Writing this book was a different experience from writing fiction. For one thing, my name was suggested to the editor by another library colleague. I knew writing nonfiction would be different and recruited my friend Geri, so we could share the work. The two of us wrote a proposal for the book and were pleasantly surprised when it was accepted by Rowman & Littlefield.
The biggest difference between my experiences writing fiction and my experience writing nonfiction was the actual process of writing. And I don't just mean having a collaborator. We wrote this book out of chapter order and sent the individual chapters to our editor as we completed them. With fiction, the entire book is written before I send it to my agent.
While we were writing this book, we faced a number of hurdles. Since we set our own deadline with the initial proposal, we foolishly gave ourselves about six months to get this all done. Little did we know that I would accept another job and move 1200 miles during that time. And that's not even factoring in vacations and conferences!
We wrote the book for new librarians or paraprofessionals to give them some background, history, resources, and programming ideas to help them serve the teens in their communities. Our goal was to make it chatty and easy to read.
I hope Teen Services Today proves helpful to those library staff members who need and use it.
Last month, I was in Washington at the Twin Peaks Festival, a celebration of all things Twin Peaks and David Lynch. For those of you who may not remember or know Twin Peaks, it was a television series created by Lynch and Mark Frost that aired on ABC for two seasons in the early 1990s. The show began with the central plot revolving around the murder of the homecoming queen.
The fictional town of Twin Peaks was a place 'both wonderful and strange.' It was a town 'full of secrets,' and viewers' guide to navigating those secrets was FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper played by the perfectly cast Kyle MacLachlan.
While viewers learned more about Laura Palmer, the murder victim, and the other residents of the town, we were also treated to extraordinary side stories, beautiful scenery and terrific dialogue.
Ultimately, many of the stories in Twin Peaks deal with serious issues such as abuse, extortion, arson, murder and violence.
Why have people gathered in celebration of this?
The Twin Peaks Festival has been an annual occurrence since 1993. Fans travel from all across the globe to meet in North Bend and see the filming locations, meet cast members who come to the Fest, and visit with other fans who become family.
Gary Hershberger, who played
Mike on Twin Peaks, and Sara
at Twin Peaks Fest 2015.
This was my first year attending Twin Peaks Fest, and it was gratifying being around others who were just as obsessed with the show as I was. While I've been a Twin Peaks fan from the first night it aired on ABC (with limited commercial interruptions), what did surprise me was the number of fans at the Fest who discovered the show on DVD or Netflix, long after it went off the air.
Except for the vehicles and the telephones, there is a timeless quality to Twin Peaks. The high school students wear leather jackets or plaid skirts and sweaters. Not a lot of dated slang words are used, and there are no chain stores seen on screen. Twin Peaks exists in a bubble.
One of the other fans I spoke with at the Fest said she thought it was amazing that people were such fans of what was, essentially, a dark show. As I said, the subject matter is disturbing. The scene where viewers become privy to what, precisely, happened to Laura Palmer when she was murdered is still one of the most terrifying scenes I've ever seen on television, network or cable.
Twin Peaks tells a dark story in a unique way, though. The character of Agent Cooper is a brilliant creation. He is a man who is focused and dedicated to his job, a brilliant detective who concedes he has weaknesses, and someone who is able to combine amazement at the world around him without losing sight of the important job ahead of him.
It's important to have characters to root for and empathize with and love. But it's also important to make characters complex. Those characters make Twin Peaks appealing to many. I know they're the reason I keep coming back to the show after 25 years. Everyone, even minor characters, has depth and layers. I've already mentioned Agent Cooper, but there's also
Laura Palmer, the homecoming queen whose murder kicks off the show - she isn't what she seems, but even her secrets hide a darker secret
Ian Buchanan, who played
Richard Tremayne on Twin
Peaks, and Sara at Twin
Peaks Fest 2015.
Deputy Andy Brennan, local law enforcement - in his first scene, he weeps while photographing the dead body, but he has a strong moral center despite certain intellectual difficulties
The Log Lady - although a bit odd, her own story is heartbreaking
This is just a small sample of the wonderful, weird and wacky characters in Twin Peaks. They keep entertaining me year after year. I can only hope my own characters prove just as entertaining and touching to readers.
Twin Peaks is returning to television. I, for one, can't wait to see my old friends again and look forward to making new acquaintances.
Holiday House is publishing After the Ashes, and I could not have asked for a better experience as a first-time author.
