By Cam
First order of business — I promise I’ll be posting a recap of RWA Orlando. I’ve written half of it but admit I sort of just want to post pictures of all the fabulousness. But I realize posting pics isn’t really all that informative, so you might have to wait a few more days because…
I have NEWS! And it needs my undivided attention! I won’t go into specifics except to say that if there was ever an incentive to finish the spit-polish on my MS, it’s this.
Which brings me to my Two Week Goal. I’m giving myself two weeks — 14 days/336 hours/20,160 minutes — to REVISE and QUERY. Why two weeks? Well, I’m almost there. All I need is a little push, a reasonable deadline (that I can be accountable for), to get me closer to the next step. But there’s always a bit of a risk when you’re about to send out that first batch of queries. What if *gasp* you think it’s ready but it’s really not? For me, that means my MS runs the risk of fatal Too-Soon-itis. And we all know how that goes.
So let me take you on a little journey to illustrate how querying too soon is like taking a trip to the ER:
- You make the obvious decision to go to the hospital because you have a broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury.
- You see a sign on the hospital door that says STOP! FALLING BRICKS ABOVE!
- You shrug because it’s a HOSPITAL and you’re SICK and no bricks are falling on your head. Stupid sign.
- You check in with the gum-smacking receptionist and take a seat in the germ-infested waiting area.
- You realize how bad waiting is going to suck because all you want to do is get through Triage and see a dang doctor for your broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury. But you’re stuck waiting it out in an area that’s too small, too packed, and too smelly for comfort.
- To pass the time until someone calls out your name, you decide to: read a magazine/suck at Sudoku/moan/cry for your Momma/play Hangman without the paper or pencil/plant your ass at the reception desk and tap your finger on the counter until someone pays attention to you. (I don’t suggest this last option because chances are good the guard standing by the sliding glass door is bored out of his mind and is itching–ITCHING–to throw a sucker to the curb.)
- FINALLY your name is called (and with minimal butchering of your last name) after just ten hours of waiting!
- You drag your tired and cranky and now-smelly body to Registration where you give every pertinent detail of your life and promise your first-born child/cat/dog/cupcake to a woman who eyes the small-hand on the clock like she’s getting paid to do that instead of processing your info.
- Twenty-one hours later and a nurse with a glowing halo above her head and a parade of silky white doves following her every step, calls you back.
- You say a silent prayer and hope it’s really you she’s talking to.
- You gleefully tell the ER Doctor (who’s none too pleased at having drawn the short straw) all about your broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury. No detail is too small to leave out. This is your LIFE we’re talking about here.
- ER Doctor jabs you in parts you didn’t think you could get jabbed.
- After thirty seconds, she tells you your ailment was all in your head and if you just take this discharge sheet and follow the security guard outside, he’ll make sure you get to your car alright (and put you on the Never Allowed Back To The Hospital Again list).
- You drive home, stare at the wall for a few days/weeks/months, then Eureeka! You realize maybe that ER Doctor was onto something. Maybe you just had a case of the Too-Soons and a good scour or ten in the shower was all you needed to bypass the ER waiting room in the first place.
Obviously, I’ve taken some liberties with this analogy. I mean c’mon — a third eye??? Regardless of how many orbital outlets someone does or doesn’t have, the point is that if you query too soon, your subconscious probably already knows this but you’ll most likely ignore it anyway and submit. And you know what? You might even get a request from Dream Agent’s assistant. Take that stupid subconscious! But if you queried too soon and are lucky enough to get past the slush reader, chances are pretty dang good you’ll get a big, fat “Not for me” from your Dream Agent. And when that happens, you’re pretty much SOL on querying that particular MS to Dream Agent again.
Why take the chance of ignoring sound advice when all you need is a rigorous scrub or two? Scrubbing is good, peeps. Use whatever you can — loofahs, that body wash with the exfoliating beads, good old-fashioned washcloth — just make sure you wash behind your ears and get between your toes. Your Dream Agent will thank you for it.
By Cam
Remember me? No? Yeah, I don’t blame you. I’ve been incognito for the past few weeks. Secret secret stuff, I tell ya.
Okay, not really.
