Novel fodder

I recently started a new novel. Well, not so recently. I just haven't made as much progress as I'd like. I'd been flailing around with it and for many weeks I couldn't figure out why. I loved the premise. It had a strong plot. I could even weave in some interesting themes without being intrusive to the story. So what was the problem?

I haven't been paying attention, that's what. Blame it on this crap winter weather (and today in NYC it is, once again, crap) or a busy life, but there it is: I haven't been people-watching. And that, my friends, is a key part in developing my characters.

No one is outside! And if they are, they are bundled and angry and STEALING MY CAB, dammit. If I needed a pissed off New Yorker character, I'd be all set. Forget going out on the street, I could just look in the mirror.

What I need are people who spark ideas, like these characters:

1. I once had a dentist who was drippy-sugar-sweet. He spoke in sing-song and had this weird whoop of a laugh. All was fine until his assistant came in the room and he yelled her with such anger (hatred, even!) it was as if he could grab her by the hair and slit her throat any second. Then he'd turn to me and do the sing-song again. Yikes. What was going on in his head? I don't know for sure, but he snapped in the middle of a crowded shopping mall. At least in one of my short stories.

2. A character in a book I recently finished up came to me while I was listening to Amy Winehouse. What might it be like to be her BFF? Challenging, I'd bet. So I started with that idea and worked from there. I ended up with one of my favorite (albeit difficult) characters.

3. You know how preacher's kids are supposed to be the wildest? In my experience, not only is that true, but their charismatic dads are great for inspiration.

Now, I never lift someone completely from life. Every character is unique, has a little of myself sprinkled in them, and is a composite from many sources, even snippets of conversation on the subway.

But they usually start from something external. So it's time for me to pay attention again.

How about you? Do your characters originate from observations? Or do you make them up from scratch?

Stuck in the snow

Argh! Stupid blizzard. Instead of shushing down the slopes in Colorado -- and regular blog readers know how much I love to ski (Not. It scares the hell out of me.) -- we are victims of the East Coast Snowmageddon and unable to leave our fair city.

Luckily, we were able to find some fun sledding this morning and a reporter from dnainfo.com was there to snap the evidence. Look, I'm actually smiling! In the snow! Amazing. Read all about it here.

On turning 40

Although my grandmother wouldn't find it very "ladylike" to announce my age to everyone on the internet, this particular milestone has taken up a lot of space in my brain lately, so I'm going to go ahead an (over?)share. Besides, it's not like information is private anymore. It would take someone all of 4.2 seconds to find out what I ate for dinner last night, never mind my DOB. (I'll save you the trouble. Pizza.)

My husband threw a little shindig for me this past weekend and I have to admit, it did soften the blow of such a, uh, grown up birthday. Forty. Four to the zero. The big 4-oh. Yikes. I really can't pretend to be just a kid anymore, can I?

As much as I'm going to hate no longer being thirty-something, it's an excellent time to recount where I am in life, and where I want to be. I couldn't be more happy about my husband and friends. Truly. And my girls...oh, did I mention that they wrote and recited poetry in my honor in front of a room full of people? No? Allow me just that one brag.

But my career. Well. That area needs some work. I admit I'd hoped to have a book published before The Great Day of Reckoning. That would've made the day perfect. Instead, I'm still trudging along. Making progress, yes, and not giving up, but continuing to swim slowly through a vast ocean of publishing molasses.

Still. I'm determined to get there. My craft has improved, and I'm more confident about how to go about actually finishing 300 pages of fiction in a somewhat organized fashion. I started a new project after weeks of hemming and hawing (my agent refers to this as "percolating" which sounds much more productive) and I'm excited to be working on a novel again.

The goalpost might've been moved, but I can still see it.

How about you? Any goals for the upcoming year?

The ebook smackdown

Now that I've owned my Kindle for almost a year, I thought it might be interesting to tally up the war between paper vs. ebooks. I've mentioned my love of paper books before, and I'll admit I came to the ereader world with much reluctance and consternation (it was a gift.)

The takeaway? As much as I love to hold a book in my hand, I clearly buy more books on my Kindle. It's just too easy. I'll finish a book in bed and still be wide awake, so zipzapzoop, I'll buy and start another one. I carry my Kindle in my (ridiculously giant) purse, so I'm reading more on average. I finished a book last night waiting to pick up my daughter from fencing. The lesson ran long, so I bought another novel.

In the last 11 months, I bought 26 ebooks and 15 (more or less, I don't keep the best records) real and true physical books, mostly from indie bookstores. I wouldn't have predicted those results last December.

