If you think you sound great in the shower you probably suck at writing!

You know the way you sound like an angel when you sing in the shower? Every note, every nuance comes out perfectly in a brilliant wall of sound?

You know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if anyone was home to hear you they'd fall to their knees in awe at your talent?

 If you had access to sound equipment you'd probably have it rigged up in the bathroom, poised to record every amazing performance. Maybe you'd even send it off to studio or a radio station. In fact, with pipes like yours you're pretty sure it is only a matter of time until you are discovered. The only question is will you be the next Elvis, John Lennon, or Pavarotti?

Unfortunately, it doesn't take long before you come to know the sad reality. Unless you really are Adele or Michael Buble or Measha Brueggergosman , you probably sound like a dying cat when you really let loose. Most of us learn that lesson early...and hard. 

Unfortunately, for the pathetic few, the dream lingers on.  Despite all the evidence to the contrary we live with a tiny fragment of hope that the beautiful noise we hear inside our heads is exactly what everyone else is listening to.

It's the same thing with writing. I just finished a short story that I thought was interesting and insightful. It was supposed to be an homage to Arthur C. Clarke. I started with a great idea, but the more I wrote, the more off-track I got and the farther the story strayed from my original premise. No worries, I thought to myself - it still sounds great. A little spit here and a little polish there and it will fit right in with 'Time's Arrow' or 'The Star'.

It was as though I was trying to pull off the impossibly high note in the aria, Queen of the Night, from Mozart's The Magic Flute, and for one fantastical moment, I thought I sounded like a nightingale.

Sadly, I was wrong. My story stunk. No matter how much soap I took to it, no matter how hard I tried to scrub it into some semblance of Arthur C. Clark-ian brilliance, my story still sucked. Like a bad imitation of 'Rolling in the Deep', the only suitable ending for my disastrous attempt was a quick and unmemorable trip down the drain.

Dream on, baby. Short story writing is way harder than it looks.

Fifty Shades Dimmer - A Dumpy Grace Rant

I read the other day that every single employee of Random House will receive a $5000 bonus this year due to the enormous success of the Fifty Shades trilogy. Apparently, this triple installment of drek has sold almost 65 million copies worldwide. Really?

Don't get me wrong. I am happy for the author, E.L. James. In this era of vanishing publishing houses and 99 cent online e-books, authors are often the last ones at the trough, despite the fact they write the damn words. More power to any artist who can earn enough to pay the rent and keep the lights on.

Nor am I against Erotica. Or fan fiction, for that matter. In fact, I have come across more than a few fan fiction authors that blow my socks off. Once or twice, even my old lady panties.

So when Ms. James decided to take her dreary Twilight fan fiction piece, change a few names and substitute Edward's thirst for blood with Grey's world weary taste for mild bondage, I had no problem. I'm not sure why Stephanie Meyer, the author of the Twilight series, has been quite so laisse faire, but as there have been no lawsuits to the best of my knowledge, I assume enough words were changed to pass the plagiarism litmus test.

What I'm not fine with, is the over the top, slathering public reaction (and let's face it, when I say public, I mean women) to this lifeless, puerile rip-off that took what might have been a spicy concept and watered it down to a lumpy, brown pile of humdrum slop.

 So tedious as to be almost painful (and not in a good way!), still women purchased the series in the tens of millions. What were you thinking, sisters?

I believe each and every one of you needs a good (verbal) spanking.
 
For the under thirty crowd, please don't forget that you cut your literary teeth on the forever magical Harry Potter series. The first book of The Hunger Games trilogy was pretty good and even the monosyllabic Twilight series was okay if you are a fan of girls getting off on guys watching them while they sleep.

Even better, if you were lucky enough to have experienced The Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings you know that savouring fine writing is like having rich chocolate melt on your tongue. Compared to that flipping through the pages of Fifty Shades is like sucking on a stale Cheeto. 

And for all you ladies over thirty?  If you checked out the book because you were eager to try something new in the bedroom, I'm sorry to say that you were duped. Erotica has been around since humans first started scratching pictures on cave walls, and as we became more adept with language, our ability to inflame each other with words improved exponentially. These days there is plethora of brilliant Erotica out there for you to sample. I'm just saying...if you need a little jump start, why settle for a minivan when you could drive a Ferrari?

