Marie Dees

I’ve decided I want to blog about some responses I get to critiques I’ve given over the years and perhaps to mention some helpful critiques I’ve received. This should be controversial fun because, well, it is every time the subject comes up on a critique group.

Now, before I begin, I want to answer the question “well, Marie, how do you respond to a critique?”
I respond with “Thank you for the critique. The point you made about …. will be helpful when I revise.” Or is some similar manner.

See, my critiquers are wonderful souls who for some insane reason have volunteered to read my rough, barely edited, work and let me know if I’m on the right track. If I don’t appreciate their critiques, they will probably stop giving me their opinions. No, I don’t take every piece of advice given to me. Sometimes they contradict each other and a book written by committee would not be a good thing. But I listen. That is my goal as a writer asking for feedback. Simply to listen.

Do you listen?

I am pondering this today after posting a conference notice for a local group. The conference is about average price for a professional writing conference but perhaps focuses on local speakers and self-publishing activities. This year I went to the Romantic Times conference which cost more but had ten times the speakers and events. Plus cover model contestants.

But all this has me thinking of money. For the local conference, you must be a member to attend (I didn’t have to subscribe to Romantic Times for their conference), and you must be a member to submit to the writing contest (plus there is another fee for that). You’ll also pay extra to meet with an agent or attend the special workshop on character creation. Lots of fees and it seems every year that members ask about all these costs. This year the local writing group actually made a statement:

How much money does “The group” make off the conference each year? “The group” views the conference as a membership benefit, and strives for a break-even situation. Some years we lose a little [$2,000], some years, we lose a lot [$10,000], and some years we make a little [$2,000]. Our goal is never to make a lot of money, just to break even. The registration fees are set as low as we can possibly set them and cover minimal expenses.

Now, I know one of the former conference directors, and I’m sure that under her leadership they made more than “a little.” So, it makes me wonder – should an organization be required to reveal to its members the ACTUAL amount of money made and spent in these ventures? Doesn’t the membership have a right to know? I mean really know. Because if a group is charging the same rates that professional conferences charge and swinging between “making a little” and “losing a lot” perhaps there is something wrong with the finances.

I haven’t renewed my membership with this group because it seemed I was always being asked to pay for my “benefits” so I couldn’t figure out what the benefit of belonging was.

The formatting question is being debated again on my favorite writing group. This time, it’s about spaces. Is it one space after the period or two? Because someone was told one space and someone else was told two. The ubiquitous answer seems to be “check the publishing guidelines before you submit.” However when I check the guidelines for the publishers I’ve worked with, the information isn’t listed. Though I can tell you that my manuscripts always are edited to be one space after the period.

Why do we worry about one space or two when it’s such a minor matter? I think it’s part of the search for security in the uncertain world of writers. We don’t want to leave any element, no matter how small, that could result in our work being rejected. It’s as if we imagine every agent or editor is sitting at their desk with a ruler to measure manuscript formating before they get down to the reading. Well, there probably are a few, but most are look for content over format.

Yes, clean, well-formatted manuscripts are important. You want to set a good first impression. Certainly if a publisher lists a formating preference, use it. But in the end, the story has to sell itself. It has to be the right story for the right agent/publisher on the right day. All the right formating in the world won’t save a bad story, and writing has never been about security.

I love it when someone advises a new writer to use the omniscient point of view because Proust did. Apparently to some people, nothing says Proust like the phrase “I am confused about point of view.”

Today I am working on a gay angel/demon hunter story that will probably be submitted to Cobblestone. But the deadline for the October releases is July 10, so I have to polish this up.

Working the Don Vincent hotel in Ybor City into the story because they have an online virtual tour of the place. Love online tours.

Back to the writing

There is a time in every writer’s novel when she realizes she must create order from chaos, or her editors will be very unhappy. Creating chaos from order is so much easier to do, but someone has to keep the story under control because the characters won’t do it on their own.

Now, there are plenty of books out there that discuss outlining the plot as in - create an outline that details the plot, then write the story to follow it. This method doesn’t work well for those of us who write in a more organic style where the characters and subplots may have gone on a wander and taken the storyline with them. I need a method that is more – locate the plot and eliminate distractions.

I start by identifying and listing the scenes in the manuscript. This doesn’t have to be detailed since I’m the only one reading it, and I know what “enter Patrick” refers to.

Then I figure out if each scene is part of the main plot, a subplot or just “stuff that happens.”

Using colored highlighters gives a quick visual overview of the way the plot is falling out.

The main plot should start at the beginning of the novel and be the focus of the majority of the scenes. It can’t really be a “main plot” unless it’s over half the scenes.

Subplots take up fewer scenes but should have some sort of consistent approach that keeps them visible to the reader during the story.

“Stuff that happens” should take up very few scenes. This is the will-o-wisp of the story, leading plot lines astray while the characters play out scenes for the author’s amusement.

Once I’ve figured out which scenes belong to which category, I take a step back and give the whole structure a tough scrubbing. Where are the “stuff that happens” scenes that I need to delete? Do I have subplots bullying the main plot? Are there so many subplots the outline looks like a patchwork quilt? Can I remove an entire subplot and tighten things up.

