How journalism builds fiction writers

Okay, first off, the prologue I mentioned in the last entry was meant to say epilogue. You know you're tired when...

Because I don't have many creative thoughts in my body right now, as I rush about trying to finish an analysis of several pivotal French government documents for my Western European Politics class (and I love this project, French geek that I am...), I thought I'd take a moment to talk journalism.

Some writers come to fiction with bachelor's degrees in literature or MFAs in creative writing. Some just dive in with no training. Many writers survive by using their writing abilities in a professional context, and that's why you have so many reporters working on novels in their free time.

Novelist, comic book writer and paranormal mastermind extraordinaire Jonathan Maberry survived for many years on his skills as a professional writer writing things far less exciting than his current projects, but it paid the bills.

And, as Jonathan often says at workshops and conferences, you learn many skills as a professional writer. A journalist on the beat day-to-day learns there is no such thing as writers block AND that there are no excuses for not coming back with a story. I always told my reporters-in-training that if two people stood in the room, there was a story somewhere, even if it wasn't the story already in the editorial budget.

Newspaper reporters learn flexibility. They learn to write whatever comes their way. They also learn structure, often writing to rigid word counts and in short amounts of time.

Newspaper reporters learn to work with others. They work with editors and copy desks, and don't forget the importance of sources. Newspaper reporters learn to ask questions and notice details. Well, at least good ones do. These questions and details can be just as important in a novel as on newsprint. And a good reporter recognizes a good source from a bad one. This ability to weed information can build credibility in fiction, too.

Newspaper reporters respect deadlines, accept input and don't have quite as much emotion attached to to their words. Newspaper reporters can't cry over lost sentences.

And newspaper reporters can craft a decent sentence. A good reporter will have solid grammar and recognize a sentence smothered by purple prose.

Clues to building a synopsis

Somewhere around Tuesday, I finally found my voice for my latest synopsis.

Having complete these pesky detailed outlines for three other manuscripts, you'd think it'd be easy.

It's not.

Writing never is.

The trick to writing a decent synopsis is to remember you're proving your storytelling abilities, not merely outlining your novel. If you proceed in a "this happens" "and then" format, it sounds like a middle school book report.

But unless you have a gift for these things, finding the right voice for a synopsis can be tricky. It needs to evoke the mood of the genre, capture your craft skills and reveal what happens in the book, in a way that makes agents and editors want to read the book.

I don't have the answer for how to achieve this, but a synopsis is a detailed pitch followed through to the end of the book. So, I like to think about how the words sound when I'm typing them focus on flow, clarity and brevity.

Since this latest project is a paranormal romance, I have to focus on not only the murder mystery, not only the supernatural elements, but also the love story. And, being me, I need to find a way to write it so it doesn't seem sappy.

In my case, for the Allegheny Beast project, I've constructed a reverse outline to guide me with the synopsis. I've taken the manuscript and made an outline of what's actually in the story. Now from there (and yes this is time consuming and that part of it makes me crazy) I'm creating a detailed synopsis that has everything in it that I think might need to be there.

It's currently 924 words, and I expect another 500 before I finish. I'm not going to submit something that huge with my first three chapters. This will be my starting point to edit. Those of us who hail from the newspaper industry prefer to start with too much and whittle down than risk putting a story in the news hole and have blank inches staring back at us.

And we're not afraid to delete words. It's part of the process.

Archiving Twitter

I've heard plenty of people say that the publishing industry expects its authors, even undiscovered ones, to have a following on Twitter and Facebook. I'm new to Twitter and I'm still learning its nuances (and to some degree, the point).

Last week, the Library of Congress announced that it would archive "tweets." Let me repeat this: The Library of Congress will archive tweets.

What does that say about the American written word?
What does that say about the pace of our lives?
What does that say about our desire to read?

With my background in journalism, I can say just about anything in 140 characters. In the newspaper industry, we call this a headline.

So, I say nothing more for or against Twitter. Any new technology for connecting people has the capacity to improve our lives. I can't help but think we're breeding a generation of voyeurs and exhibitionists who see life as a performance and not something to share with those around us in that old-fashioned, face-to-face kind of way.

Yet, I also think it's really cool that I can monitor all sorts of people from all around the world, potentially with interests similar to mind, without having to say hello and introduce myself.

The Job Doing What You Love

When I was in college, someone (I don't even remember who) asked me why I didn't pursue a journalism major. I had two reasons:
1. I don't believe in a journalism major. Journalists must have broad education or at least an intelligence that allows them to question and receive information. The craft of writing is part talent, part experience and part having the right mentors. I don't think journalism professors are the best mentors. The fast-paced universe and the breadth of topics that appear in a journalist's world are constantly in flux and an academic at a university has lost touch with this and cannot train a journalist for this.
2. I love to write. I didn't want to ruin that by writing all day long.

