I’ve just finished reading all of Sherry Thomas’s books.  I’d started from her most recent and worked backwards (because all backasswards is how I roll) so I just finished PRIVATE ARRANGEMENTS last night.

Blown away.

I’ve lamented of late (privately, but it still counts if it’s in my head, right?) that there’s not a lot of romance in my most recent romances.  I don’t know why that is.  Maybe writers are feeling pressure to be prolific.  I think getting really deep into emotions and character requires time and maybe they aren’t getting the time they need to go deep.  I don’t know.  But I do know that Sherry Thomas does not suffer from this problem.

She’s won the RITA the last two years in Historical Romance and I can see why.  Her stories are full of angst and emotion.  They’re about imperfect people who learn to accept each other’s flaws and their mistakes and move forward.

They are brilliant.

It might be a fault of mine but as I glommed up these gorgeous stories, completely involved in her characters and dragged under by her storytelling, all I could think was, “I’m NEVER going to be able to write something this good.”

I swear it was easier before I started writing seriously.  Back in those days I felt free to just enjoy a story.  Now, every story I enjoy is followed by re-evaluation of self-worth.  As in, “This writer is amazing, I will never compare” or some variation. It’s like I can’t enjoy something without making it into a personal assault on my writing skills.

Please say I’m not the only one.

And, the better the book I read, the worse my recriminations are.  Let’s just say, after reading Sherry Thomas’s books, I was feeling low and dejected.  (Yes, she’s just that awesome.  Go forth and read her stuff if you haven’t yet.)

In the past, I’ve recited all the platitudes to sooth my battered ego.  You can’t compare yourself to anyone else.  You’re you, they’re them, your voice doesn’t sound like them.  Just because they exist in the world—this amazing storyteller—does not mean that you cannot exist here too as an amazing storyteller.

This time, as I was reading everything I could about Sherry Thomas and how she got so darn good, I stumbled across an interview with her at Once Upon a Chapter’s blog.  And in this interview, she said something as if she knew I was reading.  When asked what advice she would give to aspiring writers, she said: “Read books that are so good that it makes you despair. And then get up the next day determined to be just as good, if not better. Rinse and repeat. ”

Wow.  I nearly waved, I was so sure she could see me reading.

This is the answer.  Reading amazing books, books that make us feel sick they’re so good, gives us that benchmark and an example.  This (insert amazing book here) is an example of how great it can be.  Because we want readers to feel that way about our stuff, don’t we?

So what writers intimidate you?  What books have you held up as examples, as books you use to inspire you?

I don’t do resolutions.

As Mark Twain said:  “New Years Eve.  Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.”

It’s not that I’m indifferent.  I have goals.  I have character traits that require ongoing commitment to achieve betterment.  It just seems that resolutions set up a negative relationship with my goals.

Too often these goals are set and then recited ad nauseum to all who will listen.  “I’m going to commit to a healthy lifestyle!” and “I’m going to stop *insert irritating habit here*.”  Even “This will be the year I finish my MS/get an agent/a contract.”  The public shame is supposed to act as a motivator.  If everyone’s watching, you’ll be embarrassed if you fail.

This works for lots of people, I think.  If so, by all means.  Throw your dreams into the figurative city square and let others scrutinize.  Do whatever motivates you.  But I bet there are some out there like me.  Shame isn’t my motivator.  In fact, it freezes me up.

I’m not immune to the New Year.  It’s a huge beginning.  The calendar is how we all mark time.  It’s our basis for its passage, our way of keeping track of events.  Every year I look at what’s come before and I think about what could come.  But I don’t set my goals up on some finite schedule (“I will lose X amount of weight by” or “I will tackle said monumental list of horrible DIY projects”) and give myself a deadline to feel shame if they aren’t accomplished.  Because the world doesn’t favor timelines, in my experience.  The universe has its own timeframe to accomplish tasks and I’ve found the universe (or whatever greater power you favor) knows what it’s doing better than I do.

Instead, I revisit my dreams.  They aren’t usually new dreams.  In fact, I’m pathetically predictable.  I SHOULD eat healthier.  I SHOULD try to be the best mom/wife/relative/friend/writer I can be.  I WANT to get an agent/contract.  But I don’t need a finite calendar; I need a positive attitude.  I need excitement to hack away at these goals with renewed vigor.

