Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Divorce is hard. 

Sometimes it’s messy, sometimes amicable. But never easy.

No, I’m not baring my soul here, or sending out cyber tears, I’m talking about a different kind of divorce.

The kind you go through after writing, editing, and thoroughly vetting a manuscript. For months you bleed onto the page, through the written word, giving the world a little piece of your soul. And when its over ... you can't let go.

To me, my characters are REAL people. People that live in me wee noggin, but people nonetheless.

Crazy? Sure, but I've been called worse.

And while said MS is in the hands of several awesome agents, and queries are being bounced around cyber space, there are still times – almost everyday – that I think of something to add, change or edit.

These are the times I pick up the phone and call 911 ... er Charli. Usually she’s doing the same thing … no, not contemplating taking over the world with me, much to your dismay.

She’s adding a wee piece of dialogue here, taking away a smidgen of a scene there. So whilst I’m hoping she’ll give me a dose of, cut it out and move on sister, we chuckle and talk about the changes.

I know what your thinking, daft wenches.

You’re not far off the mark, but I digress.

The characters in my next MS are secondary characters from my first MS, and though I know them – we’ve met, chilled out, had a few beers – we’re not best buds yet.

I don’t know if my hero chews and talks at the same time, or whether or not he likes to bath

regularly – I write medieval historical’s.

I’m not yet at that point where I can comfortably sit for hours inside their heads, as I crave to be.

I’m hoping this divorce settles soon.

However, I suspect such things may continue for years, for when is a writer ever truly done?

No Writing, No Wine, Makes Charli Something Something...

My family may toss me outside in the yard. I'll be with ol' Jack out there, frozen.

Here in Philly we are expecting yet another snow storm. Lovely. This one has ICE! Yay...not.

Weather like this keeps you in the house. You only go out for work, school, and necessities.

Wine is a necessity, not bread. But that's just me.

Over the weekend I had a hard time getting in the mood to write. I had a very bad cold. Very, very bad. And the hubby had our Saturday Night booked for a social gathering. He said the boos were free. What to do. Wine is a necessity as I've previously stated... invited to a place that serves free wine... wine is alcohol... therefore doubling as medication... therefore I can go.

The hubby and kid were happy to get me out of the house. They said I was acting a little off. Well, yes I was. Sore throat, snot rags, and a boat load of cough drops and you'd be too. I think they heard me grumbling about not bothering Mommy in her work place. I think they think I was starting to act like Jack up there. I think my kid remembers the Simpson's Tree House of Horror where Homer goes nuts without beer and TV.

Homer: No TV, no beer, makes Homer something something...
Marge: ...Go crazy?
Homer: Don't mind if I do! *Homer starts murderous rampage.*

Foreseeing their own demise they practically pushed me out the door. Kid goes to her Aunt's. Me & the Hubby are on our own. Woot!

We get to our little soiree and yes there is alcohol but 'tis not free. Hubby shrugs his shoulders as he laughs. "Like you're gonna leave? Free or not you never pass up a drink. Now drink woman and feel better."

Ah, the man knows me. Isn't he romantic...

And no, the family is alive and well. I slept all day Sunday and they didn't bother me. I wrote a wee bit last night too.

With the next storm looming overhead I guess the hubby better stock up on Merlot and Pinot Grigio. Mama's gotta some editing to do.

Enjoy today's clips that inspired this post.

The Writer's Cocoon

I am emerging from a cocoon I didn't know I was baking in. Not the Cocoon from the movie, no aliens giving me sexed up mojo in a pool. I am referring to an actual cocoon, the ones kittypillars create while they transform into what they were DESTINED to be, beautiful butterflies.

A kittypillar, yes, I say kittypillar, starts a journey to find a perfect branch. I liken that to me finally deciding to write and sitting my tookus down to do it. For months I wrote, found a critique group, and studied the craft.

Yes, I had to study how to write a novel. Having a good story in your head does not equate to being an author. Being a literature teacher for six years does not equate to knowing how to write a work of fiction.

It is a craft. One I did not respect enough in my early days stumbling through my first attempt at writing this novel. Blogs, websites, story structure books, I read them all. But the education came in the actual writing, the numerous failed attempts. AND THERE WERE NUMEROUS FAILED ATTEMPTS.

I queried way too early. The MS was no where near ready. I was no where near ready as a writer. Me, the kittypillar hadn't even found my damned tree yet. I trudged and trudged. But I wasn't alone on this journey. I found some other kittypillars along the way. One you know here, AJ/JAWS.

Together we found our tree and started our climb. It hasn't been easy. Lots of growing pains along the way. As you are heading out to become something, you change. This kittypillar was becoming something and I couldn't face it. It kind of scared the hell out of me. I ignored the changes and continued to query. I changed my opening at least 7 times. Maybe more.

All were well written. So, my writing friends told me. My CP told me to stop fecking with something that didn't need fecking with in the first place. Jaws said what I had was good and should own it.

But I doona listen verra well. So, I continued to feck with said opening. If you've ever listened to my diatribes about the opening to my MS, you know we haven't exactly seen eye to eye. To get past this stumbling block I immersed myself in story structure books, blogs, websites, and I read and read and read various works of fiction. I devoured them. By forcing myself to step out of my comfort zone and read books I normally wouldn't, I felt a shift take place. It was subtle and barely noticeable but it was there.

