The Importance of Story

Heroes, heroism, and what all that entails, is a fairly common theme on this blog. It wasn't until I read through Diana Wynne Jones' essay collection, followed by The Wand in the Word, that I started to understand some of my impulses that drive me to contemplate such ideas, and to search for ways to bring them into my stories without even realizing it.

We as a society, especially here in America, are in desperate need of heroes. Not even real-life heroes, though those are (obviously) important, but heroes of mythical stature, for us to look up to and emulate without even knowing it. America is a funny land: we have absorbed so many cultures to make up this beautiful, multi-facted nation, and yet we haven't embraced any of their myths - nor do most of us embrace the mythos of the Native Americans, which is beautiful and rich and deep.

Instead of myths and legends reaching back into a shadowy past, showing us heroes and heroines and quests and striving for a goal more noble, we have generations of Americans raised on Disney princesses and Power Rangers as children, vampires and dystopias as teenagers, gossip magazines and reality television as young adults. Not all of those things are bad - but they aren't anything close to enough.

We have no King Arthur, no rich carpet of legend rolling out beneath our feet, for us to tread upon and absorb without even knowing it. The closest thing we have in this country to a cultural mythos are comic book heroes, and while those have their own value, they don't have the weight of age behind them.

That's not something I can change. I don't have a TARDIS, I can't pop back in time to create another Beowulf.

But I, personally, have a strong sense of the importance of heroes. As a kid, I fought imaginary dragons in my back yard. I believed in standing up for the underdog, even in my kindergarten class, wearing a pretty dress with my hair in two long braids, not letting anyone bully Thomas because he didn't fit in. How did that happen (aside from my parents' teaching)?

The books I read, the Stories I learned. What books did I grow up reading? Books by Lloyd Alexander, Susan Cooper, CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, Brian Jacques, Edward Eager, E Nesbit, L Frank Baum ...

People say fantasy doesn't matter? That fantasy books aren't Real Books?

It is fantasy, myth, legend, the hero seeking to save others, the beauty of the quest through danger to achieve salvation, that will rescue this world from falling into utter darkness.

In the end, fantasy books are the most Real Books out there. They just might be the most important books you will ever read.

They are certainly the most important books I will ever write.

Holding it in My Hands

My posting schedule is all off these days. It's not likely to get any better with the approaching holidays, either. Ah well, I just try to roll with it.

I've had far more frustrations with publishing If This Be Magic & The Traitor and the Spy (henceforth referred to as Magic & Traitor, because I'm too lazy to type out the whole thing every time) than I did with Justice's Mask. Smashwords didn't like some of my formatting, both for the cover and the interior. I was able to fix some, but not all, of the supposed problems, and decided the others weren't worth fussing about.

The headaches with working through Createspace for print and Kindle were mostly due to me not having used it before (I didn't bother with a print edition for JM), so I won't mention them here. I worked through them, at any rate. The only current frustration is that the Kindle edition somehow keeps coming up as written by "E Bates" while the print is by "E L Bates" and I can't put the "L" in the Kindle where it should be! And I'm guessing that's the reason why they keep showing up as different publications, instead of two different editions of the same book.

I just keep reminding myself that this is one of the major reasons I wanted to try publishing short stories first - to get a feel for how all of this works, to figure out potential problems and address them now, so that when I publish my novel, it'll go more smoothly.

So I'm trying to roll with all this, too.

And this happened yesterday, which made me tear up and forgive all the (literal and metaphorical) headaches.

A box was dropped off at my front door, and I opened it up to find these beauties inside.

I have been dreaming of holding my own book in my own hands since I was a little girl. And yesterday, it really happened. And it was just as magical as I'd always expected.

I'm even more excited to finish editing Magic & Mayhem now and move toward publishing that. Holding these slim copies of my own short stories bound and published makes me so, so excited to hold my own novel.

I have updated my "What Does She Write?" page with links to where you can purchase JM and Magic & Traitor, just so I don't have to keep inundating you all with links to them in every post. After all, that's kind of the point of a "What Does She Write" page to begin with, isn't it?

New Book!

Just in time for the holidays!

