Archive for the ‘On Writing’ Category

Votive: A taste of what’s to come…

Jun 08, 2010

Hi again!

As promised, I can now reveal a blurb – or summary – only brief – of Votive, the second book in The Curse of the Bond Riders series. As I wrote in a recent blog, I finished the novel – it’s much longer than Tallow and I can tell you it’s action-packed, moody, sensual and heart-wrenching (at least, that’s what my publisher said!). Well,  the manuscript has now been read by one of my wonderful editors and publisher and my fabulous agent and I am pleased to report, they loved it – phew! So now I can post the blurb! I have to tell you that I didn’t write this. This was written by my other editor, Sarah, who is absolutely brilliant and I love working with her. On the basis of my detailed synopsis, she wrote what’s below…. NOTE: Spoiler alert if you haven’t read Book One, Tallow.
OK. Deep breath. Here it is:
Votive
Return to the beautiful, deadly world of Tallow, where the stakes are even higher. Tallow has had everything taken away: friends, family, hope. To survive at the hands of the corrupt Maleovelli family, she must cast aside her male disguise and become cold-hearted Tarlo, female courtesan and assassin.

But the intrigues of the Serenissian nobility are nothing against the larger forces moving within the world of Vista Mare. And her enemies have a secret asset: the one thing she cannot possibly resist….

What do you think? What’s going to happen? I am so excited….

What I can also tell you is that cover designs are now being discussed. The photo above is one I took in Venice and I adore it. To me, it’s always expressed the atmosphere of Tallow’s world.

Please let me know what you think!!!

Now it’s time to start Book 3: Illumination.

Karen x

Votive: The Curse of the Bond Riders 2

May 11, 2010

This is a progress report and an apology!
It’s been ages since I’ve blogged and part of the reason for that is that I have madly been working on Votive, Book 2 of The Curse of the Bond Riders series. As a result, I had to let everything slide – my blogs, my friends, my life…! Seriously, I have had to lock myself away and immerse myself in Tallow’s world, emerging to shower, eat and the other things that our bodies require us to do! I also had to cope with a very nasty allergic reaction to medication in that period, which saw me bedridden and very medicated (semi-sedated) for a week as my abused body recovered. So, I lost more time on this most precious of novels. But I want to say sorry for being so … reclusive? Is that the word?

Thing is, the first draft is now finished and in the safe hands of my editors and agent. I am actually giving myself a brief break (a week or two before starting Book 3) – oh – and cleaning my study which accumulated dirt, papers and food scraps in amazing quantities while I wrote! The amount of mugs (which beautiful hubby would bring down to me brimming with steaming coffee), pill containers (he would also bring down meds), and plates of half-eaten food scattered across surfaces beggar’s belief – really. And I thought I was a tidy person. Ha! Teenagers bedrooms don’t come near the state of my study. I could set up a cultural studies centre here based on all the unusual things growing upon displaced kitchen utensils… gross.

Now, I was going to post the blurb for Votive here as well – but I won’t just yet. You see, I may have sent off the first draft, but I know there are many flaws and faults in it and I await feedback anxiously (us writers are an awfully insecure bunch, full of self-doubt and worry) from those whose opinion I value very highly (hubby is also reading it and found some mistakes and made some great suggestions). In fact, the hardest thing not to do is to return to the novel and start rewriting now! I can already identify changes I want to make. So, I am not going to post the blurb… I would hate the story to shift and mislead you. So I will wait… impatiently and nervously for what my agent and publishers think of what I have done to the characters – and that’s before the book hits the streets next year – I’ll be a mess by then. For those of you who have read the first book, Tallow, I’d love to know what YOU think might happen in Votive!

OK. Back to cleaning. Somebody’s got to do it and since I made the mess in the first place…
Take care everyone and thank you for your messages while I have been laying low – they’ve meant the world!
Karen :) ))

The Writer’s Ego: Coping With Criticism

Feb 05, 2010

A friend of mine on FaceBook prompted me to write this blog after she felt depressed about feedback she’d received from her writing group regarding a novel upon which she was working. She also felt a little guilty for feeling that way and was kicking herself because, feedback is what writers thrive on, isn’t it? It’s what we need in order to elevate our prose or whatever style we’re writing in to the next level.

