Recently someone posed this question: is ‘write what you know’ still the best advice?
My answer is yes and no.
YES! Your life is full of emotions: joy, heartbreak, success, and failure. Just by living you have built a warehouse of emotional resources that you will gift to your characters. Even if you were a Disney princess you would have had to deal with the terror of wicked witches, the joy of true love, the hardship of living with five messy dwarfs or two evil stepsisters. That means you, as a writer, can draw on your emotional experience to give our characters depth and realism that will stay with them long after they close our books.
NO! Don’t limit your stories to what you know. If you’re anything like me daily life is pretty normal —dare I say boring? A writer’s job is to take something we recognize and turn it into something we don’t. A chance meeting becomes an epic romance, walking the dog and seeing a shooting star becomes a Sci Fi novel. Your imaginations should not be limited by the familiar. I write legal and police thrillers. I am not a cop or a lawyer, but I am is curious. I have a sincere fascination with the world of law enforcement. In order to write effectively about something I don’t know I research, I take classes, I talk to people in the profession. I will never be a cop or a lawyer, but I can write about their challenges because I take the time to learn about them. My love of the profession, translates into a love of the genre in which I write.
Marry what you do know with what you don’t, and you will create an exciting, genuine work of fiction that will leave your readers wanting more.
Dianna is a contributing author in the recent Bethlehem Writers Group anthology, Untethered, Sweet, Funny & Strange Tales of the Paranormal. A man buys a painting of a jungle scene that is so realistic it seems to change in “Point of View.” She has also contributed stories for the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable ezine, including “In the Delivery.”
Born and raised in the Midwest, Dianna has also lived in three other quadrants of the U.S. She writes short stories and poetry, and is working on a full-length novel about a young woman in search of her long-lost brother.
Dianna also has a regular column, Quill and Moss, here on A Slice of Orange.
Born and raised in the Midwest, Dianna Sinovic has also lived in three other quadrants of the U.S. She writes short stories and poetry, and is working on a full-length novel about a young woman in search of her long-lost brother.
August’s from A Cabin in the Woods features a short short by Christopher D. Ochs. Christopher’s foray into writing began with his epic fantasy Pindlebryth of Lenland. Several of his short stories have been published in the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group and Bethlehem Writers Group anthologies and websites. His latest work, If I Can’t Sleep, You Can’t Sleep , is a collection of bedtime reading to inflict on naughty children.
His current projects include: a YA urban-fantasy/horror novel My Friend Jackson; a short story in Firebringer Press’ last anthology in their Middle of Eternity series; and the next installment of the Pindlebryth saga.
Christopher says, “The following is semi-autobiographical. I leave it to the reader to determine how much of this tale is true.”
I don’t particularly believe in ghosts, though there have been several curious incidents in this house over my lifetime.
Nothing frightening, mind you, nor anything remotely harmful. If anything, the unseen forces-that-be have been nothing but helpful.
The first instance I clearly recall occurred during my junior-high school years. I was raised the classic latchkey kid. Both parents held down two jobs, so yours truly was responsible for closing up the house before heading to classes.
That spring day, I woke up looking out the open window above my headboard at a sky filled with roiling clouds still deciding whether or not they wanted to rain. By the time I finished dressing for school, Mom and Dad had already slogged off to their crack-of-dawn work shifts.
Dashing out of the house, I was halfway through my shortcut across our neighbor’s corn fields, when I heard the rumble of thunder. On its heels came the realization I couldn’t remember if I had closed my bedroom window.
With a grunt of exasperation, I made a U-turn back for home. Sure enough, my second-floor window was wide open. Ready, willing and able to let the impending squall soak my pillow.
I had sprinted halfway up the stairs when I heard a bang, loud as a gunshot, reverberate from my bedroom. Once I summoned the courage to enter my room, my jaw dropped in bewilderment. The old warped double-hung window–which would normally require my full weight to close–was firmly shut, fierce raindrops pelting its glass panes.
Then there was the time years later, when I returned home long after sunset, tired from work and a laundry list of errands. Both my arms were crammed with fully-loaded grocery bags as I fumbled with the lock and shouldered the door open. I wasn’t two steps into the dark and deserted house when all the kitchen lights snapped on.
With the odd sensation of being watched pressing in on me, I proffered a nervous “Thank you very much?”
The lights flickered in response. I could almost hear the house chuckle.
These humorous but unsettling episodes continued, though with less frequency as the years rolled by. Eventually they stopped entirely–or perhaps, they merely escaped my notice–as responsibilities and drudgeries crowded most everything else out of my life. Adding events like the passing of my parents, the transformation of neighbors’ cornfields to townhouses, and other milestones kept my attention firmly planted in the world of the mundane.
