Scene and Chapter Endings

So many last lines don't do anything at all. I suspect that many authors are afraid of being too obvious, or are trying to be artful. Or maybe writers just don't know when to quit.

~Donald Maass (who else? haha), The Fire In Fiction, p. 69

A good majority of writerly advice focuses on beginnings rather than endings. Which I find a bit misleading. Yes, beginnings are uber-important, but not disproportionately so to endings.

The way I see it, anyone can start a novel. Anyone can start a scene. But how many people can finish them? And not only finish them, but end them in a way that has impact on the reader.

The final words on a page are the ones that stick with the reader. Even more so than the words used to open a new scene, chapter, novel.

Take, for example, a scene I just randomly selected out of the novel Matched by Ally Condie. I opened the book and used whatever scene I'd opened to, and not surprisingly, since this is a very well-written novel, the scene I opened to proves my point.

Here is the first line:

"Someone said a girl your age came to the work site today," my father says.

This opening sets the stage for the scene that will unfold. It's a grounding point. Which is important, truly. But it isn't what the author wants you to really remember as you move forward through the story. She wants you to remember the final line:

I will try to forget that Ky said "home" when he looked into my eyes.

Does that not have more impact? Also noteworthy is that this line is clearly relevant to the novel's overall premise. This doesn't happen by accident. This author knows what she's doing. Her words don't just happen, they are created. Formed. They have purpose.

Final lines can make or break your story. They have the ability to change the reader's view, for better or worse, in as little time as it takes to read the sentence. I don't believe the same can be said of opening lines.

So in studying this, specifically, in a few of the novels I own, I then looked to my own work to see how I was doing in this particular area.

In a middle chapter of Social Graces I found this as the final line:

Or it might just be my stupidest idea yet.

The MC's whole life appears to be, to her, just a string of bad ideas and wrong choices. Ending on this thought entices the reader to keep going, to see if her idea this time will work or not. Will she fix anything, or just make it all worse? (for a middle scene, it should be the latter -- no real fixing of anything until the end)

Again from Social Graces:

I wish relationships were as easy to navigate as a map.

This finalizes the events of the scene (they are driving in the car, get in an argument, and get lost so they have to pull out the map), makes the point of the scene clear. It tells the reader, "This is why I included that scene, this is the point, this is why you should care." And it says all that without outright saying it. The sentence is just an observation made by the MC, a passing thought, yet it is relevant to both the individual scene and the overall premise of the novel. It reminds the reader why they started reading this story in the first place.

You can certainly end a scene or chapter on a life-or-death cliffhanger, but it is not always necessary to push a reader forward. In fact, to me, it feels gimmicky if a good percentage of the chapters end on a "scene cut." Don't overuse this technique. More effective (and less annoying) are subtle thrusters... little tugs that keep the reader turning pages without really knowing why.

Give your final lines more impact by keeping these points in mind:

1. Scenes and chapters have structure just like a full novel has structure. Create impact with circularity back to the opening lines.

2. Plant a seed of mystery. Plant a seed of doubt. Promise the reader something to discover by continuing on.

3. End on a new decision, a new viewpoint, a new conflict. In other words, end with a clear change in the MC's world, however subtle it may seem in the moment.

4. Connect the final words of a scene or chapter to the main premise in some way. This keeps the plot fluid and emphasizes your theme.

5. Less is more. A single sentence -- a succinct, direct observation -- can have worlds more impact than a full paragraph that details the same thought.

Can you think of any other ways to give final lines that extra oomph?

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Less Obvious Channels of Description

I'm going to try and keep this post short because I've already gotten a way-too-late start to my day and my WIP is screaming for attention. I didn't plan this post, but something I experienced last night (plus some other things already in motion) inspired me and I wanted to share.

But, knowing me, this post will likely end up being long and rambly. That's what happens when I write stuff on the fly about something that utterly absorbs me. (See. I've already written two paragraphs of nothing.)

One of the main things that wows me when reading a novel (a novel that ends up being a favorite) is how the author describes things without ever using cliche'. I've come to understand that this is (one of the ways) how you implement character voice. Voice comes through the character's unique viewpoint, and how you describe things - how you view them - is what makes people unique individuals.

