Sometimes (and by sometimes, I mean often), I daydream about my life post-publication. I imagine it would turn into something like Oz compared to Kansas for Dorothy. Minus the Witch. Ok, so the analogy isn't quite perfect. Still, I think about how much I would travel, how many new cafes I'd write in, which would coincidentally be in France, or Ghana, or Israel, or Ireland. Or all of the above.
I think about the acceptance speeches I'd say when they tell me my book won the best-book-ever-how-did-this-not-get-published-sooner award. But if the unthinkable does happen, and I get my dream contract with my dream agent, etc. I'll have to fess up that I was not the only writer of Morgantown.
In the video below, John Green (Nerdfighter extraordinaire. Oh. He writes too) talks about his first novel, Looking For Alaska, and who REALLY wrote it (hint: it's a long list). Also? Please go read Looking For Alaska. I'm in the middle, and in love. In fact, watch all of the vlogbrother videos, because John and his brother Hank are smart, funny, and entertaining. You might even learn something from their stuff. It's pretty awesome.
If you have a completed manuscript in the world, or even just lurking around your computer, who wrote it? Besides you, I mean.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Stolen from Dybek: Scene
First, a good song:
Now, a little something I'd like to call, "Stolen from Dybek."
My writing class has been particularly interesting this quarter, and though oftentimes advice on writing is common sense, or at least repeated enough that it feels like it, I thought he had a lot of great things to say on writing. So I'm going to paraphrase the gems and hope that his original advice remains intent. I'll try to keep a basic topic with each post, since I'm taking an entire class on writing with him. Without further ado, here is Part 1:
Scene
1) Writing Necessitates showing. Showing necessitates scene.
Which leads to...
2) Writers think in scenes. Readers think in narrative.
I'm not sure if I agree completely with this one. Let me tweak it: When you're writing, don't think in terms of a reader. Concentrate on scene. If you just SAY what happens next, you won't necessarily be able to reel a reader into your story. But if a character does something to push the plot forward, then you'll get the reader hooked.
This could be boiled down to the tried and true basic writing advice:
SCENE, NOT NARRATIVE = SHOW DON'T TELL
Capiche?
3) Dialogue is the most powerful action in a scene. It's the fastest way to move in fiction.
I think he said this because when you're writing pure exposition, it's easy to get lost in "and then this happened," but dialogue forces you to stay in scene. Dialogue is a tricky thing, and the best writers have screwed it up.
Pop culture reference: I saw a free preview of NO STRINGS ATTACHED last night with Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher. It was funny, witty, and fairly well done. It's not Inception, but I liked it. However, there is a line in there (and I won't tell you where) when a character says: If you come any closer, I'll never let you go.
Sigh.
Now it's not that this dialogue is bad (though let's be honest: It's seriously cheesy) but it's COMPLETELY out of character! It ruined the scene! It made me sad. And it's only partially related to my overall point. But please. Make sure your dialogue is in character, and not like Cheetos (dangerously cheesy).
**
Agree? Disagree? Advice is always subjective, and there are exceptions to every rule. But you probably shouldn't break a rule until you know how to follow it, so go write! Now!
Now, a little something I'd like to call, "Stolen from Dybek."
My writing class has been particularly interesting this quarter, and though oftentimes advice on writing is common sense, or at least repeated enough that it feels like it, I thought he had a lot of great things to say on writing. So I'm going to paraphrase the gems and hope that his original advice remains intent. I'll try to keep a basic topic with each post, since I'm taking an entire class on writing with him. Without further ado, here is Part 1:
Scene
1) Writing Necessitates showing. Showing necessitates scene.
Which leads to...
2) Writers think in scenes. Readers think in narrative.
I'm not sure if I agree completely with this one. Let me tweak it: When you're writing, don't think in terms of a reader. Concentrate on scene. If you just SAY what happens next, you won't necessarily be able to reel a reader into your story. But if a character does something to push the plot forward, then you'll get the reader hooked.
This could be boiled down to the tried and true basic writing advice:
SCENE, NOT NARRATIVE = SHOW DON'T TELL
Capiche?
3) Dialogue is the most powerful action in a scene. It's the fastest way to move in fiction.
