What's makes an author?

I recently downloaded an ebook I thought sounded interesting. The story indeed is interesting, but the errors, stilted dialogue, and predictable events leave me cringing at times. And the whole of it got me thinking. I would love the tale if the author had studied the craft of writing enough to construct good dialogue and had someone edit it, even just a little.

Writers can get published in today's world so easily, the ebook rush, the ease for someone to become their own publisher. That does not mean that all self-published folks are hack jobs, though.

I've studied writing since the early 1990s, spent my every waking moment juggling kids and one lesson book or another. I worked with instructors and then editors and if they had a suggestion or complaint, I studied until I understood what they were saying. I studied it until I knew it all inside and out. I even got bites from publishers and worked with more editors. But the changes they wanted in the characters and story lines, I just couldn't do. My books are not about the blood and gore (they have it, but I don't focus on it), they are about the characters and their hopes and dreams. I didn't want to turn the stories into every other book out there. Since I had the opportunity to learn publishing, I went out on my own. 

So are my books worth less than those published by Random House or Penguin? Some would still say yes, for certain. I say read one of my latest books before you make a judgment.

Coping

I haven't always loved books. I remember being read bedtime stories and the ones I wanted to hear over and over again. But there were quite a few years when I was younger that books weren't an every day thing, they were a luxury. My first chapter book that I can remember came from a flea market. I probably still have it here somewhere in one of the two totes that store everything I have from my childhood. It was a mystery, an old one with Trixie Belden as the main character. Every time we visited the flea market or anywhere that had books, I would look for more. From there I was hooked.

I had a beautiful childhood, lots of extended family, an aunt I considered my big sister, cousins galore. But on the day to day basis of a work week during the summer, I was basically on my own, having to occupy myself. Not hard when I spent those days on my grandparents' farm. I dug clay out of the dam my grandfather had built and shaped it into all kinds of animals. Birds were the easiest. I fished a lot. Got really good at playing pool by myself. And when I discovered books, I spent a lot of time on the porch swing going on adventures with other kids my age. My reading and comprehension improved quickly and my wild and crazy imagination found a purpose. It wasn't long before I started dreaming up adventures for my own characters.

Books still save me from the harshness of reality sometimes. They've rescued me many times over the years, both reading and writing them. It's an escape I think too few people use. Life can get downright nasty at times. It can't be ignored. Unpleasant things need to be taken care of and dealt with. It's refreshing, though, to open the cover of a book and leave life behind for a half hour or so a day. And sometimes what can be learned inside those covers can help you get a good perspective on a bad situation in life. Books aren't only for vacations where everything is great. Take refuge in them sometimes even when things aren't.

Titles - Oh, the Terror

Titles. It's something writers stress over, possibly even more than the dreaded synopsis, for if you can't create a stunning title for your written gem, it might not ever get noticed. The title is important for marketing, for recognition (so readers know it's the one their friends were going on about last week at lunch), for grabbing attention in that giant sea of titles out there.

So what's the best way to create a fantastic title?

Here's some tips:

1. Think about what the story is about - the ideas behind it, the plot, the characters. Write down any and all words that relate to anything tied to the tale. Fill the page, or pages, with as many nouns and verbs as you can.
2. Cross out ones that are too cumbersome, bland, overused, or otherwise not pleasant. 
3. What's left? It might seem like a jumbled mess, but start rearranging those darling words anyway, add conjunctions, prepositions, adjectives - don't be afraid to get wild with it. Keep it simple, keep it catchy, keep it connected to something in your story. 
4. You'll be left with a list of a few groups of words, some you'll cross off just because they don't click, others might be so-so. If you can't pick out one with a "That's it!" kind of feeling, hold on to a few good ones while you write, chances are, as the story and characters unfold, one of those options will get stronger, or change a bit to reach that point. 

A bonus step is to Google your choices to see if any other book, blog, movie, painting, or other artistic expression out there has a similar title, or the same. If so, ask yourself if you need to adjust your title or if it's good to have it similar to the other book, blog, movie - well, you get the point.

