing 77 for my 78 submissions) are only truly useful to those who submitted if I give them specific feedback. These people already know they weren’t chosen. I’m not even sure they’ll open the email when I send it because, really, writers are subjected to enough rejection, why actually read one you knew was coming?

But also, all 76 of those rejections are for reasons that are completely subjective.

Completely. Even if I give each entrant the specific reason my gut veered away.

And how does one truly explain subjectivity?

As Keanu says above, what if what I see is completely different from how others see it? Subjectivity is a stew of so many factors—preferences, education, background, mood, interests, etc.—what can a writer gain except information that can be used with someone who is similarly subjective?

So, if we constantly tell each other that “writing is subjective” what are we truly supposed to learn from that? What do you think?

Pitch Wars: Behind the Curtain

For the third year in a row, I’m a mentor in a contest run by Brenda Drake called Pitch Wars. You’ve heard this spiel before in this space, but this basically means that querying writers submit to contest mentors (usually agented writers). The mentors then pick mentees to help them get their manuscripts in the best shape possible before an “agent round” where a select group of agents comb through the entries and make requests publically on each entry.

The contest has a growing number of success stories, with dozens of writers agented and/or gaining book deals in direct correlation to the contest. My mentee last year, the super awesome Kellye Garrett, was offered representation IN A BAR at 10:30 at night by an agent who loved her Pitch Wars submission (they were at the New England Crime Bake the week after the agent round).

So, yeah, Pitch Wars does incredible things for writers. Mostly because it provides a spotlight on something that might be great but overlooked in a pile of queries. I’ve benefited from that spotlight myself, meeting my agent through the contest in its first year.

Thus, as I think it’ll be helpful for querying writers to hear, not just those in the contest, I thought I’d give a little insight. Well, actually three little pieces of insight:

1. Numbers matter

2. Taste matters

3. Context matters

First, the Numbers: The quality of the work always matters, of course, but here’s the deal: ALL the submissions in my contest inbox are wonderful. Seriously. The competition is FIERCE, the queries are strong, the opening pages are polished and all the writers seem affable and ready for a working relationship.

Which is awesome. Except there are 78 of those hardy competitors in my inbox. In the whole contest there are 1,591. Less than a tenth of those will be chosen as mentees. This year, there are no alternates. Each mentor choses a single mentee. Which means I have to reject 77 great writers. And some mentors with wider tastes have to reject double that.

Now, think about an actual agent and not just a contest mentor. Many agents get at least 100 queries per day. Maybe more. Yet many only take on a handful of clients per year. Maybe only one or two. Yet they get possibly 365 times the number of queries I have to comb through for this contest.

Moreover, of the clients they take on, less than half will get a deal out of their first book on submission.

Yes, it will always be a numbers game.

Second, Personal Choice: I am not an agent or an acquisitions editor, but, like them, I am human. Which means that as I comb through my entries, there are some that snag my attention much quicker than others. I have a tendency to enjoy crime fiction (duh) but I also really like humor. I can’t read strictly somber books any more than I can watch strictly somber movies. I’m sure they’re amazing. I. just. Can’t. And that is my humanity showing.

Thus, as I sorted my submissions into “Favorites,” “Maybes,” and “No, Not for Me” folders, I decided to go with my gut. After doing this twice before, I’m starting to get a little better at understanding what works for me personally and what doesn’t.

Unfortunately, because there were so many great submissions, I ended up with 30 Favorites, 30 Maybes and 18 No, Not for Me.

My gut likes many things, obviously. Which leads me to my third insight…

Third, Context Matters: There have been truly great manuscripts that didn’t get a single request in Pitch Wars but went on to be agented and sold after the contest. Yes, this happens. Why? The contest setup.

Pitch Wars is different than querying in that each writer gets 300 words to show their stuff, not a query and 10 pages (or whatever a certain agent prefers). Here, there’s a pitch of about 35 to 75 words at the top of the page and then about 250 words of the writer’s first page below it. That’s it. From there, agents request partials and fulls.

