Good enough?

I stayed home from work today. I cleaned up around here for awhile. (It's an ongoing task since workers are still in and out on a daily basis.) I also wrote some. I edited several pages. When I got stuck on exactly what I wanted, I put down the green pen and moved on to the synopsis.

I find writing a synopsis helps when I'm not exactly sure where I want the story to go. Somehow, just writing all the main points makes it clearer. At 1000 words into what really amounts to a rough summary more than a synopsis, I took a break.

I was frustrated. It just never seems that it's quite good enough. I'm this way about alot of things. Fortunately, the more comfortable I become with a job, the more I'm able to determine what's important and what I can let go. In the bill-paying job, I tend to be very non-perfectionist. I'm better than good-enough, and that's all that's expected.

However, with writing for publication, I feel this intense need to be perfect, to have the perfect manuscript. My characters need to be perfectly motivated. The villain needs to be perfectly revealed at the perfect time with the perfect clues dropped along the way. The heroine and the hero need to kiss at the perfect time, and I need to lead up to that moment with the perfect nuances.

But it goes deeper. I need the perfect word. I've been known to read the thesaurus for a half hour, playing with meaning until the perfect word appears. I've been known to repeat a sentence out loud, playing with word order and choice until the perfect cadence is developed.

I won't throw out any more examples of my quirky tendancies lest you run screaming that I need psychiatric help.

You see, though, writing is new enough to me that I haven't figured out those places where imperfection can hide. I know they are there, but I think I have yet to discover them. That means that I currently erase 900 words for every 1000 I write. I have to sit back and let the ideas come in their own sweet time instead of plowing forward. I have to test out all sorts of ideas. I have to rewrite...alot.

I have to find a reasonable way to work throught the frustrations that accompany imperfection because it's all imperfect now. I have to go through this quest for perfection until I know what it looks like in my own writing. Then I can figure out where to back off and how I can give myself a break.

Why do I do this? Why have I always done it? Today, in my frustration with imperfection I decided to do a little self-discovery and find out.

I looked as far as my Meyers Brigg personality type: INTJ.
About 1/2 of 1% of the population. Lucky me. (sarcasm)

Here are some things you should know about the INTJ.

1. No idea is too far-fetched to be entertained. INTJs are natural brainstormers, always open to new concepts and, in fact, aggressively seeking them. (Well, this is both good and bad for a writer. Brainstorming is good, but you have to know when to stop. Hmm.)

2. Likes looking at information from a global viewpoint, spotting patterns and relationships, that lead to an understanding of the key issues. (This is great. I generally "feel" like I can get a global view of the story, but those pesky details....)

3. INTJs are perfectionists, with a seemingly endless capacity for improving upon anything that takes their interest. (Problem: How do I know when it's perfect or at least good enough?)

4. (but, wait, there's more...) What prevents them from becoming chronically bogged down in this pursuit of perfection is the pragmatism so characteristic of the type: INTJs apply, often ruthlessly, the criterion "Does it work?" (Bigger problem: How do I -- the creator of my story -- know if it works? And what works for one person, doesn't always work for another. So, who do I please? The best and most reasonable answer is myself. Yes, but who else? I can please myself in many ways. What one of those is going to please my readers, editors, publishers, etc.?)

So, having at least identified the problem, I now have to come up with solutions. (Even if you keep reading, you won't find those. I haven't discovered them yet.)

It really is okay, though. I'm one of those people who embrace the journey, even the unpleasant parts. It's all about learning, and even the things that go wrong show me what not to do next time.

Today, I read an article in the most recent edition of Writer's Digest. The article was an interview with Janet Fitch, author of White Oleander and most recently, Paint It Black. After reading the interview, I think I'll buy Paint it Black. It's not the type of book I usually read. It's more literary, and unless I'm in the mood for something like that, I tend to read escapism commercial fiction. However, Fitch said some things in her interview that nailed what I was thinking about today.

She said, "If you hold yourself to high standard, there's always the disappointment that the book on the page isn't the book in your mind. It helps you to have a fair scoop of realism. You have to let go of what you want to do and just say, This is what I'm able to do. Some people's aspirations are very high, and whatever they do they're deeply unsatisfied with. That's a terrible trap for artists and writers not to be able to enjoy something that's imperfect, because everything in the physical world is imperfect."

