It's ambitious for me to title this post as if I'm somehow going to tell anyone how to organize.
Ha!
The fact is, ever since I became a novelist, my organizational skill has deteriorated.
Writing my dissertation developed my analytical side, but creative writing now requires a different kind of mental work. Novel writing takes up a lot of brain space, like a program that runs 'heavy' on a computer.
So, I have less brain available for the tasks of daily life. (That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)
Ordinarily, this is not a problem. I just float around in a writerly haze that many of you will recognize, emerging from time to time to coherence, and then popping back into the haze.
However, the next month is going to hold some real organizational challenges for me.
At the beginning of May, I will travel to a conference 800 miles away and give a class on the publishing industry.
I will launch my novel, including coordinating a big launch party 1500 miles away from my home in the second week of May.
On the third weekend in May, I will drive to a booksigning event, eight hours round trip.
I will receive the editorial suggestions for the second novel in the series any day now, almost certainly this coming week. Because of some feedback I heard from an expert friend after submitting this draft, I am planning to rewrite a significant section of the first third of the novel, as long as my editor agrees with my changes. But I think she will, because my expert friend and my editor are both very astute. So, I add "umpteen hours of revision" to my to-do list. It's likely that these revisions will be due by the end of...you guessed it. May.
Finally, my daughter is entering the final weeks of her one-day-a-week school, which means plenty of work for both of us as I coach her through her assignments.
I think I've been living in denial. May is going to be a lot of fun, but it will be a major juggling act and I expect to have trouble fitting in all my tasks and responsibilities.
What's your best organizational tip? How do you survive your busiest times?
Monday, April 25, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Two Differing Tastes in Historical Fiction
All historical fiction must undergo a translation process as an author creates a story set in one era, but written for readers in another era.
LIGHT TRANSLATION
Some authors use a translation style that I call “light.” The author changes the English language of the novel's historical period only enough to make it more understandable to contemporary readers. The language, thought, and narration of the characters retain historical rhythm and vocabulary that differ from our modern day speech.
Historical voice can be done well or poorly. Some authors aim for a historical feel to their dialogue, but have trouble maintaining consistency. Their characters may speak in a Victorian way, but their thoughts about the things around them sound like twenty-first century speech patterns. Or, the author captures only half of the speech and vocabulary of the era, and twenty-first century words creep into both dialogue and narration to distract the attentive reader.
HEAVY TRANSLATION
Other authors use “heavy” translation. In this kind of historical fiction, the author does not attempt to make the language reflect the speech of real speakers from the time period. The author uses twenty-first century language throughout, for both speech and thought.
The farther back in history a novelist travels, the heavier the translation must be from older forms of English. When I read most historicals set in the Tudor period, I know the language of those novels bears almost no resemblance to how real people spoke in the 1500s. If it were real Tudor English, we would find it challenging to read, and most readers don’t want to work that hard for their historical stories.
The same “heavy” translation occurs for historical novels set in a non-English speaking culture. In that case, the author is already “translating” the story from the characters’ native language to English. On top of that, the author must choose whether to make the English sound old enough for that period, or whether to just write it as twenty-first century English.
I read a Tudor novel recently in which a character referred to his congenital deformity as a “disability.” For me, this word choice was distracting. The word “disability” is a very recent coinage. Though I recognize that translation must take place, I prefer that a historical novel’s word choices reflect real historical attitudes of the time. Folks in Tudor times thought deformities were ugly flaws, and sometimes signs of God’s disfavor. They did not think they were twenty-first century“disabilities” that earned a disabled parking sign for the family fishcart.
But even as I found that anachronism distracting, I kept a very important point in mind. Not everyone shares my taste.
Some prefer to read twenty-first century language in their historicals because it’s easiest to process. It feels most natural to them, and they don’t care about historical accuracy in language. That’s their prerogative. A style that to others is jarring inauthenticity, to them is flowing readability. “It’s well-written,” they say to their friends, and to them, it is.
Those who prefer authenticity want a novel’s language to remind them of its historical setting. Phrasing that seems overly formal and stiff to the 21st-century-style-preferring readers is beautiful and rich to the authenticity-loving crowd. When the authenticity folks find a book written in good period voice, they hand it to their friends and say, “It’s well-written.” And to them, it is.
