Tag Archive for: writing

What’s in a Name?

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by Bethany Maines

First off, a shameless plug. The third City of Destiny short story has been released – The Devil’s Invitational!  Only a buck and my personal favorite short story to date.  And now back to our blog…

One of the best parts of being a writer is inventing
characters and places. I have to admit that this is also one of the
hardest.  It’s difficult to find a
name for a character that sounds both authentic and memorable. The temptation
is to give a character a name that is memorable simply by the power of its
sheer awesomeness, like Colt Savage. 
For the record, Colt is a real person. I really know him. But if I named
a character Colt Savage would you believe in that character? It’s possible that
I might be able to squeeze him in as a rodeo cowboy and have it feel authentic,
but unless this the twenties and I’m writing Tarazan novels, I’m fairly certain
that a hero named Colt Savage would make you roll your eyes. Just because a
name is real doesn’t mean it sounds real (Yeah, North West, I looking at
you). 
I learned this lesson the hard way. The villain in my second
novel, Compact with the Devil, was named Brandt Dettling because I saw the name
on a “Battle of the Bands” poster for a local pub. I had assumed that Brandt
Dettling was a band name, and therefore fair game to repurposed into a
character. After all, who would actually name their child that?  It just didn’t sound real. How was I
supposed to know he was a real person and that my cousin actually knew him? Party awkwardness ensued, and from then on I
have attempted to give my character entirely fictional, but realistic names.
In the pursuit of real sounding the names, the hardest part,
for me, are last names. They are littered around us – everyone’s
got one.  But when I’m sitting at a
computer with a first name on the page, coming up with a last name is pure
torture.  In the past I’ve used
author names (text books are especially helpful for this one) and movie
credits, but both of those mean I have to get up and move away from the typing
place. And once I leave the typing place writer ADD sets in and I won’t get
back for another hour.  These days
my favorite tools are IMDB and the wonderful interactive surname map of the US
at National Geographic – it shows the most common last names by geographic
area.  IMDB.com is a website that
list the cast, crew, and a synopsis of virtually any movie and TV show. So now
instead of picking a movie and squinting at the credits, I pick a movie and
click the “full cast and crew” button. 
I usually ignore the actors (too well known) and head straight for the
crew.  There’s a wealth of
wonderful names just waiting for my character to try on. And of course when I’m really desperate I turn to the random
name generator.  I like
BehindTheName.com, but there are several others. They rarely give me an entire
name that I will actually use, but it will spark an idea and give me at least a
starting point. No more Brandt Dettling moments for me.
   
Bethany Maines is the author of
the Carrie Mae Mystery series and Tales from the City of Destiny. You can also view the Carrie Mae youtube
video or catch up with her on Twitter.

Untitled Post

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I got a chance to read the last few days of posts on the
Stiletto Gang this morning. Poor Rhonda (aka the Southern half of Evelyn David)
got a book review that was apparently based entirely on the color of Arlington,
VA recycling bins and Marilyn (aka FM Meredith) was detailing the reasons she
used fictional towns in her work. 
Her reasons included the fact that real towns change too quickly. Both
posts struck a chord with me since my current series, Tales From the City ofDestiny, focuses on my hometown of Tacoma, Washington. When I set out to write
about a real location, I thought it would be easy because Tacoma never changes,
right? Boy, was I wrong.

That Tacoma continues to evolve wasn’t so much of a problem
when I was writing about Tacoma circa 1992, but the moment I switched to
writing a current piece everything went haywire. It seemed like every time I
wrote something currently true about Tacoma, Tacoma went and changed it.  Old bridges reopened, new buildings got
built, street names changed, the Greyhound Station moved – nothing is as set in
stone as I thought it was. (Although, in Tacoma’s defense, the Greyhound
Station moved years ago; I just hadn’t noticed.) When one of my writer’s group
commented on a recent work that wooden telephone poles were no longer being
installed, I had to spend research time figuring out just what electrical wires
were being strung on these days. Short answer: Tacoma is still using the
creosote treated telephone poles, but her town has switched to metal. And yes,
that factoid really was pertinent to the story.  How else is my character supposed to describe the smell of
creosote other than “it smelled like fresh telephone poles”? 

