Book Review: Michelle Lindo-Rice’s Sing a New Song, rings with sweet melody

Michelle Lindo Rice’s Sing a New Song walks you down the path of a woman who finds out she has terminal cancer and begins a quest to find the biological father of her teen-age daughter before she dies. After living a life convincingly declaring that the father is her ex-husband her search is complicated because in fact, her daughter Karlie has five potential fathers. It may initially strike up images of any given episode of the Maury show where you comically watch this process of elimination. This is not that, but so much more.

Tiffany Knightly is dished the devastating news that her cancer is incurable and given a termination date of five months out. Once a well-known pop music singer, who has retired from the industry and lives a comfortable and quiet life in L.A. with her daughter, Tiffany painstakingly accepts her fate and focuses on ensuring her daughter Karlie is well-cared for. The money is not an issue; she can provide financially. But she wants Karlie to have a stable home once she is gone.

Tiffany moves back to her small hometown in New York, to begin her search. As we venture into the lives of these men, we find that they have their own set of home and family issues, which gives the reader a more sympathetic view of them instead of seeing them as preverbal sperm donors. Added to that is her tempestuous relationship with her mother, made so by the fact that the sexual abuse Tiffany suffered by the hands of her stepfather was rebuffed by her mother.

As it turns out instead of a simple venture of paternity testing, Tiffany finds herself intimately drawn into the lives of these men, all of which except for her ex-husband, she has not seen in years. For these guys for whom initial relationships were merely trysts, she unexpectedly shines light and love.

Sing a New Song has its sad moments but Tiffany unexpectedly changes the lives of these men while on her own quest and renews self-love as well. The story leaves the reader thinking how we are somehow all intricately connected, and love and truth can be found even in devastating situations.

Are You Waiting it out or Giving Up?

Some years back we had a white Astro Van that shot black, chalky smoke from the rear like the stack on an industrial plant, moved at the speed of a four-year-old on a tricycle and finally one day, coughed, sputtered and died. I was tempted to prance around and chant, the witch is dead but I remembered it was my only source of transportation. Suddenly I was forced to take the bus to get around.

Public transportation really doesn’t suite me because it requires that I actually stand and wait on something and I’ve never really been good at that. Besides, in my experience buses and cabs rarely showed up early and were usually late. To add to it, I lived in Michigan at the time and the winters are brutal to the faint of heart and not much better for those who consider themselves brave. Sometimes I would take a cab when I could afford such a luxury and on those days I was really feeling flustered and peeved at the world for permitting the death of my Astro van. On cab days I would loll around inside the nearby CVS until my ride came. (Did I mention I hate waiting?) Not once, but several times I missed my cab and even after explaining to the dispatcher that I had in fact been waiting patiently, and a long time at that, I had to be placed on the bottom of that list and forced to wait…again.

At first glance there seems to be an obvious difference between waiting it out and giving up. But if you look closely the two often share the same attributes.

Waiting often mocks the appearance of doing nothing or giving up because it is internal, you can’t see it. You only know that someone is waiting because they tell you so. We wait because we are hopeful and that is not always apparent to the onlooker. On the other hand someone can tell you with the broadest smile that they are hopeful, when, in fact, hope packed up and left weeks ago.

Well, what is the difference between waiting it out and giving up?

To give up is to retreat and stop hoping both physically and in spirit. When we give up we take our eyes and mind off of the thing. When I would go into that CVS to browse my eyes were no longer on the lookout for the cab and it didn’t take long for my mind to follow and focus on something more apparent–something that’s actually present.

With writers and other professionals where awaiting a response from other entities is as much a part of what we do as the profession itself, waiting must become somewhat of an art; we wait on editors, publishers, readers…checks. We are constantly pitching, selling and reaching out. We are told not to stalk or pester or appear anxious. Don’t call us until six weeks have passed…we are currently two months behind on reviewing queries… We are instructed to be gracious, enthusiastic, but not frustrated. All the while our insides are screaming for a response NOW. And if we aren’t careful our hope can dwindle to a mere ember as we move on to other projects or set our eyes on something more likely…like a real job. We become disinterested in trying to fix or adjust that which we were holding out for.

