They are still going:
SCBWI Conference: November 13-14, 2009
The Annual Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrator's (SCBWI) Conference in Salt Lake City, November 13-14, 2009 at the City Library (210 East 400 South, Salt Lake City). Speakers will include Egmont USA editor Elizabeth Law, Book Stop Literary agent Kendra Marcus, and Simon and Schuster art director Laurent Linn. Guest authors will be Royce Buckingham (Demonkeeper), Bree Despain (The Dark Divine), Bobbie Pyron (The Ring), Jean Reagan (Always My Brother), and Sydney Salter (Jungle Crossing). Plus, a Friday writing intensive with Terri Farley (author of the Phantom Stallion series).
The workshop on Friday will be from 2-4:30pm.
Cost $25/SCBWI members, $35/non-members.
Satuday will be from 9:30am-5:15pm.
Cost $85/SCBWI members, $100/non-members.
To register go to the scbwi website @ www.scbwi-utah-idaho.org or email Sydney Salter Husseman at u.i.scbwi@mindspring.com for a PDF of the brochure.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday Mania--Query
One of our readers submitted a query letter for critique. Feel free to make comments, but please keep them constructive.
Critique Archive 0027:
October 22, 2009
Dear xxxx,
I spoke with you at the BYU Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Conference where you expressed an interest in mid-grade contemporary fantasy. Most boys dream of being super heroes, but in my 40,000 word novel, Eddie and the Magic Staff, disabled twelve-year-old Eddie Davenport dreams of being normal, until the day he disappears down a sinkhole and finds a magic staff that cures him—while he holds it.
Trapped beneath the earth, Eddie rouses Afvyra, last of the dragons, from centuries of slumber. “Dragons aren’t real,” Eddie said. “It’s a dream, or a really good movie effect.’”
To escape the dragon’s wrath Eddie must choose to keep the staff, or relinquish his new found freedom to buy his sister’s life. Will he discover in time that he is more than his disability, and that true magic lies within?
Eddie and the Magic Staff received an honorable mention in the 2009 League of Utah Writer’s Tween Book competition. My writing has also been published in LDS Living Magazine. I am the Vice President of the Absolutely Write chapter of the League of Utah Writers.
As the mother of two disabled boys I have unique insight into the inner struggle of disabled children and feel this enables me to accurately portray the search for acceptance Eddie experiences in Eddie and the Magic Staff.
I appreciate your consideration and look forward to hearing from you. I have enclosed a SASE and the first three chapters for your review.
Sincerely,
Author
Critique Archive 0027:
October 22, 2009
Dear xxxx,
I spoke with you at the BYU Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Conference where you expressed an interest in mid-grade contemporary fantasy. Most boys dream of being super heroes, but in my 40,000 word novel, Eddie and the Magic Staff, disabled twelve-year-old Eddie Davenport dreams of being normal, until the day he disappears down a sinkhole and finds a magic staff that cures him—while he holds it.
Trapped beneath the earth, Eddie rouses Afvyra, last of the dragons, from centuries of slumber. “Dragons aren’t real,” Eddie said. “It’s a dream, or a really good movie effect.’”
To escape the dragon’s wrath Eddie must choose to keep the staff, or relinquish his new found freedom to buy his sister’s life. Will he discover in time that he is more than his disability, and that true magic lies within?
Eddie and the Magic Staff received an honorable mention in the 2009 League of Utah Writer’s Tween Book competition. My writing has also been published in LDS Living Magazine. I am the Vice President of the Absolutely Write chapter of the League of Utah Writers.
As the mother of two disabled boys I have unique insight into the inner struggle of disabled children and feel this enables me to accurately portray the search for acceptance Eddie experiences in Eddie and the Magic Staff.
I appreciate your consideration and look forward to hearing from you. I have enclosed a SASE and the first three chapters for your review.
Sincerely,
Author
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Step Away from the Manuscript
by Annette Lyon
I know of writers who claim there is no such thing as writer's block. In a sense, that's true. No matter what the situation, you can sit down, put your hands on the keyboard, and plunk out some words.
But will they be any good?
I've also heard people say that claiming you have writer's block is akin to a plumber saying he's got plumber's block.
