A lot of what I write comes from life. Now, don't worry, our personal conversations and your trials and tribulations aren't going to show up suddenly in my next novel. I always ask permission before I use specifics. My friends will now automatically say things like, "And you can use that in your book" or "Okay, I've got something for your next book". So many of the best novels are those that present people as they are, in all of their hilarious, loveable, and broken ways. Don't get me wrong, I've loved many a story with a talking sheep or an android with a heart of gold, but often the ones that really get to me are those that dig at the complexities of the human person.
Books like Sweet Divinity are so obviously inspired by who I am and what I've experienced. Like Amanda Jane, I grew up on a farm and then left home and now live in a bigger city (or at least the suburbs). I, too, find it difficult to reconcile the parts of me that were formed in the country with the rest of me that loves the diversity of experience in a larger hometown. The opening scene of the novel comes from a completely true event that one of my friends experienced in her childhood. While the details are mine, the hilarious circumstance is all hers. And although I'm not a baker like Amanda Jane, I do love a yummy baked good. If you follow me on Instagram, then you already know that I have no resistance when it comes to donuts. Especially the fluffy yeasty ones with that chocolate icing that's slightly firm on top and messy once you skim the surface. I think I sense a metaphor here...
Reliance, my literary fiction manuscript, was of course inspired by photographs I purchased at the country fair last year, an experience I've written about on this blog. However, much of the plot of the novel comes from my life. Several years ago I had a relative who was succumbing to cancer. He had been instrumental in my life, positively, but also negatively, and I struggled with his deterioration and decline. During the period of his struggle, I learned that he had a second, secret family, and this news shook me to the very foundation of who I am. I questioned everything I had experienced in childhood. I questioned everything I knew about him. I questioned the validity of all of my relationships. It was grueling. I tried to write during that time and I could not. It frustrated me, because I believed that if I could purge myself of the pain by transferring it to the page, then I would be okay. Of course, this is not what would have happened, but it couldn't anyway because I simply could not write. I couldn't write a poem, a paragraph, a sentence. It was as if all of my emotional stores were used up. I had nothing to give. And so I lived through that experience (with the help of an amazing counselor), but it remained unwritten. My husband actually collected various "artifacts" from that time and boxed them up, as he put it, "for when it's time to write the novel". The time finally came, and that novel is Reliance.
I'm now beginning work on the sequel to Sweet Divinity. I had a vague idea of where I wanted Amanda Jane's story to go when I wrapped up her first novel. There were several main plot points that I was certain of, but I was still waiting for her to tell me how she would develop as a person. I love sharing her journey, and I want to make sure that I do it justice, that I allow her the emotional development she deserves. And so, for good or for ill, life always provides. This summer has been spectacular so far, but one thing I know for sure is that there will always be another challenge, and that challenge has hit me this week. I'm grateful that, as a writer, I can face my challenges as opportunities, and I can write my way through them. I'm grateful that this time I don't have the emotional block I experienced in the past. This time, I know that I, and Amanda Jane, are ready to live through it. And thus the blinking cursor becomes a manuscript.
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Natural Beauty, History, and Donuts...A Recipe for Inspiration
I would be remiss if I did not begin by describing the scene in front of me. I'm sitting at a high top table, perched in my cushioned seat, legs criss-cross-applesauce, gazing out the open sliding glass door at the ocean.
It's a beautiful day. The beach is clear save for a few rainbow colored umbrellas and the occasional shovel-bearing child running through my line of sight. The ocean is rolling along with the occasional whitecap, and I can see where the shades of it transition from light brown, to deep blue, to a greenish blue. And there's one of my favorite creatures, the pelican, diving in search of lunch.
I am so grateful for this beauty, though I'm pretty sure I'm a horrible travel companion. It's the fourth day of our vacation, and I'm midway through my fourth book. I sit and read A LOT at the beach. Sure, I'll go for a walk at the ocean's edge, play "Oh Dear Lord Almighty, Look at the Beach!" with my daughter (a game where we swim out to where the waves first break and then scream those important words at the pivotal moment so we know to turn and avoid being smacked in the face with saltwater), and dig in the sand with my toddler, but more than likely, I'm reading. Reading on the beach, reading on the balcony, reading on the couch, reading in bed. It's like a Readers Retreat. And I love it.
