Cool play on words, eh? Actually that was a typo, but since I tend to kind of go with the flow, here's my horoscope for today from horoscope.com
Things seem to be going quite well for you in many respects, Aquarius. Your thinking is clear, your emotions are under control, and the puzzle pieces are fitting into place. This is your time to take advantage of these pockets of good fortune and turn them into something huge. You have the power to make anything happen - especially now.
Hmm.... sounds pretty darn good. Too bad I'm not actually to the point of querying today - maybe I'll stick this one in my pocket and pretend that's what my horoscope said on the day that I do sound out those query letters. Speaking of which, I re-wrote my query last week - it's slightly different and I hope that I got out all of those cliche phrases, but there's still one sentence that doesn't seem to flow right so I'm going to wait a while before posting it. Tomorrow however, be on the lookout. I've decided to post Chapter 1 of Nikki's Wish (again) and do a call out for Beta readers.
Til then, here's the run-down of what I accomplished this week:
1. Did a fair bit of revising different scenes. Took out one whole section and a bit of another which managed to let me cut about 2K words. I got most of the changes with Nikki's mother done, and I changed up a few things in the beginning 3 chapters that I thought made Nikki look too young.
2. Did some tightening by searching for overused words: my focus was on had, just and adverbs. Funny thing about the adverbs is that there were few pages where I had more than 2 per page and those that I did have tended to be in sections of dialogue. Since people do throw in more adverbs while they're talking, I didn't fuss too much over those. The ones that I did fuss over were the ones that I had in description sections. The two adverbs I came across most often: actually, probably and only (which sometimes isn't an adverb). A lot of these I just tossed out the window.
3. I finished one book - yeah, I know not my typical pace, but this was a rather thick book - Dreaming of Amelia by Jaclyn Moriarty. I really enjoyed it and I'll be doing a review soon.
4. Read way too many blogs. :)
My manuscript is starting to tire me out at this point. I've done too many revisions over the past few weeks and every sentence I read sounds blahhhhh!! Or it could just be that I just have Jaclyn Moriarty envy - man does that girl know how to turn a phrase. At any rate, I'm only going to allow myself to do revisions for one more week and then I'm going to take a break while I put it into some more beta reader's hands (and yes, my sisters).
Now for contests: yeah, I've become addicted to these.
1. From choco at in which a girl reads - choco does really cool reviews and I encourage you to join her site even if you don't intend to enter the contest.
2. a newbie blogger, sparkling reviews that I just came across is doing another cool contest.
Cheers guys!
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Monday, August 9, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Revision tip/s
First up is something I recently read off someone's blog and I sincerely apologize to the original poster but I can't remember who it was (I searched my dashboard and couldn't find it, so if you posted this let me know so I can give you credit). Addendum: Yay! She read my post. Here's the link to Meredith's original tip. The writer suggests that you type your story in Courier New font until it's as polished as it can be, then change everything to Times New Roman. She says that she always, always finds little errors that she missed. Well, I tried this and even though my manuscript is not done, I can tell you that it works. I think it comes from the idea that your eye is trained to see things a certain way so when you've been looking at your manuscript in a particular font for so long errors fade into the background. When you switch font, suddenly your eye picks those things up. I found so many mistakes and little errors. So now I'm training my eye in Courier and when its ready for querying I'll change it back to TNR and see what I missed. I think the trick works for any font combination, but I've kind of gotten used to courier now. A little corollary that I'd like to add to this is to view your document in double pages - full screen reading for you Word users - it makes it that much easier to see your work in full and you can pick out paragraphs that are too long, snippets of dialogue that run on without any breaks, etc. etc.
