Writing – The Craft of

Plot Conundrum

/ Lisa / 4 Comments

I love mysteries, both writing and reading them.  I have a host of favorite authors including Elizabeth Peters, Dana Stabenow, Cornelia Read, Carol O’Connell, Sandi Ault, Karen Slaughter, Meg Gardner, etc.  But lately something’s been bothering me and I’m not sure how to handle it from both perspectives of reader and writer.  It’s that climatic moment near the end of the book where there’s a big dramatic event, usually endangering the life of the protagonist, and resulting in discovering and/or catching the antagonist.  This event is then followed by a slower paced conclusion that ties everything together.  Here’s my problem.  I’m getting bored with that climatic event.  Especially in series.  How scared should I get for the protagonist when I know a new book is coming out in a few months?  It’s obvious the character is going to survive, which kills the suspense for me.

Some authors deal with this in unique ways.  Elizabeth George was brave enough to kill off one of her main characters.  Others have the protagonist not survive to live happily ever after, and that character will lose someone or suffer something they then have to deal with in the next book.  Meg Gardner for instance has a main character in a wheel chair, which automatically makes me tense because he’s more vulnerable than your typical hero.  But the ending scene is still beginning to feel like a plot device.  I find I am reading these books because of the strongly written characters, who have become people I care about and want to spend time with rather than because of the plot.

It still begs the question.  How do you keep that climatic scene from eliciting a ho-hum response from the reader?  How do you avoid writing a formula and yet still stay in a genre you love?  I’m not sure that avoiding the whole ending scene would work, either, because then the plot would seem to fade away and I think as a reader I would feel let down even though I’m finding that ending scene to be the least interesting part of a book.  Maybe the solution is to not tie yourself as a writer into a series.  That would then free you up to do whatever you wanted with your characters and the reader won’t assume what the ending is going to be. 

So any thoughts on how to solve this or comments on what you do in your writing to avoid having what should be the most tense, fast paced scene of a book become an expected, boring formula?

Universal Editing

/ Lisa / 4 Comments

I read a blog today by a woman who just had her work edited. She was discouraged, felt like she was a horrible writer, and questioned whether to continue writing or not. This woman has a fantastic blog that I absolutely love reading, here on wordpress, called Intergalactic Writing Inc. This is a drawback of the internet because I wish I could reach out and give her a hug. What she experienced is not what editing is about.

She said she assumed some parts were good because there were no comments. There were only comments where things were ‘bad’. Oh, my blood pressure is rising. It is equally important to have the things that work (‘good’) pointed out, too. A good editor comments on what works, and explains why. We writers learn as much from those comments as we do from having problems pointed out. Second, an edit should never focus on negatives. Even when something doesn’t work, it doesn’t deserve negatives, it deserves suggestions, support, and work between the editor and the writer.

I always say a good edit leaves a writer enthusiastic and excited to jump back in and work. If I’ve been edited and the result leaves me discouraged or feeling like a failure as a writer, I feel that’s actually a failure of the partnership between the editor and the writer. Nothing infuriates me more than seeing a writer give up because of a negative edit. Especially when, more than likely, the negative edit is the opinion of only one person.

Edits should be respectful, positive, educational, and productive. They should not kill the love of words, the love of the writing craft, or the spirit of the writer. I’ve had my work edited by professional editors, where I paid a lot and writing friends where I paid nothing. Each and every one has taught me something. I guess I’m lucky I didn’t end up with an editor like this person did. If so, I’m not sure I’d be where I am on my writing path.

Okay, I’ll climb down from the box now before this turns into a rant. The point is well taken I’m sure. So what kind of editing results have you had? Have you been left raw and bleeding or uplifted and excited to be a writer?

Exercising again

/ Lisa / 2 Comments

On the same note as before, here was one writing prompt I found interesting. The exercise said to write about what you carry. This is what I came up with. My writer’s group got a laugh out of it so thought I’d share.
Some people collect stamps, but I horde tampons, stashing them in backpacks, cupboards and vehicles. Once, on a day hike with nowhere else available, I tucked one in my bra. My chest became a face with two drooping eyes and a skinny nose.

My husband was pulled over coming home from work at four a.m., and the deputy, hunting drunks, asked for his license and registration. Opening the glove box, tampons fell out. Opening the console, he rooted through them. Two men staring at alien symbols of femininity.

Since menopause began I never know when things will start. Sometimes months go by, and then without warning, and usually in public, I’m reminded that I have yet to move completely into that time when I am no longer fertile. Because there is no regularity, because Nature’s humor leans toward shock value, I fear being caught unprepared. Convinced I have no supply, I buy more. Just in case I’m in the car or out walking, or in the middle of a meeting. Convinced the ones I’ve hidden are gone, I grab more when I leave home. The piles grow.

This time of life, a woman moves from child bearing to becoming a wise woman. Or, as my doctor says, acknowledging my Celtic heritage, an old crone. He tells me this move is natural, like seasons changing from summer to fall. That’s me, moving into autumn, afraid of being caught in the elements unprepared.

I now drink water through hot flashes and eat healthier. I go for walks in the woods with my dogs. I write. I am learning to recognize those emotional moments that never happened in my spring, and to pamper myself in sad times. And I carry tampons, seeking security, trying to convince myself I’m ready.

So, what do you carry?