So I've been thinking about Rachel's Cheesemonkey post. In remembering what I read as a child, I can see the birth of what I write as an adult.
As a child, I read a mix of historical novels, murder mysteries, thrillers, crime fiction, and a whole lot of romance and womens fiction. Yes, I know, it was quite the heavy read for a thirteen-year-old. Some might say inappropriate. But I'll never regret it. In fact, I'd like to think it gave me a view of the world that my cosseted peers didn't see. So when it came time to face certain life trials, I wasn't caught completely unaware.
But to digress. :) As an adult, what do I write? Well, I write genre mashups. My stories are a mix of historical, romance, paranormal, thriller and mystery. I love it all, so I write it all.
What I've read absolutely has influenced what I write, and what I love.
So how about you? Do you think what you've read as a child, and what you read now for that matter, helped form the writer you are today?
Showing posts with label What I write. Show all posts
Showing posts with label What I write. Show all posts
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Thursday, July 22, 2010
There's a New Girl In Town
Susan here. Consider me your Girl Friday, as my sister-bloggers have already dubbed me. Today’s post is a bit of an introduction and hereafter my own musings on the writing journey will appear on, well, Fridays.
Why do I write? I could lie to you, give you lofty reasons, tell you I’m driven to do it, that it’s my gift, my calling, my Reason For Living. Honestly? I write because I’m selfish. It’s all about me.
You see, I’m defined in many ways - daughter, sister, wife, mother, communications consultant, church treasurer, homeschool teacher, dog-fish-lovebird-parakeet keeper… the list could go on, but the point is I’m defined by my relationships. Writing is the only thing I do for me and me alone.
Even though writing is a solitary thing, I don’t write in a void. My writing journey started a loooong time ago and continues because of the encouraging words and advice I receive. My confidence grows in proportion to what I’m willing to share and have critiqued. It’s scary every time, but I come away with feedback that's like fuel -- feeding my greedy need for having something that is purely mine. So I write some more. (I told you I was selfish…)
What do I write? Literary fiction best describes my work-in-progress. I also write for a non-profit agency that serves frail elders and their families. I also journal my life in Alaska, the adventures of raising two sons on the edge of the wilderness, of my husband’s many projects and harebrained ideas. (Thankfully, he’s a man who can do just about anything he puts his mind to.) I write all the time.
My current literary work-in-progress started as a germ of an idea when I was a twelve year old penciling away in spiral-bound notebooks. About fifteen years ago the story grew into a screenplay. Its current re-incarnation as a novel has been the most rewarding, best learning experience I’ve had with fiction writing.
Requiem for a Warrior is the family saga of the three Rivers brothers and the woman they love. As deeply connected as they are - bound together like the tendrils of grape vines that grow in the Rivers’ family vineyard - they are torn apart by events beyond their control and by unforgivable acts of their own doing.
Requiem is Nathan River’s story. He’ll tell you life’s not fair, that it’s a bitch, even. He’ll tell you, without a hint of self-pity, that life was once good and sweet and tender. He would also tell you, if he could speak of it, when life ceased to be all that.
In April of 1967 his mother opened the door to find an awkward young Army lieutenant standing on her doorstep. She had two sons in Southeast Asia: her oldest and her youngest. The Army doesn’t send men to your doorstep for social calls. The Rivers’ ordinary world crashed that evening as she gripped the door frame, looked the young soldier in the eyes and quietly asked, “Which one?”
Requiem is about loss and redemption, about a man caught up in secrets he can’t share from a war he chose to fight. It’s about a love he can’t forget. It’s about having the strength to face the things that make him run and about finding love again.
Look for an excerpt of Requiem soon. I’m still figuring out the finer points of posting work at ATWOP. Meanwhile, I’ll be selfishly grabbing a few moments to call my own, to do what I’m driven to do: write.
Why do I write? I could lie to you, give you lofty reasons, tell you I’m driven to do it, that it’s my gift, my calling, my Reason For Living. Honestly? I write because I’m selfish. It’s all about me.
You see, I’m defined in many ways - daughter, sister, wife, mother, communications consultant, church treasurer, homeschool teacher, dog-fish-lovebird-parakeet keeper… the list could go on, but the point is I’m defined by my relationships. Writing is the only thing I do for me and me alone.
Even though writing is a solitary thing, I don’t write in a void. My writing journey started a loooong time ago and continues because of the encouraging words and advice I receive. My confidence grows in proportion to what I’m willing to share and have critiqued. It’s scary every time, but I come away with feedback that's like fuel -- feeding my greedy need for having something that is purely mine. So I write some more. (I told you I was selfish…)
What do I write? Literary fiction best describes my work-in-progress. I also write for a non-profit agency that serves frail elders and their families. I also journal my life in Alaska, the adventures of raising two sons on the edge of the wilderness, of my husband’s many projects and harebrained ideas. (Thankfully, he’s a man who can do just about anything he puts his mind to.) I write all the time.
