This isn't going to be of much interest to anyone except writers.
Might not be of interest to them either, when it comes right down to it.
Let me natter on for a minute about 'tagging with action'.
A 'dialog tag' is the set of words that tells us who is speaking the dialog.
'Said' and 'said-isms', ('he replied', 'he swore', 'he promised', 'he shouted',) are the most common dialog tags.
"I've made a right mess of this turkey," Tom said, off handedly.
"Let that sylph go," a voice drifted up from the inky depths of the well, "or ye'll get well acquaint with cold water."
"I'm going to erase this and start over," Tom remarked.
I've marked the dialog tag in blue.
But we can move beyond the 'said' and the 'saidism'.
For instance, dialog can even sit there without any tag at all ... the reader just knows who is speaking. That's a very elegant way to tag dialog.
Probably the second most common way to tag dialog is to give us an action that belongs to the speaker of the dialog.
"I'm not ready to commit myself." Tom shifted from one foot to another, nervously.
Bert flung out a warning hand. "Careful. That's a viper pit ahead of you on the path."
Betsy took a reflective lick off the back of the spoon. "Needs more salt."
In those three sentences, we haven't used 'said' or any of its cousins. We've used action. Action tags.
Now some action tags are used very often.
Consider -- he looked, saw, noticed, glanced, gazed, peered, twisted, turned, got up, stood up, walked, sat down, grinned, smiled, laughed, sighed, nodded, shook his head, lifted his chin, jerked his head, breathed, drew in a breath, let out a breath, inhaled, exhaled, sucked in air, gasped ... and so, infinitely and somewhat boringly, on.
There is nothing wrong with these familiar action tags. Careful writers use them all the time.
One trap we fall into, though, is using these stereotyped, twitchy action tags again and again. We can send our characters through a kind of nervous, pointless dance as they grin and raise eyebrows and nod and frown and . . . you get the idea.
One way to avoid the twitchy, overused action tags is to write an extended action. An extended action doesn't flash by and leave the next line to be tagged by another bitty action. An extended action lasts a long time. Maybe the whole scene.
There are two basic kinds of extended action used for dialog tagging.
Action may be 'story action' that changes the outcome of the story. This action goes on during the dialog, but it is also, in and of itself, important. Betty bops Marcus over the head. Chrissy crashes the Jeep. Stacy shoplifts. Mother mixes poisons.
Or the action may be 'stage business' -- stage business is interesting enough, but it's in there mostly to give our characters something to do with their hands. Betty beats cake batter. Chrissy cracks eggs. Stacy stocks the shelves. Mother mixes salad dressing.
Story action is first choice.
Any scene, any chapter, any line, we're always saying to ourselves 'Tell the story.'
'Stage business', as a technique, is neither right nor wrong.
It's one of the writer's tools. But we have to recognize it when we write it. We have to be sure there isn't some 'story action' we should be using instead.
And we have to pick the best, shiniest 'stage action' in the world, one that tells us about the characters or paints a vivid picture of the scene or foreshadows disaster and delight to come
or does some interesting storytelling stuff like that.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Tech Tops -- The 100 Best of the Worst - #1
As part of a larger project -- the '100 Best of the Worst Writing Mistakes' projects -- I'm pulling together writing mistakes.
Here's a few. Thirteen of them. I'll post more later.
Word choice: Superfluous 'that’s'.
At the polishing stage of the redraft, do a search on 'that'. Every time a sentence reads fine without 'that', pull it out.
Not – It is clear that Joanie dunks donuts.
But -- It is clear Joanie dunks donuts.
Or better ... Clearly, Joanie dunks donuts, which frees the predicate from the verb 'to be', which is nearly always an improvement.
Paragraphing: Logical connectivity.
Paragraphing is an art. We need to be aware of the subtle breaks in the ongoing action that signal a movement of attention or a change in emphasis. We tidy related thoughts, description, and action together into their logical and appropriate paragraph.
Powerful stuff, paragraphing.
Not –
"I'm sick of your shenanigans, Macy." Tregarth wound another length of fishing line around his hand, making a neat bundle. A woman's scarf, Macy's scarf, red as blood, lay folded on the plank.
Lose ends of the nylon line blew back and forth in the wind. Macy sat in the prow looking out over the Severn. "I never meant to hurt anyone."
But --
"I'm sick of your shenanigans, Macy." Tregarth wound another length of the fishing line around his hand, making a neat bundle. Lose ends of the nylon line blew back and forth in the wind.
A woman's scarf, Macy's scarf, red as blood, lay folded on the plank. Macy sat in the prow looking out over the Severn. "I never meant to hurt anyone."
Paragraphing: Segregation of dialog.
When dialog ensues, it owns the paragraphing.
Segregate action, description and all kinds of tags related to a character into that character's paragraph. The one with that character's dialog. Do not let one character's constellation of narrative wander into a paragraph belonging to someone else.
Not –
"Christmas shopping weeds out the weak." Beatrice kneaded her feet, which hurt. Mary nodded happy agreement.
"And there's 23 shopping days left," Mary said brightly. "Plenty of time for Darwinian selection to kick in."
But --
"Christmas shopping weeds out the weak." Beatrice kneaded her feet, which hurt.
Mary nodded happy agreement. "And there's 23 shopping days left. Plenty of time for Darwinian selection to kick in."
Dialog: As you know, Bob.
This is a classic. We have a bolus of backstory, so we set up talking heads to tell it to each other for the benefit of the reader.
As you know, Bob, today, March 3rd, we celebrate the founding of the Beta Colony.
Whenever you lay backstory in the mouths of characters, (and this is a fine technique for conveying backstory,) ask yourself
(1) do these two guys already know what is being said?
and
(2) would they talk about it right now?
Dialog: Addressing characters in dialog.
Folks do not call each other by name several times in a conversation. They just don't. Go listen to people talking. They never say each other's names.
It's tempting to tag dialog by inserting personal names into it.
Resist temptation.
One exception is if you have a couple of people in the room and the speaker needs to indicate who he's talking to.
In this case he probably would address each by name.
"We'll put you down for the raffle tickets, Vernon. Chester, can you be in charge of security? And, Ellie Mae, I want you to pick pockets. Mom, you get drunk. Do we all have this straight?"
People also 'address by name' in moments of stress and passion.
Unfortunately, this is not useful for tagging dialog, because in moments of stress and passion it is generally clear who is saying, "I adore you," or "This is for what you did to Cynthia," and to whom.
Word choice: 'Now' and 'Then'.
These are often fluff, added where the sequence of events is obvious, or when the current moment doesn't need to be emphasized.
Not – Vernon didn't believe in Santa Claus now, whatever he'd thought at seven.
But -- Vernon didn't believe in Santa Claus, whatever he'd thought at seven.
Not -- Marlene tied the pony to the fence and then climbed over, leaving the reins behind her.
But -- Marlene tied the pony to the fence and climbed over, leaving the reins behind her.
Word choice: 'It'.
Every 'it' wants to grow up to be a noun. Some of them should do so.
On later polishing drafts, reconsider every 'it'.
Replacing the flavorless and imprecise pronoun 'it' with a more spritely and informative noun is a good way to pack together thick, rich prose. 'It' is also a word with a better-than-usual aptitude for being vague and misleading. 'It' is sly.
Make sure the meaning of every 'it' is just crystal clear to the meanest intelligence because there's some fairly misleadable people out there.
Having carefully considered your 'its', one by one, you leave most of them in place.
'It', with all it's faults, is useful, simple, workaday and unobtrusive.
So. Go thou and improve many of your 'its'. Add a new noun when that enriches the paragraph.
But do not be snookered into automatically upgrading every single one of the pesky things.
Not – Lester pulled back on the arrow and shot it deep into the woods. But -- Lester pulled back on the arrow and shot the black shaft deep into the woods.
Not -- Serena prepared a meal of hominy grits and spam. When it was ready she called the boys.
But -- Serena prepared hominy grits and spam. When breakfast was ready she called the boys.
But also
not -- Reginald pulled out the heavy, square brass box and locked the secretive metal casket with a gold key.
Instead -- Reginald pulled out the heavy, square brass box and locked it with a gold key.
Word choice: 'That' as a pronoun.
The little brother of 'it' is the pronoun 'that', yet another word that wants to become a noun. Often 'that' lures us to write two sentences when we only have one sentence worth of material.
Not – Claude was worried about defeat. He feared that more than hunger or thirst.
But -- Claude feared defeat more than hunger or thirst.
Not --- Adrianna deplored Marianne's stupidity. She knew that was the major roadblock.
But -- Adrianna knew Marianne's stupidity was the major roadblock.
Not – Here's the red nose. Give that to the Clown.
But -- Give the large red nose to the Clown.
Word choice: Word sound as an aspect of character.
The words we choose are not just a set of dictionary definitions strung together. They have sound.
The narrative and dialog, both, are full of gutturals, plosives and harsh clicks, syllabants and tonal vowels and smooth, mealy murmurs, blunt Germanic words, complex, educated Latinate words.
Look at the acoustics. Match the sound of words to the character.
Give each character a theme of Germanic choppiness or Latinate length. Use this 'themed sound' in character dialog, in internal monologue, in deep POV, in description of the character, and in the narrative that marches by when the character is onstage.
Thus – Petroff battered the crowd with blunt logic while Leonid impressed the audience with his eloquence.
Description: Specificity: Lack of quantity.
Not – a lot of money, a whole bunch of crayons, many venal faults, large fields.
But – Two hundred dollars, three boxes of crayons, seven unpleasant and venal faults, two hectares.
