Those Tricky First Lines

Wow. I survived my first blog fest. Honestly, a month ago, I had no idea what that was, but I would have guessed it involved a little more beer than it did. My fault, I ran out.

So? What did I learn? Wow. I found some incredible new blogs to follow, and see a few more talented writers are following my life. Welcome home, I missed you.

I can't believe the talent that is out there. I never made it through all 130plus entries, but I did read over 30. They all impressed the words right out of me. Clearly, the world needs more agents and publishers to give us all a home.

Now, as for my comments. The feedback was amazing and I took everything into consideration. Now the fun part about playing God is that I know what comes next, and no one else does, and so, my first sentence became two.

Here are my first sentences, revised based on the comments I received.

Unlike my son, I liked the idea of not knowing who I was in past lives. I was a man firmly planted in the present, in fact, oracles were out of the question.

What surprised me the most was that everyone thought my MC was a woman. Looking at all the other entries, male MCs aren't that common, so I need to establish that from the get go.

Also, it was suggested to tighten it by removing, the idea, but as god of this piece, that is sadly the key words, it's the idea of something so innocent that he's holding onto, thanks to his son and his meddling.  

What do you all think of these revisions? Any feedback is welcome-- I have to enter that first sentence today.

Thanks everyone, especially Brenda Drake for such a fun contest!

A Dark and Stormy Blogfest Entry

Brenda Drake is hosting a contest for the best first line.

Prizes from Weronika:

1st place — a critique of the first 50 pages + query
2nd place — a critique of the first 25 pages + query
3rd place — a critique of the query

Post the first line of a completed manuscript on your blog between the 7th - 8th February and invite criticism. I'm coming in late, but I'll do my best to catch up.

Then post your improved first line on Brenda’s blog on 9th February.

Name: Tanya Reimer

Title: SURVIVING THE STORM

Genre: Urban fantasy

Unlike my son, I like the idea of not knowing who I was in past lives, and I certainly never asked oracles for their predictions.

Thanks guys! Keep them coming.

REVISED:

Unlike my son, I liked the idea of not knowing who I was in past lives, and I certainly never asked oracles for their predictions.

How Do You Know You're Famous?

In my line of work and in my choice of hobbies, I meet a lot of famous people. Even out here in a prairie oasis. It got me thinking about what famous means. How do you know you're famous?

Is it publicity? Nah, I do plenty of interviews, and trust me, I'm not famous, just annoyingly opinionated.

Is it about the money? I doubt it. Some famous people have chosen to hide out in our little piece of heaven, and trust me, they were broke, yet they had fans-- screaming, overexcited, in your face fans. Sure, some of them make more money in an hour than I do in a week, but really, I know what it takes to be good at anything. And they did/do a lot of  excruciating, painful, impossibly hard work for free too.


Is it the fans? I have fans and they blow cool air on me in the heat of summer, but that's about all they're good for. In fact, in the winter, they just take up space, and I keep bumping my toes against them.

Is it the stalkers? Yikes, I have those too, who doesn't, eh?  Yeah, you know who you are. Think a little, gee, I get enough spam, don't need it from you.

Is it that you're recognized when you go out in public? See around here, everyone not only knows you, they know your entire history, what you drive, and when the last time you bought birth control was. Saskatchewan is huge, but the faces are familiar. It's rare to go someplace and not meet three or four people I know. Doesn't mean they're famous, just friendly, family, same passions as me, curious, stalkers, whatever.

Is it that you can humbly sign an autograph and not ask why for the love of all things written someone wants your john doe on a napkin? I've seen gracious musicians smile politely and sign away. But! I've seen some look around, expecting a bit more screaming and clearly disappointed when all we did was stare back slightly curious if they'd remember us if we ran into them at Walmart in a year, because that would be cool. Both were famous.

Maybe it's being recognized for something important? Even among the famous we have different levels of stardom. The president is famous, but so is Stephen King. And the reason I think they are, might be for very different reasons than you do. Some are famous worldwide,  and some among a much smaller pocket of people. Still, fame is fame. What is that deciding factor that makes you cross that line from me, to famous me? And can you ever go back to being not-famous, does it just grow until you explode or standstill until you forget you're famous?

Gee, do they even know they're famous? I've gotten Xmas cards from people who I think are famous. Think about that. Really think about that.

What makes a person famous?
(smile)

So Close To The Project You're Stupid

Editing your own writing is hard.

