Make your plan.
Tweak it, flush it out, tweak some more.
Wait a week and re-read the plan to find the holes.
Finally, a month of planning and you're ready to begin writing.
A week and 15K words later, you find that you still fly by the seat of your pants. Plans can never capture every detail.
Welcome to NaNoWriMo. Welcome to life.
Loving, living, writing, art, family, friends, music, and books. Us and our small corner of the world. Because, as we all know, the world is square. For only a square world has corners.
Group Projects: an interview
Some friends of mine, Renee Miller and Henry Lara, co-authored a novelette, a beautiful haunting story. What impressed me most when I read this story was the complete blending of two styles. I've read and edited frequently for both Renee and Henry. I had a good sense of their writing voices, but in reading their joint story, I couldn't tell you what sentence or word came from which author.
1. What was the biggest obstacle in co-authoring? And how did you overcome it?
Henry: I think that the biggest obstacle is simply that two people must agree on everything. When you work on your own, whatever you want to do, you do. In this project, the rule was that we both have to agree on everything. Both I think that, in this case, there was a lot trust between both of us. We also know each other's strengths very well, so that whenever Renee wanted to change something, I knew there was a reason. Even if I was not entirely sure at the time, I trust her instincts so much that I knew she was right almost all the time. What I felt strongly about I questioned, until I either saw her point or we both agreed on a compromise.
Renee: The biggest obstacle was that Henry and I work in totally different ways. I am a tad on the control freak side. Just a tad, mind you. Henry is more giving, which helped alot. I had to stifle my urge to rush him, and he had to try not to rush through his side of things because he knew I was sitting over here tapping the keyboard impatiently. I think sometimes I scared him. But that was the hardest part for me anyway. I had to breathe, slow myself down and allow him to work in his own way. And PS: Slow, meticulous, careful writing is probably the best way to do it. My way is kind of insane and ulcer-inducing.
2. What was most rewarding about the project?
Henry: For me, it would be seeing what I thought was a good idea turn into a finished product. I also had a lot of fun working with Renee. Must do it again sometime soon, ha!
Renee: The finished product. Seriously, if someone had said that I could write something with another writer with a totally different style and voice and have it work; I'd have told them they were nuts. The combination of Henry's voice and mine made a story that felt so different from anything either of us had ever written. I guess because I imagined this story would turn out to be something that alternated with his voice and mine throughout,(which would have been a nightmare) to read this story and find I couldn't pick out his voice or mine, was kind of amazing to me.
3. How did you resolve disagreements?
Henry: Er, I remember her saying something about dismemberment. Things went smoothly afterwards. Again, I think the big thing is that we know each other well, and trust each other a lot. Whatever we disagreed on, we discussed until we either saw the other's point, or agreed on a solution.
Renee: We didn't have a lot of disagreements. Henry began and ended most of his emails with "You're pretty" in order to soften me up for any changes or suggestions that might have set me off. So that helped. Actually, I have to be totally honest here; any disagreements would have most likely been on my side. Why? Because Henry is a pretty agreeable person, and he's very giving in terms of ideas and in the writing process. I tend to dig in my heels if my instinct (or my Irish) says no, so the fact that he was aware of my...not so pretty side, really made things smoother. He told me if something didn't seem right to him, and dug in when he was really not liking something or wanted a change made, (and there were a few of those times) but he also was willing to hear me out. FYI: When dealing with a bullheaded or tantrum-proned person, the trick is just to let them vent. Once they've done that, they're usually pretty open to suggestions.
4. Starting off, did you lay out any rules or preliminary guidelines?
Henry: I set myself as a rule not to drive Renee crazy. Seriously, I did. Other than that, I think we set up a deadline, since we wanted to submit by a certain date (we did). The rest we made as we went.
Renee: Um...I think once Henry came to me with the idea, I kind of took over for a bit. I'm sure he'll say I didn't, but I know I'm bossy. What happened was he'd been talking about this idea for a while and I'm not sure how we came to the conclusion we should write it together, but we did and he shared the notes he'd made so far. The concept was his, the inspiration was from a Puerto Rican legend he'd heard and my task was to write the outline. I was dying to see how we could write the story backward, and not totally confuse the reader.
