tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42770273442571476972024-03-14T08:48:40.049+01:00The Homeless Writer6,000 miles from family, friends, and a writing careerDeni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-6882652944270152402011-11-05T21:40:00.005+01:002011-11-05T22:16:32.956+01:00Everything I Know for Today Part 3Even at an...advanced...age, your brain can function the way it did when you were a young college student. However, it will protest. Profusely.<br /><br />It will march with large signs that say, "Don't believe what Oprah says. Getting older sucks!"<br /><br />Not that your brain is trying to diss Oprah.<br /><br />It's not a mean brain.<br /><br />So you become a cheerleader and chant, "Go big brain! Go big brain!" expecting this to help with its bad attitude and low self esteem issues.<br /><br />But your brain doesn't take it this way. It flips the sign over to a new one that says, "Go hug someone else!"<br /><br />Of course, you're at a loss because you were only trying to help. And when you try to help your brain and it refuses to comply, it brings out your inner hard core jailer. You shove the school textbook in brain's face and scream, "Read the thing. Now!"<br /><br />Well that just ticks your brain off, so it turns around. Completely shuts down. Won't even send you a little message on its sign board.<br /><br />Which, of course, ticks you off more. So you turn around and give your brain the white sign treatment right back.<br /><br />But pretty soon you both turn around. You start chugging like a little 'I think I can' train while your brain gives you a derisive look and pulls off the cobwebs. And even though it doesn't want to study, it does. <br /><br />Because staring at a white sign is very, very boring.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-68283939332599185562011-09-01T14:21:00.010+02:002011-09-01T15:40:33.726+02:00Ages and Stages<div align="left">The family survived post-deployment reintegration with minimal scars. The kids survived the first day of school with minimal drama. And I survived another birthday with minimal irritation.
<br />
<br />Well...mostly.
<br />
<br />Since that fateful day, my spam box is now frequently overrun with new ads which read:
<br />
<br /><em>50+ dating! Love and seniors is our specialty!
<br />
<br /></em>Now...
<br />
<br />I will concede that I am no spring chicken anymore. My knees remind me of this every time I run or sit at my computer for a few hours. I creak worse than the stairs I limp down every morning.
<br />
<br />But I am, in no uncertain terms, anywhere near the makings of a senior. Nor am I in the market for a new hubby.
<br />
<br />The author of these emails has no idea who they are writing to. They have no idea about the minor irritation they have caused in a <em>slightly</em> over 40 year old married woman who will never, EVER, use their website.
<br />
<br />Because at some point, you have to think about what you're doing. And who you're doing it for.
<br />
<br />Now...
<br />
<br />I agree with the common advice given to young writers (in experience, not age) encouraging them to focus on writing their own novel rather than trying to make it fit into something. The freedom that comes with that experience helps them to learn how to develop voice.
<br />
<br />But Chapter Books are not Middle Grade are not Young Adult. Elements such as word usage, theme and style are different for each age group because the audiences are, developmentally, at very different stages.
<br />
<br />Most beginning writing I've critiqued, including my own, falls into a grey area. Not because the stories defy categorization, causing everyone to swoon and offer million dollar deals, but because critical elements of language squeak and creak down the stairs worse than my knees. Which leaves your book with plenty of scars, and you to face the drama moment of divorcing your novel and then searching 50+ new ideas to find a new love to work on.
