It is Monday again already. How did this happen?! So you may have noticed I haven't blogged much, and I swear I have a good reason! You know, besides being up to my eyeballs in edits and trying to balance that with summer vacation with my kids.
We've had a major heat wave here in NYC and because of this extreme heat, our power was down for nearly three days. No Internet. No TV. No lights or air conditioning. It was brutal. But I survived! And so did my family and my pets. There were no casualties, save for one fish that is unaccounted for. But I am blaming his disappearance on the monster belly of my growing catfish.
*sigh*
Today is my dad's 60th birthday!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! I LOVE YOU! And he's stuck in a hospital two states away. I tell ya, moving away from home is not all it's cracked up to be. But not to worry, he's a tough old biker. He'll be fine.
Back to that heat wave. We were all a little loony in my house those days when the temps were above 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Loonier than usual. My daughter (7 years old) was crouching on the couch with her knees bent up by her ears, making *ribbit* noises and pretending to catch flies with her tongue, (this is really a totally normal thing for her, not at all heat induced) and my husband walked by and she said, "Daddy, I'm a frog."
Really? A Frog? Not a chicken? I was totally leaning toward chicken.
This got me thinking about writing, as most things do. Especially when my whole body feels like melty goo and I CAN'T work on my book because I have no electricity and my laptop is a tiny dinosaur who has the battery life of... something that only has a 30 minute charge. I can't even think of anything that sucks battery life that bad.
So. Writing. It was obvious she was pretending she was a frog, right? You got that too? And yet she still felt that she had to tell my husband. We do this in our writing. We all do this. Don't fib. I can see your soul.
We tell. Even when we think we're showing.
We can describe something, a feeling or emotion, so perfectly, and then we still end up tagging it with the emotion we're trying to describe. (ex. My heart raced with fear.)
This is where amazing crit partners, and lots of hours spent in the revision cave come in handy. Turning yesterday's crap into a little less crap.
I had a point here. I know I did. I think it was something like "trust your reader." Readers are a highly intelligent breed. They'll pick it up.
If it walks like a duck...or hops like a frog.
Showing posts with label my writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my writing. Show all posts
Self-Editing Tips!
While I’m waiting for notes on my WIP from my Scribe Sisters, I’ve been doing some research on things, including agents, revisions, candle making, how to properly skin an animal (don’t ask), and I’ve come across some gems.
Mostly on the revision thing.
Cheryl Klein, an editor at Scholastic, has this fantastic recap of a talk she did for an SCBWI conference on revising and self-editing. The full speech is also there for your reading pleasure.
Literary agent Natalie Fischer (Bradford Lit) recently posted a great recap of her talk at an SCBWI event on the revision process.
YA author Holly Cupala (Tell Me a Secret) has compiled a huge list of posts from various authors, illustrators and industry pros on revision!
Hopefully you find these links as useful as I have. Happy revising!
*****
In other news, if you haven't seen the amazing book trailer for Carrie Harris's debut BAD TASTE IN BOYS, go do that immediately! My critique partner Valerie Kemp created it!
Aquarius is the superior star sign
There, I said it.
My birthday is coming up! January is a great month to be born. When you're a kid, your birthday parties are limited to indoor activities and it is often too cold or snowy for your party guests to actually show up. I was always envious of my June-born sister. But not anymore! Because January is a month made of awesome.
Tangled Fiction is back from our holiday break with a brand new story about arse-kicking girls in hoods, wielding axes, knives, and bows. And there's giant, smelly wolves.
Also, I've gotten over my writing funk, mostly, thanks to Natalie C Parker, and my Sisters in Scribe, Valerie Kemp and Kristi Helvig. I am now back on track with awesome ideas for whipping Greyskin into shape!
Any other Aquarians out there?
My birthday is coming up! January is a great month to be born. When you're a kid, your birthday parties are limited to indoor activities and it is often too cold or snowy for your party guests to actually show up. I was always envious of my June-born sister. But not anymore! Because January is a month made of awesome.
Tangled Fiction is back from our holiday break with a brand new story about arse-kicking girls in hoods, wielding axes, knives, and bows. And there's giant, smelly wolves.
Also, I've gotten over my writing funk, mostly, thanks to Natalie C Parker, and my Sisters in Scribe, Valerie Kemp and Kristi Helvig. I am now back on track with awesome ideas for whipping Greyskin into shape!
Any other Aquarians out there?
Tangled Fiction Fulls
We now have an archive page on the TF blog where we will post links to the full stories as well as each individual part. lhttp://http://tangledfiction.blogspot.com/p/story-archive.html Sneak peek of IN THE CARDS, started by me, continued by Natalie C Parker, and concluded by Valerie Kemp!
The caravan sat up against an old wooden fence, covered in rust and moss like it had been puked out by the earth. Vintage, her older brother Lem had called it, but Nim knew better. Vintage meant trash.
She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, but the wind still bit her skin. She couldn’t go inside yet. Lem hadn’t given the signal. Tonight’s girl was blonde, her skin bronzed by the sun. Nim looked down at her own milky white hands. She’d never have tan skin. She’d never have anything the girl in the caravan had—money, friends. It wasn’t in the cards for her.
Follow the above link to read more of this one, and our second 3 part short, WHAT WISHES ARE MADE OF! Thanks for looking!
The caravan sat up against an old wooden fence, covered in rust and moss like it had been puked out by the earth. Vintage, her older brother Lem had called it, but Nim knew better. Vintage meant trash.
She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, but the wind still bit her skin. She couldn’t go inside yet. Lem hadn’t given the signal. Tonight’s girl was blonde, her skin bronzed by the sun. Nim looked down at her own milky white hands. She’d never have tan skin. She’d never have anything the girl in the caravan had—money, friends. It wasn’t in the cards for her.
Follow the above link to read more of this one, and our second 3 part short, WHAT WISHES ARE MADE OF! Thanks for looking!
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