Tag Archive for: The It Factor

Title Me This

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By Laura Spinella
Titles are interesting things. Often, they grow organically out of a work
in progress, popping up on a dusty, finger-smudged screen, the author shouting,
“Eureka! That’s it, that’s the title!” At least, that’s how it usually plays
out for me.  I don’t think much about the
title going in. Compared to the angst of getting a whole book on paper, the given
name for any blood, sweat and tears of mine seems like well-earned dessert for
eating all my peas. I’m partial to titles that play out in the narrative, so
much the better if it shows up in a pivotal segment of dialogue. In BEAUTIFUL DISASTER, my protagonist gets the cue. He poses the phrase as an inner
thought on the precipice of an intense romantic scene:
Flynn realized he’d said the last part with his eyes closed. When he
opened them he was startled to find Mia two steps from his face. What the hell
was she doing there, so close to him? She was so goddamn beautiful, and this…
This showed all the signs of a beautiful disaster. He repeats it out loud
near the book’s climax, as he leaves Mia for what appears to be the last time,
saying, “I shouldn’t have come back here.
Let it go, sweetheart. It… it was never anything more than a beautiful
disaster.”  
I remember
typing those words, unsure if my novel would ever find a publisher. I did know,
however, that I’d found my title. I had similar experiences with my trunk
novels, as well as the novel that comes out next year. THE IT FACTOR is a phrase
that personifies the idea of possessing every element necessary to succeed. It’s
spoken first by the novel’s antagonist, and later used by the protagonist in
what I saw as a clever play on words.
Turns out it’s not as
clever as I thought. A few weeks ago my editor emailed, asking if I would
consider changing the title. This came as no shock; publishers change titles
all the time. In many cases, contracts stipulate that the publisher gets final
say. It’s simply the way it works. I was lucky with BD, the title fit like a
glove. And while my publisher toyed with the idea of changing it, everyone
ultimately agreed that it was most representative of the story. Apparently, for
the new book, THE IT FACTOR wasn’t quite the complement they had in mind.

So this was new for me,
having to replace a title that was familiar and set. Without exaggerating, the
feeling wasn’t too terribly different from someone asking me to change one of
my kids’ names. Sometimes, I’d like to change their last name and address, but
that’s a different blog. The point is I had few options other than to do this,
to change THE IT FACTOR to… WHAT?
 This is where the real problem came in.  For a person who claims a fairly fluid imagination,
I was embarrassingly stumped. Editor and agent alike offered numerous
suggestions while my friends, boss, relatives and next-door-neighbor chimed in
with theirs. It became the center of every discussion and an ugly argument at Thanksgiving
dinner. But no, nothing was right. Nothing sounded like the book I wrote or the
point I wanted to convey. I was ready to give up, ready to give in to a sorta title. Honestly? I didn’t think I
was off to a very good start with book number two.

Disappointed, I mentally
abandoned the problem, though I couldn’t shake the wise words of my agent. As
we weeded through and rejected title after title, she kept one thought at the
forefront, “Does it speak clearly about the novel… or to the audience?” Well,
certainly nothing I’d dreamt up did. But then I began to think about the
message, the story my protagonist was trying to tell. Well, Aidan Royce was a
musician. Everything he conveys is set to music. He’s in love with a girl named
Isabel, lyrical enough in its own right. From there I Googled musical
terms until I stumbled across the word rhapsody,
narrowing it down to its dictionary definition: a highly emotional work. And there was my Eureka! ISABEL’S
RHAPSHODY. While it was methodical and meticulous—hardly the romantic
process I would prefer—the title, ISABEL’S RHAPSODY, seems to fit like a
glove.     
Laura Spinella is the author of the award-winning novel, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER and the upcoming novel, ISABEL’S RHAPSODY. Visit her at lauraspinella.net            
           
           
    
  

