Struck by Inspiration, or I’m So Freaking Genius!

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Look, kids! Two blog posts in a week! Two in as many days! Get out the camera, it’s a Kodak moment.

There is nothing like a trip to San Francisco to get the creative juices flowing. The fog, the beach, the sushi. I’m like a suckling pig stuffed full of yummy goodness just simmering on the spit.

Last night (after a delicious dinner featuring sushi and Japanese home cooking), I returned to my motel room to unwind and write. I’ve been puzzling over my re-write. Parts are damned good, solid even, and the others… well, the other parts suffer from a malaise. I’m sure it’s fixable, but it’s going to take some serious pulling apart before I knit it back together.

I started my story with no outline, no concrete story in mind. I began writing and let my pen go on an extended road trip all over creation and back.

There’s a danger in doing this. One, you can easily get side-tracked. I was off on tangents that did not apply. Two, because you have no plan, while waiting for a stroke of genius you fill the void with words. A lot of them. An embarrassment of them. Many of them completely unnecessary. Like 75K worth.

I’ve been reading a lot of novels in the genre that I write, which is contemporary women’s literature. From two and a half years of work, I know my story has three distinct parts, three periods of time. I wanted to name them, but didn’t quite know how.

This is where last night I was so pleasantly struck by inspiration. My character’s name is ‘Cadence’ and there is a loose thread of music running throughout the book. Last night I had a novel thought: why not name my parts after a favorite composition? Composers name their movements, usually by the tempo or mood marking. Huh, just like my protag. Per-freaking-fecto! Why didn’t I think of it before?

So I spent a few late night hours on YouTube trying to find the perfect piece. My first stop was the Beethoven symphonies, all of which happen to be my favorite. Somehow, it just wasn’t right. My girl Cadence suffers an unbelievable and heavy loss in her first movement, discovers long-hidden emotional scars in the second movement, and emerges stronger yet slightly worse for wear in the third movement. Beethoven’s first symphony movements all seemed a little too happy to me.

I then headed for the old standby, Rachmaninoff. Instead of the symphony, I went for the piano concertos. I love all three. Bingo-bango! The Rach 2 was the unbelievably perfect backdrop for my story.

For one thing, the tempo closely matches the mood of my main character in each of the stages of her story. For another thing, my son loves Rachmaninoff, and he (and the composer) does figure prominently in the shaping of the character of Cadence’s son. But in researching the Rach 2 on Wikipedia, I discovered that this particular piece of classical music happened to suffer the most ripped-off riffs in the 20th Century.

For me to rip off the rip-offs, well, it’s poetic justice!

The first movement had a few piano measures stolen by Muse in Butterflies and Hurricanes. I have since learned that the theory the song was named after refers to the chaos theory. In it, it is said the flapping of a butterfly’s wings could re-direct the course of a hurricane since even small changes can impact the course of any action. This fits well in that one simple incident causes Cadence’s world to spin off its axis.

The second movement had the most famous riff-lift, that by Eric Carmen in All By Myself. Anyone who grew up in my (or Cadence’s) age of the mid-1970s can relate to this song, and poignantly it does reflect where my girl is during the second part of the book. And boy, is she alone here.

The third movement was co-opted in a song recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1945, just two short years after Rachmaninoff passed away. I’ve listened to Full Moon and Empty Arms and it accurately reflects the end of the book. A full moon of hope but empty aching arms not yet ready for love. Plus, gotta love the title, it’s absolutely delicious!

So here are my three parts:

Part 1 – Moderato – Butterflies and Hurricanes

Part 2 – Adagio sostenuto – All By Myself

Part 3 – Allegro scherzando – Full Moon and Empty Arms

Thank you, gods, divine intervention and Wikipedia. I am now energized to complete this thing!

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A Quick Post by Your Local Spelling Cop

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Since my plane is delayed an hour due to Air Traffic Control mayhem somewhere in the country (where, I am not sure, since the weather here in Dallas is splendiforous), I thought I would quickly pound out a post on spelling.

Yes, my friends, S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G.

