Accept It, Use It, Work With It.

I'm not an angsty person. In high school, I didn't pine over a crush who didn't return my admiration, I didn't wail that I didn't get invited to the cool kids' parties, and I didn't sob when I didn't go to my prom. I don't do emotional slobber.

Maybe it's my industrious, stern German background. We didn't have all that much drama in our family; we tended to keep it to ourselves or behind closed doors. And it goes without saying that I don't like woeful, angsty books. Weepy females tick me off.

So when my agent says I need more emotion in a scene, I know she's right. I don't even argue, I revisit the scene and figure out where my cold-hearted writing needs to be humanized. Sometimes that's hard to do. This difficulty with emotion is a blessing when I'm asked to write a eulogy. I can write passionately about a passed loved one and smile through the recitation while everyone else cries deathinconsolably.

To make my scenes more heartfelt, I have to draw on personal experience, allow those repressed feelings to bubble up, and channel them into my writing. Recently, I lost my beloved Aunt Kay, my mother's sister who was in many ways, a second mother to me. With her sickness, hospitalization and then death, I was with the family, helping to support my cousins and uncle. For the most part, I stayed strong- because they needed me. But even now, almost a month later, I find it hard to 'let it go' and cry over my broken heart.

But thinking about her loss helped me feel a scene from my middle grade historical novel where a young boy loses a friend. It's during World War II, and the friend is a soldier in Hitler's army. Like with my aunt's illness, death and loss were hovering in the background, waiting for their opportunity.

I didn't add a lot of drama with the revision; my character, a 13-year-old boy named Tomas, of a sturdy Germanic family, isn't going to scream or pull his hair, or faint. He's going to be strong, like his parents and like the little soldier the Third Reich expects him to be.

But he can't. He throws himself into his mother's arms and cries, his whole body shaking.

That's it. That's the end of the chapter and that scene. For a boy trying to be stalwart during oppressive times, completely breaking down like that is expressing his grief.

Eventually, characters and people have to let loose, no matter how hard it is.

Char 
Clip art courtesy of Microsoft/Bing

.

Renovation or Revision?

Whether you say renovation or revision, it's the same thing- ripping something apart, rebuilding it, and finessing it.

In previous weeks, we had our family room completely gutted- down to the studs (gee, this happened with several novels I wrote...). The structure was good, but was poorly insulated, making the room always feel cold. (The novels were lacking in substance too...). We had new insulation put in, then sheetrock. (Kind of like adding new scenes or characters, building my down-to-the-bare-bones novels back up again.)

Then came the spackling. Filling in holes, sanding out rough spots, so that the story, er, walls and ceiling, were smooth.

Paint, or adding color, interest, and ambiance came next. Ceiling was painted white to reflect light, walls were done in a soft beige with a hint of blush. Welcoming and warm, cozy- the way I like my books. The stark white crown molding and window trims added a little drama. (My novels needed more drama, or less drama, depending on who was critiquing or buying).

Finally, the carpet was shampooed- getting rid of any lingering dust or dirt (akin to cleaning up any last mistakes or problems when I read the manuscript yet. again.)

Now, all that was left to do was showcase the room- decorate, new curtains, new pics (those aren't ready yet), and ditch any junk or clutter. (Equal to a synopsis and query letter to 'showcase' the novel for my agent or any editor she would present it to.)

After three weeks, the family room was again livable space (the pool bar roof, kitchen steps and banister replaced too). My novels, after their 'renovation' (revision if you prefer), were now presentable and I'm proud of all of it.

But damn, what a lot of work. Worth it, yes, but nothing good ever comes easy.

There are other projects- pool deck to finish painting, touch-ups on scuffed walls, revising mg historical novel, etc. Always have something to do, it seems.

Char