<br />
<br />Take time with that new love. Develop it. Take it through ages and stages. Your work deserves more than blind writing tossed to the internet wind of an agents mailbox.</div></div>Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-60965411439763356912011-06-30T13:31:00.004+02:002011-06-30T18:43:35.030+02:00Everything I Know for Today Part 2My husband has been home for one month. I don't have to pretend that his pillow is him anymore. I like it very, very much.<br /><br />After only two weeks, my kids are bored with summer. I wasn't sure this was truly possible. It is.<br /><br />The kids and I are taking a trip to Spain while my husband goes fishing in Alaska. Heat and sunshine. Sand and swimming. Sangria within walking distance of my room.<br /><br />The gears are still turning. I'm not sure where they're going...no words are coming out on the page yet. But I have faith that they will take me somewhere.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-18019131277879129742011-05-10T20:13:00.006+02:002011-05-10T22:20:48.512+02:00A Little Bit of QuietI'm not going to apologize for being gone for a while. <br /><br />One, it would be a lie. <br /><br />And two, I'm a person who doesn't always have something to say. I don't believe in chitter chattering your valuable reading time and my valuable writing time by filling it with blah...blah blah...blah...blah. <br /><br />But today I actually have something I've been thinking about. Yes, the gears are turning. At slow speed. But turning, nonetheless. <br /><br />Sometimes I am very disappointed in things like blogs*. And facebook. And myspace. And twitter. Because there are so many people talking in blips that I wonder if we are losing the ability to create and sustain...anything. <br /><br />Conversations are quippy. Witty. Tossed out like torn pieces of a note to a boy you had a crush on who picked your best friend instead of you. Nothing is personal. Because you've posted your secrets for everyone to read. And value is marked by the number of friends high fiving you during an endless walk down a high school hall, distinguishing you as cooler than the rest.<br /><br />I am so NOT that girl.<br /><br />I get the value of networking. I do. I'm not fond of forced social situations, but I understand that no one can sit in front of their computer every day for the rest of their life having repetitive conversations with themselves.<br /><br />Well...they can. But they probably shouldn't.<br /><br />And it's probably fair to say that my somewhat blasphemous thoughts are deeply rooted in a fear that I will forever be living the high school outsider girl life.<br /><br />But I also wonder, as I read current titles and story lines that all sound like they are trying to get the same person to read them, if we are losing the ability to take time and be innovative. Do something different. The way Brian Selznick did with <em>The Invention of Hugo Cabret</em>.<br /><br />In the midst of blips and quips shouting out through the universe, creating such a ruckus of high fives that you can't even hear yourself think, are we losing our ideas?<br /><br />In my weird, neurotic way, I worry about that. In a conversation with myself, of course. Right before I write something quippy, of course. All the while promising to try to come up with something new. <br /><br />Someone described me once as 'the sassiest, funniest, nicest person you will <em>never</em> meet at a party.' Which is probably true...the never meeting part, I mean...but it's only because I like having a little bit of quiet. I need it. <br /><br />It's where my ideas come from.<br /><br />But that's just me. What do you do for your ideas? Besides the conversation with yourself.<br /><br />*Note: I am fully aware of the irony of this situation since I am, obviously, writing a blog.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-72142371702936211872011-04-29T22:54:00.002+02:002011-04-29T22:58:06.954+02:00Everything I Know for Today Part IWhen someone says the last two months of a deployment are the longest days you will ever experience in your life...<br /><br />They would be right.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-48627573606831650112011-03-29T17:31:00.009+02:002011-03-29T18:36:02.411+02:00Perfect to Reject in 3 Easy Steps<div align="left">You know...I left the <a href="http://denikrueger.blogspot.com/2011/03/today-i-won.html">Today I Won</a> post up for a few weeks, because, if you know anything about writing, when you finish a project...for a little bit...you feel like you've done something perfect. </div><br /><div align="left">And then the day after you feel like a total reject. Because that's when the letters start pouring in. </div><br /><div align="left">Let me show you how this happens: </div><br /><div align="left">When the 'no' letters start to come in, you're sad but still hopeful, so only the letter 'p' falls off to make: </div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>erfect</strong> </div></span><br /><div align="left">And then a letter comes in full of praise, but still 'no,' confusing the letters and making them think...hmmm, why not?...so they switch places and become: </div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>refect</strong></span> </div><br /><div align="left">And then a particularly wanted letter comes in...'no'...and it knocks you on your keister so you can't breathe...which also knocks the letter 'f' completely backwards and upside down until it almost doesn't look like itself anymore. In fact, it looks like a 'j'. So now you have: </div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">reject</span></strong> </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="left">See? Perfect to reject in three easy steps. That is why a writer has to have skin the thickness of a 2x4. And that's also why you don't stew about it and cook yourself into some serious mental health soup.