10blockwalkljf

http://10blockwalk.blogspot.com/2009/11/writing-wisdom-from-master.html

westerfeld_blog

http://scottwesterfeld.com/blog/?p=1899

As you probably know, Justine and I are doing writing tips for every day of NaNoWriMo. She’s doing even-numbered days, and I’m doing odd. Her tip from yesterday about the glories of square brackets reminded me of something I’ve been meaning to talk about for a while. And I think it’s going to be a multi-day thing.

So here’s the first of several essays on the subject of meta-documents! (And don’t forget to check below for my NYC appearance this Tuesday.)

Sometimes in the headlong fury of trying to make our word count, we writers forget to keep track of our characters’ scars and bruises, of their eye and hair colors, or even what day of the week it is. We forget, in short, to make meta-documents.

So what does this fancy term mean? Well, the main document your working on for NaNoWriMo is, of course, the Novel itself. But in order to keep that novel coherent, you almost certainly need meta-documents. That is, documents about the main document.

Think about it: novels are at least 50,000 words, and can be three times that length or more. That’s a huge project, and you, dear novelist, are the Project Manager. You need a clipboard with you at all times, or you will start forgetting stuff.

Of course, the most famous type of meta-doc is the Outline, the chapter-by-chapter plan of how the Novel will unfold. Some of us writers love to outline, some find it a chore, and some find that outlining is a novel-killer, destroying any need to tell the story at all. Finding your own place on that continuum is the job of every writer.

But heed this well: Just because you’ve given up on outlining, don’t think that you can throw aside all other forms of meta-documentation. The outline is actually quite an odd meta-doc, in that you usually work on it before you start writing. But most meta-docs are things you maintain while you write. They are maps of where you’ve been, not of where you’re going. They are the keepers of consistency and realness.

Trust me, the sooner you start making meta-docs in the writing process, the less you will be pulling out your hair later on.

So for the next few odd-numbered days, I’ll be giving descriptions of some meta-documents that I use while writing. Today, I cover the mighty timeline . . .

Timelines

Timelines are possibly the most important meta-doc for me. Without them, I have no idea what day it is. And without that, all sort of details get shaky. Bruises heal instantly. People go to school six days in a row. The moon stays full for a week and a half. This makes for an unconvincing novel.

More importantly, emotional reality breaks if you don’t know how much time has past. A horrible fight with your best friend feels very different a week later than it does the day after it happened.

And take it from me: Timelines are extremely easy to create along the way, and a ROYAL PAIN to reconstruct later on. So do them while you write. Start one NOW.

Okay, but what should your timeline look like? In the timeline for the first book in the Uglies series, I started every line with a chapter of the book, and then give a calendar date. (I use a calendar even if the characters never mention dates themselves, just to keep myself on track.)

I also annotate jumps in time and other oddities, especially these three:

1) What off-screen characters (Shay, in the case below) are up to while the main action is taking place.
2) Any cues about time that appear in the text. “three days later” “It’s taking too long”
3) If characters are saying something untrue about time. (In Part II, Tally lies to hide her departure date.) It’s tricky to keep fact and fiction separate, for the reader as well as the writer.

Check it out:

Part I
Chapters 1-3 “New Pretty Town,” “Best Friends Forever,” “Shay”: late June 7
C. 4 “Wipe Out”: afternoon June 14
C. 5 “Facing the Future”: afternoon June 25
C. 6 “Pretty Boring”: afternoon June 28
C. 7-9 “Rapids,” “Rusty Ruins,” “Waiting for David”: late June 28
C. 10 ”Fight”: morning Aug 26
C. 11 “Last Trick”: late Sep 2
C. 12-14 “Operation,” Special Circumstances,” “Ugly for Life”: morning Sep 9
C. 15 “Peris”: a few days pass, Peris comes in dawn of 9/12
C. 16 “Infiltrator”: morning of 9/12
NOTE: Shay (off screen) leaves to go to the Smoke late 9/2, and gets there early 9/8, 5.5 days later. (Same as Tally, basically, with a slower hoverboard but with David’s guidance.)

