Thursday, July 28, 2016

Friday Feedback with Selene Castrovilla: Emotions in Motion

  



Selene and I doing a Freaky Friday
this past spring. 

You guys!!!!

This post doesn't need me blathering on with a long intro keeping you from the awesomeness that is about to abound... Suffice it to say we were lucky to have Selene Castrovilla HERE last summer doing a post on voice, and now she's back with more awesomeness that we need to let you get to.

Quickly, if you don't know Selene, she is the award-winning author of young adult fiction and children's nonfiction -- seven books and counting

SIGNS OF LIFEBook Two of the Rough Romance Trilogy, has just been released. I've read the first in the trilogy, MELT, and I cannot wait to get to Signs of Life!







In fact, MELT was the recipient of six honors including the SCBWI Spark Award, the IndieReader Fiction Book of the Year, and the Bronze IPPY Medal for young adult fiction. Here's a link to the guide On Reading and Teaching MELT. 

So, without further ado, I give you Selene and Emotions in Motion. And please check out and order Signs of Life, Melt and the rest of her BOOKS!!





Through the years, and particularly when I was starting out as a writer (long before publication, when I was getting used to the idea that I didn’t need anyone’s permission to write), I attended many writing workshops and conferences. I have a stack of notebooks filled with sage advice from writers and editors.

One person’s words stick on my brain like a wad of chewing gum under a desk. . . "Did you go far enough?"

One person’s words stick on my brain like a wad of chewing gum under a desk. Patti Lee Gauch — a renowned Philomel editor — delivered a lecture titled “Did You Go Far Enough?”

She said sure, you could write something adequate. Something that fills in the blanks, does the job, meets the requirements of “writing.”

But: Did you go far enough?

You know. We all know. It’s the difference between “meh” and goosebumps.

It’s the difference between “That book was alright” and “I stayed up all night reading even though I had to work the next day.”

I’ve contemplated that question:

Did I go far enough? 

swirling and churning it with each book I’ve produced.

And for me, going far enough is always a question of emotion.

I’m never done until I’ve milked every drop of emotion from a scene. It’s true in my picture books as well as in my novels, and the more I write, them more I see opportunities. It’s not what’s happened, but your character’s reaction to what’s happened that creates emotion. IMHO.

Emotions add:

  • Tension
  • Clarity
  • Depth


Tension:

Why do we decide to turn that page and start reading a new chapter? Because we’re worried about our character. We must know what happens next to them.

It is possible to add tension to any setting 
by amping up the emotion.

Your character wakes up to a bright sunny morning. All is good in the hood, right? Mais, non. Instead of just pushing back the covers and plunging from the bed:

He bites his lip.
or
He clutches at the covers. (Maybe he crawls under them.)
or
He shudders.
or
He refuses breakfast.
or
He vomits all over the covers.

You just conveyed that your character is nervous. (Okay, the vomiting may indicate a virus or a hangover — you may need to clarify with other cues/tells.)

He wakes up to that same sunny morning and he:

sneers
or
snickers
or
rubs his hands together and laughs in a disturbing way
or
he has cold eyes,

You just conveyed that he has contempt. Better hope there are strict gun laws in his state.

He wakes up yet a third time to that sunny morning and:

his eyebrows gather in
or
he squeezes his eyes shut
or
his posture is bent with slumped arms, the shoulders pulled low.

Maybe he even mutters an apology into the air, or up to God.

You just showed up that your character has regret. Are the gun laws strict in that state?

The emotions do not explain anything here. They make us wonder: what the heck is bugging this guy on such a sunny day? He should be jumping out of bed singing, “Oklahoma! Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain!” (Maybe his problem is that he lives in Oklahoma and hates getting his hair messed up in the wind.)

Once our character gets out of bed you can compound the emotion, or you can turn it around. You can create an unexpected twist; you can make the day go even worse. But all this great stuff happens only if he doesn’t simply “wake up to a sunny day and gets out of bed.” Because that’s the default setting, folks. Change it.


Emotion can also illuminate our story, clarifying how we’re supposed to feel . . . within the context of our story. 


Clarity:

Emotion can also illuminate our story, clarifying how we’re supposed to feel about a certain situation within the context of our story. Often, something which happens can be good or bad, funny or sad — depending on how the character feels. If you want to play around you can use multiple characters and have them feel different ways about a situation. For example, I write about the Revolutionary War. So if something good happens for the British, it’s going to upset the Americans. I never just say “so and so won this battle.” Who cares, anyway? We care about the emotional reaction to the win or loss.

This is also good to define moral character: how your character reacts to something tragic or even just a little upsetting shows insight into him. Maybe he’s happy, because he hates the person it happened to. Maybe he has good reason. Maybe they’d bullied him in the past. Or maybe your character is the bully. 

Really, emotions can change the course of our story entirely -- without altering the plot.



Depth:

The difference between the kiddie pool and the deep end is depth. 
Both get you wet, one immerses you.


The difference between the kiddie pool and the deep end is depth. Both get you wet, one immerses you.

Immerse your readers. Shove ‘em right into that deep end — over-priced clothes, over-priced shoes, hideously over-priced purses and all. They'll never forget you.

This brings us back to: Did you go far enough?

Examples of how emotions made the difference in children’s/YA books:

1.     The Catcher in the Rye:  Pencey Prep would be just a rich kids’ boarding school if Holden hadn’t been so damn depressed. Frankly, the whole book is one big emotional breakdown.

2.  Charlotte’s Web: What if Fern cared more about what was for breakfast (extra bacon?) then where Pa was going with that axe?

3. Harry Potter — What if Harry’s mother hadn’t loved Harry enough to sacrifice herself for him? (It’s kind of interesting that Harry himself is a fairly passive-emotioned character, compared to the others surrounding him. Look at the passion of Snape!)

4.Lord of the Flies — What if the boys decided to band together to survive, treating each other with respect and concern?

5. The Chocolate Wars — What if Jerry felt inclined to sell the chocolate like everyone else?

These are just some from the top of my head. Why don’t you apply your favorites to the emotions test as well?

As you can see, emotions not only show us the internal working of a character, but they also determine the tone, outcome and depth (as previously mentioned.) It is emotion which lends gravitas.

Of course, the master of emotion was Shakespeare. Think about how essential emotion is in his plays! They would be utterly meaningless without them. There’s a man who went far enough.

So how do you go about showing emotions in your stories? Many of us first try to use dialogue for the heavy lifting, but this can leave us with hackneyed, tired lines. Yes, use strong, biting dialogue that delivers a punch. But don’t flail wildly, or your story will be down for the count.

Here’s where you can cultivate:

1.     Your word choices count. A word carries a feel, a connotation. An emotion. So never have a character “walk.” Have him plod, trudge, skip or shuffle. I HIGHLY recommend the Flip Dictionary by Barbara Ann Kipfer, Ph. D. It’s a thesaurus on steroids.

2.     How you describe your setting provides emotion. Run-down or pristine?  Cheerful abundant or bare? It’s not just how it is, but how your characters perceive it.

3.     How your convey the weather also provides emotion. Again, a sunny day may be greeted with dismay. Or a happy character might whistle as he walks through the rain.

4.     Body language. Oh, yes. This is rich indeed. I own a book called The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, and it is priceless. Not since I laid eyes on my Flip Dictionary many years ago have I loved a writing resource so much. If you want to get into character traits and how they are revealed emotionally, Angela and Becca have also created The Positive Trait Thesaurus and The Negative Trait Thesaurus. I own these, but haven’t referred to them much yet (though perusing them now, they do seem inspiring.)

5.     You can even use pacing to convey emotions. In my latest novel, I chopped up the narratives and discovered a much tenser emotional trajectory — without changing a word. Your novel is like a potato: slice it, dice it, make Julienne fries.

I hope you find this useful!

Remember: A mediocre story is one filled with missed emotional opportunities.

One more thing about writing. You must give it some priority if you want to experience growth. I always say: “Tonight, we can cook a fancy dinner, or we can write a novel!” What do we have left when we’re done eating?

My kids grew up thinking that when it’s dinnertime, the Chinese man brings it.

(I am convinced my son loves broccoli with garlic sauce because I ate it with one hand as he nursed nestled in my other.)

Let’s get to work!

I suppose we might try for passages which convey emotion today — if you have them. But please, share whatever you’d like feedback on. I can’t wait to read your work!

For mine, this is a section in Unpunished, Book Three in the Rough Romance Trilogy. I have many points of view in this one.

Dorothy’s Mom

I didn’t even know what was happening. My daughter was alive, eyes open! I screamed, I couldn’t stop screaming, at the sheer horror of what I’d done. And the baby was pounding, pounding inside me, as though she were screaming, too.

One of the nurses who rushed in grabbed me, yanked me out of the room. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t help either. I was like a lead weight, not on purpose, but because I couldn’t function. It was like my mind wasn’t even in my body, I was just observing.

I was still screaming, and she shook me hard. “Dr. Fields!” she scolded. And that stopped my scream. She had no right to scold me.

“You said it wasn’t possible,” I roared. You said she was dead. Already dead, though breathing. Oh my God, that doesn’t even make sense! I believed you, I believed you all!”


She didn’t say anything. Her arms dropped. She was a mess, how could she call herself a nurse, what did she know? It was just this big mess, everything was this colossal mess, I’d colluded in the attempted murder of my daughter and God help me I couldn’t go in there and face her what the hell kind of a mother was I? And then water gushed out into the floor, I was standing in a puddle and I stared down wondering where the hell that came from and then I realized — it came from me.

79 comments:

  1. Remember: A mediocre story is one filled with missed emotional opportunities----well, there's an OUCH moment. That's the one line from this incredible blog post that I"m taking to my writing this week....and going forward.

    What works in your excerpt is the punch of the very loaded emotional language. screaming, screaming, screaming. arms dropped, colossal mess....colluded....murder....daughter (how does one even combine those words together?!)
    What I don't understand is the daughter in the room not dead and the baby --- about to be born? They aren't the same and yet everyone in this scene is so close I had to look again to make sure I understood.
    But this excerpt has a cinematic quality to it...I feel that camera spinning around and and around this mother who has lost it.

    I ABSOLUTELY WANT TO KEEP READING. You've got me. I'd love to know what happened to put this mother in this terrible emotional place in this hospital.

    This past week I spent immersed in documents and artifacts at the Library of Congress Summer Institute for Teachers. I cannot say enough about it. I have writing material to last decades just from this week.....although it's not for my wip.

