Ninth Grade Sucks

Have I mentioned lately that I love my job? Being a writer has got to be one of the coolest things on the planet. (Next to being a vampire...or a ninja, which beats all, hands down) And I am loving the process.

Last night, as I gloated happily (well, it wasn't gloating so much as gushing repeatedly to my family until they begged me to shut up...which I wouldn't have done unless they'd asked. Come to think of it, even though they'd asked, I didn't shut up) about some initial feedback from two of my readers (maybe I shouldn't have gushed or gloated...maybe I should've sighed in relief that EGB isn't as horrible as I'd feared), my muse brushed off his tiny, crumpled, dusty wings and grunted in my direction.

Now...in case you don't know already, my muse is a very portly, middle-aged fairy with back hair, who wears a pink tutu and chomps on a cigar. I don't know his name, because he never speaks. He merely grunts in my direction (if I'm lucky) and gives me the impression that I owe him my undying thanks for his contribution. I give it to him, because, hey--never tick off the muse.

So last night he grunts and, just as Eighth Grade Bites did a few months ago, Ninth Grade Sucks comes rushing at me like riverwater and I had to grab onto a pen just to stop myself from being carried away. I scribbled down notes on everything and smiled broadly at the muse, who grunted and went back to watching the evening news.

Life is good.

And middle-aged furry guys in tu-tus deserve respect and admiration.

Alternatives to Nervously Gnawing Off an Arm

Those I Have Deemed Befitting will begin reading Eighth Grade Bites today. I'm nervous as all get out. Not that I'm worrying they won't like it--in fact, I'm pretty positive they'll all hate it, throw it at my feet and scream, "WHY DO YOU EVEN TRY??!" But then, I'm always like that when my readers are reading.

It's a good idea to find something else to do while you wait for your readers to get back to you with their thoughts on your manuscript. I thought we'd examine the top three.

1. Write something else (preferably something completely unrelated to what Those You Have Deemed Befitting are reading): It's good advice. Heck, I'd go ahead and stamp "great" on its forehead. But do I take this advice? No. Well...I try to. But my brain sneaks in little things that remind me of (in this case) Vlad and then it's all down hill.

2. Read something else: Another great idea. And I've tried. Last night I immersed myself in a book, hoping to forget about Vlad and readers and publishing (oh my!), but while my eyes are trying to drag my imagination and me into a delightful place, my imagination is clinging to the door jamb and staring at my Inbox. With the use of a little duct tape, I may manage to get him to sit still for a bit today.

3. Do something else (anything else): Probably the best advice yet. And you can be sure that, by taking this advice, your house will become extremely clean. All the laundry will be done and put away. Heck, you might even have time for a bubblebath (an evil bubblebath). Speaking of which, you'll need a duckie. (Personally, my duckie is black and has his beak pierced...he rocks.)

So go forth, minions! And refuse to gnaw off limbs in stressful times!

Polish Your Fangs--Dinner's On Me!

So this morning I finished the second draft of Eighth Grade Bites and sent it off to Those I Have Deemed Befitting (otherwise known as my loyal readers). My query letter and synopsis are ready and I am left to gnaw my fingers into tiny little stubs as I await Their opinions. Hopefully, it doesn't suck. (Er...well, I suppose it'll suck either way, being about a vampire and all...) Hopefully, they won't find too much wrong with it. Hopefully they'll laugh at my dorky sense of humor.

But even if they don't and the book needs HUGE revisions...well...there's always the third draft...

I can't tell you how relieved I am to have this draft behind me. I slashed the first draft to bits and affixed all new limbs (not to mention Abby Normal's brain). EGB is unrecognizable now and much better for it.

Saved on my desktop is a file titled "Vlad's Agent List" (is it weird that I think of him as his own person?). After Those I Have Deemed Befitting get back to me with their thoughts, I'll race (no, no...not race...I'll move slowly and surely...like the turtle against the hare) through the third draft and begin querying. For the first time since I started my writing career, I'm terrified. And I'm not even sure why. It's not like agents will bite or anything.

But then, with this book...that could be a good thing.

Can't Blog, Clowns Will Eat Me...

My deepest, most sincere apologies, my minions. Auntie Heather must take a much-needed break from blogging in order to finish the eternally emerging changes in the second draft of Eighth Grade Bites. If you need comforting, email. If you need entertainment, there's a list of my favorite blogs to the right (and below). For now, be well and send me some happy revising vibes.

Merrily Hacking Away

I'm almost finished with my second draft. That happy moment is so close I could sink my fangs into it. I'm giddy. Well...as giddy as someone whose wardrobe consists of varying shades of black can be.

