squeetus

Epic fantasy hero wanted (leave your mama home)

Re: last post, Stephanie Perkins made an interesting comment:

"I've thought a lot about this phenomena, too. Yeah, mothers (and parents, in general) are far more likely to be a part of realistic fiction — the Ramona books, Meg Cabot's Allie Finkle series, anything Judy Blume, Junie B. Jones, etc. As you wisely pointed out, a mother would step in if anything TOO dangerous was happening to the protagonist, which is why moms are less likely to be found in fantasy, where the stakes usually HAVE to be higher. In realistic middle grade fiction, the struggle is often school or peer-related, which parents often do want their children to work out for themselves.

"This idea applies to young adult literature, too. Parents are more likely to be found in contemporary YA, because they're a part of real teenage life, and they're generally absent in fantasy, paranormal, and dystopian worlds (though sometimes they're a driving force to action, like in Katniss' case).

"I'm intrigued that you tried to write a fantasy in which parents were involved, but it that wouldn't work. Fascinating! But it makes sense. :-)"

What do you think--realistic fiction allows for parents but fantasy excludes by nature? I see truth in this observation. My current work-in-progress is contemporary setting with fantastic elements. The main character's parents are both a large part of the story, but she also has to leave them, go away and do things. Some of you commented that this is true in life as well. We leave home in order to grow into ourselves.

Where are all the moms?

Here's a discussion I've been meaning to write for a while, requested by commenters. A few years ago, I read a Horn Book article about the lack of mothers in fairy tales and books, and it mentioned, among others, Princess Academy. The article's writer (I'm embarrassed I can't remember who) challenged herself to change that and write a book where the protagonist's mother was a present, strong character. She talked about her work and how she had to scrap it. In a story, it's just impossible for a child/teen to have any adventures, to grow on his/her own with a mother present. The mother would take care of everything, the mother would carry the burden of worry. You want your protagonist to be as close to and involved in the action as possible, and for a young protagonist, a mother (a capable, present mother) will interfere.

I tried the same thing once. I was determined to have a mother and father who were present, who had the adventures alongside my hero. Again, it didn't work. Boring. The real growing up a person does is gradual and often subtle. In a story, you speed things up, let a few large events stand in for a hundreds of small events. If a mother especially is there, the young character doesn't have a chance to grow, to make choices, to be a hero.

So why not make the mother herself the character? Traditionally a children's book has a child as the main character. I can think of only one exception: the extremely wonderful Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, and it's subsequent movie, The Secret of NIMH (notice the title change--no need to highlight a Mrs is the main character, after all). Any other mother main characters I'm missing?

While this is a general rule, great authors can break it. I can think of many wonderful mother supporting characters who manage to stay out of the protagonist's way.

Charlotte, that lovely spider. What a clever device! She's a mother character, and yet she's so small and vulnerable with such a short life span. She can't take care of everything, but just enough.

Mrs. Weasley is great, one of the most memorable mothers in literature and film. If she'd been onsite, she would have prevented some adventures. Rowling got around that with the boarding school scenario.

I think of Elastigirl from the Incredibles, but the children are not the main characters, and she does have to leave them alone at one point--the point at which they really come into their own powers.

Looking over my own books, about half the mothers are dead. Jack, Rapunzel, Rin, and Razo have excellent mothers who aren't perfect but definitely have strengths. They all must leave them behind to have their adventures or save their mothers themselves.

What do you think about the missing moms? Any examples of present mothers who didn't get in the way? What about fathers?

Are you hardcore?

In college I went on a study abroad to Mexico. My two American housemates found a local gym and bought a temporary membership because their boyfriends told them, "You'd better not come back fat." I didn't have a boyfriend, but I was bored, so I joined them. It was there that I first discovered running.

There was a small indoor track. I thought I'd try out a few laps, convinced I wasn't capable of anything more. But after a week, I realized I had more in me, so I went a few minutes more. And more. Suddenly I was running for forty-five minutes straight, amazed by the untested prowess of my body. I'd always been thin (scrawny) and fragile (lazy), so imagine my surprise when I flew around that track for an hour straight, glistening and crowing. I was a runner!

