You know the movie where Jim Carrey has to say “Yes” to every request? Well, apparently that’s what I must have done earlier this year because for August, I find myself scheduled to teach two online classes and coordinating the historical category of the Gateway contest. And judging for the Golden Pen.
I’m not complaining. I’m actually smacking myself on the forehead. *smack* I must fire my personal assistant. (My personal assistant is myself — as I try to answer writing e-mails in between day job conference calls and activities.) I must also install a physical calendar in front of myself instead of the virtual one that I have in my head that I THINK is always open.
Speaking of classes: I promised the people who attended my workshop at Nationals that I would post the handout online for those who didn’t get it. Well, here it is: Selling the Hard Sell handout.
I was having a Twitter discussion with a couple of writer buddies around contests and feedback. How it’s so helpful when judges give comments versus just filling out the scoresheet. And how do you interpret polarized comments from different judges? And finally, when people judge, sometimes they feel like they ended up giving a six page critique or red-lined the whole darn thing and maybe that was overkill.
I’ve had that happen plenty of times. I send out pages asking for a look at motivation or a look at overall plot and I’ve received the pages back with every line marked up — suggestions for replacements of all my word choices, fixing all my passive sentences. I always step back from those detailed line edits with a sense that I can’t see the forest for the trees. I rarely give such edits because of my philosophy that:
1) that level of editing is very personal and tied to Voice. Tell me that too many of my sentences are passive and it’s distracting or that you hear an echo of the word “that”. I appreciate that, but going through the extent of reworking my individual sentences and suggesting how I should rewrite them is rarely helpful to me because those sentences will all naturally disappear and get reworked in the next revision.
2) That level of detail is only helpful at the very, very end of revisions when you’re spit polishing and only for an advanced writer who knows what to throw out. For a beginner writer who is trying to take all your advice, I feel this can be very destructive to their development.
Not to say I don’t always get something from a deluge of revision notes, broad to the nit-picky. But I feel that it’s easy to confuse a writer with such a critique. First, they may simply cry. Or freeze up like a deer in the headlights. They may become so lost about what to tackle first that the critique becomes counter-productive.
This is where teaching philosophy comes in. Or in this case, critiquing philosophy. Everyone has one deep down — even if you haven’t stated it yet. And no one’s philosophy is superior to anyone else’s. The philosophy just grounds you, as the critiquer, and gives you a reference point for making your decisions on what feedback to give and how to give it.
Ha! If I haven’t lost you yet, let me bring up Vygotsky and the Zone of Proximal development.
I threw that in there because it’s a five dollar phrase and I spent a lot of money for my Education degree to learn that Soviet dude’s name. It’s just the idea that students learn best when you gauge where they are and then give them proper scaffolding and guidance to get to the next level. Then they master that level until they can do it independently.
Trying to teach beyond that zone without addressing the gap causes frustration, increases the affective filter ($5 dollar phrase meaning you’re too keyed up/frightened/embarrassed/emotional to learn) and ultimately results in failure for the student. On the flip side, teach below the Zone and the student fails to learn or grow. The lesson is too easy.
So when I critique and when I comment as a contest judge, I’m aiming for the Zone of Proximal Development. The place where the maximum and most effective learning can occur. Based on the writing, find where the writer is “at”. Then identify what bit of writerly advice will most likely boost them to the next level. Push them to one notch beyond where they are.
Sometimes the writing is very solid, but the characters are flat. So I concentrate my comments on characterization.
Sometimes the writing sparkles, but the scenes don’t have a good build of tension, not enough highs and lows. So I’ll comment on that.
Sometimes the writing is very, very beginner. That’s tougher. Is the maximum benefit then to concentrate on sentence structure and grammar? Or on structural issues such as motivation, conflict, etc. I have to insert another philosophy there. I believe writing only smooths out with more writing and explicit instruction, i.e. telling someone how to write, doesn’t necessarily help a beginning writer. So yes, I may give a couple pointers about sentence structure, but I’ll stick to the global issues.
But what about all the other issues? All the other things that are wrong? Can you just ignore them? I can and I do. They’ll all work themselves out in the next zone or with practice and self-discovery.
This is why I always qualify when I critique that I don’t do line edits for people. Mainly because you don’t want me doing line edits. I find it hard to critique people at that level of detail without inserting too many of my Voice biases which I know are exactly that, my biases. Plus I suck at reading for that level of detail. I like to admire the forest. From there, I can see if a part of it looks a little barren.