My cover designer finished the cover for my short story collection (can I call it a collection if it's just two stories? And if not, what SHOULD I be calling it? Seriously, this has been driving me nuts. A duology? But they aren't connected to each other, just similarly-themed) a couple months sooner than I was expecting. The stories themselves have been ready to go for ages, so all I had to do was fix up a little bit of formatting, and voila! Just in time to add to your Christmas wish list:

If This Be Magic & The Traitor and the Spy, available now at Smashwords and Amazon, and soon to be available in print.

Here's the blurb for If This Be Magic:

As if being the worst student at Miss Cranston's Select Seminary for the Study of Sorcery weren't bad enough, now sixteen-year-old Sophie Abbott suspects her uncle, the most respected magician in Boston, of secretly working for the Kaiser. The year is 1915, and though America isn't in the war yet, Sophie can't sit by and do nothing. Before long, she and Uncle Edward's apprentice Owen are deep in danger and treachery, and Sophie's unique ability to see magic as a spiderweb of spells might be the only thing that can save them. Time is running short and Owen's life is in her hands. Every spell she has ever attempted has failed spectacularly - can Sophie trust her magic now?

And for The Traitor and the Spy:

Philomena Stirling-Vane is fourteen years old in Victorian England, and in the unhappy position of having accidentally inherited the family magic. Her father is outraged, and her mother nearly prostrate with grief over the unhappy prospect of a lady magician in the family. When Jonathan Kempson, Mr Stirling-Vane's former apprentice, requires another magician's assistance to track down a traitor to the Council of Magicians, Phil sees her chance. Disguised as her brother, she accompanies Mr Kempson to London, where they must overcome their mutual dislike and learn to work together to unweave the tapestry of deception laid around them.

I was immensely proud of Justice's Mask, and still am, but these two are even closer to my heart. They are fantasy, for one, which is my first and best love. They also both have a great deal more humor than Justice's Mask, and while the more serious tone fits JM, I really do prefer to keep a more light-hearted tone when I can.

They are also set in the same world, though different eras, as my forthcoming novel Magic & Mayhem (I am aiming for a summer publication - we'll see). This is my first attempt at playing with different stories and different characters in the same fantasy world, and it's been so much fun.

Also, the cover. Isn't that just gorgeous? I am so in love with it. It was created by Kathryn Jonell, and I highly recommend her work for anyone looking for a cover designer.

I have two more short stories and a novella from my summertime non-novel writing. I'm not sure when or how I'll publish those, but for right now, I am so, so pleased with the three I've already published.

I hope you all enjoy them as much as I do!

The Joy of the Library

Thank you all for your encouragement on my last post! I did get out my journal (and my fancy pens that I bought for art and then never used because I haven't started the art book yet) the other day, but I haven't written in it yet. Mainly because I started a new writing project (I am calling it Jane Austen meets Alias meets Diana Wynne Jones, which gives you a glimpse into how my brain works) and am having too much fun with that to try anything else.

Carl and the kids dropped me off at the library Friday late afternoon, and after wandering around for twenty minutes in a blissful daze about being able to pick out books without distraction, I meandered to the back, sat at a table, pulled out my laptop, and wrote.

Aside from the one tutor who breezed through the DESIGNATED QUIET AREA (seriously, there are signs!) talking at the top of his voice to his clearly not-hearing-impaired student, it was bliss. Forty minutes of quiet writing time, no one needing me, no guilt over the household chores staring at me, no need to hop right up and get supper started, nothing.

So I wrote, and I plotted, and I looked up the differences in address as regards a contessa vs a countess, and I wrote some more, and finally I got up with a happy sigh, checked my books out, went into the foyer, called Carl, and talked him through the last few steps of supper prep (basically: "Stir, turn the oven off, leave the dish covered."). Then he and the littles came back for me, we went home, and ate the dinner that I'd started before I left and Carl finished. It was delicious, by the way. Lentils and rice!

We are definitely attempting to make this a weekly thing. Coffee shops are fun, but a quiet (or MOSTLY QUIET yes I'm talking to you obnoxious tutor who was supposed to be in the teen room anyway) library with all sorts of wonderful resources (not just the internet!) at my fingertips is far better for me. And it gets me out of the house, and even one hour of not having to be "mommy" is wonderful.

