Author Archives: Amy Jane

Teamwork

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What I love about others being invested in my story: More people to catch mistakes or add consistency.

I was just describing my newest scene to Jay (I picked up a jingle bell to put away and saw I was smiling *way* too much for an “overthrow” scene)

But he was a bad-guy, so it’s okay to be thrilled, right?

Jay’s response was to question when the shooter acquired the skill.  So now I’ve got notes for tonight for where the add the evidence.  I like what it does for character development…. Maybe the kids’ll nap today and I’ll get to it sooner…

Out of Order

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One of my shortest scenes involves a magical character speaking with a second character who doesn’t know she has the capacity for magic. And I had to laugh.

A: Are you telling me you’ve never learned to walk through walls?

B (angry): No. I have it on my list right after learning to fly, so haven’t been able to get to it yet.

A: You are too rigid, child. You need to work out of order.

~ ~ ~

A week ago I made a list of the scenes I needed to round out the storyline for this longer version of the story.

Then, as I mentioned somewhere on-line, I cut two of those scenes before I ever wrote them.  I hacked away at the next one in line, and made a character-history discovery that was very meaningful.

From that discovery two nights ago– along with the timing I gathered from the map-making last night– I was able to discover motivation and reaction for one of the cut scenes and actually got it written tonight– over 1300 words.

I returned because I recognized my initial “math” was correct and I needed those scenes.

It was Tanith’s voice in my head when I realized I’d finished that “impossible” scene.  You’re too rigid, child.  You need to work out of order.” And now I have a new de-blocking technique when working with new material.

Much of my writing is adaptation and expansion.  Untangling, if you will.

When it comes down to creating utterly knew stuff out of me, I find myself freezing up.  This expansion is good for me (along with all the other things, like organization, it’s teaching me) because it’s giving me a section of the book that is founded on nothing but my own imagination.  And I need the exercise.

~ ~ ~

I’ve read enough accounts from “established” authors to know writing never gets “easy.”

Though I have to dispute this on some level: there are definitely times when this is easy– or I’d never have gotten started.  I’m not so dedicated and “believing in myself” or my story that I’d do this out of grit.

But even knowing that, anybody who’s been following my process any length of time can tell this novel has been a tremendous learning experience— and I have to imagine the next round will be easier somehow because of these bits and pieces I’m learning as I go along.

Talk about Clarity

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So I made my first serious map tonight.

And a huge confusion just dissolved.  I have a level of understanding about the chase/questing segment that just did not exist before I had the distances in front of my eyes.

I am so thankful at this point it’s an established trait of half-djinn that they can travel at great speed– since this story would *not* work without that property.

The other thing I did was force myself to put a date *and time* on every scene.  That took a while, and showed some inconsistencies.

For example, I have two separate times when I jump-cut to another action line and the shift is actually back in time a few hours.  This is something I need to fix.

One interesting point is how I calculated the date for the kidnapping.

I already knew I wanted the big showdown to happen on summer solstice, since I liked the idea of fighting huge darkness on the day the sun doesn’t set (remember I’m setting this story in my latitude).  Counting backwards, and allowing for travel times (you see, I just told you the map was an important step), the kidnapping occurred on June 2nd (772, but who’s counting…), which is four years to the day after Linnea was attacked.

So I wondered if I ought to shift the numbers so the line-up wasn’t so exact, or if I ought to see if I can dig up a reason for this day to be magical/significant to the djinn that have been responsible for these characters’ “bad luck” over the years.

I’ll think on that tomorrow.  Feel free to offer your opinion.

Everything in this World Comes from Something.

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I have tried at least three times to start Elizabeth George’s book Write Away.  I have been interested enough every time, but never gotten very far before being distracted by life.

I used to read only non-fiction primarily for that reason: you can quit at any point and (honestly) not be missing anything.  After all, I made it this far in life without the information, and so I should continue to do at least as well when I go on.

The one thing I latched on to from her book (and I do adore this) is the abbreviation THAD for Talking Head Avoidance Device.  That is, anything– a fist fight, a walk, a crying baby to settle– that breaks up a conversation with some measure of action to keep it from being nothing but a talking-heads scene.

Because of that I think in terms of THADs.  I need to convey information here.  What can I use for this scene’s THAD?

I love writing arguments– maybe because I avoid them in real life, or maybe because I get to feel clever no matter who wins because I’m writing both sides.  But creating an argument with a believable THAD is a challenge– and I feel like I’m running out of new ones.

I have two (unwritten) scenes that I’ve cut from the outline because, despite the engaging argument itching to happen, I have no THAD to hand.