Part II

C. 17 “Leaving”: night 9/12
C. 18 “SpagBol”: night 9/12 through morning 9/13
C. 19 “The Worst Mistake”: starts sundown 9/13
then three days’ travel on bottom p.121
sundown 9/16 on p.122
C. 20 “The Side You Despise”: very late 9/16
9/17 dawns on p. 127
C. 21 “Firestorm”: late afternoon 9/17
C. 22 “Bug Eyes”: sunset 9/17 through wee hours 9/18
C. 23 “Lies”: morning 9/18
Tally arrives at Smoke
She claims she left late 9/8 (night before birthday) and took 9.5 days.
She actually took 5.5 days.
C. 24-27 “The Model,” “Work,” “David,” “Heartthrob”: all 9/18
C. 28 “Suspicion”: on p. 172 two weeks pass until 10/1 morning
C. 29-32 “Bravery,” “The Secret,” “Pretty Minds,” “Burning Bridges”: night of 10/1 except last paragraphs , which are dawn of 10/2

Part III
C. 33-37 “Invasion,” “Rabbit Pen,” “In Case of Damage,” “Run.” “Amazing”: early morning and onward of 10/2
C. 38-39 “Ruin,” “Maddy and Az”: morning 10/3
C. 40 “The Oil Plague”: night of 10/3
p. 259 is daybreak of 10/4
C. 41 “Familiar Sights”:
reach edge of desert during night of 10/4 p. 263
reach sea “three days later” on 10/7
travel for “a few days”
hunker down for storm from 10/10 to 10-14 p. 264
p. 265 is morning of 10/14
reach Rusty Ruins night of 10/17
In this chapter, David predicts they will make it to the city in ten days, but it takes 14 due to the 4-day storm, which is why he says (during the storm on p. 264 ): “It’s taking too long.”
C. 42 “Accomplices”: night of 10/17
C. 43 “Over the Edge”: as darkness falls on 10/18
The book ends 21 days later, the night of 11/8.

See how that works?

One quick note: Tally’s culture doesn’t use days of the week, but normally I keep careful track of those as well, just so no one goes to school/work on Sunday for no reason.

Another great thing about timelines is that they show you how your novel is paced. You might have three chapters in a row all set on the same morning, and then a series of chapters where time flies faster. Maybe this little pattern keeps happening again and again. Now, maybe that’s okay, or maybe it’s getting monotonous. But without a timeline, you might not notice the pattern at all.

Uglies is paced in a very particular way. Each book has a few intense days in the beginning, but then time spreads out as the characters go on a journey, allowing them to absorb the lessons they’ve learned. The timeline helped me recognize that pattern, and use it to my advantage.

Two days from now, I’ll talk some other types of meta-documents.

Take it away, Justine!

Also, don’t forget that I’m appearing with Justine and many other fabulous writers in New York City tomorrow!

Tuesday, November 10 6:00PM
Books of Wonder
Libba Bray – Going Bovine
Kristin Cashore- Fire
Suzanne Collins – Catching Fire
Michael Grant – Hunger
Justine Larbalester – Liar
And me!
18 West 18th Street
New York, NY 10011

Click here for all tour details. And click here to buy Leviathan.

internspills

http://internspills.blogspot.com/2009/11/zen-and-art-of-self-publishing.html

upstartcrowlit

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/UpstartCrow/~3/B0qUsFjPC9Y/

http://upstartcrowliterary.com/blog/?p=738

The other day I came across a tattered, unlabeled sheet of paper I’d picked up somewhere. It is a list of questions a children’s books buyer asks of picture books during sales calls.

While some of these questions should not be on the mind of writers when they are approaching agents (specifically, those questions about packaging and the publisher), other questions having to do with target audience are so savvy that they are worth asking of your own manuscript—whether you are writing a novel or a picture book. These are the sorts of challenges put to your book after it has found an agent, after it has found a publisher, when it is facing that final hurdle to get real estate on a bookstore’s shelf.

