Race to the Finish

By Martha Reed

When I started writing, I promised that I would be honest with myself. At first I thought I was writing to get through some personal issues and I was but that wore off. Then I explored my writing further and learned that I could create whole new wonderful worlds and I used my imagination to put characters in fantastic otherworldly situations. That was really fun but that wore off too.

Now I’m trying to develop a new set of characters and part of what I’m doing to them is psychological. I’m infusing them with emotions that they are feeling and not just describing the emotion they are feeling as the third person narrator. It’s tougher than it sounds because to do this requires more forethought (as the author) and more groundwork (as the writer) in order to make sense of things.

The other new tool I’m trying out is the question of ethical behavior. One of my character's is a cop and at first it was hard to keep thinking of his actions in terms of that parameter but now I’m having fun with it, pushing the limits to see how far I can go (as the author) and how far he can go (as the character).

Which brings me to my real subject today which is, as you can see from the previous paragraphs, I’m getting pretty good at avoiding: my editor caught me cheating and she called me on it. There’s a flag on the play.

For those who have been following my manuscript adventures you already know that I hired an independent editor to help me polish this mss. I love having the second opinion to help me through my editing and so far this editor and I are spot on in agreement about where the story is going. It was money well spent and it now gives credence (in my mind) to those rumors you hear about successful writers who have spouses or significant others who “read” their manuscript before they submit. Now I wonder how much of that reading is actually first-run editing. But I digress (again).

There I was, happily editing along and I ran smack into Chapter 14. Only now, as I’m editing, I realize that this chapter doesn’t make sense anymore because this material is so old it came from the original rough draft when I was still trying to understand who my characters were; it’s back story. I was using it as transition because the middle is always the toughest part and I needed to fill up the space with some words but now, as I look at it, it all needs to be cut. The problem is that cutting it will create a new hole, which I will need to fill up with more words and I don’t want to go back to writing, I want to stick with editing.

However, the whining is now over, thank you for listening and I will get back to work. The good news is that I know exactly what is needed to fill the gap because finishing this mss is starting to feel like finishing a jigsaw puzzle when you know the picture, you have the outer frame with all the flat edges and all you need to do is fit the last fifty pieces together. What fun! There’s nothing better!

Are You Intrepid?

by Ramona DeFelice Long

A while back, a writer friend sent me an SOS that went something like this:

“Help! I need the perfect word to describe a character who is handsome and charming, but maybe not 100% honest; he likes women and booze and cards but he’s not a skeeve; he’s not exactly dangerous, but he’s not Mr. Trustworthy, either; he can be playful and fun even though he’s not terribly dependable; and did I mention he’s handsome and charming?”

After stewing a while (and realizing that I once dated this guy, or maybe several of these guys) I came up with three choices: Our man could be a rake, a rascal or a rapscallion.

We spent a little while discussing the differences between rakes, rascals and rapscallions. We decided that a rake is the most negative, and brazen, of the three—he’ll love you and leave you and clean out your bank account in the process. A rascal is more mischievous than dangerous; he’s young and, in my mind, Southern; he’d probably break your heart and steal your wallet, but he really did enjoy your company while he was doing it. A rapscallion is a combination of the rascal and the rake—he’s not blatantly using you and he’s not forgivable because he’s just so darn cute, so he’s kind of a bum but also kind of irresistible.

If you are a writer, you’ve probably had a dilemma like this one. Words have nuances and multiple meanings, which makes them fun little buggers, but frustrating, too.

So when you read a truly perfect word, it’s a moment. I had a one of these perfect word moments while reading a post in the SinC Blog, when the poster described her sleuth as having an intrepid nature.
Intrepid is great word. According to our friends at Microsoft Encarta, to be intrepid means you are “fearless and persistent in the pursuit of something.” Isn’t that a definitive definition of a mystery novel’s protagonist? Can there be a more succinct description of a sleuth?

I wrote this in the SinC Blog’s comments and ventured to propose that a mystery writer should be intrepid, too. Think about it. In order to craft a mystery, a writer has to sit in a chair and write and outline and plot and write and plan and edit and write. Then he or she must throw out parts of it and sit in the chair some more and rewrite and rework and cut and delete and rewrite. That’s the persistent part.