She also said, "In the arts, your weakness becomes your signature. The fact that your work is imperfect makes it interesting."

Yes, to the first quote. Maybe, to the second one. I'm still debating it.

Obviously, perfectionism is an issue for me, much the same as power is for Alyson. (I'm glad we aren't covering my achilles heel this week.) However, in such a competitive industry, it seems that getting it as right as possible is a benefit.

So, I really do want to know: Does the fact that your work is imperfect make it interesting? If so, maybe I should try to perfect imperfection.

That's all the deep, rambling stuff for now.

Macy

PS. Read the full interview conducted by Mary Curran-Hackett in the April edition of Writer's Digest, pages 54-57.

Power & Authenticity

Here I go again with the Care and Feeding of the Girls in the Basement Class. This week we are talking about power. Lots of butterflies, jangling nerves, metal doors slamming inside my mind. I’m not sure what’s going on with this topic. We touched on it briefly before and it didn’t make me feel particularly weird—but this week, I feel weird. I actually do think it’s related to writing, so bare with me. I’m taking a meandering path but I’ll get to the point. Well, maybe.

Power is a tough topic for me because I have been an underachiever since I hit puberty—a slacker, a party girl, a job hopper, a perpetual grad student. A seeker. Essentially, a person with “leadership qualities” unwilling to lead. A “bohemian philosophe,” according to one group of friends. I tend to think I have to make it as a writer for my life to date to make any sort of sense. To validate my choices thus far.

I’ve avoided power. Over and over again. Why? I’m not sure but the becauses that are surfacing go something like this-- Because I’m afraid I’ll end up feeling responsible for even more people than I already feel responsible for. Because I’m afraid I’m not up to the task. Because I’m afraid that people won’t like me. Because I’d like to just fit in and be like everyone else even though I never have been. Because I have skeletons in my closet. Because I’m damaged goods. Because . . . well, power is oppressive, no? ( It doesn’t have to be but that’s my paradigm.) Because I was taught—trained well-- to hide my light under a bushel.

Now, I’m pretty damn sure I’m doing the avoiding thing in my writing and that is really bothersome to me. What has become increasingly clear to me as we do our Sunday Sixes, and our Girls in the Basement exercises, is that I don’t write or read for escape, romance or a happily ever after. I read for truth and connection—a sense that we’re all part of something bigger than ourselves or anything that happens to us individually, a sense that we’re greater than the sum of what we do or think or commit to. I read to get in touch with my power and authenticity, my humanity, the light that resides in each and every one of us. For the most part, I want all my emotions galvanized. I want to think, I want to feel, I want to laugh but even that’s not enough-- I want a gut check and at least one solid tug at the soul. I want comedy with a bite or tragedy with a kiss and a caress. I want to feel the power of the words, the power of the story, the power of life and love and hope—and even despair. I want to be moved. Preferably deeply.

And I want to write the types of stories I like to I read.

I tend to resist the label “deep” (or “intense” as my friend, Victor, relentlessly referred to me) because, heck, we’re all “deep” in one way or another. In truth , my tastes are very eclectic. However, I do like to play in the deep end more often than not and maybe, just maybe, I have to start saying that aloud and harnessing the power and beauty of it rather than brushing it off or making light of it. I’m passionate about the soul, truth, human nature, the human experience, life and love. While I do enjoy a good romantic comedy, I also love old school writers like Austen, Faulkner, Bronte, Roth, Dostoevsky, and Shakespeare, who tell timeless stories with such social, psychological and spiritual insight that the stories almost hurt because they’re so keen, so sharp, so well-observed. Yes, the reader says, that’s exactly how it is.

That’s powerful.

While I was grocery shopping and pondering my resistance to power, I picked up this month’s Oprah Magazine. The theme of the March issue is authenticity. I had an epiphany of sorts as authenticity and power intermingled together in my mind while gazing at the cover photo of Oprah in green. When you think about it, who in the world is more powerful than Oprah? Not many people. What makes her so amazing is that she harnesses her power for good.

