Teaser Tuesday

Real short tease from SOUTH OF JORDAN:

Gian hands me what I assume is the girly gun. It takes all my concentration to keep my hands from shaking, and I hold the handgun as if it’s made of glass rather than steel. It’s heavier than I’d been expecting, and that worries me.

“It’s not loaded, is it?” I ask warily. This brings on another burst of laughter from the guys. I decide that’s probably a no, but I make sure to keep the barrel pointed away from any bodies as I hand it back to Tim. He returns the gun to its case, snaps the case shut, and slides it across the counter to me.

We walk through another set of double doors and down the hallway that leads to the indoor shooting range. The pop, pop, pop of firing guns grows louder and the smells of exhaust and sulfur grow thicker. My mind tries to go back to that night, a single gun shot ringing out, a slumped body in the snow. I reach for Kane’s hand. Gian looks over his shoulder at us, about to say something, but his eyes fall down to my outstretched hand just as Kane takes it.

A look of consternation crosses Gian’s face. “You okay?” he mouths to me. I nod.

Just for fun

SOUTH OF JORDAN's Playlist

The Process

South of Jordan took me a year to complete, and that was with me doing it all wrong. I wasn't used to being able to take my time while writing it. While journalism has a lightning fast turn around, publishing moves at a slow, plodding pace. And that's okay. A news article is a product intended for immediate consumption, and while a novel is a product, it's also art. Art takes time.

I'm just now realizing that it's okay to write slowly and to revise as many times as it takes. I was in such a hurry to get to the querying stage with South of Jordan, that I cheated the manuscript out of the time it needed to really develop. I thought I was done after five months of work, but after a reality check, I realized I needed another seven months of revising. Unfortunately that reality check came in the form of feedback from agents, and only one of them was interested in seeing the revised product. All of those agents who requested before I was really ready, I can't re-query. Do I wish I could go back and do it right? Sure. But I wouldn't have learned without that feedback, and I'm a much better writer and much more industry savvy because of it. South of Jordan may never get off my desktop, but it taught me how I write. Some writers can turn out a publishable book in a couple of months; I'm not one of them, and I suspect I am the rule rather than the exception.

So unlike with South of Jordan, I have a game plan for my latest work-in-project, Dub Girls. I'm actually writing it much more quickly than I did Jordan. I'm at 21,000 words and I've been working on it for a little over a month. However, I now know that probably 90 percent of those words are going to be deleted in revisions. The important thing right now is to get that first draft done and to be okay with all of its imperfections.

Once that first draft is done, I'm going to let it sit. I'm probably going to take two weeks with absolutely no writing to let my head clear, but we'll see when I get there. This time, I'm going to print out the manuscript and sit down with it and a red pen--something Stephen King recommends, but I didn't think I needed to do it with Jordan. Now I know better. After that overhaul, it's going out to beta readers. I did not understand their importance until an agent pointed out to me that I, as a writer, am completely incapable of knowing if my manuscript is predictable. Of course it's going to seem predictable to me--it's my story. Every novel is a team effort. I get that now.

I'm not putting a deadline on myself this time. Looking for Alaska took John Green four years to write. Was it worth the wait? Hellz yeah! I can't remember how long it took John Grisham to write A Time to Kill, but it was a long time, I promise.

I'm anticipating being done with the first draft of Dub Girls by March 31, and then taking at least a year to work on revisions. If I get the manuscript where it needs to be before then, great! But I will never again put unrealistic expectations on a manuscript. Everyone's writing process is going to be different. I truly believe the key to turning out a high-quality manuscript is knowing how you work best, and really, the only way to learn is to write that first novel. Even if it never gets published, the lessons learned will be priceless.

Writers need friends, too

First, I should probably apologize upfront for the mushiness of this post. Let's just assume that any post that begins with kittens is going to be full of the mush, 'kay?