After all, it’s a new beginning.  I get another year (thank you, greater power) to try to be the best I can be.  What a gift this life is.

How are you approaching the New Year?  Are you a resolutions, need-a-deadline sort?  If so, have you made resolutions and how’s it going? Or are you more like me, with a need to reaffirm a positive attitude?  Anyone feel like sharing their year goals (either met last year or set this year)?

Wishing you all everything you need this year.

XOXO

What I think I need is a creative jumpstart.  So I thought we could have some fun today.

I think we’ve done this exercise before but it’s a good one and is worth repeating.  Below I’ve posted a few paintings.  Choose one and write a bit about it.  You can write about what you think is happening in the painting or you can write about what you think happened before or after the scene depicted.

And let’s talk about getting our creative juices going, folks.   What exercises work for you to get your brain thinking about writing?  Editing is much different than writing.  How do you make the jump from the very creative act of writing to the very detail oriented act of editing?

Here are the paintings:

This isn’t my first time entering the Golden Heart, but I’m still twisted up over it.  My first go at the Golden Heart was with my first MS, a mix of Regency comedy of error and witchy hijinx.  It got mixed reviews.

I’d like to blame the mixed bag scores on readers who weren’t accustomed to that sort of genre inbreeding.  If I’m honest, it was more that the manuscript just wasn’t up to par.  Character motivation problems, plotting problems, just generally a manuscript that didn’t sparkle.  Now, I read that hero and think he sounds like Darren from Bewitched.  And who liked that guy?

I was going to enter my second manuscript but I waited until the last second to enter, hemming and hawing over whether I should or not, and when the last day arrived, I spent the day at the animal hospital and ended up having to put the family kitty to sleep.  The deadline passed.

Last year, well, I wasn’t really writing last year.  So, now we’ve come to this year.  I entered well in advance.  This manuscript has had some good feedback.  And it’s seconds from being “done” or rather, “done for now.”  So I have some time to get my first fifty all clean and shiny.  We’ll see how it goes.

So, I thought I’d talk a little about why we enter this contest, why we wouldn’t, and what the judges are looking for.

The Golden Heart is different than other contests, in my eyes.  With other contests, you usually get feedback.  This, none, just scores.  You have no idea who read your story.

In general, though, more readers score your story than in an “ordinary” contest.  In other contests, it’s usually three preliminary judges.  I believe there are six readers here.  Double the readers is a bigger slice of your potential market.

I think what you end up with is a more general feel of how your audience will feel about your story, or an indication of what the market looks like.

This doesn’t favor manuscripts that are outside the box, though.  Because if the MS doesn’t fit the reader’s expectations, there’s a higher chance that it won’t overcome that bias.  I’m not saying it can’t be done, I’m just saying that it’s harder.

This contest is more expensive, in general, than the others.  Fifty bucks, plus the cost to print and mail all the materials.  Pricey.

But, the benefits of finaling are there.  In the Regency Historical category—the one I entered—of the five finalists (one had two MS’s final), four have sold to NY houses.  Whether that would have happened without the GH, who knows.  But thems the facts.

As to what they’re looking for, the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood, the blog of the 2009 finalists, is doing a series about what the GH is looking for.  Check it out.  What I look for when I’m judging is that thing that keeps me reading.  That thing that makes me not put down a book.  That’s everything from plot development to character motivation.  It’s language that’s appealing and suspense.  It’s that elusive “Good Writing.”

I have no idea if I have that.  I have no idea what judges will read my story and no idea if they’ll like my story.

So, anyone else entering the Golden Heart?  If so, why, if not, why not?  What do you think are the benefits or disadvantages of this contest?  What do you think the judges are looking for when they’re reading?

I’m cruising, crew.  I just topped 68K words on my WIP Monday night.  Whoot!

