Writing

My Suit of Armor

Posted on by Beth Hull

Cowboys wear tight jeans, boots with loopy embroidery, and giant silver belt buckles. Corporate executives wear suits and ties. James Bond wears a tuxedo and looks mighty fine. Chefs wear white hats and white aprons and wield spatulas. Superheroes sport spandex and capes, doctors don lab coats and stethoscopes, construction workers wear t-shirts and hard hats, and I? The writing mother?

I wear sweats.

Z knows when we’re going out because I finally put on jeans. And for some people, jeans are like, dressing down. Whenever there’s a wedding to go to, or a writer’s conference (like last Saturday and this upcoming Saturday: SCBWI Spring Spirit Conference for Nor Cal!), I’m left with a closet full of question marks. “Does this even fit anymore?” I wonder. For last weekend’s writer’s conference I must have tried on fifteen different outfits. And then, taking the all-inclusive trip into Nerdy Obsessive Land, I even got out my digital camera and took pictures of myself in the mirror. I was thisclose to uploading them on Snapfish and sending an invitation to two close friends for help in deciding what to wear when I finally got over it and figured out, “You know, I’m 29 years old. I think I can choose a professional-ish outfit. Even though none of them make me look 15 pounds lighter.”

I know that looking professional is a good thing. At least, I think it is. I actually had some success experimenting with this idea when I was a grad student at UC Davis. I’d go in for my office hours most days in jeans (sadly not sweats), a tank top, and some flip flops, and I’d do my lesson planning and work on my exam papers, and I’d play a bit of Spider solitaire here, a bit of Spider solitaire there. Towards the second half of my second year, I decided to up my professional-dress factor, and began to wear the occasional skirt. If I wore jeans, I’d top them with a blouse instead of one of my left-over-from-high-school tank tops. My Spider solitaire habit might have declined (luckily, I never kept a log of hours or games so I can’t be embarrassed now). But I noticed the change in dress, and a change in attitude. And other people noticed too. Like one of my advisors. It was a good feeling.

These days, I don’t have much reason to get dressed up (and by “dressed up” I mean something above sweats on the formal-wear continuum). I’ll toy around with some jersey dresses and leggings, just to mix things up a bit. But honestly, it takes so much more effort than grabbing the first pair of yoga pants and natty old sweatshirt I can find (usually these are the pants and sweatshirt I took off to take my shower). If we go somewhere, like the grocery store or library story time, I’ll feel like I’m exceeding expectations by swapping those yoga pants for jeans.

And as soon as we get home? Z has to wait for her milk and snack while I change back into the yoga pants.

It’s a sweet life, comfortable. But even I am starting to feel a little grubby.

Writer Quiz

Posted on by Beth Hull

Dreamer? Wisher? Hoper? Player? [A Friday Free-for-All Entry]

1. Do you have at least seven titles but no salable manuscript?

2. Have you spent over two hours finessing your writing space (on purpose–not just cumulatively over the years)?

3. Is your Acknowledgments page already drafted (if even in your head)?

4. Do you read five or more different writer blogs?

5. Can you hear your friends groaning when you ask them to read your manuscript (again)? Even if you’re asking in an email?

6. How many times have you checked the query success pie charts on an authors website like authoradvance.com?

7. Have you ever used your blog as an excuse to put off revising your manuscript?

8. Have you ever used dirty dishes as an excuse to put off revising your manuscript?

9. Is your manuscript…
a) halfway through the first draft
b) finished after only a few months
c) halfway through a rewrite after it was supposedly finished?

10. If someone asked you to describe your writing routine, would your answer be among the following?
a) when inspiration hits
b) when my child takes her nap
c) when the moon is full and I’ve just finished a Laurell K. Hamilton book for inspiration

11. How many drinks does it take for you to think your writing is “really great?” Is it the same number it takes to make you think you’re speaking fluently in a foreign language?

12. Do you indulge in fantasies where Stephenie Meyer greets you with the words, “Dang, I wish I had thought of that idea”?

13. Do you indulge in fantasies where Seth Green bites your neck (as he did Stephenie Meyer’s) at the premier of your book-made-into-a-film? Have you lost 15 pounds in said fantasy?

14. Do you feel just a tad bit queasy posting this blog entry, knowing that it’s sort of a confession but put into the form of a survey?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, wow. Get thee to a writer’s conference.

Yes, yes. I’m going. Tomorrow.

Reno, bay-bee!

