Editing, Day 2--Speaker Attributes/Verb Choice

First, a quick point of housekeeping. I received an e-mail from a would-be BG yesterday, saying she had a heck of a time reading this blog because her Mac computer wreaked havoc with the punctuation, etc. I told her to try reading the post from the comment page, but that didn’t work either. Her computer savvy husband showed her what to do. She said, “By going to view, then encoding, and choosing UNICODE UTF-8 (Default was selected), the page displayed correctly.” Please pass on this info to anyone you know who’s had trouble reading the posts.

We had a pretty busy day here yesterday, and over the weekend as folks were reading our AS and the first edit. Thanks to those of you who commented yesterday. Becca—welcome to the AW side (at least for yesterday).

Lynette asked if I’m open to people giving me ideas for books. Uh, yeah, if you don’t want ’em. Not promising I’ll use ’em, but I’m open to all the help I can get.

Ron asked: When I write a character asking a question, I simply tag it "she said" instead of "she asked." I see the ? and "asked" as redundant. Am I wrong?

Answer: Well, you’re not wrong to think it’s redundant. That’s why not using an SA is your best bet. Try to use either straight dialogue or beats when you can. When you must use an SA for a question, it should be “she/he asked.”

I hope you all will remember this Use-an-SA-as-a-last-resort idea as you continue to write. Don’t let yourself get lazy now, hear? Today I was looking back at my novel Color the Sidewalk for Me. Those of you who’ve stuck with this blog through our NES (Never Ending Saga, turned to Now Ended Saga) know what I went through to get that book published, and that to this day I have a special place in my heart for this book. I like the story; I’m proud of the writing. But I’ll tell you—I look at the SAs in it and shiver. They’re all through that book, and they don’t need to be there. If I were to rewrite the book today, I’d take 98% of ’em out.

I consider this a very positive thing—that I can look 8-9 books back and see things that I would change. Shows I’m making progress in my craft.

Now for our AS, I’m going to move on to verb choice. We're talking about verbs mostly in the narrative sentences, and sometimes also in interior monologue. Verb choice is important in all scenes, but particularly in action scenes. When there’s all kinds of action going on, the verb is the most important word in the sentence. So you want it to pack a punch. Strong verb choice is another technique that just by itself can immensely improve a scene. The technique here is simply stated: Find the most action-packed and meaningful verb you can. Easy to say; often hard to do.

Here’s what I try to do in action scenes:

1. Choose verbs rich with meaning that will help the person feel and visualize the scene.

2. Vary these verbs so I don’t use the same one twice. The more unique and meaningful a verb, the less I use it throughout the book, because it stands out.

3. Stay away from state of being verbs. These verbs (is, was, etc.) are the weakest verbs you can find. Definitely not good fits for high action.

It’s easy to fall into mediocre verb choice. The more common verbs spring first to our minds. We have to work at finding the more meaningful ones. And, per point 2, the better verbs we choose, the wider the variety we must use so they're not repeated.

Here’s our AS, run again in total. This version, however, includes the changes we made regarding speaker attributes. I have highlighted the weak verbs in red. There are quite a few strong verbs used. Still, you may be surprised to see how many weaker verbs I found—now that they’re popping out at you.

In an instant, he spun her whole body around, and her shoulder pummeled into Spirit. The horse panicked and jumped away, ripping the reins out of her hand.

Vince’s fist landed on her cheekbone, and she was vaguely aware of the horse bolting out the door before she felt the pain and stumbled.

“Spirit!”

Vince was upon her. He grabbed a fistful of her jacket and yanked her to her feet. “It’s time you learned something, Darling.” He stuck his face in hers, his stale cigar breath assaulting her. “I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

She closed her eyes, gasping. If she resisted, he’d make it worse. “Vince, please, don’t.”

“You pitiful excuse for a woman.” He hit her again, a swift bash on her left temple. The blow made the room turn black around the edges. But she didn’t lose consciousness.

Vince let her crumple to the floor. “Worthless piece of trash.”

She tried to look up at him. “If you just leave me alone . . . I . . . I promise I’ll never tell a soul what you did. Just let me go. Why won’t you let me go?”

He picked her up by the jacket again and shoved her against a stall door. She groaned as pain shot through her back. He’d pushed her against the metal latch.

“Oh, it’s too late, Christy. I’ve given you more than enough chances.”

“Please. . .”

He backhanded her across the face. She fell to her knees, clutching her nose as warm blood dripped into her fingers.

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You’re certainly nothing to look at.”

She glanced up at the caricature of his once handsome face. How could she ever have loved this man?

Vince pulled a wad of rope out of his jacket pocket. “Not even worth the air you breath.”

That’s when she realized the awful truth. He wasn’t just doing this to frighten her. He intended to kill her, and every ounce of survival instinct she had kicked in. She searched for a weapon. Bale of straw. Horse comb. Bottle of saddle soap. Shovel. She locked onto that. It leaned against the wall by the door. Could she crawl fast enough?

Vince kicked her in the thigh. “Get up.”

Christy started to rise in a slow, defeated way, but the second she got her feet underneath herself, she lunged for the door, and the shovel. Grasping it with both hands, she willed her eyes to focus on Vince, and hurled it at his head.

The shovel met it’s mark with a revolting thud. Vince’s hands flew to his face, and he moaned as he sagged to the floor. She froze, shocked she’d actually wounded him. What was she doing? She had to get of here! Move!

Christy ran. Into the yard, past the pickups. The house! Get to the house! Lock the door. Maybe she could figure out how to use one of those guns before Vince could break in.

And then she saw the most beautiful creature in the entire world, Spirit, a snowy apparition standing in the middle of the yard, waiting for her. For a split second she hesitated. Should she race for the house or try to mount the gelding when she could barely see straight?

Vince decided for her. He appeared in the barn doorway still holding his head, his eyes ablaze. She wouldn’t make the house.

Adrenaline propelled her to Spirit, and she frantically gathered the reins, struggling to get her foot in the stirrup.

Glance behind. Vince was running toward her.

Clutching Spirit’s mane, she summoned all her strength, pulled herself up, and made it!

Tomorrow we will look at ways in which many of these verbs can be changed. For today, feel free to comment on your own ideas for changes, or post an edit of SAs you made on your wip since yesterday’s lesson.

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Read Part 4

Editing, Day 1--Speaker Attributes

Happy Monday, BGs.

Thanks for all the comments left Friday about our scene. CT (who commented for the first time on Friday), welcome to the AW (Above Water) side. And all you who remain SLs (Silent Lurkers)—we love ya. Also, welcome to our newbies. As you can see, we tend to have our own Blogspeak here, but you’ll pick it up in no time. Dineen—gee, thanks a bunch for posting the Web site to view my frog face picture. Somehow I just know that photo’s gonna continue to haunt me.

Quick question from ValMarie on Friday—how much prewriting do I do before starting a book? Answer—not much. I try to figure out the important scenes, often starting with the premise and final twist, then working backwards from the twist (how can I pull it off/make it plausible?). Most of the time I stumble around, kick cabinets and pray a lot. In the end, somehow the plot comes.

Okay. In looking at our scene over the weekend, I realized we need to spend a number of days on the edit in order to thoroughly discuss the concepts I listed on Friday. Our brave BG has given us an excellent scene to work with because we don’t have to start with basics—these have been handled well. We can focus instead on how to take a good scene and make it better.

Instead of going through the scene paragraph by paragraph and tackling many different concepts at once, we’ll discuss one concept at a time. Some paragraphs need editing in more than one area, but we won’t get ahead of ourselves. We’ll just come back to them as needed.

Before we begin, we all need to take one big emotional step backward from this scene and its author (whom we love and admire for her bravery) so we can look at it objectively and thoroughly. This is a time of learning for us all. From here on , let’s forget who wrote the excerpt and refer to it as our AS (Action Scene).

I’m starting with one of the easier concepts. Today we look at speaker attributes (SAs). These are phrases such as “he said,” “she yelled,” etc.

I’ve gotten harder on myself about these, thanks to my current editor. Today, I use them only as a very last resort. (I think in the entire book of Brink of Death, for example, I used about five SAs.) There are far better ways to show who’s talking. An SA doesn’t add anything to the scene other than the attribute. I’ve heard some argue that SAs tend to disappear—readers don’t notice them—so go ahead and use them. I respond—why choose a method that merely disappears over a method that could enhance the scene?

My thought process as I write dialogue:

1. Is just straight dialogue best? If you’re working with two characters, you can do this for a number of lines, but don’t push it. You don’t want a reader to have to look back to figure out who’s speaking.

2. Should I use an action or interior monologue beat? Much of the time, especially in action scenes, this will be the best choice. Beats can be very helpful when you’ve got three or more characters talking. And beats enhance the scene because they show what’s happening and, when used correctly, deepen characterization. But watch your rhythm. Beat, dialogue; beat, dialogue; beat, dialogue will get boring in a hurry. You’ll have to vary this. There are numerous ways to vary rhythm, but that’s another day’s topic.

3. If I must show who's talking, and I've used too many action/interior monologue beats and now can't even find a new way to vary them, then I'll use an SA. But I really work hard before I give in and use one.

Our Action Scene has only three SAs—that’s pretty good. But it doesn’t need any one of them. I’ve highlighted the text in red.

She closed her eyes, gasping. If she resisted, he’d make it worse. She managed a feeble, “Vince, please, don’t.”

This SA is there to explain how the words Vince, please don’t were said without using an adverb (she said feebly). A notable reason—you want to stay away from adverbs as much as possible. However, the phrase ends up detracting from the scene instead of enhancing because the words are unnecessary. I suggest simply deleting the phrase.