But I need to rewind a bit. This post isn't about voice, really. It's about description. Although, in defense of my wandering brain, the two are tightly connected.

I started a YA contemp novel last year while I was querying Summer Hoax. It's called Finding Me, and I talked a little about it on the blog, previously (so it may sound familiar to some of you), but I haven't worked on it in many many months. I didn't give up on it. I just found something more productive to work on. The story was underdeveloped and not flowing very well after writing the beginning chapters, so I set it aside, with full intentions to pick it up again later.

Now that I'm nearing completion of Social Graces (yay!), I'm starting to think about what project to work on next. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought, without a doubt, that it would be my YA sci-fi/horror novel, Prisoners of Freedom. It is already pre-plotted, pre-characterized, pre-everything, ready to go. And it is something that truly excites me.

But then, of course, new ideas for Finding Me started creeping in... ideas that would change the story from what I'd originally planned, but would keep the same characters. And I totally fell in love with this new direction, to the point where I think, now, I might want to focus on this novel next.

It is a romance between a sixteen year-old girl and boy. In my original version, they had been BFFs since elementary school (they had also been closer to eighteen years old, but for reasons not worth explaining here I decided to go a bit younger for these two). In the new version, they meet for the first time in chapter one.

Two main things that did NOT change, however, were:

(1) the boy was born blind

(2) the girl describes fireworks to him

(I hope it's clear where this post is going now. Sorry for the rambling up to this point, but I don't have time to edit.)

I loves me a challenge. It seems like everything I write has to be, in some way, more difficult than whatever I wrote before it. The biggest challenge for me in this story is (and always has been) how to describe visual things to a person who has never seen anything with his eyes before. (I have to add "with his eyes" because there is more than one definition to the word "see." As the story moves along, that becomes clear to the reader. He can see things perfectly fine, just not in the same way a non-blind person does.)

In my original, this description of the fireworks was something that the girl had done in years past - it was nothing new. I ended up just writing a passing mention of it, not realizing that I had a fantastic opportunity for a full, engaging scene.

This was all I wrote about it:

 Later we'd watch the fireworks and I'd come up with some creative new way of explaining color to Milo.

But in the new version, since they had just met, it is something new for the girl, and it would make a terrific scene, her doing this for the first time. Which makes it a challenge, for her and for me as the author.

Which then, of course, makes it more interesting.

Every year we (meaning myself and my immediate family) get a front-row seat to a huge fireworks display. And this happens TWICE within one week of each other. The first time is for the town fair, which takes place in late June. The second is for the Independence Day celebration, which (obviously) takes place in early July. They set off the fireworks directly across the street from our apartment complex, in a field behind the local public high school. So all we have to do is step out our front door and lay on the grass and it's RIGHT. THERE. Huge and loud and proud.

I guess that's one of the perks of living in the epicenter of our town. (Because it sure isn't the traffic.)

Last night my son and I watched the fireworks (Joe had already fallen asleep -- a day of walking at the zoo + sedatives = completely zonked out by 10pm). And of course they were amazing. And of course they made me think of my upcoming focus on this project that has been set aside for nearly a year because the writerly part of your brain is always "on." As I was watching, I thought,

How would I describe what I'm seeing to someone who has been blind their entire life?

How do you describe color?

How do you describe patterns?

You can't just say, "That was a big, red one. That was a spirally, white one." No. That wouldn't mean anything.

My conclusion? You have to use a less obvious channel. You don't always have to describe what you obviously see, what stands out to you first visually. So it's red? Does that matter? Not always.

And usually, when an author's writing comes off as "generic", to me, is when they rely solely on the obvious (and this often results in, not only cliche' descriptions, but also cliche' plots).

I then realized (had an epiphany, really, right there on the lawn) that to do so you have to focus on what a blind person DOES have available to them, not what they DON'T.

They don't have visual. But that is only ONE thing. What they do have is so much more.

And fireworks are not just about the visual, anyway. Last night while we were watching, I could feel the pressure of the explosions in my chest and in my skull, like they were inside me trying to get out.

That's when I realized, I could use TOUCH and SOUND to describe SIGHT. A blind person relies on touch and sound to understand their physical environment and what's actively happening around them. So this is something they would be familiar with. It's something they can use as a grounding point.

