On the Importance of Reading Modern Fiction

In my creative writing class, we've been workshopping everyone's final projects. One classmate's work in particular prompted me to write this post.

Pic by enchantedwhispersart.deviantart.com

He's a good poet. He's smart. He's my friend.

But his prose leaves much to be desired.

As a self-professed reader of only books from 100+ years ago, he writes in a stilted, overdone way. His sentences are long and cumbersome. He uses too many ... shall I say grandiose? ... words all together. It feels like he's trying so hard to sound like Dickens. Or Wilde. Or Proust. Or, god help us, Sir Walter Scott.

Basically, his writing is stunted.

As a writer, it's important to read everything. Classics. Contemporaries. Fiction. Nonfiction. You should read everything you can get your hands on. If you purposefully cut yourself off from a section of writings (especially one as large as the body of work produced in the last 100 years!) you are doing yourself a disservice. Your writing will suffer.

So I've decided to get him a few new(ish) books for his upcoming birthday. These are examples of fiction written within the last hundred years that I feel every writer (and reader) should experience.

1. Catch-22

"He was going to live forever or die in the attempt."

Catch-22, published in 1961, is a work of satirical genius by Joseph Heller. Taking place during WWII, Catch-22 captures the insanity, the desperation, the rage, the inevitability of war. Written in non-chronological 3rd person, it follows Air Force captain, Yossarian, who hates war. Yossarian's central conundrum is that if he is crazy, he'll be discharged. But he has to apply for said discharge and applying for said discharge demonstrates that he is not insane, thereby no longer qualifying for the discharge. For him, there is no way out of war. 

The narrative itself is circular and reflects the nature of the "Catch 22" conundrum. It's a great study in the devolution of a character into insanity. Heller's language is clear and powerful. His characters are unforgettable. It's hard to explain Catch-22 to someone who has not read it because it is so singular - so completely different from anything else that I've read.

2. Slaughterhouse-Five

"Nothing intelligent can be said about a massacre."

In keeping with my first suggestion, here is another experimental, WWII, and entirely singular book - Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five, published 1969. I've reviewed this book before (you can read my review here). Like Catch-22, Slaugherhouse-Five is shockingly revolutionary and completely different from Heller's opus. Again, it's hard to explain Vonnegut's most famous work. Actually it's pretty hard to explain any of Vonnegut. He writes a little left of reality and Slaughterhouse-five is no different. Jumping between the fantastical and the devastating, Vonnegut captures the essence of surrealism without dissolving into the abstract or the detached. Billy Pilgrim is the quintessential unreliable narrator and the book forces the reader to question reality at every turn. What is real? What is delusion? Is there actually a difference? Vonnegut's writing is gorgeous - sometimes whimsical, sometimes bare and raw. Strange. Startling. Disturbing. This book is definitely worth the read. 

3. The Cider House Rules

"People only ask questions when they're ready to hear the answers."

John Irving is by far one of the most skilled writers working today. The Cider House Rules, published in 1985, is astounding. It follows Homer Wells, an orphan who never gets adopted. Instead he begins to learn the business of medicine as instructed by Dr. Wilbur Larch, head of the orphanage and the only doctor around who is willing to perform abortions. As my mother is fond of saying, all of Irving's books are about sex and perversion, and The Cider House Rules is no different. But instead of coming off as sensationalist or cheap, Irving writes about the difficulty of living. The difficulty of being human. It is the most honest look at one of the most controversial topics of our time. In the guise of empathetic characters and beautiful language, Irving forces you to examine your own beliefs - your own choices. An orphan or an abortion?

4. The Poisonwood Bible

"God doesn't need to punish us. He just grants us a long enough life to punish ourselves." 

The Poisonwood Bible is easily my favorite work of contemporary fiction (again, here's my full review). Published in 1998, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver is the story of five women and the missionary husband/father/abuser they follow. Travelling half a world away, from Georgia to the Belgian Congo in the 1960s, the Price family women each get their own POV. All five parts are written in first person and all five are incredibly distinctive. There's never any confusion over who's who and the shear technical ability Kingsolver displays here is worth the read. The fact that Kingsolver's technical talent is alloyed with a spectacularly compelling story makes this a rare find and a necessary addition to any personal library. The Poisonwood Bible is an astounding work woven of technical ability, social consciousness, and the intimacy of a family struggling to survive the ravages of the Congo and of their father.

5. 1Q84

"But pure, unadulterated feelings are dangerous in their own way. It is no easy feat for a flesh-and-blood human being to go on living with such feelings."

Published as three separate novels in Japan over 2009 and 2010, 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami is an excellent example of where modern fiction can go. In a way, it follows in the surrealist footsteps of Vonnegut and presents a world that is just slightly left of reality. The book uses the term "1Q84" to show the slight difference of this new world the characters stumbled into from the one they left, back in the normal 1984. Again, even that is a nod to previous work - this time George Orwell's infamous dystopia. In my previous review, I introduced the book by calling it an asymmetrical fairy tale. Murakami successfully captures the juxtaposition of a pre-mobile phone world and post-modern philospophy in his unique poetic style. While the book is definitely complex (and crammed together into a gigantic volume when it was translated to English), it's definitely worth the read.

It's very very difficult to pick only five books from the last 100 years and there are so many more that are worth your time. 

The Color Purple (1982) by Alice Walker. The Lord of the Rings (1937-1949) by J.R.R. Tolkien. To Kill a Mockingbird (1960) by Harper Lee. The Handmaid's Tale (1985) by Margaret Atwood. Ender's Game (1985) by Orson Scott Card. Fahrenheit 451 (1953) by Ray Bradbury. The Phantom Tollbooth (1961) by Norman Juster.