She closed her eyes, gasping. If she resisted, he’d make it worse. “Vince, please, don’t.”

We’ve already got two beats here. First sentence is an action beat. Second is an interior monologue beat. The “gasping” in the action beat is enough to set up how the words will be stated. Do you see how the dialogue, without that superfluous lead-in SA phrase, now has greater impact?

SA number two:

Vince let her crumple to the floor.
“Worthless piece of trash,” he said.

Here we have a strong action beat. No SA needed. This SA, too, actually detracts—for two reasons. One, it weights the line with unnecessary words. Two, it uses said, which is a mild word and keeps the reader from imagining the words as sneered or spat, which is more appropriate within the context. (Still—we don’t need to say, he sneered. We get the idea without that.) The dialogue can be moved up to the same paragraph:

Vince let her crumple to the floor. “Worthless piece of trash.”

And the third SA:

. . . She searched for a weapon. Bale of straw. Horse comb. Bottle of saddle soap. Shovel. She locked onto that. It leaned against the wall by the door. Could she crawl fast enough?

“Get up,” Vince ordered.

Christy started to rise in a slow, defeated way, . . .

This one falls under that admonition we know as R.U.E.—Resist the Urge to Explain. The words “Get up” show that Vince is ordering Christy. The tacked-on SA adds unnecessary words, which weights down the action.

We could choose to use straight dialogue. Separated from the paragraph above and beneath that refer to Christy, the dialogue would clearly come from Vince. However, because the dialogue is surrounded by beats for Christy, and we haven’t heard from Vince for a while, I’d suggest putting in an action beat for him. How about:

. . . She searched for a weapon. Bale of straw. Horse comb. Bottle of saddle soap. Shovel. She locked onto that. It leaned against the wall by the door. Could she crawl fast enough?

He kicked her in the thigh. “Get up.”

Christy started to rise in a slow, defeated way, . . .

When you use an action beat, choose one that’ll give you the most meaning possible. They’re particularly good when they add characterization and/or deeper meaning, as well as add action. I chose he kicked her in the thigh because injuring someone further is diametrically opposed to the order get up. But that’s clearly the kind of person Vince is. He will kick Christy when she’s down. So this particular beat ends up doing three things: adds action, characterizes, and also works almost as a larger symbol for the relationship between Christy and Vince.

Some homework for the day, if you’re so inclined. Edit one of your own scenes for SAs. Use them only if you absolutely must. Be hard on yourself about this. SAs are easy to dash off, so we tend to fall back on them when we should work harder for a better choice. Imagine taking dozens of SAs out of your work and replacing those that must be replaced with beats that help characterize and move the action in your story. This one technique alone will make a big difference in your writing. (But you gotta write those action beats with punch.) You might post an edited line or two as a comment. Or if you have follow-up questions, please ask away. We’re on no schedule here—we’ll take all the time we need on one concept before moving to the next.

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Read Part 3

Brave Soul Steps Up For Edit

Yup, we got ourselves a taker. Today you’ll read the action scene sent in by a courageous BG.
First, some other news. Yesterday I had a very fun radio interview with two entertaining guys—Ken and Steve from The Neon Fish show on KKHT 100.7FM in Houston, Texas. We taped three 8-minute segments for the show. It will air tomorrow, Sat. June 11, at 4:00 p.m. Central time. Texans, I s’pose you can tune in on the ol’ radio. The rest of you will be able to hear it live on http://kkht.com. After the fact, you can go to that Web site, click on The Neon Fish guys at the top, then click on the blue button for interview archives. Or so I’ve been told. Ken and Steve talked to me about my writing, my teaching, and God’s healing. These guys impressed me with their homework. I mean, they knew about me. They hadn’t exactly read every one of my books, but they had clearly spent time on my Web site and this blog. Plus they even knew other stuff, such as I “do skits” and “like to play practical jokes on other authors.”

All right, BGs, who out there’s been tellin' stories on me?

If they’d mentioned my frog face at my signing last week, I’d a really been freaked.

Okay. On to the scene for edit. I have pulled this excerpt right from the middle of the scene sent to me. Set-up: Abusive ex boyfriend shows up unannounced, bringing less than favorable intentions.

----------------------------------------
In an instant, he spun her whole body around, and her shoulder pummeled into Spirit. The horse panicked and jumped away, ripping the reins out of her hand.

Vince’s fist landed on her cheekbone, and she was vaguely aware of the horse bolting out the door before she felt the pain and stumbled.

“Spirit!”

Vince was upon her. He grabbed a fistful of her jacket and yanked her to her feet. “It’s time you learned something, Darling.” He stuck his face in hers, his stale cigar breath assaulting her. “I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

She closed her eyes, gasping. If she resisted, he’d make it worse. She managed a feeble, “Vince, please, don’t.”

“You pitiful excuse for a woman.” He hit her again, a swift bash on her left temple. The blow made the room turn black around the edges. But she didn’t lose consciousness.

Vince let her crumple to the floor.

“Worthless piece of trash,” he said.

She tried to look up at him. “If you just leave me alone . . . I . . . I promise I’ll never tell a soul what you did. Just let me go. Why won’t you let me go?”

He picked her up by the jacket again and shoved her against a stall door. She groaned as pain shot through her back. He’d pushed her against the metal latch.

“Oh, it’s too late, Christy. I’ve given you more than enough chances.”

“Please. . .”

He backhanded her across the face. She fell to her knees, clutching her nose as warm blood dripped into her fingers.

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You’re certainly nothing to look at.”

She glanced up at the caricature of his once handsome face. How could she ever have loved this man?

Vince pulled a wad of rope out of his jacket pocket. “Not even worth the air you breath.”

That’s when she realized the awful truth. He wasn’t just doing this to frighten her. He intended to kill her, and every ounce of survival instinct she had kicked in. She searched for a weapon. Bale of straw. Horse comb. Bottle of saddle soap. Shovel. She locked onto that. It leaned against the wall by the door. Could she crawl fast enough?

“Get up,” Vince ordered.

Christy started to rise in a slow, defeated way, but the second she got her feet underneath herself, she lunged for the door, and the shovel. Grasping it with both hands, she willed her eyes to focus on Vince, and hurled it at his head.

The shovel met it’s mark with a revolting thud. Vince’s hands flew to his face, and he moaned as he sagged to the floor. She froze, shocked she’d actually wounded him. What was she doing? She had to get of here! Move!

Christy ran. Into the yard, past the pickups. The house! Get to the house! Lock the door. Maybe she could figure out how to use one of those guns before Vince could break in.

And then she saw the most beautiful creature in the entire world, Spirit, a snowy apparition standing in the middle of the yard, waiting for her. For a split second she hesitated. Should she race for the house or try to mount the gelding when she could barely see straight?
Vince decided for her. He appeared in the barn doorway still holding his head, his eyes ablaze. She wouldn’t make the house.

Adrenaline propelled her to Spirit, and she frantically gathered the reins, struggling to get her foot in the stirrup.

Glance behind. Vince was running toward her.

Clutching Spirit’s mane, she summoned all her strength, pulled herself up, and made it!
----------------------------------------

This author has done many things well. Fortunately we don’t have to go back to the basics. POV stays in the head of Christy. The scene isn’t slowed with too much thought. We can follow the action clearly. This certainly isn’t a poorly written scene. But how can we make it better?

Let me ask you--does the scene zing? Did you feel the action along with Christy?

On Monday (because you’ve put me in the habit of cliffhanging you), we’ll look at some suggested edits. Until then—think about these issues:

1. Speaker attributes (“he said,” etc.)
2. Rhythm of sentences (particularly length)
3. Verb choice
4. Action/reaction sequence
5. Tightness of writing
6. Depth of character response/emotion

How would you change some of these aspects in the scene?

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Read Part 2-10
Read Part 11-19

Exclamation Points and Learning the Craft

Howdy, BGs. I’m continuing with a couple questions from Tuesday.

1. Becky asked about marketing books. This is a topic that will require a blog or two. I will deal with it . . . um, sometime. Soon. Becky, don’t let me forget.

2. C.J. asked: I was hoping at some point you could discuss writing action/fight scenes. I know you covered some of this in your how-to book, but I'm always looking for ways to improve my action sequences.

C.J., how ’bout sending me 1-2 pages from one of your action scenes? I’ll post it and then we’ll edit it, talking about technique points as we go. I realize you gotta be mighty brave to be publicly edited, so if you’re unsure about this, no worries. Perhaps someone else will step up to the plate if you decline. But I wanted to give you first dibs, since it’s your question. (It really is OK to say you’re too timid to do this.)

3. D. Gudger asked: An editor mentioned that he will toss any manuscripts with italics, underlined words, bold print, or even exclamation marks. His point was if you had to use a visual cue that strong emotion was being emitted from a character's mouth, then your words are weak. ??

I agree with this editor only to a point. (haha)

The problem lies in the way he stated it—making the forbidding of exclamation points and italics sound like a hard and fast rule. "Simply don’t, never, nada." I don’t think there are any hard and fast rules in fiction except for—uh, write good. (Well if you’re an English teacher.)

I’m thinkin’ this editor, in trying to make a point, exaggerated a bit.

But this editor’s goal is sound—that is, trying to achieve emotion without using a lot of visual cues. Bottom line is: if you need the visual cue to get your point across, your writing is weak. But if the visual cue merely enhances emotion that’s already there, it’s OK to use it. In some cases the lack of an exclamation point could actually detract. If a character's screaming across a canyon, it's gonna look a little odd not to use one. But if you keep using 'em line after line as the screaming continues, they'll lose their effect.

