How Editing and Polishing a Manuscript is like Putting on Make Up

You know how you get out of the shower and your hair is up in your super-sexy plastic shower cap, and yesterday's mascara is streaked down your face, and your skin is all red and splotchy from the hot water, you look in the mirror and think, "my poor husband"? (No, just me? Well go with it, for the sake of metaphor, okay?) Well, that's what it's like when you read through the first draft of your manuscript.

You cringe at the way "just" and "was" are littered across every page. You stab your fork forcefully into the plate of black beans and cous cous (it's all that was in the cupboard because you were locked in the house writing your manuscript) at every terrible simile. You throw your hands in the air and yell things like, "What the Hell is a Finnimbrum and why did I write about it?"

But then, you grab your cold cream and wipe away the remnant mascara. You moisturize and tweeze, and work your magic. Skillfully highlighting your best features and covering the blemishes. You consult fashion magazines to figure out if it's shimmer gloss or matte lipstick this spring and ignore them when they say orange is the new pink (it isn't).

Editing your first draft is just like that. You rewrite entire scenes, move chapters and consult every grammar site you have in your bookmarks. If you're like me, you even take a self editing course BEFORE your write your book, sometimes wondering if it did more harm than good (it didn't).

If you're feeling really brave, or lost, you head to Sephora and ask one of those heavily adorned women that hawk thirty dollar sticks of eyeliner to show you how to perfectly apply blush and recommend a better color palate for your skin tone.

And that's exactly what it's like to give your second draft to your critique partners. They point out when you use the same adjective 15 times and how you forgot to mention the heroine was missing an arm until the last chapter when the hero gives her one glove for Christmas.

But in both scenarios, you aren't throwing in the towel. You don't say "screw it" and put a paper bag on your head, just like you don't print your manuscript, delete it from your hard drive and then set all 300 pages on fire (even if you fantasize about it).

You clean it up, make it the prettiest it can possibly be, and then send it out into the word for everyone to see. And jut like you, not everyone is going to think it's pretty, but there is always one person who will find it to be beautiful. That, my friends, is the only person that matters. And they are worth every tweezed eyebrow and red penned page.

Author Spotlight: Aida Brassington

Hello friends! I'm excited to bring you the first installment of my new feature: "Author Spotlight". I will be interviewing a new author every month, shedding light on the trials and tribulations of the writer's world, as well as the the triumph of success. My guest today recently released her debut novel BETWEEN SEASONS. I'm a huge fan or her work, and I hope you are as excited to get to know her as I am. Without further ado, please welcome, Aida Brassington. 

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I want to start off by thanking you for being the very first guest in my “Author Spotlight” feature. It’s an honor to have you and I’m grateful that you have taken time out of your busy schedule to chat with me. Now, down to the nitty-gritty. 

Thank you for having me! Ooo, your very first! I’m honored.

I recently finished your debut novel Between Seasons. I really loved Patrick. Seeing everything through his eyes, trapped in a world neither here nor there. It’s ethereal without being spooky, kind of like peering through the veil between this life and the spiritual realm. Can you share a little about what inspired his character?

I’m so thrilled you enjoyed the novel!

My house isn’t super old – it was built in the early 1900s. My husband I moved here about ten years ago. Almost immediately my pets started acting a little funky. And it wasn’t all the time. We joked about there being a ghost. Well . . . one day I’m sitting in my living room, and the dog jets over to the bottom of the stairs and sits up, like she’s begging. I look over, and there’s a man standing on the landing. He stared at me for a few seconds, and then he was gone.

And that’s what he does. Every now and then my keys turn up missing, which may or may not be the work of our ghost (but I blame him anyway). It’s pretty benign as far as hauntings go, but how can you not wonder about who else is living in your house with you, right? That’s how the idea for Between Seasons came up.

You’re working on a sequel, correct? What can you tell us about the next phase of Patrick’s story? 

I am. I can’t really say much without giving away the ending of Between Seasons, but North of Frost continues the story of Sara and Patrick. Ginny (an old friend of Patrick’s and a new friend of Sara’s) plays a pretty large part, too. The real issue in the novel is dealing with the consequences of getting your dearest wish, and it also answers questions about the why and how of what happens to Patrick in the first novel.

