Scriva Enchanted

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: April 25, 2012
Categories: Basics, Craft
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In preparation for a few workshops at a local high school, I borrowed Gail Carson Levine’s Writing Magic: Creating Stories that Fly from the library. This how-to book by the author of Ella Enchanted is shelved in the children’s section, and I figured I’d skim the book for a few pointers. Instead I savored every page.

Here are a few of my favorite bits of advice:

  • I write fiction for lots of reasons. One is power. I’m in charge when I write. So are you. You create the world of the story. You make the rules.
  • When you start writing a story, all the beginning needs to do is to get you into the story…. When you finish the story and go back to revise it, your beginning is likely to change.
  • A story’s plot is mostly determined by character.
  • So what makes the difference between caring and not caring? The author’s cruelty. And the reader’s sympathy. We keep turning the pages because we are worried…. Well, it takes a mean author to write a good story.
  • Don’t worry about making your main character change. Just be aware that she should, and the awareness will seep into your writing.
  • I tell myself I’m going to write down stupid options as well as excellent ones. I write down the stupid ones because they are brave. This sounds crazy, but it’s true. Whenever I start a list, my stupid ideas surge forward, but the usable ones hang back. They’re shy, and they want to see how the stupid guys are treated. When they see me behave respectfully to the dopes, they tiptoe out into the open. I snag them and write them down, too.
  • [I] phrase what I’m stuck on as a question…on a Post-It and slap it up on my office door. Then I do my best to forget about it. Meanwhile, the back of my mind goes to work. Three hours or three days later the answer arrives.
  • Do not bend your story to accommodate your brilliant words. Revising and cutting take courage and self-confidence. You have to believe that you will write equally brilliant prose again.
  • Let writing be your solace, your companion, your secret joy.
  • Write to nurture yourself.
  • Write to tell us about being you.
  • Write to tell us about being human.
  • There can never be too many stories. Add to the reservoir.

And, yes, here’s a bit of Levine’s advice on the critiquing process:

  • Just as you’ll become a better writer with practice, so you’ll become a better critic.

Amen to that. Every time I go to a Scrivas meeting, I remind myself that giving an excellent and thoughtful critique is a learned skill, and I’m still learning.

 

Once the Baby Is Born

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: March 31, 2012
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This is how I often envision my newly published book. What a sweetie! Family and friends, as well as assorted strangers, want to take a peek. They ooh and aah, and sometimes handle my creation less gently than I’d wish. They compare the wee babe to others they have seen. They ask me how I am doing. They have all sorts of suggestions about child rearing. They wonder if I plan to have another.

Yes, I am delighted to have Blue Thread out in the world. And, yes, I am delighted that other people notice! Still, this new baby stage is a mega-shift from the years of control I had over my story.

I am slowly assimilating the message that authors, like parents, have to learn to share and to let go. Readers, each with his or her unique mindset, complete a book. That’s what publication is all about. The public. Duh!

Viva Scriva, like any excellent critique group, has helped with the transition. The very act of my sharing chapter after chapter was the first step in wresting my manuscript from my iron grip of authorship. As readers, the Scrivas added their point of view and saw things in the manuscript that I couldn’t see or didn’t want to see. I can still hear Scriva Sabina saying, “In my version of your story….” As writers, the Scrivas offered “constructive criticism” in the very best sense of that phrase.

I know I’m stretching the baby analogy here, but it reminds me that “my baby” wasn’t ever all mine to begin with. The very spark of creativity was ignited with the help of someone else. Babies are not clones. You catch my drift. And on that delicious note, I shall finish this post and get back to my new work in progress.

Karen Cushman and To-Do Tips

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: February 28, 2012
Comments: 3 Comments

 

I’ll start with the backstory: Once upon a time, the folks at Ooligan Press asked me for a list of potential reviewers for Blue Thread. Reaching for the stars, I included Karen Cushman. Much to my amazement, Karen gave Ooligan a blurb, such a great blurb, in fact, that it landed on the front cover of the book. Yes!