Anyway, the really important thing we agreed to was that we wouldn't keep anything we couldn't agree on and we'd be honest with each other on those things. If it was a draw, he hated it, I loved it or vice versa, we removed it. Of course, I don't think there was much that we couldn't negotiate. Henry is a softy, and some bits he was nervous about putting in because it made our hero not quite so likable. I had to remind him this was a 16th century Spanish soldier, the odds of him being all for the rights of women and such were unlikely. I think that was the only major disagreement. Other than that we arranged it so that I'd write a chapter to the best of my ability, Henry would take it and add the historical elements and rewrite so that my part flowed with his and then he'd send it back to me and I'd rewrite again. We went back and forth with each chapter until we were both satisfied with it.
5. How did you brainstorm ideas over long distance?
Henry: We use e-mail a lot, and we used Skype a couple times to talk. As far as brainstorming, it was a good back and forth. We had some very good discussions.
Renee: Many, many, many emails and Skype. Thank God for Skype.
6. How did you outline?
Henry: That was all Renee. Because our story is told in an unusual way, outlining was particularly crucial. Without a strong outline, it would have been impossible to see this project through.
Renee: I wrote the first outline. Then I sent it to Henry who marked it all up with comments and such where it didn't fit what he envisioned or where things just didn't work. Then he sent it back to me and I threw darts at a picture of him and cursed a few times, then I rewrote it and sent it back to him. I think we spent a couple of weeks just passing that back and forth.
1. What was the biggest obstacle in co-authoring? And how did you overcome it?
Henry: I think that the biggest obstacle is simply that two people must agree on everything. When you work on your own, whatever you want to do, you do. In this project, the rule was that we both have to agree on everything. Both I think that, in this case, there was a lot trust between both of us. We also know each other's strengths very well, so that whenever Renee wanted to change something, I knew there was a reason. Even if I was not entirely sure at the time, I trust her instincts so much that I knew she was right almost all the time. What I felt strongly about I questioned, until I either saw her point or we both agreed on a compromise.
Renee: The biggest obstacle was that Henry and I work in totally different ways. I am a tad on the control freak side. Just a tad, mind you. Henry is more giving, which helped alot. I had to stifle my urge to rush him, and he had to try not to rush through his side of things because he knew I was sitting over here tapping the keyboard impatiently. I think sometimes I scared him. But that was the hardest part for me anyway. I had to breathe, slow myself down and allow him to work in his own way. And PS: Slow, meticulous, careful writing is probably the best way to do it. My way is kind of insane and ulcer-inducing.
2. What was most rewarding about the project?
Henry: For me, it would be seeing what I thought was a good idea turn into a finished product. I also had a lot of fun working with Renee. Must do it again sometime soon, ha!
Renee: The finished product. Seriously, if someone had said that I could write something with another writer with a totally different style and voice and have it work; I'd have told them they were nuts. The combination of Henry's voice and mine made a story that felt so different from anything either of us had ever written. I guess because I imagined this story would turn out to be something that alternated with his voice and mine throughout,(which would have been a nightmare) to read this story and find I couldn't pick out his voice or mine, was kind of amazing to me.
3. How did you resolve disagreements?
Henry: Er, I remember her saying something about dismemberment. Things went smoothly afterwards. Again, I think the big thing is that we know each other well, and trust each other a lot. Whatever we disagreed on, we discussed until we either saw the other's point, or agreed on a solution.
Renee: We didn't have a lot of disagreements. Henry began and ended most of his emails with "You're pretty" in order to soften me up for any changes or suggestions that might have set me off. So that helped. Actually, I have to be totally honest here; any disagreements would have most likely been on my side. Why? Because Henry is a pretty agreeable person, and he's very giving in terms of ideas and in the writing process. I tend to dig in my heels if my instinct (or my Irish) says no, so the fact that he was aware of my...not so pretty side, really made things smoother. He told me if something didn't seem right to him, and dug in when he was really not liking something or wanted a change made, (and there were a few of those times) but he also was willing to hear me out. FYI: When dealing with a bullheaded or tantrum-proned person, the trick is just to let them vent. Once they've done that, they're usually pretty open to suggestions.
4. Starting off, did you lay out any rules or preliminary guidelines?
Henry: I set myself as a rule not to drive Renee crazy. Seriously, I did. Other than that, I think we set up a deadline, since we wanted to submit by a certain date (we did). The rest we made as we went.
