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The Name Game

English: British versions of the Harry Potter ...

British Versions of the Harry Potter Series (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Every so often, I’ll meet someone who compliments my name with something like: “Oh, Sarah is my favorite girl name. If I’d had a daughter, she would have been Sarah.”

And then there are the times that I meet someone with a name that I like. Yes, there are a couple girl names that Thomas and I picked before we knew we would have boys, but more often, I’ll meet someone named Emma or Jake, and I’ll open my mouth and start to say they’re my favorites… then stop myself because I can’t say I ever would have given my children those names. You see, those names belong to my characters.

Maybe it’s just natural that I became a writer because I certainly couldn’t have enough children to use the dozens of names on my list. When I first started writing fiction, one of the perks was that my characters could have the names that I love – or just the opposite: I could give the antagonists names I didn’t like, therefore delivering a little poetic justice.

I never went much further than that with regard to naming, except when I started to write fantasy, I made up names, as well. And that’s when I got into trouble. I workshopped my middle grade fantasy with a number of other writers, and I realized that I should have been paying better attention. Two names in particular jumped out at the other writers. One made them think of a particular Disney cartoon character that I had forgotten existed, and the other made them think of Nazis. Whoops.

I happened to remember reading something about J.K. Rowling and how she chose names for the Harry Potter series. Harry was a name she had always loved, so it was natural that she give it to the main character. Other names, however, she carefully chose by reading Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. I immediately went to the nearest Barnes & Noble and bought a copy.

The Naming Books

The Naming Books

The book was almost 900 pages, and I read it cover-to-cover. I couldn’t use names that Rowling had already used, such as “Argus” (for Argus Filch), but I did find others that suited my needs – and their characters – much better than the names I originally chose. I also went to my favorite used bookstore Chamblin Bookmine and picked up German-to-English and Latin-to-English dictionaries. Then I discovered a great website www.behindthename.com, which has meanings of names from a vast number of cultures. Then I began the laborious process of renaming.

Whereas before, when I picked many names willy-nilly, now every single one had a purpose. I even carefully looked into the meanings of my favorites to make sure they were still appropriate. What I was somewhat surprised to learn was that two names in particular already had meanings (one of them strangely specific) that fit perfectly with those characters’ personalities and preferences. Other names didn’t fit at all, so I tossed them. And as for the ones that I just made up out of my head… well, I had to be a lot more careful not to make the book sound like Nazi Germany.

Since it was a fantasy, for the made up names I turned to my foreign language dictionaries (sometimes supplemented by information I found on the internet) to make new words that had a meaning for both me and the story. It took months, but once I found my method, it was much easier to assign new names.

I recently read an article in Authors Publish Magazine addressing this very issue. Give it a read to discover another author’s method behind assigning names (specifically for novels set in the United States).

When Thomas and I named our children, we didn’t just pick names out of thin air. We scoured the baby name book, looking for names and meanings that we liked. We knew that our children would have to live with their names for at least eighteen years, and we hoped that they would like the names we gave them and choose to go by them their whole lives. I even chose special middle names for them – names of two of my favorite characters, who also happen to be brothers.

Many authors are like me and have children of their own, but many don’t. Either way, our stories are our babies, in a very real sense, and the names we choose are important, even if that may seem laughable to someone who doesn’t write. So if I meet you, and you happen to be Stella or Michael or Lucian or Ingrid (I could keep going forever, I’m afraid), and I give a little smile upon hearing your name, know that it’s another of my favorites, and you may read it in one of my novels one day.

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What Are You Reading?

Reading a book

Reading a book (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

That’s right: what are you reading? If you’re a writer, you better have an answer.

If you want to know why, check out this week’s blog here, care of Fiction Fix.

Speaking of reading, I’ve already read seven books from this year’s list. How are you doing?

And one more thing: if you don’t have anything new to read, check out the latest issue of Fiction Fix, volume 15. It just came out this week, it’s free, and there’s some great stuff in there. Enjoy!

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When to Write in Reverse

Memento (film)

Memento (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Remember that Guy Pearce movie Memento? Before I ever knew what it was about, someone mentioned to me that the interesting thing about it is actually the structure of the movie. In case you haven’t seen it (and I’m really not giving much away here), it’s told in reverse. That is, the first scene you see is the last scene of the movie, chronologically. And each scene is just a few minutes before whichever scene you just watched.