The fearless part means sending it out to a beta reader or a critique group for constructive criticism. It may mean hiring an independent editor. It means recognizing what’s not working, chucking parts (or all) of it, and sitting in the chair again and writing and rewriting.

But if writing the story takes fearlessness and persistence, working towards publication is where being intrepid really counts.

On Monday of this week, I gave myself a little anniversary party, celebrating my first year blogging as an editor. It’s been an eventful year, and I realize as I write this post how many writers I have seen be persistent and fearless in their pursuit of publication. But if I asked, I doubt many of them would see these acts as extraordinary. I doubt many of them would call themselves intrepid.

Why is this? Why don’t we see the bravery in sending out our writing?

When you join into a community of fellows, you bond over what you all have in common. You know so many other writers being persistent and fearless, your own actions don’t seem all that intrepid.

So, let me ask a few questions. This past year, did you…

…write a chapter and send it to a critique group?

…stand before an agent and give a verbal pitch?

…cut sentences or paragraphs you love because they weren’t right for the story?

…write a character you liked, and then made something bad happen to them?

…attend a workshop and ask a question?

…send some of your writing to an editor?

…query an editor or agent?

…sign up for a Face book page and describe yourself as a writer?

…pass up TV shows, movies, or other hobbies to work on your novel?

…wake up early or stay up late because a scene was driving you batty?

…spend your allowance on the works of other mystery writers?

…email a fellow writer asking for a perfect word?

…attend a retreat and refuse to leave, even in the face of a flood?

These are brave acts that require persistence and fearlessness, and no one else can do them for you. That’s the key to being an intrepid writer. Only you, and you alone, can see your story to your goal.

So, if you answered yes to all, or any, of these questions, congratulations! I hereby grant you the Ramona Long Seal of the Intrepid Writer.

But before you run off with your award, I’d like to hear some testimonials. What did you do this year that was fearless and persistent in the pursuit of your goals?

Also, if you were a rake, a rascal or a rapscallion, feel free to tell us about that, too.

Ramona DeFelice Long is an author and independent editor who grew up in the bayou country of south Louisiana. Now she lives and works in the teeny tiny state of Delaware. She’s had some short stories published, won some grants, edited some anthologies, led some retreats and taught some workshops, all of which she posts about on her very own blog. She enjoys editing WIPS in all shapes, sizes and genres. Her favorite food is crème brulee.

The Cutting Room Floor

By Martha Reed

There were two hurdles in my latest draft that I was dreading from the onset – an emotional scene between two of my characters (tackling emotion isn’t my strong suit) and a pivotal vehicular accident scene involving precise calculations and quite a bit of math. Math has always been a problem for me – I’m much better using words – and since I’m lazy and most people are kind I can usually con somebody into doing the math for me and just giving me the end result.

But this time it was different and I wanted to do the math for myself. So, I gathered all the pieces of the algebraic formula I imagined I would need (mass, distance, trajectory, speed) and sat down to gut it out. Imagine my surprise when the math evaporated into two tiny paragraphs and the rest of the story continued merrily along as exposition.

It pains me now that all that perfectly good math ended up on the cutting room floor.

Over the weekend I also went back through my notes to make sure my story arc was lining up properly – I’m only forty pages from the finish and I wanted to tie up all the loose ends – and as I was reading through my very early manuscript pages I realized just how far off the mark I had been when I started out and how much the story has mutated to get to the finish line. I have perfectly good whole chapters that I know I slaved over that are now sitting in my deleted bin or in my discard pile. I still find myself hanging on to these pages, though, even though they are mutant creatures because I put so much work into them I can’t simply throw them away. Right now my plan is to keep these pages and chapters in a separate manuscript box in the hope that they may someday shed light on my creative process for some distant future archivist.

Of course, the oddest thing about writing a truly good story is that if you do the job well and really tell the tale so that it comes to life, the last thing that gets shed is the author. Think I’m kidding? Okay, name the author of Treasure Island or The Adventures of Baron Munchasen. See what I mean?