Without further ado: Questions from a children’s book buyer

• What age group is it for?
• Is it appropriate to that age group?
• Do the illustrations and the text agree in age level and mood? [I'd switch out "tone" for "mood" here.—MS]
• Who is the author/illustrator? Where do they live? Are they celebrities? What are their previous track records?
• Will adults and children like this?
• Is it enticingly packaged for the age level?
• Is it unique enough in the marketplace to catch the customers’ eye?
• What is the subject matter? Is there a need? Is there a better book from the competition? Does the format fit the subject?
• Is the book up to date in subject and appearance?
• Who is the publisher? What is their reputation? What is the print run? How will the publisher market the book? Does this publisher carry through with support that matches their announced print runs?
• Will the book have media attention?
• Does the book tie in to any planned seasonal promotions?
• Why should I—or anyone else—buy this book? Is it worth fifteen to twenty dollars?

But maybe I’m wrong, and writers shouldn’t have any of this in mind. Certainly not while they work, but after they have a draft in hand? No? When do you think of the market? Before, during, after, never?

[And apologies to anyone if this is your intellectual property that I picked up at a conference or wherever. There really are no identifying marks on the sheet. I'm happy to give credit or pull it entirely if you send word. Thanks —MS.]

upstartcrowlit

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/UpstartCrow/~3/59jMQ86tHGs/

http://upstartcrowliterary.com/blog/?p=703

[Updated later with a photograph of the Nook setup at the B&N on Fifth Avenue near 42nd Street.]

So yesterday I wandered into the Barnes & Noble at Union Square, and I beheld for the first time the retailing set up in the brick-and-mortar stores for the Nook, their super-sleek ereader. I should have snapped a picture with my phone, but I am lazier than the dead and simply wandered around with my mouth open going, “Nnnh… Nnnh? Nnnh!” and so on.

What I find interesting is that they’ve given the Nook an enormous amount of real estate in the store, basically tearing out four (five?) wall units of shelving and getting rid of two or three big tables—real estate which has, in the past, been given over to the display of physical books. This is no mere nook. Instead, we have a barren, future-aesthetic wall with the “Nook” legend, with the Nooks in plastic bubble containers on a shelf behind a counter, and a sullen-faced teenager between the counter and the Nooks, granting access. (This is probably only a requirement in New York City, where strange people might wander in, cry, “Nnnh!”, grab a Nook, and make a break for freedom.)

This is both alarming (goodbye physical retailing of books) and awesome (hello mass-market acceptance; you cannot miss this display). And really shows how very aggressively B&N is being about taking over this market from Amazon. Hell, they’re even going to market other maker’s devices—because B&N understands that content is key, and devices are just a means.

Have any of you seen the new retail set-ups? How does it strike you?

saradobie

This year, Esquire Magazine’s Fiction Contest featured three prompts: “Twenty-Ten,” “An Insurrection,” and “Never, Ever Bring This Up Again.” Something about the final category spoke to me. Who knows? Maybe it was the start of football season. Maybe it was me, reminiscing about my college days of drinking at sun-up. I can’t say for sure. What I can say is that a story came from this prompt—a story that I consider very much ME.

Yes, I’m always ME. However, I do like to try new things with my writing. I like to go somewhat off the Sara Dobie path to see what else I can do. However, there are also times when I stick to my guns. I write from my insides, out, pouring my sense of humor, my sense of life, and my penchant for cussing like a sailor onto the page, and in those moments, I feel free. I feel happy. I feel most like myself, and with the prompt, “Never, Ever Bring This Up Again,” I was quite at home.

So I’ve decided to share this story with my readers. As I mentioned last week, November is National Novel Writing Month. I’m not writing a novel this month. However, in homage to National Novel Writing Month, I submit the following short story—crude, honest, and inappropriate as it is. I will be posting segments over the course of this week. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I present, thanks to the Esquire Magazine Fiction Contest, “Never, Ever Bring This Up Again.”

Never, Ever Bring This Up Again

Max and I made a bet that if the Steelers won the Super Bowl, he would get his balls waxed. Well. The Steelers won the Super Bowl. Now, it’s the day after my victory. Max and I stand in a salon two blocks from my sports bar, and this chick with fake blonde hair stares at me like this is all my fault. I guess it is my fault; I’m the girl who initially joked about the bet the day before. Max merely agreed, and even then only after I’d fed him beers—the high gravity kind that’ll mess you up faster than a bull at Pamplona.