I love libraries, always have, ever since I was very young and enthralled by the one row of picture books at our local library (it was teensy-tiny, for a teensy-tiny town, but far better stocked than you might think). Library nights were the highlight of the week for our family for years: Dad would get home from work, we'd all pile in the car and drive to the library (the one night it was open late), browse for a while, check out an enormous stack of books apiece, stop at the gas station on the way home for soda (or Clearly Canadian - Mountain Blackberry was the BEST) and chocolate bars, then go home, Dad would make popcorn, and we'd all sit in the living room with our books and snacks, and read until bedtime.

The first thing I do in every new town we move to is find the local library. Sometimes the local library sucks and we have to go further afield to find the best one for us. We've been lucky these last two moves - we've ended up only five minutes away from a wonderful library each time.

The big excitement for Joy when she turned five was that she could finally get her own library card. Both the girls love going to the library, admittedly for the toys as well as the books, but also for the thrill of SO MANY books in one place, and all for the reading of anyone who wants. It really is a wonderful thing, when you think about it.

So it makes sense, for me, that the library would bring a sense of peace to my soul when I go there to write, that it would feel just right, comfortable and natural in a way that no other place can quite match. I'm already eagerly anticipating my next writing visit there.

Maybe this week I'll get around to attempting some poetry.

Where is your favorite out-of-the-house place to write?

Joy signing her name for the library card

Enthralled in a book that she checked out all by her very own self!

Published!

Wednesday afternoon. Feeling frustrated with everything. Election over, but people still being completely illogical, ungracious, and unkind. Stories needing editing, but nothing moving forward with already-edited stories to encourage me to keep up with the rest. Children, as always and forever, needing me constantly, no matter how much I've already done.

Nothing earth-shattering, nothing that ought to bother me, just lots of little gnat bites adding up to ferocious annoyance.

Something snapped. I put a movie on for the kids, went into Carl's study with the door open so I could still hear them if (when) they needed me. Brought up a basic photo-editing program, and turned one of my photographs into a book cover. Went onto Smashwords and read their book on basic formatting. Went to Amazon and read their directions. Implemented their suggestions.

In the middle of all this, talked to my husband, who was also having a frustrating day. We commiserated with each other, I went back to my formatting. Movie ended, kids ended up in the study with me, playing while I worked, me trying to answer their questions and respond to their comments while still getting accomplished what I needed.

Called Carl on his way home from work. Told him he was no longer allowed to be in a bad mood. "Why?" he asked.

"Because," I said. "I am officially a published author. And that's huge."

And it is.

It may be "just" a short story; it may be "just" self-published, it may be offered "only" in ebook form right now, it may not have a "professional" cover ...

but it's mine. And it's published. And I am over the moon. I've dreamed of this moment almost my entire life, and I finally made that dream a reality.

Justice's Mask, by Louise Ayers. Available at Amazon and at Smashwords.

Apparently I should snap more often!

Huge thanks to Laura, my fantastic editor, as well as Rockinlibrarian and Amo Vitam, who gave me wonderful and enormously helpful critiques. Thank are also due to all of you, who have encouraged me and walked along this road with me. This is just the beginning!

My Joy

Ten years ago, if you'd asked me where my life was headed, I would have told you a fabulous tale of living and writing abroad, traveling all over the place for my stories, coming home when necessary to either work at a steady job for a while or just recharge my batteries. There might have been orphanage work mentioned in that saga, too.

Eight years ago, I almost sheepishly got married and accepted that my life was flowing in a different direction from what I had planned.

Five years ago ... well, five years ago, this happened:

My life has turned out so different from what I thought it would be, and so much more fulfilling than I could have imagined (even if at times it seems absolutely numbing and stultifying - even at those times, I KNOW that it is all worth it.

Happy fifth birthday, my darling Joy. Your life is the very best story I could ever have a hand in writing, and I am so thankful for the privilege of being a co-author in your living epistle.

One year

Two years

Three years

Four years

Last month. We haven't had a chance to do her five-year photo shoot yet. Later today!