Therefore, the first page and the concept are extremely important in this contest. I’m convinced the only reason I “won” the adult round of Pitch Wars the first year is because my pitch and first page described (in sickening detail) the death of a chef in his very own kitchen with his very own tools. It worked very well within the contest parameters. Even if it was gross.

As I narrow down my favorites and my maybes, I’m thinking not only of how I personally feel about the manuscript, but how I’d craft a pitch and what the first page would look like as a teaser. Those things are just too important to success in this arena. And I want my mentee to feel successful and get as much out of the contest as possible.

This might seem cold and calculating. BUT, in a way, it’s “just business.” Agents and acquiring editors must do this too. Agents might be looking for a certain type of book that fills a spot in their list. Or something that they know editors are looking for in a submission. Editors are hoping to fall in love with a book that works in their imprint, catalog and calendar. They turn down far more than my 78 submissions in a year because they have to, not because they want to.

SO, all that said, if you are querying, entered in a contest or in my inbox (hi!), please understand that there is a heavy amount of thought that goes into evaluating writing submissions. It’s not a perfect science. It’s run by the reader’s heart, head and gut—just like your writing.

Taking an actual vacation

I’ve mentioned so many times in this space about how I fit it all in. The full-time job, the two kids, my ultrarunning habit, freelance writing and editing, and, of course, my love of loves, my fiction writing.

I work my butt off to get it all in. I write on my phone at the gym and over my lunch break, edit clients’ manuscripts after the kids have gone to bed and the house is quiet.

It is rare for me to stop doing so much.

But this week it happened.

I had planned on doing a little pre-revision to a rough draft I finished last week. I had a few items I wanted to fix before reading through the manuscript as a whole for the first time, and I decided I would use my vacation in Colorado to do just that.

Whether by chance or the luck of the draw with kids’ naps and downtime, I happened to finish everything on my pre-revision list by Monday evening. Meaning, I still had four days in the mountains and no work on the horizon. Sure, I could’ve just started reading/editing my first draft right then and there. It was ready to go, after all.

But instead, I took one look at the mountains and said, “Nope.”

I decided to let the manuscript breathe for a week, and, therefore, gave myself a chance to air out as well.

So, for four days I took a real vacation. From everything. I didn’t edit. I didn’t revise. I didn’t open my document a single time.

Instead, I went for multiple runs, hiked with the kids, read a book for FUN—the excellent AN EMBER IN THE ASHES by Sabaa Tahir…a book that I told myself I wouldn’t read until I finished my first draft—ate cookies, hung out with my parents and niece, and did yoga on our cabin’s front porch (see the above pic and excuse my sweat because I went for a run pre-yoga).

It was glorious.

It was also a lesson in something I’m typically terrible at: taking a rest. Yes, I know it’s good for the soul. I know it’s good for my creativity. I know it’s good for work-life balance. I know all this, yet I find it impossible to look a window of work time in the mouth and say, “Nah, not today.” No, if I have that window, I hop through it, MacBook Air in hand.

But this time? I’m so glad I let that window fill up without “work.”

When was your last “real” vacation?

P.S.: E.B., as you can see, I pick the mountains over the beach any day.

What’s in a name—the agent version

On Wednesday, superstar mystery writer Jenny Milchman came through Lawrence and had lunch with seven local writers, including me. We had a delicious and wonderful meal full of interesting conversation, stories tall and small, and lots of yam fries (because who doesn’t love yam fries?).

The group was full of variety—three traditionally pubbed Big Five writers; two querying writers; a self-pubbed author; an agented author (me) and a reader.

Before our meals (and yam fries!) arrived, Jenny posed a question to the group. And this is basically it but I’m paraphrasing because we discussed it in different facets: Is it necessary in today’s publishing industry to have a big-shot agent?

While it’s true that you need an agent to get a traditional deal with the Big Five, do you need a “name” agent to be effective? When looking for an agent, is it best to focus on the names you see repeatedly in Publisher’s Marketplace? (Sorry, Jenny, had to paraphrase here.)

