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Okay, this is not really a muse. He’s a monster, and I’ve named him Blog. I’m enlisting his help to remind me to post once a week. My plan is that while I sit at my desk procrastinating from my writing, I’ll notice him perched at the right of monitor. He’s hard to ignore. And when I see him, I’ll think “Blog”. And what better way to procrastinate than to blog? I think this will work. We’ll see!
Okay, it’s been about six months since my previous post. I guess I should resolve to blog more frequently! Maybe even frequently enough that I remember my wordpress login and password.
New Year’s Day is one of my favorite days of the year. A day of fresh starts. It’s a day where I feel I have a wide open calendar ahead–twelve months to accomplish and achieve. Why I don’t feel this opportunity on any other day of the year is a mystery–I guess I just like the authority the first day of the year brings to the exercise.
What do I resolve to do this year?
Ah, that’s top secret. Aside from seeing Under A Canyon Moon approach publication in late 2010 or early 2011! And to blog more often. At least once a week. And to complete Cassie’s List. And to attend yoga classes on a regular basis.
Maybe I’ll blog about my other top-secret resolutions as I achieve them! (Maybe the need to have something to blog about will drive me to achieve them?).
So, how did I spend this day of resolution-making? My husband and I joined friends for a River Paddle & Potluck down the Spokane River. The temps were in the balmy 30′s. The rain wasn’t too intense. During the lunchtime stop along the river, Brian and I snacked on the Hickory Farms gift sausage and cheese we received for Christmas. That put some warmth in our bellies! The potluck after the trip was, as usual, an amazing buffet of delicious food.
It was great seeing canoeing and kayaking friends we hadn’t seen in quite a while. The best way to start the new year!
What a fun way to begin the new year!
Sincere apologies to all Purple Prose Protesters… I’m using a lot of purple prose in the following to punch up the examples. A blog against Purple Prose will follow sometime soon.
One of my mentors in the Seton Hill M.A. program for Writing Popular Fiction encouraged mentees and other writing students to be cautious of “Floating Body Parts” (FBPs). When I recently sought a list of FBPs as examples, Googling “Floating Body Parts”, the search engine came up with links to gruesome crimes but nothing related to writing.
So, given lack of public information on FBP’s, I thought I’d share what they are, and why a writer should avoid them.
A Floating Body Part is where the action is given to the body part rather than the person, in a way that disembodies the body part. For example:
“His eyes roamed up and down her body.”
Ewww…like gooey marbles–creepy! The eyeballs have the action, not the character.
So how would you fix this?
“He gazed up and down her body.”
Not good writing, but at least it’s no longer an action scene from a horror flick. Here’s another example of an FBP:
“Her eyes fell to the floor.”
Five-second rule—grab ‘em fast! This can easily be fixed with something like,“She looked at the floor”, giving the action to the character and not her eyes, while also lessening the over-dramatization of her action.
“Her fingers drummed a restless beat on the bar’s counter.”
FBP? Yup, fingers drumming while she was out on the dance floor with the cowboy locking lips. Instead:
“She drummed a restless beat on the bar’s counter with her fingers.”
“with her fingers.” may not even be necessary, depending on the context. The reader is likely to assume it’s with her fingers, not her head, her boobs, or her toes, unless she’s at a Chinese restaurant and has access to chopsticks.
“Her hand slid between the sheets.”
While she was in the kitchen, brewing coffee. Instead:
“She slid her hand beneath the sheets.”
What do you think of “Her legs collapsed beneath her.”, or “Her cheeks flushed.”, or “Her voice faltered.” Are these FBPs? No. Having one’s legs collapse implies one doesn’t have control of them. Same with flushing cheeks and a faltering voice. In these cases, the body part really is disengaged from (although still attached to) the character. To write, “She faltered her voice.” would be ridiculous. In a deep subconscious sense it might be accurate, but not likely, in terms of the story.
How about the following example?
[From the heroine’s POV] “They reached for the last French fry at the same time. He released it, and then his fingers trailed up her arm.”
