Vacansopapurosophobia

Which means fear of the blank paper.*

I don't have a fear of the blank page. I love a good blank page, a whole blank journal even. It's so full of potential. Imagine all the fantastic, beautiful, hilarious things that could end up on there!

No, I have a fear of a half-filled page of bad writing. Call it vacansocrapurosophobia. The flip side of that blank page full of potential is a scribbled-on piece of garbage that I'm embarrassed to recycle without shredding it first. That's what haunts me.

I have a new book idea. It might be my favorite book idea ever. It's so pretty right now, so hilarious and yet touching, so unique and yet universal. And so completely unwritten, and therefore so fraught with the looming specter of total, heart-breaking failure to carry it off in a way that is at all close to my beloved vision for it.

This is the writer's dilemma: I have to be madly in love with an idea in order to even consider starting, given the amount of time and sweat (well, mental sweat) and energy I know it's going to take. But if I'm too in love with it, I'm terrified of blowing it.

This summer, though, I got a wonderful piece of advice: Redefine failure. As in, whenever you find yourself not trying something for fear you'll fail, redefine what "failure" will mean in that situation. For me, for any writer but in particular for those of you who have "always wanted to, but...", maybe failure shouldn't mean "unpublished" or "not as perfect as I hoped." Maybe failure should mean "never tried." And there's one obvious way to make sure that doesn't happen.

Excuse me, I have a book to go start.

* Also the title of an 826michigan student publication of just the kind you'd be supporting if you'd already signed on to force me to dress up like a robot and dance on the Jumbotron.

Try this. Now.

Today is the National Day on Writing. You can go here to see testimonials from writers on why they write or here to join the fun and submit your own writing.

Or, you can do this:

Do not read ahead in these directions.

1. Get a pen or pencil or crayon and some paper or cardboard or parchment. Don't pick them up yet. Just leave them in reach.

2. Check the time. Give yourself 15 minutes. What's 15 minutes?! You'll do your daily 15 minute "Man, I worship Jacqui" dance twice tomorrow.

3. Now, think of that story you've always thought about writing. I don't care if you're not a writer. We all have a story to tell. Plus, you're not going to write the great American novel in 15 minutes, so who cares? If you are a writer, I know there's one in there that scares you because it's not your genre or it's too personal or too hard to pull off. Don't worry about all of that. Just think of the story.

4. Imagine this: the story is already written. You already did all the work. I have it here, in front of me. Doesn't that feel good. I look at it. I read the first line. Hmm. What is the first line? Write it down. Don't think about it. I don't care if it stinks. We are going to shred this and hide it under the coffee grounds in the trash when you're done. C'mon, it's ONE sentence. Write it.

5. Oh, that's intriguing. I must know more. What are the next two sentences? Write them down. What's that? You don't know what to say. Yes, you do. The first line's already written. Just tell me what comes next. Don't worry about craft; remember the coffee grounds.

6. Keep writing. Don't lift your pen from the paper until those 15 minutes are up. I don't care if you think your spelling or your handwriting stinks or if you haven't written anything but checks since high school. I don't care if you write the worst story ever written in the history of stories. Just keep writing. Don't read #7 until 15 minutes are done.

7. When 15 minutes are over, stop. Shred the paper and hide it under the coffee grounds. Or maybe don't. Maybe save it and tomorrow, write for 15 more minutes. Maybe hide a secret notebook that you carry on your person so nobody can find it. Write while you wait in the car line at your kid's school, when you get to the dryer and it still has five more minutes, and while you're waiting for your prescription -- all of a sudden you have 15 minutes a day. Don't think about publishing it or what the audience is or if it meets certain standards. Just write it like you used to write your diary. Write "Do Not Read This Even If I Die! I Mean It!" on the cover. That's what mine says, anyway.

No, seriously. Just try it. And happy National Day on Writing.

Are you what you do?

In which a chance comment sparks a No, Seriously. Just Try It story starter.

"Too often," someone told me this week. "We get caught up in defining ourselves by what we do, instead of who we are."

When she said it, I nodded, because I thought she meant "what we do" like "what our jobs are." But she didn't, it turned out. And I've been thinking about it ever since.

I am a writer, and specifically, I am a writer who believes strongly in showing, not telling. And so, in my mind, we ARE what we DO. Our actions define us as characters.

But then, because I am a writer, I had to ponder further. What I pondered is the deliciously powerful emotional space between who a character says he is and what he does. It can be hilarious* or tragic (think Lolita).

It's very real, this finding yourself unable to stop doing something that goes against everything you think about yourself. And it can drive us to do things which are even more out of character as we try to get back on what we consider our track to be.

This week, I am playing around with that moment when my characters find themselves looking down on the scene and thinking, "What am I doing??? This isn't me!" I am playing with the outrageous things they do to try to get back to themselves.

So. What kind of person does your character THINK she is? Now, what can she do that totally contradicts this? How does she get to that point? And when she realizes where she is, what does she do to escape?

No, Seriously. Just Try It.