    I hope to go back to LOC to find more sources for my wip.

    And, I'd love to encourage every teacher here to consider applying for this free institute. It's NOT just for history teachers or librarians!

    I gave a quick summary here....AND included a response to Madelyn Rosenberg's quick write prompt on Tuesday.

    http://awordedgewiselindamitchell.blogspot.com/

    Happy Friday and happy weekend everyone!

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    Replies
    1. Thanks so much for sharing. Your discriptions made me feel part of the scene. Great work. I want to share a piece of my WIP. A character has just told the MC he is dying.
      "And you won't treat me any different Miss Sherman. You will continue to annoy me and show no regard for my opinion. You will go on using the word ain't which I detest and should we dance together again, you will,again, refuse to let me lead. Can you do this? It will take a lot of grit."
      I look at this man who caused my heart to beat and now to stop and answer, "I will." Just don't ask me how.
      Thanks for comments. Had trouble posting this so hope it doesn't come up more than once.

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    2. Martha,
      Wow! This short excerpt is enough for me to want to read more. I love the dialogue and the final...Just don't ask me how... is powerful. The only thing I would add is a bit of physical reaction to the news (maybe it came before this, but I think you can carry it over). Keep going!

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    3. I love how this piece shows their relationship so clearly and that he loves her although he's not always sure why. "Just don't ask me how." is a very powerful last line. I can see her standing there, stunned, unable to process what she will actually need to do.

      I've truly enjoyed reading your excerpts this summer, Martha. Your words are always powerful.

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    4. Hi Linda,
      Thanks! I don't want to say anything more about the plot of Unpunished, as Wendy has reminded me that I'm being a spoiler, but I'll tell you that if you read Signs of Life you come in knowing exactly what's going on. The pregnancy is ironically tied to the condition of the older daughter. It's so hard to share anything from this series because everything's intertwined and related! Thanks also for the cinematic compliment! I'll hold that dear in my heart. I'm also writing scripts now - a process which is so, so different because you can't go inside the characters' heads at all, and so you have to show their emotions through dialogue and body language only. (I'm so grateful for my Emotion Thesaurus!)

      Wow, I envy your week at the LOC! Amazing! You'll definitely be able to reap from all you've learned -- and in unexpected ways. It's like you wrote in your poem: "Each piece ours." When you study history, you're learning about yourself as well, and your own emotions meld into how you process it -- and so you wind up with stories of your own brewing inside you, your own special blend that could not come from anyone else. This is what happens to me when I write about the American Revolution. You can use what you learned for fiction or nonfiction -- just wait! These stories will reveal themselves.

      In your piece, I love the juxtaposition of words. I feel like they're doing a dance. Good, evocative word choices! "Covered knowledge" makes me think first of a covered wagon in the Wild West, traveling over a bumpy road with knowledge stowed safely inside. Then, I think of a cloak thrown over knowledge -- is is to keep in safe, or to stop others from seeing it? (I imagine this latter response is politically stimulated.)

      I especially love the end:
      "Past of stories
      Each piece
      Ours."
      I see a quilt of history, and people gathered around like, each holding a section.

      You've got a lot of emotion packed in there, Linda! :)

      BTW, you look so cute in that picture by the sign!

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    5. Martha,

      I absolutely adore that little excerpt you share. So much emotion in that little bit. And so skillfully executed. Keep going!

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    6. Martha,

      My comments on your piece is at the bottom of a bunch of comments -- for some reason I couldn't post it here earlier. Perhaps because I'd just responded to Linda? In any case, scroll down please!!!

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  2. Happy Friday, Selene and Gae.

    It's so good to have you back here, Selene. Your posts are always inspiring. I do have to chide you a bit for not posting a SPOILER ALERT prior to your excerpt. I haven't read Sings of Life yet, so now I have to forget I ever saw what you posted here. :)

    Here's my excerpt. I've been working to weave emotion into my whole wip, and this is a scene that is pivotal to my MC's growth on her journey. My MC is 12yo Lilly, who is living in an orphanage. Her mother placed her there because she's not able to support her at the moment.

    One character, Charles/Charlie - who is an important secondary character but only mentioned briefly here - has just given the new children a tour of the orphanage's vast grounds, including the expansive farm and gardens. During the early part of this scene, Lily begins to feel stirrings of interest in the farm, especially the gardens. Samuel and James are also important secondary characters (Sam will become her best friend. James is his father, and is employed as a laborer at the orphanage. They are African-American). Sister Norbert has it in for Lily.

    ********************

    “Charles, I need these children in the kitchen now.” Sister Norbert has appeared behind us, her face red and glistening with sweat. My body tenses.

    “Begging your pardon, Sister Norbert. We’re finished here.” He lets go of the horse’s reins and wipes his hands on his trousers. His warm smile has disappeared.

    “Yes, come along,” Miss Sophia remarks, gesturing at us to move away from the fence and toward the orphanage. I turn to wave to Samuel and James, but all I see is their backs as they slip into the barn. A cloud passes over the sun.

    It’s like Sister Norbert has invisible reins attached to me and is tugging me toward the kitchen door while I pull toward the newly planted crops already bursting with promise, the animals’ stalls in need of mucking, the squirrels skittering playfully through the yard, the birds’ joyous singing, the wind gently stirring the leaves of the trees, the sweet smell of grass and hay. I know it’s important to learn how to preserve vegetables and fruit, but I want to learn the proper way to grow them. I’m tired of being stuck inside doing domestic things: cooking, cleaning, sewing, and…all the chores the sisters tell us are a girl’s proper duties. But then, in my mind Momma’s kind but firm voice says, “Be a good girl, Lily.” So, despite an ache in my heart, I follow the other children into the kitchen, and the door closes behind us.

    It’s larger than I imagined, with a big stove and sink, and wooden tables running alongside each other. It reminds me of the dining hall, and I realize that everything I’ve seen so far in this place is arranged in neat rows, straight and perfect. Squares within a square, as if there was never any other shape. Even the gardens have rows, but at least the plants can grow and stretch toward the sky, while in here we are confined by stark white walls and ceilings.

    ***

    Thank you for reading and providing feedback.

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    Replies
    1. Hi Wendy,

      I really like the imagery you have embedded in your piece. I like the balance of Charles dropping the reins and the balance of Sister Norbert reigning them into the kitchen.

      I also truly enjoy the idea of being boxed in versus the plants which can grow and how she is drawn to the garden and the growing.

      I think the description of the garden in the fourth paragraph needs some smoothing, but I like how her mama's voice in her head is the conscience which draws her back to conformity.

      Nice use of imagery to build the tension around her.

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    2. Hi, Wendy,

      I love this excerpt and all you have done so skillfully in it... I adore the simple yet intense emotion of that line "A cloud passes over the sun." The one thought I have especially since it's right at the very end is that for some reason the "stark white walls and ceilings" feel -- well, stark -- but somehow not "confining." I wonder if you could push this to make us feel the tightness or the squeeze?

      Wonderful work. Keep going.

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    3. Hi Wendy,

      Thanks - great to be back! And you’re right, I’m sorry. I used the mom because I would’ve completely given things away if I used Joey or Dorothy — but I did give something away here, too. Not as much as you think, though. Really, this is just a smidge of what’s going on - the mom is peripheral. And I’m audacious enough to believe that you’ll get sucked right into Signs & forget this snippet.

      I’m a tad flustered now in that I was writing a whole response to your excerpt, and hit the wrong key, so it’s vanished! I’m starting over, writing in a separate document and pasting it in!

      I love the fullness you’ve created here - we are definitely “planted” in scene! There’s a lot of emotion, and I’m with Lilly!

      Perhaps you can go even further with some word tinkering.

      I love what you have about Sister Norbert: red-faced and glistening. Perhaps instead of “appearing” she has “crept” behind them (something like that.)

      What does her voice sound like?

      What specifically tenses on Lilly’s body?

      (More in separate comment - I went too long in characters and was rejected.)

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    4. I love Charles’ reaction (and the whole use of the reins.) Perhaps you can make his reaction more urgent if he “drops” the reigns instead of letting go. Maybe he “swipes” his hands instead of “wipes” - swiping seems more clumsily rushed.

      I love how his smile has disappeared. Perhaps the appearance or Sister Norbert or her tone has wiped the smile away. (Here, deliberate works - like she’s reached out physically.)

      Perhaps Miss Sophia “shoos” at the children, and herds them towards the orphanage. Try to find a stronger word to replace “remarks” - maybe “gushes?” You see, you can convey/reinforce the mood swing and everyone’s emotions just through word choices.

      I love how Samuel and James slip into the barn - that definitely shows us how fast they move in response to Sister Norbert. Maybe instead of “all I see” you can make her feel a sense of loss as they leave — “all I catch is a glimpse,” something like that (you can play with the whole thing to create a loss of connection, possibly the only one she has?) and maybe she can even feel a pang of jealousy because the boy has his father and she is alone.

      The cloud is a great touch!

      Maybe you could add a word describing the barn in some way, “they slip into the _____ barn.”


      “It’s like Sister Norbert has invisible reins attached to me and is tugging me toward the kitchen door” Wonderful!!!

      Perhaps you can make the next part more resistive with just a slight twist of words:

      “while I resist, pulling toward…”
      When you mention the orphanage, perhaps use some evocative word along with it, IE: looming. Maybe give a quick reference to its facade: faded bricks (whatever it is), using words that make us feel the heaviness of what’s inside.

      Love all this:
      “‘’’the newly planted crops already bursting with promise, the animals’ stalls in need of mucking, the squirrels skittering playfully through the yard, the birds’ joyous singing, the wind gently stirring the leaves of the trees, the sweet smell of grass and hay.”

      (cont.)

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    5. I guess she know why she’s being called inside/this has been explained? Because this jarred me:
      “I know it’s important to learn how to preserve vegetables and fruit…”

      She says this:
      “I’m tired of being stuck inside doing domestic things: cooking, cleaning, sewing, and…all the chores the sisters tell us are a girl’s proper duties.” But later she describes the kitchen, seeing it for the first time. So where has she been doing these other things? At home? (Again, you probably made this clear earlier.)


      "But then, in my mind Momma’s kind but firm voice says, 'Be a good girl, Lily.' So, despite an ache in my heart..." (I really love this, because it also shows she misses Momma - maybe you could amp it up a tad more?)