This is an interesting technique, especially when you realize it puts the audience in a similar frame of mind as Pearce’s character, who has short-term memory loss. I’ve always loved movies and books that mess with time. The most recent book that comes to mind is Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus. I just can’t help but be drawn to stories like these; I think it’s in my blood.

Now, here’s the thing: when movies and books like these are still in the creation process, you wouldn’t want to watch or read them. That’s where the cutting room floor comes in; it’s the part of the creation process that is necessary but that the consumer doesn’t need to see. The final product isn’t messy but – if all goes well – seamless and sometimes mind-blowing in its intricacy.

Last week, I blogged about not being able to finish writing my novel on my own timeline because I got sick. But once I was well and able to get to work again, I realized that getting sick was merely a diversion from the ugly truth: I was stuck.

I hesitate to call this writer’s block because I still had plenty of ideas bouncing around my head, but the problem was how to write my way out of the current scene in which my character found herself. I realized that, even if I’d been perfectly healthy, I wouldn’t have been able to finish my book unless I could figure a way around my problem.

And then Memento popped into my head. Now, my story isn’t going to be told out of order, mainly because it’s narrated first person present. But Memento gave me an idea about the process of writing, and that was to write outside of the box. You see, I’d already written the end scene of the book weeks before. When scenes come to me, I get them down whether they’re in order or not because, otherwise, I’m likely to forget them. I knew where the story was going to end, but I’d lost my way. Unlike being lost on a road trip, however, I could jump right ahead to the end and forget the middle until I knew what to do with it.

All this week, I wrote in reverse. That doesn’t mean that I started with the last letters of each word but rather that I started with my last scene – the one I’d already written – and thought, What comes just before this? And I wrote it. The next day, I wrote the scene before that. And so on and so on, until today. Now, I’m writing right up to the scene where I left off. How could I not have known what my characters were up to?

It’s messy, full of repetitions, and I’m sure it will be a bear to edit. But it’s moving – even if it’s backward – to where it needs to go. My cutting room floor will be littered, but by the time I finish, the process of getting there will just be a cool story, not something someone can point to and say, “As you can see here, the author used the writing in reverse technique when her story stalled.”

I love writing by the seat of my pants. I know where I’m going, but the adventure is getting there, and it doesn’t have to be straightforward. I’ve had a lot of fun letting my story reveal itself in reverse. And even though it’s a little more than a week overdue, I am much closer to finishing (maybe tonight!) than I would have been if I had continued to plod forward.

So forget the rules. Drive in reverse for a while, and see where it takes you.

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When Life Happens

Goals

Goals (Photo credit: Celestine Chua)

People who know me know that I am a planner. And that’s really just a nice way of saying “control freak.”

I’ve gotten better about it. When things don’t go my way, I’m not as likely to flip out as I used to be. But still, as a self-motivated person, I set personal goals and stick to them for a reason. Even if those plans don’t mean anything to anyone else, they mean something to me.

So this weekend was going to be a full one. We would end the week with my husband visiting our kindergartener’s class and talking to them about his job, and later in the afternoon, I would take the boys on a quick trip to visit their grandparents.

As far as freelancing goes, I have certain tasks that I complete each day, and after the kids are in bed, I get to work on my own writing. A while ago, I devised a goal for the end of January: finish the first draft of my NaNoWriMo novel.

Yes, I did complete the 50,000-word goal before the end of November (actually, it was over 80,000 at that point), but the novel wasn’t done. One week out from the end of the month, my goal seemed almost too easy to attain. It was practically a sure thing.

Well, as you have most likely already figured out, things did not exactly go my way – or anyone else’s – this weekend. Life struck in a really awful way – in the form of that nasty fiend, the stomach bug. I can’t say I was totally unprepared because my younger son had it earlier in the week, but he got over it quickly, and no one else I knew had it.

But by Thursday evening, I had a bad feeling. My husband did the grocery shopping and took the kids to my son’s open house while I… well, let’s just say everyone involved is glad I decided not to tough it out and go with them.