But I’ve stopped again.  Hopefully it’s just a short pause on the road to the end.  I realized that my hero has a case of wanderlust and I never realized it.  I had him being a responsible, take-care-of-home kind of guy.  He IS like that, but his desire to take care of his family wars with his desire to get away from them.   I just didn’t realize it until Monday night as I was about to write the black moment.  He felt like a puppet doing the stuff I wanted him to do and then it hit me.  So, now I have to go back through and put that in so I have the backstory I need to write the end.

Before everyone starts jumping from the yardarm and swinging from the masts yelling, “Just vomit it out” or “REVISE LATER” or something similar, I thought I’d share something I’ve figured out about my writing through the course of this story.

In all my stories, I stop in similar spots.  I really noticed it this time because two times is a fluke; three is a habit.  So, when I stopped at the 45K mark again, I thought to myself, “Wait a goshdarn minute” (I edited to keep this PG) “I stopped here the last two times.”

I started taking note of why I stop at the same places.  Am I a creature of habit?  (Yes.)  Is this some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy?  (Maybe?  There is no spoon, there is no spoon.)  Could I have avoided these delays?   (Oh fine, maybe.)

To figure this out, I stopped focusing on the negative times (ie, “Why in the name of cheese sandwiches am I stopping again!?”) and started focusing on the positive times (ie, “A HA!  I’ve figured this out.  I am Queen of the World!”  *Titanic music swells, fade to me on the front of the ship pretending I’m an airplane, making bad airplane sound effects*)

My conclusion:  I stop when something is off with one of my characters.  Almost exclusively.

I’m a plotter.  I’ve already decided all the external events of the story.  Whether it’s Colonel Mustard with the candlestick or Miss Scarlet with the gun.  What I don’t know is how my characters react to all these external factors.  So, for example, 45K is about mid-point crisis in my stories (give or take a few thousand words one way or the other).   I need to think hard about how my characters are going to react.  Then I have to decide if it’s authentic, if I pulled any punches.  The entire story is me learning about them, getting to know them, seeing how these two people are going to grow through the circumstances I’ve set up.  Sometimes it takes me a week (or month) to figure out their reactions to major events.

Therefore, it seems, I’m an external factor plotter but an internal crisis pantser.  And, apparently, my brain doesn’t deal with the pantsy part well.  It bulks, it downshifts.  It grinds away until it makes sense of all the facts in the universe again.  Then it lets me move forward.

My pause Monday?   I’m about to write the black moment, as mentioned.  Something wasn’t sitting right with my hero.   So I paused to reevaluate him.  I think it’ll be a quick fix.

My takeaway?  Next time I stop, just go directly to character.  Don’t even stop at that, “This story sucks, I suck, everything sucks, die-in-a-fiery-ball” place.   It’s just a sludge pit that slows me down on the way to character.  And that place is no fun anyway.

So what about you guys?  When you stop in the middle of a WIP, why do you stop?  Is it for plot, for character?  To reevaluate some other aspect?  What usually gets you going again?

On a personal note, she’s the very best mentor this aspiring romance writer could have ever asked for.

Without further adieu, I give you the incomparable Caroline Linden and Captain Jack!

*

*Fade to the Revenge, anchored on the Charles River in Boston.  Captain Jack and a lovely brunette sit on the deck.  Captain Jack eyes her refreshments and her Red Sox baseball cap skeptically.*

CJS:  You say this is what baseball fans favor, eh?  Seems sadly lacking in the rum department….

Caroline: Jack, darling, Boston had one of the first rum distilleries in North America. We LOVE rum in Massachusetts. I believe a good quantity of it was recently sipped from Lord Stanley’s Cup here in Boston. You should have ventured north instead of lolling about the Caribbean all the time. As for the lack today…Marnee told me you were abandoning piracy for a life of virtue, and had given up all spirits. Something about repenting, and maybe paying the wenches back for the hotel room you and your crew trashed in Barbados.

Marnee:  *scurries on stage, smiling apologetically to Caroline.*  I’m so sorry, he can be unruly. *Hands Jack his note cards.*  Jack.  Please.  You know the drill.  Just read from the cards.

CJS:  *pouts like a five year old*  Marnee, darling, you said you wouldn’t mention Barbados to our guests.  And I may have been a bit hasty about the whole giving-up-spirits thing….