Giving up diminishes a part of us. In some regards it is like death; what we hoped for is no longer a part of us. We may smile and tell our friends we know it’s coming. They look at us assuredly smiling along with us. People want to believe in us, because in some way we reflect their own hopes and aspirations.

With waiting there is an internal anticipation, an alertness that follows expectancy. When we are actively waiting with hope, we are unconquerable and tend to take more risks and are more resilient to rejection. We are focused, centered. We are more prone to hear the voice of God, because we expect to.

And as long as we have hope, we will wait it out.

How do you deal with waiting? I would love to hear from you!

Is Theme Still Important? Developing Your Novel

Theme is that aspect of writing that your high school English teacher wanted you to be sure to explain in your two-page, single-spaced essay on The Grapes of Wrath. While you were just happy to get through the novel, she apparently wanted you to pull some deep, complex meaning that would in turn not only give you a greater appreciation for a classic American novel, but would enlighten your take on the world in general.

Is theme important to your novel?

Absolutely. Is it something you’d better buckle down and make sure you get right? Not so much. You see, theme, like so many aspects of the novel is already an intricate part of your story before you put one word on paper. As award- winning writer, Nancy Kress says in The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing : “It’s impossible to write a story without implying a worldview.” It is one of the reasons you tell the story whether you realize it or not. It is often subtle and rides in our subconscious until we begin to write and often not apparent to us until we are well into the story.

Well what is it exactly? Simply put it is our world view or the central focus of our story. It is apparent throughout our story, a pattern woven into the description of characters and places and the words that these characters speak.

Think of yourself as a photographer. When you are sightseeing, camera in hand, searching for pictures to take while you are vacationing, you don’t take pictures of everything or everyone. You take snapshots, maybe a few, (maybe a few hundred) of the truest expression of your time in Cancun or Chicago. You may snap shots of the sunrise, sunset, or beautiful Lake Michigan. These pictures or snapshots convey a theme whether you realize it or not. They are a reminder to you and those who will see them that the vacation was beautiful, scenic, breathtaking, relaxing.

But what if you instead, went deeper into town and took pictures of the shanties, with their dirt floor and failing rooftops, or the children on the wayside, begging or Chicago’s crime-ridden neighborhoods. It would still be Mexico, it would still be Chicago. But I’m willing to bet that you will convey an entirely different view to those who view your photos. They will see what you show them. They will have a different way of thinking about those places.

The same applies to your story. We all have a world view and the same story can be told a thousand different ways. The way you tell it, the dialogue and the words you choose to describe character and setting all reveal your world view.

Why is theme important in writing fiction?

As you move through the story, it helps you to narrow your focus, and decide which path to take. When you first start writing your novel or short story it may not be apparent. Don’t worry. Don’t push it. Let the story carry you. You may not see a pattern until you come to the end. But as you go back to rewrite, read and edit, you will see that patterns emerging. O.K. Now. it will be easier to edit as you give way to those things that are relevant and cut out those that aren’t–no matter how beautifully written they are.  You will know which snapshots to choose, which are relevant to the effective telling of the story.

Now go and call your old English teacher and tell her you got this.

 

 

It was Kinda Dark and a Little Stormy: Writing Vivid Description

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents…Oh, oops, that’s already been done.

You know, I’m finding out that trying to conjure up description for fiction writing is as likely as trying to conjure up the ghost of dear Edward Bulwer-Lytton himself, the English novelist who originally penned that opening. We all want beautifully described scenes and characters, the sort that leaves our audience breathless. The problem is when it becomes bloated or without purpose and upstages the story like a singer trying to out sing the choir. Please, save it for your solo career.

