Don't Get Stuck in a Rut

        This school year I am collaborating with Katie, a doctoral student. She and I team-teach three times a week. It's an interesting partnership. Both of us are navigating across unfamiliar terrain--we're working with a packaged writing "kit" in order for the students to improve their writing--and we're making modifications along the way so the students' work is as authentic as possible. 

         Our third graders got to the point this week (after writing several first drafts about several different story ideas) where they were ready to storyboard, write, revise and edit a story. Simple enough--my students do this every year.

        This year, however, Katie suggested the students go from the storyboard to the story via their laptops.

             You have got to be kidding me. What fresh not-heaven will this end up being? Their keyboarding skills will make them slower than molasses in January. This is ridiculous.

         "Sure, Katie. That sounds like a great idea."

               Bluck bluck bluck bluuuck. Okay, call me a chicken. So I shut my mouth and didn't express my doubts... so what? Perhaps it wouldn't be the total mess I thought it would be. 

         And as it happened, Katie had other work to do on Monday and Wednesday, so it was just me. I was tempted to email her and say, "I was thinking about it, and I believe the kids would make quicker progress if they write their stories down in their writing journals instead of hunting and pecking on keyboards. I hope you understand."

          But I didn't. And I am so glad...

          I will say for many of the students, the typing was slow-going. We worked on the stories for an hour or hour-and-a-half for three solid days. And although I'm well aware that the only way their keyboarding skills will get better is if they keyboard and keyboard and keyboard, I was more interested in their creative writing skills this week. The faster fingers could wait.

         Yesterday one of my students shared a mind-blowing story that she had written. She used a simile, even though that's not a craft strategy we've studied. She included some great internal dialogue. And for god's sake, she wrote an author's note. (She initially titled it "Credits" but after I explained what an author's note is, she changed what she called it.)

           At the end of the class, she asked, "I sure wish I could share my story sometime." Well, no time like the present. This usually-quiet kid proudly read her story to the rest of the class. Her classmates clapped for her. And when she was asked, "Was that a lot of hard work?" (Yes.) and "But aren't you proud of what you created?" (Yes. With a huge grin splitting her face in half.) it was such an exciting moment.

           Another girl's revision was going so much easier than if she had used a pencil and paper, because all she had to do was press enter a couple of times... she could separate a paragraph into smaller paragraphs... so she could then flesh out the story with more details.

               So today (or later this week) mix it up. Do something you do all the time--but do it differently. Be open to change. 

              (Don't be a chicken. Don't get stuck in a rut, And don't be a fool like Sioux.)

When I'm On My Knees

          How is scrubbing the toilet the same as writing? You'd be surprised how similar these two tasks are.

       Check out my guest post at The Muffin. You may never look at revising in the same way...

232 and 265

          I just finished Lisa Ricard Claro's Love Built to Last. To say that I avoid romance novels like the plague is not too much of an exaggeration... and with good reason.

       Romance plots are predictable. There's an overabundance of fluff and froth. Too much tingling and shivering and blood rushing to man-bits and woman-bits. (I know, I know. That's not the right lingo. So sue Sioux.) And there are lots of other types of books I'd rather read--memoir... historical fiction... chick lit... books about polka music--just about anything other than romance novels.

      However, good writing is good writing. It transcends the genre. And Love Built to Last is well-crafted and has a plot that kept me turning the pages. So begrudgingly, I admit it: I read a romance novel and I liked it (to really butcher and paraphrase the old Katie Perry song). 

     
       There's a rescued dog. That earns a gazillion points in my book. There's a few twists and turns. There's some unique plot components (the stuff that goes on with the desk is waaaay clever). I planned on finishing it up last night but ran out of time. However, I made sure I did this afternoon. (I could have either written a crappy draft for the WWWP's to critique, or I could have finished Love Built to Last. I made the right choice, believe me.)

          I loved that Lisa made us wait until the very end before we found out where the title came from. I loved that there were times when Lisa teased us. There were times when the characters found out something (Jack's "message," for example), but she made us wait.


       There's even tears. Two pages made my eyes well up.

             Damn you, Lisa Ricard Claro... You made me read a romance novel, you made me enjoy it, and you made me cry. 

          

       

Potatoes Plus Meat... and Even Some Great Gravy

       Okay, I am the first to proclaim, "I don't read romance." I love chick lit. I love historical fiction. I love books that defy categorization--they're not horror, but they're mighty creepy (like the novels that Joe Hill crafts). I especially love memoir.

        But romance novels? Those small paperbacks with the Fabio guy (shirt unbuttoned) and the woman with the heaving bosom (about to pop her shirt buttons) on the front cover? Those stories where the plot is always the same--just change the era and the color of the woman's hair?

        Nope. Can't stand 'em. Don't read 'em. Always pooh-poohing 'em.