*Like, say, you consider yourself a loving wife until you totally space The Mighty Thor's birthday today until he parades into the kids' room while you're in a good game of Pretend To Drown and says, "Ahem, how do I look, FOR 39???"

Out of Order

In which I announce the (occasional) return of the No, Seriously. Just Try It feature.

I'm done writing in order. I used to be a "who needs an outline?" kind of writer. I'd start and go along, writing and making it up as I went. I scoffed at planners and plotters and crowed about my free-wheeling spirit.

Now I'm a convert. I've got an outline. And a spreadsheet. And graphs of emotional development and tension. And it's possible I also have a stack of index cards, each representing a scene, which have color coded information and notes on them, including a little box to check gleefully when that scene is written. And a map.

So I know what's going to happen. And every day, I can write whichever part I want, depending on my mood. Usually, I'm excited to write what comes next. But you know those days when you sit down and groan at the scene for the day? When you stare at the page and you can't think of a single word? Or those days when you know you've only got 30 minutes to write and no paper and you're writing on a napkin? Those days, I just write something. Anything. Two paragraphs from chapter 12. The last three lines. The scene where Ant pretends to be on the swim team.

Then I take all that writing and I put it in order in the manuscript. And sometimes, a miracle happens: I go to write chapter eight, and I find... it's already written. And then I think: I rule!

So today's No, Seriously. Just Try It is out of order. Don't try to write what comes next. Just write the part that interests you, even if it's three lines. Then write another three lines from another bit. It adds up. I promise.

Use the Force

In which I justify leaving The Mighty Thor to do bedtime for both kids so I can wander aimlessly.

I've been a little stuck on my work-in-progress. I'd tried a lot of things, but it needed, um, it needed, er, something. And I didn't know what. Then, the other night, I felt an overwhelming need to get out of the house. I wandered to the car with no idea where I was going. I ended up at the bookstore trolling the writing inspiration shelves researching. I had no idea why I was there or what I was seeking. Then, I came across this:

The Writer's Journey, Mythic Structure for Writers, by Christopher Vogler

"Interesting," I thought to myself. And it was. But it was too dense to read at 9:30 at night.

"I know," I thought. "I'll go to the library tomorrow and look at it there."

The next morning, I couldn't write a thing. So I headed to the library, telling myself I was researching. Because what every middle grade novel needs is more mythic structure. Sigh. Obviously, I was desperate.

I found the book. It didn't help me. But near it on the shelf was this:

"Ooh!" I thought. "That might help!" So I grabbed it. And it was very interesting (and who doesn't love Joan Lowery Nixon?). But it didn't help.

I put it back. And next to it, was another mystery-writing book. And another. And another. And WHAT AM I DOING?! WHY AM I SPENDING DAY CARE TIME READING ADVICE ON SETTING UP YOUR SERIAL KILLER?!?!?!

"Enough," I told myself. "This is useless. Put these back."




And then, as I was reshelving it all, this fell out:

How to Write KILLER Fiction, by Carolyn Wheat.

And because I was avoiding writing at all costs open to new experiences and ideas, I picked it up. And glanced through it.

And there it was, a castaway line in the middle of a chapter I wasn't even really reading. A castaway line in the middle of a chapter I wasn't reading in a book I never should have had.

And it was EXACTLY what my work in progress needed. And I started writing immediately and haven't stopped.

Was it just an accident, a master procrastinator getting lucky? No. I like to think it was some Star Wars-like writer's Force, guiding my light saber. Now, if only I could find Yoda.

So long until tomorrow. And may The Force be with you.

Give it up

I've been stuck. I hate it. You know the feeling, when you've written parts one and two and four and five and part six is calling you and part seven, well, who knows what's going to happen in part seven? Those other scenes are already dancing around in your head, bits of great dialogue and action flitting in and out of your consciousness even when you're not writing. And then there's part three.

I hate part three. It sits there, or rather it DOESN'T sit there because it doesn't yet exist. You haven't written it and you have to because it has all sorts of information or transportation or other STUFF that has to happen before part four. So you have to write part three and oh! I just thought of the greatest idea for another book! NO! Must. write. part. three. Blah.

Part three, I loathe you. But I am going to write you, I promise. Just as soon as I reorganize my entire office and go through all the children's clothes to see what still fits and make this call and play one more hour's worth of this game and eat this entire box of chocolate chip Bunny Grahams.

And then there's the guilt. I SHOULD be writing. I hate the guilt even more than I hate part three.

"Just agree to yourself that you're going to write something bad," everyone says. So you write something really bad and sometimes it works: it's not nearly as bad as you think and hey! It's written!

And other times you are unpleasantly surprised to find that when you set out to write drivel, often what you get is, well, drivel. And still part three is not what it needs to be.

So I am trying something new. I'm not writing part three. Face it: if it's this boring for me to write it, it is never going to be interesting to read. So now there IS no part three. And there might not be a part nine either. In fact, I have decided that any part of my book that I am not excited to write, any part that doesn't have me hurrying the kids along in the morning just so I can get to the page, I'm not writin' it. Yeah, I'll have to figure out how to squeeze that information and that transportation and that other stuff elsewhere. Or not. It's possible I'll never miss it. We'll see.