After they got home, Thomas made some quick plans for how he would get the kids everywhere they needed to go and still talk to Peter’s class the next day. He would even take them with him to a meeting later in the afternoon to give me a break.

Then, when he was getting ready for bed, Peter woke up with the bug. Shortly after Thomas got done cleaning up Peter’s room, Ian awoke with it, too.

Not only were my own plans busted, but so were everyone else’s. On the plus side, I don’t have to feel bad about missing a day of exercise because I lost weight, anyway. But school and our trip and everything else I hoped to do were put on the back burner. I just wanted to make it through the night.

So my personal goal is shot. At times like this, it’s easy to give in and throw away goals all together. But the planner in me won’t let me give up so easily. I’m well enough to sit up and type, and maybe not quite being 100% will lend my story some really cool/trippy ending, even if it’s a few days later than planned.

And another plus: since I was so useless that I could do little more than sit around, I did some web surfing and found a short fiction contest with the deadline of January 31st. So I thought, What the heck? – might as well get something productive done, even if it wasn’t a part of the original plan – and revised a story and submitted it. At least there’s something positive coming out of my blown-to-bits weekend.

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Sugar-Coated Broccoli Just Tastes Like Really Nasty Broccoli

English: Trophy case at Theodore Roosevelt Hig...

Trophy case at Theodore Roosevelt High School in Kent, Ohio. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve been toying with the idea of addressing a particular issue for a few months now, but I never quite knew how to approach it. And then this week, almost as if giving me permission, I read Matt Walsh’s blog and figured it was time.

Early in his post, Walsh talks about how we give trophies for everything now, especially mediocrity. I suppose that things have been going that way since I was a kid, although I was never a recipient of the “showing up” award. The first trophy I received (one of very few) was when I was fourteen, and it took me years to achieve it. I felt underachieved, indeed, when I started dating my husband because his bedroom’s shelves were filled with trophies he’d earned for his athletic prowess.

But I don’t mind my lack of accolades. Thomas and I know that we’re worthwhile people without all that. Besides, it’s better than doing the opposite and displaying junk of no value. I know someone who wanted to frame her husband’s military discharge papers. While not a dishonorable discharge, neither was it an honorable one. Summed up, it was basically: “You served your time. Thanks and good-bye.” Was that something to be proud of and display in a place of prominence?

And while I have no problem saying these things about myself and other people, I can completely understand why the situation changes when you throw your own kids into the mix. I certainly want to applaud my children’s achievements.

But what if they don’t have any? What if they do nothing exceptional, yet are surrounded by kids that do? Wouldn’t it help their feelings, give them a morale boost, to just give them a little something for showing up?

It’s situations like this that make it very easy for people without kids to criticize those who do. But since I’m in that inner circle now, I can safely criticize – and hold myself accountable at the same time.

Good parents (notice I didn’t say “all” parents) are forced to learn a whole new meaning of sacrifice and responsibility, and still there are no guarantees. The child who receives the best education may never get the big-paying job. The child who starts taking music lessons as a toddler may never get into Julliard. The child who is involved in sports from the age of four may never win a single trophy, and it’s a struggle to be the parent and just watch this happen.

My husband is a natural athlete and is one of those kinds of people who could nap through school and still pass. I was an overachiever and earned academic scholarships without even trying in college. Neither of us had to study very hard. When I was pregnant with our first son, we focused on reading books that would help us raise a healthy and conscientious child. We weren’t worried about his academic skills. I mean, look at us. It was in the bag, baby.

Peter started school when he was three, and I put him in two days a week. I daydreamed about my first parent-teacher conference, during which his teacher would tell me that he was her brightest star, knew all of his letters, and needed a bit more of a challenge than pre-school.

Instead, she shared his assessment results, and they were on the low side of average. Nothing special, not to mention there were certain measures I needed to take to help him catch up with the other kids, some of which were close to a year younger. His behavior was fine, of course, and I know I should have been thrilled with that. But I felt distinctly like I’d done something wrong.

