Category: Fiction

True North

A few weeks ago an editing client presented me with a question. “How can I know,” she asked, “which direction is the best one for this story to take?” Her novel was essentially finished but there were issues with the middle so she’d hired me to provide feedback. Her beta readers had highlighted the muddied middle, and the writer herself knew it was a problem. There was so much going on that the through line of the story had gotten cloudy and the ending, while nicely executed, didn’t have the punch it deserved. Each of the beta readers, however, had come up with a different solution. One reader suggested thread A be dropped, another loved thread A but argued that thread B needed to go.

The writer wanted me to make the final decision and choose one. I couldn’t. I could point out the pros and cons of losing one thread over the other. I could give my opinion on how each thread deepened the basic conflict and impacted the main character (and even the supporting players). I could discuss and debate the ending payoff of one thread over another but I could not choose. For one thing, there are many right ways to tell a story. The story could be told, and told well, minus either of the two threads. Most importantly, however, it wasn’t my novel. I could advise, I could be a midwife to her process, but she had to birth the story herself.

She needed to find her true north, or the true north for this particular novel, and go from there.

True north is our internal compass. It guides us through life at our deepest level and helps us stay on track. With all the chatter we’re subjected to on a daily basis – from family, friends, the media or, in this case, from beta readers, it’s easy to lose sight of true north. It’s easy to doubt our instincts when we can barely hear the still, small voice of our soul.

I suggested to this writer that she employ Vanessa Grant’s ‘garbage can’ test. Pretend she’s throwing thread A in the garbage can and proceeding with thread B. How does that make her feel at a gut level? Then I told her to switch it up and pretend she’s throwing thread B in the garbage and moving forward with thread A. How is her gut feeling now? Don’t overthink it, I told her. Go with the initial feelings that arise. She could do this exercise in a few minutes or spend a couple of days mulling it over. But she needed to honor her feelings and not over analyse them.

She needed to decide what was most important to her, what direction would give her the most satisfaction when it came to writing the novel. There wasn’t a right way or a wrong way. There was only her way.

True north would point her in the right direction.

We’re Celebrating!

 

If you’re in Victoria this Wednesday, June 7th, please join us at Munro’s Books where a group of us will be launching our spring releases. I’ll be talking about my latest book, In Plain Sight. It’ll be a fun evening. I hope to see you there!

A Matter of Taste

The first crop of spring asparagus has arrived. Field asparagus, I mean. There’s such a thing as sea asparagus too, and that’ll show up at the market in June, right around my wedding anniversary. Sea asparagus is delicious. The tiny stalks are thinner than a straw and their taste is subtle but unique: a little ocean and a little lettuce. There’s nothing fishy about sea asparagus, nothing even remotely close in taste to its earth-grown cousin.

I first had it at a fancy restaurant where we Dined – capital D dined – to mark a milestone anniversary. It was a magical night. So every year when I spot sea asparagus at the market I immediately think of my love, a delicious dinner with sablefish or maybe scallops, a crisp glass of Prosecco,  a table overlooking the ocean, and candlelight.

Taste can conjure memories and stir emotions as much as the sight of a child’s first photo with Santa . . . the smell of steak barbecuing on a summer night . . . the sound of rain on the roof while you’re in bed . . . or the touch of a puppy licking your hand.

My job as a writer is to mine the senses, including the sense of taste. But it can be easy to slip into taste clichés: soothing hot chocolate on a cold night; refreshing ice cream at the lake; salty corn dogs at the fair. Those tastes are relatable because most of us have had hot chocolate on a cold night or a corn dog at the fair. But taste, like so many other things, is subjective.

Take corn dogs, for instance. I had a corn dog just once and once was enough. I was nine; it was my birthday; the corn dog made reappearance during a ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl. I haven’t had a corn dog since and the very sight of them is enough to make my stomach flip.

Grilled cheese sandwiches, a comfort food for some, remind me of a friend who died. So does cherry pound cake and licorice candy. Depending on my frame of mind, any one of those foods can make me feel nostalgic.

Other tastes have more positive connotations for me.

Braised short ribs take me right back to the comfort of Sunday dinner when I was a kid.

Coconut-covered marshmallows remind me of my grandfather and make me happy.

The taste of chives takes me back to my first garden and the sense of accomplishment I felt at planting it.

A sesame ball with red bean paste is guaranteed to make me feel sixteen again . . . thinking about friends . . . travel . . . and new horizons.

Earthy and old-fashioned date squares inspire gratitude because I’m reminded of a woman who gave me a place to live when I was a teen.