I love authors who can find balance. When I first began writing fiction I tried to mimic them. I figured, hey, if you read enough of what they’ve written it’s bound to rub off on you right? Well unfortunately it doesn’t rub off or on, but it can be learned and practiced. Here are a few tips for improving your description.

Make it flow intricately with what you are describing

Stephen King in On Writing writes about a piece of description he read that just simply didn’t work: ‘He sat stolidly beside the corpse, waiting for the medical examiner as patiently as a man waiting for a turkey sandwich.’  Nope. There is nothing in this simile that connects. It seems to be thrown in there just for the sake of having description.

On the other hand, the character Leo in author Pat Conroy’s, South of Broad describes the city of Charleston: “I survey my city as it lay simmering in the hot-blooded saps of June while the sun began to set, reddening the vest of cirrus clouds that had gathered along the western horizon.” It flows naturally within the scene. With each broadening, colorful stroke of description he is painting a scene that is vivid and clear and suddenly Charleston comes alive.

See vs. Feel

Let’s face it we don’t read books just to know what happened; for that we can read a newspaper. But in books, especially fiction we want the writer to take us there. Description is not so much about what you see but what you feel. Ultimately, what we want to provide for the reader is an experience.

Jane Fitch, the author of White Orleander writes about sensual writing—appealing to all of the senses. Descriptions are given in layers—what we see, hear, feel, smell and taste.

• Angle for Description. Literal description is limited. Fitch talks about coming in at an angle; using synesthesia—using once sense to describe another. Wine tasters are famous for doing this. They move past the bitter or sweet of it. A wine is often described as crisp, leathery, young or sharp. A wine has legs or is flabby. Start with the literal and work your way through the other senses.
•  Evoke sense memory. Smells and sights aren’t just for one dimensional interpretation but for the memory which they evoke.

Fitch writes: “Memory lies coiled within us like a magician’s trick handkerchief, and a simple smell or taste can pluck the tiniest corner and pull out the world.”  The senses are the stimuli to the memory. The memory captures the experience.

 

Don’t overdo it  

We as writers like the sound of our own voice. If your description is more impressive than the character, chances are you need to lighten up a bit. The goal is to be transported into the story through the character, not to be lost in all of the pretty colors. Remember it doesn’t have to be elaborate or complicated, just on point. Maya Angelou describes her grandmother in Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now: “She was seventy-nine when I met her, sinewy, strong and the color of old lemons…With her high cheekbones, old gold skin, and almond eyes, she looked more like an Indian chief than an old black woman.” It is simple and on point.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I am constantly wearing my writer’s hat. And the fun thing is that I can wear it in public without anyone being aware of it but me. I see people at the bank, the grocery store or at the park and I began to describe them in my head. I try to describe people I see in the way I would if I were writing about them.  I think not just about how they look, but the way they move, the manner in which they take the money from the clerk, how they speak to their children, the way they smile and walk or touch their moustache or laugh. All of these mannerisms tell us so much about a person. It can be done with places too. Is it hot? How hot is it? Is it a sweltering heat or a dry heat? What does the smell of it remind me of?

The more you use descriptors, the easier it gets.

Little Darlings & Why They Must Die...for REAL

Reblogged from Kristen Lamb's Blog:

• 

Almost any of us who decided one day to get serious about our writing, read Stephen King’s On Writing. Great book, if you haven’t read it. But one thing King tells us we writers must be willing to do, is that we must be willing to, “Kill the little darlings.”

Now, King was not the first to give this advice. He actually got the idea from Faulkner, but I guess we just took it more seriously when King said it…because now the darlings would die by a hatchet, be buried in a cursed Indian flash drive where they would come back as really bad novels.

Read more… 1,139 more words

Kristen Lamb reminds us not to fall in love with the sound of our own voice. Great advice.