Same thing for italics—use them with caution. Think twice about it first.

4. Becky asked: You said you didn't have the advantage of the internet community of writers when you started, and I get the impression that you would have done some things differently. If you were just starting out, what would you change? And what do you think has been the most helpful thing or things in learning your craft?

First, all you BGs are taking advantage of what I didn’t have when I first started out—the Internet and instant communication. So you’re way ahead of me. In general, here are things that will help you learn your craft. You may not be able timewise or moneywise to do them all. Just do what you can, and don’t beat up on yourself for those you can’t. (We writers tend to be hard on ourselves.) These are not in any particular order.

A. Join ACFW ($40/year) and take advantage of topic discussions and particularly the online classes (usually about 10 a year). $40 a year is a pittance for the training you can glean from this organization, if you’ll make the most of it. (Which means you can’t spend too much time on the idle chatter part.)

B. Attend at least one highly rated writers conference a year. Expensive, yes, but it’s excellent training packed in a few days. And the networking with editors, agents and published authors is priceless.

C. Read novels. Lots of them. Particularly in your genre. Read with pen in hand, marking up the book. (If it’s from the library, take notes.) Note techniques like POV, transitions, how a flashback is used, how the story is built, etc. You will learn as much from reading as you do from writing. We learn how to speak from listening to people talk. Same relationship applies between writing and reading.

D. Read how-to books. These, you need to buy so you can mark them up. You can start with broad category books like Stein’s Stein on Writing or Swain’s Techniques of the Selling Writer. Also Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey. Then you can narrow your focus from there. These books work best when they’re not just read straight through, but when you take a chapter, read it, then work the techniques into your own writing. One caution, however—you’ll see varying opinions from various teachers of writing. In the end, you have to take what works for you.

E. Go to highly praised movies—or rent them. In two hours you can experience a complete story. Watch everything—camera shots, even the typeface used in the opening. Movies are especially helpful for learning about symbolism and dialogue.

F. Oh, yeah. Write.

G. Give yourself time. Know that you’re on a long journey.

H. Watch life! Watch people’s emotions, listen to people talk. You have to do this in order to learn about human passions, which drive your stories. Notice how one emotion leads to another, how none of them is an island.

I. Pray. Keep your head on straight, your feet on God’s path. Don’t get cute and step off of it. You’ll be sorry.

J. Read Forensics and Faith blog. Every day.

Hey, who stuck in that audaciously self-serving one?

Tomorrow—perhaps that action scene to edit. If C.J. runs and hides (which I probably would do), one of you other BGs can send me something.

Answers to Some of Your Questions

Becky has renamed our NES in such a way that we can still call it our NES. The initials currently stand for: Now Ended Saga. Very clever, my dear.

Well. I asked for questions, I got ’em. Some will require full posts to tackle the subjects. Others are smaller in nature. I’m taking a few of those smaller ones for today.

Before I get started—Jason, thanks for leaving your comment yesterday. I appreciate your thanks for the NES, and it’s always great to see a new name pop up. You have officially risen from the SL (Silent Lurker) mode to one of the AWs (Above Waters). There are still a great many more SLs than AWs out there. Ooh, yes, Blogger knows all. I may not see your names, but I do see your shadows . . .

Now for the questions.

1. Since Mt. Hermon wasn't your first teaching experience, I'd be interested in how you came to speak and teach that very first time. What conference, what position? Was it something you sought out or were you approached? –Becky

I started teaching through ACFW (then called ACRW). I taught (and emceed) by invitation at their first conference in 2002, and have taught/emceed at ACFW since then. My book Getting Into Character was published in spring of 2002, and I’m sure that had a lot to do with my being asked to teach. I also have this vague memory of leading a workshop at an ACW conference in Sacramento some years back.

2. Do you think having an agent is necessary, especially if a pre-published author does the work to meet with editors and is offered an unagented contract? –Becky

Yes, I’ve always thought having an agent is the right thing to do. Just make sure it’s a good agent, as they’re not created equal. Even if you’re fortunate enough to be offered a contract via your own doing, a good agent will negotiate that contract far better than you would. Contracts run page after page, and you should never sign one on your own. So even if you choose not to go the agent route, you’d still need to hire someone to look over the contract for you. The problem is that negotiating a contract yourself puts you in a tugging mode with the person who’s going to be your editor. I wouldn’t want to be in such a situation with my editor.

Agents typically earn 15% commission on domestic rights, 20% on foreign and film rights. That might sound like a lot of money out of your pocket, but a good agent will pay for himself/herself by getting you a better deal.

Finally, a good agent isn’t just for the current, pressing project. A good agent will help you plan your career. What will you do next? How will you build your readership base? Better to be lead by someone savvy in the beginning than make mistakes on your own.

But—you must research the agent! A bad agent is worse than none at all.

3. When do you write? Is it in one chunk of time or in several a day? –Cindy

Boy, I wish I could write in one dashed-out chunk of time. I tend to go hard for a few pages, then my mind just loses focus. So I’ll check e-mails, do something else for a few minutes, then go back to it.

As for my work schedule in general, I’m in the office basically all day, as soon as I come back from taking my daughter to school until 6-7 at night. (I get up at 6:00 a.m. to run my five miles when it’s daylight. In the winter, I’ll run at the end of the afternoon.) I try not to have appointments during work days, as that really breaks into my time. But so many days life does get in the way. During the day I spend quite a bit of time (too much) going about the business of writing. Dealing with e-mails, dealing with marketing issues, writing the blog post, answering reader letters, etc. And, oh, yeah, somewhere in there I write a book.

4. Does blogging enhance your writing? —Cindy

I can’t say it enhances the writing itself. Blogging actually takes a lot of time, which detracts from the writing. But I didn’t start to blog to help my writing. I started to blog in order to be in more intimate communication with my readers. And in that way, the blog is working well.

5. I'm curious about the tight publishing deadlines you find yourself in. Does a time crunch hinder creativity and quality? Or do writing skills speed up to make the deadline? —Grady

It’s a very good question. In one way a deadline hinders creativity. The pressure itself can cause creativity to stop flowing. Then again, without the pressure, I wouldn’t finish the book.

Now I know you’re thinking, wait a minute, you finished books before you had deadlines. True, but writing was easier then. The more you learn of the craft, the harder you become on yourself to meet higher and higher standards. Plus if you’ve had x, y, z number of books published, you’ve already done certain things and need to find new plots and new ways to say things. Like in suspense—how do I create intense scenes without using the same words and phrases book after book? It becomes harder to be newly creative. And I’m always pushing myself to do it better. So with all this going on, I simply wouldn't choose to be as productive if I didn’t have the deadline to push me. Heck, I'd be sneaking out to matinees.

When I signed my current contract (7 books) I thought long and hard about how much time I needed between books. My husband and I discussed it—what would be good for our family. I didn’t want to be pushed too hard for that many books in a row. Contract negotiating time is key time for figuring out your schedule. And you have to remember that you’ll likely be starting one book, then have to stop and rewrite the last one, so you have to allow time for that, too.

Thanks, BGs! More questions/topics taken on tomorrow. If you have further questions—you know where to leave ’em.

Cliffhangers

Started today’s blog by automatically typing “How I Got . . .”

Oops.

Over the course of our NES, many of you dear BGs posted comments about wanting to discuss this or that once the “never” became an “ending.” Rather than go back through page after page of comments and try to glean them all, would you do me a favor and post some topics you’d like to see us cover?

Thanks for all of the comments yesterday as our story ended. I appreciated them muchly.

By the way, east coast Linda, who wonders when I get up in the morning. No it’s not 2:30, Pacific time. I will make a confession. I post between 9:00 and 10:00 p.m. at night, and set the time for 6:00 the following morning. I do this specifically so the east-coasters can catch the blog early. Otherwise they’d be having to wait until noon or so. All right, now that I’ve admitted this publicly, how many of you late-night Pacific-timers caught on to this and read the next NES installment early? ’Fess up, now.

For today, here’s one comment/question I remember from the cliffhanger on Friday, May 27. This was the scene of my being in a prayer meeting with four women, and God telling me “one word” about one of them. Becky wrote: . . . think about it. None of us knows anything about this woman, so it isn't character (as important as that is to a story) that has us all on the edge of our seats and groaning--in my case, audibly. So, the question. This seems like a new way of creating suspense, or maybe a twist. Do you have a catalogue of techniques you use? Is this conscious or do you do it instinctively?

I found that an interesting question. Yes, at this point writing cliffhangers has become rather instinctive with me. So I had to pull back, re-look at what I wrote and think, hm, just what did I do?

Two things made this cliffhanger work, I’d say. (And by the way, to discuss this, we must put aside our empathy with the real gal in the story—since it was true—and look at this objectively, as if I’d written fiction.)

1. Becky’s right—readers had just been introduced to this character and didn’t know her enough to have built emotions about her. But you had hung with me for a long time through the NES. I remained the main character here, this gal a new introduction into the story. If this cliffhanger got you, it was because you were concerned for the effect of that “one word” on me, even though the word from God was directed toward this character.

I’d taken some time to build this scene up. (You might want to go back and read the post on May 27.) I’d told you for a day or two how stuck I was in trying to find a plot for Web of Lies, and how much I was praying about that. Then I mentioned that this scene kept coming to mind. That I now realized this scene was an answer to those prayers. In describing the scene, I used words such as “heart-tugging” and “wrenching.”

So there’s the set-up. Something I'm about to hear is going to hit me hard—even though it’s not about me.

