Editing Wildwood - aka - Nanowrimo in reverse

For those of you who have never participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month,) the idea is to write a complete first draft of a novel, or at least 50K words of one, in one month. It is HARD, and, to date, I've never succeeded.

So what does this have to do with Wildwood, book #3 in the Moonlit Trilogy? Well, the draft I submitted to my publisher was 156,000 words, and I knew in my soul that it was the best story I'd ever written. It's my favorite piece of the trilogy. My editor agreed: do not, under any circumstance, touch the plot, she said. And then she said: But I need you to cut 57,000 words. Minimum. Really, it'd be better if you could find 60,000 words to cut.

Sixty. Thousand. Words.

Or, NaNoWriMo in reverse.

When I first sat down to tackle this edit, I thought: I can absolutely do this. No problem. I'm wordy and I know it. I can clean this up in a single pass. So I painstakingly evaluated every word, tightened up sentences, cut an expository paragraph or lines three and four of a description here and there. And at the end of the first pass, I had cut 6,000 words. I had also taken two weeks to do it.

Editing a 75,000 word story like Moonlit and Windswept took every brain cell I had. Once I realized I was essentially editing them BOTH size-wise, I buckled down, glared at my screen, and launched into pass #2.

I started seeing some serious word-loving habits. Like descriptions. Boy-howdy do I love to word-draw. Three paragraphs of artsy, flowery page-decor became a sentence or two bold, direct strokes.

I'm a transition-junkie. I quit cold turkey, cutting their heads off whenever I saw them peek up at the bottom of a paragraph. CHOP CHOP CHOP. And boom, without the transition present, the paragraphs flowed BETTER, because if the writing is tight and the motion is streamline, a transition becomes a speed bump.

Full-body feels. This probably accounted for 25,000 words. And I don't mean the way a "feels" moment pulls at a reader's heart strings. I mean the way every single action pulled at every single possible part of my main character (although hearts, centers, stomachs, guts, middles, and mouths seem to be favorites of mine). I shouldn't tell a reader how my character internally responds to a positive or negative moment because the reader should experience the moment without me telling them how to do it.

And, last and certainly most painful for me, expository paragraphs. I love to sink into a scene and roll around, like a dog on a carpet, feet in the air, tongue out, just *feeling* it. Inviting a reader into a character's head space for a good long time. Like a page. Maybe two. I caught myself skimming these words and sections I was sure I loved, and why? Because sure they were pretty but they didn't affect the story in any way so I didn't need to change them so why look at them.

Wait, what?

If a sentence does not affect the plot or the character, if the plot and the character are exactly the same on the other side of the sentence as they were before it, then what was the point of the sentence? The idea of a story is to keep the action and characters in motion. You know what dogs do after they roll all over the floor? They take a nap.

And there was my other 35,000 words.

Finally, one month, 60,000 cut words later, edits for Wildwood were done. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and taught me some invaluable lessons about the way I write, and how to make it better.

Wildwood now has a release date - September 22nd, 2015, and one truly amazing cover.

I can't wait to see what y'all think of the conclusion to Tanzy's story, and my new, lean, action-packed story-telling skills.

It's been one helluva ride.

Thank you for coming along.

What's in a name? More than I thought.

I'm working on a new manuscript - a new adult, chick-lit novel with a paranormal twist (of course!) I have a basic outline of the plot. A fun, spunky secondary character is taking solid shape. The love interest's voice is clear and strong. There's just one tiny, itty bitty piece of the puzzle that I'm missing: the main character. More specifically: her name.

Right now I'm calling her Natalie. She's already been Hannah, but that name was so wrong I couldn't bare to keep typing it. Neither name belongs to her. They're just place holders until I finally figure her out. She's polar opposite from strong, visceral, impulsive Tanzy, or at least the Tanzy she becomes by story's end.

