My characters just finished a big battle with the bad guy and they won this round. I've been itching to keep going but... I haven't perfected my plan.
Since this is a second draft, that I've changed the trajectory on, I don't want to waste effort doing something in this chapter that doesn't move the plot forward. I have taken the outline I revised and sketched out the chapter as I suggested, but I noted that there's no action in the chapter. Nothing happens. It sets up several items for later resolution, but nothing happens in the actual chapter.
Now, can't have that.
The current chapter is a switch of POV from the male hero (Étienne) to his wife (Basilie). They have all contributed to the successful defeat of the bad guy (Galen).
Basilie has sustained some superficial wounds. The point of the chapter is to establish changes in behavior for Étienne, and to clarify Basilie's mindset regarding her soon-to-be born child, and finally, to establish some family history for Basilie.
This entry isn't necessarily about how I decide to resolve this, but to point out a realization I had of how many of my writing processes are physical. Under doctor's orders, I can't go ride my bike. I can't go shopping. And most painful to my process, I can't listen to my iPod and dance around like a lunatic.
Which leaves naps. Sometimes, when I try to go to sleep, the emptiness of my own head allows new ideas to pop in. Especially if I have been trying to think like that person for a while.
So what would Basilie do after a big fight? Should I pick her up in the ER? I'm going to have to write it out and try different things... But it's also like the way I cook:
Sometimes I look at the ingredients I have and contemplate all the ways to combine them until I hit a successful mix. But sometimes, I can be sitting, eating something completely different and get struck by lightning.
Last night I was thinking about chili, thawing in the fridge. I remembered we had pie crust and chicken and broccoli and various soups... and I had a eureka moment: POT PIE.
And sometimes, writing works the same way.
Showing posts with label point of view. Show all posts
Showing posts with label point of view. Show all posts
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
In Character
WARNING: This blog post may contain colloquial language, vulgarity and discussion of different sex acts.
2ND WARNING: Author has had three cups of coffee
Sometimes, as authors, we view our stories and our plots with the detachment of an outsider. I'm not saying we don't get lost/caught up in our stories, because we do. What happens is more like worrying about making sure we get the road to lead where we want it to that we don't pay attention to the actual path.
I was editing a chapter today. In that chapter, Galen the bad guy is coping poorly with the fact that the now-dead ingenue from the previous book (Adelaide) has possessed him. To add insult to injury-- to use a cliché-- Adelaide has noticed a young man her age and her lust has left Galen with an erection. Galen gets into his car where his mate and fellow witch, Flidais, laughs at him for his predicament.
Now the basic road map for this scene required that Galen and Flidais drive from Point A to Point B. I got the sense upon reading it, that Flidais would do more than laugh at him. I spent the next 24 hours contemplating whether Flidais would give him a hand job or a blow job.
Yes, seriously.
One of my friends suggested a little bit of both. But that didn't seem right. As a writer, I typically can write through big problems. Little problems like this, or even smaller ones like what the characters had for dinner, can halt my progress for hours.
Today, I labeled why these things often stump me. It's not because of the sex acts. It stems from not thinking inside the character's head. The chapter I'm writing comes from Galen's third person limited point of view. I pondered the problem as if Galen had a say in which sex act Flidais performed. Which, he could ask, but he doesn't.
As soon as I considered the conundrum from Flidais' point of view, I had to weigh the magical consequences. In that case, a hand-job seemed vulgar and like a waste of male essence. She might try that if she wanted to weaken him or merely distract him. I think she would perform a sex act for her own gain. In that case, what can she receive?
In my series, any sex act has a supernatural weight to it and it all means something. Feminine power must be given, not taken. Masculine power must be taken. Sex, in the male/female intercourse variety, adds something to the universe and provides energy that can fuel rituals.
The answer became obvious, Flidais had to give Galen a blow job because she needed a shot of masculine power and that was an easy way to take it.
The moral of the story:
If you're stuck at a point where characters have to make a choice, make sure the characters reason out the problem and chose according to their motivations, not yours. Don't confuse the POV character's preferences with the character who is actually the one in control of the choice.
2ND WARNING: Author has had three cups of coffee
Sometimes, as authors, we view our stories and our plots with the detachment of an outsider. I'm not saying we don't get lost/caught up in our stories, because we do. What happens is more like worrying about making sure we get the road to lead where we want it to that we don't pay attention to the actual path.