Marnee:   You?  Hasty?  Never.  Now please remember what I told you.  *Raises her eyebrows meaningfully.*

CJS:  Yes yes, love, I remember what you said.

Marnee:  *in her best “Mom” voice*  What did I say, Jack?

CJS:  She doesn’t write pirates, I remember.  Honestly, I don’t know why you ladies can’t manage to find more pirate writers.

Marnee:  *Pats his arm sympathetically.*  I know, I know.  We’re your cross to bear.  *Rolls eyes at Caroline.*

CJS:  And I’ve told you all that I’m quite capable of doing these interviews on my own.  *Takes Caroline’s hand, kisses it sensually.*  What do you think, lovely?  We’d be fine on our own, don’t you think?

Caroline: Forget what I said about coming north. Will you take me to Tortuga with you?

Marnee:  *elbows him*  Be nice.  Remember:  the cards.  *Scurries away*

CJS:  Oh fine.  *relinquishes Caroline’s hand, directs gaze to cards.*  Let’s see what’s on the agenda today.  It says here that you write romance novels set during the Regency.  Why do you like that time period, exactly?  Your stories have a bit of suspense and adventure, correct?  I’d imagine you’d like a time period that offered more, I don’t know, pirates.

Marnee:  *from off-stage*  JACK!

CJS:  Fine that last part was me.  But why exactly do you like the Regency?

Caroline: Because the Regency does have pirates. And highwaymen, and spies, and all sorts of deliciously wicked scoundrels. You’d be right at home there. Well–I suppose you’d have to dress a bit more soberly to fit in.

CJS:  Sober?  I think not, my dear.  But your most recent release–the ebook, I LOVE THE EARL–is set during the Georgian period, correct?  *Glances at cards*  It says here that it is a prequel to your upcoming series.  Why a prequel and how was writing a Georgian set story?

Caroline:  It made me think of you, of course.

CJS:  *calls off stage to the girls*  Finally, someone who thinks of me!

*Collective groaning from the wenches*

Caroline:  *continues with a sassy smile*  And it had to be a prequel because it was coming out first, before all the books set in the Regency. And it takes place earlier than the books (forty years earlier, to be exact) so they called it a prequel. Rather like if you ever cared to share the tale of how you took to pillaging the high seas in the first place. What sent you into piracy, I wonder? Your incorrigible nature? Too much rum? Or was it a woman…?

Anyway. As you know–firsthand–the Georgian era was a lush and exciting time. I liked it so much I might try another. Perhaps even with a pirate.

CJS:  A pirate, eh?  You do say the sweetest things.

*The sound of Marnee’s hand hitting her forehead.

Marnee:  Good grief.

CJS:  She brought up the pirates, love, not me.  I’ve told you girls, you can never have enough pirates.  No one listens to me around here.  *Looks at cards again, peevishly*  It says here that I LOVE THE EARL’s heroine, Margaret de Lacey, refuses to allow a fortune hunter to win her affections.  You know, some of us who seek fortunes aren’t so bad.  Perhaps she’s being a bit hasty in this regard?

Caroline: Naturally, but it is a lady’s right to change her mind. After your adventures with Elizabeth Swann, you should know this better than anyone. Margaret’s trouble is that the fortune hunters chasing her have no finer qualities to redeem them. At heart she is a sensible woman, and she knows if a man only marries her for her money, he won’t care much for her once he’s spent the cash. She wants a man who would still care for her even if she had no money.

CJS:  So, the lovely Margaret wants to marry for love.  A noble pursuit, I suppose.  I’d imagine it would take a fine chap to convince her that he loves her and not her money.  Tell me a little about this lad, Rhys Corwen.

Caroline: Well, he’s broke. Terribly, horribly, completely broke. His friend convinces him there might be a decent heiress to marry–perhaps this very Margaret de Lacey–so Rhys goes out to take a look, not really expecting much. And indeed, when he meets Margaret for the first time, she tells him off, informing him she won’t marry him, she’s not interested in dancing with him, and he can just take himself off right away because he has no chance with her. This only makes Rhys terribly, terribly interested in her. What sort of woman tells an earl he has no chance? And she’s also a lot more attractive than he was led to believe. Rhys has to see her again, just to see if she’s for real. And when he realizes she is just as advertised, he sets course to win her heart and mind. Men are persistent when they want something, don’t you agree?

