8 Ways To Healthier "Relations" With Your Writer/Non-Writer Partner!

If you're a passionate and supportive partner of a writer, there's a special nightclub for you in heaven--full of extra drinks and angels carrying cupcakes. There'll be no talk of MCs, CPs, LIs or TBRs. But for now, that's not reality, so here are some fun tips to get you by.

And because I'm fair, I've also made a list (with the help of my very own amazing life-partner) for writers. Supposedly, there's room for improvement on everyone's part.

Please note! I'm not a doctor, I only write them (sometimes) into my books. These tips were created for fun. If your relationship is suffering because of the writer or non-writer in your life, seek a professional or try to get on one those shows on the Oprah network. 

8 Tips For Partners of Writers

1.  Please don’t say “You’re always writing!” because if I’m literally always writing, I’d have about 12 extra books written a month. I'm not always writing.

2.  Schedule Date Nights (excursions or in-house) with me so I’m not knee-deep in a revision or CP session when you ask me to watch “Better Call Saul” with you.

3.  If you’re not interested in reading my whole book, that's okay, (how dare you!) but do ask for the pitch and first few chapters so you can read to get an idea of what I’m working on.

4.  Keep telling your friends, family, coworkers and random strangers about my book because your pride is endearing, motivating and also, free promo!

5.  I like hearing about your job but make sure you talk about cool things too. Like what’s a CP again? How’s it going with querying/agent revisions/editing? What debuts have you read? What’s on your TBR list?

6.  For gifts and just because, buy me books on my TBR list!

7.  Expect me to go to every other third social outing, work function or otherwise because I #amwriting #amrevising or #amediting.

8. Massage my shoulders, forearms, and hands because I’m always writing!

8 Tips for Writers with Non-writing Partners

1.  Enlighten your partner when it comes to the in and outs of the writing business (such as timelines, promoting, and devoting time to social media) so they understand when you’re busy.

2.  Tell your partner when you'll need extra time to finish projects that require a deadline.

3.  Take a day off every now and then. It's healthy and even the busiest and most successful people in the world do it.

4.  Ask for help from your partner. They may have good ideas or be a good second set of eyes to help you edit your work.

5.  After you are finished with that chapter, blog post, or twitter update, spend some quality time with your partner and remind them that you appreciate them as much as they do you. 

6.  When you think you’re having a bad day just think how bad a boring 9-5 job would be if you weren’t also doing something you love! 

7.  Don't forget that you have a life outside of the writing realm. You know...social life, family time, real life-people time.

8.  Have lots of sex. It's a good stress reliever and will make you have a clear mind for the next day of writing!

****

Ami Allen-Vath is the loving writer of a supportive non-writer. She's the author of PROM BITCH, releasing November 3, 2015. If you're feeling loving and supportive too, you can follow her on Twitter, like her on Facebook, and/or check out her blog. 

March Giveaway!

My favorite bloggy thing to do is giveaway stuff!

Each month of our debut year we will have a giveaway of fun stuff and Fall Fifteener swag and one Fall Fifteeners favorite candy.

Mine is chocolate.

So since it's near Easter, for our first giveaway we have a full size bag of Cadbury Eggs, a set of 3 adorable notebooks, plus some Fall Fifteener swag!

All you need to do to enter is leave a comment on this post, or Tweet us, either @Shannywriter or @Fallfifteeners 'Enter Giveaway' and you're in! (and if you are already following @Fallfifteeners on Twitter, that is a double entry! :)

Giveaway ends March 31st at 8:00 Pacific Time. Sorry, US addresses only. Thanks for entering!

Shannon Grogan is a second grade teacher who writes at night (and while her kids are at ballet and baseball) in a small logging town east of Seattle. She holds degrees in education, and graphic design/Illustration. When she isn’t writing, she's baking, reading, watching scary movies, and wishing she were at the beach.

How Writing A Novel Is Like Having A Baby

I was just sitting around thinking ('cause it's easier than cleaning my house) how having a baby is pretty much the perfect analogy for writing a book.