So, in this week's No, Seriously. Just Try It, I release you. If it's not fun to write, don't write it. Or figure out how to make it fun.*

Take that part three. Spend an eternity in the oblivion of the unwritten. I'm over you. And hello part four!

* Thor and Space Chicken would like to offer some suggestions...

Fill in the blanks

In which we play Mad Libs with your story.

I'm on a Rick Riordan kick. Last week I read the first installment of the 39 Clues series. This week, I read The Sea of Monsters, the second book in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.* If you were a Harry Potter fan and haven't checked out Percy Jackson, you gotta go find it. It's not the same kind of fantasy, but it has all the adventure and humor plus Greek mythology. And the chapter titles are the best ever, including my number one chapter title of all time: "We Hail the Taxi of Eternal Torment."

I stand in amazement at Riordan's ability to get to the point. No drawn out introductions, no "character building" scenes that go nowhere, and absolutely no question what his characters' motives are. And the goals are tangible, not "I want my mother's approval." We all want our mothers' approvals, and that need certainly drives our choices, but it can't drive your whole plot. Or most likely your plot will go nowhere. It's okay for your character to have this kind of internal motivation, but she needs an external, tangible goal too.

So, here is your challenge this week. Fill in the blanks in each of the following sentences. You can't put more than seven words in each blank. No excuses, no "oh, my book is different," and absolutely no purely internal or emotional answers.

1. What my character wants most of all is ___________________________.
... to get back to Kansas.

2. In order to get it, he/she has to ________________________________.
... convince Oz to help her.

3. The first step to achieving what's in #2 is to _______________________.
... get to Oz without being killed.

4. If my character isn't successful, the tragic and terrifying result will be _________________.
... never seeing her family again. Or, having to live with munchkins. Or, having that darn song stuck in her head forever.

Can you do it? No, seriously. Just try it.

* If you go to the Percy Jackson website, by the way, you can hear RR read the first chapters of each book.
p.s. Sweet cover image by John Rocco. Man, that guy is everywhere. I LOVE his work. Plus I sat next to him at Adam Rex's seminar in LA this summer and the under the breath comments were hilarious.
p.p.s. ALA awards going to be announced in four minutes. Stay tuned for rants and raves.

Draw your story

In which I actually discuss writing!

Last week I was struggling. My picture book wasn't working. It was a great idea, interesting character, good plot, lovely language, perfect beginning and ending, and yet. still. not. working. and I. didn't. know. WHY?!?! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! (bangs head on wall)

I got a little frustrated. I showed it to anyone who would look. Everybody agreed: it was fabulous, but then not...somehow. I was ready to feed it to the squirrels.

And then I took it to one of my critique groups and listened to Diane read it aloud.

"OH!" I said. "I see what's wrong! The story goes like THIS, instead of like THIS!" And for the "THIS" parts, I made squiggling gestures with my hands.

Because they are wonderful and because they know my peculiar craziness, my critique group did not laugh, though they did stare a bit.

"See?!" I went on. "It needs to do THIS." And I drew a bunch of squares in my notebook. "But right now, it's like THIS." And I drew a graph.

Again, you gotta love my critique group (I do) because they were like "Oh, yeah, we see," and then gave great suggestions for resculpting the story.

Today I want you to draw your story. Not illustrate it, but graph it. You can use boxes, where each box is a scene and the stairs climb up as the tension does, or climb down as things get worse for your character. Or, you can set up an X and Y axis and draw a line graph. The top graph over to the left shows how I want my story to go; things get less :) for the character until the very end. The bottom shows how it was going, and why it wasn't working.

What shape is your story? And does it have the shape you want it to? Three things to consider:

1. Where does your story really start? If the beginning of your story shape is flat, if your scenes read "intro intro intro," there's too much intro. You get one box or a small bit of graph line before we need to go up or down. Otherwise, I'm bored.

2. Is your story going somewhere overall? Or is it a series of same-sized peaks and valleys? And what shape do you want it to be? Personally, I like to be able to discern a trend amidst the squiggles; if things aren't getting progressively worse for your character, if everything comes back to where it was after every episode, I never have to get emotionally involved, since I can rest assured all will be well.

3. Where is the peak or point of no hope of your story? Part of the problem I had was that the emotional climax of the story came too far before the end of the graph. Whether it's a picture book or a novel, you want very little time between the climax and the end. One box, maybe, or a little zip up on the graph.

So today, I want you to draw the shape of your story. No, seriously, just try it. And report back what you find.

On Your Mark, Set, Discipline

(closes screen on fifteenth game of Coffee Buzz)*

I'm back. I know I said I was back yesterday, but the book list was kind of lame, I admit. I hope the break didn't make my hundreds of three readers mom lose interest.

And (drum roll), it's Monday and I know many of you are exhausted from chasing your children for two weeks eager to get back to writing. Here's something I am trying this year: discipline.