      “I follow the other children into the kitchen,”

      Maybe you could add more here to emphasize surrender — “I quit fighting and follow…” (maybe “tag behind” the other children into the “dark” or "dank" kitchen)

      “…and the door closes behind us.”

      How does the door close? Let’s hear the sound.

      I’d love to get hit with some kind of sharp smell in the kitchen!

      “It’s larger than I imagined, “

      This feels kind of vague — not really a solid first impression. It would be great if you could set a tone for the kitchen straight off. Instead of bigger than she imagined, compare it to something so we can see how big it is. Maybe she feels swallowed up inside the large space? You mention the stark white walls and ceilings last — it might be poignant if she’s struck by them straight off - hits the walls, so to speak — maybe the white makes her think of the emptiness of her life (this is all off the top of my head - I just mean, it would be great if you could have her relate her emotions to the room more, as you did outside.)

      “with a big stove and sink”

      Again, kind of vague. I don’t “see” them.

      “…and wooden tables running alongside each other.”

      Perhaps you can make this more evocative? Also, it reads like they’re literally “running” to me, lol.

      “It reminds me of the dining hall, and I realize that everything I’ve seen so far in this place is arranged in neat rows, straight and perfect. Squares within a square, as if there was never any other shape.”

      This is great and specific! I think you can go even further with it, as she regards what she has to look forward to -- what life at this orphanage implies.

      “Even the gardens have rows, but at least the plants can grow and stretch toward the sky, while in here we are confined by stark white walls and ceilings.”

      I get what you’re going for here, but I think you might be better off leaving the garden behind for now and sticking with her emotions inside (figuratively as well.) I could be wrong, though — play with it!

      Maybe she can glance up at the sky and murmur a goodbye as she shuffles inside — and maybe the sun is revealed again?

      A few thoughts:

      1. We don’t see (or hear) the other kids at all.
      2. How does she feel about her mother leaving her there? (Show this every time she thinks of her - even if it’s conflicting.)
      3. Maybe Sister Norbert barks at them to hurry in? She seems like she would say something, even if it’s when they’re inside. Or else we could feel the silence as Lilly and the other children (who I really want to see or hear doing something, even if it’s just being obedient) wait for her booming (?) haughty (?) voice.

      All this to say, I really love what you’ve got here, Wendy! Just a bit farther…:)

      I care very much about Lilly, and would certainly read on to know what happens next!


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    6. Thank you all so much for your helpful feedback. You've given me so much to work with for this scene, and much of the advice can be applied to the rest of the ms as well.

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  3. Thank you! Did you go far enough? Is such a simple sentence. I’m in the revision stage on a couple of pieces now & I’m having trouble with it. Between your post and Laurie Thompson’s post about reflecting on the discovery of what’s important to your piece, I’ve got a lot to think about.

    I’m also seriously considering The Flip Book for myself and my elementary school library too. Although I love the sound of Melt (Intense!) it seems like it might be a bit heavy for an elementary school, but maybe not. What do you think?

    Your shared piece is crazy intense! You do push the far enough envelope. I love the pounding of the baby inside her reflecting her mental state, although I got confused at first because I thought her daughter was the pounding baby, so how could she know her eyes were open. Probably if I had the background knowledge of the rest of the book, I would have got it.

    I also loved the description of the nurse’s arms falling to her side and how the MC felt outside of her body. These rang true to me, and I couldn’t help, but keep reading.

    There was also an interesting aspect of power between her and the nurse/s. It feels like she was drawn into the “murder” of her daughter, yet she feels superior to the “all” at the hospital, as a doctor. I would definitely keep reading to find out what is going on!

    The introduction of my MG novel’s bad boy has nowhere near the intensity you have, but I think I’ve worked the tension. Any recommendations would be appreciated!

    She was making quiet clucking sounds, and I was watching the floating dust particles reflecting the sunlight sparkling around us. They were like barn fairies, I thought, protecting the animals, keeping the peace.

    Keith, Blake and Adam pushed open the door, and the particles scattered in the rush of air. “Hey,” Adam said, before rummaging through various corners of the barn, obviously looking for something.

    Blake and Keith wandered over to Pluck and I. “She’s looking better than she did before.” Blake commented, reaching out to pat her too quickly, causing Pluck to startle.

    “What are you going to do with one chicken anyway?” Keith asked. His family had a larger farm, a dairy farm, with a herd of one hundred or more cows. Farming was their family’s work, unlike our farm. With the two of them standing between me and the rest of the barn, I felt blocked in and crowded. I had to look way up to see their faces from the edge of the trough.

    “She’ll be laying eggs soon. Maybe even in a couple of months,” defending Pluck and, wishing they would step back a bit. The year that separated us felt bigger than it was. When did they get so tall? I readjusted Pluck under my right arm and stood up.

    “She’d make a great BB gun target,” Keith laughed.

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    1. Stefanie- This is a great little snippet and I want to read more - to know more about why Pluck wasn't looking well before and how Adam and Blake fit into your heroine's world.
      I love the bit about being blocked in and crowded. I totally empathize with that feeling. And the BB gun target comment turned my stomach after your set up with her protectiveness of Pluck. -I don't think you need the aside about "obviously looking for something" since it's implied in the rummaging (great word choice & it conveyed the rest of it). You might consider working a little on the line about "looking way up to see their faces..." Or maybe omit it? Your line about feeling blocked in and crowded conveys the emotion so well, you don't want to distract from it. OR maybe move that line to after 'When did they get so tall?" -
      This is really great, Stefanie. I'm now all invested in wanting to know what is going on.

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    2. Thank you Terry! I appreciate it. Just what I needed!

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    3. Stefanie, I'm so curious to read the rest of your story! I especially liked how your main character feels crowded and a bit intimidated by the boys.

      I don't think you need the phrase "defending Pluck" because it's clear that's what your main character is doing. I also agree with Little Terry about the "trough" line - it was hard for me to visualize so made me stop and think, interrupting the flow of what was happening. But I love the BB line - it made me feel angry!

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    4. Stephanie I loved the line about the barn fairies. I could see the dust particles floating and that just really set the scene for me. (We, too, have chickens and a barn.) I would love to read more. I felt nervous for your character when I read, The year that separated us felt bigger than it was. When did they get so tall? I readjusted Pluck under my right arm and stood up.
      The BB line is also perfect. Typical "boy" thing to say to impress other boys even if it isn't true. You have my interest! Good luck.

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    5. Hey Stefanie,

      As always from a brief excerpt, I don’t know how much has already come before and comes after, but I love this excerpt and do think you could push it much further (by little things) to build the tension to that horrifying last line. For example, when Keith walks in, does “She” react? What about as Keith gets closer to Pluck? Does she want to rush her body in his way? Pluck startles, which is great, but what about your MC? Even after Keith asks, “What are you going to do with one chicken anyway?” might he make some motion that makes your MC recoil, or step forward even more?! And in the last para when she wishes they would steps back a “bit” – her feelings could be stronger there too. Does she wish she could push them out? Does she think about taking Pluck and running? All food for thought. You have a great scene here, and pushing the emotion even more would really make that last line hurt... and us worry and root!!

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    6. Another pushing YOU thought... if you trade some of the more passive "Is, was, were. . . ing" language for more active versions, your scene would feel even more breathless and urgent.

      So that first para might be, instead of

      She was making quiet clucking sounds, and I was watching the floating dust particles reflecting the sunlight sparkling around us. They were like barn fairies, I thought, protecting the animals, keeping the peace.

      This:

      Her quiet clucking sounds soothed me as I watched the floating dust particles reflect the sunlight sparkling around us. They were like barn fairies, I thought, protecting the animals, keeping the peace.

      There's a great exercise floating around the web on "Spider copulas." I've found it really useful in my own writing and editing others'... :D

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    7. As usual, Gae, I appreciate the time and thought you put into pushing my writing and story. I'm going to go look up Spider copulas right now!

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    8. Hi Stefanie,

      Glad you resonate with my post, and so glad it gives you something to think about :)

      Thanks for your reaction to my excerpt. The whole series is an emotional rollercoaster, picking up more and more steam…and now it’s racing away. It’s kind of cool, how my characters just take off on their own now.

      There are two daughters — one in the hospital bed,the other in the womb. Sorry for the confusion (yes, you would know this from the story and previous book.)

      The Flip Dictionary could be very cool for elementary students. Melt is most definitely not for them! My picture books about the American Revolution are perfect for elementary students. Please check them out on my website and/or Amazon.

      I love the evocative opening you have. Barn fairies! How perfect and touching! I felt like I was in there, seeing them too.

      I love the quiet clucking! Really perfect — even the sounds of the words :)

      I think you could try cutting it up a bit — adjusting the pacing (see below for an example I tried out.)

      Watch out for “was.” Often, you may not need it. Also, you don’t always need tags like “I thought.”

      I made a few edits to try out — just an idea:

      “She made quiet clucking sounds. I watched the floating dust particles reflect the sparkling sunlight around us. They were like barn fairies, protecting the animals, keeping the peace.”



      “Keith, Blake and Adam pushed open the door, and the particles scattered in the rush of air.”

      Little knit-pick: Would all three guys push the door open together? Also, would she see them do it?

      Maybe the door could push open, the particles could scatter, them they could burst in.

      I think you could cut it into smaller sentences here as well — allowing each image a chance to shine. The dust particles deserve their own :)

      [“Hey,” Adam said, before rummaging through various corners of the barn, obviously looking for something.] This feels rushed. Let’s slow down and see him head over to a corner, rummage around. Show that he’s looking for something, and there will be no need tell us.

      Also, these boys have created a disturbance. You show this as the particles scatter - and I’d like you to continue this emotion. How does our MC feel now that her guardian barn fairies have fled - is she vulnerable, upset, annoyed…a combination?

      [Blake and Keith wandered over to Pluck and I.] I’d like an idea of what they appear like, and also (more importantly) how our MC feels towards them, as they’ve disturbed her. And does Pluck have a reaction to the disturbance? Are her feathers ruffled? ;)


      “She’s looking better [than she did before - needed?] .” Blake [commented - I have a pet peeve against this word, better to use said, I think, because it’s invisible]

      “…reaching out to pat her too quickly, causing Pluck to startle.”

      Again, allow your images to unfold individually.

      (cont.)

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    9. “What are you going to do with one chicken anyway?” Keith asked. His family had a larger farm, a dairy farm, with a herd of one hundred or more cows. Farming was their family’s work, unlike our farm. With the two of them standing between me and the rest of the barn, I felt blocked in and crowded. I had to look way up to see their faces from the edge of the trough.