Well, yes and no.

Let me explain. There are two types of feedback in this world and both involve the ‘C’ word. Of course, I mean Criticism.

The first kind is that delivered with knowledge and generosity – the knowledge springing from direct experience gleaned from the Critic being a writer and receiving feedback her or himself or from a deep understanding and love a literature generally or both. This kind of reviewer can be professional (as in reviewer is paid for their trouble) and published in newspapers, magazines, websites and other media or simply provided by a lover/fan/practitioner of writing and/or reading. the point being that none of these are mutually exclusive.

The second kind of review is that done with varying degrees of knowledge but most of all it is written with an ungenerous eye.

I know many writers and all of them tell me they have experienced both kinds. While a writer loves nothing better then a positive review, a negative review can be crushing. But it is the ungenerous, mean-spirited and destructive review that nitpicks and uses ad hominen attacks (attacking the person who wrote rather than the writing itself) that leave the worst kinds of scars and, frankly, I fail to see the point except to cause hurt and distress.

One very well known writer friend of mine tells me not to read reviews, that she doesn’t and therefore doesn’t know what’s said about her work (it’s usually always wonderful). But I am not yet ready to take that step. I wish I was. I don’t feel I am experienced enough to walk away from what might, buried in a review, prove to be a really valuable piece of advice or an observation that, whether positive or negative, should be paid attention to in order to improve future works. As a result, I do very occasionally get to read really ungenerous reviews. Interestingly, I can tell in the first line what kind it is going to be but, like an eavesdropper hearing no good about themselves, feel compelled to read on – just in case…

I am relatively thick-skinned when it comes to being criticised. I receive critiques all the time. As a newspaper columnist and feature writer, readers interact with my work on an almost daily basis. I receive feedback that makes me laugh, cry (in a good way), challenges, attacks me as well as some that makes me appalled that someone feels they have a right to make assumptions about me on the basis of an opinion or piece. One time, an article I wrote on Harry Potter caused a newspaper’s online feedback system to crash as readers around the world responded with vitriol to some of my points. They called me ‘sick’, spoke of the sympathy they had for my children for having such a mother, questioned my educational qualifications ‘What’s your doctorate in? Stupidity?’ and so on. These comments flew at me from around the globe and were a baptism by fire into the world of criticism. I was heartbroken and quite confused when what I had done was write what I believed was an intelligent, well-researched and humourous piece on what was fast becoming the Harry Potter phenomenon. And yes, my ego was bruised. The fact that I was able to respond with a piece entitled ‘I’m no Rita Skeeter,’ and the overwhelming lovely feedback I received and apologies, did a great deal to salve my wounds, but it also taught me a huge lesson in coping with not only the people who read your work and take it to heart, but the cruel anonymity of the internet. There’s also its immediacy to take into consideration, how anyone and everyone can now fire verbal barbs with the intention to make them stick or just as bad, without thinking…

As a result of this anonymity and speed I have, over the years via email mostly, been invited to burn in the eternal fires of hell, had my patriotism questioned, been told to go back to where I came from (I can’t, my mother is dead), had my sex and sexuality questioned and the list goes on. Strangely, those comments, which are more about me than my journalistic pieces, don’t hurt nearly as much as those which are directed at my creative writing. Hence, I understand exactly where my friend is coming from.

Doing my Ph.D. was an exercise in learning to write for a critical audience as is writing scholarly articles and having them ‘blind-reviewed’ by three peers around the world. Comments such as ‘ugh’, ‘point so lost it couldn’t find its way out of the London Underground’ and so on were relatively common. Even so, I only ever had one article rejected and that was in the first year of my PhD. So, I did get used to harsh comments.

But still, the ungenerous ones stand out from the crowd in a way that tells a great deal more about the reviewer than the piece he or she is critiquing.

Writers, regardless of what genre or for which audience they’re writing, labour over their words, even those writers, such as journalists, with strict deadlines and word counts. What might appear rushed, is generally thought out and edited heavily before someone else gets to fiddle with it and well before the public read it. All angles are deliberated (even if a particular approach is directed), and rejected or embraced. What can appear slap-dash, rarely is – even if it does invite that kind of criticism.

