Word Weaves

I finished the rewrite on my first book, polished my query and groaned through another synopsis. I researched agents on Agentquery, Querytracker, SCBWI, and the Children’s Writers and Illustrators’ Market Guide. Then, I checked SFWA’s Editors and Preditors to ensure none of my chosen agents were on the Beware List.

Two weeks ago, I sent queries to fourteen agents. I had the first response within two hours. I took a deep breath and opened the email. My eyebrows sprung to my hairline. It wasn’t a rejection! The agent requested a partial. I stared at the computer in shock. I wasn’t ready for this. I had prepared for fourteen rejections. At best, I hoped for nice rejections.  

I pulled up the first few chapters of my book and with superhuman will power, I did not reread them before I pushed send. More deep breathing and some hyperventilating followed. Since that day, I’ve received three very nice rejections and another request for a partial. Even if my sample chapters don’t pass muster, I’m thrilled to have written a query that does. But I’m not sure when I’ll stop feeling like a spastic balloon, puffing up and deflating.

This morning on my walk, I spotted a double rainbow. It arched over the trees into a deep gray sky; the afteraffects of last night’s thunderstorms. The me that lives in my imagination leapt to that arc and clung for dear life. I didn’t have to wonder where that impulse came from.

Last week was a train wreck: friends and family with serious health issues, budget shortcomings, and the conspicuous absence of a call back after a hopeful job interview. Then there was the discussion I came across on the Verla Kay board about agents preferring prospective clients not shop their work to editors. That was difficult to swallow after spending the last two months in hyper mode, rewriting my first book to submit with conference coupons to editors before the September 4th deadline. And I set my second book aside to do it.

What I read on Verla Kay rang true and reliable sources confirmed it. Why did I learn this the week before I sent my submission? Did I lose two months of writing time on my second book for nothing? I believe in God’s timing and in listening to that voice we all have inside.  For some reason, I was meant to rework my first novel. No doubt, it’s a much better book. Even if it’s not marketable, I grew as a writer through the revision and my next book will be better for it.

I wasn’t looking for the pot of gold when I latched onto that rainbow this morning. I was looking for hope. I’m starting the week with a new plan, tossing the editor’s coupons and compiling an agents’ list. I’ll query a dozen. If the reaction is negative, my first book goes in a box labeled STEP ONE.

When people asked why I needed to revise my book…again…I didn’t have a definitive answer. And they deserved one. They were first readers; the only people on the planet who knew my story. I think they felt cheated. Why would I change a book they had given their support to?

Now that I’m nearing the end of the second rewrite, I think I can explain.  It all began with the synopsis. I needed one to submit my story for the SCBWI W-I-P grant in February. I scrawled thirty versions of that dreaded document without satisfaction.  I sent it off figuring it was the best I could do. Then I took an online synopsis class.

That class asked questions of my story I hadn’t asked. I knew my main character like a sister. But who were the primary and secondary antagonists and what were their conflicts and goals? What were the external and internal plots/goals. How does the story build from beginning through plot points to climax and resolution? 

Those questions forced me to face what I didn’t know about my story and what was missing.  To be blunt, a snarly secondary character  upstaged my wimpy protaganist; my plot didn’t just drag in the middle, it sagged like a pot belly pig, and my black moment was dim! I slapped that book closed and shut my mind off. 

After a few weeks of  healing,  my trounced creativity bounced back with and I took drastic action. I kicked my MC out of the story.  I mourned her loss. Introducing a new MC to an old cast of characters isn’t easy. The strange protaganist was like the new kid in school that nobody knew, including me. But she did just what I hoped; she shook things up. With the synopsis class fresh in mind, I started over.  Partway through the rewrite, I took a MG/YA class and used the lessons as I revised.

The story is so much better, even I can see it. Last week, when I wrote the query to submit it, for the first time the book sounded like something I might like to read. By the end of this week, I’ll reface the synopsis. I pray this time, the result will answer the critical questions.

My online class ended this weekend. One of the great things about virtual learning is the opportunity to share with writers from all over the world. In both the classes I’ve taken, students from other countries have participated and it’s fun to compare notes. The writers in this class were a talented bunch with positive energy and imaginative story ideas.

Kate Coombs presented detailed lessons on plot, character development, pace, description, and dialogue, along with homework that involved dissecting our stories. The students offered valuable feedback and support and by the end of the class, someone had started a Yahoo alumni group. It’s amazing how fast a bond forms, even in a virtual classroom.

All in all, it was a good experience and I recommend  the Writer’s U classes.  Even the negatives served to challenge me. In regards to my story, I was told portal tales are a dime a dozen. And the response to my one sentence pitch? It needs work. Not the most constructive criticism, but I’m sure both were valid. One thing I’ve taken to heart is that perseverance is key to a writer’s survival. I still have lots to learn and not all the lessons will be easy. But I’m in it for real.

Edvard Munch’s painting,  The Scream, pretty much sums up how I’m feeling with thirty days to finish the rewrite on my manuscript. Meeting that September 4th submission deadline (clearly stated on the editors’ coupons from the SCBWI conference) may be an impossible dream. My book feels like an unfinished rag doll in bits and pieces, with stuffing pouring out of holes.

Dani, the new protaganist, is settling into her role. I feel I know her pretty well and she’s certainly added spice to the story. She’s also energized the secondary characters.  I can’t say I’m as fond of her as I was of Gilly, the original character.  And I’m having a hard time justifying Gilly’s exile to people who read my original manuscript. Dani was created under duress, sort of like a forced friendship, but I’ve grown to admire her.