So how much accuracy should I be putting in to each story? I
try and put in as much accuracy as I can, since I don’t want a recycling bin
debacle on my hands, but well, I am writing fiction. Tacoma doesn’t actually
have any werewolf cops, fairy shopkeepers, or Chinese brothels being haunted by
a Banshee… that I know about anyway. Hopefully, my readers can just sit back
and enjoy seeing their town as the setting for a fun story and not nit-pick on
whether or not the bar I describe in my upcoming Devil’s Invitational is really
Terry’s Office Tavern. It is, for those who like to know these things, but I
had to change the architecture for the purposes of the plot – and I don’t think
reality should stand in the way of good fiction.

My Writing Took a Back Seat

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The last two weeks have not been good for my writing at all. I’m about 1/3 into my next Rocky Bluff but many, many things have interfered with the writing.

I had to judge some manuscripts for a contest–and that was interesting. The first one I read was marvelous. Excellent writing, different plot and a joy to read. Second book was great too, some minor errors but not much. Then came the not-so-good–and one that’s was just plain awful.

I’ve judged a lot of books and unpubbed manuscripts over the years. Some of them make me wonder if they’ve ever read a book–or even the guidelines of how to format a manuscript. Did they look up words to make sure they used the right one for what they meant? Have they ever heard that an exclamation point after nearly every sentence doesn’t make things better? And elllipses covering every page–what’s that about?

Using every synonym in the dictionary for said and asked drives me crazy.  And boring dialogue that does nothing to move the story along.

And of course, the biggest problem so many new writers have, point-of-view. Head jumping from one character to another–and none of the characters have been developed enough to be more than a name.

Anyway, that took up lots of time. I had to decide which ones would win  and write something encouraging for each–and tell them what needed to be fixed.

And then family events came along. Not complaining about them because they were beautiful, heartwarming and fun. Grandson Nathan (youngest son’s oldest boy) married his love, Amanda, weekend before last.

This was a three day event in a beautiful mountain setting. Family and wedding party stayed in the lodge and cabins. We had a great time.

This past weekend, we headed to the coast for another grandson’s wedding: Gregg (youngest daughter’s middle son) and his love, Caitlin.

This was in a gorgeous garden in Montecito (Gregg’s uncle’s backyard). Beautiful wedding and like the one before, got to see lots of relatives. Loved every minute of both weddings and receptions.

Now it’s time to put my fanny in the seat and get to work on my own book.

Marilyn

Solving My Murderous POV!

