Lilith Saintcrow

So The Heart Is Always Right, rough draft, is done. Clocking in at 9.7K (4.5 of that today), it’s okay and the ending is a little choppy but nothing that can’t be fixed now that the story is done and out of my head.

My burning, aching head. AGH.

I was right, in that the story had been on the back burner for a while so it just kind of slid out. On the other hand, OH GOD BRAIN HURT STABBITY.

But now I can feel good about taking Christmas Eve, Christmas, and Boxing Day off. I will be working, mind you, because the machine inside the skull doesn’t turn off ever–but it will be filling-the-well, fiddling-with-plot work on the next YA book–remember that, the 50K squeezed out for NaNo? The Muse remembers that too and wants that finished.

But oh God, not tonight.

The stories may suck, but they’re no longer sucky unfinished stories. And one can always edit.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to go stick my aching burning head in the snow. I think I can clear a patch large enough to grow crocuses in…

So the flush of feeling successful after finishing Say Yes is turning into a thudding plod of oh Christ I can’t do this when it comes to the gargoyle story. It would be fine if I could just settle and do it. But there are snowmen I have to ooh and aaah over outside (and they ARE very cute, those snowmen, especially the Easter Island one with a plant pot on its noggin). There is hot chocolate I must make and a ten-year-old who is learning the joys of ITunes. (Hey, it had to happen sooner or later.) And the laundry. And the beef stew. In short, a million things are begging for my attention.

And this gargoyle just wants to fight.

Well, that’s okay. I can give him a battle–I’ve sent in gnomes with guns and harpies.

When all else fails, gnomes with guns. *nods sagely*

They’re all slugging it out in an EvilMart. (Yes, it is what you think it is. No, I’m not going to use the actual name. I like EvilMart so much better.) And for some godawful reason known only to creative nymphs who dance in the craniums of poor wordslaves like me, the only soundtrack that will do for this short story is the Killers’ Day and Age.

Some days it really does not pay to even chew through the leather straps.

*headdesk*

Okay. Back to the gargoyle. Let’s see if I can get him on the plane to Paris with the girl, shall we?

Wish me luck.

Say Yes is finished in rough draft form, clocking in at 9.5K, which gives me some wiggle room when it comes to revising it in a little while. I had to take a couple stabs at it, and I’m still not sure the first version isn’t the better one, but I kept that version for the big slush pile because it just. Kept. Wanting. To. Be. A. Novel. Instead.

Next up is the gargoyle short story, The Heart Is Always Right. Hopefully that one has been cooking on the back burner for long enough that it will fall out of my head complete. Maybe I’ll whack at it tomorrow between cleaning and making sugar cookies, and figuring out the menu for Christmas.

Digression: There will be challah. MAYBE bretzel rolls, because someone has been lobbying hard for them. Maybe some extra-spicy gingerbread, but I don’t have the patience for more snaps. Note to self: cook the bloody things on 335-340 instead of 325. I’m just sayin’.

So Say Yes has some bits I’m not sure of. God, novels are so much less stressful for me. I am in awe of people who can turn out short fiction. Maybe I should practice…

…yeah, when I have the time. Until then, argh, we’ll continue doing shorts on the current basis. I am not going to do what I did for poetry–a poem every day for six months. GOD THAT HURT MY BRAIN. It was productive and instructive, but it was not comfortable in the slightest.

Anyway. It’s still snowbound here, though UPS got through with a Solstice gift (yay!) and the mail got through as well, and the rubbish company says they’ll be by tomorrow. Huzzah.

God. I was agonizing over this story in a big way. Last night the UnSullen One sighed and said, “Dude, you get like this every time. Usually when you’re about a half, three-quarters of the way through. Right before you sit down and a huge lump of story comes out of you. Relax. Play some WoW.”

So I did. I went to Desolace with my belf hunter and right before I went to bed I was like “OMGWTFBBQLLAMATAPIR! I KNOW HOW STORY STRUCTURED IN LAST THIRD! OOOH!”