Some of the newly integrated scenes feel raw and clumsy. I’ve been offering small chunks of my story as homework in the class I’m taking.  That’s a good thing except it’s slowed down the revision. Feedback is invaluable, but in the end, it all comes down to the writer and the pen. And my pen needs to fly.

I’m nearing the end of week two of my MG/YA class. It’s distracted me from pressing concerns (husband’s job loss) and art.  The art that will help pay our bills. I’ve created art since my chubby toddler fingers would hold a crayon. For almost twenty years, it was my career. Why now, when I need it most, does my mind refuse it?

I know the answer. Writing kidnapped my brain. All those years, the scribe in me waited patiently for art and horses to move aside. Then it opened like a magnolia and  pollenated my mind with enough story ideas to keep me scribbling for the rest of my days. It’s so so hard to force that blossom into a corner.

I’ve tried. Last weekend, I sanded and drilled sixteen wood plaques to make decorative leash holders for local shops. I collected photos for sample portraits. Monday morning, I read my email, checked in with my class, and typed my blog post. That afternoon I made an incredible mess painting a base coat on the plaques. Tuesday started badly and I sought solace in my class lesson. The art, piled on the dining room table, sits there still.

Last night, I created a rigid schedule for the days to come in hopes I’ll stick to it. But next weekend, I’m attending a positive training class for kittens as fodder for non fiction.  From opposite corners of my brain, a flower and a paintbrush glare at each other, their boxing gloves primed.

The discussion in the MG/YA class I’m taking turned this weekend to books that drag. Twilight was tossed back and forth between defenders and critics. I picked it up as one of those must read books for YA writers and barely made it through the first half of Book One.

As a prepublished author and a fairly new writer, I’ve tried to find reputable sources to learn from and I feel I’ve gathered sage advice – write what you know; write your book without outside interference; believe in your story. Then you find good critique partners and fine tune your manuscript until at last it’s deemed ready for the publishing world.

And there lies the problem. Because what you learn from the publishing world is: your book idea needs to make bored agents and editors spit out their morning coffee, it’s that dazzling.  Create a literary masterpiece if you must, but make it commercial. Which leaves you sputtering over the four volumes of fantasy that ruled seven years of your life and practically ruined your marriage and most of your friendships. Now agents inform you high fantasy is taboo.

What do you do? You write a good story. I’m in the middle of revamping my first book, AGAIN, still hoping it has merit. This rewrite is done with agents and editors  in mind. How will they see it? Is it fresh? Will they turn every page with eyes wide? Will they miss my characters when the last word is read? And guess what… it’s a much better book! So, my advice to new writers is this: write your story and consider it a work-in-progress until your book has a cover.

The fireworks have passed, thank you thank you thank you. Sitting through Independence Day celebrations with two noise-sensitive dogs is no picnic. We snuffed most of the din with amped TV volume. But at nine last night the big guns came out. Boom! Bam! Flash! Sizzle, sizzle. I gritted my teeth until the last explosive popped around eleven-thirty. Ella and Hobbit settled down and I turned off the lights.

As my head hit the pillow, my annoyance ebbed and I thought about the privileges I shared with fellow Americans, including the freedom to read and write whatever moved me. It’s hard not to take that for granted and even harder to imagine the restrictions others suffer that we don’t.  I fell asleep feeling blessed.

In the MG workshop at this months’s SCBWI conference in Orlando, Kathleen Duey suggested interviewing our characters. Kathleen sits down with hers for brief chats and long discourses, depending on their mood. Sometimes they’re eager to dish out favorites and deep dark secrets and sometimes they’re not. Like the one that told her to ( fill in the blank) off!

One sleepless night, I called my protaganist to my head and asked what she was up to. She didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t even offer a  bedtime story or lullaby. Last week, author and social networking whiz, Lia Keyes, started a micro blog for Rowena, a character in her YA fantasy A Warning To The Curious.  I was enchanted by Rowena from the start. Lia enhances the journal with delicious images of gadgets and dresses and European hotspots from Rowena’s time-traveling adventures.

Commenters on Lia’s personal blog  praised her new venture. I love the idea of giving my characters a forum. But I approach it with caution. Some weeks I barely eke out two posts for this blog. Cobwebs cover my Facebook and Twitter.  Can I handle another writing commitment, even one so alluring?

Since I’m reworking my MG fantasy, I suppose it’s only natural Harry Potter seep into my thoughts. Even if I wasn’t stuck in fantasy mode, it’d be hard to ignore Universal Studio’s Wizarding World attraction that opened last week in Orlando. Local media has covered it for over a month with glowing reports of sneak peaks.

Part of me yearns to experience the man made creation of JK Rowlings’ world and yet … I worry that path leads to disappointment.  Would I be crushed by the theme park version of Hagrid’s hut? Would the shortcomings of the wands sold in Ollivander’s shop tarnish my memory of the story?

In the afterword to his audio book Enders Shadow, Orson Scott Card essentially says he prefers audio versions of books over movies because they leave visualization in the realm of the mind. I read the Harry Potter books after I saw the first five movies. For me, the cinema enhanced the reading, lending me a portfolio of images I wouldn’t have imagined so fully. But it does limit the mind. How would I have seen the boy wizard before Daniel Radcliffe played the part? I’m sure some dedicated readers felt the movies didn’t pay tribute to the books. And those readers might be equally disappointed in Universal’s attraction. Still, it’s difficult to ignore the temptation to walk the magical halls of Hogwarts.