There's this notion going around that all good writers have a little Hunter S. Thompson in them, meaning a love of drugs, alcohol, the occasional foray with a firearm, a tragic ending. More simply, a lack of stability and some borderline insanity. I think before the days of social networking, this held more true. Writers were left alone with their work and crushing self-doubt. Of course that's going to manifest itself in some unhealthy ways for some (most?). Today, though, writers can form relationships via online messaging boards and social networking sites, and we should never take those relationships for granted. They keep away the crazy.

To sidetrack just a bit, my husband is probably my most important weapon in my writer's arsenal. He has taken on the role of motivator, cheerleader, food getter, and hand holder. When I'm saying, "I'm not sure this is going to work out for me," he is answering with, "Yes it will. Just keep going." He hit "send" on the very first query letter I ever sent because I was having trouble taking that step. He is the person to whom I dream of dedicating a book. Having said all that, he's not a writer. He's not even really a reader. So while he understands the determination and resilience I need to realize this dream, he does not understand all the mechanics of accomplishing it.

Other writers do.

Forums like Absolute Write give us the opportunity to share all the trials and triumphs of publishing, to find critique partners, to ask and answer questions, and to just generally form bonds with other writers. Not everyone can afford to attend writers' conferences, so this is huge. I don't take advantage of it as much as I should, but I'm trying. Twitter is another avenue for finding a support system, and I regret I took so long to finally start interacting with other writers on it.

My favorite part about working in a newsroom was the camaraderie among the reporters. We could kick around ideas, read through each other's stories, joke and laugh, and offer a sympathetic ear on a bad day. Thanks to the fabulous Internet, all writers can have that support system now. Have I mentioned it's important? It's important. When I'm struggling to write a scene, I can tweet and immediately talk with other writers who are doing the exact same thing. It may not help me work through the scene, but it gets me outside my own mind for awhile and gives me the break I need so I can keep going.

(By the way, I also joined a message board for moms when I was pregnant, and those ladies have been just as great as the writing community--if you're knocked up, I recommend doing that, as well.)

So what do you think other writers? Who is your support system and how important are they to your career?

Vampires will never die

You've probably noticed that vampires are hot in the world of publishing. And television. And movies. Most people who track trends are saying that vampires are here to stay, and this makes me so happy I could SQUEEEEE!!! I don't write about vampires (or anything with fantasy elements) but lord do I love reading about them (and watching them). I love Lestat, and the Cullens (don't judge), and the Salvatore brothers, and Eric Northman. Oh how I love Eric Northman. Bill Compton not so much, but I digress.

Here's the thing about vampires, though. If you're writing about them, you're in a very crowded market. Some agents are even requesting "no vampires" in their submission guidelines. Don't let that discourage you. It just means that you need to be the best. You need to strive for the ranks of Anne Rice and Charlaine Harris. You need to come up with something that's never been done before, i.e steer clear of helpless human female falls in love with dangerous bad boy vampire. But for the sake of my own obsession, I really hope writers keep exploring the world of the undead. And I really hope those books continue to be optioned for TV because my life would be infinitely less without True Blood and The Vampire Diaries (which Ian Somerhalder recently confirmed has been picked up for season two--all together now: SQUEEEE!!!)

Oh first draft, you are so bad

Advice on getting your book published is all over the interwebz. Every single piece of that advice says DO NOT QUERY UNTIL YOUR BOOK HAS BEEN THROUGH SEVERAL DRAFTS. Did I listen? Pssssh. No. This isn't a career-ending mistake, but it's a biggie. It is really hard to be objective about your own work. I thought that I was pretty good at editing myself. And I am. As long as I'm writing a news article. Writing fiction is a whole different ballgame, and you really do need at least a couple other sets of eyes reading through your work. That plot twist that makes perfect sense in your mind might not make sense to anyone who lives outside of your head. Get beta readers and USE them. They will be able to tell you how bad your first draft is.