The UnSullen One confined himself to rolling his eyes so loud they could be heard in the next county.

So I wrote down the bare bones of the scenes I needed and went to bed, and today between a bit of Solstice cleaning (a new Morrigan statue I had to find room for) the story slid out. Not painlessly–more like in a lump of steaming something. It’s raw and messy, but I am on schedule for time to leave it alone and time to revise.

Which is a good feeling. I think I deserve a wee break.

Then I’ll poke at that gargoyle. And by God he’d better not mess with me. I’m dangerous right now.

So it’s Snowpocalypse out here in Vancouver WA. We’ve got yer snow, yer freezin’ rain, yur crazed cats upset because there’s all that frozen stuff on THEIR ground, yur chicken rice soup cookin’ and yur rye bread rising.

But you know I wouldn’t be posting on a weekend unless I had more than a weather report, right?

I’m happy and proud to announce that in January I’ll be part of a group blog called the Deadline Dames[1], put together by the indomitable and gosh-darn-cute-as-a-button Devon Monk. And to celebrate this momentous occasion, Toni Andrews put together a couple of holiday JibJab cards. They’re full of crazy hilarious fun. (Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a reasonable photo of myself, due to my phobia about getting photographed in general. I’ll probably be getting a new author photo sometime in January, from this awesome lady.)

So enjoy the cards, and in January…watch out, world. The Deadline Dames are coming. We’ve got hot urban fantasy, ice-cold deadlines, smart mouths, and hyperactive intellects. In short, we’re trouble. And we’re only going to get better.

Now aren’t you excited?

[1] In case you’re curious, the Dames are: Devon Monk, Keri Arthur, Jenna Black, Rina Elliot, Jackie Kessler, Karen Mahoney, Toni Andrews, Lilith Saintcrow, and Rachel Vincent. What a lineup, eh? And we’ve got great gams too…

Welcome to the regular Friday writing post. Less than twenty minutes ago I braved the crazed hordes of holiday shoppers in order to buy giftwrap, gumdrops, and a last-minute gift (dude, not my FAULT, I am prepared until a kid springs a last-minute thang on me), so if I twitch a little and froth at the mouth, please just glance away until I compose myself.

On the other hand, I am now munching on cream-cheese toast made with the bread I baked yesterday. Now that I’m not hungry, my mood has improved immensely. Go figure.

SO. Yesterday I asked for ideas for this Friday post, and you responded in droves. Two questions kind of stood out–one about depth, and the other about reviews.

Reader (and fellow writer) Jessica Tudor sent me this question:

I’d be interested on your take on making a story deeper. I’ve finally wrangled the craft beast to the point I am finishing novels (two in 2008, as soon as I write that blasted climax… *wink*) consistently, and the first one I subbed got positive feedback. But while I have now shown myself I can write an entertaining and coherent book, I am of course not satisfied. If I’m going to play the publishing game, I want to take it to the next level. I want depth, breadth, meaning. Got anything for me?

Short answer: One is never finished with this question.

Long answer: Depth, breadth, and meaning are largely subjective. That being said, there are a couple ways to get what I think you’re after.

First, you’ve finished novels. CONGRATULATIONS. This is a huge milestone. Do not underestimate how huge a thing this is.

Now for the bad news. It is now that the real work begins.

The first thing I do when I finish a book or a piece is close it and walk away. Celebrate a little. For short stories I can take a day or so off, novels get a week to three weeks (generally) of just sitting while I work on something else, drool into the carpet, catch up on reading–anything to calm down the creative engine and let the piece “cool off”. Finishing a novel feels to me very much like there is a huge flywheel inside my head that has now come unmoored and is spinning wildly, attached to nothing. It has to slow down and stop making that ratcheting sound before I can relax. And by that point I’m sick of the piece, whatever it is. It has to go away for a while.