I've also been working on Reliance while here. I was so excited yesterday morning when suddenly one of the narrative voices started talking to me and I got up early, before the rest of the family, so I could record what she said. And just this morning, she filled in some gaps for me. Her story was tragic, unexpected, but it explains so much about how her brother turned out to be the morally ambivalent man he was.
As a writer, you have to trust the voices in your head. But in order to do that, you must be able to listen to them. Life is so busy. When I'm home, even in the summer, when my work schedule is flexible, I'm going-going-going. I have to create moments of quiet so that I can hear more clearly. Sometimes it's when I'm reading, when I've escaped my life so completely that another can find space inside my mind. Sometimes it's when I'm falling asleep and I've surrendered the day. Often it's first thing in the morning, before the day's expectations usurp all of my mindspace.
For me, there aren't many places as conducive to opening my mind as the beach. Maybe it's the sound of the surf, the comfort food (see my recent Instagram posts of donuts...and more donuts), or the fact that I'm able to leave so many of the expectations of my everyday life behind. Maybe it's being in a city with hundreds of years of history, so many stories it could tell. Maybe it's a little bit of each. What I do know is that the novel is flowing, and I can feel it in every bit of me.
It's a beautiful day. The beach is clear save for a few rainbow colored umbrellas and the occasional shovel-bearing child running through my line of sight. The ocean is rolling along with the occasional whitecap, and I can see where the shades of it transition from light brown, to deep blue, to a greenish blue. And there's one of my favorite creatures, the pelican, diving in search of lunch.
I am so grateful for this beauty, though I'm pretty sure I'm a horrible travel companion. It's the fourth day of our vacation, and I'm midway through my fourth book. I sit and read A LOT at the beach. Sure, I'll go for a walk at the ocean's edge, play "Oh Dear Lord Almighty, Look at the Beach!" with my daughter (a game where we swim out to where the waves first break and then scream those important words at the pivotal moment so we know to turn and avoid being smacked in the face with saltwater), and dig in the sand with my toddler, but more than likely, I'm reading. Reading on the beach, reading on the balcony, reading on the couch, reading in bed. It's like a Readers Retreat. And I love it.
I've also been working on Reliance while here. I was so excited yesterday morning when suddenly one of the narrative voices started talking to me and I got up early, before the rest of the family, so I could record what she said. And just this morning, she filled in some gaps for me. Her story was tragic, unexpected, but it explains so much about how her brother turned out to be the morally ambivalent man he was.
As a writer, you have to trust the voices in your head. But in order to do that, you must be able to listen to them. Life is so busy. When I'm home, even in the summer, when my work schedule is flexible, I'm going-going-going. I have to create moments of quiet so that I can hear more clearly. Sometimes it's when I'm reading, when I've escaped my life so completely that another can find space inside my mind. Sometimes it's when I'm falling asleep and I've surrendered the day. Often it's first thing in the morning, before the day's expectations usurp all of my mindspace.
For me, there aren't many places as conducive to opening my mind as the beach. Maybe it's the sound of the surf, the comfort food (see my recent Instagram posts of donuts...and more donuts), or the fact that I'm able to leave so many of the expectations of my everyday life behind. Maybe it's being in a city with hundreds of years of history, so many stories it could tell. Maybe it's a little bit of each. What I do know is that the novel is flowing, and I can feel it in every bit of me.
Saturday, June 2, 2018
It's All in the Timing
The querying process is many things: exciting, distressing, exhilarating, dejecting, affirming. But what I find most intriguing about it is that it's all in the timing.
There are a few big no-nos in querying, and one of them is to not query the same agent with the same project once she's passed. You might be reading this blog, thinking to yourself, "Well, obviously, Megan!" I know, I know. But sometimes mistakes happen, and sometimes, they're illuminating mistakes.
Years ago, when I first queried Sweet Divinity in its initial iteration, I queried an agent from the South who I thought would like my super-southern premise. I sent her my query letter as part of a slew of queries. As a teacher, I spend my summers full-on pursuing my writing career; heaven knows that during the school year there's hardly time to do laundry, let alone establish a new career! Needless to say, the agent passed, and so I moved her rejection email to the proper folder in my inbox, and I moved on.
Fast forward several years and a baby. I had reworked parts of Sweet Divinity, but the general premise remained the same. I added a few scenes for character development and for humor, and once again I sat down to send out my queries.