Karen Cushman

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I sent Karen an email about Blue Thread and thanked her again. In reply, she wrote, in part: “I wish you great success with the book and all the to-do that comes after.” All the to-do that comes after. Oh, Karen, you are so right!

There’s the celebratory kind of “to-do,” the recent launch of Blue Thread. Exciting and kinda scary. I’m not comfortable being in the spotlight.

Then there’s the so-much-to-do kind of “to-do,” which involves thoughtful, gracious, and time-consuming attention to spreading the word about the new book. Not so exciting. Not so scary. But, in fairness to Blue Thread, necessary and important.

Finally, there’s the big item that’s not on the Blue Thread “to-do” list, and that’s writing the next book.

I’ve learned a lot in the past few weeks, since Blue Thread appeared on the scene. Here are my “to-do” tips for you:

  • Give yourself time, permission, and encouragement to enjoy your moment in the spotlight, even if it’s scary. Relax! No one’s going to remember if your hair wilted or there’s a quaver in your voice. They will remember your enthusiasm and your smile.
  • Eat well, exercise, rest.
  • Say “yes” to nearly everything, but remember that it’s OK to say “no,” too.
  • Commit to bringing spirit to your audience, whether there are two hundred people attending or two. Give them what in Hebrew is called ru-ach, a soulful, zesty, uplifting experience. Good for your audience; good for you.
  • Find your balance between doing right by the new book and “doing write” with the book-to-be. You might decide to stop working on your manuscript entirely for a few weeks, or you might decide to write 250 words on your manuscript every day. Your call.
  • Thank people. Thank your critique group, your editor, your publisher, your friends, your family, your audience, your muse.

So, with that it mind, I’ll end this post by saying, “Thank you!”

 

 

Managing the Monster

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: January 27, 2012
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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey’d monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.

Shakespeare, Othello, Act III, scene 3. The line was spoken by the villain Iago, who used jealousy to advance his own ends—but, still, Iago got it right. Jealousy toys with us cruelly and then eats us alive.

We writers tend to be a kind bunch, a welcoming and supportive community. Still, we wouldn’t be human if at some point, in the blissful sunflower field of compassionate companionship, there didn’t arise—horrors!—that green-eyed monster. We are suddenly green with envy, sick at heart.

Let’s be frank. This is the season that breeds jealousy. It’s the season of awards and top ten lists. It’s the season of choosings. It’s the season of not being chosen.

I’m in the fortunate position of being ineligible for any awards this season, but I’ll bet by this time next year, jealousy will have at me. So I’m sharing my counterattack in advance. Remind me when you see that soul-snagging look in my eyes.

1. Give the monster one minute. A clinical social worker once explained to me that emotions rush through our hormonal systems faster than we can stop them. Let them happen guilt free and panic free. It’s easier to get rid of them that way.

2. Sit quietly and breathe! Get ready for a shift.

3. Use left-brain strengths (language, logic) to reframe the picture, revise the narrative, change the point of view. We are writers, folks. We can do this better than most people.

4. Widen your focus. That’s where Viva Scriva works best for me. The more I identify with the successes of the awesome writers and artists in my critique group, the less likely I am to feel jealousy. I might not have won something, be one of the Scrivas did. So nah! And it’s a safe place to say, “None of us got that award? That totally sucks!”

5. Competition is not jealousy. Allow yourself to feel competitive. You can rise to the challenge of writing as well as the writer sitting across the table from you. You will sink into an unproductive funk if you are jealous of him or her—for more than a minute.

One thousand one, one thousand two…

A Post-Santa Post on Multiple Drafts

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: December 26, 2011
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Santas

Santa Clones in Portland

Let’s do the math. It takes me on average about four drafts of a 250-word post before I’m ready to show it to the world. The books I write are, say, about 60,000 words long. So, 60,000 divided by 250 is 240 “post-units.” At four drafts per “post-unit,” that would be 960 drafts. That’s all?

