Faith

As the daughter of an atheist, I know how elusive faith can be. You can't force it. You can't argue it into someone's heart. You can have a little faith or a lot of faith, but if you have NO faith, the chasm between none and a little is a far deeper divide than between a little and lots.

So it has been with my summer. For a variety of reasons--the economy (feeding a family of six creatively on less), gas prices (trying to drive less, but there's only so much I can do with that one, especially since my Oldest Daughter chose a college an 11-hour drive from here--and we must get all her crap from Here to There), a looming college tuition bill, personal issues, and so on--things in life have seemed less steady for me than they have in a while. I always toss it up to the universe, "I'm unafraid to work hard." And usually things work out. But it's the FAITH that's been elusive. That still, certain voice that comes to me in the quiet with a serenity and peace. THAT voice . . . well, where the hell has it been?

As an optimist, it's not like I haven't tried to wave some sunny fairy dust over everything, but like forcing faith, it's not a simple thing. And it was only natural it would eventually trickle to the writing.

I turned in two manuscripts this summer. I am delighted with both. And now I'll be tweaking them in rewrites. I feel a huge sense of joy opening the Magickeepers file knowing where it's going to go--from this level to THIS one. But soon I will be in proposal stage. Every writer is in that stage at some point or another, in some fashion of another. I will be in the What's My Next Step stage. In my What Shiny New Idea Holds Promise stage. I may EVEN be in my Maybe I Want to Go Back to University and Do Something Else stage that occasionally breaks through in my life.

I don't know how it is in "real" jobs. But the one or two "real" jobs I had, I went to work, I worked at the same job--even when I got promotions as an editor, I was still editing--I collected my paycheck, I saw the same people, etc. Being a journeyman writer is different. It's always an up and down thing, filled with uncertainty, with periodic pronouncements of doom--NO ONE IS READING, the wise publishing gods say.

It's a profession that requires faith. In your book, in your ideas, in yourself, in some Holy Grail of being published, landing an agent, finishing your novel, selling through, having something that editors want--we're ALL in some way or another riding a wave of faith.

I don't know that everyone feels this way. I don't know that anyone talks about it--at least maybe not in the same terms. But I feel, for me, the only way I survive is by nurturing the still, small voice inside. I sustain it through my blog, through writing friends who "get" the journey, through getting some sleep (AMAZING how much better I feel when that happens). And through waiting for the voice to recover from bouts of ennui. Knowing it must still be there, just resting, waiting for the next Big Thing to excite her.

So there we are today, with my cup of coffee, my Demon Baby yelling at me, and my Ravel playing on my iPod.

Thoughts?

The Stubbornness Scale

Yesterday's post was on why you need an editor. Which brings up, I think, potential posts about where you are as a writer and a person.

If we imagine that most human traits are on a scale of 1 to 10, then I think most of us can say where we are--overall, or maybe on a given day--on the happiness scale. I'm an 8, someone might say. There are all sorts of scales. I myself, on the extrovert scale, consider myself a 7. But I also think of myself as a 7 or 8 on the introvert scale, so what the hell that means, I don't know. I consider myself an 9 on the "openness" scale--I feel like I am pretty authentic and open all the time. I would normally consider myself a 9 on the happiness scale, but lately, that's been like a 7, and I am not sure why--or I am but it's too complicated to go into on a blog. Anyway, you get the idea.

So it is with the stubbornness scale. I used to think I was a 10. But as I (ahem!) got older, the scale kept moving down, down, down. Until now, it's to the left of midway. I just realized everything in life didn't have to be a battle with me digging my heels in and "winning." Sometimes, the spiritually mature thing to do is walk away.

Yesterday, a couple of the posts revolved around separating the "us" from the "writing." I think some of it has to do with that stubbornness factor, this innate sense for some of us that being "right" and having the last word are paramount. If you've ever seen a blog war about something political or something emotionally inflamed, then you know what I am talking about.

