Survival of the most persistant

So I wrote a book, the title is Dissident. There’s so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to start. How about publishing. I had no idea what I was really getting myself into when I opened that word doc nearly two years ago.

To get a book in print, it’s best to go through an agent. At least for your first book. Querying agent after agent to see who is willing to represent it. This agent will find a publisher who will buy it and turn it into something amazing that people will buy.

And you can guess what happens when you’re an invisible first time author trying to get attention in a sea of others just like you. An endless parade of rejection letters. Or worse, just being ignored. I read somewhere that you should expect to be rejected (or ignored) 100 times before you find someone willing to take you seriously.

Not sure how true that is. But it was scare me away from the profession for a long time. Talk about a colossal waste of time.

But I also read that those who make it in the industry aren’t necessarily the ones with talent. This profession is all about survival of the most persistent.  Or in my case, relentless.

So at this date, I think I’m about a third of the way to my goal of querying 100 different agencies. After about the first ten it became a game of cut and paste. Each agent wants something just a bit different, but really it’s all the same. The same questions asked in a different order. Cut. Paste. Send. Next email.

Except for the guy who asked me what other ideas I had. Which made me laugh. Because he doesn’t realize that I have well organized outlines for about 10 more books on my computer waiting for my attention, and about 100 loose threads that are waiting in the corners of my mind for their turn to be woven into something that makes sense. And beyond that there’s a slush pile of random story elements that could be something. Someday. So we’ll just put the lid back on that can of worms and move on.

Survival of the persistent I tell you. Someone has to tell all these stories.  Make sense out of these pieces. I guess it's going to have to be me.

I’ll keep you posted.

The truth about the truth

The more fiction I write, the more I’m completely fascinated by it. And by how it’s totally not what I thought it was. So as I wrote my little book I had a handful of questions that I wanted to answer.

The first one is how do you fight a war without a weapon in your hand.

The second was what does it take to turn a nice boy into a murderer.

But there’s more.

With this book I wanted to think about Church politics. If you haven’t read the book, I have it set up so that the “favored” community represents the church as a body of believers set up over several locations. With my Academy set up as a representative physical church. A place my characters assume they’ll be safe from the murderous Underlanders.

But as most Christians are aware, standing in a church does not make you a Christian in the way that standing in a garage does not make you a car.

My characters are not safe in their church. The church has just as much internal conflict as any other organization that mankind dreamed up. Administrative runaround, discrimination and cliques, putting the needs of one’s self ahead of the needs of the group at large. No one likes to admit that these things exist within the church, but they do.

So much untapped tension in the church. I love it. So much more I can’t wait to point out in the future.

Don’t call us goody-two shoes. You have no idea. We’re just as messed up as you are.

So not so much of a question this time around as a comment on human nature.

True safety will never be found with another human or within a building.

The whole Christianity faith has so many different little nuance-y conflicts. Internal conflicts, external conflicts, some are more pronounced than others. But they're all rather beautiful in their own right, I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to address with these books. Some day. All of it. All these pretty little threads that tangle up my mind will be woven into something that makes sense to someone else.

 

 

On creating a murderer

When I first started writing I was all about trying to figure out a series of events that followed a logical progression. But after I was nearly done with the first draft of this book I realized I had no idea how to write a book. I had no idea that it wasn’t really about the sequence of events at all.

It was mostly about how my characters responded to what I did to them.

As in how they survived the worst things I could think up to do to them. Because the backbone of good fiction is pushing your character to his limit, just to see what he’ll do.

One of the questions I set out to answer in this story is what happens when you take a couple of normal people, people like me and my family, and back them into a corner. Then give them a weapon and see what they do.

When I think about my male lead, Tobias, I think of my son, Alex. What would it take for my boy to take a weapon and use it to murder someone? Would he be able to do it? How far would an enemy have to push him to get him to that point? And when he got to that point, would he really be able to do it? Would he lay down and die or fight back? If i was me, I’d probably just die.

Which is why I’m not a character in my story.

When characters revolt

So I’ve probably said it before, but I’ll say it again. Writing fiction does weird things to your head.

I’ve always had a bit of a screw loose (don’t laugh, Dad). I know. But writing fiction takes my oddness to a whole new level. So let me tell you a bit what it’s like when your characters decide that they’re real people. And don’t believe you when you try to say otherwise.

In the book I wrote, Dissident, my female character is Shiloh. I wanted her to follow in the footsteps of the other strong feminine warrior heroes. With girls like Katniss and Tris to live up to, she needed to be fierce or get out of the way.

But. One day I was twiddling around, trying to avoid responsibility and so I sat down with Pinterest to find some visuals. Ok. I decided to take her shopping. Shiloh and I. Shopping on Pinterest. Weird things to your head I tell you.

So anyway I was trying to figure out weapons and such, and she told me she didn’t want a sword. She wanted lace. LACE. I died just a bit when she said that. How am I supposed to have a warrior in a lacy top. Seriously. But she wasn’t kidding. Then she picked out a gold necklace that she wanted (which incidentally made it into the book, her picking out a gold necklace in town) because SHE WAS A GIRL and wanted to be treated LIKE A GIRL.

Who was I to argue?

So after her little “don’t give me a sword tantrum” I was left to figure out how to deal with this heroine who needed to learn how to be fierce without a weapon in her hand. I think as the story continues (still collecting ideas, but I think I’ll be able to complete the story with three books) I think you’ll be pleased to see how Shiloh figures out how to wage battle against her enemy without the sword I tried to give her. How to fight corruption and injustice on her own terms. How wars are one with words instead of with weapons.

Which is so much better than what I had originally figured out.

Strange things to your head I tell you. Characters that write their own stories.

Characters that don’t realize that they don’t really exist.

This is my world.

Dissident

So things have been a bit quiet around here this year. It's not you, I swear, it's me.

You've heard it before. I know.

But my little word lovin heart has been pulled in so many different directions that it's unreal.

So most of my facebook people know that I've taken this spring to finish the book that I started about 18 months ago. A book that I say I wrote for my oldest son, but really I was just playing. Watching a story unfold beneath my eye lids and putting into words what I saw, all while praying that I actually made sense.

If you're a writer you know what I'm talking about. If not. Uh... Sorry? Writing fiction does weird things to your head. No joke.

But my story is done! Done I tell you. Until I find an editor to shred it to pieces that is. Over the next few weeks I thought maybe I'd talk a bit about this crazy adventure I've been on. But for now, here's the synopsis of the story I wrote.

Tobias's world is turned upside down when Shiloh shows up on his family farm. She has come seeking shelter after her home was attacked and destroyed by a roaming mob of Underlanders, leaving her alone and afraid. 

When the mob catches up with her, they are both forced to leave Tobias's family and flee to the relative safety of the New Haven Academy in search of someone who can help them find safety with other members of the Favored tribe. 

But life at the academy is far from the safe haven they were seeking. Insane professors with bizarre teaching tactics and overly protective monitors both threaten the thin veneer of safety they thought they had found when they entered the academy.  If that wasn’t enough, Shiloh and Tobias must keep their cool in the face of bullying and deep seated discrimination.  All of these factors work together to divide both students and staff, distracting them from the work the Overseer has for them.

Tobias and his friends must learn the skills necessary to take care of themselves and recognize the almighty Overseer's guidance. They must figure out who they can trust to help them find their way before the unthinkable occurs.

Sound good? I can't wait for you to read it.