</div><p align="left">You start over. Which I did.<br /><p align="left">And you laugh about it. Which I am.<br /><p align="left">And you have a good time. Because if you're not doing that, you shouldn't be writing in the first place.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-42175082197170896662011-03-14T19:23:00.003+01:002011-03-14T20:01:53.787+01:00Today I WonDid you know that today I won a pizza, found the secret to wrinkle free skin AND can get larger breasts???<br /><br />Now <em>that's</em> a lucky day.<br /><br />I love reading the subject lines from the emails in my spam folder. They crack me up. All the lines read the same, screaming out:<br /><br />You are special. <br /><br />You have won. <br /><br />You want this and you didn't even realize how vital it was to your existence until you saw this email.<br /><br />Well...maybe. Pizza and wrinkle free, sure. The breasts...I'm fine with what I got.<br /><br />As a writer, I think it's easy to fall into the trap of needing to hear someone say you are special. And good. Some form of acknowledgement that putting your heart, your work, your missed family time that you can't get back...in short, your <em>life</em>...into something is going to pay off. That, in some way, you will win in the end.<br /><br />And I, being perpetually unhappy with most of what I write, find it very easy to look to someone else to tell me what I haven't told myself.<br /><br />Over the last year, I wrote a story that I like. It is different. I would even say special. Parts of it are good. And today, I sent it off to an editor. A very cool editor who might not even be a good fit for this book, but that I would love to work with someday.<br /><br />So today, except for the pizza...and the wrinkle free skin...and the breasts...<br /><br />I won.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-86245003341882100292011-03-09T10:04:00.005+01:002011-03-09T10:28:02.433+01:00The Puke FactorI finished the line edit. Chopped 2,500 words. Added maybe 1,000.<br /><br />Now the manuscript is ready to go out on submission.<br /><br />But, you might challenge with an outsider's wisdom which, I promise, is much smarter than me: How do you know it is ready?<br /><br />I have two standards by which I measure readiness:<br /><br />1.) Anne Lamott's BIRD BY BIRD reference to kneading faces while feeling burned out and rubberized.<br /><br />2.) The puke factor.<br /><br />Every other time I finished a draft, it felt good. I'd celebrate draft success but I knew I had TONS more work to do. And I refused to let my neurotic need to send my crappy writing overtake my neurotic need for it to be really good. <br /><br />Been there. Done that. Hid my face in the sand about it.<br /><br />But when I finished this draft, I wanted my husband to look at it. And then I wanted to throw up.<br /><br />That's how I knew it was ready.<br /><br />What do you know about your writing process? How do you know when you're done?Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-36970898632743457122011-02-24T16:10:00.003+01:002011-02-24T16:36:53.793+01:00Snipping it in the BudThe hubby has come and gone. My parents have come and gone. The hiatus was...sort of a hiatus. I didn't truly put things aside because I was thinking about writing even if I wasn't putting words on paper.<br /><br />Actually, I was taking them away.<br /><br />While I set the book aside as promised, I did work on the SCBWI W-I-P Grant application to make sure the first three chapters of my book didn't go over the 2,500 word limit. I agonized over every word and every sentence in those chapters.<br /><br />I snipped. I clipped. I even blipped.<br /><br />Yep. That's right. I swore. Like a drunken sailor. In German, of course, so my kids didn't know.<br /><br />I couldn't figure out how to get the lousy thing smaller when I was finally down to cutting the last 50 words. Every word I cut found it's way back in because, without it, something was missing.<br /><br />A smell. A sound. A feeling. An image. A character thought. A hint of voice. <br /><br />I wasn't looking at sentences at this point. I was looking at every. Single. Individual. Word.<br /><br />And two good things came out of it:<br /><br />1.) I did finally find a spot that always felt a little wonky but I didn't know how to fix. And I fixed it. And my writing sample was 2,496 words.<br /><br />2.) I really understand what Richard Peck meant when he said to write the tightest page you can. And then cut 10 words.<br /><br />You have to snip it in the bud. Without taking out what's important.<br /><br />And hopefully you figure out how to do it before your kids understand whatever language you are swearing in.