As I watched the rest of the fireworks, ideas for describing them ran rampant in my head (and, it goes without saying, I'm even more excited now to get working on this story again).

I tried to imagine how a blind person understands, for instance, water. They rely on the sound of it and the feel of it. But telling them that it is "colorless" wouldn't mean anything concrete. What it does mean, though, based on touch, is that it's "fluid."

Some of the fireworks could be described as "fluid." They could be likened to a waterfall - powerful and thunderous, yet fluid and breathtaking as the colors rained down, streaming.

Some of them I likened to a handful of popcorn. Not just because of their sound, but also their conveyance of something light and airy, and an abundance of small things in one big group.

What about the explosion of a firework? I had to think a bit more for that one. What is an explosion, really? It's expansion. So what could you use to describe explosion through expansion through something you can touch?

A balloon. Put your hand on the end of a balloon while you (or someone else) is blowing it up. You can feel expansion in that way. Thus you can use that to describe the explosive visual of certain fireworks to someone who has never seen such a thing.

And so on and so on. This can be applied to anything, not just fireworks. It requires a lot of thought, a concerted effort. But that's why we call this work.

It also emphasizes my earlier point about creating a unique voice through un-cliche' descriptions. If you put forth the effort to describe things through less obvious channels, through the eyes of your unique character and not someone else, and put forth the effort to write descriptions that you yourself have never seen before, then what you come up with can be truly amazing. Engaging. Awe-inspiring.

It's (very very) possible. Even with how much has already been written and published. Challenge yourself.

There should never be reason to write something like this:

Her heart pounded in her chest.

Or

His eyes were as blue as a mid-summer's day.

Don't sell yourself short. Don't go for the obvious. Don't settle for generic, overused descriptions, when you have so much you can tap into and make it truly your own.

Happy Writing,
~Lydia

Why I Write YA Contemp - Guest Post by Elizabeth Dunn

Elizabeth Dunn is working on her debut YA suspense novel, Eden Squared. She teaches English as a second language, reads, jogs on the beach, dances when the urge comes on and, so be it, regularly embarrasses her children.



Why I Write YA Contemp

I've had five kids, full labor, no painkiller. Not from lack of trying believe me.

But what's that got to do with YA Contemp? Basically they are both real, painful, and life changing. The thing is, I've forgotten the labors. They were here today, gone tomorrow, but I will never forget my own young adult life and nothing but YA Contemp can bring it back to me the way I want – powerful and undiminished.

And it should be brought back and remembered because it is a birth in itself. I like to think of that part of our life as the bone marrow years, they grow us up, tell us who we are, behind a series of overwhelming firsts: first kiss, first heartbreak, first friendship catastrophes, first diet agonies, first day in high school, first time looking in a mirror thinking OMG… (fill in the blanks). Mixed into the firsts comes initiation into life's big, ugly losses: drugs, divorce, suicide, rape and everything in between.

Writer Ellen Hopkins comes to mind here. She doesn't run from the uglies. I heard her speak at a conference and what she left me with was, yes, this is important work and (technicalities) when writing, watch for attention span, break it up - a lot – no big black spaces of description, dialogue, dialogue, dialogue. Finally, don't try too hard with the hip lingo.

Writing YA Contemp is poignant and a blast in equal parts. And serious. We could be reaching out to someone stuck in the ether. So YA is creative endeavor + responsibility. And to me, that spells worthwhile like very few other jobs do.

But let's break it down. Why do I like Contemp? Because it's local. It's the girl next door, it's end of year essays, danger and fast cars and sometimes gorgeous (sorry to be commercial) girls and guys and lonely homebodies and heartbreak. We understand the perspective, the food, the decor, the seasons. When we breathe the same air as our protagonist, that makes us comfortable, enables us to identify, an important part of the YA Contemp experience.

I like to read and absorb without troglodytes breathing down my neck or Steam Punk fogging up my glasses. Fairies and vampires? Take thy wings and teeth someplace else. Obviously I'm kidding here, I love you all, but real and identifiable and important as YA Contemp you are not, and never can be. YA Contemp is all about resonating and that's why I write it.