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By Laura Spinella
In the thick of storytelling, the nitty-gritty, nose-to-the-grindstone
act of putting words on a blank page, there are bound to be roadblocks. If
there aren’t, you’re not doing it right. That’s not to say there’s a magic
bullet or formula. It’s just that you can’t get from point A to point B without
hitting a few glitches and in some instances a landmine.
I am in the midst of writing book seven. Lucky seven. If all goes well, it will
be the third book to make it onto store shelves. Of course, that doesn’t lessen
the learning curve of those trunk novels. Surely, I garnered more from the misfits than the books that had legs and, eventually, a spine. The premise for
my new book came fairly easy, so I came prepared for some other sort of problem.
Perhaps my pace would be off kilter and my love story tepid at best.
But no, that wasn’t it. I sailed into midpoint, anxious as a reader to find out
how it all works out for Aubrey and Levi. My research has gone well
too. My former editor-in-chief has graciously allowed me tap into his vast newspaper knowledge. That’s a great thing, helping me fine tune character and storyline details. In fact, the biggest challenge had been physical. The mind is willing. The
body not as able as it used to be. My arthritic neck and a nagging pinched
nerve (paints a lovely haggard witch picture, doesn’t it?) have decided that sitting
for hours is not in their best interest. But physical pain is not as compelling
as mental anguish, and I was having hard time accepting it as this book’s
issue. Frankly, I worried that the process was going too well.  
Then, last week, everything changed.  I just didn’t step on my landmine, I fell face first into it. The problem came
into focus as I backed the truck up and decided to read my WIP.  There it was, crystal clear: the POV in the past
portion of the story is a hellacious mess. It truly, absolutely, completely
sucks. Seriously sucks. For the most part, my writing relies on a
back-and-forth method of storytelling. They’re not flashbacks but an
intertwining of chapters moving between two distinct periods of time. I’ve been
asked if this is intentional. It is, but only as a means to an end. It’s the
way my mind or muse conveys a story. In BEAUTIFUL DISASTER and PERFECT TIMING,
the past storyline is mostly about the romance. In this book, it chronicles the events
leading up to a murder. It also includes a darker, somewhat twisted romance. Initially,
this is what intrigued me, writing a socially unacceptable love story and
seeing if I could get readers (not to mention my agent & editor) to buy
into it. For that part, we’ll see. Right now, my problem is a murderous POV.
 I thought an omniscient telling would be the key to these in-the-past chapters.  I like the distance that an omniscient POV provides.
There’s no need to get too chummy with the characters here. But an omniscient
POV doesn’t come naturally to me, a fact proven when I reviewed my WIP. An out
loud reading left me queasy and looking for a quick exit.  The dogs, my captive audience, practically howled in protest.  I didn’t recognize the writer, the voice tip-toeing
between characters and that removed but all-knowing presence.  My go-to fix might be multiple POVs separated by scene. It
would keep things rolling along, although I don’t know if it would be admitting
defeat. I don’t like to lose. But I also like climbing into my characters’ heads, one at a time, rooting around for their side of things. This is what I’m good at.  Those
voices come clearly, and it could be that I’m shooting myself in the foot by trying to prove I can do it. For now
I’ve abandoned the problem, pursuing forward motion with what is working. But
before long I will have to revisit Missy and Frank and the ensemble that awaits
me in Surrey, Mass, circa 1993. I will have to decide.  
So I’m wondering Stiletto Gang writers of mystery—or
anyone who has a thought on the subject—what POV works best for you. Do you
venture outside your comfort zone if the story dictates? Should I stick with my
omniscient effort? Am I doing what’s best for this story, or am I only being
stubborn about mastering a skill that doesn’t come naturally to my set? Like any good editorial, opinions are welcome!         
Laura Spinella is the author of the award winning novel, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER and the upcoming novel, PERFECT TIMING. Visit her at www.lauraspinella.net. 
      

Girl Scout Cookies and Ducks who Refuse to Die

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by Maria Geraci

With a title like that I’m sure you’re going WHAT? Currently, I’m in full writer mode frantically typing away on a manuscript that was supposed to be due to my agent a few weeks ago. Granted, that deadline was one of my own making, but still. I hate getting behind on my writing but this winter has seen the death of my computer along with numerous other set backs including a lot of extra time spent on the day job (labor and delivery nurse) that just can’t be helped.

But the good news is that I am now on a roll. With the help of a genius husband who it seems can fix anything computer related (love my nerdy engineer!), the help of an old story, and a few boxes of Tagalongs I’m back in the proverbial saddle again.

Hemingway had his liquor. Me, I have my Girl Scout cookies. It seems there is nothing like a good old fashioned peanut butter and chocolate sugar high to keep my butt firmly planted in the chair in front of my desk. Of course, soon, my butt might not fit in said chair, but that’s another story. Inspiration is not something to be taken lightly. No matter where it comes from.

Speaking of which, my current wip has taken a little inspiration from a real life duck tale I blogged about a few years ago.