So, what do you think? What’s your critiquing philosophy?
P.S. Any educational folks, if I’ve mangled Vygotsky and oversimplified, I truly apologize.
I’ve been a fan of Tony’s since watching Police Story on tapes from the Hong Kong TVB back in the 80′s. Then of course, he starred in Heaven Sword, Dragon Sabre, my sister’s favorite Jin Yong adaptation. Lately, he’s been taking on intense feature film roles. He was fabulous in Hero — and I argue the true “hero” of the piece instead of Jet Li’s character…but that’s a movie discussion for another day.
Lust, Caution — mesmerizing. I would love to say Tony’s Mr. Yee was the inspiration for the character of Li Tao in The Dragon and the Pearl, but I had actually written the manuscript before seeing Lust, Caution.
Tony once said about his counterpart, actress Maggie Cheung:
“Maggie is a truly formidable partner – one to waltz with. We do not spend a lot of time with each other, as we like to keep some mystery between us. Whenever I see her, I discover something new about her.”
Maggie and Tony are like Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
When writing romance, I’m very much inspired by complex characters. The hero and heroine always have secrets they keep from each other, but I lose interest if the information comes too easily. If the interactions are so predictable other than the obvious fact that the hero and heroine aren’t speaking “the big secret” aloud, I get frustrated.
I want to read stories where I hit the happily-ever-after ending, but I’m still left with a sense that the waltz is really just beginning. There are mysteries between the happy couple yet to be discovered for years and years to come. That’s what keeps the chemistry alive.
What’s the key to recreating that feeling? I don’t know. Perhaps there’s a hint within the note my Little Sis likes to put in the margin of my manuscripts – “Need internal reaction here — preferably mixed.”
Tony’s quote has given me a lot of inspiration. So thank you Tony and happy birthday.
(Note: See how I refrained from drawing little hearts over Tony’s picture? So mature of me.)
Excerpt Monday was started by two lovely writers: Bria Quinlan and Alexia Reed. Visit the other links for some interesting reads from unpublished and published alike and if you’d like to join up for next month, take a look at the main site: The Excerpt Monday blog.
The Sorcerer’s Daughter is a historical fantasy centered around five swordsmen in the Emperor’s secret service who’ve been tasked with fighting demons and evil spirits. This is Book One in what I’m currently calling The Soul Stealers.
I had to admit some similarities to Tsui Hark’s Age of Vampires…but only on the surface.
Tai Shen sensed the sudden emptiness in the clearing. The gui were gone. He sheathed his sword to silence the lost souls that whirled around him. They fell away with a mournful sigh.
Song Yi lowered the ritual sword. Her hand trembled. “It was worse tonight.”
Her lips were pale. The mourning veil had fallen away to reveal a cascade of black hair tied back with a single ribbon. A moment ago she had been like a warrior goddess, but now Tai Shen only saw the girl, grieving and frightened. How had she faced these demons alone?
“Was that the leader?” she asked.
“Demons don’t have a leader.”
The stillness was unsettled. Once again, too quiet. As if the insects and birds and natural creatures of the night knew to stay away. Tai Shen swept his gaze over the woods. Something was wrong.
Jin approached, frowning. Like every expression from Jin, is spoke of a thousand thoughts behind it. “The guiguai all disappeared.”
“They never went away until dawn…” Song Yi’s voice trailed away. She rushed back to the cabin.
They reached the door to find her standing beside the bamboo mat. The talismans smoldered upon the walls. The mat lay empty.
She bowed her head. “I should never have left.”
A thin layer of sand had been laid over the floor. Taoist symbols were traced into the dirt, radiating outward like a spider’s web. A trail of footprints disrupted the markings.
One set led away from the mat. None led to it.
***
Song Yi grabbed the lantern, ignoring the swordsmen as the called after her. She would search the entire mountainside for Father if she had to. She would lay him to rest.
The smell of rotting meat tainted the air and her stomach lurched. The previous nights, she’d hidden away inside the cabin, praying that the talismans, the chanting, the mirror wards would hold the gui back. She’d considered that these beings were only waking nightmares, coming at night, living only in her mind. But they were real. She had seen how them swarm and attack. Had seen how the swords cut through them. Demon flesh melted into black sludge in the grass at her feet. She held her breath and pushed forward, but someone grabbed hold of her arm.
It was the one called Tai Shen. Up close, he seemed massive, foreboding. She tensed beneath the force of his grip. No one ever touched her like that.