Seriously, folks. I’m willing to put in the time and energy to revise and rewrite. I don’t go berserk when I realize that my story would be better if I killed off a minor character or rejiggered a scene. My downfall is when I make those final edits that change a draft ever so slightly, or add the tiniest bit more color to a scene. I lose patience when the draft I’m working on, like the Santa on the pedestal, starts looking like all my other recent drafts, and it’s hard to tell one draft from another. What to do, what to do?

Here’s where a critique group is invaluable. With so many different eyes reviewing, say, Draft #87, there is bound to be someone who remembers a turn-of-phrase that (s)he preferred back in Draft #86, or who still has the enthusiasm to suggest a rewording for Draft #88.

Critique group members are also a great resource for telling you when to stop revising. Enough! One Santa does really look and feel just like the other. No more tweaking.

In addition to a critique group, it often helps to put your most recent drafts in your virtual or real desk drawer for a few days, or for a few weeks if you can afford to. Your drafts won’t change, but you will have become a different reader.

And now back to my post-Santa revisions. With the help of the Scrivas, my next book should be ready to shine by this time next year. That would be draft number…?

The Gift of Recommended Reading

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: November 28, 2011
Categories: Craft, Inspiration
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Sam-Nana readLet’s face it. I’m never going to be able to read everything I want to and still have the gazillion hours I need to write my next book. Not even when grandson Sam and I spend together time getting lost in our individual stories. Not happening. No way.

The books I choose to read now are often on a list of the top ten this or the five best that, which goes against my usual tendency to browse the bookshelves and decide for myself.  Writing is work, and sometimes reading is as well. There are some books I simply must read. Many of them are excellent, which is the reward for all that  eyeball time.

I mine Viva Scriva meetings for recommended reading, particularly because the Scrivas know exactly what I’m writing. Sara Ryan’s The Rules for Hearts is by my bedside with Amber’s suggestion to look at the “quiet girl” who resembles the main character in my sequel to Blue Thread. I devoured Jennifer Donnelly’s Revolution on Scriva advice that I look at the time travel of a modern girl back to 18th century Paris (my sequel involves a 1960s girl and 11th century Paris). You get the picture.

It goes both ways. I suggested that Sabina read Ruta Sepetys’s Between shades of gray and Robert Sharenow’s The Berlin Boxing Club because one of her writing projects includes historical fiction from World War II.  What you read does inform what you write. Recommended reading can be just the critique you need.

The Lone Voice

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: October 27, 2011
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Comments: 2 Comments

According to the Web (a dubious authority), Mahatma Gandhi, a great leader and master of nonviolent resistance, once said: “Even if you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth.” That may be so in many cases, but not for critiquing someone else’s writing. I’ve been the minority of one in Viva Scriva, so I should know.

While there are truths galore in what is written, truth is a rarity in how it is written. GandhiYes, we have rules for grammar and punctuation, and guidelines for such components as narrative arc, point of view, and character development. But the only truth I can think of rests in whether a piece of writing has done the hard work of conveying something that the reader completes in his or her mind and gut.

As a reader, I can say if something “rings true.” As a critiquer, I can venture an opinion why. Certainly, every opinion—including the lone voice—contributes something in a critique group. That’s a given. But when no other Scriva sees things my way, it’s definitely time to give my perspective a second look. What have I missed? What can I learn? That’s the beauty of a critique group. Every time you participate, you have an opportunity to receive more than you give. And that’s the truth.

Short and Sweet Mini-Retreat

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: September 28, 2011
Categories: Other Topics
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Comments: 3 Comments

Aaaaah, such a pleasure! This coming Sunday, the Viva Scrivas will crowd into my place around high noon and wander off into the night after dinner. Guinny the Welsh corgi mix will guard their every move—it’s in her DNA even though the Viva Scrivas don’t need herding.  We’re having a mini-retreat, a day out of the ordinary, with each of us tackling a writing project. Writing is a lonely occupation that also benefit from company.