The next year, when he was in pre-kindergarten full-time, his teachers were concerned that he didn’t know all his letters. I knew, with a new baby, that I hadn’t been as diligent as I should, so we pulled out the flashcards and got to work. To my dismay, as soon as Peter mastered a letter that caused him trouble, he would lose a letter that had never been a problem. Like there was a file cabinet in his brain that could only hold so much.

Looking back over Peter’s early toddler years, I can see the pattern because I now know what is wrong. I would ask him to do a couple simple tasks, and he would only do one. I would get frustrated when he couldn’t name a letter that we’d just gone over. This otherwise compliant and well-behaved kid caused us both trouble when it came to following directions and academics. Extra tutoring over the summer before he started kindergarten did little to help, so I wasn’t surprised when his reading assessment at the beginning of the year placed him as one of the worst readers.

When my husband and I went for the parent-teacher conference this year, it was with no illusions. I was prepared to apologize for falling down on my most important job but was met with empathy and compassion and a great deal of love from Peter’s two teachers. What was obvious to everyone in the room was that there was a problem, but it was something we could fix, since we cared enough to face it.

My husband comes from a long line of dyslexic men, but it skipped right over him and landed on Peter instead. But the problem goes deeper than that. Peter’s working memory – what helps him remember to do two or more simple tasks at a time, among other things – only functions at about twenty percent of what is normal in a kid his age. The kid can remember trips we took when he was two, can build almost anything with blocks, and has a working vocabulary much more sophisticated than his six years, so I never would have realized it without a professional diagnosis. And there was also absolutely nothing I could have done to change this. In fact, I could have continued being in denial and berated him for being lazy, just perpetuating the problem.

So what in the world does this have to do with sugar-coated broccoli? I’m not really picking on broccoli in particular. I mean, it’s obviously a very nutritious food, and although I don’t care for it raw, I love it roasted. But sweeten it up, disguise it under a layer of sugar, and – yuck. But isn’t this what our society does in so many ways?

In the name of protection, we sugar-coat things for our kids and raise them to be adults who are ill-equipped to deal with reality. Congrats, you showed up. Think about how anticlimactic the Super Bowl would be if the losing team were also showered with confetti, awarded a trophy, and gave rings to every player? They worked hard to get there, which in itself is a reward, but they’re not the ultimate winners.

I’m not saying that we should go out of our way to suppress kids, to not give them incentives to improve and perform their best. I’m also not saying that they aren’t special. Scientifically speaking, our DNA proves that each of us is unique, and people are certainly more than a string of genetic code. But none of them is God’s gift to mankind, and to treat them as if they are does them a gross disservice.

There’s a fine line we have to walk, and although it’s difficult to do so, if we are realistic and honest about our children’s limitations and strengths, we can help them survive and even thrive in an otherwise unfair and cruel world.

At six, Peter knows that he has trouble reading and doing some of the tasks that come easily to his friends. He also knows that he’s getting help but that there are other areas in which he needs no help at all. He also has an inkling that it’s a hard world, but I hope that I am raising a person who can help brighten it, even if he mixes up his M’s and W’s.

It’s hard to admit that one of the most precious people in my world has a problem. But, although his story is nowhere near it’s end, it is moving toward a happy ending as we re-train his brain. I hope this gives other parents permission to face tough realities instead of turning a blind eye and continuing to reward average-ness and even serious issues. In Peter’s case, his rewards mark his progress toward realizing his full potential. Find your child’s strengths, and build them up to bolster the weaknesses. While a spoonful of sugar makes a great song, it does nothing to solve real problems.

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The Risk of Not Taking Risks

Writing journal

Writing journal (Photo credit: avrdreamer)

Last week I wrote about letting go and allowing your characters to take the wheel, and I’d like to expand on that this week.

You see, I understand the problem with giving control to someone else. It’s why my dad and husband both hate being in the passenger seat: when you’re not the one driving, there’s a whole trust and safety issue.

Now, the driving analogy can only go so far (and I don’t like driving, anyway). After all, while it would be foolish to let a thirteen-year-old take the wheel, your story’s thirteen-year-old character could do wondrous and unimaginable things if you let him loose on the page.

But characters of all ages and types – even the ones that may, at first glance, seem quite ordinary, even boring, have the chance of surprising us, if only we let them. Or for stories that aren’t as character-driven, maybe it’s the story itself that takes over and twists in unexpected ways.