This time I had my priceless, pink planner, and I systematically noted every agent I queried, along with their agency and the date I sent my materials. This was during the "summer of pneumonia" I've written about on this blog. A very literary summer indeed.
As I submitted one particular query and then recorded the information in my planner, I suddenly realized that this name was familiar.
I yanked open my laptop and, in quite a panicked sweat, pulled up my email, opened the "Rejections" folder, and did a quick search.
And there it was...I had queried the same agent. A duplicate query.
I threw myself across the table, chastising myself for not being more systematic and organized the first time around.
And if you know me, then you know that this is typical. I'm an extremely organized, yet cluttered, person. My natural state is to exist in a room surrounded by trinkets, my mind jumping from one project to the next, forgetting to do simple things like, I don't know, actually go to the appointment I scheduled.
And so I am a systematic planner. I keep the family calendar, with all of our appointments listed in precise time increments; I have a second giant calendar on my desk to provide a monthly view; and I have to-do lists on post-its on my computer screen and on my desk.
I am naturally cluttered, and so I over-organize in anticipation of my distraction and "Squirrel!" moments.
And it drives me nuts when I fail.
As I saw the agent's rejection email staring at me from the screen, I chastised myself and prayed that the rejection would come quickly and without an acknowledgement of what I had done.
And what do you know?
Same manuscript, same query letter, same author bio, same first ten pages.
She asked to see more.
I'm learning more and more about writing, publishing, and myself as I mosey along in my journey towards publication. One of the unexpected lessons I've learned is that sometimes it's all in the timing. I won't be duplicate-querying other agents, not by any means, but I will remember that a rejection isn't an outright rejection of me, my abilities, or my work. In fact, sometimes, and maybe often, it's simply not my time. So I will keep working until it is.
There are a few big no-nos in querying, and one of them is to not query the same agent with the same project once she's passed. You might be reading this blog, thinking to yourself, "Well, obviously, Megan!" I know, I know. But sometimes mistakes happen, and sometimes, they're illuminating mistakes.
Years ago, when I first queried Sweet Divinity in its initial iteration, I queried an agent from the South who I thought would like my super-southern premise. I sent her my query letter as part of a slew of queries. As a teacher, I spend my summers full-on pursuing my writing career; heaven knows that during the school year there's hardly time to do laundry, let alone establish a new career! Needless to say, the agent passed, and so I moved her rejection email to the proper folder in my inbox, and I moved on.
Fast forward several years and a baby. I had reworked parts of Sweet Divinity, but the general premise remained the same. I added a few scenes for character development and for humor, and once again I sat down to send out my queries.
This time I had my priceless, pink planner, and I systematically noted every agent I queried, along with their agency and the date I sent my materials. This was during the "summer of pneumonia" I've written about on this blog. A very literary summer indeed.
As I submitted one particular query and then recorded the information in my planner, I suddenly realized that this name was familiar.
I yanked open my laptop and, in quite a panicked sweat, pulled up my email, opened the "Rejections" folder, and did a quick search.
And there it was...I had queried the same agent. A duplicate query.
I threw myself across the table, chastising myself for not being more systematic and organized the first time around.
And if you know me, then you know that this is typical. I'm an extremely organized, yet cluttered, person. My natural state is to exist in a room surrounded by trinkets, my mind jumping from one project to the next, forgetting to do simple things like, I don't know, actually go to the appointment I scheduled.
And so I am a systematic planner. I keep the family calendar, with all of our appointments listed in precise time increments; I have a second giant calendar on my desk to provide a monthly view; and I have to-do lists on post-its on my computer screen and on my desk.
I am naturally cluttered, and so I over-organize in anticipation of my distraction and "Squirrel!" moments.
And it drives me nuts when I fail.
As I saw the agent's rejection email staring at me from the screen, I chastised myself and prayed that the rejection would come quickly and without an acknowledgement of what I had done.
And what do you know?
Same manuscript, same query letter, same author bio, same first ten pages.
She asked to see more.
I'm learning more and more about writing, publishing, and myself as I mosey along in my journey towards publication. One of the unexpected lessons I've learned is that sometimes it's all in the timing. I won't be duplicate-querying other agents, not by any means, but I will remember that a rejection isn't an outright rejection of me, my abilities, or my work. In fact, sometimes, and maybe often, it's simply not my time. So I will keep working until it is.
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