If You Want to Make God Laugh...

Woody Allen once said, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Well, no sooner had I announced that I would blog only on Sundays and Thursdays, that everything went to pot! I got sick... really sick... and needed a long recuperation period. Now that I am recuperated and it is Thursday, I will try to make my fuzzy brain think in a somewhat logical and coherent way...

So, here's what I've been contemplating lately… living an authentic life with intention and purpose. Simplifying. As some of you might know, my day job is as a copy writer for a local real estate firm. While it is a cool job if you love to write and love looking at houses (which equals loving to write about houses, btw) it is not a job without its hazards. You have peak seasons when you are so busy, you don’t know if you are coming or going, and finding as many synonyms for “featuring,” as possibly so all your copies don’t sound the same. Followed by periods of nothing, nada, zilch, zero homes to see, which means no money to make. But the biggest downfall to this job by far is… (Drum roll please) falling in love from time to time with a house.

Yes, that’s right. I said falling in love with a house. (sigh)

So, I am smitten once again. My last house-affair wasn’t pretty. It was way too big and for way too much money. Honestly, it was more house than I could handle. But it was gorgeous. It was an 1880's farm house that was completely refurbished and remodeled to be Green - you know ecologically friendly... Green… earth first! I am all for earth first. My novel is about trees for crying out loud - ok it’s about a lot more than just trees or that would make for one boring novel, but I digress… So, I loved that house and obsessed over that house, and pined for that house, stalked that house, talked about it late at night with my husband and friends. I drove everyone crazy! I was in love.

I know what you're thinking... IT'S A HOUSE! GET A LIFE!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. BUT you didn't see it, and you didn’t have to write about it in a long, beautiful, salesy, descriptive pitch. My job is to make people fall in love with houses through my words (The photographer has it easy. You know… a picture’s worth…) It’s only natural, every once in a while, I actually am so convincing, I convince myself.

But... sometimes the love of a house comes before the words. It might begin the moment I drive down the narrow, wooded, windy, country road. Or pass the long, sweeping vistas of rolling farmland. Or wind my way down a long driveway canopied with trees and dappled sunlight (See I really do, do this for a living).

The house du jour is this kind of love affair. It had all of that and so much more. It was nothing like my former house-affliction. No. That house with its 4,000 square feet and bunches of barns and outbuildings (all of which were also completely refinished to perfection), made me realize, I could never keep up with a house that size and it’s many out buildings. I would spend my life cleaning! And who wants to do that? Certainly not me!

Well, in the wake of getting over that first house-affliction, I learned something - most of us need to downsize. That house might have been as Green as they come, but something about a family of 4 living in 4,000 square feet seems juxtaposed to living earth first. That’s a 1,000 sq ft per person! Is that really necessary? Is that really Green?

America has become a nation of EXCESS. Everything is in excess. Food, cars, the sizes of our homes, our spending, our bills, and so on and so forth. And we are passing that excessive living down to our kids. There are more overweight, bored, and depressed children in American than every before. I think it’s because they are trying, or we are trying, to buy love for them in all the toys, games, clothes, etc. And when the love is not in the toys, games, or clothes, they do something else in excess – become not only bored, but depressed. Not just put on a few pounds, but become overweight.

All this excess has got me thinking about my dream to live green. I took a few earth first tests online. I was sure it would tell me, “You’re great, Sheri! Look how you love the earth. You do your part. If everyone lived like you… But here’s how you could improve, yes even you…” But the test didn’t say that. It said if everyone lived like me, even with all I do to reuse, reduce, recycle, eat healthy, organic, yada, yada, yada… it would take 4 planets to sustain my lifestyle. Four planets! I felt discouraged. What could I do? Then I discovered that an average family of 4 really needs no more space than about 2400 sq feet. And if everyone lived like that, we’d be fine. If everyone stopped living in excess, the earth would heal and so would its inhabitants.

It got me to thinking... maybe we should go small, down size? Maybe my family and I should move… to a smaller house… less electricity, less to heat, less to cool. Hey, less to clean! We could maybe afford those solar panels I have been dreaming of, and maybe even geo-thermal heating too. And why not a wind turbine while we’re at it. We could live off the grid! Hey, the grid could pay US back, or we could donate our excess of mother nature’s power to a family in need… So the dream began.

