I was interviewed about the process of writing Nice and Mean on Through the Tollbooth, a very crafty writing blog! There are also some funny comments to read, esp on day 2. Be a Milo, won’t you, and drop by!
Day 1– social networking in a middle-grade novel and how I made Marina just mean enough.
Day 2–wrestling with what to put in the novel and what to keep out at various stages of the drafting process (funny comment at the end of this one.)
As the playwright Wendy Wasserstein once wrote, “It’s disturbing having sympathy with everyone’s point of view.” She was talking from the point of view of one of her characters, but I imagine that it’s the playwright’s predicament, too. Whereas novelists are very much in the head of their protagonists, playwrights are more likely to be in touch with all of their characters (a good thing), not just get stuck making sure the main character’s experience is believable and interesting. I think of this quotation, from Wasserstein’s play Uncommon Women and Others, a lot when I’m writing–but perhaps not as much as I should.
To wit: I was going back through an outline of a work-in-progress, Not that Girl, and saw this comment from my advisor, the great Tim Wynne-Jones. Next to one of the near-final chapters, I had written something like, “…and [protagonist] Jackie has forgotten about Becky by now,” and Tim commented in the margin, “Jess has, too.” And I thought, ye gods, he was so right about that: what was Becky doing in the story at this point? I kept making her mysteriously absent, so either I needed to cut her or figure out what she brought to the story.
I chose the former and decided that I’d outline the novel from her point of view, identifying what she was thinking and doing at each juncture. Lo and behold, it opened up so many things. Maybe Becky, in watching Jackie drift further from her best friend Mel, would seize the opening and try to become Mel’s best friend, and Jackie would have to deal with those consequences.
And speaking of Mel, maybe I should outline the story from her POV, too–and once I did, I realized that the story was less interesting when she commented cattily on Jackie’s choices and would be more interesting if she were a sort of wide-eyed, I’m-not-going-to-say-anything pleaser-type of critic. That way, when Jackie does things like consider asking a guy out (horrors), it would be Jackie’s own internal gender police that makes her hesitate, and that would make for a more interesting journey. And when outlining the story from Zoe’s point of view, I made Zoe much more interesting, too–less flaunting her older-boyfriended status in everyone’s face and more trying to get her due from friends who ignore her because they feel like she’s transgressed.
So thank you, Wendy Wasserstein and Tim Wynne-Jones. Your encouragement, implicit or explicit, to identify what the characters think and want at all junctures has made for a much better story on these shores. Now I just have to go ahead and write the dang thing!
If anyone of you read this and try it out, or have already tried it, will you weigh in? I’d love to hear about your experience.
"Uncommon Women and Others," one of my favorite plays from high school
As any good Jewish person or FOJP (friend of Jewish Person) will tell you, the title above is the first of the four questions asked at Passover. It was four questions that recently–and thankfully–changed the way I’ve been approaching my work in progress.
I’ve been working on this thing for a long time–almost two years. Throughout, people have had problems with the narration. I don’t want to go into it too explicitly, but basically, I was keeping the narrator’s identity a secret with a big reveal about it at the end. Those who have read chapters have expressed confusion or even frustration about this, but I had always thought, “I can muscle through this. I can see their objections, and I can work past them.” This all changed last week when a friend read through the entire draft–one of about two people in the world to have done this, I think–and approached the problem in the manner of Passover: asking questions.
They were pretty simple questions, but they got to the heart of the matter: how would I sum up this story in one sentence? Why was I keeping the narrator’s identity a secret? What would I lose by changing that up? In answering these questions, I realized that the whole secret narrator thing was, heartbreakingly, more of a device I was hanging on to than something that really served the story. In fact, what I thought might be most important in the story had nothing to do with a mystery and was not at all about hidden identity.
I stress again that none of this should have been a huge revelation. Just like Chazz Palminteri at the end of The Usual Suspects, I started hearing voices and seeing images of people saying the same–voices whose words I could remember with shocking clarity for conversations that happened quite a while ago. Grad School Advisor Margaret: “I’m not saying it’s not working. I’m saying it’s not working yet.” Agent Elizabeth: “I’m not saying to give up on it. But I am sounding an early warning.” Critique group member Jen, over her frothy chai (okay, I’m making that part up; I don’t remember her beverage of choice): “I’m still not buying it.” So–to throw in another question–why was my recent reader able to break through when these great responders–and they really are some of my favorites–couldn’t?