When it comes right down to it, I don't think the popularity of Fifty Shades has anything to do with women wanting to spice up their sex lives. I believe the real reason Random House staff are $5000 richer this year is a direct result of our culture's slavish devotion to the gravitas of celebrity.

A few years ago, it was the thrill of watching desperate people eat wriggling worms on TV. After that, it was the glee we felt at some poor chump being voted off the island. Then came Teen Moms, Toddlers in Tiaras and one of 2012's most memorable people (according to Barbara Walters) the truly bizarre Honey Boo Boo.

Going viral is not necessarily a good thing. Remember the1918  Flu epidemic? As your mother used to say, "Just because your friends jumped off a bridge doesn't mean you have to jump, as well."

I LOVE that you are buying books. Keep it up! But, please...choose books that stretch your limits, read stories that touch you in places that hurt if that is what you enjoy, but most importantly, support those skilled writers who grab you by the throat and set your imagination on fire.

You just might find yourself shining fifty shades brighter.

Down to the Wire

I received an email from my agent last week. She declared Blown Red the most exciting project she's worked on in some time and says she is energized to be kicking off 2013 by devoting her full attention to it.

I've been reflecting on what it all means. For me, the fun part is over and the stressful part is about to begin. Let's just say (and I still think it is a bit of a long shot) that it actually sells. Then what? I'm anticipating nerve-wracking meetings with literary editors and more long hours of re-writing and polishing. Then comes the horror of promoting the book. Anne M. casually asked me how much I'd be able to reveal about my own experience with the underground railroad in magazine articles and on the radio. Good God!

And from what I've read, it seems that most successful authors must devote themselves to establishing and maintaining a witty and erudite online presence. Oh man...I'm doomed.

But I may be getting ahead of myself. I'm expecting that I should know by the end of January whether the book is going to sell quickly to one of the big publishers or whether it is going to take a lot longer.. Anne said she would be 'furious' if one of the Big Three didn't jump at it, but then again, drivel like Fifty Shades of Grey is far more popular these days than another kick-ass girl.

Meanwhile, I thought it would be interesting to chronicle just how many hoops I have jumped through to get this far, and how long it has taken:

• January, 2010 to December, 2010. While taking "A Novel Approach' with James Dewar and Sue Reynolds I completed a first draft of over 700 pages. I took a 4 month sabbatical from work during this period which helped a lot, both in terms of creativity and in the sheer number of hours I could devote to writing.
• Another 6 months to pare that behemoth down to a more reasonable 500 page, second draft. Still, way too long, but getting there. At this point, I gave the manuscript to several cold readers and using their excellent feedback I crafted a third draft..
•  My sister, Lesslie, asked her business acquaintance, Don Oravec, the Executive Director of the Writer's Trust if he would mind reading the manuscript. Nice man that he is, he agreed immediately. Don read it during his Florida vacation in September of 2011 and within a week sent an email in which he heaped unbelievable praise on the manuscript. He suggested we get together, and it was during that meeting that he called me a 'real writer' and  recommended me to Anne McDermid. He was kind enough to tell me that it was the first time in 8 years of reading manuscripts of friends and families that he had ever recommended an author to an agent. Wow! I was bowled over.
• Throughout the Fall of 2011 I heard nothing from Anne and eventually sent out query letters to several literary agents in Canada and USA. In the end I had five agents ask to see the entire manuscript and an offer of representation from one of them.
• Just before Christmas of 2011 an apologetic Anne McDermid told me she'd forgotten to follow up with me and asked me to re-send the manuscript. Within days I got her enthusiastic response. She asked to meet in the new year.
• In January of 2012, I met with Anne McDermid and during our two hour interview she made me an offer to join 'Team McDermid'. After a weekend of pretending to think about it - I jumped at this amazing opportunity.
• Anne wasn't sure if she would offer the book as is, or whether it would need further editing. Sure enough, after some initial inquiries, she determined that we would have more success if the book received a professional edit.
• Enter Becky Toyne, a well known editor and literary expert. She took several weeks to read the manuscript then got back to me with her suggestions in June, 2013. Nothing much...haha...all I had to do was tighten the plot by about 25,000 words and make the main character a heck of a lot stronger. Sure...no problem!
• For the next 4 months I toiled every single day, re-arranging the plot sequence, adding nuance, turning the main character into a determined young woman that readers would care about, and pared the word count down to an acceptable 104,000, or about 350 pages. 
• Deep breath and back it went to Anne McDermid by the end of September, 2012 for her verdict. Of course my timing stunk. It was now the Fall book launch season and she couldn't give it much attention until November. I put it out of my head but was thrilled when, by the end of November she wrote to tell me that she LOVED the changes I had made. Woohoo!! Success! She mused at that point whether it would be better to wait until the new year to put it out for offer, noting that publishers were sick to death of reading manuscripts, the holidays were coming up and it would stand a better chance when people came back after Christmas. 
• While I waited (again) she asked that I get her a synopsis of the second book, as she intends to sell it as a series and not a stand alone novel. She also asked for a little biographical blurb as well as a one page story on how I got the idea and my own personal experience of the Underground Railroad. I'd already done some work on the second book but took the time to really flesh out the plot over the ensuing weeks and I'm glad I did. It is going to be much easier to write once I get going in earnest.
• Finally, the email that arrived last week from Anne, saying that she is back to work on January 7 and can't wait to get cracking on this exciting new project.  