Point to remember here for your writing—an event in a peripheral character’s life can be used as a cliffhanger if the outcome of that event will affect the protagonist in some major way.

2. When I began to near the cliffhanger point, I slowed the story down. This is done to heighten the impact. Here are the last three paragraphs:

I came to one of them, a young woman. This is the scene I will never forget. She was sitting, and I stood over her, placing my hands on her head. I asked God to show me whatever He would . . . and waited.

He answered, all right. One word hit me hard in the chest.

Just one word.

First paragraph, second sentence (This is the scene . . .) reminds you of something you already know—that what’s about the happen will impact me. Next line draws out the scene by injecting details—where she was, where I was. Next line is a line of action—asking God—then the use of ellipses to denote the passage of time. The sentence ends with the word “waited.” That’s a suspense-building word if you’ve got the readers, ’cause they’ll be waiting along with the character.

Next paragraph begins to tell you what happened, but draws it out some more, using two short sentences. (The languid rhythm of one long sentence would have lessened the impact.)

Last paragraph is a mere phrase that doesn’t even tell you anything new. It just restates what you're waiting for. It’s like someone already standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, who then slips his/her toes over edge.

Technique #2 of slowing down is a good way to build suspense out of an otherwise nonsuspenseful scene. But to really make it work you need to set it up by a long series of events. Those of you who've read the NES since way back may remember the cliffhanger of my sitting in front of the fax machine, watching pages spit out, wondering if it’s my first novel contract. (March 29.) This slow-down technique was used then, also. Here is the ending to that post:

One day I was sitting at my computer. The fax clicked on. A page spewed out. Another and another. What was this? My pulse did this odd little quiver. Almost as if I knew . . .

I stared at the pages. Heard the whir of the machine. And froze. I could not reach out and pick up that first piece of paper. Absolutely could not.

So I sat, watching pages spit out. Click, whir, click, whir. My heart tumbled into a dull thud. You know how people say when you die, your years flash before you? Trapped in my chair, tense-muscled and sputter-breathing, I saw the past 9 ½ years flash through my head. The hope, the tears, the determination. Nights of writing until dawn. Watching the mail, trembling at phone calls. The scenes zipped before me in a kaleidoscope of emotion and will—

The fax machine fell silent. I stared at the pages, telling myself--hey, relax; so some solicitor got a little long winded. I remember managing a prayer. Not a long one. Something simple like, “Okay, God.”

Pulse scudding, I reached out, gathered up the pages . . . and turned them over.

In itself, there’s nothing suspenseful about watching a fax machine spew pages. But I had built up to this momentous event in post after post. In fact, I'd built up to it for so long that it deserved a slowing down as we finally aproached it. Anything faster would have left you unsatisfied. I used up time by alternating between action (sounds and sights of the working machine) and inner monologue. With these thoughts I reminded readers how much was at stake. Then at the very end, I slowed it down even more with the use of elipses. And left off with the final action that would answer the suspended question.

Another thing to point out is the sentence rhythm. Most of the sentences are short, many are only phrases. This is the subliminal ba-boom, ba-boom rhythm of an increasing heartbeat.

For all of you, no matter what genre you’re writing in, these techniques can be helpful, because a hook keeps readers turning pages in all kinds of fiction.

How I Got Here--THE END, Can You Believe It!?

Yes, you read that title right. Our NES is about to turn into an ES. End, caput, finale, curtain down.

First—some great comments from last Friday. I got a kick out of ’em. Becky said something interesting about the predicament I left off with (mourning my loss of writing women’s fiction). She opined that my suspenses have more characterization than some, and that I have an interesting way of describing things—and perhaps I could use more of these techniques and still write suspense?

Well, ya hit the nail on the head, Becky. The biggest reason I’ve had so much trouble writing my Paige book (first in a new series) is I couldn’t figure out what kind of tone I wanted it to take. I’ve floundered around and finally hit on what I want—pretty much what Becky suggested. Yes, it will still be plenty suspenseful, with ye ol’ cliffhangers and all that. But I want to do some interesting things with the stories. These novels won’t be as linear as those in Hidden Faces. They will take a little more time with characterization and phrasing—without dragging. I still have a voice that wants things to move in suspense. But I want to go a little deeper with some other aspects of the story.

Now that I’ve finally settled on this—let’s hope the writing speeds up. I’ve got to cook these next four weeks.

Something else interesting on Friday—I had a long conversation with marketing guru Sue at Zondervan. Uh-oh. Found out she’s been reading my blog. I had no idea. For all I know my editor’s reading it too. Which means there ain’t no way on this green earth they still think I walk on water. (Surely they once did.) Sue went so far as to threaten me to pop in with a comment one day and tell y’all I’ve been lying about her. I haven’t been lying. Just ’cause I play the storyteller. Just ’cause she really did drive me crazy with that “gimme a title” thing last fall . . .

Speaking of—wouldn’t you know she asked me for the title to my new book?

Also over the weekend—I had a booksigning and got to meet a BG! Had no idea she even lived in the area. Dineen Miller, it was. The BG sign—spider thing with the fingers—gave her away. Got to see a couple other BGs, too. Dineen and I took a picture. Actually, we took several. The first were tame. Too tame. The next one, I suggested we do faces. I did my frog face (for a riveting photo, haha). Brought the entire bookstore to a standstill, I do believe. Anyway, it’s quite the photo. Just ask Dineen. Her face was kinda like “I just saw something frightfully ugly." Probably because I gave her a sneak preview of my frog face.

A second BG, Camy, brought her husband to meet me. This will no doubt be the last time he ever wants to tag along to one of my signings. I was, um, just being my killer self.

Speaking of which. We left off our NES last Friday with me assuring myself that I was gonna duck out of this suspense only shtick. Sheesh, what happened? Last time I looked, my logo still said “Seatbelt Suspense.”

A good night’s sleep can do a lot for a person. I woke up realizing, again, that God had led that meeting, and I’d better leave well enough alone. I will confess I mourned for about a month for my lost other half. And I’ll also admit that I don’t really think I’ll be killing people for the rest of my life. (I had a conversation about this with my mother over the weekend, who already thinks I’m warped and is becoming more worried about me with each passing day. Oh, yes, she reads this blog too.) In time I’ll be able to do other things. When, I don’t know. My editor assured me during the meeting, “Build your audience, then they’ll follow you wherever you go.” Jury’s out on this one. First I gotta build that audience of 10 million, dontcha know. Second, seems to me the longer one is branded in a genre, the harder it is to break out. Look at John Grisham. He tried some other things—more contemporaryish—and readers said, hey, what gives, go back to the legal suspense stuff. So we’ll see.

Still, right now I find myself in a place I like. I’m a suspense author. I keep killin’ folk, yup. But I wanna see how scary and dark I can be while also focusing on characterization and using my own voice.

And so here endeth our NES. Rather quietly, I will say, after so many cliffhangers and tears and kicking cabinets and such. About a month after that marketing meeting in January, I started this here blog. And not long after that I got the bright idea to “take a couple of days” and tell you my writing journey. A mere 65 posts later, with some interruptions here and there, we are back to where we started.

Oh, a postscript. Remember awhile back I told y’all about lining the long divider in my office with all the various versions of my books? How I started with one lone book? Then a second came. And a third. Well, a few months ago I officially ran out of room. And just last week I received the latest—Brink of Death in German. It’s book #27.

I still look at that line-up when the writing gets tough. Which is often. God’s brought me a far and wonderful distance. And thanks to His mercy, I’ve only just begun.

How I Got Here, Part 64

Zowie, it’s Friday!

Many great comments from y’all yesterday. Thank you for taking the time to respond to the marketing issue. And great to see some folks commenting for the first time.

Becky mentioned my newsletter. Thank you for the plug, which I now shamelessly further. Sneak Pique goes out via e-mail six times a year. It has news of my doings, but most of it is dedicated to telling readers inside scoops of Christian novelists, and featuring novels released in the past two months. I was really impressed by the list of new releases this time. In a day or two, the latest issue of Sneak Pique will be posted on my Web site. Go check out these new novels. And good grief, while you’re there, sign up for the newsletter, will ya?

We left off our NES two days ago with the marketing meeting between me and the Zondervan folks about to begin. I was tearing my brains out about that time (early January), trying to finish Web of Lies by the end of the month. I was having major trouble with the ending. What I’d planned to have happen wouldn’t work because character motivation didn’t support it, so’s I kinda had to do some serious rethinking. Which I did, and I did end up finishing the book, as y’all know, but it danged near killed me.

Anyway, back to the marketing meeting. Just to remind you, the attendees were moi, my husband, my editor, the marketing person at Z, and an outside marketing consultant Z had hired on my behalf. Five of us.

The meeting started about 1 p.m., as I remember. Maybe a little later. It would end up going through dinner (we ordered in), until about 9.

We talked about who I am as an author. What my novels offer. We looked at the hard numbers of sales. We talked about other authors, and how I am different from them. What my niche is in the market. We talked about trying to market me over the two very different genres of suspense and women’s fiction (technically called the contemporary genre). My killing side and my softer side, so to speak. The kind of suspense I’d ended up writing made the chasm between these two personas even greater, because I write intense suspense—the more scary stuff. Not too much of that kind of writing in the Christian world.

It didn’t take long for it to dawn on me just what a split personality I’d created.

Now we faced an even bigger hurdle. I was gaining readers with my Hidden Faces series, but those readers would have to be put aside while I returned to women’s fiction. By the time I returned to these blood-thirsty readers, a couple of years would have passed. Would they still be there?

