Paralyzed by Rules

A writer friend and I were talking recently about how when we were first published (over 25 years ago), there didn't seem to be as many rules to follow to write a good story. Both of us said we pretty much decided to start writing a story about characters we loved, and we didn't worry much about point of view, action and reaction, writing a synopsis, or even being politically correct. We just wrote what we hoped would be something readers would enjoy. That seemed to work for quite awhile, and then suddenly there seemed to be all these rules we needed to follow in order to create a story. No more head-hopping or switching point of view within one scene (or even one chapter); no more sitting down to pull a story out of thin air without having a detailed outline to follow, character profiles, and tons of research to back up what we were writing about. I have to admit, for me, it takes a lot of fun out of the writing.

Of course, depending on what you write, a basic outline of the story and doing some research, is probably a good thing, but worrying about all that other stuff just seems to suck the life out of a story and make the journey of writing it it so much less interesting. I realize not everyone has that luxury. Editors expect a synopsis for novels, and I guess I don't mind writing one even to help myself. But that whole point of view thing just drives me nuts.

I've been looking back at the stories I wrote some 25-30 years ago to update them and make them available as e-book collections, and I'm surprised at how I did not follow pov rules. What's even more surprising is that none of the editors who bought those stories seemed to care! Most of the stories ran 3600 to 6000 words, and I used several points of view in each of them. Readers certainly never commented on it, and I never once thought it wasn't the right way to write. Nor did I worry about having a reaction for every action in the story, nor did I have a "high concept" of what the story was about. I just wrote stories and I enjoyed it and it was fun.

Now I know writing for publication isn't all fun. It's work and sometimes it's hard work, but I just have to believe that some of the joy of creating has been stifled by all the "rules" that have come into play since my first story was published in September 1983. Maybe part of that has to do with so much change and more competition in the industry, but I have to wonder, who made up all these rules? Why isn't it okay to know what both characters are thinking in one scene? Are readers that easily confused nowadays? And the whole "high concept" idea just seems to be for the benefit of knowing where the story might fit for marketing purposes.

Am I just being cranky? I know after having the whole pov thing drilled into me when going through the editing process, I find it hard to even write a scene that is not just in one person's point of view anymore. When critiquing someone else's work, I find myself picking out that problem more than any other because it's been harped on so much. But does that really make for a better story? I have to wonder.

Everything changes, nothing stays the same, and that couldn't be more true than in the world of publishing. I am willing to change to some extent, but when writing stops being fun because you're trying to follow too many rules, then I'm not sure it's worth it. I refuse to let all these "rules" stifle my stories or paralyze me or make me worry while in the creating phase. From now on it's going to be all about the story, because that's how I started out and that's what I love.

How do you feel about writing "rules?" Do they ever paralyze you?

Look Back, Looking Forward

It has been 29 years since I sold my first story and became a published author. I'd been a storyteller for a long time, making up stories about animals and later writing episodes of my favorite tv shows that included me. (I guess that would now be called fan-fiction--who knew?) Writing just seemed to be a part of me, and I never thought about how difficult it is for non-writers to understand what drives us. When I first married, my husband certainly didn't understand. He used to call me John-boy when I'd sit in the corner of the bedroom, pecking away on my old Smith-Corona typewriter. Some might remember the tv show from the 1970s, The Waltons, where the oldest son in a large family wanted to be a writer. His family often didn't understand. (The  character was actually based on the real-life author of the series, Earl Hamner.) It took me 11 years to finally get published after I started writing seriously. The day I called my husband at work to read him my first acceptance letter from a magazine AND to announce they were actually paying me a nice sum of money for my writing, I'm pretty sure he was stunned. (Well, so was I!) I guess it is hard for a non-writer to "get" what it is that makes someone want to spend so much time with imaginary people. But money does talk.

Those early days of being published were very exciting, and today when I hear of a writer publishing a first story or book, I remember the thrill and the head-in-the-clouds feeling. Of course things have changed tremendously since I sold my first story. The world of digital publishing has turned everything upside down and new rules are being written everyday. Self-publishing, which was once so frowned upon, is now becoming totally acceptable. I'm reworking and revising some of those stories published years ago and plan to give them new life as e-book collections. My family has become, over the years, my biggest supporters. They just know writing is a  part of who I am and they understand. They read my stuff. My daughter maintains my website. My son asks, are you writing, Mom?  Best of all, my husband no longer calls me John-boy.