On a purely practical level, I see an unexpected plus. When we represent real life, with no risk of alienating anyone with troll breath, we are flexible and able to cross age and genre barriers. This, logically, should mean more readers and healthier royalty checks.

I know there's nothing logical about publishing but here's an example: relationships and romance are a vital factor in YA Contemp, as they are in Romance novels. We, by definition of our genre carry a little more grit and gravitas than pure Romance. This means cerebral love stories, not just romps, heartbreaks that have the potential to stick around in readers' minds.

What I'm saying is, who wants to appeal to Romance readers and pinch a chunk of that market with the added benefit of writing deep and true? Me.

I'll finish with something I've found useful. If we want our stories to stick around in readers' hearts, theme is important. The paradox, is that in writing contemporary and real, it is useful to use non-contemporary and the un-real as a guide.

I'm talking about theme heavy fairy tales: the fear of the monster under the bed clothes, (little Red Riding Hood); the fresh, puffing sense of justice, long overdue (Cinderella); the poor guy makes good (Jack and the Beanstalk); solitude, abandonment and creep-out that sizzles (Hansel and Gretel). They have great accessories too: the red hood, the glass slipper, the beanstalk and an edible house.

So dig up your favorite fairy tales, shovel them into a suburb or have them live in an apartment above a hair salon and watch your creative earth worms start to oxygenate. Then sit back and admire the garden. You have created something that moves pulses, something strong and worthwhile. That would be YA Contemp.

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Beautifully said, Elizabeth! So many gold nuggets in here, and I loved your use of language to make your points (troglodytes FTW). Wishing you the best of luck in your fiction-writing career!

~Lydia

Contemp YA Contest Winner!!!

And the winner is...

ELIZABETH DUNN!!!

Thanks bunches to every one who entered! I really enjoyed reading all your articles. Elizabeth's entry will be posted here as a guest post on Wednesday. If you didn't win, I encourage you to post your entry on your own blog and show everyone your love for contemp YA!

The Conflict of Choice

All stories are made up of choices, from start to finish. So what separates an amazing story from a not-so-great story? The substance of the choices made. In watching films and reading novels, I've noticed that the stories that tend to stick with me the longest, the ones that have a lasting impact, are the ones that have the most conflicting choices throughout.

Here are a few ways you can create bigger conflict in the choices your characters must make.

1. A choice that affects more than just the chooser.

The more people involved, the bigger the risk, the higher the stakes, the more intense the conflict.

Example:

Sam Kingston in Lauren Oliver's Before I Fall. Every repeated day ends with Sam's death and Julia's. So, once she realizes it's not just her ass on the line, her choices then become more difficult. More conflicting.

2. A decision between what the character wants and what the character needs.

Tough choice = conflict. If both things feel vital and the character can only choose one, the choice is more difficult.

Example:

Elizabeth in Jody Hedlund's The Preacher's Bride. At one point she is faced with the choice of either marrying the man she is already engaged to (a need because she knows she will be safe and taken care of, even though she doesn't love him), or breaking off the engagement and letting her fiance marry someone else (a want because she is in love with another man, even though marrying him would mean a more difficult life).

3. Offer a path of uncertainty that the character feels they must travel.

Uncertainty = reader/viewer worry. But the key to making this choice as conflicting as possible is the fact that the character feels like they have no choice. Of course, the character always has the choice to not go down that scary path, but doing so would mean something worse for them.

Example:

Neo in The Matrix. Should he take the path of uncertainty and learn the truth? Or should he remain safely in the dark? Should he take the red pill or the blue pill?

4. No good choice.

If it seems as if no matter what the character chooses it will be wrong, the conflict automatically increases.

Example:

Anakin Skywalker in Attack of the Clones. When Padme falls out of their transport Anakin's gut reaction is to go after her and make sure she's okay. But Obi-Wan reminds him that he has a duty to fulfill. So who is he going to be loyal to? The woman he loves? Or the Jedi Order? In that moment of contemplation, it seems (to him) as if neither choice is the right one. That no matter what he chooses, conflict will result.

What other ways have you seen to effectively create conflict through a character's choices?

Happy writing,
~Lydia

What I Learned from Watching The Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I have to start by saying I enjoyed this movie, because there are some things I'm going to cover here that might make it seem otherwise. I loved the Narnia books. I read the series when I was just a wee thing. I've watched several of the movies over the years, but the current films are by far my favorite.