The hard part begins when you go back and start exercising the critical-reading muscles instead of the just-plain-vomit-it-out muscles. It requires a different sort of discipline. I usually go over every piece at least twice before the beta reader sees it, and it gets a thorough pick from the beta before it goes to an editor. This takes time and hard work. For one thing, it’s ridiculously hard to view your own words with the necessary distance. (Part of the cooling-off period is to hopefully get some of that distance.) For another, you can sometimes see the events so clearly in your head that you don’t get critical bits of it on paper–you may need another set of eyes for that. (This is why I feel my beta is INVALUABLE.)

It may not seem like I’m answering your question, but I am. Just in a roundabout way, leading up to this: if you build it, Grasshopper, the themes will come.

Most of the time I am oblivious to any Deep Themes in my own stuff. It takes the beta or the editor saying, “Huh, I see you’re really thinking about _______.”

And I say, “Yeah, I was, but I didn’t think it bled into the book!” And then they laugh at my bafflement.

Any piece of work where you’re being honest will have its own depth. Finding the way to bring that out is tricky. You can fall in love with your own soapbox, or let it get in the way of tellin’ a whoppin’ good story. It’s a variant of bullshitting, and it’s a kiss of death.

There are things that can help you, though. One of them is being mean to your characters. Do not shy away from their pain, from hurting them. If there is no risk, there is no reward for them OR for the Reader. Good stories are risky–like Samwise says in The Two Towers movie. Being too afraid to put your characters through the wringer, to risk them and yourself and your Reader…well, this line of work ain’t for the fainthearted.

Another thing that can help you is reading. I am always amazed at “writers” who claim not to read. I agree with Stephen King (his On Writing is one of the two writing books I will ever recommend, period) that reading a lot is how you get taught subtle and numerous things about voice, pacing, why a book works, etc.

A funny thing happens when you read a lot as a writer. You start looking “under the hood”, as the Selkie says, to see what makes a story go. You start noticing things–thinking I would’ve solved that problem differently or O I SEE WHAT U DID THAR! This whole dynamic has made me a much pickier reader, and I kind of miss that uncritical period where I swallowed books whole, bad good or indifferent. The glut started to teach me a lot about writing, and my beta and editors commented that my work got better.

Deeper. Because I had a wider grasp of the mechanics and was no longer wrestling with the clutch and the brake; I was starting to focus on other parts of driving.

Another thing wide reading will do is teach you What You Like. Take a look at books you do like, books that you don’t feel the need to look under the hood of while you’re reading. See if you can look at them like an editor would. Chances are you’ll find Themes, and chances are those Themes are things you resonate with. Those Themes will start popping up more and more in your own work.

The depth will happen. What I hear from your question is that you’re in one of those uncomfortable periods (a plateau, as it were) right before your writing takes a big leap forward. This is part of the creative process, and one of the most frustrating parts. The leap will happen if you keep working. Trust in that. On the other hand, after the leap is another plateau…and another leap…and another–you get the idea. This sort of cycle never ends.

That’s probably not the most useful answer in the world, but it’s all I can give. For now.

The second question is about “voice” in reviews, and comes from a fellow LJer and writer, who has requested to remain anonymous. Parts of the in-depth question below are redacted, for obvious reasons. We were talking about something else, and “voice” in reviews came up.

The short answer I gave to this person’s question ran thus: Voice is crucial in any form of writing, I can’t see why reviews would be any different. No review is completely objective, of course; but that elusive quality of voice comes when a writer is being honest (a phrase that means several different things to me, many of which are applicable here). It damn near shines through, and often people will pick the less-bullshit, more-honest voice even if it doesn’t agree with them–in fiction and in reviews.

It’s not just you. The first reviewer’s tastes may have changed, yours might have, they might have started bullshitting, or you guys may just disagree. Or you may have found a voice you like better. It’s not just you, but there are many reasons why you might be going to a new place.

In reply I got this deeper, more precise explanation[1]:

To expand on my question regarding voice in a review, I used to read **Famous Review Blog** religiously. While their reviews didn’t really sway me one way or the other regarding my book buying habits, I did enjoy reading their reviews. They were analytical and thought-provoking, and proviced a nice critical analysis of the book. Not nearly as entertaining as the **other Famous Review Blog**, but expansive and interesting.

