Breaking the Mirror

A mirror simply will not do.

As I continue delving into my first single POV novel, I’m having to set some boundaries between myself and the protagonist. My quirks are a catching lot. They’ve always spread like wildfire throughout my characters if not kept a steady eye on.

With that kind of intimacy narrowed down to a single soul in my new book, I’m finding the heroine reflecting me rather, well, grotesquely.

Like I said, this will not do.

By all means, you should allow a few of your personal quirks, a handful of your life experiences to color your characters (that’s what makes them your characters), but don’t make the mistake of writing what you see in your bathroom mirror…  It only reflects poorly on your imagination.

Until Wednesday (travel day on Tuesday)…

Chloe

The Strategy of Childish Leaps

The Leap Strategy has been applied!

(Um, no, not that financial thingamabob about securities and stocks. Sorry. My royalty checks barely cover a monthly trip to Sonic for half-price shakes.)

I am speaking of a leap in literary processes!

(Um, no, not nearly as boring as it sounds. Trust me. Read on.)

I have decided to write the entirety of my next novel (my first venture into Women’s Fiction) in a single point-of-view!

(Ok, maybe it is a touch boring. Sorry. It’s certainly exciting to me.)

I’ve never done such a wild and crazy thing.

(Yes, yes, I realize lots and lots of books are written this way but never one of mine. So, big deal here. A blind leap that I hope with all my heart doesn’t end in a bloody “SPLAT!”)

Oh well. No matter the outcome, what’s life without a few childish leaps of faith, right?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Path Not Beaten

Now, 2k words into writing my first Women’s Fiction novel, I must say I’m rather giggly about the whole experience. It’s as if I’ve been driving race cars my whole life and have just now been introduced to the rough and tumble freedom of off-road vehicles.

Romances, alas, often have to follow certain plainly marked roadways to sell. Certainly, you may jump a few curbs or rumble across a stray sidewalk, but to reach that publishing finish line you’ve got to stay true to the paved, well-grooved Happily Ever After lane.

Women’s Fiction is a jeep with attitude. All terrains are welcome. Finish lines may pop up on sand, mud, rock or in mid-air. It’s marvelous fun!

So far.

Please, remind me of this post in 6 months when I’m trying to hock the book amongst the professional off-roaders.  

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

What Grows of Shame?

What do you do with shame?

How does a writer turn that hot, prickly burn of disgrace into something useful?

The other day, I talked about reinventing frustration into a literary good. But what can be done with shame?

The utter, scalding embarrassment of mental illness can be damning to a day.

When you know your mind does not work properly in some spots, when you recognize and observe the brain hiccups occurring but are helpless to prevent them from vomiting out into the world, how can that be reimagined into anything positive?

I don’t know… but I’m going to try my best to find out today.

Wish my writing and I luck.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

In the Round

This is very interesting, indeed.

While I still have substantial doubts as to my ability to thrive in the Women’s Fiction genre, I was frankly astonished just how much I enjoyed my first day actually writing in its waters.

There is a surprising amount of freedom when your chief objective as author is not crafting a romance, but crafting a character.

While romance will be the end result (in this book, at least), it is not the core intent of every plot maneuver, every dialogue exchange, or every storyline hem and haw. After 18 novels of romancing myself blind, it is refreshing to approach love in a much more realistic manner.

Yes, very interesting, indeed.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Reinvention of Good

Can molar-grinding, marrow-gnashing, bile-tasting frustration be used for good?

We’re about to find out.

I start writing my next novel today and I am literally (ha-ha) choking on the stuff.

Mental illness is not a choice. It is not a life-decision. It is an affliction that cannot be merely shrugged off with effort. The fact that people in my life, even after all these years, still can’t seem to believe this is brutally exasperating.. and painfully disheartening.

So, as I turn to pen and paper today, I hope my words and characters can feed off this raw and admittedly ugly emotion and give birth to something, well, good.  

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Courage Beyond Guilt?

A genuinely half-decent daughter? Or guilt-laden leach trying to feel a little less sucky?

I’ll let you decide.

True reason aside, I have decided to stay an extra week at my parents to help out around the house, yard, etc. Hence, no travel day. Hence, a blog today. (Squeals of delight welcome here.)