Description: Specificity: Lack of quality.
Not – bright dresses, frigid cold, bad smells, loud noise,.
But -- cherry-red and lime-green dresses, a windchill factor of minus six degrees, the smell of three-day-old fish, raucous church bells.
Not – unworthy suitors, major obstacles, good opportunities.
But -- liars and greedy pigs, six armed guards waiting in the walkway, a chance to buy into the accounting firm.
POV: POV name in POV.
When we see the personal name of a character, we figure we're not in that guy's POV.
Reason for this --
In deep POV we're thinking along with the POV character. We're right inside his head. We are him.
Folks just don't think of themselves as 'Clyde' or 'Horace' inside their own heads. They think 'I' or 'me'.
Now in Third Person we can't actually do 'I' and 'me' all that much except as Internal Monologue. So we use 'he' and 'him'. This is not an entirely logical choice but it has the virtue of not being 'Clyde'.
'Clyde' is so alien and illogical it shakes us out of POV altogether.
In practice, (because the sublunary world is imperfect and we have to just suck it up and live with that,) we tend to use the personal name once at the beginning of the chapter or the scene or the POV switch just so we know whose head we've landed in.
After that – we use 'he' or 'she' instead unless we've worked ourselves into a corner where it's either the personal name or some vast stupid circumlocution in which case we wince and use the character name again and take up writing real fast hoping no one noticed.
Not -- Jane knew trouble was coming. The giant black bats that filled the sky, the earth tremors, and the trees dripping blood were sure signs. Jane tried to remember if she'd paid her last life insurance premium on time.
But -- Jane knew trouble was coming. The giant black bats that filled the sky, the earth tremors, and the trees dripping blood were sure signs. She tried to remember if she'd paid her last life insurance premium on time.
Verbs: 'To be' and action.
One aspect of 'to be' is that it states what is. Put the verb 'to be' into the predicate and you present the scene as a static and straightforward painting.
Sometimes you want to do this. Sometimes the most important information about a scene is that is exists. It is set before us.
But when 'to be' is the predicate, this call for at least a brief reconsideration in the late draft polish.
This leads us to the general advice ... look around the neighboring sentences till you find a more exciting verb than 'was' and use that one instead.
Not – The oatmeal was nutbrown, wholesome and steaming.
But – The wholesome, nutbrown oatmeal steamed.
Or, better yet – He dropped the bowl of wholesome, nutbrown, steaming oatmeal on the floor.
Not – The sky was high and blue, cloudless, a scorching bowl of merciless sun, the expanse broken only by a pair of frightened birds.
But – Reuben rode in under a sky high, blue, and cloudless. A pair of frightened birds broke from cover as he passed, flurrying upward under a scorching bowl of merciless sun.
Here's a few. Thirteen of them. I'll post more later.
Word choice: Superfluous 'that’s'.
At the polishing stage of the redraft, do a search on 'that'. Every time a sentence reads fine without 'that', pull it out.
Not – It is clear that Joanie dunks donuts.
But -- It is clear Joanie dunks donuts.
Or better ... Clearly, Joanie dunks donuts, which frees the predicate from the verb 'to be', which is nearly always an improvement.
Paragraphing: Logical connectivity.
Paragraphing is an art. We need to be aware of the subtle breaks in the ongoing action that signal a movement of attention or a change in emphasis. We tidy related thoughts, description, and action together into their logical and appropriate paragraph.
Powerful stuff, paragraphing.
Not –
"I'm sick of your shenanigans, Macy." Tregarth wound another length of fishing line around his hand, making a neat bundle. A woman's scarf, Macy's scarf, red as blood, lay folded on the plank.
Lose ends of the nylon line blew back and forth in the wind. Macy sat in the prow looking out over the Severn. "I never meant to hurt anyone."
But --
"I'm sick of your shenanigans, Macy." Tregarth wound another length of the fishing line around his hand, making a neat bundle. Lose ends of the nylon line blew back and forth in the wind.
A woman's scarf, Macy's scarf, red as blood, lay folded on the plank. Macy sat in the prow looking out over the Severn. "I never meant to hurt anyone."
Paragraphing: Segregation of dialog.
When dialog ensues, it owns the paragraphing.
Segregate action, description and all kinds of tags related to a character into that character's paragraph. The one with that character's dialog. Do not let one character's constellation of narrative wander into a paragraph belonging to someone else.
Not –
"Christmas shopping weeds out the weak." Beatrice kneaded her feet, which hurt. Mary nodded happy agreement.
"And there's 23 shopping days left," Mary said brightly. "Plenty of time for Darwinian selection to kick in."
But --
"Christmas shopping weeds out the weak." Beatrice kneaded her feet, which hurt.
Mary nodded happy agreement. "And there's 23 shopping days left. Plenty of time for Darwinian selection to kick in."
Dialog: As you know, Bob.
This is a classic. We have a bolus of backstory, so we set up talking heads to tell it to each other for the benefit of the reader.
As you know, Bob, today, March 3rd, we celebrate the founding of the Beta Colony.
Whenever you lay backstory in the mouths of characters, (and this is a fine technique for conveying backstory,) ask yourself
(1) do these two guys already know what is being said?
and
(2) would they talk about it right now?
Dialog: Addressing characters in dialog.
Folks do not call each other by name several times in a conversation. They just don't. Go listen to people talking. They never say each other's names.
It's tempting to tag dialog by inserting personal names into it.
Resist temptation.
One exception is if you have a couple of people in the room and the speaker needs to indicate who he's talking to.
In this case he probably would address each by name.
"We'll put you down for the raffle tickets, Vernon. Chester, can you be in charge of security? And, Ellie Mae, I want you to pick pockets. Mom, you get drunk. Do we all have this straight?"
People also 'address by name' in moments of stress and passion.
Unfortunately, this is not useful for tagging dialog, because in moments of stress and passion it is generally clear who is saying, "I adore you," or "This is for what you did to Cynthia," and to whom.
Word choice: 'Now' and 'Then'.
These are often fluff, added where the sequence of events is obvious, or when the current moment doesn't need to be emphasized.
Not – Vernon didn't believe in Santa Claus now, whatever he'd thought at seven.
But -- Vernon didn't believe in Santa Claus, whatever he'd thought at seven.
Not -- Marlene tied the pony to the fence and then climbed over, leaving the reins behind her.
But -- Marlene tied the pony to the fence and climbed over, leaving the reins behind her.
Word choice: 'It'.
Every 'it' wants to grow up to be a noun. Some of them should do so.
On later polishing drafts, reconsider every 'it'.
Replacing the flavorless and imprecise pronoun 'it' with a more spritely and informative noun is a good way to pack together thick, rich prose. 'It' is also a word with a better-than-usual aptitude for being vague and misleading. 'It' is sly.
Make sure the meaning of every 'it' is just crystal clear to the meanest intelligence because there's some fairly misleadable people out there.
Having carefully considered your 'its', one by one, you leave most of them in place.
'It', with all it's faults, is useful, simple, workaday and unobtrusive.
So. Go thou and improve many of your 'its'. Add a new noun when that enriches the paragraph.
But do not be snookered into automatically upgrading every single one of the pesky things.
Not – Lester pulled back on the arrow and shot it deep into the woods. But -- Lester pulled back on the arrow and shot the black shaft deep into the woods.
Not -- Serena prepared a meal of hominy grits and spam. When it was ready she called the boys.
But -- Serena prepared hominy grits and spam. When breakfast was ready she called the boys.
But also
not -- Reginald pulled out the heavy, square brass box and locked the secretive metal casket with a gold key.
Instead -- Reginald pulled out the heavy, square brass box and locked it with a gold key.
Word choice: 'That' as a pronoun.
The little brother of 'it' is the pronoun 'that', yet another word that wants to become a noun. Often 'that' lures us to write two sentences when we only have one sentence worth of material.
Not – Claude was worried about defeat. He feared that more than hunger or thirst.
But -- Claude feared defeat more than hunger or thirst.
Not --- Adrianna deplored Marianne's stupidity. She knew that was the major roadblock.
But -- Adrianna knew Marianne's stupidity was the major roadblock.
Not – Here's the red nose. Give that to the Clown.
But -- Give the large red nose to the Clown.
Word choice: Word sound as an aspect of character.
The words we choose are not just a set of dictionary definitions strung together. They have sound.
The narrative and dialog, both, are full of gutturals, plosives and harsh clicks, syllabants and tonal vowels and smooth, mealy murmurs, blunt Germanic words, complex, educated Latinate words.
Look at the acoustics. Match the sound of words to the character.
Give each character a theme of Germanic choppiness or Latinate length. Use this 'themed sound' in character dialog, in internal monologue, in deep POV, in description of the character, and in the narrative that marches by when the character is onstage.
Thus – Petroff battered the crowd with blunt logic while Leonid impressed the audience with his eloquence.
Description: Specificity: Lack of quantity.
Not – a lot of money, a whole bunch of crayons, many venal faults, large fields.
But – Two hundred dollars, three boxes of crayons, seven unpleasant and venal faults, two hectares.
Description: Specificity: Lack of quality.
Not – bright dresses, frigid cold, bad smells, loud noise,.
But -- cherry-red and lime-green dresses, a windchill factor of minus six degrees, the smell of three-day-old fish, raucous church bells.
Not – unworthy suitors, major obstacles, good opportunities.
But -- liars and greedy pigs, six armed guards waiting in the walkway, a chance to buy into the accounting firm.
POV: POV name in POV.
When we see the personal name of a character, we figure we're not in that guy's POV.
Reason for this --
In deep POV we're thinking along with the POV character. We're right inside his head. We are him.