And so that brings me to this new house I saw yesterday - my new house-love. It was nothing special from the outside. As a matter of a fact, it was quite unpleasant from the exterior. But still I was in love. Here’s why... First of all, you should never judge a house by its cover – you should all know that by now. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, and it’s your peace with life that really matters right? (Yes, I am still talking about a house.) So, number one this house “lives” smack in the middle of a woodland preserve. You would be living in a preserve! How wonderful is that? Well, for this writer who loves and writes about trees, I felt like Henry Thoreau discovering my Walden. And then it got me thinking about Thoreau and his pilgrimage to the woods.

When Henry Thoreau was asked why he went to live in the woods, he said. "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

And I thought, ME TOO! Me too Henry. I want that too!

Then he went on to explain that he wanted to get the most from his life by determining what was really important. He believed this could only be done by removing himself from the normal life of Concord, Massachusetts in the 1840's. For him, it was economic, too. He wanted to reduce his material needs by living simply, so that he would not have to spend much time supporting a lifestyle that he did not need or care about. But of course, he’s reason for living amongst the magnificent trees was for a spiritual connection too.

And then that got me thinking about a passage I just read in The New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, that said many people in Eastern and Western religions, will strip themselves of all their belongs and live simply in the woods to find God and inner peace.

I think this would be good for ALL of us - maybe not the woods for everyone - some love the beach, the mountains, a meadow... but to live simply and with purpose.

By doing this, Thoreau and the great religious minds, were able to strip down their ego and be in touch with life - real life and what it's really all about. Not square footage, or the latest IPod, or a flat screen TV, or shiny, new car. But about you living your authentic life, loving the people in your life, being a messenger for them, and them for you, dedicating yourself completely to your talents, whatever they may be.

But how does one do this? It seems like it should be so simple. But selling a house in today's present market - believe me, I know - is no easy feat.

And so it brings us full circle - PLANNING!

Yes, I am planning. Oh this new house-affair too, shall pass. Some lucky new owner will buy it and spruce up the outside and live amongst the trees in a woodland preserve. But I don't think my need to simplify my life will stop.

So, I plan fully aware of what it will get me - a hardy guffaw from the One Above.

Business Cards and a Brief Interruption in our Regularly Scheduled Programming...

Here is the front of my brand new business card. The back is just as colorful, continuing the tree's branch into its trunk, and provides all my personal information. I had them made, by the ever-talented Leeza, for the NJ SCBWI workshop I am attending the end of this month. Leeza's feelings on business cards for children's writers/illustrators, and I couldn't agree with her more, is we can stand to be more colorful and creative then say... a lawyer's business card. After all, you want your card to stand out and be memorable to an editor, publisher, or agent.

And now I must write this, or I'll never do it... I am relatively new to blogging. And in this very short time, I am hooked! It is instant gratification. You write things, others read it, and let you know how it affected them. It is, very simply, a dangerous drug for writers. So I need to step back. I have been in a bit of a writer's slump lately, and this addiction is not helping matters any. I need to regain balance. So I feel if I say this here and now, tomorrow (...wait... it IS tomorrow...) will be a much more productive day.

So I am returning to blogging, and checking all of your wonderful blogs, twice a week. I am going to strive for Sundays and Thursdays, and I know it will be hard to break the gravitational pull I feel twards posting, reading, and commenting, but I MUST return to devoting the majority of my week to what I am devoted to - my MG novel.

Signing off until Sunday...

Sheri

1,000 Word Writing Contest

Chris Eldin at ABenchPress is having a writing contest of sorts. In 1,000 words you have to tell a story in 4 parts with different criteria to reach each week. In week one we had to tell the first part of the story in 200 - 400 words where we had to create sympathy for our MC, have them meet a gypsy, and have the gypsy give a prediction.

As writer of MG novels, telling a clear, concise story in 1,000 was a real challenge. At first I thought, no problem. But it was much harder than I thought.

Here is my Part I:

It had been a horrible week. Every teacher piled on tests, a sure sign the end of the marking period was near. I studied. Really I did. Yet, somehow I wound up with mostly C’s.

Then, at lunch, they ran out of pizza, and I wound up with mystery meat on a bun.

Really, I shouldn’t’ve been surprised when my audition didn’t go so well either. I practiced my piece for months, ‘til my bottom lip had a perpetual indentation from my flute’s mouthpiece. Mrs. Greyson, my flute teacher, said I was ready. And I was ready. I was so going to get first chair.

