Well, it's the bank holiday and I'm now in the count down to Dubai. DH left yesterday and is now there dealing with the fact that the temporary accommodation is not dire but....... The sun is shinning here and my kids don't want to go to the beach???? They are beached out but I keep thinking it may rain tomorrow. So I have a moment - since they are on the 'puter upstairs - to think about writing again. Actually I haven't stopped thinking about writing to be honest. I am itching to get back to it which is good I think.
Back last week I posted two possible openings for A Cornish House and the comments were fascinating a varied - which is to be expected as we all like different things and approaches. I will discuss more of that another time. The wonderful Jan Jones http://jan-jones.blogspot.com/ left this comment :
"...my thoughts are that the opening of any new ms these days MUST be told from the point-of-view of the main character."
I sat there and thought how bl--dy true. There in lies my problem with ACH. I want Madde to be the main character and yet Serena wants this role for herself! typical teenager - why do we work with them???
So Jan's comment set me to thinking about the books I have read this summer. How did each of them capture me in??? Katie Fforde grabbed me with Dora's shock at the transformation of Mrs Edwards from typical country wife to hippy style divorcee in Going Dutch. It set up the whole story of lives transforming - Dora's and Jo's (Mrs. Edwards).
Kate Harrison's The Self-Preservation Society is told in first person. She opens with a prologue that instantly made me relate to Jo - the nightmares we all experience and then once we have felt our own fears we are more open to Jo's over heightened sense to fear. So also caught on page one.
Caroline Smailes' In Search Of Adam is another story told in first person. We are there with a six year old curled up to her mother's dead body. Your heart is your mouth and you are with Jude instantly.
In Therese Fowler's Souvenir in a prologue we see Meg about to do something that is wrong and she is well aware of it but we also know she is following her heart. It is this that takes through the rest of the story. Because of her thoughts on the first page we follow her through the story.
So Jan is so right. We have very little time to capture the reader and bring them along with our main character. So I need to establish whose story I want tell even if it's both as with Katie's book. More food for thought.......
Finally over on C.S. Harris's blog http://csharris.blogspot.com/2007/08/punch-it-up.html she talks about punching up your writing. It's all about making your writing more powerful. If you are in a revision phase then it would be a good time to read this and check your script out.
Showing posts with label Voice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Voice. Show all posts
Monday, August 27, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Voice Part Three
I'm still wandering around the voice subject and have come to no definite conclusions.....no surprise there. So wandering through blogs I cam across Therese Fowler's post on voice here here. One of Therese's phrase jumped out at me:
"Voice is inextricably tied to subject/content and form."
This hit as true as I began the reread of A Cornish House. Serena's attitude gives this story it's voice. Yet how I choose to put her on the page gives me mine.
So while reading my opening chapters I realized that although the current first page is good, I might be better to start here:
Serena stared at the darkness. Why the hell was she here? It was Madde of course. Madde made a mess of everything. Serena opened the car door. The air smelt clean; strange concept. No noise either. Her music went dead hours ago and the radio didn’t work because the car didn’t. Great. Here in the middle of the end of the earth and no music to kill the silence.
The hedge beside her was taller than she was. Madde hadn’t left her much room. Serena walked to the front of the car. There wasn’t any room on that side either. No one would be able to get past them. Not a problem she supposed as there was no one here. Was Cornwall totally devoid of life? Yes, clearly it was.
A screeching noise made Serena jump. A low flying object swept past her face just clearing the hedge. This place was creepy; no one here and bats or something flying around.
Madde’s voice broke the silence. Her proper accent was unmistakable. She was never sure how her father had fallen for her. It must have been the sex. Why else would he marry a tall gangly woman with wild curly hair and a posh accent? No other possible reason.
“The car is just in that bend.”
“They won’t be able to do anything with you there.”
