Behind the Scenes: StoryMill & THE BIRTHRIGHT OF PARKER CLEAVES

While I was looking for a publisher for THE OBVIOUS GAME, I started my next novel. It's tentatively called THE BIRTHRIGHT OF PARKER CLEAVES. I had to start something, because the waiting was killing me. In the past few weeks, I've returned to it with a vengeance to keep myself from becoming obsessed with how THE OBVIOUS GAME is selling, because at this point I've done pretty much everything in my power to sell it with pretty much zero marketing budget and a very indie distribution model. The reviews are good, and I can only hope word of mouth will take it from here. ONWARD!

THE OBVIOUS GAME took three years to write, but I thought I was done with it after one year. ROOKIE MISTAKE! I made the second rookie mistake of sending it out in that condition before it was ready. I'm determined not to do that with PARKER CLEAVES. I also had a lot of structural difficulties with TOG. I had scenes that didn't make any sense in the larger context of the story, characters that appeared out of nowhere with a huge role to play (Lin) but no backstory and pacing problems (too slow). (Which is interesting, because one reviewer said it now moves too fast. I think that's a YA genre thing -- moving the plot along quickly was something I heard over and over again from agents.)

I had about half of TOG written before I really started outlining the second half. Originally, the story ended right after Diana's big scene with Lin outside the school (no spoilers). Then a literary agent told me the story needed another half. Of course, that was hard to hear (I thought I was done!), but it was awesome advice. It absolutely needed another half, because all the best parts of the story (in my opinion) are in the last third of the book. Let's all thank God for unanswered prayers.

This time, I'm all about the outline. Some writers can't funtion that way, but we are all special snowflakes, and I've always worked best from an outline. I was one of the only people I know who actually used them for papers in high school. I decided it would be easier if I had a software program to help me. Most writers I know use Srivener, but I got an email deal for StoryMill and from what I can tell, they are pretty similar. The only issue I have with StoryMill is that it's on my desktop Mac, so if I want to work on TBoPC when I'm not at home, I have to export the outline to Word and print it or work on it from a different PC. Lately I've been completely overwhelmed looking at StoryMill, so I've been picking a scene to work on and writing it out longhand. I know! I haven't written longhand in years, but this is what is keeping me from freaking out right now. I'm going with it.

The other cool thing about software is that you can keep a running list of characters and tag your scenes with characters so you don't make that mistake I originally made with Lin -- a secondary character who becomes important but has no backstory. It's not easy to go back and sprinkle backstory like the Novel Fairy. By tagging characters to scenes, I can easily tell if there's a character who appears too much for his/her role in the story or not enough. I can also grab entire scenes and move them pretty painlessly. I wish I'd had that with TOG, because I ended up starting in five different places before I got it right. That was some white-knuckled cut-and-paste, I tell you.

Here's a list of my characters so far for TBoPC. I'm not sure about all of them. I haven't written Uncle Mike into the story yet at all. He may get replaced with a closer peer to Parker. There's a role that character needs to play, but I haven't decided who he is yet, only that he is a he. Also, who the fuck is Angela? I've already forgotten. Oops. Christopher was originally Clyde, but my husband told me he just couldn't relate to a Clyde in that role. I actually loved the name Clyde for spoiler-y reasons, but Beloved is usually right about knee-jerk reader reactions, so I've learned to trust him even though I think he's totally wrong. Time will tell.

Storymill
If you click on each of those, you could see a character sketch if I had actually done one, which I haven't. I usually only need those before I start writing, because once I get going, the character evolves so quickly in my head the descriptions just end up getting outdated too fast and are confusing. And embarrassing -- as IF I thought Helen would have brown hair, OMG! Yes, writers can even get embarrassed by themselves to themselves even if no one else is watching. Occupational hazard.

I recently read in one of my writing magazines that you should think of your shitty first draft as the clay, not the sculpture. When I was writing TOG, I thought I was working on the sculpture and tried to make the first draft all perfect. This time, I'm fully aware I'm puking out clay and that this draft sucks as a piece of writing and exists mostly to figure out the plot. Much less stressful. I'm about 16k words in, and I expect I'll top out at about 75k before I start revising. TOG is just under 69k, for reference, and I've been given the guideline of 50k-90k for young adult. The scenes I'm writing are all half-finished. I just try to get the mood for the scene right and if any dialogue comes to me out of the clear blue or because I'm eavesdropping in a food court, I get it down right away before I forget it. That's why those scenes in StoryMill are so nice. That method totally does not work in Word.

TOG focused on what it feels like to have an eating disorder and how to come back from one. TBoPC isn't an issues novel -- it will be a story about power, who has it and why.