I was inspired by Anthony Trollope, the famous author of, um, er, (goes to Wikipedia) -- holy cow, that guy wrote a lot of books. Check out the list! Wow. I have read, er, not a single one of those. Huh. Any Trollope fans out there care to recommend a first read? (screws around on Wikipedia a while) -- oh, er, yes, anyway he wrote a lot of books and where was I? Yes! Discipline!

Anthony Trollope was the master of discipline. Rumor -- and by rumor, I mean The New Yorker (finds the link, trolls The New Yorker site) has it that he -- oh, look, it's not rumor; he wrote it himself in his autobiography. Maybe I should read that (spends several minutes following links for Trollope's autobiography).

In ANY case, here is what Trollope did -- by the way, the quote is from The New Yorker; I found it at Daily Routines, which is a cool site (checks out other authors' processes; wonders if reading interview with Orhan Pamuk for fifth time will make her writing as good as his). What? Oh, yes. The quote:

"Every day for years...he woke in darkness and wrote from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m., with his watch in front of him. He required of himself two hundred and fifty words every quarter of an hour. If he finished one novel before eight-thirty, he took out a fresh piece of paper and started the next."

Wow. And then he went to his day job with the post office. That is discipline. When did he brainstorm funny Facebook status updates and Google himself?!

I need this. I need this like I need a personal masseuse and a week-long writing and bread eating retreat in Paris -- mmm, bread. And cheese! And French coffee! (heads to kitchen for snack). Okay, maybe I need it even more than I thought.

So I found a free online stopwatch. You can put it in your Google bar,** set the timer, and write until the alarm goes off. If you finish what you're writing, be like Trollope: turn the page and start something new. No excuses, no stopping, no internet.

No, seriously. Try it. And if even the stopwatch isn't enough for you, you can always try Dr. Wicked...


* Do not follow that link. For real, it will take over your life. It will leave you as jittery as if you'd drunk all that coffee yourself and it's not even wordily hip like Text Twist. Don't say you weren't warned.
** Does that sound to anyone else like the name of a strip club?

Catching up with the muse

Welcome to yesterday's installment of No, Seriously. Just Try It.

But first, we interrupt this program to thank Candace for naming this month's festivities. After careful analysis, I've decided we are definitely Decemberserking these days. If you enjoy puns, Candace (aka Sudo Nimm) is your woman. If not, well, why not?

For today's No, Seriously. Just Try It feature, I want you to get your pencil and paper, or your laptop, or your wax tablet and stylus. Now I want you to take those writing devices and toss them aside. We are not writing today. We are channeling the muse.

Here is a secret about the muse: she's subtle. She gives you hints and ideas all the time, but you keep missing them. Today, I want you to go somewhere you have never been before, preferably somewhere crowded. Pretend you are the main character in a middle grade chapter book mystery where some beneficent stranger is dropping clues for you everywhere you go. For everything you see, everything you overhear, everything upon which you stumble, think, "What is my muse trying to tell me? How can I use this?"

For example, graffiti. It is not just graffiti. It is a message from your muse. Today at the library, somebody had written, "Live for yourself. I did. Guys suck." on the wall. Clearly a message from my muse. You go to the museum and lo and behold! A special exhibit on ancient Persian pottery. Clearly a message from your muse. You turn the corner and someone's giving out fliers advertising a performance of a play called Jimmy and the Goat Man. Clearly a message from your muse.

What's that? You want to know what these messages mean? Ah. Dear child. That is for you to interpret. The muse is a complicated and cryptic woman. But when one of her messages hits its mark, you'll know.

I struggled with a plot problem all day. I stepped into Tink's music class this afternoon in time to hear the teacher casually mention an obscure fact about J.S. Bach. It was like inspiration rained down on my head. Her random comment was EXACTLY what I needed to figure out the problem I'd had all day.

So get out there and listen and watch. And report back what you hear from your muse.*

* Is anyone else marvelling at how many "muse" puns I DIDN'T make in this post?! Tink's muse-ic class. A-muse-ment park. Muse-eum. Stan Muse-ial. Okay, that last one makes no sense.

Beulah at the Arch-Off

This week's No, Seriously. Just Try It is about choices and endings.

A few weeks ago, I asked you to make me care about what your main character wants. Okay, so now I care. But I have another question: what does she have to give up to get it?

You've made it hard on her. You've created obstacles, dropped her into difficult situations, put a really evil Grob on her tail. Now I want you to make it even harder. I want her last obstacle to be herself. Right as your character's story is about to wrap up, I want you to give her a choice, a Sophie's choice, an impossible, either way she chooses she has to lose something that can never be replaced choice. And then I want you to let your main character write your ending.

Here's the trick: the choice has to be set up so that we readers cannot possibly know which way she will choose until the moment she does. And then, whatever she chooses has to not only make sense for her character, but also fill us with a "Yes! That's what I was hoping!" flood of satisfaction.

