The Things We Do For Research

If you follow me on social media, you might have seen comments about me surviving scuba diving lessons or something to that degree. I use the word surviving for a lot of reasons, but I'll get back to that. 

I have now written two books in which scuba has played an important role, and I am about to dive headfirst (see what I did there?) into a third. So I figured it's about time I stopped researching how to do it and actually learned in person.

For the record, I might not have gathered the courage to do this if my husband hadn't signed us up for this class as my Christmas gift. We have been talking about getting certified for years, and have been putting it off for various reasons (read: excuses). And we both knew that it's time. I mean really. I'm writing about mermaids now! Come on. 

Just so you know, I am slightly claustrophobic, so wearing the scuba goggles freaks me out because they cut off my peripheral vision. And wearing the BCDs (see that? I'm using scuba terms and everything!) freaks me out because the vest has lots of gadgets attached, including a super heavy tank filled with air, and I am not that heavy, but I am also filled with air, so together my tank and I don't sink so well. Not being able to stay underwater when I'm supposed to freaks me out too. And then there's the whole thing of it being unnatural for humans to be able to breathe underwater. (Like, really, are you kidding me? I'm not Emma.)

Yesterday was our first "open water" dive. (Not necessarily open, because it was in a crater, which is not all that huge, but it's like 90 feet deep.) So there are all these reasons why I sat on the edge of the platform trying not to have a panic attack. But I pushed through it, and I put on my goggles, and the ridiculously long fins that make me feel like a fish, and I stuck the regulator in my mouth and I jumped in.  

Guys, I didn't die! 

And after we figured out that I need a whole lot of weight added to my vest, I managed to sink below the surface and I kept breathing. And I swam around a bit. I practiced losing my regulator and getting water in my goggles and managed to get it out without rising to the surface. I ended up diving to 40 feet below the surface.

And it was fun. 

I'm not going to lie. It was expensive, and difficult, and ridiculously scary at first, but I pushed past all that and I am so proud of myself for being brave. Later this week, I'm going to do it again. And then I'll have a shiny pretty card with my picture on it, and it will tell the world that I know how to use all that equipment to breathe underwater. And then I will know how my characters feel as I write this next book.    

This is the kind of thing writers sometimes do to bring stories to life. But more than that, this is the kind of thing people do to overcome our fears. 

Okay, now it's your turn. What hard thing / scary fear are you facing right now? How are you facing it?

Taking Time To Get The Story Right (Some thoughts about book 3)

Last week I went to a movie--something which doesn't happen much at all lately. It was the third in a series, (not created from a book, FTR) and I settled in with a bag of popcorn and a large drink prepared to spend the next two hours on the edge of my seat. Because that's what happened with the first two.

The thing with series of any kind is that the first book or movie sets up an expectation that the writer/cinematographer/filmmaker must not only fulfill in the next installment, but also exceed in every way possible.

Unfortunately, this was one of those films that only detracted from the original story line. In fact, it was a complete departure. That would be fine if it had been thought through and fleshed out, but to be honest, there were so many parts that felt forced or rushed or just sloppy, and it made me so sad. There was no suspension of disbelief for me, because plot holes stole the logic, and some merely almost-there filming issues left a whole lot of cars on a freeway with no passengers inside them. (Nope. No dummies.)

I left the theater wishing, not that I hadn't chosen to see the movie, but that more time and effort had been dedicated to bringing it up to par with the first two.

The experience has left me thinking about my own attempt to end the DESCENDANT series, and the third book I have been struggling with for so many months. I don't want to make these same mistakes as the makers of that movie. I don't want to write in plot holes, or leave threads untied, or forget important characters. I don't want to smash empty cars on the freeway, or kill off characters for shock value without advancing the plot. And so I am taking my time. Much more time than I ever planned or expected, and more writing than I've had to do since I first wrote Descendant (which went through about 30 drafts) in order to get it right.

Unfortunately, this means Legacy most likely won't be released in April, or even May. But it WILL be released, and as soon as I have a better idea of when, I promise I will shout it out to all of you.

I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting, but the truth is ending a series is HARD. This book is, to date, the hardest book I've ever written. And I want it to be awesome. I want it to be worth the wait. I want to do it right.

What about you? What things have you had to work hard to get right?

Characters We Love to Hate

I don’t watch a lot of TV, but when I do have time, I’d mostly rather read or write. So when I decide to devote myself to a series, it has to be well written, dramatic, suspenseful, and there should be kissing involved. And a love story. Because I’m a sucker for that.