And on and on an on and on, ad infinitum. As a writer, it's so important to read everything. Just read. Read every moment you can. 

Perhaps Stephen King said it best. If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time nor tools to write.

A to Z Challenge: M is for Malapropism

"Illiterate him from your mind!"

"What?" Alice blinked in confusion.

"He has way too much affluence over you." Harley leaned back, smug in her assessment of the situation. "You're letting him create too much dysentery among the ranks."

Alice shook her head. She picked up her tea cup to buy herself enough time to translate Harley's advice.

"So you think I should fire him?"

"I don't know... I mean, he's really plummeted to the top. He's only been there four weeks and already he's practically vile president. But then you didn't hire him to create disorder. You hired him to preserve disorder."

Alice nodded, pretending to understand. She leaned back in her chair, surreptitiously looking around her to see if anyone had overheard. The other outdoor cafe patrons continued their meals, unaware of the stream of unintelligible nonsense coming out of her best friend's mouth.

"Look," Harley said, leaning forward. "You can't ignore that he's a man of great statue. But he's not exactly the pineapple of politeness. What are you going to do? Transact to another job? You've got to stand up for yourself."

Alice nodded, finally understanding the meaning if not the words of her friend's wisdom.

"After all, a rolling stone gathers no moths."

A to Z Challenge: K is for Keelhaul

You dragged me under the ship. For once, that's not just a figure of speech. I should have seen it coming. I should have realized where that trip was headed. But I didn't. Not until the barnacles scrapped my back, tearing flesh. Not until I trailed blood like a comet's tail in the clear water of the Caribbean. 

"We're fine," you said. "I forgive you."

And, like an idiot, I believed you. Like an idiot, I stepped onto that boat. Excuse me. Ship.

Maybe you couldn't recognize your own fury, simmering under the surface, but I should have. I know you. I know the way your eyebrow twitches when you lie. I know the way your hands curl into fists when you're beyond frustrated. And I should have known.

The three minutes or so under the water feels inevitable. Painful. Terrifying. Inevitable. I'd envisioned storms. Getting stranded. Making the self-sacrificing decision to die so you could live. Not this. Not being hauled ass over teakettle into the water and dragged under like a sailor from the 1500s. 

Not you desperately dragging me back onto the boat. Not the burning, choking sensation of re-learning to breathe.

"It was an accident," you said. "Forgive me."

"We're fine," I said. 

A to Z Challenge: J is for Janus

Okay, so I'm diverging a bit from my flash fiction/poetry flow. Today I want to talk about one of my characters in my YA novel, Opal. The main/title character is a genetically engineered, super intelligent young girl named Opal. She's been raised in a closed compound and her peers are all like her, engineered to be scientists for a megacorporation. Janus is one of those peers. They've always been drawn to each other both as friends and competitors. In many ways, Janus could be considered a "villain" but that's a shallow view of such a complex character. Honestly, he was my favorite character in the entire novel to write. He's so damaged and intelligent and brutal. So complex and so lost. I want to give you a brief taste of him.

This scene takes place after a huge prank that Janus and Opal pulled off and it looks like things might have gotten out of control. It's also their first kiss.

“How are you . . . feeling?” asked Janus, his voice was soft but electric, like the air just before a storm.

“Worried?” I watched a squad of S&S officers marching down the path that circled the compound. A patrol. Unusual for this time of day. “How should I be feeling?”

He crossed to me, his footsteps muffled by the carpet.

“You’re scared,” he breathed into my ear. I saw his eyes reflected in the window. A predator eyeing skittish prey. “You shouldn’t be.”

For once, the heat of his breath did not cause my cheeks to flush. I turned to face him. Janus used his height and stared down at me, his face raptorial.

“I shouldn’t?” I asked, hoping against logic that what he said could convince me.

“No,” he replied. “Our trick was flawless.”

I cringed, remembering the panic of losing my wristband. Behind my back, I instinctively touched the band, reassuring myself. Janus paused, scrutinizing me. His eyes, like the vacuum of a black hole, pulled everything in and let nothing escape.

“Yes,” he continued. “And as long as neither of us says a word, that’s the way it will stay.”

“I . . . I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Promise me, Opal.” He reached out one hand and slowly stroked my cheek. I tried to look away. He grasped my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Promise you will say nothing.”

I struggled against his grip. His nails gouged my jaw.

“I . . . I promise.”

Janus studied me for a brief moment. He leaned forward, our noses centimeters apart. His large dark eyes swallowed my vision.

In shock, I felt his lips touch mine. He held me in place but I no longer struggled. I closed my eyes and all thought stopped. All worry disappeared. His lips were soft but adamant. I folded into his arms. His tongue flicked lightly against my lips, then compelled them to part. I gasped as he bit my bottom lip. I tasted the metallic hint of blood, but I felt no pain. Instead, excitement-fueled adrenaline coursed through me. A silent promise of change pulsed in my veins.

Then the embrace ended. Janus stepped back. My knees buckled and I nearly fell. He straightened his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles my body created. I coughed, looking away. Embarrassment stained my cheeks, replacing the heat of the moment before.

“I’m glad you agree,” he said, turning his inscrutable gaze back to me. Nothing showed in his eyes. “It would be inconvenient for you to be . . . punished.”