Folks just don't think of themselves as 'Clyde' or 'Horace' inside their own heads. They think 'I' or 'me'.
Now in Third Person we can't actually do 'I' and 'me' all that much except as Internal Monologue. So we use 'he' and 'him'. This is not an entirely logical choice but it has the virtue of not being 'Clyde'.
'Clyde' is so alien and illogical it shakes us out of POV altogether.
In practice, (because the sublunary world is imperfect and we have to just suck it up and live with that,) we tend to use the personal name once at the beginning of the chapter or the scene or the POV switch just so we know whose head we've landed in.
After that – we use 'he' or 'she' instead unless we've worked ourselves into a corner where it's either the personal name or some vast stupid circumlocution in which case we wince and use the character name again and take up writing real fast hoping no one noticed.
Not -- Jane knew trouble was coming. The giant black bats that filled the sky, the earth tremors, and the trees dripping blood were sure signs. Jane tried to remember if she'd paid her last life insurance premium on time.
But -- Jane knew trouble was coming. The giant black bats that filled the sky, the earth tremors, and the trees dripping blood were sure signs. She tried to remember if she'd paid her last life insurance premium on time.
Verbs: 'To be' and action.
One aspect of 'to be' is that it states what is. Put the verb 'to be' into the predicate and you present the scene as a static and straightforward painting.
Sometimes you want to do this. Sometimes the most important information about a scene is that is exists. It is set before us.
But when 'to be' is the predicate, this call for at least a brief reconsideration in the late draft polish.
This leads us to the general advice ... look around the neighboring sentences till you find a more exciting verb than 'was' and use that one instead.
Not – The oatmeal was nutbrown, wholesome and steaming.
But – The wholesome, nutbrown oatmeal steamed.
Or, better yet – He dropped the bowl of wholesome, nutbrown, steaming oatmeal on the floor.
Not – The sky was high and blue, cloudless, a scorching bowl of merciless sun, the expanse broken only by a pair of frightened birds.
But – Reuben rode in under a sky high, blue, and cloudless. A pair of frightened birds broke from cover as he passed, flurrying upward under a scorching bowl of merciless sun.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Japanese Spymaster's
I found out today that Spymaster's Lady will be translated into Japanese. So those of you who were waiting for the Japanese edition ... you are in luck.
I am wondering how you do a French accent in Japanese, but I don't think anyone will ever be able to tell me.
I'm actually hoping it comes out as a manga.
I am wondering how you do a French accent in Japanese, but I don't think anyone will ever be able to tell me.
I'm actually hoping it comes out as a manga.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Tech Top -- Words, words, words ... #2
Harking back to word usage in Spymaster's Lady -- I'm looking at some more of the comments on word usage.
p. 99 "fixed her wagon..."
okay, couldn't find in OED, found one on-line reference linking it to the mid 19th-Century westward movement in the US.
I love the phrase, and its implications, but it sounds contemporary; "settled her hash" 1803, is British and means the exact same thing.
I'm inclined to agree this is 20C.
Googlebooks doesn't show it before the 1940s, 1950s.
Modern. American.
I was just plain wrong, wrong, wrong.
Heck.
p. 143 "mufti"--1816--did you find an earlier source; but it sounds rather Raj-ish to me, but as excellent, succinct description
I didn't find mufti, in this meaning, any earlier than you did.
Now I'm going to explain/excuse my use of mufti on three grounds.
(cough)
The first is that sometimes we run into words -- cosh is another one -- for which there is no good, simple substitute.
A conscientious writer wouldn't use them out of their era.
I cave. I use them. I am so bad.
Second ... the OED date is the earliest authenticated public written record.
I'm betting ... especially with this kind of soldiers' slang ... that the words were current in the spoken language for a good long time before they got into books and the press.
I feel ok using slang a decade before the OED date.
And last ... my folks had lots of contact with India and the men who served there. They'd be some of the earliest English speakers to pick up this word.
p. 184, and elsewhere "sweater" I think is later, and had, esp. earlier on, sports implications (1882).
A knit top worn for general purposes, and esp. by fisherman, would simply be a "jersey."
The date on this is also a little late, 1836, but the OED spec. mentions fishermen, which seems to make it more legit.
Well heck.
Jersey.
I just know a lot of readers would have had trouble with 'jersey'.
I didn't know 'sweater' was so late.
And now that I know, I wish I didn't.
Blast.
Lots of knowledge is like that.
pp 239 & 245 "bathrobe" orig. US, 1902; I always recommend using "dressing gown" which is the same thing, but much older and more British.
I was using bathrobe because I couldn't think of a clearer term.
I knew it might be wrong. I should have thought more on this.
The problem with 'dressing gown' is that Americans --
the ones who aren't flopping around out at sea over the whole thing
-- are likely going to think 'peignoir' when they hear 'dressing gown' instead of picturing a garment that can be made of flannel or lined cotton, and is as suitable to a male as a female.
So I feel like I can use 'dressing gown' for the heroine, but not our hero. Because the connotations are all wrong. Same for 'wrapper'.
What I should have maybe used was banyan. I'll do that next time.
So ... looking at my four bads here.
'Fixed his wagon' was a downright mistake.
'Mufti' squeaks in under my own personal wire as authentic in context.
'Sweater'. Total blindside on that one. Because of the way I used it ... I would probably make the conscious choice to use the anachronistic word.
'Bathrobe' I would rework just the smallest amount and replace with banyan.
p. 99 "fixed her wagon..."
okay, couldn't find in OED, found one on-line reference linking it to the mid 19th-Century westward movement in the US.
I love the phrase, and its implications, but it sounds contemporary; "settled her hash" 1803, is British and means the exact same thing.
I'm inclined to agree this is 20C.
Googlebooks doesn't show it before the 1940s, 1950s.
Modern. American.
I was just plain wrong, wrong, wrong.
Heck.
p. 143 "mufti"--1816--did you find an earlier source; but it sounds rather Raj-ish to me, but as excellent, succinct description
I didn't find mufti, in this meaning, any earlier than you did.
Now I'm going to explain/excuse my use of mufti on three grounds.
(cough)
The first is that sometimes we run into words -- cosh is another one -- for which there is no good, simple substitute.
A conscientious writer wouldn't use them out of their era.
I cave. I use them. I am so bad.
Second ... the OED date is the earliest authenticated public written record.
I'm betting ... especially with this kind of soldiers' slang ... that the words were current in the spoken language for a good long time before they got into books and the press.
I feel ok using slang a decade before the OED date.
And last ... my folks had lots of contact with India and the men who served there. They'd be some of the earliest English speakers to pick up this word.
p. 184, and elsewhere "sweater" I think is later, and had, esp. earlier on, sports implications (1882).
A knit top worn for general purposes, and esp. by fisherman, would simply be a "jersey."
The date on this is also a little late, 1836, but the OED spec. mentions fishermen, which seems to make it more legit.
Well heck.
Jersey.
I just know a lot of readers would have had trouble with 'jersey'.
I didn't know 'sweater' was so late.
And now that I know, I wish I didn't.
Blast.
Lots of knowledge is like that.
pp 239 & 245 "bathrobe" orig. US, 1902; I always recommend using "dressing gown" which is the same thing, but much older and more British.
I was using bathrobe because I couldn't think of a clearer term.
I knew it might be wrong. I should have thought more on this.
The problem with 'dressing gown' is that Americans --
the ones who aren't flopping around out at sea over the whole thing
-- are likely going to think 'peignoir' when they hear 'dressing gown' instead of picturing a garment that can be made of flannel or lined cotton, and is as suitable to a male as a female.
So I feel like I can use 'dressing gown' for the heroine, but not our hero. Because the connotations are all wrong. Same for 'wrapper'.
What I should have maybe used was banyan. I'll do that next time.
So ... looking at my four bads here.
'Fixed his wagon' was a downright mistake.
'Mufti' squeaks in under my own personal wire as authentic in context.
'Sweater'. Total blindside on that one. Because of the way I used it ... I would probably make the conscious choice to use the anachronistic word.
'Bathrobe' I would rework just the smallest amount and replace with banyan.
Basket of Books for Diabetes Research
The excellent Kim Castillo is auctioning a basket of Romance book goodness as part of the 2008 Online Auction to Benefit Diabetes Research.
I'm (cough) in the basket, so I cannot recommend it too strongly.
Here
For those of you who don't already know about this wonderful spot -- see the home place. Here.
I'm (cough) in the basket, so I cannot recommend it too strongly.
Here
For those of you who don't already know about this wonderful spot -- see the home place. Here.
Friday, April 18, 2008
The Amazon Petition
At Dear Author here is the ipetition to ask Amazon to respond to the recent case of an author harassing an Amazon reviewer for a 3-star review. Three stars is too low for this author, who routinely manipulates the Amazon system to get high reviews.
The harassment is described here. The author, a Deborah Anne MacGillivray, apparently hired a private investigator and tracked down the reviewer's name. Tracked down her address.
Tracked down the names of her children ...
Says MacGilivray ... 'we now have her name, her husband’s name, her chidrens’ names, her grannies and great grannies name. Her address phone number and email. lol…quite interesting.'
No. It is not lol.
This is a stalker. This is stomach-churning. This is creepy.
The harassment is described here. The author, a Deborah Anne MacGillivray, apparently hired a private investigator and tracked down the reviewer's name. Tracked down her address.
Tracked down the names of her children ...
Says MacGilivray ... 'we now have her name, her husband’s name, her chidrens’ names, her grannies and great grannies name. Her address phone number and email. lol…quite interesting.'
