I am happy to report that, in October, I won the Surrey International Writer's Conference 2008 Writing Contest in the "Writing for Young Readers" category for my piece, AUDITION. Beyond the fun of actually winning something and hearing cool writers like Shelly Hrdlitshka say nice things about my work, the conference was AMAZING. (Read an excerpt of my piece at: http://www.siwc.ca/blogs/kcdyer/writing-for-young-people-contest-winners.)
It is almost impossible to choose the best thing about the Surrey conference. The seminars on novel revision given by Hallie Ephron and Anna DeStephano were very helpful, particularly as each offered a unique and creative approach to breaking down that terrifying monolith that is a novel first draft into workable, "editable" pieces. The "Pitch Practice" session with Beverly Boissery gave me tons of confidence for my agent meetings. I was delighted to have a chance to spend some time with Tor Books editor extraordinaire Susan Chang, who never ceases to amaze me with her passion for her authors and their craft. And the sheer joy of connecting with a diverse group of dedicated writers left me feeling inspired and energized (also a bit exhausted from all the fun).
So, as I sit here at my desk on December 5, having just read far too many articles about layoffs in the publishing industry (we could hardly have expected our biz to be immune from the economic crisis, could we?), I still feel a great deal of, well, Holiday Joy. Why? Because, no matter what happens to Wall Street, the auto industry, and even the world of publishing, I know that there are passionate, creative people out there who will write because they are simply made to do this this--to put words onto pages, to work and worry at their craft, and to share their stories. This truth is priceless and never needs the Fed to bail it out.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
April, May, June, July
Freelance writing work has kept me from posting these four months. That, and the nagging question faced, I expect, by many experimenting with the blog: What's it all about? I have read some fabulous blogs, particularly those by editors and agents in my field. These sites are full of great information on writing queries, submission etiquette, and the wild and woolly machinations of the publishing biz. I have also read quite a few scary sites in which would-be writers bemoan their unsold manuscripts and decry those who seem to be standing in their way.
My own blog, which began as an attempt to explore the delicate balance between life and writing has seesawed between ruminations on the craft and a more personal timeline of my creative endeavors. While this does reflect my original intent, it seems to me as an increasingly educated student of the blog, it does not make for a great site. The best blogs teach, inspire, inform. Mine...not so much.
The upshot of all this is that, in those stolen moments between projects, I have spent some time reflecting on how to make Writer-on-the-Side one of those "best blogs." Do I have to wait until I am a published author--someone with the cache or authority to offer advice? Should I discuss, more narrowly, my experience as a writer of marketing materials for the publishing industry, my thoughts on education, literature and the sizzling question of "What is YA"?
I suppose I am in search of focus, direction, a solid sense of my identity as a blogger (sound rather like good attributes for fiction writing, too). For now I am left, a la Carrie Bradshaw, with a head full of pithy questions. The answers are more elusive.
My own blog, which began as an attempt to explore the delicate balance between life and writing has seesawed between ruminations on the craft and a more personal timeline of my creative endeavors. While this does reflect my original intent, it seems to me as an increasingly educated student of the blog, it does not make for a great site. The best blogs teach, inspire, inform. Mine...not so much.
The upshot of all this is that, in those stolen moments between projects, I have spent some time reflecting on how to make Writer-on-the-Side one of those "best blogs." Do I have to wait until I am a published author--someone with the cache or authority to offer advice? Should I discuss, more narrowly, my experience as a writer of marketing materials for the publishing industry, my thoughts on education, literature and the sizzling question of "What is YA"?
I suppose I am in search of focus, direction, a solid sense of my identity as a blogger (sound rather like good attributes for fiction writing, too). For now I am left, a la Carrie Bradshaw, with a head full of pithy questions. The answers are more elusive.
Friday, March 28, 2008
On Making Dances and Pacing Novels
Perhaps from the outside making dances, like writing, seems like a giant, freewheeling adventure. Yet those working in such creative fields know that good work merges inspiration with a great deal of hard work and discipline. Still, choreography seems to differ from writing in that it is made upon other people. Inside the choreographer’s mind is a vocabulary of movements and ideas he or she has developed more or less through personal dance experience. These notions must be modified and even discarded for a new vocabulary when a dance is made to embody the ideas presented in a musical and is performed by other people.
Such adaptation is essential when choreographing for young musical theatre performers many of whom have more acting or singing experience than dance training. To make successful dances for such performers, one must develop meaningful, exciting movements that can be both understood and proficiently reproduced. Some of the best dances I have created for kids—the ones that have yielded the biggest smiles on their faces, the most enthusiastic applause from the audiences—have been streamlined, group- and gesture-based routines.
Granted it is delightful when a cast contains trained ballerinas or gymnasts capable of stunning pirouettes and cartwheels but I have learned to truly appreciate the glory of thirty-odd children marching in the same direction, their arms linked together or held in a clear, artful pose. I have come to believe that the young artists’ ability to connect with the movement, its meaning and its execution, is directly correlated to the success of any given dance in performance.