Tell us a little about yourself. Was writing always your passion or did you stumble into your talent as a pleasant surprise?

I’ve been a writer for as long as I’ve known how to string words into sentences. My mother has little stories I wrote as a kid still saved up. As an adult, I was mostly a short story writer and a poet because that’s all I had time for. You get busy with your life, you know? And I never really seriously considered doing anything with my writing other than writing for me. Over the years I ended up writing more, and then suddenly I was writing novels. Even though Between Seasons is my debut novel, I’ve written just about half a dozen novel-length pieces.

As for talent, well, I’m still not super confident in my abilities (but thank you for saying I do have some!). I think the minute you start thinking your writing is amazing and wonderful, you stop learning and trying to perfect. I’d rather think I suck and continue to improve.

Everyone encounters challenges in their creative process. From time-sucks like the internet to writer’s block, we all face problems that impede our progress. What kind of hurdles do you encounter when you’re writing? How do you overcome them?

One of my strongest personality traits is that I’m singularly focused. If I want to finish something, I do it. I set goals for myself that are arbitrary, but if I don’t meet them I get really down on myself. Some might say that in itself is a challenge to the creative process, but I kind of think it helps. To ensure that I don’t get writers block, I outline like a crazy person before I start writing. Again, some say outlines impede creativity. I don’t know – I guess I fight creative blocks by trying to be organized.

What is the one thing you wish you would have known when you were starting out as a writer? 

I’ll amend my answer to reflect what I wish I would have known when I started getting serious about writing – and that’s the fact that it’s a waste of time to worry about what anyone else is going to think about my writing. I’m a worrier by nature, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time obsessing over what and how I’m writing. I’m not talking about the mechanics (although I’m always a freak about presenting my very best to the world)…I’m more or less talking about being concerned whether people are going to love it. The fact of the matter is that someone out there is going to enjoy what I write. 

Writing is subjective, and that’s an understatement. Whether it’s Between Seasons, The Old Man and The Sea, or Catch-22 (and believe me: I am in no way saying I’m as good as Ernest Hemingway or Joseph Heller), someone is going to love it and get it, and another person is going to hate it and think it’s stupid.

Quick Three:

Favorite book: A Prayer for Owen Meany/John Irving

Favorite drink: Bloody Mary

Favorite article of clothing: mittens

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Thanks again to Aida Brassington for sharing her wisdom and her wonderful book, BETWEEN SEASONS. For more info on Aida, you can find her at her Website  on Goodreads  and on Twitter . 

BETWEEN SEAONS is available in paperback and ebook at Amazon  Barnes & Noble and  Smashwords

I'm a Guest Blogger!

Today I am a guest blogger over on Nicole Wolverton's site. She is a superb freelance writer and novelist who has written several novels, including adult thrillers, dark romantic comedies and young adult horror. I have had the pleasure of reading her works for quite some time now and am thrilled to be a guest on her site.  

To read my take on honesty in writing, aptly titled "The Discomfort of Honesty", please visit her blog here.

What if your New Year's Resolutions aren't so...resolute?

New Year's Eve is upon us. As a mom to three young kids, I have no exciting plans to party it up tonight, unless you consider munching on potato skins and playing Super Mario Bros "partying it up". (Clearly I celebrate NYE like a 15 year old boy) The cost alone of hiring a babysitter on NYE is astronomical, that is, if you can even find one that wasn't booked this time last year.

Along with NYE celebrations comes New Year's Resolutions. I have never made any resolutions before, not a single one, but this year is different. Of course, I'm tempted to make all of the same generic plans ie: Lose weight, eat healthier, exercise more, quit smoking...wait, I don't smoke...okay, well, you get the gist. And mind you, I fully intend to do all of those things (especially since I've already mastered the "quit smoking" one) but I find them lacking in the flexibility department, don't you?

I propose we, as a group, commit (half-heartedly) to a whole handful of Not-So-Resolute-Resolutions.
What follows is my list, I'd love for you to post yours in the comments below.