I haven't bonded with my new cast of characters to the extent of the bond I formed with Tanzy, Jayce, Vanessa, Asher, and Lucas. And how could I? I first met Tanzy back in 2009 - and back then her name was Holly. Then Rynn. And then a Google search for name meanings unearthed the perfect fit: Tansy (I swapped the S for a Z) which is a Greek name, and means "immortality". Once I figured out her name, the rest of her became more obvious. And as she developed, the plot became richer and deeper.

Here we are, six years later, and I'm roughly five rounds of edits away from saying a final farewell to these characters who have become utterly authentic in my head, and who helped me fulfill a dream.

For now, it feels like my new main character and I are sitting across from each other on a first date. She's only letting me see the surface. Her smile is practiced. Her manners are on point. I haven't figured out what's really going to brass her off yet. And until I know what she cares about - what she deeply, wholly, irrationally defends - this new story is going to be just as skin-deep.

I think it's going to take the entire first draft to figure her out. I hope I do. Without her, the story will have no heart, no organ beating meaning and purpose and cohesiveness to the other parts. So who are you, not-Natalie, not-Hannah? One thing's for sure. You are not a cheap date.

A look back at the year I swore I'd use to put writing first.

This past January, I declared to myself (and quite possibly to my Facebook network) that this was the year - 2014 - that I would put my writing first! I would join every writing group/club/association I could find. I would draft during normal-people hours and not just at 3am. I would commit to the craft: learn, read, study. I would act like a REAL writer.

So in January, I joined several writing groups. I left my full-time job as a social media specialist. I used the time my daughter was at pre-school to crank out word counts. I took a research trip to Cumberland Island with a few friends to experience the setting of book #3, and we camped back country (i.e. gather and boil water). I was serious about this writer thing. SERIOUS.

Before too long, my drafting sessions became more of a stare-down with my blank computer screen and the taunting, blinking cursor. I started avoiding my office. Then the second floor of my house all together. I tried writing by hand in the woods in the dead of winter, sitting on fallen trees to resurrect the magic and compulsion of that feeling of i-have-to-write-right-now-or-i-will-throw-a-fit. Instead my butt went numb. And my hands.

I started skimming over emails from those groups I dutifully joined. Then I started screening them by their titles and the few words visible on gmail's preview. And once Gmail started separating emails by categories, i stopped checking them all together.

In February, I revamped my swag and headed to IndieGirl Con in Charleston, SC. I met some amazing people - inspiring, kick-you-in-the-pants people, which made the drive and the predictably unpredictable southern coastal weather worth the trip. I had my first video interview, and I also suffered a royal case of food poisoning. Or at least I *thought* it was food poisoning.

In March I found out I was pregnant... two months pregnant. Turns out baby #2 had gone back country camping with me, and had definitely been on board during the now suspect food poisoning. Suddenly, finishing book #3 in the Moonlit trilogy had an expedited deadline. And all those groups and trips and conferences... needless to say, that part of writerdom took a back seat to just sitting down and writing, which became harder week to week as my energy tanked and i found myself spending a lot more time in the kitchen. Plus, pregnancy brain is no joke. I once went to Target and then called my husband to ask him what I'd gone to get. I still have no clue what I intended to buy.

In May, I bought a horse. (I what...? I WHAT???) I know, I know. Even though I work in the horse world, I haven't owned a horse in ten years. This January, when I finished tuning up a client's horse, my three year old daughter asked me: "Mommy, will we ever have a horse we don't have to give back?" See, now you want to go buy a horse too, right? I found an ex-race horse that needed lots of food and time off, so we were the perfect pair. And he made me feel like me again. Suddenly I wasn't avoiding my laptop anymore. I'd mentally chew on a major plot point as I curried the daily clumps of mud from his coppery coat. Then it hit me: my brain works the same way whether I'm trying to find a certain object in my house or write a story; if I'm trying too hard, i don't stand a chance.