Which brings me to my next point. First drafts are always bad. This is expected and it doesn't mean you are an awful writer. Even if you're a weirdo who can turn out a decent first draft, it can be much, much better after a few rounds of revisions. My advice: you can ALWAYS increase tension and raise the stakes. Before you hand over your baby to your beta readers, sit down with your manuscript and a red pen and make notes about how you can accomplish those two goals. You'll be surprised at how much more your characters come alive and how much your plot can develop. Do a round of revisions based on your own notes and then open yourself up to criticism. Then do another round of revisions. And then maybe another. By the time you're done, you should have a shiny, polished manuscript that barely resembles that first draft.

I'm going to end this post with a metaphor, because I'm a writer and that's what I do. The first draft is the framework for a house. It's not pretty, but it is necessary. You can't drywall and carpet your house without that framing. And for the love of everything that is good, do not invite agents to look at your house when it's just a rough, skeletal frame. Wait until you've got food in the fridge and pictures hanging on the walls.

Teaser Tuesday

From my work-in-progress DUB GIRLS:

“It’ll be fun, Anna,” Mom says. “We haven’t been paying for those expensive guitar lessons for you just to play by yourself in your bedroom for the rest of your life.”

She goes right for the guilt-trip. Nice. Mentioning the band was a mistake. I think maybe, on some subconscious level, I brought it up because I knew she would talk me into it. And I know I’ll allow her to talk me into it, because now if I don’t join Joey’s stupid band, I’m committing myself to hearing about it until I move out of my mother’s house.

I open my mouth to throw out a smart-assed retort because I’m in the mood for a fight, but before any words can come out, Ethan makes that sound. The one that causes my stomach to plummet while my heart stops beating entirely.

I hit the floor a split second after he does, and I pull his head into my lap before he can slam it against the hardwood floors. His eyes are fluttering and his jaw is clenched, drool already starting to seep out between his teeth. His jerking movements are too violent for me to control completely, and I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself.

“Pillows!” I scream at my mother. “Move! Now!”

I’m the only one in the family who can think rationally through Ethan’s seizures. Everyone else just freezes in their panic. I’m vaguely aware of Jacob’s wails—they’re the normal background noise during a seizure—and Mom’s feet pounding past me and Ethan on her way to the living room. In less than two seconds, she’s shoving two throw pillows from the couch into my arms. I use them to cradle Ethan’s head as I try to talk him into coming back to me.

“C’mon little man,” I whisper into his ear. “Come out of it. I’m waiting for you, Ethan. Just come back.”

I’m trying to count in my head while I soothe him. Is it after five minutes that we need to start worrying about brain damage? When his face starts to turn blue, I stop worrying about counting.

“Call nine-one-one,” I tell Mom. Her choked sob drags my eyes away from Ethan’s face. She already has the phone in her hand. Good.

Ethan finally relaxes in my arms, falling into a deep sleep. I brush his damp hair off his forehead, occasionally needing to wipe away the tears that fall onto his baby-soft skin, as I listen to my mother give the dispatcher a quick summary of Ethan’s condition and our address.

This is why I can’t join Joey’s band. Forget all my superficial worries about stage fright and sucking in front of people who aren’t afraid to tell us how awful we sound.

“Pick up Jacob,” I tell Mom once she’s off the phone. The baby is crying so hard in his high chair, he’s starting to choke. Aidan slides off his chair and squats beside me on the floor. His huge eyes are welling with tears, but he’s the only one of us who’s managed to hold it totally together. He leans over and gently kisses his big brother’s cheek.

“Ee-tan, o-tay?” he asks me.

“Yeah, buddy. Ethan’s okay. He just needs to go see a doctor, but he probably won’t even need a shot. That’s good news, right?”

Aidan stands and places a chubby hand on my shoulder. “Anna tay?”

I carefully free my hand from underneath Ethan’s head so I can wrap my arm around Aidan and pull him into me. I bury my face in his neck and inhale the sweet scent of toddler sweat and Johnson’s baby shampoo.

“I promise, Aidan. I’m not leaving you.”