Even before I signed the contract, I got a lovely email from my editor, Kelly Loughman, about what was then called Unnatural Selection.
Welcome to the Holiday House family! I’m so delighted to be working with you on Unnatural Selection.
I’ll be in touch in far greater depth once the contract is all squared
away (more on that in a moment), but I want to tell you right this
minute how much I enjoyed the manuscript, and on so many levels. It’s
riveting and heartbreaking and lovely…often all at once!
Once the contract was signed, the big day arrived. I got the editorial letter. I have heard and seen scary stories about editorial letters (one author I know got one that was 24 pages long!). Naturally, I was a little nervous to open the attachment.
To my relief, Kelly's letter to me was only two pages. Whew!
The biggest changes (aside from changing the title) were including an author's note to distinguish fact from fiction and offer a bit more explanation for readers as well as adding more detail in the final chapters about where the main character's life might eventually lead.
Simple! That was before I opened the manuscript and saw page after page of tracked changes marked in red. One of my critique groups jokes that I love my red pen, but if they were to see those tracked changes, they might pass out -- especially when reminded that this is after at least five or six revisions of my own and maybe six or seven more with my agent.
To my everlasting relief, I agreed with most of the changes. Over the course of the next five months, we revised the manuscript three times.
Then came the copy-edits, which I reviewed twice. My favorite copy-edit note was concerning the use of the word hissed.
Change “hissed” to another verb of utterance per house style as dialogue does not include an s-sounding word?
I used hissed twice to describe the way a character spoke. In the end, I kept one and changed the other.
The galley pages arrived on my doorstep one night, and I didn't even know they were coming. My hands shook as I reviewed those pages for any final, minor changes.
Throughout copy-edits and galley revisions, Kelly actually sent me thumbnail sketches of the cover. I was not expecting that. I know authors have very little say in the covers of their books, and I anticipated seeing the cover along with the rest of the world. I was thrilled with the sketches. The artists are two sisters from Italy. Italy! Can you believe that? They go by the name Anna+Elena=Balbusso. Two Italian women creating the cover for a book written by a Texan and set on Java in 1883? The world really is a small place.
Their work on their site is stunning, and I love, love, love the cover they created for After the Ashes.
I think we've finished the final little edits and corrections -- buffing, I call it. Now, I'm looking forward to galleys and then the bound and printed book that I can put on my bookshelf.
At the end of January (January 28, to be precise) my agent called to tell me I had an offer for my book from Holiday House.
I said, "Really?!" and had to sit down.
I took a few notes about what she said, including reminding me that a couple other editors still had the manuscript. The rest of the day I could not stop grinning. I had a meeting at work that afternoon, and I honestly have no memory of what we discussed. After that phone call from Carrie, the rest of the day was a blur. I did buy myself a big bag of M&M's and a York peppermint patty to celebrate (I am the last of the big spenders!).
Of course I told Mom that night, but I didn't tell anyone else. Carrie got back with me a few days later to say that the other editors had passed, and I was officially with Holiday House.
I was thrilled! Holiday House only publishes children's books. We have lots of their books in the library system.
One week after the phone call, I told all my friends on Twitter and Facebook (mainly because I saw the post from my agency). I emailed other friends and my critique group buddies. The beautiful thing about writing books for children is how supportive everyone is of other writers.
Then I got a lovely letter from Kelly Loughman, the editor I'll be working with at Holiday House.
While I was at PLA, I got the contract to sign. When I got home, I signed it and mailed it off.
Sara Joiner's UNNATURAL SELECTION, about a Charles Darwin-loving girl of the Dutch East Indies, and what happens after volcano Krakatoa erupts and the only person who agrees to her plan of following the animals to safety in the island's jungle is her prim-and-proper nemesis, to Kelly Loughman at Holiday House, by Carrie Pestritto of Prospect Agency.
I work with a great group of critiquers. We meet in a Barnes & Noble. A regular group of four of us, plus a semi-regular group of others offer great insight, good questions and sound criticism.
I drive forty-five minutes one way to meet with them, and I’ve been doing that for almost nine years. How the time flies!
Some people from the group have moved away (boo!), but we still keep in touch through Skype. We created a group which one of the members christened the Texas Skype Walkers, so we could still read each other’s work and offer support and encouragement.