I was right. I spent four years in public relations and publications. Then, I moved to my journalism career. I wrote an average of ten stories per week for years on end. Sometimes I did as many as twelve or fourteen.

By the time I got home at night, I had no words left for me. I have given them all "to the people." I didn't want to read words. I didn't want to write words.

The pleasure had gone from them.

I remembered this recently when a friend of mine recently finished her honors project for her bachelors degree. She lamented to me that her brain had been in "research mode" so long that she looked forward to returning to her creativity.

And I understood.

Many of us who write creatively also use our skills professionally. This can hinder productivity. It is important to do something you love as a career. It is important to have skill in what you do. But any career that involves creativity in its day-to-day life will drain you.

So you must be careful.

If I ever get the chance to write my novels and stories as a career, that means I will no longer have that as a hobby (and perhaps could return to having hobbies that involve putting my photos in albums, gardening or oil panting). But if I use those skills in my next career: for press releases, articles, whatever... I have to weigh if those things add to or detract from what I want to do with my words.

If the New Yorker calls and wants me to go be Adam Gopnik in Paris, I am there. If the AFP (French Press Agency) calls and wants me on staff, I'm there.

Other opportunities? Depends how badly I need the money. Depends how much of my soul they demand.

In America, we don't sell our souls to the devil, because corporations so gladly take them off our hands.

A new angle

At last year's The Write Stuff conference, I took a workshop with Karen Blomain in which we submitted a first chapter from a work-in-progress and then we literally cut it (with scissors) and rearranged it to explore other possibilities for where the story starts and other examinations of our own structure.

As a newspaper person, literary re-arranging didn't bother me and I found the act of tearing paragraphs apart (literally with my hands and ripping) quite therapeutic.

Now, I find myself struggling with a chapter and it irritates me and I find myself falling back on some of Blomain's techniques. Where does my story start? Or in this case, where does my chapter start? What do I need to convey?

More importantly, how else can I start it? Most of all I'm lacking momentum. I feel like once I find the beginning that works, the story unfolds naturally, especially since this is no longer a first draft.

I tried weaving some memories in with the character's (Étienne) present-day worries, using some of that imagery to symbolize the problems. It felt cliché. I'm tempted now to give him a nightmare, similar to his wife's nightmare a few chapters ago. Similar but different. Her nightmare was literally her subconscious tapping into the magic around her. His nightmare would use those same memories I used earlier to show his feelings... but they could have a quick exchange later about how "the house" is making it impossible for them to sleep.

I hate the idea, but I'm tempted to try it because everything else does not feel right.

As writers, we often push ourselves where we don't want to go.

Farewell Alexander McQueen

I, like many right now, am still stunned and saddened by the suicide of Alexander McQueen, a 40-year-old fashion great.

"Why are you writing about it here?" you may ask.

My book features the apparent suicide of a fashion icon. Watching the media react to this allows me to watch, celebrating voyeurism, as I see how the real fashion industry reacts.

What do your characters do for you?

I can't sew to save my life, yet I understand the entire process and can write about it convincingly for my novel. I credit this to my journalism background. The ability to study something and convey it to someone else is a special skill.

But sometimes our characters teach us skills.

Sure, if you do research you may learn some knowledge you never had, but can your characters really teach life skills?

I think so.

First example: I never cooked meat. Our meals at home were vegetarian, sometimes vegan. I could not sully my hands with animal flesh. But then I came upon a scene where Étienne cooks... and he can cook... He learned to cook when his wife divorced him. No one would ever believe that an affluent French male in his forties would prepare a meal of broccoli pasta with ricotta salata or Hungarian style paprika tempeh or vegetable stir fry with toasted sesame seeds or hearty macaroni and cheese with sundried tomatoes.

In order to decide what he would make for himself, I had to cook meat. I experimented with beef burgundy stew, pepper steak with brandy cream sauce, chicken in lemon butter sauce, and peppered chicken with rosemary. (And some less 'offensive' lovely desserts like tarte tatin and honeyed fruit in white wine sauce.)

Second example: Basilie is brilliant with numbers. In the 80s, she had a stunning career as a corporate raider. In the 90s, she worked as an investment banker and wealth manager. Educated in the U.S. and abroad, a stellar performance on the French bac, and she speaks five languages-- but she's only fluent in four (French, English, Spanish, German). She has yet to master her Japanese.