For this first time writer, this is what it has taken to get my novel to this stage. Amazing, isn't it? I never would have predicted that what began as a whim would evolve into a real live, honest to goodness thriller. Or, that it would take so much work, or that I would encounter so many helpful people along the way.  Most of all, I had no idea it would take so much TIME!

And now (drum roll, please)  it has all come down to this....

GOOD LUCK,

DUMPY GRACE!!

How a Beaver Solved a Plot Problem

Sitting at my computer this morning stymied by a plot problem. How could a vengeful accountant, inexperienced in the nefarious ways of underworld lure the legendary Tracker into a fatal trap? 

I've been mulling the problem over for some time but could only come up with some quick and dirty solutions. For example:

Why couldn't the accountant could just hire an assassin? Well, ya - but how does the assassin get a shot at a man that nobody ever sees? No one knows where the Tracker lives, where he goes, what he will do next. How do you kill a man like that?

Perhaps the accountant could leave an electronic trail of breadcrumbs for the Tracker to follow - straight into a trap? Sure...but this seems too obvious, kinda been there, done that. Besides, I don't think the Tracker would fall for this kind of bush league effort. 

Or, what if the accountant threatened Helen, the Tracker's girl Friday? The accountant used to pay the Tracker's bills - it would be possible for him to track down Helen and use her as a hostage to lure in the Tracker. My initial reaction? Yawn....how many times has that device been used? Too many to count.

So, with that problem percolating in the back of my mind, I decided to take Sophie for a walk down to the river. In previous posts I've mentioned that getting to the river at the back of our property involves a one kilometer slog through the woods. When I finally reached the water, I was read for a break so I took up a spot on a rocky outcropping and watched the current flow. The soft burbling of the water as it rippled through a narrow section helped to clear my thoughts.

I was in a peaceful zen state of mind when I saw a beaver swimming up the river, straight toward me. Sophie was oblivious until the beaver gave a mighty smack with its tail onto the surface of the water then dove down and out of sight.

Sophie's back went up and she took her usual defensive position - tucked in behind my knees, poised to make an ignominious escape the moment the beaver made one wrong move. Have I mentioned that Sophie is all about survival of the fittest.

Luckily for my plot problem, the beaver surfaced a few seconds later, and I was surprised to see that it had moved closer to me. I stood very still, careful not to stare directly at it, an unnecessary precaution as it turned out. It seems the beaver was more curious about the great big land ape and her cowardly dog than we were about it.

For almost 20 minutes it circled my position, swimming ever closer in a zig-zag pattern. The temperature was close to zero and after awhile, I needed to move in order to keep warm. Surprisingly, my shuffling movements did not deter the little beaver, in fact it moved in closer. Even the proximity of the dog didn't seem to frighten the beaver.