They’re all members of SCBWI and write children’s books. Their books are wonderful, and I know I’ll see them published one day. I look forward to celebrating that good news with them.
As a librarian, many people in our library system know I also write. One of our branch managers had several patrons ask her about offering a writers’ group. She asked me if I would be willing to run it. I said sure.
Our first meeting was in September. We decided to form a critique group, and we have about six members including myself. They write all kinds of genres, both fiction and nonfiction. The group is still new, and the dynamics are still forming. But it promises to be a good group as well.
I cannot praise my critique partners enough. We share our news with each other. We mourn setbacks and celebrate victories. If you can find a critique group -- in person, online, through email -- find one. I love my critique partners.
I’ve been writing pretty seriously toward publication for about about ten or twelve years now. It’s taken me a while to figure out a system that works for me, and I still learn new tricks all the time.
One thing that slowed me down was the need to exercise -- or at least my doctor told me I should exercise regularly.
I used to get up at 5 a.m. and go swimming. It was a great time to think about my writing and work out any problems I had. But it cut into the time I had available to do the actual writing.
I tried writing longhand during lunch, but that wasn’t really enough time.
I bought a laptop, so I could work and watch television. That helped.
I muddled through writing a couple of novels that way. But despite what my critique partners think (they believe I write a book a week!), that took forever and always drained me.
All of these things were an effort to be able to write, exercise and work my 8-hour-a-day library job. It was exhausting, and I usually seized on any excuse to avoid writing or exercise (I can’t get out of the paying gig).
I could do this, I thought. I don’t have any problems walking and reading, so I didn’t think I would have motion sickness issues or anything like that.
There was one big problem, though.
I didn’t have a treadmill. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to shell out several hundred dollars for something I might like and might use. Also, I wasn’t sure where I could put it in the house.
But we did have an exercise bike. Was there some way I could use that?
I tested it with my iPad to see if I could even get close enough to type. I’m short and need to be close to the pedals to use the bike. Any closer -- as I suspected I might need to be to work -- and I might bang my arms with my knees. If that happened, this plan would never work!
But the iPad worked. The next step was to carefully, oh so carefully, balance my laptop on the handlebar and see if that worked.
Success!
Now I needed to get something sturdier and more secure. I couldn’t afford for my computer to fall and break.
What would work?
I bought a serving tray at Walmart. It ended up being the wrong shape, but the idea was sound.
I went to Home Goods and bought a different tray with a lip. Perfect!
Presenting my very own fabulous exercise bike desk. I did have to add the support cushion to the seat just to support my back and keep me sitting up straight. Fortunately, we already had one of those for some reason.
The cat is only there for moral support.
It is excellent!
The serving tray is attached with a bungee cord and duct tape -- true Texas engineering!
Now I get up at 5 a.m. and write and ride the bike. I don’t go super fast and rarely break a sweat, but I’m riding it for about an hour each morning. I only ride it while writing the first draft. After that, I can re-type in front of the TV and veg out as nature intended.
When I write, I also bungee cord the computer. Just in case.
I read a lot of blog posts like this. Aspiring authors who finally get an agent after years of trying.
Usually it seems like those stories have some almost fantastical element to them.
Mine doesn’t. I hope someone finds that inspiring.
The first novel I wrote -- which is literally in a drawer in my house -- is terrible. Dreadful. Awful. Hang-my-head-in-shame bad. But everyone’s first book is this way. (By the way, I still think the idea for this novel is great; I just have to figure out how to make it work.)
I wrote another book. This one was based on incidents from my grandmother’s childhood. Because it’s written in a vignette style, it was harder to pitch as a first book. I set it aside.
Then I wrote another novel, this one for young adults. I wrote and revised and wrote and revised and worked hard to make it perfect. Then I queried agents. I got rejections. I revised some more. I queried again. I got rejections. I revised again. Sometimes agents would ask for the partial or the full manuscript, and then I would get a rejection. This process took about two years, and I eventually got more than 100 rejections for that novel. Somewhere about the time I had seventy-five rejections, I told myself I would buy an iPad if got 100. And I did.
Then I set that novel aside.
I wrote another young adult novel. I never queried it, but I did send it to an editor I met at a conference. It was rejected, but the rejection was quite positive.
I wrote another young adult novel. I remembered reading once that writers didn’t really learn what they were doing until they wrote their fourth book. This was my fifth. I felt positive about this book. I felt like this was “the one” -- this book would take me to the next step.