The Places We Will Go, So Call Me Maybe

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Boston Skyline

By Laura Spinella
It’s been a curious couple of weeks. Not only from a writing perspective but from an everyday, tie your shoes, change of season point of view. Fall does that in New England, Maine to Connecticut selling the scenery with everything living up to the hype and gloss of a travel brochure. It’s quick and it’s bright, and you have to hurry if you want to bask in a Robert Frost moment. If you live here you notice the trees, but mostly you anticipate all the raking.  Unlike spring, a season that meanders in like royalty arriving, fall is more of an abrupt nudge to the shoulder, “Hey, I’m here—enjoy the foliage on that road not taken. When I leave, old man winter settles in for the long haul.”
In addition to crisp air and apples, a few things have made this fall different than the others I’ve spent in Massachusetts. I’ve had a friend visiting from the South. At my age, as friends go, suffice it to say she’s one of my oldest. We met under circumstances that still leave me, the writer, chagrinned. Kimberly and I were both being considered for the same job at the Union Recorder newspaper in Milledgeville, Georgia. The position wasn’t even in the editorial department, though I felt my shiny journalism degree should have easily won me the job. Not so fast. Kimberly, admittedly a more vivacious soul than I could manage if I underwent serotonin injections, got the job. Weeks later, the newspaper hired me for a different position, and after some wound licking, a friendship was forged that has lasted longer than either of us cares to note. I like the serendipity of it all, especially when you consider that we only lived in the same state for a year. Minus serendipity, we would have stopped exchanging Christmas cards decades ago.
Before
It’s fun when Kimberly visits. After her short career in newspapers, she discovered her real passion, living the word entrepreneur by becoming the most enterprising female contractor in North Carolina. The photos here show the little mountain house she rehabbed before arriving on my doorstep. Basically, when she visits we feed her well and pick her brain about what project we should tackle next in our 112-year old Arts & Crafts rehab. Tomorrow, she heads home, though clutched in my greedy grip is a plan for a customized master bedroom closet. It’s been low on our to-do list, though her brilliant design is sure to make the California Closet folks look like casket assemblers.
While I’m tickled by state-of-the-art storage, that’s a small bonus to a Kimberly visit. Having her around is more like a direct line of adrenalin to the vein. Kimberly is a doer of the highest order, making you think thoughts that seem too adventurous for an ordinary Tuesday and go places that would normally fall—well, somewhere below the urgency for a customized closet. She has a can-do attitude that, frankly, makes me want to tie her to a chair, though because she will laugh at that idea it also makes her one of my favorite people on the planet.
When considering the cathartic aspects of a visit with an old friend, I’m not entirely sure what Kimberly gained. We did tune her into Gilmore Girls and turned her onto those Harvard baseball boys—trivial pastimes for us, a fresh note of fascination for someone who doesn’t dabble in pop culture. For me, however, two things occurred that made this visit memorable. The first is completely selfish in that she insisted on, and I allowed, a cold read of THE IT FACTOR. The fragile writer ego lives for that validation, and this stamp could not have come at a more critical juncture. It’s a long road from here to next fall’s publication, and when someone sits in your chilly sunroom, demanding more tea and silence, it will make you nod with relief and say, “It’s going to be all right.” Even better is when you overhear—okay, outright eavesdrop—on a conversation that said reader has with another friend, someone you don’t even know, and is heard saying, “It was so good! I think I loved it more than BEAUTIFUL DISASTER…” As any author will tell you, this is necessary friendship fairy dust tamping down unavoidable doubts.
In addition to the places we will go when Kimberly visits, which does leave you with a slight Dr. Seuss rhythm ringing in your ears, there’s the pay-it-forward effect. Yesterday, we took the cursory trip into Boston. I enjoy this when out-of-town friends’ visit.  Mostly because it reminds me there is a beautiful city that is as much meant for residents as it is tourists. During a stop at Faneuil Hall, Kimberly hunted for the mandatory Boston sweatshirt. A bundle of energy in most regards, she is also a scrupulous shopper. I’ve learned it’s best to let her peruse at her own pace. A decision will be rendered only if and when she finds exactly what she wants. On the other hand, I like to think she uses this same careful attention to detail when choosing her friends. That or I’ve just had a lot of time to stand and think while Kimberly shops.
My point is this: I’d wandered in another direction, where my son was admiring a Berklee College of Music sweatshirt. Now, I understand what it takes to get into a place like Berklee, the bestseller kind of sales I’d have to achieve to afford this pinnacle of music education. I know that Grant is a 15-year old boy, who while talented, does not currently possess a Justin Bieber work ethic. He quietly admired the sweatshirt, only commenting on a price tag that even he construed as tourist gouging. I said, “I think we should get it.” He shook his head, tossing the remainder of his equally exorbitant Panini into the trash. “Nah, I don’t need it. Besides, I have as much chance of going there as I do Harvard.” He motioned to a rack of crimson embroidered sweatshirts, and I hesitated. While he could give the Call Me Maybe baseball boys a rhythmic run for their money, Ivy League is probably not in his future.  Instead, I took a Kimberly stance with him. “No, we’re definitely getting it. Berklee College of Music no crazier than, ‘Hey, I think I’ll write a book…’” He tugged it over his head, asked the clerk to cut the tag, practically wearing it to bed and again to school this morning. For anyone who doesn’t have a Kimberly, you’ve no idea what you’re missing. She is the road less traveled, and it does make a wicked cool difference.
Laura Spinella is the author of THE IT FACTOR, fall 2013, Penguin, and the award winning novel, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER. Visit her at lauraspinella.net 