My second editing tip is searching for over used words. There are lots of them, but I'm going to focus on the word had. First of all it doesn't sound good when you have a lot of these strung together in a paragraph and second, you can often pinpoint parts that are too backstory heavy when you see three or more of these together. A quick tip is to use the find feature, type in had and then click on the 'highlight all' button. That way you can quickly flip through the pages hunting for paragraphs where had is overused (3 or more times). Now you certainly don't have to delete or reword all of them, but often times just some slight variations can make the paragraph sound better - and even help you to delete extra words. The only thing that's slightly annoying is when you go into the paragraph to make changes it removes all of the highlights so you have to re-click it. There may be a way around this but I haven't found it yet. You can do the same thing to quickly hunt for adverbs by typing in ly. Now you might say, but Angie, that will highlight so many things!! Actually if you're writing is sound then it won't, (I tried it and yes it does highlight some things besides adverbs, but not that many) and if you're an adverb junkie then that would be one way to rid yourself of the habit. My recommendation is to limit yourself to 1 maybe 2 adverbs per page.
Those are my tips for the day. If you have a quick tip you'd like to share, let me know!!
I made a quick revision to this post after reading the link that Joann provided and making a wordle picture of my manuscript. I also copied all of my words into Excel so now I'll have a working list. Thanks Joann!!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Pulling weeds
So I was ranting to my good friend, Mel, yesterday about all the frustrating things that were going on that day - from cell disrupters not working, to bosses being kind of slack, to toddlers not eating, and in the end I mentioned how therapeutic it is to pull weeds. What? You say? Pull weeds? Yes, pull weeds. If you've never benefited from this stress reliever you don't know what you're missing. First there's the satisfying physical exhaustion of your back aching and your arms feeling like they're getting going to burst, then there's the sweet sound of ripping earth. And then... then presto! Your yard/garden looks so much more bee-u-tee-ful without all those ugly eyesores of nature. Sure, you get a bit of dirt thrown in your face, and once in a while a spider will land on you, but that sound.... oh, it's so comforting. Hitting a punching bag or pillow cannot compare. Pulling weeds. Yes, that's where it's at.
Writing. Oh right. I forgot this was a writing blog. Well, I suppose that pulling weeds is a bit like doing revisions. We all have a few weeds in our manuscripts, those paragraphs or descriptions that just don't need to be there and are suffocating the rest of the beautiful words around them. And, most often our finished work looks much better after we pull a few of those out. The sound - well, no. You don't get the satisfying crunch of roots disentangling themselves from the ground. Really, all you get is a little click as you hit that delete button. And of course, not all of our writing weeds are big ugly patches of crabgrass. There are a few flowers, often prettier than dandelions, that have to be snipped/ripped now and then, and that's never fun. So, the satisfaction is not quite complete. But, in the end it has to be done. How extensively is of course up to you to you the gardener... er, writer. Yeah, whatever.
So my big question of the day is how many weeds... um, words did you rip today? In the past 24 hours - I've pulled 1700!! Yep 1700. I'm going to need some hedge clippers soon. And that's my random rambling for today.
Now on to some contests: (my real reason for blogging today). :)
First up is a contest for some awesome books from the folks at YA highway.
Second is a contest from Roni and Julies contest where they are giving away some awesome prizes including query letter or first 5 pages critiques from Agent Suzie Townsend, Editor Brendan Deenan, Janet Reed's assistant Meredith Barnes and Fine Print Lit's intern Gemma Cooper. This is a super cool contest that all inspiring writers should enter. *I'm keeping my fingers crossed*
Thursday's addendum - looky, I got a new blog award from Jen at unedited. Go check out her blog.
And that's all folks,
Cheers,
Angie
Writing. Oh right. I forgot this was a writing blog. Well, I suppose that pulling weeds is a bit like doing revisions. We all have a few weeds in our manuscripts, those paragraphs or descriptions that just don't need to be there and are suffocating the rest of the beautiful words around them. And, most often our finished work looks much better after we pull a few of those out. The sound - well, no. You don't get the satisfying crunch of roots disentangling themselves from the ground. Really, all you get is a little click as you hit that delete button. And of course, not all of our writing weeds are big ugly patches of crabgrass. There are a few flowers, often prettier than dandelions, that have to be snipped/ripped now and then, and that's never fun. So, the satisfaction is not quite complete. But, in the end it has to be done. How extensively is of course up to you to you the gardener... er, writer. Yeah, whatever.