When I returned home to Salt Lake City, as soon as I'd unpacked (strewn my belongings) and had a good night's sleep, I hopped on a treadmill for an invigorating jog--as we runners will do. After five minutes I began to wheeze. After ten minutes I collapsed. Was I ill? Perhaps dying of consumption? I tried the jogging thing a few more times before I realized that while I flew at sea level, I flailed at 4200 feet. Did I push through it and get stronger? No, I quit. It turned out, I was a gravy runner. I was no where near hardcore.

I've discovered that I can be hardcore as a writer. I write when the words are flowing. I write when they're not. I write when the story delights me and I can't wait to see what happens next. I write when the story is murky and sticky and complicated. I write when I'm energized and feeling great. I write when I'm sick, pregnant, have newborns, am grumpy, sad, confused, angry, and so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm hardcore, baby.

I had the chance to visit Bolivia and Peru once. We went to a town on the shores of Lake Titicaca, elevation 12,500 ft. At that height, simply walking made us wheeze for oxygen. Our guide told us that their soccer team is unbeatable. Despite pulling players from a much smaller pool of talent, they trounce Lima regularly. They live and train in one of the world's harshest environments, while the sea level Lima players are gasping and stumbling halfway through the game. When the team from Titicaca goes down to play in oxygen-rich Lima, their players can run for hours and never break a sweat. Because they work hard when playing is hard work, they fly when it's not. They are formidable. They are hardcore.

I suppose such a metaphor could relate to most anything--microbiology, hot air ballooning, ballet--but I wouldn't know. I basically do two things in my life. I'm a writer and I'm a mother. And those are two things I'm pretty good at because I don't allow myself to quit. It's not possible to quit. Even when my lungs are burning and my legs ache and a stitch like a knife stabs into my ribs. I keep going because I have to. And I have faith that any moment now, this hill is going to straighten out, I'm going to get a second wind, those endorphins will kick in, and the view will be amazing.

First date, John Carter style

Last year, Dean and I wrote a piece for a John Carter of Mars young adult anthology. Writers were asked to write their own stories of Barsoom. We chose to look at a scene in Princess of Mars where John Carter fights some white ape beasts. Very little is known about the white apes, so we chose to retell that scene from their point-of-view...in our own special way. That way was a little too special, I think, as our piece was not included in the anthology.

With the movie John Carter out in theaters now, I thought some of you might get a kick out of our story anyway, so I've posted our Barsoom-inspired piece First Date on my site. It was very much a collaboration between me and Dean. He wrote the first draft this time, and then I went in and helped the story make some sense, adding my own touches. Then he went back and added some more Dean touches, then I polished and voila.

In answer to your previous questions, will Palace of Stone ever have a painted cover to match the Princess Academy hardcover? Answer: I don't think so. I truly do not know, but I would not bet on it. And in answer to the Austenland movie questions, I'm not holding out on you, I swear! I don't know when we'll see a trailer or have a release date or anything. As soon as I know, you'll know too. I am VERY excited about the movie. I think it's going to be amazing.

Soup with three things*

The past couple of weeks have been even crazier than normal. My email inbox has activated an automatic self-destruct command. Just no extra brains for blogging right now. So many interesting things to talk about. I'll have to deal with later. Just know three things:

1. Writing for Charity is going to be awesome this Saturday. You can sign up at the door, but those who preregister are guaranteed lunch and get preference in choice of authors for their critique session. The book signing at 4 pm is open to the public. The silent auction has some drool-worthy offerings, so if you can't make the conference, come at the end!

2.I'm emceeing Brandon Mull's launch party for Beyonders: Seeds of Rebellion tomorrow (Tuesday) again, Cottonwood High Auditorium in Salt Lake. Comedy, music, books, a great family event, so much fun. This year, I'll be signing books after as well. Show starts at 7 pm, but get there early if you want a seat. FREE!

3. I have another super secret project...no, not a movie. But I love it so much. I can't wait to talk about it.

*My friend and writer Tiffany Trent lived in Hong Kong for a time. She told me about how a restaurant translated each menu item into English, and one item translated as simply "Soup with three things." I love that. That would make a great book title! Or blog post title...