I admit that it’s harder for me to concentrate when the mini-retreat is here. But once two or three Scrivas are typing away or staring into space with what, I imagine, are deep literary thoughts flooding their neural synapses, then I can overcome the pull of my non-writing to-do list. I need not multi-task. I don’t have to put in the laundry. And—oh, horrors!—I don’t even have to make everyone happy.

A critical mass of writers creates an ambiance that pulls me in and makes me want to write, revise, rewrite, and write some more. Yes, at some point in the afternoon I’ll stick vegetable lasagna in the oven. Then I’ll get back to the activity du jour.

This isn’t magic. If you have a writer’s critique group, pick a day and go for it. If you don’t, then simply invite a few like-minded writers over for a few quiet hours together. Provide writing surfaces, sitting surfaces, and quiet. Do not clean anything but the bathroom.

The Right-Brain Critique

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: August 30, 2011
Categories: Challenges
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right side of brainMy computer science husband often talks about the distinction between a “bug” (something that’s wrong with a program) and a “feature” (something that’s supposed to be there). I recently took scissors to the tattered fingertips of a grungy pair of gloves and turned a bug (holes) into a feature (no fingertips at all). Sometimes—rarely, Scrivas!—I do the same with a critique.

The bug: I don’t have the time or the mental functioning to do a thorough edit, which means to actively engage both sides of my brain. My left brain—my less dominant side and the area that does most of my language-oriented analysis—is out to lunch.

The feature: I turn what could be a half-baked whole-brained effort into a fully baked half-brain effort. I take off my editor hat and imagine myself to be a teen or middle grade reader (I’ve never tried this with picture books). I curl up on the couch rather than sit at my desk. I circle what “grabs” me in the text. I listen to my body while I’m reading for feedback that I’m relaxed, tense, afraid, eager, happy, or (horrors!) bored. Never once do I “think” of such concepts as point of view or narrative arc. I go with my gut.

Am I being a totally irresponsible Scriva? I’d like to think not. Right-brain and limbic reactions offer perspectives that can put you closer to your readers. It gets the most information out of a quick read. I trust that the other members of the group will have on their editor hats. That’s the beauty of a critique group.

 

Reeling in the Big Critique

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: July 27, 2011
Categories: Business of Writing
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Comments: 2 Comments

Viva Scriva—that expert, well functioning, congenial, critique group. We’re so …blah, blah, blah…. If you’ve been reading this blog, you’ll know that as one of the Scrivas, I’ve been spoiled. Over the years, I’ve had just what I needed.

So I was not happy when acquisitions editors at Ooligan Press asked me to submit Blue Thread, a YA novel I’d pitched to them, to about two dozen graduate students in an editing class at Portland State University.  Ooligan is linked to PSU, so the connection made sense. But the critiquing process? I’d get a long, detailed developmental edit letter from each student—way more words in total than my entire manuscript. My work-in-progress would become my work-under-scrutiny by people who didn’t know me and had little or no experience writing YA books.

I said yes, but had my doubts. Instructor Linda Meyer, arranged a class visit. I told the students about areas in which I wanted guidance. I felt better about the process. Then I got that huge pile of letters.

Was every comment a gem? Certainly not. But as I waded through the letters, three images were particularly useful.  OK, I’m the gal that graphs manuscripts. Bear with me. Image one—the Blob. That’s my visual for the near unanimity on a specific issue. For example, heat up the romance. Image two—The tree. Most students addressed the same issue (the trunk) but branched out to widely divergent answers. Image three—spattered paint. No consensus on issue or answers. But among the spatters—which I left until last—I found odd, intriguing, creative bits I could use.

As I revised Blue Thread, I consulted the Scrivas again. Double the pleasure! The manuscript turned into a book Ooligan plans to launch in February. Last spring I practically thrust another manuscript in front of Linda’s editing class. Regardless of whether I pitch this book to Ooligan or whether Ooligan acquires it, I know a good deal when I see one.

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