And not just because of the special effects. The creators of these movies are putting forth a much better effort than their predecessors to make the characters real.

When I was first reading the series, Voyage of the Dawn Treader immediately gripped me. I think because much of it takes place on a ship, and at the time, I hadn't read many stories that did so. Shocking, I know, since that's kind of a staple in a lot of the older fantasy books. But those were mostly about pirates and I don't really care for pirate stories, never have. I liked that the Dawn Treader wasn't a pirate ship, so that was the first bonus point.

I also liked that Susan and Peter weren't a big part of this story. Of the four Pevensies, Lucy and Edmund have always been my fave. Between those two? Edmund, no contest. He is the most troubled, the most developed, the most misunderstood Pevensie. And the new movies have been that much more awesome for me, personally, because the actor they chose for Edmund is SPOT-ON how I imagined him, both in appearance and characterization.

In Dawn Treader, we focus on the four characters pictured below, only one of which is new to the series thus far. That would be Eustace, on the far left. The others we already know and love-- Edmund, Lucy, and Caspian.

Eustace is a Scrubb (oh the fun you can have with names, eh?), cousin to the Pevensies. And herein lies my first beef with the movie/ first thing I learned. I don't remember Eustace's character being so utterly annoying when I read the book. This story is actually told through Eustace, emphasized through his diary entries, and he brings circularity to the ending. As one of the MCs I understand that his character must change, but for me, his annoyance factor was a bit overdone in the opening scenes, when it could have focused a little more on his cowardice.

What did he learn through the course of the story? To be brave? Yes, but how was he not brave in the beginning?

To be nicer to his cousins? Yes, but I never saw the reason why he was being mean to them to begin with. And the only reason he wasn't mean to them at the end was because he realized Narnia was, in fact, a real place that his cousins had been to before, whereas he thought they had made it all up.

For me, neither one of those things really cut it. So here is what I learned from that particular aspect of the movie:

1. The reason your main character is the way he/she is must be clear to your audience. Why do they feel the way they do about certain things and certain people. It was very clear to me why Edmund and Lucy didn't like Eustace-- who wouldn't hate such an irritating twat. But the flip side of it wasn't clear at all.

2. The reason your main character changes his/her viewpoint by story's end must be clear to the audience. This was very clear in Dawn Treader, concerning Eustace. His experiences in Narnia were intense and specific to his issues with being a chicken-liver, and his relationship with Reepicheep drove the point home. The problem I have, mainly, is this isn't the issue that was highlighted in the opening. He was mostly just presented as "annoying for no real reason." The fact that he was scared shitless by everything didn't show up until well into the story.

Moving on...

The Christianity parallels were SO heavy in this movie. Much more so than the first two. We have an evil mist that tries to tempt you from doing what you know is right, and "Aslan's country" that is quite obviously supposed to be like Heaven for Narnia. I know that this is part of what makes the books what they are, that this was never something meant to be cryptic, but personally, it turned me off. You can have clever parallels to things without going overboard.

In Dawn Treader, they effectively pulled off this subtlety with the characters following the Blue Star, collecting the seven swords of the Lords, and fighting a serpent at the end (and I'm sure there were more I might have missed), but the ending scene at the beach was entirely too blatant. Plus it seemed to go on and on and on without any added impact on the story. They could have cut that scene in half and gotten the same point across.

But. I'm just one person. One person who doesn't like to be preached to at length. So what I learned from this part of the movie is:

If you want to teach moral lessons in your story, find balance. I see the opposite of this in a lot of fiction. The author thinks they have to spell everything out for the reader to understand exactly what they mean by their parallel, their moral lesson, their whatever. Why? Are they afraid the reader might apply it to something else? That wouldn't be a bad thing, though. Any way a reader can find relevance of a story to their own life is going to resonate with them. In this case, less is more. Trust your reader to pick up on your hints.

Next (and final) lesson learned.

The subplots in Dawn Treader were too weak, in my opinion, and they had the potential to be strong. There were three main subplots that I could see, one for each of the remaining three MCs.

