Learn Writing with Uncle Jim, Volume 1

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James D. Macdonald

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SeanDSchaffer said:
Forgive me for asking, but I'm honestly curious: why would an author want to burn his first novel?

Because it's probably not his best work.

This doesn't mean that you shouldn't finish it, and make it the best you can while you're writing it.
 

maestrowork

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One shouldn't never burn their first novel... when you're older, you can look back and have a chuckle.

I wish I had all my work saved... when my parents moved around, they tossed out things they felt was irrelevant and useless, including all my old scribbling, notebooks I kept, etc. All my old books, albums, etc. I have almost no memento left from my childhood! My parents tossed them all away (except for pictures, which were the only thing they thought were valuable)...

Funny, I wasn't that mad when I found out. I was just resigned. I'm envious of people who have a whole attic or basement full of old stuff, like their first love letter, etc.

A few years ago I did find a letter from my girlfriend back in high school... sent to me AFTER I left home and I never saw it until then. Well, the whole experience of discovering the letter inspired me to write my novel...
 

tjwriter

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I figure the first novel to be a valuable learning experience. I can work to improve a number of my skills and discover who I am as a writer. I will see this novel to the finish because completing it will provide a great sense of accomplishment and motivation. I can only hope it will be salable, and I will make the effort. But when all is said (or written) and done, the experience will be the biggest part of finishing it.
 

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Comin' home like ole' dirty yeller.

Hi Jim, just thought I'd roll my arse into this forum having spent the last five months in non-fiction. My novel is now about 38,000 words, so I need to rub shoulders with some novelators. I've read most everything down stream, and do believe in the Bic method. But I call it FTK, fingers to keys, since my butt in chair can usually sit there all day without getting the screen filled. I'm ex-SFWA, so I'll be in the sci-fi group too. I officially ban myself from the PA thread as of now, and subscribe to this one.

Triceratops
 

wurdwise

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I posted this in the Share Your Work forum under my excerpt, then realized it was a pretty general observation, and I would probably get more feedback here, and maybe others are having some of these same feelings.



Boy, this novel writing business is hard.

I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. Believe it or not, I thought I was near the end! I started out in July of 2003, from the viewpoint of more than just Maddy, Grandma, Corey and Daddy had a voice, there were 300 pages and whole lot more story. And I had no intentions of writing a middle reader.

I didn't even know where I was headed when I started, I just knew I had some stuff I wanted to share, which was a mistake for me, if I EVER write another novel, I see that I am the kind of person who needs some sort of outline, if only a skeleton of the story.

I printed out a hard copy, physically cut and pasted for days, whittling it down to the basic story and only 100 pages, starting all over again, with only Maddy, in present tense. I wrote the whole draft life that, only then discovering there was such a thing as a middle reader. Brainy, ain't I? I wasl also advised that very few books were written in third person present, did some research and discovered it was true, gave past tense a shot and saw how much better it read, and decided to change it to past tense.

The novel is 170 pages, I was on page 35 in the process of changing it from present to past tense, moving along at steady clip, I thought, but kept wondering about the opening, what a publisher would think about the first page, and posted it here.

Now, I see how much more work there is to do. I wonder, should I pick up where I was? Changing the tense till the end of the draft? Or should I print out a hard copy now and look for all these info dumps to decide what needs to go, what needs to be moved, what needs to be filtered into the action? The novel happens over three days, and I don't know if that's my problem about trying to tell so much, or if I am trying to pack the first three chapters, which is what a publisher will want to see first, to impress. But I think about that, and I doubt it's true, I have info dumps throughout! I thought that was pacing! Info dump, action, info dump, action! LOL Ecck!

I also have lots of punctuation issues. I have qualified too much dialogue with sentences, I have used those sentences incorrectly as dialogue tags, I still have to look for too much "she" instead of Maddy, as I do with the other chararcters. I see what you mean, Jalpha, about tackling one issue at a time, that makes perfect sense. But I am feeling disheartened this morning, the task appears to be huge.

In hindsight, I should have been reading this thread before I ever started writing the novel.
__________________
 
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Christine N.

