My Mistakes as a First Time Novelist

About a year ago, I finished my first novel complete with first time mistakes.


photo credit: Matt Hampel {Flickr Creative Commons}

I didn't know my abcs about writing a good story. I simply knew writing coursed through my veins--I enjoyed stringing words together, thought in blog posts, and filled journals. Plus, daddy always told me to write a book one day, and my English professor liked my essays. And then there is the picture of me in diapers, scribbling.

So that makes me a novelist, right? Well, sort of.

Three years ago, I pulled out my notes and let my fingers fly. Without the slightest clue about market or genre, I picked an international setting with a foreign character, wrote in first person, and spanned a lifetime of events. Not to mention, I utilized every adverb and clichéd phrase known to humankind.

And aren't writers supposed to tell a story? And yes, my novel reads like soggy oatmeal about half way through. Oh, is that what you call a sagging middle? And it isn't wise to introduce too many characters or backstory at once, you say?

Clueless. You could say that.

Yet, despite my blunders, I completed the project. And though I started with the noble purpose to create a polished--somewhat perfect--piece of art, I realized, after my story grew a mind of it's own {and thew a temper tantrum}, I had a choice to make.

In her book, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott says, "if you want to write, you get to, but you probably won't be able to get very far if you don't start trying to get over your perfectionism."

In order to finish, I had to resist my urge to cross my t's and dot my i's. I could either complete what I had started, or tuck my work away.

I opted for the former.

Oh, I wish I could tell you my first novel is Einstein genius, that it glimmers like the Taj Mahal, that publishing houses are sitting on pins and needles waiting for me to query. However, as I slog through edits, I realize the rational side of my brain is right--my story needs work {okay, it needs plastic surgery}. I may now call myself a novelist, but just as marathon runners run and singers sing, I must write. And I must not worry about getting it right the first time.

So, I must make mistakes.

It's the only way to write a better story.

###

Melanie's formula for success:

Practice. Read. Write. Fail. Cry. Pray. Practice. Laugh-out-loud at first manuscript. Say, what in the world was I thinking? Practice again. Receive rejection {with grace}. Cry. Pray. Practice...

"Your dedication to writing is a marching step forward from where you were before, when you didn't care about reaching out to the world, when you weren't hoping to contribute, when you were just standing there doing some job into which you had fallen." --Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Check out Alicia Rasley's article "Top Ten Plotting Problems". This is a very useful editing tool {and yes, some of these problems have sneaked into my story}.

What blunders have you made in your writing journey {if you're willing to admit:)}? What lessons have you learned?

*this post first appeared on the International Christian Fiction Writers blog, February 6, 2012

Melanie N. Brasher is a full time mama of two boys and wife to an incredible husband who understands her bicultural background. She moonlights as a fiction and freelance writer, crafting stories and articles toward justice and change. She's a member of American Christian Fiction writers and a contributing blogger for Ungrind & Hoosier Ink. Though she's an aspiring author, she'll never quit her day job.

I Don't Believe It! (But I Want To...)

It is called suspension of disbelief. One of the most challenging balancing acts in fiction-writing is to captivate the reader's imagination and allow him or her to escape into the fantasy of your story while still believing the events could, at least in that context, occur.

Readers want to pick up a book and lose themselves in a fantasy world, a mystery, or a romance. They will believe that a farmhouse from Kansas can travel through time and space and squash a wicked witch in the land of Oz. Or that an elderly English spinster will solve the mystery and save the day, because Miss Marple always catches her man (or woman). Can a Civil War-era southern belle rebuild an entire plantation all on her own? We believe that if anyone can, Scarlett O'Hara is the girl for the job. We willing suspend our disbelief because the author makes us believe and makes us want to believe. Through the development of characters, plot, and setting we accept the story the writer delivers and find ourselves fully invested in following it through to The End.

In recent months, I've read two unrelated stories where the heroine died (or appeared to die) but was actually in a herb-induced very deep sleep. In one case the reader knew the plan ahead of time and in the other the reader learns of the plot twist as it occurs. In both cases the authors excelled in creating a believable back story, conflict, and tone as to make the scenario not only credible, but entirely thrilling.

So, I've been thinking about this whole suspension of disbelief business and I am curious about your thoughts, too. What scenarios have you read that seemed unbelievable but the author developed so well that it made perfect sense for the story? What books would you recommend with those captivating plot twists that leave you holding your breathe and racing to the last page? And what plot turns have you read that just left you feeling disappointed and shaking your head. ( Please, in this case, don't use the titles or the author's names.)

We know that many of the things in the stories we read aren't plausible, but, when the author does it right, we just can't seem to get enough.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

A repeated element

In art and photography, our eyes are drawn to repeated elements. Think of a graceful building with columns, or a flock of identical geese.

I realized recently I have a couple of repeated elements in most of my longer stories.

They include wild or misbehaving horses, bad weather and at least one character who believes she is a Christian because she goes through the right motions.

Wild horses are great for generating chaos. Bad weather -- not as bad as the Palm Sunday tornadoes or the Blizzard of '78 -- likewise are great for chaos.