1. Lucy's issues with her appearance, and thinking that her older sister, Susan, is perfect. This was so heavily suggested in the beginning and then again emphasized through two later scenes that solely focused on her wanting to be beautiful, that it was a major letdown when the whole idea was wrapped up so quickly, with just a few choice words from Aslan.

1a. If a character has an issue with something, it must be a real struggle to overcome. Lucy seemed to "get over it" much too easily.

2. Edmund's continuing issues with greed and power were... severely unfocused. It seemed to jump from one thing to another to another, so when we finally reached the resolution of that subplot (which was also too abrupt and too easily overcome) there wasn't a real feeling of satisfaction. By the time we see the White Witch trying to tempt him at the end, he's already beyond it.

2a. When choosing a character subplot (in a story that focuses on multiple main characters), pick one thing and stick with it. Just about anything you choose will have more than one aspect, more than one road you can take it down. But it's a subplot, aka a support of the main plot. Keep it solid. Focused. If it is too scattered it detracts rather than emphasizes.

3. Caspian's issues with not fully stepping up to his role as king. I actually thought this was pretty weak in the second movie, too, and it was supposed to be a main thread in that one-- a strong motivation for his character. In fact, overall, I'm highly disappointed with Caspian's characterization. Although I know it's difficult to make a weak character sympathetic.

But maybe the problem is with me. I don't get him. At all. He's just a pretty boy. A pretty boy who still can't hold a candle to this:

Or this:

(for realz, ppl.)

But the issues they gave Caspian's character could have been really workable. It seemed like they tried to work them into the conflict but it just kept coming up short. And again, it was because it was too blatant. He pretty much stated his problems outright every time they came up. And then he cried. And then he vowed to be different. And then... *yawn*

3a. Conflict must be truly conflicting, and it must have an active resolution. We don't see the tangible resolution of Caspian's issues in this movie, because his realization of what he needs to do comes at the very end. So we don't get to see him in action, applying what he learned, and this makes it unsatisfying.

Conversely, but along the same lines, I thought the idea of Edmund facing the sea serpent at the end was brilliant. He wasn't the only person scared of that thing-- the entire ship's crew was in hysterics-- but he, alone, was the only one who hung off the dragon's head and teased the thing into nearly eating him alive. And the reason this worked so well for me was because:

1. His fear of the sea serpents had only been hinted at previously. There was nothing overt, but it was enough that the audience could pick up on it and see its relevance at the end. This, in my opinion, gave it more impact. The sudden appearance of the sea serpent had the feeling of an "Aha!" moment.

2. A strong character takes control of a situation. A strong character makes decisions, whether they hurt or heal. A strong character faces his/her fears at the climax. This is why both Edmund's and Eustace's character came across the strongest overall by the end of the movie. They had very clear character arcs.

And I think that's a good place to end today's lesson. Because the climactic scene with the sea serpent was my most favorite of this movie. What I learned from that is-- I am so glad to be living in an era when special effects like this are possible:

Go Team Edmund.

Have a great weekend,
~Lydia

How To Be a Twitterific Blogger - Please Stop Blogging About What I Should and Shouldn't Do On Twitter

Still a few days left to enter to win a full critique of your first chapter and your query letter! Click HERE for details.
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So. I finally broke down and decided I should do a post on Twitter. Since, yanno, every other writer/author on the planet feels they should.

As if you all haven't heard enough of this already, right? A hot blog topic in the writing community can spread like an army of fire ants, destroying everything in its path.

And that's the main reason I held off on it for so long-- writer/author blogs are oversaturated with the do's and don'ts of Twitter. But, since I tend to not agree with a lot of the advice floating around the Web regarding this topic, I thought I should do one post (and one post only) explaining why I feel the way I do.

I've never been one to jump on a bandwagon. I'm usually the one running alongside trying to pull people off of it. And I think that's why a lot of you read this blog.

First and foremost, there is no wrong or right way to "do" Twitter. There are no rules.

Whoever says otherwise has a serious case of egotus maximus. Anyone can make suggestions, or explain what has worked for them, personally. But anything beyond that would be putting too much stock in your own opinion. For me, that's a huge turn off.

That's a good reason to click the handy-dandy "unfollow" button, on both Twitter and Blogger.

Just about all of the advice out there is hypocritical.