Great Expectations

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 By Laura Spinella 
Best Graphic Available Under Pressure
I’ve never been a fan of the phrase, “book pregnant.” Maybe that’s
because I wasn’t particularly good at “real pregnant.” Years removed and my
memories still rouse a hazy sea of green swells, my stomach rolling on the
thought, not to mention the cumulative 27 months of my life spent on my knees
at the porcelain altar. I didn’t glow, I didn’t nest.  I didn’t do much of anything but puke. Friends
and family, not to mention my husband, are amazed that we have three
children.  I attribute them to the same you-never-know audacity that makes
writers’ write book two, after book one fails to sell.  Granted, in some circles this might be perceived
as stupidity.  The first pregnancy was
the worst. We were in the midst of building a house, traveling back and forth
between Long Island and Maryland. By the time there was drywall, I’d tossed it
up in every rest stop on the Jersey Turnpike.
            I say the first
pregnancy was the worst, and it was. The other two weren’t a terrific
improvement, but I knew what to expect, so in some regards it made for slightly
smoother sailing. I’m hoping the same holds true for books as I find myself “in
a novel-way” again.  THE IT FACTOR is in its
first trimester, with the father-bird, Penguin, settling in to roost.  As you can see from my bright blue
mock-cover, I’ve already decided it’s a boy. 
Like a real pregnancy, a book sale draws a huge round of congratulations,
the big difference being you can indulge in the champagne.
            We’re off and running (using the term loosely here) on
a journey of edits and cover concerns, wondering if they’ll let me keep the
name I’ve chosen.  Who knows?  I am sure, however, that there will be a word-by-word
dissection over the back cover blurb, which can be critical in terms of readership.  I’m already wringing my hands over this part,
separating information that readers will find intriguing from a passage that gives too much away. It looks like THE IT FACTOR will be a late fall
book and this can be tricky in New England. 
But I have solid experience here, having had four babies in raw weather
months—November, December, March and January, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER’S pub
date.  To be honest, that part feels
rather fitting; a sunny day in June would just seem strange.  When the calendar finally gets around to next
fall—which, admittedly, seems light years from now—I’ll fret over Aidan and
Isabel like I did Megan, Jamie and Grant on their first day at school.  Will people like them? Did I do enough before
pushing them out the door?  Will they be resilient
when labeled a frothy romp? Okay, so I wasn’t thinking about my kids on that one. Regardless, there will be no
turning back. Of course, I do have an advantage with the book. I can always ignore my Amazon page.  Live children
make this a tad more difficult. 
         So let the countdown begin—Aidan Royce, my rock
star protagonist, waits calmly in the wings for his cue. His elusive love
interest, Isabel, is probably not as anxious—but isn’t this what we strive for in
a complex character?  I’m still  not fond of the phrase, “book pregnant,” though I can’t deny the
similarities, right down to that queasy feeling of expectation.    
Laura Spinella is the author of the award winning novel, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER and the upcoming novel, THE IT FACTOR!  YAY!! Visit her at lauraspinella.net.