I evolved in some weird way. It's something I cannot really explain but you too may have felt this yourself. By reading so much I felt I had a better understanding not only of the craft but of...me...the writing me. This enlightened Charli Mac has new eyes and a fresh outlook. It happened this way...

Last week I was reading, Save the Cat. It has proved to be an invaluable resource to me, for many reasons but one more than the rest. It proved to me I had my structure down pat, the acts, the beats. I'd had the plot down from the get go. Woot, score 1 for Charli. But said opening was still a wreck, or so I thought.

I asked a fellow friendly writer to read all seven of my versions. This facetious lil' redhead (not JAWS, another one) said she would. Boy, she had no idea what she was getting into.

She read one, just one and emailed me. Her question was an Ah-ha moment. She asked me what voice did I want to use for this MS. Because this opening was different from the one she'd read a while back. Voice, voice, voice, voice, it's all about the voice. And she was right. And AJ was right. And so were a handful of other writing friends. I was losing my voice by re-working all these openings.

Facetious redhead told me to sit back and decide how and in what way I want to tell this story. To do so I had to read ALL the openings I'd done. ALL OF THEM.

I did. What I found was priceless. The version I had a while back was good. Really good. It had the right premise, set-up, and it made me feel something I hadn't in a long time-sure of myself. A major brain fart came and I combined a few things and decided to expand on my hero's Save the Cat Moment, a moment I already had in the book before even buying said feline bible of story structure.

As I revised I found myself tapping into this new writer inside of me, not new but a more grown up version. Words flew and it all just felt...right. What is so grand about all this you say? Well, for one, the dammed opening is now done. It needs a tweak here or there. But I can honestly say, when talking to someone, "this is how my story begins...".

More so I was proud that I had this within me all the time. Stubbornness, the need for the MS to be accepted, all blurred my vision. I wouldn't change how I got here for the world. Never in a million years. All of these headaches were the growing pains of becoming a writer. It wasn't easy and I've moved on from some parts of my writing life, left some distractions behind. And I feel amazing.

I can feel my wings growing in this cocoon I've created. Pretty soon I will sprout, break free, and fly. But that will be much later. This kittypillar still has a lot of work to do in here.

An Ode to Edward Burns

We all draw our inspiration from something, someone, some experience or another. We're writers and it's in our nature to observe the world around us. We observe it and more so we absorb it. Absorb it into our bones, blood, and out our fingertips across keyboards.

There are many instances and circumstances that propelled me to this place in my life, this writing place. I'd like to share one of them with you.

This is the movie Purple Violets. An Edward Burns movie. A movie about lost love, the one that got away, and what else, writers. This movie had me thinking about that book I never seemed to sit my ass down and write. This was July of 2009. And here I am today. Said MS in the bazillionth round of edits.

Ahh, Eddie friggin' Burns. I love the man. Besides his obvious good looks and dashing personality, he is an amazing screenwriter; completely undervalued in the business, IMO. His movies; which he writes, directs, and occasionally stars in, always seem to reach out and tug at something deep inside my writer's soul.

Oh, it could be the Irish-Catholic thing, that cool neighborhood guy aura he oozes, maybe it's the almond shaped eyes- oh those Irish eyes are definitely smiling, and maybe, just maybe, it's his innate gift of the craft.

This gem had me finally go and write. Thanks Ed, you're the man.

Save the Cat is Keyser Söze!

I recently was asked by a fellow critique buddy for my notes on Save the Cat.

Me, being the absent minded writer I am, scratch my head. I don't remember critiquing a story with that title. I'm not particularly fond of cats in general. Sorry Cat People. I do not like cats. I am paraphrasing here but I am with Robin Williams when he said that Cats are like Drag Queens. And I have a tweener daughter, all the Queen like drama I can stand, thank you very much.

So, back to this email. I tell this writing buddy I will check my files and get back to her. I find nothing and let her know. I check our message loop and other people chatted about my notes on this friggin' cat. Was I drunk messaging one night? 'Tis very possible I tell you. But no, I check that too. I did not jump online and post about saving some cat while intoxicated. It would more than likely read about me killing some cat while under the influence. Maybe not murder but at least spraying a bunch of water on it. Again, sorry Cat People. I do not like cats.

So, I am tripping around the blogosphere today, not tripping like I am stoned. I do not do drugs. Hugs, not drugs. Win with Gin! I digress. Save the Cat kept coming up on writer blogs and message boards. What the what? This Save the Cat business is like my own personal Keyser Söze. What is it? Who is it? Why do they think I have notes on it????? It's an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in bacon. But I have no time to decipher this nonense. I have a story to complete and this damn opening of mine is a pain in the arse. My own Verbal Kint, if you will. I ignore all this cyber purring and search the interwebs for the answer to my WIP conundrum. Feck the cat, someone else can save it.

Lovely YA author and blogger extraordinaire Elana Johnson blogs about the writing life. When I get my email about Elana's latest blog post, I swear I hear the heavenly angels sing AHHH. She is blogging about what else, How to Start Your Book. Wowsers! What are the odds?

