Fire me up!

My novel writing career began a year and a half ago, in April 2006. I've always written--poetry, newsletters, articles, creative nonfiction, academic type papers, short stories, vignettes, acts in plays, journal entries-- but I'd never attempted a novel before. Couldn't figure out how. So, in April 2006, finding myself going mind-numb at home with my amazing son and adorable nephew (sorry, kiddos!), I decided it was time to figure out how, and, can I just say--boy, what a long, strange, winding road it's been! I say this because, like Jacqueline and Macy, I'm going to write about how the voice class has changed my writing-- sorta, kinda. I don't think it's changed my writing exactly. A voice is a voice is a voice, is it not? I think my writing remains my writing, and my voice remains my voice, but the voice class and the revelations it triggered have provided me with much-needed validation and all of the following have been altered: my goals, my WIPs, my determination, my inner fire, my material, and my willingness to follow my out-of-the-box ideas. I also picked up two new muses, which I may blog about this weekend over at my Throw Another Blog on the Fire blog. Oh, and there's another thing that's been altered-- my blog!

Anyway, a bit more history . . .

Before signing up for the online Romancing Writing class at Gotham where I met my fellow AoTP-ers, I had written a handful of short stories-- two featuring tweens, one featuring a teen, three featuring chick-lit type characters, all of them coming of age type stories with romantic elements. I read mostly mainstream or literary fiction, chick lit, young adult and intermediate fiction, a bit of romance, a bit of suspense and, once in a great while, a fantasy, sci fi, paranormal or horror genre novel. I also read lots of nonfiction. I wasn't big on genre fiction. At all. However, I read a lot of intermediate and young adult fiction across subgenres because (a) I was in charge of the kids department (amongst other things) when I worked at Borders, and (b) I was in grad school, working on my teacher certification and a master's degree in teaching language arts.

The point of all this is that I started out writing chick lit when I entered that Romance writing class. I really had no interest in writing romance genre novels. Heck, the only romance genre novels I had read were the novels in the Outlander series, a couple of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss back in the seventies, Laurell Hamilton's Anita Blake series, which isn't exactly romance genre-- and I think that's it. I loved love stories, but I discovered that those I loved weren't strictly romance.

When chick lit was pronounced DEAD following the 2006 RWA national conference, I did some research and discovered I loved, loved, loved SEP, Julia Quinn and Loretta Chase as well as Beth Ciotta and Jennifer Crusie. The thing these writers have in common is that many of their books contain romantic comedy elements. I found something about their books that I thought was akin to chick lit. So, I started converting my chick lit novel into a romance novel. A romantic comedy. A darkish, irreverent, snarky, romantic comedy. Which turned out all screwed up. Blech, blech, blech!

I've had ideas for other novels. I've started them. I've tinkered around with WIP #1, but I haven't really had that fire in my belly that I started out with. I haven't really given my muses enough room to roam wild and free. Until . . .

The voice class!!!!

Why? Because the very first week, Macy sent me an email, just to me, that said something like, I think you could write Young Adult novels. The edgy kind that get banned.

So there you have it-- it all started with Macy.

She was right. I knew instantly because it scared the shit out of me. And excited me. The fire was ignited. The engines zoomed. The wheels all started turning at once. Every time I think about it, still, I get a bit wired and trembly. Perhaps, I think, I could be like one of my heroes who means so very much to kids-- like JK Rowling, Judy Blume, Gary Paulsen, Phillip Pullman, Laurie Halse Anderson, Chris Crutcher, Jerry Spinelli, or others.

I also could write the coming of age, less edgy, chick lit kind,too. I could write series like the Cyd Charisse and Jessica Darling series by Rachel Cohn and Megan McCafferty respectively. I LOVE them.

I briefly thought, well everyone would want to write those kinds of books-- popular, respected YA books-- but that doesn't mean everybody can. But then I realized, no, not everyone wants to write those kinds of books as much as I do. Not everyone would be sitting on the edge of their seat saying, "Oh, wow. I've finally, finally found my true blue calling." ( Do I hear a "hallelujah" in the house? Ah yes, there's one from my mom and dad, lol.)

For three weeks, I've been going nuts checking out YA authors' web sites. Reading, reading, reading. And I'm excited. Ideas are flying. It all ties in to what I wanted to teach before I realized I'd rather write than teach, or maybe, both. Heck, I can't wait to start subbing again as research. Suddenly, the possibilities seem endless.

One of my new muses is a teenager. She said, "It's about time you started listening to me. I'm the one with the tales to spin. Trust me." She also said, "Make sure you thank Macy every day because I've barely begun to mine the very tippy tip of this iceberg , girlfriend. We've got STUFF. All kinds of gloriously screwed up, angsty stuff."

She's right. Thank you, Macy.

I discovered in voice that I predominantly write about finding yourself in hell, and getting out. I tend to like stories about strong, quirky, independent female protagonists and their quests for redemption. My personal hells? Grief/loss, alcohol and drug abuse, domestic violence, depression/post traumatic stress, stifling boredom and high school, high school, high school. Perhaps, someday I'll expand my repertoire to research other kinds of hell-- environmental devastation, war, Wal Mart. Okay, I'm grinning about that last one. Teenage Muse has already reminded me, a few times now, about stalker hell so we'll see what happens with that seed she keeps blowing at me. I'll be giving her free rein during NaNoWriMo. Till then, my very first WIP has been reripped open and given new life. Everything I learned about how to write a romance novel has been chucked. Not because I think the information wasn't worth learning (it was!), but because I'm not a romance writer. I never was. I know now. I bring a slightly different set of tricks to the equation.

I found this quote by Zadie Smith that I find highly relevant to the voice discussions.

“Fictional truth is a question of perspective, not autobiography. It is what you can't help tell if you write well; it is the watermark of self that runs through everything you do.”

If anything has changed about my writing per se, it's that I've given myself permission to leave my watermark without apology or regret. Without toning it down to appease gentler, less warrior-like souls. I've been called to write, over and over again in my lifetime, because I have something to say. I think it's about time I said it in as many different ways as I possibly can. Who knows? Perhaps, if I don't, no one else will. At least not the same way I would.

And that reminds me of an awesome quote by Martha Graham:

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.”

Cheers and happy writing,
C. Alyson

More Voice Class Revelations

I’m still processing what I learned from Barbara Samuel's voice class.

Seriously.

I can list twenty things I discovered about my voice or about writing voice in general but when one says “discuss three revelations you had about your own voice” and everyone digs deep (see Macy's post, Katrina's post and Jackie's post to see what I mean), I automatically think I need to come up with something deep, and meaningful, too. Three major insights. As our classmate, Mel, pointed out, Barbara is good muse food. My muses, including two new ones I met courtesy of Barbara's phenomenal voice class, are still hand weaving together the weft and warp threads of the tapestry.

Hmm. The tapestry thing works here. Let's incorporate that.

What I've come to realize is "voice" is complicated, intricate, complex, like a tapestry. It comprises everything you are, who you are, and how you came to be that way. I do truly get that now. It’s your vibe, rhythm, world view, word choice, design, cadence, speed, pulse, personal truth, way of seeing, way of being, senses and sensibilities, landscape, personal and cultural history, likes and dislikes, theme songs and more. It’s not your genre or writing style, although your voice may be better suited to one genre or subgenre over another, and one style over another. No wonder it’s a source of puzzlement, a topic debated, difficult to define.

After listing 25 loves, describing a favorite place, listing favorite movies and books at different ages, examining dialects and who taught us to speak, discussing cultures we’re attracted to and that surrounded us when we were growing up, doing timed writings on photos we selected and that were selected for us, exploring themes, describing the book we’d write if we could only write one (yikes!), talking about primary senses and sensibilities, describing our favorite outfit, writing fan letters to ourselves from our ideal reader, describing our 80^th birthday parties complete with advice from our 80 year old selves for our current selves, and choosing what type of artist we’d be if we couldn’t be writers, our culminating exercise as part of a final worksheet was to come up with a “voice statement.” I’ll start there.

My original voice statement went like this, “My voice is hip, bold, edgy, bright, darkly witty, passionate and soulful. It will rock you!”

I knew it wasn’t exactly right but it was close and I liked it. By then, I had discovered a couple of things. First when I described my favorite outfit the words I used to describe it were hip, mod, bohemian, rock chic but in an age appropriate urban minimalist type way. I asked Barbara about the significance of the outfit and she said something like your favorite outfit represents your inner self. Your true self. After completing that exercise, I found myself thinking things like I wanted to be the Sheryl Crow of women’s fiction or romance, or possibly, young adult romance or fiction (I’ll get back to the latter later.) I wasn’t sure what that meant. Barbara said she thought of Sheryl Crow as hip, independent and soulful. My insides thrummed and sang, “Perfect.” I’m hip, independent and soulful, too.

Given these early clues, it wasn’t surprising that for my artist other than a writer, I chose rock star, although movie director and dancer were close behind. The more I thought about it, the more perfect the idea of being a rock star seemed, given that talent wasn’t a limiting factor. In my imagination, I AM a rock star. I like to dance, sing, live out loud, rock the masses, support good causes. And in my imagination I look like Peggy Lipton of the Mod Squad. Or Kate Moss. Or Kate Hudson in Almost Famous. Or Sheryl Crow. You get the idea. Since the class ended, I’ve gone out and gotten myself some rock star hair and I absolutely love it. I’m a rock star writer. And I’m tired of pretending that I’m not.

Here’s what I mean by that. For as long as I can remember, and as long as I’ve been writing, I’ve had people tell me that either I or my writing are: bold, passionate, edgy, raw, “out loud,” intense, in your face, kick ass, bawdy, lusty, unedited, not subtle or mainstream, irreverent, rebellious, like bright, bright lights turned on too high, hip, cool, and so on. I’ve sometimes tried to tone myself down, and I’ve sometimes tried to do that with my writing, too. It’s freeing to say, hell, I’m a rock star, baby, and that’s that. I’m not the subdued soccer mom or even the romance writer next door ( not that all soccer moms or romance writers are the same). My novels will be fast, bold, intense, edgy, out loud, bawdy, lusty, rebellious and rocking. Not lush, rich, emotional opera. Not smooth jazz. Not sultry blues. Not pop, although some stories may have pop-like hooks, especially in the chorus. Not down home country. Not classical for brainiacs either. Not goth or punk or pared down, moody alternative grunge. Not techno. Rock, baby. Classic rock. Hip, independent, soulful, and perhaps, a bit old school cuz I have a thing for all things late sixties and seventies. I can own that. I even have the hair now to prove it. LOL.

In her final comments to me, Barbara mentioned that I might face some desires to "polish" my work into something more "mainstream," and I shouldn't let that happen. She said, “What's vibrant and true about your voice is the fact that you are able to tell the truth, tell it intelligently, and don't wince away from the dark places.”

I liked that. I suspected it and appreciated the confirmation. I’ve already tried polishing one novel into something more mainstream and I ended up hating it. Blech! My story lost all its oomph. I think there’s a reason that I started out writing chick lit, toyed with mainstream, and then changed my chick lit novel to an irreverent romantic comedy. I’m not classical romance. Heck, my husband says although I’m passionate and soulful, I don’t have a classically romantic bone in my body. (Sad, but true.) I'm also rebellious so the moment someone shows me a list of conventions, or a contest score sheet, or tells me there are rules, or forces craft down my throat (although I actually do believe craft is important), I start thinking about all the ways I can buck the system. It might make getting published tricky, but the bottom line is I need to follow my true north. I have to be who I am. I have to write in my voice. I have no other choice. As for publishing, I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Since my voice statement wasn’t spot on, I’ve been thinking about it some more. Barbara said there was another angle to my writing, my work, which was that it was both intelligent and street smart. I want to work that in.

My voice is hip, bold, edgy, fast, rockin', irreverent, streetwise, smart, fun, passionate and soulful.

Closer. I also happen to think I’m funny, but I don’t know that anyone else does (grin.)

Since this post is so long already, I’ll continue it over at my individual blog to give you a breather. And I’ll get back to the Young Adult thing over there.

Cheers and happy writing,

Alyson

Alyson loves . . .

Yesterday, Macy issued a challenge and basically volunteered me to go first, ha, so here's my list of loves. I'm not really so worried about whether anyone will love the same things or think I'm odd, but I do like to remind people that this was stream-of-consciousness listing with no editing.

I love . . .

1. Church choirs and gospel music, all kinds of both, BUT if you want me to feel chills from the tip of my head all the way down to my tapping toes; if you want me to jump up and sway to the music, swing my hips and shimmy, shout an Amen as the Holy Spirit does the funky chicken and my soul leaps from my body to shake, rattle and roll with everyone else’s; if you want tears to stream down my face while my heart bursts with lovely things like joy, peace and goodwill to all, then you take me to the south side of Chicago, to an African American church with a huge, community-building congregation, where the choir is at least 250 members strong and the funky choir director does the butterfly while the sax plays a sound so sweet, so pure that birds appear in sunny, cerulean skies, where the band includes two pianos, two organs and a full brass section that moonlights in the blues clubs, where the soloist makes Aretha Franklin look like just another kid on the block as she belts out her song from some well deep inside and the song birds outside whisper, “listen.” Amen, baby, Amen. Amen.

2. Outdoor rock concerts, especially at Soldier Field down by Lake Michigan on starry summer nights when the band plays songs that everyone knows the words to, and the mood is just right so everyone feels uninhibited enough to joyously rock out, dance, sing, become best buds with peeps they’ve never seen before and likely will never see again, but for that moment, everyone is in it together and it’s possible to believe that music could change the world, that everyone could dance and laugh and sing together, be united, if only there was a venue and sound system big enough.

3. Dancing. Not a big surprise after the first two. It’s been years since I’ve taken a dance class – but I have three equal loves here. The first is when you’ve learned a dance step or piece, and you’ve been practicing and practicing, and you finally have it down technically, so now you’ve started to make it your own. The second is when there’s no format, no steps, just you and the music and it carries you away—you could be in a crowded room but you wouldn’t know it, or you could be in your living room but in your mind your on your own dance floor. The third is watching a phenomenal dancer do his/her thing. It can inspire me, move me to tears—it’s an art form that really gets to me.