CJS:  The good ones are, my dear.  Persistent and diligent, particularly when it matters.  *rakish grin.*  This story sounds delicious.  And it sets up the next group of books.  I’ve heard your upcoming series revolves around a secret?  *Waggles eyebrows*  Now this sounds interesting.   What sort of secret?

Caroline: A secret marriage! A clandestine, rash, possibly illegal, youthful-mistake-that-can’t-be-undone-no-matter-how-bitterly-regretted, marriage. And the duke’s sons don’t find out about it until their father dies, leaving them to sort out whether that marriage was legal and valid, and what happened to the first wife, and what it means for them. Because if their father was legally married when he married their mother, he was a bigamist–and his sons are illegitimate, and can’t inherit his properties and money. So the three sons each take their own tactic in unravelling the knot: the middle son decides to lawyer up, the youngest son goes off to find and kill the blackmailing villain who stirred up old secrets, and the eldest son…wait, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

CJS:  Happens to me all the time.  But this sounds intriguing.  I can’t wait to here more.  Thank you so much for being here with us today.  Is there anything you’d like to ask the wenches?

Caroline:  Why did you tell me no rum, Marnee?  Was I not sympathetic enough when your air conditioner died?  Thank you for sending Jack, at least!

*

Of course you were sympathetic!  And please don’t remind me of those dark days with no air conditioning.  I don’t sweat happily.

But I told you not to bring your own rum because we’ve got our own fully-stocked bar here on the ship!  Our trusty bartender, Chance, will fire something up when she rouses herself from her hammock, over there on the left coast.  Until then, please make yourself comfortable and we’ll send one of our hottie crewmembers over with some food.  There’s one in a baseball uniform around here somewhere, isn’t there?

Caroline is going to stop in when she can today, so I thought we could talk about our favorite secrets in romance novels?  Secret babies, anyone?  A secret treasure?  Caroline will give away a copy of her latest release YOU ONLY LOVE ONCE to one lucky commenter so make sure you say hello!

*

A single lady in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a suitor.

Margaret de Lacey has accepted her unmarried state with dignity, if not delight. She had no suitors when she was young and starry-eyed, though regrettably poor, and it’s unlikely any man will court her now that she’s older, wiser, and still just as penniless. Until, that is, her brother unexpectedly inherits the dukedom of Durham and settles an enormous dowry on her, making her the most eligible heiress in town.

No gentleman in London is more in need of a wealthy bride than Rhys Corwen, Earl of Dowling. He contrives an introduction to Margaret because of her dowry, but she swiftly sets him right: no fortune hunter will win her heart or her hand. Far from put off, Rhys is intrigued. Interested. Entranced. And soon the only thing he needs more than Margaret’s fortune . . . is her love.

And again, go here for links to buy the book!

*

Caroline Linden knew from an early age she was a reader, but not a writer. Despite an addiction to Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew, she studied physics and dreamed of being an astronaut. She earned a math degree from Harvard College and then wrote software for a financial services firm, all the while reading everything in sight, but especially romance. Only after she had children, and found herself with only picture books to read, did she begin to make up a story of her own. To her immense surprise, it turned out to be an entire novel—and it was much more fun than writing computer code. She lives with her family in New England.

I’m in the dreaded middle of my book.  I’ve got 55K words in my Word document right now.  It goes up or down according to what I cut or put back in on any given week.   But it hovers somewhere around there and has for a while.

Part of my problem is that I’m revising stuff I wrote over a year ago.  It still works, theoretically, because the plot has remained the same.  But in reality, most of it isn’t working.  The characters have changed so much that I spend a huge chunk of time tweaking and reworking their behavior.  Most of the time I wonder if it wouldn’t just be easier to write it from scratch.   Sometimes I do.

What makes something “not work” though?   I’ve been asking myself this

question repeatedly the past two months.  I’ll read stuff that I wrote a while ago and I’ll think to myself, “Nope, that’s just not right.”

Not right.

I can’t always tell why it isn’t right but I’ll know that it isn’t.  It just doesn’t have that WOW factor.

