Month: April 2015

Writing 101, Day 9

Rough draft, mostly playing with this idea.

WARM

It was warm out finally, and thank God for that, Marcey thought.  At 72, the cold was no fun.  But finally the winter chill had gone, the wet grass was dried by the late May sun, and she could take her work to the park.  So she packed up her knitting supplies, and took herself down to the park.

She bought herself a cup of coffee, and settled into her work.  She was making a little red sweater for a client who wanted something more personal for her nephew’s second birthday.  It made Marcey’s daughter laugh whenever they talked about her little ‘side hustle,’ as  they called it.  It wasn’t like she needed the money.  She wasn’t hurting like some her age.  She just liked to keep busy.

As she made her way to the chest of the sweater, a young couple walked past.  The woman was keeping up a constant stream of chatter.  The man, however, stopped in his tracks, and stared at Marcey.  Specifically, he stared at the sweater.  She was starting to wonder whether she should yell for the police, when the man burst into tears.

“Sorry,” the woman said to her, pulling the man away.  “I’m really sorry.”  She hurried away from Marcey as quickly as she could, still dragging the sobbing man along.

“What was all that?” Marcey muttered.  Since she knew she wasn’t likely to find out, she sipped her coffee, and made a mental note to tell her daughter about it later.

It was a warm day, but Jordan didn’t feel very warm.  There was never such a thing a good weather for a funeral, after all.

She’d put a lot into helping Paul plan it.  There was no one else around to do it, and hadn’t he always been her best friend?  So she pulled on her black dress, and went to his apartment to pick him up.

Paul was dressed when she got there.  Well, that’s a step in the right direction, she thought.  He even managed a smile for her when he came to the door.

“Did you eat?” she asked him.

“Not yet,” he replied.

“Let’s take a walk through the park, and go to the diner,” Jordan said.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

Jordan felt triumphant as they started along the path.  They’d talked about nothing but the funeral for days, so she thought of anything she could to talk about now other than that.

“So that Rick guy called me again,” she said.  “Just out of the blue, like our last date went well or something.”

“No kidding,” Paul said, and actually managed a laugh.  “After spending half the date talking on his phone?”

“I know,” she replied.

They were coming up on a bench.  There was an old woman sitting there, drinking a coffee and knitting a red sweater.  When Paul saw her, he froze.  Then he started to sob.

The woman looked scared to death, which made absolute sense to Jordan.  Generally, people don’t start crying at the sight of art projects.  “Sorry,” she said, and started pulling Paul away, “I’m really sorry.”  She drug him down the path, trying to figure out what about that old woman had made Paul so upset.

If it had only been Maureen, Paul thought, maybe he could stand it a little better.  He dressed in the bedroom they had shared for three years, where her side of the bed still smelled a little like her.  He had loved her since the first day he met her, and when she died it broke his heart.  But if it had only been her, he supposed it would have healed.

Jordan was pulling up.  She’d been so great though all this, the only person he’d had to rely on.  He had put so much of this on her, even though he knew she must be hurting too.

So when she suggested a walk through the park and breakfast at the diner, he gave her a smile and said yes.

And at first, he really did feel better.  Listening to Jordan babble, walking with her in the sunlight, he felt warm for the first time since Maureen died.

Then he saw the woman, knitting a sweater with red yarn.

Maureen had laughed at him when he brought her that red yarn and a pair of knitting needles.  “I hope those are for decoration,” she’d said, “because I don’t knit.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to be a mommy now,” Paul had told her with a laugh.  “Everybody’s mother should knit.”

He couldn’t help it.  He started to weep.

If it had only been Maureen, he supposed he could have healed.  But knowing there would have been a baby, and now there never would be?  He didn’t believe he would never be warm again.

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What I’m Reading This Month, April 2015 edition

A long time ago, I participated in the monthly online book club run by Modern Mrs. Darcy. Did it for two months, had a lot of fun, the I forgot. And every month, the fifteenth would roll around, and the posts would pop up on my feed reader, and I would say, “Well, it’s okay that I forgot, because I am reading nothing new. Just Half Blood Prince for the fifth time. Really don’t need everyone knowing that. Better that I just skip it is month.

But then the new year started, and one of my goals was to read all new books. And I’ve kept it so far. Haven’t had much time to read, but so far I’ve gotten through Uncle Montegue’s Tales of Terror, and Divergent. Uncle M is great if you liked those Scary Stories books with the wicked awesome illustrations by Alvin Schwartz. Divergent is great if you, you know, breath.

This month, though, I tackled a book I have been wanting to read for a few years now, but every time I start I get distracted by something. It’s The Great Hunt, book two of Wheel of Time, by Robert Jordan.