1. I will think about eating oranges instead of Oreos.

2. I will consider wearing perfume every day in the interest of appearing more feminine.

3. I will try to balance the amount of time I spend sitting at the computer with the amount of time I spend taking part in physical recreation.

4. I will attempt to teach my kids about the wonders of sibling love versus sibling rivalry.

5. I will think about doing some fun give aways on the blog in 2012 (only if you say you're interested in winning stuff and comment as such).

I'm sure there are more, I mean, with this level of commitment, what do I have to lose? But I smell the skins crisping up as I type, so I'm going to call it a day and get the party started. Be sure you give me at least one kinda-sorta-resolution in the comments, who knows, maybe I'll be inspired by your half-hearted attempt at self improvement.

Happy New Year! C'mon 2012!

NaNo won the battle, but I haven't lost the war

I toiled, I typed, I spent countless hours banging my head against my laptop, but in the end, I did NOT write 50,000 words. Not even close. I wrote about 25,000 — half of the goal. I could list all of my excuses here about how I have 3 kids, how Thanks Giving weekend was spent with my family and not my computer and how some nights I just didn't have it in me to write. But I don't want to excuse my supposed failure because to me it was anything but. I WROTE 25,000 WORDS IN 30 DAYS! That is a huge accomplishment in my eyes. Although I would love to say I "won" NaNo, I most certainly didn't come away empty handed. I mean, aside from the bumper stickers I got for donating to the organization. The first draft of my novella, Frozen Heart, is nearly finished! I know, I'm stoked, too. The next two months will be spent revising, editing, polishing and killing my darlings, all to ready my novella for submission. Then I'll move on to writing a query letter which, if it doesn't kill me, will most certainly make me insane.

I also learned so much about myself and my writing process. I learned I absolutely cannot write with all three kids at home. The constant disruptions make me batty...and mean. I learned how to write more fluidly, quickly, and efficiently. I also learned to write freely, without over thinking every sentence as it hits the page. Most importantly, I tested my resolve and learned that I do truly love to write, and that pressure and expectation be damned, I love it even when it's hard and no fun at all.

If you'd like to read an excerpt of Frozen Heart you can find one here, but I'll give you a synopsis below.

In a world where the season never changes, the fate of the human race is in the hands of the family-centric and invasive totalitarian government, The Affinity. Cressenda, an Outlier, risks her life every day in the persuit of liberty and freedom. With a strict regime enforcing stringent laws in the realm of marriage and procreation, the tyranny of the Affinity has forced Cressenda to give up the idea of ever having a family. She has secluded herself in the wilderness, accepting the idea that she will never love. One snowy December day, after a particularly treacherous trip to the Collective, she meets Beckett, a Guard for the Affinity. His interest in her aloof and guarded persona gives Cressenda cause for concern. She must decide if Beckett is worth the risk of exposing herself as an Outlier, or maybe even joining the ranks of the Citizens of the Affinity again.


Now, it's Book Porn Bloggy Time! (I know, I totally forgot about this feature, too!) Although I did not read anything last month, including any and all notices and fliers sent home by my children's school, I can tell you the last book I read before NaNo started. Lover Awakened, book three in the Black Dagger Brotherhood series by JR Ward. My friends, this series is literally book porn. An ancient warrior class of sexy vampires and the women that love them. How can you go wrong? Although the hero of this installment (Zsadist) is not my favorite (which is counter to how most readers feel about him) I absolutely adore this paranormal romance series. JR Ward writes some of the best unresolved sexual tension I have ever, ever read. Some of the characteristics of these vamps, as well as the plots of each book, might make you roll your eyes, but as a good friend of mine explains it, "They're the books you love to hate." We also call them the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Vamps. Take from that what you will. If you're looking for a fun, sexy read, these are the books for you.

NaNo-Why it's Winning and I'm Not (so far)

Hi, friends. It's Week 3 of NaNo. Week 3 is supposed to be easier, but you see, I'm still at the work count expected in Week 2. You know what that means? It means I'm still in the Week 2 slump. I hate my story, I hate my characters, and I want to throw my laptop out a window.