~ ~ ~

What follows is a near stream-of-consciousness exploration into a very emotional event where I felt both threatened and in-control– and that’s sort of my definition for a scene that is engaging (never mind what it might say about me.  It works for now).

~ ~ ~

When I was 18 I worked after school in an elementary school library.

I was more oblivious than I am now, and still wonder if the young adult guy who worked there thought he was flirting with me.  All I can remember, honestly, is that the fellow was alternately fun and creepy.

On one of the creepy days he was hanging around the workroom where I was repairing books (read: my back is to the room, and therefore him).

In his defense, this was where the extra computers were, so at least he had a purpose to be there.

He came up behind me and snapped a pair of scissors open and shut behind my ponytail.  I turned and snatched the scissors from him, doubtless with fire in my eyes.  My heart was beating like crazy and I can’t remember if I wanted to hit him or run for my dad (who worked just down the hall).

To his credit the fellow backed off, but he was full of “lighten up” and “What’s the problem?” responses.

What he couldn’t have known (and I don’t think I told him) was that earlier in the day I’d been in Government class where I sat several times a week with my high school bullies: a collection of girls who spent the between-classes times attacking my personhood.

Which on one level was eye-rolling in its immaturity, and on another frustrating because I hated how effective their attacks were.

That morning I was (as usual) in my own little world, trying to ignore the rude girls.

And then I heard scissors behind me.  Just as I *knew* R wouldn’t have the nerve to actually cut at my hair, I believed these girls would take my whole ponytail.

I spent the 90-minute period trying to pay attention, take notes, and pretend chewing on the end of my hair was a way of concentrating and not a defensive act.

Having a second, identical  “attack” in the same day, from a person I knew how to confront (I have always found it easier to confront males than females), I was completely primed and he got the brunt of it.

~ ~ ~

So there’s the story behind the latest THAD I’ll be playing with for my novel:  I think somebody’s going to lose some hair.

Starting Over?

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Not quite.  But I did stay up past Midnight massaging in bits and pieces that till now have been left out.

I have set aside the “finished” version and have begun integrating all the bits of story I took out before I knew the ending.

Now that I know what’s going on all these extra things seem to fit more than ever.

Yes it’s long, and it’s getting longer, but if I can shift in my mind the types of book I am comparing it to, it no longer needs to be threatening.

I have eight new scenes to write, and depending on what I end up with I might actually have enough for two books after all.  But for now I’m plugging at one *long* book.

I think it would be delicious to have it all as one, but till I get farther I can’t be sure.  Don’t want to analyze too much now.  Too many variables.  But I will say this:

150,000 words is my (uneducated) goal at this point (just over 120,000, now).  Till I pass that you won’t hear me complain again about length.  It’s just an incredibly long story with lots happening.

And we might be back to the perennial complaint that there is no breathing room…

Just get it down. That’s the stage I’m at now.  It’s so different writing with the road map of what is already going on.

The Seer and the Sword– book review

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New book review up.

Now I’ve loved two of this lady’s 3 novels, so I ought to read the third, but its premise (a priestess-in-training at a polytheistic temple) sort of creeps me a bit.  Not in a horror movie way, but in a The Lightning Thief way.

I have no doubt it will be well done, but I’m not sure I want to spend time with it.  Become invested in a world with an orange sky (as I used to say about the Anne MacCaffery books, where sex was as necessary and significant as drinking water.  Yeah.  I couldn’t finish the book).

Just got my second book in The Darkest Age today, and the opening scene is troubling enough I don’t know if I’ll review it or not.  So far I’m still planning on finishing the book, though.

“O Love That Will Not Let Me Go…”

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There is a song I’ve always loved called “Rise up O Men of God.”  Any readers here familiar with this?

Rise up O men of God

Have done with lesser things.

Give heart and soul and mind and strength

To serve the King of Kings.

I hear it in my head song by a men’s chorus, and nearly gives me goosebumps.

Actually, there is a line that always makes me shiver (even just sitting here thinking of it), and because of that reaction I’ve always wanted to find a moment I could write with that same emotional intensity.

And tonight I finished a book that did what I want to do (Impossible.  Definitely a 16+ book).  It’s in the last two lines of the following verse.

Rise up O men of God

The Church for you doth wait.

Her strength unequal to the task

Rise up and make her great.

In so many stories what moves me is not the triumphant victory, the hero conquering against all odds.  It is the moment the hero/ine realizes he or she is inadequate alone, and then doesn’t have to do it alone.

While I was writing my second or third Lindorm draft, I came across a blog that was quoting from the book Pain and Pretending.  This summed so well for me the other half of my heart, and you can see now (if you couldn’t before) why relationship and respect are such major elements of what I value in any story.