Editing Backstory - On the Chopping Block

by Martha Reed

If I had to pick one image to describe how I create my stories, I would picture a professional gas range with all kinds of pots and saucepans steaming, simmering, and bubbling away. Occasionally, I lift a lid to check on things, and maybe give an idea a stir or turn down the heat until I’m ready to serve it up. I usually have two or three stories cooking away at the same time, and I’m as surprised as anyone to discover the finished dish: sometimes it’s chicken, sometimes it’s fish, sometimes it’s cold fruit loops in a bowl.

Something happened to me on my latest story that has never happened before. There I was, merrily writing away, when I came to a fork in the road. My writerly side insisted that I follow the storyline down the path I had mapped out – and write it out in full – while my editorial side spoke up to mention that this bit was actually backstory and that it would have to get trimmed out of the final – so why didn’t I save myself the time and trouble of writing it down and simply skip past it now? It was the strangest feeling. I felt like I was straddling the divide between my creative and editorial sides and getting pulled in two directions, like a referee.

In the end, I compromised, (if you can compromise with yourself) and wrote out the backstory. I wrote it thinly, not spending a lot of time on it, just following the narrative line and eliminating any descriptive detailing that usually costs me time. The storyline turned out pretty much the way I had envisioned it, and when it was done I put my editorial hat on and took a good hard look at it. The bit didn’t reveal anything new about my characters; it didn’t provide any new motivations for their actions that we didn’t already know about, and it certainly didn’t add any new details that I hadn’t already planned on revealing later in the story. So, ruthlessly, bravely, I deleted it while it lay there breathing on the slab.

What was the point of this exercise?

When I originally conceived the idea, I had decided to create something around 5,000 words. While I was working on the story, I think the editorial part of my brain was performing an unconscious word count for me, and my brain was warning me at the split that I was nearing my word limit if I wanted to keep the story tight. If this is true, I’ve added a new trimming tool to my repertoire, and more importantly, I’ve learned to use this tool at the beginning of the process instead of at the end.

Any other word chefs out there? What tricks or tools have you discovered?

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW

by Gina Sestak

Of all the many jobs I've held, my favorites have always been the ones in which I've had to learn new things. One of the best of these was my position as an academic editor.

The company I worked for was essentially a one-woman operation that combined word processing with editing services, back when word processing was still a novelty. I heard about it through a friend and got the job because I knew how to type, although I had to teach myself WordPerfect -- I'd been using WordStar and Multimate until then. I found the experience of learning a new word processing program a challenge that was remarkably similar to learning how to drive a different kind of car: you know there's a brake there somewhere. You just have to figure out which pedal to push.

I took the job after I'd left private law practice (see my blog of June 6, 2007) and had been freelancing -- selling my services to law firms -- for a year or so. I was broke and exhausted. The job didn't pay much, but it was steady work and, best of all, I was constantly learning things I'd never known before.

Sometimes I just typed student essays, editing out the obvious grammatical mistakes and trying to figure out how to express mathmatical/Greek alphabet terms from a standard keyboard. One was entirely in French -- I had to trust the student's spelling and grammar because, despite having studied that language in both high school and college, I had no idea how it should be written in a college-level paper.

Dissertations and theses ran the gamut from religious philosophy to Saudi Arabian politics, with a dose of sociology thrown in. Every one I worked on was full of interesting information. For example, I'd heard the term "grass widow" many times without ever having a clear idea what it meant. One dissertation (about the development of social welfare policy) explained the distinction between "sod widows" and "grass widows" -- a "sod widow" is alone because her husband is under the sod; a "grass widow" is alone because her husband decided that the grass was greener elsewhere. A major distinction.

Working with theses and dissertations was a new world to me. My J.D. (Juris Doctor) degree hadn't required me to write either. In fact, aside from reading a few when I worked as a library page (see my blog of January 13, 2007), my only contact with such academic writings had been drawing pictures of partially dissected flat worms to illustrate a roommate's thesis. [I wasn't paid for that and, since I didn't have to draw the poor dissected little worms from life, did it for fun.]

So what did I learn from this job? LOTS!

This job helped me as a writer by giving me the opportunity to edit other peoples work. It let me develop my word processing skills -- it's easier to write when you don't have to put a lot of thought into the act of getting words down. Most of all, it exposed me to a wealth of knowledge that is now accessible as background for my fiction.

What jobs have you held that allowed you to acquire interesting information?