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-38513620643231163882011-01-18T05:18:00.005+01:002011-01-18T07:00:30.789+01:00Killing a TreeI'm truly understanding the value of killing a tree. Also known as a line edit on a printed copy of my manuscript. Holy marking up my paper to fix bad sentences.<br /><br />I knew I tended to underwrite early drafts. I hadn't realized, at this point, that I was still missing a chapter. Or two.<br /><br />Or that each page would look like a three-year-old took a black marker to it.<br /><br />The thing is...I've been writing long enough that I know this. I've done line edits before. Yet every time it smacks me alongside the head and I say, 'Oh yeah...ummm...this works really well. Thank goodness I didn't send it yet.'<br /><br />Which leads to two things:<br /><br />1.) I won't have this manuscript out before my husband gets home for his mid-tour leave. It'll be close, but no cigar. And I will happily set it aside to give him my full attention.<br /><br />2.) I'd be really interested in a study examining absorption and retention of student readers when they read from a computer screen vs. the printed page. My bet is the physical object holds more weight, figuratively speaking, than the digital one.<br /><br />I even Googled to see if I could find anything. All in the name of distracting myself from writing the missing chapters, of course.<br /><br />But now I'm off...it's 5:32 am. I've been up since 4:30. And <a href="http://denikrueger.blogspot.com/2010/07/george-and-zen.html">George</a> is getting very impatient about that missing chapter.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-79018987319898345362011-01-11T05:26:00.004+01:002011-01-11T17:59:28.367+01:00Making it YoursThere is nothing quite like the high you feel after finishing a draft. <em>The</em> draft. The one that agents and editors have requested to see. Thirty thousand words that shoot you flying high in a cloud because people other than your family can read it. And then...<br /><br />The query.<br /><br />250 words.<br /><br />250 words that will suck you into a hole faster than mud.<br /><br />250 words that will force you to use the other side of your brain, which has slowly shriveled away as you etched out thirty thousand.<br /><br />I don't have a prescriptive formula. I don't have worksheets. There are plenty of other people on the net who have great resources, like <a href="http://elanajohnson.blogspot.com/">Elana Johnson</a>.<br /><br />But after twelve hours of staring at the computer and multiple drafts of drivelous puke, the query that worked had something different than the others. It stood out above them.<br /><br />Because I made it my own.<br /><br />Much to the surprise of both sides of my brain, I wrote my query the same way I wrote my book. Draft after draft. After draft. After draft. Draft. Draftdraftdraft.<br /><br />No formula. No worksheets. Just me, showing them what they need to know.<br /><br />So now I can go fly high again. Until I have to send them out this week. But that's another story...<br /><br />How is your query process going? Are you ready to? Or thankfully done with it?Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-51719666108110233422010-12-20T08:00:00.008+01:002010-12-20T14:38:37.824+01:00Every word counts<div align="left">I was a chatterbox as a kid and my mother used to warn me: </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Someday your mouth </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">will get you in trouble.<br /></div></span><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">So I stopped talking so much and took up writing, thinking, "Ha! Now I can't get in trouble. I can fix the words with an eraser, a white typwriter ink removal strip, or a delete button."<br /><br />But my mother was still right.<br /><br />I am toast. Burnt. Dried out. No butter or jelly.<br /><br />If you look up the word 'pathetic' there are two definitions:<br /><br />1. causing or evoking pity, sympathetic sadness, sorrow, etc.<br /><br />2. miserably or contemptibly inadequate.<br /><br />And when I wrote about <a href="http://denikrueger.blogspot.com/2010/09/jerks.html">House as a compelling character</a> a few months ago I used that word (in addition to many complimentary words) <em>sort of </em>comparing House to my hubby. I was thinking: brilliant, funny guy who helps people. Who also seems unhappy in a way that makes you want things to be better for him.<br /><br />I was thinking sympathetic sadness.<br /><br />My hubby went with miserably inadequate.<br /><br />So...yeah. I'm toast.<br /><br />I've apologized. And I'm owning up and taking the lumps I deserve because I should have known better.<br /><br />Every word counts when you are writing. Every word needs to be the one that captures <em>exactly</em> what you want to say. The audience brings their own experiences to the table which will impact how and what they take away from your story, but that is no excuse not to be specific with your words.<br /><br />Because sometimes you don't get an eraser. Or a white typwriter ink removal strip. Or a delete button.<br /><br />Even if you really want one.