That is, until I discovered an old family heirloom–a county map, penned soon after my ancestors and hundreds of other immigrants had formally established my hometown and surrounding boroughs. The yellowed parchment document, complete with an antiquated county seal, depicted Iroquois trails that were already centuries old by the time the colonial-era deeds had been drafted.
The paths snaked along the ridges of the local offshoots of the Appalachian mountain chain, including a few thoroughfares that wended their way through the new and burgeoning county. The map’s legend declared that the indigenous peoples–the Lenni Lenape, Delaware and other members of the Iroquois nation–had “rights in perpetuity to sole and unhindered access to the mineral fields atop and in vicinity of Jasper Mountain, for the purpose of fashioning arrowheads and other baubles likewise; to deliver said freight without impediment, toll or tax along the footpaths documented herein.”
I was overcome by an unsettling sensation that the house was looking over my shoulder, when I learned the map indicated the footpath connecting Jasper Mountain to the Appalachian Trail formed my estate’s western property line.
Barely a week had passed since finding the map, before I found unmistakable signs my unseen helpers had resumed their work. On the other hand, maybe I was simply paying closer attention.
Like the instance when a limb from the locust tree my father had planted close to the house had fallen. Carpenter ants had eaten away at its core, and the massive limb finally snapped under its own weight, coming to rest harmlessly on open lawn nowhere near the tree’s trunk. By all rights, left to gravity and a windless night, that moss-laden battering ram should have crashed straight through my bedroom ceiling.
The latest instance of helpfulness was thankfully far less life-threatening. It was a windy fall day when my dog bolted out of the house to pester the mailman. I gave chase, still in my bum-around-the-house sweatpants. A stray gust banged the door shut behind me.
My heart leapt into my throat once I realized I had left my keys on the kitchen table, and the door was set to lock behind me. With my recalcitrant puppy in tow, I returned to the house, upset with the predicament I expected to find. I could only shake my head and smile at my invisible helpers, come to my rescue once again.
The deadbolt, which could only have been operated with the key in the lock, had somehow extended itself, preventing the door from closing completely.
I suppose some would attribute these events to poltergeists or other denizens of the afterlife. Other might dismiss them as quaint tall tales. As for myself, I prefer to believe the gentle spirits of Nature, who guided the lives and culture of the countless indigenous peoples before me, still favored this locale.
But how to repay their longstanding kindness?
When I got around to replacing the rotting tree that nearly did me in, I found entangled in its roots a cache of pristine jasper arrowheads. Lost or forgotten by some long-dead traveler, their points were still sharp enough to pierce a deer’s heart. Despite my knowing they would command an impressive sum from any number of collectors, something bid me do otherwise.
Finding a secluded grove overlooking Jasper Mountain’s babbling brook, I reburied my discovery.
Back in my kitchen, I mused over my evening tea. Had I had performed a noble deed, or something unquestionably foolish? With a maudlin sigh, I wondered if I might never again be visited by my unseen helpers.
The lights flickered in response.
It’s important to develop strong decision-making skills when writing a novel. As a writer we have many decisions to make when writing our stories. For our characters we have to figure out names, color of hair and eyes, and flaws and strengths. We also have to figure out where they live, where they work, who they will clash with and whom they will love. Do they have a large family or small? And what was their family life like?
Many important pieces that, like a puzzle, connect together to create a strong story. And portray characters our readers can relate to. So, it’s very important for us to get it ‘right’.
But what does right, mean?
And what can we do if we get it wrong?
See, in the past, my own fear of getting it wrong, prevented me from moving forward. And I had a hard time making decisions, especially not knowing if they would work or not. And not having answers made it difficult to write my story.
When I first started this novel-writing journey, I would save every word cut and paste it in another file. I was terrified to erase an idea or phrase. What if I couldn’t come up with something better? Or I forgot the idea I originally came up with? I found myself unable to know how to make the right decisions.
And then I couldn’t make up my mind if I wanted my heroine to be sassy or shy. Or what she even should look like.
Part of this was because I had never done this before. Another part of it was my own lack of decision-making skills. I needed to figure out how to become a strong decision maker and fast.
I’ve since learned I just have to make decisions, but that they can change if I need them to. It’s better to have a direction, than no direction at all.
Also taking workshops from other writers has helped me learn a variety of ways to approach the writing process. Yes, some of the decisions are still pulled out of thin air. You have to start somewhere! But I’ve since learned how to think through these points when writing.
I’ve also learned that I don’t have to save the words. Now I can trust myself to come up with new content that still fits my story. I’ve also learned that sometimes it’s better to start over with a new way of writing a scene. This decision has helped me try different approaches rather than adding patches and bandaids. And the practice has allowed me to apply new techniques I’ve learned in recent classes.
Now I can say with pride that I can rewrite my opening a 7th time and still survive!
A word that comes to mind when I think about this – everything we do in writing our stories is redeemable.