I was editing a chapter today. In that chapter, Galen the bad guy is coping poorly with the fact that the now-dead ingenue from the previous book (Adelaide) has possessed him. To add insult to injury-- to use a cliché-- Adelaide has noticed a young man her age and her lust has left Galen with an erection. Galen gets into his car where his mate and fellow witch, Flidais, laughs at him for his predicament.
Now the basic road map for this scene required that Galen and Flidais drive from Point A to Point B. I got the sense upon reading it, that Flidais would do more than laugh at him. I spent the next 24 hours contemplating whether Flidais would give him a hand job or a blow job.
Yes, seriously.
One of my friends suggested a little bit of both. But that didn't seem right. As a writer, I typically can write through big problems. Little problems like this, or even smaller ones like what the characters had for dinner, can halt my progress for hours.
Today, I labeled why these things often stump me. It's not because of the sex acts. It stems from not thinking inside the character's head. The chapter I'm writing comes from Galen's third person limited point of view. I pondered the problem as if Galen had a say in which sex act Flidais performed. Which, he could ask, but he doesn't.
As soon as I considered the conundrum from Flidais' point of view, I had to weigh the magical consequences. In that case, a hand-job seemed vulgar and like a waste of male essence. She might try that if she wanted to weaken him or merely distract him. I think she would perform a sex act for her own gain. In that case, what can she receive?
In my series, any sex act has a supernatural weight to it and it all means something. Feminine power must be given, not taken. Masculine power must be taken. Sex, in the male/female intercourse variety, adds something to the universe and provides energy that can fuel rituals.
The answer became obvious, Flidais had to give Galen a blow job because she needed a shot of masculine power and that was an easy way to take it.
The moral of the story:
If you're stuck at a point where characters have to make a choice, make sure the characters reason out the problem and chose according to their motivations, not yours. Don't confuse the POV character's preferences with the character who is actually the one in control of the choice.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Defining a character's sexuality
Yesterday, I started talking about the how I use sex in my writing. When we think sex and writing, normally people think of two things:
As I mentioned yesterday, my characters have healthy libidos. I also talked about sex as a way to reveal how characters feel about each other. For the English major geeks out there, I see my main supernatural bad guy as a bully, and I see the woman who falls in love with him as a victim of domestic violence. This is intentional on my part, because if a mortal man *hurt* her in the ways he does, the reader would never finish the book. And when you look at their relationship, the bad guy only manipulates/hurts her in private. In public, they look like the perfect couple. Isn't that usually the way with domestic violence?
But this entry is not about that.
This entry is about the love of my life, Étienne, and his girls, Adelaide and Basilie. Étienne married Basilie in 1979. Basilie divorced Étienne in 1993, but she forgot to leave. They moved into separate domiciles, but life became a great big sleepover game of who would stay at who's house what night. To end it once and for all, Basilie moved to New York City in 2000 on a work visa. She assumed Étienne would stay in France. Instead, he applied for an O-1 visa followed her.
Now, Adelaide works for Étienne. She's worked for him since she was 13. (Actually she was 12-and-a-half but Étienne prefers that she round up, sounds better if she were 13 instead of 12.) She spent her school years modeling, then moved into the PR department after high school, and when Étienne moved to New York, he brought her along, figuring he'd need an American around to start his New York office.
None of that tells you how these characters feel about each other.
Chapters three and four of my first book involve a large party. Chapter three is the bad guy's perspective. Chapter four is Étienne's.
This is the first time we see Étienne and Basilie together:
Étienne kissed [her]. He angled for her lips, but she nudged away redirecting his effort to her cheek.
Without even delving into Étienne's POV, we hear this about him and his ex-wife:
"Mon jeune ami," Étienne said. "I have papers... papers say we are married, others say divorcés. Paper means nothing. Rien. Je ne crois pas les papiers.”
Now this is the very first paragraph from Étienne's POV. It's not sexual, per se, but it does set up a great deal of his sexuality:
In the farmhouse’s dark, cool basement, Étienne maintained his cellar. He fondled his 1921 Château d’Yquem Sauternes, brushing off the dust, turning the bottle, and leaving it. Nothing compared to a good woman or a quality wine. Since he no longer collected lovers, he shifted to fine vintages, almost as enjoyable a hobby.