Despite this change in locale, I will still begin the writing of my next novel tomorrow as planned… I no longer intend to play coward in this dance with my new book!

Yeah, yeah, brave words for a half-decent leach, I know.

*sighs*  

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Inventive Evasions

Pardon me while I hide.

With nerves gathering in my mind’s every corner ready to pounce on this Women’s Fiction gambit I’m starting this week, I am playing the coward for two last days.

Housework, garden work, and general busy bee work for my parents are on the books for today before a travel day tomorrow. Then…

The game is on!

(Heaven help us all.)

Until Wednesday…

Chloe

Letting the Goose Fly

Next week, I write.

No more planning.

No more philosophizing on genres.

No more wheedling on plot differentials, character dynamics or outcome scenarios.

I’m just going to write the stupid thing and see what happens.

A loosey-goosey plan, I admit, but it’s time to see if Book #19 can fly.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Jack & Jill Quandary

With the Women’s Fiction arena now clear in my sights, it’s time to decide which of two story arcs do I ride into the party.

Plotline #1: Streamlined story; very complicated people. (i.e… Jack, a recovering alcoholic and borderline schizophrenic, and Jill, a narcissistic personality with deeply-seeded people issues, went up the hill to fetch a pail of water…)

Plotline #2: Very complicated story: streamlined people. (i.e…. Jack and Jill went up the hill in an effort to evade their own government which has turned inexplicably on its own spies and marked the pair for death; while there, the couple feigns fetching a pail of water while signaling their compatriots, an underground network of redeemed assassins.)

Of course, Plotline #1.5 would be ideal, but that would mean a novel approximately 450,000 words long… Um, no.

Aargh!!

I’ll keep you updated.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Decision

Laboring through my parents’ lilac bushes with a bow saw in one hand and a wicked-looking clipper in the other, not a single thought was spared yesterday for the late 18^th century love practices of my fictitious folk.

Pity that.

However, as I was warring with myself as to whether whacking a bush off at its shaggy, uncooperative ankles would be paramount to murder in Mother Nature’s eyes, I did decide to give this whole Women’s Fiction genre a go with my new book.

It won’t be so much a complete change of concept from Historical Romance, after all. It will simply be a refocusing of point of view.

I can do it.

Heck, it’s got to be easier than bush-dressing.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Beat It

There is a tempo to a story, a certain beat that carries the audience along the plotline. It may leisurely lag, snagging on every hiccup, snaring on every sigh. It may merrily syncopate, speeding along the trills and whistles with nary a gathering breath.

There is no right or wrong. There is only rhythm.

Cup your hand to your ear, young author. Listen to the beat of your tale and sing along attentively.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-Note: I spent yesterday battling an oak tree for dominance in my parents’ front yard. My newest writing project got not a thought… hence, a post more generalized than I usually prefer. Sorry about that. 

Rash Decision?

Ok, so my next novel is now all plotted out in my head (not outlined on paper or in chapter-form yet, but all there in the twitchy grey matter between my ears). Good, yeah?

Well…

If I do go the Women’s Fiction route and concentrate the majority of point-of-views on the female folk, can I handle a complicated storyline in a genre relatively newish to me? Should I cut down on the twists-and-turns and streamline the plot? Or am I overthinking the whole genre-thing and making rash decisions that play against my strengths as a storyteller?

*sighs*

Excuse me. I have a twitchy brain to bash against a brick wall.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Genre Identity

Well, this is new. My next novel (only in its infancy stage) is facing an identity crisis.

Ok, perhaps “crisis” is a bit of an overstatement. It’s more of a genre wavering, I suppose.

Historical Romance or Women’s Fiction?

While one can be a subset of the other, there is still a world of difference between the two in the creation phase.

In Historical Romance the relationship, the romance, must remain the star.

In Women’s Fiction, the female lead may take and hold center stage. This does not mean that she must keep the spotlight all to herself. She can share it, absolutely. But it is her story, not the relationship’s which gets top-billing.

The question is… Do I have the guts to allow my new novel to lean towards Women’s Fiction instead of Historical Romance?

The answer is… I don’t have a clue.

I’ll keep you updated.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Flipside

While I was scurrying around the American Southeast yesterday on a 7 hour road trip, I crawled into a bit of Liszt. Being a classical music nincompoop, I expected to be both impressed and confused. I did not expect to be inspired. But not only was I inspired, I crawled out of Liszt with my creativity completely re-energized.