If You Live in Kansas City, You Should Read This
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I'm on deadline today, so all I have to share is a giveaway for free tickets to the 2013 Kansas City Home Show and Flower, Lawn & Garden Show on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.

Took Buttonsworth to the vet today and we upped his insulin again. More later.

Squids Only Have One Hole
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The little angel ate too fast last night at dinner, and something went down the wrong tube. She kept hacking long after she should've been able to stop, to the point where it got humorous.

Me: "Well, it's stupid that humans eat and breath out of the same orifice, really. So much margin for error."

Her: "YACKACCCOUUUUGHG"

Me: "I mean, I think dolphins have two holes."

Her: "CGOAOGFAHSEASEAAASHLRG"

Him: "It could be worse. You could eat and poop out the same hole."

Her: (recovering) "Squids only have one hole."*

*I looked this up. It's actually sea anemone, but hey? SCIENCE!

 

The Man at Pizzabella
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Last night I was having dinner with a writer friend of mine. I'd brought her my extra copy of THE ESSENTIAL GUIDE TO GETTING YOUR BOOK PUBLISHED by The Book Doctors (Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry, who let me introduce them and their darling child to Jalepeno's and Reading Reptile on their last swing through Kansas City). My friend left the table toward the end of the meal, and a man about my dad's age leaned over from the next table (which was very nearby), gestured to the book and asked if I was trying to publish a book.

I got to tell him my novel came out last month. That was super fun.

We got into a conversation in which he told us he is voracious reader on his Kindle, that his eyesight isn't so good for print anymore, and that he'd like to publish a book. His wife leaned in at one point to say he was a fine writer, a gesture so sweet and loving I almost fell out of my chair. He asked if I'd majored in English, and I said not the first time. He told me he'd been a lawyer for years because his father wanted him to, and he really hated being a lawyer but he liked to write. I ended up giving him my author card and telling him it's never too late to write.

Because it's never too late to write.*

*Sometimes it's too late to write well. This post could've been a lot better if I had more time. But it's a cool story, and I'll totally forget it if I don't put it down. So, sorry! But still cool, eh?

More News From the Island of Misfit Cats

Remember how we put Petunia down in November because she had late-stage diabetes?

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SOB!

I took Sir Charles Buttonsworth to the vet yesterday because he peed in the little angel's closet and was acting weird. Turns out he was severely constipated and had to stay overnight getting enema after enema.

Before I left, I told the vet to also run labs on a gut hunch.

The vet called a little bit ago. Buttonsworth has diabetes.

I cried. I asked for another vet to give me her opinion. She said he's an excellent candidate. Nothing wrong but the diabetes, docile personality, not ancient (I'm finding I have no idea how old any cat I ever adopt really is).

When I learned Petunia would need a three-day hospital stay and to be boarded every time we left town and shots twice a day, I knew in my gut she would never put up with it. She needed to be sedated just to get a vaccine.

When I learned Buttonsworth would need to come back in a week to see if the shots were working and he'd need to be boarded every time we left town and shots twice a day, I knew in my heart I was going to fight for him. Not because I loved Petunia any less, but because I knew she would be so miserable with all that medical interference. Buttonsworth has had a Brazilian, six enemas and a blood draw in the past week and purred his way through the whole thing. I think the fat cat might be able to handle insulin shots.

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The Manx Gets a Brazilian

I am such a bad chooser of shelter animals.

But not from their perspective, I suppose?

Buttonsworth-Belly


Check out my review of awesome, customizable retro dresses from Eshakti (plus a Surrender, Dorothy coupon code good through March 25, 2013) on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews!

But the Road Was Clear
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This last snow was tornadic in its pattern over Kansas City -- a few inches here, a foot there. My front yard is snow up to my knees even in the areas that aren't drifted, and lanes are blocked on the road unexpectedly with piles of dirty snow. Last night, I was supposed to meet my friend for dinner a half-hour drive away. "I have to wait for Beloved to come home with the 4x4," I said, expecting the entire world to look like my street, which is plowed but peppered with snow chunks that have fallen off houses and trees.

"Well, she said, if you need a separate vehicle to traverse the city, we can always reschedule."

I started to suspect all of Kansas City did not look like my part of it.

Beloved got home, I got in the truck and took off. To completely dry highways, nary an ice patch in sight. Even the side streets in Martin City looked plowed. And, in fact, Martin City appeared to have ankle-deep snow, not knee-deep. I started to feel silly.

You see, I hadn't left my house since Sunday except on foot. As the snow continued to fall every night and every morning resulted in shoveling and snowblowing and all things involving ski pants and boots every time I left the house, I almost forgot about normal life. The little angel was out of school for four days out of five and I started to wonder if she would ever, ever go back.

The more snowed-in I felt, the more certain I became I should not leave. But the roads were completely clear.

It was all in my head.