Renee: Um...I think once Henry came to me with the idea, I kind of took over for a bit. I'm sure he'll say I didn't, but I know I'm bossy. What happened was he'd been talking about this idea for a while and I'm not sure how we came to the conclusion we should write it together, but we did and he shared the notes he'd made so far. The concept was his, the inspiration was from a Puerto Rican legend he'd heard and my task was to write the outline. I was dying to see how we could write the story backward, and not totally confuse the reader.
Anyway, the really important thing we agreed to was that we wouldn't keep anything we couldn't agree on and we'd be honest with each other on those things. If it was a draw, he hated it, I loved it or vice versa, we removed it. Of course, I don't think there was much that we couldn't negotiate. Henry is a softy, and some bits he was nervous about putting in because it made our hero not quite so likable. I had to remind him this was a 16th century Spanish soldier, the odds of him being all for the rights of women and such were unlikely. I think that was the only major disagreement. Other than that we arranged it so that I'd write a chapter to the best of my ability, Henry would take it and add the historical elements and rewrite so that my part flowed with his and then he'd send it back to me and I'd rewrite again. We went back and forth with each chapter until we were both satisfied with it.
5. How did you brainstorm ideas over long distance?
Henry: We use e-mail a lot, and we used Skype a couple times to talk. As far as brainstorming, it was a good back and forth. We had some very good discussions.
Renee: Many, many, many emails and Skype. Thank God for Skype.
6. How did you outline?
Henry: That was all Renee. Because our story is told in an unusual way, outlining was particularly crucial. Without a strong outline, it would have been impossible to see this project through.
Renee: I wrote the first outline. Then I sent it to Henry who marked it all up with comments and such where it didn't fit what he envisioned or where things just didn't work. Then he sent it back to me and I threw darts at a picture of him and cursed a few times, then I rewrote it and sent it back to him. I think we spent a couple of weeks just passing that back and forth.
White Night by Jim Butcher
White Night by Jim ButcherMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Good book. Fast paced as always. But it was a cetain scene that really spoke to me...
Lasciel (the fallen angel that dwells in Dresden's mind) speaks with Dresden about his apprentice Molly. She expresses doubt that his efforts to teach Molly some important lessons in wisdom will work. Lasciel thinks that who Molly is is already set in stone.
Dresden says that what she's done does not determine her future. She always has free choice. It's a beautiful thought. It's an encouraging thought. No matter how many mistakes I make I can choose to learn from them.
Then the conversation turns to his recent anger issues, which he suspects she's influencing.
Here's the exchange (p. 274):
"Anger is just anger. It isn't good. It isn't bad. It just is. What you do with it is what matters. It's like anything else. You can use it to build or to destroy. You just have to make the choice."
"Constructive anger," the demon said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Also known as passion," I said quietly. "Passion has overthrown tyrants and freed prisoners and slaves. Passion has brought justice where there was savagery. Passion has created freedom where there was nothing but fear. Passion has helped souls rise from the ashes of their horrible lives and build something better, stronger, more beautiful."
I had to put the book down after that. Somehow I just needed to let that get absorbed before I could continue.
View all my reviews
Book Review: Incarceron
Incarceron by Catherine FisherMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Claudia's father is the warden of Incarceron, a prison that no one knows where it is but is rumored to be a paradise to rehabilitate the prisoners, but Claudia is certain that her father is keeping secrets. In a strange game of politics, Claudia is determined to end her betrothal to the prince and to get out of her father's strategies for gaining power. She is certain that the key lies within Incarceron. If she can find it, maybe, just maybe, she can save her kingdom, her people, and herself.
Finn is imprisoned in Incarceron and he finds a key, the key that he hopes will lead him to the Outside and reveal to him his secret past. For the key is marked with the same tattoo that appears on Finn's wrist.
This was an amazing well done story with a complex plot and an even more complex world. I loved Claudia--she was smart and stubborn. I found the prison of Incarceron to be quite fascinating, a whole separate world from the one that Claudia lives in.
My only complaint is the ending. A cliffhanger ending is okay; I know that there's another book to this series. But for some reason, the ending just didn't resonate with me.
View all my reviews
Runt of the Litter
Her ankle screamed with pain, the trap’s teeth biting into her foot. Four creatures surrounded her, creatures shaped like her but taller and hair on their faces. She had never seen anyone else like her before. She crouched, hissing.
