by Mayumi-H | May 14, 2012 | Fearless, From Hell (A Love Story), Process
It’s my belief that any story is, at its core, about relationships. Relationships between people or groups of people, usually: families, friends, lovers, enemies, warring countries/planets/galaxies, spies trying to outdo each other, whatever. A story about a boy and his dog making their way through the post-apocalyptic countryside is about a relationship. Or a story about a female fighter pilot and the only thing in the world she trusts – her plane – is about a relationship. Even a story about the last surviving scientist looking for a cure to a world-spread disease is about a relationship.
Perhaps the greatest unconsummated love affair of them all?
Now, my stories tend to examine relationships on a smaller scale, usually between two people, along with a supporting cast of eccentrics around them. Love stories. But it’s never just a love story. I like some kind of conflict (often external) that will rear its ugly head, and which my characters need to face together to overcome. Or die trying in the process.
My question, though, is – when you have an external conflict that the lovers must face – how much time can you spend building the relationship, first?
I like building relationships, myself, but in this age of short attention spans, if a storyteller spends a lot of time forging that alliance between the characters, will the reader get bored before the big ol’ conflict hits? What’s a reasonable amount of time to spend getting a couple together? What if I’m telling this story all wrong?!
(image by Michelle Burnette)
Have you ever read a story and thought, “They would never get together that quickly!” Or, conversely, “Why is this truce taking so long?” What are your thoughts about this topic? I’d love to know!
by Mayumi-H | May 12, 2012 | Process
I was going to spend this entry talking a little bit about self-edits, but I’ll save that for another time.
Instead, I thought I’d share a link to this post from over at The Red Pen of Doom, wherein Mr. Guy takes his titular pen to my entry to Ms. Joey’s Spring Into Action Flash Fiction contest from a few weeks back. Go take a look, and learn from his edits and comments. Don’t worry; it’s totally safe (Ms. Joey made us keep things PG).
Pretty darn slick, huh?
Now, if you’re like me, you probably get very nervous when you post anything original, because you’re putting yourself out there for anyone to mock. But, in this case, I remembered that one of the main points of my current novel project is overcoming fear, so I made myself submit that flash fiction piece.
“Aaah! What have I done?!”
The result? I had a lot of fun stretching writing muscles I hadn’t exercised in a while (namely, writing adventure). Even better, though: now, not only do I feel very honored to be made an example of by Mr. Guy, but I think I have a better idea of how to write that potential story!
The moral of this very short anecdote is, don’t be afraid to put yourself out there. Even if it’s just something small. You never know who might be reading.
Remember, it’s up to you to beat down those trolls who tell you you can’t do it!
Trollhunter. Find him. Watch him. Learn from him.
by Mayumi-H | May 7, 2012 | Excerpts, Fearless, Process
I know I’ve said a million times that you shouldn’t go back and re-write until you’re finished…but, rules are made to be broken.
The “original” draft of Chapter 11 moved things along at what I thought was too quick a pace. There was too much pluperfect recap in the first two pages or so that just felt rushed, to me; an “info dump,” of sorts. So, while this does not change anything that happens in the chapters following, and while it may very well end up hitting the floor when I do my first big edit (in which I’ll likely cut about 10-15% of text), I’ll at least have gotten the words down.
The sofa wasn’t very cosy – it was too short for him to stretch out properly, for one thing – but it was a hundred times better than the chairs in the CCU lounge or in Amber’s room, which were barely comfortable enough for sitting, let alone dozing. And it was hours closer than his own bed, to which he wasn’t quite ready to retreat, yet, with Amber still alone at hospital. Still, he managed to drift into a fitful sort-of sleep, waking just past six with a crick in his legs and a rotten-tasting dryness in his mouth.
Stumbling to the bathroom, he managed to find a bottle of mouthwash and freshened up a bit with that. He washed his face, too, pausing to take note of the dark circles under his reddened eyes, and the uneven two-day growth of beard on his face. He smelled of nervous sweat and musk, as well, but there was little to be done about that, beyond a cursory wash of pits and appendages at the sink.
As shit as he looked, though, and as shit as he felt, he knew that it wasn’t anything compared to what was waiting for Amber. And it was for that reason more than any other that he frowned at his own ridiculous vanity, swiped the spare keys from the kitchen counter, and jogged back to hospital as quickly as he could do, ignoring the fresh rain that pattered down around him.
There are few things worse than waiting in one of these damned chairs.
(photo courtesy visualphotos.com)
Maybe I originally glossed over a lot of the hospital scenes because writing them has been so difficult for me. It means going to a place inside of my memories that I don’t like to visit. Except that the pain and uncertainty in those moments of just waiting, not knowing, can’t be approximated any other way. Not by me, at least.
I don’t enjoy hurting these characters, who are such a part of myself. But through pain, we grow. And Ross needs to grow, if he’s going to be fearless.