Oh, I’m still clutching my nincompoop papers firmly to my chest. Unfortunately, I was not struck with sudden musical insight. But I was struck by the man’s creative process.

He did not “write” to create the perfect piece for the piano, he “wrote” to use the piano perfectly.

Language came before story.

It’s a flipside we often forget in our rush to get published, in our rush to get paid.                                                               

Just something to think about.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: I apologize for not letting you know ahead of time about my travel day Sunday. I completely forgot until Saturday’s blog was posted. Apparently, my nincompoop habits have leaked into my blogging.

The Promise Ring

Some say that a story’s title should fit the tale like a supple leather glove to the hand. It should contour to every curve of every finger, encasing the whole in timeless style and inarguable grace.

Some say that a story’s title should be little more than a catcher’s mitt. Meant to ensnare every reader that comes its way, it makes no apologies for its girth or its purpose.

I say that a story’s title should simply be a ring. Designed to fit on a single finger of the tale, it has no desire to cover the whole hand. It should sparkle best against the naked skin of the story…

With that silly analogy fresh in mind, I am proud to announce that my next novel has its ring!

I will now proceed to party like a fool.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Achilles Heel

Discouragement nipped at my heels yesterday.

Swatting away the little devil took an absurd amount of my attention.

The end result? Little work done and bloody ankles.

Kitting myself out in military boots and mace today.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Whatnot Harvest

Pardon me while I stack.

Yes, stack.

For the last three weeks, I have been creating reams of hastily scribbled notes. Historical tidbits, character whatnots, plot thickeners and plot thinners have all been scratched out on every spare sheet of paper I could find. (I could find a lot.)

Finally satisfied that Book #19 is now ready to enter the grand outline stage, I will spend today compiling all scribbles into legible offerings. Upper management (Logistics, Reality and Sanity) will then take over and make the final cuts.

But first, I must stack.

*sighs*

My fingers are so looking forward to the paper-cuts.

Oh, how one must suffer for their art.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Deep End?

How deep in the pool should you go? Twenty feet? Twelve? How about five? Three feet? Wading area?

Despite how strange it sounds, writers often have to ask themselves just such a silliness.

How far into the psyche of your characters do you want to lead your readers? Should you gloss over your protagonist’s deep-seeded motivations in favor of playing up his actions, actions you’ll have lots and lots of room for now that the character’s soul is playfully thin?

Or do you want your readers to require scuba gear before diving into your novel? Be careful. It’s a dangerous world in the deep end of the pool. Not only can your audience easily get lost, you might get led astray in the dark depths yourself.

Don’t worry, though. No answer is wrong. It’s only when you don’t ask the question that things can get fishy.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Soft Deadlines

“Poof!”

That, my dear followers, was my soft deadline going up in pretty pink smoke. 

Yep, that whole plan of having a chapter by chapter sketch done by today for Book #19 is now drifting off into the hinterlands. A sweet, foolish memory but little more.

However, significant and, may I dare say, impressive work has been done on plot structuring, character development and overall vibe of the book-to-be. I’m feeling rather good about my progress and refuse to mourn a single “Poof!”

Bottom line: Invite flexibility into your writing process. It will be a dear friend.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Fantastically Odd

Embrace the sudden snippet. Never turn it away. Do not snarl at its untimeliness. Do not scoff at its brevity. Simply welcome it into your novel and offer it some tea.

Snippets, those spontaneous outbursts of prose that appear out of nowhere and demand to be put onto paper “NOW!”, are oftentimes catalysts for all sorts of marvelous things.

Just such a snippet for novel #19 broadsided me last night.

A little dazed, I scrambled for a pencil and scribbled the little outtake down…

And just like that, the actual writing of #19 had begun.

How fantastically odd the creative process is sometimes.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Phonographic Thought

Suffered a skipping yesterday.

*pauses, allowing imaginations in the blogging auditorium to run wild for an amusing bit*

A skipping, in my oddly malformed brain, is defined as an OCD-related incident of having to do a job over and over and over again in the manic desire to get it exactly right. (Picture an old vinyl record on a phonograph playing merrily along until, out of nowhere, it starts skipping and skipping and skipping…)

Thankfully I was skipping over work on my next novel, so at least some good came out of it. (For instance, skipping over hedging bushes in the front yard is bad for both your neighborhood cred and the poor bush.)