I sincerely believe when you get criticism, part of your job as writer is to shut up. To let go of the stubbornness and just listen, absorb, take what works for you--not endlessly defend your work. If the editor (and I am talking about a GOOD editor, a TRUSTED beta reader, a normally excellent CP) didn't get what you wanted to convey, then it's simply not there for them. And here's the painful part--may not be there at all. It may still be stuck in your head, but not on paper.

I realized this lesson, I think, when I actually got published. In an array of nice reviews, I had one for Spanish Disco that was just odd. Really odd. And I felt like writing to this woman on Amazon and saying, "Did you MISS this line?" where it was explained. And THEN it hit me, what my editor had been saying--I cannot go on a 50-state tour "explaining" things that aren't coming across through the writing alone. I'm not my work's lawyer. I'm my work's creator. If what I created doesn't convey it . . . it simply doesn't.

Now, there are were, roughly, 50,000 people who read Spanish Disco in 6 or 7 countries. Did EVERYONE have the same read? "Get" the same message? Of course not.

But in the end, in the editing process, it starts with one good editor or beta reader. And at that moment, you have a choice. Shut the hell up . . . or have to be right.

I think the creatively mature choice is to absorb. You may be wounded for a minute, but stubbornness, at that point, does you no good.

On the flip side, what if you have 12 people telling you 12 different things? Don't you at least need to be able to have a true north? To "know" in your gut what's right? Sure. But I would also suggest that you choose your readers carefully, and that old adage Know Thyself. You see, I always knew I was the "have to be right" gal. And THAT is a character flaw. It took a healthy dose of Buddhist teaching, philosophical reading, and some life pain to not be that person anymore. And my writing is the better for it.

Thoughts?

Why Do Writers Need an Editor?

Yesterday I had an hour and a half phone call with my editor for Magickeepers. This was a follow-up to 4 pages of singles-spaced notes on the book. In a few places on the 'net, lately, writers have been wondering, in essence, about the editor's role. So I thought I would blog about it.

First, I hope no one reading this blog thinks they don't have to polish their work because "an editor" will fix it. Oddly enough a long while back, I was directed to an ongoing debate over on a writer site in which this one guy kept pontificating that it was up to him to have the really great big idea, not to learn where to put commas. My guess is that guy . . . is still unpublished.

Will a misplaced comma sink your chances? No. But 50 misplaced commas in chapter one will. I know anytime I've been asked to read submissions and I see that, I just am frustrated that a writer would so seemingly willfully disregard the basics, or not even have a beta reader or SOMEONE in their writing world to tell them what they're doing wrong grammatically. Same with contest judging when I see some very, very basic elements that are clumsy. Obviously, these writers all think their work deserves to win a contest, which means many writers have serious self-delusion.

An editor, in addition to not being willing to fix 50 misplaced commas and typos, also can't "fix" a "meh" book or a voice that is unoriginal or bland. They can't fix fundamental, core issues that have to do with HOW you write. With your very existence/voice as a writer.

So what the hell ends up in 4 single-spaced pages of notes? Particularly, you might ask, for someone who edits and has edited for a living and has been published before? Well . . . a lot.

My editor is new to me, and we had lunch in Manhattan a while back and I was stuck by how bright he is. I don't think he reads this blog--he's too damn busy--so I am not sucking up. The guy is smart. His notes basically started with "You are a great writer"--no not really, but most editors DO start with something along those lines--"Here's what I like." If you have no idea what's working, it's hard to know what needs fixing. He loves the book.

His notes are then organized in the way he works--first section are story arc issues. These are my big themes, if you will. The WHY, the HOW, the REASONS my hero does what he does. I had left some things unexplained. Part of the storyline involves these rather robber baron magicians racing around the world to reclaim relics lost during the fall of the Romanovs. But I hadn't felt it was important to see just how the relic in question in this book fell into the hands of The Bad Guys. My editor disagreed. In fact--going back to the "You are a great writer paragraph"--what he thinks really works is all the history and the REAL people in time from Czars to magicians to famous authors--who interact with the fictional family. Since he wants even more of what works, the obvious choice would be to show how the relic changed hands through time.

