:: Imagining The War Inside

Depending on what you write, pain and violence will probably come up in your stories from time to time. While we are exposed to plenty of shooting, bludgeoning, and stabbing in movies and on TV, writing about such things is, in my opinion, a much more subtle process than putting them on a screen. I think it's not too different, in principle, from writing about sex: unless you deal in erotica (and probably even then), it shouldn't be part of your story unless it's crucial to the plot and the interaction of your characters. And it has to be done right, or it will be one or more of the following:

• grotesque
• ridiculous
• simply gross

For my novel Frostworks, I had to familiarize myself with a kind of violence that is very different from what usually occurs in fiction: violence directed by a person against their own body. As with everything you haven't actually experienced yourself, research was key (my somewhat uneasy talent for vividly imagining all sorts of awful things helped a lot, too). Moreover, in a culture where self-mutilation—commonly referred to as cutting, although this is not the only manifestation of the disorder—is still grossly misunderstood by many people, the subject had to be presented sensitively but also without sentimentality.

Getting into the head of Louise de Benoît, one of the protagonists of Frostworks, was pretty unsettling. It required much more than imagining what it would "feel" like to cut one's own skin open. In terms of what the benefits of such behavior could possibly be, that's actually not as hard to understand as you may think. Anyone who's ever bitten their nails, picked at a scab, or ripped into their cuticles until they ended up with a hangnail knows the deal, in principle: it's about calming yourself, about feeling in control. Amplify that need for calm a thousandfold, along with the damage required to achieve it, and you've got a pretty good idea why a person might take a blade to their own skin.

The difficult bit, emotionally speaking, was my research into the causes for such extreme self-damage. I can't go into details here, but suffice it to say that cutters and other self-mutilators suffer from a severe version of PTSD or post-traumatic stress disorder. The trauma can be of varying nature but typically involves familial abuse, often incestuous rape, and other heartbreaking situations. Why self-mutilation is a frequent coping mechanism vis-à-vis such experiences is a complicated issue. But after reading several books about the topic, I began to gain an understanding of the terrible logic behind this destructive form of behavior.

You may wonder why I sought out such a very specific topic, being myself free from all but the most trivial self-damaging behaviors (see above). The reason is that the latter is actually untrue. I believe that we all suffer more than we think, and certainly more than we should, from pain that we're unable to let go, and that we engage in plenty of self-damaging behaviors that appear to us as ways of coping with an immutable past. In the process, we harm ourselves, our relationships with others, and diminish our ability to enjoy life and reach our full potential for happiness. Physical self-mutilation, in my perception, is only an extreme manifestation of an inability to overcome negative experiences that made and, sadly, continue to make us who we are.

I also insist on believing that we could all get and be better. That's what drove me to write Frostworks, with the specific protagonists and their specific grief. It's really about hope as much as it is about suffering.

:: Queries to Summary to Description? Not so fast!

These past few days, I was faced with a task as enjoyable as it was difficult: composing a description for the back cover of my novel, Frostworks. Enjoyable, because it's just fun to take a complete work of fiction (that you have written, ahem!) and write the kind of fascinating plot teaser that—hopefully—will make browsers want to know more.

And what could be easier, since I had already done all that! After all, summing up the plot of a novel in a query letter is no different from those summaries you always see on the back of books. Right?

Wrong!

I tried to use the summary from my Frostworks query. After all, it was a good one and had at least tickled the interest of several agents. But somehow, as a back cover description, it didn't work. While the query summary was a crisp and concise representation of Frostwork's hooks, it didn't have the same oomph you want on that book cover. Also, it gave some plot points away! Now, for an agent, that's not only okay but required (a cliffhanger like "You'll never guess what happens next..." is a great way to ensure that your query lands in the circular file) but obviously, the last thing prospective readers want is a spoiler.

Back to the drawing board.

It wasn't as hard as the original summary, but still difficult. Some aspects of characterization and plot absolutely had to make it into the query, but could and had to be discarded for the back cover. Then of course I had several versions of a number of things, and picking the right one made my brain hurt (they all appeared equally brilliant or, one minute later, equally clumsy). Then I remembered good old script writing 101. Oh, yes, that works for summaries of novels, too. The Call to Action! When in doubt, I picked the version of a given paragraph that implied another one of those, even if it didn't sound as polished as a more cerebral version. After all, as someone once said, stories are about people doing stuff.

And last of all, sometimes you just have to let go. I'm sure once I see the description on the back of my book, I'll still find things that could be tweaked. But while the possibilities may be endless, the time you can spend tinkering is not. And so I'll close quoting Morrissey, who offers this wonderful piece of advice in one of his songs: "Just do your best, and don't worry."

P.S.: Only, do make sure it absolutely, positively is your best. If not, you'll have to go on worrying.

:: Busy Be!

Spent the weekend preparing my first novel for distribution on Amazon and Kindle. I even designed the cover, with which I can say I'm very happy. More very soon.

:: Short and sweet is okay, too

I haven't been blogging in weeks—okay, let's face it, months. Not that there's much of an audience yet, but it's good to keep up the habit. Fortunately, I've identified my problem: I used to feel that unless I have several paragraphs of stuff to say, what's the point? Of course, blogging several paragraphs of stuff takes time, and a voluminous idea, so I kept putting it off. You know how these things go. But the shorter thoughts are worth expressing, too, I'm told. In fact, shorter, more frequent posts are clearly preferable to, well... none at all.