A duck (later nicknamed Perky) who had been shot by a hunter and presumed dead was found alive by the hunter’s wife in their refrigerator. The duck had been in the fridge for 2 days when the wife heard something strange, opened the fridge, and found the duck staring at her (I think I would have lost my Girl Scout cookies at this point). She took the duck to an emergency vet where the duck had surgery and was later adopted by the local wildlife sanctuary, giving Perky a happily ever after.

For some reason, I’ve always been intrigued by this story. Maybe it’s the sheer improbability of it all. Or the quirkiness of it. I’m not sure. All I will say is that whenever I think my story is dead in the water, something miraculously brings it back to life. Sort of like Perky. It just doesn’t want to die.

The point of all being is that when Inspiration comes, in no matter what form, jump on it.

West Wing or… West Awesome?

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By Bethany Maines

I think we all know my resolution a few weeks ago to stop
watching West Wing marathons was merely so much hot air, and in fact the
obsession continues. I admit I watched a few episodes when it was originally
aired, but at the time I wasn’t paying attention to the writing. (Yes, I admit,
I was paying attention to Rob Lowe, but really, weren’t we all?) This time
around I find myself envious, yes, absolutely envious, as the writer’s get away
with things that I have always told not to do. The “errors” these writers
commit would be egregious in the book world. They bring introduce and dismiss
characters at the drop of a hat. They start new plot lines without any warning.
And the characters frequently don’t explain themselves to each other, let alone
to the audience. Basically, the writing hews closer to real life. Is it because
they’re on TV? Is it because they’re better than me? Is it because they’ve got
156 episodes to practice with?
For instance, during one episode Sam Seaborn (did I mention
Rob Lowe’s dreaminess) is upset and off-balance because he recently found out
that his father has been keeping a mistress for decades. Up until that episode,
the audience had never heard mention of his parents, and after that we don’t
hear of them again. But in a real life work place frequently co-workers are
thrown for a loop by family issues. And you do what these characters did, which
is express sympathy and try to prevent them from letting home issues become
work issues.
So the question remains – do the writer’s of West Wing get
away with their realism because they are so good at it?  Or do we allow this kind of realism
because it isn’t on the printed page? Is there something about being in a book
that makes us want storylines and characters wrapped up in a neat little bow?
Admittedly, the very format of a printed page makes things like overlapping
dialogue a little out of reach. However, isn’t there something annoyingly
formulaic about a sequel that inserts a little synopsis of the previous book?
What do you think? Should we challenge readers more than we do?
Update: For those who are keeping track I have released my
first new story of the year! You can find The Dragon Incident at Amazon now for
$.99. It will be available for Kobo and Nook in April. You can learn more about
this new series at www.cityofdestinystories.com.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

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By: Joelle Charbonneau
I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.  I thought I wanted to be a music theater and
opera performer.  At least, that’s what I
spent my undergrad and post-graduate schooling studying.  And I guess I actually wanted to do that
since I did the professional singing, dancing, acting thing for a number a
years.  While I bellowed arias and show
tunes on stage, I also worked as a systems administrator and report analyst,
which stretched my mind and pushed me to learn new things.  And somewhere along the way I started
teaching and wow do I love it.  Helping
students discover not only their singing voices, but confidence in themselves
and their futures is a pretty amazing thing. 
Oh yeah – and now I write. 
And I love that too.  Some days,
the need to fill the blank page stresses me out.  There are moments where I wonder why I chose
to sit behind a screen worrying about what comes next.  But I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
The funny thing is, I never took a college level English
class.  I never took creative
writing.  And I am a writer. 
I point this out because as a teacher, I work to help prepare
my high school students for college.  The
one thing that strikes me over the years is the notion that high school
students have to *know* what they want to be when they grow up.   From the time students enter their freshman
year of high school, there is a strange notion that they should be working
toward a specific future goal.  Not just
getting into college or having a happy future, but taking the right classes to
get them into a specific college for a future they might not even want to have
when they know more about it.
I *knew* what I wanted to do with my future when I entered
college.  I wanted nothing more than to
spend my life singing and dancing on the stage.  And I still love that.  But I have grown and changed and learned so
much since those high school days.  I’m
not longer that person.
So, I guess my point to this rant is that I hope we all work
to encourage our children to study something they love.  To strive to learn things that matter to them
because those are the things that shape their lives.  I believe that filling the soul is just as
important as filling the mind.  When we
fill both—amazing things can happen.
So—dare I ask?  What did you want to be when you graduated high school and what are you doing now?