Prologue Problems

Posted on by Beth Hull

A Friday Free-for-All [in which our heroine obsesses about writerly things]

I’ve been reading literary agent Mary Kole’s blog, kidlit.com. Right now she’s doing a series of critiques on story beginnings and her first critique post caught me by surprise. The author wrote one word: Preface, and Kole stopped immediately to comment “Ah, our first problem! Just kidding. Sort of. I think, in a lot of instances, a preface or a prologue is a crutch. It’s the author’s way of showing the reader something gripping in the hopes that the reader will then read through some less exciting backstory…” To me, this is very bad news. I love prologues, and I especially love writing them.

A brief history of my prologues:

House Red: The prologue is a total crutch, but c’mon, it’s my first novel. In this case, Mary Kole is right.

Savage Autumn: The prologue is not so much a crutch per se…but I’ll admit Chapter One starts off more slowly than what is currently popular in contemporary fantasy YA fiction. The prologue’s there because someone had to die before the story begins, so the reader can believe the antagonist is capable of killing.

The Black City: Brand new prologue, I fell in love with it immediately (which is a sure sign that something is very wrong). Buoyed by my success with the prologue, I started the first chapter. And it’s terrible. It’s really, absolutely terrible. It starts off slowly, with too much explanation and even more backstory, as well as very dull description of the world. So in this case, my prologue didn’t start off as a crutch, but I used that beginning as an excuse to let everything fall to poo-ness.

Granted, this is my very first draft for The Black City, and there will be plenty of time to fix those issues later on. Thank heavens.

Prologues aren’t always terrible, right? I mean, I’ve read plenty of  novels where they work beautifully. I find them all the time in my favorite mysteries and contemporary fantasies. A couple of fantasy examples I can come up with off the top of my head are: Fallen by Lauren Kate, Frostbitten, and Stolen, both by Kelley Armstrong. Hmm, looking at this short list, I realize that in order for a prologue to be successful, the novel’s title must end in “en.”

That’s easily remedied. Savage Autumnen. The Black Cityen.

All better!

Seriously, though, I will go back to my Chapter Ones and pretend the prologues don’t exist. Tighten up the chapters, bring in tension and whatever else is needed. Fireworks. Amorous alligators. Really angry toddlers with kicky feet.

A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb

Posted on by Beth Hull

A Monday Book Review

“Except for the librarian and a couple of mice, I spent more time in the school library than anyone” (40). Oh dear. Not another YA novel where the main character loves the library. But I’ve ranted about this before, so I’ll resist the impulse to do it again.

Because the majority of this book review is spent on a total tangent, I will say here that A Certain Slant of Light is an enjoyable read. The idea of two ghosts borrowing the bodies of two troubled teens and falling in love is the sort of plot hook that allows me to forgive the library-loving protagonist issue. The writing is quite beautiful in places and…I cried at the end. A Certain Slant of Light has more poetic prose than a typical commercial fantasy novel, which was pleasantly surprising.

That said, I can now jump into my rant. (Not about libraries.)

I am quite baffled as to why this novel is marketed as YA fiction. The two main characters are adults, although ghosts. Helen was 27 when she died, and has been a ghost for 130 years. James was 29 and has been a ghost for 85 years. That gives each character over a century of experience in the world! Just because they are “borrowing” two teenagers’ bodies does not make them teenagers, and some of their actions, as well as the main character’s thought processes and (prior) life experiences, place this book completely in the realm of general (adult) fiction. I wonder if young adults were the original audience Whitcomb had in mind.

But perhaps I approach this in the wrong way. Young adult fiction doesn’t have to feature teenagers as the main characters…although honestly I’m having a hard time coming up with examples which do not feature teenagers. Anything with animals? I would argue that  The Warriors series by Erin Hunter (starring cats) and The Underneath by Kathi Appelt (populated with all manner of animal characters) are more middle-grade fiction.

YA literature has to be something young adults want to read. But now I’m puzzling over the distinction, because some teens love “adult” books too. And with the YA market attracting more and more adults (for the LA Times article about this, click here), the distinction is problematic.

Can anyone come up with examples of YA books that do not feature a teen as the main character? Extra points if you think of one that features a main character over the age of 20.

For more information on Laura Whitcomb and her writing, you can visit her website by clicking here.

Being a Mom

Posted on by Beth Hull

I’m sorry–today’s entry just isn’t working. I’ve been fighting with it and trying to ignore the children’s music making its too-cheerful way through the computer speakers.

Z’s singing along with the Raffi’s “The Eensy Weensy Spider,” kissing Gecko night-night, and putting Gecko to sleep in the Duplo box lid.  She’s continuing her exploration of my Wicked Spanish dictionary, cross-referencing entries with my pocket Oxford Spanish Dictionary-Plus! and generally being cute and quiet (just the way I like ’em!).

Since Z has been so patient while I try to write, I’d rather skip today’s Momming Around entry and just…be a mom.