“Number 127,” said the judge.

I was dead last, so I was pretty sleepy when I got up. I can’t tell you what I tripped on exactly, but I went flying – my crazy, wavy hair, in my face flying. I landed on my flute, denting the mouthpiece and flattening the pinky key.

The judge, who saw the whole tragic event, just looked at me like, tough break kid, turned and went back in the audition room.

Before the door closed, I heard him say, “We’re all done here.”

“What happened?” said another judge.

Then the door closed. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I did hear them roar with laughter. And people think Simon Cowl’s mean – they have no idea!

“Perfect ending to a perfect week,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “How’m I going to explain this one to Dad?”

And just like that, my moment came and my moment vanished.

I couldn’t take one more thing. I ran full force to the double steel doors, punched the metal arms to unleash them, and stood outside with my face to the sky, tears falling, arms opened wide and screamed, “WHY ARE YOU PICKING ON ME?”

“He always chooses the ones who need it most,” said a thin, wispy voice from the darkness.

The sudden voice made my heart head to my throat.

“Whose there?” I asked.

I heard her squeaky, metal cart before the old woman with wrinkled, translucent skin, stepped under a street light. The sight of her made me think, Disney from her tiered, layered skirt, to her tattered, blousy shirt that must’ve been white at some point, to the purple scarf around her head.

I didn’t think she would hurt me, but the sudden sight of her, made me place one hand on the door and the other on my cell.

“Beware of silver prophets who act like friends,” she said, turned and hobbled her way down the sidewalk, her cart squeaking rhythmically.

Crazy, old lady, I thought just as my Dad pulled up. Now I’ll have to tell him about my flute. Could this week get any worse?

Sleep - Dreaming and Wishing

She danced like flowers in the rain
tiny droplets of water fell all around her
she was spinning around and around
the black atmosphere seemed to become her

She was the night
hold me tight
she said in a tiny voice
she was three again in her yellow rain coat gear

She dodged every rain drop as they fell
as they danced around her feet
she was a child again holding her tiny doll in her hand so small
she was spinning around and around

She became the atmosphere all around her
with thousands of tiny stars in her hand falling,
falling,
faster,
asleep,
she fell.

Submitting to magazines: part one

Hey everyone, I just read this great and useful posting on Becky's blog. It is part one in a series providing practical advice about writing for children's magazines. It seems it is a bit quicker process to become published through magazines than through a book deal. Therefore, this is a really good way to build up your portfolio and resume. It can really help a new writer get a foot in the door. Then when an editor asks, have you been published, you can proudly say, YES! Great advice Becky!

This is something I always thought, and that little nagging voice in the back of my head has been telling me to give this a try, but I haven't. You know all those recent posts I have been doing about the Universe speaking to you... Hey Becky, did you know you are a conduit for the Universe's voice?? Perhaps from time to time we all are. That's what makes blogging so addicting.

So, check it out! Rebecca's Writing Journal; Submitting to magazines: part one

Hey Everyone, CHECK IT OUT!

My facilitators and I have formed a new blog! It is for, but not limited to, the writers of the Hunterdon County Children's Writer's Group.

I formed this group about 10 months ago when looking to join a writer's group and could not find one.

But I couldn't run the Hunterdon County Children's Writer's Group alone! We have about 40 members and 6 talented and dedicated facilitators who all run their own smaller groups, focusing on writing and illustrating for children.

It is a brand-new baby blog, so check it out. And please visit us often.


But I have to share...
Have you ever done something, you, at first, were terrified to do, but then you were so grateful you did? Forming this group is that thing for me. Without sounding too egotistical, I have to say, I am really proud of myself for the formation of HCCWG. I did something I thought I could never do.

In my last posting, I talked about listening to the Universe and walking through open doors. Well, forming this group was one of the initial doors that opened for me after joining SCBWI. And it had HUGE pay-offs. Once I made that first scary step, so many other things started to happen. Not to mention all the souls that it brought to my life that I needed to know and who needed to know me.