My face drained of heat. I couldn’t breathe. I coughed again, mumbled something that I hoped he took for acquiescence, and hurried out the door, pausing while the door acknowledged my command. I could feel his gaze burning into my back. I ran down the hall and into my room before his door could slide shut.

3 Books On Writing That Are Actually Worth Your Time

My mother has never put much stock on How-To-Write books, and I can understand why. It seems like a lot of people, whether published on their own or not, feel the need to tell other people how to go about writing a book. This a particularly difficult task because there are as many ways to write a book as there are writers. My way may not work for you. Your way might be completely foreign to me. Either way, as long as we both reach the end goal (a finished book!), what does it matter how we got there?

I have no time for the books that promise a foolproof way to success or tell you how to write the next breakout novel. That's nonsense. No one can predict what's going to be big. The only thing to do is write the book you want to write and write it well.

But I do think there is a place for books on writing. For me, that place is asking the right questions.

Aside from the very basic, "This is a verb. You need to have characters." ultimate beginner's books, I've found a few that actually turned out to be helpful. (The titles are links to the books on Amazon)

1. Elements of Fiction Writing: Character & Viewpoint by Orson Scott Card

This is actually the latest book I've read and it's been incredibly helpful. I was having trouble with my new book because it's told from two main characters' POVs in first person. I really felt like I hadn't solidified those characters and I turned to this book to help. The thing I liked best about this book was that it didn't tell you how to create in depth characterization. It asks you the right questions so you get there on your own. It really is a book of tools, not answers, and those tools have turned out to be very useful. Card takes you on a journey from basic character creation to understanding your story as a whole and how characterization plays into it. It's well written and easy to follow. I would definitely recommend it to anyone having trouble fully realizing their characters (also take a look at my blog about using the Myers Briggs test to understand you characters here).

2. The Art of War for Writers by James Scott Bell

This book is a really interesting adaptation of Sun Tzu's famous work with a literary twist. It approaches writing a book like a battle. From mental preparation to tactics to what to do after you've "won," it covers the entire experience of writing a novel. It does tend to be overarching and big-picture oriented, but the author does a good job of using concrete examples from real books to illustrate his points. It's full of encouragement and big ideas. It get's you to stop and think, then start writing. The first time I read through it, I kept putting the book down and working on my own book. Any book that gets you to sit down and write must be doing something right.

3. Story Structure: The Key to Successful Fiction by William Bernhardt

I've talked about this book before in my blog The Importance of Outlining, but I really can't stress how helpful this book has been. New York Times bestselling author, William Bernhardt, teaches a series of small group writing seminars that are basically the reason I finished my first book in one year. If you can't afford to take his classes or are too far away geographically, this book (and the rest of the Red Sneaker Writer series) are the next best thing. For me, structure is such an important part of creating a workable first draft. Otherwise you end up with 70,000+ words verging on stream of consciousness. It's hard to organize a mess like that, so why not start out with organization? From overarching structure to how to format an individual scene, this book gives you the nuts and bolts of writing. If you don't know how to use the tools, how can you create something amazing? Every time I start a book (and if I'm having trouble in the middle) I pick up this book. It helps me sort through my pile of scenes and characters and ideas to get to the skeleton of my story. And make sure that skeleton can support the book's weight.


If you have any questions about these books or know of some others that are helpful, comment below!

Twitter: Shakespeare Style

So I've been posting an extended poem under the hashtags #twitter #poetry. It was interesting writing (and I'm sure reading!) a poem in such a fragmented manner, but for those of you who didn't cotton on, it was a sonnet, Shakespearean style. I'm posting the whole thing below for those who couldn't follow or just want to see it as one whole poem. Enjoy!

Twitter: A Sonnet

Here I must conform to limits on space
Where letters count and numbers hope to rise.
My thoughts still seek a vast unending place
That does not submit to shape or size.
They cannot fit in characters so small
Softly typed, a breath to the tempest world.
They speak only barely, if heard at all.
Only when seen are they a flag unfurled.
Yet still I type, my fingers pounding keys
An attempt to harness the things within
But the words do not heed my desperate pleas
Laughing at pride, my original sin.

Doggedly I sit, as day bleeds to night.
Hopeless, I know. What can I do? I write.

The Value of Leaving the House

As some of you know, about a year and a half ago I moved to Greenville, a small town in rural East Texas. It's a nice enough town and the people are friendly, but it's the kind of place where you meet people through work, church, or children. I have none of these things. So my range of social interaction outside of my house is limited to my brother, his family, and some of his friends. Otherwise it's just my boyfriend and our three cats.

So I've turned into a bit of a hermit.

Though without the epic beard.

I sit at my laptop and work on my book. I go grocery shopping once a week. Bob and I occasionally drive "into town" which translates to a 45 minute to 1 hour drive to some part of the Dallas metro. But that's about it. For a while, I didn't even really see my brother unless something was happening, i.e. niece's volleyball game, game night, etc.

But I have to be careful, because all of this "me" time, this wonderfully productive and creative coccoon ... well, it can be suffocating. No one can exist in a vacuum. Most of all someone who creates. We need to see people's reactions to our creations. We need to bounce ideas off others and be, in turn, inspired by them. So people like me, people stuck in their own little bubble, need to make an effort to leave the house.

I've got a lot of excuses not to. There's no one close to me. The closest writing group I found was an hour and a half away. The closest meetup for NaNoWriMo is about that too. Seriously.

But it gets to a point where you just have to suck it up and do what it takes. This last Saturday I drove to the opposite side of Dallas for a NaNoWriMo plan-in session in Denton, TX. Sure it was three hour drive there and back. Sure there were gas costs and I had to drive it by myself, but it was totally worth it.