Truth? My mom suffered three strokes at the end of April. THREE! That’s crazy. She’s doing better now, at the rehab center going on day number 19. She’s a strong, strong woman. Works hard in every therapy session. Even in her off time, she’s practicing her exercises so she can get better. There’s been lots of sweat, lots of laughs (mainly at the expense of her oh-so stylish hospital gowns), and lots of tears. LOTS of tears.
I asked Mom the other day, “Why don’t you rest for a little bit? Give yourself a break?”
Mom promptly replied with, “Because you don’t give up. Ever. And practice makes perfect. Always.”
Cliche? Yes.
True? Absofreakinglutely.
If there’s a lesson I’ve learned from my mother’s recent ordeal, it’s that you grind your teeth through the pain and Just. Do. It. (Sorry, Nike.) Why? Because the payoff will be worth it.
I’m taking this advice to heart right now as I embark on my WWIII battle with my enemy: REVISIONS. To put it more specifically: THE RED PEN. THE RED PEN hates me. Really.
Want to see what I mean? Take a look.
My worry is that I might be a little too thorough with my red pen. Am I stripping my voice out? Am I really making it better? What if it’s crappier now than it was to begin with?
Don’t get me wrong. I understand and believe in the importance of revising your work to make it as perfect as you can. But how do you know when you’re done? There are a whole slew of articles on the interwebs about revising. Here are a few that I’ve looked at:
Nathan Bransford – Revision Checklist
Holly Lisle – How to Revise a Novel
Darcy Pattison – Novel Diagnosis series
I also have Elizabeth Lyon’s book, Manuscript Makeover, which has been helpful so far. It’s not one of those books where you have to read all the way through from cover to cover. She actually gives you permission to skip around and read the chapters that apply to the kind of revisions you’re doing. Pretty cool.
Seeing as how I’ve never really revised a novel before (I know, right?), I’m not going to give out tips since I have no tips yet. No, wait! I do have a tip. Oreos. And wine. I’ve found that eating Oreos and drinking wine (no dunking involved because eww!) have helped me keep my sanity. What’s left of it, that is.
What about you? Do you have any tips to add to the links I have above? I’m all ears. 
By Cam
Romance Divas is starting their 3-month-long boot camp next week. I applied, got accepted (but really, everyone got accepted), and found out I scored an amazingly awesome mentor who is awesome. Did I mention that?
So who’s this amazingly awesome mentor that is awesome? None other than GWEN FREAKING HAYES!!!!!! What’s even cooler? She has her own mugs. This. Rocks. My. Socks.
Not a long post because I’ve got some writing to do on my contemp YA before I’m torn apart and glued back together.
Wish me luck!
By Cam
It’s a week before Christmas and I must say that although I LOVE this holiday, it’s also screwing with my personal timeline for my current WIP. Here’s where I am–I’ve finished Chapter One of my spanking new YA. The same one that interrupted my NaNo and has left my sleep schedule all out of whack. I still find myself dreaming snippets of this story, waking up to write it all down lest I forget, and embracing new research methods (which have been so insightful and irreplaceable in helping me understand my protagonist).
But there’ s something I’ve recently encountered that caught me completely off-guard. Yes, this is a YA and that alone was enough to make my head spin. I love reading YA, but I had been writing paranormal romances. ROMANCES. As in, against-the-wall steam, lusty heroines, and naughty heroes with a penchant for stalking the halls of my mind with their beefed up chests and brooding eyes. Well, it just so happens that YA’s don’t really have a whole lot of, ahem, s-e-x. And what little nookie there is, is usually behind the scenes.
So imagine my second surprise when I actually start writing this thing and notice that I’m using a whole lot of I, my, and me, me, me. WHAT?! I’m writing first person? But, but…I’ve only really written in third person before because sex scenes are always more fun to write and read when you can get in the heads of both characters (in separate scenes of course). What the heck do I know about writing in first person? I don’t even like to read in first person all that much. At least not in romance novels.