I am a writer. I am a mom. It's taken almost five years, but I'm finally learning the two are not incompatible.

My priorities have shifted since becoming a mom, but who I am at the core has not. Motherhood just stripped away the nonessentials.

These last five years have been a wild ride. I can't even fathom what the next five will bring, but I'm excited to live it, and watch it unfold.

It may be Joy's birthday today, but I'm the one receiving the gift. Every day for five years.

Holly Grayson, Alleluia ...

One of Joy's favorite songs is "All Creatures of our God and King." She will go around the house humming it for hours, breaking into words only at the "alleluia, alleluia" part.

Grace, being three, likes to imitate her sister in all things, so when Joy starts caroling "Alleluia, alleluia," Grace immediately joins in.

Only her alleluias don't always sound the way they're supposed to. From Grace, it sounds more like she's singing, "Holly Grayson, Holly Grayson ..." (Or, technically, "howwy gwayson," because she's still working on her "l"s and "r"s.)

After I checked all their books and TV shows to see if she was singing about some character (she wasn't), I decided it was just a trick of her hearing alleluia slightly differently, pronouncing it more differently yet, and my ear trying to arrange her nonsense syllables into something that makes sense.

Then I started thinking about what a good name Holly Grayson was for a book character, decided I'd use it sometime.

A couple days later, I decided Holly had long, dark brown hair, and either blue or hazel eyes.

Few days after that, I knew she was strong-willed and sharp-witted, often speaking without thinking, but with a warm heart underneath.

An investigator, I realized shortly thereafter. Not an ordinary investigator, either, but either a paranormal or supernatural one.

Nope, I decided a short time later. Time-traveling investigator, working for the InterGalactic Time Police (what, you didn't know about them? Oh, they exist, my friends.), except they only let her stay on because of her ability to always get results. They don't like the way she flouts their rules and doesn't always respect authority. You can't fire your top investigator for being a smart-mouth, though, so she stays on, even though they're always looking for reasons to get rid of her.

Then I decided that her time-traveling machine broke down on her last trip, trapping her in the Victorian Era until she is able to fix it, and that she uses her skills and abilities to help those who can't help themselves - in fact, that becomes her agency's motto. Holly Grayson Investigations: We help those who can't help themselves.

Saturday afternoon, I caved and started writing the story that landed her in the Victorian Era. It's going to be novelette or novella length, I'm not sure yet. I'm having so much fun with it.

Hey Grace, got any more songs you want to mangle? Just imagine the stories you could inspire!

This is somewhat how I imagine Holly. No talking lions, though. At least not yet.

Palace by the Sea

I read Eva Ibbotson's The Secret of Platform 13 last week, and thoroughly enjoyed it. How have I never read anything of hers before? And why do I keep saying that about all these fantastic writers? I suppose it might be considered a good thing, though - if I had found all of them when I was a kid, I wouldn't be getting these fantastic discoveries now.

At one point in the story, she mentions that the king and queen of the Island don't live in a fancy palace with uncomfortable thrones, but in a "low white house on a curving beach on golden sand studded with cowrie shells". I loved that idea. I loved it so much that it sparked a little snippet of a story on its own. This snippet will probably never grow to be a full-grown story, but that's okay. I had fun writing it, and who knows? Maybe someday it will find its way into a bigger tale.

The queen waited expectantly. 

It was a lovely scene, to be sure. The deep azure sea rippling in the playful wind, the pale golden sands turning gradually to grey and white pebbles and finally to long grasses, the long, low, sprawling house nestled back amongst the willow trees as the land slowly turned to field and then forest. Beautiful, but something wasn’t right. 

Colin turned slowly in place, eyes wide as he searched for the missing piece.
“Something troubles you, friend?” the queen asked. The sea breeze tossed her long brown hair over her shoulders and across her face. She brushed it aside with a smile. 

“Where’s the palace?” Colin blurted. She looked blank. “The castle? Where you live?” 

The queen’s laugh rippled through the air. “Why, here!” She motioned at the rambling white house. “What are these other buildings of which you speak?” 

“Well, um,” Colin stumbled. “I, uh … oh, wait! Is this your retreat? Where you come to escape the affairs of state? Your true home is in the city?” 