I met some really great writers and people and I hope I'll force myself to keep in contact with them. I'm historically bad about that kind of thing, but all I need to do is make the effort.

I'm also going out to my brother's house once a week. Just to hangout. Just to talk and listen to someone different.

So I may be the stereotype of a lonely writer, and it's true, writing is a very solitary activity, but contact and inspiration and connections are like air to creative people. We get lost in our vacuum, our head-space. We need to break out and take a breath.

We just need to leave the house.

NaNoWriMo 2013

So I've got a story. I've got characters. I've got an outline. But most of all, I have a goal.

This year's NaNo is going to be a bit different for me. Last year I already had a novel started. I had approximately 30,000 words and I used NaNoWriMo to kick me entire gear and write the last 50,000.

This year I'm starting with nothing. No words to speak of and a book that I expect to be 120,000 words long or so. In some ways this is more intimidating. I'm not going to be able to finish such a long book in one month, but I should have an incredible start.

Last year I had difficulties with time management and only barely met the end word goal. This year, it looks like there might be an even bigger obstacle in terms of time on the horizon...

Spoilers!

... but I'm still going to try and power through. That may mean doing bigger word counts at the beginning so I have some room in the middle of the month. Who knows.

For me, NaNoWriMo is more than a word count goal. It's a catalyst. It kicks my brain into gear and I can churn out more serious work in that one month of crazy deadlines than I can any other month of the year.

I'm ready. Are you?

The Importance of Outlining

Outlining. For some writers it's a dirty word. For me, it's the reason I finished my first novel.

That may sound a bit extreme. There were many factors that contributed to my realizing that goal, but I cannot stress how important outlining was. Especially since I wrote the last half at the break-neck speed of NaNoWriMo. If any book has helped me with this process, it's William Bernhardt's Story Stucture: The Key to Successful Fiction

Insert shameless plug here.

Outlining my story helps me fill out the in-betweens. The segments that happen between major turning points. I knew where I wanted to go, but until I outlined, I had only the vaguest sense of how I was supposed to get there. And like any map, outlining is only a suggestion. A simple route from Point A to Point B, but that didn't stop me from wandering off the map when my characters led me.

In terms of process, it's a lot easier for me to sit down and write an entire scene. I pick up the next index card (yes, I'm old-fashioned) and I write that scene. I know where it's going and I know where the story is supposed to end up. Some people prefer to write from middle to middle that way they aren't starting with a blank page. As for me, I tried that, but I could never bring myself to stop in the middle of a scene. If I got started I had to go until it was finished.

I also believe outlining gives you a chance to look at the story structure as a whole. Outlining defines the trees, but it also gives you a pretty good idea of what that forest is going to look like when you're done planting. You can see things like, are you ramping up the intensity? Do your subplots find resolution?

Above all, the reason I'm talking about outlining today, as I prepare for yet another NaNoWriMo, is to remind myself. Yes, coming up 60-100 scenes is time consuming and exhausting. Yes, my OCD means I have to have the index cards fully filled out and in a semblance of order. Yes, I could be watching Netflix. But outlining is important.

So I'd better get busy.

On Birthdays and Rejections

So yesterday was my 24th birthday. It was also the day I got my first rejection letter.

As a writer, I know that I am bound to get more rejections, that this is just the first of many. That rationale did not stop me from feeling desperately disappointed. In many ways it was a trauma. This was an agent that I'd met in person, who'd heard my book win 1st place, and with whom I'd felt the possibility of a connection. And after all that, she still didn't like my book.

So what did I do? I cried and called my mother. Then I sent out five more queries.

It's okay to feel sad. It's okay to be disappointed, but it's not okay to quit. I am a writer and, one day, I will be published. That's all there is to it.

I've got a long list of agents to query and I've got another book in the works. I'm going to keep writing and keep working and I am going to have a career.

I knew that the business side of being a writer was going to be hard and it is. And I don't like it. But that's part of what being a professional is. Doing the job completely, even the parts you hate. Because writing isn't just a hobby for me. It's what I do. What I want to spend the rest of my life doing, because in the end, the good parts - the stories, the language, the people - completely outweigh the bad.

So go ahead and cry. Then get back to work.

Rose State Conference Part 2: Finding an Agent

One of the best parts of any writer's conference is meeting amazing agents and editors. I've tried to narrow my focus and I pitched two different agents last weekend. It can be surprising which ones you connect with and which ones you don't.

I pitched last year to an agent who requested my manuscript, but I never heard anything back. A year later I was ready to try again.

For someone who always enjoyed acting, pitching creates a unique sort of stage fright. Perhaps it's more intimidating in a one-on-one setting. Perhaps it's just knowing that these people took time out of their busy New York lives to listen to a ten-minute talk about a book they've never read by an author they've never heard of.

So after you get the best possible pitch written, after you practice and practice (Not too fast! Enunciate!), after all of that stress and anxiety you sit across from an agent and you sell your book. Or try to.

This year there were some pretty big names at Rose State. The two I was most interested in were Regina Brooks and Marcy Posner.

                       

Regina is younger and has an interesting background (she worked as an engineer at NASA!) and for some reason, I just felt like we would click. On Friday, we were told to just sign with one agent to make sure everyone got a chance to pitch, so I signed up with Regina.

The next morning, I'm sitting outside of the designated room, waiting on my time when I notice the sign up sheets on the wall. When I'd checked earlier, all of Marcy Posner's slots were filled. Oh well, I thought. She wasn't my first choice anyway. But now, there were three blank spots where someone had whited-out names. What the heck. It can't hurt to pitch twice. I signed up for Marcy. 