Sometimes it’s a barrel of laughs to be me.

Just thought I’d share.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Spark!

When starting to write a novel, authors often find themselves latched to characters for whom they simply have no passion. There’s no chemistry zinging between writer and player. Necessary blokes with no “Va-va-voom!” in the old engine room. Sad, but true.

My trick to deal?

In your mind’s eye, give the character over to your favorite actor. See what he or she can do with the role. Let them have a go at throwing their mad skills at the problem child. Even if Clooney or Cumberbatch, Streep or the inestimable Ms. Bette Davis falls flat on their faces in their efforts, your character will thereafter have a new spark… even if its “only” Benedict’s velvet voice or Bette’s bedroom eyes.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Breaking Sand

Well, book #19 is officially a “Project” now. Its particulars have been put into Scrivener (the writer’s best friend when it comes to computer thingies, in my honest opinion.)

Empty shells of chapters, blank rolls of character sheets, scouting reports of locations have been studiously created. Even the snazzy little corkboard is up and running. (Formatting issues along with my laughable computer knowledge stretched this last task right to the edge of my patience. Nerves were frayed and, at one ugly point, singed terribly.)

In short, there is no turning back. Once a story reaches Scrivener level, it’s a done deal.

Eventually.

Today, I’ll start sketching out those empty chapters… with pencil. Eraser at the ready. I’d like to have a rough chapter outline done by Tuesday. We’ll see how it goes.

Bottom line: Always have a plan… just build it on sand.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Back Toward

Experimentation is a bear. And while I’m a diehard Cubs fan and have frozen my buns off one memorable time in the Chicago Bears’ Soldier Field, I find myself not overly fond of the experimentation carnivore.

My last novel was an ensemble affair. Not one Leading Lady. Not one Leading Man. But a whole gaggle of Leading People. I think the experimentation worked. I think it worked darn well, but since I’m still waiting on the publishing world’s opinion, I’m moving back toward familiar territory for my next book.

Back toward, not back.

Instead of a leading gaggle, there will be a leading three.

Three incredibly complicated women and the men with balls enough to love them.

Being a vet of m/m romance, letting the ladies lead the way will be a bear for me...

Hmm, maybe my love for the ursine crowd runs a little deeper than I thought?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Lessons Learned 101

Lessons Learned 101…

Don’t be afraid to drop what’s not working.

No matter how great an idea might have appeared in the novel scouting process, don’t hesitate to send it on its merry way if it doesn’t fit into the workable script.

The idea will hold no grudges.

In fact, it will welcome a return look on your next project. By then, the idea will have grown hungry and desperate for a home. Negotiations are so much more tidy when desperation is involved…

Good grief, I sound like Trump. Somebody wash my mouth out with lye.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: Despite the unnecessary political reference, the advice is sound and completely my own. Aim all rotten tomatoes here.

The Brat's Coffer

It’s high time I stop complaining and get back to the game of wielding writerly wisdom.

*stoically ignores all sniggers from the blogging auditorium*

I am serious. I am tired of fussing about doing this or that to sell my last book. The fact that I have a.) the opportunity, b.) the time and c.) the completed novel in the old coffer to actually peddle are all blessings so many would-be writers don’t yet have that whining about them seems to be rather brattish of me.

I apologize for that.

While I reserve the right to complain when rejections flutter in, I will try my best not to fuss about the querying process in general anymore.

So, Wednesday, expect wisdom.

A whole steaming heap of it.

With that expectation hanging threateningly over your head now, I depart.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Saddle Sore

After taking a much needed weekend off from querying, it’s back in the pandering saddle today.

Somebody please tell me this process isn’t all some weird act of masochism my warped imagination has cooked up for me?

Postmark all replies to “Hopeful, but Weary in Tallahassee.”

Thank you.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Relishing the Good Stuff

Scuffling about on my hands and knees, digging through historical what-not’s and fictional what-if’s trying to find that one centerpiece to my next novel that would make the story shine like the dickens, I was literally (please, notice the pun) floored to find it.

Yessss!!!

Everyone, please, join me in a communal jig.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe