Why Revisions Continue to Elude Me

When I began seriously writing (aka not scribbling out a novel and immediately trashing it), I knew what was next; revisions. I think there's a quote out there that says, "writing is rewriting" and I agree with that 1000%. 

I wanted to be a Good Writer. I wanted to print out the hard copy of my MS, crack open a box of highlighters, assemble stacks of index cards and tab stickies, and get to work. But I couldn't. I was not wired to be that systematic, meticulous reviser with a perfectly organized system. 

Oh, how I wished to be one. How I wished to read through my manuscripts with a perfect eye for mistakes. How I wished for those structured, rigid rubrics like the ones they gave out in English class. I didn't want to be the one who stared at my writing and numbed my fears with ice cream. 

I love books about the writing craft. I take those in and savor every gold nugget of wisdom. They make it seem so straightforward. Compelling characters, with secret desires and fears. Pacing that's tight like a fishing line. A plot with a proper structure. And fearless, breathless prose. 

It's never that easy for me. 

I can scribble notes and fill up worksheets and write out all analysis. I can pretend to be a therapist, a master planner--and be someone who actually *knows* what she's doing. It's not enough for me to take in concepts, to follow a system. 

For me, I have to feel. I'm really, really not trying to sound abstract here. But it's true--I have to reach a point of wordless understanding before I can revise a single work on the page. I might have a half-paged outline for a book, but before I draft, I have to play things out in my head. My way of revising is feeling things intuitively--which is a blessing and a curse. 

I think I've written a post about this before. I've come to terms with accepting my own process of writing--but on days like these, it's hard. It's hard to stare at a blank document and not be able to think of a *single* way to write the plot down on paper. Plotter's block, we'll call it. 

In the end, I want to tell the best story I can. But some days, it's pretty hard to think of getting there. 

Quiet Cocooning

In Chicago, there comes a time, in the precious two weeks from the middle of May to the beginning of June--that tiny window of true spring, where it isn't bitterly cold or humid, sweaty, and hot.

I love this time of year.

Where am I?

Mulling.

Cartoon Network just gets me.

I'll be on and off this blog for a while. Final exams are coming. I'm getting reading to map out one of the most challenging revisions I will have done. I've already announced a Twitter hiatus because, well, it was destroying any shred of productivity I had, and with all the RT convention and BEA buzz going on...well, I decided to just step back a little.

I just read this beautiful, heartbreaking book yesterday, called Code Name Verity. I know it's been out for a long time, and I *just* got around to reading it, but it was every bit as gutting as everyone said it would be. And I fell in love. It was a story of a girl held captive by the Gestapo, as she scrawls out her written confession that is about her and her best friend--the one she left the night the plane with both of them crashed in enemy territory. It is a story of torture and war and friendship and love--not just the family or romantic love, but the love you feel for your best friend.

And I reread Princess Academy, one of my favorite childhood books. It was every bit as lovely as I remembered it. The books were both beautiful. And inspirational.

Now...How about a song for the week? I've been listening to this nonstop--got it from the 2013 Romeo and Juliet trailer (which, by the way, we're reading in class :) )

Hello, May.

My current mentality:

I would love a slice of cake right now.

*sigh*

I LOVE the book/publishing community

...Because yesterday and today, an awesome, AWESOME thing happened. Nearly everyone I follow on Twitter was tweeting. With the #WeNeedDiverseBooks hashtag.

Streams of tweets with reasons for why diverse books are needed, with characters of every race, gender and orientation. Situations that defy the stereotypes.

I've never been very much a person to stand on a chair and shout for a cause. Growing up, I knew that my race was different from others, and for the most part, I was fine with it. Of course, I didn't see too much representation of Asian characters in novels (other than the heavily stereotyped), but it was okay--I still found strength and an identity in myself.

Until I wrote TeaNovel.

Up until that point, I had been writing fantasy novels. And...though it wasn't at the front of my mind, all my characters were mostly white. Well, some weren't. But I still wrote in a strictly English-based world.

TeaNovel is something close to my heart. It wasn't that way at first. I was...scared to love TeaNovel. Scared to write it. Even more scared to talk about it.

Why?

Because it is a novel that isn't set in an English-based world. Because it touches on another culture that, in my opinion, isn't represented enough in YA literature. Because it has characters that are of another race.

You know what my dad said about it?

"It's not very marketable, is it? A novel with a culture based on imperial China? They won't connect with your characters."

My dad did not mean that in a malicious way whatsoever. In fact, he's quite supportive of me and my writing. But I know--my dad probably hasn't read an english book about characters in Asian cultures.