I know, after all my fangirling over Brandon Sanderson, you would think I would have already read his favorite series, and the one that he was so honored to finish after Mr. Jordan passed away. Well, here’s my little secret. I am a fan of Sanderson, the writing teacher. I haven’t even read Mistborn. (It’s on my list, I swear!)

Getting back to Great Hunt, I’ve really been loving it so far. The amazing array of point of view characters is handled really well. At no time do I not know what’s going on, *cough cough, George M. Martin, cough cough*.

More important than that, I am interested in all the different story lines. Never is there a chapter where I’m like, “This loser again? Dude, nobody cares what’s going on with him!” Bran Stark. Not even any fake coughing this time, I have read almost the whole series and skimmed every Bran chapter.

Long story short, read Great Hunt if you haven’t already. Read Book One, too.

Have you read The Great Hunt? What did you think?

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Check This Out- Preditors and Editors

Really, the only excuse I’ve got for never mentioning Predators and Editors before is that I must have assumed you already knew about it. Predators and Editors is a must read before you submit to any agent or editor.

The way the website works is this. Let’s say that you’re looking into agents A and B. Both seem really good, the websites are pro level, but you can’t see a whole lot of publishing credits. Maybe the agent is new. Maybe they prefer to keep their client list exclusive. Or maybe they are a big old scam artist.

How is an innocent writer to tell?

Well, first we’ll look at agent A. We check their name in P&E, and find a $ sign. This is good, it means this agent has a recent sale with a reputable publishing company. Oh, look, it also tells us that this agent is part of the AAR, a well respected literary agent group. Well, this agent checks out. Great.

What about agent B? Here next to their name, in big red letters, are the words, “Charges reading fees. Do not recommend.” Well, that really says all there is to say. No reputable agent asks a reading fee, ever.

Consider Predators and Editors our Better Business Bureau. It’s not a flashy sight, and it’s not meant to be somewhere you can just lose yourself in for hours. But it’s got your back in this world of thieves and liars. So check it out every time you’re considering an agent. Remember, an agent has to accept you but first, you have to accept them. Be sure of who you’re working with.

Have you ever been burned by a bad agent? Tell us about it in the comments section below.

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Writing 101 Day 8

Today’s Prompt: Go to a local café, park, or public place and write a piece inspired by something you see. Get detailed: leave no nuance behind.

Ironically, I went somewhere today that is right out of my childhood memories, but I didn’t remember until my husband pointed it out.

Our kids don’t go to normal school, they attend cyber school.  This means they attend live classes online, in my living room.  This is great fun, because it means we get to chime in on all their lessons.  It also means that they have to go somewhere else to take there standardized tests, known here as the PSSA’s.

This year, they’re taking them at the local Days Inn.  It just so happened to be the same place I’d had my ROTC ball in high school.

Of course, I didn’t remember.  Of course he did.  And of course, since we’d both attended the ball, just at different times, we had to go see it.

There was a business fair today, but I could still see how it had looked that night.  I wore a gold gown, petite white gloves, and more make up than I had ever had before that day.  And I went with my best friend, instead of a guy.

There were chandeliers, and a terrible catered dinner.  But the best moment of the night?  I got a medal.

it was the first time I remember getting awarded for doing something.  We’d had a big national inspection a week before, and it was discovered that not all of our Class A uniforms had a required patch on their arm.  I came in early armed with thread and needles, ready to baste stitch as many of these jackets as humanly possible.  A few other cadets joined in, and we got it done.  I mean, some of them were sort of crooked, but damn it, they were there!

I got to walk up and get my medal, which I then got to wear on my class A uniforms every time we wore them.  Now, it wasn’t as cool as the cadet who had preformed cpr on a lady and kept her breathing until the ambulance got there.  No, that was way, way cooler.  But I got a medal for doing something I was good at, and volunteering.  It also set a precedent for the rest of my life.  I was a girl, in ROTC, and I sewed.  I was and am, exactly who I am, and my gender has not a thing to do with it.

All of that from walking into a ball room I hadn’t been in for over a decade.

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Done!

Okay, so I didn’t write a response to the Writing 101 post today, because I was busy finishing this instead.

Photo by Garrett Luttrell
Photo by Garrett Luttrell

That pile of five composition notebooks is the first draft of Starting Chains, book two of Woven.  After working on it since November, it is finally done!

Oh, and that’s my sort of creepy cat, Harper.  She’s not always so glowey, as my husband puts it.