These choreographic principles have begun to echo in my mind as I revise my current YA novel. As I watch closely for character consistency and struggle with the pacing of dramatic plot elements, I have come to think of this book as a sort of dance between myself and the imaginary reader. Will he or she believe this notion? Is this secret revealed to my reader too quickly? Will he or she find this answer too complex or too simple? As a choreographer and a writer, I have my own vernacular, my own voice. Yet, as a person who firmly believes in the essential craftsmanship of creative works, I strive to find a way to connect my style to the nature and experience of my reader. In the end, whether written or danced, the success of my work depends on the dialogue between me and those for whom I create.
Such adaptation is essential when choreographing for young musical theatre performers many of whom have more acting or singing experience than dance training. To make successful dances for such performers, one must develop meaningful, exciting movements that can be both understood and proficiently reproduced. Some of the best dances I have created for kids—the ones that have yielded the biggest smiles on their faces, the most enthusiastic applause from the audiences—have been streamlined, group- and gesture-based routines.
Granted it is delightful when a cast contains trained ballerinas or gymnasts capable of stunning pirouettes and cartwheels but I have learned to truly appreciate the glory of thirty-odd children marching in the same direction, their arms linked together or held in a clear, artful pose. I have come to believe that the young artists’ ability to connect with the movement, its meaning and its execution, is directly correlated to the success of any given dance in performance.
These choreographic principles have begun to echo in my mind as I revise my current YA novel. As I watch closely for character consistency and struggle with the pacing of dramatic plot elements, I have come to think of this book as a sort of dance between myself and the imaginary reader. Will he or she believe this notion? Is this secret revealed to my reader too quickly? Will he or she find this answer too complex or too simple? As a choreographer and a writer, I have my own vernacular, my own voice. Yet, as a person who firmly believes in the essential craftsmanship of creative works, I strive to find a way to connect my style to the nature and experience of my reader. In the end, whether written or danced, the success of my work depends on the dialogue between me and those for whom I create.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
BACK TO THE EDITING BOARD
I have cleared my calendar. March freelance jobs: Finished in February. Bills: Mailed! Tax receipts for 2007: Compiled. (Before April 14th--you heard it.) Besides choreographing a kids’ musical, the only creative activity on my plate for March is…THE BUS. In late April I’ll be attending a writing conference at which I have already been scheduled for a manuscript critique with a terrific agent. The plan is to have the second draft of my NaNoWriMo opus saved and printed before this appointment. So, when the aforementioned esteemed agent (in my dreams) asks when I’ll have a completed manuscript to share, I can say: “Now! Right now! Here it is, perfectly formatted in Times New Roman 12-point!” Obviously this is a dream as no self-respecting writer would let fly three sequential exclamation marks. And even newbie novelists know that dumping 200-plus pages of hard copy into the hands of an agent at a conference is unacceptable behavior. Still, who doesn’t make up Newbery Award acceptance speeches while they sit in the elementary school carpool line? (Oh, admit it. You do it, too.)
So, there’s the clear calendar, the critique appointment, the plan and the dream. What’s the problem? Revision is hard. (Note that I edited out a lovely adjective to make that high-impact, three-word sentence.) There are so many little plot and sentence structure errors to fix; moments when emotional description bulges and necessary dialogue feels weak; opportunities for subtle images and plot nuances that take time and effort to add; and the weight of all those pages… Perhaps the biggest challenge is my need to reread big chunks of preceding text before working on a chapter. I feel like each day I edit two chapters after reading the six that come before it. The phrase “time consuming” does not begin to describe the process. And when you are a writer-on-the-side, working only when your toddler naps or after your kids go to sleep, not every day offers a chunk of time sufficient for re-reading and seriously re-working enough text to make the whole endeavor worth attempting.
There is some good news. I still love the characters, the plot and its taught, stylized structure. I still feel excited by the prospect of sharing my story with readers. So, having indulged my love of exclamation points and parentheticals here on the blog, I am forcing my overwhelmed mind and keyboard-weary fingers back to THE BUS.
So, there’s the clear calendar, the critique appointment, the plan and the dream. What’s the problem? Revision is hard. (Note that I edited out a lovely adjective to make that high-impact, three-word sentence.) There are so many little plot and sentence structure errors to fix; moments when emotional description bulges and necessary dialogue feels weak; opportunities for subtle images and plot nuances that take time and effort to add; and the weight of all those pages… Perhaps the biggest challenge is my need to reread big chunks of preceding text before working on a chapter. I feel like each day I edit two chapters after reading the six that come before it. The phrase “time consuming” does not begin to describe the process. And when you are a writer-on-the-side, working only when your toddler naps or after your kids go to sleep, not every day offers a chunk of time sufficient for re-reading and seriously re-working enough text to make the whole endeavor worth attempting.
There is some good news. I still love the characters, the plot and its taught, stylized structure. I still feel excited by the prospect of sharing my story with readers. So, having indulged my love of exclamation points and parentheticals here on the blog, I am forcing my overwhelmed mind and keyboard-weary fingers back to THE BUS.
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