</div>Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-31455781393006513392010-12-13T08:00:00.000+01:002010-12-13T16:24:59.635+01:00Every. Day.I didn't post about being thankful in November because I am a firm believer in being thankful every day.<br /><br />Every. Day.<br /><br />And I'm writing about it today because when a very good person dies, it reminds you to say it out loud.<br /><br />My husband has already lost two medics on this deployment. SGT James Ayube died on December 8th; PFC Paul Cuzzupe died on August 8th. They were good guys. The kind that, even though you only met them in passing and knew of them from your spouse, make you break your once a year crying rule. <br /><br />So you cry.<br /><br />A lot.<br /><br />And then you are thankful.<br /><br />For your kids. Even when they drive you absolutely stinking bonkers.<br /><br />For your spouse/significant other/friends. Because <a href="http://denikrueger.blogspot.com/2010/03/today-were-not-on-bus.html">Today We're Not on the Bus</a>.<br /><br />And for words. Because when a person is gone the words we give them in a conversation...a story...at the bottom of a photo...are the only way we have to remember them.<br /><br />To be thankful for them.<br /><br />Every. Day.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-29642717915638504392010-12-05T20:00:00.001+01:002010-12-06T08:26:04.256+01:00Dry SpellsThe dreaded dry spell. <br /><br />The time we feel shriveled, bloated, wrinkled beyond belief, unable to produce anything worth anything, all the while feeling unbelievable pressure to <em>do something</em>.<br /><br />Sort of like...having a period for the rest of your life.<br /><br />This is what you sign up for when you decide to write: Heat waves. Flashes. Tears. Moodiness. The 'don't even think of touching me' lack of desire. Semi-psychotic behavior that has no true physiological basis.<br /><br />Only it's not on a monthly schedule and there's no menopause to free you from it happening over. And over. And over.<br /><br />But I think dry spells are good for us. And I don't think they're dry at all.<br /><br />Sure you might not be putting thousands of words on the page a day. Or have any flashes of inspiration. Your semi-psychotic behavior might drive you to rewrite the same chapter forty times and then burn the pages in some ceremonial expulsion of demons. You'll probably do a little bit of crying. And 'have a happy period' will have NOTHING to do with fixing the punctuation in a sentence.<br /><br />But you will be taking things in. <br /><br />You will find yourself listening to things you might not have heard otherwise in your rush to get words on the page. <br /><br />And without that...you wouldn't have anything to write.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-46321011147462327272010-12-02T11:09:00.011+01:002010-12-02T12:08:18.877+01:00George is BACK!Since many of you are new here, I have to backtrack a little.<br /><br />If you've never seen the speech by Elizabeth Gilbert about having a writing genius, you should...so follow the link:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html">Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity Video on TED.com</a><br /><br />Sorry I didn't make it look prettier and imbed the video, but I'm buried under 8 inches of snow with two kids stuck in the house and a dog who is suddenly too delicate to do his business because of, you guessed it, 8 inches of snow.<br /><br />Though to be fair, when he raises his leg his privates are still buried 2 inches below sunshine, so I don't know that I could do my business with that kind of cold down there either.<br /><br />Anyway...<br /><br />George is BACK!<br /><br />That is what I call my creative genius, who's been play hookie since this summer.<br /><br />I've been struggling at my computer for a rewrite that's taking half of forever, always getting stuck at Chapter 8, waiting for George to show.<br /><br />And he wasn't.<br /><br />And he wasn't.<br /><br />And he wasn't.<br /><br />So I said, "Fine, George. I'm going to write whatever I d@*n well please." And I started to butcher my story. Total meat cleaver job, though I didn't go so far as bringing in a vampire.<br /><br />And George showed up, "Fine. All right. So much for holidays and paid vacations. I'm here."<br /><br />He's been working, maybe a little begrudgingly, ever since. All the way up to Chapter 14. Though I'm still trying to figure out just where he went that he got a <em>paid</em> vacation. Maybe he was visiting Elizabeth.<br /><br />Anyway...<br /><br />What do <em>you</em> do when your creative genius is playing hookie? How do you get him/her to show up and do their part of the job, whether it's pounding out a rewrite or getting your kids to do their homework?Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-60423370242141788492010-11-15T08:00:00.001+01:002010-11-15T12:30:41.355+01:00EmotionsYes, I do have them.<br /><br />Occasionally.<br /><br />I think I even cried once about five months ago. <br /><br />Which means I'm good for another seven months, if I follow my once a year crying holiday rule.