Thursday, September 18, 2014

Two Chances to Win Books + Three Writing Classes

To thank Rebecca Petruck for her support and writing instruction, I'm offering a copy of her debut novel, Steering Toward Normal as a giveaway on this blog. You'll find my review of this middle grade book for boys and girls here and directions for entering the giveaway below.

In addition, Joyce Hostetter and I are giving away another copy of Steering Toward Normal in Talking Story, as well as an ARC of Linda Phillips' debut novel-in-verse, CRAZY. You will find my review of this young adult book for girls here. By the way, Linda's book received a Junior Library Guild Selection award--pre-release!

If you live in Charlotte and you want to learn some of the tricks of plotting your novel that I learned from Rebecca, she is giving a workshop in Charlotte on October 13 entitled, "Plot Your Novel and Other acts of Joy and Heartbreak." Click here for more information.

Rebecca is joining Kami Kinard to teach an online class on writing a middle grade or young adult novel. Their class, "Crafting the Kidlit Novel" is sure to be jam-packed with information. As a participant in Kami's popular Kidlit Summer School (co-directed by Sudipta Bardhan-Quallen I can vouch that these instructors know their stuff!

And finally, I'm starting my Intermediate Fiction Writing class at Central Piedmont Community College next week. There are still a few spaces left if you are interested in developing your children's or adult novel. 
If you want to win Steering Toward Normal, leave me a comment by Monday, September 22 at 9 AM. Please leave me your email address if I don't already have it.

Monday, September 15, 2014

A Stab at Internalization: Lillie's POV

In last week's blog I shared the writing exercise which Rebecca Petruck, my writing coach, gave me. She instructed me to think about, "the difference between rote description, and description that reveals something about the character. When you describe the external world around them, it has to be in order to reflect how they interpret it, what it means to them and how it feels."
Rebecca also said I needed to infuse Lillie's love for science into my story. Here is my first stab at addressing these issues. 

This is the original text from Lillie's opening chapter:
I tackle the breakfast dishes taking special care with Big Momma’s china cup. I trace my finger around the blue doves flying over the pagoda. Big Momma used to tell me the legend of the young Chinese lovers. They turned into doves when they eloped against the girl’s Daddy’s wishes. A girl loving a boy when her Daddy didn’t think he was good enough for his daughter?  You can’t get more romantic than that!
There’s a chip along the rim and the handle’s broken off a bunch of times. Daddy teases Big Momma saying he’s going to buy a new cup for her birthday, but she says her coffee wouldn’t taste right. The way she prizes that cup, you’d think a boyfriend gave it to her.  
   Here is my re-write:

