Reader's Exchange : National Novel Writing Month, Round Rock Public Library

Writing for amateurs, bowling for vampires

Linda Sappenfield — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 01:49:00 GMT

Should I go with the classic "You like me, you really like me!" or the even more classic "Thank you, thank you very much"? Of course, my novel will deservedly never see the light of day, so my National Book Award acceptance speech is not a major concern. (However, if I ever need a book jacket photo it'll be black and white and include my Scottie dogs).

I'm nevertheless thrilled to have reached the 50,000 word goal for National Novel Writing Month--three days early. I was spurred on to completion by the artistically motivated realization that the Christmas lights won't put themselves up.

Responding to my description of the story line, a couple of colleagues have said, "That really does sound like an interesting premise" and "I'd read that book!" All of which proves an important point: I have wonderful colleagues. But I already knew that.

Here's what I did learn: apparently journal-keeping really is as vital as all those professional writers have claimed. I never progressed beyond good intentions to start a writer's journal and realized in the course of creating my novel--many times--how useful a collection of impressions and details could have proven to be.

I did, however, collect enough thoughts about the novel-in-a-month scheme to compose several new slogans for NaNoWriMo; these definitely reflect the ups and down of the sometimes exhilarating, occasionally despairing experience:

"Sleep is overrated."
"The caffeine deficient need not apply."
"Just make it stop."

That said, I'll try NaNoWriMo again. I enjoyed inventing characters and developed a deeper understanding of novel construction. Also, repeat participation would bring me closer to other would-be and published authors. The writing community can be a powerful source of support, and not just for other novelists.

This November 2011 article from Library Journal provides a great illustration from Bouchercon, the annual world mystery convention. Teams of authors and related participants (including Charlaine Harris' Bowling for Vampires team) competed and auctioned their autographed shirts to raise $29,000 for a local library foundation.

The authors' good works didn't end there. Attendees voted on and presented the annual Anthony Awards for mystery writing; check out the 2011 winners here. If you're on the lookout for the very best new mysteries, bear in mind that awards highlight up-and-comers along with established stars, so readers will also get great leads by consulting the Shamus and Macavity Awards lists. Finally, for a comprehensive overview of the mystery genre, don't miss Anthony Award winner (for best website/blog) www.stopyourekillingme.com.

My own valuable prizes include a colorful certificate proclaiming me to be a "Winner" in NaNoWriMo 2011--and an opportunity to catch up on my sleep.

All the good ones are taken

Linda Sappenfield — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 21:38:00 GMT

And what's worse, the most popular and compelling ones have been matched up numerous times with others who are more glamorous and successful, so what hope is there for me?

I'm referring to fiction plots, naturally. You've probably heard the argument that only seven plots can describe the entire spectrum of fiction/storytelling--unless it's three or twenty or thirty-six plots, depending upon your source. Christopher Booker's The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories theorizes that these scenarios can account for the entire world of stories throughout the centuries:

Overcoming the monster

Rags to riches

The guest

Voyage and return

Comedy

Tragedy

Rebirth

Of course, once you undertake to categorize the tales humans tell, you’re also obliged to justify why we need to invent them in the first place, not to mention explaining how these archetypes have evolved in conjunction with their historical contexts. And Booker does all of that. At least, that’s what the critics have said. I personally don’t have time to peruse Seven Basic Plots or indeed anything else this month.

No, I’ll return the Booker volume to the shelf so that you may enjoy it. I will nobly forge ahead with my resolve to finish that 50,000-word novel by November 30. I have miraculously stayed on pace and so have reached 24,154 words.

What has delighted me in this second week of the National Novel Writing Month challenge is how much I enjoy writing dialogue. I’m not a big talker. Terrible in social situations that call for mingling and chatting, I can somehow produce characters who converse incidentally and fearlessly about all manner of things on cue. The lesson here is that I should have been born fictional.