(By the way, I don’t mean to be cagey about the identity of the recent reader. She’s one of the most amazing writers I’m privileged to know, and I’ve been in agony awaiting her first book, which comes out in the fall. I just think she’d be a bit abashed at my naming her publicly, so I’ll call her Dane, a joke that I think she’ll enjoy.)
So anyway, why the great breakthrough with Dane? Part of it, I think, is time; I sent her the second draft, so I’ve had time to live with this story for a while and murder many darlings already. But more than that, I think there’s a power to asking questions rather than making statements. Goodness knows I can be a statement-y person–so eager to convince the writer that my idea is the right one, I might just rush in and declare my insight. However, this might not always be the right choice. Dane didn’t assume she knew what was best for my novel, and I shouldn’t do that for other peoples’.
I hope to learn by example to open peoples’ work up to them. In the meantime, I remain grateful for the four questions and also look forward to my mom’s customary Passover dessert come April. But that, dear readers, is another story for another time.
As you probably don’t remember, I posted last summer about revisiting Vermont College of Fine Arts, the finest grad school in all the land, for an alumni mini-residency. This January finds me back there again as a graduate assistant–aka, grad ass. (Don’t you love a place that officially refers to its volunteers and employees with profanity? I’m not always a fan of the profane, but something about grad assishness really does it for me.)
At some point, I’ll take a picture of the view from my window and talk in general terms about everything I’m learning (general terms because it’s all peoples’ intellectual property), but here’s what I will say about being back at a place you haven’t visited for a year and a half–ie, the dorms: what’s hitting me most is the recovered memories of sound.
People say smell is the most evocative sense, but at least this time around, I’m getting yanked through the rabbit hole from hearing room doors slam shut. No one’s doing any bitter slamming–au contraire, people are just brimming with joy to be here–but these doors are for some reason just very loud and thunky and like nothing else I’ve ever heard. A low, rumbly pitch. And, doing double duty in the sound category are the clinking keys. Is it something in the metal? The one-two combination of round and square? The particular molecularity of the plastic keyring? Whatever it is, the key rings sound distinctive, too. I hadn’t remembered either of these sounds, particularly, but I now realize that if you played me a tape of them, I would bolt upright and go, “Dewey Dorms! Vermont College!”
And, you know, being a writer, it’s impossible to let any of this go by unmetaphorized, so I will note that I think there’s something symbolic in all this: keys to let you back in to a place you left, doors to rooms whose shape you knew but which are filled with new people and things. I partly won my gal on our first date with my description of the recursive–progressing onward while looking back–and I think there’s something recursive about entering a room. It will always be the same and different from the room you just left, because even if nothing else is moved in your absence, you are moved; you are different.
Of course, if the main sense-memory of this journey were, say, stewed beef tips, I would probably make something of that, too. But I don’t want to think about stewed tips, so I’m going to end on this happy Stephen Sondheim song, “Opening Doors.” (It’s about a composer, lyricist and novelist developing their careers. Omg, resonance everywhere!)
And the lyrics, too.
I know I have been super extra MIA lately, but I’ve been focusing on Major Life Things. Everything is great, just not very condusive (conducive? yes, the red squiggly tells me it’s ‘conducive’) to blogging.
What it is conducive to, however, is getting obsessed with a single song, which often happens in times when things are pushing down on me, pushing down on you. And yes, I’m talking about the Queen song Under Pressure, a version of which you can watch below. (It’s not actually that interesting to watch, but the other versions showed buildings collapsing, and I found that deeply disturbing.)
The play that I was just working on–the one that a high-school senior directed, and I mentored–went up this weekend, and one of the many amazing sound cues designed by said senior was Under Pressure. It just stuck in my brain and all I seem to be able to do is watch and listen to Youtube versions of this song, from “Sing-Off” (which I foresee myself getting addicted to at some point in life) to the Freddie Mercury tribute by David Bowie and Annie Lennox. I’m not going to post that last one because frankly, it’s a little weird. You’re welcome to go looking for it, and I certainly endorse a David Bowie viewing, because I happen to find him sexy, but while I find Annie L. quite attractive as well, she’s just a bit odd here. Oh, heck, now maybe I’ve made you curious, so I’ll include her as well, and whether you watch or ffwd to the end, tell me if you don’t think, “By gum, that is a little weird.”
More next week, I hope!
This is our last dance
This is ourselves…under pressure.
Especially the one on the right
Today, anyway.