But it’s scary to let go, I’ll be the first to admit.

Like so many other good students of composition and the tried-and-true formula college paper, I swallowed all that stuff about a beginning, middle, and end. I was really good at it, too. I often joke that I majored in writing papers, but it’s sadly true. I could write and edit like nobody’s business, and I was especially good at figuring out what my professors wanted to read and tailoring my papers to whatever persuasion was necessary to get me an A. Selling out? I suppose so. But it got me out quickly and unscathed, so I could get down to the serious work that I had little time for in college: writing fiction.

The problem is that writing an A+ college paper does not a good fiction author make. I think that’s why, for the longest time, I figured I would have to settle with being an editor. That I can do. I can tell writers all day long what they need to do to fix their stories because it’s easier to critique a story when you’re not in the midst of creating it. And although I’ve edited a bunch of crap, sometimes I get a real gem that makes me have hope all over again. And I sometimes wonder: what makes this author different than all the others? I mean, aside from the obvious being a good story-teller part.

I think that, in large part, it goes back to what Stephen King says in On Writing: A Memoir Of The Craft, and (I’m majorly paraphrasing here) it’s that following an outline, plotting an entire novel to the point that it can no longer breathe on its own, is the best way to create a stiff, author-driven piece of fiction. The point is that the author needs to get out of the way, and that simply can’t happen without taking risks. Like letting the story go where it will. Like sometimes giving your audience an unexpected ending.

Now, before I go any further, let me say that creating any kind of ending simply for the sake of making a statement is the most blatant form of author-interference, and it drives me nuts. Anyone remember when Ian Malcolm dies in Jurassic Park: A Novel, only to be resurrected in The Lost World: A Novel? Well, of course you don’t, if you’ve only seen the movies. That’s because he doesn’t die in the first movie. I can only assume that someone approached Michael Crichton and said, “Hey, we need a sequel, but we kind of need Ian Malcolm to be the main character.” Whoops. He’s dead. So he’s really not dead after all – what a miracle – and we can all forget those tears we shed when we read the first book. Right. (Notice how there’s no third book, but they went ahead with a third movie, anyway?)

I love Michael Crichton, and I actually like the first movie, too, although the whole “based on the novel” part is a very loose interpretation. The point is that risk-taking on his part wasn’t quite what Hollywood wanted. Maybe other authors are afraid of this, so they go ahead and remove the risk – write the ending that they think people will want instead of how the story is supposed to end. Other authors go the opposite direction and just start killing people willy-nilly for effect, making their readers mad for no reason.

But what would happen if we just let the stories be themselves?

It’s harder than you think, of course. Sometimes, a Hollywood director will come along and screw everything up. Or after you die, another author will write the sequel that they feel answers the questions you intentionally left. (I touched on this in a post late in 2012.)

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Stephenie Meyers’s The Twilight Saga Collection. There are all kinds of twists and surprises, not to mention plenty of tension. But – spoiler alert – I’ve always felt a tiny bit cheated by the ending. I never did see the last movie because I was busy juggling a newborn baby and a preschooler at the time, but the previews told me enough: the big conflict that never really happens but just kind of fizzles out (at least in the book) had to be jazzed up a little for the movie. I mean, I’m glad that none of the good guys have to die, but at the same time, knowing how bad the bad guys are, it doesn’t quite seem realistic. (Okay, okay, what is realistic in a story full of vampires and werewolves? But I’m talking about suspending my disbelief to unbelievable proportions, here.) To me, it felt like Meyers actually interfered to keep something from hurting her characters, like she just missed something – maybe something monumental – at the end. I’m not saying to kill Edward or Jacob – or anyone. I’m just saying it’s a little too neat.

I faced the same thing with one of my own stories. I originally published “Stranded” when I was in college, and even back then, I fought with myself over the ending. The title being what it is, I could only do so much, unless I wanted to change that (and I didn’t). But one day, after a reader told me that she’d gotten to the end and wondered where the rest of it was, I considered following up with a sequel. Do people write sequels to short stories? Well, it’s a moot point because I haven’t done it and don’t think I ever will. That’s not to say I haven’t considered it, though. I have – a lot. I’ve read my story many times, trying to figure out what could possibly come next. But even though I created it, I could no more direct the next scene than I’ll be able to tell my children what they’re going to do for their livings when they’re adults.