The other lesson is that plotting is every bit as daunting as you’d imagine. Latching on to some first-try advice from experienced novelists, I decided to (a) borrow from a proven structure and (b) exploit settings/ situations in which I am well versed. Thus, you won’t be shocked to learn that a library is featured on more than a few pages.

The plot so far features elements inspired by Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, Sophie Kinsella’s Twenties Girl, and the Jim Carrey movie The Mask. And if you think that mashup sounds unlikely, I may as well mention that one of the characters is not a person but a thing—an antique item.

When I’m recruiting minor characters, I recall my good fortune to have grown up in a small town: lots of wonderful Characters (capital “C” intentional) there, in a good way. Still, I endeavor to merely use them as starting points to extrapolate other wonderful beings. And don’t worry: the names have been changed to protect the interesting.

You can never have too much candy--or knowledge

Linda Sappenfield — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 22:50:00 GMT

I awoke today in a state of terror, which, given that it's October 31, sounds appropriate.

Potential visitation by hordes of zombies, ghouls, and sparkly princesses doesn't frighten me. (Running of out treats would be ghastly, but I always overstock.) No, it's National Novel Writing Month--starting tomorrow--that gives me the fantods.

I said I'd participate and I will; I even have a plot, more or less. My hope is that, after ingesting vats of caffeine, I'll be miraculously swept along on a surge of inspiration and somehow crank out the required 50,000 words by the end of the month. However, as any writer knows, nothing generates panic like an empty to-be-completed screen or pristine sheet of paper, especially when it's accessorized with a deadline.

Today, the last day before NaNoWriMo, I'm preoccupied with not tripping up the library stairs or snagging the trailing hem of my Halloween costume on the wheels of office chairs. Re-using the elaborate gown that I made for my daughter's Renaissance festival visit seemed like such a practical idea, too. Imagine wearing this sort of thing back in the day, ascending slippery castle steps or navigating around open fires. Truly horrifying.

But modern navigation offers spine-tingling moments, too.

One morning last week, I was heading east into downtown on 620 when I detected a siren approaching from behind. Several of us immediately pulled over as far right as we could and stopped. A number of others did not; in fact, a few drivers accelerated directly in front of the ambulance, presumably to gain position in the traffic queue. Those who simply proceeded as usual may not have heard due to radio volume, phones, etc.

We were lucky: no collision transpired, and the ambulance wove past without incident. But afterward, I panicked a bit, wondering whether I had in fact made the wrong move. Given the number of drivers not moving right and stopping, I began to question whether this was actually the correct practice.

A couple of internet searches led me to the Texas Transportation Code online, specifically Sec. 545.156: Vehicle Approached by Authorized Emergency Vehicle. Resources like Findlaw, the Texas Department of Public Safety (did you know that the driver's handbooks are online?), TexasLawHelp.org, and the Round Rock Public Library's Government and Legal databases can be quickly accessed. They furnish a reliable knowledge base for everyday questions like this one.

And, if your legal concerns are city-oriented, it's nice to know that Round Rock's Code of Ordinances is handily online and updated on a monthly basis. That's one more issue not to worry about. Now, if the City could only do something about those 175 blank pages...

All hat and no titles

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 21:04:00 GMT

"What are you, Queen for a Day?"

The customer was puzzled. Granted, my accessory choice for yesterday--a silver plastic tiara--may have been ill-chosen; other responses included "Aww, is it your birthday?", "Theeeere she is..." and "OK, Your Majesty, I've got a reference question."

On the other hand, Monday's selection, a multi-colored baseball cap surmounted by a tiny frog hoisting a large propeller, was uniformly well received, especially when I moved and the propeller commenced twirling.

Of course, none of the headgear modeled by library staffers this week would have looked appropriate unless you knew that this is Hats Off to Libraries Week. Co-workers inventoried their closets and emerged sporting Continental tweed numbers, elegantly fashionable chapeaus, vintage and team spirit toppers, camouflage, a chef's hat, and Western lids, for starters.