Additionally, the arc notes encompass some "rules" in the book/worldbuilding where it's too subtle yet. I knew I had three books, at least, to play with, but there's a sense of making sure Book I has got a lot of meat to it.

The next section is about worldbuilding--what works, what needs more, more, more because it IS working, so build on it.

Next is the conclusion--went too fast, he felt. After the lengthy phone call, we decided rather than a chase ending, we're going with something more sinister. More of a CHOICE the hero has to make. It's much, much more meaningful (choosing the light vs. choosing the darkness; vs. the choice being out of your hands because of a chase/circumstances). That change was devised during the phone call--which was like brainstorming but more directed.

Everything else was fleshing out certain elements, working on two characters to make them more three-dimensional (they're secondaries, but more could be done with them), and more about pulling in some "reveals" I intended later so that things are clearer for my middle-grade audience.

By the end of the call, I was adding two HUGE key characters, one back story about the hero, and a huge icool item from Book II was being pulled into Book I because it's too darn awesome to save for Book II.

There are a thousand more details and notes I took during the call. But basically, when I look at it all, my editor is helping me go deeper and guiding me to the places where it CAN go deeper without harming story.

Now, why couldn't I do this myself?

I think that's a complicated answer, but it boils down to this. Every draft you take your book deeper, until one day, you must cut the cosmic umbilical cord and let your baby go--to an agent, an editor, to print. Until it goes to print, theoretically, you could improve it. We all can. But the cord gets cut . . . at some point the baby's got to learn to walk on its own. This is the point where a hopefully brilliant outsider, with insights into his list and audience, guides you to the places in that "one more chance" to polish, to add, to push yourself deeper. If you haev written a book where you've said, "I can't do anything more to it"--chances are you haven't had this kind of edit. I now I've given this kind of edit. It's not someone telling you what to do, it's a lot more like pushing you to bare it all on paper. That next level, that other level. And it isn't for cowards, and it isn't for people not willing to be brutally, ruthlessly honest with themselves about their work.

When I got the notes (prior to call), I didn't ONCE feel protective. Everything was going to make the book deeper. And on the call, not ONCE did I react with any "but this is why I did this . . ." or "but this is my story . . ." "but you're not seeing . . . " "but . . ." I didn't feel hurt, sensitive, never used the word "but." Nor did I defend. I DID twice, say, "I was saving that for Book II, here were the hints." In once case, we're leaving it, in the other, I'm getting more obvious.

I do know this kind of editing isn't for wimps. ;-) And it's a process I know I am very lucky to undergo. And to be honest, though I am blogging about this particular set of notes, I have gotten this kind of detail for all my books. However, I do think the YA/middle-grade gets more concerned with the themes. The archetypes.

Thoughts?

What's Your Run?

My dear, beloved, wonderful, generous friend Ewoh ran a race in my honor yesterday, fundraising for a cure to Crohn's disease. He finished . . . and says the run "transformed" him. Leave it to a zen guy like Ewoh to be transformed by sore muscles.

I have to tell you that the last weeks haven't been easy for Ewoh. First of all, he is on the hook for whatever he doesn't raise to his $3,500 goal. That's commitment. Visit his race site! Second, during the long training up to the race, he had walking pneumonia, sickness in his house, and all the usual ups and downs we all have as parents and writers and, in his case, working a day job.

So where did he find the guts? Read back ONE post on his blog. It's all about transforming the mind. Reframing what's got you down.

I have to tell you that the last few months have sucked around here in Orloff-land. I could give you reasons--money, deadlines . . . kids who were sick or had teachers that left a lot to be desired, big decisions, some family stuff I can't go into, a kid getting ready for college, money woes related to a kid going off to college, deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, no life, and to cap it off, some Crohn's pain, which hasn't happened in a LONG time, but I am too rundown and I know it. It's all a big, long whine-fest, though really. It's all a run.

So today . . . I am telling myself how much I LOVE deadlines, and LOVE everything I do. LOVE IT! We all have runs. Uphill, in the rain, in the cold. So I've set my sights on a new finish line.

What's your run today? And what inspires you?