I think he said this because when you're writing pure exposition, it's easy to get lost in "and then this happened," but dialogue forces you to stay in scene. Dialogue is a tricky thing, and the best writers have screwed it up.
Pop culture reference: I saw a free preview of NO STRINGS ATTACHED last night with Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher. It was funny, witty, and fairly well done. It's not Inception, but I liked it. However, there is a line in there (and I won't tell you where) when a character says: If you come any closer, I'll never let you go.
Sigh.
Now it's not that this dialogue is bad (though let's be honest: It's seriously cheesy) but it's COMPLETELY out of character! It ruined the scene! It made me sad. And it's only partially related to my overall point. But please. Make sure your dialogue is in character, and not like Cheetos (dangerously cheesy).
**
Agree? Disagree? Advice is always subjective, and there are exceptions to every rule. But you probably shouldn't break a rule until you know how to follow it, so go write! Now!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Writing Exercise: Fairy Tale Retold
Circe
These days, she lives in a small hotel about twelve miles from nowhere. It reeks of the mundane, and she rarely gets visitors, but it’s home. Sometimes when the summer wind creeps in, she walks through the trees with her animals, dreaming of cool marble halls and the salty ocean air. Sometimes it comforts her.
Sometimes she dreams of fair Odysseus, and his body warming her bed. But that mostly reminds her of her loneliness. After all, her servants have gone, her sons are all dead, and visitors are few and far between. All she has now is her little hotel, and her pets.
Tigers and wolves roam her property, along with the occasional pig from an era long since lost. There are lions, but their teeth have decayed. There are bears, but it’s been centuries since the last time one bothered to hunt. She’s contemplated turning them back, just to have someone to talk to, but despite the years she’s spent alone, she hasn’t lost her cruel tongue or sharp temper.
At night, she sways her hips to music that crackles from an old, battered radio. She cooks herself breaded mushrooms for dinner, and falls asleep on frayed sheets.
She does get the odd visitor, though. He finds his way to her with stories of a broken car, or an unreliable map. On those nights, she cooks a feast and they dance to her old radio. On those nights, she does not go to her bed alone. On those nights, she lives again.
These days, she lives in a small hotel about twelve miles from nowhere. It reeks of the mundane, and she rarely gets visitors, but it’s home. Sometimes when the summer wind creeps in, she walks through the trees with her animals, dreaming of cool marble halls and the salty ocean air. Sometimes it comforts her.
Sometimes she dreams of fair Odysseus, and his body warming her bed. But that mostly reminds her of her loneliness. After all, her servants have gone, her sons are all dead, and visitors are few and far between. All she has now is her little hotel, and her pets.
Tigers and wolves roam her property, along with the occasional pig from an era long since lost. There are lions, but their teeth have decayed. There are bears, but it’s been centuries since the last time one bothered to hunt. She’s contemplated turning them back, just to have someone to talk to, but despite the years she’s spent alone, she hasn’t lost her cruel tongue or sharp temper.
At night, she sways her hips to music that crackles from an old, battered radio. She cooks herself breaded mushrooms for dinner, and falls asleep on frayed sheets.
She does get the odd visitor, though. He finds his way to her with stories of a broken car, or an unreliable map. On those nights, she cooks a feast and they dance to her old radio. On those nights, she does not go to her bed alone. On those nights, she lives again.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
It's been a month
And my, have things changed.
This quarter I'm taking two writing classes, as opposed to last quarter, when the most writing I got was procrastinating for papers. My favorite class is Writing 307: Fabulous Fiction (which really means non-realistic fiction). I love everything about it, except maybe the lack of happy happy times between my classmates. I want to be friends with the other writers in this class, something I haven't had since Writing 301.
In 301 I made some amazing friends, friends that I hang out with a lot today. It makes me think of the writing community at large, and how supportive and wonderful it is. Despite the apparent competition, people still help each other with tips, editing, and moral support. I love it.
But I digress. I want to actually write in this blog, but my neglect is becoming intolerable. I'm going to post more often (promise!) with more misadventures, tales from writing 307, the Publishing Job hunt (which I'm about to embark on), and of course, writing stuff. Also, check out my other blog if you want to hear about my crazy dreams (and dreams in general). For my 307 class, we've been asked to keep a dream journal, so I'll definitely be posting there more frequently.
