Sticking to the Wall

Confession: I cannot make this.

No matter how much I try, I fail. The cheese doesn't quite . . . I don't know . . . formulate. I have had the macaroni come out crunchy. Or too soggy.

But the fact is it doesn't come out right because I am constitutionally incapable of following directions. I am a rebel even when it comes to following SIMPLE instructions on a box. I don't read them. I eyeball the amount of milk and butter. I don't stir it for the prescribed number of minutes. I don't let it stand for the correct minutes. I hate directions.

Now, ask me to make a pot of "gravy"--Italian spaghetti sauce--and honey, now we're talking. It's an all-day process. And there is no recipe. It's a little of this, a little of that, taste it, a little more of this, now some of that, taste it, and so on, for about five hours. Usually while opera is playing.

And generally, that is how I like to cook. I wing it. Missing an ingredient for the soup or stew? Heck, toss this in instead.

So it is with writing. I don't follow more than the vaguest of outlines. And I'm "done" when . . . well, I don't know. Like flinging some spaghetti strands against my kitchen cabinets to see if they stick and thus are "done," I have some vague sense it's "done" when it feels right. When each scene works and seems like it's complete. When it's done in some internal cook's gut, internal writer's sixth sense.

But there are definitely writers who don't know when they are done. They will tweak the same book for years and years and YEARS. And there are some who THINK they are done and show me their work, and I think, "Hmm . . . don't you want to go back and fuss with this a little?" Some people are "done" when a deadline arrives. Some are "done" when they are so sick of the whole project they can't stand it anymore. And some . . . never done.

So . . . I decided to try to think of some surefire signs you are ready to toss your spaghetti against the wall:

• You are going over your book for the 50th time and the only thing you change are two words. You are either DONE and are afraid to send queries and risk rejection, or you are so close to it that you can no longer see what's there. Time to either move forward, or locate a rock solid beta reader who can tell you if you are done.
• You know in your gut that something is wrong with your middle section, but you don't know how to fix it. You decide to start querying anyway. NOT DONE. Fix It First is my motto.
• You have spots with a lot of back story, but you feel they must remain there because you haven't figured out how to work the information into your story any other way. NOT DONE. You may need professional help. ;-)
• You've had beta reads, critiques, and have worked through three or four solid drafts . . . but the only thing keeping you from being "done" are UNSPOKEN FEARS. You feel paralyzed by the thought that you have spent two years working on something that may never see the light of day. Babe, you are DONE, and it is time to SIMULTANEOUSLY send it out AND start something NEW.
• You have started querying agents, and send partials, only to suddenly "discover" you have a major problem in the first 50 pages. You are a premature ejacu---oops. Sorry . . . you are a premature querier. When you are DONE, you are DONE. If you are still tinkering enough to make MAJOR changes, you are rushing your process.

Now . . . as for me? I have to say I used to be a one- or two-draft writer. I'm lately about a four-draft writer. I used to think I only did one or two drafts because I was efficient from all my editing experience. Now I realize that the real DEPTH comes around draft #3. No, you won't find typos or major suckage in drafts #1 and #2. But you also won't find the character depth I discover around draft #3.

Thoughts? What are your spaghetti-against-wall tests? Did you recognize yourself in this post? Are you DONE?

Personal Ads

Everybody lies in personal ads, right? I could tell you some of my friends' eHarmony nightmares. But I am sure if you know anyone who dates online, you have heard the tales yourself.

I don't know that I would take the trouble to lie. Why bother? Might as well get it all out on the table:

Tired, overworked, frequently chaotic, relentlessly thinking, mother of four--including a Demon Baby--seeks funny, intelligent man with knowledge/interest in physics, philosophy, foreign affairs, and ability to change the toilet paper roll AND pick up his own underwear. Age, race, religion unimportant. If politics are not at least slightly left of center, don't bother replying. No homophobes, racists, alcoholics, smokers--or fools.

There. I doubt I'd get any responses, but . . . .

Here's the thing . . . I could look at myself as the first four words of this ad. Or I could "sell" myself.

Delightfully charming eccentric and intelligent mother of four amazingly well-behaved and equally delightful and endearing children, including the youngest who has an amazing propensity for creative endeavours seeks . . . .

THAT'S "selling" what I have. Or lying. Depends on how you look at it, I suppose. Frankly, I don't think there's a man on EARTH who could handle this household.

I have, twice, been asked by friends to write their eHarmony ads. Because they don't "see" themselves as I see them. I take my friendships seriously. If you are my friend, I love you to the end of time. And I "see" my friends as all so utterly wonderful, as beautiful, fantastic people. I don't "see" the extra few pounds, the bald spot, the grey hair or the wrinkles. I see their smiles and their intelligence, and the way they can make every occasion into a party, and the way they keep up the banter when we play poker. I see their magic. I see how TERRIFIC they are. Oh, yeah, I know they have a stubborn streak or can be a little bit touchy at the holidays or whatever. But I'd be honest about that too. That's part of their charm. That's what makes them unique.

So it goes with query letters. I liked what He Who Tells It Like It Is said yesterday. BREVITY. Toss in some wit. Charm. And what makes your WORK SPECIAL. I won't name this person unless he or she chooses to out themselves today, but recently I critiqued a synopsis that didn't "sell" the work. WHAT is SO SPECIAL about your book?

The most beautiful people in the whole world are aware of what makes them special. I try to go through life finding what makes people special and then making sure they know it. And I like to do the same with friends' queries and books and synopses.

A query is no time for modesty. WHY IS YOUR BOOK SPECIAL? In short, why should I date your book? What makes it worth an evening of my time, a glass of wine, and cuddling up under the blankets with it?

Sell me.