One poked her with a spear, slicing her arm. He laughed. Another peeled the rags off his body; she watched him warily. Her nostrils flared; something in the air smelled wrong. Fear ran like ice down her spine. She glanced about, searching for a way to escape. Hissing again, she tried to scoot away, but the heavy metal attached to her foot held her down. She yowled, and the creatures jeered.
A sound behind her and then a shadow jumped out of the trees. The creatures, one by one, fell as the shadow spun around them. Then the shapeless shadow crouched before her, a face in hers. Dark brown eyes that reminded her of the flame that had flickered in her mother’s eyes stared at her, and a soft voice mewed gently, a murmur that reminded her of Mother’s voice singing her to sleep. She didn’t know what he meant, but she trusted his tone.
The teeth opened and he slipped her leg out. He picked her up, and she saw Mother Tiger lying on the ground, blood pooling around her. Whimpering, she pressed her face into his chest. His hand stroked her hair, and she could feel the rumble in his chest when he spoke, the words foreign to her ears.
She breathed him in, the smells reminding her of home—fresh pine, animal hides, the musky odor of the earth. And something else too. Something pleasant. This must be the smell of Man, the dangerous creature Mother Tiger always warned her to stay away from.
Through the woods, he carried her to a den built above the ground, made from fallen trees. Inside, it was warm. He set her on something soft and wrapped in warm hides. Hides without fur. It felt strangely smooth to her fingers.
He tugged at the rags around her foot, pushing, jabbing at the painful sores. Hissing, scratching at him, she pulled away. But his low voice rumbled at her, quiet, soothing, and he gently wiped the blood away. At first, it stung, then it soothed, and his voiced made her feel sleepy. He gave her warm milk to drink, and her eyes drifted shut.
She woke to the thud of the door banging shut. With a cry, she sat up, and he stood before her, two black tiger kittens in his hands. He dumped them in her lap, her sister and brother.
She cried and smiled as they tumbled over each other, trying to lick her face. Hands on his hips, he stood beside them, grinning. “Looks like you were the runt of the litter.”
She frowned. “Grrr. Rrrnnn. Rrrrrnnnnnt. Ruuuuunnnt.” She poked her chest with her thumb. “Runt.”
One poked her with a spear, slicing her arm. He laughed. Another peeled the rags off his body; she watched him warily. Her nostrils flared; something in the air smelled wrong. Fear ran like ice down her spine. She glanced about, searching for a way to escape. Hissing again, she tried to scoot away, but the heavy metal attached to her foot held her down. She yowled, and the creatures jeered.
A sound behind her and then a shadow jumped out of the trees. The creatures, one by one, fell as the shadow spun around them. Then the shapeless shadow crouched before her, a face in hers. Dark brown eyes that reminded her of the flame that had flickered in her mother’s eyes stared at her, and a soft voice mewed gently, a murmur that reminded her of Mother’s voice singing her to sleep. She didn’t know what he meant, but she trusted his tone.
The teeth opened and he slipped her leg out. He picked her up, and she saw Mother Tiger lying on the ground, blood pooling around her. Whimpering, she pressed her face into his chest. His hand stroked her hair, and she could feel the rumble in his chest when he spoke, the words foreign to her ears.
She breathed him in, the smells reminding her of home—fresh pine, animal hides, the musky odor of the earth. And something else too. Something pleasant. This must be the smell of Man, the dangerous creature Mother Tiger always warned her to stay away from.
Through the woods, he carried her to a den built above the ground, made from fallen trees. Inside, it was warm. He set her on something soft and wrapped in warm hides. Hides without fur. It felt strangely smooth to her fingers.
He tugged at the rags around her foot, pushing, jabbing at the painful sores. Hissing, scratching at him, she pulled away. But his low voice rumbled at her, quiet, soothing, and he gently wiped the blood away. At first, it stung, then it soothed, and his voiced made her feel sleepy. He gave her warm milk to drink, and her eyes drifted shut.
###
She woke to the thud of the door banging shut. With a cry, she sat up, and he stood before her, two black tiger kittens in his hands. He dumped them in her lap, her sister and brother.
She cried and smiled as they tumbled over each other, trying to lick her face. Hands on his hips, he stood beside them, grinning. “Looks like you were the runt of the litter.”
She frowned. “Grrr. Rrrnnn. Rrrrrnnnnnt. Ruuuuunnnt.” She poked her chest with her thumb. “Runt.”
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