I've been jammering about my failings in this department for months. I have SEVEN different openings to my MS. Ask AJ and she may say I have more. I lost count honestly. Elana is a rocking blogger with a book coming out in June called Possession. You may recognize her name from being a steady contributor over at Query Tracker and her fondness of Bacon. (The food, not Kevin Bacon. I do not know about her feelings on the actor from Footloose.) She loves bacon. I love bacon. Everything is better with bacon. Bacon. Bacon. Bacon. Writer's block, eat Bacon. Stuck in traffic, dig in your pocket and nibble on some bacon. Not sure what would go great with that ice cream sundae, add bacon. Had some great sex, skip the cig and chew on some bacon. Frustrated by this post, EAT BACON! Again, I digress.

NOT

 



Anywho. Where was I? Cats, heck no...*Charli sips some gin, licks fingers from her BLT.* Oh yes, the blog post. So, I continue reading Elana's genius and I see...an image... OF A FRIGGIN CAT! Ohh...light bulb over my head hums then illuminates. ELANA STARTS TALKING ABOUT...SAVE THE CAT! It's a flipping screenwriting book! One that boils down story structure. For DAYS I've been jammering about structure, how mine is all off. I follow Larry, the story fixer. He chats about structure and screenwriting like I do bacon and boos. Lately with all my MS opening woes I've been reading up on it. Now Elana with this mysterious Kitty? The planets have aligned for this moment. It's all been leading up to this...

A kind of lame, real-life version of The Usual Suspects, the scene where Chazz Palminteri is looking around the office and it all sets in. The events of the past few hours, chatting with Verbal Kint, it all comes full circle. Well, that was me reading Elana's post today. I didn't drop my coffee mug on the ground or chase after a man with a distinct limp. No instead I sat at my desk and yelled out "Shut the front door!" But I said the real thing. You know, like Ralphie saying fudge but really saying f*ck in a Christmas Story. Got it now? Good. (And if you've never seen The Usual Suspects or A Christmas Story you have no business in the story-telling business. They're classics for Christ's sake.)

So, back again to this diatribe. Elana's post is about her NOT nailing the opening to her next book. And I was like, OMG, no friggin' way! Another coincidence in this strange feline mystery. Elana is an agented writer, she has a book coming out, SHE LOVES BACON! How can she have the same woes as me??? I felt a kinship, a bond beyond pork products. I felt hope actually. Hope that I too can overcome this black hole that's sucked the life out of me these past few months.

The post goes on about Save the Cat. How awesome it is and how it helped her. Her, the soon to be published and agented author is using it and even making storyboards and flash cards. Dude, I love flashcards, use them! Pig Meat, Crappy Book Openings, Saving Cats, and now 4x6 lined pieces of cardboard? We are sooo cyber sisters. I will not stalk her, I will not stalk her!

Remember my Liz Lemon Post? Nerds use flash cards. And Nerds get shit done. Nerds are gazillionaires. I am an aspiring nerd and writer. This is Steve Jobs to the right, BTW. He nailed the part of bazillionaire nerd who gets shit done. If there is a book about being a nerd, like a Save the Cat for nerds, I bet you Jobs read it and possibly even wrote it. And dude, with a last name like JOBS he was destined to get shit done.

Fate has instructed me to purchase said feline sparing bible of story structure. And I will tell you this. I listened and I bought. I have my highlighter and cards, gin and bacon. Save the Cat is Keyser Söze, Keyser Söze is the opening to my book- elusive, there, and then poof, it's gone....Damn you Keyser Söze!

Oh, opening to my mushy love story along the Jersey Shore, I will conquer you once and for all! I may not be saving any literal cats with this purchase but I sure as hell will save the start of my MS. The world is gonna love my opening like Tracy loves cornbread.

Thank you Elana Johnson, YA writer. Thank you. And thanks to my fellow aspiring writers who praised me for notes I didn't write, thanks to bacon and gin, thanks Steve Jobs and Keyser Söze, and thanks to Save the Cat, not real cats. I do not like cats. Thank you all!

OMG, Brain fart....maybe Elana Johnson is Keyser Soze! What the what!?

I am Really Book Dumb...For Reals

Truthfully, I must confess, I am NOT as well read as I should be. Especially for being an aspiring writer and all.

In July of 2009 I officially stopped daydreaming about the story in my head and started typing. Even then I was reading mostly James Patterson. I joined one of those book clubs and snatched up some mainstream stuff. I remember getting one about a young woman helping her town after a tornado and an early reprint of a Sandra Brown. A student of mine gave me a Nicholas Sparks. I read his works off and on. Patterson kept me busy, as did some Dan Brown and Elizabeth Kostova.

But I write Love Stories and up until 2008 all I had was some Sparks and a single Sandra Brown.

I have an even worse confession. I am poorly read in the classics. In college I think I read Pride and Prejudice. The movies I remember more. I recall some titles from high school and college but vaguely remember most of them.

Does that make me a poorly trained writer? Does under-read translate into Book-Dumb? Right now I feel like I am in a place where I shouldn't write. Something inside me is unquenchable. All I want to do is read.