I'm still in "quote mode" from the Sunday Six last week so here are a handful of uplifting quotes on authenticity from the magazine —-

“Be what you are. Give what is yours to give. Have Style. Dare.”
--Stanley Kunitz, from Journal for My Daughter

“True guilt is guilt at the obligation one owes to oneself to be oneself. False guilt is guilt felt at not being what other people feel one ought to be or assume that one is.”
--Ronald David Lang

“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.”
--Nora Ephron

“Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be.”
--Fanny Brice

“It’s important to use your voice, whether you are effective or not.” –Patti Smith

“I think of [authenticity] as a commitment, a passion. Seeking and trying to tell the truth. Truth is important in a world that is changing so constantly and so quickly. And searching for authenticity becomes even more urgent in a world increasingly dominated by virtual reality.” – Christiane Amanpour

“Your authentic self cannot rely on other people’s validation. Now, note that this is coming from an actor; I am a professional applause seeker. Yet I know that when you are genuinely genuine, there will invariably be people who don’t accept you. And in that case, you must be your own badass self, without apology. At some point, the importance of being real makes you stop caring about what others think. Ever had that kind of moment? It feels good. Strong. It cures the disease to please.” –Katie Goodman

“We know it when we see it and we love the people who live it—the ones we can count on, always , to be brazenly, exhilaratingly themselves. . . Authenticity is the real deal: speaking up for what you believe in, refusing to be ruled by the desire for acceptance, listening for the difference between the impulses that move you and the fear that holds you back.” -- Oprah Magazine (no author named)

Okay, so what is my point here? I believe that to be powerful, you have to be authentic, especially as an artist, and I haven’t been entirely authentic. I think, perhaps, I’ve danced around this topic a few times here. Obviously, it’s something I’m grappling with now that I’ve finished plotting and dived back into writing. Sometimes I think I get so caught up in what publishers may want, what my critique partners like, what seems to be selling, what other writers say or are doing, that I forget to dig deep. To protect the authenticity of my work. To respect the authenticity of others’ work. We were all born to be brazenly authentic. If I can figure how to do that in my own writing, my storytelling, then I will finally embrace my power and use it for good—to entertain, empower, heal and uplift others.

Cheers and happy writing,
Alyson

Lines I Wish I’d Created…

Ever hear or read a line of dialogue and think, “Oh! Why couldn’t I write or say something that clever or moving or brilliant?” I do that quite a bit. Of course, to cement those moments in my mind, I write them down.

My collection of quotes spans books, articles, TV shows, movies, and even live verse off the lips of the speakers themselves. I especially love wit, clever word choice, beautifully descriptive passages and meaning on multiple levels. Below is a sampling of my collection. I admit, some are silly, but that’s what I enjoy about them. None are particularly romantic, which makes me think I need to note more of those.

The Spoken Word:

“I could be on fire and she wouldn’t even try to put me out.” My brother-in-law, Greg, said this when I asked him how engrossed my sister was in the X-Files.

“I knew the writing on the wall, I just didn’t want to read it.” - Unknown

Michael – “She’s obsessed with me.”
Maria – “Well, I guess that makes two of you, then, doesn’t it?”
- Roswell

Liz – “This can never be normal, Max.”
Max – “What’s so great about normal.”
- Roswell

Martin – “I’m sorry if I f****ed up your life.”
Debbie – “It’s not over yet.”
- Gross Pointe Blank

Dawn – “When do I get to patrol?”
Buffy – “Not until you’re never.”
- Buffy

“Not only has the shit hit the fan, but it’s aimed smack at us.” Quoted from an interview with Norma Barzman

Descriptions:

“Davy’s kiss tasted like Vodka and disaster.”
- Faking It, Jennifer Crusie (You knew I was going to quote her, didn’t you?)

Another from Crusie:
“Six feet two of broad-shouldered, dark-haired disappointment stood there, looking as startled as she was, and her treacherous heart lurched sideways at the sight.”
- Hot Toy in Santa Baby

Regarding Mrs. Darling, “The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her.”
- Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie

A last one from Crusie’s Bet Me:
“He was in profile now, talking to David. The man should be on coins, Min thought.”

