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Sexy Games (Italian)
// //Time in a Novel: What Should Your Scale Be?
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Tis the season to be gearing up for the RT Convention! This is just one of the fun reader parties I’m participating in.
I’m over at Word Whores talking about 3 Hours, 3 Days, or 300 Years: How Do You Choose & Use The Passage of Time?
Taking Time to Think about the RWR Cover
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As the weather warms up in Santa Fe, the sunsets get more spectacular – double the blessings!
So, I seldom wax terribly feminist in writing. I’m sure more than a little of this is due to my Texas grandmother’s voice in my head reminding me to be pleasant, soft-spoken and not to ruffle feathers. Which I totally get is part of the problem. Still I tend to avoid conflict and sometimes I don’t voice my opinions for that reason. Of course, I have other, very good reasons for not voicing my position on some subjects, at least not publicly.
But this one has been bugging me for quite a while.
As you all may or may not know, I’m a member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA) and remain an enthusiastic supporter of the organization. RWA is the premier professional organization for romance writers, which means it’s composed primarily of women. There are no absolute numbers for this, as some men write under female pseudonyms, other writers consider themselves gender-flexible and, of course, there’s no gender-reporting requirement. Still, if looking around the room at the National Convention is any indicator, we’re probably talking over 95% female.
I frankly love that about RWA. There are very few arenas in my life where the community is so strongly female and – in the words of Cinderella from Into the Woods – it makes for a nice change. I think more people than I feel this way. Sure the male members joke about being outnumbered, but I figure, hey, welcome to the non-male experience. I embrace the overwhelming femaleness of RWA and feel that should be celebrated. Certainly that fact should be front and center in RWA’s branding.
So why isn’t it?
This is what has me riled up. (Hi Grandmother!) The cover of the April 2015 Romance Writers Report, our official magazine, looks like this:
The lead article is “Master of Your Career,” which… okay, fine. “Master” is grammatically correct and we’re all supposed to be good with the word being gender neutral. It might look silly to have “Mistress of Your Career,” because that word doesn’t denote mastery of anything at all. Which is a sad truth, right there. I probably wouldn’t even have given it (much of) a second thought, except for that image.
Men’s shoes.
I mean, decidedly masculine shoes. Not even gender-neutral shoes, like sneakers or some such, that could be seen either way. Now, I know that probably Corn Creative, who does the magazine design, likely came up with this and didn’t give it a second thought. I think that graphic designer is female, too. It looks like she does work for many publications, including the Society for Neuroscience, which I can vouch from personal experience skews the gender proportion in almost the opposite direction. Maybe she didn’t think about it and just picked a strong image.
What I’m saying is, maybe we should think about it.
I’m saying this also coming off a call with Agent Connor where he (strongly) suggested that I reconsider some of the naming in this new fantasy series I’m working on, as it can be viewed as cultural appropriation. And yes, it irritated me that he said that and I might have replied that we all belong to the human race and that the Celts came up out of India and at which point do I have to stop retracing my cultural inheritance?
(I know, I know – send him a nice note for having to deal with me.)
I’m no less irritated about that now, but… in the clear light of day I’m seeing that he’s likely right. I needed to think about it and avoid causing that offense, if I can. Which I can because it’s really not necessary. And it’s an important courtesy.
These things ARE important. Ruffled feathers or no.
Cherishing Reader Trust
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I’m over at the Contemporary Romance Cafe, talking about the reader contract and why it matters so very much.
Do We Have to Love Our Characters?
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A piece of writing advice I often see tossed out there is that you must love your own characters, if you want your readers to love them. A parallel bit of advice is that a writer must be interested in the scene she writes in order to create interest in the reader. Every time I see this sort of thing, I pause and ask myself if I think that’s true.
I’ve decided that I really don’t.
I think this is a kind of false logic that springs from observations on the relationship between art, artist and viewer that I talked about a few days ago while discussing how to write vivid characters. Basically it’s the idea that our conscious understanding of what we’re trying to show as artists subconsciously affects the viewer (or reader, play-watcher, etc.). I observed long ago in directing a play that where I was muddy in how I understood the story, so was the audience. I do think this is a real phenomenon.
What’s not so real is the conflation that our emotional reaction to the work – love, fascination, what-have-you – will also manifest in the final product.
I’m not sure why it doesn’t work this way, but from my own experience, and from what other writers have said, it simply doesn’t. Neil Gaiman has written about this before and I can’t find the direct quote right now (updating to say I ran across it – posted in pic), but particularly for novel writing, there are long slogs where the writer might be bored out of his mind. Neil suggests that a writer who wants to feel constantly engaged by her own work might make a good poet, because poems are short enough. A novelist, however, he points out, has to have more endurance. It takes a long time to write a novel. I’ve calculated that I can write steadily at an average of 1,700 words per day, including days off and intervening edit rounds on other works. This means it takes me approximately 70 days to write a 120K word novel. That’s pretty fast, I’m reliably informed. It also works out to about 3 months writing the story.
Am I always entranced by every scene I write? No.
Will I experience every emotion I write? Not at all.