No. It is not lol.
This is a stalker. This is stomach-churning. This is creepy.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Pronunciation
Somebody asked ... 'How do you pronounce Annique's name?'
The answer --
the same answer you'd give for how you make pancakes
and other weighty issues like that --
is,
'It depends.'
Doyle pronounced it ... 'Ahh NEEK'. Rhyming it with Monique.
But Grey and Adrian (and Annique's mother) made almost three syllables out of it, because they were speaking with accents from the south of France. The last syllable would be pretty weak and breathy.
They'd sound something like . .. 'Ahh NEEK eh.'
You know how somebody from Boston would pronounce 'Jane' as one short syllable, but somebody from Texas would draw it out till it's almost two? It's like that. But not exactly.
The answer --
the same answer you'd give for how you make pancakes
and other weighty issues like that --
is,
'It depends.'
Doyle pronounced it ... 'Ahh NEEK'. Rhyming it with Monique.
But Grey and Adrian (and Annique's mother) made almost three syllables out of it, because they were speaking with accents from the south of France. The last syllable would be pretty weak and breathy.
They'd sound something like . .. 'Ahh NEEK eh.'
You know how somebody from Boston would pronounce 'Jane' as one short syllable, but somebody from Texas would draw it out till it's almost two? It's like that. But not exactly.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My Lord and Spymaster Errata
First erratum of the story.
Sebastian, when he identifies the plant as 'horehound' is, of course, incorrect. It is ground ivy. Glechoma hederacea.
Bad Sebastian! Bad, bad Sebastian! Study your biology.
Sebastian, when he identifies the plant as 'horehound' is, of course, incorrect. It is ground ivy. Glechoma hederacea.
Bad Sebastian! Bad, bad Sebastian! Study your biology.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Technical Topics -- Words, words, words ... What the galleys have taught me
Here are some words and phrases that did not exist in 1810, or did not carry their modern meaning.
heck
shut up
hump
hangover
sugar cube
What I have learned is that you will discover 'shut up' is not authentic Regency-speak only after you are in the galley stage of production and only if you have used it fifteen times.
One more run through the draft. Just wish I had ...
heck
shut up
hump
hangover
sugar cube
What I have learned is that you will discover 'shut up' is not authentic Regency-speak only after you are in the galley stage of production and only if you have used it fifteen times.
One more run through the draft. Just wish I had ...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
My Lord and Spymaster Cover
The My Lord and Spymaster cover is up at Amazon.
So pretty.
As soon as I finish the galleys of MLAS, I shall try to get that cover onto the blog.
(This is not trivial if you are as technologically ham-handed as I am.)
The cover artist for both books is Judy York. Her website is here. You can see the Loretta Chase 'Lord Perfect' cover right on the front page of her Romance section. Cool, yes?
I'm not sure ... could that Loretta Chase cover possibly be the same model -- Nathan Kamp -- as the Spymaster's Lady cover?
Nathan Kamp has a site here if you want to, y'know, look at some abs for a bit.
When I'm writing and I get stuck, I click to Lolcats. Here.
Nothing seems impossible after a few dozen lolcats.
I wouldn't be surprised if N.K.'s abs turned out to have the same aspects of transcendence.
So pretty.
As soon as I finish the galleys of MLAS, I shall try to get that cover onto the blog.
(This is not trivial if you are as technologically ham-handed as I am.)
The cover artist for both books is Judy York. Her website is here. You can see the Loretta Chase 'Lord Perfect' cover right on the front page of her Romance section. Cool, yes?
I'm not sure ... could that Loretta Chase cover possibly be the same model -- Nathan Kamp -- as the Spymaster's Lady cover?
Nathan Kamp has a site here if you want to, y'know, look at some abs for a bit.
When I'm writing and I get stuck, I click to Lolcats. Here.
Nothing seems impossible after a few dozen lolcats.
I wouldn't be surprised if N.K.'s abs turned out to have the same aspects of transcendence.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Out-take from The Spymaster's Lady
Someone asked how Grey reacted to Annique getting her sight back. The first time he saw he with her eyes working, was he startled?
Or what?
This is an out-take from the working document of The Spymaster's Lady.
(Annique is called Anneka in this draft.)
This bit of story, in Grey's POV, didn't make it into the final draft.
***
Doyle's smuggler contacts passed word that Anneka would be landed in Dover. She was easy enough to spot on the docks. But he was expecting a blind woman. She wasn't blind.
Grey stood in the shadow of a tavern doorway and studied her. Her eyes were definitely working. It was Anneka Villiers he was dealing with, so he had to ask himself if he could possibly, possibly have been wrong about her eyes.
But no one on earth can control the dilation of the pupils. She'd been blind.
More than that, today a kind of wonder clung to her that said the light of her eyes had been taken and returned to her. She looked from coiled ropes to the peeling, rocking boats to a herring gull perched on a bollard and collected the sights into herself like a farm girl putting eggs carefully into a basket.
In the middle of all that noisy, fish-filled squalor, she stood and grinned. Her face transformed itself to the cheeky, blazingly-alive Gypsy boy he'd seen juggling in the town square in Bruges. The light inside her was brighter than sunlight glinting off the sea. For the first time he realized how shadowed she'd been the whole time he'd known her by fear and exhaustion and blindness.
Was she carrying the plans? He didn't see how. He'd bet she wasn't carting a spare handkerchief under that hideous dress. Too bad. It would have been easier for both of them if she'd had the plans on her.
She pulled a shabby black scarf around her countrywoman dress and started into town. It was the first mistake he'd ever seen her make, that clothing. Nothing on earth could make her look a farm girl.
She walked like a dancer through the filthy streets. Like a fire flickering. None of the sailors lounging along the quays or on the doorsteps of brothels called after her. They'd buy a black-haired Irish whore tonight and dream about Anneka, but not one of them thought Anneka's quality was within his reach.
The next hour was busy. He wasn't the only man waiting for her at the dock. Somebody else had been alerted by the same smugglers. There were rats on her trail. He set his men to picking 'em off as soon as they showed themselves. But he had only three agents with him and God knew how many people were after Anneka Villiers this warm fall afternoon. She didn't spot them herself for a while, too busy enjoying life to be properly careful of it.
She was in the market, smiling at some oranges, when she noticed the cut-throat who'd been shadowing her for a block and a half. It was pure joy to watch her slide into the crowd, smooth as slicing water, and vanish.
He sent Fletcher to deal with yet another thug who was lurking among the chicken coops and he took off after Anneka.
He was in time. Barely.
She was cornered in an alley, squared off against five times her fighting weight. Duval and two of his bully boys. When he got there, she'd reduced one Frenchman to a whimpering welter of blood. She was having less luck poking a hole in Henri. She couldn't get close. The Frenchman had a reach like an ape.
So he took care of Henri for her. He didn't break his neck. Anneka kept leaving the bastard alive for some reason and it seemed polite to defer to her judgement. All he did was bounce him off a wall and, hoped, crack one of his shoulders. Then Anneka put a knife into Duval – his arm, not his throat. That was enough to send the pack scurrying.
She sagged against the wall, breathing hard, pale as parchment. If he'd come into that alleyway five minutes later ... the thought of her, bleeding her life out in this dim, ugly squalor, hit like a body blow. She was game enough, and a clever fighter, but she lacked edge. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking.
If she were his agent, he wouldn't let her off the front steps without a backup.
*****
Or what?
This is an out-take from the working document of The Spymaster's Lady.
(Annique is called Anneka in this draft.)
This bit of story, in Grey's POV, didn't make it into the final draft.
***
Doyle's smuggler contacts passed word that Anneka would be landed in Dover. She was easy enough to spot on the docks. But he was expecting a blind woman. She wasn't blind.
Grey stood in the shadow of a tavern doorway and studied her. Her eyes were definitely working. It was Anneka Villiers he was dealing with, so he had to ask himself if he could possibly, possibly have been wrong about her eyes.
But no one on earth can control the dilation of the pupils. She'd been blind.
More than that, today a kind of wonder clung to her that said the light of her eyes had been taken and returned to her. She looked from coiled ropes to the peeling, rocking boats to a herring gull perched on a bollard and collected the sights into herself like a farm girl putting eggs carefully into a basket.
In the middle of all that noisy, fish-filled squalor, she stood and grinned. Her face transformed itself to the cheeky, blazingly-alive Gypsy boy he'd seen juggling in the town square in Bruges. The light inside her was brighter than sunlight glinting off the sea. For the first time he realized how shadowed she'd been the whole time he'd known her by fear and exhaustion and blindness.
Was she carrying the plans? He didn't see how. He'd bet she wasn't carting a spare handkerchief under that hideous dress. Too bad. It would have been easier for both of them if she'd had the plans on her.
She pulled a shabby black scarf around her countrywoman dress and started into town. It was the first mistake he'd ever seen her make, that clothing. Nothing on earth could make her look a farm girl.
She walked like a dancer through the filthy streets. Like a fire flickering. None of the sailors lounging along the quays or on the doorsteps of brothels called after her. They'd buy a black-haired Irish whore tonight and dream about Anneka, but not one of them thought Anneka's quality was within his reach.
The next hour was busy. He wasn't the only man waiting for her at the dock. Somebody else had been alerted by the same smugglers. There were rats on her trail. He set his men to picking 'em off as soon as they showed themselves. But he had only three agents with him and God knew how many people were after Anneka Villiers this warm fall afternoon. She didn't spot them herself for a while, too busy enjoying life to be properly careful of it.