Then I start clearing out the clutter. It’s not a happy process. It means deleting things I’ve written and fallen in love with but don’t need. At least not in this story. But afterwards, I have a tighter more focused story and that’s a happy ending.

Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing. A writer working on a novella-length piece worried that she didn’t have enough of a plot and provided a summary of what was to come. The story dealt with job loss, job hunting, mental illness, prescription drug addiction, old boy friend, new boyfriend, inter-racial dating, his past, her past and of course falling in love. It’s a plot outline John Irving would be proud of.

I blame this problem on literature classes. After all, literature classes put stories with complex plots and issues on a pedestal and give regular genre writers an inferiority complex. Now, there’s nothing wrong with tackling a novel as if you’re Irving, if that’s what you want to do. But not every problem faced by mankind needs to be addressed in every novel. The role of John Irving is currently be played by John Irving. You’re question is – who are you as an author.

Don’t be afraid of the simple plot line. I don’t mean one without conflict, action and risk. But one that focuses the conflict, action and risk into something that can be addressed in under 100,000 words. For “The Taking of Dove” my plot idea was – Hawk must get over himself and realize that he’s in love with Dove so he can bond with him. I had a great deal of fun filling up 20,000 words around just that.

I recently asked a friend what the plot of her current novel was and she had a main plot and three subplots. So four plots in all. The last chapter seemed to involve a lot of events that wouldn’t fall under the main plot or any of the subplots, so just “stuff that happens.”

This is another one from the creative writing class grab bag of advice–subplots add complexity to your novel. Yes, they do. Perhaps sometimes too much complexity. After all, the main plot really should be the main focus of the story and that which drives the story forward. Subplots that tie into the main plot are nice because there is a connection between the two. This usually means that the main characters are involved which allows the reader to at least keep a focus on them and the main plot.

But sometimes the subplot is disconnected from the main plot and involves secondary characters. These can be dangerous subplots because they can draw the reader away from the main plot and cause a loss of focus for the writer. If the secondary characters seem to be getting more stage time than the main characters, it may be time to rethink the plot and subplot structure.

Then there is “stuff that happens.” These are events or situations that fall outside the plot and subplots. Sometimes they may be there to help fill out a scene or chapter or to add some scenic interest. Sometimes they are there because the writer is in love with them and doesn’t realize they’re distracting from the plot and that too many can stop the story from moving forward.

Well, actually, “stuff that happens” can bring the story to a screeching halt and make if feel like lots of little episodes that don’t tie together into a novel. Writers love “stuff that happens” because those are usually the fun scenes we just enjoyed writing. But beware of them. They rob the story of focus. They are like candy, a little is fine but not too much.

Why not try this as a plot test. Have someone read the first three chapters of your novel and then ask them what the plot is. If their answer doesn’t match what you think the plot is, you need to rewrite.

I’ve been critiquing stories from published and unpublished authors and they have me musing about plot. Writing classes stress characters over plot these days and that seems to be showing up in work I read and not in a good way. Look, to keep me going through 300 pages of a novel, you need a plot. I don’t care if you’re character is fully developed, 3-D (or even 4-D), without a plot, he’s going to spend the entire novel wandering around looking for something to do. That’s a waste of a good character.

Does your story have a plot? Do you introduce it early on (say, in the first chapter)? Can you write one sentence telling an agent or editor what the plot is?

I one had an editor tell me that she’d called an author regarding a manuscript she had been give to read. She asked the author “can you tell me in a few words what this is about?” Twenty minutes later when the author stopped for breath, she recommended that he take some time to decide what he was writing about and try again.

Plot. It’s important.

I have a cold. It’s not a serious illness. I feel stuffy and head achy and all the usual cold symptoms. But the odd thing about having a cold is that I often find I do well at writing fiction. Sometimes strange but useful scenes for novels.

When I’m sick, the logical part of my brain wants to shut off and go nap somewhere. This leaves the creative part of my brain wandering around on its own and ready to play. Which means my subconscious connects with my characters and things happen.

So, right now I’m working on an Angel/Demon erotica story because my subconscious mind is happy with that.

I write in a variety of genres - mystery, romantic erotica, fantasy, paranormal, even science fiction. Why? Because I enjoy playing with different ideas and publishers tend to categorizes things into different genres. But I’ve been surprised on a couple of writing groups to hear from writers who don’t seem to like the genres they write in. One published romance author complained about having to write “smut” if she wanted to stay published. Another unpublished write thinks her book might be young adult, but hates all the YA novels out there. What’s up with the attitude folks?

When you write to be published, you are actually providing a product for your readers. One you fully expect them to pay for and hope they’ll enjoy. If you don’t enjoy writing the story or the genre, that may very well come across in the novel. There are plenty of genres and opportunities out there. If you don’t enjoy a genre, write in another one. But give the readers of that genre the respect they deserve and don’t complain that other genres are “smut” or boring or poorly crafted. That shows poor professionalism.