I suppose that's all in the name of updates, but here's a video (creepy, just so you know) that I got from one of my other classes (Psychology of Human Sex. Yes, it's awesome). If the video gets to you, just listen to the song, because it rocks:
This quarter I'm taking two writing classes, as opposed to last quarter, when the most writing I got was procrastinating for papers. My favorite class is Writing 307: Fabulous Fiction (which really means non-realistic fiction). I love everything about it, except maybe the lack of happy happy times between my classmates. I want to be friends with the other writers in this class, something I haven't had since Writing 301.
In 301 I made some amazing friends, friends that I hang out with a lot today. It makes me think of the writing community at large, and how supportive and wonderful it is. Despite the apparent competition, people still help each other with tips, editing, and moral support. I love it.
But I digress. I want to actually write in this blog, but my neglect is becoming intolerable. I'm going to post more often (promise!) with more misadventures, tales from writing 307, the Publishing Job hunt (which I'm about to embark on), and of course, writing stuff. Also, check out my other blog if you want to hear about my crazy dreams (and dreams in general). For my 307 class, we've been asked to keep a dream journal, so I'll definitely be posting there more frequently.
I suppose that's all in the name of updates, but here's a video (creepy, just so you know) that I got from one of my other classes (Psychology of Human Sex. Yes, it's awesome). If the video gets to you, just listen to the song, because it rocks:
Thursday, December 16, 2010
A long misadventure, if you will
How about an adventure???
This stems from a blog I've been reading for a long time now, written by two NU alumni who are pretty badass, if I may say so myself. Basically they do a lot of crazy shit, then write about it so we can all be entertained. Even if you don't like road trips, zombies, steampunk, or pirates, you'll love The Unplanned Misadventures of Mirmir and Bess. Now, these guys are pros at misadventures, but I have a few of my own to share. Maybe I'll do another post if this one turns out ok.
Let's call this particular adventure, THE TAXI, because that's what the story's about. Well, actually it's about crazy people, but we'll stay with THE TAXI.
In sophomore year I went to Six Flags Fright Fest with a few friends on a sort of school-sponsored field trip (I.E. A bus drove us there and back, and we got great discounts). Eventually the group split up and I was with my friend Miles, one of the organizers of the trip, and my other friend Susanne, a foreign exchange student who truly is made of awesome.
Note: None of us are IL natives. Keep that in mind. It comes back to the story later.
SO we got to the park at 4pm, and were expected to be in the bust by 9:30pm, or some other equally ridiculous time. Because really, who goes to a theme park at 4pm? No one. It's just not smart. You ride like, two rides and then you leave? Not cool.
So Miles, Susanne and I got on one ok ride, then we HAD to go to the haunted house, and then, at like 7:30 or 8, we decided to risk getting in line for SUPERMAN, which is hands down, the best ride at Six Flags IL. We got in line, realized it was going to take WAY longer then an hour and a half, Miles called the buss at 9:30 and we ended up missing it. On purpose.
Because we are innovative college students, and we can figure out public transportation, logic be damned.
Sigh.
The ride was great, but when we went to see when the next bus to take us to the EL was, we realized we had to sprint to get to the stop on time.
And sprint we did. Or rather, we power walked, which may as well be sprinting.
Anyways, we made it to the stop just in time to wave goodbye to the bus, and found ourselves face to face with four people. Two couples. They all had swooshy hair, various piercings in various places, and dark, tight clothing. I automatically assumed that they were either a) the kind of folks I hung out with in high school or b) vampires. So I struck up a conversation while Miles called a cab.
We sat at that bus stop for a good twenty minutes, and our cab didn't show. So we decided to try another cab place. This time, and I'm not sure who suggested it, we decided to share a cab with the other people, since it would down the cost significantly.
"As long as you don't mind riding with a bunch of crazies," I joked.
One of the guys looked at me. "No, I'm pretty sure we're crazier than you."
Awkward Kira should have said nothing. Instead, I said, "Doubtful." The smile made it not hostile, ok???