Okay, what am I talking about? Say your character, Beulah, loves archery.* She's an expert archer, but she's never won the local archery championship; she comes in second every year to snobby Gilda McGhee. This year, the last year she's eligible, there's a cash prize that Beulah's family desperately needs. She's been training and training, practicing every morning early. The day of the big arch-off arrives. The competitors are preparing their bags of arrows.** Gilda McGhee is called over to the judge's desk to talk with the local media. She leaves her stuff unattended. Beulah is double checking her equipment when she trips and falls onto Gilda's bag. She dents, ever so slightly, Gilda's three favorite shooting arrows.

Most likely nobody will notice. Most likely the bend in the arrows will send them just a bit off course. Like just enough to overcome the tiny lead Gilda always has over Beulah. If she says something, she risks disqualification, but at least it would be a fair match. If she says nothing, it's cheating. She might win even without cheating, but she might come in second again. Her family needs the money. But she thinks her grandmother, whom she adores and whose respect and love she values highly, saw her hit the bag and would know what happened. Under normal circumstances, Beulah would never cheat. But you've thrown her into a place where "normal" doesn't apply. What does Beulah decide?

So, what is the choice your character faces just as her journey's about to end? How does she decide? And what does she have to lose?

No, seriously. Try it. And report back; I want to hear what she decides.



* about which it will soon become apparent I know nothing
** quills? skewers?

AutoSummarize in time for Thanksgiving

Today's No, Seriously. Just Try It is inspired by the AutoSummarize feature in Microsoft Word.*

If you use Microsoft Word and you're really, really bored,** you can use the AutoSummarize feature. It's in the Tools pull down menu. Choose to have a summary at the head of your document and set the percentage to 10% and the computer will autosummarize your work. It turned my whole work in progress into the following:

Ant stopped.
Ant nodded.
Ant yelled. Ant yelled. Ant yelled. Ant ran. Ant yelled. Ant walked. Ant stopped. Ant yelled.

Apparently my main character yells a lot.

Don't you wish it could REALLY AutoSummarize your book? Because at some point, you have to answer the question: "What is your book about?" In fact, you will probably have to answer the question next week at Thanksgiving. What will you say?

I'm not talking about query letters or "elevator pitches" where you have to sell the book. I'm talking about knowing what your book is about, whether it's a picture book or a novel. It's so simple it sounds stupid, but try it. You may be surprised.

So. Pretend I'm a friend who cares. Wait. I AM your friend and I DO care, so just pretend it's me. Except it IS me asking, so you don't have to pretend. Aargh. Just answer the question, okay? What is your book about? Can you tell me in a 5 sentence paragraph? Remember, you're not trying to sell me the book (so no "In a world where justice is dead, one boy stands alone...").

Now, pretend I am your Aunt Emmaline. "So, honey, I hear you're writing a book? Great! What is your book about?" You've got two sentences before I go baste the turkey.

Next, pretend I'm your mother-in-law and I need something to tell my friends when I report back with news of everyone from Thanksgiving. "What's your book about?" You have 10 words.

Okay. I'm your cousin's boyfriend and I'm only pretending to like you until the pie is served. "So, er, what did you say that book was about?" You've got 5 words.

I'm your great-grandma and I can't hear a thing. You get one chance, one single word, to scream at me when I put my soft hand on yours, beaming with pride and say, "I'm so proud you're writing again. I still have that duck story you wrote in third grade. What's your book about?"

So, what is your book about?

* AutoSummarize was featured in the time-wasting suggestions section of the NaNo website this week.
** Like the snowflakes aren't even mesmerizing any more bored.

Magic Objects

In which you must not laugh at my quickly-penned writing example.

Today's No, Seriously. Just Try It* was inspired by leaf catching and by this hilarious video envisioning the sales pitch for the Harry Potter series.**

I love the "magic batteries" part.

Yesterday I took Tink out leaf-catching. We came back in and Captain Destructo saw her clutching the leaf she'd caught.

"My hab it?" he asked, using his favorite three words.

"No, you can't have it," she told him. "You can have one of those."

"It's just a leaf," someone said.

I thought, It's not just a leaf. She caught it.

It's a MAGIC leaf. And it's the story that makes it magic. Even if you don't write fantasy where talismans and seeing stones come in every bag, you can make magic objects in your writing. And they will use their magic to show (not tell) whatever you want them to.

Answer me this: What object does your main character always have with her? It can be anything: a seashell, an old box of raisins, a pair of shoes. I've used a paper bag full of candy, an old backpack, and a spray bottle of bleach.

Describe the magic object. What does it look like? How does it feel? Where does she carry it? How does it affect the way she walks? How has her carrying it changed it? Make us able to smell it, to feel it in our hands.

12 year-old Mira always carries a deflated balloon in her pocket. It's rubbery and sticky. It used to be bright red, but it's faded to pink. There are bits of hair and paper and lint stuck to it, but it still smells faintly of cherry lip gloss from the day she gave it a victory kiss.

Okay, tell me the story: why is it magic? Here's the catch: your story can't be "she got it from her (insert name of special person here)." Too easy and overdone. Make the story your character's own.