What should I be reading? What should I have read already?

What books do you feel all writers, at least of fiction, should read before typing a single word?

One Wild & Crazy Life...of a famous Writer

I wish I could be so cool. So accomplished. I have a new idol and I've been a fan of this guy, since forever. But now, after watching a recent interview, I am left in sheer awe of his artistic accomplishments.

An American Icon. The guy who's had white hair ever since I can remember. But he never seems to age.

A comedic genius. The creative equivalent of a Trifecta. A triple threat if you will.

My three fave roles of his: a waiter in The Muppet Movie, Lucky Day in The Three Amigos and he sang and danced  in Little Shop of Horrors as a Dentist. The man also played a Jerk but if you've ever seen him in an interview he is anything but.

He can list three Grammy's for his comedic performances but, to your surprise, he also has two Grammy's for his music. Yes, his original music. And it's Bluegrass and the instrument of choice....the friggin' BANJO!

The epitome of cool.

Yes, I said the banjo was cool. If you disagree then you are an L-7 loser. The Banjo is cool and this guy proves it. Kermit tried but only got so far. This guy will have the tweeners ditching their Beiber Bobs and grabbing a 5 string BANJO. Just wait, it will happen.

Who, who is this man you ask? And did I just hear you say 'so what' about having comedic and musical accomplishments? You forget where I'm from. Philly. And I gots me some legbreakers. So shut your cake hole and give the man some props.

There is further evidence that this artist is one of the greats, I mean all time GREATEST CREATIVE and ARTISTIC LEGENDS of our time.

He is also an AUTHOR. The author of two novellas and a recent novel. He also has a memoir, short stories, and children's books published. Oh and besides that he writes his own music for said awesome banjo and of course has written for TV, the Stage and Silver Screen. You  may have seen one of his novellas on the big screen. You may have even read them.

As much as I am a fan of his acting, I can honestly say I've never read any of his works. I've only seen his  Banjo strumming skills on American Idol. And YES, the Banjo was kick ass.

Without further adieu...Banjo strum please....

It's Steve friggin' Martin.

 

You read it right.
Steve Martin.

I came across his interview on Charlie Rose the other day. I was channel surfing about the latest hub-bub in Korea. Charlie interviewed David Sanger from the NYT and asked me to stay tuned for Steve Martin for his latest....what...novel?

I totally forgot he wrote Shop Girl. I'd heard he wrote children's stories but my tweener only reads about sparkling vamps and six-pack-abbed werewolves. But being an aspiring scribe I stayed tuned as Charlie asked. Why not, right?

Steve Martin talked of his writing with such purity and grace. He mesmerized me. The comedian dissipated and all that remained was the writer, the author. The interview had me nodding, yes, the entire time. Yes, Steve, I get that. He discussed with Charlie about how he chose the POV for his latest novel, Object of Beauty. You can see the spark in his eye as he describes his characters.

Charlie asked him to read an excerpt and I was pulled in. His voice, his writing voice, is fresh -a natural story teller.

He is a writer, as Charlie Rose points out. A writer in all things.

A writer of screen, instrument, and word. I felt humbled just to watch this interview. They way he spoke of his approach to writing and getting to know his characters, where they come from, I just kept nodding my head. Yes, Steve, I feel that way too.

Since then I've been thinking about my own writing. I wrote a few posts ago that there is a shift happening for me creatively. My characters have been speaking to me and I think I am finally getting the message.

And for it to be channeled through Steven Martin is kind of ironic. Sitting here, jabbing at these keys, it's all come full circle.

My story, the one that's been out there in query land praying an agent bites, is taking on a new life. I think it keeps getting rejected, even my partials, for a few reasons.  I am not supposed to tell their story the way I have it now. My first MS is focused on a romantic relationship with a family saga as the backdrop.

I keep toying with the idea of introducing this ensemble cast of characters years before, when a family tragedy occurs. As I was watching one of my favorites shows the other night, it hit me. This is what I want my story to read like, Parenthood. Great show if you haven't watched. There you invest in the family as a whole. Each episode has a family problem to focus on. My MS can read the same. Where you are invested in the ensemble, the love stories won't be the sole focus. I love this show and I loved the original movie. The one starring, none other than, Steve Martin.

Cha-ching. And it all comes full circle.

I am currently reading four books. All different and I love them. I put Shop Girl and Object of Beauty on my Christmas list. The hubby always gets me a book or two.

So, after all this, this is where the post ends. It began as an homage to the ageless scribe of wonder and ends with him inspiring, in a round about sort of way, the direction I am headed as an aspiring scribe.

And if I had a banjo I'd be strumming the hell out of it now but I don't. So, I'll just sing of my all time fave songs of his. King Tut. This one's for Steve.

King Tut (King Tut)
Now when he was a young man,
He never thought he'd see
People stand in line to see the boy king.

Hah, Steve prolly never imagined peeps waiting in line for him. 

Here you can find out more about Steve. http://www.stevemartin.com/
Below is a list of accomplishments, as noted in wikipedia.