Extra effort was required, not just to procure a week's worth of headpieces, but also to brave the startled gazes of patrons who are unaware of the campaign and understandably conclude that you are just really eccentric. Rewards for hat-wearing this week were manifested in grins and delight from customers who appreciate the entertainment value, not to mention the energizing opportunity to step outside one's customary persona.

And speaking of breakouts (as in comfort zones), the next hat I'm considering for try-on is that of Author. If I can fulfill the goal of National Novel Writing Month--producing a 175-page novel in thirty days--I'll be very proud indeed. Not of the content, however; I can tell you right now that the NaNoWriMo webpage prediction ("Make no mistake. You'll be writing a lot of crap") will apply to my manuscript.

It's the outrageously impractical pace of production that appeals to me. To achieve the 50,000 word goal, I'll have to churn out several pages every single day, which means that ideas will have to flow from my brain to the paper without benefit of polishing or second-guessing. In other words, there's an automatic excuse if the book is bad. And it will be.

In hopes of reducing the awfulness quotient of My First Try, I'm consulting books from the library's collections:

How to Grow a Novel: The Most Common Mistakes Writers Make and How to Overcome Them
The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (and How to Avoid Them)
Is Life Like This? A Guide to Writing Your First Novel in Six Months

One has to appreciate the irony of relying on nonfiction books in order to create fiction. Come to think of it, if my novel results in the miserable quality that I'm anticipating, it'll be classified as nonfiction anyway--humor.

Please have a doughnut and take me to your leader

Linda Sappenfield — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 14:30:00 GMT

Recently, my husband was startled to witness our phone announcing "call from City of Urrrr". A co-worker was attempting to reach me, thus the voice phonetically pronounced "City of RR".

We agreed that City of Urr would be a great science fiction novel title. I'm not a frequent sci-fi reader--I know, my loss--but since I'm hoping to gear up and enter National Novel Writing Month this year, suddenly every concept is potentially My Novel.

I wonder, though. Could a tale inspired by our town offer enough world-building concepts? Sure, we have high school football, Dell Diamond, The Rock, exponential growth, Ikea, and Round Rock Donuts, but could those attributes translate into an alternative view of society?

Perhaps the story would open this way:

Cadres of adolescent humanoids portraying fire-breathing mythological beasts battle in contention with fierce adversaries. Vociferous crowds of citizenry expressing their support from the perimeter of the arena would lend drama. The object whose possession is sought, a leathery ovoid object, might symbolize the synergy between man and nature.

Elsewhere in this city, thousands more residents happily render the required tribute to acquire a small rectangle entitling them to enter a grandiose and revered public venue modeled after an immense brilliant gem.

The scene now shifts to identify an ancient boulder with a distinctive shape resembling both an anvil and a promontory. Mysteriously, the name and reputation of this city are tied to this monument. Legend has it that this stone marker was once consulted by citizens of an earlier era requiring prognostication on the advisability of travel.

Not long before, the city signified only as a rural hamlet, yet within an inconsequential span of time, it has magically evolved into a mushrooming expanse of settled territory now encroaching upon a municipality renowned for strange cattle bearing antler-like defensive apparatus (also Weirdness).

Across the cityscape looms a colossal structure so labyrinthine that visitors require treasure maps and are offered free nutritional rations in order to sustain sufficient energy to complete their transactions and depart. Inhabitants of other settlements, undeterred by accounts of the vastness of the territory, are lured by their predecessors' epic accounts of Scandinavian ingenuity and value.

Here's another facet unique to this setting: ring-shaped comestibles so pleasing to the senses that they inspired the production of magnified versions of themselves. These delicacies are not only highly esteemed by the locals and explorers from other regions; they are even glorified on a communication channel dedicated to studying the consumption of edible substances.

Hmmm, are we really dealing with sci-fi here--or is this fantasy?