With Regina, I started out a little rocky. There was no one to keep track of the times and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go on in or wait until I was called, so I missed the first few minutes of my allotted time. She was very nice and I gave my pitch (which was a little rushed). She listened politely and pointed me towards a contest her agency does for YA books. She also gave me the name of another agent in her company that might be interested. Those all sound positive, yes, but the reception was less enthusiastic than I'd hoped for. To be honest, I was pretty disheartened.

So I went to lunch and came back. By the time of my next appointment, I was feeling pretty laissez faire. What happened, happened. It was good practice.

This time, everything seemed to work out perfectly. My appointment was at the beginning of a chunk of times so there was no one in front of me. Marcy was already seated and seemed a little bored, so I went right on in. This time, my pitch was near perfect. It came out more conversational and Ms. Posner and I ended up discussing the book for quite a while. She asked me questions about myself, about my writing process and what my goals were. We even chatted about various television shows and books we liked. Turns out she's a big fan of dystopic/post-apocalyptic fiction. Even though we started early, we ended up going over our time limit by five or six minutes! 

But I think the best thing was that she said she'd get back to me within a couple of weeks.

After waiting months and months for the first agent I pitched to (who still has never contacted me back), it was refreshing to speak to someone who was serious about me.

While it's still very possible she may not be interested in representing my book, it was a great experience. So now I sit here, refreshing my email every five minutes, cautiously optimistic.

Maybe she'll be the one.

Writing Prompt: My Mother Broke Every Plate

From page 260 in "642 Things to Write About:"

Prompt: Start a story with the line "My mother broke every plate in the house that day."

My mother broke every plate in the house that day. Shards of blue and white porcelain sparkled across the kitchen tile like fragments of her life. She'd collected each piece meticulously. A saucer here, a plate, a teacup.

I held the only survivor behind my back. A sugar bowl. I wanted to place it gently in a basket and send it down a river to keep it safe from my mother's wrath. From her grief.

The violence of her act shocked even her. She stood quivering, surrounded by the shattered remnants of her collection. For the first time, the willow print made me feel like weeping. 

I sat silently for my own protection, and for that of the refugee that I clutched. The small bowl felt cold against my skin.

She'd been washing the dishes when the phone rang. I was supposed to be drying them.

The first plate dropped from her hands by accident. The second she let go, releasing her grip slowly. Intentionally. The third she threw.

Then the next. And the next. Harder and harder, building herself up like a tsunami. A ceramic wave crashed through her. The result of some far off earthquake. 

The last plate slipped through her fingers like sand. It landed atop its ruined family, a single chip in its oriental edge.

The wave collapsed, leaving my mother alone in the rubble.

Check out Claudia Bookwright's response to the same prompt here.

100 Writer's Project: In the Beginning

Introducing... Claudia Wagner!

My first novel, first draft almost finished. How did I get here? If I were Michener I would start--In the beginning, God. This blog post begins only a little later than that, but well before cell phones and the internet.

I used to write and submit poetry for publication. Acceptance letters along with the standard thank you and a promise of two copies of the issue in which my poem would be published thrilled me. But in those pre-cell-phone days, it cost a fortune to call all my friends and relatives long distance to tell them the good news. Not to mention the expense of buying additional copies of said issue and postage to send those copies to friends and relatives.

I’ve worked for a small-town daily newspaper. I’ve seen my by-line and my name in cutlines enough. But the idea of a book with my name on the spine sitting on a shelf in the Edmond Public Library seems much too grand. It shimmers above me in the night sky, brighter than the moon. A dream, a desire, a star too brilliant to look at and too distant to touch.

Knowing that a novel was beyond me, my book started out as a short story. I’ve written short fiction. I took a course in college. I understand how it works. So all I needed was a prompt of some kind and a deadline. My daughter provided the prompt and the deadline allowing me to choose the genre.

I ignored her prompt and chose murder and science fiction. And I went to work.

The deadline came and went, and the work proved to be as undisciplined as I. The story would not limit itself to short fiction. So I reconsidered the situation and decided to do a little book, a murder mystery that takes place on a colony in low orbit around the asteroid Ceres. But I needed help.

I happened to attend a monthly meeting of Oklahoma City Writers, Inc. at which William Bernhardt was doing a two hour presentation on novel writing. He talked about outlining. An instant turnoff since my research paper days too many years ago. But he made sense and showed how to plan the structure of my book. He was talking about the actual nuts and bolts of constructing a book-length story.

Three years plus several months, three of Bill Bernhardt’s intensive writing workshops plus a conference here and there, and I am coming around the last turn on this full-length murder mystery science fiction novel.

Bill said write every day. Four hours a day. If I had done that the book would have been finished long ago. Did I mention that I’m undisciplined? I heard somewhere that Stephen King says to write four hours a day and read eight hours a day. Or was that Mark Twain?  The eight hours reading I could go for, whoever said it.

There was a recommendation that I join a writers’ critique group for support and critical input. But that meant I had to also give support and critical input. I left every one of those meetings feeling bad because I had said harsh things to people as earnest about their writing as I was about mine. Tact is not one of my virtues. And have I mentioned lack of self-control?

Then somewhere else the advice was to just write it all the way through, do not do any editing until the story is complete. What a good rule. But mine is a murder mystery. As I wrote I discovered things that needed to appear earlier in the story. That required a rewrite of a scene. Editing? Even sitting down to begin the next writing session without looking at what I’d done the day before was impossible. Reading the work from the day before required minor or major changes. Did I mention that I tend to break rules even when I impose them myself?