      I’d like some more tension here, when Keith asks the question. Maybe body language from Keith, and even Pluck? They could eye each other.

      I would start a new paragraph at “With the two of them…” Actually I suggest breaking it down a bit more:

      “The two of them stood between me and the rest of the barn. I felt blocked in. Crowded.”

      I’m confused about seeing their faces…I thought they were next to her. Where’s the trough?

      I tried a few things below. See what you think:

      “I defended Pluck, and smoothed at her feathers. ‘She’ll be laying eggs soon. Maybe even in a couple of months.’

      I wished they’d step back! (Add some kind of description of them looming over her.) When did they get so tall? The year that separated us felt bigger than it was. Great line!!!

      I readjusted Pluck under my right arm and stood. (add sensory detail?) (is she checking to see what the other boy is looking for?)

      ‘She’d make a great BB gun target,’ Keith laughed.” (Great, threatening last line! It begs for a reaction from our MC!)

      A few thoughts:
      I love the evocative use of the particles, and would love for you to employ other things in the setting similarly.
      I would love to see more of what’s going on with Pluck (like the quiet clucking.)
      The boys seem too much of a “unit” to me - try breaking them down more individually? Even with their dialogue, I don’t sense much difference between them.
      Look for ways to milk tension wherever possible.
      Do you need the third boy? I think Adam is the brother, Keith is the bad boy? What is Blake’s role?

      I really love the chicken, and think you should “pluck” whatever emotion you can from her. Is she in danger, ala Wilbur in Charlotte’s Web?

      I know, from last week, that your character is afraid of aliens. Is this a brief respite? Can she think it’s aliens when the door pushes open?

      Remember to keep whatever the tension of the story is in the background of the story always — IE: the aliens. It should always be pricking at our MC.

      Trust in your words to deliver slowly…savor your sentences, let each do its job.

      Great work - I'm invested in learning more :)


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    10. Thank you so much! I'm so grateful for your time, expertise and edits. (Your’s and Gae’s) I finished my first draft this summer, and I found the joy in drafting a story, but revision has left me flat and confused, even though I know it’s the most important part. I just didn’t know how to do it.

      Every week I've learned a little bit more about revision. From Ammi-Joan Paquette, I learned about using a revision checklist, which I thought would work for me, but it seemed I didn't know what to put on it.

      Now, with the examples from you and Gae, I can see what I need to do. My list contains six concrete actions to check for. I know there is more to do, but it's a start. I even know how to connect the particles aspect to the ending, which needs deepening.

      For the first time, I'm excited to revise.

      I'm also in awe of the generosity of the Teacher’s Write hosts and guest authors. We are so lucky to have access to this outstanding resource.

      Thank you,

      Stefanie

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    11. Stefanie, you're not alone. We've all been there. It's so tough. Know that you'll get through it! Just go with what you have for now, and then you can always go back again. Be kind to yourself. That's the main thing.

      I'm pleased to have helped you! (I have never done well with things like checklists, so don't feel bad.) The process is however it works for you.

      A final suggestion: Re-read a book you love, and dissect it to see exactly what works for you. Study the paragraphs that move you in particular. I did this with The Catcher in the Rye, Bud, Not Buddy, Holes, Walk Two Moons and America. Books are great teachers!

      If you haven't read Bird by Bird I would recommend it strongly.

      I love the particles, and think it's great about connecting them to the ending. See: it'll come together. Trust the process.

      Leap, and the net will appear :)

      Happy writing, Stefanie!



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  4. Selene - That excerpt was really exciting! And having had my water break in public, I'm going to say that it was pretty much exactly like that. "What just happened here...?"

    This is a really timely piece for me since I'm finishing up revisions on a book where the hero struggles to understand the social cues that reveal emotional reactions in others. He's also a really quiet kid, but I want to make sure I don't diminish his emotional reactions for the reader, since the reality is that his emotions are sometimes huge and unmanageable.

    I'm hoping this section isn't too long (I'm sorry Gae?) but I'm worried it isn't working, and it's one of the last scenes in the book. So - help? Thank you so much.

    Owen sat on the bottom riser, shaking. Pogo leaned his head on Owen’s knee.

    Owen rubbed his ears and the dog closed his eyes with pleasure.

    Franny joined them. “Owen, you were great! You should totally do agility competitions.”

    Owen shook his head. “No.” He met Franny’s eyes and saw they were crinkled, her mouth laughing. The constriction in his chest snapped and he began to laugh. “Never again.”

    Miss Amelia sat down beside them, checking the application of a family that wanted to adopt a dog.

    “Is that dog up for adoption?” A woman joined them. “What a clever dog he is! And such an appealing face.” She squatted down next to Pogo. Pogo hid behind Owen’s knee.

    Miss Amelia frowned. “No. I’m sorry. He already has a family.”

    “Of course he was adopted.” The woman smiled wide, reaching past Owen’s knee to scratch Pogo’s ears. “What a lucky dog.” With a final pat, the stranger walked away.

    Owen felt like he was ripped open, his heart raw and exposed. But it was time to face up to letting Pogo go.

    “Who adopted him?” He wasn’t sure how the words came out.

    Miss Amelia looked up at him, her mouth pushing into an odd, bunched smile.
    “There were several families that came forward to ask for Pogo.” She reached out to touch Owen’s hair, then pulled back short. “It’s a good problem to have. He’ll be happy.”

    “They’re nice, right?”

    “They?” She tilted her head at him.

    “His new family.” Even the words hurt. But he wanted Miss Amelia to reassure him. He wanted Pogo to be loved. To be with a family who saw how much he had been through. Owen whispered, “He’s a good dog. I want him to be happy.”

    “You’re right. He deserves a family that loves him.” Miss Amelia’s hawk eyes were kind. “And I’m sure Pogo will be well cared for.”

    Owen sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He nodded. His mouth found a word that felt like a lie. “Okay.” Pogo was okay. That was all he’d asked for when Pogo had been lying motionless on the ground.

    ---Again - thank you.
    Terry

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    1. Terry, I can feel how strong the emotion is for Owen, when he whispers how he wants the dog to be happy. Since this is such a powerful moment, I wonder if there are too many characters coming into play in this short section. I also got a little distracted by all of Miss Amelia's actions - mouth pushing, touching Owen's hair, tilting her head. I wonder if Owen would be noticing what she is doing when he is feeling so upset. I love dog stories and this one sounds like a hearbreaker! I would definitely read more.

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    2. Thank you, Andrea! Very helpful.

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    3. As an animal lover, I feel Owen's pain and reluctance to let Pogo go. This scene really shows how quiet Owen is, but also outwardly brave. I liked how observant he was of Miss Amelia and I can see the wheels turning in his head.
      I'm wondering, with all this contemplation, if his narration/interior monologue would be more overt? When he rubs Pogo's ears who then sighs in pleasure, would Owen feel pleased in return that he could make the dog happy? When the stranger approaches and asks about Pogo and adoption, Pogo hides. Would Owen want to hide too? Consider physically shielding Pogo from the woman? Relate to Pogo's actions? I love the line "Owen felt like he was ripped open, his heart raw and exposed." Could it come sooner? As soon as the woman opens her mouth and Pogo hides behind him? It sounds like Owen knows this is coming. If he reacts immediately and it builds, you might be able to build the emotion there.
      I also get the feeling that Miss Amelia knows more than she is sharing. I'm hoping, hoping, hoping a certain someone has "adopted" the dog for him. It sounds like they have healed each other. I'm enjoying your excerpts!

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    4. Thank you Jen! I'll see if I can smooth these lines in better.

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    5. Hi Terry,

      I’m also an animal lover, and you had me from the beginning - with Owen shaking, and Pogo keeping him company.

      I did get confused about this competition, and then they were adopting out dogs also — in the gym, I presume? But I’m sure that’s all explained.

      I wonder if you need Franny at all here? Because she’s there, and then gone. Maybe have her walk away, since we don’t hear from her again in the exchange?

      I read the other comments, and I agree with them. In particular, Jen voiced most of what I was thinking.

      Maybe some more sensory detail would help with Miss Amelia - she can shuffle adoption papers, toy with pencil, sigh or exclaim as she reads…?

      I think we need a slight description of the woman who approaches. What is Pogo doing to make her think he’s so clever? I’d like her to reach out to Pogo, and then he hides between Owen’s knees.

      Jen mentioned that Owen's heart should be ripped open sooner - I agree. I think Owen could feel that way the moment the woman approaches. He’s probably on high alert the whole time, worried that Pogo will be taken from him. (Why can’t he adopt him?)

      Then, when Miss Amelia reveals that Pogo is being adopted, I’d like more visceral emotion from Owen. Perhaps he jerks back, tucks Pogo further behind him - and away from his new family.

      I love that he doesn’t know how the words came out. I think you can milk this area even more.

      I don’t know about Miss Amelia’s reaching for him - she seems a bit stiff for that. I do like what she says.

      The odd, bunched smile does make me think Owen is getting Pogo. Also, wouldn’t Owen have seen a family interacting with Pogo? Where are they now?

      It seems a little odd phrasing to say, several families came forward. Maybe, inquired?

      I love the least three paragraphs. I can totally feel Owen’s pain, and the dialogue totally works. Perhaps add a touch more sensory details, but I’m quite moved — especially when he realizes that he got what he wanted — Pogo to be healed. It’s a bittersweet “be careful what you wish for” moment - combined with the fact that his wish did not go far enough ;)

      I'm torn about the hawk eyes being kind - to me, hawk eyes are the opposite of kind. But maybe this works for that startling reason. Or maybe they're startlingly kind...something like that?

      Very poignant! I want to know more!

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    6. Thank you so much for these notes, Selene! So helpful to hear how it comes through and get ideas for improving it.

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    7. Aw, Owen... I'm hoping what Jen is hoping... that Pogo, maybe just maybe, might wind up with. . . well, I won't jinx it. But it's wonderful that we all want this from just this brief excerpt. That's very telling.
      You've gotten a bunch of feedback so you don't need more from me, so take a step back from it and see what you agree with and what helps and keep going. :D

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    8. Gae - <3 I love you. Thank you for commenting.

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    9. You're welcome, Terry. I see I wrote at least one typo: the "last" three paragraphs, not least! Never least ;)

      I'm rooting for Owen and Pogo!