Do you prefer to read historically-flavored or contemporary language in a historical novel? What about in movies? Are you more likely to watch a historical movie than read a historical novel? Why?
LIGHT TRANSLATION
Some authors use a translation style that I call “light.” The author changes the English language of the novel's historical period only enough to make it more understandable to contemporary readers. The language, thought, and narration of the characters retain historical rhythm and vocabulary that differ from our modern day speech.
Historical voice can be done well or poorly. Some authors aim for a historical feel to their dialogue, but have trouble maintaining consistency. Their characters may speak in a Victorian way, but their thoughts about the things around them sound like twenty-first century speech patterns. Or, the author captures only half of the speech and vocabulary of the era, and twenty-first century words creep into both dialogue and narration to distract the attentive reader.
HEAVY TRANSLATION
Other authors use “heavy” translation. In this kind of historical fiction, the author does not attempt to make the language reflect the speech of real speakers from the time period. The author uses twenty-first century language throughout, for both speech and thought.
The farther back in history a novelist travels, the heavier the translation must be from older forms of English. When I read most historicals set in the Tudor period, I know the language of those novels bears almost no resemblance to how real people spoke in the 1500s. If it were real Tudor English, we would find it challenging to read, and most readers don’t want to work that hard for their historical stories.
The same “heavy” translation occurs for historical novels set in a non-English speaking culture. In that case, the author is already “translating” the story from the characters’ native language to English. On top of that, the author must choose whether to make the English sound old enough for that period, or whether to just write it as twenty-first century English.
I read a Tudor novel recently in which a character referred to his congenital deformity as a “disability.” For me, this word choice was distracting. The word “disability” is a very recent coinage. Though I recognize that translation must take place, I prefer that a historical novel’s word choices reflect real historical attitudes of the time. Folks in Tudor times thought deformities were ugly flaws, and sometimes signs of God’s disfavor. They did not think they were twenty-first century“disabilities” that earned a disabled parking sign for the family fishcart.
But even as I found that anachronism distracting, I kept a very important point in mind. Not everyone shares my taste.
Some prefer to read twenty-first century language in their historicals because it’s easiest to process. It feels most natural to them, and they don’t care about historical accuracy in language. That’s their prerogative. A style that to others is jarring inauthenticity, to them is flowing readability. “It’s well-written,” they say to their friends, and to them, it is.
Those who prefer authenticity want a novel’s language to remind them of its historical setting. Phrasing that seems overly formal and stiff to the 21st-century-style-preferring readers is beautiful and rich to the authenticity-loving crowd. When the authenticity folks find a book written in good period voice, they hand it to their friends and say, “It’s well-written.” And to them, it is.
Do you prefer to read historically-flavored or contemporary language in a historical novel? What about in movies? Are you more likely to watch a historical movie than read a historical novel? Why?
Monday, April 11, 2011
Me or Not Me: Stage Fright for Actors and Novelists
I've been walking around for the last couple of weeks in a turmoil, off and on, because of the imminent release of my debut novel.
Today, I finally identified the nagging familiarity of the feeling.
I have stage fright.
I double majored in English and Theater in college. I performed in quite a few plays. I had stage fright almost every time, but as most performers know, stage fright doesn't have to be a negative. If you know how to control it, you can use nervous energy to fuel your performance.
Stage fright is also irrational. It doesn't matter how hard you have worked, how well you know your part, or how confident you feel the day before the show. When you're standing in the darkness of the wings, waiting to step out into the bright lights, the stage fright always hits. Your heart pounds and you have to concentrate on slow breathing and relaxation.
A piece of me is going out into the world, a piece that can never be taken back. It will be judged. Some will like it. Some won't. Reading taste is narrow, and no book appeals universally.
Here's the difference between acting and novel-writing. When acting, I was attempting to impersonate someone else: the NOT-ME. So, even though acting was challenging, only my technique could be judged good or bad. It wasn't me, myself under the public eye, despite my physical presence on stage. My personality and my ideas were not the point of an acting performance.