These are a few of my favorite words

I want some good words today, peeps. I want to infuse my writing with some choice words that I may be neglecting. So let's do a nice trade, shall we? Off the top of my head, here are some words I love, and then you give me some you love in the comments. That's fair, isn't it? Words you like the look of, words you like to taste on your tongue, words whose meanings are unique and fun, whatever you like. Have you noticed how any group of lucious words together sounds like a poem?

pumpkin

struedel

lozenge

kestrel

disappear

wash

shriek

gallant

shudder

rife

succulent

peevish

tattered

clack

din

canter

lilt

round

yarn

ominous

stale

fish

please

What's the symbol of a symbol?

Re: last post, commentor ruthie directed me to a wonderful article in the Paris Review with decades-old author responses on the subject of symbolism in writing. I love that they rarely agree! My favs were Ralph Ellison's and Ray Bradbury's. I found myself thinking "here, here!" with both, even though they don't totally agree. Explaining the process of writing a book may be even harder than actually doing it. But it's fun to try, isn't it?

Working hard, every free moment. At last the title is official! PRINCESS ACADEMY 2: Revenge of the Mountain Goats*

 

*this title is a lie. Believe nothing Shannon says. She is clearly insane.

Savory Story (TM): Now stuffed with meaning!

There's an (apocryphal?) story people have plied me with many times over the past decade. It involves Robert Frost. A woman approaches him at a reading, praising one of his poems for invoking such-and-such metaphor or allusion. Robert Frost is surprised and says he didn't think about that when he wrote it. And so, the people who tell me the story conclude, poets just write poems and writers just write stories and have no idea the multi-layered meanings that readers take from it.

I've searched for the source of this story and haven't been able to find it. But assuming it's true, I question the conclusion. Surely no one believes Robert Frost just threw a bunch of pretty words together with no thought about meaning. Of course there will always be unique connections and meanings a reader will bring to a piece of writing. Readers have their own experiences, beliefs, needs. That's part of the magic of reading. But that doesn't mean a writer takes no thought, especially not one like Robert Frost who poured and ached over each poem.

I was on an author panel once when a teen girl in the audience asked if writers really intend to put in all those symbols and themes and such that their English teachers have them ferret out. I had to respond, "Sorry, yes, some of us do." She seemed disappointed. Her English teacher found me after to thank me. I empathize with the students. I was such a student once and worn down by having to tear apart stories instead of just read for pleasure, but I think it was an invaluable exercise. The ability to analyze a text has been a huge boon for me, both as a student of any discipline and as a writer.

Many times I've been somewhere to speak and the introducer has talked about one of my books, outlining the themes and giving a really lovely review of the significance and resonance of the story. This is always very flattering, since most introducers just read my bio from my website or book jacket. But then so often she or he will turn to me and say congenially, "You probably didn't even know you put all that in the story, did you?"

But of course I did.

When I'm writing, I'm not thinking about what an English class might study. I'm not thinking in words like "symbol" and "theme." But I do take careful stock of the story. I study early drafts to see what motifs have started to occur, what ideas seem to repeat themselves naturally. Then I examine what the story needs and nurture those motifs into what an English teacher would call a theme, and I do that in order to make the story stronger, to add layers of meaning that will make the book more intriguing as well to give it an emotional connection. I am very aware of creating connections--with other works, with historical events unmentioned, with other ideas within the story. I do this all with a great deal of thought and purpose. I or another writer might be unaware of one of a reader's personal interpretations, but that doesn't mean we're unaware of any allusion or motif.

It's important for me to clarify this because I don't want anyone to dismiss writers as blind typists. That's unhelpful and unrealistic for the sake of budding writers. If all meaning is accidental, what motivation would a writer have for the hard labor of rewrites upon rewrites? And if writers don't do the hard labor, the quality of books deteriorates. Selfish of me maybe, because I'm a reader first and I want good books to read. As a writer, I aim to imbue my story with as much meaning as the seams can hold and yet keep it open enough to allow a reader to make her own personal connections as well. I suspect most writers do the same. Even Robert Frost.