The cab came, I got in the back, one couple squeezed next to me while Susanne and the other couple sat in roughly the same arrangement in the next row. Miles got the front seat, because he doesn't sit next to anyone (haha, jk Miles).
In our tired delerium, Susanne and I promptly fell asleep. Miles stayed awake, and therefore his story would be far more interesting than mine, but I DID wake up a few times, catching conversations (between the vampire boys and cab driver) along these lines:
"And then we beat him up."
"Why?"
"He owed us money. Almost killed him."
"Must have been a lot of money."
"Oh yeah, almost 400 dollars."
And
"And then he stabbed me. In the ribs. Wanna see the mark?"
"Uh, sure?"
And
"This is where he shot me. Caught me right in the wrist. And I'm missing a few teeth from a fist fight, which is why I always bring brass knuckles with me wherever I go now."
And
"And then they made me their chief."
Ok, maybe not that last one, but the others are barely paraphrasing the conversations. I'm sure there are more, but those are the ones etched into my memory. Forever.
Strangely, I was never afraid, just mildly interested and tired beyond belief. I did catch a few glimpses of Miles, whose eyes remained a little too wide the entire time as he stayed silent and tried to remain off of their radar. I also saw Susanne, sleeping peacefully as talk of near-murder and death and let-me-explain-how-stupid-those-darn-democrats-are filled the taxi.
Looking back, I'm glad I was too tired to freak out. I might have incensed the boy with brass knuckles, and we wouldn't want that, now would we? This problem also could have been avoided if we'd had a basic understanding of the Chicago transit system, or if we had NOT SHARED A TAXI WITH CRAZY VAMPIRE PEOPLE.
Eventually we found out the El had stopped running for the night, so we spent roughly an hour with the crazy people, before arriving safely on campus. Honestly? They might have been lying, but then I don't want to know where those scars came from. I'm surprised we got out of there without them saying anything too douchey or racist or sexist to ignore. Not that I'd have noticed if they did...
The moral of this story could be that one should never trust a man who wears skinny jeans. Or maybe the moral should be that if a person might be a vampire, you shouldn't assume they sparkle, and you should assume they've killed someone. All's well that ends well, perhaps? No.
Moral: Don't share cabs with strangers.
This stems from a blog I've been reading for a long time now, written by two NU alumni who are pretty badass, if I may say so myself. Basically they do a lot of crazy shit, then write about it so we can all be entertained. Even if you don't like road trips, zombies, steampunk, or pirates, you'll love The Unplanned Misadventures of Mirmir and Bess. Now, these guys are pros at misadventures, but I have a few of my own to share. Maybe I'll do another post if this one turns out ok.
Let's call this particular adventure, THE TAXI, because that's what the story's about. Well, actually it's about crazy people, but we'll stay with THE TAXI.
In sophomore year I went to Six Flags Fright Fest with a few friends on a sort of school-sponsored field trip (I.E. A bus drove us there and back, and we got great discounts). Eventually the group split up and I was with my friend Miles, one of the organizers of the trip, and my other friend Susanne, a foreign exchange student who truly is made of awesome.
Note: None of us are IL natives. Keep that in mind. It comes back to the story later.
SO we got to the park at 4pm, and were expected to be in the bust by 9:30pm, or some other equally ridiculous time. Because really, who goes to a theme park at 4pm? No one. It's just not smart. You ride like, two rides and then you leave? Not cool.
So Miles, Susanne and I got on one ok ride, then we HAD to go to the haunted house, and then, at like 7:30 or 8, we decided to risk getting in line for SUPERMAN, which is hands down, the best ride at Six Flags IL. We got in line, realized it was going to take WAY longer then an hour and a half, Miles called the buss at 9:30 and we ended up missing it. On purpose.
Because we are innovative college students, and we can figure out public transportation, logic be damned.
Sigh.
The ride was great, but when we went to see when the next bus to take us to the EL was, we realized we had to sprint to get to the stop on time.
And sprint we did. Or rather, we power walked, which may as well be sprinting.
Anyways, we made it to the stop just in time to wave goodbye to the bus, and found ourselves face to face with four people. Two couples. They all had swooshy hair, various piercings in various places, and dark, tight clothing. I automatically assumed that they were either a) the kind of folks I hung out with in high school or b) vampires. So I struck up a conversation while Miles called a cab.
We sat at that bus stop for a good twenty minutes, and our cab didn't show. So we decided to try another cab place. This time, and I'm not sure who suggested it, we decided to share a cab with the other people, since it would down the cost significantly.
"As long as you don't mind riding with a bunch of crazies," I joked.
One of the guys looked at me. "No, I'm pretty sure we're crazier than you."
Awkward Kira should have said nothing. Instead, I said, "Doubtful." The smile made it not hostile, ok???
The cab came, I got in the back, one couple squeezed next to me while Susanne and the other couple sat in roughly the same arrangement in the next row. Miles got the front seat, because he doesn't sit next to anyone (haha, jk Miles).
In our tired delerium, Susanne and I promptly fell asleep. Miles stayed awake, and therefore his story would be far more interesting than mine, but I DID wake up a few times, catching conversations (between the vampire boys and cab driver) along these lines:
"And then we beat him up."
"Why?"
"He owed us money. Almost killed him."
"Must have been a lot of money."
"Oh yeah, almost 400 dollars."
And
"And then he stabbed me. In the ribs. Wanna see the mark?"
"Uh, sure?"
And
"This is where he shot me. Caught me right in the wrist. And I'm missing a few teeth from a fist fight, which is why I always bring brass knuckles with me wherever I go now."
And
"And then they made me their chief."
Ok, maybe not that last one, but the others are barely paraphrasing the conversations. I'm sure there are more, but those are the ones etched into my memory. Forever.
Strangely, I was never afraid, just mildly interested and tired beyond belief. I did catch a few glimpses of Miles, whose eyes remained a little too wide the entire time as he stayed silent and tried to remain off of their radar. I also saw Susanne, sleeping peacefully as talk of near-murder and death and let-me-explain-how-stupid-those-darn-democrats-are filled the taxi.
Looking back, I'm glad I was too tired to freak out. I might have incensed the boy with brass knuckles, and we wouldn't want that, now would we? This problem also could have been avoided if we'd had a basic understanding of the Chicago transit system, or if we had NOT SHARED A TAXI WITH CRAZY VAMPIRE PEOPLE.
Eventually we found out the El had stopped running for the night, so we spent roughly an hour with the crazy people, before arriving safely on campus. Honestly? They might have been lying, but then I don't want to know where those scars came from. I'm surprised we got out of there without them saying anything too douchey or racist or sexist to ignore. Not that I'd have noticed if they did...
The moral of this story could be that one should never trust a man who wears skinny jeans. Or maybe the moral should be that if a person might be a vampire, you shouldn't assume they sparkle, and you should assume they've killed someone. All's well that ends well, perhaps? No.
Moral: Don't share cabs with strangers.
Monday, December 6, 2010
So you want to write a novel?
I'm running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
Wait. No I'm not. And that visual? Really graphic. Really unnecessary.
But I am panicking. Crazy thing, I love writing, but I hate papers. HATE THEM.
Hate.
But I have a video to share with you, that I've been meaning to share with you for a while. I hope you like it!
"I wish I could kill you, and get away with it."
Happy Holidays!
Wait. No I'm not. And that visual? Really graphic. Really unnecessary.
But I am panicking. Crazy thing, I love writing, but I hate papers. HATE THEM.
Hate.
But I have a video to share with you, that I've been meaning to share with you for a while. I hope you like it!
"I wish I could kill you, and get away with it."
Happy Holidays!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Procrastination
Good news: I'm in the middle of an AMAZING amazing story. Writing it is a blast, and my beta likes it! WOOT!
Bad News: The aforementioned story was my NaNoWriMo novel, and I only made it halfway before the end of November.
Conclusion: NaNo rocks because even though I didn't finish, I'll probably finish the draft in the next month or so, rewrite, revise, have my other lovely betas take a gander, and revise some more! So stoked!
In other news, I just read one of the best books ever! I can't wait to get my hands on the next two in the trilogy.