It’s probably just me, but over the past couple of months, I felt the voice of the reviews, especially by *_______* and *______*, devolved. They seemed less of a review and more of an exercise in proving how sophisticated and highly educated they are. Honestly, the reviews became dull and tiresome because of it. Thing is, I knew these women were smart, educated and could provide great insight not only into individual books but into the publishing industry from the reader’s perspective. I was there to read interesting, well thought out reviews, not be bludgeoned with some kind of weird one-upmanship regarding IQ scores thinly veiled by a book review. The voice changed–at least for me.

*snip*

I’d never mention this in a public post as **Famous Review Blog** is well known and well liked and has a rabid fan base that sometimes works with the pack mentality when defending their favorite review site from those they perceive as even the mildest threat or detractor. I don’t want the hassle or the enemies and actually hope to use **Famous Review Blog**’s reviews some day for the exposure.

Anywho, the above is the thought process that motivated my question. I’d be VERY interested in your take on the power of “voice” in a review.

Hmmm. That’s a pickle.

To get a little bit more specific…it must be some kind of internet law that any collaborative site, once it passes a certain critical threshold of popularity, will become (to varying degrees) the home of that sort of rabid us-against-them fanbase. Review sites…well, reviews are opinions, and one must already believe one’s opinions are worthwhile in order to go to the trouble of spending the time and care needed to run a review site. That belief can become pathological. And in any creative endeavor (and reviews, I think, definitely count) there is the danger of believing one’s own publicity. That gets sticky.

It seems like this is less a question of voice and more a question of bullshit. The one-upmanship you’ve noticed isn’t “voice”. It’s either covering up weird insecurity or it’s just plain nastiness, and either is damaging to any case a reviewer’s building. Readers hate to be belittled, to have their intelligence insulted, or to be bullshitted. (Bullshat? What is the proper past tense of “to bullshit” in that sentence?) The aroma of BS will drive away Readers faster than anything else. And a review site with that sort of dynamic going on runs a very real risk of becoming simply a mutual congratulation society with some weird and unhealthy behaviors. Either said site will change, become less popular, or it will implode. Or it may get more popular than ever with people who think reviews are all about tearing people down and not about giving an honest opinion and sparking discussion.

This is a thorny question for me, for obvious reasons. I have for a long time pursued a policy of not responding to reviews, either positive or negative.[2] The problem with responding runs thus: even if you only respond to the positive ones, that astronomically ups the chance of you someday responding personally to a negative one. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Doing that is one of the surest, shortest ways to an Internet pileup that might be fun to watch but is so, so not fun to be a part of. (Example: the Anne Rice kerfluffle on Amazon a while ago.) Who needs that? Just avoid the whole thing.

I do read reviews of my work, negative and positive. (I don’t see how any writer can avoid doing that, and feedback is good.) I may even (shhh!) moan privately to my beta or my close trusted friend about one or two of the negative ones. But publicly responding, even to positive ones? Hell no. That’s not my job and it will only create stomach trouble for me. *puts tongue in cheek* When all is said and done, really, it’s just the Internet. Heh.

This has spread to me not reading much in the way of reviews unless I really, really trust and enjoy the site. And truly my TBR pile is so huge and reviews will only tempt me to add to it. And I’ll be crushed under a pile of books. While that may be one of my Top Ten Ways To Die, I can’t afford to do it right now. I have deadlines.

Ergo, I am perhaps not the best person to ask about reviews, really. So, dear Readers…does voice in reviews matter? If so, how and why? And other assorted comments are welcome, too. (As long as we play nice.)

What do you think?

[1] Which I was given permission to post, redacted to protect identities etc. Just so that’s clear.
[2] If I am ever tempted to respond, I have to take 24 hours and ask someone whose opinion I trust. Usually it only takes me about twenty minutes to discover that no, I really don’t want to respond. Thus I am saved the trouble.