The collection I drew from wasn't as large as I remembered and I now want to bulk it up a bit more, and I want to reach higher to create clever quotable lines myself.

Katrina

Lines I Wish I’d Said

“You had me at hello.” Dorothy says this to Jerry Maguire in the movie of the same name. Jerry has just finished telling her, “You complete me.” (What a great line to be told, btw!) And she knows. The words don’t matter. She knows. “Shut up, just shut up. You had me at ‘hello’”.

I love lines like that. Simple. Eloquent. To the point. Powerful.

I tend to like two kinds of lines. Those, like the one above, that are so simple I couldn’t ever actually think to say them myself. I tend to be wordy, to try to say things every possible way. Therefore, the simplicity of such a great line frequently awes me. Simple. Concise. Clear. Perfect.

The other kind of line I like is wordy and eloquent. It has a complicated rhythm to it, it’s depth woven intricately into the carefully constructed sentences.

Take the following line. Gemma Doyle, the protagonist in Libba Bray’s brilliant book, A Great and Terrible Beauty, says, “I don’t know yet what power feels like. But this is surely what it looks like, and I think I’m beginning to understand why those ancient woman had to hide in caves. Why our parents and teachers and suitors want us to behave properly and predictably. It’s not that they want to protect us; it’s that they fear us.”

Gemma was raised in India. She’s one of those girls that naturally thinks her own thoughts. Her world is colored differently than that of other girls raised in the late 1800’s British culture. She sees the repression of her culture for all it’s worth and aptly summarizes her feelings about it, hitting the issue at its heart.

I wish I’d said, or even thought, something like that. Growing up in small town Texas, even in the 1970’s and 80’s, was not altogether different from late 1800’s England or Middle America 1950’s. Appearances were everything. I wish I’d been as astute at 16 as Gemma. Perhaps being able to so succinctly identify the root of it all, like she did, would have provided some measure of peace.

When we decided to tackle this topic on the Sunday Six, I panicked a bit. All my books are still boxed. Boxes and boxes of books, awaiting my book shelf and permanent desk. I didn’t have the luxury of flipping through the pages of loved favorites to rediscover lines that stopped me by their sheer profoundness.

Of course, I did dig through the boxes a bit to come up with the remaining three lines, but those previous ones hit me square. I’ve loved them every time I’ve heard them.

These others… well, I’m not sure I wish I’d said them, but they were profound in the context of the books in which they were written, nonetheless.

From Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card –
Ender has defeated the buggers. Near the end of the book, he wants to board a starship and fly away and live forever. He tells his sister, Valentine, that he needs to leave because he’s almost happy there. She tells him to stay, and he says, “I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.” How poignant and honest. I think a lot of people feel that way. What a powerful line.

“Frankly, my dear. I don't give a damn." Yes, the line from Gone with the Wind is a bit cliché now, but I’ve said it, or my variation of it. I’ll probably say it again.

For my final one (it counts as both 5 and 6, since it’s in at least three of Karen Marie Moning’s highlander books), I’ve included the Druid binding vows that several of Moning’s characters use to marry one another. What beautiful words! “If aught must be lost, ‘twill be my honor for yours. If one must be forsaken, ‘twill be my soul for yours. Should death come anon, ‘twill be my life for yours. I am Given.” If I wasn’t already married, I might just use those vows.

I’m sure I’ll come up with a dozen other lines later this week, but for now, I need to get back to my MIP. I have a couple of contests I want to enter by Friday. I need to try out a few changes I’ve made. The contests seem as good a place as any.

Bye for now.

Macy

Things I wish I had said . . .

Our Sunday Six this week is things we wish we had said or written. I have tons and tons of lines I wish I had said or written so I just picked the first bunch that came to mind. I was going to stick to love as a topic and just pick six but these seven-- that cover all sorts of stuff-- immediately jumped to mind so I went with it. Enjoy!

1. Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
Olivia, Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare, Act III, Scene 1

2. Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.
Adonis, "Venus and Adonis" by William Shakespeare (line 799)

3. From a little spark may burst a mighty flame.
Paradiso by Dante Alighieri (canto I, l. 34)

4. “Freedom!”
William Wallace, Braveheart, 1995. When he screams for freedom rather than mercy-- so brave, committed, self-sacrificing, amazing.

5. You see - comedy. Love, and a bit with a dog. That's what they want. Phillip Henslowe, Shakespeare in Love, 1998.

6. Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant, filled with odd waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like. A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket ( I can't remember which book!)

7. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Opening line of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

And related to that, I like Bridget Jones's take off on one of the most famous first lines in lit: It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.

There are so many, many more but for now, that will have to suffice.

Cheers and happy writing --
Alyson

Things I Learned from Dear Old Dad

It is ironic that Jacqueline wrote about her grandmother yesterday. I had already written this blog related to my father. It’s turning into family week at Affairs of the Pen. Anyway . . .

Christina Dodd did a great post about fathers and their fatherly advice at the Squawk Radio Blog which instantly led me to thinking about the things I learned from my own father, and the other male influences in my life. I think it’s relevant here because I believe what we have learned from the men in our lives shows up in our fiction, one way or another. Here, most of us write romance so at least one male character is central in all of our stories.

I have shared some tough stories about my relationship with my father with my writing group, and even more with my Girls in the Basement class and longtime friends, but despite the water under the bridge, I love my dad like crazy cakes. He was born during the depression. His parents lived in a box car on an acre of land ten miles outside of the Quad cities. After my dad was born, my grandfather built the house my dad grew up in—he also built the barn, the garage, and the chicken coop. At night, my grandfather worked at a factory, but by day he had big dreams. He was a Golden Gloves boxing champ who had gotten himself into big trouble as a young man, trouble that barred him from joining the military and fighting for his country in World War II. My grandfather had two or three mental breakdowns before my dad reached the age of eighteen. The first was triggered by WWII and the fact that he couldn't go. My dad remembers men in white jackets coming from the state mental health hospital to take my grandfather away.

My grandfather never forgave his wife for calling the state mental health hospital. By all accounts, what he endured was not pretty (up for some old school shock therapy anyone?) . Meanwhile, for two years, my dad went to live with his grandparents and he remembers that time with great fondness. After that, he was shipped off to work on farms every summer. I won’t give a blow by blow of everything my dad went through—but he’s a pretty amazing guy when it comes right down to it. He fought tooth and nail to go to college, to get away, to create a different kind of life for himself. The problem is that he bottled so much up inside that years later it came out in unhealthy ways-- but you know what? He just keeps getting wiser and wiser every year. And he's fun. Really fun. My son just adores Grandpa.

Here are some things I learned from my dad:

• Education is extremely important as is equal access to education. (He is a retired teacher.)
• Teachers can have cult followings like rock stars. ( He did.)
• Always have a tool box, spare tire, jumper cables, a first aid kit, a flash light, a bottle of water and a blanket in your car.
• Guys between the ages of 13 and 29 have sex on the brain, no matter what they say.
• People will always try to pull you down to their level (intellectually, morally, spiritually or whatever)—try to pull them up. If you can't, loosen your grip and let go.
• Set priorities and stick to them. His suggestion; (1) God/Spirit; (2) Family; (3) Values; (4) Work.
• You can always, always change how you think and turn things around—no matter what.
• Looking someone square in the eye with shoulders straight and a cocked chin, and then telling them how it is will almost always put a glean in an alpha male’s eye. He also told me not to bother with the rest -- the non-alphas (in terms of dating), because they'll never "get" me.
• That a guy that can’t come to the door and chit chat with him-- or eat one of his hot tamale omelets-- without being intimidated is not an alpha, and is very likely up to no good.
• That team sports build confidence and teach people how to work together-- and bond.
• How to forgive.
• How to barbecue just about anything.
• How to wash every square inch of a car—including the tires. (Tires and windows are very important! If you miss those, or don't do them right, you are an amateur car washer.)
• How to ride a bicycle forwards and backwards (sitting on the handlebars to peddle).
• How to tape my own ankle after spraining it.
• How to clean out and stitch up my own cut.
• That being feisty isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but either is learning to control your temper.
• That knowing how to throw a good right hook isn’t a bad thing—but once you know how, you don’t have to show it off just because you can.
• That you don’t cry after you get hurt physically. You cuss at the wind (ha!)
• To respect my elders and ancestors.
• That only sissies need braces—those of us with true grit can bare having crooked, junk yard dog teeth. ( Seriously—it was a money thing).
• That the only thing to eat after a night of drinking is eggs and bacon at a greasy spoon.
• That men show love by doing stuff like fixing your car time and time again, even if it means driving two hundred miles round trip three times in one week.
• Let the boy ( my son, Dante) putter around with stuff. It is how he will learn to be handy.
• No girls' names for boys-- please! ( His name is Jan.)
• That a fragile heart has nothing to do with one’s ability to love—or stick around.
• Respect the mess and the mysterious—life is beautiful, not despite the mess, but because of it. Out of the mess grows compassion, mercy and depth.
  