Writing has an element of the ME that acting can never quite approach. Yes, all of the novel characters I create are NOT-ME in the same way that I would create an acting character distinct from myself. But my novel's characters have been designed by me to express ideas, emotions, and themes that matter to me. As novelists know, some novels are an intensely personal expression of one's deepest values. For me, this novel is one of those novels. And so as my novel prepares to step into the light and be seen and judged, I am standing there in spirit with it, having to focus on relaxation and steady, slow breaths.
I can handle it. It's a relief to be able to name it. Stage fright is irrational, and I'm about to get past that phase.
Do you ever fear showing your work to others, whether that work is your writing or something else that matters to you?
Today, I finally identified the nagging familiarity of the feeling.
I have stage fright.
I double majored in English and Theater in college. I performed in quite a few plays. I had stage fright almost every time, but as most performers know, stage fright doesn't have to be a negative. If you know how to control it, you can use nervous energy to fuel your performance.
Stage fright is also irrational. It doesn't matter how hard you have worked, how well you know your part, or how confident you feel the day before the show. When you're standing in the darkness of the wings, waiting to step out into the bright lights, the stage fright always hits. Your heart pounds and you have to concentrate on slow breathing and relaxation.
A piece of me is going out into the world, a piece that can never be taken back. It will be judged. Some will like it. Some won't. Reading taste is narrow, and no book appeals universally.
Here's the difference between acting and novel-writing. When acting, I was attempting to impersonate someone else: the NOT-ME. So, even though acting was challenging, only my technique could be judged good or bad. It wasn't me, myself under the public eye, despite my physical presence on stage. My personality and my ideas were not the point of an acting performance.
Writing has an element of the ME that acting can never quite approach. Yes, all of the novel characters I create are NOT-ME in the same way that I would create an acting character distinct from myself. But my novel's characters have been designed by me to express ideas, emotions, and themes that matter to me. As novelists know, some novels are an intensely personal expression of one's deepest values. For me, this novel is one of those novels. And so as my novel prepares to step into the light and be seen and judged, I am standing there in spirit with it, having to focus on relaxation and steady, slow breaths.
I can handle it. It's a relief to be able to name it. Stage fright is irrational, and I'm about to get past that phase.
Do you ever fear showing your work to others, whether that work is your writing or something else that matters to you?
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Fiction, Nonfiction, and Research
I'm the interviewee today at Warren Baldwin's blog!
I'm talking about research for my novels and the elusive synchronicity between great fiction and great nonfiction.
Click here to visit the interview.
I'm talking about research for my novels and the elusive synchronicity between great fiction and great nonfiction.
Click here to visit the interview.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Plotting Genre, Plotting Literary
Last week, the Sir Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction announced its shortlist.
Six novels are finalists, listed here.
I was pleased to see David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob DeZoet on the list. It was the only one I had read. That's not surprising, as I have less time to read than I would like. The only reason I had read The Thousand Autumns is because one of my best friends sent it to me. I trust her judgment, so it shot to the top of my reading list.
Let me first say that I believe the novel is absolutely worthy of both a shortlist and a victory in the competition. The prose is outstanding and tasteful, which is not true of much of today's frequently over-styled literary fiction. The vivid, heavily-researched setting (1799 Japan) and memorable characters ensure that anyone who loves good writing is going to enjoy this book. In addition, readers may be pleasantly surprised to discover a Christian protagonist in the novel who is admirable and sympathetic. I have great respect for the author's willingness to buck the long unvoiced dictate in literary fiction that Christianity cannot be part of an admirable character's worldview. (I'm not saying it hasn't ever happened, but it's extremely rare.)
Here's what intrigued me. The plot of this otherwise-excellent novel is what genre authors would call somewhat weak. The first half of the novel feels episodic, with most of the interest coming from prose style and atmosphere rather than plot. Despite that flaw, individual episodes and scenes are wonderful, and at around the halfway point a compelling plot thread surfaces that drives the plot more energetically towards its conclusion.