But the lost "church lady" breaks my heart.

Once upon a time, I was that gal. Although I was raised in the church, went through catechism and confirmation, I did not understand the Gosepl until I heard it in church at college. I don't know if I just spaced out all those years or what. And no one is to blame but me for my situation.

During my wandering and wondering teen years I was fascinated by the occult, psychic phenomena, the supernatural, science fiction and fantasy. I must have worried my grandmother because she tried to get me to read books like "Christy" or "Joni." I passed on those two.

Instead, a pair of mismatched books and authors were like lights in my path and helped me get back on the right road.

The first was C.S. Lewis' "Chronicles of Narnia." After I read them, no other fantasy books measured up. Aslan's watchful care over Narnia resonated with me.

The second book warned me away from the occult. In "A Magician Among the Spirits" one of my heroes, Harry Houdini, thoroughly debunked Spiritualism and some of its foundational occurrences and practitioners. He revealed how all the famous cases could have been easily faked. His crusade started after Sir Arthur Conan Doyle convinced him to attend a seance where a spirit claimed to be Houdini's late mother. She told him she loved him and was at peace but he was upset. The supposed spirit spoke in English. Houdini's immigrant mother never learned English and always spoke to him in her first language.

Spiritualism was all a fraud. I remember how stunned I was when his book revealed that. If Spiritualism was a fraud, so too must be all the other supernatural stuff I'd read about.

That left my heart wide open, fertile ground for the Gospel.

Because I'm afraid there are others in the same situation out there -- thinking they are all right with the Lord because they go to the right church, dress the right way, talk the right way -- I always find a character like that in my stories.

What other repeated themes and elements do we find in our stories? I will catch you all after work tomorrow. Have a great day!

Here Come De Judge

by Rachael Phillips

I know, I know. The Genesis judges aren't perfect. I, too, upon receiving my critiques and scores back, have said something like this:

• "I can't believe I paid money to have you read my stuff!"
• "Aha! [leafing through ten dictionaries, the Chicago Manual of Style, Strunk's, and the Bible] "I knew you were wrong about that apostrophe!"
• "You made exactly one comment about my manuscript. Did you even read it?"
• "Can you read?"

The most saintly of us competitors fall back on praying for our judges--if not for their salvation, certainly for their walk with God. Obviously, they don't know Him very well, or they would recognize the superior talents with which He gifted us.

I never quite reached that plateau of generosity. Usually, upon scanning scores, I threw my manuscript into a drawer until I had undergone my official detox process. It consisted of swearing off writing forever; throwing a few books; pounding a few pillows; and eating a few bags of chocolate while crying more than a few tears.

Eventually, I did look on the bright side. Checking out the judge's publishing credentials, I told myself, "Well, if she/he can get published, anyone can."

One year, however, properly prepared with books to throw, pillows to pound, and bags of chocolate to snarf, I stared at my scores and received a phone call: I had finaled. Instead of detoxing, I celebrated--and even more when at conference I won my category.

The following year, however, I discovered that past Genesis winners were strongly encouraged to serve as judges.

Me? A judge?

I thought of the scripture, "In the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."

I heard God laughing.

Since then, I have judged the Genesis several times, and I know other authors who have wedged critiquing manuscripts between sorting socks, working a day job, baking birthday cakes, visiting in-laws, surviving root canals, soothing angry spouses, attending kids' plays (three times), shopping for prom dresses, spending time with amorous spouses, starting potty training, attending traffic court classes--and somewhere in there, too, she/he probably is trying to write a book or two or three. Or edit a few dozen.

No, Genesis judges aren't perfect. A few sadistic egomaniacs no doubt have sneaked into our ranks, as they do in every profession, organization, or ministry. Sometimes, when called upon to judge, we say "yes" mostly because we're really bad at saying "no." Still, many of us judge the Genesis because although we, too, cringe at receiving critiques, we know we would not have progressed this far without them. In other words: we care.

Are we perfect? No. (God's laughing even harder.)

Please feel free to pray for our walk with Him. And pray that with His help, we'll do the best job possible.

Thanks!

I Write For An Audience Of One

(Originally posted June 22, 2011, Reflections in Hindsight). As you can see, the topics are perhaps outdated (or updated, as the case may be), but the concepts are the same as always.


The world, and the people in it, are suffering from many things, I fear. One of those things is the need to know syndrome. Do we really need to know Maria’s reaction the moment she discovered a hired employee gave birth to Arnold’s son the same week she also delivered his son? Is there any value in knowing when, where and how Bristol lost her virginity? And what reason could there be for the world to hear the heinous autopsy details of little Caylee’s gruesome murder? The fact that I don’t need to use more than first names is very telling, isn’t it? Ah, remember the good old days when it was only the insanely rich and famous celebrities like Cher, Elton and Madonna who could get away with using first names?