Okay, so I guess shows like Prison Break and 24 didn’t have a lot of kissing, but even so, there was always an undercurrent of romantic suspense built in somewhere. And I live for those storylines.

Take, for example, the new CW show REIGN.

As the writers probably designed, we all love Mary, Queen of Scots. She is a well-developed character who is benevolent, kind, and as good as she is beautiful. It’s no wonder she has two brothers fighting for her hand. (BTW, I am Team Francis, all the way!)

But then we get an evil, cunning antagonist in Queen Catherine. She’s spiteful and devious, and just when you start to think she can stoop no lower or go no farther to get what she wants, she finds a way. In fact, she is so complex that no one can trust her. Not Mary, the French court, King Henry, or even her own son Francis. And yet, because she is so complex, as we learn the reasons for each new deception, as viewers we still somehow manage to find sympathy for her. In Catherine’s darkest hour, I found myself hoping she’d find a way to avoid losing her head. Literally.

Catherine is the epitome of the best kind of antagonist in a movie or show. She is the character we love to hate, and yet also the character we hate to love. And we do both.

Now I’m trying to think of another character who is quite so well written as Catherine, and I’m drawing a blank. So help me out, if you will. Who is a character you both love and hate?

(Please specify a series, book, or movie so I can look them up.) 

The Next Important Question

 Now that I have you thinking about the importance of asking why, let’s consider another very important question. What if?

What if asking why led you to consider new and uncharted possibilities?

What if you realized some of those possibilities could be just the road you need to take?

What if you took a chance?

What if that chance you took changed your life, as well as the lives of your family members?

What if it was hard and required a lot of sacrifice?

What if that hard thing meant good progress in the future?

What if that progress was something that taught your children or other loved ones about the importance of following their dreams?

What if they took that lesson and did something big?

What if your choices rippled on for generations?

Or

What if that chance wasn’t right for you, but you learned from it anyway?

What if that wrong choice led you to another choice that could be the right one?

What if you learned a lot of important lessons along the way?

What if your loved ones saw you try and knew that your journey made you who you are?

What if your future, and theirs, was better because you took a chance on the possibility of what if?

Progress. Pass it on.

**For writers:  What if this question created an entire story. Conflict, character arcs, beginning, middle, end—all thrive on this question. Because in the world of fiction, reality stems from possibility. It’s how  good stories are created.

A Question that Changes Things

I’ve been thinking about forward progress and what it takes to get to whatever new place we hope to someday reach. One of the benefits of our recent move is that it has forced my family to look at our lives and our goals and make some decisions about what’s really important to us, and what we really, really want for the future.

This has been a good lesson for me as a parent, because it reminds me how important it is for us (both adults and children) to ask the question why.

Why do we choose to do this or that or something else?

Why does something cost however much it does?

Why does a company pay a certain salary?

Why do individual people act in certain ways?

WHY?

Why?

(And if the answer to why happens to be along the lines of, “because it’s how we’ve always done it,” that’s a sure sign that something needs to change.)

Or, from a kid’s point of view:

Why do adults set rules?

Why do they follow (or not follow) those same rules themselves?

 Why is it necessary to do homework? Or to go to the doctor?  

Why do schools have dress codes if teachers aren’t required to live by the same standards they set for their students?

WHY?

 Why?

(And if the adults don’t follow the rules, this is a sure sign to children that adults don’t necessarily know everything—which is also an important lesson, I think.)

For writers, this single question is one of the most important questions we should ask about our characters.

Why do they act the way they do?

Why do they make certain choices?

Why have they become the people they are when the story starts?

Why?

There is power in this single question, because the answers to questions beginning with this one word have the ability to spark a chain of events that creates forward momentum. The kind of forward momentum that can change things. Very often for the better.

Think about it. What life-events have been sparked because you asked the question why? 

Start with Change

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to attend a workshop session taught by the poetic and brilliant Martine Leavitt. During one of her lectures, she gave our class a bit of advice about beginnings. I don’t remember her exact wording, but she basically told us to start our story on the day when things change.

Real people have those moments regularly. They are the parts of life we may not always want to face, things we don’t always see coming, but they are also the moments that come to define us as people. How will we feel when our town is hit by a natural disaster? How will we react when our parents get divorced? What will we do when someone gets sick and dies, leaving us behind grieving? OR conversely, how will we feel when we reach a goal we’ve been aiming toward for years? How will we react when we find love? What will we do to transplant ourselves in a new place?