It's the same hypocrisy you see on writer blogs that tell you "authors shouldn't blog about writing." What? But you're a... and you're blogging about... *brain explosion*

Let me get this straight. You're allowed to blog/tweet whatever you want. But I can't. I have to do what you tell me you think I should do. And I'm supposed to listen to you because... why?

Unless you're my agent or editor or publicist, don't tell me what to do with my online presence. Period.

I'm allowed to blog about whatever I darn well please. Same goes for Twitter. If I want to tweet nothing but links about writing, I will. If I want to tweet a bunch of asinine quotes, I will. If I want to tweet that my dog just dropped a fart-bomb that could level the Rockies, I will. (please note: I do not have a dog so I would never tweet that, but for the sake of argument...)

If you don't like what someone tweets, then unfollow them. Walk away silent.

Because, as a fiction writer, there is rarely any good reason to be blogging about how to build your Twitter following. The number of followers you have on Twitter does not write an awesome book for you. It does not get you an agent. It does not sell your book to an editor. It does not make you a bestseller (bestselling authors gain a huge Twitter following after they achieved that status).

The best thing you can give your blog and your Twitter account is confidence. Do what you do best and own it. If your blog is actually about social networking for writers, then by all means, blog about how to gain Twitter success. But most of us here, as writers, blog about the aspects of writing and publishing that fascinate us. So why the sudden focus on how many followers you have on Twitter?

Especially when we all have different things about ourselves that we want to promote, through blogs, Twitter, etc, so there is no general standard for measuring success. Some of us are sci-fi nerds. Some of us are YA fanatics. And some of us are an amalgamation of many different, seemingly unrelated things. My Twitter account has a lot of writing-related content, but I also do music, and life quotes, and random conversation.

And whatever I do will be "right" because it's all me.

Now, on the specifics of what I, as an author, according to some author blogs, am doing "wrong" on Twitter:

1. At the time of this post, I have roughly 500 more people following me than who I follow. Does that make me a snob? NO. (more on this below) If I followed every person who followed me, my Twitter stream would be OUT OF CONTROL.

I get very leery of people who are following thousands of people. It's just not possible to actually be following them all. Even more than a few hundred gives me a headache just thinking about keeping it all organized.

"Oh!" they say, "but you can use lists! Just use a private list to follow who you really want to follow."

HUH???!!!!

Am I the only person who sees the hypocrisy in that? Why follow someone if you're not truly following them? Just to give their ego a boost? Well, excuse me, but that's even worse than simply not following them. It's like you're making them your pity friend.

Insulting.

Also, for the record, I bet a good percentage of my followers are actually bots. Whenever I get a new follower I check their Twitter profile (ooh, didn't think I did that, did you?). Some of them have no bio, or no tweets, or are only following me because I mentioned the word "grass" in one of my tweets, so I'm not going to mindlessly follow them back. I'm being followed by lawn mower bots (as one example). And so are a lot of people on Twitter who seemingly have an outlandish amount of follwers.

Don't over-analyze this, it's just because we tweet too much. Bots love people who tweet too much.

2. I reply to your @ mentions of me even if I am not following you, aka not a snob. This includes retweets (RTs) and follow Friday (#FF) and writer Wednesday (#WW) mentions.

I do my best to respond to it all, but I'm not always able. And sometimes an @ mention clearly doesn't need a reply. Also, realistically, conversations have to be cut off at some point. There are times when all I do is respond with a smiley-face, just to let the person know I saw and appreciated their tweet. Is that condescending?

Why is this even under the microscope? There is no such thing as Twitter snobbery, in my opinion. There is misconception and unrealistic expectations, nothing more.

3. Probably the biggest issue talked about on blogs regarding Twitter is the #FollowFriday mentions. People have been outright scolded for "doing it wrong" or "being annoying" or "here is the BEST way to do it -- do it this way or don't do it at all!"

Again, some people need to remember that there is an "unfollow" button. If someone's Twitter feed annoys you, then why the shit are you following them? Click "unfollow" and walk away silent. Easy fix.

Because the best way for someone to know whether or not what they're doing on Twitter is working for them, is if they lose a bunch of followers. Yeah. That, more than anything, would scream to me, "hey, you're doing it wrong! change something."