One sip of a margarita mentally transports me to a Mexican beach no matter where I happen to be.

And the taste of cherry cheesecake reminds me of the exhaustion, confusion and joy of being a new mother . . . and reminds me too of the friend who showed up with it and an offer to hold my infant so I could take a shower.

Taste can be a memory that lives again. Do you have any taste memories?

Slow Living . . . Slow Writing

The universe has such a sense of humor.

A few weeks ago I started reading The Art of Slow Writing by Louise DeSalvo. Literally within a day of cracking chapter one, I accepted three rush writing jobs. I used to take on quick turnaround projects fairly often, but it’s been a while since I’ve done it. In this case, two of the jobs were for editors I knew and respected (and I’d written for them before so I understood their needs) and both were on familiar subjects. The third job was a referral from another writer on a subject I knew nothing about, and one completely out of my comfort zone. Deciding that I needed the challenge of stretching myself and learning something new, I took it on too.

Soon after, my world became a frantic, one-note song. As Louise DeSalvo waxed on eloquently and with great passion about the joy, the need and the benefits of slow writing, I wrote faster and faster. My focus became insular, my thoughts revolved around the jobs I had in front of me, the looming deadline, the fact that I couldn’t let these editors down. Write, write, write. Quick, quick, quick. One of the jobs became problematic; another simply took longer than it should have because the subject demanded considerably more word space than I’d been allotted.

As one week stretched into two and my deadline loomed closer, my attention to the outside world – family, friends, Team Sheltie, the garden, even the hour I normally devote to making dinner – faded along with my patience, my serenity, my ability to focus on anything beyond the work. My self-absorption was complete.

I saw it happening. When emails and calls to sources weren’t returned as quickly as I expected (or wanted), my inner toddler began to pout. I pacified her, dug deep and stayed in adult mode but, in truth, I expected the world to speed up right along with me.

There’s a reason for that. As DeSalvo points out in her book, we are a society in ‘hurry up’ mode. We’re conditioned to expect, appreciate and reward speed. Rather than putting a letter or a card in the mail and waiting a week or more for it to arrive, emails can be delivered electronically in a minute or two. Text messages are even faster, pinging their arrival in mere seconds. It’s a far different world than it was before air mail. Back then, overseas mail went by ship and could take weeks, months even, to reach its destination. In the sixteenth century, DeSalvo says it could take years to receive a reply to a letter you sent to Europe.

DeSalvo believes we’ve internalized the idea that the only things worth doing are those things that can be accomplished quickly. Writers, particularly those writing commercial fiction, equate their worth with the speed of their output. In the world of sales, reps are rewarded by how quickly they land the client. World leaders are judged on what they can accomplish not just in their full term, but in their first one hundred days.

Don’t get me wrong, fast isn’t always bad. A delicious stir fry can be made and served in fifteen minutes. A heartfelt apology can be delivered in five. Reading haiku takes mere seconds. So does saying ‘I love you.’

I’ll take on tight deadlines again. I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie, probably from years spent in radio and TV news where putting together a story for that hourly (or daily) newscast was, well, a rush. But I’m not going to ignore or think less of the writing I do that requires time and attention to come to its full potential. I’m not going to stay in hurry up mode as a matter of routine.

As my sat down to write this blog, Mr. Petrol Head gave me a ‘just because it’s Wednesday’ gift: he came home with a Bluetooth speaker, something I’d lusted after for a while. So I’m writing this to music. So far I haven’t heard a single one-note song. One-note songs apparently aren’t all that common. I’m guessing it’s because playing a one-note song – living a one-note song – means missing out on the beauty of life’s orchestra.

And who would want to miss out on that?

Short and Sweet

Since I’m still in the middle of two gnarly deadlines, this week’s blog will be short and sweet.

First up, for those of you who follow the moon, the stars, or just like to be in the know, today marks the new moon at 6 degrees Taurus. All joking aside, the new moon really is a great time to plant the seeds, literally and figuratively, you want to see grow over the next month. So take a few minutes to gather your thoughts, look ahead and make some plans. The moon will support you.

The moon and the stars were on my mind earlier this week when my latest picture book Fabulous Feathers in Her Hair received a lovely review from CM Magazine. In the story, Elly says that when she grows up she’ll live in outer space . . . dance past Jupiter and Mars . . . and send home pictures of all the stars.

There’s been a celestial theme happening this week. Here’s a link to the review if you’re interested. https://www.umanitoba.ca/cm/vol23/no31/fabulousfeathersinherhair.html

Enjoy your week . . . and may all your deadlines be smooth ones.