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<putting on thinking cap and raising hand>

Oo Oo, Uncle Jim, pick me pick me!

Sat down to write the second in a series. (the first one is aging). After a rough start, I got a couple of pages down.

How do you not infodump? Ugh, I'm trying to tie the books together, as series do, but I find myself writing this long narrative introducing stuff that's important to this book from the last one. Assuming that people didn't read the last one.

I'm trying to "blend it in" slowly, but it's not going well.

Please help me.
 

James D. Macdonald

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How do you not InfoDump?

You don't! Not in the first draft. Dump that info right on the page. It counts for writing.

Then, when you go back for the second draft, take your big honkin' ol' red pencil and cross it all out!

See, the InfoDump is gone.

This is material the author needs to know, but not necessarily the reader. The reader will learn all that's necessary from the character interactions during the course of your book.
 

wurdwise

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James D. Macdonald said:
How do you not InfoDump?

You don't! Not in the first draft. Dump that info right on the page. It counts for writing.

Then, when you go back for the second draft, take your big honkin' ol' red pencil and cross it all out!

See, the InfoDump is gone.

This is material the author needs to know, but not necessarily the reader. The reader will learn all that's necessary from the character interactions during the course of your book.

I can't see how this is possible, or as simplisitic as you make it sound. Sorry, I know you are the pro, and I mean no disrespect, but jeez, the 'cross it all out' part! Some of that info is part of the story, and maybe lots of it should go, but if all you have is character interaction, how do you have a story?

Let me clear up that last sentence. For example, I have been told that I qualify too much dialogue, but I thought of that as a way to blend in the characterization without info dumping. And if don't tell the reader some details here and there, how will you get the story across through only character interaction if qualifiying their interaction is wrong too? Does that make sense? It just seems like you have to have a bit of narrative, mine is too much, I know, but a least a few paragraphs here and there to provide pacing and at least enough info to let the reader know what the heck is going on.
 
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Generally, I write a page or two describing the characters, their back ground, what they look like, what they like and don't like and what drivers the. I keep this open as I write so I can insert information as needed. Of course, characters have this habit of evolving of their own accord and the original info becomes dated, but that's how I start.
 

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wurdwise said:
Some of that info is part of the story, and maybe lots of it should go, but if all you have is character interaction, how do you have a story?

If I can beg your indulgence and quote myself a bit:

Way back in this thread (kindly cataloged by Mac in the Uncle Jim Undiluted thread here) I gave a sentence-by-sentence breakdown of What I Was Doing in the opening of a story.

This is the opening scene:

Mrs. Roger Collins stood in the visiting room of her home. "Mansion" would have been a better word. The sun shone in through a bay window flanked by French doors. Filmy drapes kept the sun from bleaching the delicate cloth on the circular table in the center of the room. Spiced air from the gardens gently wafted in.

Mrs. Collins was expecting her friend Mrs. Frederick Baxter. She had something she wanted to talk to Shirley about. Last night the strangest thing happened. Mary Collins had known for years that the house was haunted, because there was a window on the second floor that would not stay closed if it wasn't locked. But last night, in the misty dark of twilight, while entering the upstairs guest bedroom, she saw the translucent shape of a young lady, and the apparition looked at her and she felt --

"Mary, dear!"

It was Shirley, being shown in by Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins had retired at the end of the war, and he had been very helpful during his wife's recent illness.

Mary had the tea things ready, and the tea itself, a nice oolong with a great deal of milk and sugar, occupied their time along with the small talk of doings in the town. Mr. Collins removed himself to his study. He had always played the stock market, and played it well. The war had left him wealthy, still quite young, for munitions had been greatly in demand. The prosperity that the whole nation now experienced made his investments more valuable by the day, while the contacts that he had across the nation gave him insights that perhaps other men didn't have.

Now was the time for Mary to tell the story, for that delightful frisson, in the bright afternoon.

"I'm sure you'll think I'm being silly," Mary said, "but I felt such a feeling of sadness coming from that woman. It was like a palpable wave. I gasped and took a step backward. Then I switched on the light, and she was gone!"