And hop on over to Ewoh's. The guy is seriously awesome.

Nothing is an Accident

Sometimes you see a plan. These sets of circumstances that draw you to the place you are now. Maybe it's just a way of looking at misfortune with an optimist's eye, but I always think that if I had never nearly died of Crohn's disease, I never would have moved to Florida so my parents could help me when I was too sick to really be all alone. And if I had never moved to Florida, I never would have met my bestest friend, Pammie, and if I had never met my bestest friend Pammie, then I would not have been the recipient of the best cookies on the face of the planet. All right . . . so my logic gets a little . . . quirky . . . but you get the idea.

Sometimes you don't see a plan. It's all just a huge happy accident. Or unhappy accident. Or just a mess and you can't see a plan to save your life.

Not so in a novel.

In a novel, NOTHING is there that isn't planned. Not one word. It doesn't matter if you don't outline and have no plan (I rarely do). In the end, even THOSE authors go back and read every word over and over again, excising the ones that don't belong, searching for better words. Deleting scenes, adding scenes, honing dialogue.

Even our character NAMES have meaning. Settings. Clothing choices. It all belongs. My character's father is a wine snob. It's no accident he is drinking the vintage he's drinking -- a lovely 2001 from a certain region in France. I chose the restaurant. I chose the damn wine list. Of COURSE they carry that wine so he can be outed as the snob he is.

There are no accidents. It can look that way. Sometimes I don't even REALIZE the plan, but no . . . there's always a plan.

So what details have you put in your work-in-progress that are no accident? If it's all in the details, what did you choose to show us (not tell us!) about your character?

The Two Sides of Me

Okay, so I returned home from vacation to discover while I was gone, an electrical storm took out both my phone and my Internet (I have a Triple Play pack from my cable provider). No dialtone. No blog. No NY Times online. No nothing.

I was definitely a junkie needing technology detox. The cable company wasn't particularly interested in my tale of woe. So no, I didn't get it all back until a few minutes ago.

And what did I do while detoxing off the Internet? I cleaned my office. Or at least half of it. I can now look to my right and see the shelves of the Writer Chick I Want To Be. You know, the one with all her files neat, who can find a pen when she needs one, whose books all face spine out, neatly aligned.

I am not that Chick.

But for now, the right half of my office is that writer's office. The other half is in total disarray, worse than usual. That side belongs to the Writer Chick With A Demon Baby. The writer who drinks too much coffee, sleeps too little, and can never find a pen.

We all have those Two Side to us, don't you think? There's the Me Who Wants To Go To Yoga Class, and has her mat and yoga gear. Who breathes deep and lights candles. And there's the Me Who Cannot Escape the Demon Baby Long Enough to SHOWER, let alone take a yoga class.

There is the Me Who Has a Garden, and the Me Who Has Weeds.

But it's most obvious, this two-sided me, in my office right now.

So what two Me's live in You?

The Right Fork

At some point in childhood or life, you progress from the kid table to the grownup table. You go to your first fancy event where you are presented with fingerbowls with floating lemon slices . . . and a plethora of forks.

For me, living in Bermuda and then traveling in Europe as a child, my parents made sure I had a basic fork education by first grade. They were very clear about the forks. Start on the outside, move your way in. Don't try to "keep" the fork for the next course--that's why you've got so many of them.

But in the end, you learn if you absent-mindedly "keep" a fork, the entire banquet is not going to erupt into a an explosion of pointing. You will not be banished.

So it goes with the query. I see a lot of "shoulds," and I've even seen discussion about this one agent who loathes the "Thank you for your time" closing. But I generally regard it as simply . . . learn the fork basics, but don't worry too horribly if you accidentally keep a fork. You're not dooming yourself. The basics--moving out to in--are have a hook, do your homework, make sure you get the fundamental information across like genre and main characters and plot. Then move out of the way and hope you get to eat at the grownup table.

Beyond that, like so much of publishing, there's actually a giant craps game going on in a small room adjacent to the banquet hall. So don't lose sleep over forks.

Thoughts? Care to share the opening line of your pitch for feedback?