I don't like a great deal of today's literary fiction because of its weak plotting, as well as its other cliches and unspoken rules. Mitchell's excellent novel made me realize I can still enjoy a literary novel, even if the plot is only halfway good, as long as everything else is BRILLIANT. But how often does that happen? Not often, in my experience. Truly brilliant writers like Mitchell are rare.
It may seem odd that I studied literary classics for seven years in grad school, and still I prefer genre fiction to today's literary fiction. But there's a vast difference between most classic works of literature and today's literary fiction. Only since the middle of the twentieth century has it become more common for "literary" to mean non-traditionally plotted. Especially before 1900, authors did not think they could get away with a rambling or disjointed plot, no matter how deep and beautifully-written their books. Nineteenth century novelists understood that the principles of narrative are universal, and they relied on those principles to construct their stories. Twentieth century novelists started to get experimental, and experiments often fail. Even when they succeed, they will attract a much smaller group of readers.
I asked my friend how she felt about this plotting issue, as I know she likes more literary fiction than I do. She responded that she likes some literary fiction (like The Thousand Autumns) because the narrative works like a puzzle, an intellectual challenge. I can see how that would appeal. She also reminded me that the problem with a lot of genre fiction is that its plotting and characterization often fails to find any freshness, and so the cliches of genre get boring. And that is true.
Personally, though, I'm drawn to a great story, and the great stories of history are not difficult to understand, or built like puzzles. The great stories have been told through poetry, drama, novels, and film, and regardless of the medium the principles are always the same. There's a reason why when you ask an educated person to tell you the story of Ulysses, 99 times out of 100, she will tell you about Homer's character, not recite for you the plot of James Joyce's confusing stream-of-consciousness novel.
It excited me to see among the nominees for the Sir Walter Scott Prize a novel called Heartstone, a Tudor mystery in a series by C.J. Sansom. I downloaded the first in that series onto my Kindle last night, and I'm really enoying it so far. Excellent writing, strong plotting, and a striking lead character make this a genre fiction choice few could scorn. Another unexpected bonus is the fact that thus far, the lead character is also a Christian, troubled by the excesses of the regime. (Hey, what's a few heretic burnings at stake here and there?)
I think I just saw a pig fly past my window. Positive Christian characters in TWO novels nominated for literary prizes? Kudos to the judges for their openmindedness. (Caveat: I'm only at the beginning of the series, so who knows what will happen to the protagonist's faith as events unfold. But I hope it's not the old cliche of losing faith and becoming completely cynical. It's much more interesting to have him struggle with his faith and its contradictions.**
**Update 04/12/11 I just read Dissolution, first in the series, and then read Heartstone. Sure enough, the lead character loses his faith at the end of the first novel. He is no better off spiritually in Heartstone, and notices every negative deed done in the name of religion while few or no positive spiritual deeds appear. Admittedly, this was a time in history when a great number of atrocities happened on both Protestant and Catholic sides, and I wouldn't expect any author to gloss over those events. But it's disappointing that the lead character loses his faith in the course of one novel and then turns into a kind of existentialist. For one thing, at this time in history, there were plenty of explanations of the problem of evil, and it's theologically immature for this particular character not to be aware of those ideas. The author is free, of course, to represent any worldview he likes, and I support that freedom. I'm just disappointed as a reader not to find something more nuanced, but instead the same spiritual plotline as usual.
Do you prefer literary to genre fiction, or vice versa, or do you like both? What bugs you or pleases you about each category? Will you always put a book down if the plot isn't going somewhere, or can beautiful writing make you give it a chance for a couple hundred pages?
Six novels are finalists, listed here.
I was pleased to see David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob DeZoet on the list. It was the only one I had read. That's not surprising, as I have less time to read than I would like. The only reason I had read The Thousand Autumns is because one of my best friends sent it to me. I trust her judgment, so it shot to the top of my reading list.
Let me first say that I believe the novel is absolutely worthy of both a shortlist and a victory in the competition. The prose is outstanding and tasteful, which is not true of much of today's frequently over-styled literary fiction. The vivid, heavily-researched setting (1799 Japan) and memorable characters ensure that anyone who loves good writing is going to enjoy this book. In addition, readers may be pleasantly surprised to discover a Christian protagonist in the novel who is admirable and sympathetic. I have great respect for the author's willingness to buck the long unvoiced dictate in literary fiction that Christianity cannot be part of an admirable character's worldview. (I'm not saying it hasn't ever happened, but it's extremely rare.)