Awards

1969 Emmy Award - The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour (with other writers)
1978 Grammy Award for Best Comedy Album - Let's Get Small
1979 Grammy Award for Best Comedy Album - A Wild and Crazy Guy.

1989 Honorary Doctor of Humane Letters degree from California State University Long Beach[40]

2001 Grammy Award for Best Country Instrumental Performance with Earl Scruggs (and others) - banjo performance of "Foggy Mountain Breakdown".[41]

2005 Mark Twain Prize for American Humor

2005 Disney Legend award

2007 30th Annual Kennedy Center Honors

2009 Grammy Award for Best Bluegrass Album for his album The Crow: New Songs for the 5-String Banjo.

Writing Credits

The Jerk (1979) (Written with Carl Gottlieb)
Cruel Shoes (1979) (Essays)
Picasso at the Lapin Agile and Other Plays: Picasso at the Lapin Agile, the Zig-Zag Woman, Patter for the Floating Lady, WASP (1996) (Play)
L.A. Story and Roxanne: Two Screenplays (published together in 1997) (Screenplays)
Pure Drivel (1998) (Stories)
Eric Fischl : 1970–2000 (2000) (Afterword)
Modern Library Humor and Wit Series (2000) (Introduction and Series Editor)
Shopgirl (2000) (Novella)
Kindly Lent Their Owner: The Private Collection of Steve Martin (2001) (Art)
The Underpants: A Play (2002) (Play)
The Pleasure of My Company (2003) (Novel)
The Alphabet from A to Y with Bonus Letter Z (2007) (Children's Books illustrated by Roz Chast)
Born Standing Up (2007) (Memoir)
An Object of Beauty (2010) (Novel)
Late For School (2010) (Children's book)

Reading Makes the Writer

You are what you eat. Moms have said.

You are who you hang with. My Dad used to say.

You write what you read? Is this true of us scribes?

Commercial fiction is what I tend to gravitate to, sappy love stories or the quick thriller. I'd like to think I'm deeper than that on occasion. So, I'm expanding my library, venturing into once glanced over titles. So many books I promised myself to read but never have.

Now is the perfect time, really. The reason, I haven't been writing. Tsk tsk you say. Yes, I know. Very bad Charli. Instead, I've been reading. Devouring is more like it. And what I've been ingesting is far from my norm as a reader.

The other day I finished Diana Gabaldon's The Outlander. All 850 pages of it. Wow. Amazing story. I did skim over parts that made me yawn, I will not lie. In my most humble opinion, a reader's opinion, lots could have been chucked. But overall, there are passages from this book that will stay with me forever.

*SPOILER ALERT*

Bold emotion lept from the pages. These characters were tortured, literally, and the courage Gabaldon had in writing about men being raped by other men, was, for me, profound. Not just the physical depravity of it all but the long term effects on the human soul. There were moments I held my breath, where I swallowed a lump in my throat, and where I cried.

Once I was done reading, I went back and re-read the scenes that made me gasp, shudder, and pine for more. Again, I was left shaking my head. This author took the road less traveled by, that's for sure. The heroine is slightly older and sexually experienced; the hero is a younger virgin. The woman is almost raped, twice, and the man is raped, savagely I might add. The hero beats the heroine's booty for getting out of line. As a female, I was shocked but on the other hand, it being 1743, it was acceptable for such things to occur. Their were battles, witchcraft, and even time travel. A tale like no other. Jaime and Claire are characters I came to love, and now two of my all-time faves.

*SPOLIER ALERT OVER*

Charli is no trend setter. I am one of those people who hops onto a trend when its close to being out of style. It's just me. I'm no sheep following the masses and I'm just not cool enough to be notified before things hit it big. I mean Oprah doesn't exactly call me up to help her with her Must-Have/Fave Things list.

Speaking of Oprah's list, I have still yet to own a pair of Uggs. My daughter has a pair of Fuggs. (Fake-Uggs). Any who...

Right now I am reading Eat, Pray, Love. So many of my friends have asked me where the hell I've been, it's already a movie. To be honest, the last memoir I read was Night by Eli Weitzel. A grim recount of the author's days in an Jewish Interment Camp during WWII and of his days in the Polish Ghetto before evacuation. A truly tough read, gut wrenching and tragically sad. Since then no memoir has piqued my interest in the least.

AJ questioned my hesitation to read Eat, Pray, Love. Honestly, I felt that unless you survived something as tragic as the Holocaust, you had no right to write a memoir. I felt that it was so presumptuous of a person to think that their divorce, a break-up with the rebound guy, and traveling for a year (lucky biotch) was some noteworthy experience.

Like, really? Why should I read this? What makes her life so important that she believes it should be in print? Thus, I began to read as if to defy the millions that hoisted her to fame, including Julia Roberts. Begrudgingly I will tell you it's a fantastic read. Something I believed to be superficial is really turning out to be thought provoking. And, I find myself looking within, trying to see a little bit of Elizabeth Gilbert in me. A woman on the brink of change, taking stock of her life, and making a conscious effort to change for the better. (I've been reading in bits, in my personal space at home. And I think I will continue to enjoy it immensely.)