Now here I am ten months later, running this group, with the help of my wonderful facilitators, meeting with wonderful writers almost weekly, and blogging! Now that's something ELSE I thought I would NEVER do!! I didn't even know what a blog was and why one would need one. Now, I am addicted! I think I have a problem. Is there a Blogger's Anonymous, or a 12-step program for me to join? Like, right now, for instance, I should be making dinner for my family, but, instead, here I am blogging! I need to set my priorities!

Anyway, I want to hear from you! What are you proud of? What was a door that opened for you, that you might have been scared to step through at first, but now you are so happy you did? Let's discuss!

Sheri
ks, ks

When You're Too Busy Planning, You're Not Living Life

My purging is complete. Now it is time for some reflection... Two years ago, I went back to work again as a full time reading and language arts teacher for all the 4th graders of West Amwell School. I had been home on an 8 year maternity leave - yes, I said 8 years. I had a plan. I always had this plan - I would be a writer. Originally my plan was to teach for three years, learn what books needed to be written for elementary school kids and write them - simple, right?

But we all know how "...way leads on to way..." and before I knew it, 8 years had vanished. Then I left and had a baby. Then another baby. One year bled into another and before I knew it, another 8 years had flown by - again with a plan - to be a writer.

Not much writing happened during those years - those years of planning and not doing. Oh sure, I took a class for a few years on being a children's writer. And then I took a class on screenwriting in NYC for another two years. And sure I wrote my assignments, but I wasn't really living life as a writer. I was still planning to be one.

I wrote a lot of poetry in those days too. Actually, poetry was my first love as a writer. But I digress - So I went back to work as a teacher. I was teaching the great writers and not being one.

I was depressed.

I loved my students, don't get me wrong, and teaching was nice, but... I had no life and I wasn't writing at all. So when the position ended - the teacher I replaced while on maternity leave came back - life said 'no' to teaching and for the first time, I decided to listen to the universe and walk through whatever doors opened to me. Without question. Just walk through and see where it took me.

I also decided right then and there that I was no longer going to knock on closed doors because when a door is closed, universally speaking, it usually means, no one is home. So I started listening, really listening. The first thing I heard over and over was SCBWI, join SCBWI. So I did. I met a great friend there; Leeza. Then I tried to join a writer's group, but all were filled, or disbanded, or left no new information. So I asked Kathy Temean, RA of NJ's SCBWI what I should do. She said start your own. So I did. And the Hunterdon County Children's Writer's Group was formed. Sixty people showed up to our first meeting. Since then it has grown to a really unique group for children's writers. We have about 40 active members, and seven small groups, where we have all learned to critique without criticizing.

And as a result of listening to the universe, walking through its opened doors, and ignoring the closed ones, I have grown and learned so much.

I guess that's why this last bout of writer's laryngitis really hit me hard. It wasn't writer's block. To me writer's block is not knowing what to write next. I know what comes next in my story. It was laryngitis. I suddenly lost my voice. So I had to find a cure.

I cleaned. I purged. I went out to dinner with my extended family and celebrated our birthdays. I laughed. I lit candles. I meditated. I had plenty of sleep. I drank plenty of water.

But then today, thinking about this next posting and wondering what to write about, I decided to read my old poems. And I realized, well actually I realized a few things, some poems I used to think were really good, actually were quite bad. You might think this would be a downer. But it wasn't. Because through recognizing how trite some of them were, I realized I had grown.

I've walked through doors and listened to the universe, and met the people I need to know and because of it I've grown. I no longer PLAN on being a writer. I know I AM a writer.

One poem stood out to me though, and really illustrated this growth. I feel so far away from those words, those feelings right now and I am glad.

This might be a long entry and I try to keep them short - believe it or not - but here is that poem...

Unrecognizable, Even to Myself

Like a war veteran who still feels his amputated arm, I cling to a life, to the person, I once was, the person I wanted to be.

I search my face in the mirror, trying to find some part that I can recognize,
But I haven’t found it yet.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I value the people and things in my life; my family, my health, the roof over my head. I am not ungrateful,

Just lost.

I remember when I was younger dreaming of the life I would live when I grew up; daughters, a husband, perhaps an old farmhouse with horses and a dog. I would be a poet, a writer. My life would be simple and quiet, unfettered with obligatory friends and things to do. I would remain timeless in my beauty and thin - as I once was. I would be happy. The smell of wood burning in our fireplace. Unity of the family I had created with a soul mate of a husband; love, quiet, reassuring love, equal love, happy, fulfilling love.

