Tag Archives: books

Academic WIP

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It’s fascinating to read about what others suggest, to learn about the “structure to success” and what makes a winning Romance novel. It didn’t take long to establish that, for me, using a How-To manual (I don’t mean a style guide for grammar and mechanics) to write, is counterintuitive, counterproductive, and frustrating. While I find the process of how others put their puzzles together, intriguing, I find it hard to believe it works. When I apply the suggested methods I get wrapped up in character grids, time lines, and collaging—all that stuff that fed directly into my first ever anxiety attack—writing takes a backseat. And then it slips under the seat with loose change and dirt the Dust Buster can’t suck up. I can’t do forced storytelling without the seven veils, dancing, and thousand and one nights.
 
Yes, it’s interesting to observe and discuss the process other writers use. The curiosity gave me the idea to do a comparative study where I’d write one novel with manuals and one novel without, in a year. It’s taken me 7 months to get to 65,000 word of the manual-free novel. In that same time, using the guides, novel number two has 3,000 words.
 
So let’s face it, I’ve sunken my teeth into a bit more chaw than I can chew and spit. Plus I hate the taste. Which mean I’m scrapping that comparative puppy.
 
What is it I really want to do, to accomplish? Intuition tells me to scrap the two novel idea and go where my real interest lies. There’s a dearth of heroes and heroines searching for love mid-life. The need and desire for romance does not end at 35, after divorce, or menopause. Half of all marriages end, the majority of people remarry between the ages of 40-43. The population is aging and a huge chunk of us are being left out…of Romance. The books aimed squarely at women 35+ are Relationship novels, Women’s Fiction, the what happens after I do (Hello, Harlequin Mills & Boon’s NEXT line). Romance dries up, or gets relegated to a secondary plotline or character. This is where the real idea, the actual interesting part of my thesis springs forth. This is how I can marry the How-To manual work to my premise.
 
While using the basic framework of those How to Write Chick Lit/ How to Write A Romance, handbooks, I’m going to focus on writing a Romance for an older audience. My theory? If it’s romantic, if it fits the bill of romance, the age won’t matter. Granted I can’t make the H&H 70 (even though recent studies prove seniors enjoy active sex lives), but I can sit them squarely in midlife and make romance the focus of the story.
 
Then I write, This is a single case study. Blah blah blah. The dry, academic part goes here and it pleases the committee. I get awarded an MA. The novel is picked up by a publisher, and I make my name as a “new” subgenre in Romance develops.
 
That’s the new plan.
 
Now, how do I convince my advisor it will fly?

O mighty keyboard!

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‘Course I realise I went about this backassward. Instead of simply referring to it as homework, I should be documenting the “journey” I’m on while writing this novel. I’ve sprinkled bits and pieces of crud here and there, but the journey, the wanky creative journey, or my process, whatever the hell you want to call it, can be included as a piece of my exegesis. 

Can’t it?

So how much have I done today? It’s nearly 4pm and I’ve done jack.  Laundry and grocery shopping doesn’t count. Email and LJing don’t either. Nor does stopping in the middle of the afternoon to have a coffee, cinnamon toast and Rachel Gibson fest at my fave local cafe–where they don’t even have to ask what I want.

I am getting the Mt Everest of washing done–without the aid of a porter or sherpa–but as far as Dominic and Lesly go?  Well, that’s a great big negatory, null nada zilch zero.

You get the picture.

Some may consider this writer’s block. I don’t. I know myself well enough to understand I futz around because the juice isn’t there. I don’t force myself to write when I’m like this. It’s not quite distraction or even disinterest. It’s an elsewhereness. My brain is elsewhere. I know the creative waters will burst. The baby will come when it is ready. It always does.

I do wonder what it will be like to write to a deadline. Oooh. will I rise to that challenge? Will it be counter-intuitive? Counter-productive? Will I resent it?

Ask me when it’s nearly April. That is my deadline. That’s when everything is due.

So right now, at 65K words–I figure I’ve got another 30-35,000 in me. 

Just not today.

Hello Rachel Gibson!

Chokin’ down a lump o’ bitching

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Rachel Gibson’s Tangled Up In You has been released in Paperback here–2 weeks after as was released in hardback in the US. Big Dub-ya had it for $6.95! 

You’d think I’d be happy, but I’m miffed. 

Why? It was what Iasked for! I moaned and groaned about it. It was my dream to not shell out a squillion dollars on a serious book habit. 