From the hero’s point of view, this would definitely be a FBP. “He trailed his fingers up her arm.” would be better. But this is in the heroine’s point of view, so is it a FBP? You could say the heroine is very aware of his fingers trailing up her arm. His fingers might be a focal point. A part of his body she’s very aware of; the part that is touching her, wreaking havoc with her senses. I’d argue the writer could get more emotion out of the scene if the heroine relates the sensation to the hero, and not his fingers:
“They reached for the last French fry at the same time. He let go and then her arm tingled as he traced a path along it with his fingers.”
Isn’t there more sensuality when the heroine perceives it’s the hero trailing his fingers up her arm then when his fingers have the action? (Note that her arm tingling would be like her foot twitching, her face flushing. Uncontrollable, therefore not “She tingled her arm.”)
Here are a few more (really bad) fun examples. How would you fix them?
His eyes roamed the room.
His lips nibbled her neck.
She wanted to leave, but his eyes held her.
Her hands rose to cover her breasts.
His eyebrows jumped in surprise.
Purple prosey, I know, all of it. But it helps get the message out about FBPs. You want your action to be that of the hero, heroine, villain, and others… not their dismembered body parts.
I’ve decided (not randomly) to have seventeen chapters for Cassie’s List.
Coincidentally, I have seventeen calendar days left until I join the ranks of the unemployed.
My goal for August is to complete the first draft of Cassie’s List (averaging 7.75 pages per day). I figure this effort will keep me sane while I launch my Indexing business and look for some kind of job that provides benefits.
Seventeen chapters…Seventeen days… If I plot out a chapter a day, I’ll be golden to start writing on the 1st of August.
Loosely plotting, that is! I want to leave room for the story to take over.
So, starting today…
I’m already ahead of schedule, having Chapter One plotted!
Writers often hear the advice, “Know your audience.” Meaning know who you are writing for—and write accordingly.
Well, as a writer there are actually two audiences. The audience who will read your work–the readers; and those you hope will offer a contract for it—agents and/or editors (who, of course, take into consideration the readers).
The agent/editor audience I write for is stuffed. And not in the slang sense. They are literally stuffed.
There’s Little Bear, and Big Woolly, and Koalie, and Polar Princess, and the nameless one with the pink hat. There’s Duckie and Lamb and Griz.
When I’m stuck writing, beating my head against the desk and cursing that I chose not to become a professional wallpaper hanger or pastry chef, my stuffed agent/editor audience helps.
I address them like I would a team of coworkers and managers. As if I were in a meeting: proposing a plan of action, arguing my plot, soliciting advice.
Well, kind of. I donated my menagerie to charity when I moved west (all except Little Bear)—figuring it was selfish to keep them on the payroll as agents in my writing career when they could be enjoying life snuggling with a child. So my communication is directed at a photo. One I took of my plush colleagues lined up on the sofa before I deposited them in a basket at the door of Goodwill.
That photo is my agent/editor writing audience.
Sounds corny, but it works. Staring into the beady eyes of stuffed animals does a lot to bolster confidence. They’re tough—very tough–but also cuddly. They’re hard to maintain eye-contact with, but soft and forgiving. They demand the best in me. They unnerve me. So I do my best to deliver.
If I can’t convince Little Bear or Duckie or Griz that my plot is engaging and the characters have enough motivation and conflict to drive the story, how on earth can I convince someone with less stuffing but a real pulse?
I’m grateful for my stuffed audience. They keep me working. And when I receive a rejection in the mail—it hurts, no lie—I can look at their photo and get all sorts of virtual warm-fuzzy hugs. Yeay, that. I can feel the fur.
Where do my writing ideas come from? What is the trigger that can fill a blank page with something other than “AAAaaaghhhhh!”?
Ideas come to me while:
Sound familiar? Do these work for you (writing related or not)?
What doesn’t work? Staring at the monitor thinking “I NEED AN IDEA!”.
Polly has made the rare venture outside to lounge in the sun next to Black Fluffy.
This is why I bought deck chairs, right?
This is where I’ll post weekly musings on writing, indexing, and life in general.
Help keep me honest! If you notice my blog entries lagging, post a comment with a gentle reminder…
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