Decisions, Decisions

Every year the writers' group I belong to (Mid-Michigan Romance Writers of America) sponsors a challenge called, I Will Write a Book. The idea is to motivate those who join the challenge to finish a book. Participants pay $5 and submit the title of the book they will work on and then must submit the final page of the ms. by November 30. At our Christmas party we draw a name from all those who completed a book. The winner wins 50% of the money with the other 50% going to the chapter funds. It's a nice little fundraiser as well as a motivator. I've joined the challenge the last few years but alas, I must confess, I have not finished the book. I'm not sure why. I've entered the same book but for some reason have had trouble with completing it. Maybe it's a book that can't be written? Sometimes that happens, but the truth is I have several books in various stages of completion. Maybe that means I have ADD. Maybe it means I grew discouraged when the publisher or particular "line" I'd targeted suddenly disappeared before I'd finished the manuscript. Maybe I grew bored with the story and figured if I was bored, would an editor also be bored? Could be any one of these, but this year I am determined to enter the challenge once again and to finish the damn book! But I think this time I will enter something new, or something that I started writing "way back when" and would still like to finish. Maybe I just need a change of pace.

The problem with that is, I'm having trouble deciding which book I'll finish. I've considered having someone else choose for me, or even putting the titles on pieces of paper,  throwing them into a box, and picking one. I guess that's as good a way as any to decide. The publishing world is in such a state of flux right now that I  think it's probably more important to finish a book than to worry about where to submit it when it's done. Who knows what will happen in publishing by November 30th? I can't control any of that, but what I can control, and what I hope to control in 2012, is to have a completed manuscript by that date. Oh and also a chance to maybe win a little extra cash.

Thinning the Bookshelves

Thinning the Shelves

I stand here looking at the sagging bookshelves. Where to begin? It's something that needs doing, but it's always hard to give away some of my books. I've been an avid reader all my life, and the one thing that makes me feel rich is to have bookcases full to bursting with books. (And believe me, they are bursting.) Romance, mystery, historical, nonfiction; a little bit of everything here. I love my books. It is a serious addiction.

Having worked as a book merchandiser for the last 14 years has helped feed that addiction. I open boxes every week and look at all those spanking brand new releases. It's hard to resist reading those back cover blurbs and flyleaf descriptions. I don't resist a lot. Also helping to fill the shelves is my membership in a book club that I've belonged to since high school. You can find all kinds of books that don't come into the stores by browsing the book club's website. More books than you ever knew you needed. Then there is Amazon. Lately I've been downloading books on my Kindle (that keeps the shelves a little less crowded) but there are some books I just have to own in their physical form. There nothing quite like holding a book in your hands. As I said, it makes me feel rich to walk to my bookshelf and have a huge  choice of what to read next.

When we moved 5 years ago, I gave away a lot of books. But as my family will attest, we still moved many boxes of books. Some boxes are still packed away. I recently looked through a few of them and found books I'd forgotten completely about; some I had never read. I have parted with a few, taking them to my local used bookstore, thrift stores, and Friends of the Library sales. I have a shopping bag full of books in my van right now, waiting for me to take them somewhere. I haven't found the nerve to part with them just yet.

But the bookshelves are still sagging with books lined up two and three rows deep. This time of year the writers' group I belong to (Mid-Michigan Romance Writers of America or MMRWA for short) holds a retreat for writers. During the retreat we also have a book basket auction with proceeds going to a local women's shelter. A very worthy cause  for which to give up some of one's books, and I usually do make the sacrifice. I plan to donate at least one bag of books to the auction. It will be hard to decide which ones I can part with; which books I won't ever read again; which books I've bought that I may end up never reading. How do I know I'll never read them? My reading tastes have changed some over the years, but who can say what I may want to read tomorrow? And then I may not be able to find that particular book at the library or bookstore or even on Amazon (though that seems unlikely). But the shelves are seriously sagging, and I've got to do something.

So I promise to fill that bag (okay I didn't say how big a bag) and take it to the retreat this weekend. I'll feel good that I actually did sort through some of the shelves and thin them a little. Of course looking at the shelves you won't even be able to tell, especially when I bring home probably even more books from the baskets I buy at the auction. It's an endless struggle to fight the addiction.

Goodbye to a Western Icon

As a child of the 1950s and an avid cowboy fan, I watched my share of TV westerns. Starting with Roy Rogers and Gene Autry and running through Bonanza, Wagon Train, The Virginian, High Chaparral, and The Big Valley, I watched them all and had my favorite hero on each show, but probably my most favorite hero of all was Marshal Dillon. It was a tradition on Saturday night to watch Gunsmoke, to every week watch the tall lawman keep the peace in Dodge City. Matt Dillon just seemed to embody the spirit of the West, and for a child infatuated with the cowboy myth, he was a superhero for his time.