By mid-summer, I was asleep around 8pm most nights, which was eating up my best writing times. So I had to learn to draft smarter. I learned to write in 15-30 min snatches of free time while tuning out Dora the Explorer instead of needing to make a mug of tea and settle in for a several hour stretch. I used my beta-readers earlier on, cringing as I sent them the third draft instead of the thirtieth. And I finally, finally learned to outline (which with five POVs, two worlds, a hundred threads to tie in, and pregnancy brain was a MUST.) I also attended UTopYA Con in Nashville, TN, where I reconnected with several of those fantastic people I'd met in Charleston, shook my pregnant booty all over the dance floor, and heard this amazing piece of advice from the keynote speaker: Feeling selfish is better than feeling unfulfilled. It's rock solid advice.

In October, I turned book #3, which my publisher has coined "Wildwood," Eight days later, baby #2, Annabelle Rose, was born. I'm up to my eyeballs in diapers and still waiting to see if this draft will be green-lighted to head into the official editing process. While I wait, I'm sketching out a few new ideas to see which one demands to be written next, and I'm toying with the idea of a kids' book series.

And now here, looking back on the last twelve months, I might just feel like a writer after all. We write because we live, and we write TO live. But there's a balance - a tiny, new human that depends on me, a big, beautiful sun to enjoy, a horse that has a love for having his ears scratched, a Britney Spears dance party with a three year old in a tutu - and there are days or nights when the words come and need to be given attention.

The words, the worlds in my head, they're what make me a writer. I set out this year to commit to my craft, put my writing first, and learn how to be a "real" writer. It didn't happen quite like I thought it would or should, but I think maybe it happened anyway.

I'm scared. I'll admit it. (and this is kind of a ramble so maybe you should be scared too...)

The sequel to Moonlit - currently dubbed Windswept - is in my publisher's hands for the final stages in the pre-release process: type setting, layout, cover design, etc. This means I'm free to begin work on Book #3. I'm about 20K words in, and this is where I admit I'm a little scared. There's this big BIG moment in book #3 that I can see so clearly... "crystal" as Jayce would say. But first I have to get there. Me and Tanzy and Lucas and Hope and Vanessa and Asher and Jayce and a whole cast of fellow candidates who you haven't even met yet all have to get there. It's like herding cats.

I learned a ton during the drafting and revision processes for the sequel. Most importantly, I learned when to look at a section of my writing and realize: there's a big problem here. This is not right. And I realized, for the way I work at least, a real fix comes in stages. It's like archeology, an analogy Stephen King uses in describing how he unearths his plots. In my case, it's how I fix pacing/tone issues in a chapter. One gentle fix reveals more bone, more of the picture - and more of the holes in the picture. Then again, maybe it's better to say it's like surgery. There is an awful lot of bleeding and cursing, and I envision an archeologist to be the subtle, whispery type.

Anyways, what scares me is how much of this first draft of book #3 is not going to make it into book #3. Of course right now it feels like all of it will - the major plot points, anyway, but I know that's not true. In book #2, the early drafts had a ferry boat, a tidal wave, a funeral, a truck plummeting to the bottom of the ocean with two major characters inside, a trip back to Kentucky, this scene where new character Jayce lines up little figurines on all the window sills that I freaking LOVED, and lots of explosions. None of those plot points made it into the final draft. I lied - there are still some explosions, but they're in different places.

Some scenes/sections I cut early on, and some I clung to like a mother to her baby. Until I sent the I-think-I'm-Really-Finished draft to my beta readers and they didn't coo where I was sure I'd have them near tears, holding their breath. In fact, they reacted to a few of my favorite moments like one might react to, say, a poopy diaper. And they were right.

Have you ever had a whole "darling" of a chapter (referencing the "kill your darlings" rule here)? How about a couple chapters... how about a 40K word section of "darling"? Welcome to the 8th draft of Windswept.

So now I'm beginning the very first draft of Book #3, and it is by far the most complex of the three books. And I want it to deliver. I want it to tie up every thread I've woven into this web. And I'd really really like to get it right on the first couple shots. HA. Never going to happen.

I'm a subscriber to Anne Lamott's idea of a "stinky" first draft. (She uses a different word beginning with S, something that can be found in the aforementioned diaper, and never smells like roses...) A first draft helps me see how I think this is all going to play out. It makes me see if the I can get to the last page with the ideas from the first page still intact. I'm not big on big outlines. I have a few key moments I want to incorporate if the characters arrive in the situation where the moment would apply, but otherwise I like to turn them loose and see what happens. Downsides: this means I stare at my computer screen a lot, knuckles buried in my cheeks, and force my brain to stop editing the line above so I can see what's coming next in the plot. It also means I spend more time on my drafts (at least I think it does,) and it definitely means I cut. A lot.

So here we are. And I'm scared. I don't want to stare and sweat and bleed all over this new draft just to cut 99% of my work like it never happened. It can be paralyzing, sometimes. But it's part of the process. I will no doubt do this every time. Every book. The funny part is that I still love those times where I glare at my screen all morning with no progress. In fact, I find I'm most intolerable to the outside world following a particularly lackluster drafting session because I can't wait to do it again.

I'm terrified, and I'm excited (and I'm writing this blog post because I'm totally stalling because another character wants a POV in book three and I told her we'd talk about it in a little bit...)

So, now that I'm sure you're sure I'm crazy, tell me what - if anything - scares you about the writing process?

Turning the key

Now that we have a child, packing for any kind of overnight trip requires checklists upon checklists: what it will take to keep her happy in the car, to help her sleep in a new place, to increase the odds that she'll eat, a separate bag of games and toys to keep her busy in the car, dvds, snacks, clothing for various climates, diapers, wipes, Kiku the monkey, pacifiers, little spoons for little hands, a bag of basic medical stuff ... you get the picture. And then we have to pack for us. It's quite a production.

The hardest part of leaving for a trip with a toddler is that moment when my hand is suspended next to the ignition, ready to start the car. Are we really ready? To we have everything we need? Is the phone charged? The tank full? Did you check her diaper? Are all of the pieces in place? Can we safely commit to leaving our home and venturing to wherever it is we're going? Because there comes a point in the drive when you can't turn back - and there are some things that can't be bought along the way in the event they're left behind.

This was my life two days ago as we prepared ourselves for the +300 mile trip to my inlaws' house, where we're spending the holidays. I literally taped the last to-do list on the back door so I wouldn't leave anything behind in the blurry-eyed state of our 0-dark-30 departure. I had that moment, toddler crying in the car-seat, husband popping the top of a rockstar energy drink and loading a Dora DVD into the laptop, where my hand would not budge towards the ignition. I'm leaving something. All the pieces are not in place. They can't be in place. We're forgetting something. I just know it. And then it hit me: I'm doing the same thing with my sequel.

Tanzy and her sidekicks have been inching towards the climax of the sequel for weeks. It's a big moment for all of them, and nothing will be the same once the dust settles. It's a scary moment for me as a writer, echoing the same kinds of questions in my head: are we ready? Am I forgetting something? Are all of the pieces in place. Are we SURE we're ready for this? Because there comes a point when you can't turn back... and there are some things that can't hop on the train once it's in motion.

Yes, it's a draft, of course it can be changed. Likely, it WILL change 100 times between now and the final draft. But this first draft blazes the trail. Even if I rewrite the whole story from the ground up, this first pass will color any new versions that come after it. Its smoke will linger in the proverbial air. Drafting the climax will force me to commit to how I see this whole thing shaking out. And it's making me seek and destroy any loopholes and inconsistencies in the plot preceding this epic moment.

But the time has come. The lists are checked off. The car is packed. The tank is full. Take a deep breath. Turn the key. Here we go...

p.s. Part of our traditions include setting goals for 2013, so be on the look out for that post in early January, and start thinking about your own. No matter how old I get, the new year always reminds me of a blank sheet of paper. So very, very inspirational. Have a fantastic holiday season!

NaNoWriMo - won and lost

NaNoWriMo - or, National Novel Writing Month - is made for people like me. I obsess, pull all-nighters, shun household duties, etc., and that's during the other eleven months of the year.

Want to know how many days it took me to reach that magical 50K word deadline? I'll have to let you know, because right now I'm sitting at a cool 41,010.

So what happened? A freaking miracle. At last, this single-focused, neurotic person that I am learned how to find balance between my two jobs, my family, and my writing. During NaNo. Go figure.

With two days left, I had 10,000 words to go. The old me resurfaced for a moment, itching to type the nights away in the quiet of a sleeping house. But there was a problem: one of my riding teams had a show on December 1st. That means an EARLY morning and a long day, and, more importantly, kids that really need me. All of me. A bright, alert, focused me. Not a me that hadn't slept in 48 hours. So, for the first time in a very long time, I counted the costs, weighed my options, and my writing lost. I didn't try to squeeze it in. I didn't go for the compromise. I let the other parts of my life come in first, and, more importantly, I didn't get my panties in a bunch about it. I made a choice, and I was happy with it.

I'd love to tell you that we had a spectacular show. That every kid came in first and we rode into the sunset like champions. Unfortunately, it was not our day. Not at all. It was the kind of day that was almost too much to handle, and that was a fully charged, well rested me. I can't imagine that I would've been able to be the coach they needed on a day like yesterday had I burned the midnight oil in the days prior to the show.

I think NaNo is a tool to help writers make their writing a priority in their lives. Funny that NaNo is what it took to make me learn the exact opposite: writing IS a priority, but not at the sake of people who count on me. Of course, I've always been a little contrary.

Yes, I still daydreamed about my plot and my characters about as often as most guys think about, well, you know. So I took notes. Texted myself in the grocery store. Jotted an idea down with a crayon as my daughter and I were coloring in front of the TV. Wrote a bit of dialogue on the show program yesterday. And then, I set them aside - both physically and mentally - until a better opportunity to obsess about them came along.

Thirty days. Forty-thousand words. And finally, the ability to multi-task. I lost. I won. I wouldn't change a thing.

Tackling writer's block: how to turn a stop sign into a speed bump

Writer's block: invisible, silent, and about as unsympathetic as ants to a picnic. And just like those pesky ants, it marches away with your plot/dialogue/character and drops it down a hole too tiny for you to follow. It's easy to glare at your screen, to consider the blinking cursor a traitorous bully. But I've noticed that any writing I muster with my face twisted into a pretzel typically comes off just as snarky and sluggish as I feel.

This debut novel of mine took me three years to write - and in those three years, I've faced down a lot of dead ends. Some successfully, and some not so much. During a particularly long stand-off with myself, I went on the hunt for a proverbial jackhammer. I read (a lot) and I google-searched til my finger cramped from scrolling. I've provided a list below of a few exercises I found most effective, but the key word is: exercise. I had to take time out from moving forward with my plot and stretch new muscles in my creativity. It meant slowing down my pace, but if I was being perfectly honest with myself, I had to admit I was at a complete stand still. So slowing down was actually an improvement.

1. The empty picture frame: Can't figure out how to get out of a scene? In Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird," she describes an exercise she gives in classes that she teaches. She tells her students to find/make/buy an empty picture frame and to write these words inside: What do you see in here? Forget about the action that you can't force forward, and instead make notes about what you see - no detail too small to notice. Top to bottom, horizon to horizon. Paint the picture. Live in it. What do you smell? What do you hear? This helps me 99% of the time that I use it. My picture frame is green, by the way.

2. Who ARE you? When my dialogue starts to err on the side of a polite conversation in a church sanctuary, it takes my whole scene down with it. The ho-hum banter paves a path straight to somewhere fiery. Usually what's happened is that I've lost track of who my characters ARE. What are they all about? What makes them tick? In a separate file/notebook/etc, create a complete - and I mean crazy complete - description of the inner workings of your character. Ask yourself asinine questions about what he/she might do in every day situations: found a lost dog, made a cup of coffee, answered the door to religious zealots, found a fifty-dollar bill, got behind an extreme couponer in the 10-items-or-less checkout line. What would your character do? What would they say? Does their inner dialogue have a catch phrase? What word do they typically use to agree or disagree? Considering these questions seems like the long way around, I know. But knowing how they speak in every day circumstances will make their dialogue read in a way that feels meaningful and authentic to your reader without weighing down the whole page.

3. Plot stall: Your main characters are standing around staring at each other. Cocktail hour is over and the main course is still thirty minutes away. Awkward. Instead of sending your characters for another round of free drinks, try this: kill off your main character. Seriously. Copy the section/chapter/whatever and paste it into a new file. Then, write a quick story from the point where the engine fell out of your plot and kill off your protagonist. This exercise makes you look through the eyes of all of your other characters and consider their integrity (and their resourcefulness.) Or maybe your leading hero succumbs to an unknown food allergy or a moment of tragic clumsiness. Either way, I promise your original scene won't look the same upon return.

4. Back track: sometimes, I have to level with myself and embrace the fact that I HAVE written myself into a corner. Somewhere along the way, I chucked the spare tire to cut down on weight and now I've got a flat. Then I have to do what every writer dreads: search back to the last place the story was breathing on its own, and pull the plug on the rest. I'm a huge advocate for the delete button. To be fair - and honest - I always start a second document file where I paste the bigger pieces I've cut from my work-in-progress just in case I need them again. But I very rarely go back for them. Our stories are in our minds - not in our key strokes. A scene can always be recreated, even with some well-earned grumbling.

Please feel free to leave your own tips - or links to your own posts on the subject. Thank you for reading and happy writing!

line editing - DO judge a word by its cover

The good news: my totally rad editor gave me two thumbs up on the work I did on the "overview" edits (adjustments in major plot, characters, dialogue, and pacing/flow.)

The next step: in-line editing. In other words: making every word count. These words are literally purchased by our readers, which means they have a job to do. It means they've got to toil and sweat - because it means that word beat out every other word for the spot in the sentence. In the paragraph. In the chapter. In the story. Yes, I'm beating the horse. But the horse's job is to run. The horse's job is to win. And if you're riding a dead horse, you've got bigger problems.

On a lighter note, the first advice I ever got about word count was from a writer who I sat next to on a plane. I was a doe-eyed teenager who wanted to be a writer, and he was an adult who said things like "literary agent" and "word count." So I soaked up every piece of advice he was willing to dish, including this: "no publisher will look at your work as a first time author unless your manuscript is done (which is true as far as I know), and unless it is AT LEAST 100,000 words." That's not so true. In fact, depending on your genre, that's as far from the truth as you can get - especially in YA. That was probably the worst advice I have received to date as a writer. Why? Because it stuck with me, and I never questioned it. So I pumped my draft for word count - quantity first - and squeezed every word I could from the bones of my story, all in an effort to achieve that magic 100K count. The result: a plot that meandered from point to point, arriving unceremoniously at an overly concluded conclusion, disastrous dialogue weakened by almost every possible redundancy, and a protagonist whose defining moments were lost in scenes so descriptive tiles on the floor were counted (okay, thankfully that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea.)