What have I learned these past three-hundred, ten pages, and counting? Somewhere I heard that the definition of the verb to persevere is to begin again, and again, and again. No matter how many times my discipline fails, my control is lost, and my rules are broken, I can begin right now where I am. My book will be written and I will be launched into the night sky to find my name on the spine of a book in the Edmond Public Library. Just gotta finish this book first.

Claudia Wagner

I was born in Oklahoma. I learned to read under my mother’s ironing board. I learned the importance of stories around the dinner table during holidays and in the cellar during storms. I started writing to entertain my classmates. I continued to write because classes or work required it. Sometimes I wrote to understand my life. I have been office help, a welfare case worker, a fast foods manager, and a roustabout in the oil patch. I have also worked for the USDA. I’ve managed a veterinary clinic, helped care for my dying mother, and been a Page at the Edmond Library. I am a woman, a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. I believe the future of humanity is as unlimited as the Universe. And I believe that we as a species are imaginative enough and brave enough to move beyond the Earth into that Universe.

For more from Claudia, check out her blog, The Bookwright.

Elementary vs Sherlock: The Trouble with American Television

As I have thoroughly established, I am a lifelong fan of British television. I grew up watching Masterpiece Mystery with my mom and now I have developed an intense - if one sided - love affair with the Doctor from the BBC's stunning sci-fi series, Doctor Who. Through the years, I have avidly consumed British media and for the last few years, Sherlock as become one of my all time favorites.

Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat, features the thrilling actor Benedict Cumberbatch who embodies the character of Sherlock Holmes better than any of the varied and talented actors that came before him. The writing is crisp, the dialogue pithy, and the mysteries confounding. Sadly, as with most British television, the seasons (or series as they're known across the pond) are short. In Sherlock's case, very short. The show only has three episodes per season and it's been quite a while since the cliffhanger ending of season two.

Now that I've established my personal bias, let me turn to Elementary, an American production.

During the devastatingly long interim between Sherlock seasons (and it doesn't help that Doctor Who is also on hiatus), I've been searching around for something to fill the void. Though it may seem so, I certainly do not limit myself to British television. There are several American shows that I love: The Newsroom (and the West Wing. Basically anything written by Aaron Sorkin), Game of Thrones, Smash (I love a good musical), and Grey's Anatomy (yes, I know. Keep your teasing to yourself). So I am not in any way against American programming.

I heard from several people who like Elementary and the concept of Lucy Liu as Watson was intriguing so I decided to give it a try. After seven or eight episodes (because I badly wanted to like this show), I gave up. What was wrong with it? It wasn't a bad show per se. In fact, I would consider it above average for the American crime-solving genre. But because of the timing and the connection to Sherlock Holmes lore, Elementary faces the inevitable - and inevitably detrimental - comparison with the BBC's Sherlock.

Let's start with the basics.

The Casting:

As I've said previously, I think that Benedict Cumberbatch is the greatest actor to play the Character of Sherlock Holmes ever. This obviously puts - let me look up his name - Johnny Lee Miller at a disadvantage. I think it says a lot that when you look at IMDB's Elementary page, Miller isn't even billed at the top. Which brings us to the companions. Drs John and Joan Watson. I like the risk that the American writers took casting Lucy Liu as the damaged and intensely loyal Dr. Watson. It's a great twist and I think she does a good job. I think she suffers much less by comparison with her counterpart, Martin Freeman. Once again, however, she comes to the table with a handicap because Martin Freeman, like Benedict Cumberbatch, is spot on casting and is easily the most memorable Dr. Watson of all time.

There's a reason why the fangirls are so obsessed with the Cumberbatch/Freeman pairing and it's not just their pretty eyes. They become the characters of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson so thoroughly that they cement themselves in your mental image. They are Holmes and Watson.

The Show:

Sherlock has three episodes at one and half hours a piece, which basically makes each episode a movie. Elementary, on the other hand, is limited to the approximately 45 minutes show of American prime-time. By nature of time-frame alone, Sherlock is able to delve much more deeply into each story, allowing the writer to craft an intricate and compelling mystery. Elementary, on the other hand, devolves into a typical and expected crime-solving show that happens to feature characters with the names Holmes and Watson. Oh, and Holmes is a recovering heroin-addict. Honestly that is about as much as the show has in common with the stories of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Which brings me to the main point. Casting aside - because although not nearly as good as the Cumberbatch/Freeman pairing, Miller and Liu aren't bad - the main problem with Elementary is that it's not smart. Elementary's Holmes doesn't blow me away with any cleaver deductions and the mysteries themselves are laughably predictable. The entire point of Sherlock Holmes is that he's a genius. Not only is a genius, he is THE genius. The smartest man that ever lived. A damaged yet compelling detective that solves crimes purely with the power of his amazing intellect.

There is just no comparison between the shows on an intellectual level. I STILL haven't figured how Sherlock escaped death in the last episode and I've watched it many times over. And that's the point. We need the writing to be, not only smart, but smarter than we are. We need a show that keeps us guessing. That keeps us on the edge of our seat and has enough clues and subtleties that we can watch the show over and over and still not catch everything.

This is a problem throughout American Television. The vast majority of shows lack any intellectual punch. They're dumbed down. If American television gave their writers the lee-way to write truly great shows, I have no doubt that they could do it. The problem is not that American producers aren't capable; it's that they don't give good writers the time and money needed to created a masterpiece like the BBC's Sherlock. I, for one, wish they would.