These are questions we need to explore with our characters and within our stories. Because change is, by very definition, a conflict of sorts. And every good story is defined by conflict and how the characters overcome the obstacles and beat the odds, just as people are defined by these same things.

So though we might begin with a small glimpse of how things are before, the real story, the part we all look for, happens in the moment when things change.

What life changes have defined you? Have you used those experiences in your writing?  

Plot vs Character: Relatability

One of my primary goals as a writer is to create characters with whom readers can relate. And when I read a story, whether or not I am able to relate to the characters is one thing that will make or break that story for me.

To me, relatability is largely dependent on the reader’s understanding of the motivations behind the character’s actions. I think that as long as we understand why our favorite characters make whatever choices they do, we can forgive them for doing stupid or careless things.

But that motivation must be clear. Absolutely clear. Otherwise, we lose our ability to identify, and readers get frustrated with the characters they are supposed to love, because we don’t understand them.

I recently read such a book. It was a sequel to another book, which I very much enjoyed. Unfortunately, the story had changed so dramatically, and the main character’s motivation seemed to change in every chapter. In the end, I still didn’t understand why the main character had chosen a difficult path that could have been easily avoided with an honest conversation with another trustworthy character. Because of this, I became frustrated. I felt as if the author had forced the main character to make this decision just to make the climax more dramatic, when unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

The good news is that there were some great scenes, some relatable, sob-worthy scenes, that made me care enough about the characters to want to see what happened at the end. The bad news is that I’m not sure I’ll be willing to see them through another book.

So here is my question for this week:

What is one important story element that makes or breaks a story for you?

(PS Please don’t ask about the book mentioned above—that’s not the point, and I’m not telling.)

The Body Language of a Lie

My son has recently been watching episodes of the show Lie to Me. He’s fascinated by body language, and all the little “tells” that give people away when they’re not being fully honest. And I admit, it’s interesting.

Did you know there are fairly typical patterns of avoidance used when someone is being confronted about a lie?

There are. For real. And even more interesting, They’re patterns I recognize from experience.

It’s a psychological thing. Much like the way people act when they have a crush on someone and don’t want anyone to know—except it’s really hard to hide. There are tells for that too.

The benefit to shows like this is that they remind us of all the ways our bodies can betray us. For authors, they give us great body language ideas, and patterns that can help move a plot forward, and fantastic motivation for turning moments in our stories.

So tell me. When was the last time someone lied to you, and how did you know they were lying? (You don’t have to use names or specifics.)

Why I Write For Young Adults

My son is graduating from high school next week. Yes, this freaks me out/makes me feel old. I have no idea where time has gone. (Kids, every adult you know will say this to you at some point, and today it’s my turn—time goes so, so, way too fast.) This graduation is a turning point for my whole family.


After this, I will have one-fewer child in pre-college schools. It’s entirely possible I’ll have one-fewer person living in my house, going on family trips, doing, well, other family things.


I remember being at this point myself not long ago. (Seriously, it was only like last year!) There was such a sense of excitement/trepidation/terror/happiness/fear/anxiety/expectation involved with growing up and being a real-life adult. I could make my own decisions and do my own thing and go my own way.


For me, turning eighteen was the biggest turning point in life. And now, years and years later, it remains that place where I catapulted into an entirely new existence.


The other day, I realized that the majority of characters in my books are right on this same cusp. They are seventeen/eighteen, standing on the ledge, ready to dive into that place from where they can never, ever come back.


It is the place where one big important thing ends, and something new and exciting and HUGE begins. It’s the day when everything changes, and the day life will never be the same.


This is where our real stories begin. And I think that’s why I write for young adults.

What time of life stands out most in your mind? Do you tend to write about those experiences too?

Good Movies vs. Bad Movies

I like movies as much as anyone, but I don’t often take the time to see them. Although, I’ve seen several lately. Some were extremely well written, and some were very poorly written (no, I’m not telling titles—you’ll have to figure that out on your own).

The well written movies had high tension levels, strong suspension of disbelief, identifiable characters, and plots with unexpected twists and turns.

On the other hand, the poorly written ones moved slowly, weren’t believable for one reason or another, had characters that were difficult to connect with, and a plot that didn’t fulfill the viewers’ expectations.