Having just found out about this really awesome new blogging contest, I'd like to thank my latest writing hero, by paying her tribute. Do the same to your inspiration, muse, you name it, by following the contest rules hosted by Shelli at Market my Words: PAY IT FORWARD CONTEST.

So here is my story;

There used to be a time when I thought I would never be satisfied with what I wrote. I know differently now. When a piece is ready, I feel it. I won't settle either. I refuse to rush it. I have no time frame, and no boss breathing down my neck, telling me to hurry. I know good writing when I see it, and if I'm not seeing it in my own work, there is a problem.

The trouble is; what's the problem? Make sense? This close to a project, day in and day out, you get stupid. You KNOW something isn't right, yet can't see the culprit.

It took two years to find the problem haunting me, forget the solution. To be fair, I did keep writing, but each new book had the same problem I couldn't identify. Just a nag in the back of my mind that I wasn't on the right track.

First, I tried to pull myself away from the piece and imagined it was someone else's work. I'm good at finding fault in others, after all. Yet, nope, nothing. It was fine, but I could do better. I listened to every nagging voice in me and fixed those problems. It was an improvement, but still...

I needed to reeducate/refresh myself with the written world. So, I read books about voice, style, rhythm, balance.... I attended every workshop in our area, which turned out to be one. It was fun, but that was about it. Still, all this new information enlightened me, and I found new things to fix that made my work stronger.

The result? An entire rewrite. I deleted half my work, rearranged it in a new order. I felt like a genius on crack. Did it work? I liked the new rhythm, it had balance between the romance and the action. It was a fun read with incredible voice.

Yet, there was still A Problem. What?

I wrote a query, in case that sparked something. Yeah, the query took 36 tries. All different, yet they all sucked. Clearly, I had issues. So, again I tore it to pieces, studied it. Came up with nothing. Not-a.

I have no writing group in my area, and my beta readers didn't see a problem. Yet... Something BIG bugged me. I just couldn't put my finger on what. So, I did what anyone would do. I clutched my work tighter and vowed no one would read it until I found the evil thing that had me obsessed.

Not once did I consider shelving it. Yet, I'd shelved other manuscripts over the years. This one had potential. It was good, it just wasn't ready.

I needed professional help.

I turned to my peers; on-line writing groups, on-line contests, sharing first chapters with others (even if I was queasy the entire time, I mean, these were strangers I was trusting with my baby). Still, I was desperate. In the process, I somehow ended up blogging. Yup, here I am!

I got confusing feedback too; I was starting the story too soon, not soon enough. I was deep in the action, and it was confusing. I was over explaining and needed more action. Argh. This was only the prologue I was sharing. A prologue! Who put this much effort into a prologue? This should have been my first clue, but by this time I was so close to the project, I was just that stupid.

Finally, someone pointed it out. My new hero, Lydia Sharp, hosted a contest where everyone received a free critique. Wow. I was happy to be alive that day. There's no way I can ever pay her back. Her advice was dead on. I doubt she has any idea how brilliant she is. So what was her magical advice?

Ask yourself, why did I choose this character to tell this story?

So I did. I asked it in my sleep, in the tub, while I pounded my head into the pages, my fist into the computer screen. She only saw the first 500 words of my prologue. She had no context for asking me this, yet she hinted at a problem with my choice of character. And when I looked at it through her eyes, yeah, there was a problem. I quickly checked the rest of the manuscript, but it didn't have this problem. Why was my prologue character refusing to share her incredible story? WHY?

And it hit me in the dead of the night.

I was starting inside a character's head who I didn't want anyone to really meet for another five books. She was a plot twist. Why? WHY would I do THAT? WHY for the love of all things written would I make a mistake that bizarre and not pick up on it for two years?

Here's why-- I was blinded by the entire project. I forgot to look at each book as its own life force. I was so worried about bringing the series together, I forgot it would bring itself together. I felt like an idiot. Why did I think I could write?

So, after the pity party, I scrapped my prologue from each book, and rewrote them from the hero's POV for that novel. WOW. I mean, HOLY !\$#\ WOW. That was the problem. The series still ties together, but the voice is consistent in each book. Plus, they stand alone! When I bring in my secret character, she can introduce herself properly.

Now it's ready for people to read, even better, the query wrote itself.

Laughing at your own stupidity is easy. Editing is hard. Knowing who to ask for help is harder. Repaying them, is impossible. Thank you Lydia. My God, THANK YOU.
http://lydiasharp.blogspot.com/