So my big question of the day is how many weeds... um, words did you rip today? In the past 24 hours - I've pulled 1700!! Yep 1700. I'm going to need some hedge clippers soon. And that's my random rambling for today.
Now on to some contests: (my real reason for blogging today). :)
First up is a contest for some awesome books from the folks at YA highway.
Second is a contest from Roni and Julies contest where they are giving away some awesome prizes including query letter or first 5 pages critiques from Agent Suzie Townsend, Editor Brendan Deenan, Janet Reed's assistant Meredith Barnes and Fine Print Lit's intern Gemma Cooper. This is a super cool contest that all inspiring writers should enter. *I'm keeping my fingers crossed*
Thursday's addendum - looky, I got a new blog award from Jen at unedited. Go check out her blog.
And that's all folks,
Cheers,
Angie
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Bettina post 5
So, for those who've been reading weekly, this is the conclusion of chapter 2 of Bettina. Not sure if I'll be posting next week. I need to think about what direction this is going in and do some revisions, but we'll see. I included a little bit from last week since it left off in kind of a strange place. Enjoy, tuesday peeps.
With the money still in my hand, I grab the drawer and slide it back into place. I don’t walk to the kitchen to show Mel what we’ve found. Rather, I turn in the opposite direction and walk back to my booth, collect my books and newspaper, and throw a quarter on the table. I head towards the door with the fifty-dollar bill wadded in my fist.
“Erik, aren’t you forgetting something?” Jessica asks.
“Nope.” I stuff the bill into my pocket. “See you around, Jess.”
“Erik, you can’t just...but that’s stealing!”
She’s horrified. Innocence shattered, crush gone.
Good riddance.
“It’s not stealing,” I argue as we continue out the door. “Like they say, finders keepers, losers weepers.”
“But you found it in the drawer!”
“No, I found it under the drawer.”
“In Mel’s diner!”
“So what? It would have stayed lost forever if it hadn’t been for me. Mel already considered it gone, a loss, never to be seen again. Besides, he owes me.”
This was true. With only waitresses on staff and Mel having a bad back, he needed someone to unload the trucks and wash out the grease trap and fix the jukebox once in a while. I’d done a ton of shit for him over the past year, but all the thanks I’d ever gotten was a ten percent discount on my meals. At 25 cents a cup, I’d have to drink that sludge he called coffee for a good decade before he paid me back. And in truth, this is why I didn’t feel guilty about the little heist I’d been planning. This fifty-dollar bill had my name on it, and using it to get Jessica off my balls - icing on the cake.
I walk out the door just as the parking lot erupts in a cacophony of screeching tires and bellowing teenagers. Studebakers, and T-birds, Clippers and Desotos, one after the other, enter the café’s south entrance - all with the same song blaring from the radio. It’s telling that everyone is tuned into KJ102; it’s the only station our small town gets.
I head for the green Cadillac convertible that’s parked across the way. Some guys say hi to me as I pass, others nod. A group of girls look my way. I get to the car and throw my books in the back seat. Just as I reach for the door, Jessica pulls open the other one and climbs inside.
I stare.
“Don’t do this, Jess,” I say.
“I’m not leaving until we talk about this.”
I glance around the parking lot, at two dozen of our classmates and friends who are just as shocked as I am.
Let me reiterate. Jessica’s father is a minister, very well respected in our town and very much in control of who, when, why and how Jessica interacts with a boy. Any boy. This girl isn’t allowed to have a boy carry her books home for her much less give her a ride in his car. The idea that someone like me should drive her home is preposterous. Insane. It’s...it’s...
It’s asking for trouble.