My current literary work-in-progress started as a germ of an idea when I was a twelve year old penciling away in spiral-bound notebooks. About fifteen years ago the story grew into a screenplay. Its current re-incarnation as a novel has been the most rewarding, best learning experience I’ve had with fiction writing.
Requiem for a Warrior is the family saga of the three Rivers brothers and the woman they love. As deeply connected as they are - bound together like the tendrils of grape vines that grow in the Rivers’ family vineyard - they are torn apart by events beyond their control and by unforgivable acts of their own doing.
Requiem is Nathan River’s story. He’ll tell you life’s not fair, that it’s a bitch, even. He’ll tell you, without a hint of self-pity, that life was once good and sweet and tender. He would also tell you, if he could speak of it, when life ceased to be all that.
In April of 1967 his mother opened the door to find an awkward young Army lieutenant standing on her doorstep. She had two sons in Southeast Asia: her oldest and her youngest. The Army doesn’t send men to your doorstep for social calls. The Rivers’ ordinary world crashed that evening as she gripped the door frame, looked the young soldier in the eyes and quietly asked, “Which one?”
Requiem is about loss and redemption, about a man caught up in secrets he can’t share from a war he chose to fight. It’s about a love he can’t forget. It’s about having the strength to face the things that make him run and about finding love again.
Look for an excerpt of Requiem soon. I’m still figuring out the finer points of posting work at ATWOP. Meanwhile, I’ll be selfishly grabbing a few moments to call my own, to do what I’m driven to do: write.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Excuse me, this might take a while...
What do I write? Perhaps it shouldn’t, but this is a question, when put to me in casual conversation, that always produces the following effect: “Well it’s a…that is to say, I am writing a… (at this point, I am assuredly blushing)…well, I call it a historical, adventure, romance, paranormal…” And then I trail off awkwardly as the other person nods kindly and plasters a benign smile on their face –the sort reserved for children and mentally challenged people.
Why is it so hard to describe what I write to people? Never mind, I know the answer.
First off, I’m in love with my stories. Introducing them to people is akin to telling your parents that you have a steady man whom you love. You want so much for them to get along. You want your parents to see in him all the lovely qualities you see. And there is a chance that they may not. So you become protective, afraid that you are not doing justice to your man.
Secondly, as a writer, I’d like to say that story comes first, genre classification second. As a writer, I don’t _want_ to be boxed into any one genre, and don’t think my stories should either. An idea comes and I follow it wherever it goes. But as a writer who wants to be published, I know that agents, editors, and -most importantly- publishing houses DO classify novels, so skewing a novel to fit more or less into one specific genre makes my life a whole lot easer on said road to publication. (Feel free to disagree)
As my stories always features (among other things) a couple meeting, getting to know one another, falling in love, having sex (g), I decided to call them romances. But my love of mysteries, thrillers, historicals, and paranormals make it impossible for me to write straight category romances. I’d love to call what I write adventure stories, but there isn’t an adventure genre at present. So romance it is. Romance with a twist. Yeah, that sounds right. Historical, paranormal, romantic suspense… oh never mind!
Now as to my stories specifically, there are two. The first one –my first love- is The Petal Falls (I’ll say here that I have a hard time with titles and always think of this book simply as Molly and John’s story –shrug). Petal is the story of Molly Bishop, a psychic woman who falls in love with a young army lieutenant, John Stanton, only to discover through horrible dreams that he will hang for a crime she unintentionally committed. While Molly tries to deny her growing attraction for John, and keep him at arm’s distance, a deeper threat to their safety arrives in the form of a mysterious ruby necklace left to her by her father. The necklace may or may not be the infamous Philosopher’s Stone –known to give its possessor untold riches and immortality. And someone is willing to kill to get it.
Petal got me an agent last year. It went on submission right in the midst of some of the darkest days/months in publishing. Petal was sitting on more than one editor’s desk when Random House underwent a massive reorganization that had everyone running scared. Poor Petal did not sell. Was the publishing upheaval to blame? Who knows. Petal is admittedly long, epic, and not your normal romance. I’ll never know. But I still have hopes that Petal will someday find a home.
Flash forward to West Club Moon. While on submission with Petal, I decided to keep busy by writing another book. I couldn’t very well write book two of Petal (in case it didn’t sell). I had to try something different. This was a huge challenge for me as I had lived in Molly and John’s world for so long, and loved them dearly. I felt a bit like a traitor. I sat for a good while in front of a blaring white screen. Then from somewhere beyond my fog, my five-year-old daughter called out for me to put in a movie: Beauty and the Beast. And while it played, another story stared to fill my head, of Victorian London, streets shrouded in fog, gleaming cobbles, and of a man, cursed (by what I had no idea) and angry because a shady merchant had stolen his ship, a ship which carried most precious cargo –the key to ending the curse. Only the ship had sunk, and now the merchant would pay, pay in the form of his beautiful daughter. Within an hour, I had 80 per cent of the story in my head. Five and a half months later, I’d finished the first draft. I love this story. I had great fun in writing it. But I will say now that having learned a bit with trying to sell Petal, I intentionally kept in mind that I was writing a romance first, and an adventure second.