She was in the market, smiling at some oranges, when she noticed the cut-throat who'd been shadowing her for a block and a half. It was pure joy to watch her slide into the crowd, smooth as slicing water, and vanish.
He sent Fletcher to deal with yet another thug who was lurking among the chicken coops and he took off after Anneka.
He was in time. Barely.
She was cornered in an alley, squared off against five times her fighting weight. Duval and two of his bully boys. When he got there, she'd reduced one Frenchman to a whimpering welter of blood. She was having less luck poking a hole in Henri. She couldn't get close. The Frenchman had a reach like an ape.
So he took care of Henri for her. He didn't break his neck. Anneka kept leaving the bastard alive for some reason and it seemed polite to defer to her judgement. All he did was bounce him off a wall and, hoped, crack one of his shoulders. Then Anneka put a knife into Duval – his arm, not his throat. That was enough to send the pack scurrying.
She sagged against the wall, breathing hard, pale as parchment. If he'd come into that alleyway five minutes later ... the thought of her, bleeding her life out in this dim, ugly squalor, hit like a body blow. She was game enough, and a clever fighter, but she lacked edge. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking.
If she were his agent, he wouldn't let her off the front steps without a backup.
*****
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Good-bye Jess. Hello Maggie
I sent off the copyedits for My Lord and Spymaster on Tuesday.
This means I'm basically done with it. MLAS is about kicked out of the nest. Soon it'll be out there soaring on its own ... or fluttering on the ground making sad little chirrups waiting for a cat to come along and jump on it.
What lies ahead for MLAS ...
In New York they're taking those copyedits apart and putting them into electronic form, ready to make the galleys.
They'll send the galleys back to me. I'm not supposed to change stuff in the galleys, except typos, but I've picked out two places where I want to make bitty, bitty little changes. Ten or twelve words added in one place. One word changed in the other.
Then I send the galleys back and I'm done.
I've started blocking out the story for Maggie. I have a possible outline. Who is Maggie? What does she want? What does she need? What will she do to get it?
This means I'm basically done with it. MLAS is about kicked out of the nest. Soon it'll be out there soaring on its own ... or fluttering on the ground making sad little chirrups waiting for a cat to come along and jump on it.
What lies ahead for MLAS ...
In New York they're taking those copyedits apart and putting them into electronic form, ready to make the galleys.
They'll send the galleys back to me. I'm not supposed to change stuff in the galleys, except typos, but I've picked out two places where I want to make bitty, bitty little changes. Ten or twelve words added in one place. One word changed in the other.
Then I send the galleys back and I'm done.
I've started blocking out the story for Maggie. I have a possible outline. Who is Maggie? What does she want? What does she need? What will she do to get it?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Tech Top -- Words, words, words ...#1
I got an interesting comment off-Board, talking about some of the particular language of the book.
It was Franzeca Drouin, Eloisa's research assistant, who brought these to my attention. Her website is here, and very cool. If words interest you, go check it out.
What it is...
when you're writing along in 1800 there's just lots of words that haven't been invented yet -- clairvoyant, scientist, kiwi fruit -- and you want to avoid these words, as a general rule,
because lots of people know these words haven't been invented in 1800 and you don't want to annoy these people
because some of them are, like, librarians and they will come after you with pitchforks.
So, anyway,
Sometimes you make mistakes, even with all your attention engaged and making an honest effort to do the research.
(The main research being the OED and Partridge's Dictionary of Slang and Grosse and the loverly loverly Googlebooksearch feature and, of course, just generally using your noggin.)
And sometimes, you deliberately use a word that hasn't been invented yet.
(When you do that, you have to be prepared to duck and run for cover and somewhere there is a minor demon writing this all down in a book and he puts a black mark next to your name and giggles. )
And sometimes you make choices between a couple possibles.
Let me look at just the first couple that were brought to my attention and talk about what I did with them and why ...
Here they are, the first three of a dozen or so ...
************
p. 18: "sock" while making her cosh; ("cosh" itself in that sense is 1869; perhaps your researches brought it closer to the beginning of the 19th Century.) I would recommend "stocking" instead of sock; as she probably would be wearing stockings, not socks, and socks seems to have a more specialized usage.
p. 24: "driveway" too American suburbia; try "carriage way" or just "drive"
multiple places, including pp 52, 249 and 252: "bedroom"--yes, kind of okay timewise, but "bedchamber" is older, and sounds, I think, more authentic, without making things more confusing.
****************
sock --
now this is just a typical example of the kind of problems that beset me and probably beset everybody else who writes Historical Romance , which is rather a lot for a word like sock to do, isn't it?
The word 'sock' was in used in 1802 in what is essentially its modern meaning. (It's in Milton and in Samuel Johnson's dictionary and I have an 1840 ref to knitting a 'child's sock'.)
The word 'stocking' was also used in 1802, and was a hundred times more common than sock. Stocking is the word Grey and the others would have called what Annique was wearing.
Stocking, at the time, meant anything from filmy silk to bulky knitted wool.
Now obviously the meaning of the word 'stocking' changed drastically in the twentieth century. To a modern American, 'stocking' generally means a wispy nylon object.
So I'm faced with a word that's been in continuous use -- 'stocking' -- which is what they would have actually said, but whose meaning has drastically changed (for an American.)
And the word sock which was current in the time, but rarer, and whose meaning has not changed.
So, anyhow, in one of those unsatisfactory compromises we make, I called the things on Annique's feet stockings about everywhere, but one time I called them 'socks' so the reader would get a better idea of what they looked like without me going to the trouble of describing them.
Using the word 'socks' once is me telling modern American readers that these are thicker than what she thinks of when she hears the word 'stockings'.
Hinting, ya know.
Lots of this kind of compromise goes on when we're picking what words to use.
"driveway"
Which happened in the line -- "The road you seek, the driveway to the Sisters of the Orphans, is opposite."
AAARRRRGGGGHHHH.
Technically, the word existed. It wasn't even rare.
But I was wrong to use it.
Just wrong.
Because it 'sounds' wrong.
It sounds modern and American suburbs, even though it is authentic.
Ouch.
"bedroom"-- and the comment was -- yes, kind of okay timewise, but "bedchamber" is older, and sounds, I think, more authentic, without making things more confusing.
In the timeframe, 'bedroom' and 'bedchamber' are both commonly used.
It looks like bedchamber is about 40% more common.
I picked bedroom throughout because it avoids the 'ye olde historical novelle' sound. And it's more American without being unauthentic.
and finally cosh --
Here is where I admit to cheating. The first use of 'cosh' is long after my period.
For simplicty, for clarity, to avoid odd circumlocutions, because I am weak ... I used a word outside the time period and I did it deliberately
(Le sigh)
Rumbled.
It was Franzeca Drouin, Eloisa's research assistant, who brought these to my attention. Her website is here, and very cool. If words interest you, go check it out.
What it is...
when you're writing along in 1800 there's just lots of words that haven't been invented yet -- clairvoyant, scientist, kiwi fruit -- and you want to avoid these words, as a general rule,
because lots of people know these words haven't been invented in 1800 and you don't want to annoy these people
because some of them are, like, librarians and they will come after you with pitchforks.
So, anyway,
Sometimes you make mistakes, even with all your attention engaged and making an honest effort to do the research.
(The main research being the OED and Partridge's Dictionary of Slang and Grosse and the loverly loverly Googlebooksearch feature and, of course, just generally using your noggin.)
And sometimes, you deliberately use a word that hasn't been invented yet.
(When you do that, you have to be prepared to duck and run for cover and somewhere there is a minor demon writing this all down in a book and he puts a black mark next to your name and giggles. )
And sometimes you make choices between a couple possibles.
Let me look at just the first couple that were brought to my attention and talk about what I did with them and why ...
Here they are, the first three of a dozen or so ...
************
p. 18: "sock" while making her cosh; ("cosh" itself in that sense is 1869; perhaps your researches brought it closer to the beginning of the 19th Century.) I would recommend "stocking" instead of sock; as she probably would be wearing stockings, not socks, and socks seems to have a more specialized usage.
p. 24: "driveway" too American suburbia; try "carriage way" or just "drive"
multiple places, including pp 52, 249 and 252: "bedroom"--yes, kind of okay timewise, but "bedchamber" is older, and sounds, I think, more authentic, without making things more confusing.
****************
sock --
now this is just a typical example of the kind of problems that beset me and probably beset everybody else who writes Historical Romance , which is rather a lot for a word like sock to do, isn't it?
The word 'sock' was in used in 1802 in what is essentially its modern meaning. (It's in Milton and in Samuel Johnson's dictionary and I have an 1840 ref to knitting a 'child's sock'.)
The word 'stocking' was also used in 1802, and was a hundred times more common than sock. Stocking is the word Grey and the others would have called what Annique was wearing.
Stocking, at the time, meant anything from filmy silk to bulky knitted wool.
Now obviously the meaning of the word 'stocking' changed drastically in the twentieth century. To a modern American, 'stocking' generally means a wispy nylon object.
So I'm faced with a word that's been in continuous use -- 'stocking' -- which is what they would have actually said, but whose meaning has drastically changed (for an American.)
And the word sock which was current in the time, but rarer, and whose meaning has not changed.
So, anyhow, in one of those unsatisfactory compromises we make, I called the things on Annique's feet stockings about everywhere, but one time I called them 'socks' so the reader would get a better idea of what they looked like without me going to the trouble of describing them.
Using the word 'socks' once is me telling modern American readers that these are thicker than what she thinks of when she hears the word 'stockings'.
Hinting, ya know.
Lots of this kind of compromise goes on when we're picking what words to use.