With more patience than I ever thought I had, I wrote. I worked on this book for about two years. I slashed scenes. I added characters. I dropped ideas. I changed details. I took my time to get it right.
Then I queried.
I sent out four queries and got rejections. I sent out four more and got a request for the full manuscript.
Then I got the email that stopped my heart. She liked the book but wanted to see some changes. Would I care to talk to her about it?
Of course I said yes. After listening to her, I knew her ideas would make the book stronger. She would be willing to read the manuscript again if I addressed her concerns.
I took my time and re-submitted to her.
And she offered representation! I actually cried when I read that email.
But it was a great day, and in October 2012, I signed with Carrie Pestritto of Prospect Agency. Now we’re on to the next stage.
It’s been a while since I updated this blog, and I need to get better about doing this. My new goal is at least one update a week (but let’s not kid ourselves, I’ll be happy with twice a month).
Anyway, an update is required.
Last summer, I got more passes from editors and more comments. This time there seemed to be a trend -- “it sounds like a middle-grade novel.”
So guess what I did?
I revised again. This time I had to change the ages of my two main characters, delete quite a few chapters and change the beginning. Again.
But all that was done before I went on vacation.
My agent has submitted the revisions to editors again, and now we wait.
That’s how the publishing business works. Lots and lots of waiting. I am learning patience through this process.
After a few rounds of revisions for my agent, she submitted the manuscript for my young adult novel to several editors.
Unfortunately, they all passed on my work.
However, a few of the editors had kind words and some constructive criticism. At least one expressed an interest in reading the manuscript again if I made revisions.
Guess what I did?
I spent April and May busily revising, revising, revising — early mornings, lunch hours and after work.
Today I sent the whole thing back to my agent for her to read over. We'll see what she thinks.
I finished the revisions on my young adult novel and have begun querying agents. While I don't have an accurate timeline for the book, I think I worked on it – off and on – for about three years.
I wrote about four chapters and then set it aside to work on other things. When I came back to it, I picked up where I left off. Then I started writing the middle of the novel all the way to the end. I came back and finished the beginning.
The next step was to revise the entire thing, which I did on the computer.
Then I printed it out and revised again. Which led me to retype the entire thing and revise it again on the computer.
Another printout. More revisions – this time with highlighters!
Printed it out again for more revisions. I read this copy aloud to myself during lunch in my office.
Made corrections. Printed it out again. Emailed copies to some trusted readers for comments.
Made final corrections. Read over it one last time (mainly for typos) on the computer.
Prepared complete document for sending out to agents.
Wrote query. Revised query. Revised again. Revised one last time.
Wrote synopsis. Revised synopsis.
Sent queries to some agents.
And now the waiting game begins.
I have four different drafts saved on my computer. The first and second drafts had thirty-one chapters, and the third and fourth have thirty-three. Scenes were dropped and added, characters were added, and the ending changed completely.
I haven't written anything here in a while. Since the novel revision retreat, I've been incredibly busy – both at writing and at work.
I revised my entire young adult manuscript based on comments and ideas from the retreat. For the moment, I've set that aside to 'stew' a little before I make one final set of revisions.
I went to two SCBWI conferences – in Austin and Houston – and learned more tips for writing and revising.
And, of course, I've started a new book. A middle grade story that's been fun to develop. I haven't written much of it yet – only about four chapters – but I think it'll be fun when it's finished.
But my short-term focus has had to change from both the young adult novel and the middle grade one. The Houston SCBWI conference included a presentation by Jenne Abramowitz from Scholastic. She discussed chapter books, and I got the idea to re-work an earlier piece I had written as a chapter book. So, that's my concentration right now. I have a three-month window in which to re-work the book and submit it. We'll see how that goes.
And in the middle of those three months, I'm going on vacation, so I have to work double fast. Not to mention all the work I have to do for my job. It's going to be crazy!
Using the word aftermath in the title of this post is not the best word choice, but it's the best I can come up with after an exhausting weekend of learning revision techniques.
The retreat was phenomenal. The people at the retreat were terrific. The location was beautiful. The facilities were excellent (the chairs in our work room were fabulous - I could actually touch the floor!). The food was delicious - I didn't even eat that much on cruises!
On to the retreat, though. As I said, we were assigned to groups of four. We sat with them and discussed each other's manuscripts all weekend. My group's work was wonderful, promising and encouraging. Each of them had work that was distinctly different from mine and from the other people in our group. I can't wait to read the published versions of their works, and I do believe that all of them have the potential to be published.