The title is often your book's first impression (its cover the second), so great care needs to be given to those first few words the world will see. It can seem like an impossible task, but if you do the steps above, use a thesaurus to make your choices more vast, have fun playing with words, you can create just the right one for the job. 

Attention spans

Attention spans. Now there is something I know a little about. Having raised my three girls, I can remember times where I struggled to grab and then hold their attention either for school work or chores or what not. "Stay on task" was something not easily done. Yet my middle girl would sit in the middle of the chaos with a book in her hand, completely absorbed and oblivious to anything around her. A book.

So when I saw another blog making comments about today's youth not being interested in books due to addictions to cell phones, Ipads, email, facebook, twitter and the like, I'm afraid I can't fully agree. I've been immersed in the younger crowd with my kids, their friends, and my nieces and nephews. What impresses me is the number of kids nowadays who love books.

As my middle daughter, and now my youngest say, books can take you somewhere nothing else can. I had a technology addict (my oldest), but even she is more interested in living life now. The arrival of technology for books (Kindle, Nook etc) has blended the two, but I still hear from so many how reading a book in actual print is so much better.

Being an author and an editor, I've known there is a difference between reading on screen and reading print for me, at least. Recently I read an article bringing up the question of how our brains take in print words differently than electronic ones. No studies that I know of are complete on the actual differences, but there are many opinions on the subject. Read this article from The Chronicles of Higher Education here  just to get you started.

For me, growing up in the '80s, and raising my girls through the 90s and 2000s, I'm seeing a trend that encourages kids to read. Some won't, we can't all love books, but in my opinion, the percentage of those who know the value of a good, print book has gone up from when I was a kid. Electronic for some does the same. Either way, we all still love a good story to whisk us away and give us an escape like nothing else can. That, I hope, will never change.

Writers Never Stop Learning

I remember when my writing grew from something more than a kid jotting in notebooks to something I  might actually be good at. It was a wild and crazy thought, just out of high school with no great grades in any English (now called Language Arts) class. And I sure wasn't brave enough to let many people ever even look at a page I'd written.

I credit my parents really. I had the opportunity to take a creative writing course, one I couldn't afford, yet my enrollment happened anyway - didn't take me long to figure out who made that happen. My mom has always been my biggest fan, and my biggest critic when I needed someone to point out when something was bad.  I learned a lot in that two year course. But it wasn't enough. I gobbled up "How-To" books on all topics related to writing. Articles and stories from Ray Bradbury, Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Mary Higgins Clark and many others taught me how to improve my techniques for suspense, horror, and fantasy weekly. And I wrote nearly every night after tucking my girls into bed.

I worked with editors for my first book and got some bites from publishers, but things just didn't sit right with me, the changes they wanted, the things they demanded. I kept studying, kept writing.

I published my first book in 2002. I had people coming to me for advice shortly after, got invited to offer novel writing workshops for Long Story Short School of Writing, workshops I still teach. I keep writing.

And I'm still learning. I've made mistakes in my writing, but I'm learning from them and fixing them. The biggest lesson I had to learn was that my voice, just the way it is, is fine -- readers like it. I have a couple titles where I tried to listen to editors or the well meant advice of other writers, but I did not do myself any favors by letting my style and voice get muddled. I've worked that out now, but I'm still learning.

If I live to be ninety years-old and write fifty novels, I'll still be learning. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

Once Upon a Time

Okay, so Specters of the Lawless doesn't really start like the title of this blog post, it has started. Here's a little sampling of the first draft:

Prologue

The snap of the woman’s neck dropped the crowd into silence, all but the three youngsters tied and standing below the gallows. A scream broke louder than the youngest’s sobs. A bellowed promise that they would all pay.

“You hear that?” Uncle asked, his face painted with lines of anger and contempt.

Eagan peered up into his father’s much gentler eyes, eyes that mirrored the will for mercy.

“Brother, they’re just children,” Father said.

A sneer angled Uncle’s jaw strangely. “Every enemy began as a child,” he said.  He turned and descended the stairs, shouting out to the young girl, then ordering her instant death.