And his first interaction with Basilie (or as he nicknames her 'Zélie') shows us something about each of them, even though it's his POV. I wanted a scene that would show his devotion to her without having him go through a diatribe of internal dialogue. I wanted to show you, not tell you:
Étienne placed his arm around Zélie’s waist. He moved a hand into the hair cascading past her shoulders, tumbling in tight curls. He pinched one. The spiral crackled under his touch, crispy with the hairspray from the stylist. He sniffed it.
L'ananas... The English challenged him… Pineapple and Chanel No. 5. The combination always signaled a celebration.
"I’m sure your wife is here, Bob," Zélie said.
Her words sounded as crisp as her hair. The sentence slid off her tongue with ease, her English enunciation perfect. He couldn’t have said it, not like that, not even when sober. Yet she was as French as him and she could… Zélie flinched, swatting at his hand. He lowered his head toward her bare shoulder. His lips brushed her flesh...
"Étienne, stop it," she commanded.
He pulled away with a devilish smile.
But the very next line shows us his different attitude for his young employee:
Adelaide burst into the room, apologizing as she knocked into several guests. Her head jerked. Her gown shed feathers. In her clumsy distress, Adelaide’s lips puckered. Her eyes pleaded. Her cheeks and jaw hung with anxiousness. Even so, she remained the most beautiful fixture in the room.
The most beautiful fixture in the room. The phrase gives me chills. But wait, you say, how does this all relate to sex? Well, from here we progress to sexual tension.
Adelaide unzipped her boots. She stretched her legs across [Étienne's] lap. The weight of the beads pulled the dress away from her thighs. Her garters poked from beneath the fabric. Zélie never wore garters, no matter how much Étienne wished she would as his chouchou did. He rested a hand on Adelaide’s ankle.
But it isn't the magnificently beautiful Adelaide who truly captures Étienne's attention, but his ex-wife, as they dance:
“Chut,” he whispered.
He brought his lips to hers to quiet her, and they danced, tenderly tasting each other. In the final measures of the song, Étienne stepped away, twirled her to the end of his arm, then pulled her back, and dipped her across his thigh where he kissed her, this time long and thorough.
The black silk sash had fallen covering her breasts. Her creamy skin set off beautifully the strand of black pearls he had given her earlier. He liked how the pendant sparkled, though now it hung upside-down making a cloverleaf instead of a heart. He squeezed her hand and roamed her body with his eyes. His outlined her jaw and her cheekbone with his index finger.
"Étienne, let me up, chéri," she said, interrupting his visual consumption.
"I was just—"
"I know exactly what you’re doing," Zélie said. "Let me up."
She takes him to bed. As he is very drunk, he requires some assistance. But once his teeth are brushed and his clothes removed, they do tumble into bed. Every touch and every breath (I hope) shows their desperation for each other. In their care and their enjoyment, the familiarity of the moment shows how long they've been together. But as I mentioned yesterday, in a way, this is a "baseline sexual encounter" so that the reader can detect changes in their relationship later and also know later when Étienne gets accused of cheating, whether or not 'the other woman' is telling the truth...
- Erotica (like good old Anais Nin, The Story of O, etc.)
- Romance novels (gotta have that perfect love scene where the characters climax in each other's arms after having that orgasm that made them come alive in new ways...)
As I mentioned yesterday, my characters have healthy libidos. I also talked about sex as a way to reveal how characters feel about each other. For the English major geeks out there, I see my main supernatural bad guy as a bully, and I see the woman who falls in love with him as a victim of domestic violence. This is intentional on my part, because if a mortal man *hurt* her in the ways he does, the reader would never finish the book. And when you look at their relationship, the bad guy only manipulates/hurts her in private. In public, they look like the perfect couple. Isn't that usually the way with domestic violence?
But this entry is not about that.
This entry is about the love of my life, Étienne, and his girls, Adelaide and Basilie. Étienne married Basilie in 1979. Basilie divorced Étienne in 1993, but she forgot to leave. They moved into separate domiciles, but life became a great big sleepover game of who would stay at who's house what night. To end it once and for all, Basilie moved to New York City in 2000 on a work visa. She assumed Étienne would stay in France. Instead, he applied for an O-1 visa followed her.