To me, that comparison is ridiculous, because a plumber doesn't have to come up with a fresh, new way of fixing a pipe every time. He's got the exact same wrenches and other tools, and a pretty clear-cut list of leaks, clogs, and other issues he'll likely need to fix on any given day.
He doesn't need to find a unique voice, a fresh metaphor, a brand new way to plot a wrench, for Pete's sake. For that matter, if he's good at what he does, he can probably do most of his work without giving it too much thought. He might enjoy a periodic challenge because it's a change in his daily routine.
On the flip side, writers must come up with something new and different each time we sit down. Using the same proverbial wrench every day would be boring or, worse, cliche.
Sure, we can force ourselves to show up at the keyboard, but frankly, sometimes, showing up isn't the best thing to do. Sometimes our creative side needs a break to figure out where we've gone wrong, where to head next, what our character is trying to accomplish, where the plot has gone off into a ditch, what's missing.
And that means walking away from the keyboard.
Paraphrasing an interview I recently read with Audrey Niffenegger (author of The Time Traveler's Wife), writers can often solve problems by coming at them sideways, while working on something else creative. She paints and lets her mind drift. She doesn't force herself to think about her characters or story, but sometimes her mind goes there, and her characters decide to come slip into her mind, showing up with their own answers.
I've found the same thing happening when I let go and stop trying to chase the answers down. The more I try to force the story or the characters to face me head-on, they more they elude me just as I'm about to grab hold of them.
But if let them roam free and I do something else with my mind, letting them come to me, I find that eventually, they will.
For me, sometimes that means setting up my sewing machine and tackling the giant pile of mending my children's clothing. Other times it might be cleaning out a closet or pulling out my knitting needles for a new project.
Maybe I'll go on a walk several days in a row to let my brain think all the messy thoughts it wants to and eventually "unkink" and drift.
Often I find answers while driving, but only if I'm alone in the car and I turn off the radio and drive in silence.
In the summers, weeding a garden or mowing a lawn can do the same thing. Or scrubbing a kitchen floor. In the winter, try shoveling snow.
Do the dishes. Hand-washing is particularly effective for overcoming blocks. So is folding laundry.
I know that it's a pain in some ways that so many of these techniques are chores. (Darn it.) But the reality is that they work. You accomplish something without using a lot of mental energy.
That's the key, because you trick your mind: it knows it's getting something valuable done, yet it's not under pressure to be productive by itself, to be "on" and creative.
Therefore, as you work, your mind gives itself permission to play . . . and a tiny part of it drifts (sometimes you aren't even aware that your mind is working) . . . and then it becomes creative (again, you may not even know it) . . . and then WHAM! the answers come.
Sometimes all it takes is a couple of hours of a different activity. Sometimes it's a few days or even a week or two. But it works.
I'm always amazed when the answers show up. They're clear. They're vivid. They sparkle. And they're always something so much better than I could have come up with on my own by forcing my behind to stay in the chair and by pounding out my word count goal for the day.
That's not to say that writing goals don't have their place; they're very effective, and I use them regularly when drafting. But when occasional blocks smack you in the face, pause and take stock.
If you think it's time, step away from the manuscript. Don't feel guilty about doing so.
Wait for the answers to come while you darn a sock or bake a cake.
(If it's chocolate, save some for me.)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Spinning Wheels
By Julie Wright
Madeleine L'Engle quoted someone who'd said her success hadn't affected her, and then said, "Hasn't it? Of course it has. It's made me free to go out and meet people without tangling in the pride which is an inevitable part of the sense of failure."
I get tangled in pride every now and again, but not the way you'd imagine. I don't sit there thinking of how amazing I am, or better than anyone else I am, simply because I have a few books published. My pride entangles me when I'm not accomplishing what I want--when I am failing.
I see other people accomplishing, achieving, reaching, and feel that inevitable bruising of pride--that sense of failure because I am mired in my own mediocrity. I don't feel like I'm moving forward.
Things sit too long, freezing under me and I start spinning my wheels on the ice; I sometimes take a step or two back instead of forward. Those steps back affect me a great deal more than any success. I withdraw into myself--feeling less worthy. I find myself unable to cheer anyone else on their journey because I am so centered on my own self--which makes me selfish.