My answer was this: you need the agent for you. If that’s the big-deal agent, it’s the big-deal agent. If it’s a freshman agent you really connected with, it’s that excited newbie.

The four of us that are agented agreed, though two of us have agents who aren’t big and two have agents who are huge names in their categories. Our experiences have been vastly different, but we agreed that for an author-agent relationship to be effective:

1. You need an agent who gets you as an artist and a person
2. You need an agent who knows the industry and your category
3. You need an agent who knows how to negotiate

It’s funny because before I was agented I would’ve been happy just to have ANY agent say yes to me. But now I understand the “behind the scenes” part of things and that’s definitely changed my opinion. I feel very happy with my agent and my experience, but I know several people who have run from their agents in tears because things didn’t work out for each of those three reasons above.

And when it doesn’t work out, often your confidence takes a hit, you must query again, AND any book the agent has shopped that didn’t sell isn’t something that another agent would likely make the rounds with again.

I thought Jenny’s question was very important, especially given the negative experiences of people I know. And given that many writers want representation very badly so that they can have a “traditional” career.

For those of you who have queried, what stands out to you about the agents you most hope to connect to?

Go, Slow, Stop: Pacing and Drafting

At this very moment, I’m about two-and-a-half chapters from finishing my current work in progress.

Three scenes.

And then I’m done.

Well, with the first draft, anyway.

About fifty read-throughs later and it’ll be ready for beta-reader consumption. I’m sort of kidding, but really, I’m an over-reader—I have a hard time letting go until everything is perfect.

And that’s exactly why those three scenes might take me the next ten days or so to write.

Even though I will write for an hour or two each day Monday through Friday this coming week.

Yes, I am excruciatingly slow at the end of a manuscript.

Even though this is technically the first draft, I’m constantly editing myself. To move forward, I must read what I wrote the day before. Then I’ll add to it a phrase at a time. Building at the pace of two steps forward, one step back.

I’ve noticed I tend to do this on nearly every manuscript I’ve ever written. I am super slow in the first 10,000 words—careful to make sure my set up is completely perfect. And then I’m super slow again during the final 10,000 words—careful to make sure the pay off is completely perfect.

I know I could just bang it out. That’s often what I’m doing in the middle of a first draft—a chapter a day or more. But I often feel like if I take it slow and get it just right the first time, I save myself tons of work and heartache later.

So, as much as I would have liked to type “the end” this weekend, the earliest that will probably come is next weekend.

That said, I know plenty of writers who plow through the first section of their novels as well as the last section and tend to struggle in the “soggy” middle.

Have you noticed you do one or the other? Or do you keep the same pace? Or do you do both and find it depends on the manuscript?

As I plod away, I’m quite curious.

Books and birthdays

Today is my birthday.

Number thirty-four. (Wheeeee….)

Like most people, my birthday is a day filled with cake—calories most definitely don’t count, obviously—presents, and the go-ahead to do anything I very well please.

And there are a few things I typically always do on my birthday:

1. Go for a run. Because I love it AND because that just means MORE CAKE.

2. Watch Wimbledon. Though this year, the event is late and doesn’t start until the day AFTER my birthday. LAME. I deserve some measure of Rafa Nadal on my birthday, tennis event planners. Jeez.

3. Buy at least one book. My parents are still kind enough to gift their almost-middle-aged daughter with cash each year (Thanks, Mom and Dad!), and I typically make a beeline for the book store for something new and exciting in hardback.

Because it’s my birthday (and I’ll do what I want to!), I want to know: What book should I buy myself as a present?

Returning to Books We Love

It has finally happened.

I have a child old enough for a Harry Potter read along.

I seriously cannot believe this. Also: I cannot believe I’m so excited about this.

I came to Harry Potter late. By the time I read the books, the sixth one was just about to come out. I read the first five in a giant whirlwind of a month and could NOT get enough.

Then, I read the sixth.