<br /><br />But I was definitely clenched teeth, peel your fingers off of whatever is gripped in your clutches <em>angry</em> last night. <br /><br />My son and I were walking Beemer, our Yorkie, who was quite content sniffing and peeing his way through the neighborhood, when an unleashed German shephard raced out of nowhere and attacked. <br /><br />After multiple kicks I got the brute off my dog, only to have the German shephard go after my son. And then me. When the owner finally showed up, several bites and a side full of scratches on my Yorkie later, there were still many more minutes of me kicking and snarling to get it off of me and my dog.<br /><br />I was so ticked I went straight into my house. Washed up the dog wounds. Called the police. And then took my dog back outside so he wouldn't be scared all night.<br /><br />All in the attempt to calm myself as much as anything.<br /><br />I didn't sigh...or stare off into space...or think...or wander aimlessly...like many characters are apt to do when you first start writing. I took action to fix the problem.<br /><br />And that's how you write emotions in your books. <br /><br />Emotions are the response of characters to the action, the plot, of your story. Newton had it right: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I live by that rule in my stories.<br /><br />I'm not saying my characters never sigh...or stare off into space...or think...or wander aimlessly, but I only let them do it in limited quantities because it makes them cry.<br /><br />And <em>that's</em> only saved for once a year special occasions.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-58003707950613677362010-11-01T17:25:00.007+01:002010-11-01T18:04:23.707+01:00Moving Forces, Stationary ObjectsMy son walked into a chair Friday night and stubbed his toe. It hurt. A lot. <br /><br />He almost swore a word that would earn a bar of soap in his mouth, adding a few letters to change it at the last syllable. After wrapping a bag of frozen vegetables to his foot for an hour it wasn't hurting so much, and he fell asleep on the couch.<br /><br />So on Saturday when he was hobbling around, going all drama king about his foot hurting, I told him to suck it up. It's just a stubbed toe for cripes sake. <em>Of course </em>it hurts. It's supposed to hurt when you smash a moving force into a stationary object.<br /><br />No complaints from him the rest of the day. And none on Sunday morning.<br /><br />So when I looked at his toe Sunday afternoon and saw it was black underneath, I, of course, finished his word without changing the last syllable and took him to the German hospital emergency room where, after a four hour wait, the doctor promptly confirmed that I am the world's worst mother.<br /><br />Because his toe is broken.<br /><br />As broken, unfortunately, as the lousy rewrite I am currently working on...which could use some moving force smashing into the stationary object. <br /><br />See, I'm at that magic draft where you think you can't possible learn anything else about your story and then: Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma'am. Something bops you upside the head and you suddenly have new eyes.<br /><br />Eyes which, fortunately, can see right through to the black underside that needs fixing. Immediately. Without several more days of pain and suffering. <br /><br />So today, I proudly wear the World's Worst Mother badge while both my son and my story hobble around, reminding me they needed fixing in the first place.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-74843712574848897082010-10-18T16:03:00.004+02:002010-10-18T16:48:27.307+02:00Raise the stakesI was watching kids beat each other up on the playground at school the other day. <br /><br />It was Kindergarten, so there weren't any fists flying...blood dripping...or faces shoved against the ground. But there were plenty of hands on hips and mouths shouting, "Oh yeah? Well I'm gonna..."<br /><br />I thought about stepping in. I probably should have.<br /><br />But I was laughing too hard by the fifth time I heard someone shout and stomp away without ever finishing the sentence. <br /><br />From a dramatic standpoint, it was the most boring fight I've ever seen.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong. As a teacher, I'm glad the kids didn't kill each other, mangling someone into tears, snot balls, and bloody noses.<br /><br />But as a writer, I have to do better than that in my books.<br /><br />I have to raise the stakes. <br /><br />While watching the fight I couldn't help but notice all the kids' energy fluttered and flitted around in every direction. None of the teachers could tell what happened or what anyone wanted. If I write that way in my books, my audience won't know what's going on, either. <br /><br />It's not as simple as just knowing what your character wants. All of those kids knew they wanted to win the fight.<br /><br />But they didn't know how to win. And they definitely didn't want it bad enough.<br /><br />Characters have to be willing to do anything, no matter what the cost.<br /><br />Even if it means they get their face shoved to the ground. Or popped in the nose with a fist.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-64061881960487231682010-10-08T15:00:00.017+02:002010-10-08T18:33:35.368+02:00Holy Cow. Or Holy Horse.I got bit in the head by a horse.<br /><br />My daughter and I were at the stable getting the horse ready for her weekly lesson, and he took a chomp at my hair.