I got over my initial visceral response and started doing more research. Reading research. Reading as many first-person books as I could in a two-week time period. I noticed a trend that I guess I never paid much attention to before. It seems that romances are the overwhelming leader of books written in third-person. Because most other books I picked up — literary women’s fiction, legal thrillers, cozies, commercial fiction, YA, MG — are written in first-person. I’ve read a lot outside the romance genre before so why didn’t I pick up on this tidbit before? I can only assume it’s because my goal of writing toward publication is still new (April 2009 is when I started seriously writing…although like every other writer out there, I’ve been writing since I was a kid). During that time I started pursuing this goal, I was fully engrossed in romance. I had just given birth to my daughter in September ’08 and who knows, maybe I wanted to spice up my new lifestyle change a little. (But I can positively say I’m not a newbie to romance novels since I picked up my first romance book — a Jude Deveraux sheet-wrinkler — when I was twelve.)
So here I am writing in a new genre, writing in a new POV…what more could be thrown at me? Heh, heh, heh. My muse is wicked. That little tramp. Because a third revelation comes to me after I re-read my first chapter. I had to read it again because I felt like a deer caught in headlights, like eighteen-wheeler headlights with a neon row of fog-lights thrown in for good measure.
Here’s my first sentence (DISCLAIMER: This is rough. Very, very rough. So don’t get mad if your eyes start to bleed.):
I feel the fingers of dread massage my stomach as I walk across the pebbled pavement.
Huh? Then I read further thinking this must surely be a fluke…
A piece of gravel finds its way inside my flip-flop. But before I can stoop down to wheedle it out from between my toes, it’s already gone. I cough. Noxious exhaust pollutes the air around me, thick and suffocating like icing on the cake of my impending sentence. A warning that today is really going to suck.
Like I don’t already know.
Huh? I read it again. And again. I envision plantlife shriveling, puppies dying, books burning…did I write that in present tense? Warning bells go off in my head. Danger! Danger! I read it for the hundredth time. No way. This can’t be present tense. I’ve never written in present tense before. It’s like a foreign language to me. I start to think that maybe I’m one of those religious fanatics that can all of a sudden speak Latin even though I’ve never spoken Latin before. Yes, that must be it.
But after splashing a little water on my face, I settle into my seat with a fresh cup of hot tea. I start out slow, only punching a few sentences into my laptop. Then I start pounding away, typing until my eyes are dry and my tea’s too cold to drink. And I think maybe…just maybe, I kind of like this new writing style. I like the freedom it gives me. I like feeling more connected to my character, more invested in my story. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
The next day I ventured into the cyber world just to make sure I wasn’t turning to the dark side or anything. And I stumbled upon a wonderful post by Timothy Hallinan, an author of thrillers, about the advantages to writing in present tense. You can read his full post here.
There’s one passage that really struck a chord with me.
“It had an immediacy I enjoyed. It was less like writing and more (do I dare to say this?) like a movie or a play. Plays and movies exist in a permanent present tense, a period of time that begins the moment the curtain lifts or the image hits the screen. The viewers enter this period of time with the characters, and live through it right beside them. (This is an interesting illusion because it holds even when we see a film for the third or fourth time.)”
I highlighted the point that made me sit up and think, Holy cow, that is sooo right on. I was a Thespian in high school (I denounce the term “theatre geek”). I once majored in Theatre in college (before I realized I didn’t want to eat tuna fish and Ramen noodles my whole life). So I know what it’s like to have that curtain part and there’ s no turning back, no assurances that this performance will go smoothly. It’s the excitement and thrill of investing yourself completely in your character, playing off the audience’s emotions, and letting it all unfold naturally.
Hallinan is right on with his assessment. Why didn’t I think of that before? Major lightbulbs went off in my head when I made this connection because in my story, I want the reader to know everything as it happens. I want the reader to sit on the edge of his or her seat and wonder if my protagonist will be okay in the end. I want the reader to feel like they’re the character, the one experiencing this story first-hand.
I want that experience for them.
And for me.
So tell me…am I alone on this vessel of first-person present tense? If you write it, what do you see are the advantages? If you don’t, have you tried it? If not, what do you see as the major disadvantages? I’d love to hear from you!
By Cam
Okay, okay. I know I’ve been a stranger to my own site lately and haven’t touched my WIP page in, oh, months, but there have been excellent reasons I assure you!
For one, I’ve been busy, busy writing. Short stories, full-lenths, encyclopedias…okay, that last one was a joke and admittedly a bad one. But I have been writing a lot thanks to my new I-hate-you-so-much-I-love-you boyfriend, NaNo.