Then in 2012, I decided to republish it. After all, the original publication was out of print, and I thought I could make a few tweaks to the text, which I did. I think the piece as a whole is improved, but… the ending remains the same. I still couldn’t change it. Why? Because I want to make readers unhappy? No. Because I want them to beg me to write more? No, and I won’t, even if they ask. Because the meat of the story is the same as it was in 2003 when I penned the first draft – that’s why. It just needed a little hair cut, some trimming of the fat. And it might have grown an inch or two since then. But it’s essentially the same story, and I’m glad that I let it be itself.

I took a risk once, and I am satisfied with the outcome. I only hope I can stick to my guns and keep taking those risks. After all, I owe it to the stories.

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Move Over and Let the Characters Drive

Dumbledore as portrayed by the late Richard Ha...

Dumbledore as portrayed by the late Richard Harris in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I love reading books that are so good that you just have to talk to someone else about them. My husband and I have read a few of those lately. After finishing the latest trilogy, Thomas Googled the author to see if there were any interviews about the series’ ending. Sure enough, he found one in which she talked about how her characters continually surprised her.

“It’s just like so many authors say,” he told me, looking somewhat bemused.

“It’s true,” I confirmed.

As crazy as it sounds, we authors don’t have the total control over our characters that we wished we did. Yet some authors insist on absolutely smothering the life out of their characters to make them bend to their wills. You’ll know these characters when you meet them because they’re inconsistent, like someone is forcing them to do things they weren’t meant to do.

Since I think it’s safe to talk about the Harry Potter books without fear of spoiling the ending (and if you haven’t read them, shame on you), I’d like to bring up something author J.K. Rowling said back in the days when all the fans were itching for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Book 7). Thomas and I checked her website on a daily basis, theorized with friends, skimmed the news for any possible updates, and any time J.K. Rowling came out with something – anything – new, we were beside ourselves with glee. And no, I am not exaggerating (although Thomas can suppress his glee a lot more than I can).

And one day, she said that she was having a particularly hard time with Dumbledore. Well, first of all, that made everyone scratch their heads because he died at the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Book 6) – or did he?

But more amusing to me, aside from this nugget, was the image of Jo Rowling fighting her characters to straighten up and fly right. Characters will be difficult, and although non-writers may think we authors crazy or schizophrenic or overly imaginative to say so, there is an element involved that defies explanation.

There are some people who feel compelled to write in order to create characters that fulfill unrequited wishes. These characters are forced into ill-fitting molds. The beautiful girl that said no to a date with the nerdy guy suddenly falls in love with him. The bully at school finally get his come-uppance. The evil boss sees the error of her ways and starts treating her employees like human beings. These characters feel flat. They don’t do much – except what the author designed them to do.

What is truly beautiful, however, is when these characters are allowed to take control of their existences, teaching the author a thing or two while living their stories. Harry was an absolute teenage brat in Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix. Sirius Black died laughing, in the thick of battle. Dumbledore gave his life, leaving a mess and a number of unanswered questions. Dobby – well, I don’t even want to mention him because I know it will start my mom crying. But the point is that J.K. Rowling could have made Harry a sweet fifteen-year-old, leaving everyone wondering if she remembered at all what teenagers are like. She could have let all of her characters live, eliminating the very important sacrifices that they made. Everyone would have hugged and been happy, and the story would have stalled and rung false. It would have cheapened their dear, fictional lives.

So next time you read a book and can’t believe that the author did something that you feel is the deepest betrayal, consider how you would feel if the author had taken the easy way out instead. I don’t know about you, but I don’t read in order to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I read to suspend disbelief for a time, to form a relationship with characters, to have an absolutely amazing experience – that may hurt at times but will also deliver a great deal of truth in a fictional package. The stories that I love the most are the ones that leave me conflicted, that keep me up at night, that sometimes break my heart. Maybe things didn’t turn out the way they could have, but often, they turn out exactly as they should have.