"driveway"
Which happened in the line -- "The road you seek, the driveway to the Sisters of the Orphans, is opposite."
AAARRRRGGGGHHHH.
Technically, the word existed. It wasn't even rare.
But I was wrong to use it.
Just wrong.
Because it 'sounds' wrong.
It sounds modern and American suburbs, even though it is authentic.
Ouch.
"bedroom"-- and the comment was -- yes, kind of okay timewise, but "bedchamber" is older, and sounds, I think, more authentic, without making things more confusing.
In the timeframe, 'bedroom' and 'bedchamber' are both commonly used.
It looks like bedchamber is about 40% more common.
I picked bedroom throughout because it avoids the 'ye olde historical novelle' sound. And it's more American without being unauthentic.
and finally cosh --
Here is where I admit to cheating. The first use of 'cosh' is long after my period.
For simplicty, for clarity, to avoid odd circumlocutions, because I am weak ... I used a word outside the time period and I did it deliberately
(Le sigh)
Rumbled.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Technical Topics -- The Uses of Research
I was looking at 1815: The End and a Beginning by John Fisher for another reason, and came across the following:
"In April, Sir Humphrey Davy, already famous for the discovery of new elements such as dedededum dedum, returned to England. Even then scientists regarded themselves as above politics and Davy, after being awarded a scholarship by Napoleon for his researches into explosives, had been touring the Continent with his assistant Michael Faraday on a laissez-passer from the Emperor himself ... " (from the work cited above, page 114.)
When I read it, I remembered I had read this before, long long time past.
That was part of the reason Grey pretends to be a German Professor of Physics when he's stopped by the gendarmes near the coast. ... Because Napoleon was in the habit of giving free passage to scientists to travel from place to place. The 1815 book is one of the refs to it.
Here's one of those examples of how background reading wanders into what we write. I couldn't have put my finger on all the thirty or fifty times I'd come across refs about Napoleon giving free passage to scientists. I didn't consciously think ... 'Grey will pretend to be a scientist because of yada yada from this particular book.'
But it was inside me when I needed it.
"In April, Sir Humphrey Davy, already famous for the discovery of new elements such as dedededum dedum, returned to England. Even then scientists regarded themselves as above politics and Davy, after being awarded a scholarship by Napoleon for his researches into explosives, had been touring the Continent with his assistant Michael Faraday on a laissez-passer from the Emperor himself ... " (from the work cited above, page 114.)
When I read it, I remembered I had read this before, long long time past.
That was part of the reason Grey pretends to be a German Professor of Physics when he's stopped by the gendarmes near the coast. ... Because Napoleon was in the habit of giving free passage to scientists to travel from place to place. The 1815 book is one of the refs to it.
Here's one of those examples of how background reading wanders into what we write. I couldn't have put my finger on all the thirty or fifty times I'd come across refs about Napoleon giving free passage to scientists. I didn't consciously think ... 'Grey will pretend to be a scientist because of yada yada from this particular book.'
But it was inside me when I needed it.
The books
Somebody asked ...
Book #4, (if I ever write it,) will be Doyle and Maggie's story. Set in France and England in 1792. Adrian will have a strong secondary role. I might give some walk-on parts to my old friends. (TBA)
The Spymaster's Lady is the story of Annique and Grey. Set in France and England in 1802. Adrian and Doyle have secondary parts. Giles Tarsin has a walk-on. (release January 2008. Berkley)
My Lord and Spymaster is the story of Jessamyn and Sebastian. Set in London in 1811. Adrian plays a secondary part. Doyle has a walk-on. (release July 2008. Berkley)
Her Ladyship's Companion is the story of Giles Tarsin and (jo tries to remember here) Melissa ... It's been a long time. Set in Cornwall in 1816 or 1818 ...? Adrian plays a secondary part. (release 1983. Avon)
Book #4, (if I ever write it,) will be Doyle and Maggie's story. Set in France and England in 1792. Adrian will have a strong secondary role. I might give some walk-on parts to my old friends. (TBA)
The Spymaster's Lady is the story of Annique and Grey. Set in France and England in 1802. Adrian and Doyle have secondary parts. Giles Tarsin has a walk-on. (release January 2008. Berkley)
My Lord and Spymaster is the story of Jessamyn and Sebastian. Set in London in 1811. Adrian plays a secondary part. Doyle has a walk-on. (release July 2008. Berkley)
Her Ladyship's Companion is the story of Giles Tarsin and (jo tries to remember here) Melissa ... It's been a long time. Set in Cornwall in 1816 or 1818 ...? Adrian plays a secondary part. (release 1983. Avon)
Monday, January 21, 2008
St Odran's in Spymaster's Lady
As to the St. Odran of Spymaster's Lady.
(cough)
This Saint Odran might be the one here , who, I should think, would be the patron saint of taxi drivers and those who are killed while being mistaken for someone more interesting.
But, on the whole, I think it is the Saint Odran (or Odhron or Otteran) of Iona, here or here.
What it is ...
The site where St. Columba wanted to build a chapel was infested with demons. Awkward, that. These could only be exorcised by burying a holy man alive. St Odran volunteered.
After three days Columba decided to dig him up to ask for news about Heaven.
St. Odran said -- "There is no wonder in death. Heaven is not as it is said to be. Hell is not what it is said to be. The saved are not forever happy. The damned are not forever lost."
... so St Columba had him buried again. Or at least, that's how one story goes. A lesson for us all.
I'm reminded of T.S. Eliot
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
(cough)
This Saint Odran might be the one here , who, I should think, would be the patron saint of taxi drivers and those who are killed while being mistaken for someone more interesting.
But, on the whole, I think it is the Saint Odran (or Odhron or Otteran) of Iona, here or here.
What it is ...
The site where St. Columba wanted to build a chapel was infested with demons. Awkward, that. These could only be exorcised by burying a holy man alive. St Odran volunteered.
After three days Columba decided to dig him up to ask for news about Heaven.
St. Odran said -- "There is no wonder in death. Heaven is not as it is said to be. Hell is not what it is said to be. The saved are not forever happy. The damned are not forever lost."
... so St Columba had him buried again. Or at least, that's how one story goes. A lesson for us all.
I'm reminded of T.S. Eliot
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Ferret Fur Flying
I was into ferrets before they were cool.
Kedger's the name of Jessamyn's ferret.
Excerpt from My Lord and Spymaster:
The Kedger's head popped up over the roof line. He poured toward her, carrying something in his mouth. She accepted a button. A little spit and a quick polish on her sleeve revealed it was brass. Amazing what Kedger came up with, even on a roof.
"You're going to make us rich if you keep this up." To please him, she dropped it in the sack. He sniffed after it a minute, then climbed up her arm to investigate her braids. Sniff . . . nibble . . . tug . . . tug.
"Anything in there I should know about?"
The Kedger responded with a comment on women who bounced ferrets around in burlap sacks.
"Sorry, mate. I'll be more careful next time."
He chirruped, still grumpy.
"Are you going to pull all my braids out, or just that one?"
He'd made his point. He took his place on her shoulder and dug his claws in, stretched up tall, and pointed his nose to the wind. South, he ordered.
Kedger's the name of Jessamyn's ferret.
Excerpt from My Lord and Spymaster:
The Kedger's head popped up over the roof line. He poured toward her, carrying something in his mouth. She accepted a button. A little spit and a quick polish on her sleeve revealed it was brass. Amazing what Kedger came up with, even on a roof.
"You're going to make us rich if you keep this up." To please him, she dropped it in the sack. He sniffed after it a minute, then climbed up her arm to investigate her braids. Sniff . . . nibble . . . tug . . . tug.
"Anything in there I should know about?"
The Kedger responded with a comment on women who bounced ferrets around in burlap sacks.
"Sorry, mate. I'll be more careful next time."
He chirruped, still grumpy.
"Are you going to pull all my braids out, or just that one?"
He'd made his point. He took his place on her shoulder and dug his claws in, stretched up tall, and pointed his nose to the wind. South, he ordered.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
A Lull in the Revisions
Whew ...
I'm just lifting my head up from the computer here. The revisions of My Lord and Spymaster are in New York.
Of course, now I have all these new revisions bouncing around inside me that just HAVE to be done.
I'll take the day off, pay bills, wash the kitchen floor, take the dog for a long walk, pay bills, think about getting a website, watch I, Claudius that I got from Netflix and it's been sitting around for three weeks, answer my email from several kind folks who have mailed me here, pay bills, think about My Lord and Spymaster some more, oh ... and pay those bills I've been tossing in the wood box on top of my desk.
Then tomorrow I'll go work on revisions some more. I'm just not pleased with MLAS. Wish I had more time .
I'm just lifting my head up from the computer here. The revisions of My Lord and Spymaster are in New York.
Of course, now I have all these new revisions bouncing around inside me that just HAVE to be done.
I'll take the day off, pay bills, wash the kitchen floor, take the dog for a long walk, pay bills, think about getting a website, watch I, Claudius that I got from Netflix and it's been sitting around for three weeks, answer my email from several kind folks who have mailed me here, pay bills, think about My Lord and Spymaster some more, oh ... and pay those bills I've been tossing in the wood box on top of my desk.
Then tomorrow I'll go work on revisions some more. I'm just not pleased with MLAS. Wish I had more time .
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Historical Research and Spymaster's Lady
Writing about spies, one does wander into military matters, rather as cooks lead us to eggs and Olympic swimmers leave their trail of chlorine and damp towels.
I didn't study battles and weapons and armies on the march, per se, because I'm not wildly interested in that sort of thing.
My spies, though, are.
So I had to know something or sound like a fool.