After all, smart is the new sexy.

The Next Big Thing

Thanks to Alexis Lantgen for tagging me in the Next Big Thing Blog Hop!

1: What is the working title of your book(s)?
My finished book is called "Free." That's a definitely a working title and I am open to any suggestions, especially if they come from an agent or editor.

2: Where did the idea come from for the book?
I've always love dystopias and I've always been fairly politically active. The idea for my book all started with the Supreme Court's ruling on the Citizens United case. The entire concept of a corporation as a "person" fascinated me. Could they vote? Could they adopt? What would the world be like if corporations had all the same rights as an individual and, in some cases, more? These questions spurred me to created the world of Opal and Hands (my two main characters).

3: What genre does your book come under?
Free is a near-future, young adult, speculative fiction novel.

4: Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Opal - Lily Cole or Zena Gray. They might be bit old though.... Maybe Emma Watson with red hair?
Hands - no idea. Someone tall, dark, and broad shouldered.
Janus - Definitely Andrew Garfield since he's the one I modeled the character after.

5: What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Opal, a genetically engineered, super-intelligent sixteen year old girl, is imprisoned for crimes against the company and must find a way to escape torture and prevent her parent company from unleashing a deadly famine on the world. 

6: Is your book self-published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency?
My book is not yet published. I am currently seeking an agent for representation.

7: How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
It took about a year to get the book to the point it is at now, which I consider the third draft or so.

8: What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner, Uglies

9: Who or what inspired you to write this book?

My favorite dystopia of all time is The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. After reading it, I aspired to that level of writing. I'm not there yet, but Free is a good step in the right direction.

10: What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

While the world of Free is a made up of vast sprawling metropolises and secure corporate compounds, the story is actually very personal and follows two young people from different social castes as they try to make sense of their world and stand up for what is right. I think the intimacy is what really drives this story forward.


Tagging more Writers:

I hate to tag people without their permission, but feel free to do this blog hop with me! Let me know and I'll add your name (and link)!

Writing Prompt: Only Two Hands

Prompt: Begin a story describing only two hands. Use the physical characteristics of the hands, as well as any relevant activity or movement, gesture, fidgeting, and so on, to reveal who the hands belong to.

                                                                                     photo by  MogieG123

Response:

He played the piano. Or at least I assume he did.

Slender fingers held his wine glass lightly and without thought. I watched those hands, hypnotized by their choreographed dance as they sauntered from knife to fork and back again.

Bach.

Those hands held the end of my noose. And he didn't even know it. Fingers flickering like the moon on a disturbed pond. Pale. I couldn't hear his words.

Chopin.

How could he not play piano? With hands like those... They lingered on the rest.

Schubert.

He signed the words. Fun. A dismissive wave. While it lasted. Que sara. A mimicry of cursive and fatalism. His face faded like dull scenery painted on flat canvas.

Mozart.

His hands played my death. Shakespearean in that they refused to let me die. Illustrating the poison. The dagger.

Rachmaninoff.

Then the curtain fell. Check please. He slipped those hands into pockets.

The End.





So this one was a bit more poetic than my previous prose. Any thoughts?

Don't forget to check out ClaudiaBookwright's very different response to this prompt here.

Copyright to Grace Wagner 2013

The Girl that Haunts Me

In addition to writing, I am also a visual artist. Pen and ink are my normal go-to media, but I also enjoy acrylics and color pencil (watercolors are my mortal enemy!). Many of the things that inspire my stories also inspire my pictures. Death. The future. Human experience. Yet there is one source of inspiration that has followed - perhaps haunted - me for years, and that inspiration started with a book.

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier was inspired by a 17th century painting of the same name by Johannes Vermeer. Not much is actually known about the painting or the artist, for that matter. Chevalier's book was an attempt to discover the woman and the story behind the painting.

Not only does the concept of a writer delving into the past through fiction appeal to me, the painting itself struck a chord. Who was this girl? Her expression changes every time I study her. Sometimes she's full of innocence and hope. Sometimes her dark eyes fail to reflect the coy smile on her lips. Sometimes she looks lonely. Sometimes lost. Sometimes wise beyond her years.

I have studied this painting relentlessly. As a writer, I need to figure out who she is. I need to understand what she feels, what she dreams, what she desires with the utmost depths of herself. As an artist, I draw her. Over and over again. Maybe by creating her image I will find a deeper understanding. From sketches to paintings, I have recreated this girl many times. Often, instead of finding her, I find someone else entirely.

These are two very different version of the "Girl with a Pearl Earring" that I've done.

               "Girl with a Pearl Piercing"                       "Runner with a Pearl Earring"

Both of the women in my pictures are very different from the original and very different from each other. By studying one intriguing face, I have found many new characters. These two pieces are a small sampling of my efforts to capture the girl who wears the pearl earring. They are the most recent, but they won't be the last. 

I know that I will return to this painting, trying to tease out it secrets with words and paint. As a writer and an artist, inspiration is key to my success and, thanks to this painting, I have never lacked a mystery to follow. 

So let me end with a quote from the book that started this lifelong obsession:

“You're so calm and quiet, you never say. But there are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.” 