I did not, much to my embarrassment, come up with this stunning realization all by myself; it took a very insightful article on setting up a web site and blog in my favorite writing magazine to knock sense into me. Glad it happened. More soon, I promise.

:: The plate is full...

... and so is my head. Between submitting my first completed novel, Frostworks, finishing what is shaping up to be the third and final act of my second, for now titled Charge It To The Dust, and laying the groundwork for a new project, I found little time to blog. Maybe that's because I feel that it's not worth writing a post unless it's long. But better often and concise than too seldom! Of course busy is good. But actually, I have more to blog about than ever. So, promise to myself: more posts, more often.

:: A Brave New Old World

Yep, it's been a long time since my last post. I've been a bit busy. My current manuscript is coming along nicely, and, like everything I've written (= actually typed or constructed merely inside my head), it's got a fantastic, or seemingly fantastic element in it. The idea of a premise that appears to be supernatural but really isn't—or at least is supernatural only in the sense that it just might be since it cannot entirely be disproven—continues to fascinate me. Unlike in the novels Fred Vargas writes around her delightfully weird inspector Jean-Baptiste Adamsberg and his equally quirky crew, the setting of my current project does not provide the a priori conclusion that what appears to be fantastic will, in the end, have a completely rational explanation.

In a word, I like the fantastic.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I've always liked the fantastic. Particularly in the fantasy genre made so popular, first and foremost, by J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord Of The Rings trilogy and the works surrounding it. I enjoy good Science Fiction, as well, but it doesn't charm me as much. And yet I've never felt the urge to write pure genre fantasy. The reason for this reticence is mostly that, as anyone even remotely familiar with the genre will know very well, it follows certain conventions that can make any fantasy writing that is not Tolkien appear like an imitation of, or homage to, his works. 

Unless, of course, it's brilliant and original in its own right. It's certainly been done. But clearly, to write original fantasy that still retains the charm that draws fans of the genre to these tales in the first place, while offering something new and unique at the same time, is a daunting task. Nevertheless, in recent months it's become clear to me that I have to try. Whether I will succeed is another matter. I certainly love the idea enough. So: a new project is in the works.

The beautiful thing is that my current manuscript is not yet finished. But I have always envied, and been slightly mystified by, writers that say that they have so many irons in the fire that when they have written themselves empty working on one project, they turn to another. This is the first time that I will be enjoying this particular kind of situation—and it is a very nice feeling for this aspiring writer, who has always been half afraid that no new story might start growing in my head once one novel was finished.

The road does go ever on an on...

:: Over The Top

Anyone who starts writing a book needs self-confidence—in their own ability to finish what they start, in the worthiness of their story being told (to say nothing of it being read), and simply in the fact that the plot makes sense and the characters are believable and interesting. I'm not saying anything about faith in there being a point, because I think that aside from fulfilling your urge to write, there is none. Sure, we all enjoy the thought of making some money in the end, but that's really just gravy. I write because, to use truly awkward syntax, I couldn't not do it.

Even so, it's hard to have faith.

For me, it works like this: First I have a plot idea that is usually intriguing but vague. Then I start writing. Soon enough, I start wondering (s.a.). At this stage, stepping up to the next empty page is terrifying, and I'm riddled with doubt. But I have at least been writing long enough to have faith in the process. I know about the bumps in the road, and I know I can trust myself to never make it past something that doesn't work—if I have to rewrite a passage again and again over several days and I'm still not happy with it, the reason is usually that I need to go another route, and I will. Still, this phase is not all that much fun. The initial wave of enthusiasm about my original idea has given way to careful and hard work. Characters need to be fleshed out and often rethought, relationships and past events plotted (I firmly believe that a huge part of any convincing story never makes it into the actual manuscript—just think of the countless pages J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, never meaning to publish them, as mere backstory for the "Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings").

I'm sure there are writers who breeze through the writing process with tireless cheer from start to finish without so much as a shadow of self-doubt. In my experience, however, the first stage always feels like pushing a heavy wagon up a mountain road. It's tough going, and I have to practically force myself to step up to the task (= sit down in front of my Mac).

But then, at some point, something amazing happens. I reach the mountain top, and the road suddenly slopes down. The wagon starts rolling of its own accord. It picks up speed, and soon it's all I can do to hang on and jump on. Now we're on our way.

Translation: I've set up my characters and plot the right way, and they've come to life. At this point, I can't write the words down fast enough. I jot down bracketed notes as placeholders for details I need to research for flavor and authenticity, which I'll do once the story is finished. Ideas and plot twists pour into my head constantly, while I'm shopping for groceries, under the shower, and as I turn the light off and lie down to sleep. My voice recorder is always with me and I scare joggers in the park as they pass me, a figure with feverish eyes mumbling into an object in my fist.

This phase of the writing process is magic. It's still hard and lonely work, but pure joy. But it won't happen unless you put some thought into who your characters are, what they're after, and how the wonderfully exciting things that happen in your story affect their desires. Books are long, people are complicated, and there's a lot of stuff to keep track of.

Pack your wagon with a bit of care, and it'll be a lot easier to push it over that mountain.