I guess I am not so far, far away from that original painting in my mind; a Normal Rockwell oil painting of time frozen on a canvas with happy, content faces, living a simple life, in a simple time. Certain pieces of the portrait exist; a husband, daughters, dogs, a home, although not an old farmhouse and we don’t have horses. Still things are not as they seem, as they were in the painting of my life.

The quiet. The happiness. The very rare unfettered choices. The simplicity. The beauty and health of youth. The quiet, equal love. These are not here. The living life simply as a writer, alone time, time to write, alone, in quiet solitude, in an old converted barn, with the smell of wet wood and dust, sipping coffee, or maybe tea, with my dog asleep on the floor next to me, waiting

and watching as pages fly and fingers ache with the typing of words strung together like pearls on a graceful strand.

This life lives on only in my memory; the memory of a life not lived.

Instead, societal norms press my moves, marking my decisions, tying a noose around my neck.

Instead a paying job, I now seek, to fulfill my bank account instead of my soul, too weak to fight for what is right now, to write now no more.

Instead, I am a discontented, respected member of society, working for a living, at an honest pay, doing an honest job.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I, I took the one more traveled by
And that HAS made all the difference.

It has tarnished my canvas, filtered the light, shifted the shades, discolored as they fade.

What is a grown-up to do with childish dreams and real bills to pay? How else can I do what I want and not what I must?

I teach children about the great writers instead of being one. I observe a symphony of sight and sound on the silver screen with my husband and children and tears are shed, not for the sentiment of the movie, but for the ones I will never write, see on the screen, for the awe that is inside of me, and remains to be seen.

Now I have papers to grade, and lessons to prepare, and writing is a not so distant dream of dreams I once had...
when I was young.

Young and unfettered from demands of grown-ups in a grown-up world. No time for dreaming, or writing. I might have to leave that for those who found there way in that yellow wood on that overgrown path, no traveler tramped.

I will have to leave that forked path perhaps for another day. When? Who knows now. Life passes us by as we make our plans of mortal man, immortal perhaps for others. Not I.

I took the other road. For not many understand the life of a writer, who sits alone and writes about the life you live, not for money, not for fame, not because anyone is knocking on her door asking her to... just because she has to. How can I justify this life now, now that there are mouths to feed, and backs to clothe, and a husband to help carry the load? How can I justify a life of writing for no one but myself?

I can not.

Not anymore.

And so I work, work for hire, work for pay, work so society can be proud of me.

Fettered, yes.
Chained, hampered, held back... you bet.

On my usual drive to work the other day, I drove past a field of sunflowers, bright and yellow. Their dark, undistinguishable faces trying to capture the sun. At first I was struck by the beauty in their uniformity, their neat rows and tidy lines. But then I noticed one flower grew taller and surer than the rest, as if reaching, reaching to be something more, something different, forging her way in a sea of sameness. One flower reached for the sun on a tepid August day.

She did not stop to ask if she had the right.

BLAH...

I had a seriously blah day today... and yesterday for that matter... come to think of it and Tuesday as well. I had this "energy" work done on me on Tuesday. I was so excited. But since then all I feel is BLAH... I was actually better before having the "work" done. Now I haven't written in three days and all I want to do is sleep.

Usually going for a walk with my dog snaps me right out of it and floods my mind with a zillion ideas, but even that didn't work.

So how about it? When you are feelign BLAH and just not full of words, what gets those words flowing again?

Rules of Critiquing; On being Critiqued and on Giving a Critique

Recently, the question came up, for the rules of being critiqued.

When is it OK for the writer to explain or defend their work?

Well, to be blunt... NOT DURING A CRITIQUE!

My feeling is this, if you have to explain your work, then your writing is not clear enough. After all, you are not going home with every reader to explain what you meant anytime they are confused. So, if someone is telling you they were confused, or something didn't make sense to them, LISTEN. Tuck it away in that little file cabinet in your brain. See if anyone else offers you the same comment too. Chances are, if you hear the same comment a few times, they are probably right, and you probably really do need to go back and fix this area.

Critquers are not always going to tell you what you are longing to hear. They are not always going to understand what you have written and they are not always going to love your writing. OR your story for that matter... But, it is much more beneficial to be in a group of writers who feel free to speak their true mind so your writing can be all it can be.