Today I thought we'd discuss the editing process. My editing process. It's changed some over the years, but I finally have a schedule that works for me. So pull up a coffin and let's get down to it.

First and foremost, I wander the forests of First Draft Land, skipping merrily without a care in the world. I write without concern over perfect punctuation and ideal sentence structure. It's a happy place to be--one I always long for when I trudge forward, into Revision Land.

Revision Land is a horrible, ugly place. It's filled with inner critics and the realization that I can't write to save my life, that I'm nothing more than a talentless bonehead who shouldn't have made the dire mistake of thinking, for once, that I could actually put word to page successfully. This realization, of course, is foolish and inspired by the inner critics. But a little duct tape goes a long way and eventually I'm plowing my way through the manuscript, snipping bits of telling and reworking details until the plot has no holes. I go over spelling, punctuation, sentence structure--get it to where I'm close to thinking that I may be finished. I do a book-read (print out the second draft and read it like it's an actual book--not allowing myself to hold a red pen at any cost) and then, dear minions, I tumble straight into Reader Land.

In Reader Land, I hand my manuscript to Those I Have Deemed Befitting. I drum my fingers on my desktop until they are but bloody little stubs or until all of the readers get back to me with their thoughts--whichever comes first. Once I receive their critiques (which I always welcome--I have a sick desire to be cruelly criticized. Seriously, the more problems a reader comes up with, the happier I am. Mistakes I can fix. Mistakes no one mentions? Not so much), I go over everything they've said, see if there are any similar problems listed, and give myself a few days to let it soak in. I rework any last little tweaks, give it one more book-read and I'm good to go.

All that drags me, quivering, bleeding and broken, to the doorstep of Query Land.

I can hardly wait.

We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.

Several writer friends and I got into a conversation this weekend about critiques. Each of us regularly ask a range of other people to read and critique our works, so it was only natural that we discuss it. The conclusion we reached was that being a writer makes each of us into a keyboard-wielding version of Willy Wonka.

I love that film (the Gene Wilder version--I've yet to see the Burton/Depp attempt). Do you remember it? I do. Fondly. At the end, Mr. Wonka told Charlie that he knew he'd have to find a child to take over the factory. That an adult would want to do things his way--not Willy Wonka's way.

Getting critiqued is like that.

A lot of people (other writers, for the most part) cannot separate themselves from a manuscript enough to purely delve into another author's creation. They carry, as we all do, inner critics. Evil, beasty little voices that pick and pick and pick until there's not a shred of confidence left. And the inner critic doesn't just criticize the writer's work, oh no. It also criticizes other writers' works. A fact that is sad, but in most cases true.

One of my friends complained that a recent critiquer had ripped her manuscript to shreds and that the experience had left her filled with self-doubt--something she'd never really had a problem with before. I reminded her of the quote above, We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams. In short, don't let someone else's doubts invade your creative world. Take the good, solid advice and throw the rest away.

Because in the end, the only person's opinion that matters...is yours.

Head...Meet Desk.

Have you ever had the urge to slam your forehead against your keyboard repeatedly? Well, I'm having one of those days right now.

It's not a bad day--just frustrating.

The final two chapters of EGB need some major work and, to be honest, I don't feel much like working on them. I will, of course, but the frustration of sitting just this side of the finish line is apt to drive me mad. I have to hand it to Vlad, though. He's revealed things that I hadn't quite expected him to--both for this book and the rest of the series. At times, writing is a lot like interviewing witnesses after the fact. It's a great writing day when I can be typing along, only to sit back in my chair and say, "Whoa. I never saw that coming."

As much story as there is, I really thought Eighth Grade Bites would be longer. It's creeping close to 40,000 words right now, and Young Adult fiction is usually between 40,000 and 60,000 words. (Oh sure, JK Rowling got away with something like 76,500 for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, but she's a goddess and I'm...well, I'm not anything yet) All I can really do is tell a good story and attempt to entertain my readers. And if I do that in 40,000 words, well...I guess I've done my job.

I think I'll go take out my frustrations before I continue working. Those sheep have it coming.

One More Bite...

How sick of my updates are you getting, minions? Pretty sick? Well, have no fear, for I can see the horizon at last. Today I begin Chapter Fourteen revisions...and there are only fifteen chapters in the book. I'm taking my time with these last ones, though--because they're probably the roughest in the whole book. I'm sure I'll figure them out. I'm just dreading the work I know is ahead of me.

Thanks to some pretty amazing friends over at Backspace, my great query is even greater! Special thanks go to Jackie Kessler. Keep an eye out for this one--something tells me she's going to be a name you'll all recognize soon.