Eagan dashed to the left, following the twin set of stairs out the opposite side, ignoring his father’s shout.

The girl was not much older than he, maybe thirteen, but she was slighter, small and thin like all the woods people. Her hair was dark and tangled, as dark as her eyes. Uncle said their eyes were black like their souls, but Eagan had gotten close enough to see the irises, which appeared black, were truly a rich deep brown. When he asked his father, he learned it was a very normal eye color in some areas, not at all indicative of the soul like Uncle claimed.

He ran faster than his uncle walked, shouted at the unsheathed swords and raised rifles, and leaped from the lowest landing to take a stance before the girl who shepherded her two younger siblings behind her despite her bound hands and being trapped between the weapons and the gallows where their mother still hung.

His young legs were not fast enough. The air was still heated from the laser blasts when he whirled to face the girl. Her expression had softened to a wince of pain. Tears still dripped from her lashes and beautiful eyes so deep and full. Instinct had him clutching her shoulders when she faltered. The two youngest lay dead behind her, their souls already lost, but she remained standing, her hands clamped around his wrists. He sank to the ground with her, nothing else existing but her. He didn’t even know her name.

Her tears dried, her full attention only on him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Please, don’t go.” He wanted to help, wanted to take the pain away, wanted to stop the leaking of her life. He held her, gripped her more tightly when she could no longer stay upright, willed her life to remain even as her gaze wavered, locked on his, but then went blank with no light within. He clenched his eyes against the sight of it, but even in the darkness he saw her.

Anger grew through him, worming deep to his gut, fraying his young mind. The vicious grip of a large hand around his collar, yanking him away from her, snapped him back to reality. He shuddered at the hateful expression on his uncle's round face.

“Put him down, Amras.”

Eagan pulled his head to the left, startled by the stern look on his father’s face. Whispers rose up from all around.

“Of course,” Uncle said.

Air rushed down Eagan’s throat so quickly it nearly choked him. He fell to his hands and knees only to be pulled upright a second later to peer up at his father and away from the dead girl.

“Never falter,” his father said. “Keep your feet, keep your head.” Then Eagan was gently nudged behind him.

Other things were said between the brothers, none of which Eagan heard. Father guided him back up the stairs with an apology for subjecting him to such an event. It was just to be a lesson in law and consequences. Father had no idea the woman had children or that they would be involved.

Eagan snuffed out the bedside lamp that night a different boy with new understanding and the memory of the girl with beautiful brown eyes.

I am a writer

I was a writer before I was an author. I was a writer before I was an artist. I was a writer before I started editing, teaching, publishing, and all that. I've been a writer for more than twenty years with twelve published novels. I recently finished a 7 book series -- big relief. Then something happened. While I had a little success a few weeks ago with starting my next book, it was mostly because I know the writing tricks now to force it. Problem is, forcing it only happens for so long and there is no passion in it, nothing to carry it forward. Each word feels like the yanking of a tooth. That doesn't make for promising results.

I have to chase away the naysayer comments erupting from the back of my mind. Saying I'm not good enough, saying no one wants to see the world like I do or read a story my imagination creates.

I am a writer, and I am very good at what I do. My stories are deep, crafted, and not predictable. My characters are developed, real, with heart and soul. I know this. Now I have to work on truly believing it.

Specters of the Lawless will be no different in those respects despite it being a different kind of tale for me. I'm actually looking forward to the unique aspects of it now. If only I can find the time to devote to it. Hopefully soon.

Introverts can have fun too

I am wholly an introvert, this I've always known. I'm more at ease in my office alone pouring over words I've written, words I'm editing, or words I'm reading just for fun. Words I understand. Using my fingers to create words or art either on screen or on paper is how I best communicate. Words do not travel from my mind to my mouth very well at all. Still, I was determined to get out into the world this year. To let others know my books and my art exist. Everything was starting to feel pointless. What was I writing and painting for?