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The Year of Writing Dangerously

Novel Motto

From the time I was thirteen, I knew I wanted to be an author, and at that age, it seemed like such a reasonable dream. It’s a hard one to obtain, though. I went to college as an English major, despite people encouraging me to take up journalism or something that might actually be useful. I was going to be an author – why would I need to pursue anything else? You know, anything practical.

Then somewhere around my junior year in college, reality set in. By then, I’d found my university’s writing program and an excellent fiction workshop, run by my friend Ari. I think, if it weren’t for Ari’s workshops, I never would have been able to see the level of improvement that I’ve noticed in my fiction. Yes, I have good proofreading and editing skills – inherited from my proofreader mother – but my fiction was not worth reading until I experienced some first-hand criticism.

One aspect of the workshop was getting a story publication-ready. And Ari made no bones about the difficulties of publishing. It’s a cruel world, where editors who have bad days arbitrarily consign authors to the slush pile, no matter the worth of their stories. That’s why a group of us started our own literary journal, Fiction Fix, which is still going strong today. But as much as my editing credentials with Fiction Fix have done for me, they haven’t done anything for me in the greater world of novel publication.

The real world impeded on my dream to the point that I all but forgot it at times. After having my first child, I not only took a long hiatus from Fiction Fix, but I basically quit caring about writing for a while. Three straight years of rejection from literary agents can do that to you, and falling in love with my newborn son made my career-of-choice pale in comparison.

But the dream did not die, and I returned to my stories, often becoming lost in them for weeks or months before getting burnt out again. And then I decided that I would branch out and just get whatever kind of freelance work I could find. As long as I could have some sort of income from writing, that’s what I always wanted, right? Well, not quite.

I enjoy writing and editing, and I’m good at what I do, but the problem with freelancing is that it’s easy to get wrapped up in the assignments and forget the joy that I initially had when I just wrote stories all the time. And I am spoiled by having a husband whose job allows me the flexibility to write what I want to write. So why haven’t I been doing just that?

When I participated in NaNoWriMo this year, forcing myself to almost write full-time – and on a project with no guaranteed paycheck at the end – I finally fulfilled a little bit of my teenage dream. Never have I spent so much concentrated time writing, and never have I enjoyed it so much. This is what I had in mind (although being paid to do it would certainly be ideal).

I also regained some of that hope of someday writing a novel that people would pay to read. I had a lot of that hope when I was in college, before the harshness of life and the publication world fully set in. But after a while, I started to wonder why I kept trying if no one wanted to give me the time of day. And I was frustrated that I got older and still had nothing to show for all the stories I’d written. But the problem is that if I don’t submit, if I don’t get up every time I’m rejected and try again, no one’s just going to knock on my door and ask if I have a book that I would like to publish.

This is not a New Year’s resolution, first of all because it’s been in the works since November. But more than that, I’m not changing my ways, only to revert back to old habits within a few weeks. Rather, I hope that my rediscovered passion will give me that push to make this year the most productive I’ve ever been, as far as writing fiction is concerned. I’m already looking at contests and searching for new agents. I’m still working on the first draft of the novel I started with NaNoWriMo. And I’m determined not to lose my enthusiasm this time.

One day you’ll see me in print. And maybe – just maybe – it will be sooner rather than later.

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What Will You Read in 2014?

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All day long, I’ve done what I could only dream about doing this time last year: I’ve sat on the couch reading a good book. Last December, I yearned for some good fiction after a few months of reading a bunch of how-to and reference materials. So at the close of the year, I looked over the books in my personal library and made a list of titles I hoped to read in 2013. It was a pretty ambitious list, one that I knew I probably wouldn’t finish, but I took a good stab at it. I did read seven of the fourteen books from my list, plus an additional ten that I hadn’t planned on reading.

I have to add a quick note about one of these unplanned books: I edited a novel called Brightleaf this year, and it was published in September. The author is my friend Raleigh Rand, and although I didn’t read this book in the traditional sense of sitting down and reading it for pleasure, I enjoyed every moment of editing it and would highly recommend it. (There’s a story behind this book, but that’s for another blog.)