In my other incarnation on another site, the supposed fun-loving participants would be at war with the contingent that was known as the Grammar Police. I thought it funny at the time, but when I first started out, I made the common lazy mistakes of posting in all lower case and using cutesy abbreviations for words. This is what the cell phone and text messaging has done to civilization. It’s all sound bites and globs of letters that need to buy a vowel. I wised up rather quickly. You have to if you want people to believe you are a real writer.

It is my opinion that as a modern people, we have become woefully negligent to this very important feature of language. Proper spelling is not only essential to the continuation of the civilization, it is a necessary component for writers everywhere.

Before pooh-poohing my theory, just think: Without words, there would be no sentences. Without sentences, there would be no paragraphs. Paragraphs are necessary for the building of stories both small and large. I  know, I know. There are other considerations, like grammar, story arcs, sympathetic protagonists, developmental tension and the like. However, every good (and bad) book starts with a single word, and if the word is misspelled, oy vay.

Next to the protection of homophones (there-they’re-their), my interest in spelling is long-lived. Blame it on the fact that my parents did not have much money for books, but they did manage to buy a set of encyclopedias (for those who are 1960’s challenged, that’s like Wikipedia bound in twenty-six ten-pound tomes in leather), a thesaurus and a dictionary. My kids will dispute this simply because they cannot fathom it (modern whippersnappers!) but I actually read the entire encyclopedia and the dictionary JUST FOR FUN. My devotion to the written word was complete when I gained a place at the Colorado State Spelling Bee in 7th grade. (I didn’t win, but I didn’t place last either. I was comfortably just south of the 50% mark.)

I cringe when I see misspelled words. I also gleefully inform the miscreant who maligned the word. I’m sorry, but that’s what a spelling cop does. I used to write letters to the editors of major newspapers regarding poor spelling in their articles or would call the local TV station when banners contained misspelled words.

I thought I would die of a fit when my oldest son was in elementary school back in the mid-1990’s. Back then, the fad in spelling was “inventive” spelling. This meant the kids were supposed to attempt spelling a word by sounds only. Not phonics, the kids were encouraged to scramble any and all combination of letters into a soupy and wrong, wrong, wrong word. The only way to learn how to spell a word is to write and re-write it a few dozen times. This is how I learned – my mother was Japanese and her English wasn’t perfect – and this is how my son learned. He didn’t like it, but hey, that’s what parents are for.

Even with my advancing age and pre-Alzheimery mind, I can still outspell just about everyone. The brain as a tool isn’t as sharp as it used to be, and I admit it. I’ve even re-read things I have posted online to find that I’ve misspelled a word. (Horrors!) A quick email to the online editor usually fixes the problem.

Here is another secret: One cannot rely on spell check to pull his/her sorry ass out of the fire. Been there, done that.

My advice? Take a word, any word you aren’t familiar with. Take one a day. Learn how to spell it correctly and learn how to use it in a sentence. Try to incorporate it into your writing. Get rid of one of the tired old stand-bys you’ve been using since the dawning of age. Bathe in the glory of your new-found acquisition, and breathe easy that the spelling cop will be passing you by the next time she feels an urge to write you a citation.

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Thanking the Peeps

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Real Life is a bear this week, so not much editing (or writing) has been accomplished. It’s not that I didn’t want to or was lazy. There are only so many hours in a day and so many days in a week and so many weeks in a month. Pile on the responsibilities, and you get a good glimpse as to why my laundry is piled up and my house looks like a tornado blew through.

I thought I’d take this oh-so-brief moment out of the chaos to do what I should have done long ago: Thank the people who have helped me along the way.

I’m not only speaking of my writing friends, my crit buddies/task masters or my legion of fans (yuck, yuck) in the background cheering me on. Believe me, I am in a constant state of gratitude over the assistance they have shown  me.

As a writer, you sometimes have to reach out to professionals in other fields. Much as my kids and husband would like you to believe, I don’t profess to know everything. My first book contained some sticky elements to the story line, more than I probably should have had for a first effort.