The actual writing of the rough draft is comparable to childbirth, only this labor can last years and there are no painkillers (unless you count wine and coffee).

When your baby (aka your novel) finally arrives in the world, you can't wait to check it over. First, you determine the sex (genre), then you run the Apgar numbers to see if they look good (the word count), and finally, you wash the baby and bundle it up (polish your manuscript, checking for birth defects such as typos and the congenital overuse of adverbs).

When you show your baby (novel) to your friends and family, they adore it. The baby is a specimen of perfection, they tell you. They are so happy for you.

Your critique partners are another story. They are less diplomatic, like the people outside the nursery window. They point out the conehead (information dumping), tell you they hate the name you chose for baby (your book title), mention that your baby is a little too long and lumpy in some places, and make helpful commentary such as how they would like your baby better if the voice wasn't so whiny and helpless. They also point out when things are awkward and not in character for your baby, like the onesie his daddy got him that says Sh*t happens.

After friends and critique partners have all visited baby, you take your baby home and nurse it through long, exhausting nights. You coddle it through colic (editing and revision) and take pride in its growth spurts. You approach projectile vomiting (plot holes) and adorable dimples (witty dialogue) with the same care, dedication, and love.

Soon after comes the birth announcements (queries to agents). Some recipients will send generous gifts in response (requests to read your manuscript), and some just send nice cards (thanks-but-no-thanks emails). Some may even send along much appreciated advice on baby care, such as proper burping to remove excess gas (cutting out backstory) and how to dispose of the smelliest baby poop (also known as purple prose).

You appreciate all of their time and best wishes, even the ones who say they do not think they could sell your baby in today's baby black market.

If you are lucky, someone will offer to babysit your baby (an agent offers representation). You are happy, but nervous. You hand your baby over to the caregiver (your agent) after going over specific instructions and emergency numbers (the agent contract). When they take the baby from you, you try to go out and have fun doing something else (writing your next book).

In an ideal world, the babysitter takes your child to the park, where all the mothers and grandmothers (editors and publishers) ooh and aah over him. They like him so much, they want to get together and set up playdates for him (publication and book release dates). Unfortunately, sometimes the babysitter gives the baby back at the end of the day and says the baby was cute but did not catch anyone's attention and played in the sandbox alone.

But that's okay. You know that it's a rare for a newborn to become a Gerber Baby (a New York Times bestseller). Once in a while, it's not until your fourth baby that one of your children catches the attention of an adoring grandma at the park. And sometimes, none of your babies get fawned over at the park. Creating a baby is still an amazing experience, even when you have to put them to bed at night.

It's okay either way. Because the truth is, you do not have babies for the other mothers and grandmothers. You have babies (write novels) because you love being a mother (writer). It fills your heart with happiness and your soul with fulfillment, and you can't find that kind of joy without an occasional episiotomy.

Did I go to far with that last metaphor? Sorry. This is exactly why writer's have critique partners.

"At the end of the day, it’s Talan and his endearing combination of bravado and vulnerability, coupled with the crackling chemistry he shares with Laney, that will keep readers turning the pages. A satisfying read for secret-society fanatics and romantics alike."   -KIRKUS REVIEWS

Lynn Lindquist (Chicago, IL) lives with two overly social sons who provide fodder for her young adult novels and growing anxiety disorder. Her contemporary thriller Secret of the Sevens is set for release on June 8, 2015 from Flux Publishing.  To learn more, follow Lynn on lynnlindquist.com or on Twitter at @LynnLindquist.

I'll Meet You at the Water Cooler

colleague

noun col·league \ˈkä-(ˌ)lēg\

: a person who works with you : a fellow worker

Writers write alone. I spend a lot of time at home, in yoga pants, not doing yoga. I carry my MacBook around to various spots—my office, kitchen table, couch, and, perhaps not so wisely, my bed—and I write. Sometimes, for a change of scenery (and clothes), I don jeans and go to a friend’s house where she writes literary fiction in her bedroom, and I write YA fiction in her den. When I leave, I yell up the stairs to let her know I’m leaving, assuming she knew I was there in the first place. When I drive, I’m in my head planning out scenes. When I’m with family or friends, sometimes I’m in my head making characters sketches.