But enough dragging my feet...time to finish eighth grade.

Riding Off Into The Moonset

(Well, I couldn't very well ride off into the sunset, now could I?)

It's getting close, minions. The second draft of Eighth Grade Bites is nearly finished. Yesterday I added scenes that needed to be added (but for one) and revised until my fingers were just stubs. Today the revisions will continue, of course (stubs or no).When I think this draft is nearly done, I'll set it aside and read something else for a week before reading EGB over again (without a red pen--that's scary). I'll just be reading it as if it were any other book. Hopefully I'll blow myself away. And then....well, I have some very hungry readers waiting to take a peek.

Here's hoping I don't disappoint.

I also completed my synopsis yesterday, based on some excellent advice I picked up from a fellow writer, Keith Cronin. Keith said to write one sentence that sums up what happens in each chapter and to develop paragraphs for each essential plot element. So I did. And, amazingly enough, this has got to be the best synopsis I've ever written. Thanks, Keith!

So as I stand now: synopsis, check...killer query, check...fantastic manuscript....working on it.

It's Harry Potter (with fangs)

I'm so relieved that my blogreaders (ie, my minions) are patient people. Revising Eighth Grade Bites has simply consumed me lately and, though my blog has suffered as a result, it's nice to know people are still stopping by. So right off the bat (bat...ha!), thank you for being supportive. I'll remember you fondly when I'm in charge of the planet.

I'm on Chapter Nine now and, though the road has gotten bumpier, it's still fairly smooth. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say my revisions will be completed by December 1st. I've got a kick-butt query and I'm working on a synopsis. Strangely, the synopsis seems to be writing itself. So now the focus is on revisions, completing my synopsis and gathering a list of victims. *ahem* I mean...agents.

Agent Query has a nineteen page list of agents who handle YA. And each page has something like four* agents on it. Holy old sweatsocks, Batman! How am I supposed to choose which ones to query?? Well, the answer is easy, but it takes a bit of work. I have to research sales--and not just how many, but who's sold what and, in particular, who's interested in vampire YA. It'll be a chore, but I'm up for it. (Plus I have great friends who email me little notes about vampire YA sales on occasion. They completely rock.)

So here I go, sticking my neck out *gulp* and wondering, when the time comes, which agents will bite. (Okay, okay...enough with the vampy puns. Back to work!)

*addendum: each page has EIGHT agents listed...yowza!

Can't Talk, Vampire's Got My Ear!

This is a fabulous weekend. I've given Vlad my full attention and he is more than happy to oblige me with tales of his eighth grade year and to share exctly why it does, in fact, bite.

I'm nearing the last quarter of the book now. I'll continue the revisions and I'm also adding two new chapters as well as an entire new scene--which will be the dark apex of Vlad's tale. It's good stuff. Well...I think it's good stuff anyway. I guess we'll see when my loving readers get back to me.

Something I've learned is that when it's hot, when you're "on", when your muse is batting away at you as he settles down at the computer...you've got to run with it.

Even if your blog suffers as a result.

Vampire Fiction: Dead or Undead?

It seems everywhere I look this week, people in the publishing industry are claiming that there is no more room for vampire fiction in the publishing market.

Over on the Knight Agency blog, Nephele Tempest has been quoted as saying, “It’s really difficult to say where the market is going. In the next year or so I suspect we’ll continue to see these crossover type genres that are becoming so popular: fantasy with romance, paranormal everything, maybe fewer vampires but more witches, psychics, shape-shifters, time-travelers, etc.” Part of me wonders whether or not she's formed that opinion due to Anne Rice’s declaration that she will only write “for the lord” or Poppy Z. Brite’s shift to gay fiction--because with those two biggies gone, there certainly will be less vampire fic.

But part of me wonders if the market is really saturated with that kind of thing.

And that makes me nervous.

Is Eighth Grade Bites an original enough story? Is Vlad unique enough to stand out from the crowded coffin?

All I can do is hope.

And, of course, continue with my revisions…

Vampires Unite!

No more lurking in shadows for fear of being exposed. No more marking "child of the night--500 years or older" under "age" on hospital forms. It's time to come out of the coffin, minions. To aid in this effort, I've created what every good campaign needs: a ribbon.
So take it, post it, puncture it with your fangs, because even the undead have gotta be proud.

Back to writing. Yesterday's revisions went swimmingly, which astonished me to the point of incredulous housecleaning. Today I have two new sections to write and, with any luck, I'll be moving on to Chapter Five.

Yay me.

Vampire Pride.