This was a wild and dangerous thing for me, but I had to do something.  It started with the Pittsburgh Comicon. I've gone to the show for a couple years and found the artwork and all so inspiring. I couldn't hope to even compare to any there with my art, but my books, my stories maybe had a place there. I enjoyed meeting Star author D. Benfer in person, and artist Byron Winton and many others. I loved talking with so many new people immensely but  have to admit it was tiring to constantly eat out and sleep on a strange bed. And, I'm sorry to say, I spent a great deal of time in my hotel room behind the closed door.

This past weekend, I had a table at the first Sci-Fi convention which just happened to be only a few minutes away from my home. I had a phenomenal time at this smaller convention, finding it easier to talk to my booth neighbors this time. I had the pleasure of getting to know author J. Powell Ogden from Ohio and author Kelly Martin from West Virginia just to name two. I also had vast opportunities to talk to so many people about my books and a little about my art, but the best part was hearing about them, what they liked, seeing their costumes, discovering from where they traveled.

I must thank all those who stopped by my booth and showed interest in my work. I do hope those who purchased one of my titles find an escape in an enjoyable adventure within the pages. And I look forward to doing this again soon.

The only downfall of being home every night - the dishes pile up along with the clutter. But this time the office doesn't look like a wild animal was turned loose within the walls. I was back to work with words again today, and I do think I may even be able to start on my new story, Specters of the Lawless. After I catch up on my sleep, Star work, and housework, that is :-)

A Tribute...

I remember my grandfather well. His waves of snowy white hair and crystal blue eyes behind dark framed glasses, the blue-jean overalls he wore and the pickup he drove to work. I remember him doing plumbing and fixing furnaces, tending the cattle and barn work, and farming the fields. I also remember the evenings after the meal we in my family call supper. His chair at the table had arm rests and he would lean back, prop his stocking feet up on the nearby empty chair and rub them together. All the while the adults (usually just him, my mom, and my grandmother) discussed current topics, local, and national. He always had a distinct opinion of what was right and wrong, of how people should be treated, what things would make circumstances better for all, not just great for a few. I saw and heard it all.

I remember his struggle with the illness that took him from our family when I was just a teen, the rock, the strength. Cancer is so cruel. The man who loved us all and knew what should and shouldn't be done. I remember feeling a shattering of all, a distinct undercurrent of massive change. I also remember my early twenties when I finally found peace with what had happened to this man who was so much to so many. And I swore I would live up to his beliefs, his honor.

True, I didn't know him in his younger years. I've lived long enough now to know he surely made his own mistakes in his early years. He was not a perfect man, but he taught me so much. He taught me that family is everything and that we should respect our differences. If he judged anyone, I was never aware of it. He never picked favorites or blatantly talked bad of anyone. He would dislike decisions, yes, but never looked badly at the one who made the decision. True I was just a child, and children were not involved in adult things back then. The feeling I always got though, from all those hours observing and listening to the adults talk at the supper table, was one that stayed with me. He put you in your place when you needed it how ever harshly he needed to (we are Irish after all), but he was not ever cruel. He was fair and just. He played guitar, raised livestock, farmed fields, respected the land, and created art with wood -  shelves, grandfather clocks, porch gliders. He laughed and he cried, but most of all, he loved us all.

In his memory, during my early twenties, I promised to treat all with respect, stand up for what was right. Do right by anyone I met, never do harm to any or hurt anyone, or cause undo stress on anyone for any reason on purpose. And I have done so and will continue to do so to the best of my abilities.

It saddens me to know I have many cousins who didn't get the chance to make memories with this man. It saddens me just as much that he is not here to give stability to an ever increasing avalanche of bad events ripping apart what once was good, shattering bonds for what? I truly do not know. A twisted and ugly mess. And I wonder how, why (that I will never understand), and I hope and pray he is not watching, that he rests in peace.

I will live to honor his memory, as will my children. There are things you just do not do to anyone, let alone family. I remember even if others do not. I'm sorry grandpap, that I couldn't do more. But I promise I will never be a part of any hate or harm to anyone. And I promise to teach my children the same. In your name, I promise that.

And I will always remember you well....

To Outline or Not to Outline

When I first began studying the writing craft in the early 1990s, everything I heard and read about starting a novel included full blown outlines. Some encouraged plotting out each scene and each chapter. I tried it, but accomplished nothing except a full wastebasket.