Here's what intrigued me. The plot of this otherwise-excellent novel is what genre authors would call somewhat weak. The first half of the novel feels episodic, with most of the interest coming from prose style and atmosphere rather than plot. Despite that flaw, individual episodes and scenes are wonderful, and at around the halfway point a compelling plot thread surfaces that drives the plot more energetically towards its conclusion.
I don't like a great deal of today's literary fiction because of its weak plotting, as well as its other cliches and unspoken rules. Mitchell's excellent novel made me realize I can still enjoy a literary novel, even if the plot is only halfway good, as long as everything else is BRILLIANT. But how often does that happen? Not often, in my experience. Truly brilliant writers like Mitchell are rare.
It may seem odd that I studied literary classics for seven years in grad school, and still I prefer genre fiction to today's literary fiction. But there's a vast difference between most classic works of literature and today's literary fiction. Only since the middle of the twentieth century has it become more common for "literary" to mean non-traditionally plotted. Especially before 1900, authors did not think they could get away with a rambling or disjointed plot, no matter how deep and beautifully-written their books. Nineteenth century novelists understood that the principles of narrative are universal, and they relied on those principles to construct their stories. Twentieth century novelists started to get experimental, and experiments often fail. Even when they succeed, they will attract a much smaller group of readers.
I asked my friend how she felt about this plotting issue, as I know she likes more literary fiction than I do. She responded that she likes some literary fiction (like The Thousand Autumns) because the narrative works like a puzzle, an intellectual challenge. I can see how that would appeal. She also reminded me that the problem with a lot of genre fiction is that its plotting and characterization often fails to find any freshness, and so the cliches of genre get boring. And that is true.
Personally, though, I'm drawn to a great story, and the great stories of history are not difficult to understand, or built like puzzles. The great stories have been told through poetry, drama, novels, and film, and regardless of the medium the principles are always the same. There's a reason why when you ask an educated person to tell you the story of Ulysses, 99 times out of 100, she will tell you about Homer's character, not recite for you the plot of James Joyce's confusing stream-of-consciousness novel.
It excited me to see among the nominees for the Sir Walter Scott Prize a novel called Heartstone, a Tudor mystery in a series by C.J. Sansom. I downloaded the first in that series onto my Kindle last night, and I'm really enoying it so far. Excellent writing, strong plotting, and a striking lead character make this a genre fiction choice few could scorn. Another unexpected bonus is the fact that thus far, the lead character is also a Christian, troubled by the excesses of the regime. (Hey, what's a few heretic burnings at stake here and there?)
I think I just saw a pig fly past my window. Positive Christian characters in TWO novels nominated for literary prizes? Kudos to the judges for their openmindedness. (Caveat: I'm only at the beginning of the series, so who knows what will happen to the protagonist's faith as events unfold. But I hope it's not the old cliche of losing faith and becoming completely cynical. It's much more interesting to have him struggle with his faith and its contradictions.**
**Update 04/12/11 I just read Dissolution, first in the series, and then read Heartstone. Sure enough, the lead character loses his faith at the end of the first novel. He is no better off spiritually in Heartstone, and notices every negative deed done in the name of religion while few or no positive spiritual deeds appear. Admittedly, this was a time in history when a great number of atrocities happened on both Protestant and Catholic sides, and I wouldn't expect any author to gloss over those events. But it's disappointing that the lead character loses his faith in the course of one novel and then turns into a kind of existentialist. For one thing, at this time in history, there were plenty of explanations of the problem of evil, and it's theologically immature for this particular character not to be aware of those ideas. The author is free, of course, to represent any worldview he likes, and I support that freedom. I'm just disappointed as a reader not to find something more nuanced, but instead the same spiritual plotline as usual.
Do you prefer literary to genre fiction, or vice versa, or do you like both? What bugs you or pleases you about each category? Will you always put a book down if the plot isn't going somewhere, or can beautiful writing make you give it a chance for a couple hundred pages?
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