Her smile turned puzzled, though she was as polite as ever. “City? I do not know these words, friend. Here is where I live, I and all others who need a home. Some stay on permanently, some move on to create their own homes after a time, but all are welcome. Our ‘affairs of state,’ as you call them, do not happen in only one place. How could they, when the kingdom spreads so wide? I and my helpers travel where we are needed, tending what needs to be tended, and when the time comes to rest, we return here until we are called forth again. Is this not how it works in your world?” 

Colin snorted. “Not exactly.” It seemed an awfully naive way to conduct a kingdom—but he had to admit that all of Queen Molly’s subjects, and the queen herself, seemed perfectly happy. 

Maybe there was something in it after all. 

“Most sensible,” Aunt Agatha said. Colin jumped. He hadn’t noticed his aunt and the rest of the entourage joining them. 

Aunt Agatha set her basket down in the sand with a thump. “Who wants a palace anyway? Just more rooms to clean. And thrones? Horrid, lumpy, unapproachable things. No, your way is much better, my dear.” She bestowed a rare smile on Queen Molly, who bowed graciously in return. 

Colin felt his ears turning red. Trust Aunt Agatha to patronize a queen! Granted, Molly was very young to be a queen (and very plain, his inner voice whispered), but still. Aunt Agatha, he suspected, would patronize the Emperor in Rome were that gentlemen ever unlucky enough to have her travel back through time and meet him. It was How She Was.

Finished! (Well, Sorta)

Monday evening right before dinner, I typed the last words to my final short story planned for this summer. I still have plenty (PLENTY) of editing to do on all five stories and the novella, but the actual creating part is done.

So weird this morning not to open up a document on my computer as soon as I got up.

I'm not going to write anything (except blog posts and Twitter/FB updates, naturally) for the rest of this week. Give it all a chance to simmer. Clean my poor neglected house. Make bread. Finish organizing the school supplies for this fall.

I'm making a good start on cleaning up other projects already - I have the main body of Grace's sunshine quilt all sewn and almost all the borders on. After that, it's a simple matter of assembling, tying, and binding (which will still take a long time, but not as long as the putting together of the quilt top itself).

I was nervous about setting myself such a definite goal and project for this summer - a collection of short stories and/or a novella to indie publish this fall. And it's definitely stretched me, and I definitely will never again set myself such a tight time frame for a relatively major project while my kids are still little, but it's also been great. I've proven to myself that I CAN do this, I can accomplish something when I set my mind to it, I don't always have to be the person who loses heart partway through.

Granted, there's still a great deal to do. I have a copy-editor, but I still need to figure out cover design and formatting, along with the aforementioned edits.

But the end is in sight. I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have confidence that I'm going to get there, and confidence is half the battle, right?

The other tremendously important thing I've learned this summer is that, while making writing my career is so vital to me, it's not worth family. Honestly, that's said so often that it's completely cliche, but I've never been entirely certain of its veracity before. Not until I actually had to make the choice every day: kids/husband or writing? The times I chose the family I do not regret at all, and the times I chose writing ... well, sometimes taking a break from my family WAS needful for my sanity (hey, just trying to be completely transparent here), but mostly, I have learned that spending time with my family over my writing will always be the choice that leaves me the most satisfied. And it was good to have the opportunity to learn that for myself, instead of wistfully looking at my piles of unfinished writing projects and suspecting that all those writers that talk about family over writing are just blowing hot air.

My next writing project, after I've published these stories, will be to polish up Magic & Mayhem (I have GOT to think of a better title) over the fall and winter, with the loosely-held goal of indie publishing that in Spring 2013. And maybe a few other sneaky side projects along the way - I've discovered that short stories can be rather fun.

I'm sure I'll have plenty other thoughts throughout the rest of the summer on what I've learned from this particular writing project, so stay tuned.

If I'm very diligent, I'll even be able to post pictures of the sunshine quilt before fall, too.

We'll see!

Joy's quilt - we're using the same nine-patch pattern for Grace's, but with yellows instead of pinks. They are going to look SO ADORABLE side-by-side in the littles' room once it's all finished!