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    10. Please tell me that Owen gets to keep Pogo??? I'm rooting for both of them!

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  5. I like how he is truly observing facial expressions like "odd, bunched smile" and "eyes crinkled, mouth laughing". It's like he is processing what is happening and matching it to his understanding of facial expressions, so if that's what you are looking for it's working. It even gave me the sense of trying to figure it out, so my experience as a reader reflects Owen's experience. Pretty cool, I think.

    I get the sense from the questioning about the adoption that there is something Owen doesn't know that Miss Amelia does..."hawk eyes"...and his upset is evident even if it isn't him obviously weeping, just asking small questions and wiping his nose. I like the line "His mouth found a word that felt like a lie."

    Lots of good things going on here!

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    1. Thank you Stefanie! Such a relief when things come through the way I hope they will.

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  6. Such a powerful excerpt, Selene! I can really feel the emotion. I really like the way you used repeated phrases to show her thoughts, it feels so authentic. I felt that the word "mess" was perhaps repeated a bit too often in the last paragraph and could be a little confusing referring to the person and the situation as a "mess". But that's a tiny detail in a small bit of writing that left me on the edge of my seat, wanting to know what it was all about.

    I'd love your thoughts on this section of my story. I'm working on adding more depth and emotion to my middle grade novel [about a girl who is auditioning for a job on a wilderness show by going on an outdoor adventure]. I've added in one of my character's memories to this scene where she's just done something silly and is trying to decide whether to quit or not. I'm not sure if this works or if there is too much 'telling':


    This audition was not going the way she’d wanted. All Carson had seen so far was a clumsy girl that couldn’t do anything right. Mom and Dad thought she could do this, but there were no scripts to follow in the wilderness. It was just another place where she didn’t fit in.

    She could tell Carson she wanted to go home. Quit, like she’d almost done in the third grade. She’d played the role of Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk. During the dress rehearsal, she rushed up the ladder and knocked down the entire beanstalk. Everything stopped. Everyone stared. When the teacher-director asked her to try again, her heart beat so fast she thought it would explode. Her mouth opened but no words came out. She ran off stage. A failure. That night, she whispered the lines over and over in her room. Reminded herself that inside her costume, no one would see her trembling hands. No one knew how terrified she was of that ladder. And when she got on stage, she wasn’t Jade, she was Jack. She wasn’t terrified, she was brave. That’s when she decided she wanted to be an actor.

    There might not be a stage or a script out here, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She’d have to figure out a different way to show her talents. Starting with not missing her share of the treasure.


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    1. Andrea - The memory of being Jack is really excellent and conveys the panic following a stage mishap really well. I'd maybe think about the transition into the memory a little bit. This is clearly a memory of a victory and "almost" quitting isn't supporting the idea of telling Carson she wants to go home (if that makes sense?). The memory inspires her to keep trying in the wilderness adventure, and it seems to come to her mind to give her strength, rather than of a reminder of a past failure. --I also really like the line, "It was just another place where she didn't fit in." I think this is coming along really well and it's worth tinkering with (as you are doing) to get it across. I think it will be really fun to read!

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    2. Thank you for your thoughts, Terry! Very helpful.

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    3. Hi Andrea,

      Good use of a flashback to show a time when she had found the bravery she needed and that she has a tendency to be clumsy under pressure. (I entirely get that!)

      The "not fitting in line" is a good one, as Terry pointed out above." I also like how she has set a goal to achieve what she needs to do. That seems real and logical when approaching fear.

      At first I thought Carson was someone who was watching her on an auditioning front, but then it seemed that he's a partner. I'd probably understand much better if I read more which I'd love to do.

      I really enjoy the overcoming your fears/bravery versus perfection theme which seems to come through here. I think it's a theme many of our girls could identify with.

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    4. Thank you, Stefanie! It's so nice that you identified the theme because I am really terrible at that!

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    5. Hi Andrea,
      Thanks for your insight about my piece - I'll go over that carefully :)

      This is so powerful, and I totally feel for Jade. Terry hit it on the head about the flashback working well, but not in the way you intended. Easy to fix:
      "She could tell Carson she wanted to go home. Quit.
      (Add some more lamentation - perhaps reference one of her failures?)
      But then she remembered the third grade."

      So it becomes the thing that keeps her going.

      This is so short, and works so well - I really wouldn't tinker with adding any sensory detail - with the assumption that it's in preceding and following paragraphs.

      Well done! I absolutely feel for her, and would love to read more.

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    6. All that Selene says. Good work! Keep going. :D

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    7. Thank you for your thoughts, Gae and Selene!

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  7. Hi Martha,

    I hope you see this - I can't seem to be able to post another comment in the same section as the one I just posted for Linda.

    I love your dialogue! So spot on. There's so much emotion in these words! What I suggest is that you slow it down with background stuff -- break up your sentences and let each one linger, having its "spotlight" moment to affect us. You can do this with physical reactions, as Wendy suggested. You can also use background sensory details -- employing them in a way that reinforced the stabbing horror of these words that are breaking Ms. Sherman's heart as she listens.

    I definitely need a moment to process before she responds. I want to see what his face looks like to her, I want to know how her perception of him has changed in these moments.

    I want these two characters to touch, and I want to know what that feels like. Or if touching is a no-no, I want her to desire it SO MUCH.

    I also think you can cull more emotion both before after she responds with that very powerful line: "I will." Again, you can use body language and background sensory details. You can also use inner thoughts, like perhaps she prays that he doesn't hear the shake in her voice, or she bites her lip. So many choices! You've laid out your bricks, now cement them in place.

    I feel for Ms. Sherman, Martha! And yes, I want to read more :)

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    1. Thank you so much. Appreciate your comments and direction.

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  8. Selene, The last paragraph was so riveting. I found myself feeling panicky for her mental state and then all of a sudden felt a totally different kind of emotion when her water broke. Like who can deal with these two totally exhausting issues at once? I also felt torn between the loss (or potential) of one daughter and the birth of another happening at the same time. I need to know more!

    I am posting a selection from a journal I am keeping about my mom and her journey with dementia. This piece doesn't focus so much on my mom as it does one of the people that lives in her facility and the interaction we had. The insignificant moments that make up our days become very significant when looked at through a different lens. I am trying to capture the intensity of loss this woman was feeling.

    Mom and I had just gone out for lunch. I was checking her back into her place, chatting with the nurses at the desk when I felt a small tug on my sleeve.
    “Do you know what a Himalayan cat looks like?” tired eyes peered up at me from behind ridiculously dirty glasses. Without waiting for my response, the tiny wrinkled woman in front of me was alternating between stroking imaginary whiskers from the sides of her face and rubbing the top of her forehead while telling me that Himalyans have mostly cream faces with dark points here and here. Then, pausing for just a moment to steal a glance at the floor behind me, she went on to tell me her cat was missing. “He is cocoa and cream colored so I named him Cookies and Cream, but I call him CC for short,” she explained nodding her head up and down. She looked at me again quizzically. “Have you seen him? He’s about this big,” she motioned with her arms. “I just can’t find him.” Noticing mom for the first time, she began the story again, repeating the actions right along with the vivid description.
    “Is it alive?” my mom wanted to know. “A live cat is missing?” I knew she didn’t like cats and wondered what non-filtered comment might come flying out of her mouth. The other woman nodded sweetly, “He’s alive, and he’s very timid. I call him CC because he looks like cocoa and cream.” My mother turned and looked on the floor, then back at the woman. “When did you see him last?” I was fairly impressed with this question as it was a logical thing to ask. The tiny crinkled woman, still stroking imaginary whiskers, whispered back, “Not for a very long time.”
    Looking back at me, she suddenly lit up and asked me if I knew what a Himalayan cat looked like. I looked right into her tiny tired eyes hiding behind the big spots and smudges on her over sized glasses and said, “No, could you please tell me?” I had time, and she had a story. Mom seemed interested as well.
    We spent the better part of an hour looking for a cat that wasn’t there. The cat owner was purposeful as she walked the hallways, glancing to the left and right. She opened drawers of fancy hallway tables and peeked into open doorways calling, “CC…CC.” Mom, who has hated cats since she was a child, was a willing partner in the hunt. When we finally exhausted our search with less than successful results, the women shrugged their shoulders and agreed he wasn’t there. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll find him,” mom assured her new friend. The tiny woman nodded, turned to go to her room and then very quietly asked, “Who is it we are trying to find?”
    Memory is an unappreciated gift. Dementia is a thief.

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    1. Patti - This is just riveting. I had skipped over your intro, and was thrown right into looking for the cat in all seriousness. And now I'm wishing that CC could have come with her to the facility (assuming CC is still with us at all)... And I'm tearing up at your beautiful and kind response: "No, could you please tell me?” I had time, and she had a story.

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    2. Hi Patti,

      Thanks for the compliments! My biggest problem with the story is I'm not giving it the time it deserves due to other projects, and it's so jarring to jump back into such emotion and look at it objectively. Glad it's working.

      Your piece touches me personally, as I lost my beloved aunt to Alzheimer's. The worst. Did you see - I commented on your piece last week as well.

      It all resonated with me.

      This line broke my heart:
      "The tiny crinkled woman, still stroking imaginary whiskers, whispered back, “Not for a very long time.”

      "We spent the better part of an hour looking for a cat that wasn’t
      there." So poignant, and a metaphor for how we may spend our lives on this or that pursuit. The overlying irony here is staggering. I still weep for the loss of my aunt, even as she was still physically there.

      So true, this fixation on the loss of something.
      We had to hunt for my aunt's sheet music once (she was a musician.) She insisted she'd left it in the hall, and someone had taken it.

      I find it so interesting that your mom plays a "side" role here - and it's also compelling that even though she hated cats she participated in the hunt.

      I love that she asked if it's alive. So practical, even while in the grips of this disease - showing how differently if affects people.

      “ 'Maybe tomorrow you’ll find him,' mom assured her new friend. The tiny woman nodded, turned to go to her room and then very quietly asked, 'Who is it we are trying to find?'" So touching, so real. And again, paralleling all life.

      I love the description of this tiny, crinkled/wrinkled woman with smudged glasses. So pathetically clear. I love that she's stroking her own imaginary whiskers.

      I love that you listened to her story -- and your mom did too.

      I really don't think you need the last line. We're all thinking it, having been shown it.

      So well done, Patti! Utterly compelling and devastating.