    I fill up the kitchen sink with water and sprinkle the soap flakes over the breakfast dishes. I wash Bigmomma’s blue willow china teacup first, taking my time, letting my fingers linger over the blue doves flying over the pagoda.
There’s a chip along the rim and the handle’s broken off a bunch of times. Daddy teases Big Momma saying he’s going to buy a new cup for her birthday, but she says her coffee wouldn’t taste right. The way she prizes that cup, you’d think a boyfriend gave it to her.
    I can hear Bigmomma’s rich velvety voice catch as she tells me one more time-because when I was little I demanded it every night before going to bed- the legend of the young Chinese lovers. They were turned into doves when they eloped against the girl’s Daddy’s wishes. Swells of anger still push up inside as I remember the part where the father banishes the couple from his palace. It was so unfair! The boy and girl were young and in love. Her father had no right to stop them!
    Bigmomma said the boy wasn’t good enough for the girl. My heart aches for that boy. I know precisely what it feels like not to be good enough. Not because my boyfriend’s father tells me I’m not good enough for Walter, my boyfriend. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. In his book, Mr. Johnson thinks I’m as smart as Mr. Albert Einstein himself! He always shakes his head and wonders about Walter and I being sweet on each other. I just smile and say we’re like electrons and protons: opposites attract.
    No, I’m not good enough because I’m a girl. And colored.  But when Daddy says that since I like science so much I should study nursing, I tune him out.
   Who wants to spend the rest of her life emptying bedpans and wiping up vomit all day long? Not me! I want to do more than that with my life. I want to be like Madame Curie. She discovered two elements! Or maybe George Washington Carver who figured out more than a hundred ways to use peanuts.  Their lives mattered.
   But will mine?  I can’t change my sex. And I’m no chameleon who can change the color of his skin. So, I’m stuck. As stuck as that blue willow Chinese girl.
    Except in her story there was magic. Maybe it was the magic of their love that changed them. Or maybe some sort of good fairy who waved her magic wand and turned them into doves.
   Those two Chinese lovers found a solution to their problem by becoming somebody different. No, modify that. They became something different in order to stay together.
   Do I want to change in order to get what I want? And even if I wanted to, could I?
    Everyone knows that when you put two atoms of hydrogen and one atom of oxygen together, you get water.  Never ammonia or salt or zinc. You can boil it and change it into steam, or freeze it into an ice cube, but it’s still water.
     I rinse Bigmomma’s teacup one more time, dry it, and put it up on the shelf, next to Momma and Pop’s.
    Yes. No matter what, I’m a colored girl who’s not happy becoming a nurse like every other girl at Second Ward High. Since I don’t believe in magic wands or fairies. I have to figure out a different way to get what I want.
So, how did I do? I look forward to hearing your comments!

To celebrate Rebecca's fantastic input into my story, this week I'll be giving away two copies of her debut novel, Steering Toward Normal. I'll have an additional post on Thursday to tell you how you can enter to win one.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Learning Character Internalization

Congratulations to Lindsay Fouts, my new blog follower, who won James Scott Bell's book, Plot and Structure.

As I begin the fourth major draft of Half-Truths, I need to attack some of my writing weaknesses. According to my writing coach Rebecca Petruck, I have to work on my "internal-life writing muscles." To do this, she assigned me this task:
Type several dialogue-free passages from books you would like to emulate. Type at least three pages to get the rhythm. Then, type at least five dialogue-free pages from Kate’s POV and then again from Lillie’s POV.... Think about the difference between rote description, and description that reveals something about the character. When you describe the external world around them, it has to be in order to reflect how they interpret it, what it means to them and how it feels.
I'm beginning this assignment by sharing a dialogue-free passage from the latest book I listened to, Dodger, by Terry Pratchett. An historical fantasy spin-off of Charles Dickens' character, the Artful Dodger, it is an entertaining and funny book--albeit at times irreverent. Here is a brief blurb from Pratchett's website for context: 
A storm. Rain-lashed city streets. A flash of lightning. A scruffy lad sees a girl leap desperately from a horse drawn carriage in a vain attempt to escape her captors. Can the lad stand by and let her be caught again? Of course not, because he's….Dodger….Dodger's encounter with the mad barber Sweeney Todd to his meetings with the great writer Charles Dickens and the calculating politician Benjamin Disreali, history and fantasy intertwine in a breathtaking account of adventure and mystery.