Do I always love my characters? Not by a long shot.
Now, some days I do! Sure, sometimes I cry while writing, or feel in love with my characters. Other times it’s like laying down bricks on an endless road. This is why what Neil said resonates with me. He noted this same thing, that there can be long periods where the writing feels dreadfully dull and not at all engaging, and – most salient – that when he goes back and reads the final work, he can’t discern which parts he wrote while loving it and which while slogging through.
I have experienced exactly this thing.
So, no – you don’t have to love your own characters. Just as, I might be going out on a limb here, we don’t always feel gushing love for our spouses every minute of every day. But what we do have is commitment to them. In a long-term relationship, we stay the course and feed the parts we want to grow. Writing a novel requires the same commitment. Don’t expect to love every moment, every nuance. Stay the course, feed the work and trust in yourself as an artist.
Do the work and the love will follow
Keeping It Real – How to Write Vivid Characters
//I’m over at Word Whores giving my tips for avoiding the dreaded pitfalls of Character Cloning.
Going Under available in Italian
//Going Under has been translated to Italian!
Sexy Games, as it’s called, is available from Harlequin Mondadori:
http://www.harlequinmondadori.
Embracing the Tropes – Love, Not Hate
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Spring definitely begins in March here in Santa Fe. I spent a few hours sitting outside reading with my coffee in the sunshine this morning. Lovely!
This week at Word Whores, we’re discussing our favorite genre tropes. Since we get to pick the genre and I write in three at the moment, I’m talking about one from each. Also, since I’m the topic-kickoff girl, I’ll take on the job of defining “Trope,” for those who aren’t familiar.
The Power of Heels!
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I don’t think I ever showed you all the shoes I bought while I was in Florida with Megan Mulry. She took me consignment shopping in Boynton Beach and I found these totally awesome shoes. This is the correct terminology because they do harken back to the 80s. And they absolutely match the dress I plan to wear to the RT Awards Ceremony. Just wait – this is going to be an amazing outfit.
If I do say so.
While I don’t deduct this sort of thing, I consider purchases like this part of my marketing. As an author, my image is part of my brand – particularly for me, with the hats and whatnot – and fancy heels fit right into that. I like high heels. Pretty much always have, as does my mother. She even taught me to walk in them, which I’ve discovered not that many mothers do. (How can this be??) It works out for me because this brand image is very organic to who I am, which I believe is how brands should be. Otherwise they’re too difficult to sustain.
At any rate, that’s how it’s evolved for me – I love high heels, I wear them, people associate me with high heels, I buy and wear more of them. I would call it a vicious cycle, but it’s a joyful one. Why don’t we have a term for a positive feedback loop like this?
It’s a MYSTERY.
(Actually, the one small drawback is the shock and consternation when I *don’t* wear heels. Recently I screwed up my knee. Not the one I had surgery on twenty years ago – the GOOD knee! Jackson the Ornery Cat escaped out the back and was headed over the secret garden wall. This is bad because we can’t let him run or the coyotes will get him and he LOVES the game of having people chase him. We can easily burn an hour trying to recapture him. Great fun for Jackson, aggravating as hell for the humans who WORK. So, I chase him, he does a switchback. I manage to grab his tail, misstep and fall with all my weight onto one knee. On a freaking rock. Peoples – it hurt so bad! It’s finally healing up, but it will be two weeks tomorrow. Can’t run. No treadmill desk. No high heels. Last Saturday at my LERA meeting, people kept looking *down* at me in shock and consternation, suddenly discovering I’m actually a rather short 5’4″, instead of my usual graceful 5’8″. *sigh*)
So, anyway, I always figured it’s a me-thing, wearing high heels. They make me feel sexy and powerful. (And tall.) Well, guess what?
Turns out, it’s a REAL THING.
One of David’s patients brought him this article to give to me. (Which, if you think about it, is terribly amusing right there – that my husband’s patients know me for my high heels!) The upshot is that these researchers in France (OF COURSE) conducted a study of how high heels affected the behavior of other people. They found that the higher the heel, the more likely a woman was to receive what she requested. Power, people!
Turns out my mom knew what she was doing. 🙂
The (Questionable) Luck of the Irish
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St. Patrick’s always makes me think of my grandfather – my Papa – Pat McGee.
By this time of morning he would have already donned his green suit and emerald tie, with perhaps a green-tinted rosebud on the lapel. And he would have started drinking. Whiskey with his coffee, perhaps. Liquor, for sure. A steady imbibing that would continue through the day until he passed out, very late. St. Patrick’s Day was never fun for the rest of the family.
Still, I have the luxury of remembering Papa fondly. He loved his roses and in the summer would always head out to his garden to select a bud for his lapel, to wear to Mass. He’d give me one to wear or carry also. The scent of warming roses and the Colorado sun on my skin is entwined with my memories of him. As is the opposite end of the day, the gloaming when we’d walk after dinner, following the path along the Highline Canal.
I think about Papa still, both the good and the bad.
Offering up this St. Patrick’s Day toast for him.
May those who love us love us.
And those that don’t love us, May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, May he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.