4. The look. There will be a moment when I see my son and my husband off doing something together – building a birdhouse, playing catch or soccer, watering the plants, walking down the block, whatever. My heart gets very full; I feel a soulful thrum, sweet and lowdown; I want to capture the moment in a photograph in my memory forever. The world feels almost perfect. Then, they look at me and both of their faces light up, their smiles in their eyes and the almost disappears.

5. Long, deep, lively, interesting conversation covering anything and everything from the personal to the public and the political, from the spiritual to huge scandal, as long as it’s not tedious surface chit chat. If possible, I’d love to be at a great outdoor café, maybe on a piazza.

6. Movies, movies, movies. All kinds of movies. Preferably at the theater, with a big bucket of popcorn and a cushy seat that allows for some personal space. My favorite date? My husband., or if it’s a “chick flick”, my sisters. My favorite movies? Too many to name but the first two that popped into my head were Life is Beautiful and Braveheart. I like it best when all my emotions are roused and there’s catharsis.

7. Books! Not just books I read or love individually. All books. When I was a manager at Border, my pulse would jump, and my eyes would twinkle when a new shipment came in. I love the smell. I love the weight. I love the smooth, pretty covers. I love sorting them, shelving them, setting up displays, making recommendations, buying them, seeing what other people buy, finding a place for them in my library, reading them (of course), doing children’s story hours with them, book clubs. Books!

8. Classes. Liberal arts classes. Yoga classes. Dance classes. Writing classes. I prefer a setting with a window, a progressive, “cool” teacher, and subjects that challenge me on multiple levels. I like a good give and take, and lots of collaboration with room for independence and creativity. Lots of creativity. In the end, I like to be able to say I've grown, I've learned, I've discovered.

9. Hand crafted wood furniture—cherry, oak, pine, French country style, Neopolitan, Mission, shaker, Amish. Simple, ornate—doesn’t matter. I’m into the craft of it. I’m partial to desks and bookshelves, but I’d love to just fill mansions and mansions with cool wood furniture—even thought I have no desire for mansions.

10. Huge, old trees especially in autumn when the leaves turn color or after the first snow, which is sorta funny given my love of wood furniture and books. Around here, I’m partial to oaks and willows. In the south, I love live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. I’m in awe of majestic redwoods.

11. Tulips. Multi-colored fields of them. Red, Yellow, Purple, Blue, Pink, White.

12. Kissing. (Too funny,--tulips made me think of kissing). Long, lingering, deep, wet, slow kissing that gets increasingly passionate but isn’t overlooked in a hurry to get to something else.

13. New Orleans, Florence, San Remo, Venice Beach and Sedona. I love to travel, but of the places I’ve visited these call to me, “Come back . . . soon.”

14. Bodies of water—oceans, lakes, rivers, ponds, creeks, waterfalls. Water.

15. Sandy beaches with balmy breezes and a good book in hand. I love a good trek along the beach, too, walking right along the shore, footprints being washed away by the waves.

16. Funky cross necklaces, especially handmade.

17. Large, centuries-old catholic churches with stained glass windows and amazing art, especially in Italy.

18. Bright, colorful sixties and seventies clothes and memorabilia.

19. Aha moments.

20. A good adrenalin rush – I’ve mellowed on this but I still love fast, loopy roller coasters, skydiving (my memories since it's been awhile) and taking risks.

21. The feeling after a good work out, especially yoga but anything that releases tons of toxins works.

22. A good cause, which for me usually means it’s a cause that promotes social justice, freedom, children’s rights, women’s rights, human rights, access to quality education, literacy, animal rights, PEACE and/or protects the environment.

23. Animals, especially dogs, deer and horses. Imperial stags with 14 point antlers take my breath away.

24. Okay, I just can’t NOT include my family. My immediate family, including my dogs, who are lovable, loyal mutts and my larger crazy, lovable, extended family. And in general, I love families because they provide roots and wings and these little microcosms of the world, which is good, bad, easy, difficult and everything in-between.

25. Breaking bread together with family and friends, especially warm, artisan breads fresh out of the oven, so warm the butter melts as soon as you spread it on, and especially around a big round table so everyone can see each other and talk.

Of course, as soon as I sent the list in, I realized I forgot writing-- writing! But that's not as bad as forgetting storytelling. My entire life I've been called a storyteller. And, I forgot massages. I'm a freak about massages. Oh well. It's not supposed to be the 25 things we love the most, it's the 25 things we thought of first.

Cheers and happy writing and list making--
Alyson