Proof of My Lack of Personality

This morning we packed up the Christmas tree and all of our decorations. It always makes me a little depressed that Christmas is officially over, but I also love it because (okay, you're going to question my sanity now) I like packing boxes. I don't really like the work part of it, but I love rearranging shapes to see just how much stuff I can get into a box.

I'm good at it too. Once, before all the weight restrictions and everything, I flew home from London with a suitcase stuffed with 48 kg of stuff (that's about 105 lbs). The lady checking me in was surprised I could lift it. And, yes, there were some funny incidents as I dragged it through London of very nice men offering to help me up stairs with it. They usually dropped it and ran as soon as they possibly could. They had no idea what they were getting into.

I also am the one to pack the trunk whenever we go on vacation because I can always get more stuff in it than my husband can. (It drives him nuts.) So, if you're my neighbor and wondering why he's not the one out there, it's because I love doing it. And every summer on our annual shopping trip family vacation to Park City, I always look at the pile of stuff and think, "There's no way this will fit back into the car." And every year, it all fits. Also, there is a certain satisfaction in proving people wrong when they look at what I just bought and the size of my car and tell me it will never fit. Yes, definitely satisfying.

Yeah, I'm weird. I know.

So, what's the point of all this? There's no point, really. It's just that I've been thinking about character a lot lately. I'm writing a contemporary novel of sorts and I realized as I outlined it (Yes, I outlined. And, yes, you can be shocked about that.) that the main character is going to have to carry the novel. And I'm intimidated.

I thought about myself, since--supposedly--I know myself fairly well and I looked at what made me me. Now I can make a list of characteristics (impatient, know-it-all, dependable, too fond of chocolate), but I realized that they weren't all true all of the time (except maybe the chocolate). Yes, I'm impatient, but sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I'm dependable, and sometimes I'm not. Which left me with no personality at all.

So then I looked at weird quirks that might make me more interesting--or at least different from others--like I have to have my socks adjusted perfectly and that whole packing thing.

But lots of quirks do not a personality make--they just make it seem like the writer is trying too hard.

And that left me, completely personality-less, and wondering how I could possibly create a believable character when I'm not even sure I'm believable! (At least I know I exist, thanks to Descartes.)

Anyway, I've heard that with dialogue, writers should mimic reality. It seems to me that we have to create characters the same way. Most real people are inconsistent and wishy-washy and all that, but not all the time and not about what is important to them. The important thing with characters is to make the reader understand the why of what the character does. We need to know why that character--with their traits and quirks--would do what they do.

And, yes, I do think some quirks are important. Everyone has something different that they are passionate about and everyone has little things that irritate them. And everyone has that one book that they got for Christmas and found themselves stroking and thinking, "It's mine. My own. My preciousss."

Okay, maybe the last one is just me.

Anyway, what do you think is the most important consideration when creating a character? What's the best bit of advice you've received about creating a character?

Have a wonderful day and a very happy New Year!

Last week, a friend received a rather confusing message from an agent. One that required much discussion about, "What does this mean?" Every minute angle and possibility we could think of was discussed.

After a while, she said, "Gah! This is worse than dating!"

The conversation was a lot like discussing what guys could possibly have meant by the things they said and did.

I've heard the analogy before that finding the right agent is like dating. But I've gotta say, I'm glad they differ in some ways. Can you imagine what dating would be like if every relationship ended with a form rejection?

(I have to add that I sincerely appreciate form rejections for the closure that they give and I'm grateful for the extra effort agents take to send them. I just don't think they'd be, uh, an appropriate way to end a relationship.)


Dear Potential Spouse Candidate,

I regret to inform you that your voice and ideas do not appeal to me. Keep in mind that someone else might feel differently. I wish you the best of luck in your continued search.

Sincerely,
Moving On




Dear Potential Spouse Candidate,

I'm sorry, but your particular qualities do not meet my current needs. Best of luck looking elsewhere.

Sincerely, 
Moving On



Dear Potential Spouse Candidate,

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to consider you, but I'm afraid that you are not the best fit for me at the moment. 


Sincerely,
Moving On


So, yeah, here's to form rejections . . . and to the fact that they have an appropriate time and place. 

Handsome is as Sparkly Does

Last summer, my sister gave me her Burger King toy. It was this ring:

Open it up, and inside is Edward in all his sparkly goodness. 

She gave it to me to make me laugh, knowing that I'm firmly Team Jacob. Edward vs. Jacob is not even a debatable subject.

Anyway, since it was a gift and I love my sister, I have, of course, cherished this ring. (And by "cherished" I mean that I didn't throw it away, but instead set it on my shelf to gather dust.)

My five year old daughter found it yesterday and informed me there was a guy inside.

Me: Oh, is he handsome?

