My First Writer's Workshop

Recently I tried something new. I plunked down some cash and sat down at a table with a few of my writer’s group mates. I am a writer! I am honing my craft! I am here to learn!

It was worth it. The day’s topic was “How to Write a Page Turner” and covered the stuff I’m not especially strong in: suspense, tension, and how to plot a story in a way that makes the reader want to keep going. My writing tends to be soft, and plotting out an entire novel is problematic for me. I tend to start and keep going and end up surprised at the outcome...which is a lot of fun....but can really lead me to some thorny dead ends.

Our instructor, Brian Henry, is an editor who spends his weekends teaching all of us starry eyed aspiring novelists how to do what we want to do. He’s funny and clever. He took us through all the tools for writing to engage the reader, like how much information to dole out at once, or imposing limits on characters to make the story more interesting. Being an editor, Brian has little patience for crap and I like that. I’ve spent the last two months teaching myself how to cut the crap. I’ll be back for more of his workshops.

Our guest speaker was the very beautiful and intelligent Eve Silver, who is a chiropractor, college anatomy class lecturer, wife, mother, and... published author. She became a doctor because it was, of course, a good thing to do for a living, and the expected thing to do for a living, but always regretted giving up her high school dreams of being a writer.
She writes for a very specific genre called Gothic Romance. Now I am not a fan of romance novels. I get bored. But let me tell you, Eve Silver is the perfect guest speaker if the subject is SUSPENSE. I bought a copy of His Dark Kiss and ...I can’t put it down. Except to eat sleep and write. I want to know why Lord Anthony Craven is so bitter, and why the two previous governesses left the estate in pine boxes, and what the hell is that scratching breathing invisible sound Miss Emma hears following her, and who locked her in the icehouse, and what happened to the housekeeper’s arm, and Lord Craven’s hand, and why, why why is the footman carrying anthrax ridden corpses up the tower?????


It’s so delightfully overwrought, almost to the point of cheese, but thrilling and dark and creepy and so much fun! Of course, being a romance novel, there is ample description of the devastatingly handsome Lord Craven, who walks around in a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, breeches, and riding boots, god help us all. He’s troubled and intense but underneath it all, he is- gasp- sensitive!!! Every two pages or so we read about his dark unkempt hair, his beautiful green eyes framed by long black lashes, his sensual mouth, broad shoulders, strong hands, muscled thighs, small buttocks and- I kid you not, this is so great- the hard planes of his chest, the supple ridges of his abdomen!!!!!!

...and I think to myself, dang, she is describing my Jethro!!!!!

(other than the breeches and boots thing....and Okay, and the chest and abdomen thing. What? He’s gotta work for a living, he doesn’t have time to go stomping around getting all muscular on a haunted estate, okay? But other than that...)

Now here are a few very inspiring facts about our featured author:

-She still has a full time job.
-In order to steal writing time, she admits that she has not cleaned a toilet in five years. Yessss!!!
-She is what we call a “pantser” which means she writes by the seat of her pants, without a written outline and only a vague idea of where she wants it to end up.
-She never actually learned to type. My jaw dropped when I heard that, because I am a pathetic typist, constantly backspacing to fix things, and it bugs me, but at least I can type! She does the old hunt and peck. While slowly typing out the first word, she is formulating and rewriting the rest of the sentence. She says it’s not ideal, but it allows her to really think it through. She doesn’t work as hard in the edit and revise stage.
-She got THREE HUNDRED REJECTIONS for her first novel.
-The book I bought is her second novel. By this time next year, she will have, I kid you not, EIGHT books in print.

How? She didn’t give up, she worked on her craft and improved it, and she put a lot of work into finding a good agent for her. And she’s a hard worker. She has settled into a genre she likes and is good at.

Very inspiring.

After the presentation, we did a writing exercise which we read among our groups. Mine wasn’t great. It didn’t have anybody on the edge of their seats. However, my fellow students had some constructive suggestions. I’m going to rewrite it today. I’m so excited, that I am truly at the edge of my seat, breath caught in my throat, tiny beads of sweat dotting my brow.

Eh?

Meanwhile, I handed my middle grade novel to a friend who also happens to be a teacher. I told her to really be thorough with it- forget that we’re friends, trust that I will still love her, and just please find anything boring or stupid or incorrect.

Her critique has been so valuable that I could just cry tears of happiness. Yes, it means more work for me, and it could mean taking out or changing a few things in the book that I kind of liked...but it can be improved, and I know it will be.

I’m at a point now where I can fully understand why this thing has been rejected so many times over the last two or three years, or however long it’s been since I started submitting it. I can’t even remember.

I looked around the room a few days ago at the writer’s workshop and took in how many of these eager faces introduced themselves as aspiring writers, or unpublished authors, or future bestselling novelists. I didn’t, even though I fully intend to successfully sell my novels. I introduced myself like this:

“Hi, I’m Heidi, and I’m a genius.”

Brian specified that our information did not have to be true...

But it really struck me how few of us will get there. One woman asked if there are any tricks for remembering what you’d written four months earlier. I cringed. The answer was that you must write daily. Even if it’s just one sentence. This is something I knew a long time ago even if I didn’t always follow it.

We have to really want it. We have to want it so bad that we’re willing to work at it. It’s not easy. Writing is....um...like...hard.

I think about all the 60 kids in the first year of Jethro’s college course. One hundred and twenty kids sent audition tapes the the Recording Engineering/ Production program. Sixty got in. Less than 30 graduated two years later. (Edit- he read this and corrected me- there were actually about 1200 applicants for sixty positions in the program.)

I think about all people who joined my Equine Business Management course last fall and how few were left three months later. I myself wanted to quit. I taught myself that I don’t want to run a boarding stable. I want to teach people how to ride, but not full time, because it's my therapy, and I want it to stay special to me.

I want to write. I want an agent. I want to pick through words until I find the right one. I want to get these fake people out of my head and into yours.

Well. I have work to do.

And I have to find out what happened after Lord Craven engulfed Miss Emma in a big wet tongue licking hard bodied heart drumming hot indelicate kiss. Damn. Good luck with that, Miss Emma.