Now, Adelaide works for Étienne. She's worked for him since she was 13. (Actually she was 12-and-a-half but Étienne prefers that she round up, sounds better if she were 13 instead of 12.) She spent her school years modeling, then moved into the PR department after high school, and when Étienne moved to New York, he brought her along, figuring he'd need an American around to start his New York office.
None of that tells you how these characters feel about each other.
Chapters three and four of my first book involve a large party. Chapter three is the bad guy's perspective. Chapter four is Étienne's.
This is the first time we see Étienne and Basilie together:
Étienne kissed [her]. He angled for her lips, but she nudged away redirecting his effort to her cheek.
Without even delving into Étienne's POV, we hear this about him and his ex-wife:
"Mon jeune ami," Étienne said. "I have papers... papers say we are married, others say divorcés. Paper means nothing. Rien. Je ne crois pas les papiers.”
Now this is the very first paragraph from Étienne's POV. It's not sexual, per se, but it does set up a great deal of his sexuality:
In the farmhouse’s dark, cool basement, Étienne maintained his cellar. He fondled his 1921 Château d’Yquem Sauternes, brushing off the dust, turning the bottle, and leaving it. Nothing compared to a good woman or a quality wine. Since he no longer collected lovers, he shifted to fine vintages, almost as enjoyable a hobby.
And his first interaction with Basilie (or as he nicknames her 'Zélie') shows us something about each of them, even though it's his POV. I wanted a scene that would show his devotion to her without having him go through a diatribe of internal dialogue. I wanted to show you, not tell you:
Étienne placed his arm around Zélie’s waist. He moved a hand into the hair cascading past her shoulders, tumbling in tight curls. He pinched one. The spiral crackled under his touch, crispy with the hairspray from the stylist. He sniffed it.
L'ananas... The English challenged him… Pineapple and Chanel No. 5. The combination always signaled a celebration.
"I’m sure your wife is here, Bob," Zélie said.
Her words sounded as crisp as her hair. The sentence slid off her tongue with ease, her English enunciation perfect. He couldn’t have said it, not like that, not even when sober. Yet she was as French as him and she could… Zélie flinched, swatting at his hand. He lowered his head toward her bare shoulder. His lips brushed her flesh...
"Étienne, stop it," she commanded.
He pulled away with a devilish smile.
But the very next line shows us his different attitude for his young employee:
Adelaide burst into the room, apologizing as she knocked into several guests. Her head jerked. Her gown shed feathers. In her clumsy distress, Adelaide’s lips puckered. Her eyes pleaded. Her cheeks and jaw hung with anxiousness. Even so, she remained the most beautiful fixture in the room.
The most beautiful fixture in the room. The phrase gives me chills. But wait, you say, how does this all relate to sex? Well, from here we progress to sexual tension.
Adelaide unzipped her boots. She stretched her legs across [Étienne's] lap. The weight of the beads pulled the dress away from her thighs. Her garters poked from beneath the fabric. Zélie never wore garters, no matter how much Étienne wished she would as his chouchou did. He rested a hand on Adelaide’s ankle.
But it isn't the magnificently beautiful Adelaide who truly captures Étienne's attention, but his ex-wife, as they dance:
“Chut,” he whispered.
He brought his lips to hers to quiet her, and they danced, tenderly tasting each other. In the final measures of the song, Étienne stepped away, twirled her to the end of his arm, then pulled her back, and dipped her across his thigh where he kissed her, this time long and thorough.
The black silk sash had fallen covering her breasts. Her creamy skin set off beautifully the strand of black pearls he had given her earlier. He liked how the pendant sparkled, though now it hung upside-down making a cloverleaf instead of a heart. He squeezed her hand and roamed her body with his eyes. His outlined her jaw and her cheekbone with his index finger.
"Étienne, let me up, chéri," she said, interrupting his visual consumption.
"I was just—"
"I know exactly what you’re doing," Zélie said. "Let me up."
She takes him to bed. As he is very drunk, he requires some assistance. But once his teeth are brushed and his clothes removed, they do tumble into bed. Every touch and every breath (I hope) shows their desperation for each other. In their care and their enjoyment, the familiarity of the moment shows how long they've been together. But as I mentioned yesterday, in a way, this is a "baseline sexual encounter" so that the reader can detect changes in their relationship later and also know later when Étienne gets accused of cheating, whether or not 'the other woman' is telling the truth...