“We need to get back inside,” he said. He appeared almost apologetic as she shook her arm free.
“Father is out there.”
“They’re coming again.”
The air churned like dark water around them and the unnatural hum in her ears grew louder until her head throbbed. A chill crept over her skin. He was right.
They escaped to the cabin, behind the talismans and mirror wards. Behind the screen of fragrant incense, meant to attract benevolent spirits. Tai Shen dragged the door shut and stood guard by the window.
He drew back the curtain with two fingers, sword still in hand. “I can see them.”
She and Father had lived in one room where all the humble necessities of life had been packed; furnace, bed mats, small, tight shelves that held their few belongings. The intrustion of the two strangers shrunk the space even smaller. A curtain could be drawn to separate the altar from the rest of the cabin. She wanted to do so now and block out the sight of the barren mat where her father had lain cold and still.
“I must go after him.” Her heart pounded and her palms grew damp around the wooden sword. Yet she forced herself to continue. “They’ll tear him apart.”
I always know what time it is in the UK. At least, I know when 5pm hits over there and the business day is over. That block from when I wake up to about noon is when I wait eagerly for news…if there’s any wait-worthy news on the pipeline…which there usually is.
In any case, I woke up this morning to a wonderful surprise. The powers that be have decided to rename my Harlequin Undone short from “Warrior Bride” to “The Taming of Mei Lin”. The Undone line is e-published, with a possibility of later going print in an anthology. The title is the main selling point for Undones and the powers wanted something that reflected both the sensuality and the Asian setting.
I’m quite thrilled! The Taming of Mei Lin also has the added benefit of referencing The Taming of the Shrew. Hee hee…which actually works quite well here. I wish I had thought of it.
Mei Lin is the feisty counterpart to Ai Li, the heroine of Butterfly Swords. You’ll have to look carefully for Mei Lin’s appearance in the longer novel.
Wow, this trip snuck up on me since I’ve been busy revising and packing items for the Ruby-Slippered Gift basket to be shipped off. This Sunday, June 13th, I’ll be presenting the “Page 1, 5, 50 – Keeping them Hooked” workshop for the Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) chapter at the Encino Barnes & Noble.
I’m rather excited as LARA was my home chapter and I’ll be seeing a lot of friends and familiar faces. It’s also a very good thing that I get to do this one more time before presenting “Selling the Hard Sell” at Nationals.
So I studied up on the “film” from my last presentation…just kidding — I just asked my friend to take a couple of photos. After looking at the pics, I realized a couple of things. I totally stand bow-legged while presenting! I don’t know if I’m going to be able to break that habit. The second thing is, hey, that’s a picture of Amy Tan on the wall at the MORWA B&N meeting room. I thought that was kind of cool.
I’m feeling better about this presentation after having done it once in New England. I’m going to tighten it up a bit for Sunday. Hope to see some friendly faces in So. Cal. Wish me luck!
First off, I want to confess that I’m breaking the fourth wall here. Angie Fox gave me wonderful advice about how she doesn’t want her readers to even realize the grunt work that goes into writing. She doesn’t talk about how hard it is on her blog or her facebook.
“That’s brilliant!” I exclaimed. “Never let them see you sweat.”
Guess I’m breaking that rule with this post. I’m working on this short story/novella and thinking of how every new story feels like I’m learning everything all over again. Will this ever get easier? Will characters and conflict and just the very execution of these scenes ever come naturally?
I thought back to teaching. I’m probably feeling nostalgic because I just sent out scholarships and I’m going back to California in a month to attend the graduation ceremony for the last freshman class I taught.
When I was a newbie, veteran teachers would tell me that after a couple years, teaching would get easier. But I was working my butt off every year and feeling I would never reach that imaginary plateau. At one point I finally realized, it was easier. I just didn’t realize it.
My first year teaching, I spent a lot of energy spinning my wheels trying to figure things out and wasting time on things that didn’t turn out to be important. By my second year, the fundamentals got easier and I just moved on to fret about other things. I knew how to organize my class, lesson plan, get through administrative tasks like grading and taking attendance that used to be a huge deal. I knew what activities would give a bigger bang for the buck in terms of student involvement and learning. But then I wanted to raise the bar, teach more than I had before, push the students further from the first day to summer break.
So that’s where I am now. Everything still feels like it takes so much effort, but maybe it’s just because I’m planning harder lessons. That’s my encouraging thought for the day — It never gets easier, but it does.