"You're so brave," Shirley said. "I'm sure I would have screamed and run."

"I was too surprised," Mary said. "And it wasn't until the light was on that I realized it wasn't a real woman at all; she was gone. She would have had to come past me to leave the room, you know. I looked under the bed and in the closet, and in the bathroom, but she was gone completely. It was only then that I realize I'd been able to see through her."

"You could? What are you going to do now?"

Mary's eyes sparkled, and she sipped her tea. "I thought it would such great fun to have a seance."

"Are you quite certain? I mean, if you felt this sadness ... that can't be good."

"She wants help, the poor thing," Mary said. "This is an old house. After all these years of opening the window, she's finally gotten to trust me enough to appear and ask for my help."

"What does Roger say about your plan?"

"Oh, I haven't told him. You know what a stick-in-the-mud he is."


And here is the line-by-line:


Mrs. Roger Collins [Our protagonist] stood in the visiting room of her home. [I'm trying to show an upscale life, also that this is a woman who's taken her husband's name. It shows a social relationship, and a social class.] "Mansion" would have been a better word. [A bit of countersinking there for the benefit of the deaf old lady in the back row. Perhaps this was unnecessary. I might cut this from another draft, or I might not.] The sun shone in through a bay window flanked by French doors. [Simple description, to contrast with the fancier description that's coming in the next sentence. I'm trying to build a picture of the room.] Filmy drapes kept the sun from bleaching the delicate cloth on the circular table in the center of the room. [Lots of adjectives in that sentence, eh? The sun -- our scene is set in California, and our theme is bringing light to dark places (revealing secrets). Filmy drapes are ones that can be seen through. A mystery is obscured, but will be revealed. A character will later walk through those French doors. The table is the location of the seance that's being planned; its shape represents unity. Bleaching the tablecloth suggests that revealing the truth may not be a good thing. That the tablecloth can be bleached shows that it is not white -- it's not pure. That's the secret again, the mystery that will be revealed by the end.] Spiced air from the gardens gently wafted in. [That garden is the location of the climax. The secret is indeed a "spicy" one. It involves adultery, amongst other things. This room is an important location; other rooms in the house are described far less fully. Here the room must stand for the others -- the picture the reader gets will form a template for the rest of the house.]

Mrs. Collins was expecting her friend Mrs. Frederick Baxter. [Straight narrative, introduces a second major (but not main) character.] She had something she wanted to talk to Shirley about. [Lets us know that Mrs. Baxter also is her husband's property, that we're in a certain social millieu. Tells us the character's name (by which we'll know her for the rest of the story). I say "talk to" rather than "talk with" to show what the power relationship is between these two characters.] Last night the strangest thing happened. [Straight narrative, introduces the plot.] Mary Collins had known for years that the house was haunted, because there was a window on the second floor that would not stay closed if it wasn't locked. [Setting the genre. This is a ghost story, in addition to being a mystery. The window is a red herring, by the way, but it will give our characters something to think about and something to do while the rest of the plot works out. It will also motivate our characters to stand where they need to be standing for certain crucial developments later.] But last night, in the misty dark of twilight, [Hammering home the darkness/obscurity imagery; contrast with the sunny day (though the sun is obscured as well).] while entering the upstairs guest bedroom, [Another important location, used in the run-up to the climax] she saw the translucent [The clarity imagery again.] shape of a young lady, and the apparition looked at her and she felt-- [Oh, yes, indeed. Her feelings are very important in what is to come. But we aren't told just yet what those feelings were, because she thinks she knows them, but she really doesn't. I use the em-dash to show that the narrative is broken abruptly by the next bit of dialog. We're in third person limited, here, showing Mary's thoughts. The rest of the story will be in third person limited from the point of view of another character, who will be introduced in the next scene. This is the only time we'll be able to see our protagonist this clearly. We need to build up sympathy for her now.]