Throughout the retreat, I learned ways to add depth and improve my novel. I have lots to do, but I'm ready to get to work.
In a couple of weeks I'll be attending a novel revision retreat led by author Darcy Pattison and sponsored by Houston SCBWI. I don't really know what to expect from the retreat.
We had to read two books ahead of time and submit a completed novel. From those submitted novels, we were assigned to groups of four participants, and we got copies of each others' manuscripts to read.
I've read the assigned texts and the manuscripts – one was a contemporary middle grade and the other two were middle-grade fantasy. Mine was an historical novel for young adults.
I enjoyed the manuscripts. I'm looking forward to meeting the writers.
Hope I learn lots at the retreat. I really want to improve my writing. And then I hit the road for conferences in February and March.
We had a slideshow of pictures playing during the viewing and asked people in attendance to speak, if they wanted, during the funeral.
Several friends and family members spoke. They talked about Nana's unselfish spirit, her smile, her loving heart, and her spiritual legacy.
I read part of a story I wrote. Several years ago, I wrote a novel based upon incidents Nana told me about her childhood. While the story is fiction, the idea for it – Nana's first visit to a movie theater – is true.
Although there were more than a hundred people in attendance (we ran out of programs!), some were unable to come. I had some requests from people to read the story, so I thought I would post it here.
The set-up is simple. Mama has Alverda (that's Nana!) and Alverda's brother Ellery to go into town to retrieve another brother, Leard, from the movie theater.
Enjoy!
A Powerful Picture
by Sara K Joiner
When Mama pulled up in front of the theater, Alverda gazed in awe at the white building. What went on behind those doors? she wondered. “Alverda, run inside and get Leard,” Mama told her. Her mouth dropped open. She was going to find out! She was actually going to learn what went on behind those doors! “Come right back out,” Mama instructed. “Yes, ma’am,” Alverda answered and was out the door of the pickup truck quick as a minute. She strutted up to the doors of the theater her thumbs hooked under the straps of her overalls. “Excuse me,” the man who sold the tickets said. “Where are you going?” “My mama told me I have to get my brother,” Alverda explained. “He’s inside at the picture show. He’s got to go home and do his chores.” “I reckon it’s all right if you go in there, but make sure you come right back out, ya hear?” he said. “Yessir,” Alverda replied. When Alverda opened the doors, she walked into the theater’s lobby. The buttery popcorn smelled delicious. Alverda wished she had some money to buy herself a Coke. “Hello, little girl,” a woman behind the popcorn and soda booth said. “I’m not a little girl,” Alverda insisted. “Of course you’re not,” she said. “Do you want a Coke?” “Yes, ma’am,” Alverda answered. “Only I don’t have any money.” “Honey, no one has any money,” she said with a sigh. “Let me get you a Coke anyway.” “Thank you, ma’am.” “You’re welcome, honey,” the woman said as she handed Alverda a Coke. “Enjoy The Kid.” “What kid?” Alverda asked. “That’s the name of the picture, honey,” the woman replied. “Enjoy it. It’s a good one. Charlie Chaplin’s in it and that cute little Jackie Coogan.” “Oh, I’m not going to the picture show. I have to get my brother. He has to do his chores, Mama said,” Alverda explained. The woman laughed. “You’re the talkingest girl I ever met,” she said. “You better go get your brother or your mama might get angry.” “Yes, ma’am,” Alverda said. “And thank you again for the Coke.” She managed to push the heavy, wooden doors to the picture show open without spilling her drink and found herself in a room that was much darker than the lobby. The only light came from a huge screen at the front of the room with hundreds of seats facing it. People sat in the seats staring at the screen. A man sat beside the screen playing very sad music on a piano. On the screen, a little boy was sobbing and stretching out his arms toward a man who looked like a tramp. The little boy was crying, and the tramp was too. “Why doesn’t that little tramp help that boy?” Alverda asked. Her voice sounded very loud in the group of quiet people. “Shh,” voices around her whispered. Someone in the audience got up from the seat. “Alverda, what are you doing here?” Leard whispered as he walked up to her. “Mama said to come get you. You have to do your chores,” she told him. “Shh” came from the audience again. “You have to whisper,” Leard said. “And the picture ain’t over yet.” Alverda just gazed at the screen. “Why doesn’t that little tramp help that boy?” she asked again, whispering this time just as Leard told her. “The boy is an orphan and the tramp has been