So how do you know what to cut? Here are a few tips and words of wisdom that I've learned during this editing process:

1. Look for redundancy. Redundancy can be obvious - using a "real" word twice or more in a paragraph, but it can also happen in some indirect ways. Each new sentence should have a point all of its own, so make sure that pairs of sentences aren't saying the same thing twice. This can also happen in dialogue. Example: "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed excitedly. See the triple repeat? "Oh my gosh!" works just fine on its own. Several well-known literary agents that blog are big fans of sticking with the tried and true he/she says and letting other versions of speech descriptions filter in as a rare exception.

2. Weak/passive voice. To be or not to be is NEVER the question, if you can help it. Cut out any "to be" verbs that you can and let your characters own their actions. Use words like is, was, are, am, be, been, etc. sparingly. But "to be" verbs aren't the only villains of passive voice. A few of my subconscious favorites: seems to, starts to, and begins to. *yawn.* I'm sorry, what was I saying? Try cutting the fluffy verbs from the action and see if you like the result.

3. Filler words. We all have them. Our go-to words when our creative juices are tapped out or we're trying to force something that just won't fit or flow. My go-to fillers: Just, seems, get, even, as, but, and suddenly. And, as an entire grammatical category: adverbs. Typically (hehe), adverbs fill the space where character-development/showing should happen. I tried to get away with this big time in my manuscript. I thought: if the editor sees this she'll tell me how to fix it. She did see it. You know what she said? "Fix this." Well played, madam. Well played.

4. The best advice I ever got and didn't want to believe: during my querying phase, I stalked more writing blogs than I cared to count, especially once I realized my 100K words bit was about as wrong as a nun at a strip club. I stumbled across a piece of wisdom that made me recoil from the screen and I rejected it immediately. Curious? The blogger's advice was this: find your favorite section of writing and cut it. Sounds crazy, right? Well here's the thing - the second I read it, I knew exactly what section of my manuscript I was most proud of as a writer. Then I read the blogger's reasoning: this section is probably just you showing off, and likely doesn't jive with the flow of the story or really add anything to the work around it. I disagreed with her for weeks. And I kept going back to it, tweaking it, finessing it. Not to make it fit better, of course, because it was my best writing. It fit! Didn't it? Kind of? Nope. Not at all. Finally, I cut it. And the whole chapter read so much better without it.

I hope this helps you avoid some of the mistakes I made. I'll post more soon on this topic. I'm learning so much during through the thoughts of my editor and I'm excited to share. Any other writers/bloggers/editors/whoever - please feel free to contribute your own tips (even if they completely contradict mine) and also please leave a link to your blog/page.

side note: I'm a BIG believer in Anne Lamott's concept of the "crappy" first draft (she uses a stronger word, but you get the idea.) Get your story down. Get your main characters fleshed out on paper. Then worry about finding the right words to do your story and your character justice.

Curses! - the use of "bad" words in YA novels

Now that our daughter is 18 months old, we've got to watch what we say down to the letter, because she makes a go of repeating anything and everything she can. One of my more frequented F words has been replaced with "foxtrot," and we say a lot of "seriously?" around here. Of course, I don't necessarily consider expletives the worst words there ever were. In our house, words like "fat," "stupid," and "retarded" evoke a much more fiery reaction than words I can't write here for fear my grandmother might read them.

But what about our young adult readers? To be fair, if an author aims to create a world that their teen fans can relate to, dialog is king. Gossip, chatter, lies, secrets, confessions - these kinds of things are what drive a teen novel. And expletives are now so commonplace it's cooler to abbreviate them that to use the whole word. Still, it bears mentioning that potty mouthed young protagonists may put off older readers in our potential crossover markets. And there are some that think bad language takes the integrity of the writing down a notch - and yet there are others that would argue if it's true to cause, a character cussing a blue streak would infact validate the integrity of said book.

Is there a right or a wrong answer here? Honestly, I'm not sure. But I do think it's most important to stay true to your characters. I'm drafting the sequel in the Tanzy Hightower fantasy series, and there's a point at which one of my characters realized another has set her up for an epic fail, and everything in me wants her to scream: "b#tch!" (sorry, Nana.) But I haven't used language in either book thus far, and to drop a word bomb might detract from the scene as a whole - not because it's a bad word, but because it's out of character for the novel itself. But in a YA fiction book I'm working on, one character is particularly crass, and no words are off limits for her. So my opinion is this: to thine own self be true, and no matter what words you decide to use, make them count.

