Revision All The Time

Revision All The Time

Two weeks until the conference.

No big deal or anything, right?

I know I don’t have to have my first revision done before I go to the ACFW Conference. If I am lucky enough to get some interest, I will have a little time to get it finished. Still, it provides a handy deadline and incentive to get it done. I am one of those writers who works better under pressure.

Just as there are many helps out there for writers when plotting, I’m finding a lot of resources for revision. I’d like to pull together a post of links for helpful sites, but guess what? I’m on a deadline. 😉

I’ve been impressed with the American Christian Fiction Writers member resources. I signed up as a member a few years ago but I wasn’t as serious and didn’t take advantage of the services. Right now I have signed up for their novel editing loop on email. They run this every couple of months. They have you set a goal and report your pages edited to give accountability and encouragement. They also offer mini-lessons on editing basics. There are handy tidbits in there.

The one book I’ve fully read and used is James Scott Bell’s Revision and Self-Editing.This helpful guide gives an overview of Bell’s fiction teaching and applies the knowledge to the revision stage of writing. He is one of my favorite writing guides, so I’m happy to dig into it. I’ve also read the ubiquitous Self-Editing For Fiction Writers by King and Browne, but that was a long time ago.

Today Nathan Bransford had a helpful post about revision. When you get to the point that you hate your novel, that you can’t imagine another change – well, then you’re close to being ready. Go check the post out for yourself.

And in closing, if you didn’t see Bransford’s Publication Process in GIF form, then you missed one of the best posts for writers in a long, long time.

I’d say more, but those revisions aren’t happening by themselves. Back to the grindstone.

Do you have any specific revision resources you like? Please share them in the comments below.

Continuing The Writing Adventure

Continuing The Writing Adventure

On last week’s Writing Wednesday I talked about finally putting “The End” down on my longstanding first draft of a novel.

Revision is the next step in the process with the novel, but there’s another major step I’m taking this year.

I’m attending the American Christian Fiction Writers’ Conference in Dallas next month.

The ACFW is the largest organization that supports Christian fiction writers in the country. They hold this conference each year, and for several years I’ve had to deal with the sins of jealousy and covetousness when seeing other writers announce they are going. (Just kidding) (Sorta)

I’m excited to go. I’ve heard different opinions on when to go to your first conference. Some have said early on to go to the workshops and get training, others have suggested waiting until you’ve done something significant related to writing.

For a general writer, my advice would be to evaluate potential conferences and see if they offer courses or workshops for your level. If it seems geared to someone who is farther along the writing path, maybe that isn’t the best fit. If, like the ACFW conference, they have several levels of training offered, it would be a great start even if you’re pretty new.

For the Christian writer, there’s the added consideration of what the Lord is leading you to do. I wanted to have my first novel finished before I thought about it. I wasn’t finished when I signed up, but I have since then. However, I feel the doors have been opened for me this year that weren’t before, so I have a confidence that I’m making the right decision.

The cool thing about the ACFW folks is the length they go to in order to make us “first-timers” feel welcome and the support offered. There’s a email loop with advice for us covering various topics. The first day has a noob orientation. There is a lot of prayer that goes into everything that happens there. That is very encouraging.

The conference is September 20-23 and I head out the Wednesday night before. I’ll post more about this before I go.

Here goes nothing!

The End (Just The Beginning)

The End (Just The Beginning)

There comes a day in every writer’s life when they must type these words.

The end.

I’ve resisted calling myself a writer or an author, because I’ve never written those words on something significant. Sure, I’ve finished a few short stories, but my novel WIP was something that seemed like it never would get done. Other people might argue that since I write regularly (this blog, a newspaper column) then I am a writer. I never felt like I was there.

Until this weekend.

On Sunday evening I sat on the couch, my laptop warming my legs. I finished the last sentence of my novel. Set the laptop down to think about it. Picked it up, read the last chapter and reconsidered.

Then I typed, “The end.”

I finished the first draft of a labor of love. I started with the initial idea and first couple of chapters in 2005. Yes, it took me this long! I thought about giving up several times. It never seemed right to quit though.

After 60,000 words (what the word processor counts, not including all the erased words that didn’t make the cut), I had the basis for a novel. I could say it.

I had written a book.

Well, I finished the first draft. Which I count as significant, since so many people say they’re going to write a book and never do it. I vowed last year to not be that person.

So…now what?

*Looks at his watch, taps his chin*

Oh, you’re still here? Cool. Me too.