But the way he said it--so matter of fact--it made me a little sad.

And for a while, I believed him. And I worried. I worried that no one would connect with a novel I loved because it was set in a different culture.

But.

I realize now that people love to read about different things. They love to touch on the exotic, the foreign, especially if it's portrayed beautifully.

And guess what?

The manuscript I originally thought wouldn't appeal to anyone? It's actually gotten a few requests from agents, and people have marveled over the world I've portrayed. It makes me proud. Proud of my novel and its wonderful culture. Proud of how hard I worked on it, and proud of the world and different characters that I wrote about.

This is amazing, people.

Authors and writers, go on. Write about places you've never seen, but have fallen in love with. Characters who are different than you are that touch your heart. Because for once, the book and publishing community come together as one, and from both sides, they advocate: "WE NEED DIVERSE BOOKS."

<3

In other news...

I'm going to the 2014 Writer's Digest conference!

In New York!

Squeee!!!!!!!!

I'm actually very, very excited. This is the first legitimate writer's conference I'm going to, and I can't wait to go back to New York! (I'm under 18, so I couldn't go to SCBWI last year :(--but they were very kind and sent me some materials to make up for it!)

I've been a longtime fan of WD and to attend an actual writer's conference, with pitch sessions and keynotes and panels is just...a writer's little dream come true.

I'm so, so excited. I'll wait to collect all the responses on TeaNovel--I still have some fulls out, but likely I'll be working on MagicalNovel by the time the conference rolls around (August 1-3).

(Yay!)

The Thing about Middles

When we read a book, we remember the beginning and the end. The beginning lines, the first conceptions of a story. We remember the lingering feeling of the last lines as we close the pages of a good book.

The middles are a blur.

Story middles are meant to be messed-up by design. Middles are stories of tiny victories and looming despairs. Middles are where the hero gets lost, where the protagonist gets beaten down again and again.

Middles are sometimes forgettable. There are some bright lights that stand out in the darkness, but they're generally remembered as the mess the character goes through before the emerged, changed and victorious in their own way.

But middles are the most important parts of a story.

Because through the mess of circumstances, a hero changes. They become stronger. Their character arc becomes darker. They get kicked down, but the bruises make their bones stronger and the cuts leave battle scars. They learn to hold their head high.

Middles are where discoveries happen. There is the unexpected, beautiful line of prose. The sudden action of a character that spins you for a surprise.

When you are living your story's middle, you have no idea where you're going. You don't know the end. You can't peek at the last pages, because they haven't been written yet. You must fight your way through.

Middles are complicated, frustrating, and confusing as hell. But in their ways, middles create their magic too--a nostalgic sense of journey, of reaching for something you've only had in your dreams.

A little look into TeaNovel

After I did the "Writing Process Blog Hop", I decided to go a little into the novel I've been working on for a while (and am now querying). Today is a little bit of a "teaser package" for my story that I've been talking my ear off about.  Songs, outlines, visions, snippets...it's featured here today.

This was--is--my editorial vision for TeaNovel. 

I guess this was my "revision" plan, in the very literal sense--I was "re-visioning" my story.

I want readers to be immersed into a beautiful, detailed, imaginative world.

I want readers to be sucked into mystery--I want to build intrigue that makes the story hard to put down.

And I want a memorable character. My main character isn't an incredible kick-ass at the beginning of the novel. She's spent her life fading into the shadows; she's a little tragic, a little broken.  But she has a story to tell. She has a quiet strength inside of her. And she is the one who saves the people around her--and herself.

 The "song" of this novel:


Maybe it's the opening chords, or the background instrumentals, or Lana's sweet, sad voice...there's something in this song that stayed with me throughout TeaNovel's hardest rounds of revisions. This was the song I kept going back to, the song whose mood seemed to sum up the essence of the novel. (Even though the lyrics have nothing to do with the story :) )

And a teaser:

"It was spreading, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent, until I gagged and doubled over as the smoke filled my head...

They were moving towards me. The lily smoke was filling the room. I clutched the knife until the edge of the blade sliced into my own fist.

A long shriek echoed around the room. The knife trembled in my hand, the smoke stinging my eyes. My head spun.

Time and time again, I had thrust out the knife, and ran.

This time, I stood against him, and I lost."

Sooo...that's it, I guess? I feel like a teaser like this was a little overdue, since I've been talking about this WIP for so long...:P

Next post will probably be on spring things and the lack of chocolate. May involve some tea.