Looking back, I can’t believe how easily I caved. Chalk it up to the prayers. Chalk it up to really wanting to follow where God lead. ’Cause I didn’t wanna go there. About two hours into the meeting, I was talking the talk I’d vowed never to utter—that the smart thing to do was brand myself completely to one genre.

And at the moment, the foremost genre was the one of murder and mayhem.

Suddenly, just like that—I became a suspense writer. Only.

Whoa. How did this happen? God, You're leading me on this, right?

The meeting had to continue. Everyone’s time was valuable, and we still had much to discuss. I had no time to mourn at that moment, while I watched half of my authorhood slip away.

Instead we had to focus. Okay, so I write suspense. What kind of suspense? After much discussion we decided the subgenre was “Crime Thrillers.” Frankly this didn’t thrill me (haha), but whatever. It wasn’t the marketing term we’d be using anyway. It was more of a term the Zondervan salesmen would use to describe my work while touting me to secular stores.

We talked about my promise. What should a reader expect when picking up a Brandilyn Collins novel? This was a fascinating discussion. It’s a real trick, taking everything an author is known for and narrowing it down to one creative phrase. We talked a long time about this issue. Finally we agreed that my books contain a strong Christian message, that they are scary and dark, but that they point people to God’s grace and power. And they all have twists. Many readers/reviewers had talked about my novels in terms of a rollercoaster ride. So there were the main aspects: rollercoaster, darkness/evil, God’s power. We played with the words, tweaked and tightened, and came up with: “A rollercoaster ride through darkness to victory.”

There ye be. One brand promise.

So we had the subgenre and the brand promise. And I’d had a tagline from way back, which readers had come to recognize: “Don’t forget to b r e a t h e . . .” I didn’t want to get rid of that, especially since I was in the middle of trademarking the thing. But we needed one more item: a brand descriptor. This would be sorta like a logo, but sorta not. Sorta like the brand promise, only even shorter. A snappy word or two to describe my style of novel.

We would not come up with this in the meeting. The discussion would continue via email in the next number of days. I kept playing with the word “nightlight,” because readers often talked about needing a nightlight after reading one of my suspenses. The don’t-read-it-in-the-dark-alone kind of idea. But there was that rollercoaster thing . . .

For the next week (when I wasn’t writing), I played with words. When I finally came up with the phrase, I knew it. Absolutely. This was it, and ain’t nobody gonna take it from me. I emailed the rest of the marketing team. My brand descriptor?

“Seatbelt Suspense.”

Yo, baby, that’s so way cool. Snappy. Has that rollercoaster thing goin’. Plus alliteration. I loved it.

Drat. Probably gonna have to go through another trademark.

For the rest of the meeting, we discussed a five-year-plan complete with goals for marketing and projected sales numbers. Yikes. I was really gonna have to work for a living.

We broke up the meeting feeling great about the whole thing. Marketing consultant guy, who’d taken copious notes on his laptop, would be sending us all a final report. Everything was fine and dandy. I knew, and the rest knew, we’d made the right decision about focusing on suspense only.

Reality hit when I went to bed.

I couldn’t write my Dearing Family series. The series for which I’d been gathering funny little scenes for months. The series my extended family had helped me plot at our last family reunion. The series they were waiting for.

I couldn’t write another story like Color the Sidewalk for Me. A heart-tugging, deeply characterized, emotional story. That wasn’t my persona anymore.

I had to kill people for the rest of my life.

Okay, don’t panic.

I could still save myself. In the morning I would email the rest of the team. As they flew back home, my post would hurtle through cyberspace, be waiting for them when they arrived. An e-mail that said Nix all decisions. I want my split personality back.

Yeah, they spent a lot of money coming out to California and all. But surely they wouldn’t hate me for this.

Too much.

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Read Part 65

Marketing Issues

Happy Thursday. The weekend’s a-comin’.

Various comments/questions from yesterday deserve response. (If you’re not reading the comments, you’re missing out on some fun. If you’re an early blog reader, you might want to read the previous day’s comments so that you get them all.)

Evelyn, so glad to hear you’re coming to the ACFW conference. Rich, Domino, and Lynette—ditto. Yes, we must have a blogger/bloggee get-together. (You know, during all that free time we’ll have.) The tables at meals only hold 8-10. But we’ll find a way.

Shannon, you need no account to be a BG here. It’s all free. (Well, except you have to listen to me blather.)

Rich, I hope you’ll tell us what happened to your job yesterday.

Question from Kelly K. about pen names—I will address that topic perhaps tomorrow.

Finally, Ron’s question about getting stuck in a certain genre, maybe even one you hadn’t planned on. Yup. It happens. Hard to get away from ye ol’ branding issue. We will talk more about this, too.

Okay. In yesterday’s NES we left off with the approach of my marketing meeting with Zondervan in early January of this year—the meeting at which we were gonna figure out how to continue marketing me in both genres of suspense and women’s fiction.

I’m going to digress here and talk about marketing in general today. This is an important topic. We authors in the Christian world often seem to have trouble with the very idea of marketing. At least I hear questions and concerns about it pretty frequently. The concerns go something like this: We are writing fiction, yes. But we are also writing for the cause of God’s kingdom. And when we’re working for God’s kingdom, we shouldn’t be worried about elevating ourselves. Marketing our books, talking them up, trying to get them sold, is all about elevating ourselves, right? How can you keep your focus on serving God when you’re worried about sales and making all the money you can? Shouldn’t we just be good servants, write the best books we can, and leave sales in God’s hands?

Understandable concerns. And those who think this way are very sincere. But I don’t agree with this thinking at all. Here’s my take on the whole issue.

1. Yes, I am writing fiction ultimately for God’s kingdom. Anything I do for God’s kingdom needs to be at its best. I must write the best novels I can. This means writing the best stories I can produce, plus weaving in God’s word—as He has specifically called me to do it. (My calling, not anyone else’s. Which is why I can’t compare myself to my colleagues.)

2. I am not writing these stories that I’ve worked so hard on, these stories interwoven with God’s truth, so that the fewest amount of people can read them. I want as many people as possible to read them because I really do believe that (a) they provide good entertainment, and (b) they can help strengthen folks in their walks with God. As Jesus said, you don’t put a light under a bushel. In the same way, I don’t write a book so it can sit on shelves.

3. My publisher, whose mission is to produce materials that honor God and further His kingdom, is a business. Businesses have to make money to stay afloat. Publishing my novels costs them money and employee energy. My books need to reap enough benefits for my publisher so that they can afford to keep publishing them.

4. A publisher has a large piece of the marketing pie for a book, but not the whole pie. To be a team player with my publisher, I need to do what marketing I can to help sales. In this competitive environment it is simply unfair to a publisher (unless you’re so successful that personal marketing doesn’t matter) to say, “Hey, marketing’s totally their job. I just write the books. Marketing myself sounds so vain and worldly that I just can’t handle it. Besides, I think I should only trust God for sales.” The argument may not be worded so bluntly, but in essence, this is what I’ve heard people say. And my answer is: No, you’re not leaving sales in God’s hands; you’re leaving sales in your publisher’s hands. If marketing is so wrong, why should they be doing it any more than you?

5. Here’s where the tricky part comes in for me. Because as I do market, and focus on sales, it could really be easy to focus too much on that. I know I’m getting too focused if I read about someone else’s higher sales and feel a twinge of jealousy. Or look at the advanced marketing a publisher gives another author and feel slighted. Or if I start thinking, my books aren’t selling well enough so what am I doing this for anyway, God?

6. Bottom line for me—it comes down to balance. To understanding that part of my job as an author is to market as well as write. At the same time to trust God and rejoice in what He’s doing in my life, even if, after all my hard work (and kicking cabinets), sales don’t go as well as I think they ought to. So on one hand, I’m always doing what I can to push sales. On the other hand, I’m thanking God for the sales He has granted me. And I take utmost pleasure in hearing from readers who’ve been impacted from my books.

7. How do I keep this balance? Pray. A lot. Ever since I started writing Christian fiction, I have prayed a very dangerous prayer. I urge you BGs to pray it too. It’s simply this: “God, don’t let me be any more successful than I can handle.” I want to be successful. I want my books to sell. I’m willing to help market them. But I don’t want to become successful at the risk of puffing up with pride or forgetting how God brought me through all of this in the first place. On the other hand, neither do I want my human frailties to keep God from granting me all the sales He’d like to grant me. So I work against pride and jealousy and other human frailty issues constantly. Doesn’t mean I never feel these things. It does mean that when I feel them, I immediately, willfully tell God that I reject the emotions. I simply refuse to dwell there.

This balance that I strive for rests on the fulcrum of my calling—which is to write stories interwoven with God’s truth. Following that calling will keep me from saying yes to some contract that may be highly lucrative, but that would in some way quash my Christian message. Following that calling means telling my agent that my film rights aren’t for sale to just any producer—who may likely take all of the Christianity out of my story. So in the end, do sales and money drive me the most? No. But neither do I believe that the pursuit of sales is worldly and vain. It could be—if I let it take top priority in my life. But I won’t.

Questions? Comments? An important topic, BGs. One that all you writers out there will have to deal with.

How I Got Here, Part 63

Yowser, it’s June. Do you realize we started this here NES in February? Good grief. It’s almost embarrassing to see I’ve been talking about myself for so long.

Despite my loquaciousness, God seems to be using the NES anyway. Yesterday’s post about Satan’s lies really spoke to some BGs. How wondrous that is. Thank You, God! The things He’ll use. I sure was blessed reading the comments. Thanks to you all who wrote. I’m thanking God for what He’s doing in your lives.