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Me and My iPod
Music.
Most of my writer friends use it in some form. Except for one. She writes while she watches TV. But, in general, my writer friends all utilize music in their writing.
My iPod has my (and my daughter's) entire music collection. So, I often put in on shuffle and listen to the random selections as I work through a literary problem. (Doing it right now... Sixpence None the Richer is on, Salt N Pepa before that.) Some times being out of control of the music leaves me to look at a problem from a new direction.
I also have playlists. These are usually for the car, when I'm brainstorming a scene. I have playlists for romantic scenes (usually dedicated to a specific couple, like good, old-fashioned mix tapes), others for sex scenes, others for fights and others for making up... I have playlists that bring to mind certain characters, and help me get into their POV; and playlists that those characters would listen to.
For example: Adelaide, my 25-year-old former American supermodel-- born in 1978, listens to Placebo, Depeche Mode, Noir Désir, Cake and Salt N Pepa. But her boss, 40-something Étienne d'Amille prefers Jazz, some Norah Jones, Melody Gardot, Django Rheinhart and Juliette Gréco, and anything from the James Bond movies. And Carla Bruni's music amuses him to no end. Now, his wife, Basilie, she likes Jazz but prefers classical. She adores Joshua Bell.
I've purchased CDs because I thought these characters would like them.
Now, the playlists geared at helping me write about these characters are different. When I write about the bad guys, I listen to a playlist my husband made: Chevelle, Prodigy, Nine Inch Nails, Limp Bizkit, Radiohead, Pixies, Tool, The Toadies, Alice in Chains...
And these are all different from the soundtrack for each book, which is usually compiled after the first draft of a novel to keep me focused during revisions. In some cases, they creep into the story, some more clearly disguised then others.
For example
From the opening chapter of the first book of my Fashion and Fiends series:
Competing with the country music from the bar, distant rock music assailed his ears screaming ‘dazzled and doused in gin' about changing tastes in men. A convertible zipped so close by him it lifted his shirttails. Galen broke from his prey. The music blared from a powder blue Mercedes with top down.
It's "Taste in Men" by Placebo from the album Black Market Music.
More later...
Most of my writer friends use it in some form. Except for one. She writes while she watches TV. But, in general, my writer friends all utilize music in their writing.
My iPod has my (and my daughter's) entire music collection. So, I often put in on shuffle and listen to the random selections as I work through a literary problem. (Doing it right now... Sixpence None the Richer is on, Salt N Pepa before that.) Some times being out of control of the music leaves me to look at a problem from a new direction.
I also have playlists. These are usually for the car, when I'm brainstorming a scene. I have playlists for romantic scenes (usually dedicated to a specific couple, like good, old-fashioned mix tapes), others for sex scenes, others for fights and others for making up... I have playlists that bring to mind certain characters, and help me get into their POV; and playlists that those characters would listen to.
For example: Adelaide, my 25-year-old former American supermodel-- born in 1978, listens to Placebo, Depeche Mode, Noir Désir, Cake and Salt N Pepa. But her boss, 40-something Étienne d'Amille prefers Jazz, some Norah Jones, Melody Gardot, Django Rheinhart and Juliette Gréco, and anything from the James Bond movies. And Carla Bruni's music amuses him to no end. Now, his wife, Basilie, she likes Jazz but prefers classical. She adores Joshua Bell.
I've purchased CDs because I thought these characters would like them.
Now, the playlists geared at helping me write about these characters are different. When I write about the bad guys, I listen to a playlist my husband made: Chevelle, Prodigy, Nine Inch Nails, Limp Bizkit, Radiohead, Pixies, Tool, The Toadies, Alice in Chains...
And these are all different from the soundtrack for each book, which is usually compiled after the first draft of a novel to keep me focused during revisions. In some cases, they creep into the story, some more clearly disguised then others.
For example
From the opening chapter of the first book of my Fashion and Fiends series:
Competing with the country music from the bar, distant rock music assailed his ears screaming ‘dazzled and doused in gin' about changing tastes in men. A convertible zipped so close by him it lifted his shirttails. Galen broke from his prey. The music blared from a powder blue Mercedes with top down.
It's "Taste in Men" by Placebo from the album Black Market Music.
More later...
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