The Why Behind the Word

Life has been weighing heavily on my shoulders this week. You know how it is sometimes? It seems like everywhere you turn there's more tragedy, more brokenness, more need, more heartache, and it's all so much you don't even know where to begin.

And it's not just the sad stuff. You read stories of people triumphing against the odds to rescue a street boy from an impossible life in Africa. Firefighters doing ridiculous things to save people's homes in Colorado. People advocating for those who have no voice. All over, people doing their part to bring healing to this broken world.

And this is what always gets me - the need is so big, and so widespread, and others seem to know what to do to meet at least some of the need, but I get so overwhelmed and feel so feeble. What can I offer? Where do I begin? How do I take care of what's already been entrusted to me and still have something left to give to the world?

Tuesday night, I heard that my hometown was shredded by a micro burst. Literally. Several downtown building were horrifically damaged, including the local hardware store where I worked from when I was a young teenager right up to a week before I got married. The store my dad has worked at for over 30 years. The roof was lifted completely off and flung into the river, and the sub roof couldn't hold out the rain, and the water just flooded in. At one point they weren't even sure they could salvage the building.

I was sick. Just sick, thinking about it. And Wednesday morning, when I heard about the community coming in and pulling together to help bring the store back from the brink, to the point where it could re-open for business this afternoon and start giving back to the rest of the community, it killed me that I couldn't rush right home and join in.

But Grace woke up puking that morning, and I had to take care of her. No home-rushing heroics for me. At one point during the morning I looked at the short spy story document open on my computer and put my head right down on the table and said "WHY? Why do I write? What good does this possibly do in the long run? Why am I spending my time on this earth writing instead of doing ... something?"

(And then I had to go hold the puke bucket for Grace again. Truth.)

The more I thought (and prayed) about it, though, the more certain things started to come clear. Would I even be the type of person who wants to do something if it weren't for the books I grew up reading? Would I be the Louise I am today if I hadn't grown up with Lucy and Edmund, Anne and Diana, Randy and Rush, Taran and Eilonwy, Will and Bran, and all the rest? In my "Influences" posts, the common thread is that not only did these books shape me as a writer, they shaped me as a person.

It's an odd circle - if it weren't for people doing great things, writers wouldn't be able to imagine such deeds to write about. If it weren't for writers creating great heroes and deeply compassionate characters, real people might never be inspired to do great things themselves. We need books to show us the people we want to be.

That's why I write. I write to bring hope, to inspire courage, to give comfort and encouragement. Even in real life, my role has always, since childhood, been that of an encourager. Writing is my way of spreading that beyond my circle of immediate family and friends. It doesn't excuse me from acting in real life, too (and I pray that I will always be ready, in season and out, to act where I am needed and able), but it helps to give me a purpose, to remind me that my writing is not just for escapism or amusement. Not that there's anything wrong with that, either (and certainly my spy stories are mostly sheer indulgent fun), but that can't be all. Not for me.

This all sounds kind of pompous, looking it over now. "See me, how noble my goals are for my writing!" I don't mean it that way. Rather, it makes me humble, seeing how very far I have to go before I can live up to my own hopes. And it helps to keep me grounded - when I have a day that I can't write because my poor baby is retching on the couch, I can let that go more easily, because this is the real life that the writing is supposed to help inspire me toward.

My very favorite sort of stories are those of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. And I hope that's the life I can live, and the stories I can write to encourage others along the same path.