Then, I waited for the seventh with bated breath, just like everyone else in world (seemingly). And once we finally got it, my husband ended up reading it first because he’s a much faster reader and came to the series YEARS before me (smart man that he is). And, so, I waited some more. And then read like my life depended on it.

That was years ago, but ever since we began reading nightly to our oldest, we’ve discussed when we could introduce our favorite books to him. Obviously, we could read Goodnight Moon, Millions of Cats, Corduroy and Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel very early. But what we really couldn’t wait to read was Harry Potter.

Last summer, we finally were able to read chapter books to our son. James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We’d show him Harry Potter and tell him it was about a wizard, but when he saw it had exactly ZERO pictures, he’d shake his head.

But that all changed this week. We pulled it out and started reading it to him on Monday and he lost his little mind. Asked for another chapter. And another. FYI: J.K. Rowling writes LONG chapters, even in the very first book in the series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

We’ve been up late every night this week.

But it has been completely worth the exhaustion to see his little face light up with joy as Hagrid accidentally spells a pig’s tail onto Harry’s cousin’s round rear end. Or the surprise when he’s told, “You’re a wizard, Harry.” Or when he giggles at people’s reactions to “the boy who lived” on the street in Diagon Alley.

And it’s funny because even though I will always love these books, I’m falling in love with them all over again through my son’s experience.

What books do you like to share with the younger generation? What books do you think you will always love and come back to?

A Love Letter to the Writing Community

Honestly, today’s contribution to the WWK is more of a love letter to the writing community than a traditional blog post. In the month of May, I’ve traveled for two very fun writerly things: a convention and a book launch.

As I wrote in my last post, I was a speaker at the Oklahoma Writers' Federation Inc. Conference in Oklahoma City the first weekend in May. It was a truly wonderful experience. There were a couple hundred writers there of all levels and backgrounds and everyone was friendly, engaging and excited about their craft. I am sure there is no better way to be introduced to the world of moonlighting as conference faculty than at OWFI.

Then, this past week, I traveled to North Carolina for less than 24 hours to celebrate the launch of THE WRATH AND THE DAWN, a new book from Penguin/Putnam by my amazing friend Renee Ahdieh. I’ve known Renee since before she even wrote the first word of this fabulous book and was lucky enough to “alpha” read her first draft and spend time on the sidelines cheering for her while she sold the manuscript and worked through revisions and the writing of its sequel.

I cannot adequately express how amazing it felt to be there for her book launch. Renee has worked so incredibly hard for years and years and WRATH is a complete gem of a book. To see the people lining up to hear her read from the opening pages, answer questions and sign copies, was just a complete dream.

I was so excited to be there in person to witness it all, along with several other friends from the writing community, including the ladies you see in the photograph above. Renee is in the middle, pen in hand, and those of us surrounding her have been there this whole time. Two of us flew from far-flung places (Kansas and New York) and two drove (Georgia and Maryland) to be there. It was one of the coolest showings of support I’ve ever seen and I was thrilled to be part of it.

I’ve often said the writing community is so strong online and I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful for the readers of this blog, the friends I’ve made on Twitter and my email “pen pals.” But I’m also thankful for the people we get to be around offline—at meetings like Sisters in Crime, critique groups, book launches and conferences like OWFI. Often, it’s easy to think of writing as a solitary process, but in the past two weeks I’ve been reminded in the best ways that it never is.

A bunch of writers walk into a room…

By the time this blog goes live, I will be headed back from the Oklahoma Writers’ Federation Inc. Conference in Oklahoma City. I’m on the faculty for the conference and speaking in three sessions—on self-editing, dialogue and creating atmosphere (they had way cooler titles than this, just sayin’).

Obviously, as I write this, I have no idea how it went—if my PowerPoint worked, if I ended up with an impossible question, if I passed out in front of a room full of people.

You know, the usual.

Like most writers, I prefer to hide behind the printed word, not actually say anything out loud. 