Now, to continue on with our story . . .

When we left off our NES yesterday, I had a book title, a spiritual theme, and the beginnings of a plot. Now to really start writing the story, because time was running out.

You all have heard me say before that this book really drove me crazy. It’s true. In the initial writing, and in the rewrite (which was a big one.) I was merging two series, see. And they weren’t very compatible. Hidden Faces is in first person—the POV of Annie. The Chelsea Adams series was in third person.

Hm.

The book ended up remaining mostly in Annie’s POV as first person, but with third person chapters coming in where necessary. This was an interesting process. Basically I followed what the story dictated. It simply didn’t work keeping everything in Annie’s POV (plus the bad guy scenes scattered throughout), because Chelsea then remained a secondary character. Plus many important scenes were looking pretty flat without being told in other POVs. This didn’t all get worked out until the rewrite.

The other major challenge was that the emerging plot was convoluted. Various crimes going on, with all sorts of possibilities as to what had to do with what—or were they not connected at all?

Third, toward the last 40% of the book, the story moved toward an ensemble cast because of all that was happening. Ensemble casts can be tricky to write.

I’m telling ya, I really kicked cabinets on this book.

After it was all over, after the rewrite, then I decided I liked the book. Now the further away I get from writing Web of Lies, the more cool a book I think it is. Ain’t that just the craziest thing? But it’s so very typical for authors under contract. The joy of the book comes after it’s written.

Meanwhile, while writing this crazy spider book, I was thinking, “Oh, can’t wait til this book is done, ’cause then I get to write Dearing Family—the new women’s fiction series I was supposed to start writing a book ago.

Then came the marketing meeting with the Zondervan folks in early January. My editor; Sue, the marketing director; and an outside consultant they’d hired flew out to meet with me and my husband for a day to discuss my career and how to market my books for the future. Through our discussion it became clear quite quickly that my dual focus on suspense and women’s fiction was presenting a real challenge marketing-wise. My suspense sales had gone up since I started writing the Hidden Faces series, even bringing a former suspense (Eyes of Elisha) back on the bestseller list. At the same time, my sales of the Bradleyville books were suffering because they didn’t figure into the current promotion of my suspense persona. To build my suspense readers, then turn around and do another women’s fiction series would mean we’d have to start the momentum all over again with these different readers. (Now I’ll admit there are many folks who read both kinds of my books. But there are others who may like suspense but not read women’s fiction, or vice versa.)

That’s the practical side. But there was a whole other side to this meeting—God, what do You want of my career? Where do You want to see me going?

I had really prayed for this meeting as it approached. I also had the two women I meet with every week for prayer to even pray with me over the room the morning of the meeting. I felt ready to hear whatever God wanted to impress upon me. Sure, I had my basic agenda for the meeting in mind—figure out how best to market myself in two genres at once. But I assured God that He was in charge of the meeting, and my writing in general, and I would be open to His Spirit.

Well. This all sounds terrific when you’re praying. But what happens when His leading ain’t at all the way you expected to be led?

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Read Part 64

How I Got Here, Part 62

Welcome back from the long weekend, BGs. Hope y’all had a marvelous break. I certainly did. We went up to Coeur d’Alene, and the weather was absolutely glorious. Everything on the property is so green, we got the boat in the water, and generally kicked back. Well, on Sunday, that is. On Saturday I interviewed some absolutely wonderful folks up north of Cd’A, who were gracious enough to grant me their time on a holiday weekend. I have more of a sense of direction for my Paige book now. That is the good news. The bad news is, with that more accurate sense of direction, I must do some rewriting on what’s already written.

I don’t have time for this.

Sigh.

C.J. asked on Friday what it is I like about writing now. Is it always just hard getting books written? Yes, it is. I struggle with it constantly. But I so strongly believe this is what God has called me to do, that I can do nothing else but trust Him when I run into trouble.

Which is daily.

And Becky asked some interesting questions about cliffhangers, and why Friday’s hook seemed to work so well when y’all don’t even know the character who was introduced as part of the hook. We shall talk about such things soon. That is, when our NES is done. So I guess you shouldn’t exactly hold your breath.

Okay, speaking of NES. We were waiting for that one word that God spoke to me about this young woman. She was one of a group of four who’d asked me to pray for them. “Whatever God tells you,” they’d said. What was the word that hit me so hard in the chest?

WORTHY.

Huh?

I must explain here. Huh? is a typical response for me when God particularly tells me how to pray for a person. Most of the time what He tells me makes absolutely no sense to me. Like the time I was praying for someone who had healing issues with both knees after double knee surgery. God also impressed upon me to place my hands on the person’s throat and pray for that. So I did, even though this made no sense to me. What’s a throat got to do with knee surgery? Only after that did I hear that this person was having real health issues with the throat as well.

See, God knows.

So I heard this word: worthy. I didn’t doubt it was coming from God. I just didn’t have a clue what it meant. I told the young woman what I’d heard. “Does this mean anything to you?” I asked.

This is the moment that absolutely got my heart. This sweet-faced Christian gal looked up at me with an anguished expression and said, “I’ve never felt worthy since the day I was born.”

Whoa. How awful that must feel. What a weight! God wanted to heal that.

And so prayers went up that God would. And I know He’s been working in this person’s life since then.

That scene wouldn’t leave me alone in the weeks to come. I began to think of other people I’d prayed for with emotional/spiritual issues, and God opened my eyes to just how huge this problem is among Christians. It’s rampant. Satan spins his web of lies among us all the time. He wants us to believe these lies. And he spins them so quietly, so subconsciously, that we Christians don’t realize where they’re coming from. Lies such as: I’m not worthy, I’m not really forgiven, I’m unlovable, I can’t do this task God gave me, I’m no good at this or that, I’m not smart enough, I’m not appreciated enough . . . Whatever. The topics are endless.

We as Christians have the mind-boggling authority to go before God’s throne and claim His help and power in our lives for anything. As the Bible says, “If He is for us, who can stand against us?” But so much of the time, we Christians don’t do that. Instead, we begin to listen to these lies. Then we begin to believe them. Then we begin to walk in them. And then we can’t do all that God has called us to do.

These thought processes and revelations were going through my mind as I needed to start writing Web of Lies. I realized that this was the spiritual thread God wanted me to weave in. We Christians cannot walk in the lies of Satan. That’s unacceptable! God had used that time of prayer not only for the young woman, but for my writing as well. (God’s very efficient that way.)

Look where God had brought me with this book—and totally backwards, remember that? First, the title that I just had to come up with. Then the plot begin to come—the story to fit the title. Then the spiritual thread—again to fit the title. A book about spiders . . . and not listening to Satan’s web of lies.

Hm. That is one interesting combination. Far too intriguing for me to come up with on my own. Only God, with somewhat of a sense of humor, would impress upon me to write a story about walking His truth—via a menagerie of spiders.

Well, hey. The last book used a serial killer to remind folks about the power of prayer. So why not?

Okay, some major hurdles overcome. Now to the next one.

I had to write the book. And I was majorly running out of time.

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Read Part 63

How I Got Here, Part 61

Quick housekeeping note. I will be taking Monday, Memorial Day, off. See y’all back here Tuesday the 31st. Don’t leave me hangin’ here all alone, now.

I’m very glad to see that some of you BGs are going to be at the ACFW conference. Evelyn—a choice between some conference in Oregon and ACFW is no contest. Don’t let my good buddy Jim Bell keep you away from ACFW. He’s an ex-lawyer for heaven’s sake, shouldn’t that tell you something? Besides, next year he’s keynoter at ACFW, so you can have both.

Ron—love your “spider-typing” idea for our BG signal. That’s a creeper. I mean keeper.

Jennifer, I am very glad to hear that previous posts here helped you. Keep writing, and keep praying! And Cindy, thank you for praying for me. Believe me, I need it.

ValMarie and the rest of you—info on Web of Lies, plus the cover, is now on my Web site. You can read the back cover copy and my note to readers that appears at the front of the book. As the time approaches for release, I’ll post the prologue.

Speaking of Web of Lies, that’s where we left off yesterday.

So I had meself a title. And I had meself bits of ideas. Most of all, I had meself a deadline.

Okay, here goes the incredibly brilliant and scientific creativity, point by miraculous point.

I thought, Hm, “web” is in the title.

And I thought, Hm, I need another scary book.

What kind of metaphorical “web of lies” can I come up with that’s scary?

After much thinking on this, I yielded a big, fat nothing.

But wait . . .

A literal web means spiders.

Spiders can be scary.

A light bulb went off in my head. I know! I shall write meself a book about spiders!

Bada-boom, bada bing!

I basked in the glory of my immense creativity for a time. Until my brain started thinking again. Which usually means trouble.

Okay, so who would have the spiders? Not the protagonist.

No, silly. Definitely the bad guy.

Spiders aren’t scary in terrariums.

No, but they’d be scary if people are threatened with ’em. ’Specially if they’re big, bad poisonous spiders.

Oooh, I know. I could put ’em in a room.

That would have to be one crazy bad guy.

Hey, crazies are the funnest! (Don't tell my mother.)

So how 'bout this? Chelsea has her vision. It’s a vision about a room of spiders. With people in it.

Ooooh, gimme the willies.

Wait a minute. Which people?

I don’t know.

Shoot. Knew I’d hit a snag sooner or later. And besides that, what does a skull have to do with spiders? And also, how do I get Chelsea and Annie together when they don’t even live in the same town?

Sigh.

Meanwhile, during all this—time ticketh toward the deadlineth.