Heavy Cloud, No Rain

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by Bethany Maines
It’s fall again. In Washington State that usually means a
return of gray skies, cold weather, and a persistent morning mist that makes it
feel like the your day is starting off with a little bit of a smokers
cough.  This is when I burrow under
a pile of blankets, shove my feet under a dog and return to writing.
Unfortunately for my writing, and for the wild fires raging over my state, the
weather has been unrepentantly sunny. 
The last time we had measurable rainfall was July 22.  We have now passed the 1951 record of
51 days without rain.
What the heck is going on!  If I wanted blue skies I’d move to California!  My running shoes should be caked in mud
by now; instead, they’re leaving a fine silt of dust between my toes at every
jogging opportunity.  That’s just…
it’s just not normal.  I’m having
mud withdrawals.  And writing
withdrawals.
During the summer I try not to worry too much about how much
I am or am not writing.  After all
the season is so short, I need to cram in all the outdoor activity I can.  But I’m starting to have that feeling I
call The Looming Fat. 
Think of The Looming Fat as that feeling you get after
having spent a month on vacation eating nothing but gloriously fatty foods, and
then you return home.  And you know
the fat’s there, but as long as you don’t step on the scale you can pretend the
fat hasn’t settled into a permanent home on your rear end. But still the fat
looms behind the door and prepares to jump out at you when you least expect it
– like when you try on a pair of slacks for the first time before going back to
work. 
Only in this case, it’s the Looming Brain Fat.  Having spent most of the summer
watching the Olympics and reading “trashy” (aka fun) novels my writing muscles
may have developed a little bit of spare tire.  And instead of settling down, like they should, and plotting
out a new novel, they seem to be requesting more trashy novels and continuing
episodes of Grimm.  “This is not
productive!” I yell at them.  They
give me the stink eye and tell me to come back when it’s cold out. 
The good news is that Friday’s forecast says, “chance of
rain.”  Make that a “chance of
writing” and maybe I’ll make it to winter.

Bethany Maines is the author of Bulletproof Mascara, Compact With the Devil and Supporting the Girls.  Catch up with her at www.bethanymaines.com or check out the new Carrie Mae youtube video.