Especially to a bunch of my peers. But, I’m getting better. And mostly, I want to brave my nerves just for the fact that if any of the information I have to share helps another writer, it will be worth it.

What’s the most useful piece of information you’ve picked up at a conference, workshop or writers’ meeting?

Writing For Me: An Update

In my first post of the new year, I wrote about how I wanted to try to write just a little bit—100 words—each day for 2015. I’d had a really heavy few weeks (death sucks, ya’ll) and decided that in 2015, I’d try to do something that makes me happy every day, i.e. writing.

The key word there is “happy.”

In the original post, I talked about wanting to keep things fun, which is why I made my daily target amount so small. It’s modeled after the “run streak” phenomena, which is basically where a runner tries to run at least a mile every day for a set period of time. I’m big into running and I’ve known several people who have done this for a month, a year, etc.

So, there’s the background. Time for a progress report!

As you may have guessed from my theme of happiness and fun, I do not have a perfect streak of writing every day. Because, honestly, life happens.

See that March calendar up there? The red stars are for 100 words, the gold stars are for 1,000 words, silver is for revision and purple is for client copy editing (because that takes up writing time).

As you can see, there were three days I didn’t even manage 100 words. Why? Because my baby got the Norovirus (24 hours of puking) and then gave it to me.

Yeah, so no writing those days. And forcing myself to do it would have gone against the “fun” principle aka “the whole point.”

So, I’m not perfect. But I am having fun. It’s nice to see actual visual progress of my writing (more than just a climbing word count) and it’s also nice to see what I’ve been doing career-wise over a period of time.

If you’re going to try out the calendar and sticker method, here are a few things I’ve learned:

1. Give credit where it’s due: I didn’t add my copy editing to the calendar until March. I did so because I had a lot of editing to do in January and February and it was taking the place of a lot of my writing and revision time. Basically, I wanted to give myself credit for working my butt off on writing-related things.

2. Adjust your progress reports: So, as you can see, I had very few 1,000-word days in March. I prefer to write 1,000 words per day when I’m writing a first draft, but, honestly, with the baby and life, that’s just not happening this time around. That said, I have had many, many days where I’ve written 500 to 700 words, yet all you’ll see on those days is one lousy red star. Thus, I think I might start giving myself gold stars for 500-word days in May.

3. Buy lots of stickers: I’m already out of the red ones. Huzzah!

How’s your work-in-progress treating you?

Days Like This and Days Like That

If you listened to the Serial podcast this fall, you might remember that host Sarah Koenig started the very first episode by discussing how difficult it is for us to remember individual days of the run-of-the-mill variety. In great detail, she discusses how we tend to remember details clearly only if the day was of great importance of one way or another.

For example: Many of us can give our hour-by-hour movements on a day like Sept. 11, 2001. I can tell you I worked out, took a shower, got out of the shower to the image of the towers on fire, saw the towers fall, went to Spanish class in complete shock, spent the rest of the day at my college newspaper and then the evening eating cookies ‘n’ cream ice cream on the couch with my roommates and boyfriend.

The point Koenig was trying to make was that on days when nothing important seems to happen, it’s incredibly difficult to remember what happened in particular. And then when the cops come knocking six weeks later and claim you killed your girlfriend? Well…yeah, then you become Adnan Syed. A guy who may or may not have done something wrong but couldn’t remember much in particular about the day his girlfriend went missing. And then you might end up talking about it on a viral podcast.

Often memory plays a huge role in mystery writing. What someone does or does not remember can be huge to the plot and can have equally huge implications to the character—whether the person is intentionally “forgetting” (i.e. lying) or if that person is like Adnan and just can’t recall anything because that day wasn’t special until it was.

I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon a lot this week because April 1 (yes, April Fool’s Day) was the fifteen-year anniversary of my first date with my husband. I’m not sure if most couples would normally remember the exact date of their first date, but simply because ours happens to fall on the world’s worse holiday (I hate pranks), I always remember it—my husband does too (without me nagging him).