Counting words

I'm a word girl, not a numbers girl, but the daily chore of writing is so much about numbers for me. How many words did I write, or as the case may be, how many did I manage to cut? These little goals help keep me on task. I'm swamped with my deadline coming up, sweating through final drafts, but I thought it might interest you to see the final word counts of my books.

Goose Girl – 91,199
Enna Burning – 75,553
Princess Academy – 63,486
River Secrets – 64,300
Austenland – 53,000
B1000 – 63,600
Actor & the Housewife -- 130,400
Forest Born -- 90,563
Midnight in Austenland -- 73,838

Biting off more than I can chew, and then chewing

I am on deadline with a book. And I have four children. There really is nothing more complicated about my life than that. I am slaving over a story and playing with kids and trying to keep my home from tumbling into irrepreble chaos. Those are my days. And, often, my nights. (Also, I watch Survivor. Team Dawn.)

The rewrites are a struggle right now. Sometimes I wish writing a book could just be easy for me at last. But when I think about it practically, I am glad it's a struggle. I am (as usual) attempting to write a book that's too hard for me. I'm telling a story I'm not smart enough to tell. The risk of failure is huge. But I prefer it this way. I'm forced to learn, forced to smarten myself up, forced to wrestle. And if it works, then I'll have written something that is better than I am.

"Write what you know" is for sissies.

Writing through the chaos

Amber asks, "Will you do a post on how you juggle writing and kids? My creative energy is completely sapped." Oh man, I am so sapped. I am a Vermont maple in winter. I've got two mobile almost-one-year-olds and a 4 yo and 7 yo and a husband, who counts as maybe a 10 yo. I'm kinda bragging, because they're cool, and I never thought I'd have such a big family, so I look around and marvel at our hugeness (relative hugeness, you mothers of eight out there), and I think, "Hey, this rocks!"

But I'm sapped too. Finding time to bathe and feed myself is an uphill battle every day. I had a couple of visitors coming over this morning, so I worked so hard to clean my kitchen and living room, trying to keep kiddos entertained for 3 hours while I cleaned non-stop between caring for their needs. And when my visitors came in, I looked around and realized that I had acheived Normal Messy, no more.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I'm in no shape to be dolling out advice. I barely survive. I'm sure you know what I mean. This marvelous, marvelous chaos. But my center is my creative time. For 2 1/2 hours four times a week, I have a babysitter, and I close my door and write. Turn off the mommy craziness, turn on Writer Woman. It's not an easy transition, but I have to do it. I just have to.

How I'm a lot like Alexander Fleming, only Noble Prize-less

My grandfather knew Alexander Fleming, and so I grew up hearing the story of his great discovery. He was a research scientist. He spent years studying anti-bacterial agents. But he was an untidy man. One day he left his lab window open and some petrie dishes on a table. Some mold blew in, contaminated one of the samples, and upon investigating, Fleming realized it was destroying bacteria. And so he discovered penicillin, one of the greatest medical discoveries of all time.

I used to wonder why we gave Alexander Fleming credit for the discovery. After all, it was an accident. Why was he so lauded for being messy? He wasn't even working on an antibiotic when it happened. So what's the big deal?

Now I realize he was a creative--like writers, like painters, like musicians. Like scientists. We do the work. Every day, we do the work. We go into the lab and put in the hours, just in case. And often it's not our training or talent or intellect or cleverness that makes something work--it's happenstance. It's serendipity. Sometimes I write a sentence that seems meaningless and I'll delete it later. But then I notice it on another pass, consider it, and realize that little bit is a tiny spotlight on a layer of depth and meaning I hadn't even realized was there. I can't take credit for it. But I can take credit for being at work, writing my butt off, when it happened. I can take credit for noticing it, like in the petrie dish. And for working with it, expanding on it, applying it to the story.

Fleming didn't stop with some mold in a dish. He studied that, applied that, and made a vaccine that could rid the human body of infection. I hope when some mold comes floating in the window, it finds me hard at work. And maybe I can work with that mold till it becomes a story worth reading.