This led me to research and more research. Hey, I want to look like I know the score. Luckily for me, I have a lot of contacts from Real Life who slid right in to guide me. Some I knew well, some I knew in passing, but all were gracious in sharing their knowledge. (I am only now thinking of them because I just got off the phone with one.)

So this post is to thank them now, because at the rate it’s going, publication might be a while. A long while. 🙂

Thank you, Frank Washington, my employee and Michigan State Trooper. I needed guidance on the procedures following a fatal car accident.

Thank you, John Ward, Ann Barnett and Michael Belcher, for the skinny on insurance protocol. I know the esteemed Mr. Belcher, and he dragged in his cohorts for a well-rounded discussion on key man policies and contingent beneficiaries. (Ann was especially helpful and nice.)

Thank you, Jeffrey Robbins, my attorney. Yes, with an accident and insurance issues, you have to figure some legalities will be broached.

Thank you, Yunny Yip, an administrator at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. There are rules regarding early withdrawal – and re-admittance – from school that I had to delve into.

So dear writing friends, besides my thanks to these wonderful souls, I am here to tell you that it’s not hard to ask for help, even from people you don’t know well. Tell someone you’re writing a novel and need some technical assistance, and people will do somersaults in an effort to point you in the right direction.

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What Form Rejection Means to Me

Posted by Joanne Huspek

As per The Rejectionist: (you know me, I like an un-anything)

I wish I could say I’m a veteran of form letter rejection. Heck, I wish I could say I was a veteran of any rejection, period. I’ve been too busy writing as fast as I can, editing, more writing, more editing, pulling weeds in the guerrilla urban garden, staying cool during three days of brown out, writing, editing and more editing. My CTRL-V function has been working far more than the SEND button on my email, and that’s on the days when I have power.

That’s not to say I have nothing to send out to potential rejectioners. (Rejectionists? Rejectionistas? The Reject Police? S&M Rejection Agency?) I have plenty of material. My books are not ready, not yet. And it’s not as though I’m afraid of rejection. In my incarnation as a Real Lifer, I face plenty of it each and every day. In fact, you could say F* O* You Be-yotch is my middle name. I can’t say it to the customers, but oh, I think it plenty.

I’m also war-torn from being on a certain social-creative-highly toxic-troll infested web site where on a slow day the comments would run the gamut from mildly irritating to stalker scary. Since I use my own real name – and I’m published, in the book – I would at times be afraid if some goon were lying in wait right outside my front door, ready to give me a good going over (or worse) because of something I had blogged or posted.

You live on the Big Blue Ball long enough and you realize that rejection is a part of life. “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” That’s my motto, right after “I’m writing as fast as I can.” Have a ready made slot for rejection, and you’ll probably come out smelling like the proverbial and cliched rose.

My one and only non-form rejection from my one and only query was a honey. I blogged about it back at the time. It wasn’t a form rejection, but a rather thoughtful, generous email about how my work was okay, but not yet ready for prime time. (Told ya. What can I say? I placed in a Query Tracker contest and I had to try.)

I’ll likely send out a massive email blitz sometime in September once I am finished editing the last book I wrote. I’ll probably get a few dozen form rejections, I don’t know. Here’s the thing about automated form rejections: Most of them are machine generated, having never reached the human eyeballs of Agent or Agent Assistant. I can hardly fault a computer program for doing its job, now can I? I figure if a big gun agent sends out a form rejection, he/she is too busy for little old me. That makes me think the agent has no time for a new, aspiring novelist and I can cast my net into the uncharted waters of Agents Who Just Landed a Job and Are Hungry For Talent. After all, I’m so good (yuck-yuck) that I need someone who is driven to sell my property, which I have to say is unique in soooo many ways.

Form rejections are like those email from Nigerian businessmen wanting to give you a couple million dollars. It’s very close to the messages that promise you a Rolex for $9.99 or guaranteeing to grow your penis (even if you don’t have one) a full six inches. In that case, you do what I do.

You smile, say, “heh,” hit the delete and go on to the next.