The best thing you can do for yourself during a critique is listen. Take notes and ask questions at the end. You do not have to agree with what they say. You do not have to do what they suggest. You can take their comments or leave their comments. That is up to you. All you have to do is listen.

These are the rules I wrote up and handed out to the writer's group I organize in Hunterdon County NJ.

On Being Critiqued...

1. LISTEN; the worst thing writer’s do is defend their story and thus are not opened to receive some potentially insightful information. So remember, breathe and listen.
   
2. HOLD YOUR COMMENTS UNTIL THE END. If you are afraid you will forget, jot your thoughts down as you are listening.
   
3. AGREEING vs. DISAGREEING; you DO NOT have to take every piece of advice you get. You can feel it in your gut when someone’s advice rings true to the story YOU are trying to tell. So if someone says something you don’t agree with, just listen, and move on.
   
4. QUESTION; once someone is done giving their opinion, ask anything you are unsure about. Ask for clarity if you need it, or ask if you can email them or call them on the phone. Or if there is time at the end of the meeting, approach the person then.
5. GENERAL CRITIQUE vs. SPECIFIC FINDINGS; If you want the readers to look for something specific in your story, like… is this character’s voice distinctive enough, etc, tell the readers BEFORE the critique so they know what type of a critique you are looking for... a line editing vs general comments.
   

But the writer is not the only person who should abide by some rules during a critique. How about the one critiquing? Are there rules for these people in your critique group too? You betcha! Again, these are also the rules my group tries to live by.

On Critiquing without Criticizing...

1. Remember, THIS IS NOT YOUR STORY; it is not your job to rewrite it, or tell the writer what YOU think his/her character would do. Instead ask questions to provoke the writer to consider things and figure them out on his/her own. Such as, I was curious about so and so’s decision to…or… It made me wonder what would have happened if he touched the bubble and it popped… This is so much better than saying, I think your main character would have touched the bubble and I think it should have popped.
2. LET OTHERS TALK; be considerate of the other’s in your group who also deserve time to give their notes. Plus it is rude to the writer who wants to be able to hear from everyone and not just one person. For this reason, it might be a good idea to elect a different member for each critique (not the writer) to keep track of time so each critiquer can be gently reminded their time is coming to an end to help avoid the above from happening.
3. Keep in mind the point you are all there… no one is better than anyone else. Sure, you might have studied with so and so, or attended such and such school, but all members in your group must believe that you are all equal. The goal of a writer's group is to lift each other up and help each other reach individual goals.
4. If you don’t like a story someone is writing, leave your personal feelings out of it! It is about you helping that writer make his/her story the best it can be. They LOVE their story, as you love yours. Always keep that in mind. If it has not reached its potential, how can you help that writer get there? Most of the time, the best bet is through asking questions.

I hope you can use these rules in your next critique session or in your writer's group. I hope they help your group achieve a balanced, inspiring, and encouraging dynamic.

So now let's share... What are some critiquing hardships, or nightmares you have experienced? Have you ever had to critique a story you hated? Did anyone ever give you a real downer critique? What are some things your group does that workds particularly well? Share your best or worst stories...

Sheri

Inspirational Quote

“Personal limitation exists

only in our ideas of who we are.

Give up all notions of who you are

and your limitations will vanish.”

~ Unknown

I DID IT!

I achieved a long term goal!

Well, true, it shouldn't have become a long term goal, but it turned into one. An editor read my first 30 pages of my middle grade novel and was very supportive and insightful. I asked her if she would be interested in reading the next 30 pages and she said YES. Easy enough, right, just provide her with the next 30 pages. But it wasn't easy enough.

There was a lot wrong with my story and I knew it. Things just weren't sitting well with me. Sure, it had a lot that was good, but I just couldn't write forward until I fixed what came first. And so April turned to May, May to June, June to July... I think you can see where I am going with this...

But it's not that I just sat doing nothing. I re-wrote the manuscript, over and over until UREKA! I discovered the true essence and voice of my story and then everything fell into place.

So today, I have, sitting right here beside me, my first three chapters of draft 6 of my middle grade novel, a one-page synopsis, and a cover letter (thank you Leeza for helping me with that! - cover letters intimidate me...) Now, I am ready to go! And I am soooooo excited to finally reach this goal.