The following excerpt occurs after Dodger rescues the girl and "Charlie" Dickens and Henry Mayhew take them both to the Mayhew household. 
Twenty minutes later Dodger was sitting close to the fire in the kitchen of a house, not a grand house as such, but nevertheless much grander than most buildings he went into legally; there were much grander buildings that he had been into illegally, but he never spent very much time in them, often leaving with a  considerable amount of haste. Honestly, the number of dogs people had these days was a damn scandal, so it was, and they would set them on a body without warning, so he had always been speedy. But here, oh yes, there was meat and potatoes, carrots too, but not, alas, any beer. In the kitchen he had been given a glass of warm milk that was nearly fresh. Mrs. Quickly the cook was watching him like a hawk and half already locked away the cutlery, but apart from that it seemed to be a pretty decent crib, although there had been a certain amount of what you might call words from the missus of Mister Henry to her husband on the subject of bringing home waifs and strays at this time of night. It seemed to Dodger, who paid a great deal of forensic attention to all he could see and hear, that this was by no means the first time that she had cause for complaint; she sounded like someone trying to hard to conceal that they were really fed up and trying to put a brave face on it. But nevertheless, Dodger had certainly had his meal (and that was the important thing), the wife and a maid had bustled off with the girl, and now…someone was coming down the stairs to the kitchen. 
It was Charlie, and Charlie bothered Dodger. Henry seemed like one of them do-gooders who felt guilty about having money and food when other people did not; Dodger knew the type. He, personally was not bothered about having money when other people didn't, but when you lived a life like his, Dodger found that being generous when in funds, and being a cheerful giver, was a definite insurance. You needed friends--friends were the kind of people who would say: "Dodger? Never heard of 'I'm, ever clapped eyes on 'im, guv'nor! You must be thinking of some other cove"--because you had to live as best you could in the city and you had to be sharp and wary and on your toes every moment of the day if you wanted to stay alive. 
He stayed alive because he was the Dodger, smart and fast. He knew everybody and everybody knew him. He had never, ever, been before the beak, he could outrun the fastest Bow Street runner, and now that they had all been found out and replaced, he could outrun every peeler as well. They couldn't arrest you unless they put a hand on you, and nobody ever managed to touch Dodger.  
No, Henry was no problem, but Charlie--now, oh yes Charlie--he looked the type who would look at a body and see right inside of you, Charlie, Dodger considered, might well be a dangerous cove, a gentleman who knew the ins and outs of the world and could see through flannel and soft words to what you were thinking, which was dangerous indeed. Here he was now, the man himself, coming downstairs escorted by the jingling of coins. (pp. 6-7)
Rebecca encouraged me to figure out where my characters are coming from. In this excerpt, narrated by the omniscient narrator, but in Dodgers' close POV, I learn that Dodger is coming from a place where:

  1. He doesn't always get a whole meal.
  2. He's prone to illegal activity that is Dodger's normal; a fact of his life. 
  3. He is street smart and has friends on the street who cover for him (and the reader assumes, he does the same for them).
  4. He looks suspicious to the cook who has to "hide the cutlery".
  5. He is very observant. Notices the cook's mistrust, perfectly assesses Mr. Mayhew's character, communicates his own distrust of Charlie Dickens and why. 
  6. He's "bothered" by people who can read him, as well he can read others.
  7. He's proud of his abilities to outsmart the police. 
In other words, Dodger sees the world of London through a lens of "I have less money than the rich, but that doesn't bother me, because by my wits and speed, I get what I need." The reader meets a character who feels confidant about himself and moves with ease--unless he is up against another person who is equally good at reading people and their motivations as he is.

Pratchett has portrayed a character who I want to find out more about and who I want to root for-- as he goes from being a tosher (one who scavenges London's sewers) to a…wait, I don't want to spoil this book for you!

This week I'll be attending the Table Rock Writer's retreat where I'll be studying with John Bemis and Dawn Shamp. I'm hoping to strengthen my "internal-life muscles." 

So, watch out Kate and Lillie! You're about to grow deeper, inner lives. 

Monday, September 1, 2014

Digging for Clay and a Giveaway!

Congratulations to Linda Phillips, for winning Words with Wings on last week's blog. As some of you know, Linda is a close writing buddy but I can assure you--there was no hanky panky in her winning this book. As far as I can tell, does not keep track of previous winners!
Let's start with a multiple choice question. How would you complete this comparison:

Pottery is to clay as books are to _______. 

a) words
b) drafts
c) paragraphs
d) all of the above

In ancient times, the hard work of digging up clay to make pottery was often considered slave labor. Potters throughout the centuries, and even today, still dig to find the perfect clay. It is messy, hard work.

Men Digging Clay for Pottery Making, Pamunkey Reservation, King William County, Virginia
Over the last few years, I haven't been a slave--but digging out the clay of my story, inspecting it, throwing some out, and digging deeper for more--has definitely been labor.