So, what do you think? If other people are anything like me, is this bad or good news for authors?

MWF seeks BNI

No, I'm not placing an ad for a Brawny Nude Intern, as interesting as that sounds. Rather, I'm a married writing female searching for a brand new idea. For another novel. Got one?

In the past couple of weeks I've thought of six: two turned out to be short stories now sitting on my hard drive. The other four, well, they have potential. But they need to prove themselves to the judge. So this week I'm working on pitches.

I would guess most people write pitches under duress, with the goal of finding an agent or publisher. I'm writing four this week with the intention to pitch...myself. Perhaps that makes me masochistic. I don't know.

See, I'm a planner. I just HAD to know both my kids' genders before they were born. I research vacation destinations for months and months before making a single reservation, mulling over all possible scenarios. I like to know where I'm going before I start. Plans can change, of course, but I'd rather punch in a GPS destination and have it re-route than just get in the car and drive.

My four contestants will rehearse and make themselves pretty for my own personal American Idol: New Novel Edition. They must be nervous. I'm much more like Simon than Paula.

How do you vet new ideas? Do you just jump in?

No journalists from Kansas

Last week, as I sat nearly comatose in a waiting (and waiting) room, I rifled through a stack of weeks-old magazines. Brides--no thanks. Golf Digest--bleh. I finally found a tattered Newsweek and flipped it open. Inside was short article about the Kansas Department of Education cutting all funding for high school journalism classes.

"Earlier this month, the state’s Department of Education decided to stop funding high-school instruction in the subject. Schools are free to raise their own money, but that’s not a path officials would recommend."

Um, what? How is this not all over the news? It seems the Sunflower State has deemed journalism a "dying industry unfit for public funds." Maybe they are partly right: headlines about the profitability of newspapers and magazines aren't exactly full of good cheer. But won't we always need professional journalists to report accurate information? Or are we okay with relying on bloggers to tell us what's going on? (For heaven's sake, don't rely on ME.)

Disclosure: I was a journalism dork in high school, and although I went into advertising instead of reporting the news, my experience on the yearbook and newspaper staff helped me define myself. I was a writer. My words made it into print. Peers read my articles, and commented. Journalism was the one class that made the biggest impact on me; I'm a news junkie to this day. Two of my fellow editors *did* go onto J-school at MU and make their living as journalists even now.

I get that money is tight and institutions are pressured to cut where they can. Believe me, I sit on the board of a non-profit and witness good programs getting axed. It stinks. However, I'm guessing they still have plenty of bucks lying around for their football team and other sports programs. And wow, I can see how *that* is a booming industry for most graduates. I mean, really, if I had a dime for every professional football player who came from my high school, why, I'd have...zero dimes.

Priorities, though, right?

I'm weird when I'm writing

My goal this year is to try not to be so odd.

Let me explain. When I'm deep in a writing project, working out the details of a story can be all-consuming. So much so that tasks in the life outside my head get sacrificed. Like errands. And housework. Feeding the dog. And, once, I'm ashamed to admit, picking up the kids. I've stepped into traffic because I was writing dialogue in my thoughts. I've looked directly at people I recognize on the street and never have it register because a plot point was taking up all the space in my brain. Compartmentalizing is not my strong point.

And when I'm forced to interact with anyone after hours of writing? Forget about it. I'm sure there's a sizable contingency of moms in my daughter's class who think I'm brain addled. Conversations frequently go like this:

Normal person: "Hi, Wendy. What's going on?"

Me: (Blank stare.) I really either need to kill that character off or give him more of a purpose. I like him, though. Okay. I'll go with purpose. Wait, someone's giving me a funny look. Wake up. "Oh. What? Hi."

NP: "Um. I said, 'What's going on?' You know. 'How are you?'"

Me: "Yes. Sorry. Er, I'm okay." But what can he do? That's like a whole other subplot, and I'm probably long on subplots anyway. Hello? Why is she still looking at me? I guess I need to say something. "Oh. And how've you been?"

NP: "Fine." (Looks around for polite escape.)

This is not good.

So. I'm focusing on interpersonal skills this fall. You know, that talent that used to come so easily? I was the girl in school who had to be moved all around the classroom for chatting. A teacher once even remarked, "I'd move you next to the wall, but you'd probably talk to that, too."

I joined a writing group (in person!) I'm becoming more involved in community service (with people!) I signed up as a tour guide at my kids' school (45 whole minutes of talking per tour!)

Hopefully I can become a people-person again. At least, when I need to be.

How about you? Do you often live inside your head?