"Mary, dear!" [Dialog, breaking in on, and breaking up, that rather long narrative block we just had. Reinforces our protagonist's name. Reveals the charcter of the speaker.]
It was Shirley, being shown in by Mr. Collins. [Generally, it was is a weak opening for a paragraph. Shirley and Mr. Collins are major characters, but not protagonists. I don't want to take the focus off Mary Collins.] Mr. Collins had retired at the end of the war, and he had been very helpful during his wife's recent illness. [If I were doing this again, I'd have said the Great War rather than the recent war, in order to more firmly establish the time. That "recent illness" is very important, but I want to slip it by the readers. Sure, the clue's there, and it's on the very first page, but I don't want them to pick up on it yet. So, I put it in a weak paragraph that's also introducing Mr. Collins (the villain of the piece, as it happens).]

Mary had the tea things ready, and the tea itself, a nice oolong with a great deal of milk and sugar, occupied their time along with the small talk of doings in the town. [A busy, fussy sentence to show the frivolous nature of our main characters, and to contrast with what worse is to come. Reveals character, too -- these are tea drinkers (affected), who artificially sweeten their lives. The milk makes the tea very light and cool -- again the darkness/light secrets/truth theme.] Mr. Collins removed himself to his study. [Get him off stage, so we can get the rest of the plot rolling. "Removed himself" is affected -- we're putting on airs here. The sentence is otherwise quite plain, in contrast to the preceding one.] He had always played the stock market, and played it well. The war had left him wealthy, still quite young, for munitions had been greatly in demand. The prosperity that the whole nation now experienced made his investments more valuable by the day, while the contacts that he had across the nation gave him insights that perhaps other men didn't have. [More of Mr. Collins' character: "insights...other men didn't have" suggests secrecy (and he has a secret, oh my, yes). We talk more about the money he has ... he's nouveau riche. Perhaps he's a poser? I missed another opportunity to plant the timeframe here: Writing "greatly in demand in Flanders" would have done the trick. Someone who has made his money as a war profiteer is not exactly an admirable man. I'm trying to imply that he's not what he really seems, and is not a good person.]

Now was the time for Mary to tell the story, for that delightful frisson, in the bright afternoon. [Short paragraph, simple style, for contrast. The light imagery again. "Frisson" to show the class and style, and affected manner, of the characters. A weak opening on this paragraph, to contrast with the strong one that's coming, and perhaps make that one stronger than it otherwise would be by comparison.]

"I'm sure you'll think I'm being silly," Mary said, "but I felt such a feeling of sadness coming from that woman. ["That woman" is traditionally the name that wives give to their husbands' sweeties. Sadness, grief, woe -- yeah, we'll have that in spades before the end. Being silly? Yes, that's how Mary thinks of herself.] It was like a palpable wave. [Mary speaks in cliche. This to reveal character. She's shallow.] I gasped and took a step backward. Then I switched on the light, and she was gone!" [I'm hitting the light/dark truth/secrets theme again. Also moving the plot right along.]

"You're so brave," Shirley said. "I'm sure I would have screamed and run." [An ironic comment, when we learn what really happened, and see what will happen. Sets up the climax for the reader. Also reveals character.]

"I was too surprised," [You can say that again, sweetie.] "And it wasn't until the light was on that I realized it wasn't a real woman at all; she was gone. [Truth/reality light/dark knowledge/secrets. And a hint of the ultimate secret here. This sentence pulls a lot of freight.] She would have had to come past me to leave the room, you know. I looked under the bed and in the closet, and in the bathroom, but she was gone completely. [Yes, she's gone. If we want to talk about the young woman as being a character, no, she doesn't act in this story. But she's very important, as we'll see. It's important to me to show that she isn't really here, physically.] It was only then that I realize I'd been able to see through her." [The mystery will be revealed. I'm promising the reader that all will be made clear in the end. Making a deal with the reader -- go along with me, believe in ghosts for a minute, and I'll tell you what the reality is.]

"You could? What are you going to do now?" [Good questions. Get the plot moving.]

Mary's eyes sparkled, and she sipped her tea. "I thought it would such great fun to have a seance." [Good innocent fun. But toying with dark powers. All while holding that light, sweet tea. The sparkling eyes are for innocence. Innocence is one of the things that we'll lose when the revelation comes, when the light reaches the dark places.]