You know what I mean.  We’ve all read those books that do everything right.  The plot has the requisite amount of conflict, ends with a HEA.  The characters move through the motions of the romance.  There are no plot holes and the author’s turns of phrase are interesting.  Perhaps there are even chunks of well constructed description.  But the book is just good.  Or, afterwards we go, “meh” and put it down, promptly forgetting what it was about a week later.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t a good book, but it just didn’t sparkle.

When I read my stuff, sometimes I see stuff that feels right.  It’s not as often as I’d like.  In fact, finding stuff that feels right happens much less often than finding stuff that feels just wrong.

Therefore, while I can’t always see if it’s right, I can usually tell if it’s wrong.

But why is it wrong?  Part of it, I think, is that I fight the constant desire to write the boring parts.  One of the cardinal writing rules (*ahem*) is that we shouldn’t write the boring parts.  Apparently I struggle with a lifelong tendency to be boring.

What else makes a story go wrong, though?  What do you think makes a story just go “meh” at the end?   What do you think gives a story “sparkle?”  Is it characters, not enough action?  Lack of description?  A stilted voice?  Maybe starting in the wrong spot?

Pour some glittery hoohas, girls!  We’re talking sparkle today.

Captain Jack hurries onto the deck, blurry eyed and frantically dressing.  He yanks his trousers up, skidding to a stop.  “I’m here, I’m here.  Where are the damn cards?”

Gunner Marnee perches on a barrel of rum, dressed in a dry clean only dress (something she’d never wear at home), typing at her laptop.  She peeks at Jack over her  librarian glasses.  “Morning, Jack.  Need some coffee?  I think DRD’s already fired up the pot.  Couple of ibuprofen for the headache?”

“Only  had one… er, a few tankards of rum last night.   Didn’t want to be incapacitated for our guest.”

Gunner scans the empty deck.  Confetti litters the planks, empty bottles roll about.  A layer of dust covers everything but the bar.  Chance would never allow dust to settle on the bar, after all.

So, the boat looks pretty much like it does every day.

“No guest today, hon.  Just me.”  She shrugs.

Jack scans the scenery.  “Damn.  You’re right.”  His gaze falls on the Gunner again, a wicked tilt to his lips.  “Well then.  It seems we’re alone, lass.”

“So it does.”  The Gunner smiles, all innocent sweetness.  “But remember?  I’m one of the happily married ones.”

“Oh yes.  Your husband’s carries the clubs.”

“You mean he plays hockey?  Yes.  That’s him.”

“Right you are.”  Jack slinks toward the stairs.  “Well, then.  I believe that’s Hellie calling me.  She doesn’t like to share anyway.”  He sweeps off his tricorn hat and sinks into a courtly bow.  “Good day, love.”

I know I’ve raved about the class I’m taking—the Deep Story class with Carol Hughes.  (Get thee to a sign up sheet.)  I’ve learned lots about developing emotion and planning the elements of a story for maximum impact.

But I had a setback on Tuesday.  I’d been plodding along, following through her lessons and applying them to my manuscript.  So far my changes have been small.  Defining something that I did intuitively.  Tweaking something for more emotional pow.  Adding a scene here or there to make sure the story flowed.

I was feeling pretty good about this story.  Relieved, even.

Then Tuesday happened.

The lesson’s title is Building Your Characters.  I have characters, I thought.  I’ve made characters.  But, as I read, I got that sinking, sucking feeling in my stomach.  It wasn’t about having the character, but about building the characterization for those characters.

Let me recap.  Two things she focused the lesson on were developing the characters Inner Flaw and Core Value.

The Inner Flaw is that little piece of vulnerability inside your character.  It’s a fear or an old wound.   It’s the thing that limits their potential and growth.  Maybe a fear of betrayal or abandonment.  Some insecurity.   With this Flaw comes the need to explain the flaw.  Why do they feel that way?

Hand in hand with the Flaw is their Core Value.  A sort of personal mantra.   It’s the belief that guides their decisions and choices.

Well, I read this and promptly thought, “My characters have no internal flaw or core value!”