Chopping Off Limbs (and watching them grow in again)

It's a funny thing, editing. You're never really finished, no matter how finished you think you might be. And, for me, no matter how much deleting I do, I always seem to end up with more words than I'd started with. For instance, yesterday I deleted two entire pages of Eighth Grade Bites, but due to various word replacements and a few new paragraphs, WHAMMO! I'm up a page from yesterday. Words are sneaky little buggers. I don't mind though. I could use some more words.

Today my goal is a bit more complicated than yesterday's goal of slapping some muscle tissue on the skeleton of Vlad's story. I now have to find a new place in the story for what is currently Chapter Four, as it no longer works where it is now--due to yesterday's revisions. I'm fairly optimistic that it can find a new home somewhere later on in the book.

This optimism may fade by the day's end.

Voices Carry

That was a great 80's tune, wasn't it? It's not at all what we're discussing today, though. Today we're going to discuss self-promotion.

There are many things an author can do to promote their work. The first, most obvious thing (I would say), in this day and age is that you need a website and, if you have the time, a blog. Soon my website will be undergoing a metamorphosis as I gear it more toward a YA audience and focus on promoting Vlad and EGB. (It'll also be relocating to heatherbrewer.com--so watch for it!) A website doesn't have to be complicated to be effective. Just show your readers who you are, give them a taste of your work, and offer them a way to contact you. Communication, as in any relationship, is key with your readers. As for writing a blog, you've got to have dedication. Topics can be difficult to come by when your head is stuck in revisions or whatnot. And readers are fickle. If you don't write several times a week, they'll get antsy and move on.

The next best way to promote your work can be summed up in one word: bribery. Give stuff away! Especially if it's promotional stuff like refrigerator magnets, buttons and bookmarks (all with your book cover & web address, of course). But give away the fun stuff too. Autographed copies of books, ultra cool objects that carry the theme of your book, shirts printed with your book cover. Give all this stuff away and don't you dare scoff at price. These are your fans, your readers. Consider this promotional investment a thank you gift to them for sticking with you. Besides, people talk--they spread the word whether you're a good writer or bad. Always keep that in mind.

Now...does anyone know where I can buy a few hundred pairs of cheap, plastic fangs?

Would You Like Some Pepper With Your Blood?

Yesterday afternoon an enormous lightbulb flickered on over my head and I spent the majority of the day in writing bliss. Small details have woven themselves into what I already have written and, at long last, I believe I completely understand how to make Vlad's tale exciting, addictive and a must-read. (This, of course, may just be a flash of arrogance, but I swear I saw my muse messing with the lightswitch.) It's thrilling to see an idea fully formed. Now if I can just get it from my head to the page...

By the way, something I learned over my month away from writing is that YA authors like pepper.

Allow me to expand on that.

(Just give it a few more seconds of you scratching your head...)

YA authors like pepper. Meaning that they enjoy peppering little details, little clues throughout the majority of the book. And then, just when you can't stand it anymore, they shove you into a fast paced, answers-revealed, final three or four chapters. It's a great formula and has been proven time and time again.

There's something unique about YA that really speaks to its readers; it's many genres all rolled into a teen story. Mystery, suspense, romance, even horror--YA fic seems to have it all. The key to writing it well is to remember that your audience is comprised of people. Not "kids", not "teens", not "children"...people. Sure, they're young, but they still know a good, believable story from a bad one. Give credit where it's due.

And don't question the muse. If he says more blood...grab a hacksaw.

Blood, Gore & Teenage Angst

It's here. At long last, November 6th--the day I begin revisions on Eighth Grade Bites--has officially arrived. I would squeal for joy, if I had no idea how much work is ahead of me.

One would normally begin revisions by rereading what one has written. I'm doing things a bit differently this time around.

In my head I have an exact vision of how I would like this book to turn out. It involves a few new scenes, so I'm focusing on writing those today. Once I have them completed and saved on my desktop, I'll start the reread and insert them as I go. The real pain will be, of course, cleaning up what's already written and making certain not to give too much away too soon. But I'm not thinking about that today. I'm just writing new scenes.

All in all, I expect to be querying agents with Vlad by Spring. I'm hopeful that I'll be ready by Valentine's Day, but I've got to give my readers time to...well, read. Writing this book has been unlike any of my experiences, in that I'm breaking all my usual rules and adding a few new ones. For instance, two of my readers this time around are tweens--because they're part of my target audience and because they can give me feedback unlike anyone else. They won't comment on the writing, but on the story and whether or not they liked and understood it. I have six readers now--two of them are tweens, two are writers and two are adult readers. It's the perfect mix to get some good feedback on Vlad.

And now, without further ado, I'm going to sit down with Vlad for the first time in a month and hear what he has to say.