“Jessica, get out of the car.”
“Nope.”
“It’s my car, I said get out.”
“Actually, it’s your father’s car.”
Well, yeah, it is, but that’s beside the point.
“Jess, for the last time, leave me alone.”
“Not until we talk. Of course you could always try to force me out. You’re much bigger and stronger than I am, but I hope you wouldn’t resort to such...violence.”
My eye twitches. I’m angry. I’m seething. I am P.O.’d and that’s when my best friend Tommy jumps into the backseat.
“Hey man, what’cha doing with the caddy? Johnathan lost his marbles or something?”
I get into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut. “I have to take it to Carl’s for an oil change.”
“I thought Johnathan hated Carl.”
“He does, but Carl will do it for free so he let me drive it in today.”
“Cool. I need a little R and R.” He drums the seat cushion, as if to say ‘let’s go!’
I know exactly what Tommy means by R and R. Carl is…was, my Uncle Joe’s best friend. They served together during The War, but unlike Joe, Carl doesn’t have a stack of medals to his name. He’s been in some trouble, served time once and when Tommy and I go to visit him, our recreation activities usually consist of looking though girly mags and getting drunk. It’s no wonder Johnathan hates him. But then, I hate Johnathan.
“You can’t go, Tommy,” I say.
“What the fuck?”
I snap my head in his direction. Did he not see the beautiful reverend’s daughter sitting next to me?
“Watch the tongue, Jack.”
He backs off, like I’ve slapped him across the face. Tommy is a good guy. He’s been my best friend since I was six years old, but I swear sometimes the guy’s got grass growing in his ears. He reminds me of Babyface Nelson. A trustworthy bloke, but so thick in the head you could have sliced him with a meat cleaver. He was dangerous. That was Nelson. That is Tommy.
“Jess and I have something we need to discuss,” I say. “I’ll catch you later.”
Tommy looks from me to Jessica and back to me. He knows something is up. He smirks in the way that only Tommy can.
“Later,” I snarl.
“Alright, alright,” he says. He climbs out of the car as if he’s constipated. Maybe he is. My own stomach is coiling up like a snake, and as I drive out of the parking lot, hot, unavailable, hands-off, ‘daddy’s gonna boot your ass back to hell where you came from’ girl sitting next to me, I know…I’m going to regret this.
With the money still in my hand, I grab the drawer and slide it back into place. I don’t walk to the kitchen to show Mel what we’ve found. Rather, I turn in the opposite direction and walk back to my booth, collect my books and newspaper, and throw a quarter on the table. I head towards the door with the fifty-dollar bill wadded in my fist.
“Erik, aren’t you forgetting something?” Jessica asks.
“Nope.” I stuff the bill into my pocket. “See you around, Jess.”
“Erik, you can’t just...but that’s stealing!”
She’s horrified. Innocence shattered, crush gone.
Good riddance.
“It’s not stealing,” I argue as we continue out the door. “Like they say, finders keepers, losers weepers.”
“But you found it in the drawer!”
“No, I found it under the drawer.”
“In Mel’s diner!”
“So what? It would have stayed lost forever if it hadn’t been for me. Mel already considered it gone, a loss, never to be seen again. Besides, he owes me.”
This was true. With only waitresses on staff and Mel having a bad back, he needed someone to unload the trucks and wash out the grease trap and fix the jukebox once in a while. I’d done a ton of shit for him over the past year, but all the thanks I’d ever gotten was a ten percent discount on my meals. At 25 cents a cup, I’d have to drink that sludge he called coffee for a good decade before he paid me back. And in truth, this is why I didn’t feel guilty about the little heist I’d been planning. This fifty-dollar bill had my name on it, and using it to get Jessica off my balls - icing on the cake.
