I decided to review We’re Family…Right? ten months after shelving it, thanks to that full request I received during my break. Dare I say…I was appalled…by the word structuring, word choices, hell…the writing as a whole.
I can’t believe that a year ago, I believed that I submitted “a work of art”. Boy…reality can be so cruel.
Today, I learned the real meaning of “You’re not a true writer until you’ve written several books…that you’ve filed away to never see the light of a publishing house.” Ok, that may not have been the exact quote, but its many variations can be read across the web. And you know what? It’s true. “Why” you ask? Because simply put – the more you write, the more you learn, the more you grow and a better writer you become. That was one reason WFR wasn’t great (IMHO, of course), but it’s also because I realized that writing in a certain style doesn’t suit me. It was the second novel I’ve written in first person. :: face palm :: I thought it was the only style for me that allowed me to project more emotion into my writing. Oh, how wrong was I. Like Yesterday is in third person, and I can [prematurely] say that it was the best decision I’ve ever made. I am not only able to share the feelings of one character but several. It gives my MS an added dimension that my first two MSS lacked. I have more freedom with sentence structure as the narrator takes on a different persona than the characters without restriction.
So, what do I do w/ WFR? I’ve always had the intention of converting it into a family saga, but rewriting it? I don’t know if I even have the slightest of care. I do want to produce a family saga, but I’m not sure if that family is the way to go. We shall see. Like Yesterday is my #1 priority right now. Perhaps if this “work of art” (lol) lands me an agent and, subsequently, a publishing deal, then I’ll make that call.
Wow, that was one hell of a break! I didn’t expect to take so much time off, but apparently, my life knew otherwise. In case you haven’t noticed (ahem…*whispers* look at the WIP meter), my fingers and creative mind have been busy. I can’t believe that I’m over halfway to meeting my 80k goal. :: cues music :: It started off with me just slipping to the side to get a week worth of writing done, but then…I couldn’t stop. It’s still going strong, and I’ve grown even more excited about this project. So, hopefully you guys haven’t deserted me. Eh…it was the holidays, so I’m sure you all have been swamped as well.
While on break, I received a full request…for We’re Family…Right?…to a query sent…almost A YEAR AGO! I was so taken aback that I didn’t know if I should send the MS immediately, do some editing and then send it, or reject her request since that project has been shelved for a while (and good riddance since I’ve learned SOOO much from writing Like Yesterday that WFR needs some major edits). I understand that agents are busy people, like the elves at North Pole on Christmas Eve type busy, but a year later seemed so bizarre. However, she did request and thanked me for being patient. She could be insanely slow at checking her email, lost internet connection for the year, been consumed in the careers of her current clients, or my query could’ve been filed in the “maybe” pile until she had time to reconsider. Who knows, but I still appreciated the request, especially since she’s an agent known to sell my type of book to large publishers.
This literary industry is so unpredictable but often times offers the best surprises. Albeit a year later, that email was just the pick-me-up I needed. Merry Christmas to me! 🙂
Something has been plaguing me, ever since I began my MS months ago. Why must selecting an accurate (or as close to accurate as one can get) genre for my MS be so damn difficult?! In general, I am what you would call a contemporary fiction writer. My works often consist of mortal humans with real-life issues in real time with romantic elements. But for this MS, my writing decided not to follow the path given, taking an alternate route. In Like Yesterday, there are real people with real issues, but there’s also a time-travel component (sci-fi) and heavy romance; the MS, as a whole, is neither genre. I would lean more towards Romance, but that genre has specific rules and guidelines that my MS just doesn’t meet. Science Fiction? Not even close. I just got tired of trying to narrow down a specific genre. So…I decided…Commercial Fiction is what it will be since Like Yesterday may appeal to readers across other genres. At this point, I could call it Bullshit Fiction and be happy.
What do you do when hitting that genre road block while writing? What if your MS won’t fit neatly into just one genre? Choose one or create your own?
This is going to be the last teaser from my current MS…just for a little while. I don’t want to give away too much but I still wanted you all to have enough to get a feel for the MS’s tone. Once I get near completion, I’ll have more to share. But until then…enjoy this semi-final piece and get ready for the new and old in weeks to come.
The aide watched Vincent research like a mad man; her eyes pierced through the book shelf, curious about his studies and weirdo-ism. Photos of lab equipment and infinite text appeared on pages as each leaf extended from the spine and smashed against the inner cover of the book by Vincent’s sweaty palm. His frustration grew with each reminder that his e-reader and pocket touchscreen notetaker weren’t yet invented. After spending six hours exploring each science book regarding the space-time continuum and quantum physics, Vincent surrendered to the demon of exhaustion. His wrists stiffened and his eyes could bear no more weight. He slammed the final book shut and collected his illegible notes written with a pencil and on a notepad left unclaimed on the table when he first arrived.
“Oh, I’ll put those books away for you,” said the aide, leaping from her post. “You look tired. Go home.”
Vincent could only nod at the generous young girl. Her slanted eyes melted with sorrow as she could not offer an obviously troubled Vincent the answers he sought. As he dragged away from the study table, the aide leaned over to gather the books for restocking when the last book collected seized her attention—How to Build a Time Machine by Paul Davies. The aide inspected her surroundings. Noticing Vincent stepping into the elevator and no one else nearby, she stuffed the book into the back of her pants and covered it with her oversized sweatshirt. She reshuffled the remaining books on the table into a single stack and hauled them away to their original homes on the shelves.
Here’s something off the top of my head that sets up a scene from my latest MS:
Salt escaped from the aphotic ocean, only to be trapped by wind as it whistled songs of roar heard by merely two. Their skin merged as one and remained undisturbed by airs and crashing waters against their bare feet. They orchestrated music of their own in the sound of moaning whispers, producing tears of relief.
As usual, it is just a tease 😉 and brand spanking new just for you. I’ll fatten it up only to trim it later to add to my MS. This.should.be.interesting.
Are you ready for a bit more teasing?;) These portions are from “Like Yesterday”, my latest MS. Here, we have the good doctor and Mrs. Siler meeting each other for the first time.
The doctor waited in his chair for her to speak of her intentions. He watched as she took sluggish sips of her coffee, twirling her straight shoulder-length hair with a russet hue in between sips. He didn’t say a word; he merely admired her beauty hidden underneath frumpy threads. His eyes steadied at her quivering hands as she held her mug. On the backside of her left wrist, he detected an Aries zodiac tattoo, appearing faded as if she had it for years. Her brown skin further commanded his attention. Its texture mimicked bronze satin upon the body of a goddess illumined beneath a supermoon sky.
Noticing the doctor gawking at her, Mrs. Siler cleared her throat and said, “My apologies. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
He stood hardened against the floor as he fixated on the woman who bolted from his presence. Her name was as vague as one floating around on a Sunday mailer, and her daughter bore no identity. The mysteriousness of her visit weighed on his mind but was conquered by the remnants of her scent. She smelled of wilted blossoms dipped in honeyed nectar—another thing he recognized but not from his darling Meredith.
Next week, I’ll type something brand new, just off the top of my big ass head. It may relate to “Like Yesterday” or…it may not. 😉 Stay tuned.