The thought did occur to me, however, just how common this problem is. I have heard from so many writers... Yeah, editor so-and-so has been waiting on my such-and-such since (insert a month that has long ago passed). And I had to stop and wonder why. Why do we do this to ourselves? We want to get publsihed. it just doesn't make any sense. And then I thought...

When we have a door open for us, sometimes it is scary to walk through it, for fear that it might slam shut in our faces. So we sit... and ponder... or spin our wheels... thinking we are working, all in the attempt to feel that, that door is still open. Now, while it is true, I have been very busily re-writing, I also did a lot of agonizing, and drawing things out, and spinning my wheel. True, I am terrified that this editor might read these new pages and say, thanks, but no thanks. But I must instead focus and visualize the positive... And so...

I will walk through this door and only face the future and not turn around to see if the door behind me has shut or remained open. If I keep my eye on the future, only good can come from that.

Have you left any open doors waving in the wind?

Sheri

America's Top Writer by Danette Haworth

I stumbled upon this great writer's blog the other day - Danette Haworth - She recently sold her first middle grade novel, VIOLET RAINES ALMOST GOT STRUCK BY LIGHTNING. Yay, Danette!

She wrote this great new posting on her blog entitled, America's Top Writer. It is a paradoy on today's warp-speed-to-the-top reality TV shows. Check it out. You will laugh out loud! http://summerfriend.blogspot.com/2008/01/americas-next-top-writer.html

Internal Dialogue

One of my fellow writers reached out recently with a question about the use of internal dialogue for her antagonist.

While it’s true, if used sparingly, internal dialogue can be useful, even enlightening. However, if used too frequently, it can be quite boring, overly dramatic, and in some cases, just plain silly.

I always think of it in terms of visuals. When I write, I see the scene in my head as if acted out. So, if you think of internal dialogue visually, you know then that it is not very visual, thereby, not very entertaining. It is better to limit internal dialogue to the times when it will have the greatest impact– and I believe there are certainly times when it is truly needed.

So how can you show what your character is thinking without overdoing internal dialogue? Provide him with a "buddy," or his “dynamic character;” someone he talks to, opens up to, listens to, reacts to, etc. This is more visually entertaining and it can also add so many layers to your characters.

And, may I just add... many writers have said to me - but I am not writing a screenplay. This is not a movie. It's a book! It isn't visual... Well to those writers I have this to say... have you ever read a book you didn’t see in your mind? Aha! Books are visual too. It is your job to entertain your reader visually too. To put pictures in their mind. Do you want them to picture your antagonist alone in a room, pacing feverishly, thinking to himself? Well, maybe sometimes. But every time? I think no.

Most of us understand that our PROtagonist needs a best friend and thus a lot of internal dialogue is shown in the use of this “dynamic” relationship between your protagonist and its dynamic character – the best friend. But what about the ANtagonist? How do you show the antagonist’s point of view without leaning too heavily on internal dialogue? The same way… a buddy character.

This evil "buddy" is an integral part of your story as well. He will act as the antagonist's conscience or as a buffer to offset the harsh evil tone the antagonist provides. When dealing with an evil antagonist – btw, not all antagonists are evil. It can be a parent who thinks she knows what’s best for the teenage main character and so stands in his way from achieving his goal – but back to the point… a minion, or evil servant, can help lessen your antagonist’s evilness. The evil “servant” can be a source of comedy by being stupid, or clumsy - the opposite of the antagonist... The servant can also help show either just how evil your character is, or as mitigation to show why he is so evil, or create an opportunity to show a softer side of this evil character.

Of course every character will have some internal dialogue from time to time, but if that is all that character has, it will be a weak way of presenting his/her thoughts. By only allowing your antagonist to think via internal dialogue would result in a missed opportunity for you to add layers, dimensions, and mitigation for this other important character in your story.

So, how about it? Let’s start a list of antagonists and their buddies. I’ll start with…

• Disney’s Cruella De Vil, from 101 Dalmatians. She had a crew that did her dirty work for her… namely Horace and Jasper.
• Or how about the antagonist from Holes, by Louis Sachar. The Warden was truly evil, but she didn’t work alone. No. We knew her inner thinking through the use of her two helpers - Mr. Sir and Mr. Pendanski

So let's hear from you. What antagonists come to your mind, and who were their henchmen?