The other characters were pretty well drawn, too, and even a little ahead of their time. Doc and Chester, and later Festus, were quibbling sidekicks who loved to rub each other the wrong way. They added comic relief to what was often a somber story of outlaws attacking the town; hardships faced by settlers of the 1870s West, and Marshal Dillon’s quest to round up those who broke the law. He seemed a man who possessed a calm demeanor in the face of gunfire but who never failed to bring justice wherever he could to a lawless land. Then there was Miss Kitty. Today she would be known as Ms. Kitty, no doubt, but even as a Miss she led the way in independence and self-reliance for a woman of her time. Owner of the Longbranch Saloon, Miss Kitty put up with no nonsense from anyone, nor did she need to be taken care of; yet she harbored a real soft spot for the Marshal, and most of us viewers knew they were truly in love. They just couldn’t give up their individual lifestyles to live an ordinary life. I think we all were pretty sure we knew where the Marshal hung his hat when the show was over.

Gunsmoke ran from 1955-1975 and was the longest running drama on TV until Law and Order surpassed it. You can still catch reruns on many cable and satellite channels, and even today those episodes of life in the 1870s Old West stand up well. I’ve found they are great to study for characterization and tight writing and action. But I guess I watch them because I still love Marshal Dillon, and I still hope that maybe I missed the episode where he finally kissed Miss Kitty. (I’m pretty sure he never did.)

James Arness, aka Marshal Matt Dillon, passed away last week at 88, still a hero in my eyes. I’m willing to say that he was one of the reasons the hero in my first published novel had to be a cowboy. Rest in peace, Marshal, and thank goodness those reruns still live on.

Zeke and Foo Foo's New Year's Resolutions

1-1-11

I'm wondering how many people across the country played those numbers in a lottery today? How many got married? How many babies were born on this day with its unusual set of numbers. Let's hope it's the first day of a number one year for us all.
While I'm not big on making resolutions for myself, I did decide on a few that I hope I'll be able to keep.
1) Write a lot.
2) Read a lot.
3) Eat less.
4) Stress less.
5)Complain less.
6) Let everything else take care of itself.

My dogs, on the other hand, came up with quite a few that I know they will have no problem keeping. So here they are, Zeke and Foo Foo's New Year's Resolutions for 2011.

1) Walk every day.


2) Eat as many liver treats as we can every day.

3) Bark enough to drive mom and dad crazy every day.

4) Keep marauding squirrels away from the bird feeders and if we chase away the birds, too, oh well.

5) Unstuff a few more of our toys and find the squeakers.

6) Did we mention walk every day?

7) Bark at every neighbor dog that walks by our house.

8) Steal each other’s rawhide chewies at every opportunity.

9) Beg for treats at every meal.

10) Be sure to get up in the middle of the night to go out, every night.

11) Stare out the window waiting for something to bark at or until we can walk, every day.

12) Wait for summer so we can hang out in the backyard and lie in wait for hapless gophers to wander in.

On this day of 1-1-11, summer seems a very long ways away, but then so did Christmas and New Year's Day, just a few short months ago.
Happy 2011 to all, wherever you may be! Let's hope it's a good one.

Forty-seven years on Thunder Lake

Forty-seven years ago, my mother bought a piece of property on a small lake in western Michigan. At the time, I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking, nor was I thrilled about spending time in what seemed like the wilderness to me. I wasn’t too far wrong about that. The property bordered the Manistee National Forest and the only access to the place was a dirt two-track road. At the age of 12, I couldn’t share her vision, but forty-seven years later, I have finally started to realize what she must have felt when she first stood here and looked out over this beautiful little lake.
Thunder Lake is a small jewel that even today is fairly remote from the rest of the bustling resort areas of Michigan. Wildlife is plentiful. Deer often come down to the water to drink. Blue herons stand on long elegant legs waiting to pluck breakfast from the shallows. An occasional porcupine may waddle down the road. This summer we heard there was an eagle at a neighboring lake, but we haven’t seen him yet.

The cabin that my mother helped build on her property is still standing, and in the summer you can sit out on the deck and look out at the water that shimmers and sparkles like diamonds in the sunlight. Summer can be hot and sticky with humidity from the lake, but most times a breeze drifts across the water bringing a lovely cool-down to the evening.

In spite of summers that are as sweet as tree-ripened fruit, my favorite time at the lake is in the fall when the trees change to towers of gold and flame. They reflect in the water, sometimes so perfectly that it’s hard to tell which way is up. This time of year the quiet is almost palpable and often the only sounds you hear are the leaves and acorns falling or a fish jumping in the lake.

I have to thank our place on Thunder Lake for getting me started writing. There was little else to do when we first came here; few other kids around my age. So I started writing in steno notebooks, stories that I made up about people who lived a long time ago. I still have those notebooks stashed somewhere, never having the heart to throw them away. I can still remember sitting in our camper and scribbling in them.

My mother passed away last year, and I don’t know what will ultimately become of her little cabin in the woods. It makes me sad to think that someday I may not be able to go there, but even if that day comes, I’ll still carry the memories with me, of the early morning fog lifting from the lake and the stillness of a loon gliding through the smooth-as-silver water.

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