Years ago when I first dreamed up Half-Truths, I knew it would be about a white girl and a light-skinned black girl in Charlotte in 1960 who discovered they were second cousins. But, I didn't know much else. 

I spent months researching the time period and the place and found many interesting, historic facts. All of which I wanted to include. 

For example, I was thrilled when I found this article about the National Guard Engineers who left for Korea from Charlotte in 1950. I spent a lot of time digging around for information about Kate's father and how he could have been an engineer in Korea, where he went to school and how the family ended up in Charlotte. 

It took me a long time to figure out that Kate's story didn't start with her father leaving for the Korean conflict--even though that was the inciting event that brings her to Myers Park where she meets Lillie. Clay got discarded. Draft #1 was written totally from Kate's POV and completed in December, 2010.

At the SCBWI-Carolinas conference in 2011 I met Mary Cate Castellani who recommended writing the book from both Kate and Lillie's perspectives. New clay had to be dug for the second draft

Once again, I got interested (some might say side-tracked) into interesting historic details. Wanting to show the inequality of the Jim Crow era and hearing that every good novel should have a romance and a death, I decided Lillie's brother would die as a result of a racial incident and unequal treatment at the "Coloreds Only" hospital, Good Samaritan.

I had placed a scene when the girls discover a piece of china belonging to both families at the end of the book. 

At a plot workshop last fall, Rebecca Petruck, my writing coach, pointed out that the beautifully researched and tearfully written scenes about Lillie's brother's death were tangential to the story. And the china teacup scene belonged in the middle of the book where it would provoke a crisis between the girls. I needed to focus more on Kate and Lillie's story. 

I needed to dig more clay.

Five-time New York Times bestselling author Wally Lamb referred to this stage in a recent Writer's Digest interview. He was asked, "At what point do you usually know your ending?" and answered,

"Usually, just before the ending. And I'm talking about first draft. Of course, after you get the whole lump of clay, then you being to shape it and mold it and cut away stuff and everything. But, first draft--what happens is that I find characters that I both love and worry about. And then I have to keep writing to see if they're going to be OK or not. And there's no guarantee in my process that they are going to be OK. So that's my motivation. It's certainly more motivation than finishing a book so that I can get a royalty check. (Writer's Digest, "Wally Lam: The Weight of Words" by Suzy Spencer. March/April 2014)

Lamb uses his clay-making time to find out who his characters are and what trouble they're going to get into. Some authors call this a discovery draft. A time of finding out what their story is. 

Since last October when I took a plot workshop with Rebecca, I wrote just to get the story out. For example, I didn't obsess over the type of material in the dress Kate wears to the charity ball. I realized there was a good chance the scene would be cut or changed.  The third draft was full of questions, comments, and phrases highlighted in yellow. 

Here is a sample of two paragraphs from Chapter 19 from Kate's POV:

She gives a funny laugh. “What can you do? You’ve got everything you want/the world at your fingertips. You got grandparents who are so rich that all you got to do is point to a picture of a dress in a catalog and they’ll have it ordered by the next day. (HOW TO SAY THAT WHAT SHE WANTS ARE THE OPPORTUNITIES/POSSIBLITIES THAT L. HAS.)
I pull my hand back as if a hornet just stung me. It must have shown on my face because she says, “I shouldn’t have said that, Miss Anna Katherine. I’m sorry. I guess there’s something about this place,” she waves her hand to take in the gardens and pathways[describe better], “that just makes me feel like I can say whatever I want to say. It just feels…” her voice trails off.

When I sent the draft to Rebecca a month ago, it was rough but it was done. Linda Phillips and other writer friends told me to celebrate the completion of this draft. Everyone said I'd reached a milestone. But I wasn't ready to celebrate. Not until I received Rebecca's affirmation, "Yes, now I think you have the clay," was I ready to celebrate. 