Serena’s head shot up. Who was that male voice? Had Madde picked up some man in the half hour she’d been gone. Typical. Men flocked to her like flies to shit. Serena just couldn’t understand it. Mind you Madde never seemed to notice the drool as they stood staring. She was oblivious to everything lost in her world of colours and shapes. Hell she didn’t even shout at the tattoo. She just closed her mouth and then commented on the lovely use of blue. She wasn’t even clued up enough to know it was a fake. So much for getting under her skin. She didn’t shout. She didn’t rage. She kept on packing for this wretched move to Cornwall and whimpering on about what a Godsend it was that she had inherited this house. Well, they thought it was a house. The papers that Serena stole a look at describe it as a dwelling.
“Serena, has anyone come?” Madde stood in front of the car with a tall man beside her. He was good-looking in a rough shaven sort of way. Nice body. Unfortunately drooling to as they all do. Another puppy to follow Madde around. Does she smell of sex or something?
“Are you joking? Someone come down this God forsaken excuse for a road? Nothing but bats down here.” She paused and waited for Madde’s normal intake of breath.
“Excellent. They’re protected. You are lucky to see them as they’ve been declining.”
Oh great thought Serena this time she has found a hunky eco geek. A new puppy to add to the list. Madde the dark damsel in distress and the great eco geek rides to rescue. Get a life Madde and fix things yourself without the drool patrol. Get a grip on pheromone production while you’re at it too.
“Thanks for the eco update but this place gives me the creeps.”
Rather than here:
The car coughed to a halt and lurched as the trailer pushed it further on the dark lane.
“Shit.” Madde thumped the steering wheel.
“What?” Madde turned to see Serena rubbing her eyes; her blond hair in spiky disarray and the new tattoo on her arm peeking out from her tee-shirt. Double shit thought Madde. They couldn’t be far from where ever the hell Carnew was but now that Serena was awake she could hear her complaints already. She turned the key but no sound emerged from the engine.
“Are we at this God-forsaken place?” Serena stretched.
“Errr, no. The car died.”
“What?”
“The car died.”
“I heard that but where are we?” Serena was now sitting straight.
“Don’t know.”
“Christ.”
“Mind your language.” Madde ran her fingers over the wheel.
“Hah, fine thing to say. I just heard you swearing. What’s wrong with Christ anyway?”
“We’ve been down this road before.”
“No we haven’t.”
“Don’t be pedantic.” Madde rubbed her hands over the back of her neck. She could feel the rigid tendons. “Serena, I’m tired I’ve been driving for hours and arguing isn’t going to help.”
“So?”
Madde pulled the release for the bonnet and open the door. She had no idea what she was looking for. The cool breeze caught her hair as she stood in the darkness releasing the bonnet. It sprang open.
“What are you doing?” asked Serena.
“Looking at the engine.”
“Since when do you know anything about engines?”
Madde sighed. Serena was right. She hadn’t a clue. Her hand sought her phone in her jean pocket. The screen lit up. The wall paper was still a picture of John. He’d been gone a year.
“Are you just going to look at it?” Serena’s voice cut the cool night air.
Madde pressed the number for roadside assistance. No signal. Great.
“Well, what’s happening?” Serena leaned out the window.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing. That’s great. So we’re in the middle of no where with no signal and a dead car.”
“That sums it up it quite well.” Madde looked to the black sky and said a silent prayer. She needed help now. The Milky Way splashed across the darkness filled her with peace. She could manage this.
“Hel-lo?”
“Yes.” Madde placed her hands on her hips.
Does either one give you a sense of my voice? Not sure but in both Serena comes across loud and clear.
"Voice is inextricably tied to subject/content and form."
This hit as true as I began the reread of A Cornish House. Serena's attitude gives this story it's voice. Yet how I choose to put her on the page gives me mine.
So while reading my opening chapters I realized that although the current first page is good, I might be better to start here:
Serena stared at the darkness. Why the hell was she here? It was Madde of course. Madde made a mess of everything. Serena opened the car door. The air smelt clean; strange concept. No noise either. Her music went dead hours ago and the radio didn’t work because the car didn’t. Great. Here in the middle of the end of the earth and no music to kill the silence.
The hedge beside her was taller than she was. Madde hadn’t left her much room. Serena walked to the front of the car. There wasn’t any room on that side either. No one would be able to get past them. Not a problem she supposed as there was no one here. Was Cornwall totally devoid of life? Yes, clearly it was.
