Later, Gators.
Later, Gators.
When I was in high school, a harsh reprimand was, “Stop instigating!” (Odd diction for kids, but it’s what we used to say.) In a more formal parlance, it meant, stop provoking conflict. While this is a good rule for life, it’s not such a good rule in fiction. In an earlier post about personal problems morphing into writerly problems, one of the commenters shared that her real-life aversion to conflict, spilled out onto the page. Many of us have this same issue, so this post is going to be all about learning to be a proud instigator.How do you know if you’re avoiding conflict in your story? There are plot tics that may indicate a problem.
To see the list of tics, and problem-solving exercises, go on over to She Writes.
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Today is Tuesday, so "Surviving The Draft" is up over at SheWrites. Everyone who reads this blog already knows all about the evil that is "Workcrastination," but the SheWriters are new to the concept, so I posted about that.
Meanwhile, this is the funniest thing I found when I put in "procrastination" into google images. If you click on it, you can see the large version.
And if you don't know what WORKCRASTINATION is, hop over to SheWrites.. and then get back to your book!
]]>I completely understand the intent behind this little declaration. And I suppose it's empowering to think that key to fabulousness is in your own head, you just have to unlock it. But I think this is most appealing to people who are already confident-- or those who *act* confident. I can imagine a person who doesn't always feel so sure of herself reading that sort of message and feeling even LESS sure of herself as a result. So this one goes out to all the girls who could use a little propping up.
When I started college, I was not a very confident person. High school hadn't done me any favors, if you know what I mean. Add to it that I was going to be the youngest person in my class (sweet 16!). But I soldiered on, hoping something good was right around the corner. I had an honors scholarship, so I suspected that maybe I was smart, or kind of smart, or something. But I knew that I was not fabulous. (And let me tell you, at Spelman College, there was a lot of fabulousness happening.) Basically, I was an invisible girl.
After the freshmen orientation, the upperclassmen came back to campus. A few of them said to me, "Hey Donna!" I gave a embarrassed weak little smile until they realised that I wasn't Donna, instead I was some random freshman. This happened again and again.
Then, one day, someone chased me across the student center. "Donna!" I turned around because it was like Donna was my other name by now. The person said, "Oh you're not Donna. She lost her ID." I took the ID card and promised to take it to front desk where this Donna person could claim it.
I looked at the photo on the ID and gasped. (Really. Literally. An audible gasp.) Donna was GORGEOUS. And she did look like me, but gorgeous. It was like I was the BEFORE and she was the AFTER. I held on to her ID longer than I should have, looking her wide smile, and sassy tilt of her head.
This little moment changed the way that I looked at myself. I have wondered many times about what this little story means.
I think it means that even if you are not the most confident person in the room, it doesn't mean that other people won't find you beautiful or interesting. I like to think that other people may often have a more generous view of you than you have of yourself. And I think the story also means that even ugly ducklings aren't always ugly-- no transformation needed.
I did finally meet Donna, and she had heard of me, too. (I'm afraid that my appearance didn't give HER any confidence boosts!) But she took me under her wings and taught me important things like how to properly apply eyeshadow and how to dodge curfew. I haven't seen her in years, but I will always be grateful for what she gave me-- the gift of confidence.
]]>The main personal problem I had to get over was the fear that I would be accused of making excuses for men, that by seeing his side of things I was somehow betraying my characters or even women all over the world. But at the end of the day, I decided that we read to stretch and grow and that we write for the same reason. Look closely at the photo that I’ve chosen to illustrate this post. Look closely and you'll see that one of those rocks is a heart. The everyday miracle quality of this image seemed fitting with the magic of the way that the writer must find the heart of all her characters.
For Chaurisse, Dana is a glamorous friend—a “silver girl” possessing all the beauty, popularity, and good hair that Chaurisse thinks would make her happy.
The title of the this column, “Surviving The Draft,” is inspired by a piece of advice given to me by my mentor, Ron Carlson. When I met him, I was a great admirer of his work and I hadn’t yet written my first novel. R.C. was such an excellent teacher and a beautiful craftsman that I would have done anything that he said would make me a better writer. Sometimes, I would ask him questions about process. I was writing with pen and paper, was that okay? And how often should I go back and revise? Is it okay to read other authors while I am trying to write? Finally, he smiled and said, “Tayari, do whatever you need to do to survive the draft.”]]>
Surviving the draft is getting over the finish line however you can. I’ve written three novels and for one I sprinted across the line, for another I limped, and for the last one, I crawled, but the point is that I did it. Surviving the draft often ain’t pretty, but it’s always possible.
Just in case there are folks out there who are new to the publishing game, let me give a quick run down on what an agent is and how an agent works. Your agent acts as a go-between for you and publishers. Many agents—Jane included—used to be editors, so they have personal relationships with editors. The agent decides which editors at the various publishing houses will be into you. Then she sends the manuscript with a personal pitch. For this, you pay her 15% of any money you make from the book. (Little coda here: any agent who asks for money up front is a crook. Run!)
Anyway, some writers prefer not to work with agents, mostly because they don’t want to give up the money. Far be it from me to urge anyone in this rough economy to part with cash, but in my opinion, it’s well, well, well worth it. Here’s a bullet point anecdote-y list as to why.
So, these are the reasons that I choose to work with an agent in general and Jane in particular. I’m in good hands and, for that, I am very grateful. Happy Birthday, Jane.