I Google Image searched “guilty face,” so I could post one here to reflect my guilt for being an infrequent blogger, and this one came up. You like? You think it reflects guilt? I’m not sure, but the other main option was OJ Simpson, and I just didn’t feel right about including him here comme ca.
I’ve been busy, with great things, some of which I can share and some of which I won’t, but busy, busy, busy. Here’s what I can tell you: The Cybils! I am reading reading reading for these awards. So far I have especially enjoyed Ann Angel’s RISE UP SINGING, a biography of Janis Joplin, which really captured Janis’s pain amid the achievements. And I’m loving LINCOLN’S FLYING SPIES, by Gail Jarrow, about the hot-air balloonists who spied for the Union Army! Who knew, right? Completely fascinating.
Another note of busy: the play I’m overseeing at school is in rehearsal, and I get to spend two hours every night cracking up. This play and the actors are so freakin’ funny. I feel lucky that I get to be a part of it–though it’s definitely time-consuming.
That’s pretty much all I can share about le busy. So now I’ll share 6 other random facts, just for laughs…
1) I hung out with my mentee today (she’s 12), and as usual, she completely whipped me in Skee-Ball. I don’t understand it, but she always gets some balls in the 5,000-point range. I’ll never be as good as she is.
2) Instead of paying $849 for a flight the other day (actually, I just would not have gone), I found the same flight available through Bonus Miles and instead paid just $105! Go, Bonus Miles! Thank you, US Airways! (Who ever thanks an airline?)
3) In a terrible mood and stranded in a lame town the other day, I went to the pizzaria … pizzeria…. oh, I spelled it right–and couldn’t even get a slice (no slices on Saturdays–what the–), so I ordered the cheesy bread. Turned out to be just like a pizza, with no tomato sauce. So good, and yet–I would’ve just ordered a whole pizza if I’d known, and taken it home!)
4) I can’t believe America’s Next Top Model will be over this week! Sob! I love ANTM! Who do you think will win? I think Kayla. Jane’s so outta there; Anne is too guarded (though I wish someone could communicate it to her like this), and Chelsea’s just too grim. Kayla’s got the unusual looks, pleasant demeanor, and ability to deliver. I like her muchly and hope she wins!
5) I got to speak to 20 librarians at Destinations Booksellers on Friday as part of the store reaching out to schools. It was so fun–I’m sorry, I love answering questions in front of a crowd–and they even gave me a gift certificate! I immediately bought Rex Zero the Great Pretender, by my former advisor Tim Wynne-Jones. I’m loving reading it.
6) I have an appalling number of dishes that have been sitting in the sink since–nope, I’m not going to tell you how long. (Well, okay: since Friday. I didn’t want you to think it was, like, really long.) So now I’m going to wash them.
Tootle-oo!
1) A lovely review from Melina at Reading Vacation–a blog by a reader who’s actually the target age of my book! Melina is in middle school, and I’m so impressed by the way she’s become a fixture of the kidlit blogging community. She’s very up-front about her age (and the fact that she can only Tweet with her mom next to her), which I think is courageous; if I’d been her, I would have probably tried to hide those things, but she obviously understands that hiding your true self is a complete waste of time and so charms everyone. A general brava to Melina and a link to her review of N&M:
Reading Vacation on Nice and Mean
My favorite part: “As much as I didn’t care for Marina and her meanness, I liked getting into her thoughts and trying to understand WHY she was the way she was. In the end, I think Marina was insecure and drunk with power. Sachi, on the other hand, became a doormat because her parents planned her every move.”
See what I mean about the good writing? I wish my former students had been able to whip off book reviews as craft as those!
2) On Wednesday evening, I had my live web-chat with readers at New Moon Magazine! The girls asked fun questions, and I can’t wait to get the transcript so I can post some of it here. But I thought I’d also include New Moon’s review, also by a middle-school reader, Rachel. (Isn’t it funny how one review was by Melina–which is pretty close to the name Marina, the “mean” in Nice and Mean–and the other is by Rachel, Marina’s frenemy? Are there any Sachis in the house?) Here’s Rachel’s review.
I love this part: “I think I think I’m most like Sachi’s friend Lainey in this book — we both have *odd* styles, and are totally comfortable with being different and not dressing like everyone else.”
Little-known fact: I first created the characters of Nice and Mean in a novel about the character of Lainey! It was my first novel and it wasn’t good enough to get published, but I do have a soft spot for Lainey, so I’m tickled that Rachel mentioned her here.
