Tag Archives: The Dreamcatchers

Change Something

In my last post I promised that I would talk about my strategy for battling Writer’s Block TM.  I am not going to give you a link to my last post because there is already one hanging out over this post.  (Hint: It’s the one that says “Death and Writing”)

So…my strategy.  It’s pretty simple.  Whenever I get stuck, I try to change something.  Easy, right?

WRONG!

No, I kid.  You’re probably right.  But seriously no it’s not that easy for me.  See if you’re just joining my blog you might not know that I’ve already written The Dreamcatchers twice.  But…now you do know that.  Let me also tell you that it was pretty difficult.  And writing this third version has been the hardest attempt of all.  Because I’m sitting there thinking, Okay, this scene has to go exactly like this.  That’s how it’s always been and that’s how it’s going to be.  If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

You see where I’m going with this, right?  I get so set in the way I think it’s “supposed to be” that I forget to stop and say, “Hey, I can change anything I want.  I’m the freaking author!”  So when I get stuck on something, that’s exactly what I do.

For example:

The setting: A dream in which three characters are playing their way across a life-size game board.

The scene: One of the characters is challenged to do a thing.

What it used to be: My main character did the thing.

What I decided to change it to: One of the supporting characters does the thing.

And you know what?  It worked.  It actually improved the flow of the story, in my humble opinion.  I’ve been making a lot of little changes like that to help keep the ball rolling.  Some big changes have been made, too.  And hey, I don’t even know if it’s going to work out in the end.  I might have to edit those changes out later, or change the changes to something else.  But for now it’s helping me get words on the page, and that’s great!  Because that’s my goal right now.  To write and write without worrying so much about nitpicking and harping on every little detail.

I would highly recommend this strategy to anyone who finds themselves getting stuck in the mire.  Really think about what you’re writing and how convinced you are that things have to be exactly the way they are.  You might be surprised at how much better the story works when your wizened old grandpa character is changed into a twenty-something female stripper who goes by the pseudonym “Pretzel Twist.”

Hope that helps!

Byyyye!

P.S. 21,600 words, all handwritten, and counting (I know because my hand felt like it was going to fall off so I took a break to type up everything I’d written.  I did not painstakingly go through my notebooks and count all the words.)

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Death and Writing

Oooh where have I been lately?  It’s been forever since I’ve posted something new, huh?

Well for one thing, I’ve been working.  And that is tiring.

Secondly, I went to a regional SCBWI conference, which was much smaller than the one I went to in NYC, maybe forty attendees tops.  While there, I had the pleasure of meeting author Gina Damico and hearing her speak.  She was very funny and friendly.  I purchased a book she wrote called Croak, which is the first in a YA trilogy about a girl, Lex, who goes to live with her uncle only to discover that he is a grim reaper and she is, too.

After reading Croak – took me one day – I went to Barnes & Noble and purchased the other two books in the trilogy, Scorch and Rogue.  This is VERY big news.  Because lately the YA books I’ve been picking up have been leaving me disappointed, as you might know since I did write about a couple of them.  Fangirl was good, but not like this.  I knew I was going to blog about Damico’s trilogy, so I tried to come up with an adequate simile to describe the reading experience without giving anything away.  This is what I came up with:

Reading the Croak trilogy is like watching a person blow up a balloon.  At first you’re like, “Okay, that is a balloon.  I have seen hundreds of these in my life.  I know exactly where this is going.”  But they keep blowing air into it until you’re thinking, “Okay, man, you can stop now.  At this point you can’t even tie it off.  You’re going to have to let some of the air out of it.”  But they keep going!  And then suddenly the balloon gets so huge that it bursts, and the person who was blowing it up – Damico I guess – turns to you and smiles and you realize you enjoyed the entire whirlwind experience.  You never expected her to go that far, but she did, and it was amazing.

So I highly recommend this trilogy.  That being said, I did have a couple small problems.  It was a bit kitschy at times, and at other points it got a little hard to suspend my disbelief.  But honestly Damico kinda made those things work for her.  Like that was her schtick.  Overall, it was a visceral, engaging, occasionally rage-inducing experience.  Look for a link on my Books I Recommend page.

Along with reading those three books, I have been busily working on my own.  In fact, I filled an entire notebook with The Dreamcatchers without even realizing it.  It wasn’t even a tiny notebook like the one I showed you before.  This one was big.

Large Notebook

See?  If you can read my scrawl then I guess that means you get a sneak preview.  And yes, because I’m nice, you can click for a larger view.

So I just about filled that notebook, which is cool.  I want to share my strategy with you for avoiding writer’s block, but this post has gone on too long.  Next time!  I promise.