Oh, and supposedly I’m better than-- or at the very least just as good as --practically everybody. Mostly better than. Gotta love dads. Of course, at this point, I have a fantastic right hook (although my right cross is better) that I rarely show off, an alpha hubby-- and there are jumper cables, a tool box, etc. in my clean car with clean tires. Actually not so clean at the moment due to the weather. Ha! It started sleeting the moment I finished the tires a few days ago . . . isn't that always the way?

I was going to go into what I learned from my mom’s dad and all the boys I have loved or that loved me—or both. Since this is already long enough, I’ll wait till next time. Up next-- my cousins (I don't have brothers, unfortunately), old boyfriends, a few friends and the dear husband. Or maybe just an ode to all the boys I have loved before. That would be fun-- well, mostly.

How about you, what did you learn from your father? Your other male influences?

Cheers and happy writing--

Alyson

P.S. Mom, I will give you your due-- I promise. And, of course, Dante adores you, too and you are SO fun and wise! (I have a very sensitive family.)

What's in a name?

Several months ago, members of our writing group discussed whether or not we would use our real names when we became published. One of us is a teacher and at the time was a bit leery of her student’s parents knowing that she may write a steamy romance novel. Another one of us values her privacy and just would not want to use her real name at all. I write in more than one genre, so I would not want the any of my pen names to ever cross. This could lead to disaster, like when I was a kid and I read Judy Blume’s erotic book Wifey, quite by accident. I was ten years old at the time. Ten was a bit early to discover what kinds of trouble bored housewives can find.

So how did we go about choosing our names? At first I suggested we could use the “Porn Name equation”. Have you heard of this? For your first name you use your middle name. In my case that would be Ann. Then you take the name of the street you grew up on for your last name. Well, this is a problem as I moved several times before I grew up. This leaves me with several choices.

Ann Chanticleer
Ann Bay
Ann East Fifth
Ann Windsor Forest, etc.

The last place I lived with my parents was Purple Brook Road. Ann Purple Brook? Hmmm, ah , NO!

So we decided to go with names that were more personal and close to our heart. I chose the name of my grandmother. Not just because her name is a beautiful name, and not because I loved her, but because she was so in love with romance. Never did I see her with out a a romance novel in her hand. Walking across the house caring a load of laundry..... with a French damsel in distress. Watching her favorite football team on Sunday.....with a beer in one hand and a Gothic in the other. The question of “Who moved my book” was one that all thirteen of her grandchildren feared. For loosing Grandmama’s book was a crime punishable by the horrid WOODEN SPOON! Grandmama did not loose many books!

Grandmama introduced me to romance and as early as the age of 13 we were swapping books back and forth via mail or her yearly visits. When she found out that I wanted to write romance, she gave me my first piece of writing advise. My 75 year old grandmother looked strait into my eyes and said. “If you want to sell your first romance, the sex has to be really hot and the couple has to jump in the sack really early!”

So in honor of my Romance Worshiping Grandmother, I chose the pen name Jacqueline McDermott. I think she is smiling down on me, and I hope to make her proud!