Mira won the balloon tossing a ping pong ball into a cup at the Welcome to Summer Fair at her church. Her dad bought her cotton candy, a stuffed cow, and three chances with the ping pong balls. An hour later, she'd eaten the cotton candy, lost the cow, and fallen off the Donkey Ride and broken her arm in three places. Two hours later her dad had explained why he was being so nice, and then kissed her goodbye. By three weeks later, all she had was the deflated balloon, stuck in her pocket everyday as a reminder what happens when you think things are going great.

Lastly, now that you've introduced us to your magic object, when can you bring it back? When in the story can your magic object appear, right when the character needs it, or realizes she no longer needs it? How can it change your story?

"Okay!" Mira agreed. She'd try it. She knew it wouldn't work, but it might be fun, and if David wanted to take her, she ought to give him a chance. She grabbed her shoes and her backpack.

"Do you have your bus pass?" David asked.

Mira reached into her back pocket for the bus pass. It wasn't there. Instead, she pulled out the balloon, faded and torn and glaring at her.

"What's that?" David asked.

"It's nothing," Mira said, stuffing the balloon back in her pocket. She handed him the key. "Look, this is stupid. It's never going to work. You go ahead. I have homework to do anyway."***

What is your character's magic object? How did it get to be magic, and how does it change your story? No, seriously. Just try it. And report back.

* No, Seriously. Just Try It is an ongoing (until I get bored of it) Monday feature with ideas for making your writing shinier. There's an explanation of how it started here.
** WARNING: a naughty word appears in this video.
***It's a quick idea to make a point people; stop gagging.

Bottom of the Ninth

In which I explain why I love baseball, and why your writing should mimic it.

The Phillies played the Rays on Saturday night in Game 3 of the World Series. The score was tied until the bottom of the ninth, when Carlos Ruiz came up to bat. The bases were loaded. Now, Carlos Ruiz is not a great hitter. And he'd already hit one home run in the game, so odds were he was done. Carlos Ruiz is also slow. He's so slow that Tampa pulled one of their outfielders into the infield to keep him from getting a hit. This is like your older brother and his friends letting you play, but yelling, "Bring it in!" whenever you come up to bat. There were Rays players all over the place. So what were the chances of him hitting the ball and making it to first before being thrown out? Zero. He had no chance.

And get this: the reason the game is tied? Ruiz blew it with a throwing error earlier in the game. So he already feels bad.

Also, there was a ninety minute rain delay, so by the time Ruiz gets up, it's almost 2:00am. Everyone's exhausted. And soggy. And they have to play again Sunday.

The pitch comes and Ruiz makes contact. He hits this bouncing, slow-motion dribble down the third base line. Evan Longoria, the Rays' third baseman*, charges the ball. The guy on third is sprinting for home. Carlos Ruiz is chugging to first. Longoria fires the ball towards home.

And 46,000 fans scream. 46,000 fans who sat through rain and delays and a bad call by the umpire and their team blowing the lead, and they're all still there. Philadelphia hasn't won a sports championship of any kind in 25 years, but there they all are, screaming.

Because in baseball, there is always a chance. You can't leave. You can't turn off the TV and think, "They'll never come back." Because time can't run out and the team that's ahead can't kneel for three downs or play keep away around the court. They have to keep pitching the ball. So you just never know. You have to stay standing up and screaming.

Why am I telling you all of this? Two reasons:
1) I'm a baseball evangelist.
2) This is what I want you to no, seriously, just try this week. I want you to make your book like baseball. I want you to look at your story as a whole. I want you to print it out or lay it out on the computer so you can see every page. Now tell me: in which scenes are your readers going to be standing on their seats, praying and holding hands and screaming? In which scenes is Carlos Ruiz at bat and fans all over the world stop breathing? Circle those scenes in green, or decorate them with stars or do something to celebrate them.

Now, in which scenes are your readers going to sit down? When will they go get another hot dog? Cross those scenes out. Seriously. You want your readers refusing to pee because it would mean putting the book down. Don't give them a commercial break, and don't ask them to stick around for hours after your climax, watching your team run out the clock.

Sometimes we get so caught up in making sure our plots work, making sure our readers have the information they need, that we forget to leave them breathless. So this week, I challenge you to make sure every page of your book finds me tense with anticipation, and screaming on my seat because, like baseball, I just never know what. might. happen.

Oh, and I know. I didn't tell you what happened. You can read it here.

* no relation to Eva

Seven Reasons WhyMo

In today's No, Seriously. Just Try It I encourage you to make your families hate me even more than they did when I convinced you to spend all summer inside reading.


Why try NaNoWriMo?*

1. Because practice makes perfect and even if nobody ever sees a word of what you write, you'll have learned something.

2. Because you're like me and you do your best writing when you trick your Inner Editor into shutting down because you're "just messing around."

3. Because even if you're not a writer you always wanted to write a novel and you know deep down it's never going to happen unless you do it fast.

4. Because you can be my writing "buddy."

5. Because "I must finish my novel!" is a great way to get out of Thanksgiving dinner clean up.

6. Because there are absolutely zero consequences for signing up and failing to finish.

7. Because it's so much fun.


No, seriously. Just try it. Who's in?