Making time

Finding time to write... an age old quandry. Because it's more like making time. Let me back track. I used to get my panties in a bunch because the world wouldn't give me a window to get whatever story wouldn't leave me alone out of my head and onto paper (or screen, as it were.) Don't you people/job/chores/husband/daughter/etc.etc understand that I need to write? But here's the thing: there are a whole lot of other things that I need to do too. Things that pay the bills. Or ensure I'm not wearing the same pair of socks two days in a row. Yes, I now have a publishing contract so writing has been gloriously bumped up the priority list, but I'm still not getting paid to do it, and likely won't for a good long while. Even though I feel a strong need to write, I have to face the facts: right now, it's still just a "want to." And it sure was just a "want to" for all the years I got in a twist about the proverbial seas not parting between my life clutter and my desk.

I had to realize that it was me that needed to give something up - another "want to" in order to work on my book. Unfortunately, that thing is usually sleeping. Or eating. Or actually folding and putting laundry away once it comes out of the dryer... but hey, it's clean. It wears the same no matter where you grab it from. Now that I've signed a contract with WiDo Publishing, my other want-tos are practically nonexistent: again with the sleeping and eating, but also my vegetable garden, which has gone the way of the dinosaurs as crabgrass and dandilions have taken over the neglected plot. But getting this contract feels like a green light to let other things get put on the backburner, at least for the time being, while we get this story ready for release.

Balance is more important now than ever. We have a rule that we eat dinner together as a family whenever possible, and we don't allow cellphones or laptops in my daughter's playroom. Last week I realized I was way too in the "zone" and literally made a note to myself on a post-it as I finished writing for the day: remember to be a wife. I'm a better wife and mother when I'm given free rein to write, and I'm a better writer when I remember to take a break and pay attention to the most important things in my life.

So how do you make time? What do you give up in order to write?

Once upon a head injury

"Be Seeing You" was literally inspired by a dream. I'd taken a head-dive off of a horse (not a dream) and landed in the E.R. with a bad concussion and a neck injury. I was doped up to the high-heavens on pain medicine and had the wildest dream: deserts and sexy, half-dressed, greek-god looking men and a tough chick with black hair and a soul the color of stardust. I woke up and thought: man that would make a good story. That was November, 2009. I "finished" the story this March and started querying away. (And boy-howdy do I have a lot to say about querying. But I digress.)

By May I had almost 20 rejection letters to my name. (Side note: for those of you who are in or about to begin the querying phase, www.querytracker.net is an awesome resource for lists of agents and publishers who are accepting unsolicited queries.) Yes, they stung. But they also helped. Those rejections made me tighten and clean and change and hone. Those rejections were my teachers. Don't get me wrong, most days I thought to myself: well clearly so-and-so just didn't get my vision. But once the thanks-but-no-thanks started piling up, I realized they might have a point. So I took a break, and then took a long, hard look at my manuscript all at once. I had some work to do. I also kept revising my queries, and stored my rejection letters in an email folder to keep myself motivated. (I can move mountains when I'm trying to prove someone wrong.) Those rejections made my story right at the right time.

I think back to a quote that kept me going - that is literally taped on my desk so I can see it whenever I start toying with the idea of pretending I never wanted to be a writer in the first place: "Because the 64th time was yes." It's a quote from a book called "The Wednesday Sisters," a group of mothers who meet at a playground and form a writing group. One mother has been querying her tail off in secret, and finally, on the 64th attempt, gets a yes. It just takes one.

I promise the next post won't be a proverbial happy dance, but I'm on cloud nine and I really want to spread the love. :)