I have five pages of notes to work through, serious thinking about deepening my characters and Kate's plot line to strengthen--but I'm thrilled. My hands are itching to get dirty-I can't wait to prod, tweak, sculpt, and shape it.
I once heard to put each draft of your book into a notebook.
It makes it feel real! 
I'm celebrating this stage in my novel's journey by giving away a copy of James Scott Bell's top-selling book, Plot and Structure Leave me a comment with your answer to my opening question or your experience with "clay-digging" and I'll enter your name to win: 

Leave me a comment by 7PM on September 5 with your name and contact information. If you post this on social media or become a new follower of my blog, I'll enter your name twice!


Monday, August 25, 2014

Words With Wings - Audio Book Giveaway!

Congratulations to Sheri Levy who won an autographed copy of Lisa Kline's book, Eleanor Hill from last week's giveaway.  For those of you who didn't win last week, here's another chance!

I've been a fan of Nikki Grimes' poetry ever since reading Bronx Masquerade; I love how she juxtaposes words and images. This is her second book I've read and once again, I enjoyed it a great deal. In this award-winning novel in verse, Grimes has written a tight story that will speak to readers, writers, and daydreamers of all ages.

Gabby is like her father - a dreamer who sees worlds inside everyday words. When she says a word such as sand, carousel, or roller coaster she immediately flies away from her school work or chores. 

After her parents split up, Gabby misses her father's comfort and empathy. Her mother decides they have to move across town and Gabby misses her neighborhood, best friend, and school:
Missing My Old School, 

My Old Life, My Old Family

Some days
sad is a word
I can't swallow.
It swells inside my throat
until it's stuck.
I hurry home from school
and beat Mom there.
The second she arrives, 
I crawl onto her lap
like when I was little.
She holds me, quiet,
and strokes my hair.
I stay there
til the sadness shrinks and I can breathe again. (p.33)

Daydreams are more than an escape from problems -- it's Gabby's way of thinking, breathing, and living. Here are a few of my favorite poems:

First Day

I duck down into the seat of my new class.
To these kids,
I’m not Gabby yet.
I’m just Shy Girl
Who Lives 
Inside Her Head.
No one even knocks 
on the door for a visit.
They don’t know
it’s beautiful 
in here. (p. 9)
Words with Wings

Some words 
sit still on the page
holding a story steady.
Those words 
never get me into trouble.
But other words have wings 
that wake my daydreams.
They fly in,
silent as sunrise,
tickle my imagination,
and carry my thoughts away.
I can’t help 
but buckle up 
for the ride! (p.11)


Dad is a dreamer
And mom is a maker.
I’ve been thinking,
I can be both. (p.27)


Say "sled"
And my nose is cold and shiny
As the blades if the red racer I haul
To the top of the hill.
Then it’s down
Down I go

careening through 
a lop-sided snow fort,
Waking the morning 
with laughter
steering straight 
into the sun.  (p.28)

Say "waterfall"
and the dreary winter rain
outside my classroom window
turns to liquid thunder,
pounding into a clear pool
miles below
and I can’t wait
to dive in.  (p. 30)
Gabby loves the places her daydreams take her--but her mother and teachers don't.
Stuck in Dreamland

Maybe something 
is wrong with me.
all this fancy dancing 
in my mind.
Where I see red and purple 
and bursts of blue,
everybody else sees 
black and white.
Am I wrong?
Are they right?
Too bad 
I can’t ask Dad. (p.38)

After hearing too many times that she needs to quit daydreaming, she resolves to stop. 
I quit

I pack my daydreams
kick them to a dark corner.
No more word journeys for me,
seeing what others don’t see. (p. 39)

When her new teacher confiscates one of her written daydreams, Gabby doesn't get into trouble as she expects. Instead, he proposes a solution that gives credence to all students' dreams and validates Gabby's aspirations.   
Courtesy of Recorded Books, I am giving away this audio CD to one fortunate blog reader. Middle grade students in both the traditional classroom or homeschool will enjoy this book-and so will you!

Leave me a comment by 7PM on August 29th, along with your email address if you are new to this blog. If you want an extra chance to win, share this on your social media of choice and let me know which you do.