Now of course is the dreaded revision process. Although, I liked the last time I did some serious revision. I realize that my writing needs a lot of work. Characters are flimsy and need a work-out. Plot points disappear like the Big Lost River here in the Idaho desert. Cliches need filleted.
And it’s not like I’m on a deadline or anything…
(more details next week)

Getting Out Of The Rut

Getting Out Of The Rut

photo by Catie Rhodes 
Who’s been in a rut before?
Everyone raise your hands. We’ve all done it. Whether it is with our food choices, our daily activities, or our writing, we’ve been in the place where we get stuck and can’t move on to new and exciting things.
The rut is comforable. You don’t have to think about it. The path is set, all you need to do is follow it.

My family just did a weekend road trip that included seeing part of the Oregon Trail. To me it was amazing to think that thousands of people trekked west in the mid-1800’s for a new life. The standard path was so well worn that there are still ruts visible over some grassy hills in southern Idaho after all this time.

I’ve been stuck in a grammatical rut for the last couple of chapters. I’m trying to finish for a deadline. That might be pushing me to stick to a comfortable routine. My rut is this: “James wanted to finish his coffee, but Kristin was giving him that look.”

Nothing wrong with that by itself, right? My problem is that I keep using this compound sentence structure EVERY paragraph it seems. I don’t want simple short sentences every time, but this way of using a conjunction is becoming to repetitive. SEE! I just did it again.

Argh. It is hard enough pushing toward the end. I can see it. The end. No more mirage shimmering in the distance. It really is there. But in fighting toward it I still want to do a decent job and not have to return to edit every single “Blah, blah, blah, BUT/AND/SO blah, blah, blah” clause that I can’t seem to avoid.

At least I am recognizing it. We all have blind spots as authors. Better to know now than be surprised withthe edits. Now, how to get past this? There’s always the “bomb under the sofa” technique.


What say you? What have some of your ruts been? Anything goes here! For writers, how did you get out of said rut?

Book Review – Proof

Book Review – Proof

Dr. Lilly Reeves has learned to take care of herself. Despite her childhood issues, she is a successful ER doctor who has a black belt and is a good shot. Unfortunately, she still becomes the victim of a serial rapist who manages to break into her apartment and drug her.

Detective Nathan Long has been working the case and thanks to Lilly he is able to finally catch the bad guy. Until the DNA tests point to a different man.

Now Lilly and Nathan face professional and personal challenges from the supposed mistake in identification. The question becomes can they figure out the answer before the criminal strikes again, or before he targets Lilly for knowledge she may carry?


This is the premise for the debut novel of Proof by Jordyn Redwood. As a pediatric ER nurse by day, Jordyn has the medical qualifications to weave a taut suspense within the world of health care. That’s exactly what Proof is.

The scenario that she conjures is scary and real, making the book an intense read. She sets up the mystery in the first chapter, and the twists and turns continue until the final pages. There is plenty of danger, action, and medical setting to satisfy readers of medical thrillers, mysteries, and typical suspense.

Her characters have a lot of depth and are all flawed. There’s no cardboard cutouts here. Lilly is a compelling protagonist, but some of her reaction to the assault is real and not very heroic, frankly. Too many writers ignore the consequences of actions in their books. Jordyn shows Lilly’s struggles to accept what has happened. This part of the book isn’t easy reading, but it is realistic and handled well. It dovetails with the plot and sets up consequences that drive a lot of the story along.

I’m in medicine myself, so I don’t know if the medical description is too technical for the average reader, but it is all very believable and plausible. I didn’t stumble over anything in this aspect of the book.

It is very strong for a debut author. I could nitpick about repetitive imagery that occasionally pops up, but it is weak criticism at best, and it shows that Jordyn has a natural affinity for the medical suspense genre. Any fan of thrillers or adrenaline-laced fiction will enjoy this read. I’m excited for what comes next in the series, as it is apparently part of a trilogy. Oh, and if you’re an author, her medical blog Redwood’s Medical Edge is a great resource to get answers to your medical questions.

Do you like fiction with a medical edge? Are there writers in the medical thriller niche you can recommend as well?

Short Story – “Batgirl”

Day 2 of My Greatest Hits – my goofy short story “Batgirl”

I must have been desperate.

Even though no one could see my green tights and pointy shoes in the beat-up minivan, I still felt like dying every time I passed a car. My jacket camouflaged my upper body, but I knew how dorky I looked underneath.

My cousin Matt was so excited when he called three weeks ago. “Dude, I won tickets to the San Diego/Dallas game at the new Cowboys Stadium in December. Dad said I could take you if you can get down here.”

No way!