I worked in a corporate office for years, and I talked with my colleagues all day long. At the clichéd water cooler, we talked about the work, office politics, the industry, the weather, TV shows, and movies. My schedule was so booked up with meetings in which we discussed ideas, next steps, and planned meetings to plan more meetings, I barely had time to actually do the work.

Now I’m a writer. I don’t go to an office. I don’t chit-chat at the water cooler (actually,  if I'm lonely enough, I tell my water cooler what I'm working on). I don’t have meetings. But, I do have colleagues, in a sense—critique partners I can talk to about ideas, writing processes, struggles, and frustrations. My crit partners are spread around the continent, and most of our communication is via email, online chat, or occasionally Skype, but I always know they’re out there, and I couldn’t do this without them.

Last week, I learned I have even more colleagues—other authors who are promoting their books. As part of the NYC Teen Author Festival, I was given an opportunity to participate in The Big Read, which was a day of readings to students at libraries across the city. I was assigned to speak at the Queens Library in Jamaica, NY on a panel with four other authors.  I wasn’t as nervous for my first reading as I expected to be. Reading from my own book and then answering questions about writing was like going into an essay test you’re pretty sure you won’t bomb because it’s stuff you know cold.

Highlights of the event were answering the students’ questions, which were thoughtful and smart, and when a girl took a selfie with me, and told me how excited she was to read my book. But what really struck me was that being an author isn’t just about being alone and writing. It’s a job, and I have colleagues. The other authors—Heather Demetrios, Corey Ann Haydu, Aaron Starmer, and Cathleen Davitt Bell—were veterans, so they had done this a million times. When I met them, I told them it was my first time doing a reading, and Heather broke the ice—“Oh yay, we get to watch you lose your virginity!” We all laughed, and I felt like the new employee being warmly welcomed at the water cooler.

Each milestone in the publishing process as a debut author is a first—the offer, the cover, finally telling people who’ve been asking for years that my book is coming out in the fall, the first teenager who added my book on Goodreads, seeing the pre-order page on Amazon and Barnes & Noble and other places. All of this stuff is beyond thrilling. But the first reading with established authors, and not feeling like a complete hack? Realizing that not only do I have critique partners as writing colleagues, but also other authors who are business colleagues? That’s cool. And it makes me want to take them all out to lunch. Too bad the new job doesn’t come with an expense account.

Natasha Sinel writes YA fiction from her home on a dirt road in Northern Westchester, NY. She drives her kids around all afternoon, but in her head, she's still in high school, and hopes that no one near her can read minds. Her debut YA novel THE FIX will be out from Sky Pony Press on September 1, 2015.

Letting Go

     Getting my ARCs was a moment I'll never forget. It was surreal and overwhelming. It was all the good things I'd imagined since I started writing. My book looked like an actual book.
     I stood in my kitchen and stared at them. I took one out of the box. I flipped through the pages. Okay, maybe I danced with it. Then, a few days later, it occurred to me what having ARCs actually meant: people were going to read my book. Not my agent or my editor or my critique partners, but actual people. My peers. Reviewers. Possibly some of my idols.
     My parents.
     My mom read it first. She stayed up late on a family vacation to finish it, and the next day we went to a fabulous independent bookstore in Coral Gables, Florida and had a drink in the courtyard and discussed the book and my journey and it was wonderful and we hugged. My dad read it next. He didn't have the same reaction. The questions he asked made me nervous, made me wonder if I'd done enough, made me wonder if anyone would get it. He said he loved my language. He admitted he's not the target audience. He wished me luck.
     To be clear: my dad loves me and supports me 100% and always has. He was just being honest.
     And he made me realize something that I knew but didn't know until I got off the phone with him--it was time to let my book go.
     People are going to read my book, and I won't be there to tell them what I meant. I won't be able to ask them: did you get it? Did you see what I did there? They will bring their own histories and emotions to the pages and they will form their own opinions. And that's what I want. It is. Even if it's difficult (and amazing and makes me sick to my stomach). Because it's not my book anymore, it's yours.
     Enjoy.