I walk out the door just as the parking lot erupts in a cacophony of screeching tires and bellowing teenagers. Studebakers, and T-birds, Clippers and Desotos, one after the other, enter the café’s south entrance - all with the same song blaring from the radio. It’s telling that everyone is tuned into KJ102; it’s the only station our small town gets.
I head for the green Cadillac convertible that’s parked across the way. Some guys say hi to me as I pass, others nod. A group of girls look my way. I get to the car and throw my books in the back seat. Just as I reach for the door, Jessica pulls open the other one and climbs inside.
I stare.
“Don’t do this, Jess,” I say.
“I’m not leaving until we talk about this.”
I glance around the parking lot, at two dozen of our classmates and friends who are just as shocked as I am.
Let me reiterate. Jessica’s father is a minister, very well respected in our town and very much in control of who, when, why and how Jessica interacts with a boy. Any boy. This girl isn’t allowed to have a boy carry her books home for her much less give her a ride in his car. The idea that someone like me should drive her home is preposterous. Insane. It’s...it’s...
It’s asking for trouble.
“Jessica, get out of the car.”
“Nope.”
“It’s my car, I said get out.”
“Actually, it’s your father’s car.”
Well, yeah, it is, but that’s beside the point.
“Jess, for the last time, leave me alone.”
“Not until we talk. Of course you could always try to force me out. You’re much bigger and stronger than I am, but I hope you wouldn’t resort to such...violence.”
My eye twitches. I’m angry. I’m seething. I am P.O.’d and that’s when my best friend Tommy jumps into the backseat.
“Hey man, what’cha doing with the caddy? Johnathan lost his marbles or something?”
I get into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut. “I have to take it to Carl’s for an oil change.”
“I thought Johnathan hated Carl.”
“He does, but Carl will do it for free so he let me drive it in today.”
“Cool. I need a little R and R.” He drums the seat cushion, as if to say ‘let’s go!’
I know exactly what Tommy means by R and R. Carl is…was, my Uncle Joe’s best friend. They served together during The War, but unlike Joe, Carl doesn’t have a stack of medals to his name. He’s been in some trouble, served time once and when Tommy and I go to visit him, our recreation activities usually consist of looking though girly mags and getting drunk. It’s no wonder Johnathan hates him. But then, I hate Johnathan.
“You can’t go, Tommy,” I say.
“What the fuck?”
I snap my head in his direction. Did he not see the beautiful reverend’s daughter sitting next to me?
“Watch the tongue, Jack.”
He backs off, like I’ve slapped him across the face. Tommy is a good guy. He’s been my best friend since I was six years old, but I swear sometimes the guy’s got grass growing in his ears. He reminds me of Babyface Nelson. A trustworthy bloke, but so thick in the head you could have sliced him with a meat cleaver. He was dangerous. That was Nelson. That is Tommy.
“Jess and I have something we need to discuss,” I say. “I’ll catch you later.”
Tommy looks from me to Jessica and back to me. He knows something is up. He smirks in the way that only Tommy can.
“Later,” I snarl.
“Alright, alright,” he says. He climbs out of the car as if he’s constipated. Maybe he is. My own stomach is coiling up like a snake, and as I drive out of the parking lot, hot, unavailable, hands-off, ‘daddy’s gonna boot your ass back to hell where you came from’ girl sitting next to me, I know…I’m going to regret this.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Snip, snip, snip.
So revisions continue. I feel a little proud of myself, without really intending to I managed to cut 2K words from my WIP - AND I found a couple more scenes that can be cut back quite a bit, though I haven't exactly decided what parts of them are going to be cut. The big thing that happened this week though, is that I went back on my decision to change a plot arc. I tried it, honestly I did, but as I was making revisions, I felt like the main character was changing too much in relation to how her mother was interacting with her. Along with that I was having to cut too many scenes that I really liked and it actually started to make me depressed. So, I decided to go back to my original story arc. But, I did manage to get something out of the process. My main character's mother now has more personality (at least I think so), and I switched a few things in the main body of the story that will hopefully drive the plot arc with her mother forward a bit more. I know I'm being kind of vague here, but to give you a hint, it involves Nikki stealing her mother's divorce papers. Overall, it was a good lesson in how to treat your story - as your own. Some ideas are good and you can and should try them out, but if they don't feel right and you find yourself not liking the story as much then you shouldn't force it. It is your story after all.