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Different Point of View

It’s time for an update on The Dreamcatchers!  The update is that I was having trouble continuing with my paper rambling.  Mainly because I have trouble putting myself in the mindset of a teenage boy.  While the story is narrated by my main character, Shaina, she is not the only protagonist.  There are two others – Cady and Eric.  Although Eric’s name will have to be changed because literally every YA novel seems to have a character named Eric in it.  Apparently Eric is the only decent boy’s name in existence .  But for now he’s Eric.  And I have always had trouble writing Eric because my capacity for writing male characters extends to writing really cliche men or really effeminate men.

This led me to make a decision.  I have all the time in the world to write this book.  While I’m not planning on having Eric narrate any of it, I can still start the book over from his perspective in order to get a better idea of his character.  Even though what I write will probably never become part of the book, it would still be helpful for me.  With this in mind, I went to Panera and parked and realized I forgot my notebook so I had to make do with this really tiny one I found in my backseat.

See?

I took the picture using my dog’s fur as a neutral background. In case you were wondering.

And it seemed to work.  I wrote several tiny pages.  The only problem was that the Eric I wrote didn’t seem to match up with the free-spirited, no-holds-barred, act-first-think-later character I had wanted.  A completely different character formed instead.  One with a mind of his own.  And I don’t know if I’m going to keep him.  I might just start over and see where that gets me.  We’ll see.  For now I thought I’d share what I wrote.  Keep in mind that I have not edited a single word of this, so what you are about to read is extremely raw.  Anyway, here it is:

I could not express how little I wanted to continue having sex with this girl.  She kept asking me things like, “Will you miss me when you’re all the way across the country?”  And I kept saying, “Yes, of course, babe,” because everyone kept telling me we looked good together and she got along well enough with my dad and Colleen.  But seriously.  Talking about my future immediately after having birthday sex was not exactly my idea of great pillow talk.

“I have to go.  I’m meeting my dad at the Commons for dinner.”

I got out of bed and pulled on my pants.

“Call me later,” Sage said.

“Sure, yeah.”  Or maybe I’ll never call you again.  Maybe I’ll find a girl who isn’t named after a spice to have sex with for the rest of senior year.

Three lobsters, weird tasting butter, and a few sips of dad’s beer when he was in the bathroom.  It was Colleen’s idea.  She was actually pretty cool.

“I’m going to pretend that’s the first time you’ve tasted beer,” she said.

“Yeah, absolutely,” I said, smiling my most innocent smile.

She laughed.  “You are being careful, right?  You’re applying to a lot of great schools.  I’d hate for some stupid teenage rebellion to ruin your chances.”

“I’m being careful,” I assured her.

“Good.  Because you’re a real man now.  So don’t fuck it up.”

I laughed.  Colleen was always good at making me laugh.  I didn’t tell her that I didn’t feel like much of a real man since it was still illegal for me to steal some of dad’s beer.  Especially since my dad came back to the table right then.

“Have you heard from your mother?” he asked.

I shrugged.  “She texted me.  I think she was in a meeting.”

“Right.”

Dad’s eyes were getting all full of pity so I changed the topic.  My phone buzzed in my pocket.  One glance at the screen told me it was Sage texting.  I put my phone back.

Colleen insisted we get dessert, and I agreed on the condition that we not tell our waiter that it was my birthday.  I didn’t need a colorful candle or a choir of minimum-wage laborers serenading me.

After the bill was paid, Dad asked if I was going out with friends.  I told him Jeff, Sam, and I had made plans, leaving out the specifics.  He told me not to stay out too late.  School night and all.  After that, they said goodbye and I was free to wander aimlessly for a while.  I wasn’t due at Jeff’s for at least another hour.  The shops were all the same.  So were the mini gangs of preteen boys carrying skateboards.  Sometimes I felt trapped.  It was like an itching under my skin.  My life was too boring.  Too predictable.  That was my main reason for wanting to go to college on the east coast.  Maybe then I’d feel like I was really getting away.  Away from Sage and her insecurities, away from my statue of a mother and my ridiculous father who never once noticed when some of his liquor mysteriously disappeared. 

Something caught my eye, and I did a double take.  A new store?  I don’t know why I cared.  It’s not like I was a big shopper.  But this one just looked and felt different.  Especially since no one else seemed to notice it.  I went inside.  It was all kitsch and ridiculous nicknacks.  Part of me wanted to leave immediately, but my feet stayed planted.

Aaaaand that’s all I wrote.  It’s actually a lot longer than I realized, which is sad because I might be ending this particular Eric’s life.  He seems a bit too cynical, and I’ve already got a cynical character.  Eric needs to be someone who doesn’t take things seriously even when he should.  Maybe I’ll share the new Eric with you if and when I rewrite his part of the story.

That’s all for now!

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