Basilie is helping me survive economics this semester. Econ is far from exciting, and my introductory course is not hard, but Basilie sometimes motivates me to study and do a good job.

And I need that right now.

My final is Tuesday.

Overcoming "Writers Block"

When writers come from the journalism industry, we're much less prone to indulge in "writers block." I refuse to even make the term possessive, because the idea of a writer owning a block contradicts everything in which I believe.

Writers block, as I understand it, happens when a writer suddenly finds him/herself at a point where he/she can no longer find the words to put on the page.

Poppycock.

When a writer finds himself/herself in such a situation, the choices become (and which choice the writer makes says a lot about the writer):

1. Keep writing, even if it's awful, fully intending to cut what doesn't work later. In writing through the problem, stream of consciousness may provide a solution the brain could not.
2. Turn to a different project, for an hour or a day, allowing oneself to turn the problem around and think about it. Writing something different could open new areas of the brain and refresh the brain cells and the spirit.
3. Schedule a break. Finding yourself "blocked" simply means you're pushing too hard. Whether you schedule 15 minutes, an hour, or a day, take a break. Anything longer than a day is not a break. That's procrastination.
4. Reread what you've written. Avoid the urge to edit, but reread what you've written, and about 20 pages before to set the scene (depending on the length of the work). Your "block" may be a subconscious single that something in your structure is off and not working.
5. Skip ahead. If you can't write chronologically, allow yourself to write that scene that you've been looking forward to... Sometimes that will refresh your energy and remind you why you love these characters.
6. Last but done least, if you really just can't write anymore... Do what my husband always suggests: Try a different art. When words are getting fumbled up, try the visual arts. Seriously. Sketch, take pictures, paint. It doesn't matter how good or bad the result is; the point is to exercise a different section of the brain. I do fashion illustrations (which I later use as outfits in the novel) or I work on this oil painting I have of a rooster. The rooster is actually symbolic, partially because it's a French rooster, but also because it appears in the novel. Étienne goes to the market for something, and has to pass the bird market in Paris. He sees this rooster and falls in love with the colors. And buys it. This is at the end of his bout with depression and signals the return of his joie de vivre. So, in my house, we have all sorts of jokes about Étienne's coq.

How we approach obstacles is as much an art as the words we write...

Challenging your knowledge

I'm still in the "tearing up" stages I mentioned yesterday. I got fabulously inspired with my new chapter one, and had a healthy start to chapter two. But my text is now meandering. I know exactly why I have chosen to move in each of these directions, but the word count is stacking up and the chapter still hasn't covered what it needs to do.

I try to structure each of my chapters like a short story, with a finite piece of action that almost works on its own without the rest of the novel. Thus far, that structural trick has escaped me in most of this volume, plus I've had unclear transitions between the chapters. Enough so that when I go back after a few weeks rest and read it cold, I get jarred by what's happening.

Not good.

But now this chapter seems to be spending its forty days in the wilderness... I have a good chapter one (I think, it's resting and I'm uncertain how it will read after a break) and I know I have a good chapter three (my husband has insisted for years that it is chapter one in disguise; plus my critique group liked it). So, why the problem with #2?

I listed the items that this chapter needs to establish:

• The layout of the house/ the real setting (Étienne comes home from the bar)
• Slowly include other characters (so far we have met Étienne, our hero, and Galen, our bad guy. Since Galen punch Étienne in the face twice in the initial chapter I think it's fair game to mention that here)
• Lay the groundwork for the relationship between Étienne and his wife/ex-wife/fiancée (yes, these are all the same person, Basilie, or as he calls her, Zélie)
• Have Étienne find Adelaide's sketchbook and her collection of his drawings (in the past, the finding of the sketchbook happens 'off-screen' and really should be a pivotal moment)
• Link the middle of the night with the day, and the following evening, as Chapter Three begins at bedtime the next night. Chapter one: Friday night/Saturday a.m.; Chapter two: Saturday; Chapter Three: Saturday night/ Sunday a.m.; Chapter Four, Sunday a.m.; Chapter Five, Sunday a.m.

That's a tall order. And later I will have to tear up this chapter and evaluate how each scene contributes to each of these goals.

At the midpoint in the chapter, Étienne grows tired of everyone commenting on his black eye and uses Adelaide's make-up kit to cover it. In looking at my goals, I realize there's a good chance this scene might get cut (unless I later determine it's necessary to establish Étienne's weight in the fashion world) but for right now, I'm running with it.