Marcy Beller Paul is a young adult author, former editor, and full-time mom who still has all the notes she passed in seventh grade (and knows how to fold them).

She graduated from Harvard University and lives in New Jersey with her husband and two children. UNDERNEATH EVERYTHING will be published by Balzer + Bray, an imprint of HarperCollins, in October 2015.

Writing the dreaded second book

Here's the funny thing about a debut novel: people (agents, editors, other author, to-be fans) expect that you are going to have a second book not long after the first appears on the shelf. Which is great in theory, but here's the thing: WHAT IF

There. I said it. What if my next book sucks? Or even worse, what if I sit down to hammer out another book only to realize that I used up all the creative currency I had to write the first book and there is nothing left at the bottom of the barrel except a twizzler wrapper and three smarties packages?

Or, what if my first main character is my best main character EVER and all other characters to come are lesser and pathetically two dimensional?

Or, what if everyone hates my first book and every editor in New York City and London agrees to disavow ever having knowledge that I was even a blip on the literary landscape. 

It could happen. In fact, I'm afraid that it will happen. In fact, I'm sitting on not one, not two, but three fun stories and can't seem to get my butt in the chair to actually write them. What the heck! I have a chance to do what I have always wanted to do and I'm stuck. By FEAR.

Now, I'm a big, no, HUGE, fan of TED Talks, so whenever I get stuck, I head over to YouTube and search for inspiration. And this is what I found.

You know what... this makes me feel better. If someone like Elizabeth Gilbert has doubts and works through them, then I can, too. Because if there is one thing (family not included) that I love more than myself, it's writing. It is a passion that has been burning inside me since I was a kid. It's been my dream to have a book available for anyone in the world who wanted to read it. It's been my dream to write so many books that I have a shelf at the library like Meg Cabot does. It's been my dream to inspire others to follow their passion. It's been my dream to be a writer. 

And I have a secret dream that I tell everyone. I want to be on Ellen. There I said it. And there is no way I'm going to get on Ellen by writing one book. So there is no other choice but to write. In the words of my amazing agency/pub sister Amalie Howard, "Pick a story and then sit down and right it. How hard is that?"

So, tell me: What's your dream? Are you doing what you can to make it come true? 

Sarah Schmitt has bachelor’s degrees in political science and psychology as well as a master’s degree in higher education administration, but she has always loved writing fiction. She is a K–8 school librarian part-time and youth service professional for teens at her public library. Sarah currently lives with her husband and two kidlets near Indianapolis, Indiana. Her debut YA novel will be in bookstores October 6, 2015 (Sky Pony Press).

Five Tips to Help You Read Like a Writer

After I became serious about wanting to write fiction, the way I read fiction changed, too. I read more, for one thing, although I'd always been an avid reader. I also became more analytical about it. I often hear—and echo—the sentiment that writers should also be readers. Here are some tips on how to spend that reading time effectively.

1. When you don’t like a book, consider why. I don’t finish every book I start. I used to try, out of some strange sense of duty or something, but I found that attempting to slog through books I didn’t enjoy made me read more slowly and less often. I’d stop reading to avoid the book, and that didn’t do me any good. Now if I don’t like a book, I put it down. First, though, I think about why I don’t like it. Is the prose awkward? Do the characters lack motivation? Is the beginning too slow? Is the action too pointless?

2. When you like a book, also consider why. It’s easy to speed through the pages of a book you love, but it’s helpful to pause every once in a while and think about why it’s pulling you in.

3. Read reviews. Not necessarily of your own books—that’s a topic for a different blog post. But read reviews of books you’ve read, both ones you’ve loved and ones you’ve hated. Read five-star reviews, one-star reviews, and everything in between. This is a great way to compare your own reactions with the reactions of others. You can also get a feel for what tends to annoy readers.

4. Read a variety of genres. You should read in the genre you write, but you should read other books, too. Each genre has its own strengths. There’s no reason an author can’t study love interests from romances, surprise twists from mysteries, and pacing from thrillers.