Here's another wee-little Charli anecdote. I read one book in my sanctuary at home- an original cast iron claw foot tub, another I keep by my nightstand, and I always keep a book in my bag for the train ride to work. My latest el-train paperback is MIA. I lost my copy of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.

To be honest I wasn't sad at first that I lost the book; I was having a hard time with the first 50 pages. Blogs have stated the translation is rough in places and it showed. Another person told me that the opening is choppy on purpose, it's part of the genius of Larsson's plot layout. But choppy openings done in piss-poor translation, is kind of hard to get into and entice to read further. Especially when trying to pay attention on a train into downtown Philly. (A girl's got to keep one eye on the page and the other looking out for pan-handlers and crackheads) Sorry, I digress...

Everybody kept telling me to stick with it. I gave up, flipped on Netflix, and watched, in awe, in sub-titles, the Swedish made movie. A half hour in I forgot I was reading subtitles. It was that brilliant. The storytelling is at its finest, purest, and made me a wee bit jealous. I want to go back and read the book now, then run out and get the others in the trilogy. This weekend I will be scouring my house for my original copy. Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony...

But in the meantime I need something to read on the train. So, I went to my library, most books have been read. I stumble across one I put down a while back. A book I bought for two dollars at a church flea market. It was a hardback, the cover art and title drew me in. I figured, even if it sucks, it will look nice on my shelf.

Forever, by Pete Hamill.

When I originally read this I was numb from the Nora Roberts-athon I had just completed. AJ yelled about the fact that I'd never read her. So I bought a whole bunch and read at once. I do not recommend that. Roberts is the Queen of Romance but read a bunch back to back and they are all depressingly the same story, just switch names, locations, and titles.

In a rut I was. My brain was mush. Forever was not what my brain was programmed for when I opened it. Synapses snapped at me for making it think. They asked where the hot dudes and the damsels in distress were.

Five pages in I quit. It went on about a small family in Ireland from the little boy's POV. The jacket promised me a journey of a man cursed to live Forever on the island of Manhattan. This intriguing character observes history, my American History, from the revolutionary war to the present. As a former 8th grade American History teacher I couldn't wait to read it.

And as I did my brain quit and demanded more Romance.

Last night I decided to give it another whirl, the cover catching my eye again. All of a sudden it's an hour later and I'm suddenly on page 68. This morning I read more on the train to work.

Gorgeous. Brilliant. Heartbreaking. I LOVE THIS BOOK! And the main character has yet to get to America. I google the author and I love this guy.  A writer for the New York Daily News, an author of a bevy of fiction and non-fiction titles, AND a writer for The New Yorker. Dang, all the cool jobs I dreamed about as a kid, teen, college student and even dream of them now...

Inspiration begins to curl in my belly. I listen to it closely. 'Tis not indigestion or gas.

But something is happening to me...

My heart and soul, the writer part of who I am is asking the real me what kind of storyteller do you want to be? I scratch my head as if it were that simple.

Piecing together the past year and a half, it is that simple. Many times I molded my story into what others thought it should be, what certain publishing houses may find sellable, what agents seem to want, and I lost the reason why I put pen to paper in the first place.

The winds are changing, as Mary Poppins predicted. And I feel a change in me as a writer/aspiring scribe. Not sure what will happen but I can feel something good coming around the bend.

All this from reading some books. Imagine that!

What do YOU see?

What do you see?

What do you see in this piece of art to the left? Faces? Letters? Nothing at all? No doubt we all have a different answer. Just as when we read a novel, some see greatness whilst others are bored.

When my lids descend, a world unlike the one I inhabit plays across the planes of my imagination. And when a vision comes upon me, a thought for a scene, setting, or piece of dialogue, I run with it. And what I see is most certainly not going to be what you see.

“I learned... that inspiration does not come like a bolt, nor is it kinetic, energetic striving, but it comes into us slowly and quietly and all the time, though we must regularly and every day give it a little chance to start flowing, prime it with a little solitude and idleness.” Brenda Ueland

As of late, those that circulate in my realm have asked the same question; when will you submit your MS? I thought it was done, they bemoan, asking for the hundredth time; what happens to the secondary characters? You do write a story for them, right? Done is relative term. Yes. And, no.

Yes, of course I'll submit. I have. But the answer is not always so simple. Unlike following instructions, or going to work to repeat the same repetitive tasks day in and day out, writing, whilst possessing unwritten rules, is a gift of imagination, writing skills, and mastery of the language in which you write.

I've received advice from agents and editors, judges and crit partners, and as a result, have taken their suggestions and made the best possible tale I can. I've been done so many times, I've lost count. And each time, I repeat the same mantra: this really is IT!

Well, this time, this last beta read, it really is. It HAS to be. Lets face it, some of us could continue writing the same story for years, always attempting to make it better. But this time, it will be submitted to those that requested, then 'tis time to move on.

My partners have done their job; made sure there were no plot holes, grammar mistakes, or inconsistencies. Its my turn, implement in between my other life, and get 'er done!

Writers can be a bit neurotic, obsessive, pedantic, but this really is IT! Charli would kick me arse otherwise.

Its not ready because your family and friends think it ought to be, or a new crit partner does not see what others have seen, but when YOU, the author, creator are confident with the product.

