Rewrites

I’m going to a writing conference this Saturday.  And since I’m signed up to go to a workshop, I got a packet of novel excerpts to read in preparation.  I was pretty excited at the quality of most of the writing. Yay!  But the thing I was most excited to see was rewritten version of a novel that I’d read in the workshop last year.

Last year’s version wasn’t bad.  But like a lot of newbie novels (mine included), it started out with backstory.  Why do we do this so often?  I mean, we all know that you don’t begin with backstory.  I think I’ve done it because I’m not as confident in my writing and my characters as I need to be.  And I think it’s because a lot of times when I start a novel, I really don’t know the characters yet—what I start off writing is more to educate me than anyone else.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  You have to start somewhere.  But you can’t stop there or your readers will yawn and move on to another book. 

Instead in this new version of the book, the author began where the story started—when something happens, when the main character gets kicked in the stomach by the plot.  As a reader, I get to see who the MC is through her actions and decisions.  As well as by what she doesn’t do or say.

What about the backstory?  It was important information.  But this time, the author dropped bits and pieces of the backstory into the chapters like chocolate chips in Tollhouse cookies.  We found out what we needed to know, but only when we needed to know it, and it left me hungry for more.  Isn’t that what every writer wants?  I know that I do.

I can’t wait to see the author and tell her how excited I am about this version of her novel.

Update: Our friend Duncan had brain surgery this morning.  The neurosurgeon said that it went very well.  We’re all very thankful.  And thanks for the prayers.

Photos and Updates

Here's a photo of my three oldest in their costumes.  Luke was right.  Rubbing alcohol does remove Sharpie even after you've had it on for hours.

In case you've forgotten, Ariel went as Medusa--hence the snakes in her hair, Luke went as Harry Potter, and Jake was a pirate.





Here's a photo of my budding chemist on Sunday morning, grating horseradish for a sauce for the lunch roast. Luke always wears his lab goggles when he deals with horseradish or onions.  And, yes, it does keep his eyes from watering.


One final note, Luke's friend Duncan (18) is doing very well.  He's still in neuro ICU and will need surgery, but he's doing remarkably well.  We are all very thankful.  Luke, Ariel and Matt are visiting Duncan right now.  Cal, Jake, and I will visit later this afternoon.

Bad News

We received some bad news today.  My son Luke's best friend, Duncan, had bleeding in his brain today.  (For those of you with medical knowledge, he has a AVM.)  Right now the bleeding has stopped.  The hope is for the site to stabilize and do surgery in a few weeks.  I know they'd appreciate your prayers.  Thanks.

Hydrocarbons and Costumes

Three of our kids are going to a costume party tonight. They’ve been working on their costumes. Jake’s going as a pirate, complete with eye patch, earring, and hook. Ariel is going as Medusa. She has a lovely Greek gown and is wearing snakes in her hair. Luke vacillated between the Grim Reaper, a Shakespeare character, or Harry Potter. He decided on Harry Potter. (I’ll try to remember to take pictures.)



For part of Luke’s ensemble, he got a metal clothes hanger and started transforming it into glasses. We all told him that it was going to look stupid. He told us to be patient. By last evening, the glasses looked really good. Ariel and I told Luke that we could paint a scar on his forehead with makeup. He scowled. Ten minutes later, Luke said, “Tada.” He had a lovely “scar” on his forehead. Ariel and I examined it closely. I said, “What did you use to draw this scar?” Luke said, “A Sharpie.” In unison, Ariel and I yelled, “No! You’ll never be able to get that off.” Luke’s forehead wrinkled. “Of course, I can get it off. Sharpie ink is hydrocarbon-based. All I need is a hydrocarbon-based solvent.” We dared him to take it off.


Luke left the room and came back sans Sharpie scar. Apparently, rubbing alcohol took it right off. Ariel and I are still suspicious. We’ll see if he ends up going to church on Sunday with the scar still cutting across his forehead.

Writers' Quotes

"What the detective story is about is not murder but the restoration of order."



~P D James

Trading Places with Jake

We have the autumnal cold going through our house. Luke has it, Jake has it, and I have it. However, Luke and Jake can take medicine. Their bathroom counter has Dayquil and Nyquil. Mine has cough drops. They can go about their daily business. I get to lie on the couch and blow my nose. Why? Because I can’t take decongestants. Any cold medicine that worth it’s salt (yeah, sort of a mixed metaphor, but I’m sick so cut me some slack) has a decongestant in it. But decongestants give me tachycardia—my heart will beat so fast it gives me chest pain. Long ago there was a trip to the hospital for chest pain. Apparently your heart can beat so fast that it doesn’t get enough oxygen. Who knew?


So I’m reading (finished all my library books), sleeping, and streaming an occasional TV show. Jake is jealous. I think he’d like to switch places. But he doesn’t notice the stacks of rapidly multiplying laundry, the messy kitchen (okay, the dishes are getting done, but why is it that no one wipes the counters?), and the general disorder of the house—all of which will need to be remedied when I get better. I’d trade with Jake in an instant.

This Post is Not About Matthew

I’d love to do a post on how my youngest son (who is fourteen) got invited to a college dance. He wanted to know if I could drop him off and pick him back up at midnight. (Um, hello—the answer is NO!) But if I did that I might end up with strychnine in my morning coffee. So I won’t tell you about that.

Instead, I could tell you how he’s memorized tons of riddles to wow the college girls. He’s got quite the entourage. But then I might end up with arsenic in my coffee.

Or I could tell you that he narrates college night Mafia and devises gruesome deaths tailored to each victim—he has a career as a novelist in his future. And he’s got that ruggedly handsome look, which is really important to any aspiring novelist. Watch out, Rick Castle. In fact, Matthew is already....hmm, I treasure my morning coffee. Maybe I’ll just stop while I’m ahead.