If your follower count steadily increases, then whatever you're doing is FINE.

4. Here's the newest one I've seen. Apparently, I should be making my post titles "Twitter friendly" by putting my Twitter tags IN the post title-- including my twitter handle (are you kidding me?). Make it easier for my readers to tweet the post without having to edit/add anything, and ensure that I see that they tweeted it.

OMFG.

If anyone wishes to do that, fine-- that's the whole point of this post, that you can do whatever you want to. But me? NO. You will never see that here. Not all of my blog readers have a Twitter account, and even those who do, don't always tweet my blog posts... and even those who do that do NOT need me to insult their intelligence with ridiculous hand-holding.

Plus, it really clutters up your post title and can confuse the heck out of people who aren't Twitter savvy. In my opinion, that has the potential to push new readers away rather than draw them in.

But again, that's just my opinion. That's just my way of doing it. I'm not going to stop following your blog if you start putting Twitter tags in the post title, so long as your blog content continues to interest me. Because that's really all I care about.

Same goes for your Twitter account. The content is more important than anything else. But everyone's version of "ideal content" is going to be different, and you can't please everyone.

I have a lot more people on lists than I follow with my home account. Why? Because I don't always like what they tweet from minute to minute. But there are days when I have the time (and patience) to weed through a list of a particular group of people and see if there is anything worth retweeting.

I've been on Twitter for about a year. It took me almost that entire year to figure out what worked for me. That isn't going to be the same thing that works for you. So be patient and flexible and don't be afraid to do what other people say you shouldn't.

And I think I've said enough now. You'll never see another post about Twitter here again. Maybe.

Happy tweeting,
~Lydia

Friday Reflection - Don't Confuse Motivation with Capability

For a period of four weeks (pretty much the entire month of May) Joe attended an intensive outpatient group therapy. On Fridays, he had to bring in someone who is a member of his support team. That was me, every time. And I'm so glad I went. It helped me and Joe to see other people in somewhat similar situations -- not everyone attending had bipolar, but almost everything we discussed was relevant to all of us.

One thing that's really stuck with me since attending is the phrase "don't confuse motivation with capability." You can also say, "don't confuse capability with motivation." Same thing. And as writers, a lot of us (if not all of us, at some point) mistake our motivation for our capability.

Then we fall into a self-deprecating trap.

But let me back up for a minute. What exactly does "confusing motivation with capability" mean? Basically, it means that we can trick ourselves into thinking motivation and capability are one and the same, when they are really two completely different things.

Motivation is what drives you to do things.

Capability is your level of skill, your ability to do things.

When you confuse your motivation with your capability, you are hinging your skills on something that is unstable. Motivation shifts from day to day, week to week, year to year. It is highly dependent upon your current personal circumstances and your mood. Capability is more solid. It is something you learn and then always have at your disposable from that point forward.

And this is how we get ourselves into trouble-- when we allow our "mood of the moment" to define what we're truly capable of.

For example, there are many times when you feel like your writing is utter crap. And you know what? Maybe it is... on that day, and this sucks away our motivation. Some call it their mojo. Some call it their muse. It's all the same, though, really. It's that intangible "something" that keeps us going strong, hammering those keys like we're high, and for some reason or another it suddenly vanishes.

This doesn't mean you don't know how to write well. It doesn't mean you've never written anything well. And it certainly doesn't mean that you're incapable of ever writing anything well.

But sometimes we tell ourselves this nonsense, don't we? And if we tell ourselves these lies long enough, repeatedly, we will eventually believe it is truth.

It isn't the truth. We're just confused. Blinded by emotion instead of focusing on hard evidence. The only way to pull yourself out of this ever-swirling vortex is to separate yourself from your own emotion. Much easier said than done. But once you find a way to do that, you will likely find your view toward whether or not your writing is "good" has changed.

This new viewpoint may even help you find your motivation again. Just don't use that as a measuring stick for your skills. Motivation will shift as you personally grow and learn and change as a person, but for the most part, capability does not falter. It is simply built upon.

Have a great weekend,
~Lydia

Effectively Conveying Emotion

This post has been removed by the blog author. Thank you to everyone who read it and commented on it when it was originally posted.