This idiocy aside, I was also thinking a lot about the spiritual thread. That’s as uncommon for me as backing into a story, because usually I don’t think about it at all. I just try to write the best rockin’ suspense I can, and as I write, the spiritual theme begins to emerge. But this time, I just couldn’t get a wrenching scene from the ACFW conference out of my head. It tugged and tugged at me. And remember, all through my plotting and writing, I pray a lot, asking God for guidance in the story. So I have no doubt that this heart-tugging thing was an answer to those prayers.

At that conference I’d had the privilege of praying for some people and seeing some wonderful healing results. (ACFW conferences have a dedicated prayer room that’s open all day.) Sunday, after the conference was over, a group of four friends asked me to pray for them. “Just whatever God tells you,” they said. I didn’t know these four people at the time.

In the prayer room, one at a time, I placed my hands on their heads, and asked God to show me how to pray. Sometimes He gives me a strong answer, sometimes not. When I receive a strong answer, I know God has plans for healing that area of a person’s life. The healing can be immediate, or it can take place over time. For all four of these dear people, God would impress me with specifics as to how to pray.

I came to one of them, a young woman. This is the scene I will never forget. She was sitting, and I stood over her, placing my hands on her head. I asked God to show me whatever He would . . . and waited.

He answered, all right. One word hit me hard in the chest.

Just one word.

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Read Part 62

How I Got Here, Part 60

Happy over-the-hump-Thursday.

All right, I'll get this out of my system. Cari might have won (or however you spell her name), but watching Bo sing Sweet Home Alabama with his fav band was waay cool. Can't wait to buy that guy's CD. Rockers rock!

Now perhaps on Tues. and Wed. nights I shall write, haha.

Okay. Back to the blog thing.

C.J. commented yesterday about writers who talk about “thirty books in their heads just waiting to be written.”

Bah-humbug.

I feel about such writers the same way I feel about women who waltz through pregnancy, never sick a day in their lives, and the baby pops out after two pushes. I want to strangle them.

As for Becky’s comment . . . I wrote two pages yesterday, okay? How’s that, Miss Rebel BG? That makes five whole pages so far this week. When I should have written 18, but hey, who’s counting?

By the way, a couple days ago registration opened for the ACFW conference. Who’s going? Hope all of you can make it. I’m thinkin’ if enough of you writers out there show up, we should have ourselves a secret Forensics and Faith BG sign. You know, some gesture you could make across the room to a fellow BG. Or to me, to let me know you take the time to read my blog. That way I’ll know to scrape the floor in front of you, saying, “thank you, thank you” for not leaving me hanging all alone in cyberspace.

So, where were we in our NES? Oh, yes, I was stranded without a plot. Sort of like I am now.

Back to last fall of 2004, traipsing around on the Bill, Bell and the Babes author tour. Weekend one with marketing Sue, who asked, “You got a title yet?”

Nope.

Weekend two—“gotta title yet?”

“Huh-uh.”

Weekend three—you guessed it.

Here’s the thing about my book titles. I pride myself on them. Yup, I’ll admit it. (I’m needing some uplifting at the moment anyhow.) My titles aren’t just tacked on. They are always carefully created. They must work rhythmically, be intriguing, and refer both to the main plot and the underlying spiritual thread. Lots of “musts” there. Hard to get it just right. And--this is why asking me to name a title when I didn’t have a story was totally foreign to me.

When I got back home after the final weekend of the tour, I had a serious talk with God. Told Him if He didn’t want to give me a plot just yet—to stretch my faith and all that—I really did need a title at least. Then He and I would have to work backwards—weaving a story around the title.

Let’s see. Brink of Death, Stain of Guilt, Dead of Night, and . . . I needed another “Hm of Hm” title. Each “hm” a one-syllable word. Had to be punchy, scary-oriented. So I started writing a list of possibilities. Out of Time . . . On the Edge . . . Nick of Time . . . Stroke of Fate . . . whatever came to mind.

Next I wrote the ACFW loop, seeking input. I listed some of my ideas, asking for the loopers to pick a favorite. I also asked for further ideas, but their titles had to follow the “Hm of Hm” format, as well as sound sinister.

I’ll tell ya, those wonderful ACFWers listened about as well as BG Becky. They sent back scores of ideas, all right—with two- and even three-syllable words. Oh, well, gotta love ’em for trying to help me out.

All along, the title Web of Lies stood out to me best. And most of the respondents who chose among my titles also liked this one. I was praying through this whole process, asking God to bring the right one to the top. After all the input, this one still seemed right. Web of Lies it was.

I happily e-mailed Sue with my answer. Also told her—"don’t ask me nothin' more about the book, ’cause I ain't gotta clue yet."

Now for the plot.

Let’s see. I had Chelsea with her visions . . . Annie with her forensic art . . . something about a discovered skull . . . and the title. Hoo-ah.

In the back of my mind two things were cooking. First, something that had happened at the ACFW conference—a moment that really got my heart. Second, the word “web.” It could be used figuratively, as it often is.

Or it could be used literally . . .

Tomorrow—the unabashed, behind-the-scenes recounting of my scientific and highly inventive approach to creating this story.

Not.

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Read Part 61

How I Got Here, Part 59

First of all, I don’t want any of y’all asking me how many pages I’ve written in the last two days. Because the answer’s not good. So behave yourselves out there, okay?

To distract you, I shall jump right into our NES.

So there I sat at the meeting with my editor, Karen, and the Zondervan marketing director, Sue. We were in Zondervan’s reserved suite area on the CBA convention floor. Mid July. I was thinking I should ask a question. I really didn’t want to ask it, but I just had this nagging feeling. So I plunged in.

“Do you two remember that my contract calls for me to write Dearing Family #1 next, then go back and write Hidden Faces #4? At the time the contract was signed, we were thinking about overlapping the series. But now I’m wondering if that’s a good idea, looking at the momentum we’re gaining with Hidden Faces . . .”

Sue and Karen both gave me surprised looks. “Really? Didn’t remember that,” one of ’em said. “At any rate, it’s a bad idea. You need to write Hidden Faces #4 first.” The other one heartily agreed.

Great. I had to go and open my mouth.

And I’d just come from our annual family reunion in Kentucky. My extended family had all squeezed in around the table one night, throwing out ideas for the wacky characters and their shenanigans in Dearing Family. We'd had a great time. They couldn't wait for me to write that series. Now I had to put the first book off.

Drat.

“So.” Sue looked at me brightly. “Got any ideas for that fourth Hidden Faces book?”

You mean the one I wasn't even supposed to write yet? “Not a clue.”

“Oh, well, no worries. You’ll think of something.”

Easy for her to say.

I really didn’t have a clue. That is, I knew Annie needed to do a facial reconstruction from a skull—the challenge I’d expected her to face in the third book, but had put aside. Okay so a skull is found. What else?

We’ve been at this long enough, BGs. Time for a little ranting on my part.

Truth is, I wish stories came easier to me. They should pour like melted butter, hot syrup.

They pour more like dried cement.

I try to force it. I sit at my desk and stare out the window, talking to myself. You think the story comes? Heck, no. It just hides all the more. I kick cabinets, I get up and walk around and rail at the heavens. Does no good.

So I’m left thinking about a story over the long haul. I’m jogging . . . and a thought comes. I’m driving . . . another little piece. I’m in the hot tub . . . something else. Unfortunately, this takes days. Weeks. Months even. Which I don’t have. So I go back to trying to force it.

Sigh. In heaven, I shall not lack for a plot.

So sometime around August of 2004 (I needed to start writing in September), a thought came to me. Many readers had asked me when I’d write another Chelsea Adams book. I thought—what if I bring Chelsea into this story, combine the two series into one climactic ending?

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Except that I still needed a plot.

September came. I tried to come up with the story. It wasn’t coming. The ACFW conference rolled around. As usual, I would be the emcee. Plus I'd do some teaching and had scheduled meetings with many writers. So I thought—okay, I’ll start writing after the conference.

Except that after the conference our Zondervan novelist tour started. I, Terry Blackstock, Bill Myers, and James Scott Bell would be running around—mostly on the east coast—signing at these megastores. (Some witty person, I think it was Bill Myers, dubbed the tour “Bill, Bell, and the Babes.”) We needed to do the signings on Saturdays, when they’d be better attended. So instead of hitting the 7 cities all at once, we’d go every weekend, from about Thursday to Sun. So for, I don’t know, 5-6 weeks in a row, I had only about three days in my office. Thursday I’d fly back east somewhere, on Friday we’d do some media event, on Saturday the signing, then I’d fly back home on Sunday.

I am a very focused person. I have to really concentrate on a book to get anywhere with it. This schedule did not work for me. I got oh, about zilch accomplished on the plot.

Meanwhile marketing director Sue started joining us on the weekend tours. She was with us for about three weeks in a row. What do you suppose she had to nerve to tell me? “I need the title of your next book for marketing.”

Title? I didn’t even have a story yet.

“I have no clue,” I said.

This clueless stuff was gonna have to stop. And fast.

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Read Part 60

How I Got Here, Part 58

I got one lousy page written yesterday. I don’t mean the page was lousy. The page count was, however. Had all this other stuff to do regarding marketing. Which I was supposed to do over the weekend, but my printer broke, and I had to get a new one, and I decided to go wireless, which was about the dumbest decision I’ve ever made, and it took 4 hours of my time to work on setting it up, which didn’t work at all, then 3 more hours of a wonderful computer savvy neighbor who had to do manual stuff that you wouldn't believe.