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    3. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to comment. I completely understand what you are saying about the last line. Because I was submitting this as a stand alone piece I thought I might need a summary. When I finally decide how to put all these snippets together I will likely use the line in the introduction or the summary, but will remove it from the piece. I am not really sure where this is going, but my original idea was to capture the story and then relate it to my own life as a sort of guide for my children in case this happens to me. I want to call it, Just in Case, and after writing anecdotes from mom's life, add in my own struggles, experiences and memories. So far the snippets have literally written themselves as I visit, observe and reflect on the significantly insignificant moments of mom's life with dementia.

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    4. Patti,

      this is just gorgeous, and I love so many of the highlights Selene picked out. In fact, it is SO beautiful, that I cant resist a superspeed flash edit to pull out unnecessary what I call “stage direction” to let the scene around it shine. For example, when you first see the tiny wrinkled woman you say she doesn’t wait for a response, but it’s also not as if she’s interrupting with words but rather she makes a motion (and I was questioning why she would wait for a response to do that…) Soon after, she pauses, but pauses from what? I wonder if you took out all that “stage direction” the scene would still be clear and more simple and the more poignant evocative stuff would really shine… I’ve done that type of thing – e.g. taking out the passive “was doing something” language vs. the character just doing it (google Spider copulas – I mention them to a camper above too!) and other ticks throughout (like the repetition of the work look/looking). Maybe you’ll want to add some back in… maybe all of it, but just wanted to play with leaving the essential there to see how it reads/felt?

      Mom and I had gone out for lunch, and I was checking her back into her place, chatting with the nurses at the desk, when I felt a small tug on my sleeve.

      “Do you know what a Himalayan cat looks like?” Tired eyes peered up at me from behind ridiculously dirty glasses. The tiny wrinkled woman before me alternated between stroking imaginary whiskers from the sides of her face and rubbing the top of her forehead while telling me that Himalyans have mostly cream faces with dark points here and here.

      Stealing a glance at the floor behind me, she went on to tell me her cat was missing. “He is cocoa and cream colored so I named him Cookies and Cream, but I call him CC for short,” she explained nodding her head up and down. “Have you seen him? He’s about this big.” She looked at me quizzically and motioned with her arms. “I just can’t find him.”

      Noticing Mom for the first time, she began the story again, repeating actions along with her vivid descriptions.

      “Is it alive?” Mom wanted to know. “A live cat is missing?”

      I knew she didn’t like cats and wondered what non-filtered comment might come flying out of her mouth. The tiny crinkled woman nodded sweetly. “He’s alive, and he’s very timid. I call him CC because he looks like cocoa and cream.”

      My mother turned and looked on the floor, then back at the woman. “When did you see him last?”

      I was fairly impressed with this question as it was a logical thing to ask. The woman, still stroking imaginary whiskers, whispered back, “Not for a very long time.” Turning back to me, she suddenly lit up and asked me if I knew what a Himalayan cat looked like. I looked right into her tired eyes hiding behind the big spots and smudges on her oversized glasses and said, “No, could you please tell me?” I had time, and she had a story. Mom seemed interested as well.

      We spent the better part of an hour searching for a cat that wasn’t there. The woman was purposeful as she walked the hallways, glancing to the left and right. She opened drawers of fancy hallway tables and peeked into open doorways calling, “CC…CC,” Mom, who has hated cats since she was a child, a willing partner in the hunt.

      When we finally exhausted our search with less than successful results, the women both shrugged, and agreed he wasn’t there.

      “Maybe tomorrow you’ll find him,” Mom assured her new friend. The tiny woman nodded, turned to go to her room and then, very quietly, asked, “Who is it we are trying to find?”

      Memory is an unappreciated gift. Dementia is a thief.

      Delete
    5. I struggle with using too many words. Believe it or not I had deleted many of the original words that poured out when I first wrote it. I love the comments and edits. Less is more.Show, don't tell. I'll keep working on it with pleasure!

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  9. Selena, thank you for your post today. It has given me a lot to think about. Yesterday, I posted a first draft of a moment in my WIP that I reworked a bit through your suggestions. Your piece is so powerfully written that it made me look at mine quite critically. In the scene Claire is telling her mother about something that had happened years ago. Thank you for any feedback you can provide.

    Claire stood before me shaking, tears streaming as she screamed, "He touched me, and I didn't want him to! I was 13 years old! He told me he loved me, that he would never hurt me, but he touched me and I didn't want him to." Her words spilled out in torrents, hitting me in waves. "'It's not sex,' he said. 'Relax,' he said. I just lay there and cried. It was awful, Mom! On our dock, late at night. I didn't know what to do." Claire stared at me, pain radiating out of accusing eyes.

    I sat, still. Tears filling my eyes, while questions ricocheted around every corner of my mind. Eventually I moved, wrapping my arms around my legs and hugging them, as if to gather up and hold all the shattered pieces of this moment. When was this? Where was I? How could this have happened? Why wasn't I paying closer attention? What should I say? What could I say that would make this hurt go away?

    Claire continued between sobs, snot running from her already red nose, blotches gathering on her smooth, clear skin. I was dumbstruck. "Finally, he finished and I went home." She said, her voice small and fragile. "I saw you that night,"she continued, louder. "You asked me about being out so late. I said I was fine and you believed me!" she wailed.

    Her words slapped me in the face. Why wouldn't I believe her? She and Tim had been inseparable since she was nine years old. He worshipped her and she seemed to worship him right back. Why on earth would I think that he could hurt her? I tried, in vain, to muster a response, but I had nothing. Nothing but shock, denial, and guilt. How could I have let this happen?



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    1. Hi Susan,

      You're welcome! Glad to help.

      Your piece has all the elements, and quite a lot of emotion. In fact, in this case, I feel like there's too much emotion bursting out at once. You can control it, tease us with it, tear through our hearts with a back and forth, by splicing up the dialogue with physical descriptions and some inner thought (especially since this is in first person.)

      I reworked the beginning just to give you an example of what I'm talking about:

      Claire stood before me shaking. “He…touched me…and I didn't want him to!” Tears streamed from her eyes so much I couldn’t see through them. Maybe, in a way, I didn’t want to. “I was 13 years old!” She wiped at her eyes then, and the pain…it was there as though it were happening now. She was innocent, lost…My baby had needed help, and I hadn’t helped her.

      “He…he told me he loved me…that he would never… hurt me!” She screamed. At me, who would have done anything to protect her. If I’d only known. I could only watch now, as she dug her nails into her own flesh. I'd have given her mine instead, if I though she'd accept it.

      Her words spilled out in torrents, hitting me in waves. “He… touched me and I… didn’t…want…him…to.”

      “Where…” The word jumped from my mouth, somehow.

      “On our dock,” she answered. “Late one night.”

      I nodded, mute.

      My question had really been: Where was I?


      So you see, intersplicing creates ups and downs. I love that the mom is so dumbstruck. I love that Claire's words slap her in the face -- that the mom DID have no reason not to believe her.

      You have some good sensory details, but be careful not to get too dramatic. Emotions will have the opposite effect from what we want when they're too heightened. Be careful with tears - use them sparingly. Or use them to show something else - as I tried to do, when I obscured Claire's eyes and then made the mom prefer it that way. (I made all that up - just for an example - hope you don't mind.)

      I buy all the emotions you put out here, and the key is to tone down and pace them out. The last paragraph is all thoughts, and perhaps you can mix them up with some sensory/physical details and/or dialogue.

      I recommend The Emotion Thesaurus for you, as you can look up the emotion you want to convey and find a list of suggestions for body language -- and it includes long-suppressed cues - which are perfect for Claire.

      "Finally, he finished and I went home." This seems diminished somehow. Maybe if you put spaces.

      "Finally...he finished." Oh God. What did that mean? I could never ask.

      Her voice was small and fragile. "I went inside." *[Because wasn't it on their dock?]*
      have some other physical thing here
      "When I came in...You asked me...about being out so late."
      (another break for something descriptive - or the mom could try to say something like, "See? I..." And Claire might break in:

      "I said I was fine...and you believed me!" (You don't need the "wailed" tag -- the words wail on their own.)

      You definitely have all you need here - very emotion-packed. It's interesting to see if from the POV of the mom. All you have to do is rearrange the pieces.

      I want to know what comes next - and if this guy gets what's coming to him!

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    2. Susan,

      This is a really powerful and important section and, as Selene points out, you do give emotion, even more than you might need making it melodramatic instead of dramatic in a few places, because the words, dialogue and scene are already so strong. Selene gives great examples of ways to tease out the action and come back... I've done simply a super speed flash edit on it leaving your words and order as is, but pulling back where the dialogue has done so much of the work and speaks for itself... see what you think. Take all advice and sit on it while you write forward! Keep going. I can feel how important this story is to you and that is saying a LOT. :D

      Claire stood before me shaking. "He touched me, and I didn't want him to! I was 13! He told me he loved me, that he would never hurt me, but he touched me and I didn't want him to." Her words spilled n torrents, hitting me in waves. "'It's not sex,' he said. 'Relax,' he said. I just lay there and cried. It was awful, Mom! On our dock, late at night. I didn't know what to do." Claire stared at me, pain radiating from accusing eyes.

      I sat, still, tears welling, as questions ricocheted around my mind. Eventually I could move, wrapping my arms around my legs and hugging them, as if to gather up and hold the shattered pieces of this moment. When was this? Where was I? How could this have happened? Why wasn't I paying closer attention?

      Claire continued between sobs, her nose red, blotches gathering on her smooth, clear skin. I waited dumbstruck for her to talk.

      "Finally, he finished and I went home," she said, her voice small and fragile. "I saw you that night. You asked me about being out so late. I said I was fine and you believed me. . ."

      Her words – that last part – was a slap in the face. Why wouldn't I believe her? She and Tim had been inseparable. He worshipped her and she seemed to worship him back. Why would I think that he could hurt her? Would? I tried, in vain, to muster a response, but I had nothing.

      How could I have let this happen?

      Delete
  10. Wow! I am glad to be back to participate today. Taking a grad class and school starting in two weeks has really kicked my butt. Thank you Gae and Selene. I absolutely loved your excerpt Selene. I could feel the panic and intensity of the scene. I can't wait to read more. Gae, The Memory of Things is on its way to my house very soon!! I'm so excited. Congratulations!
    My excerpt today is from my WIP. I think it is picking up where I left off with Lizzie's feelings of desperation waking up at her dad's house. Here goes...