5. Read the classics. They’re classic for a reason. Read them and think about what has made them stand the test of time—but keep in mind that markets change, so what sold a hundred years ago wouldn’t necessarily sell now.



©Trent Black
 
Laurel Gale lives in the desert with her husband and a band of furry monsters that might actually be ferrets. She enjoys reading novels, playing board games, and learning about everything from history to science to grammar. Her debut middle grade novel, Dead Boy, comes out September 29, 2015, from Random House/Crown Books for Young Readers. 



 

Writers as Lizards

Many of us moved around a lot as kids. Or were in some way put into new environments—new countries, towns, schools, neighborhoods, even new families—more than average. To survive, we became chameleons.

So what? you might well ask. 

Like the proverbial frog into a prince, a chameleon can turn into a writer.

One writer I know lived in 5 cities growing up, and attended 10 schools--including 3 different high schools.

Here’s what it taught her:

Every time she shuffled into a new place, she knew to lay low, hover on the periphery of the playground or cafeteria and observe. Be chameleon-like. Fade into the bushes or recycling bins. Take notes. And commit to heart the rules, the local players, the power structure, and most importantly, the unwritten rules of the new territory.

Then, getting all the elements down cold, she’d ease onto the playground blacktop, or into a seat at a target lunch table, affecting appropriate body language, carrying the proper gear, using the correct slang and wearing the right shoes.

One slip, she knew, and she’d be revealed as an imposter, an outsider.
We all know what can happen to the outsiders.

She was an outsider.  She identified with the other outsiders and underdogs. She learned to communicate persuasively, negotiate between rival groups, and honed her sense of humor and compassion.

It was empowering.  She gained skills a lot of other kids didn’t have.

Perhaps most critically, she came to understand that no matter whether the customs, costumes and language changed subtly or drastically, people’s needs, fears, and hearts were all the same.

It all came in very handy when she grew up and wanted to create worlds full of detail with characters in conflict and stories where different cultures—micro and macro—collide.

Who was this savvy, resourceful writer?

Okay, it was me.

Did you move around as a kid?  Or otherwise have to be chameleon-like? What did it do for you? 

The Six-Week-Wait, AKA How I Read a First Draft

I finished the first draft of a new book this week. Placing the words "first draft" before "new book" is important, because in the publishing world you're not even close to finished at this point.

It's also my turn to blog for the Fall Fifteeners -- perfect timing to talk about a writing philosophy I call the "six-week-wait."

I did not invent this by any means. Lot's of writers use similar strategies, and I truly believe it works. My creative writing teacher planted the seeds when I was an undergrad, and Stephen King's ON WRITING (a good book on craft, even if you're not a fan of his fiction) sprouted a plant and provided a time frame.

In my experience, reading through a first draft right after it's finished is a bad idea. It's tempting, because you're anxious to enjoy your opus, but you must resist and move on to something else for a while. You need distance -- time and space between you and the words you've written, which at this point are probably terrible. That's not an insult -- first drafts are always terrible, and need to be put away for a while so you can read them with objective eyes later on.

The first thing I do when I finish a first draft is open my phone calendar and set an alarm to go off in exactly six weeks. I am forbidden from looking at that steaming pile of poop until my phone chimes that it's okay. If I wait longer, that's totally cool -- six weeks really should be a minimum. The longer you wait to read the mess you've created, the more prepared you will be to read it the way an actual reader might. You can edit it with objective eyes.

I find it fascinating to read my own words with measured distance. It's surreal, like I'm listening to a past self speak in my voice, saying things I do and don't remember saying.

It's painful to do this, to be certain, but writing is painful sometimes. Editing especially so. You're shifting a separate reality in order to make events gel and voices connect, and the six-week-wait puts you outside the circle of influence and almost (but not quite) lets you read your work the way a stranger might. A stranger has no problem slashing and burning because he's not on his home turf.

That's why I'm not reading my new first draft until April 17th at the earliest. I want to read it right now -- I'm dying to see how bad it is. But the alarm in my phone is set, and I cannot break the six-week-wait rule, no matter how tempting it might be.