However, when we’re talking about a novel, a completely different set of skills and effort are applied. Generally, time works in the writer’s favour (though not always) and they use this wisely-ish. Every word, sentence, paragraph, character, theme, plot is highly developed and lovingly written and rewritten. What to include, what to exclude; where to allow the reader a breather, where to pick up the pace, where to use prolepsis (foreshadowing) and analepsis (flashbacks) are all are agonised over long before the work ever gets a public guernsey. By the time it reaches publication, all this has been mulled over and rewritten and edited at least hundreds of times and with the aid of professional editors, copy writers and so on.

But the truth is, no matter how much work you put in, it’s never perfect, it will never satisfy everyone – look at works that have sold millions and won accolades around the world. J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer, Dan Brown, even ‘untouchables’ such as J.R.R. Tolkein, Cormac McCarthy and Annie Proulx, receive criticism. Why shouldn’t us ‘lesser’ souls? And we do.

But again, it’s the way the critiquing, the feedback, the review of the work is done that is so important. Most of us can accept that some readers (hopefully, only some) will not like what we’ve written and that’s fine (it’s even better if they keep it to themselves!), but if a reviewer has that reaction (though, I never understand why some media pick people to review genre work who have no experience in the genre! I remember, years ago, a review of one of my books beginning this way: ‘I didn’t like this book, but then, I hate fantasy…’ Go figure. But that didn’t stop them reviewing it – they were doing the job they were paid to do). We can also accept, as my friend did, the well-intentioned advice and observations of people we trust to provide honest, constructive feedback, the kind that comes from a position of goodwill with the motive to help us make our writing the best it possibly can be.

But it’s the destructive, nasty reviews that are hard to take. It’s as if the reviewer takes to heart the notion that critiquing is ‘criticising’ – fault-finding and nit-picking and little else. I mean, I’m sure if we all looked long and hard enough, and examined Mother Teresa and Ghandi with that kind of attitude, we’d find fault as well. But what does it achieve? To read something through the lens of ‘what can I find wrong with this? What flaws can I point out? What mistakes has this writer made? What do I NOT like about this book?’ is not helpful for anyone really. I imagine that it gives that kind of reviewer a sense of power. But over what? Some poor author who has invested a part of their life (and usually their family’s as well), heart and soul into a work of which they’re very proud. And then someone comes along and sinks the boot in – not in a way that is useful, but which is designed to bring that big-headed writer down a peg or two, because of course, anyone who is published must have a huge ego.

Well, maybe one or two do, but in my experience, most writers are quite humble souls who beaver away in solitude, lost in their imaginations. And they tremble at the thought of reviews and reviewers. Hence, they can potentially fall apart at the first sign of criticism – especially vile, toxic criticism. But guess what, they also pick themselves up again and keep going. That’s because they can’t help themselves, they love what they do with passion.

I’m not suggesting that reviewers go easy or soft – not at all! But that when they’re writing they weigh up the pros and the cons and try to point out the good and the bad. Because as the adage goes, one person’s trash is another’s treasure – ever heard of Twlight? That series polarises people faster than a compass finds Magnetic North.

So, I really do understand my friend temporarily floundering under criticism that was generously given. But I admire her for taking it on board and using it in the way it was delivered, to make her work stronger and more appealing. But I also understand why my other friend doesn’t read reviews. The ungenerous ones serve no purpose for writer or reader, rather they do little more than diminish both.

You know, writing a book is like having a baby. It gestates for months, if not years, before being born into the world. But the difference between writing and having a baby is that, while no-one will criticise your human baby to your face, when it comes to your creative one, there’s lots of bastards out there who delight in telling all and sundry what an ugly baby you’ve delivered!

What do you think?

The ‘Delete’ Button: A Writer’s Best Friend

Jan 27, 2010

As a writer, I am so often asked advice from aspiring ones as to how, where, what to write and how to get published. Frankly, I feel such a fraud giving any! Even though I have written a few books, I learn something new about the art of writing and my own limitations every time I set out to turn a wild idea into a coherent narrative. As for where I write, generally I do it in my study and envy those who can write anywhere, anytime (though I do occasionally receive ideas in the early hours of the morning and fumble around for the pen and notebook which are supposed to be by my bedside but tend to travel around the house. I flick on the lamp and scribble it down. Then, in the morning, I look at what it was that was so important it disturbed me and my hubby, and mostly think it’s equivalent to automatic writing – senseless and belongs in the realm of the dead).