Writing Books and Maintaining Friendships

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by Linda
Rodriguez
I have become a terrible friend. I
spend all my time writing books, taking care of the business of books
(research, tours, conferences, accounting, and correspondence with editors, agents,
publicists, and fans), and promoting my books (blogs, guest blogs, interviews,
signings and readings, Facebook, Twitter, email newsletters, etc.). There’s
little time left over even for my family and my own physical and spiritual needs.
Making time for a friend involves
carving a hunk out of an already over-committed day, and the problem is that I
have a lot of friends. They’re wonderful people with whom I love to spend a
leisurely lunch or afternoon coffee/tea break while engaged in delightful,
intelligent conversation. I’m lucky if I can manage this with one of them every
few months. So I have many friends I only “see” on Facebook. This is one thing
with friends I love who live far away. Facebook is a great way to keep in touch
with them when we know we’ll only see each other once a year at some
conference. It’s quite another kettle of fish with friends who live in the same
town.
I’ve been thinking about this
situation lately—and my thoughts have not been happy ones. I miss my friends,
and I hate responding to an invitation to get together with a list of three possible
dates four months in the future. I worry that the message that sends is not at
all the one I want to send, that they will incorrectly feel I don’t value their
friendships. As for a spontaneous “Mary’s in town for two days, so let’s have
lunch with her and catch up,” I’m almost never in a position to join in.
This situation all came to a head
for me recently. A friend sent me a chain email that talked about a sister who
would never spontaneously go to lunch and had recently died without ever going
to lunch with her sister. (I wonder why they chose to send that email to me?)
Right after that, I received an email from one of my oldest friends to tell me
she’d had surgery and was laid up at home in bed, going stir-crazy. My first
thought was, “I should drive out there and visit with her.” This friend lives
on the other side of town out in the country, entailing an hour-long highway drive
there and and another hour-long highway drive back. That visit would eat up an entire afternoon, so my first
thought was immediately followed by a list of the things I have to do, many of
which have imminent deadlines. “I’ll send her a card and some flowers to wish
her a quick recovery and finish some of these urgent tasks,” was my next
thought. “I’ll visit her later when I have time.” As if I would ever have an
open afternoon to go see her without creating it!
That quick dismissal of my friend’s
situation in order to get back to the always-present workload left me wondering
what was wrong with me? When had I become the kind of person who would begrudge
a few hours to visit a friend at home alone on bed rest? If a wonderful
professional opportunity suddenly presented itself, and I needed to make major
adjustments to my schedule to accommodate it, I knew I would. Why not for an
old, dear friend?
I sat down and made a list of all
the good friends I’ve had to put off for lunch or other meetings. I decided I
had to do something about this. I’m trying to build a whole new career with my
books, and it’s demanding and time-consuming, as it is for any small
businessperson. But I don’t want to ignore my friends. So I made up a schedule
that allows me to meet someone for lunch every week. I’m going to work my
way through my list of friends that way. It means finding some other time to do
some critical tasks. They’re also important and can’t be skipped. It won’t
be easy, at all. But I know the kind of person I am, the kind of person I long
ago decided to be, a person to whom people are more important than things. If
my career takes a little longer to get going, at least I won’t have achieved it
at the cost of becoming someone different from who I truly am.
And yes, dear reader, I’ll be slow
responding to your comments today because I’m spending the afternoon taking
lunch to my dear friend who’s recuperating from surgery, and we’ll be making
bad jokes and laughing hysterically at them.

Mimicking Life?

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by Bethany Maines

A few weeks ago I posted a photo on my FB page that said, “If you
were in my novel, I’d have killed you off by now.” I’d like to say that was a
joke, but the unfortunate part (for everyone else) of being a writer is that I
really do use a large chunks of life for my writing. I just don’t use the parts
people think I’m going to… or should.
Over the years I’ve had several people offer me “really
great” suggestions about what to include in a novel and I’ve taken absolutely
none of them. What I have taken, or pilfered, as the case may be, are people’s
stories, experience, and random bits of dialogue. Don’t tell me that pine
needle basket weaving is a skill you keep up in case of the zombie apocalypse
if you don’t want that included in a piece of Maines fiction. Don’t invent
clever catch phrases about basic life principles if you don’t want them written
down (I’m looking at you Dad aka Ray “Lugnut Rule” Maines).
But when it comes to using an actual person, I try not to do
that. For one thing, I know some pretty complex people and capturing them in
fiction sounds hard.  And for
another… I’m mean.  I really will
kill people off, or worse.  I made
one of my favorite characters the villain in my first novel what do you think
I’d do to someone that annoyed me in real life.  Next thing you know, snooty waitress, you’re going to be a
drug mule for an incompetent Norwegian drug lord and TSA will be all up in yer
bidness.
That’s not to say I’ve never done it, but it seems like
those “characters” never make the final cut; they get edited out before the
final draft.  I think it’s because
fictional revenge might be fun, but it doesn’t make a good story. It’s hard to
draft a solid plot around the impulse to bash an acquaintance in the head,
unless the plot is “writer kills client who looks like Toad from Wind in theWillows.”
But that got me to thinking, if I was going to put someone
in a novel, who should it be?  My
grandmother? My business partner? The annoying neighbor with the miniature
horse? Or the highly suspicious old dudes across the street who might be running a chop
shop?  Who would you put in a
novel?