This is what happens when I spin my wheels. I become selfish.
The only way to end the cycle is to find some traction, create enough friction, and start moving again. This doesn't always mean getting the agent, the contract, the movie deal. Sometimes finding traction just means to submit another manuscript, to write another word, to DO something--anything that moves you forward.
When moving forward, I find myself better able to step *outside* myself and encourage others to reach for their dreams as well. It allows me to be a better friend, a better mentor--a better person. When I feel like I am succeeding in even the smallest measure, that measure allows me to dream bigger, climb higher, take another step forward--which leads to another step . . . which leads . . .
Madeleine L'Engle quoted someone who'd said her success hadn't affected her, and then said, "Hasn't it? Of course it has. It's made me free to go out and meet people without tangling in the pride which is an inevitable part of the sense of failure."
I get tangled in pride every now and again, but not the way you'd imagine. I don't sit there thinking of how amazing I am, or better than anyone else I am, simply because I have a few books published. My pride entangles me when I'm not accomplishing what I want--when I am failing.
I see other people accomplishing, achieving, reaching, and feel that inevitable bruising of pride--that sense of failure because I am mired in my own mediocrity. I don't feel like I'm moving forward.
Things sit too long, freezing under me and I start spinning my wheels on the ice; I sometimes take a step or two back instead of forward. Those steps back affect me a great deal more than any success. I withdraw into myself--feeling less worthy. I find myself unable to cheer anyone else on their journey because I am so centered on my own self--which makes me selfish.
This is what happens when I spin my wheels. I become selfish.
The only way to end the cycle is to find some traction, create enough friction, and start moving again. This doesn't always mean getting the agent, the contract, the movie deal. Sometimes finding traction just means to submit another manuscript, to write another word, to DO something--anything that moves you forward.
When moving forward, I find myself better able to step *outside* myself and encourage others to reach for their dreams as well. It allows me to be a better friend, a better mentor--a better person. When I feel like I am succeeding in even the smallest measure, that measure allows me to dream bigger, climb higher, take another step forward--which leads to another step . . . which leads . . .
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Ideas and Playtime
by Annette Lyon
(with a bit by her daughter)
One of the most common questions writers get is this one:
Where do you get your ideas?
Most writers don't have much of a problem with this. We get ideas from everywhere.
For example, I had a character show up after I listened to a radio show. The entire concept of another book showed up after a brief conversation with my cop brother. Others appear after reading an article or a news story. The more I read, watch the news, pay attention to the world around me and ask, “What if?” the more ideas flow.
Granted, not all ideas are gems. Most aren’t, for that matter. But you need a constant flow of ideas, like a river, so that when the real gems float by, you can recognize them, grab hold, and hang onto them for all they’re worth.
My 12-year-old daughter was recently planning a lesson to teach to the writing club at the junior high. "Coming up with ideas" was her topic.
She had great notes, so I’m stealing them today, because what she planned for her lesson is applicable to all of us. And frankly, she had some awesome notes.
Earlier, I’d told her the genesis of a few books I knew about, and she wrote them into her notes, so they’re below as well. (I love how she refers to me by my full name one second and then as “my mom” the next.)
Coming up with ideas, by Lyon Child #2
All books have to start with an idea from some idea. Some of ideas that became published books:
Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card: He was driving up a canyon and imagined seeing fighter planes and wondered how would you teach pilots to fight in space when there is no up, no down, or side to side. All the rules of strategy would change. The book is much more than that, but that was the first idea.
House of Secrets by Jeffrey S. Savage. He read a column in a newspaper about the day a woman went to her grandmother’s house after she died. Jeff wondered what would happen if you went to your grandmother's house after many years and you found a dead body in the bedroom.
House on the Hill by Annette Lyon, was reading a book with a lot of historical articles and one was about Indians that would sell their children to get money so there were a bunch of Indian children raised by white families in Utah. So she knew that one of her characters in that book would be an adopted Indian.
Then my mom told me about walking through graveyards and reading the names and other stuff on them. She found a group of stones that were children who died within days of each other. One said that the child died from cholera, so Mom figured the others most likely died from it too.