What’s the difference? Well, in the case of two of my recently viewed movies, several million dollars in ticket sales. But even more than that, fans that walked away either stimulated and satisfied, or feeling like they wasted their ticket money.

Notice I didn’t bring up the big-budget/small-budget comparison. It’s because I believe small budget movies can be well written as often as big-budget movies are poorly written. It’s a mixed bag.

One thing we can do to assure we don’t end up on the bottom end of the spectrum is to fact check and research. Especially real life scenarios. If law enforcement plays a big role in your storyline, talk to a law enforcement official. If your story draws on medical science, talk a doctor to or research the relevant subjects. If there is a strong historical side to your story, make sure your story is set in the right time and that you have given your characters the right tools.

I’m not saying you have to get everything exactly right. Just make it believable to the reader or viewer.

What other things can we do to assure that our stories are the best they can be?

Taking up the Anti-Bandwagon Banner

In case you ever wonder, no, I’m usually not a bandwagon jumper. Tempting though it may be from time to time, I have chosen to not spend my valuable writing time on blog-hop flash fiction (since I’m really more of a novelist). I am currently NOT joining a great many of my friends in the self publishing “revolution.” And I write what I do because it speaks to me—not because I think it will sell better than something else.

Don’t misunderstand, though. I am a fan of trends. Crusading bloggers? Magic steam-punk vampires? Mass self-publishing push? All great ideas. Brilliant in some aspects. And I wish all the best for those who are brave enough to take such risks and move forward on these uncharted paths. I applaud them. Admire their guts and spunk and bravado.But for now, none of these paths feels like the right one for me.

In other words, I am choosing the road less traveled by. Or maybe less recently traveled by? Or by fewer of my immediate friends, at any rate. Because it’s what I believe is best for my family and my future.

And that, my friends, is what *I hope* will make all the difference.

What recent things have you chosen to do differently from others?

The Almost Authentic Jukebox

Also at the pizzeria (aka Deenos) last week was a real, working jukebox.

And I’m sorry, but obnoxious as it probably was, I had to put a quarter in and play a couple songs. Just because, well, that’s what you do when faced with a retro-vintage machine such as that.

To my dismay (as well as the dismay of a few of my Twitter followers) none of the songs available were by Boys II Men or Richard Marx.

*nods at gasps of horror*

I realize this is a travesty. But I did what I could and played an old Sheryl Crow and an old Martina McBride song. (You do what you must when faced with such challenges.) While those songs didn’t take me as far back as others might have, the over-loud, treble-heavy music reminded me of other times.

The problem was that the jukebox and the memories evoked by the music didn’t quite jive together. It felt just a little bit like I was pretending—which was totally true. I think this is one of the dangers of not fully fleshing-out our research, be it time, character, place, object, or any other number of elements in our creative ventures.

The facts don’t line up exactly and people will notice, even if they can’t put their finger on what they’re noticing. Like a painting that looks like it was meant to be centered, but didn’t quite get there. Or a person who looks like they’re almost having a good time, but not quite. Or a vase that looks like it was never broken, except for one small line of paint that doesn’t quite line up.

Those who are paying attention will always notice, the way I noticed the songs not quite going with the jukebox. I was okay with that because I know what a rarity it is to find a working jukebox in this century. But that isn’t always the case.

Theoretically, in what situations is it okay to pretend, and when must you be absolutely authentic?

Objects That Make Us People

After considering my chair (yep, still on the subject), I’ve decided that it IS normal, and not only that, having objects that are important to us is human nature. These are the human things that make our lives richer, make us real-live people.

Off the top of my head, I can think of two different semi-popular songs about chairs. CHAIRS! And stories, lots, and lots of stories, in which setting or certain objects are such an important element that they’re almost characters, too.

Consider the following songs:

Kenny Chesney's “Old Blue Chair” (How fitting is that?)
Rachel Proctor's “If That Chair Could Talk”

Also:
Martina McBride's “House of a Thousand Dreams” which isn’t about a chair, but a house that almost lives and breathes.
Sara Evans's “Rocking Horse” and “On the Backseat of a Greyhound Bus”

All these songs are about objects, vehicles, or homes that play an important part in the story of someone's life.