A Little Tri-State Love

Some books, despite your best efforts, end up a little like the proverbial wallflower at a party. Though they have a great story, a great cover, receive a solid push from the publisher, and they come out ready to shine, they end up sidelined on a shelf for some reason, never really making a solid impression.

Stepping Out was, unfortunately, that kind of book. Released by Orca Book Publishers as part of their Limelights series, Stepping Out tells the story of wannabe comedian Paige Larsson. Laughter is Paige’s currency in life because it takes the sting out of life’s tough stuff; it helps her fit in. But Paige has always used humor to mask the pain of a disability and when she’s given the opportunity to compete in a stand-up comedy competition, using that approach may not cut it anymore.

Last week, Stepping Out received a boost. It made the Tristate Review Committee’s 2017 Books of Note List. This brings it to the attention of readers in the Tristate area of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey. With a little luck this means it’ll get off that shelf and into readers’ hands.

Four other Orca authors made the list too.

Becky Cita for Duke’s Den. Following her parents’ separation, Amelia finds herself in a new town with few friends until the new tenants move into her basement apartment with an assortment of rescue reptiles and other unusual animals.

Lisa J. Lawrence for Rodent. Isabelle longs to escape her life, where she is responsible for caring for her two siblings and her alcoholic mother.

Robin Stevenson for Pride: Celebrating Diversity & Community. A colorful and straightforward history of the LGBTQ movement.

Frieda Wishinsky for Camp Disaster. Charlotte arrives at summer camp to find there’s a bully in her cabin. Not only does she have the counsellor in tears, she also picks on Charlotte.

For the full list of the Tristate 2017 picks, go here: http://www.tristatereviews.org/BON2017.pdf

 

Slaughtering the Goat

If you’re a squeamish, goat- loving vegan this blog may not be for you.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from a writer friend. The email, which was sent to a group of us, mentioned the phenomenal productivity of another writer who produces – wait for it – 100,000 words a month.

Yes, a month, and he has the books to prove it.

To which one of the group replied that the only way that would happen for her is if she slaughtered a goat and made a pact with the devil. So from now on I’ve decided to refer to my daily output or writing my words as ‘slaughtering the goat.’

Why is it that we’re never happy with our own pace of slaughtering the goat? Why do we beat ourselves up for being too slow (usually) or too fast (rarely; in fact I’ve never heard anyone complain about writing too fast)? When I stop and think about it, we all slaughter the goat differently and at our own pace. But the goat does get slaughtered. We get there in the end.

I beat myself up for a day or two after reading that email. Why don’t I write faster, why can’t I be more prolific? It didn’t take long for me to stop being so ridiculous. Traveling from one place to another takes time. Seeds grow when they’re ready to grow. Creating anything – needlepoint, art, a sculpted body – takes time too. I don’t expect instant results most of the time.

So why should I when it comes to slaughtering that damned goat?

I shouldn’t, except my writing friends are slaughtering their own goats and I’m peering over my fence watching how they’re doing it and I’m comparing their method to my method and worrying that I’m doing it wrong and being too messy and probably inefficient too. Mostly I worry, like a lot of writers do, that I’m not slaughtering the goat fast enough.

Because you know what they say: if you slaughter the goat slowly, it suffers. And nobody wants to make a goat suffer. That’s bad karma and God knows we don’t need more bad karma.

So what to do? The only thing you can do, I guess. Approach the goat with love. Treat it kindly. Carry out the slaughter the best way you can. And don’t compare how you do it to anybody else. In the end, it’s not about anybody else. It’s a deal between you and the goat.

My February Reads

In my last blog I mentioned slogging my way through a book I didn’t enjoy all that much. This week’s reading has been much more enjoyable, but then I always love a Kristan Higgins book. And her latest is a real winner.

On an unrelated note, the crocuses are up… an early sign of spring. Soon it’ll be time to sow some seeds and turn the garden beds. I’d better get reading while I still have time. Here’s what I’m into this week:

 

At the gym: On Second Thought by Kristan Higgins

Beside the fire: The Obsession by Nora Roberts

Before bed: Dying to Wake Up by Rajiv Parti

Books read to date in 2017: 12

Fuzzy Puppies and Cotton Candy

Some days – some weeks – all you want is fuzzy puppies and cotton candy, or, at the very least, a story that gives you a happy ending.