Watching the morning news programs, I sometimes find myself asking aloud, “And this is news why?” It’s “hard news” stories (which concept seems debatable at best in today’s media-frenzied world) that make me thankful I’m not a newspaper or media journalist. Increasingly, there’s a fine line between solid news and out-and-out sensational. Recent stories have centered on beauty pageant dads, dolls designed for little girls to “breastfeed,” baby g-strings and preteen padded bikini bras, plastic surgery and diet regimens for the under-10 set, and reality TV moms (teens and mafia wives), dancing C-list stars, and publicity hounds clamoring for their proverbial 15 minutes of fame, hoping it will parlay into a fortune.

Sitting in my college journalism classes, I had grand illusions of becoming a Lois Lane reporter, running with notepad and pen in-hand, jumping into a car at a moment’s notice and chasing to the scene of the latest newsworthy event. It seemed adventurous, daring and romantic with an element of danger thrown into the mix. By the time I graduated, I knew I’d rather be a creative writer. The professors advised all the starry-eyed wannabe writers like me that “if you want to make it in the field of journalism, put aside your grand dreams of writing the next Great American Novel.” We were told the “best you can hope for” is to work for a small-town newspaper or magazine, and “you might even earn enough to not have to work a few shifts at McDonald’s each week.” Discouraging? You bet. Depressing? Sure thing. Daunting? Check. Defeating? Of course not! Realistic or not, cliché or not, I had stars in my eyes. I didn’t want to change the world, but I did want to conquer just a little corner of Dallas and somehow make it my own.

Of course, graduating from college a quarter early, packing up and moving from Indiana to Texas on my own without knowing a single person when I first planted my feet on Lone Star soil was either (a) crazy and (b) independent (but still crazy) and/or (c) incredibly brave for a 22-year-old single woman. I didn’t do myself any favors by having absolutely no connections in the brave new world. I ended up as the receptionist in a publishing company located on the first floor of the World Trade Center in Dallas. Sure, there were perks. Shirley Jones (she of Oklahoma! and Partridge Family fame, not to mention being the stepmother of heartthrob David Cassidy) sang at a gala reception once. When the showrooms opened to the employees, I ran around and found treasures to decorate my apartment (I still have some of them today). Dallas real estate mogul and legend Trammell Crow made regular appearances, blowing past my desk to meet his lunchtime buddy (the publisher of the trade magazine). I eventually worked myself into a position putting together the copy and ads for the brochures given to the buyers attending trade shows. But the job paid such a piddly wage, I got a weekend job at (you guessed it) Mickey D’s. I wasn’t too proud, and even hard-working journalist types have to earn a fair and honest wage any way they can.

I could quite literally write a book about my observations as a young, independent, single working woman in Dallas. Maybe I should, but it would probably only be for my children to read. Lessons on life, people, humility, forgiveness, embarrassment, love, romance, trust, loyalty, and basic human nature. The list is long. Maybe I’ll share more in future blogs as they pertain to the topic-at-hand. But you know what? Every experience, every person I met, every lesson learned, every observation made, helped make me the writer I am today.

Fast forward more years than I care to remember, but I’m now a published creative writer. But I certainly can’t make a living at it without my daytime job to support my “habit” of being a creative writer by night. Mind you, I’m not complaining. I’d much rather create characters in my imagination, and cook up situations, events and dialogue instead of chasing a “real life” story. Interview someone who just lost their home in a natural disaster or who was swindled out of their life savings by a dishonest financial advisor? No thanks. Granted, there are plenty of heartwarming stories, but it seems they are few and far between. Sandwiched among the sensational and the sordid. And I’m the eternal optimist, but sometimes that real life is just too real.

Especially as a Christian writer, I understand the great responsibility and true honor it is to be able to share my words with readers. Before I was published, I had a number of people read my manuscripts and give me honest feedback. The fact that people are willing to read my stories – and now even pay to read them – is still overwhelming and humbling. I want you to remember something very important – even if you’re never published – if you’re a writer in your heart, then you’re a writer. You may have only your family and closest friends read your manuscripts. Or your work might be read by thousands. Doesn’t matter. You write because you love it. For the pure passion, enjoyment and personal satisfaction to be derived from it. Why else would you lose sleep and be willing to suffer the arrows of criticism? Because you can’t not write. If you’re a writer, you’ll understand that sentiment. I’m afraid I suffer from the Sally Field syndrome (wanting everyone to like me, really like me), but that’s yet another blog for another day. I’m not writing for other writers or professional reviewers. I write for an audience of One. If I stay true to Him and write the best story I can, and know in my heart I haven’t grieved my Savior, then I’ve done my job. Let the arrows fly!

When you read one of my books, you’ll find an escape, and hopefully an entertaining one. I think one reason I prefer the “land of make-believe” is because of all the sadness, sordidness and dishonesty in the “real world.” In my writing, I hope to reflect the hope I have in Christ, and the inherent goodness I try to see in most people and situations. Redemption and forgiveness are big themes in my books. Real life has enough heartache. Just ask Maria or Bristol.

Until next time, blessings my friends. Matthew 5:16 - Let your light shine!

Originally posted on June 22, 2011 (Reflections in Hindsight)