A screeching noise made Serena jump. A low flying object swept past her face just clearing the hedge. This place was creepy; no one here and bats or something flying around.
Madde’s voice broke the silence. Her proper accent was unmistakable. She was never sure how her father had fallen for her. It must have been the sex. Why else would he marry a tall gangly woman with wild curly hair and a posh accent? No other possible reason.
“The car is just in that bend.”
“They won’t be able to do anything with you there.”
Serena’s head shot up. Who was that male voice? Had Madde picked up some man in the half hour she’d been gone. Typical. Men flocked to her like flies to shit. Serena just couldn’t understand it. Mind you Madde never seemed to notice the drool as they stood staring. She was oblivious to everything lost in her world of colours and shapes. Hell she didn’t even shout at the tattoo. She just closed her mouth and then commented on the lovely use of blue. She wasn’t even clued up enough to know it was a fake. So much for getting under her skin. She didn’t shout. She didn’t rage. She kept on packing for this wretched move to Cornwall and whimpering on about what a Godsend it was that she had inherited this house. Well, they thought it was a house. The papers that Serena stole a look at describe it as a dwelling.
“Serena, has anyone come?” Madde stood in front of the car with a tall man beside her. He was good-looking in a rough shaven sort of way. Nice body. Unfortunately drooling to as they all do. Another puppy to follow Madde around. Does she smell of sex or something?
“Are you joking? Someone come down this God forsaken excuse for a road? Nothing but bats down here.” She paused and waited for Madde’s normal intake of breath.
“Excellent. They’re protected. You are lucky to see them as they’ve been declining.”
Oh great thought Serena this time she has found a hunky eco geek. A new puppy to add to the list. Madde the dark damsel in distress and the great eco geek rides to rescue. Get a life Madde and fix things yourself without the drool patrol. Get a grip on pheromone production while you’re at it too.
“Thanks for the eco update but this place gives me the creeps.”
Rather than here:
The car coughed to a halt and lurched as the trailer pushed it further on the dark lane.
“Shit.” Madde thumped the steering wheel.
“What?” Madde turned to see Serena rubbing her eyes; her blond hair in spiky disarray and the new tattoo on her arm peeking out from her tee-shirt. Double shit thought Madde. They couldn’t be far from where ever the hell Carnew was but now that Serena was awake she could hear her complaints already. She turned the key but no sound emerged from the engine.
“Are we at this God-forsaken place?” Serena stretched.
“Errr, no. The car died.”
“What?”
“The car died.”
“I heard that but where are we?” Serena was now sitting straight.
“Don’t know.”
“Christ.”
“Mind your language.” Madde ran her fingers over the wheel.
“Hah, fine thing to say. I just heard you swearing. What’s wrong with Christ anyway?”
“We’ve been down this road before.”
“No we haven’t.”
“Don’t be pedantic.” Madde rubbed her hands over the back of her neck. She could feel the rigid tendons. “Serena, I’m tired I’ve been driving for hours and arguing isn’t going to help.”
“So?”
Madde pulled the release for the bonnet and open the door. She had no idea what she was looking for. The cool breeze caught her hair as she stood in the darkness releasing the bonnet. It sprang open.
“What are you doing?” asked Serena.
“Looking at the engine.”
“Since when do you know anything about engines?”
Madde sighed. Serena was right. She hadn’t a clue. Her hand sought her phone in her jean pocket. The screen lit up. The wall paper was still a picture of John. He’d been gone a year.
“Are you just going to look at it?” Serena’s voice cut the cool night air.
Madde pressed the number for roadside assistance. No signal. Great.
“Well, what’s happening?” Serena leaned out the window.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing. That’s great. So we’re in the middle of no where with no signal and a dead car.”
“That sums it up it quite well.” Madde looked to the black sky and said a silent prayer. She needed help now. The Milky Way splashed across the darkness filled her with peace. She could manage this.
“Hel-lo?”
“Yes.” Madde placed her hands on her hips.