Okay, what about books? How about:

The town of Forks in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight
Macon Raven's house in Beautiful Creatures
The mortuary in Dan Wells's I Am Not a Serial Killer
The door in Lisa Mangum's The Hourglass Door
Katniss Everdeen's bow and arrows in The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins)
Hurricane Isadore, and any body of water in Angela Morrison's Taken by Storm 
The forest in Carrie Ryan's The Forest of Hands and Teeth

Each of these stories contains one place or thing that gives readers a solid sense of solidarity. Place, time, and character.



What unnatural object makes your story (or life)richer?

Our Inanimate Family Member

When we got married, my husband gave me this really incredible chair. It’s this monstrous blue microfiber thing that reclines, and is wide enough to fit two people—or, well, my husband and I—side-by-side. The microfiber is the stuff they were making way back before it was popular like, twenty-years ago. Ultra-soft, durable, and still looks brand new after you’ve cleaned it a bazillion times.

We love this chair. Even though it’s almost nineteen-years-old, and ceased to match our home décor, colors and style what feels like eons ago. It’s one of those things you can never get rid of. That one piece of furniture that you wouldn’t ever even consider putting in a garage sale or giving to goodwill. So every time we rearrange the furniture, it ends up in the den, or the spare bedroom—somewhere out of the way—where it can’t be seen.

But we still use it. When one of us is sick or has an injury, or surgery, or a special need that requires a comforting place to curl up, we drag out the big, blue chair. (I cannot count the nights I slept in that thing when I was pregnant and couldn’t get comfortable in my bed. Nor the nights I rocked my fussy babies to sleep in it.)

More than a piece of furniture, it’s almost an important part of our family.

Is it normal to consider a chair—a piece of furniture, an inanimate object—as part of a human family unit? Do you have something like this in your life? What is it?

The Thing About Bravery

After my recent realization about writers and cops being similar, I’ve been thinking more about bravery. What it is. What it means. What it requires. All that stuff.

The thing is, the definition of bravery is probably different for everyone alive. We all have strengths and weaknesses, and what comes easily for you might be a huge undertaking for me. But we all have moments, defining ones (tee hee), when we are required to be brave—more so than we’ve ever been before.

And we wonder if we’re up to it. If we can handle it. If we can do it.

Am I brave enough to write a book? Am I brave enough to color my hair purple? Am I brave enough to travel to Mexico during a time of civil unrest? Well yeah, obviously I am. But are you?

Am I brave enough to submit that book to 300 agents? (FYI, I’m not even close to that number yet.) OR brave enough to shelf a book that’s not perfect and move onto another one? (Which might be more likely.) Am I brave enough to jump in and pitch my books to an agent face-to-face? Am I brave enough to try scuba diving even though it sounds kind of scary? Am I brave enough to teach my fifteen-year-old how to drive in my Mustang?

Maybe. I’m trying.

Am I brave enough to stand in front of 10,000 people and sing The Star Spangled Banner? Or Happy Birthday? Or…anything? Probably not.

But I am brave. I can do hard things. Things I’ve never done before. Things I’ve never tried before. Things that sound out-of-my-league and impossible and just all-out scary. I am not afraid of living, of doing the things that will make me most happy in life.

I am far more afraid of not doing those things. Of not trying, not putting myself out there, not living.

The thing about bravery is that everyone needs it at some point. We all have it. But only you can decide when it’s time to pull it out and use it.

What brave thing have you done this week?

Daily Defining Moments, Part I: Popcorn

In general, fiction stories start with a turning point, the day everything changes for the main character. The reason this works is because readers can identify with these defining moments in things that happen to them as often as every day. This week, I want to explore some of the daily defining moments I’ve witnessed in real life. Just because, well, your thoughts on the matter will interest me.

Subject number one:

Over the weekend, I took two of my kids to a movie. As the closing credits rolled and the theater emptied out, we followed the crowd toward the exit. Near the door, a woman dropped her half-full bag of popcorn on the floor. She paused, looked around, then back at the mess, and bent to pick up her bag (the easy part) leaving the corn to be scattered by those walking out behind her.

Now, maybe I was extra irritated because of the fact that my son works there, and I knew he would likely be the one stuck cleaning up that particular mess. But as I watched her leave, I couldn’t help but wonder what the woman was thinking. Or if she was thinking at all. She consciously made the decision to leave the mess for someone else, rather than scooping even some of it back into the bag and throwing it in the trash.

So. In this instance, do you think it’s true that we are the decisions we make? Or do our decisions make us who we are?