How do you know when your story is ready? Do you obsess endlessly, always hoping to make it better, fearing, it just might not be enough as your reason to hold back, hold back from letting the world see, to read?

What do you see?

AJ

World Building for All Genres

When I open a new book my mouth salivates, waiting to be pulled into the world the author has created. There is nothing worse than pulling your hair out reading wonderfully crafted characters with no sense about where or when they are.

This past weekend I went for a walk in a park and drank apple cider with my family.

I'm sorry, did you just yawn at my experience? Really? Well, so did I. Here is how I will let the reader not only know the above information but have them believing they are me or at least there.

A whispering wind tickles my ears. Then goes on, rustling the leaves of the hundred year oak ahead. Blazing hues of red, orange, and yellow sway in the mid-afternoon sun. Flecks of sunlight cross my face, warm and cool at the same time. Fallen branches crunch beneath my feet as I stroll, in no hurry at all.

Fresh apple cider warms my hands, steam billows up from the paper cup. The aroma filling me before I even drink. I sip slow, slurping as to not get burnt. The bitter sweetness washes over my tongue, the heat trailing down my throat.

Giggles find me and I note three small children with their father, dancing about in Autumn's fallen bounty. Their smiles, wide and full of life call to me.

"Mommy, you bring us some?" The smallest one calls out.

I hold up the thermos and already glowing faces beam with more happiness and bliss. Bliss indeed, I whisper as I head over to my family. Fall in the City of Brotherly Love doesn't get any better than this.

Now I am thirsty! But that's the effect you want on the reader. Writing that little diddy, I just closed my eyes, saw myself walking through a park with a fresh cup of warm apple cider.

First drafts, even seconds and thirds, you can find yourself adding the sensory details. I tend to write in layers. I just get the bones out as I see it, then go back and add the meat. The meat gives your story all its flavor.

Dang, now I'm hungry...

The above example was meant to describe the setting as the character sees it, live. But it's not the central part of the scene. The family, we learn, is. Why she is there. But adding sensory details to each scene grounds the reader to where and when you character is. It's those details that help build the world in which your characters live.

I may not be creating a brand new unknown world like Middle Earth in the Lord of the Rings Series but my characters do live somewhere. All characters do, don't they? And as writers it's our duty to transport our readers there. It's not just about the action in the scene or dialogue, it's also about the where.

Sometimes the main character is the setting, or at least the central focus of the scene.

The man walks to work on his last day.

Wow. Along with many others. What makes this character so special?

The man's feet couldn't move fast enough along the crowded concrete. He weaved in and out of the masses all around him-three piece suits, cell phones on ear, and briefcases held tight. No one notices each other. No one at all. Typical.

All mornings are the same here, this Tuesday was no different. Yellow cabs honk, street vendors pawn their wares to unsuspecting tourists, and the stench of municipal garbage trucks jump up your nose. The stink is hard to forget for a good ten minutes. Lovely, really.

A wrinkled forehead scrunched as he snickered at his place of business. Tall and majestic it glistened against the September sky. One last day at work. Just one.

Unable to go in right away, he stopped mid-stride and let the exhaust-tainted air fill him. A force thrust him forward two steps. Knocking his paper from his hand along with his brown bagged lunch.

The person behind him obviously wasn't paying attention. No excuse me or sorry. Just some vulgarities and they moved on, no help either. Another daily annoyance. The lack of basic human kindness.

With one hand he bent over and picked up his paper. The wife's left over spaghetti seeped out its container. He was looking forward to that. Expensive leather shoes shuffled and high heels clicked all around him, never stopping.

Then all of a sudden, they did.

A sound boomed overhead. Loud, screeching, and growing closer. Still bent over he glanced up. What he saw was not a part of his daily morning commute.

It seemed today was not only his last day at work but the last day for many others. Finally standing upright he held that rank breath tight in his lungs. A large plane headed toward the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

The City is the focus for the main character, his motivator. Where as the park for the mom was something she came upon while spending time with her family.

Both above examples show us the world around the characters. They call upon our senses as we read. World Building isn't just for Fantasy or Science Fiction. It's for all fiction.

I took two common settings, a park and New York City, and made it REAL to the reader. I made the setting a part of what was happening in the specific scene. We all know what NY and a park looks like but the passages brought them to life. Big difference.

Here are some links to help you along as YOU create your world.

Happy Writing,
Charli Mac

Fiction Factor has tons of great links on world building.

Holt Reinhart & Winston have a great remedial explanation. I used this when I was a teacher.

Random site on sensory details that is pretty good as well.

Writing Forward discusses here how world building is for all genres.

ANOTHER VOICE ON VOICE

JAWS did a great post on voice the other day. I think my most recent stops and starts with re-writing my MS have been because of VOICE actually. I am too amped up about getting this partial right that I am losing my voice. What makes me as a writer, well, ME.

I am the AREA 6 Representative for Pennwriters. I know, sounds important. Well, it kind of is, to me anyways. Pennwriters is an organization for Pennsylvania writers. It's broken up into areas. I cover The entire City of Philadelphia, the surrounding suburbs, and people from Jersey and Delaware who are members. There are actually lots of members from outside PA, anyone can join really. They have a great annual conference. Janet Reid was there this year. Good stuff I assure ye.