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The Writing Life- A Prayer for My Agent

Lord, please look after the agent
upon who’s desk my manuscript is placed
Let her have a good cup of coffee, and an empty bladder
Let her be in a peaceful frame of mind
Let her not be rushed, or tired
Let her not be jaded
Let her put away preconceived notions and bigotries
Lord, I do not ask that the agent rushes to represent me
I do not ask that she get me a million dollar contract
or make me famous
I only ask that when the agent reads my manuscript, that she be in a positive frame of mind
and that she see its merits, and know how to correct its flaws

Amen

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Writing 101, Day 6

Today’s Prompt: Who’s the most interesting person (or people) you’ve met this year?

Wow, just one person?  No way, can’t do it.

See, here’s the thing.  I work in tech support and billing, which means I have the amazing opportunity to talk to brand new people all day long.  Here’s the thing, though, I never see any of them.  All I have is their voices, and their stories.  Oh, and let me tell you, the stories!

For some reason, people want to open up to someone when they’re stressed, and the tech chick on the other side of the phone is really non threatening.  So I get to hear all about what’s going on in their life today.

There was one woman, though, that stuck out in my mind.  After I fixed her tech problem we just talked for awhile, because she seemed like she needed someone to talk to.

Her husband had died a year before, but when he was alive they owned a Cesna, and she told me all about flying it all over America.  They’d started out working class, just like me and probably you.  But they’d invested so carefully and faithfully over the years, that they retired early and spent their retirement flying all over visiting their family.  She kept me on the phone for half an hour, and encouraged me to invest.  (I’m trying.)

People who are getting divorced, getting married, kids are about to leave for college, college kids just starting out on their own.  Every one of them has a story to tell, and sometimes they tell them to me.  And I love to listen.

I hear about the great new jobs, and I love that.  I had a gentleman call me to cancel his account with my company because he was moving into hospice, and it made me cry.  If you don’t know, hospice is the end of life portion of the hospital.  I talk to baby sitters who managed to break something, and moms who don’t know how to unhook the game system so they can watch their shows.

If you’re an aspiring writer, and you’ve got to have a day job, try to have one where you’ve got to handle people.  Because if you’re friendly, and ready to listen, you will hear more stories than you ever thought were there.

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Making Your Own Kick Ass Submission Packet

Alright, so you’ve finished your book. You’ve spent months, maybe years going over each and every word until it sings. Great job.

Now, it’s time to get your submission packet together. Don’t panic, you’re going to get through this.

See, most agents and editors ask for the same things. A query letter, one page synopsis, maybe an author’s bio and a certain number of pages. Usually the first ten pages, first two chapters, something like that.

Are there agents that will ask for other things? of course. I’ve had agents that wanted me to fill out a specific questionnaire instead of sending a packet at all. I’ve had agents that were very specific about what they wanted in their query letter. But for the most part, I send some combination of those three pieces. So, let’s look at these each in some detail.

The Authors Bio

Interpret this as resume. You are giving your potential business partner information about you that will help them decide if they want to work with you. How long have you been writing? What were your inspirations? What have you published? Do you have a website? What has happened to you in your life that might tie into your writing? Do you have any formal writing training?

Do not list where you went to school unless you went to school for writing. Do not give a list of all of the jobs you’ve ever had. Do not make it more than one page, whatever you do. Remember, this is a snapshot, not a photo album.

The synopsis of the story

When you’re writing your book synopsis, just remember to K.I.S.S. You might have heard of this before, but the first time I heard it was from my ROTC instructor. It means keep it simple, stupid.
Your synopsis should give an outline of your story. You should meet the main character, the antagonist, and get a general idea of what’s going to happen to those people. You might even give away the ending. Remember, the agent is reading your book to decide if they want to sell your book, not to be super surprised by your killer ending. She should be super impressed by your killer ending. And since she’ll read your synopsis before she reads it, you should start impressing her as early as possible. And again, this should be one page long. Agents are busy. If you can’t explain your story in one page, they do not have time for you.

And finally… The query letter!

I have never sent a piece without a query letter. It is possibly the most important piece you will ever write, because it must be stellar to get anyone to read anything else.

The query letter should be three paragraphs.

* “Hello. I am blank, and I’ve written a book that I think would be a good fit for your agency. Here are some reasons why. I read a book that your sold, and it was the same genre. I see by your website that you’re eager to represent books about rabbits in space, and that’s just what I’ve written. I notice that you often sell to this publisher, and here are some books in my genre that they’ve published that I really liked.” That should be your first paragraph. Show the agent that you did some research, and didn’t just throw darts at a copy if Writers Market. Show them you know the genres, know the field and you’re not going to waste their time with a book in a genre they don’t represent.
* Paragraph two gives a real quick overview of your story. Condense your synopsis. Here’s the main character, here’s how his life goes to hell, here’s how he fixes it again. Then shut up.
* Paragraph three is your credentials. Any published credits you have, any good things you’ve done worth mentioning. Things like that. If you have a website that has something to do with writing, this is the time to mention it.