When it came time to sell WCM, I decided to switch gears and let my former agent go. It was a terrifying thing to do (what if I couldn’t get another agent?), but a partnership with an agent is one of the most important business relationships a writer will have. And a perfect fit might not happen the first time out; I wanted a perfect fit. I started querying at the end of August, and am pleased to say that on October 8th, I signed with the spectacularly wonderful, and utterly charming, Kristin Nelson. I couldn’t be happier.
Kristin and I will be working of combing through WCM and tightening it up. Then we shall see. I, for one, will be crossing fingers and toes because I love this book, and would love to share it with all of you.
So that’s it. That is what I write. Told in a long, drawn out, confused tale. Right on par with my normal behavior. I only hope that you will forgive my rambling. And tell me…is it hard for you to talk about your babies too?
Why is it so hard to describe what I write to people? Never mind, I know the answer.
First off, I’m in love with my stories. Introducing them to people is akin to telling your parents that you have a steady man whom you love. You want so much for them to get along. You want your parents to see in him all the lovely qualities you see. And there is a chance that they may not. So you become protective, afraid that you are not doing justice to your man.
Secondly, as a writer, I’d like to say that story comes first, genre classification second. As a writer, I don’t _want_ to be boxed into any one genre, and don’t think my stories should either. An idea comes and I follow it wherever it goes. But as a writer who wants to be published, I know that agents, editors, and -most importantly- publishing houses DO classify novels, so skewing a novel to fit more or less into one specific genre makes my life a whole lot easer on said road to publication. (Feel free to disagree)
As my stories always features (among other things) a couple meeting, getting to know one another, falling in love, having sex (g), I decided to call them romances. But my love of mysteries, thrillers, historicals, and paranormals make it impossible for me to write straight category romances. I’d love to call what I write adventure stories, but there isn’t an adventure genre at present. So romance it is. Romance with a twist. Yeah, that sounds right. Historical, paranormal, romantic suspense… oh never mind!
Now as to my stories specifically, there are two. The first one –my first love- is The Petal Falls (I’ll say here that I have a hard time with titles and always think of this book simply as Molly and John’s story –shrug). Petal is the story of Molly Bishop, a psychic woman who falls in love with a young army lieutenant, John Stanton, only to discover through horrible dreams that he will hang for a crime she unintentionally committed. While Molly tries to deny her growing attraction for John, and keep him at arm’s distance, a deeper threat to their safety arrives in the form of a mysterious ruby necklace left to her by her father. The necklace may or may not be the infamous Philosopher’s Stone –known to give its possessor untold riches and immortality. And someone is willing to kill to get it.
Petal got me an agent last year. It went on submission right in the midst of some of the darkest days/months in publishing. Petal was sitting on more than one editor’s desk when Random House underwent a massive reorganization that had everyone running scared. Poor Petal did not sell. Was the publishing upheaval to blame? Who knows. Petal is admittedly long, epic, and not your normal romance. I’ll never know. But I still have hopes that Petal will someday find a home.
Flash forward to West Club Moon. While on submission with Petal, I decided to keep busy by writing another book. I couldn’t very well write book two of Petal (in case it didn’t sell). I had to try something different. This was a huge challenge for me as I had lived in Molly and John’s world for so long, and loved them dearly. I felt a bit like a traitor. I sat for a good while in front of a blaring white screen. Then from somewhere beyond my fog, my five-year-old daughter called out for me to put in a movie: Beauty and the Beast. And while it played, another story stared to fill my head, of Victorian London, streets shrouded in fog, gleaming cobbles, and of a man, cursed (by what I had no idea) and angry because a shady merchant had stolen his ship, a ship which carried most precious cargo –the key to ending the curse. Only the ship had sunk, and now the merchant would pay, pay in the form of his beautiful daughter. Within an hour, I had 80 per cent of the story in my head. Five and a half months later, I’d finished the first draft. I love this story. I had great fun in writing it. But I will say now that having learned a bit with trying to sell Petal, I intentionally kept in mind that I was writing a romance first, and an adventure second.
When it came time to sell WCM, I decided to switch gears and let my former agent go. It was a terrifying thing to do (what if I couldn’t get another agent?), but a partnership with an agent is one of the most important business relationships a writer will have. And a perfect fit might not happen the first time out; I wanted a perfect fit. I started querying at the end of August, and am pleased to say that on October 8th, I signed with the spectacularly wonderful, and utterly charming, Kristin Nelson. I couldn’t be happier.
Kristin and I will be working of combing through WCM and tightening it up. Then we shall see. I, for one, will be crossing fingers and toes because I love this book, and would love to share it with all of you.
So that’s it. That is what I write. Told in a long, drawn out, confused tale. Right on par with my normal behavior. I only hope that you will forgive my rambling. And tell me…is it hard for you to talk about your babies too?
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