taking care of him,” Leard explained. “Now the police are taking the boy away, and they won’t let the tramp come with them.” “Oh,” Alverda said. She walked to the nearest seat and sat down. Leard sat beside her. “How come we can’t hear them talking?” Alverda asked. “You can’t hear talking in any picture shows,” Leard told her. “I read in a magazine that people are making movies where people’s voices can be heard, but I ain’t never seen one of them.” “Oh,” Alverda said again. “How come everything’s grey?” “What do you mean?” “All the people and the clothes and stuff. It’s all grey.” She could not take her eyes off the screen. “It’s called black and white, Alverda. Just like in photographs. No movies have color. Don’t you know that?” he asked. “No,” she said. “I’ve never been to the picture show before.” Minutes passed, but it seemed like hours. So much was happening on the screen! Then Alverda felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked around. Ellery was standing behind her. “I came to get the both of you,” he whispered. “Mama’s madder than a hornet. We’ve been waiting out there for twenty minutes. Let’s go!” “All right, Ellery,” Leard said. “We’ll go. Maybe I’ll get to see this picture some other time.” All three of them left the theater while Alverda wondered if the little tramp would be able to get the boy back. Thinking about that little boy made Alverda sad. What would she do if Mama and Daddy weren’t there to take care of her? She didn’t want to think about it. “Leard, we should pray for that boy to be given back to the little tramp,” she suggested. Leard and Ellery burst out laughing. “Silly, the picture show’s fake. That boy has a mama and a daddy in real life, and the tramp has nice clothes and lots of money. It’s fake. It’s not real,” Leard said. “So, we don’t need to pray for them?” she asked, trying hard to understand. “No,” Ellery said. “It’s not real. They’re doing just fine.” “I didn’t know! I’ve never been to the picture show before,” she told him. “Well, if you want to pray for somebody, pray for us,” Leard said. “We’re the ones who need help. No rain, no crops, and no money. All we’ve got is prayer.” The three of them walked up to the pickup truck and climbed inside. “What took you so long?” Mama demanded. “You sent the wrong person in to get me, Mama,” Leard said. “Alverda’s never been to the picture show before. She sat down to watch for a while after she found me. We would’ve left sooner if not for that.” “Don’t you blame your sister, young man. You should have left when she told you. You know better than to cross me,” Mama said angrily. “I can’t believe I had to send Ellery inside to get both of you. You’re lucky I don’t turn you and Alverda over my knee.” “Mama, I’m too big for a whuppin’,” Leard said. “Not yet you aren’t,” she reminded him. Then she eyed her daughter. “Where did you get that Coke?” “Yeah, where?” Ellery asked. “Hush,” Mama said. “Well, Alverda?” “The lady inside gave it to me,” she explained. “Did you ask for it even though you don’t have any money?” Mama wanted to know. “No, ma’am,” Alverda answered, shaking her head. “She said I was the talkingest girl she ever met, and she gave me a Coke.” “Well, you got that right,” Leard said. “You are a talker.” “I’d rather be a talker than someone who doesn’t do my chores,” she told him. “Did you hear that, Leard?” Mama asked. “She just told you what’s what.” Mama started the dusty truck and drove back to the farm. Alverda kept thinking about the little tramp and the boy. She hoped everything turned out all right for them. I think I’ll say a prayer for them anyway, she thought to herself, no matter what Leard says. As Mama turned the pickup truck into the drive, Alverda thought, if the picture isn’t real, why am I so worried about the tramp and the boy? Right then, she understood that the picture show was a powerful thing.
The names are true, as well. Nana's middle name is Alverda, which I've always found fascinating because it sounds so old-fashioned and Southern. And she did have two brothers named Leard and Ellery.
I completed the Anastasia Suenwriting class I took. I enjoyed it. Each week I had to read three books - which wasn't difficult - and then do the homework assignment. We analyzed first chapters, themes (which I was never good at in high school but have somehow figured out) and voice.
My favorite lesson covered story beats. When I do my own writing, I don't outline. I find outlines restrictive, and I never end up following them anyway. I was always the person on school who wrote the paper and then wrote the outline when one was required. That just worked better for me.
But the story beats were different. They function as an outline but can work equally well for forming the structure of the book. I'm going to go over some of my writing and apply a "beat sheet" to it. Just another way of polishing.