————————–
For some reason, the topic of this post made me think of “Deep Thoughts” by Jack Handey. Remember? That old Saturday Night Live skit where the music would get all sentimental and serious and Jack would spout random thoughts in that were hilariously nonsensical?
I just took a one and half day Empowering Character’s Emotions workshop with Margie Lawson through the MORWA chapter this weekend. This is THE system for amplifying your voice and writing. I wish I had discovered her EDITS system a year ago, or two years ago, or three…basically before anyone had read my writing. I wouldn’t have been so in the dark about what wasn’t working.
One of my very last “steps” I took before the writing started getting noticed by agents was an amplification pass. I went through the manuscript which I believed was “ready” and picked out lazy lines and paragraphs and shined them up a bit, purposefully made them more interesting and sparkly and unique.
Sometimes it worked, sometimes it made my writing tortured and purple. But sometimes you just have to try harder. That’s how my Little Sis marks these lazy areas in the manuscript, “try harder”. I mark them as “make unique” or “do better”. Good, solid writing isn’t necessarily distinctive enough. Good writing doesn’t get noticed. Special writing gets noticed.
Margie calls it “fresh writing”, but she goes much deeper, giving you concrete tools to catch and amplify the writing. Much more effective than feeling around in the dark, as I was doing! Her system resonated with me because of several big ideas:
1. It’s an instructive system. An empowering system. It’s for writers to be able to delve deeper into their own work. The way to get the most out of it is to analyze your own writing. And reflection is never a bad thing.
2. At the heart of it, she pushes writers to stretch their boundaries and take risks. It’s not about “Don’t” rules; what not to do. Margie emphasizes “Do” rules. She gives a toolset of devices to use and concrete techniques that you can apply immediately.
3. Teacher Jeannie appreciates the lesson design. Cognitively, EDITS is a well-structured system. There’s tactile involvement (highlighting), visual cues through the color coding, actively engaging to the learner — lots of hands on exercises. Margie was also a very good teacher. Lots of positive reinforcement, modeling, creating a safe space by lowering the affective filter. I was very impressed just watching the way the workshop was structured.
The ten hours just flew by.
Oh, I wasn’t going to actually try to explain the system and the ten gobzillion things I learned. Margie does so in lecture packets which span hundreds of pages, so I doubt I can even scratch the surface. If you’re curious, check out her website (http://www.margielawson.com)– after you appreciate the work of art that is my marked up draft.
I also got a little special star for my effort. The Capote quote definitely embodies my writing process and philosophy.
Lately I’ve heard a lot of self-doubt coming from the writerspace. Doubts and fears about finishing a book, about making it good enough. A lot of people are trying their hand at writing or at least coming out of the woodwork, which is great. I think writing makes you a more reflective person, whether or not you publish. And it’s never a bad thing to have more thinking people.
Usually I try to assure them to write forward, get through the first book, gain that confidence of writing “The End”, the rest will come with revisions, have faith, etc.
Maybe I’m softballing it, because the advice that works for me is actually quite different than what I’ve been peddling. It comes in two different forms, one from my mother and one from Nora.
I heard Nora Roberts speak at RWA National conference in Dallas and her advice was simple: “You have to want it.”
My mom’s words of sympathy are even better. “I guess you’re not creative enough.”
Mum is actually extremely motivating and supportive, but it doesn’t translate to the page at all.
Will I lose my nice gal reputation if I tell other people what works so well for me? It takes a lot less breath to say, “Well, do you want to be a writer or not?”
Happy birthday Tony Leung! (June 27, 1962)
I want to read stories where I hit the happily-ever-after ending, but I’m still left with a sense that the waltz is really just beginning. There are mysteries between the happy couple yet to be discovered for years and years to come. That’s what keeps the chemistry alive.
Wow, this trip snuck up on me since I’ve been busy revising and packing items for the Ruby-Slippered Gift basket to be shipped off. This Sunday, June 13th, I’ll be presenting the “Page 1, 5, 50 – Keeping them Hooked” workshop for the Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) chapter at the Encino Barnes & Noble.
I’m working on this short story/novella and thinking of how every new story feels like I’m learning everything all over again. Will this ever get easier? Will characters and conflict and just the very execution of these scenes ever come naturally?
1. It’s an instructive system. An empowering system. It’s for writers to be able to delve deeper into their own work. The way to get the most out of it is to analyze your own writing. And reflection is never a bad thing.