It's called POISON STUDY by Maria Snyder, and it's so awesome I could barely contain myself while reading it. Actually, I'm pretty sure I got on a few friends' nerves (sorry!). Anyways, the book is about a girl sentenced to death for murder, who is given a choice: Hang until death or taste all the Commander's food to make sure it's not poisoned. Things get complicated, characters fight, and of course, there is a smexy man to liven things up a little. Overall, the book was well written, the characters were great, and the plot wasn't ridiculously predictable. Go read it. NOW!
The last, depressing thing is that Thanksgiving break is over. Thanksgiving break for a student at NU is inevitably the eye of the storm. In anticipation of the end of the quarter, teachers just LOVE to give us too much work, even though we're still all recovering from midterms. So we scramble to finish it, go eat too much food for five days, come back, and suddenly there's a billion things to do before the beautiful yet dramatic escape to winter break.
God I can't wait.
Right now I have to do the following:
1) English 385 Paper (Blech! Politics hidden behind a pretty English label)
2) Philosophy 311 Paper (Eek! Love love LOVE this class, but it's over my head, and even my teacher agrees with me! Trying not to fail)
3) Music 170 Paper (Two of these. One is due tomorrow, and I still have to find sources! The other I have another week or so, so Sunday night I'll work on it...)
4) Music 252 Final (If I study, I'll do alright, I think. This is on Friday. Wish me luck, because this intrepid English major has serious test-taking issues)
5) Music 252 Project (Again, not due till next week, but as I'm leaving Tuesday of finals week, I have to get it in before I leave. It'll probably take me three hours plus Facebook time, which translates into a day)
Am I forgetting anything? No? Ok. Five main things, guys. Six days to do it all. Godspeed.
Listening to: Winter Song
Eating: Pretzels and yogurt, because I'm broke
Thinking: It's too cold, there are too many carols blasting around me, and I wish I could just hang out and write
Craving: A good solid cup of Green Tea
Planning: An all-nighter at the library (because THAT'S a good idea...)
Bad News: The aforementioned story was my NaNoWriMo novel, and I only made it halfway before the end of November.
Conclusion: NaNo rocks because even though I didn't finish, I'll probably finish the draft in the next month or so, rewrite, revise, have my other lovely betas take a gander, and revise some more! So stoked!
In other news, I just read one of the best books ever! I can't wait to get my hands on the next two in the trilogy.
It's called POISON STUDY by Maria Snyder, and it's so awesome I could barely contain myself while reading it. Actually, I'm pretty sure I got on a few friends' nerves (sorry!). Anyways, the book is about a girl sentenced to death for murder, who is given a choice: Hang until death or taste all the Commander's food to make sure it's not poisoned. Things get complicated, characters fight, and of course, there is a smexy man to liven things up a little. Overall, the book was well written, the characters were great, and the plot wasn't ridiculously predictable. Go read it. NOW!
The last, depressing thing is that Thanksgiving break is over. Thanksgiving break for a student at NU is inevitably the eye of the storm. In anticipation of the end of the quarter, teachers just LOVE to give us too much work, even though we're still all recovering from midterms. So we scramble to finish it, go eat too much food for five days, come back, and suddenly there's a billion things to do before the beautiful yet dramatic escape to winter break.
God I can't wait.
Right now I have to do the following:
1) English 385 Paper (Blech! Politics hidden behind a pretty English label)
2) Philosophy 311 Paper (Eek! Love love LOVE this class, but it's over my head, and even my teacher agrees with me! Trying not to fail)
3) Music 170 Paper (Two of these. One is due tomorrow, and I still have to find sources! The other I have another week or so, so Sunday night I'll work on it...)
4) Music 252 Final (If I study, I'll do alright, I think. This is on Friday. Wish me luck, because this intrepid English major has serious test-taking issues)
5) Music 252 Project (Again, not due till next week, but as I'm leaving Tuesday of finals week, I have to get it in before I leave. It'll probably take me three hours plus Facebook time, which translates into a day)
Am I forgetting anything? No? Ok. Five main things, guys. Six days to do it all. Godspeed.
Listening to: Winter Song
Eating: Pretzels and yogurt, because I'm broke
Thinking: It's too cold, there are too many carols blasting around me, and I wish I could just hang out and write
Craving: A good solid cup of Green Tea
Planning: An all-nighter at the library (because THAT'S a good idea...)
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