Did you know all the other words linked to redeemable in the thesaurus?
Rectifiable, improvable, restorable, fixable, reparable
Do you know what this means? Our writing is not permanent and frozen with the first things we write. It can evolve and grow and improve.
That’s huge encouragement to me.
So I can decide away, and then redeem what works. I don’t have to make ALL the decisions final each step of the way. There’s room for change and room for me to make strong decisions with each layer of edits I do.
This change in mindset has allowed me to change scenes completely and try them in a new way. Because, if I didn’t like it, I can change it back, or try again. It might mean more work, but that’s okay.
This is because the hard work isn’t what scares me, it’s the fear of not getting it right. There are so many different ways to put a phrase together!
I wrote a post Facing your Fear and I think I need to reread it every once in a while. I’ve come a long way in my writing, but my fears still can get in the way of my goals. And I’m not about to let my fears stop me now.
That’s why I wrote my blog post on Listing out Your Accomplishments. When I track the things I have accomplished, it helps me face my fear. Which in turn helps me make better decisions going forward. It’s like each decision I make, encourages me to make more.
I’ve come a long way from saving every word I cut and not knowing what I want for my characters. Now I sometimes try out a scene a completely different way just to see it from a distinct angle. And then I can redeem the words that work the best from either version.
Do you have areas that are difficult for you to decide on?
copy edits done and gone
every comma, typo, everything wrong
fixed and buttoned up nice and tight
trying so hard to get it all right
now to sleep perchance to dream in bliss?
no…tossing & turning, wondering, what did I miss?
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My Paris WW 2 historical novel is off to the proofreader!
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Once upon a time in Hollywoodland far, far away, I wrote tons of scripts for kids’ TV shows. I remember one show I was hired to work on where my script was considered the ‘hallmark’ of the series — it had all the elements they wanted in each script and they used it as a ‘sample’ to show other writers they brought on what they wanted.
Wow.
Yes, it was cool. Simple, right? Give them a good script, get a paycheck, grab another assignment.
Oh, no, my innocent ones.
It wasn’t at all like that. I met with the producers (seasoned pros) every day for two weeks until we hammered out the characters, the plot, subplot, theme… met with the toy company so I could see what the ‘toys’ looked like. Wrote an outline — a detailed outline — three times.
Got more notes. Wrote the script… rewrote it.
Then another meeting that went something like this: ‘You got the story down… characters good… ‘ say the producers. ‘But change the big action scene to include…………’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘Because the toy company wants to introduce this …………. toy in the episode.’
I grin, say nothing. Remember rent is due. ‘You got it.’
In the end, it was a great episode with an emotional connection between the hero and his father and lots of action, but it didn’t just happen. All those meetings, notes paid off. It was a team effort and I learned back then that’s what makes good scripts. And good books.
The team.
Copy edits are a big part of that team.
Yes, I cringe, freak out, yell, and cry when I see those ‘comments’ on the right side of the page, but I’m so grateful for the time, skill, dedication, and heartfelt emotion the copy editor puts into her work. She knows this is my ‘baby’, yet it’s her job to find everything that ‘doesn’t’ work.
So a big THANK YOU to my copy editor on my Paris WW 2 historical coming out in October (cover reveal soon!) for putting up with my mistakes and asking the hard questions so I get it right.
You done good, kid.
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Blog tour coming up Oct 27 – Nov 2 already filled up except for one spot Yay!!
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Two women hold the keys to his heart. Only one will survive that fateful night…
When Ava O’Reilly is wrongly accused of stealing from her employer, she has no option but to flee Ireland. The law is after her, and she has only one chance at escape – the Titanic.
Aboard the ship of dreams, she runs straight into the arms of Captain ‘Buck’ Blackthorn, a dashing gentleman gambler who promises to be her protector. He is intrigued by her Irish beauty and manages to disguise her as the maid of his good friend, the lovely Countess of Marbury. Little does he realise, that the Countess is also in love with him.
As the fateful night approaches, tragedy strikes further when Ava is separated from Buck, and must make a daring choice that will change her life forever…
A sweeping historical romance set aboard the Titanic, from the author of Her Lost Love (Christmas Once Again).
Praise for Jina Bacarr:
‘A delightful holiday romance that has all the charm of a classic Christmas movie. Christmas Once Again is perfect for anyone who loves a holiday romance brimming with mistletoe, hope, and what ifs.’ Andie Newton, author of The Girl I Left Behind ‘A breathtaking holiday romance that is sure to stay with you long after reading’
‘A mesmerizing holiday romance that is sure to sweep you off your feet and take you away to another place, another time.’
‘A fabulous book you won’t want to miss’ https://youtu.be/S-33oEM4DlI
THE RUNAWAY GIRL e-book, print and audio book:
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