<br /><br />I should have expected it. I mean, he was being a pill that day as my daughter prepped him for her lesson. He pushed. He nipped a few times. He lifted his head as high as he could knowing there was no way I could get the halter on him.<br /><br />I was reading the signs. Watching to make sure his hoof didn't end up on my foot. Or in my gut. Or that he wouldn't take the pocket off my coat.<br /><br />But I wasn't expecting the chomp-o-rama of his teeth against my scalp.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PV8Ystq72Rw/TK9F5EDMmPI/AAAAAAAAADo/ecGxzQBiW-4/s1600/horse_graphics20.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 85px; height: 85px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PV8Ystq72Rw/TK9F5EDMmPI/AAAAAAAAADo/ecGxzQBiW-4/s200/horse_graphics20.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525712114448898290" /></a>Especially on the top of my head.<br /><br />After I toweled off the horse spit and poked the bruise 20 times to prove to myself that he really did bite me, I was still thinking to myself, "Holy cow. I can't believe he bit me."<br /><br />And that, my friends writerly and otherwise, is good plot. The signs are there. The audience is invested and interested, and then: WHAM-O. They get something they weren't expecting.<br /><br />Spit on the head. Teeth in the scalp. All of it.<br /><br />Great plot happens when a writer makes the audience look back and say, "I thought I was reading all the signs. I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner."<br /><br />So onward. Charge ahead on that steed before he decides your head looks like a bag of oats...and work on writing great plot.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-2093364905174222612010-10-01T21:38:00.010+02:002010-10-01T22:42:18.245+02:00Playing With ToysNo. Not <em>those</em> kind. Though with my husband gone for a whole year, something like that might come in handy.<br /><br />Totally kidding.<br /><br />Sort of.<br /><br />I got a new laptop.<br /><br />It is amazing how much easier it is to actually, you know, <em>write</em>. No more eliminating letters created by a psycho keyboard. Or banging the shift out of the shift key to unshift it. Or finding the secret spot on the touch pad so it will quit highlighting everything on the screen.<br /><br />I think it saved me from falling into the robot pit: I must write. I must publish. I must write I must publish. ImustwriteImustpublish. <br /><br />I must rublish.<br /><br />Sometimes I get so wrapped up that I forget everybody needs time to play. Everybody. So my advice for today is: go play with yourself. <br /><br />By writing, of course.<br /><br />Write a chapter where everybody breaks into song. Stick characters in a car with a manual transmission so they have to bang the shift out of the gear shift to unshift it. Draw someone in a secret spot where they get away with something ridiculous. <br /><br />Or get yourself a toy and play with it. <br /><br />Like a new laptop, of course.<br /><br />You might find, just as I did, that it can shake you up enough to keep your story from becoming rublish.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-29476193835425951192010-09-24T00:00:00.004+02:002010-09-24T16:07:44.516+02:00JerksI like jerks.<br /><br />That's my answer when somebody asks me about writing compelling characters.<br /><br />I could go into a great laundry list of questions. Ask for definitions of words like compelling and character, or lists of likes and dislikes, but that would just mix all the whites with the bright or dark colors. Then everything comes out grey and you still don't know where the lost sock went.<br /><br />Confusing, right? Exactly.<br /><br />I like jerks. Like House. Tom Sawyer. Huck Finn. The Lorax. Clementine. Dorothy. Claudia. The Cat in the Hat. The little boy who planted a carrot seed. Vashti. <br /><br />But especially House.<br /><br />All spin cycle jokes aside, he is the most interesting, compelling character I've seen in recent times.<br /><br />He is smart.<br /><br />He is funny.<br /><br />He is honest. And damaged. And pathetic. And he goes after what he wants, regardless of what stands in his way.<br /><br />I don't always like him or agree with him. I AM always interested in what he'll do next.<br /><br />Sort of like...my husband.<br /><br />And <em>that's</em> what makes him compelling. House comes across as <em>real</em>. Heightened, of course. To superman proportions. It is a TV drama after all. But I bet he could probably find that freakin' lousy sock that always disappears in the dryer.<br /><br />And he would definitely make laundry a whole lot more interesting.<br /><br />DISCLAIMER: The above listed reference to my husband's personality is not meant to defame or damage said husband's reputation, esteem, or self-proclaimed sub-genius status.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-42186685064934214562010-09-14T16:27:00.005+02:002010-09-16T15:57:03.958+02:00Sa WhompedI've been pitifully lacking about writing in my blog since returning home from the States. I will give you the equally pitifully excuse that I'm busy. Beyond busy.<br /><br />Sa whomped.<br /><br />But in between a boy throwing colossal tantrums, a girl full of middle school drama, a pouting, neurotic dog chewing off his nails, and a car that can go but doesn't stop, I do try to make an occasional foray into re-writing my second novel.