"Are you quite certain? I mean, if you felt this sadness ... that can't be good."
[Listen to Shirley, Mary! Shirley is the reader's voice here. And she's right. It isn't good. But, if Mary doesn't have her seance this is going to be a very short story. So, holding the seance isn't such a very bad idea (waking the spirits of the dead, and possibly unholy things, isn't such a bad idea?) that we devolve into an idiot plot.]


"She wants help, the poor thing," Mary said. "This is an old house. After all these years of opening the window, she's finally gotten to trust me enough to appear and ask for my help." [Hoo boy is Mary wrong. That red-herring window shows up again. The rest of the story depends from this paragraph. It reinforces what's gone before, and sets up the rest. Very simple style, straightforward sentence construction. I want the readers to understand this one.]

"What does Roger say about your plan?" [Social construct: Mary is controlled by Roger.]

"Oh, I haven't told him. You know what a stick-in-the-mud he is." [But not that controlled. A deeply ironic statement, here, given what will be the final image of the climax. (Yes, mud is involved, and long thin things found in mud. Long, thin things that had been put there (stuck there, one could say) by Roger.]

[At this point we go to a linebreak. We never do see this promised seance, though we'll be told about it several times, and we will see a second seance in the same location with the same characters. The story resumes after the linebreak some weeks later and three thousand miles away, with a whole new character being introduced. Mary has a problem, a mild one. She wants to find out about the ghost. Working out that knowledge will take the rest of the story. We'll learn along the way that what she thought was her problem is nothing compared to what her problem really is.]


==================

Later commentary from the thread:


This is exactly right. And the window is just a window that doesn't work properly. Mrs. Collins is, in fact, mentally unbalanced. That's her "recent illness."

"The sparkling eyes are for innocence" - I understood them differently. I thought they were for mischief.

This is also implied. It's a School Girl All American Nancy Drew Girl Chums Together kind of image. She's also doing something naughty -- she's planning to do something behind her husband's back.

Their ages can be whatever works for you. What Mrs. Frederick Baxter (named for the owner of the Baxter Building, where the Fantastic Four have their headquarters) does with her purse, and how she greets her friend (air kiss? handshake?) doen't move the story forward, so I skipped it. Imagine what you like, it won't affect the story I'm telling. She's named Shirley for Shirley MacLaine (believer in the supernatural) and Shirley Jackson (author of some spooky short stories, including one about a haunted house). Roger is Brit slang for sexual intercourse, Collins is a mild alcoholic drink. Mary is a very common female name, it also is the given name of both the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene (the prostitute).

Mr. Collins will speak, later on, when he meets the next character. Right now he's not important; he's being introduced to get him in the story, and moving around. He'll be on the last page; he needs to be on the first one. We meet Frederick Baxter, once, briefly, later on. He has exactly one word of dialog.

Stick-in-the-mud is also a good description of how Roger dies at the climax. There's a reason I used that phrase (which is also a cliche, further revealing character), as the last line of this scene. Last lines occupy positions of power.


This scene is from a story is called "A Tremble in the Air." It's forthcoming in Murder by Magic edited by Rosemary Edghill, Warner/Aspect, November 2004.

This story brought in $370. If the anthology earns out there will be royalties, but you can't count on that. After an exclusive period, I'll be free to attempt to re-sell it to other markets that accept reprints.

No agent was involved -- agents don't generally deal with short stories.

I picked this one for a couple of reasons. One, it's a recent story so I do remember what I was thinking at the time, and Two, it's a sole-byline story, so all the word choices were mine, rather than a co-author's.

This is the final draft of multiple drafts, of course. The first draft was sketchier. The material needed to support the climax wasn't there since all the details of the climax hadn't been written. Material was added, dropped, and moved.

In the manuscript, the first page break came after "...during his wife's recent illness." (By that point I need to have the editor so interested that he/she will feel compelled to turn the page.) In the book itself, the first page break will come after "... at her and she felt --" (By that point the reader should be so interested that he/she will feel compelled to turn the page.)