Lists, Part the Fourth

1. At some point in watching the Olympic Trials last week, I realized/remembered that neither Jonny Moseley nor Scott Hamilton would be doing commentating for the Summer Olympics (boo!). So I Tweeted about it. And Jonny Tweeted back (apparently we both think Scott is awesome). So I Tweeted him again. And he Tweeted back again. Which pretty much made my whole week.
2. It apparently doesn't take much to make me happy.
3. I read this article on spoiled children in between batches of biscuits for my mother-in-law's wedding, and it gave me a lot of food for thought.
4. Did I mention that I made thirteen batches of biscuits for my MIL's wedding? At between 12-13 biscuits per batch, that's ... a lot of biscuits. Along with farm-fresh berries, they made excellent strawberry shortcake.
5. Also read this article on indie publishing and thought it was great.
6. As I am working on writing short stories in anticipation of indie publishing them, this post on pricing was fantastic. As an entrepreneur, this makes total sense to me (and in fact echoes what I am always telling my sister as regards her metal-smithing business).
7. In between everything else this week, I made Joy a sundress, pattern from this book. It only took me four days, which would translate to about four hours for the normal seamstress (seamster? tailor? individual who sews regardless of gender?). I'm slow. But I love this book. This is the fourth dress I've made for my littles from it, and all of them have been fantastic. Plus it's helping me work through my overflowing stash of fabric!
8. Speaking of short stories, I have three shorts and one novella done, and am actively seeking critique partners. One is straight-up historical, one is historical fantasy, one is a contemporary spy story, and the novella is a light-hearted contemporary spy story as well (I have visions of eventually putting together a collection of spy/detective stories featuring female leads), if anyone is interested. I would also LOVE to read your story, if you have something that needs critiquing!
9. I made this pie for the Fourth. I don't think I let it chill enough, because it turned into more of pie soup, but it was still AMAZINGLY good. Joy informed me that she likes it more than strawberry-rhubarb crunch. Shocking!
10. I am getting my hair cut, about two months overdue, on Saturday. Can't wait to take care of this shaggy mop. Back to this look for me!

Have a wonderful weekend, my friends!

Louise's Short Story Lessons

After finishing my most recent edit of Magic and Mayhem, I decided it was time to stretch my writing comfort zone a little, and try my hand at some short stories. You know, because I'm such a terse writer, so good at brevity and clarity, using a minimum of words to convey a maximum of ideas.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It's been a learning experience, to say the least. One short story has turned into a novelette. One just managed to squeak in under 7,000 words, but I did have a stroke of brilliance the other day about some editing I can do in order to pare it down by a thousand words or so. One has had two or three incarnations, and is currently mocking me in its still-unfinished state. One seems promising right now, but I have to keep going back and deleting half of it, because my characters go and get all wordy and rambly and off-track.

However! Along with this frustration (I was estimating how long most of Agatha Christie's short stories were the other evening, and tossed aside the book with a wail of despair. HOW did she pack so much into so few words?), I'm actually learning some useful tips for writing short stories, and thought I'd share them here. So,

1. Outline. Letting your characters and plot meander about while you figure out what's happening one step ahead of them may work well enough in a novel, but short stories need outlines. detailed outlines. Outlines that are practically a story in and of themselves.
2. Eliminate irrelevancies. This one is both hard and painful for me. I adore irrelevancies! Just look at how many parenthesis I use in any given blog post! Irrelevancies are my life's blood! Only not in a short story.
3. Pare down the cast. Casts of thousands might work well in fantasy epics; not so much in short stories.
4. Have a point, and stick to it. See #2.
5. Be ruthless. I know this is a general rule for writing novels, as well, but even more so with short stories. I don't care how brilliantly written the heroine's walk through the woods is, it is taking up 1,000 words to advance her somewhere that could be achieved with 10. Cut it. If you love it that much, save it to use in a novel someday.
6. Keep scrap paper nearby for jotting down issues and problems as they arise, or interesting potential plot bunnies, or anything that is going to interfere with the tight flow of the story. You might need them later, or find you can use them in something else (see #5), but visually, you don't want them with the story itself.
7. Study how the greats do short stories. Chances are, you might see a pattern. Besides, it will give you something worthwhile to read while your own stories are dancing circles around you.
8. Keep the words and sentences themselves brief. It will help your brevity overall. Hard to stick with 7,000 words when you use 500 of those words in the very first sentence.
9. When you get too frustrated, take a break. Write poetry. Draw something. Sew. Cook. Clean. Write long, rambling blog posts to get the need for MANY WORDS out of your system. If you get too, too frustrated, go back to novels. It's ok if short stories never become your thing.
10. I don't really have a tenth point. I just didn't want to end this with nine.

Obviously, some of these points only apply to me (#6, especially, is just personal preference), but I hope anyone can glean some wisdom from them. What about you? Do you have any tips for writing good short stories?