I can't say what the best way to write a novel is, only that each writer has to find their own tools. Getting through the sticky middle is the hardest part, and some do need that outline to plod through the swamp. For me, though, if I did a full-blown outline, my characters stopped doing everything except sitting in their interview chair, drumming their fingers and looking at me with a cocked brow and a "are you serious" kind of look in their eyes. My characters don't like being told what to do anymore than I do.

I can still get stuck in the swampy middle though, so I had to find a way to make it all work for me and my pig-headed characters. It's simple really. I get to know the characters inside and out, their dreams, fears, hopes, what they love, what they dislike, what their goals are, what haunts their dreams, what fills their fantasies, clear down to what they like to eat and drink to their habits, all of it. But none of it is set in stone. I always give them room to grow or change their minds. Then I decide on the one pivotal act that sends the characters on their downward slide. That is where the beginning is. And I always know what the ending will be - not how it happens but the end result. I often know a handful of important events that lead to the end, but basically my characters have free rein.

All of that is how my books have come to be reviewed as having the best surprise endings. It's because I don't plan how, just the "what." The characters, in all their individuality and with their choices, drive the "how." Sometimes it's far far away from how I would like things to go. But that's a whole other story :)

Where do ideas come from?

The short answer to the question of where I (and most writers) get their ideas is: everywhere. Then add imagination, sometimes exaggeration, a dash of the author, and it can be magic.

For me, my stories start with a character and a simple element after which I ask "what if" to just about every aspect my imagination can create from those. For my first book, it was a character who felt like an outcast. My second novel, Gone Before Dawn, grew from a nightmare I'd had and was fed by research I did of my local area. Each element of it, the graveyard, the haunted apple tree, the mansion, all of it came from places I knew around my local area.

The Manipulated Evil Trilogy came about after 9/11 and what followed. I felt helpless which gave rise to a character who was anything but and a story that grew into something much bigger than I had ever planned. The jumping off point for Rise of the Arcadians was the dynamics of a big family inside global climate change and how cycles might change the world from what we know today. Among the Ancients started to form as I was researching ancient mysteries - like how did they move the immense stones that make up Stone Henge or the walls of Sacsayhuaman - and what would a man do if he was suddenly face to face with the answers? Or possible answers. :-)

The whole of the seven book Disillusionment Series grew from my constantly asking the question "what if" while researching the beliefs of the ancient Sumerians.

My next book, well, the idea for it started from something my middle daughter once said. A story where the bad guy might be good or the good guy might be bad or... well, you get the point. Pieces of other things are also filtering in.

Ideas can come from personal experiences, the morning newspaper or news report, research of the past, movies, other books, or anything at all. An author's job is to people the idea with unique and complete characters to bring it all to life and keep it as unpredictable as possible. The stronger the characters, the easier that is to do. So, I suppose, knowing a bit about human psychology helps a lot with that. Each personality will react differently to any given circumstance, and there is where the fun really begins...

Why do I write thrillers and fantasies

When I was taking my writing classes, the assignments required me to write several different types of stories. When they became more free for all, I wrote what I wished to write and it was always in suspense, thriller, or horror. My instructor asked me once to write something light and airy like a romance or a children's story. So I did. Let's just say she politely told me to stay with the darker genres lol. I just couldn't get the emotional feel into it that was so strong in my other pieces. Many of my stories do have a romantic or humorous twist in them, it's just never the main focus.

I had one early reader of my books, a woman who knew me from my childhood, ask me why I wrote things so "dark." I have to admit it perplexed me because I never viewed my stories as "dark" exactly. Sure, my characters are dealing with dire situations, but the overall feel of my tales, then and now, centers around hope and perseverance no matter how dark the situations get for the characters.

I don't know why I write in the genres I do, I just know it's where my writing is strongest and where my inspiration takes off. Thrillers, horrors, and fantasies are also what I choose in movies, books, and other entertainment as well. Fantasy is not a genre I chose and it started gradually, but it is where my imagination took me. In my fantasy books, I stay grounded in reality but can stretch it and have fun with the "what if" possibilities.