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Red, Hot Writer Mama

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Just as I was clicking along, zippedy doo, working on the re-write for Book 1 and coming up with new blog entries for Book 2, writing every afternoon for at least a couple of hours in my comfy purple chair (see below)

when out of the blue (so cliche, I know) I am felled in the pursuit of my endeavors. It’s not a reason, but a season that has put the ki-bosh on my creative production.

Put plainly, my home air conditioning died.

Not only that, but the AC in the office died too.

Both succumbed on the hottest week (thus far) this summer. In a half-decade of lackluster, sometimes chilly bummer summers, this one is stellar in its crushing, sauna-like grip. Don’t get me wrong. I like hot. I need hot. Snow is not my friend. However, as much as one needs sunshine and light, no one needs breath-stealing humidity, and being in the Midwest, this summer’s Humidex has been going just as crazy as the high temperatures.

I once had heat exhaustion so I’m prone to having a relapse. Take it from one who knows: this particular ailment is not fun at all. I’m also suffering from the Big M (menopause). Believe it or not, I can tell the difference between flashes. Neither are pretty, but there are nuances. One can die from heat exhaustion while menopause is just a momentary symptom of upcoming death.

Warding off potential danger, I have hydrated myself to the extreme (gaining a good gallon of weight in the meantime), cut the alcohol consumption down to an occasional cosmopolitan, loaded the freezer with popsicles and spent a great deal of time in my car, which thankfully does have AC.

Being uncomfortably hot cuts into my creative jizz (as my daughter would say). You know it’s bad when I crave the chilly confines of the mall. (I hate the mall.)

Right now I am moderately cranky. The HVAC man isn’t coming until tomorrow.

I might have to do what those trendy writers do, and take my laptop to the nearest Starbucks.

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The “Ah-ha” Light Bulb Moment

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Since Mr. Ed has my latest creation in his editing mill (I wish I had web cam so I could see the creative developmental process during full bore production), I’ve been working on self-editing my First Monstrosity.

This novel started out as a couple of hurriedly scribbled notes on the back of an airline boarding pass. That was January 2007, on a trip back from San Francisco. (Um, that banner photo at the top of my blog? That was taken the same weekend.)

It took two long years and a week to complete. Somehow my scrap of paper grew from 500 words to 175K words. (The monsters that seize our bodies and take over our lives…huh, I guess this is how a simple whale turned into Moby Dick.)

I’m no Know-It-All writer, and I’ve learned a lot in the last three years. In editing, I can see where the first 100 pages were God-awful. I made every mistake in the book: descriptions of weather, dreams, an overabundance of back story, jumped around almost a dozen POVs, overuse of adverbs and adjectives, you name it, I did it.

But I am not a shameless rule breaker. In fact, I’m mortified that I let what friends I had read this horrid tome.

The one thing I noticed in editing is that the farther I get along in the story, the better my writing becomes. I attribute my gradual ascent into decent writing to a full contingent of people who not only cheer me on, but have boinked me in the head (repeatedly, and with vigor) when I make fatal errors.

What are friends for?

I’m not sure my improvement is due to an ah-ha light bulb moment, but one thing is for sure; the more I go through my manuscript, the more light bulbs go on.

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And Now for the Bad News…

Posted by Joanne Huspek

I’ve been told I must off one of my characters…

Not kill her off in the book, but somehow delete her completely from the telling of the tale. The thought is that six women friends with the same amount of pull and character is approximately one woman too many.

I’m not afraid of the technical aspects of the search and destroy mission. I happen to be doing just that on my first manuscript. It’s that I love them all!

(Yeah, yeah, the editor says…)

I have of course asked for a stay of execution. Pleaded. Begged. I think all of the characters are necessary to the telling of the tale, and they are definitely needed in Book Number Two, as the story shifts to another couple in the friendship loop.

So, please, my friends (since I have loosely based the novel on my own experiences and therefore have drawn on the personalities of my own Real Life friends, and yes, you know who you are), please do not take my editing personally. I love you all. Honest. But what the editor says must be.

He is available for personalized whipping, if and when the book comes out in print.

🙂

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