Yes, that was a long sentence. But the rhythm matches the way I felt trying to get that stupid thing working.

So today—one page. AND—On the acknowledgments page I entered the names of those BGs who gave me character ideas. I got everyone’s last name, so we’re good to go.

We left off our NES yesterday with my editor reading the prologue to Dead of Night, and me awaiting her pronouncement. What I didn’t tell y’all yesterday is that after I’d dashed off that prologue, I sent it to my mom and one of my sisters. With just a simple, “Hey, wanna read the opening to my next book?” type of e-mail. Well. Did I get back letters. Both of ’em thought it was awful. Way over the top. Too much darkness, and no way did they want to read that kind of book. My mom (whom I love dearly, and who no doubt is reading this post) wrote a long letter that basically asked—what did I give birth to, and aren’t you getting rather warped?

I learned something from those letters. I think it was a God thing that I sent them—supposedly on my own whim. I learned that the opening to this book was dark enough that I needed to warn my readers. Later when I wrote the back cover copy, I would use it to begin to prepare readers for that opening. And in my author’s note at the beginning of the book, I did a little more preparation. Plus, whenever I talked about Dead of Night as it was about to release, I warned readers again. I think by the time people read the prologue now, they’ve been prepared enough that it’s no big thing. They’re probably wondering what all the fuss was about. That’s fine and dandy by me. Far better reaction than to have someone read the first two pages and put the book down, vowing never to read anything written by me again. Or anything published by Zondervan, for that matter. Or—how about any book ever published in the CBA market?

I’m telling ya, you just never know how a reader’s gonna react.

Guess how my sister and mom reacted when they read the book. (Yes, they read the whole thing.) They liked it. They really, really liked it. Although both of 'em admittedly had to gear themselves up to read it. Guess they'd been adequately prepared.

Anyway, I am surely pushing ahead of my tale. We need to backtrack to that moment while I awaited my fate as I watched my editor read the prologue . . .

Her jaw tightened.

Uh-oh.

She got to the end. Pulled up her shoulders and let out a hiss.

“Oh, man,” I thought, “I am dead now.”

She cleared her throat. “Oookay. Well.” She focused on her plate. “I think you should write the story the way you need to write it. And when it’s all done, if it’s too much, we’ll pull you back then.”

Now ain’t that the smartest editor you ever did see? She didn’t want to stifle my creativity.

Then I thought, “Yeah, yeah. She’ll just be sharpening her red pen for 10 weeks.”

Ten weeks. Remember, that’s all the time I had to write the book.

It was an intense time. That story is intense anyway, and to burrow that deeply into it--yow. I’d go every night to our hot tub and try to soak the tension away. As for my brain—forget it. When your brain’s that overworked, it ain’t draining off stuff easily. It talked to me day and night.

I have to admit something to you dear BGs. The killer’s POV chapters were the funnest and easiest to write. (Oh, man. Hope my mom isn’t reading today.) The thing is, the killer is just so crazy. I could let loose and rant. And there was this certain rhythm to the words. I just fell into the beat. People have asked me after reading Dead of Night, "Wasn’t it hard to write that POV? You had to dwell in that awful mind." No, I didn’t really need to dwell there. The rants came quite easily, compared with the rest of the book.

Not sure what this says about me. Well, maybe I am sure, but I’m in total denial.

Hey, I can be crazy. I’m paid to be crazy. I’m a novelist.

I finished the book—and died for about a week.

Then--Ooh, yay! Next I'd get to change course—write the first book in my women’s fiction series! That’s what we’d planned—that the last book in Hidden Faces and the first book in Dearing Family would overlap. I was ready for a change of pace. I’d killed off quite a few people in the last three books. Let’s see, altogether in those three stories, I think the number stood at . . . 15.

Okay, Mom, I am warped.

So—Dearing Family, here we come! A series with lots of humor as well as pathos. A wacky, unpredictable family. It was gonna be a welcome change. Yowsa, yowsa! Ain't nothin' stoppin' this now!

And then came the annual CBA convention—and a meeting there with my editor and Zondervan’s marketing director . . .

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Read Part 59

How I Got Here, Part 57

How’d it get to be Monday so soon?

Beautiful BGs, thank you so much for all your thoughts from Friday. At this moment I’m planning to take a piece of something that each person suggested and use it. Lynette—the “always nicks himself shaving” idea sounded fun to me. Ron—Wilbur and his heart surgery scar. Evelyn—two guys fighting over which truck is best, Chevy or Ford. Grady—first of all welcome! Thanks so much for joining us and for leaving a comment! I loved the idea about the guy who always has a new entrepreneurial venture going. C.J.—the idea that the coffee shop owner is kind to Paige. Kelly K.—a prickly female business woman. MRSD—sisters who own a B&B. Dineen—Maude, owner of a shop (not sure it can be a doll shop, but I’ll see).

This weekend we will be at our Coeur d’Alene home. I will be interviewing the Chief of Police of one of the small towns near Cd’A. His town is the same size as my fictional town of Kanner Lake (which will be placed a little north of Cd’A), so he’ll be able to tell me how a police department of that small size works, and no doubt tell me some good ol’ Idaho stories. Those true stories are always jewels to work into the book.

So I thank you BGs who participated again. You’ve all earned a place in my acknowledgements. By the way, Ron, Evelyn, Kelly K. and mrsd—please email me to let me know if you want me to use your full names or only what you use when leaving a comment. I have the last names of the rest of y’all.

Well. So. Where did we leave off on our NES? (Which is not too far from becoming our ES.) Ah, yes. Brink of Death released in the spring of 2004, and I told y’all about some reader letters, good and bad. Of course, backing up a little, in the fall of 2003, I had to write the second book in the Hidden Faces series—Stain of Guilt. That book drove me nuts. I couldn’t figure out how to end it. I have this thing about always wanting to twist a story as much as possible. I figure if I give folks a choice between A and B, I’ll come up with the real answer of C. Or maybe even D or E. With Stain of Guilt, however, it was a little less convoluted, so I hade to come up with an ending no one would foresee, including those who understood the penultimate twist about the crime itself. I thought of this and that and finally figured out what to do. Man, I was glad when I finished that book!

Which reminds me—talk about reader letters. A few months ago I got a letter from a man who was absolutely fuming about the ending to Stain of Guilt. I mean this guy was beside himself. Not only did he vow to never read another Brandilyn Collins book in his entire life, but he also vowed to never again read any book published by Zondervan. Ever.

Wow, that’s some power. Kinda puffed me up, you know? Singlehandedly, I, Brandilyn Collins, have the ability to send the entire fortune of a major publisher to the dust.

And of course once again—wouldn’t you know this guy sent the letter (handwritten) to Zondervan, who then forwarded it to me. Good grief. Nothing like letting my publisher see the worst of ’em. Sometimes I think it’s amazing they still keep me around.

So, Stain of Guilt written fall 2003, Brink of Death released spring 2004. SOG would release fall of 2004. Meanwhile as BOD was releasing, I was preparing to write book 3 in the series. Oh, boy.

I originally had planned for my forensic artist’s project in book 3 to be a facial reconstruction from a skull. So I tried to build a book around that. I tried and tried, day after day. The story wouldn’t come. Absolutely wouldn’t come. I was getting really worried. I had to start that book, or I would have so little time to write it. Meanwhile the editorial letter from Stain of Guilt was late, so by the time I did the rewrite on SOG, which was a bigger rewrite than usual—I was really pushing the time with book 3. Teaching at Mount Hermon was coming up, and that would take a lot of preparation time. I realized I would not be able to start book 3 until after the conference.

Then—I would have 10 weeks to write it.

This was not good.

I always pray my way through projects. Yowie, was I prayin’ through this one. More like begging—Please God, give me an idea. Finally, one day at my desk, I hit the wall with the thing. The story I was trying to put together just wasn’t happening. So I chucked it. All my notes, my ideas I’d worked on for days, trying to make into a story—poof—I tossed ’em all.

That’s about the time ya really start praying.

Only then did this other story begin to emerge. The first thing that came was the killer’s POV. I sat down at the computer and dashed off the prologue. Eek, I creeped myself out just writing the thing. Where was this voice coming from? This crazy, ranting, warped-perception voice? Then when I finished, I read the prologue over. My first thought—huh-uh. No way. I’ll never get away with this in CBA. A serial killer—who takes trophies? Yeah, right.

God, is that You behind this? Because if You are, you’d better talk to my editors.

The story kept forming. It wasn’t even about a facial reconstruction; it was about drawing the dead—those victims of the serial killer who hadn’t been identified. The more I prayed, the more I sensed this was the book I was supposed to write. As for the darkness and intensity of the story—yes. I was not to pull back in presenting it. But I was to present the other side of that darkness—God’s light. God’s power as released through the prayers of His people. The more darkness I presented, the more of God’s power I needed to show.

Terrific. Fine and dandy. I now had an idea for a story, and as soon as Mount Hermon was out of the way, I could start writing it. And I’d have no time to waste either, what with only 10 weeks to complete the thing. All right, go for it, no looking back!

Then I got this bright idea. My editor was gonna be at Mount Hermon. I’d just take the prologue and let her read it—you know, warn her a little about what to expect from this book. And hope to heaven she didn’t shoot it down because then I’d really be in the soup.

So I caught her at breakfast one morning. Sat next to her and slipped her these two pages. “Hey, Karen, wanna read the beginning to my new book? It’s kind of . . . Well, it’s sort of . . .” I swallowed, my muscles tensing up. If she didn’t okay this idea, I was doomed.

She started to read.

I buttered my bread with focused intensity.

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Read Part 58