However, I am now over 30,000 words into Book 2 of The Curse of the Bond Riders, which is called, Votive (I’ll write more about this at a later stage) and realised there is a little piece of advice I can humbly offer, though I am by no means the first to do so. That is, as precious as your words are, as wonderful as you believe the story is and the descriptions delicious and relevant, the ‘delete’ button is your best friend – don’t be afraid to use it.

Before I was diagnosed with cancer and had my operations (see previous post), I was fairly romping along with the story. Then I hit a wall. Hard. A few times. Even filled with painkillers, I read over what I thought was good and worthy of keeping at the time and I was a little appalled. So, on January 8th this year, the day I ‘officially’ sat back at my desk and returned to my novel (which is plotted out carefully), I did what any sensible writer would do and I deleted 30,000 words. Just like that. To paraphrase a famous commercial for insect spray ‘one click and they’re gone.’

I felt sick.

Then, I sat down and, apart from the first chapter (which I rewrote seven times from seven different points of view and may do so again), I started all over.

Then I remembered what I’d done and I felt sick again. Word counts are what writers live by.

*Brief aside* – The writer’s day: A very short synopsis.

Sit down at computer.

Check word count

Write

Check word count

Have lunch

Check word count

Write some more

Check word count

Decide to stop

Check word count.

Read over last few sentences.

Check word count.

You get the picture: live by the word count, die by the word count. So, in short, deleting is a BIG deal.

And I had just done a huge one. But, I kept going.

Every day when I return to my novel, I go back over what I wrote the day before, and I delete all extraneous material. I rewrite, edit out mistakes, plot inconsistencies, and strengthen the language. What I do more than anything is delete. I delete all the adverbs that, in a fit of stupidity or distraction I included. I also try to eliminate many of the adjectives. This is because, whereas the ‘delete’ button is your best friend, the adjective is the utterly worst, diabolical, corrupt, malicious and heinous frenemy (enemy that pretends to be your friend) a writer will ever have the misfortune to encounter.

Persuaded by teachers of creative prose in primary and high school, perhaps by our own reading experiences (especially the ‘purple prose’ that dominated for decades and decades), or even writing courses, that adjectives reveal talent as well as an impressive vocabulary, we have a tendency to liberally pepper our works with them. But they don’t do us any favours except to slow down the pace and distract. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t include them but, if we treat them like the culinary equivalent of truffles and use them sparingly, they’ll have a much greater impact.

It’s like the Anton Chekov rule of writing. It is something like this: If you describe a gun on the wall at the beginning of the story (clearly he wrote in a different century), unless it’s fired at the end, get rid of it.

In other words, don’t describe or even over describe something you don’t have to (OK, and try not to end sentences with infinitives either).

Long descriptions of the way a character looks can be so distracting and unnecessary, yet so many writers persist in providing them. They don’t have to – try this for size:

‘As she strode into the room, the red dress swirled around her ankles.’

What hair and eye colour does she have? Is she tall or short? Is she confident or shy? What colour lipstick is she wearing? Is she meeting someone? Who? Is the room at the top of the building or bottom? How did she get there? I’ll bet you can answer one or all of those questions because in that brief sentence a picture was already being formed in your head.

Or, I could have written: ‘As she strode into the room, her blonde hair flowing down her back, her blue eyes sparkling, her scarlet lips curled with confidence,  her red chiffon dress that clung to her firm breasts swirled around her slender ankles.’

I know that’s over the top, but I have done all the imaginative work for you. I need my best friend, ‘delete’, to go to work and I have a much stronger sentence, a much clearer picture that the reader can form for him or herself.

Having said that, I generally overwrite in my early drafts and then when I revise, clear out as many extraneous adjectives as I can. You just don’t need them. They don’t make your work luscious, or poetic or demonstrate a great vocabulary, they interfere. They are not a friend, they simply mask themselves as one. They are the enemy and must be deleted!

And really, I have rambled and half this post could be deleted and still get my point across! See, I told you I am not equipped to offer writing advice – but good luck anyway!

Karen