Now, when it comes to your bio and your synopsis, you can pretty much write those and send them to any agent who requested them. The query is different. Paragraphs two and three can stay pretty much the same. But you’ve got to rewrite that first one for every single new agent.

Before we go, here are just some over all tips for your submission packet.

* Proofread everything. Every single line on every single part, I mean it. If an agent sees a misspelling or grammar issue in your query letter, they know your book is going to be full of them.
* Keep in mind that your packet, and especially your query letter, will be the difference between an agent who reads your work and an agent who deletes it.
* I say this every Friday when I post a market. Read the submission guidelines. Often an agent wants some specific piece of info, or they only accept submissions certain months out of the year. Read the guidelines, and follow them to the letter! Otherwise there’s no sense wasting your time sending your packet at all.
* Take your time on this. You’ve got no deadline other than that you give yourself. There’s no sense rushing something this important to your writing career.
* If at all possible, get someone to read over it for you. A second pair of eyes will catch what you missed because you’ve read the damn thing fifteen times already.

Any other tips for submissions? What do you send when you’re pitching to an agent?

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Writing Prompt Saturday- Reject your own work

Are you all doing the Writing 101 program?  I’ve been doing it, if you can’t tell by the daily free writing posts that have been going on since Tuesday.  That’s going to be going on the whole month.  So if your not a huge fan of my unedited ramblings on the site, sorry.  If you do like it, then great, you’ve got a whole month to go.

The point is, you might be really sick of writing prompts at this point if you are participating.  If that’s the case, feel free to store this one away for May.  Hopefully this helps us all get into the free writing habit.

So, back to our theme for the month, submissions.  I’m sure you know that submissions lead to two things, sales and rejection letters.  Rejection letters are far more common.  So long as we all understand that, let’s have some fun with it, yeah?

Pretend you’re an editor for a literary magazine, or a publishing company.  Now grab your most recent piece, novel or short story.  It’s just landed on your desk.  Reject it.  Write your rejection in a letter format.  What would you, the editor, tell you, the writer, about why this piece didn’t make it to print?

You can play it funny, really have some fun with it.  Or, you can take this as a chance to do what my grandma always told me to do.  Whether cleaning my room or editing my own writing, the advice is the same, “Look at it like it was done by someone you don’t like, and you want to get them in trouble.”  In this case, look at it like a tired editor who wants to stop reading your piece, and is just looking for an excuse.

If you do get around to responding to this prompt, feel free to post it in the comments below.  Have a great weekend, everyone.

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Writing 101, Day 5

Today’s Prompt: You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.

Alright, just tossed this together, not sure if the ending is strong enough.  What do you think?

I always hated working nights at the diner. I’d get the occasional family, some quiet people, but not many. No, most of what I got on those long nights were college students from the campus. Just a few years younger than me, a constant reminder of what I could have done if things had been better.

They didn’t tip well, didn’t eat much. They came in as loud, needy groups, or by themselves laden with books and papers. I poured their coffee, cleaned up booths covered in ketchup and eraser smudges after they left, and hated each and every one of them, except one.

One of them came in one night, shaking the rain from her coat as she went. She sat down at the bar, and ordered a coffee. She had a bookbag with her, but she didn’t take out any work. Instead, she waited, her eyes darting towards the big window every few seconds. Finally, she went to the bathroom, taking her bag with her.

When she picked up her bag, an open envelope fell onto the bar. I saw a handwritten letter slide out. And I knew that I should have just left it alone, but my worse nature got the better of me. I scooped it up, and started to read.

Maggie,

I’m sorry that it took so long for me to write you, but I wanted to make sure that you could think about this for yourself, instead of letting Mom tell you what you should think about it. Now that you’re in college, I hope you’re away from that.

Look, I know my leaving was hard on you, and I know that there can never be a good reason to have left you there alone. You were the only regret I had.

But I had to do what I did. Mom wouldn’t let me tell you about Becky. She never wanted you to see her, never wanted you to be the same disappointment I was. I know this is probably terrible of me, but I’m not sorry that she doesn’t want to see me still. Becky is too precious for me to share with someone so hateful.

Maggie, I know you went through hell these last few years. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when Dad died. But I just couldn’t have Becky around that. She didn’t need to face that.

When I was going to Pitt, there was this little diner just off campus. If you can, meet me there on Friday.

Hoping to see you,
Candace.

The girl was coming back from the bathroom. I stuffed the letter back in the envelope, and set it back on the bar. She had her phone out, and stopped long enough to toss some money on the bar and grab her letter. I watched her look toward the door, as an older woman walked in, holding the hand of a three year old girl.
She knelt down to say something to the little girl, then give her a hug. With the little girl in her arms, Maggie gave the woman a hug. When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes.

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