I'm not a "dark" person at all. I like to laugh, have fun, and play in the sun. But when I write, I like to keep readers on the edges of their seats until the very end. And that, I'm told, is a very good thing.

What comes first, plot or characters?

The very first book signing I did, I remember one customer asking me: what comes first, the plot or the characters? Without hesitation, my answer is and will always be the characters.

It is my opinion that without strong characters, a story feels empty. Readers must be able to relate to those in the tale; to build a level of concern, sympathy or at least curiosity for the person they are meeting within the pages. That requires a character to have as much depth as a living, breathing person.

To build those characters, I first decide where they've come from; what is their background? Then the question is: how do they feel about that, how did it shape them? From there it's time to decide what their dreams and fears are, what kinds of things fuel their anger or fear or give them peace. What do they love, what do they dislike. And of course, it never hurts to learn their favorite foods, music, entertainment, whatever is relevant to the tiniest detail of their lives. It's different building a character for a story set in the here and now of what we all know than it is for developing a character to populate a setting hundreds or even thousands of years in the future, but the principles all stay the same. It's imperative for the author to get to know them like a best friend. What kinds of foods do they order at a restaurant or carry in their supply pack, what do they do with their free time, how do they react to uncomfortable situations? And the list goes on and on.

That is where all my stories start. From there I throw a few incidents at them, ones which start propelling a story forward. It is their reactions to the few set things I know the story needs - dictated by what I know about them and their world - that drives its every step. And that is how my stories are known for twists and turns and surprises that are true to the characters, but unexpected all the same.

Why do I write so often in a male point of view?

Over the years I've been asked many questions about my writing. I've been writing -- seriously working the craft -- since the early 1990s. During all this time, some questions have been asked over and over - why I write in the point of view of so many male characters is one of them.

My first book featured 17 year old Codey Mathews as the star character. He was center stage and did not share it with a female lead. I don't know why, it was just the way the book unfolded. My second book featured a young mother, Cierra Lancing, but she shared the main stage with her confidant, Tristan Durant. It was important to show readers what was going on when Cierra wasn't with him. The Manipulated Evil Trilogy balanced out between female and male points of view but the girls won out by one in the end. Rise of the Arcadians, Desire and Rand shared that stage evenly, like Bryce and Kynly did for Among the Ancients. With the Disillusionment Series, it's also been fairly equal, but I have to say Tarenek has been the most fun to write, and yes, he's male.

I guess the answer is that I really don't have an explanation for it. I've never had anyone complain, but a few have been surprised when they discover I'm a woman. I write the characters as they come to me, not paying any attention to gender - only to character personality. The owner of any particular scene is the POV I write. In all my stories, I use multiple POVs to show readers the full scope of what's happening to change everyone. From there, it's just how it all works out.

The Beginning of the End

By now most everyone has heard at least a mention of the Mayan Calendar and the general assumption is that the end of their calendar, which falls on December 21, 2012, is also the end of our world. Then there is the prophecy of the Hopi Indians. And of course there was the movie 2012. There are dozens and dozens of other stories, articles, Youtube videos, and blogs on the subject. Theories ranging from world ending events to the arrival of a higher consciousness abound.

I would like to believe some ability of deeper understanding for us humans could come about by the end of this grand new year, but my logical side is more inclined to believe any change that may happen will be so undetectable it won't be noticed.

It doesn't mean it's all lost though. 2012 sure can fuel ideas for a fiction author, especially one of fantasy and thrillers like me.

So, while theories continue to build about the true meaning of December 21, 2012 (maybe they merely ran out of room on their stone, or the stone containing 2013 and beyond was lost), I'll work on finishing Retribution: Disillusionment Book Seven, the final book of the series before December, and starting on a new tale. Not sure if I hope for another series so soon or not, but I'll go where the characters lead. Whether there's an end looming on the horizon or a beginning, or maybe both, I'm looking forward and forging on with new goals and projects.

Hopefully you can do the same with your year. Make 2012 a good one.