"Girl with a Pearl Piercing" and "Runner with a Pearl Earring" are copyright to Grace Wagner. Do not reproduce or use without permission. 2013

Book Review: IQ84 by Haruki Murakami

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami is an asymmetrical, deeply intriguing fairytale. Told from radically different perspectives, Murakami weaves together a picture of the past, present, and possible futures. He places the story in the past (1984) while simultaneously creating futuristic events and an alternate timeline, namely the world of 1Q84. This juxtaposition of a pre-mobile phone world and post-modern philosophy creates a captivating and poetic style.

While at points the plot can drag – and I’m still not certain why American publishers decided to print three books as one gigantic volume – the premise proved interesting enough to keep me going.

The main characters, like the world itself, can at times be both relatable and frustrating. Tengo, an oblivious aspiring-author, seems to wander through his world unable to grasp the indefinable strangeness around him until he meets Fuka-eri. A high-schooler with an improbably good story to tell, the eccentric Fuka-eri breaks into Tengo’s dull life like a wave crashing into a sandcastle. He is transfixed by this unusual girl and falls in love with her story more than with her. He becomes her ghost-writer, an act which wrenches him out of his casual, uninteresting life and lands him squarely in a world that is quite literally stranger than fiction.

Meanwhile, Aomame, a fierce yet flawed character who at first appears utterly detached from the main story descends into the world 1Q84 in an abrupt and observable fashion. Reflecting the two worlds she inhabits, she leads a dual life of energetic fitness trainer-cum-righteous assassin. Slowly, her own life becomes more and more entangled with the parallel stories of Tengo and Fuka-eri.

Aside from a single shared moment in their childhood, Tengo and Aomame have in common a deep and unsettling emptiness. Both have tried to fill it in their own ways, Tengo with words and Aomame with deeds, but both remain unsatisfied. As they attempt to navigate the world of 1Q84, they come closer and closer to each other and fulfillment.

Fuka-eri herself is actually not so much a character as a convenient plot-device. Her behavior is strange and her responses unpredictable and emotionless. Rather than being portrayed as the abused child that she is, she’s set up as some sort of spiritual receptacle. Here Murakami dives into a deeply disturbing plot twist that forces the reader to reconsider their basic moral ideas.

As a reader, I was both profoundly revolted and unrelentingly curious. Did I actually fully grasp the concepts presented to me? Was I capable of forming moral judgments on something so entirely foreign? I’m still not comfortable with the aspects of sexual exploitation and abuse that are addressed by this book, but perhaps that was the writer’s goal. Murakami’s magnum opus constantly circles in on itself taking the reader to deeper and deeper levels of plot and morality. The cyclical nature of change and duality, of both the world and the characters, is captured in a single well-illustrated metaphor: the double moon in the sky of 1Q84.

Although there are times when it feels as if the writer wanders through his world as unwittingly as his character Tengo and many instances where Murakami failed to “kill his darlings,” the prose is ultimately successful.  The writing, as strange as the story itself, is perhaps a result of translation from the original Japanese, but with his startling and unusual style of prose, Murakami surpasses any language barriers. The writing became itself a character in this intricately crafted story. Murakami’s world and lyrical use of language mesh inextricably.

For those of you willing to devote a significant amount of time and brainpower to this book, you will be rewarded with a world of unflinching strangeness and beauty that forces you to question your own concepts of religion, love, and even reality. What would happen if one day you descended into a world that, while similar to you own, was ever so slightly different? What would you do if you looked up to find two moons in your once familiar sky?

Writing Prompt: Do You Confront Him?

photo by falln-stock

Prompt: You know the person with whom you're talking is lying. Do you confront him or let him continue?

Response:

The lie was written across his face. His tears and heartfelt pleas felt as honest as fool's gold. The reporters pretended to be concerned, sympathetic. The police chief issued a statement of support. The T.V. flickered, the only interruption in the continuous coverage of this so-called tragedy. I knew he was guilty. The memory of his hands crept up my arms. I knew her pain. The missing girl was another version of myself. I knew he was guilty and I knew they would never find her.

Copyrighted to Grace Wagner. Do not replicate without out written permission. 2013


This one was a lot shorter. This book has them split into four different sizes: full page, half page, third of a page, and a quarter. The lengths when handwritten of course end up longer, but I thought I'd upload a couple of the shorter ones. This prompt was a third of the page.

Let me know if you have any questions or if you want to join in!

Writing Prompt: Favorite Song Title

by Artist

Prompt: Write a story based on the title of your favorite song.

Response: "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie

The room smelled of age and paper and stories. You led me between rows of leather-bound spines. The library had been abandoned for years. The grand old building lay tucked between skyscrapers and busy lives. In the eyes of the government it was "historic" and thus immune to demolition. In the eyes of entrepreneurs it was a waste of space.

I closed my eyes, feeling my way behind you. No one read physical books anymore. No one but you.

The cadence of your voice lilting over small, enigmatic type was a stark contrast to the drone of pre-recorded, pre-approved novels. Poetry lingered in your pauses, your breath drifting away from the small LED light into the blackness around us. My thoughts followed it.

Now I stand between empty rows. The books were packed and shipped away to some museum back east. That happened almost a year ago. I see your face like an afterimage. Burned into my retina as you grin over your shoulder.

What should we read tonight?

I shrug. Whatever you want.

I sit down, folding my legs beneath me. The emptiness presses down on me like a coffin lid. I lean back, closing my eyes. In the dark, I find your words. They become you.

"Adieu, adieu! my native shore / Fades o'er the waters blue; / The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, / and shrieks the wild sea-mew."

I follow you into the dark.

Copyrighted to Grace Wagner. Do not replicate without out written permission. 2013

UPDATE: Claudia Bookwright has also uploaded her answer to the prompt. Check it out here.