Then I started thinking what if everyone in a town got cholera and died except for one person that was like 20 and lived by themselves for years and then got cholera too, and was freaking out because there were no more people living and the human race would be extinct.
Another story I thought of after talking to my mom about a gravestone and the inscription on it was that what if there were these four people in college two boys and two girls that hated each other and one of the boys and one of the girls got married and so did the other two. So when the first couple got older they had a girl and when she was twenty she really liked this boy and he came over and they really liked him and thought that he was really nice and his parents thought the same about the girl, but what they didn’t know is that the boys’ parents were their enemies from college. Then at their wedding they find out who his parents are.
One way to find ideas is to go somewhere that’s noisy with lots of people. You can just watch people walk by and imagine what their life might be like.
Or play the “what if” game. Like:
What if penguins could fly?
What if cars ran on lemonade instead of gas?
What if cats were the dominant species?
What if mice could fly?
What if Mother Nature were a real person?
What if house flies were really the size of a house?
What if pigs really could fly?
What if dolls could walk and talk?
What if pictures moved like in Harry Potter?
What if we lived in the 60s?
What if cows could talk?
What if everyone in the world had a super power?
What if socks went on your hands and gloves on your feet?
What if we lived in a time with no technology?
What if there were such thing as flying carpets?
What if we walked on our hands?
What if cows could type?
What if chickens could talk?
What if it was always raining?
What if pencils were earrings?
[End of lesson notes]
All of this came from about half an hour of my seventh-grade daughter typing away with my AlphaSmart Neo. Somehow I think if she can come up with this many ideas in that short of a period (even the soap opera love story one), the rest of us adults don’t have any excuses.
As you drive on your commute or while running errands, turn off the radio and mentally play the “what if” game and take each story as far as you can. My good friend J. Scott Savage has been known to take it so far as he lies in bed that he's plotted out entire trilogies before he falls asleep.
Eye people in the cars next to you and pretend they’re characters. Come up with reasons for where they’re going and why. Or ask yourself why they're driving that make and model of car and how do they feel about it. Make up additional conflicts. It’s great fun.
Now for a dare based on my daughter's notes:
This week, go to a mall, grocery store, or other crowded place and observe. I did this some time ago. I bought myself a few pieces of my favorite See’s candy and sat back on a bench at a busy mall.
I watched high-powered business men scurry by, mothers with huge strollers, senior citizens going on power walks, and more. I came up with stories and characters surrounding them. I sat there for a good half hour or more, letting my mind go wild, taking notes when I felt like it, letting myself daydream when I didn’t . . . and eating chocolate in between.
Best of all, when you do this kind of thing, remember to eavesdrop. That's one of the best ways to get great characterization and storyline ideas. Late-night grocery runs are fantastic for this. Check out this blog post for an example of a recorded late-night grocery trip that I laughed myself silly reading.
The bottom line is that coming up with ideas and filling your creative bucket aren’t so different from one another. Remember the artist child inside you needs fun. Make sure you take him or her out to play every so often.
Oh, and remember to take my daughter’s advice. She may be young, but she knows what she’s talking about.
(That may have something to do with the fact that she’s been living with a writer since, oh, birth.)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
My Audience
By Julie Wright
Reviews are of the devil. No really. They are.
And I'm not just saying that bad reviews are of the devil. I think most reviews are. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE getting glowing reviews. Really. Love it! But I despise the evil reviews, the ones where someone who is NOT your target audience bemoans your story, characters, YOU. I've had reviews that have made me cry. I've also had reviews that made me feel like I was earth shatteringly amazing.
Both sides are a little jaded. And the emotional roller coaster that comes with reading your own reviews is not a safe place for most writers. The incredible highs and abysmal lows are things other, normal people get medicated for. Bi-polar anyone?
I think reviews are good (and necessary) for the reader, but not a benefit (for the most part) to the writer. Readers need reviews so they know what they want to read next. Writers don't need to know what is in their book. They wrote it. They already know.