Personal black moment.  Insert teeth gnashing, breast beating, and general implosion of book-related self-esteem.

When my hubby came home, I lamented over dinner.  “My characters have no depth!”  (I expanded in melodramatic fashion but I’ll leave that out for brevity.)

I think he just barely resisted rolling his eyes.  “I’m sure you’re doing great, honey.  Are you sure?  Maybe you’ve got more than you think and you don’t realize it.”

As this has happened a few times this month, I took a deep breath and conceded that I would look again.  DH, having fixed my problem in male fashion, went back to his dinner, content.

I remained skeptical but concealed my panic.  It’s not good for everyone’s digestion for me to wail and pull my hair at the dinner table.

But late Tuesday night, while I was up with my teething kiddo, I tried to approach my panic rationally.  And perhaps it isn’t as bad as I thought.

My hero’s father was alcoholic, a mean and violent drunk.  He would vent his ire on his wife and his son.  Growing up in that sort of unpredictable environment made my hero determined to live methodically and responsibly, to be steadfast and upright where his father was not.  (His CORE VALUE.  See, I was doing better than I thought.)

I thought again and decided that the flaw/wound under that is that he’s secretly afraid that he is as worthless as his father said he was, or as worthless as he thinks his father was.  (FLAW!  Yay!!)

My heroine was harder, as I’ve found she has been so far in the course of this class.  Good to know because I’ve been able to think through her more.  Bad to know because, well, it’s hard.

My heroine’s been let down by everyone and she’s afraid of being let down again (FLAW) so she keeps her expectations low.  But heroine has a son and she’s determined not to be the source of let down for him (CORE VALUE).  I’m still working on how this works out for her, because she’s sort of my Achilles’ heel right now.  But she’s coming together.

The lesson of this class lesson was that if you put your hero and heroine into situations that make them violate their core value or face their flaw, then you ramp up the tension and emotional investment.

That sounds great to me but I’m SURE that I need to work harder there.  But it isn’t as bad as I thought.  At least I have something to work with.

So, ladies and gents.  How about playing along?  Can you pinpoint your hero and heroine’s Flaw and Core Value?  Any book that can serve as a good example of these things?

I don’t know how often these days I think about the saying, “sometimes it’s hard to see the forest for the trees.”  As a parent, bogged down in the minutia of parenting, it’s hard to keep the big picture in mind.  Because it’s so tempting to nag children.

Sit up straight at the table.  Remember to listen and stay with me in the store.  Get out of the tub, get out of the tub, get out of the tub, how many times do I have to ask you to get out of this tub?  Put your toys away.  No toys at the dinner table.  Nothing else until you eat that.  Don’t wipe your nose on your sleeve.  Share with your brother.  Cover your mouth.  Wash your hands after you use the restroom.

This is a snippet.  The list goes on.  It’s the “what’s what” of parenting.  Certainly if you’ve been anywhere within a five foot radius of a parent plying their trade you’ve been exposed to this list.

There are good solid reasons behind all this nagging.  Respect for others, hygiene, social etiquette, safety.  Sometimes, though, I fire off this litany of behavioral modification requests without much thought and, very often, with little explanation.

So I have to step back and think about the forest.  What’s the bigger picture here?  What am I trying to accomplish?  There is an ultimate goal I’m trying to achieve:  to raise respectful, productive men.

I think, though, with writing it’s too easy to go the other way.  As we sit down to write, it’s too easy to get caught up in the future, in the bigger picture.  Is what I’m writing palatable to the market?  Is it what agents/editors are looking for?  Is it the sort of brand I want to make for myself?

All this worrying about the bigger picture can paralyze a writer.  It’s easy to become overwhelmed by the enormity of the task.  How am I ever going to write THAT—the book that is appealing to the market, agents/editors, and builds a “career” for me?  It’s a gigantic undertaking.

But if we focus on the trees, the little steps, we can build that forest.  And it can start really small.  Focus on that one paragraph, that one action.  That one scene, that one chapter.  Because that one chapter becomes the next chapter, then the whole book.

So, how do you try to stay focused on the small steps?  How do you block out the lure of the future?  Any secrets to stay focused on Butt in Chair, Fingers on Keyboard?