I’d been a Cowboys fan since I was five years old, and I’d been waiting to see a game there as long as I can remember. After twelve years, I wasn’t going to miss this game.

Then reality landed.

My folks would let me go, but there was no money in the budget for a plane ticket. If I could earn the money, then it was a deal.

Too bad I’d blown all my summer lawn mowing money on a new MP3 player. I guess I could listen to the game…

No big. I’d get a job. Fall meant no more lawn jobs, but I’d do anything for the cash.

If there was anything.

I hit every place in town over the next two and a half weeks. No one was hiring, at least not a teenager. With the bad economy, too many people hunted for a paycheck.

Time ticked away. Halftime to the game, and I had nothing. I considered panhandling, but “Will work for a ticket to Dallas” probably wasn’t the best tactic.

Trudging through the mall after another rejection, I stumbled across a new store needing help. Their busy season loomed, and the manager wanted me to start right away.

Sweet.

Except for the uniform.

I pulled into the Grand View Mall, wishing for a handicap permit to dash in with the least amount of people staring and laughing. Instead I wandered up and down the aisles for ten minutes, looking for a close spot. No such luck. I swear this grandma pulled a “Tokyo Drift” move on me to hustle me out of the best spot left.

I parked at the end of a row.

Should I walk cool and confident or sprint in and draw more attention? I ended up with an awkward jog, then slow, speed up, slow down, that only magnified my loser status. I know Granny Speed Racer even pointed me out.

At least I was finally here. Yeah, people snickered walking by me, and I still felt like a freak, but it made sense when I walked into the Boo House, the temporary Halloween store. Where the required uniform was some type of costume.

The source of my embarrassment.

Being penniless, I didn’t have money to buy something in the store, even with my 5% discount. The manager, (dressed as the Hulk), needed me the next day, leaving no time to hit a thrift store. I sped home, hoping the deep dark recesses of storage would hide a cool surprise.

Rather than a cruel disguise.

Dad had an ensemble wardrobe of polos and khakis, so he was no help. The younger siblings had mini Star Wars stuff. The Force was not with them. But good ol’ Mom and her theatre days…

My boss (now as Frankenstein) showed me the break room. Time to doff my jacket, revealing the rest of my gruesome ensemble. I put on my pointy hat, adjusted my belt and dagger, and prepared to brave the crowds.

The game better be worth it.

Frankenstein showed me the cash register and gave a quick tour. Fake weapons there, masks behind the counter. Blood, gore, and makeup on aisle 13. Except – they were all aisle 13. Lots of goodies to make any Halloween creepy or goofy.

The first half hour passed uneventfully. I seemed to blend in – no one laughed in my face at least. I wondered for the hundredth time how women could stand wearing tights. Or superheroes for that matter. I felt so exposed.

I kept busy cleaning up after kids trying out the props and leaving swords and guns everywhere. Helped me learn the layout quickly. Besides Franky, another employee stood by the cash register filing her nails. Blood red nails. I didn’t think they were fake, and I wondered if she only looked like a vampire today or if she dressed that way all the time. She fit in here at least.

I bent over to pick up a dismembered hand when I heard a musical voice behind me. “Let me guess, you’re looking for your shadow.”

Not my best side showing. I wheeled up and around.

Holy fireworks Batman!

I mean, Batgirl. I faced an angel in black vinyl. Her blonde hair cascaded onto her cape, while pools of azure peered out from her mask. Her spiky-heeled boots elevated her petite frame to almost eye-level with me. I felt a huge grin spread on my face as I noted her soft cherry-scented lips smiling at me.

I wanted to say something witty and charming. I think I stared dumbly and drooled.

She giggled. I melted.

“I hope you’re the new guy. If you dress like that all the time, I’m in trouble.”

“Why would you be in trouble?”

“Because you look better in tights than me!” She laughed again as my face flashed crimson at record speed. Gotta recover.

“So you’re, uh, Batgirl?”

She glanced around slyly. “Smart AND a snappy dresser. Frank knows how to pick ’em.”

Breathe. Stay cool. “Are you Stephanie then?”

Now she looked puzzled. “I’m not Stephanie. My name is…”

“Oh, my mistake. Since you’re blonde, I thought you were the new Batgirl, Stephanie Brown. Of course, the original Batgirl, Barbara Gordon, was a redhead. But I’m sure you knew that.”

Another confused look. “Actually I didn’t know that. I just thought it was cute.”

Way to go, geek! “Oh, you’re very cute. You don’t even need red hair, and, um…”

Mayday. Going down in flames here.

She grinned. “I’d better go check in. Catch you later in Neverland.”