    “Well, there’s the sleepy head. I thought you’d sleep all morning and miss out on waffles and hash-browns.”
    I look down at the plate. A sorry excuse for a waffle and soggy shredded potatoes stare back at me.
    “Thanks Dad.” I try to force a smile, but I’m sure I just look constipated.
    “You okay Lizzie? You don’t look so good kiddo.”
    There it was.
    The question.
    Again.
    I pull my eyes away from the table and focus on him. I look at his bald head and stubble-filled face. He has on a faded New Orleans Saints t-shirt with tiny holes around the stretched out collar from too much bleach. He looks helpless and sad. I can’t tell him I’m not okay. Look at him! His life is the definition of shambles. I can’t tell him his daughter is broken. I can’t confide in him. He can’t even cook me eggs. He doesn’t even remember how much I hate hash-browns. My God! Why is he looking at me like that? Why is he asking me if I’m okay? My eyes start to burn with tears when I taste rusty warm liquid in my mouth. I bit my cheek again. Hard.

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    1. I love how you describe the Dad.

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    2. Oh, Rachel. This tugs at my heart. The dad that wants to be there for his kid but can't even take care of himself. I love that he loves her, and really wants to be there for her. I love your description of him - so perfect!

      To get picky, I think you could lose the eggs line - or mention them earlier, like he tried to make them but they got burned. (He could be sheepish.)

      Another little pick: How is the waffle pathetic? Shriveled?

      "Why is he looking at me like that?" I like this, but we don't really know what he's looking at her like.

      I love that she tastes blood - but it's confusing that she bites her cheek after. Or did she bit her cheek and not know it? Or maybe this is a self-hurting thing? Not sure.

      But overall this works so well - a double tragedy: that these two people are right there, unable to communicate, unable to take care of themselves or each other.

      Actually reminds me in tone of my novel Saved by the Music. God, you guys are all striking my chords today - making me relive my pain ;)

      Very nice - I'm totally drawn it, and worried for them both.

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    3. Rachel, just echoing what Selene has said... a very nice scene. The pain and inability to communicate between dad and daughter is palpable. So kudos! Makes me completely want to know what is going on. More kudos. :D Another picky little thing... "pulled my eyes away from the table bothers me..." "pull my focus from the table and look at him?" Keep going!

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  11. Thank you so much for this post.

    Here is the piece that I would love some feedback on. Thanks in advance to those you read and give some advice. : )

    The darkness envelops me as I stand waiting. Swarms of people, men and women, exit the front door. Smoke, laughter, and clinking of bottles follow them. Light from the windows illuminates the wet cement. I hear loud laughter echo from behind. The tavern is now empty.

    I stand still, arms folded, looking down. Sniffling.

    But no one noticed me.

    I make myself invisible.

    I hear bottles rolling around on the floor and the sound of stiff bristles sweeping the floor. I still don’t move.

    After a few minutes, I hear talking and laughing come from inside and shadows on the floor. Slowly the shadows of a few men get shorter and shorter until they disappear and I see three men standing in the doorway.

    “Where’d you park, Arch?” One man says.

    “Out back in the alley.”

    “Well, we’re out this way. We’ll see ya tomorrow night?”

    “You got it.” Daddy says.

    They walk the opposite direction as Daddy stands in the doorway. He’s a shadow with light dancing around him. He shifts his hat on his head and walks into the drizzle of rain.

    Sniff.
    Sniff.
    Then, I start to cry.

    “Hello?” He yells. That word bounces off the buildings.

    I look up and see him standing in front of the door to the tavern.

    “Daddy?” I whisper through tears.

    “Daughter?”

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    1. Hi, John. You've done a lovely, evocative job here. Really touching, hitting all the right spots. Just the right amount of ingredients.

      I love:
      "I hear bottles rolling around on the floor and the sound of stiff bristles sweeping the floor. I still don’t move." But I am wondering at this point, where is she? If hidden, she wouldn't see anything - would she? And yet, in the beginning, she's enveloped in darkness.

      I love: "He’s a shadow with light dancing around him." However, you use shadows earlier, so maybe you want to get rid of them, so this isn't diminished.

      I love:
      "Sniff.
      Sniff.
      Then, I start to cry."

      I love, "That word bounces off the buildings." It can mean so much, open to reader interpretation.

      I love the simplicity of this whole thing, including the dialogue.

      I don't quite understand where she is, that no one notices her. If she's hiding, she would have to do more than just open her eyes - she'd have to step out from somewhere.

      Be careful with the doorway image - you use it a lot.

      "I hear loud laughter echo from behind." Try to avoid "I hear." Instead: "Loud laughter echoes from behind."

      I'm really taken with the simple evocativeness of this. I feel like it's a scene from a movie - almost like the dad's a gangster (I don't know why, but something about his environment feels illicit.) You could milk the tension, but I don't think you should mess with it. I really love it the way it is. And I certainly want to know more.

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    2. John,

      I love this little section and Selene gives exactly the advice i would give and loves the moments I absolutely love. I could do a super speed flash edit if you want me to -- ask -- never sure who comes back to read them! ;) Keep going. Lovely.

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    3. I always read your SSFE. Thanks Gae and Selene!!!

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    4. You got it, friend:

      Playing quickly with a flash edit mostly to show you where you can get rid of repetition and “hear” ing… but I’m a bit confused as to where she is. Is she inside the tavern and the floor is cement? I love the description of the “Light from the windows illuminates the wet cement” but where/how is she seeing it? The first read I thought she was outside because of it, but now I think she’s inside. And if she’s inside and hears the voices/people leave in the opening part of the scene, then where are the voices filtering in from in the latter part of the scene. I just need a little clarity on position/logistics (without you getting bogged down in them…). Easy to say vs. do. I know. But you can! :D

      The darkness envelops me as I wait [for him?]. Men and women exit, smoke, chatter, and the clinking of bottles following them. Light from the windows illuminates the wet cement. Loud laughter echoes from behind. The tavern is now empty.

      I stand still, arms folded, looking down. Sniffling.

      But no one notices me.

      I make myself invisible.

      Bottles roll on the floor. The scritch of stiff bristles sweep against the floor. I still don’t move.

      [this para needs clarification… I don’t get the logistics of where she is and where they are and Selene is right about taking out the shadows so the beautiful description using shadows below stands powerful on its own]: After a few minutes, voice filter in from inside and shadows on the floor. Slowly the shadows of a few men get shorter and shorter until they disappear and I see three men standing in the doorway.

      “Where’d you park, Arch?” one man says.

      “Out back in the alley.”

      “Well, we’re out this way. We’ll see ya tomorrow night?”

      “You got it.” Daddy says.

      They walk the opposite direction as Daddy remains in the doorway, a shadow with light dancing around him. He shifts his hat on his head and walks into the drizzle of rain.

      Sniff.
      Sniff.
      I start to cry.

      “Hello?” Dad’s voice, that word, bounces off the buildings.

      I look up and see him standing in the door to the tavern.

      “Daddy?” I whisper through tears.

      “Daughter?”

      Delete
  12. Hi, Selene!

    Thank you for the post. It really got me thinking about my own writing and how I teach writing. The idea of clarity, word choice, and developing a character resonated with me. Also, my students, which are sixth graders, struggle with these concepts because of the educational maturity level that they are at as 11 or 12-year-old children, but I believe that if I showed them examples, as you did, they would be able to identify the importance of these within their writing.

    Your excerpt blew be away. The emotion and the suspense left me wanting more (exactly what your post was about today). In that short passage, you truly developed a character that I felt connected to. Wow!

    Here is my excerpt:

    They should still be at the restaurant, but you can never be too careful. After going right home to work on my poster, I realize that I need about one more page of notes to finish the poster and the paper. The ride to the library is so tiring. I spend more time looking behind me than I do looking in front of me. I can’t let any of the guys or Christy see me, especially with my backpack full of schoolbooks on.

    I wish I brought my deodorant. I’m not sweatin’ from the ride. I’m sweatin’ from being so nervous. By the time I get to the library, I smell like my lacrosse arm pads after a game in the summer sun. I hope that I don’t see Ms. Dean.
    The library is very quiet today. There are two old women in the “spicy” fiction section. Yikes. I wonder if they think “spicy” means the cookbook section. I wonder if my mom reads those books. Yuck, I don’t even want to think about it.

    “Hi, young man, may I help you?” Says the librarian from her desk. Wait a minute, that isn’t Ms. Crandall.

    “Hi, my name is Sammy and I have a library card. I have been here before.”

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    1. Hi Andrew!

      Well, thank you :) I'm so glad you connected with my post, and my excerpt. Yes, I think sixth graders will definitely resonate with examples. Might I be so bold as to recommend my book By the Sword, the true story of a soldier's experiences at the Battle of Long Island? Yes, I might ;) I do a lot of elementary school visits, and use this book to demonstrate character emotions, and how they affect everything.

      About your piece:

      I was struck by Sammy right away:
      "They should still be at the restaurant, but you can never be too careful."

      That really got me thinking. Not only wondering who "they" are, but why Sammy had to be careful - and I was sad for him, that he had to be vigilant.

      I like that he has to look behind him all the time -- why can't they see him with the backpack? Again, I feel so bad for him - he should just be enjoying his life!

      I would like to feel the weight of the backpack. And why does he need all those books? Just in case?

      Love the deodorant line -- and the explanation. Love the lacrosse arm pads reference! Perfect!

      Why can't he see Mrs. Dean? I guess she's explained elsewhere.

      Instead of saying the library is quiet, describe the stillness?

      I love the whole "spicy" fiction thing: that it's called that, that he worries they're looking for cookbooks and are mistakenly there, that his mom might read those books - and his reaction to that. Well done, and just like a kid might spiral!

      I would like to hear what the librarian's voice sounds like. And why is Sammy freaked out that it's not Ms. Crandall. Is he just the nervous type?

      I'm intrigued by the last line - and it makes me sad, too. That he feels he has to explain that he does indeed belong there.

      I get the feeling that this kid feels like he doesn't fit in. Really, I'm worried about him - it's like a subtle nag at the pit of my stomach. I kind of want to mother him.

      The only thing I would suggest is more sensory detail. When I write a scene I make a list of all the possible sensory details that could be in that setting, and I draw from that. For example, the feeling of his feet in this bike pedals, the squeak of the librarian's chair.

      Nice job - I'm invested in Sammy! I want to know more about him, for sure.