Her (giggling): Yes!

Me: Why?

Her: Because he sparkles!!

My husband (sinking lower in his chair):     . . .

The Hopelessness of Napping (at least today)

My arm hurts. That's not the point of this post (assuming that I ever have a point), but it was rather the impetus. Anyway, I think I slept on my arm wrong and, since my husband was home, I took advantage of the opportunity to rest in bed with a heating pad.

As you might imagine, heating pad + bed + right after lunch = very, very sleepy.

I kept drifting off, but two of the kids were running around like banshees. Which did not equal happy sleep for me. So I got up to ask them to play more quietly. I'm not sure I got that far before I just had to know why there was marker all over their faces and necks.

And people say that it's when kids are quiet that you should worry! But at least they were washable markers and came right off.

The worst part about it? I didn't get to take pictures. I wanted to--I really wanted to--but if I did, I would have started laughing and they would have decided that they were being funny instead of being naughty and then there would have been no end to the markers. Grr.

After washing them off, I tried to go back to bed. And, of course, the phone rang. Sigh. So now I'm finally coming to the conclusion that napping is completely hopeless.

Sometimes in writing, I think there's a point where you have to know when to quit. Not when to quit writing, but when to quit revising and to give it a break. There's a point--at least for me--when I've worked at it so long that I can't see the problems and trying to revise it is as frustrating as trying to sleep with marker-covered banshees howling at the door.

I think I'm at that point right now. So I'm going to give it a month or so before coming back to it with fresh (and hopefully not so sleepy) eyes.

What about you? What do you do when you get really frustrated with a manuscript? How do you cope? 

The Essence of Romance

I came across this video earlier this week and thought it was a nice way to start out the week. Or end it. Or anytime in between.









I realized after watching it that, not only have I seen most of those movies, but I own more than half of them. Which got me thinking about why I like BBC period pieces so much.

Okay, part of it is the costumes. I love the clothing (although I prefer Georgian and Victorian to Regency, if you really want to know). I have also been known to buy books solely because the girl on the cover was wearing a pretty dress.

But I think an even bigger draw for me is the romance.

Oscar Wilde once said that "The essence of romance is uncertainty." Of course, I know going into Pride and Prejudice that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are going to get together in the end. But they don't know that. I love the little things that keep them guessing. The looks across the room, the zings as he helps her into the carriage. Those little things--that uncertainty--is a big draw for me.

Unfortunately, that's a hard thing to do when writing. Personally, I think you can only pull off that kind of uncertainty when you're really close to your character. 

It also helps if you have handsome men running around in costumes.

But what about you? What kind of movies do you like and what draws you to them? (And, yes, I do like other movies, these just happen to be on my mind this week.)

The Poetry of Queries

I think I'll write a query in verse
Because it can't sound any worse
And now with that, here I go
Here's hoping that it all will flow.


Dear Agent, won't you read my novel?
Would it help if I got down to grovel?
Let me tell you about it here
And hope a request will soon appear
For my fairy-tale retold
About a young king with a heart of gold.

In a distant future time
Lives a princess who likes to climb
Dancing, though, she hates to do
Because it made her feel like poo.

(Hmm. Maybe I should work on that particular rhyme.)

She's trapped up in her father's ship
But it's nothing like a vacation trip
Because someone built the engines wrong
So she must dance the whole night long.
And this prince straight from her dreams
Might not be all that he seems
The sight of his awful, scaly tail
Makes her tender heart quite fail.

She escapes, but then those cursed fates
Stick her with a man she hates
When she becomes a pauper's wife
With a future full of poverty and strife
Then pirates capture them as loot
And make her clean the garbage chute.
Her demon prince appears once more
And drags her onto the dance floor.

Will she find her Happily Ever After
Or be stuck dancing with a monster?
To find out what her fate will be
I'm afraid you'll have to go and ask me.

How I Feel About My Query Letter Attempts

Yesterday was one of Those Days. You know the type. The ones full of things like cleaning the floors for a house showing only to have the kids prove again the old adage that "A clean floor is an accident waiting to happen." Actually, that might not be an old adage, but it should be. We've had proof of that in our house over and over and over again.

But today is a new day. And I'm trying to work on my query again. I'm not very good at writing queries, but I take comfort in the fact that they're at least getting better. They are no longer so bad that, as my husband put it, revising them is like trying to operate on someone without any bones--it's impossible to know where to even start. So, yea for being past that point!

Anyway, I drew a self-portrait of me working on my query (and no, I don't have a scanner, so I'm stuck with taking pictures of my brilliance):

Yes, this 100% accurate of how I look. You can even ask my kids. And now I'm going to go gather up all the chocolate in the house to give me courage and comfort as I make yet another attempt.

Eek!