* National Novel Writing Month. NOT just for professional writers. Click for more info.

Why Fight the Evil Grobs?

In which I ask you to forget you like your main character and really stick it to him.

Today's episode of No, Seriously. Just Try It was sparked by a conversation on the playground.*

Everything in this conversation was screamed at full blast.

MRS. TUTTLEBUM:** (sitting on bench at outskirts of playground) Joey!
JOEY: (running across playground away from said bench) What?
MRS. T***: Joey!
JOEY: What?
MRS. T: Aren't you cold?
JOEY: What?
MRS. T: Do you want your coat?
JOEY: What?
MRS. T: Your coat. Do you want it?
JOEY: What?
MRS. T: (sigh) Never mind.
JOEY: (running to his mom) What?
MRS. T: It doesn't matter.
JOEY: (reaching his mom, panting) What?
MRS. T: Never mind. It doesn't matter.
JOEY: Then why were you screaming?!

Indeed. If it wasn't that important, why go through all the trouble?

We all know good characters have to want something. They have to be motivated. And any good pre-writing exercise has "What does your character want?" as one of the first questions. Today, I want to talk about WHY your character wants it.

"My character wants to be prom queen." "My character wants to have freckles." "My character wants to find the one true Stunstone that can defeat the evil Grobs."

Why? Well, who wouldn't want to be prom queen or have freckles or defeat evil Grobs? But is that enough?

The question for you today is this: how can you make the motivation even more important to your character?

Answer me these questions (no reading ahead before answering, okay?):

1. What does your main character want?

2. Why does she want that?

3. So what? What could make her want it even more? List three ideas.

4. Nah. I still don't care. What could make her want it even more than that? List three more ideas.

5. I know. You're out of ideas and into "I'd never really write it like this" territory. But I still don't care. What's the one giant thing that could make getting what she wants the absolute most important thing in the world, more important than anything else she's ever wanted, even oxygen?

6. Okay, now go write it like that. No, seriously. Just try it.


In case that makes no sense, here are sample answers:

1. What does your main character want?
She wants to defeat the evil Grobs.

2. Why does she want that?
Because they're enslaving her people.

3. So what? What could make her want it even more? List three ideas.
She has something she has to do that she can't do from their prison

4. Nah. I still don't care. What could make her want it even more than that? List three more ideas.
The something she has to do is go back and rescue somebody. Her younger sister. Who's happily waiting for her in their hiding place, expecting her to come back with dinner.

5. I know. You're out of ideas and into "I'd never really write it like this" territory. But I still don't care. What's the one giant thing that could make getting what she wants the absolute most important thing in the world, more important than anything else she's ever wanted, even oxygen?
Her sister will starve without her. Her sister has no idea the Grobs are advancing on the hiding place. Oh! Her sister wears the Stunstone around her neck; the Grobs will try to steal it, which will rip her chest open, exposing her entrails, which the Grobs find delicious. Her sister will die a gruesome death thinking all along that my character's abandoned her.

Oh, wait. That's The English Patient. Sort of. You get the idea. Now, go and write.


* and adapted from an exercise in D. Maass's revision workbook Writing the Breakout Novel, and lots of other places.
** Names have been changed to keep parents at my playground from knowing I eavesdrop on them constantly protect the innocent
*** Anyone else picturing Mr. T in drag? No? Oh. As you were, then.

You Can't Go Wrong With Dripping Letters

Today's episode of No, Seriously. Just Try It. is brought to you by The Mighty Thor who reports, "Lately, I am thinking about book covers."*

I worked at a bookstore for five years. I shelved hundreds of books for kids and adults. I know about book jacket marketing and book jacket dynamics. I know that, as The Mighty Thor said just now, "the cover doesn't even have to represent what's in the book; if it's a cool cover, people will buy it." Despite all this, I am still a sucker for a good book cover.

For today, though, I want you to forget that book jackets are marketing devices. I want you to think of your cover as one visual image encapsulating your whole book. It needs to convey the title, the mood you want to set, the one mental picture you want people to have as they start reading, and maybe a snapshot of your setting -- all in one image.

With that in mind, design your book cover. No, seriously. Just try it. I don't care if you can't draw. Lay it out. What goes where? Cut things out of magazines if you have to. Steal pictures of kids off other people's blogs.** What is your title? What font will it be in? What scene is so pivotal it can represent the whole book?

The hope, of course, is that having to answer these questions will crystallize what's important to you in your book. Also, if the cover's done, it'll be just like the book is already written, right?

The Mighty Thor did have some suggestions:
1. Dust sprinkled across the background (think Philip Pullman).
2. Killer zombies killing someone.
3. Cave trolls. In fact, Thor has announced that he's going to write a book and the whole thing is going to be an ode to cave trolls.
4. "You can't go wrong with dripping letters."
5. He will under no circumstances buy your book if the cover features stills of the actors in the film version.

So, with all that in mind, what does your cover look like?

* These are the kind of conversations we have all the time in our house.
** Not really, okay?

Throw a Delicious Tantrum

In which I pitch a fit, and so do you.