Fortunately, there's any amount of primary source material on life in Napoleonic armies. Memoirs. Diaries. Harry Smith, for one. And there are pictures. Give me a picture of soldiers eating dinner around the fire over any number of battlefield maps and tactics.
Mostly though -- when I needed a military or weapons detail, I'd go looking for that specific bit. There's many downloads of antique guns in the innards of my computer.
As to the medical details ...
Anneka at work on the bullet arose from a desire to have her do important, useful, heroic and at the same time at least vaguely plausible things. Taking out a bullet falls into this category.
Let me just mention the balance of power in the book, because it's something I gave a LOT of thought to, in writing.
At this point in the story, we have her in a position where she should be entirely powerless.
I'm trying to show that her real power -- her ability to affect events -- continues strong as ever.
That day, Grey shows his power by keeping her from running away.
She shows hers by chosing to save a man's life.
Who has the real power that day?
As to the operation itself, I have a Masters in mammalian physiology. I've done a fair amount of small animal surgery, so I come to that scene with a 'feel' for how this would work. And I ran the final draft of the scene under the eye of a physician who hangs out at Compuserve Books and Writers who's kind enough to advise writers on medical things.
I didn't study battles and weapons and armies on the march, per se, because I'm not wildly interested in that sort of thing.
My spies, though, are.
So I had to know something or sound like a fool.
Fortunately, there's any amount of primary source material on life in Napoleonic armies. Memoirs. Diaries. Harry Smith, for one. And there are pictures. Give me a picture of soldiers eating dinner around the fire over any number of battlefield maps and tactics.
Mostly though -- when I needed a military or weapons detail, I'd go looking for that specific bit. There's many downloads of antique guns in the innards of my computer.
As to the medical details ...
Anneka at work on the bullet arose from a desire to have her do important, useful, heroic and at the same time at least vaguely plausible things. Taking out a bullet falls into this category.
Let me just mention the balance of power in the book, because it's something I gave a LOT of thought to, in writing.
At this point in the story, we have her in a position where she should be entirely powerless.
I'm trying to show that her real power -- her ability to affect events -- continues strong as ever.
That day, Grey shows his power by keeping her from running away.
She shows hers by chosing to save a man's life.
Who has the real power that day?
As to the operation itself, I have a Masters in mammalian physiology. I've done a fair amount of small animal surgery, so I come to that scene with a 'feel' for how this would work. And I ran the final draft of the scene under the eye of a physician who hangs out at Compuserve Books and Writers who's kind enough to advise writers on medical things.
Dialog and Accents in Spymaster's Lady
Early on in writing, I knew I was going to have my folks speaking French for half the story and English for the other half.
How to handle this?
I didn't want anybody's internal 'voice' to change in the middle. That was just a non-starter. No can do. The character HAS to sound like himself.
So I gave everybody their 'native voice' from the start. Whether they're speaking English or French, their voice stays pretty much the same.
Picking what the voice would be took a little head-scratching.
Grey speaks and thinks in standard English. This one was easy.
Adrian is also standard English, but he has the slightly formal register of someone who speaks completely fluent, accentless English, but as a second language.
Now Doyle gave me hours and hours of agonizing.
Doyle mostly chooses to speak Cockney-with-a-bit-of-rural dialect in English. But what to do with him in French? I couldn't have him speak 'standard English' when he was in France and then suddenly go Cockney the minute he set foot in England, could I?
(thinkthinkthinkthinkthink)
So I wrote him as Cockney all through. And I described him as having a Paris-argot-with-a-bit-of-Breton dialect, which would be the equivalent.
This is a weird choice. Sometimes you just have to pick something and go with it.
Annique's voice is French in cadence and word choice, of course.
My major problem was always deciding 'how much' to do this. Enough to make the point. Not enough to intrude. On revision, every line was a conscious decision that called for a bit of twitchy adjustment.
Her spoken language when she first lands in England is the most 'French' she gets. I'm trying to show her 'translating' in her head for a chapter or so.
As to creating Annique's voice... Mostly, it just comes natural. That's the best way I can put it.
This is what Annique 'sounds' like in my head.
This is how I hear her. I do speak workaday French.
Especially in revision, I'd 'parallel write' -- thinking of both the English and French of the sentence and shifting the words to give it a French cadence.
And I spent a long time listening to French folks speak English and dissecting how they sounded.
But by the time I came to write Annique, I had the voice inside me. It's not translation. It's the old 'voices in my head' that is either madness or being a writer. (Or, of course, both.)
How to handle this?
I didn't want anybody's internal 'voice' to change in the middle. That was just a non-starter. No can do. The character HAS to sound like himself.
So I gave everybody their 'native voice' from the start. Whether they're speaking English or French, their voice stays pretty much the same.
Picking what the voice would be took a little head-scratching.
Grey speaks and thinks in standard English. This one was easy.
Adrian is also standard English, but he has the slightly formal register of someone who speaks completely fluent, accentless English, but as a second language.
Now Doyle gave me hours and hours of agonizing.
Doyle mostly chooses to speak Cockney-with-a-bit-of-rural dialect in English. But what to do with him in French? I couldn't have him speak 'standard English' when he was in France and then suddenly go Cockney the minute he set foot in England, could I?
(thinkthinkthinkthinkthink)
So I wrote him as Cockney all through. And I described him as having a Paris-argot-with-a-bit-of-Breton dialect, which would be the equivalent.
This is a weird choice. Sometimes you just have to pick something and go with it.
Annique's voice is French in cadence and word choice, of course.
My major problem was always deciding 'how much' to do this. Enough to make the point. Not enough to intrude. On revision, every line was a conscious decision that called for a bit of twitchy adjustment.
Her spoken language when she first lands in England is the most 'French' she gets. I'm trying to show her 'translating' in her head for a chapter or so.
As to creating Annique's voice... Mostly, it just comes natural. That's the best way I can put it.
This is what Annique 'sounds' like in my head.
This is how I hear her. I do speak workaday French.
Especially in revision, I'd 'parallel write' -- thinking of both the English and French of the sentence and shifting the words to give it a French cadence.
And I spent a long time listening to French folks speak English and dissecting how they sounded.
But by the time I came to write Annique, I had the voice inside me. It's not translation. It's the old 'voices in my head' that is either madness or being a writer. (Or, of course, both.)
The date of Spymaster's Lady
Spymaster's Lady takes place in August and September 1802, during the Peace of Amiens.
I'll just mention that, historically, Napoleon fired Fouche as Chief of the Secret Police on September 12. Nobody knows quite why ...
Maybe it was because these Albion plans went missing.
(g)
I'll just mention that, historically, Napoleon fired Fouche as Chief of the Secret Police on September 12. Nobody knows quite why ...
Maybe it was because these Albion plans went missing.
(g)
Where I am. What I'm doing.
. . . Besides desperately working on the revisions of My Lord and Spymaster.
I'm a guest blogger over at Julie Quinn's site right now. I've indulged myself talking about some of the writing and technical details of Spymaster's Lady. I'll drag back any lengthy and interesting post and copy it here, eventually.
And Michelle Buonfiglio will have me on her blog at LifetimeTV, Romance Buy the Book on January 16.
I'm a guest blogger over at Julie Quinn's site right now. I've indulged myself talking about some of the writing and technical details of Spymaster's Lady. I'll drag back any lengthy and interesting post and copy it here, eventually.
And Michelle Buonfiglio will have me on her blog at LifetimeTV, Romance Buy the Book on January 16.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Looking for a Nest
I've decided to break down and get a website.
Like, a real website.
Haven't done it yet, you understand, but at least I'm thinking in that direction.
And gathering information.
After the New year I might actually do something.
Like, a real website.
Haven't done it yet, you understand, but at least I'm thinking in that direction.
And gathering information.
After the New year I might actually do something.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
A Summer Country
What I need is a Summer Country.
You go in through one of these interdimensional portals, with Britt, your dog, at your heels.
A shimmer surrounds you. And there you are.
The sun is directly overhead in the blue sky. It's warm, but you just know it's going to cool off, come evenings. Cool off to sweater temperature.
The fields on either side are full of humming bugs and smells that send Britt coursing in the tall grass, tail flagpoled, nose to the ground. A dragonfly flits ahead of you. You follow the path down to the lake.
The cabin is gray wood, weathered by god-knows-howmany-years. Just one room. A big screened porch looks out over the rocks and the smooth water. The wicker chair has blue flowered cushions on it. There are loons out on the lake, and tonight the geese will fly over.
Britt clickclicks across the wood floor behind you, then finds the waterdish next to the sink. You put your laptop on the desk at the window. The plug on the extension cord looks funny when you pick it up, as if it were shifting. But then it's just the ordinary American two-prong. You know the electricity will be right, in the same way you know it'd be right for anyone else who came here, wherever they came from.
Lord knows how that half-sized refrigerator works. It's uncannily silent. There's tupperware tubs of food, upper shelf and lower, all topped with white labels. The writing is all caps, each letter drawn, not written, as if somebody didn't use this alphabet often. In the door of the fridge, bottles of coke are lined up -- the old green kind of bottle that they don't make any more.
The bed in the loft has feather quilts.
You know, however long you stay here writing, it'll be two o'clock on Thursday afternoon when you climb back up that hill and walk through the portal again.
You let Britt out to explore -- there's nothing in these woods and fields that can hurt her -- and sit down and start working.
You go in through one of these interdimensional portals, with Britt, your dog, at your heels.
A shimmer surrounds you. And there you are.
The sun is directly overhead in the blue sky. It's warm, but you just know it's going to cool off, come evenings. Cool off to sweater temperature.