Maybe you're different, but what happens to me when I read a bad review is akin to writer's block. I can't move. I can't think well enough to type. I feel this awful pit in my stomach that seems it might never go away. A bad review could set me off for a couple of hours, or a couple of days, depending on the review and the moody mood I'm in when I read it.
What happens when I read a good review is akin to writer's block. I can't move. I can't think well enough to type. I feel this insane euphoria as I bask in my own brilliance. A good review could set me off for a couple of hours, or a couple of days, depending on the review and the moody mood I'm in when I read it.
See what I mean? Of. The. Devil.
So what do I do to avoid this review roller coaster? Try not to read them—that is how I handle it. It might be a little head in the sand, but I feel emotionally unstable enough without other people projecting their admiration or scorn on me. I used to read them all the time, like a bizarre obsession. The great reviews sent me soaring. The bad reviews made me crawl under my covers with ice cream and a spoon. I can’t afford either extreme so I just don’t read them anymore.
I had a friend recently lamenting over three stars on their review. Three out of five stars isn’t bad though. It means the reader liked the book and might even recommend the book to others. It doesn’t mean they would pull the book out of their burning house if they only had time to save only one thing, but that they read the book and enjoyed it for what it was.
I’ve also come to conclude that I write to the people who love what I write. They are my audience. But not everyone will love what I write—and that is okay. I am not writing to everyone. I’m writing to my audience.
Reviews are of the devil. No really. They are.
And I'm not just saying that bad reviews are of the devil. I think most reviews are. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE getting glowing reviews. Really. Love it! But I despise the evil reviews, the ones where someone who is NOT your target audience bemoans your story, characters, YOU. I've had reviews that have made me cry. I've also had reviews that made me feel like I was earth shatteringly amazing.
Both sides are a little jaded. And the emotional roller coaster that comes with reading your own reviews is not a safe place for most writers. The incredible highs and abysmal lows are things other, normal people get medicated for. Bi-polar anyone?
I think reviews are good (and necessary) for the reader, but not a benefit (for the most part) to the writer. Readers need reviews so they know what they want to read next. Writers don't need to know what is in their book. They wrote it. They already know.
Maybe you're different, but what happens to me when I read a bad review is akin to writer's block. I can't move. I can't think well enough to type. I feel this awful pit in my stomach that seems it might never go away. A bad review could set me off for a couple of hours, or a couple of days, depending on the review and the moody mood I'm in when I read it.
What happens when I read a good review is akin to writer's block. I can't move. I can't think well enough to type. I feel this insane euphoria as I bask in my own brilliance. A good review could set me off for a couple of hours, or a couple of days, depending on the review and the moody mood I'm in when I read it.
See what I mean? Of. The. Devil.
So what do I do to avoid this review roller coaster? Try not to read them—that is how I handle it. It might be a little head in the sand, but I feel emotionally unstable enough without other people projecting their admiration or scorn on me. I used to read them all the time, like a bizarre obsession. The great reviews sent me soaring. The bad reviews made me crawl under my covers with ice cream and a spoon. I can’t afford either extreme so I just don’t read them anymore.
I had a friend recently lamenting over three stars on their review. Three out of five stars isn’t bad though. It means the reader liked the book and might even recommend the book to others. It doesn’t mean they would pull the book out of their burning house if they only had time to save only one thing, but that they read the book and enjoyed it for what it was.
I’ve also come to conclude that I write to the people who love what I write. They are my audience. But not everyone will love what I write—and that is okay. I am not writing to everyone. I’m writing to my audience.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Monday Mania--Query
One of our readers submitted a query letter for critique. Feel free to make comments, but please keep them constructive.
Critique Archive 0026:
Dear XXXX,
It’s 1992, you’re in London in the middle of the night, frightened and alone. Who would you call? If you are a brilliant, desperate 11-year-old girl hiding in the Notting Hill library, you call on your favorite literary characters. Why? Because Jane Eyre, Huck Finn, and Sidney Carton are your friends…
The young English girl’s tale is one of two that converge in Charm Bracelet, the first novel in my City of Roses series. Set in Portland, Oregon in 2009, the second storyline revolves around jaded corporate attorney, Simon Phillips. In an alcohol-induced fog, Simon finds himself atop a conference room table at his law firm boldly taking the entire legal profession to task, spouting off the things lawyers sometimes think about but never say. This gutsy stand, and other bad-boy behavior, land Simon with an enforced leave of absence, volunteer work, and stress management classes.