Yes, it's true. You really do have that little time to interest the reader. Anything that doesn't move the story forward holds it back. Writing -- storytelling -- is an act of co-creation with your readers. The readers always put in their own interpretations, add things that have meaning for them, ignore things that they don't care about.

I've left two perfectly good explanations for the events in the story, one occult, one mundane. The reader is invited to play with them.


Specifically, I took the window from The Amityville Horror, where it was supposedly a real example of haunting, and made it mundane.

=====================

The anthology this story was in (
Murder by Magic: Twenty Tales of Crime and the Supernatural ISBN-13: 978-0446679626 edited by Rosemary Edghill) came out around Halloween last year (a November release, it hit the stands in October), did its time in the bookstores, and remains available in the usual ways.

Publishers Weekly called this story "the standout" in the anthology.

Anyone who wishes to read the full thing (we're still in the exclusive period, so I can't give you a full electronic version right now) is invited to pick up the a copy of the book (which has many other fine stories) at their local bookseller, or through their library. (If your library doesn't have it, Interlibrary loan will.)

==============

UPDATE:

The exclusive period is over.

The story is "A Tremble in the Air" and is available here.
 
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wurdwise

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By George, I think I got it. You have been saying this over and over, but I guess I lived in Missouri in my former life or something, because seeing it has made me finally realize what you meant. There should be nothing written that isn't necessary to the story. Whoa. Sounds easy, a challenge for wordy people, but one that I am now convinced must be addressed, or no publishy!

Thanks, James, a million!:Hail: (add another to your list of groupies!)
 

Christine N.

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Ok, so I'm going to do something I NEVER do, and let you all see the first draft of something. It's the opening paragraphs of the new book.

Understand, this is the second in a series, and the first "next book" I've written. It's producing it's own set of headaches. Feel free to pick it apart, or let me know if I'm on the right track. I appreciate all input :) (note: this is a middle grade book)

Megan kicked Thunder into a gallop. The dark grey gelding’s muscles tensed and he whinnied happily as he took off across the open field. The peaceful quiet of the countryside was disturbed by the resounding rumble of the big horses’ hooves as Megan and Thunder raced through the dew drenched grass, auburn curls flying behind her. Megan Montgomery had become quite a proficient rider since coming from New York to The Parthenon, the English manor where her and her father now lived. Riding was something she had never been able to do when she lived in the city. Now it was one of her favorite hobbies. They came to the end of the meadow and rounded a copse of oak trees, scaring a flock of crows that had taken up residence. They took off in a black cloud of loud caws.

She reined in the big horse, slowed him down to a trot, then to a walk. As they approached the stable, she sat up straight in the saddle and admired her home. The Parthenon’s grounds were beautiful – well tended lawns of emerald green grass and tall, stately trees older than she could imagine dotted the landscape beyond the stables. Between the main house and the stable sat several formal gardens, all awash with color on this gorgeous spring morning. Megan stopped in front of the stables, jumped down from the horses’ back and walked him inside.

A man, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, waved to her. “Good morning, Miss Megan,” said Stephan, the stable manager. “Did you have a nice ride?”

“Yes,” Megan replied. She grabbed a towel from the stack just inside the door. “I heard the larks singing down by the stream. It’s going to be a beautiful day.” She rubbed Thunder’s legs briskly with the towel, then his head and neck. Stephan removed the saddle and took it away to the tack room. Megan finished rubbing Thunder down, led him into his stall and filled his feed bucket with oats. She gave him a farewell pat on the neck and headed toward the house.

The manor house was huge, made of dark grey stone, three stories tall, and shaped like a U. The early morning sun reflected off the upper floor windows, winking at Megan. She followed the crushed stone path through the flower gardens. Past the gardens, set in the courtyard created by the shape of the house, was a large reflecting pool. The pool was a bit of an oddity. Instead of modest English embellishments, it was surrounded by classical Greek statues and white columns. Sir Gregory Archibald, the builder of the house and a bit of an oddity himself, had built it as a testament to his love of Ancient Greece.