I plan to take the second half of the class beginning in June. I'm already looking forward to it.
I'm looking forward to it. I've never taken anything remotely resembling a creative writing class. The only real writing class I took was a newspaper reporting and writing class in college.
I think that news writing class is why I tend to write short. Newspaper articles are generally short. I think I internally edit before I even get the words on page.
When I finish writing a book, it's never long enough. At least not in terms of word count - which is nebulous and not a hard-and-fast rule but try pitching a "short" book to an agent or editor. As I revise, I find myself adding words - details, character development, dialog, subplots.
Everyone else in my critique group has to delete words in their works. I felt like some kind of weird writing freak.
The author Sara Lewis Holmes was speaking with her editor, and one of the things Ms. Holmes said was that she was a writer who had to add words. I wanted to leap out of my seat and cry, "Me, too!" I was so thrilled to find out I wasn't alone.
I even emailed her to thank her for the hope she had given me. She wrote back to me and told me she had a similar reaction when she heard another author say the same thing.
Learning about other author's work and methods and habits make me realize that my own haphazard, strange approach to writing could actually work.
I've registered for four area conferences recently, and the first one is this Saturday.
The North Central North East Texas SCBWI Conference is up in Arlington. I'll be getting a written critique and hearing presentations from David Diaz, Melanie Hope Greenberg, Lisa Yoskowitz and Lisa Grubka. I haven't been to this conference before, so I'm looking forward to it. I also used to live in Irving, so it's a chance to see what has changed in the area. Maybe I'll get to see the new, obscenely expensive Cowboys stadium.
When I was in fourth grade, I was in the University Interscholastic League Ready Writing competition. UIL is a statewide academic competition for public schools throughout Texas.
I don't really know how I got chosen to compete in the Ready Writing competition. Two other classmates competed with me, and another friend from another school.
The specific writing prompt is lost in my memory, but it was about finding a treasure chest in your back yard.
And I won first place!
Here is the winning entry from my nine-year-old self, copied word for word including any grammatical errors.
Treasure Chest
One day I was digging in the back yard, when suddenly I found a treasure chest. There was a not on the chest, and it said: The key to this chest is fifteen feet deeper than the chest.
So I started digging, but what I didn't know is that the key was one yard away from where I was digging. I didn't find the key.
So I went into the house to get a fingernail file. I got the fingernail file, then I went back to the chest.
I got the chest open. I had to dig through six inches of mud. I thought whatever was in there was going to be muddy. But when I got finished digging through the mud I to dig through three inches of loose sand.
I got through the loose sand. Finally I got down to see what was in it. They sparkled in the bright sunlight, and they were reds, blues, and greens.
They were Rubies, Garnets, Saphhires, Peridots, and Emralds. I went to see if they were real or not, if there were I was going to make jewlry out of them. If they weren't I would just keep them as gifts from the treasure chest.
I finally found out that the Emralds were fake. But the Rubies, Garnets, Saphhires, and Peridots were real.
The man said I would have to give 1/8 of it to the goverment. I didn't want to do it, but I had to.
Then I found out that I didn't have to give them the fake Emralds. But I wish I had to. I did not want to keep those Emralds.
Then I finally found out that I had more of it than the goverment did.
And that won first place! Even with all those spelling errors. Yeesh, those errors are embarrassing, but at least I can justify it by saying I was only nine.
I really need to establish a writing routine. I've tried various things at different times, but none of them have stuck.
I read somewhere that Kate DiCamillo writes two pages a day. That seemed attainable, and I made a valiant effort. I worked on it during lunch at work. But then I just petered out.
Sometimes, I write or edit during my lunch break. That works, but I find that by the time I get into a groove, I've got to go back to my real job.
What works best is for me to sit in front of the television and write on my laptop. Commercials are particularly wonderful when a good show is airing. I know it seems like I'm not concentrating enough on the writing, then, but that is how I did my homework throughout my entire academic career. And I was an A student.
I already get up at 5 a.m. on weekdays to exercise, and I just cannot get up any earlier than that unless it's an emergency or I have to catch a plane. So, getting up early to write is out of the question.
When I get home from work, I have good intentions and plan to sit down and write until I go to bed. But then I get on my computer, check my email, Twitter and Facebook, and before I know it, two hours have passed, and I've lost all motivation.