Hoping to avoid anyone he knows, a sober, disgruntled Simon goes to a crumbling community center in Northwest Portland for help, and there, unexpectedly, meets the love of his life. Simon has only to look at Dr. Kate Spencer, a non-profit pediatrician, to know she will change him forever, Accustomed to women falling at his feet, Simon must work hard to become a better person, one worthy of Kate. Will it be enough for him to win her, or is it his turn to have a broken heart? Can Simon help Kate move beyond the tragic past that haunts her? Will Kate risk emotional security or continue burying herself in a life of service? And just how does a dented, battered charm bracelet tie Simon and Kate’s story to the girl in the library?
These questions are all answered in Charm Bracelet. Comparable to the work of Lolly Winston, the 102,000-word story explores the consequences of loving another, showing that relationships can be harrowing as well as redemptive. It’s a smart love story with humor. And a shiny, gold heart.
I have been a passionate reader and writer since childhood, and now that my six children are older, I have adequate time to devote to my vocation. Over the last two years, I have taken as many classes as I could to learn the craft. I participate in two critique groups, have attended writer’s conferences throughout the state of Utah, and I am a member of The League of Utah Writers. As a regular speaker at a local women’s organization, I feel in tune with what women look for in a good story, and I am now working on the third installment for City of Roses. My former instructor, Sharon Jarvis (The Kaleidoscope Season, The Fairhaven Chronicles, Deseret Book Company) suggested that I begin submitting my work.
I have enclosed the first five pages of Charm Bracelet with this query. I hope to hear from you in order to send more. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
AUTHOR
Critique Archive 0026:
Dear XXXX,
It’s 1992, you’re in London in the middle of the night, frightened and alone. Who would you call? If you are a brilliant, desperate 11-year-old girl hiding in the Notting Hill library, you call on your favorite literary characters. Why? Because Jane Eyre, Huck Finn, and Sidney Carton are your friends…
The young English girl’s tale is one of two that converge in Charm Bracelet, the first novel in my City of Roses series. Set in Portland, Oregon in 2009, the second storyline revolves around jaded corporate attorney, Simon Phillips. In an alcohol-induced fog, Simon finds himself atop a conference room table at his law firm boldly taking the entire legal profession to task, spouting off the things lawyers sometimes think about but never say. This gutsy stand, and other bad-boy behavior, land Simon with an enforced leave of absence, volunteer work, and stress management classes.
Hoping to avoid anyone he knows, a sober, disgruntled Simon goes to a crumbling community center in Northwest Portland for help, and there, unexpectedly, meets the love of his life. Simon has only to look at Dr. Kate Spencer, a non-profit pediatrician, to know she will change him forever, Accustomed to women falling at his feet, Simon must work hard to become a better person, one worthy of Kate. Will it be enough for him to win her, or is it his turn to have a broken heart? Can Simon help Kate move beyond the tragic past that haunts her? Will Kate risk emotional security or continue burying herself in a life of service? And just how does a dented, battered charm bracelet tie Simon and Kate’s story to the girl in the library?
These questions are all answered in Charm Bracelet. Comparable to the work of Lolly Winston, the 102,000-word story explores the consequences of loving another, showing that relationships can be harrowing as well as redemptive. It’s a smart love story with humor. And a shiny, gold heart.
I have been a passionate reader and writer since childhood, and now that my six children are older, I have adequate time to devote to my vocation. Over the last two years, I have taken as many classes as I could to learn the craft. I participate in two critique groups, have attended writer’s conferences throughout the state of Utah, and I am a member of The League of Utah Writers. As a regular speaker at a local women’s organization, I feel in tune with what women look for in a good story, and I am now working on the third installment for City of Roses. My former instructor, Sharon Jarvis (The Kaleidoscope Season, The Fairhaven Chronicles, Deseret Book Company) suggested that I begin submitting my work.
I have enclosed the first five pages of Charm Bracelet with this query. I hope to hear from you in order to send more. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
AUTHOR
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