Over a Hundred Ways to say SAID

My daughter's third grade teacher (Hello Mrs. Patkochis!) presented a challenge to her budding third grade writers... "How many ways can you say said?" She said the winner of the challenge would win something very special. Both my daughters have inherited the writer's gene from me (poor things) so she came home very determined and quickly decided the one sheet of paper provided would not suffice. So, she started by reading books (Ahem... one of my own, thank you very much) and began compiling her list. Then she decided she needed to type this list out on the computer and consult a thesaurus and the Internet. Here is her list of over 150 synonyms for said... What words can you add?
1. accused 2. acknowledged 3. added 4. addressed 5. admitted
6. admonished 7. advised 8. advocated 9. affirmed 10. agreed
11. alleged 12. allowed 13. alluded 14. announced 15. answered
16. apologized 17. appealed 18. appeased 19. approved 20. argued
21. articulated 22. asked 23. asserted 24. assumed 25. assured
26. attested 27. avowed 28. babbled 29. baited 30. bantered
31. bargained 32. barked 33. bawled 34. began 35. begged
36. believed 37. belittled 38. bellowed 39. blubbered 40. blurted
41. blustered 42. boasted 43. boomed 44. bragged 45. breathed
46. broke in 47. brought forth 48. condescended 49. contested
50. continued 51. contradicted 52. contributed 53. cooed
54. counseled 55. countered 56. coughed 57. crabbed
58. cackled 59. cajoled 60. calculated 61. called 62. caroled
63. cautioned 64. challenged 65. craved 66. cracked
67. cried 68. criticized 69. croaked 70. cautioned
71. crooned 72. cross-examined 73. chanted 74. cursed 75. charged
76. chatted 77. chattered 78. cheered 79. chided 80. chipped in
81. chirped 82. choked 83. chortled 84. cited 85. claimed
86. coaxed 87. comforted 88.commanded 89. commented
90. communicated 91. complained 92. conceded 93. concluded
94. concurred 95. confessed 96. confided 97. confirmed
98. consented 99. consoled 100. droned 101. debated
102. decided 103. declared 104. decreed 105. delivered
106. defended 107. demanded 108. demurred 109. denied
110. denounced 111. described 112. determined 113. dictated
114. directed 115. disclaimed 116. discussed 117. disclosed
118. disrupted 119. divulged 120. echoed 121. elaborated
122. emphasized 123. enjoined 124. enjoyed 125. enumerated
126. equivocated 127. estimated 128. enunciated 129. exaggerated
130. exhorted 131. expiated 132. explained 133. exploded
134. exposed 135. expressed 136. faltered 137. foretold
138. gasped 139. giggled 140. groaned 141. interrupted
142. laughed 143. muttered 144. pleaded 145. proclaimed
146. questioned 147. replied 148. sang 149. screeched
150. sputtered 151. stated 152. summoned 153. teased
154. trilled 155. wavered

By the way, she was the winner! A free homework pass was awarded. Congratulations Madison and Amy for being runner-up. But mostly, congratulations to all the student's of Mrs. Patkochis' 3rd graders for thinking outside the box and to Mrs. Patkochis for making learning so much fun!

Parting with Words

Having trouble doing a revision?
You know your story's too long and you need to make some drastic cuts, but you're afraid that by slashing away your precious words and phrases you've grown to love; you will ruin your story and loose the very essence you originally intended.

What's a writer to do? Simple. Copy and paste.

Copy your story into a new document and slash away. You'll have peace of mind knowing your original story is still in tact, safe and sound, saved under another document name.

Here's what I do...
I write a first draft and I leave it alone for a few days. I come back and read it with fresh eyes. I fix any simple editorial mistakes or add/change/delete a word or phrase. But when it comes to major revisions, I save that first draft as 1.0. 1= first draft. .0 = no revisions. I copy and paste the story onto a fresh new page. I save it and call it 1.1 1 = still the first draft. .1= first revision. I continue this process until I get to the end of the story. When I am ready to begin revising my second draft, I begin with 2.0 2 = second draft, no revisions… YET!

By the time I am done with a story, I have a file thick with all sorts of numbers, 1.0, 1.1, 1.2… 2.7... and so on. It tracks my revisions, let's me see my growth, reminds me of what I've done previously, and most of all, frees me to make those big and necessary changes. And voila! You’ve revised your story.

What method do you use?

Sheri ks, ks