Welcome to the second installment of our new feature: No, Seriously, Just Try It. For background on all this fun, click here.

I got to pitch a fit this week. Aren't they delicious sometimes? I mean, most of the time in the world, we go along, acting all mature (well, most of the time, er, oh, and this too, heh heh) and trying to teach children not to have tantrums and to be fair to others and blah blah BLAH. The fact is, we all have tempers. We can control them, of course. But every once in a while it's so good to blow your top, isn't it? Yum.

On the other hand... you may also know that I used to be a teacher. I never ever flipped my lid while teaching. In fact, I was remarkably unflappable, I have been told. I was talking with some second graders one day and one of them complained that her teacher had yelled at her class. One of my students said, "Oh, Ms. Jacqui doesn't yell." I was so proud. Then he went on. "She whispers. It's much scarier."

He was right. As fun as it is to go postal,* sometimes it's much more effective to go small. To whisper, to refuse to answer the questions, to drop a silence so hard on someone she can hear your blood boiling. Sometimes, it's better to say as little as possible, and to let the listener (or reader) fill in the rest.

Here is your challenge for this week: try it both ways. Take a scene on which you are working and write it twice. In the first, have a character totally lose it, over the top, let it all out melodrama. It doesn't have to be anger or rage; if it's a confession scene, make her tell it ALL. If she's finally expressing her lurve for someone, give her a soap opera star worthy speech.

Then, put that version aside and make her do it again much much smaller. Whispers, not letting anything out, the minimal possible dialogue she needs to keep things moving.

The final version will probably be somewhere in the middle, but I'm always surprised by what my characters say when I let them lose it, and by what they do in the face of the silent treatment.

No, seriously. Just try it. And come back and tell us how it went.

* And to think of fun ways to say it. Does "go postal" offend postal workers, I wonder? I mean no offense; it's just so descriptive. But if it hurts my mailman's feelings I'll stop using it.

No, Seriously. Just Try It.

In which I tell a story, eventually relate it to writing, challenge you, and introduce a new Monday feature here in Jacqui's Room.*

1. The story
I took Captain Destructo to the grocery store the other day. I don't know if I've mentioned it yet, but in addition to being, um, active, Destructo is, at 22 months, the size of the average three-and-a-half year old. I am not joking. So he can reach everything, including everything in the cart. His favorite thing to do is reach back, grab something (like say a loaf of bread or a package of raw hot dogs or a baby wipes), and to eat it straight through the packaging. Shopping with Destructo is like shopping with an over-caffeinated goat.

So I'm standing at the check out counter, tossing half-chewed items onto the conveyor belt, taking them away from Destructo and putting them back on the conveyor belt, promising him stickers if he'll just not. be. a toddler. FOR. FIVE. MINUTES, trying to hold my wallet under my chin, dropping my wallet, wondering how the heck a giant jar of mango and chipotle chutney got into the cart... The usual. And I hear a snicker.

I look up. There's a young woman standing there rubbing her little bump of a pregnant belly. And staring at me. Absofreakinglutely smug smug smug. You could practically see her brain saying, "MY baby is NEVER going to..." and "I am NEVER going to be one of THOSE moms!"

So I shouted, "Think fast!" and threw the hot dogs at her. No, I didn't. But I thought to myself, "Honey, NONE of us was ever going to be one of those moms. Look forward to seeing you here in about a year."

2. I promise we are getting to the part that's about writing soon.
So then I got to thinking: this is how life goes. One of the things that makes getting older bearable interesting is the way we tell ourselves, "I'll NEVER" and then we do, and there's a story that gets us there.

I swore I would never in a million billion years...what? What have you sworn you'd never do that now you do all the time? And how did you get there?

3. I challenge you to just try this:
In my wanderings through the world on online card craft blogs, I noticed they challenge each other a lot more than we book bloggers do. And they DO the challenges.** So, I am stealing the idea. I challenge you this:

Look at your work in progress or something you're revising or anything. What would your main character never, ever do, not in a million billion years or for a thousand dollars?

Now, make her do it. Make her do the one thing she would have sworn would never happen. And make sure to show (not tell) us how she got there. Tada! You've made your character more complex and your story more full of tension.

4. No, seriously.
Really, go write it. Oh, come on, just try it.
Which brings us to our new Monday feature: No, Seriously. Just Try It.
This idea grew out of three things I've been pondering while revising my novel.
1. My best writing comes when it's pressure free and I am thinking "just try it" and having fun.
2. One of the hardest things for me about revising is thinking outside the box; it's hard, when you're so wrapped up in something, to envision how it could be different and better in big ways.
3. I should blog more about writing.

So every Monday for the next six weeks, I'll have a No, Seriously. Just Try It (hereafter abbreviated N,S.JTI.) idea for you. But you have to promise me you'll try some of them, okay? And you have to tell us how it went in the comments. And I still want to know what's been crossed off your "I'd never" list.

Who's in?


* See what happens when I drink a triple latte?
** They also give each other a lot more presents, which they call Blog Candy. I'm working on that part.