We have lots of talented writers, lots. It's taken me a while, but I am trying to read up on all my local members. I got a great email from Mary Shafer, a pubbed author and member. She wished me luck as the new Rep. It was sweet. So, I check out her author website and blog. Boy was I glad I did.

She did a great post on voice. I had me looking at the topic from a different POV. The subject of her post just happened to be one of my favorite Reality Chefs, Anthony Bourdain. Love him or hate him, he is his own man, WITH HIS OWN VOICE. I love his voice, and I think he's kind of adorable, hot actually.

We think of voice, as fiction writers, as us. Everyone has a voice. Even non-writers. Even Grandma and that annoying neighbor who gets the morning paper in his barely tied robe. Gross, thank you. One word, MANSCAPING. I digress.

Mary said this on her post about voice, "Bourdain admitted in yesterday’s episode that he never 'agonizes over craft' in writing. He doesn’t need to. He’s not reaching for literary immortality. But his use of voice and language is so uniquely his own, I posit that his writing is at least as exciting and evocative as that of many classic novels."

YES MARY! YES! This is what I love about the man. I don't want to be some literary great. I mean if peeps are reading my work years from now, that'd be awesome. But, I just have this love story about two people on the Jersey Shore and their crazy families. I am so caught up in rejections, contests, and getting it right for this partial, that I am losing ME. MY VOICE.

You have to read this, it's such an eye opener on VOICE. The most important tool we have as writers. Agents and pubs are always looking for the next GREAT VOICE.

And, thanks Mary for the email. It really was sweet and by trying to get to know you better, I find out more about myself as a writer. Huh, imagine that.

Link to post: http://maryshafer.thewordforge.com/blog/?p=117

Here are some great clips of Anthony Bourdain. Listen to his voice...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmUwXzcmHdA&feature=channel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0iys-vgD6M&feature=channel

The Grammar Grind~Comma Splices

Ahh, summer is unofficially over. Labor Day has passed and its back to school time. This is my New Year's. Maybe its the former teacher in me. September has always been the month I make my own resolutions, start anew.

This school year I will be brushing up on my GRAMMAR. I received some interesting contest results last week. One judge said that once I have a better grasp of the English Language she is sure my MS will improve.

*GULP* Gees, thanks lady. Why do I feel like Sister Edward William was the judge? I can see her standing there with her pointer making me diagram sentences until my arm falls off. But those Nuns were onto something apparently. I should've paid more attention to my Voyages in English textbook rather than checking my teased out Bon Jovi hair and electric blue mascara.

Wikipedia defines grammar as: In linguistics, grammar is the set of structural rules that govern the composition of sentences, phrases, and words in any given natural language. The term refers also to the study of such rules, and this field includes morphology, syntax, and phonology, often complemented by phonetics, semantics, and pragmatics. Linguists do not normally use the term to refer to orthographical rules, although usage books and style guides that call themselves grammars may also refer to spelling and punctuation.

BORING. YAWN. No wonder I spent more time on my hair back then.

My recent trip down Grammar memory lane was for those run-on sentences, the ones that Judge found so annoying. Apparently my gaffe was the COMMA SPLICE. Ouch, sounds painful.

I got this from http://chompchomp.com/csfs01/csfs01.htm. It's a great site created for classrooms. For us, it's perfect. Below is an exercise from their site.

Here is the deifinition of a comma splice and why it's so bad:

A comma splice contains two main clauses illegally joined by a comma. The problem looks like this:

main clause + , + main clause =  :(

A fused sentence, on the other hand, contains two main clauses illegally run together with no punctuation whatsoever. The problem looks like this:

main clause + Ø + main clause = :( 

As a writer, you must keep in mind that comma splices and fused sentences make you look like an amateur. They tell your reader that you cannot control the construction of a sentence, the most basic building block of a piece of writing. Learning to identify comma splices and fused sentences is the first step to fixing the problem.

Example:

Julie is a real hypochondriac when her stomach hurts, she is certain that she has a bleeding ulcer, and if she has a backache, she believes that she has cancer of the spine.

For a sentence to be a comma splice, you must have two complete sentences joined with a comma. In the example above, there is no comma. Julie is a real hypochondriac is one sentence. When her stomach hurts, she is certain ... begins the second sentence. Because there is only empty space between the two, you should call this error a fused sentence.

Remember that both comma splices and fused sentences are major errors. They make your reader think that you cannot write a correct sentence. Because the sentence is the most basic building block of a piece of writing, comma splices and fused sentences make you look like an amateur!

To fix the problem above, you could put a period after hypochondriac and begin when with a capital W.

Julie is a real hypochondriac. When her stomach hurts, she is certain that she has a bleeding ulcer, and if she has a backache, she believes that she has cancer of the spine.

Head over to their site and see how well you do.

I AM NO GRAMMAR GURU. I will be getting a refresher with you, summoning years of Catholic School lessons. Tune in Sunday for more of the GRAMMAR GRIND. What topics would you like me to cover next?