Anyone who has studied literature surely has stumbled upon them: a group of extremely talented writers who came together to exchange ideas, encourage one another, and, sometimes, to form a movement.
Whenever I imagine my future novels sitting on a bookshelf, I see my full name on the spine. Mine and mine alone.
Someone once said, “A writer is not a writer without an audience.” I don’t necessarily agree, but I will say this: a serious writer will not be satisfied until he or she finds one.
In my experience, writing the end of a novel has to be the hardest part.
At a recent Allied Authors of Wisconsin meeting, I was thrilled to receive unanimously positive feedback on a particular character in the chapter I read. The only problem is all that praise went to a pretty minor character who appears in just one scene in the entire novel and doesn’t even have a name.
Close your eyes and imagine a writer. What do you see? A free-spirited young woman writing in a leather-bound journal beneath a tree?
The problem with stories is they require people. I’m not talking about author and reader—though they, as well as their relationship, are fraught with challenges too—but rather the individuals that populate the story itself.
If the first draft allows the writer to indulge in a carefree orgy of imagination, a Wild West of whimsy, and a devil-may-care series of experiments, then the editing process demands the writer to abstain, rein it in, and exorcise a host of demons.
The Social Security Administration recently released the top baby names for 2011. I know this because I can’t NOT click on an article about baby names.
I’m not a master poker player by any means, but while reading through the first draft of my latest novel, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Friday night card games from my high school days.