Does either one give you a sense of my voice? Not sure but in both Serena comes across loud and clear.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
For the Big R
I was wandering around blogs yesterday and I came across the most wonderful clip for every one who has ever received a rejection over at Danuta Kean's blog. You must go watch here. Enjoy.
I will return to voice. I want to do some more research on some of the points the comments raised.
I will return to voice. I want to do some more research on some of the points the comments raised.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Voice Part Two
Yesterday's post shook my brain and I remembered a comment by Anita Burgh (author of over twenty novels) who I hope will forgive me for expressing her thoughts - probably badly. She commented that voice comes from your characters and not the writer as such. She mentioned that you should never hear the writer only the character's views. The voice depends on who you chose to tell the story and what p.o.v. Anita ran a fabulous session at the RNA Conference on P.O.V. My report here http://lizfenwick.blogspot.com/2007/07/rna-conference-part-6.html
I found that interesting based on some of yesterday's comments. KK was struggling as she felt too much of her own thoughts were currently in the work. I suppose in that the heroine of August Rock is an American incomer to Cornwall so there is much of my experience in Judith but she's definitely not me. In A Cornish House I don't think either main character reflects me at all - if anyone was 'me' in that it would be Tamsin, a secondary character. The attempt at a Mills and Boon I wrote back in 2005 probably had much more of me in the heroine - btw it was a huge flop on many accounts except that it was a complete work. Lucky Rachel is clear that the voice in her work is that of Jasfoup
So on the voice debate, is it your voice or is the character's voice?
On a completely different note, many people have asked how I stay sane with all the moving we have done. The picture below is a huge part of my sanity.
I found that interesting based on some of yesterday's comments. KK was struggling as she felt too much of her own thoughts were currently in the work. I suppose in that the heroine of August Rock is an American incomer to Cornwall so there is much of my experience in Judith but she's definitely not me. In A Cornish House I don't think either main character reflects me at all - if anyone was 'me' in that it would be Tamsin, a secondary character. The attempt at a Mills and Boon I wrote back in 2005 probably had much more of me in the heroine - btw it was a huge flop on many accounts except that it was a complete work. Lucky Rachel is clear that the voice in her work is that of Jasfoup
So on the voice debate, is it your voice or is the character's voice?
On a completely different note, many people have asked how I stay sane with all the moving we have done. The picture below is a huge part of my sanity.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Voice
Voice is a hot topic at the moment on one of the forums I belong to. It was mentioned is several of the RNA Conference sessions and back when I attend the Melissa Nathan Comedy Romance Workshop. Every one throws the term around. Every writer seeks to find their unique voice and some writer's have several - if they write different in different genres. So what is Voice? Have you found yours?
I was over at Phillipa Ashley's blog http://phillipa-ashley.com/blog/2007/08/13/the-end-is-in-sight/#comments and she was discussing voice too. It was in writing a reply to her post that I realized that August Rock doesn't really have my voice in it. I pondered why and realized that my internal editor was doing a very heavy handed job. I was wary of kids reading over my shoulder and the thought of my mother reading my work (Dad if you are reading the blog you can smile now). So after rewriting August Rock six times and definitely improving it I know that it doesn't really have my voice. I don't think it is something you can put back in or at least I can't.
When I wrote A Cornish House at the beginning of year, I put the internal editor in a box and wrote without stopping. My voice is there now. I now may have to tone it down but it is there. Have you experienced this?
I was over at Phillipa Ashley's blog http://phillipa-ashley.com/blog/2007/08/13/the-end-is-in-sight/#comments and she was discussing voice too. It was in writing a reply to her post that I realized that August Rock doesn't really have my voice in it. I pondered why and realized that my internal editor was doing a very heavy handed job. I was wary of kids reading over my shoulder and the thought of my mother reading my work (Dad if you are reading the blog you can smile now). So after rewriting August Rock six times and definitely improving it I know that it doesn't really have my voice. I don't think it is something you can put back in or at least I can't.
When I wrote A Cornish House at the beginning of year, I put the internal editor in a box and wrote without stopping. My voice is there now. I now may have to tone it down but it is there. Have you experienced this?
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