Megan skirted the pool and hopped up the two short steps to the back door. She stopped briefly in the little mudroom to change out of her muddy riding boots and into her sneakers. Miranda, the head housekeeper, would be very upset with her if she tracked mud over her clean floors. She opened the inner door and stepped into the large, warm kitchen. Maggie, the plump Irish cook who always had a smile, was there, busily preparing breakfast.

The story continues on from there with some dialogue between Megan and Maggie, telling the reader that it's Easter holiday (not spring break, I remembered!) and that she's going to meet her best friend Rachel, blah blah, blah. I think after this part I'm getting handle on it, but this had be stumped.


Sorry for the long exerpt. Have I told you all lately how much I love you? :) :kiss: :Hail: to your genius!
 

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Christine N. said:
Sorry for the long exerpt.

What would you like me to do with this, Christine? If this is first draft of an unfinished book it's way-early for word-twiddling.

I could word-twiddle it as if it were second draft, but I don't know how useful that would be.

And -- please don't be angry if I do twiddle it. Some folks have been offended when my intentions were kind.
 

Christine N.

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Please, twiddle away. I'm having a heck of a time getting it to flow into "story" if ya know what I mean. First draft or no, I find that if I get the beginning right, maybe not perfect, but right, that the rest of the book is easier to write. I'm just kind of stumbling around in the dark. Someone please turn on the light! Is it too wordy? Does it need more dialogue? Do you get the sense of where you are, or is it just plain boring?

Suggest, rearrange, twiddle, whatever. :) I won't get mad. Ask my editor how easy I was to work with. I LOVE suggestions. Most of the time I read them and go :Smack:

And I always learn something.
 
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First cut.

Can't tell yet what's important, so this is mostly rearranging.

Megan kicked Thunder into a gallop. The gelding whinnied as he took off across the open field. The quiet of the countryside was disturbed by the rumble of the big horses’ hooves as Megan raced through the dew drenched grass, auburn curls flying behind her.

Megan Montgomery had become quite a proficient rider since coming from New York to the English manor where her and her father now lived. Riding was something she had never been able to do when she lived in the city. Now it was one of her favorite hobbies. She came to the end of the meadow and rounded a copse of oak trees, scaring a murder of crows that had taken up residence. They took off in a black cloud of loud caws.


She reined in the big horse, slowed him down to a trot, then to a walk. As they approached the stable she sat up straight in the saddle and admired her home. The grounds were beautiful -- well-tended lawns of emerald grass dotted with stately trees stretched out to the horizon. Between the main house and the stable sat formal gardens awash with color on this gorgeous spring morning.

Megan stopped in front of the stables, jumped down from the horses’ back and walked him inside.
The stable manager, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, waved to her. “Good morning, Miss Megan,” he said. . “Did you have a nice ride?”

“Yes, Stephen,” Megan replied. She grabbed a towel from the stack just inside the door. “I heard the larks singing down by the stream. It’s going to be a beautiful day.” She rubbed Thunder’s legs briskly with the towel, then his head and neck while Stephan removed the saddle and took it away to the tack room. Megan finished rubbing Thunder down, led him into his stall and filled his feed bucket with oats. She gave him a farewell pat on the neck and headed toward the house.

The manor house was huge, made of dark grey stone, three stories tall, and shaped like a U. The early morning sun reflected off the upper floor windows. She followed the crushed stone path through the flower gardens. Past the gardens, set in the courtyard created by the shape of the house, was a large reflecting pool. The pool was a bit of an oddity. Instead of modest English embellishments it was surrounded by the classical Greek statues and columns that gave the house its name: The Parthenon.

Megan hopped up the two short steps to the back door. She stopped briefly in the little mudroom to change out of her riding boots and into her sneakers. Miranda, the head housekeeper, would be very upset with her if she tracked dirt over her clean floors. She opened the inner door and stepped into the large, warm kitchen. Maggie, the plump Irish cook, was preparing breakfast.



 

jules

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Interesting changes there. I see that you cut out a lot of the adjectives, particularly where they were already implied by context (e.g. "emerald grass" rather than "emerald green grass"). You also moved the name of the house to a later paragraph, and I'm curious as to why you did that. It seemed to work as it was, to me.
 