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    2. Andrew, as I wrote with John's piece above, Selene loves the same lines and moments I love, and pushes you and asks questions right where I would. Great stuff. Keep going.

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  13. Selene,

    You delivered exactly what I needed in today. Thank you for the wonderful advise. Emotion is the key for me as a reader, now I just need to figure out how to do this as a writer. I am going to look up the resources you suggested ASAP.

    After reading your excerpt I must read your books!! Loved the emotion and it makes me want to know what is going to happen next. I am already captivated. I hope to grow up to be like you one day:)

    Here is a piece I am working on. I am having a hard time with the emotion piece, even though I've had a similar experience the MC. Any advise is greatly appreciated!

    ***

    “Liz.” calls the nurse.

    My mom and I follow her like baby ducks into the examination room. The nurse checks my vitals and asks, “How have you been since your last appointment with Dr. Sail?”

    “Have you watched any zombie movies lately?” I ask the nurse.

    “No, why?” the nurse replies, looking at me like I am crazy.

    “Well, you know how a zombie looks and acts in movies? That is how I feel inside. Dead. Except for the ‘wanting to eat people’ part of course.”

    “Glad to see you still have your sense of humor Liz.” The nurse responds. “Dr. Pillman will be in with you shortly.”

    Waiting for the new doctor is like waiting for the ketchup to come out of a brand new bottle at a restaurant. All I want is for the doctor to fix this. I mean, his name is Dr. PILLman. Come on! Can’t he just give me a pill to make it all go away? Isn’t that what doctors do? I just want to move on with my life and get back to volleyball and friends and middle school.

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    1. Hi Jennifer,

      You’re welcome, and thanks! Of course I’m happy you want to read my books ;)

      I know what you mean. I remember reading books and being stunned by the power they wielded, and thinking: How can I ever do this? How could I ever even remember to consider all these elements, let alone put them together?

      And then, slowly, I did.

      Do you know the joke:

      How do I get to Carnegie Hall?

      Practice, practice.

      You’ll get there, Jennifer!

      About your piece (and I remember commenting on this one last week, too):

      I like Liz, and I like her dialogue. But I do feel like she’s not really kidding about the zombie thing - and I’d like her describe more about what’s going on inside as she enters the doctor’s office. You do, at the end, describe a bit of what it’s like — but it feels superficial. I mean, I like what you have. But I would like to dig deeper - at what it feels like to have something wrong with her that she can’t control (do they know what it is?) I believe the emotions you’ve shown, but I want more — all the way through.

      I’d like to see the nurse through Liz’s eyes. What does she look like?

      Her mom has no role at all, other than to follow like a baby duck. (That is a great description.)

      I love the zombie stuff, but maybe wait a beat before the wanting to eat people line? Like, the nurse can look agast, and Liz can think, What a wuss. And then add the disclaimer line.

      But I am confused. It’s a new doctor, but she knows this nurse? Same office? Play on that - show us what Liz things of this nurse, and the whole office.

      Basically, we don’t want Liz to be in a generic doctor’s office scene. What about this office is different? Striking - at least, to Liz. If she really has been there more than once, play up on that, Maybe she fashioned the skeleton to give the finger last time, and no one’c changed it back. (Or whatever the MG equivalent would be, lol.) Maybe she notices something in the exact spot it was last time. Maybe there’s a urine sample sitting there, and she’s like, Gross! Or, she wants to tamper with it. Use any environment as an opportunity to reveal something about your character, through the way they relate with it. (If you read my book Melt, see how I do this with Dunkin’ Donuts.)

      Pet peeve: “responds.” Instead of the nurse simply “responding,” show her reaction to the comment through her response - IE: Is she monotone, is there a hint of sarcasm in her voice? Does she smile when she says it?

      Maybe Liz can have an interaction with her mom as they wait? Maybe she can say that Dr.Pillman line to her mom, and the mom can respond? (Showing what she’s like.)

      Maybe Liz can snap at her mom: “I just want my life back! I want volleyball, my friends. I want to be bored in middle school like everyone else!”

      And the mom can either be supportive, bland, or maybe she can snap at Liz: “You think I want this?” etc.

      And the doctor can walk in on this!

      You see how much tension we can have sitting in a doctor’s office?

      I hope you understand that I like your character -- I'm just looking to push her far enough (as I think you're eager to do.) I do want to know what happens next!

      You go, Jennifer!

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    2. Okay, Jen,

      Two things: I love your piece just as it is AND Selene gives you amazing advice. I guess it depends ultimately what you want from the scene. If you want it to be less pithy and superficial (but still excellent) and more intense, Selene gives you wonderful places to push emotion... which was what we are working on today. :D

      Hope it inspires you to keep going!

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    3. Thank you both. I was able to include a little more emotion in the scene and then add a scene the next day where she completely breaks down. I almost cried during and after writing it, because I have felt that emotion before in my own life. But, it is scary to let that out and relive it. Thank you for the continuous encouragement. I have truly loved this experience.
      Thank you Gae and Selene!!

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  14. Hi Selene and Gae! What a powerful and helpful post today. Thank you for the wise words. I'll be rereading them later, I know. Your excerpt was gut-wrenching. We were thrown right into the moment and I was captured. The mom's reaction was visceral and I loved the irony of the daughter she attempted to kill being alive just as another child is about to be born! "what the hell kind of a mother was I?" Wow.

    My excerpt comes after my MC, Grace-Ann, sees a breaking news headline, "Child's body found on Plover Beach", on one of many silent tv's in a local restaurant/pool hall. Then a series of photos of little girls, including one of Lola (her missing sister), flash across the screen. (One of my worries is that I have a couple of scenes that might be too similar- this might feel familiar, though it is in a very different spot in the story. How many ways can my MC react to upsetting news?)
    ----
    What had just happened? What was going on? Was it her? Had they found Lola’s body? Were they allowed to do that- just put it on tv for everyone to see before the family had been notified? Is that what just happened?
    My mouth went dry and cottony and I had trouble swallowing. I couldn’t breathe, and suddenly all the sounds and smells that had disappeared when I first saw the news banner flooded me at once and nearly knocked me over. I let my pool cue clatter to the floor and I wheeled around to find the door. Lola. I stumbled forward, pushing past people, but my breathing came in strangled gasps and I didn’t make it far before my legs gave out and I had to crouch down closer to the floor, holding onto a chair leg.
    “Somebody get her a paper bag!”
    “Does she need help?”
    “What the hell’s going on?”
    Then Ru was at my side, steadying my shoulders while I tried to fight him off so I could breathe again. I felt like a horse tied in a burning stable. So many people. So much light and noise. Let me go.
    “Grace Ann, look at me. Look in my eyes. Breathe with me.” If I died now, Ru would be the last thing I’d see. Part of me wanted to die because I couldn’t think of a single good reason for Lola’s picture to be on the news. But my body didn’t want me to die, and when a phantom hand appeared with a crumpled bag and shoved it at my face, I took it and began to breathe into it. My vision cleared and my breaths slowed. I crouched where I was on the sticky floor.

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  15. Hi Jen,

    You're welcome! So glad to help, and glad you enjoyed my excerpt. It hurts to write that stuff!

    You ask: How many ways can my MC react to upsetting news?

    This is a powerful and unsettling question, and hard to answer. Basically, you need to up the ante every time. Or, if you've reached your ceiling, the description has to somehow strike a different cord. It has to feel different, even if it's really the same.(The Emotion Thesaurus can help! God I wish I made a commission from that book, lol.) Once you finish your manuscript, go back and isolate each reaction - and make sure each one resonates on it's own, in its unique way.

    That said: This seems pretty unique! Very nice! I totally felt for Grace Ann.

    Really powerful stuff:
    "My mouth went dry and cottony and I had trouble swallowing. I couldn’t breathe, and suddenly all the sounds and smells that had disappeared when I first saw the news banner flooded me at once and nearly knocked me over. I let my pool cue clatter to the floor and I wheeled around to find the door. Lola."

    "Then Ru was at my side, steadying my shoulders while I tried to fight him off so I could breathe again. " Do you mean Ru is trying to make her breathe again?

    Awesome:
    "I felt like a horse tied in a burning stable. So many people. So much light and noise. Let me go."

    “What the hell’s going on?” Very picky -but she thinks "What was going on" earlier. I try to vary these kinds of thing.

    "Is that what just happened?" Similarly, you have her ask this twice in the beginning.

    I absolutely do buy the series of questions barging through her head prior to the sensory details. Totally works for me.

    I really feel her pain. Wonderful.

    I like the end paragraph, too - but I do think you could break up the sentences and make it more staccato.

    "I crouched [where I was] there, on the sticky floor." Is this the last line of the scene? I think a little more closure is needed. Even if she just closes her eyes.

    Another picky thing: You used crouch twice.

    Of course, I am hooked! What a compelling story! And really, it doesn't look good for Lola. Alas.

    Very nice, Jen. It has that Gone Girl suspense feel. A winner!




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    Replies
    1. Hey, Jen,

      Agree with all the love Selene has for this piece and also agree that if you pull back with some of the repetition it will read more organically and authentically… and that may solve your bigger question. Going to do a superspeed flash edit since I’m in that mode… let’s see if it helps the scene feel like it’s only offering essentials (if that makes sense…?)

      What had just happened? What was going on? Was it her? Had they found Lola’s body? Were they allowed to do that- just put it on TV for everyone to see? Before the family had been notified?

      My mouth went dry and cottony and I had trouble swallowing. My pool cue clattered to the floor and I wheeled toward the door. Lola. I stumbled forward, pushing past people, but my legs gave out and I had to crouch down, holding onto a chair leg.

      “Somebody get her a paper bag!”

      “Does she need help?”

      “What the hell’s going on?”

      Then Ru was at my side, steadying my shoulders though I tried to fight him off so I could breathe again. I felt like a horse tied in a burning stable. So many people. So much light and noise. Let me go.

      “Grace Ann, look at me. Look in my eyes. Breathe with me.”

      If I died now, Ru would be the last thing I’d see. Part of me wanted to die because there wasn’t a single good reason for Lola’s picture to be on the news. But my body didn’t want me to die, and when a phantom hand appeared shoving a crumpled bag toward my face, I took it and began to breathe. My vision cleared and my breaths slowed.

      Delete
  16. Well, I've finally finished -- for now. I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts as much as I've enjoyed reading your work! Thanks so much for having me, Gae!

    Have a great weekend - and write on, everyone!

    ReplyDelete