“So you’re telling me you won’t do it,” Max says, and the chick chews her green gum and holds it in the side of her mouth. She chews a couple times then uses her pink tongue to swoosh it to the other side. It’s a green gum dance, and I’m drunk enough from the day, night, and morning to be entertained.

I blink when Max groans, because it reminds me of a sound he made during our unexpected make out session a week before.

“Max,” I say, and I take hold of his arm, “let’s go back to the bar.”

“No, they should be able to do this. If they can wax a woman down there, why not a dude?”

It occurs to me that it’s strange Max is the one fighting to have his balls waxed. I’d suggested the bet, and my team had won the Super Bowl the night before. I should be angry that these salon wenches won’t do it. Instead, my eyes dart back and forth from the green chewing gum and Max’s Atlanta Falcons jersey.

“I’m sorry, sir,” says gum girl, rolling her eyes. “We don’t perform those services.”

“Well, who does?”

“I don’t know, sir,” she replies, and I get lost as her tongue does another loop over the tops of her bottom teeth. It’s about then I notice we’re making a scene. I’d been distracted by Max and bubble gum, but as I look around the sunlit foyer of the posh salon, I realize there are a number of raised eyebrows and headshakes.

I glance at Max. He isn’t talking loudly. The attention is fully based—I think—on the fact that we are two people wearing football jerseys who have been drinking since noon the day before. Oops. My bad.

*          *          *

“Well, that was a bust,” he says after we leave, but I’m not listening. I’m checking out the scene on King Street—working folk dressed in business casual bustling about in front of retail stores and palmetto trees. I can’t remember the last time I woke up this early. We get a few strange looks as we walk aimlessly north, and then this one dude in a tie and khakis lifts a fist.

“Go Steelers,” he says, and I hear Max cuss at my side.

I nod at the khakis man and throw a fist up, too. Yeah, I’m a chick, but when you own a sports bar, you adapt.

“I hate you,” Max says.

“No, you don’t,” I reply, “you want to shave your balls for me.” But I understand his frustration. I hate it when my team loses, too.

I glance over at Max, and he doesn’t look as tired as he should after staying up all night. He still looks eighteen years old, even though he’s twenty-six. He’s short—my height in flats—and he’s blond with blue eyes. More than that, he’s funny. He doesn’t take anything seriously, which was why I figured letting him kiss me last Sunday didn’t matter.

“I guess we can’t fulfill your bet,” he says, putting his hands in his jean pockets and glancing left to right as we jaywalk across Calhoun Street.

Next to us is Marion Square—a block-size grass park that houses the Charleston Farmer’s Market every Saturday afternoon and sunbathing college girls throughout the spring. On this Monday, I see a few ladies wearing their Sunday best. I wonder if they’ve been drinking since yesterday, too.

“I was gonna do it, you know,” Max continues. “But that crazy chick wouldn’t let me.”

I glance at Max again, and I realize he’s smiling. That’s when I understand. His ambitious bargaining with the gum chewer was a front. He knew she was going to say no when we’d asked about waxing his balls. I grabbed his shoulder, “Oh, hell no.”

“What?”

“I’m sure someone in town waxes balls.”

“She said no.”

“That was one salon. I’m looking it up online at the bar,” I say, walking now with the purpose of a drunk chick.

Max grabs my wrist and spins me around. It’s moments like this when I remember he’s stronger than me, despite his stature. I felt as much when he pushed me against a brick wall to kiss me only a week before. “Nolan, she said no.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find someone who will say yes.”

“Damn it.”

“You agreed to the bet, dude.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I’m always serious,” I say, and his blue eyes crinkle around the edges. For the first time since I’ve known him, Max shuts the hell up.

*          *          *

The End. Part 1. More to come.

pmn_eric

http://pimpmynovel.blogspot.com/2009/11/rightsizing-is-new-downsizing.html