<br /><br />I've got writing goals. I've got ideas. I've got desire. I even have a plan.<br /><br />What I don't have is time. Which is sort of irritating, because I <em>had</em> time all summer when I didn't know end from up about my story.<br /><br />I'm ready to go, go, go with rewrites. But when I'm forced to one very slow 30-60 minute nightly session, I want to toss myself on the couch in a drama moment. Or chew off my nails. Or throw a tantrum and whomp the sa out of something.<br /><br />Because I want to finish my book.<br /><br />I realize that since I'm now...older, I don't really get to act this way. But am I the <em>only</em> person out there, writerly or otherwise, that has such a problem with patience?Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-79004980248000380822010-08-23T22:13:00.003+02:002010-08-25T12:59:55.398+02:00Things you hang on toYou know how when your kids are little, you hang on to EVERY picture or art project they finish because each one represents some major milestone they managed to accomplish?<br /><br />A circle. A real circle that is round and doesn't look like a squished eyeball.<br /><br />A line. One that makes the house touch the ground instead of floating in the air.<br /><br />A face. With features and more than three strands of hair sticking straight up.<br /><br />I sort of feel that way about one of my middle grade novels.<br /><br />I keep trying to rewrite the opening because the general response is that it sets a great tone, but no one is sure where it's going. Readers feel like they are floundering, and they don't trust it.<br /><br />Now...I understand that the world of the story is very foreign. I also understand I can't let that be some excuse not to draw a better circle, line, or face.<br /><br />But each rewritten opening completely loses the heart of the character at the middle of the story. It becomes a plot line of information to help the reader understand the foreign world.<br /><br />So I'm trying to decide...<br /><br />Do I keep coming back to the original opening because it belongs there?<br /><br />Or is it just one of those pictures I'm hanging on to?<br /><br />And I need to decide soon, because I'm going a bit crazy...and I sort of feel like I'm floating in the air with squished eyeballs and only three strands of hair left.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-25901657342936357142010-08-10T22:15:00.000+02:002010-08-11T04:41:20.062+02:00The Sting of a JellyI've waited to talk about growing a thick skin to handle rejection for a long time, because usually it comes across as a pumping sunshiney Nike commercial.<br /><br />When really, it's more like getting stung by a jelly fish.<br /><br />Which happened to me for the first time today. <br /><br />My kids and I spent a gorgeous day at the beach jumping over waves...occasionally getting knocked over...sand in all corners of the suits...when I felt a ZIP across my leg that stung enough to make me swear in German. And then each of the kids got zapped, too.<br /><br />Needless to say, we didn't want to jump waves anymore. I sat on my beach mat to check out the welts on my leg and foot, and they searched the sand at the <em>edge</em> of the water for broken mother of pearl looking shells.<br /><br />I watched them thinking...that's EXACTLY what it feels like to get a rejection letter.<br /><br />It bites.<br /><br />Enough to make you swear in German.<br /><br />It makes you want to quit playing in the proverbial writing waters.<br /><br />But eventually, the sting goes away. All it leaves is a little red mark. Maybe a scar. Maybe a spot where your skin is a little thicker.<br /><br />And eventually, like my kids and I today, you are ready to jump a few waves again. Even knowing that you'll probably get taken out by a jelly or two.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4277027344257147697.post-70114662706805054312010-07-12T06:16:00.005+02:002010-07-12T06:42:38.957+02:00George and ZenYou know those times when you should have something to say? When you show up and type some words on the computer and wait for that creative genius (I'll call mine George) to show up and do their thing? <br /><br />But George doesn't show and you're left with a blank page party, a handful of chocolates, and one nasty headache from the few glasses of coffee or wine that were supposed to get George there in the first place.<br /><br />What do you do?<br /><br />I mean, other than take a handful of ibuprofen to get rid of the headache.<br /><br />I'm not moping anymore. I don't have the blahs. Strangely enough, after a sort of planes, trains, and automobiles trip to the States, I've been working on my mg novel. And I actually like it.<br /><br />I'm in this Zen-like place where I have no stress about my family or writing career. It feels odd...different...in a 'I don't care if the pigeon gets me' sort of way.<br /><br />But at the same time, George is nowhere to be found.<br /><br />So I'm wondering...can Zen and George meet up some place and hang out and have a beer? Or are they like Yin and Yang? Destined to swirl around chasing each other forever.Deni Kruegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966983714899088984noreply@blogger.com0