The fields on either side are full of humming bugs and smells that send Britt coursing in the tall grass, tail flagpoled, nose to the ground. A dragonfly flits ahead of you. You follow the path down to the lake.
The cabin is gray wood, weathered by god-knows-howmany-years. Just one room. A big screened porch looks out over the rocks and the smooth water. The wicker chair has blue flowered cushions on it. There are loons out on the lake, and tonight the geese will fly over.
Britt clickclicks across the wood floor behind you, then finds the waterdish next to the sink. You put your laptop on the desk at the window. The plug on the extension cord looks funny when you pick it up, as if it were shifting. But then it's just the ordinary American two-prong. You know the electricity will be right, in the same way you know it'd be right for anyone else who came here, wherever they came from.
Lord knows how that half-sized refrigerator works. It's uncannily silent. There's tupperware tubs of food, upper shelf and lower, all topped with white labels. The writing is all caps, each letter drawn, not written, as if somebody didn't use this alphabet often. In the door of the fridge, bottles of coke are lined up -- the old green kind of bottle that they don't make any more.
The bed in the loft has feather quilts.
You know, however long you stay here writing, it'll be two o'clock on Thursday afternoon when you climb back up that hill and walk through the portal again.
You let Britt out to explore -- there's nothing in these woods and fields that can hurt her -- and sit down and start working.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Fall
Got a cord of wood delivered today. The cat comes and sits on the woodpile exactly where I want to stack logs and does her innocent blinky-eyes ... 'Moi? In your way?'
It's pitiful when you go stack firewood to duck the rewrites.
I simply cannot pin this new scene down. I'm thrashing and wuggling.
Maybe I will bring my H&H face-to-face and let them slug it out a bit.
Maybe I will put everybody on a ship and leave for China.
In other news ... I have the cover sketch for My Lord and Spymaster. Lovely work, but not just blatantly representative. Heigh-ho. Marketing remains a mystery.
It's pitiful when you go stack firewood to duck the rewrites.
I simply cannot pin this new scene down. I'm thrashing and wuggling.
Maybe I will bring my H&H face-to-face and let them slug it out a bit.
Maybe I will put everybody on a ship and leave for China.
In other news ... I have the cover sketch for My Lord and Spymaster. Lovely work, but not just blatantly representative. Heigh-ho. Marketing remains a mystery.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Technical Topic -- Building Secondary Characters
In building your secondary characters, a lot depends on how many words you have to work with.
If you're writing 80K words, you're not going to have time to give your secondary characters much attention.
Make sure their role is defined, put 'em in a funny hat so the reader can tell 'em apart, and work on your main plot line.
If you're writing 120K words, you likely need those secondary characters to come up with at least one subplot that is all their own.
This is big character development country here, because you have to motivate action. In this case, at least one secondary character must be as deep, complex, fully-realized and alive as your protag.
OK. Let' say you have 'writing room' enough that you need at least one fully-expanded secondary character.
How do you develop these secondaries?
It's not just a matter of choosing random, interesting aspects of these guys and tossing them into the story.
You pick and choose the aspects of the secondary characters as carefully as a bride chooses the flowers her bridesmaids will carry.
Let me be didactic here (... even though it isn't really this simple and other folks mileage will vary ...)
Every secondary character exists in your story to interact with some aspect of your protagonist.
So the first step in 'unflattening' the secondaries is to determine why they are in the manuscript.
Cuteness? Wisdom? Damsel-in-distress? Validation for the protags values? Antagonist and counterpoint to his values? Reward? Redeemer or redeemed? Comic relief? Threat? Tempter?
(See how each of these possible 'secondary character' aspects exists in terms of what the secondary is to the protagonist?)
Your secondary character is not just a microphone to hold the other half of a dialogor a plot device that gets kidnapped so the hero can be heroic.
Your secondary character allows the protag to express some part of the theme of the story.
Remember how Christopher Smart said cats were instruments for children to learn benevolence upon?
Your secondary character is an instrument for the protag to learn something on or do something with or be something to or avoid something about or validate something from -- and that 'something' is one of the themes of the story.
So when you start 'unflattening' your secondary character, you first decide what he is doing for, with, or to your protag.
Let's say your secondary character is an instrument for the protag to learn benevolence upon. Secondary Character One is the protag's testy, unpleasant, unpredictable Aunt Myrtle, of whom he is very fond. Those are her traits that relate to the protag, and we do not care how Myrtle's sister or bridge group see her or that she grew up in Crete or that she swims laps every morning at the 'Y'.
When we are 'building Myrtle', we consider the character traits that make Myrtle testy, unpleasant, unpredictable, and yet worthy of love
because this is how she 'fits with' the protag.
Where do these traits come from?
How are they related to one another?
How does she express them?
And that is how we unflatten Myrtle.
Adding in memorable idiosyncracies for your secondary is not in any way wrong.
Tell us Myrtle is a gourmet cook if this colorful bit of whimsy comes up.
But mostly we want to look at the set of Myrtle traits that intimately relate to the protagonist's dilemma. This lets us deepen and expand the secondary character in the most useful direction. This provides us with just that list of characteristics most likely to move the action. These are the character traits that slide naturally into the ongoing narrative.
Putting this in (mercifully) brief form --
We expand the secondary character by asking ourselves how she affects our protagonist.
We look at what she is that delights, annoys, frustrates, or challenges him.
If you're writing 80K words, you're not going to have time to give your secondary characters much attention.
Make sure their role is defined, put 'em in a funny hat so the reader can tell 'em apart, and work on your main plot line.
If you're writing 120K words, you likely need those secondary characters to come up with at least one subplot that is all their own.
This is big character development country here, because you have to motivate action. In this case, at least one secondary character must be as deep, complex, fully-realized and alive as your protag.
OK. Let' say you have 'writing room' enough that you need at least one fully-expanded secondary character.
How do you develop these secondaries?
It's not just a matter of choosing random, interesting aspects of these guys and tossing them into the story.
You pick and choose the aspects of the secondary characters as carefully as a bride chooses the flowers her bridesmaids will carry.
Let me be didactic here (... even though it isn't really this simple and other folks mileage will vary ...)
Every secondary character exists in your story to interact with some aspect of your protagonist.
So the first step in 'unflattening' the secondaries is to determine why they are in the manuscript.
Cuteness? Wisdom? Damsel-in-distress? Validation for the protags values? Antagonist and counterpoint to his values? Reward? Redeemer or redeemed? Comic relief? Threat? Tempter?
(See how each of these possible 'secondary character' aspects exists in terms of what the secondary is to the protagonist?)
Your secondary character is not just a microphone to hold the other half of a dialogor a plot device that gets kidnapped so the hero can be heroic.
Your secondary character allows the protag to express some part of the theme of the story.
Remember how Christopher Smart said cats were instruments for children to learn benevolence upon?
Your secondary character is an instrument for the protag to learn something on or do something with or be something to or avoid something about or validate something from -- and that 'something' is one of the themes of the story.
So when you start 'unflattening' your secondary character, you first decide what he is doing for, with, or to your protag.
Let's say your secondary character is an instrument for the protag to learn benevolence upon. Secondary Character One is the protag's testy, unpleasant, unpredictable Aunt Myrtle, of whom he is very fond. Those are her traits that relate to the protag, and we do not care how Myrtle's sister or bridge group see her or that she grew up in Crete or that she swims laps every morning at the 'Y'.
When we are 'building Myrtle', we consider the character traits that make Myrtle testy, unpleasant, unpredictable, and yet worthy of love
because this is how she 'fits with' the protag.
Where do these traits come from?
How are they related to one another?
How does she express them?
And that is how we unflatten Myrtle.
Adding in memorable idiosyncracies for your secondary is not in any way wrong.
Tell us Myrtle is a gourmet cook if this colorful bit of whimsy comes up.
But mostly we want to look at the set of Myrtle traits that intimately relate to the protagonist's dilemma. This lets us deepen and expand the secondary character in the most useful direction. This provides us with just that list of characteristics most likely to move the action. These are the character traits that slide naturally into the ongoing narrative.
Putting this in (mercifully) brief form --
We expand the secondary character by asking ourselves how she affects our protagonist.
We look at what she is that delights, annoys, frustrates, or challenges him.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Cleaning out the Blog again
I went back again and swept out old messages and made the blog tidy.
The blog has been my writing progress ... sometimes day-to-day writing progress ... on two manuscripts. Is there anything more self-involved and narcissistic than a writer talking to herself about the minutia of writing? This can't be interesting for anyone.
So I've gone through and deleted about 100 post, all of them full of fascinating stuff like me agonizing over how to increase narrative drive in Chapter Seven. I don't say that what is left is all that enthralling, but the stuff I've pulled is considerably duller.
Some of the messages I pulled had comments attached. Sorry to delete those comments.
The blog has been my writing progress ... sometimes day-to-day writing progress ... on two manuscripts. Is there anything more self-involved and narcissistic than a writer talking to herself about the minutia of writing? This can't be interesting for anyone.
So I've gone through and deleted about 100 post, all of them full of fascinating stuff like me agonizing over how to increase narrative drive in Chapter Seven. I don't say that what is left is all that enthralling, but the stuff I've pulled is considerably duller.
Some of the messages I pulled had comments attached. Sorry to delete those comments.
And she's back ...
The manuscript of My Lord and Spymaster has been turned in to the editor. Yeah!
I was gone for three months.
Now I have time to do some blogging again.
Also Yeah!!
I was gone for three months.
Now I have time to do some blogging again.
Also Yeah!!
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