So when thinking about my book list for the upcoming year, I waited until after Christmas. I can always count on someone to come through with a great book or three, and I had a sneaking suspicion (mainly because he asked me right out what I wanted) that my husband would get me Veronica Roth’s Divergent. I wasn’t disappointed. I went ahead and bought the next two books – and it’s a good thing. I started reading it this morning and am already more than 140 pages in – I’ll be done before 2014.

In addition, an unexpected gift was a book of Mark Twain’s writings from my friend Georgene. I promised that I would quote it a bunch this year, so that’s on the list. Also, my aunt ordered Bess Streeter Aldrich’s The Rim of the Prairie for me, a book I’ve read before, but alas, it was borrowed. Also (and I’m bragging now), I received two books that are a writer’s best friend – hand-crafted, leather-bound blank books. My sister-in-law convinced my husband to splurge on one (thank you!), and my aunt bought the other – they know me so well. When I’m not reading, I’m usually writing, and I can’t wait to fill them.

This year’s list will be composed of three kinds of books – the ones I still have to read from the 2013 list, books that I want to re-read, and brand new ones. And, as happened this year, I am sure that other books will pop into my life and expand my literary horizons still further.

Click on the links below to read more about these books, and if you purchase one from one of my links, you’ll support my blog.

Books I read in 2013:

My 2014 Book List:

Do I really think I’ll finish all these books? Not a chance. (I still do have to feed my kids and clean the house, after all.) But it will be fun trying. What books do you plan to tackle in the new year? Happy reading!

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Support the Locals

The Family Business

The Family Business

This week, I’ve had a hard time finding my inspiration. In addition to this being just a crazy-busy week, I’ve watched my grandmother decline from what seemed a somewhat stable condition in the hospital to being restrained, sedated, and placed on a ventilator. It doesn’t help that this all happened right before Christmas.

As my family tries to figure out what to do and what our future may look like, I can’t help but think that this could have been prevented. While I am grateful for today’s technology and the comforts and progress it has afforded us, I can’t help but yearn for the days (long before my time) when doctors rode their horses out to homes in the middle of the night to deliver babies. Of course those “good old days” were stressful for those involved, but at least the doctors knew their patients. They lived in community together. In contrast, my grandmother has gotten lost in the shuffle of hundreds of other patients, and one of her nurses actually refused to help her find her pen the other day because she was a nurse and above such piddling duties as actually helping a patient.

I’m not going to apologize for sounding bitter. My grandmother isn’t the only victim, here. The problem is that people are turning into names on charts that aren’t read thoroughly, numbers, statistics. And it’s not just in hospitals, either.

Yet yesterday afternoon, I was reminded that there are places where people are still known as individuals. I had to go to our pharmacy, and it is not a chain store. My parents and I have used them for years, and all the ladies who work there know me and my kids. The parking is atrocious, and they aren’t a superstore, where you can buy a TV while you’re waiting. But if you need a pharmacy, I can’t think of a better place to go. When I go there, they always hug my kids and want to know how I am – not just medically, either. I support this local company and get so much more than a product at a good price.

There is a reason why people push “buying local.” For food, it’s about the healthiest way to go, especially if you can find something like local honey, which helps people fight allergies in their particular regions. But there are other benefits, as well. In a world where it seems that everyone now wants to achieve viral video fame, it’s nice to go to a place where there are real people who know me for me. It’s something that I think has gotten lost in the digital age, kind of like my grandmother getting lost at the hospital. The good thing is that there are people fighting it, people who want to create and maintain real relationships.

I work with my parents at our family’s business, and although there are many hardships that come with running a small business, there are so many benefits. Many people don’t understand, when you’re in a niche market, that you don’t serve everyone. You serve the people whose needs fit your particular skills, and in that way you provide services and products of a higher quality than big businesses that try to please everybody and, in doing so, turn out shoddy work. And we have customers who continue to come to us because they know they’re stimulating the local economy (one family’s economy, in particular!) and that we will remember their names when they come back.

Get to know the restaurant and shop owners of places you frequent. By supporting the local businesses in your community, you will get back some of that humanity that our world is doing a good job of suppressing. And if you find yourself becoming a statistic one day, the relationships that you make at these places will become so much more important than having thousands of followers on your favorite social network.