Last week I started reading a book by an author I particularly like. It was billed as a love story so I had high hopes. But there was a stalker and a dead ex-wife and lots of angst and even a slimy government official. While I expected an escapist romp, I had to force myself to finish the book. Finish it I did, partly because I will go wherever this particular author takes me, but also because I wanted to see how things ended up. Maybe the sun would come out and things would brighten up. Maybe the characters would redeem themselves and cheer up. If that’s the mark of a good book – that we care enough about the characters to keep reading – then the author did something right. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as invested in the characters as much as I wondered if they’d go through any character growth, and if the tone would lift as the story concluded. It didn’t. No fuzzy puppies or cotton candy there. And certainly not the happy ending I envisioned.

Around the time I read that book, the list of Oscar nominated films came out and we started doing our annual movie marathon. We try to see as many of the nominated films as we can because it makes awards night fun (though it leaves me feeling slightly guilt-ridden because I know many good movies never make the short list just as many good books are never nominated for awards). Still, date nights in January and February are good diversions when the weather’s bleak. We’ve seen quite a few of the movies and with the exception of two (Hidden Figures and Lion) the tone of many has been grim. No fuzzy puppies or cotton candy there either.

I began to feel grim myself. That could be because, along with my choices in movies and books, I’ve been watching the news. Way too much of the news. And I’ve been worrying about the state of our world, particularly the mindset of a recently elected official with a love of Twitter.

Writing began to feel hard. (For excellent tips on how to keep writing during hard times read this post by Kristine Kathryn Rusch: http://kriswrites.com/2017/02/01/business-musings-writing-in-difficult-times/  ) I began questioning the legitimacy of my current project, a Laura Tobias novel. It’s a romp of a story about a woman who happens to win a lottery and uses some of the cash to promote herself as a Dessert Diva, a TV cooking star famous for – you guessed it – desserts. Of course she has problems (it wouldn’t be a novel if she didn’t) but it’s not grim, there’s no stalker or dead wife, no ‘the-world’s-about-to-end’ scenario. It’s set in Spain. There’s good wine and nice scenery. A hot love interest. There’s humor. Some of it’s even a little wacky.

How, I wondered, could I write something so frivolous when events in the world felt so weighty? When the world is struggling with terrorism, and issues around immigration, climate change and economics to name just a few? Maybe I should write another serious book. I’ve done my share. My latest Langston release, In Plain Sight, addresses terrorism from a teen perspective. I often gravitate to serious topics and serious books. I like reading them and I like writing them too. At least I do sometimes.

But sometimes you don’t just want fuzzy puppies and cotton candy, you need them. Sometimes a break from reality is a gift. It’s a gift to read and it’s a gift to write. So I’m giving myself permission to take a break from real life and I’m spending part of my writing day in Spain where my larger-than-life character breaks into a convent in search of a top secret and highly coveted angel cookie recipe. Will she or won’t she get caught? I’m leaning to yes, though I’m not entirely sure. But I do know one thing: caught or not, she’ll get her happily-ever-after. She’ll also rescue a stray Greyhound and she’ll bake dessert. Plenty of dessert. It’s not fuzzy puppies or cotton candy but it’s close.

And that’s good enough for me.

Originality is . . .

editing . . . simply a pair of fresh eyes. So said American writer Thomas Higginson. I’m not sure I’d go that far but I do think a pair of fresh eyes is essential when it comes to refining a manuscript.

As a professional writer, I rely on editors at various times in the publishing journey. If I’m working with a traditional publisher, developmental editors are the first to see my work. They provide feedback on my story and characters, the pacing and the structure. Copy editors check my continuity, my logic and occasionally comment on my sentence structure or grammar. Proofreaders catch any last minute mistakes. In the traditional publishing world, the publisher hires the editors to take care of those things. All I have to do (after writing the book!) is get my work to that editor on time and address any issues based on the feedback I receive. It’s pretty straightforward.

When it comes to self-publishing my books, I decide whether or not to hire an independent editor to help me polish my novels. And it’s an easy decision: I always do. I’m a good editor, and I probably could do it myself, but it’s not easy to edit your own work. In fact, it’s damned hard. There’ve been times when I’ve traded editing favors with other writers (and that works well) but it’s not always possible to find another writer willing and able to do the trade when you need it to happen. So paying for a professional editor is an expense I’m happy to incur.

Editing is fun. In a lot of ways it’s my favorite part of writing. It’s gratifying to take a novel that’s almost there and polish the rough edges, transforming it into an attention-grabbing, unputdownable read. Given my thrill with that whole tweaking process, a few months ago I began doing some freelance editing for other writers. So as well as creating my own fictional worlds, I’m spending a little time immersing myself in fictional worlds created by others. And I’m thoroughly enjoying it. You can find out more about my editing services by clicking here: http://lauralangston.com/editing/