I've had days where I've cranked through 2,000 words in a day and I've had nights where I've fallen asleep mid-word while typing my first sentence of the day. I've had days where I was able to dedicate large blocks of time to my story and days where I've been at Disneyland with the kids and not written a word. I've been at this for 21 days and I'm pathetically behind.

I've written 18,000 words. I've slogged through the last 3,000 and, from what I understand, I'll be trudging through the next 7,000 to get to 25,000. The good news is "they" say it's a down hill sprint after that. What do "they" know anyway? Have "they" ever written 50,000 words in 30 days? Oh, wait, "they" have. Anyway...

Have you seen "Julie and Julia"? You know the scene when Julie has a total breakdown and cries on the kitchen floor like an overtired toddler? Ya, that's me today. It ain't pretty.

Alas, I soldier on, determined to finish. I will find a way to write 32,000 words in the next 9 days. I will. Right? RIGHT? Right. You know why? Because I'm not a quitter. I don't give up and I don't go down without a fight. I will finish, even if I end up pulling an all-nighter like an irresponsible college kid; I will finish this challenge. I refuse to surrender and I will win this challenge, if not for myself, then for you, my readers.

Writing by the seat of my pants

I'm what's referred to as a "pantser"in the world of writing. I don't typically have every chapter outlined, or even any idea how I'm getting from beginning to end, but I always have a beginning and end. They come to me simultaneously when I get a plot bunny. NaNo is a pantser's dream. Permission to write without looking back, knowing the first draft will be crap; full of holes, overwriting, underwriting, repetitive and overused adjectives and serious adverb abuse. We also know that if we work hard at refining, polishing, and tightening this first draft, there is a chance that we will have a pretty darn good book when we're done.

It's been a really fun project and I'm loving the experience. I've had a few other work related projects that took precedence, as well as a random short story that insisted I write it (seriously, I spent all day Friday on a piece that I wouldn't show you guys if you paid me...well, you know what I mean), that set me back on my word count, but overall I'm doing okay. Since I don't have any serious writing advice or epiphanies for you in this post, I'm going to give you an tiny excerpt from my NaNo project, Frozen Heart (working title). This excerpt is a tasty little morsel of what I've done thus far.
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     I longed for the beautiful log fueled hearth that had enveloped me while in the safe hideaway of his cabin. The rich smell of woody smoke still permeated my clothing, a mix of sentimental feelings from childhood and sensual memories of being in Beckett’s arms. I increased the number on the digital screen, knowing it still wouldn’t bring the warmth I craved. What seemed to be a perfect existence, only a few days earlier, with just me an the boys, was now lifeless and empty. For the first time since my parents were taken by the Affinity, I felt the extreme cold of our frozen environment in every part of my body. Not just in my fingers or my toes, not in the frost against my skin, but deep in every fiber of my body. The very air that filled my lungs was frigid and biting. It hurt to draw it in, to try to sustain on it, and I found it even more excruciating to force it back out. 

I stood, chasing the warmth that floated from the glowing orange coils in front of me.  The change made the pain worse, instead of better. The wafting hot air felt stagnant and suffocating. I moved across the room searching for cleansing breaths. The tightness in my chest intensified, fear spiraling in my mind. Panic rose from the base of my spine and I clutched at my throat. The boys closed in around me, their instinct telling them to protect me from my invisible assailant.
Instead of quelling my fear, their presence only intensified my suffocation. I ran, fumbling, to the access door and slammed my hand against the button until it jerked open. Out in the snowy expanse, I gasped and sucked at the open air, falling to my knees as I succumbed to the knowledge that it wasn’t the air in my cabin, nor the air out in the wild, that was insufficient. Beckett had breathed new life into my soul, and without him, there was no air.

  I screamed out into the desolate white landscape, sending a lone owl fleeing from the disruption. For the first time in ten years, I gave myself over to the loneliness and the sorrow, crying tears for everything I had lost, for everything that was taken from me, and for the unending isolation that served as the price of freedom. There was no point to liberty if the cost was love. My parents gave up everything to avoid me being Matched, but the alternative was this life of solitude.