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jules said:
Interesting changes there. I see that you cut out a lot of the adjectives, particularly where they were already implied by context (e.g. "emerald grass" rather than "emerald green grass"). You also moved the name of the house to a later paragraph, and I'm curious as to why you did that. It seemed to work as it was, to me.

I moved the name for a couple of reasons. First, where it was there could be some confusion as to whether the house looked like the Parthenon in Athens (or in Nashville) so I moved the name to join the explanation for that name. Second, the paragraph it was in was pretty busy already.


One test I like to run on words and phrases is the "As opposed to?" test:

The emerald green grass ... as opposed to the emerald brown grass?

Same reason for removing "who always had a smile" from the description of Molly. Were there perhaps two plump Irish cooks, and the way you could tell them apart was by the fact that one always had a smile while the other usually frowned? If a description doesn't help differentiate, you should ask why it's there.

 

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Let me just pop in for a moment from lurking and say that I have successfully BIC'd my way to a full 76,800 word novel.

(It's going to expand in the next draft. I underwrite my first drafts).

Not my first, but it's always a good feeling, and it's been about two years since I've had the pleasure of saying that.
 

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Christine N. said:
Ok, so I'm going to do something I NEVER do, and let you all see the first draft of something. It's the opening paragraphs of the new book.

Understand, this is the second in a series, and the first "next book" I've written. It's producing it's own set of headaches. Feel free to pick it apart, or let me know if I'm on the right track. I appreciate all input :) (note: this is a middle grade book)
I read YA books but not middle grade books, so there may be matters of genre convention that I'm not familiar with. But, my reaction upon reading, is that I have no idea what the story's about. There's Megan, she's riding, her family is rich, she's going to have breakfast. She doesn't seem to be worried about anything, or planning anything, or thinking about the future, or the past.

What _is_ the story about?
 

sunandshadow

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plot shapes

Hi, newbie here, can we ask for a lesson on some aspect of writing in this thread? If so, I would really like a lesson on complex plot structures/shapes. There are lots of tutorials around about how to write a simple plot like a mythic journey or a formula romance, but what if I want to write a sociological plot (the heavy-worldbuilding kind found in many historical and science fiction/fantasy novels) with parallel plot threads following different groups of characters aligned with different factions or in different settings?

I saw a post from last month mentioning a novel containing two romances - that would also require this sort of complex woven plot structure. Especially since I was just reading an article that says in romance novels the romance plot often comes to a climax (lovers get together and stay together) 50 or more pages before the external plot comes to a climax (lovers work together to defeat external threat such as a villain).

So, please sir, can we have a lesson on complex plot shapes? :Hail:
 

Christine N.

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Jim, thank you big. I agree with most of those suggestions. And I see others have learned as well, which was my secondary point :) I felt like I was tripping over my tongue, so to speak, to get all the pertinent information out without talking too much.

Kate: The Point of showing this little scene, in my brain anyway is to show how this girl is having a normal day. Believe me, it's going to get anything but normal very soon. She's really not thinking or planning, because she's seeing the setting, reminding readers of where she is, or giving a brief explanantion of how she got here for Those Just Joining Us.

Plus, she's just out for a nice ride, enjoying the day. Smelling the roses, as it were. She does have plans for the day, but I cut the excerpt before we get to that part.

This is the second book in the series. The people that have read the first book will know that beneath the manor house lies a secret library with enchanted books hiding mythological artifacts (that I made up). The books whisk you off inside them. The "normal" is really just a facade. It doesn't last much longer than this, just long enough to get the rest of the characters back into the story and set it all up.

Kind of like what happens to Harry Potter before he gets on the train. You know really, but sometimes a little reminder doesn't hurt.

Then again, I could cut half of it out on the next draft. Who knows?
 
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Ken Schneider

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Unc, your opinion on POV.

Stay with the protagonist?

Can change to other characters in scenes not containing the protagonist.

Anyone can have internal thoughts, POV?

I am under the assumption that POV it is to stay with your protangonist.

Thanks, Ken.
 
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