NaNo’s like that personal trainer who’s oh-so-glorious physique intimidates you so much you contemplate skipping that first session and eating up the $100 bucks you dished out in the first place. Only to realize that the first session of leg lifts and lunges weren’t THAT bad because hey–your ass looks great and you finally figured out how to apply streak-free bronzing lotion to those now-glam gams of yours. But then after the second and third session, you admit to yourself…maybe that double hour of crunches, pull-ups, and push-ups were a little more than you could chew. Maybe it’ll hurt far worse tomorrow than it does today.
That, to me, is NaNo. And that’s the stage I’m currently in. I passed the first week when I thought I was doomed to fail because my Vegas trip sidelined my NaNo start by 4 DAYS!!! But upon my return to my favorite little nook in the house (aka: cluttered kitchen table with a cat who likes to claw my leg while I pound out the words), I was able to catch up and pass the daily goals I had set for myself. Things were looking good. I was finally getting that nice personal-trainer-ass I invested so much into (outlines, index cards, new netbook, new download of a no-fuss text editor).
But then came the bloody personal trainer session trite with ab rolls, push-ups, and pull-ups. Otherwise known as dun, dun, dun…
WEEK TWO.
Week Two has infamously been known to cause rampant cursing escapades and temporary insanity card-flashing to many a NaNo writers. On Sunday I thought to myself, “I will not allow Week Two to best me.” Boy was I wrong.
But to be fair to myself (and to the little nugget of sanity I’m clutching on to with two hands and two feet), I started out brilliantly. I was following my outline (almost), coloring my characters (muted gray’s a color, right?), and well on my way to discovering the glorious plot twists and turns I had oh-so-righteously developed. Until the most dreaded thing happened. So dreaded I’m afraid to even write this down here lest it happen again because the evil NaNo overlords have witnessed the agony they’ve caused me and by God, they liked it and want more.
But alas, I think I owe it to you to explain why at this very moment I’m about two strands of hair away from being a newly-vinted bald woman. What? Britney pulled it off…sort of. Okay, not really. But Sinead O’Connor. She was a hottie.
So here it is. Two nights ago I was zipping through my word count at blinding speeds. Wind in the hair. Fingers on the verge of falling off. And Hubs texted me to Tivo a show for him, which at first I was a bit disgruntled about–I was in THE groove–but decided since he was working a double shift and had been so supportive of me NaNoing, that I set the DVR and resumed my writing. I re-read my last paragraph, copied a sentence to move down (because as much as I try, I can’t completely shut off my internal editor. She’s just too damn mouthy.), cut it from its original place.
And then screamed.
My entire wordcount for that day–oh, around 2K–was gone. Vacationing. Visiting relatives. Visiting the homeless. Whatever. It was nowhere to be found. I checked my auto-save log and not one of the words I had written showed up. Not. One.
I picked myself up from the puddle on the floor (with still a full head of hair at that point), and scraped by to at least get my minimum word count in for the day. But it wasn’t the same. The words I had originally written were brilliant. Okay, maybe brilliant isn’t the right word. But it was better than the crap that’s currently holding a spot in my manuscript.
So that unfortunate incident has created a tailspin, a domino effect, a snowball bruhaha, of my NaNo work. I need to call Stella because I want to get my groove back.
Til next time blog readers (if you’re still there and not mad at me for abandoning you on my quest for NaNo greatness). I hope when I see you next my hair has grown back in. I’ve been shampooing with this stuff they use for horses and…oh, nevermind.
By Cam
Word count’s got me down…I’ve been in a slump for the past week and I actually have a negative word count now which I place blame on my internal editor (whose stop button apparently broke). The words I do have are crap and I think I’ve written one chapter three different ways and I’m still not happy with it. What’s more is that I haven’t even introduced the beginning of my main plot line yet and I’m on chapter 7! I know after the first draft I can go back and add and subtract all these things…but WTF?!
August is so not my month. Hopefully September will bring happier word count my way.
But despite all my word count woes, I’m bringing you a fabulous new word to ponder. Who knows, maybe it’ll kick my muse in the a**.
Cambria Dillon - YA Writer