Oh, my, yes, it’s a freakin’ habit. When you like an author it’s an automatic buy.  The second you find out a new book is coming out, excitement takes over. That automatic thing kicks in. Rational thought slips into the gutter, or is burned up in by the sun’s rays. The same thing happens with anything Glenn Tilbrook related, but books are easier to acquire. It is a habit without track marks, methamphetamines, alcohol, or powdery white stuff.

As a result of all my habit and bitching about the prohibitive cost of books in Oz, I pre-ordered Tangled Up In You from Amazon–in hardback. I spent $15 for the new release, plus shipping…I sent it to family to forward on to me so I’d pay less for international postage. I’ve been waiting for it to arrive. And waiting. 

And waiting.

Consequently, because I am a product of the want it yesterday generation, the paperback sit on my desk, wating for me to read it. It’s not the chick in the red coat and black dress cover that Avon’s published, it’s the pretty, trailing blue ivy Little Black Dress imprint.  LBD does nice covers for Rachel Gibson. They are never cheesy pink things with shoes or swooning, half dressed maidens. Besides that, they charge the consumer 1/4 the price as Avon (no, not the ding-dong I have perfume and make up for you Avon, the other Avon, the Romance imprint of Harper Collins).  

On would think, if LBD can put out books for under $10, maybe other competiting publishers will take notice. 

That might have been the most amusing thing you’ve heard all day. But this is funnier: Publishing companies know I’m a sucker! 

I should just cut out the middle-man and hand over my wallet, credit cards, and bank details directly to the publisher!

‘Scuse me while I buff these nails of mine

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Remember that muddle the other day, that self doubt that plagued me for an entire day?  I’ve been trying to figure out where the hell that came from. 
It was confusion -vs- pessimism -vs- optimism -vs a Gary Larson moment. 

Pure and simple.Those of you familiar with The Far Side know this cartoon well. I’m usally the cheesburger guy, so mellow I miss the excitement. 

That being said, once I got back to looking for the pickles on my cheesburger, I was thrilled when my critique partner left me this message:
I’ve just finished reading [chapter]11. It’s fantastic. I don’t know how you do it and you’re driving me nuts… Honestly how you turned that scene into a great fight was simply masterful. Well done. I loved it.

Oh yes, boy howdy mama, my ego is back in full greasy-cheeseburgerdom with a side of fries!

 Now all I have to do is actually eat beef. 

The point is, maybe I’ll never know where that panic came from. So why waste time looking for a why? I just need to keep writing…and maybe primp a little in front of the mirror for the book jacket photo.

Was that the sound of my big head exploding?  

Yup.

Wasn’t it grand?

Pulped fiction?

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It costs $6.99 to buy a paperback book in the USA.  Let’s just call that $7.  The same book will run $10 in Canada. I understand the cost of transportation has to be worked in to the publisher’s bottom line, but I just don’t get why, once that books makes it way here, the price jumps to $18-20. 

Anyone know why?

How much of that increased price does the author see? 2%. Or less.

A used book isn’t much cheaper, and it’s easy to see why, since the outlay is so expensive to begin with. But what really astounds me is the fact my local library won’t take donations. 

WTF?

There is ONE copy of a novel that is shared between all the local council libraries. AIIIIEEEEE!

Let’s talk about pulping books.  What are they recycled into? More books that cost $20? Books with covers so bad they don’t sell so they books are re-pulped?

By the way, the Big Lifeline Book sale is the weekend!!

Stickin’ it to the man(uals)

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I chose the project and it’s counter -intuitive. 

It’s been building slowly. I’ve been doing my research and I’ve reached a breaking point with these How to Write a Really Fantastic Romance Novel Everyone Will Want to Buy manuals. 

Where do writers get off telling other writers the ‘shoulds’ and ‘should nots’ of using the written word? I don’t mean grammar or punctuation, those have their place as an aid to (mostly) the reader. I’m getting at the writers who say, ‘never use adverbs,’ or never head hop, only Nora Roberts can get away with that,‘ and my favourite, ‘keep your style simple; only literary novels use descriptive passages.’

Don’t thrust your small-minded pettiness on my writing. Writing, like a language, is a living thing. It evolves over time. Style can change in a decade or less. What was considered pulp fiction of the day (Chuck Dickens) is now classic literature. He was pretty long winded and mightily descriptive. Put a descriptive passage into a romance and you’ re being hoity toity and not adhearing to romance genre. 