        But I did say I'd read Lisa Ricard Claro's romance novel Love Built to Last. Lisa's a blogging friend, writes wonderful posts, and for quite a while chronicled her pathway to publishing. Not only did she get this book published, she snagged a three-book deal.

        That is way impressive.

         So to say I was intrigued is an understatement. Was I going to read Lisa's book and be less-than-thrilled (which is what I assumed was going to happen--the genre itself was going to guarantee it)? Or, was I going to read it and be impressed? (Since I am never ever wrong, this was not even a possibility--ha!)


         I have just barely started Love Built to Last. I've only read a third of the book so far... despite planning on reading it for quite a while.

          Why the delay in starting it? Unfortunately, this is a book I can't read before bed because as I drift into slumberland, I drool. The book inevitably falls to the floor in a helter-skelter manner. Books that I buy at Half-Price Books... that's okay if they get a whole series of crazily-folded pages or slobber stains pooled here and there. However, this is a book I wanted to stay in pristine shape. So I have to be in an upright position and not bone-tired when I pick it up.

        And when I did pick it up, I found the potatoes I figured I would. The little shivers down the spine. The blushed faces. The electricity when one hand first touches another. The fluff, the filler--the stuff that I knew I was going to find.

           (However, none of this is overdone. It's subtle. It's slipped in. It's done with a deft hand.)

        Okay, not a surprise. That's part of what defines romance. But in this novel I've found meat as well--stuff that truly brings satisfaction to the reader. Lisa Ricard Claro has taken parts of her own life and slipped them in seamlessly, causing me to nod my head knowingly and travel back to that time from my own life.

         For example, the Caleb character is watching his son play T-ball. He and his family end up laughing at an outfielder... an outfielder who is more concerned with picking dandelions than catching a fly ball. My husband and I would alternately shake with laughter and shake our heads when our son played T-ball. Da boy would pick his nose. He'd pick his butt. In the middle of an inning, our youngest once ran off the outfield to the bathroom... apparently full of pee-pee... without giving anybody a heads-up. Kicking dust was more crucial than being attentive to the game.

        And then there's gravy. Rich, perfectly-seasoned gravy. Well-crafted lines that are proof of the work that went into this novel. 

         In the first few lines, Claro writes of being reminded of a loss feeling "like an icy second skin." A few pages later, she writes about Maddie wearing a dress that shows off "through a miracle of design... more boobs per square inch than she'd ever possess." And I could continue...

         So, will I end up becoming a rabid romance novel reader? Most definitely not. Will I be glad to finish Love Built to Last? Yes, because that means I can savor the next two in the series... and when I finish the last line of Love Built to Last, I can find out what happens with Caleb and Maddie... 

        How about you? Have you read Love Built to Last? Do you enjoy reading romance novels? Heaving bosoms-avoiding minds want to know...

Being Open to Change

       A decade ago, I was a firm believer in the paper and pen... at least when it came to the beginning of a piece. I would proclaim, "I cannot write on a computer in the beginning. I must write it in longhand until I get into a real groove."

       I believed it and stuck to it.

       However, time is like gold these days. The computer is much faster, and my first draft, tapped out on my keyboard, ends up being just like the paper and pen version in one way: it is less than stellar. I know it, and I accept it.

        Yesterday I wrote and submitted two pieces. (It was a productive morning.) They were conceived on my laptop and birthed there as well.

         What do you need as a writer? How has your writing process changed over the years? Tap-tap-tapping minds want to know...

That's Why...

... there's six different kinds of pie in a restaurant. 

       That's a phrase I heard frequently when I was growing up. My grandparents and parents weren't usually talking about dining out when they said it, either. For them, it meant that everyone has their own preferences, their own likes and dislikes. For example, my grandpa loved to fish but I thought it was horribly boring. Sitting around. Not being allowed to talk. 

       That's why there's six different kinds of pie in a restaurant. That's why there are lots of different activities to choose from.

          When I visited France this summer, I spent most of my time in Nay, a small town close to Pau. At the market, the cheese shop offered many, many varieties of cheese to choose from. Some were made from cow's milk. Some from goat's milk. Some from both. Some kinds were sharp in taste... some were mild. 

           I tapped away at my WIP last night. I'm at 70,000 words and some change (but just a few pennies' worth of change... I'm not talkin' 'bout some quarters' worth). And I thought about all the different kinds of books that are sold these days.

           Chick lit appeals to some. Collections of short stories are enjoyed by many. Cookbooks are savored by lots of people. But what if a book was a combination of all three?

           My WIP--right now--straddles several different genres. I hope it appeals to people if it ever sees the light of day when it is finished. I hope there are readers who appreciate it. I hope there are people who rave about its flavor.

            What is your favorite kind of pie? Pastry-obsessed minds want to know.