She headed for the back, her skirt sashaying all the way. I wanted to gaze at her forever, but I caught an irate Frankenstein in my peripheral vision. Time to get to work.

I think the crowds followed her in. I could barely get a glance at her between bratty kids and haggard moms. Vampire girl just stayed at the cash register and glowered. Frank kept stocking new merchandise, so Batgirl and I did the customer service and clean up.

I tried to act nonchalant, but the leggings starting to chafe made it harder each minute. I’d bide my time, find the right moment. Hopefully one without a wedgie.

The right moment would be after my buddy Goose left.

He bobbed a head above the crowds. I couldn’t miss him. I didn’t need him here.

“Dude, what’s with the…”

“Don’t! Just, don’t go there.”

“Okay man, chill. So how’s the working man?”

“You know,” I looked at the last item I’d picked up. “Gotta keep up with the bloody chainsaws.”

“Dude, who’s that superchick over there?”

What was her name? I can’t believe my nerd breakout cut her off from giving it to me. Brilliant.

“You think I’m going to tell you? You’ll just blab about some embarrassing moment.”

Goose thought about it. “Like the time you choked on the communion wafer at church?”

“Exactly. Now go look for a costume. The manager doesn’t seem to like me talking.” And if I’m going to be talking, I want it to be with her.

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to…” he looked at my get-up one more time, “work.”

I heard him muttering something about a pirate hook hand on his way to the food court. Finally, I could work my way over to Batgirl. I had to at least get her name! Now, where was she?

I turned around and saw her in the Star Wars section as an unhappy looking patron turned from her and stomped toward the monster manager.

I had a bad feeling about this.

Two rambunctious kids dueled with lightsabers by me. I chased away the padawans and took the toy weapons over toward Batgirl as the woman returned with our boss.

“This is the rude girl. I can’t believe what she said to me!”

Frank’s green lips frowned. “What did you tell her?”

Bat’s eyes filled her mask holes. “She asked me where our Star Wars stuff was, and when I brought her here, she wanted to know the sizes we had in the Slave Leia outfits.”

The woman cut her off. “She said I was too fat for it, to not bother with trying it.”

The image of this lady in a metal bikini shivered my spine.

“I didn’t say that! I suggested that it might not fit and recommended an alternative.”

“It came across that I was fat. My boyfriend wanted me in the slave outfit, not Leia’s stupid white gown. Now our Halloween will be ruined!”

The discontented customer wailed loudly at this, as Batgirl looked dumbfounded at the accusation. Frankenstein stood with an expectant glare. I thought he was going to blow his fake bolts off.

“Do you have something to say?”

“I’m sorry she’s upset, but I didn’t mean to insult her. I was trying to help.”

“You know this is the second complaint I’ve had this week.”

“That lady was going to let her little boy be Freddy Krueger! All I said was I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

My hands shook the lightsabers as I watched the back and forth. I couldn’t believe the scene developing.

“If you’re going to insult my customers, maybe you don’t need to work here.”

Her bottom lip trembled a little as she responded. “Mr. Stein, I am not trying to insult anyone, but I am not going to lie about things. I have to be true to who I am.”

Was his name really Stein?

Not important. Frank huffed at her strong words for a moment, struggling for an answer. The wanna-be Leia goaded him. “If this type of miscreant is working here, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be true somewhere else. Get your things, clock out, and go home. You’re fired.”

Her jaw dropped. “But Mr. Stein, I don’t have a ride until the mall closes today. Can’t we all calm down and talk about this?”

“No, I can’t lose business in this economy. You’ll have to find somewhere in the mall to wait, I guess.”

“Dressed like this?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Not my problem.”

She burst into full blown tears walking to the back room for her things. I didn’t realize I was standing there slack-jawed, but Frankenstein turned his anger toward me. “I don’t think this concerns you. Get back to work.”

I turned to put the sabers back when Batgirl came out of the back, still crying. She had her mask off, but even with red, puffy eyes she still radiated a beauty and a strength. I couldn’t believe Frankenstein was such a monster.

My chance with this angel was walking out the door. A split-second decision.

“Wait up…Batgirl! I’ll give you a ride home.”

Frank glowered at me. “If you leave, don’t bother coming back.”

She looked at me, hopeful.

The game?

Or the girl?

“Let me get my jacket.”

I ran to the break room and back out as fast as I could manage in my outfit. Frankenstein stomped a boot as I ran past, shouting that I must not have needed the money that badly.

No, I just had a new priority. Goodbye football game.

“Hello Batgirl.”