May 2009 Archives

You know elevator pitches? The marketing spiel you're supposed to reel off if a desperate agent/editor is unfortunate enough to be trapped inside an elevator with you? (See the nail marks on the walls?)

I bumped into an acquaintance the other day. We saw each other on opposite sides of the street, while waiting to cross. We each obviously had somewhere to go, and the middle of the street while the light's counting down really isn't the place to have a conversation, so we settled for a friendly, "How's it going?" and "Good to see you" before moving past each other.

It got me to thinking: what would be my street-crossing pitch? I'm not sure I could boil down the essence of one of my story plots down to a single breath's worth of words without casting it as some sort of archetype and losing all originality. "Wolf-shifter hunts woman who accepted then betrayed him." Ugh. "Warlord takes city, must next conquer the heart of the old lord's daughter." I think the latter half of that last one would be spoken to the empty air (as no doubt all other pedestrians would give me wide bearth).

See, this makes me grateful for synposes. At least there's a little more room in those, a bit of flexion to add some grace to your words. And thinking of storylines in such a minimalist manner forces me to realize what makes them different and worthwhile — how they can't fit so easily into such tired old patterns.

As I sit here trying to think of clever taglines and hundred-word summaries, I grow grudgingly admiring of people who write cover copy. Part of my problem is that I hate repeating myself, even if different blurbs are headed for different destinations. Coming up with more and more variations is starting to lead into a game of Chinese telephone, though, and the next thing I know my novella will be described as a Regency-era thriller or somesuch...

Three friends are getting married tomorrow! If I wrote contemporary, this would be the basis for a comedy of 27 Dresses-like proportions.

This isn't a "happily ever after" for them — the couples have all been dating for years, and this is just an official acknowledgment of what everyone already knows: they've found someone they're happy to be with. And I think that sort of comfortable situation is what I'm aiming for when I bring my characters together. No magical recognition of "the one," no promises of lifelong bliss. Just a worthwhile partner both in bed and out.

After The Spymaster's Lady, I ended up picking up some military sf, with a protagonist who basically kills or fucks almost everyone he comes across. You'd think the combination would result in the perfect mental environment for a grandiose space opera, but instead I found myself contemplating a fantasy short story.

I have a friend who organizes her books by gradation: Robert Sapolsky (neuroscience professor with a wacky sense of humor) next to Terry Pratchett (fantasy with a wacky sense of humor) next to Kit Johnson (lyrical fantasy) next to Tony Hoagland (poet). Somehow she makes it work. But she rarely ends up reading two adjacent books one after another. I suppose she craves variety. That must be what's up with me.

I should ask her what's on the opposite end of space opera. Except that reading time, naturally, detracts from writing time. I just need to knuckle down and force this thing out.

The thing about being a single romance writer is that you want to use your dates as writing material. A sex blogger once wrote about this issue: once her identity was revealed, people became leery of hooking up with someone who might spill all the details to the world. The guys I get involved with don't get transplanted into my stories wholesale, but there are definitely recognizable elements — bits of their signature style embedded into my characters and scenes. But that's what writers do with every part of their life, right? And thankfully, none of these boys so far has read romance.

Anyway, I do have a date tomorrow night (after lots of hand-wringing over whether to call him and other such girlish insecurities — I think I write romance to get away from that), so we'll see what inspiration arises.

To be honest, I was despairing a little about my self-education program in popular romance authors' works. Some were forgettable, literally; I'd actually read one before, but honestly didn't realize it until halfway through. Some were outright dreadful and unfinishable. Then I came across the acclaimed Spymaster's Lady by Joanna Bourne. Someone had recommended it with the warning, "Don't pay attention to the cover" — the hero is unselfconsciously holding his shirt open to expose his chest, which actually doesn't do much for me. (Now shoulders, on the other hand...)

I think what really won me over is encapsulated in this bit:

Grey lifted her half out of his chair to kiss her, passionately and possessively, hard upon her mouth. It surprised her, but she was more immediately concerned with receiving and hiding the knife he passed to her. As a declaration of affection, the knife did as well as any number of kisses.

Annique is a believable spy because she does consider such practical matters. Yes, she does her fair share of melting in the hero's arms, but she also spends a lot of time trying to escape him, whether by battering his head in with a candlestick or using a makeshift garotte. And I could see how her competence would make her attractive to Grey as much as her beauty.

Okay, and she says some really hot things in the beginning that would get guys even more disciplined than Grey.

Really, this is fully indulgent of romantic tropes while being intelligently written. I have connived to get my grubby hands on her next book, and am quite looking forward to it.

My supposed space opera romance is not starting in space. I hope to redeem myself with epic interstellar battles later on.

But this really is something of a triumph — I've resolved not to indulge in any flashbacks this time around (one of my writerly sins). Otherwise, the first sentence would be about the epic space battle, and then I'd backtrack to explain why you should care. It's actually rewarding to build out the characters' backgrounds first, instead of figuring it out from their later predicament.

(Lest you think I'm giving up my non-linear ways entirely, I did go ahead and write the ending scene already. It's nice, sometimes, for one's plotline not to be sailing into an unknown frontier.)

Made hasty edits to my site to, y'know, mention the shiny new contract. A total rehaul's probably necessary, though. Advice abounds on what authors' sites should look like or include, and although these guidelines are commonsensical, I've already ignored a bunch. At some point I'll sit down and do something about it — soon, because as I go along my merry way on the Web, it's silly not to mention the site when it's relevant (on romance reading loops or paranormal review blogs), and right now it's in a somewhat embarrassing state. You could never guess that I do some web dev at my day job, which is exactly why I hate spending free time doing such work. But while writing might be for sheer pleasure, publishing is a business.

Self-promotion scares me. Before my meditation retreat, my instructor warned the group of us that some people became deeply anxious about the prospect of being silent for so long. Whereas my reaction was, I don't have to talk to people? Awesome!

But even awesomer would be to have someone new come to enjoy my writing. And yes, I am proud of my work; why not let as many people as possible see it?