This section of the river rarely sees human inhabitants. Maybe the odd canoeist might brave the series of rapids and the rather large waterfall that impede travel but most sane people avoid this area. It was likely that this beaver, which appeared to be fairly young, had never seen a land ape in a red jacket before. The beaver was curious. So curious, it overcame its inherent threat avoidance mechanism in order to take a good, long look. If I had been a different sort of land ape, the beaver would most certainly be dead right now.

"Silly little beaver," I said, "curiosity killed the cat."

And then I had it! That Ah Ha moment. To lure a wary predator - you must disarm its natural defense mechanisms and cause it to turn its back on years of experience. How? By presenting the predator with a great big, weird, puzzle.

A great, big, weird puzzle too surprising, too tantalizing, too juicy to ignore.

What is that puzzle? You'll have to wait for Book Two to find out, but I can assure you, it is not boring.

 
Thank you, Mr. Beaver, for your timely plot lesson!

Signy Shepherd Rides Again

Did I mention that Book Two in the Signy Shepherd series is well underway?

I know I mentioned in my last post that once Blown Red was turned into my agent the entire project vanished from my thoughts but, Book Two, which I had put on the back burner while I worked on the revisions to Blown Red is calling to me.

I LOVE the premise of Book Two. I think it is more complex, less cliche and I can't wait to get back to it.

Of course it would be optimum if Blown Red sold and the publisher wanted a second book. Knowing that there is a financial reward at the end of a project is a great incentive. It is easy to write under those circumstances.

Writing a popular genre novel when there is no guarantee of monetary gain is a different kettle of fish. It is not as though the writing is personally cathartic, or full of insight, or, in fact, brilliant on any level. It is just a fun story meant to entertain.

And, as it turns out, it is a fun story to write.

So, regardless of whether the first book sells, or whether I have to return to a 'real world' job, it seems I just can't let Signy Shepherd and her Scooby Gang of misfits molder in the recesses of my mind for much longer.

I guess that makes me a writer....

"What is it?" Grace asked.

Signy turned the strange object over in her palm, brushing the tip of one finger over what appeared to be a miniscule antenna.  "I have absolutely no idea."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "Maybe we should put it back."

Signy nodded. "It might be rigged to explode or something." Grinning, she sat back on her heels. "Then again, it just might be the key to this entire mess."

Grace peered at the object, its fluorescent orange surface giving off a toxic glow. Her eyes twinkled. "Open it."

Signy laughed then slowly pried off the lid.

My Book is Finished. What Now?

It's strange the way things end with a whimper. Blown Red, which occupied so many of my waking hours and more than a few of my sleeping ones as well, for almost a year and a half,  is back with my agent. Luckily, she let me know that she is very happy with the revisions and will likely offer it next week. Whatever that means...

It's funny, though. As soon as the send button was pressed and the final hard copy was tucked high on a shelf the entire project was gone from my thoughts. Poof. It just winked out.

So, what next?

 Obviously, I would prefer the best case, all time lottery win, super-duper scenario that would mean the book has sold and the publisher wants a second novel, and a third, and a fourth....you get the picture.

Still, I am realistic. I have jumped a lot of hurdles so far, but the highest one still needs to be cleared. Finding the right publisher at the right time who is desperately seeking just the right product.(Mine)

Will I win the literary lottery? Who knows? But that tiny baby carrot of hope dangling just out of reach keeps me tied to the computer. Writing, writing, writing....a new poem, a short story, book two...





Still, I can't help but contemplate the realities of paying the bills.

If I were younger, smarter and prettier, I'd think about becoming a storm girl. You know, those gorgeous chicks dressed in CNN slickers, long hair blowing in the wind, that give us the best of the storm porn. Super Storm Sandy, Hurricane Irene, Tornado Alley. Shattered communities, ruined homes, devastated lives, who wouldn't admit to a touch of good old schadenfreude?











Or perhaps I should return to my roots?  Take up the practice of social work again? I did go so far as to bring my RSW status up to date and I have been trolling the mental health job sites for leads. It might be fun.

Maybe...










 On the other hand, I saw my first flying squirrel the other day. That must mean something...

No really...I mean it.

You don't see a flying squirrel every day.

Thoughts anyone?