The Voices In My Head Are Pouting

Vlad is sulking. I can feel him at the base of my skull, slumped against the bone there, shoulders brought up in a huff, his dark eyes darting around his inner sanctum. He's anxious for me to begin revisions. I could hear him stomping around in there last night. "What's a few days anyway?"

No wonder people think I'm crazy. Who else talks about their characters like they're real people, let alone placing them inside their skull like some twisted form of a jack-o-lantern? Well, crazy I may be, but it's gotten me this far.

I'm still reading, still devouring page after page of the last Harry Potter and when I'm not doing that, I'm going through my crit partner's manuscript (which is fabulous, but shh! I'm not telling her just yet) and attempting to soothe Vlad, who is just as impatient as I am about most things.

Soon, my dear Vladimir, soon. November 6th and EGB revisions aren't that far off. Find a shred of patience and cling to it. Honestly, I think taking a month long break from writing has been the most challenging thing I've ever done. I can feel Vlad shifting around like a cat, anxious to sit down with me and tell me a bit more about himself, but I must resist.

And I must think of a more interesting, less self-involved blog entry for tomorrow.

On the Subject of Bats...

Busy, busy, busy day today, my minions. But I couldn't leave you hungry. Here is the ultimate cheezy bat joke. Enjoy!

A vampire bat came flapping in from the night, face all covered in fresh blood and parked himself on the roof of the cave to get some sleep. Pretty soon all the other bats smelt the blood and began hassling him about where he got it. He told them to leave him be and let him get some sleep, but they persisted until he finally gave in. "Okay, follow me," he said and flew out of the cave with hundreds of bats behind him. Down through a valley they went, across a river and into a huge forest. Finally he slowed down and all the other bats excitedly milled around him tongues hanging out for blood. "Do you see that large oak tree over there?" he asked.

"YES, YES, YES!!!" the bats all screamed in a frenzy.

"Good!" said the first bat, "Because I didn't."

I'm a Harry Potter Zombie

I frequently wander the streets, stumbling as though I've lost my ability to smoothly stride, drool dripping from my chin as I approach the local Barnes and Noble with a grunting, "Haaaarrryyyy." I must be dedicated to Ms. Rowling--otherwise I'm not certain I could get through her entire series in two weeks' time. But I am. I expect to be closing the cover of the last book on November 5th, so I can wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (much like a manic squirrel; ie nothing at all like my usual self) and dive keyboard-first into EGB revisions.

But this great sacrifice of not writing (and of reading Harry Potter) hasn't been all sunshine and roses, and it hasn't been without its lessons. So, without further ado, I give you...

What I've Learned from Reading Harry Potter

1. Adults are stupid. They never listen, no matter how much info you might have to give them regarding evil beings. (Unless they're name is Dumbledore--then they're cool)
2. You can always rely on your friends. Even if you don't want to talk about what's bothering you or if you've had a falling out, you can always turn to your friends and they'll greet you with open arms and, more than likely, help you find a way out of whatever mess you're in.
3. School sucks. It doesn't matter how many weird creatures or magickal spells your school will permit, it still sucks. And there's always a ton of homework. It sucks too.
4. Bullies are everywhere. Whether you're home or away, you can't run away from your problems. It's best to learn how to deal with them or find a way to ignore them completely.
5. Happy endings are ficticious. (Okay, I knew this one already, but Harry further proves it) No matter how pleasant your life is at the moment, something dark and sinister is waiting for you around the corner. (Speaking from the experience of being something dark and sinister, I can tell you..I'm waiting. Watch out.)

And Lord Quackula's New Master is...

Adam Gilbert of Sandusky, Ohio!

Thanks to all who entered by offering up a grand total of 24 pen names, but Adam is the winner of my faithful duckie minion, Lord Quackula. Adam took it upon himself to write a 2,000 word essay on why I should use my actual name, Heather Brewer.

You convinced me, Adam. Way to go!

And thanks again for the wonderful feedback, entries & supportive emails, minions!

The Unbearable Twitchiness of Being

I’m twitchy today.

Not because of a strange choice in medication. Not because I’m particularly angry or irritated. But because November 6th (known as Begin Eighth Grade Bites Revisions Day) is looming and it’s not looming nearly close enough. Vlad is currently shouting fantastic, tummy-tensing, blood-rushing events into my ear and all I can do is point at the calendar and watch as his face drops in that what-on-earth-are-you-talking-about way.

It’s depressing.

Couple that with all of the post-Samhain clean up and, well, it makes for a fairly twitchy day. So today will be a very short entry, but I’ll leave you all with probably the most honest quote about writing that has ever been written.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” ~Red Smith