A scene like this is where my journalism background comes in handy (now I'm getting to the crux of my entry: the challenging your knowledge bit). I know next to nothing about make-up. I also know covering a bruise like a black eye is hard. I've read enough fashion magazines religiously to know some basic concepts, but overall, when it comes to make-up, I'm a failure. I just don't use it.

And here's Étienne, about to attempt something I would never do. And he's supposed to understand how to do it. Now, for more academic topics, like daily life in Paris after World War II, I would turn to the college library and the article databases I can access as a student. For make-up, not so much...

I know this much:

• the task at hand is hard
• the colors he puts on his face must not only 'match' his skin tone, but they also must counteract the colors of the bruise
• luckily, he could have almost any tool at his disposal, since we have the make-up kit of a former supermodel who has also done some styling over the years
  

So, I turn to the internet and some books I have, trying to hit the right key words for my questions:

• What's in Adelaide's make-up kit?
• What should he apply and how?
• What are the details that will make it sound like he knows what he's doing without getting too deep?
  

I'm reluctant to share my first draft... especially since I know I'm going to cut some/most of it... but should I share what I learned? Hmmm...

Okay, rough draft, reminder, this is a rough draft (I can tell while I copy and paste I want to change lots of words here, but I won't. Not now. I have other things to do):

Never the type to fight, not even when his older brother had him pinned to the floor, Étienne hadn’t ever seen his face this swollen and mottled. Even after his car accident, with his head embedded in the windshield, he hadn’t seen this much discoloration. Suddenly, that fact struck him as odd.

He unscrewed the Kevyn Aucoin Sensual Skin Enhancer and applied some to the back of his right hand. Once convinced it wouldn’t turn his skin an unnatural color, he dabbed it on his skin with a sponge. He could have used his finger, but the sponge offered a lighter touch on his tender face.

He needed something with more gold, maybe some green to really hide the vivid bruise, so he rummaged through the kit for Adelaide’s RCMA foundation. He prayed she had the right colors, or he’d have to use other pigments to blend the right hue. Luckily, she had a KO sample palette. On the second guess, he determined the right base hue and piled some on the back of his left hand. With a small brush he mixed in some extra color to make the match and then added golden tones. When the heat from his hand had softened it enough, he layered some onto his eye, from under the eye to his cheek and then from the middle of the eyelid up and delicately toward the eyelashes.

He fished out Adelaide’s bottle of 244 and added a drop to what remained on his hand. After a good stirring of the thinner/remover and the foundation, Étienne used the sponge to apply another coat.

I can't believe I shared this. Off to run and hide...

I wrote last night

Once upon a time, a long time ago...

I was a prolific writer.

I wrote in my journal most of the day, constantly scribbling as if an observer of the world outside of it. These days, I regularly misplace my journal and write, on average, once a week. Facebook seems to have replaced those journal entries and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I used to write 10-12 articles a week for the newspaper. In those days, I never had the energy left to write anything else.

One summer, I thought I had found the best job ever. They fired me after a month, because they had hired me to be their in-house writer and the VP decided he'd rather have an artist. I boosted my confidence my writing a third volume to my paranormal chick lit series (series nicknamed Fashion and Fiends) -- 170,000 words in about 35 days.

I can write a press release in 20 minutes, but my own résumé stumps me.

I wrote a ten-page paper in French on the political parties of the moderate right in three days during my Thanksgiving break.

But I have not written a single word on my second volume of Fashion and Fiends since June? July? Whenever we launched our critique group via GLVWG. I had about six chapters then, and since we were submitting 20 pages a month, I knew those six chapters would last through December. And here I am, in December (almost), with no more chapters. This book has my favorite tentative title (Courting Apparitions) but the hardest plot. It's a ghost story and ghosts present a lot of limitations. In addition, the first draft spent the first 200 pages with the main character moping around doing nothing, because of his grief for the dead person...

Of course, Stephenie Meyer's New Moon has the main character moping for 200 pages. Maybe Étienne just needs to rebuild a motorcycle and hang out with a werewolf...

Well, last night, I wrote about 400 words. The novel I wrote after I got fired... That one needs to be split in two: one half for the ridiculous fairy plot line (which will get saved for another project) and the other half for the actual plot line where evil witches destroy the balance of the universe and a non-magical woman has to stop them. I've dickered with the plot and did a scene last night where the heroine waits for her missing husband, in a venue where she thinks he has to attend and her disappointment when he doesn't...

In my "old days," before returning to school and raising a five-year-old daughter, I could polish off 5,000 words a night, almost every night of the week.

I miss those days, but the other activities-- school, work, parenting, the non-profit boards I'm on-- indirectly do make me a better writer.