How Writing Is Not Like A Box of Chocolates

Something we don't get with writing is that little diagram that tells us what flavor is where.  Wouldn't that be great?  A calendar that says June 1 - (Mint- sorry, I no likey) YOUR WRITING WILL SUCK IT TODAY, DON'T EVEN TRY or, May 23 - (nougat) YOU ARE A GENIUS, WRITE TODAY AND A CULTURAL PHENOMENON WILL BE BORN!

Another way that writing is NOT like a box of chocolates is that you can't really give it to people.  Not even from mail order companies that will deliver it for you on exactly the right day.  Wouldn't that be great?  The UPS man shows up with a big box that holds a tiny slip, which reads simply: You have been given the ability to write!  ENJOY!

No... but what we can do is give each other the right ingredients, share our recipes, and dip our fingers in each other's bowls every now and then and say... "Hmm... well... I'd try adding this," or, "I think you messed up when you put the essence of fecal matter in there."

Embracing the Awesome Redux & The Misleading Beauty of Bad Words

In this post I talked about breaking free of my Lit Bitch bonds and how I’ve rollicked about in my liberation ever since.  I originally meant to move that conversation into the television medium, but the post got a bit longish and I wondered if you guys really wanted to listen to me talk quite that much.  So I continue here.

Another of my odd personal characteristics that goes hand in hand with Former Lit Bitchiness is my complete Inability to Accept Compliments & Recommendations.  I don’t know where this came from other than a perverse mix of humility (I have a gag reflex when being complimented) and pride (if I want to read / watch something, I’ll find it on my own, thank you very much).  Kind of an odd quirk for someone who spends 40 a week giving recommendations, aye?

But, it is what it is, and yes, if you think I should read / watch something your best bet to get me to do it is to never, ever mention it’s existence to me.

With that in mind, I’ll recount a conversation between myself and my mother:

Mother: I’ve got two seasons of Castle on DVD.  You’d love it.

Mindy: *glances over at stack of books waiting to be read* I don’t have time.

Mother: But it’s about a writer, and there’s all these great pop culture references, and there’s this female cop, and he decides to shadow her for research-

Mindy: Yeah mom, I picked up on the cutesy plot from the ads.

Mother: But I think you’d really like it, they’ve got this great relationship – it reminds me a lot of Mulder and Scully.

Mindy: Dammit Mother, did you have to play the X Files card?

Well, once the X Files card has been played, it can’t go back.  So, BBC settled in one night (when she should have been writing, ahem) and watched oooohhhh….. well I won’t tell you how many episodes I watched on that first night.  But I will say that I was sold the second Nathon Fillion stripped off his sock and used the barefoot toe clutch move to pick up a handcuff key, cause that’s exactly how I retrieve dropped laundry when my arms are full with the basket.

And no – I’m not writing this post just to talk about the awesomeness of Castle. (and NOBODY better breathe a word to me about season three!!  I know there was a cliffhanger from my Twitter feed and I’m not even through season two yet – mum’s the word!)   Besides being appropriately humbled for rejecting the plot as “cutesy,” I’m learning a lot as a writer from watching the show.

And one of those things is how to use strong language without using bad words.

I like gritty shows, and I mean gritty like Brotherhood, Deadwood, Dexter and Game of Thrones.  It’s another reason why I laid off network television post-LOST.  I didn’t feel like anything had enough weight and grit for me after gorging myself on the brutality (both visual and audial) of pay TV.  But in watching Castle, I’ve noticed something  - they’ve got Irish thugs and scarred serial killers delivering lines of dialogue that make your fight or flight kick in… but I haven’t heard any swearing yet.  Beckett delivers threats without invoking any four-letter words, but her eyebrows convey them.

Yes, a large part of that is due to the acting quality.  Absolutely.  But the dialogue is clean, yet chilling.  I think it’s a good lesson (especially for YA writers) that we can write a bad guy, or a tough girl without making trash flow out of their mouths.  I don’t have a problem with swearing – at all.  BBC’sMother has already filed her complaint about my use of language in print.  After watching a season and a half of Castle, I question using those words though.  Is it a crutch?  Am I unable to convey the feelings without going for the shock value of the f-bomb?

Hmmmm…. Chew on it.

Oh, and yeah, I know that because I referenced Castle and X Files in the same post you all are going to bombard me with comments and emails saying I need to watch Firefly. 

And guess what?  If you do that, chances are – I won’t. 

My Bikini Book

It's that time of year.  Emails and magazine covers are asking me if I've got my bikini body ready.  The short answer: no.  The long answer: I look pretty good with clothes on, but strip me down for the beach and we're looking at razor burn that might need medical attention and dimples in places that aren't so flattering.  My fair Irish skin is pale like a post-mortem Scarlett O'Hara.  Plus - I  tend to break out on the jawline 'cause I rest my chin in my hands while thinking.  That's unrelated to the bikini issue, it's just something I wanted to mention.  (Note to self: don't write your own classified ad, you're far too honest).

To quote Kevin Spacey's disarmingly frank line from American Beauty: "I just want to look good naked."

And that's the trick of the bikini - you're not wearing much, so everything's gotta look good.  You can't cover up those flabby upper arms and hope the push-up bra will be distracting enough.  You can't wear waterproof mascara and assume people are looking at your face.  Everything is up for dissection by the public.

Same goes for your book.

The cover and first chapter are important, like your general silhouette.  You might be able to reel them in, but are they gonna get closer and go for the casual nod instead of engaging?  What if Chapter Two is the equivalent of starting a conversation to find out you've got bad breath?

Too often I hear writers say, "Yeah there's a downswing here but the next scene really picks up."  Or, "I know there's a huge info dump at the beginning but if you can get past that, it's totally awesome."  Right. And the obese chick with a good personality gets all the guys on the beach.

Your book is going to be naked.  Every page is going to be turned (hopefully). Every word will be exposed to an eyeball.

And you can't very well say, "Do me a favor and read this next bit in the dark."