The Writing Privilege

Early one Saturday morning just several weeks ago I got this overwhelming feeling about my novel due out in just under a week.  Suddenly there were passages that I had to change before anyone else saw them. I mean, I knew I was pushing deadline, but I had recently read some awesome articles on fiction writing and realized, suddenly, that there were parts of the book that screamed revision. I figured if I started early that morning and worked into the evening I would have changes complete and to the editor by Monday. (When I’m focused I’m unstoppable.) She wouldn’t be happy about it. But hey, when it’s necessary what can you do?

The feeling was so great to get this done, I pulled out my laptop, perched myself quietly to one side of the bed and got to work.

It was then hubby looked at me sleepily and said, “What are you doing?”

I explained that I was working on the book, told him about all the changes that needed to be made. And instead of a gentle smile, you know the kind you expect your spouse to give you when you’re standing on the edge, he bolts from the bed and says, “Nope. No you’re not.”

Say whaaat? Do you hear me when I said I found this article that said—

He shook his head back and forth and said with the gentleness of a pit bull, “Good. You learned some new stuff. Big deal you’ll put it in the next book. But you’re done with this one.”

I was too tangled in the head to protest.  I humbly submitted and realized he was right. I guess I was like a performer who is about to go on stage and wonders if he’s rehearsed enough.

It made me think of this writing privilege– the privilege to be read, to have your written words, your private thoughts splayed on pages for the world to absorb. When I think of the energy people vest in the intimate thoughts of another, I realize that this privilege is no small thing.

Yep I’m aware that there are writers who churn out books like General Motors does cars–factory-style. I know that some are in it strictly for profit as they jump on the latest genre flavor of the week in hopes of cashing in. I also believe when their 15 minutes are up they will either bow out or run fast. But that isn’t my concern—really. There are the rest of us, who take this gift, this privilege to have our heart speak to the heart of others quite seriously. I don’t mean to sound sentimental; I mean to do this for a living, there is this thing called money involved. But there is so much more. As I speak through the written word, I pray that I’m authentic and complete in what I have given—at this point.  I pray that my readers will see I have given my all and held nothing back.

I have learned so much on the craft of writing, and will continue to do so. But today, at this moment, In Three Days represents a pivotal point in my growth.

Nursing Your Preemies: Publishing Your Novel

Preemies. We pity and hope for them at the same time. For some reason, today as I was driving I thought about preemies, those that are underdeveloped, sickly and not ready to stand alone. Often we grieve for what should have been, or could have been–an ideal of something we wished for, but never actualized.

It is our hope to create something pretty awesome, a novel that will leave readers breathless as they flip to the back of our book, gaze at our professional-looking photo, read our profile again and think, wow.

In our mind’s eye we see the words: best-selling author.

But somewhere, maybe it was in the middle, the plot grew weak, or we realized we didn’t know enough about the subject to make this story as rich as it needed to be. It could be we just didn’t have a story…yet. Still, we trudged on; it’s what good writers do. And at the end it was lacking. Oh, yes a story was there, but as we turned those type-written pages we knew it wasn’t ready to be published…yet.

Sometimes others will appease us (you know, because they love us and all). They tell us our work is great, stellar, people will love it! It is not until we get it under the microscopic eye of an editor or objective reader that they began to point out specific flaws. Ahh…there it is. Often we cannot see what is missing at first glance; we just know that something is definitely wrong.

O.K., they are so honest you almost decide that writing really isn’t your thing and maybe peddling insurance to people that don’t need it for the rest of your life isn’t the worst you could do. This is not the time to have a fit–then again, go ahead and cry if you want, throw something, clean the house, talk to yourself. I’ve done it enough times to know that it does help to relieve the pressure; puffy eyes become war wounds, a clean house a sign of controlled anger. But get back to it afterwards, rework your novel and fix what is broken; add what is lacking. Rewrite. Re-evaluate and make things right. Who said getting your novel published was easy?

Preemies deserve to develop and have a full and vibrant life. The public is brutal; the last thing you want is to put that preemie on the shelves, only to watch it die a sad and slow death, as people assault it or worse yet, ignore it altogether.