Have you ever relived a painful part of your past, to get more in touch with the heart of your story?
by Mayumi-H | May 5, 2012 | Fearless, Process
“Sell-out!”
My husband makes this casual accusation all of the time, mostly of visual or musical artists. His perspective is that an artist is true to their work or vision only if they’re suffering in obscurity and relative poverty. I argue back at him that, sure, an artist has a vision and should stay true to that. But how many people really get into music or writing or art and don’t want to be successful and make money at it? Green Day, for example, lost a lot of their punk “cred” (at least with my husband and his friends) when they signed to a big record label and became international superstars.
My answer to that? “…What?”
“No, guys, I don’t want to make a bajillion dollars playing stadium shows. Let’s just go back to playing in our garage.”
This brings me to my point (such as it is): What’s the right balance of creating art for yourself, and creating it for other people?
Theresa Stevens over at Edittorrent has a great post about Complexity in stories. In it, there’s a terrific bit about writers who spell things out for the reader, and weaving a bit of mystery and complexity into the words.
When I’ve written fiction stories before, I try to write on two levels: on a very basic level, a reader can just read the words and get a hopefully fulfilling story. On another level, though, I try to introduce deeper meaning for the moment or characters. It’s not super-obvious, but if you’re willing to think about what’s happening on the page, there’s another layer to the story.
This invariably takes more concentration and skill, though. And I occasionally think that maybe I’m just creating more work for myself. After all, I’m an unproven writer, and most readers likely won’t take a chance on whatever I produce, without a name to myself.
But I don’t want to write for a genre or audience – or in a style – simply because it’s popular or the latest new thing. It’s impossible for me not to emulate the stories I’ve loved since I was a little girl, but I don’t want to study a Twilight or Hunger Games to change the way I write, to make my novel more mainstream and publishable. I want to tell my story, in my voice, with all of the sexy, fluffy, ugly stuff that goes along with it.
So, I ask you. Which is more realistic for the starving starting novelist? To be the artist, or the hack?
Ben Skinner – one of the inspirations for Ross – strutting his stuff on the water.
photo courtesy and copyright Geoff Tydeman
by Mayumi-H | Apr 28, 2012 | Fearless, From Hell (A Love Story), Process
One of the things that Mr. Guy talks about over at The Red Pen of Doom is keeping your pitch simple. Four words or less, he suggests, to give a basic summary of your novel. From there, you can elaborate to a sentence and then a paragraph, but those four words need to sum up the gist of your story.
Brought to you by the number 4.
Four words? Even my comics creator friend, Pete Stathis, suggested the seven-word synopsis. I had issues coming up with seven words to sum up my story, but, compared to four, seven would be cake.
Anyway, since reading that article about the simple pitch, I’ve been trying on and off for the last several weeks to come up with something suitable. Everything sounds so trite, though. I’m trying to stay universal, since one of the other suggestions made over at the Red Pen of Doom is that the hero doesn’t matter (not to the pitch, anyway): it’s the conflict that’s really important.
That piece of advice should probably make my task easier…except that it doesn’t.
I asked my mother for advice about this (so you know that I’m desperate). She asked what a pitch was, to start, and then said, “So, if I were to write my life story, my pitch would be something like, Memoirs of a Gaido-san, yes?” (Gaido-san is Engrish for “Miss/Madame Tour Guide.”)
Damn it if my mother isn’t better at this than I am.
Your typical "gaido-san"
For anyone who’s taken a peek at Fearless, it’s about this carefree and callous surfer-type who falls in love with the bold new girl in the village, blah blah blah, and I’ve likely lost you already. The main focus of the story is really about their relationship, coming to terms with their past and present mistakes and misconceptions, and how a single accident can change the way that they approach their lives. There are no invaders from space, no marauding pirates. So, how do I compress that story of love and relationships into four words and still make it interesting?
Whenever I consider my four-word pitch, I’m dogged by cliched, general phrases that ultimately say nothing about the story. If I read these on a poster with a graphic, maybe something would click, but probably not. To give you an idea, I’m stuck with such trite fare as: “Healing isn’t just physical,” and “One accident changes everything.” Or the oh-so basic, “What’s love without fear?” (Because the story deals a lot with these people’s fears: fear of trust, fear of loss, fear of letting go of the people whom you love.)
But none of these have really grabbed me. And if they don’t grab me, they don’t have a chance in Hell of grabbing you.
Painting by Dolk.
If only I could use this as my pitch.
http://www.thegiant.org/wiki/index.php/Dolk
So, it’s back to the drawing board, for me and this project. I’m coming in to the home stretch on my first draft (denouement left, now), and then it’s off for some light (followed by heavy) editing. In the meantime while I finish up the big text, though, I guess I have plenty of work to do on the little text.
(Wait, wait! How about “Love, by accident“? Nah. Didn’t think so.)
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