Finally, the cover of Nice and Mean, illustrated by Linzie Hunter, was featured on Jacket Knack, a great blog by my grad school friend Carol Brendler and my former grad school advisor, Julie Larios. As you might guess, Jacket Knack contains “thoughts on the covers of kids’ books,” and as you might expect if you know Carol and Julie, it’s innovative and funny and always points out something about covers that I’ve missed. I’m thrilled that the cover of Nice and Mean caught their attention, and here’s what they have to say about it.
Soon, I hope to show you these amazing scrapbooks that the kids at Community Prep School in Rhode Island made of Nice and Mean. Wow. Now when people say, “What was the best part of getting published?” I’ll have an answer. You’re gong to love ‘em.
Happy Halloween, by the way!!
I don’t know if anybody has ever read the little subtitle of my blog, up there in –hm, is it the right-hand corner? I’m in a different window as I write this and I can’t see the blog, so maybe it is I who should be subtly chastised by implication for not reading my blog descriptor. In any case, it says this:
Thoughts about reading
Thoughts about writing
Sometimes a love song to pickles or cake
I don’t know why I came up with it; I guess I thought I had to have some purpose or other to this frightful mayhem and madness that is called blogging. In any case, I have to be honest and admit that while I do talk about reading and writing, love songs to cake have been infrequent, and those to pickles have been virtually nonexistent.
I would hereby like to apologize to pickles and offer some remedy. Pickles have been very important to me in my writing life. Around 11 in the morning, if I’m writing all day, I start to get yens for lunch but don’t want to ruin my appetite, and these salty, crunchy snacks are both low-fat and filling. I used to go for Vlasic Baby Dills, Spiciness #2, but several years ago, The Wife brought sour pickles into my life, and I haven’t had much truck with Baby Dills since. Thank you, wife, and thank you, sour pi–okay, waaait a minute.
The real purpose of this entry WAS to bring a recent bout with cake into the forefront. However, when I went to the fridge to confirm the brand of pickles so I could find the appropriate image, I learned that what The Wife introduced was Kosher Dills. But they are different Kosher Dills! They are pale and sour, rather than urine-colored and vinegar-y. What is this pickle mix-up? Are there any pickleologists in the mix? Somebody, please explain!
I’ll just add quickly here that as a compensation for having waited an hour at the doctor’s office yesterday, I stopped on the way home and bought myself a lemon tart at a place I always pass but never patronize. So thank you, Cake Flour, for yesterday morning’s deliciousness. See the picture; hear my love song.
Seriously, please solve the mystery of the pickles!
My burrito was nowhere near as good as this
This is the Facebook update I really wanted to post today, except it just sounded too stupid:
JESSICA LEADER:
Fantasized about a lunch burrito of black beans, pepper jack, avocado and green salsa
But for about the first time ever in her household, there were no black beans
She should have remembered that she didn’t let herself buy pepper jack (and so there was only string cheese and fancy sour cheese that doesn’t taste good in burritos)
She hasn’t bought avocadoes in weeks and strangely, neither has that wife of hers (said wife really goes for the avocadoes.)
So instead, she made a something
(distinctly NOT a burrito) with chick peas, cut-up string cheese, and green salsa (at least she had that green salsa.)
It started out poorly, with her forgetting to flip the tortilla before piling on the filling, and since the steam-crisped tortilla is her favorite part, she scraped off the filling to flip the tortilla.
Alas, she had used the cast-iron pan, not the non-stick one
So you know that that tortilla did do?
Yes. It stuck.
But that did not deter her. She gamely scraped and tried to steam-crisp that second side.
It worked okay
But when she had removed the filling, it scattered
(the wife is reading over my shoulder and exclaimed, “This is terrible! And I will get you avocadoes, and black beans! You must tell me if you want the Jack cheese.” The wife is the best, no?)
Anyway. Scatteredness. Poor cooking. Actually, non-melting. Something about the string cheese on the stove–I don’t know. It didn’t work.
(The wife chimed in, “It’s also low-fat string cheese.” She’s smart, too.)
I think I blocked out how it came to this
But I ended up sitting down with a mess of knotty chick peas and semi-melted pellets of cheese that didn’t even stay in the wrapper
They were just hard and gross and once again scattered
And it was very sad
(the wife is laughing)
(sympathetically, she notes)
And tomorrow I will go to the grocery store.
I’m sure you can see why I didn’t put this on Facebook.