…I don’t think the deepest hunger of the human heart is to have love for one’s self. Rather, it is to be loved. My goal is not to sit in a room or on a hillside and tell myself how much I love myself. My goal is to mean something to the people who mean the most to me. My hunger is to have somebody big and powerful and important in my life say, “I love you,” and then I will have the confidence that I am loved.

The not-being-alone, the being helped is that confidence.  I think that may be why I hang so continually on the word provision. I make lists of things sometimes (I need to do it more often), that show how perfectly God is helping me.  Or I marvel at the precisely suited way He allows me to help someone else.

And my heart *rankles* at the imposed story lines that would refuse that to anyone, or pretend commitment isn’t an essential part of security and happiness.

(I’ll name names if you don’t know what I’m referring to and actually care.)

God makes Himself known to any who have eyes to see, and I love seeing the reflection of his love in stories of selflessness and (even) stubbornness.

O Love that will not let me go…

The Tea, the tea, the lovely tea…

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I felt I ought to give a wrap up since I mentioned it here several times.

The Care Net Sonshine Tea fundraiser was Saturday morning.

Two notes to self (if I ever do this again– and I might):

  1. Don’t get injured the week before you’re going to be racing all over a giant room for hours (co-)directing and getting things ready.
  2. Be present every time directions are given to a new group of people.

I loved Friday’s work.  I knew or met everyone right away.  I gave directions and worked with people and we had an amazing crew that made getting things done feel like magic.

(This wasn’t just me– Mom was doing it too, but there was enough to be done we just grabbed whoever we needed– or was near– and put them to work).

Saturday I didn’t come early, I just came in time for my Saturday assignment: checking guests in and directing them to the right tables (perfect job for the gimp: I got to sit).  The problem: when wrap-up came the crew of youngsters (briefed early a.m. by Mom) could not understand why *I* was briefing them now, or why they should do what I said.

They finally started doing as I asked, but it was much more clumsy than they’d been yet that day and seemed to me more for a lack of other direction than any spirit of obedience or service.

So that was frustrating.

But I liked much better “running” things and making decisions and directing a crew than I had liked hostessing a table.  That was fine of course, but I’m used to small groups of 2 or 3, and being responsible for keeping conversation alive among eight at a 5-foot table… not my gift.

~

The highlight of the morning, I think, was when a young lady (in her short-short cut-offs) got up front and told the story of coming scared to the Center at 17, expecting judgment and contemplating abortion.  She shared how seeing her son’s heartbeat on the ultrasound screen completely flooded her heart and made her wonder how could have even considered ending his life for her mistakes.

When her story was over (brilliantly short and sweet, absolutely well-done), the center directer brought the girl’s baby up to her and the entire room stood and aplauded.

There were simply no words for that moment.  We all knew we were looking at a brave young woman, and the reason the center exists.

~ ~ ~

The tea was a good exercise in being graciously invisible. My job, the job of the committee, was to see that details were anticipated and met before they became “issues,” and since nothing gets noticed until it’s a problem I wasn’t much noticed.  And that was a good thing.

Especially since one of my goals was not to do more than I wanted to, and I met that goal.

The scripture I found the morning of the tea was a peaceful affirmation of invisibility, and I shared it during the closing benediction as a message to the donors who, other than a small thank you note, may feel unnoticed.

From Psalm 69:32-33a:

The humble will see their God at work and be glad.

Let all who seek God’s help be encouraged, for the Lord hears the cries of the needy.

Our highest goal is to bring glory to God and see His kingdom advanced, so that has to be my first thought and highest ambition.  And, you know, other than a tiny sigh here, I think I really do feel that way, and more than anything I am thankful for my not-needing to be big and strong noticed to know I’ve been effective.

Past the halfway mark… Again

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Thoughts:

  • So I’ve cut over 4,000 words (and I’m still over 101,000!), and I hope to streamline the battle scenes for more reduction.
  • I’ve come across so many typos (even in names!) that I’m wishing I hadn’t sent out my first round already.  But there we are; and I’m getting very useful feedback trickling in, shaping some of my changes.
  • One thing I’m loving about this revision process is that it really does get easier as I go along.  Not (I think) because I’m so much more experienced, but because the faults are refined a bit more away each time, so that section that was a *total* slog last time around was a simple clean-up this time.
    • Hey, I can see some personal application for that too… {grin}
  • One of the very cute things about getting comments back is being complemented for certain things that were done… by accident, or instinct you might say.  That is, there are “pockets of brilliance” here (very small pockets ;) ) and I love them being noticed, but I can’t take conscious credit for all of them.  They weren’t all calculated.
    • And that’s the fun part.  That I can end up with “freebies” like that.
      • Of course, being cheered for the things I did think of is the best.  Lets me feel clever.