Face it. One man’s Dr Seuss is another man’s Sophocles, James Joyce, or Jacqueline Susann. That Jackie Collins novel you think is trash is one person’s golden nugget. 

Wait a second. This was a bitch about prescriptive bossy boots books, not another dive into literary snobbery…

Hmmm, Could they be the same thing?

Let’s say there’s a snotty family resemblance–they’re brown-nosin’ cousins.

So I have to ask myself this question: Is this about me? Is this about my writing? 

No. 

But it could be. 

Sort of. 

Only because it annoys me so much, but listen, from where I sit, I think it’s admirable to want to stand something on its head, buck the trend, and try something different. I appreciate a romance that’s different from all the others. Hello, Elizabeth Hoyt anyone? 

Hooray, Elizabeth Hoyt! Yay!

I heard the mighty Puck-slapping Maple Sucker agree. Heartily. Hey look, an adverb!

Tarnation! I want to chuck these How-to guides out the window, but I paid good money for them and my research isn’t finished.

Luckily, (adverb again) I can claim it on my taxes.

While I’m up here on my soapbox, lemme toss in my 2 bits: Let’s get rid of pink or pastel covers. Let’s ban all those bodice-ripper style covers than never seem to actually capture what the hero and heroine are supposed to look like. Let’s have covers that match the title. Let’s allow the author to have input into the cover artwork!

Back to the research at hand.

Two degrees of Jenny Crusie

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Occasionally this planet gets a little bit smaller. Earth becomes a teeny-weeny, itty-bitty place. Yes, it happens even down here at the bottom of the world .

I do not know Jenny Crusie, but I read her books. Last night, while at a readers club, I thumb through the first few pages of her book, Faking It. I’m one of those who watches all the credits at the end of a movie. I also like to read all the publishing details, the copyright date, the acknowledgements and dedications in the books I read. I get two names down on Jenny’s Thanks To page and shout, ‘Holy crap!’

It seems Jenny and I know the same woman.

Coincidence you say?

Hmm, maybe, but how many people in one town share the same name? How many women with that name live in the same town as Jenny Crusie?

I’ve been wondering what happened to her for the last 15 years. I tried to track her down a few times. The last time I saw her, in the small college town where we lived across the hall from each other, I didn’t stop for a chat. I didn’t suggest a cup of coffee. I should have.

I think of her every April, when her birthday rolls around. She was sweet. She helped plan a surprise birthaday party for me. She had a sultry voice, beautiful brown eyes, long, sleek, black hair I envied. Her dad was a cop. She liked Duran Duran, Melissa Etheridge, and George Michael. 

Cue the Disney music…It’s a small world after all…

I’m not beyond asking a complete stranger for a favour.  I know someone who knows Jenny Crusie. Hopefully, by this time next week, I’ll be talking to a women we both know.

High horses and soapboxes

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Literary fiction.
What the hell is it? Does anyone beyond the world of the critic care? Where does this snobbery come from? Who says it has more merit than a ripping Science Fiction story or heart-pleasing Romance?
 
A novel that speaks to the masses…hm, let’s say The Da Vinci Code, yes, that got bashed by the literati. Not the type of jam I’d put on my toast, but damn, people read that mother scratcher, and enjoyed it. Dickens wrote pulp fiction, and he was a master storyteller, yet he was considered low-brow at the time. Oddley enough, today you find him in the section labelled Literature, far away from Dan Brown. 

Oh you so readily embraced James Frey, didn’t you? I understand James Frey’s pain. I get why he lied. Snobbery. We all want to be loved. It’s a basic human need. He got popular and sold books. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of his ploy first.

 
Literary Fiction types turn up their noses at anything popular, as if popular negates a good story. I swear, if toilet paper didn’t exist there would be some out there who’d refuse a page of the Da Vinci Code to wipe their ass. Since Literary Fiction is all about content and style, God knows paper embossed with little Robert Langdons would leave skid marks.
 
Grow the hell up and quit your frickin’ high school clique mentality, you blow-hards. Break it down into genres. Admit Literary Fiction is a genre and move on. Read what you enjoy and quit bashing Romance (which outsells LF and all other genres hands-down), Science Fiction, Mysteries, and the Babysitters Club (ok bash that if you want). Meanwhile, is there anything wrong with the simple, catch-all term FICTION?
 
Hey Booksellers listen up! This means you Borders, Dymocks, and especially Angus & Robertson! Want to make MORE money? Carry more Romance and promote it. If you have it, we will buy.