And we remember what we did, too: walked downtown and ate Thai food. Now, the restaurant isn’t there anymore and we even disagree as to what it was called, but we remember that we ate there.

Do you have very specific days that stick out in your mind? If you’ve toyed with memory with your characters, how have you done so?

A Love Letter to Technology

I’ve written many times in this space about how I try to regulate and maintain my writing time despite having two small children, a full-time job, and need-to-do freelance.

I talk about it so much because it’s difficult.

And I know I’m not the only one who finds it so.

You’d think our passions would come the easiest, but instead it’s often easiest to push them aside for “real” things you have to do every day—pay the bills, make dinner, give kisses every night.

I wrote in January about how I’d started the New Year trying to write at least a hundred-word snippet each day, no matter what. It was my way to avoid letting a day go by where I didn’t exercise my passion, even just a little bit. (And I’m further motivated by a sticker chart…so WIN.)

And though I’ll talk in greater detail in an upcoming post about how well that resolution to myself and sticker chart have turned out, I thought today I’d talk about something that has made me much more successful in my writing goals than I thought I’d be back when I had my daughter in September: my phone.

I’ve had various iterations of a smartphone for years, and right now I have an iPhone 6 that I got just a week after my daughter was born. Obviously, these phones are amazing inventions—little machines that can do so many things, so quickly, that I have a friend who used to call them “God phones” because it seemed like there was nothing they couldn’t do. She was kidding, but you get her drift.

With the baby (who turns six months old today!), I spend a lot of time on my phone. Not only have I spent waaaaay too much time taking and posting pictures of her, I also have managed to squeeze in a TON of writing time on my phone.

The notes function I have is complete genius. I can type out dialogue a few key lines or even a whole chapter (yep) on my phone during stolen moments when I’m feeding the baby or in the middle of cardio at the gym, and it’s right there waiting for me when I want to revisit it.

Most of the time, I type things up at night or first thing in the morning and then open the same notes app on my Mac and watch it populate with what’s on my phone. Then, I type what’s fresh into my actual Word document (I could cut and paste, but you know from my last post that I like to revise as I go) and ta-da, instant forward momentum on a manuscript.

Honestly, if any of the three manuscripts I’m working on right now ever becomes a real, live book, I’ll probably thank the geniuses at Apple for helping me carve out writing time.

Oh, and though I do enjoy handwritten notes to myself on my work, I must say this is much more convenient and eliminates the chances that I can’t read my handwriting (which happens a little too often).

In what way does technology help your writing?

How Do You Revise?

Revision is one of the most important parts of writing, yet it never seems to be a huge discussion point in the writing community. Though, as both a writer and a freelance editor, I’m fascinated by it. Mostly because it’s a finishing process that is as unique as the writer who put words to the page.

My revision process is simple—because I’m always revising. I start out nearly each writing session reading what I last wrote. This puts me in the mood of voice, but it also allows me to catch little errors quickly and to avoid making tons of continuity mistakes. It also allows me to give fresh-but-familiar eyes to a scene, which I find helps me quickly firm up anything that was a little loose.

This method means that when I’m finished with a manuscript draft, my whole-draft revision tends to be relatively short. Unless there’s some major flaw, or I’m waiting forever on a beta read, the most I’m ever actively revising is usually a couple of weeks, and most of that time is spent rereading it and letting it air out in equal measure.

All that said, I know I’m not necessarily normal in my process. Mine is a gift from my days as a journalist. When there was a length, a topic and a time limit and that was it. Revision sometimes didn’t happen at all, so it was best to get it right the first time.

I know some writers, most especially “fast drafters,” who can churn out a manuscript in a month or less and then need four times that to revise or more. For these writers, moving forward is the only goal and going back—and getting mired in that detail—is death.

This “go back means death” process is also the case for a few very slow drafters I know. They just need to do the thing and will stall out and overthink things if given the chance. They also will take a long time in revision.

Of course, there are people who are in between these extremes as well. And that could be you.

What’s your preferred way to revise?