I also thought that today I'd share a bit of my revisions. So here is the original scene that introduces Nikki's mother, followed by the revision. In the revision, which is a bit longer, I tried to show the differences in their respective personalities while still maintaining that Mom is sensitive to Nikki's predicament, having lost her sister 9 months ago. The words in italics come from Nikki's sister, who Nikki occasionally imagines is talking to her.
I also thought that today I'd share a bit of my revisions. So here is the original scene that introduces Nikki's mother, followed by the revision. In the revision, which is a bit longer, I tried to show the differences in their respective personalities while still maintaining that Mom is sensitive to Nikki's predicament, having lost her sister 9 months ago. The words in italics come from Nikki's sister, who Nikki occasionally imagines is talking to her.
Original:
“I know you’re awake, pumpkin,” she said. “You’re too much of a restless sleeper to fool your mother.”
I remained perfectly still.
“But, if you want to sleep in today that’s fine. I can’t imagine why a young girl would want to go to school when she has a secret admirer.”
Secret admirer? What was she talking about?
“If he’s anything like his friend… but then I’m not an expert when it comes to handsome men with French accents.”
“French accent?” I ripped the covers off.
“So you are awake?”
“What are you talking about? A guy with a French accent?”
“He came to the door just now to deliver these to you.” She handed me a long white box with a red ribbon tied around the center. “Tall, well built, with the nicest manners. He called me Madame. Just like that, Maa-daam.”
Guy.
“He said these were from Sam.”
Sam.
Revision:
My hand floated to the back of my head, but before I could feel for a bump, a soft knock on the door flew me into a panic. Knowing it was my mother, I flopped backwards and pulled the covers over my head. She knocked again, louder.
“I’m coming in, Nikki.”
I pretended to sleep as she padded across the floor. There was a squeak and then a splash of light filtered through my blanket. I pulled the quilt down just enough to make a peephole.
Suddenly her face was in my field of vision. “Time to wake up, Nik.” She grabbed the quilt and ripped it off.
“God, you’re rude,” I said and wrestled for the blanket. “I’m cold and that light is too bright. Shut the curtain.”
“Of course you’re cold.” Her brow puckered with disapproval. “Look what you’re wearing.”
“It’s a t-shirt.”
“I’m not sure that counts as a t-shirt. But as long as you don’t wear it to school, I’m not going to argue. As for the curtain, you need more light in here.” To prove her point she went to the other window, stepping over a pile of clothes and nearly knocking down a tower of CDs along the way. She opened that curtain as well and turned around. Seeing an empty cereal bowl on my desk, she held it up for inspection.
“What? It was dry.”
She sighed. “Nikki, you have to clean this up. Or at least…” Her eyes swept over Shani’s neater half of the room, and then back at mine. Her nose crinkled. “This room is so off-balance,” she finished.
She’s talking Feng Shui again, isn’t she?
Well, you’ve got to admit this room sort of resembles that old Batman character, what was his name? Two Face?
“Maybe we should move you into the other room,” Mom added. “It’s too dark in here.”
“No! I like the attic. It’s roomy.”
“For two people it made sense, but now that…” Her voice trailed off as she picked up one of Shani’s books. She swiped her hand across it as if to lift the dust off. But it came back clean. She looked at it and then back at me. “Well, you think about it,” she said and replaced the book on its shelf. She walked to the chair in the corner and grabbed a long white box. “A boy delivered these this morning. They’re for you.”
“For me?”
“Tall guy, well built, with a French accent.”
Guy.
“He said these were from Sam.”
Sam.
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