Nikki Loftin

Archive for the ‘Miscellaneous’ Category

Write the Next Book

Some of my friends in the Writing World are going through tough times. I hate this for them — writing is hard enough without dealing with rejected manuscripts, agent-loss, and endless rounds of inadequate revision.

You may not know it, my dear sweet Writer Friends, but over the past few years, I’ve had those times, too. Really, really bad times. I just don’t blog about them.

(Someday I will, but I’ll need to sell a few more books before I feel safe enough to share those parts of my writing journey in all their gory detail. I might also need some awards or something. A Newbery, and I will tell ALL, in a long-winded, Gwyneth Paltrow-worthy speech to people eating hotel-kitchen baked chicken and white rolls.

Give me a minute to step back from that crazy fantasy. (*slaps self to regain sanity*) )

The thing is, if you’re pursuing traditional publication, there are going to be some really bad days. Bad months, even, when the novel you’ve been working on doesn’t turn out to be the next Best Book in the World.

And on those days? After the chocolate has been eaten, the wine drunk, and the kids yelled at?

Go back to the page, Dear Friends. Run back to the page, and write the next damn book.

A poem I memorized when I was a little girl came into my mind today, when I got a sad email from a friend about a manuscript that might be laid to rest soon. It’s “We Play at Paste,” by Emily Dickinson, and the line goes “…our new hands — learned gem-tactics — practicing sands.”

The next book might be the gem. And the time you spent on the last ones? Never wasted, never lost. You learned gem tactics, practicing on those lovely early stories.

Now go and write, my wonderful dear, talented Writer Friends.

 

Self-Censoring

So, last week was Banned Books week. I kept wanting to blog about it, but I was in the middle of a personal Fahrenheit 451 episode in my own writing life, so I took a break. Of course, the censorship that was going on here was contained to my keyboard… and therefore (possibly) more insidious.

I was on the cusp of finishing the first draft of a book I’ve been working on for some time* — the book that’s been scaring me to write. I think I’ve mentioned it before on the blog. Anyway, I happened to get some news about another recently completed manuscript that worried me.** Was I writing too controversially? Was my work just TOO dark?

So, I stopped the work I was doing on my current Scary Novel, freaked out… and spent two weeks carving the heart out of it with an authorial grapefruit spoon. I finished the new, sanitized draft — well, almost. I was about 500 words from the end, and I found myself thinking “What happens next?”

And then I found myself answering: I don’t care.

Wow. That stunk. I’ve never written a whole novel before where I got that close to finishing, and couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to make it to The End.

So I pulled the socks out of my Muse’s mouth, smacked myself around a little, reminded myself that I don’t write for publication, yadda yadda… and went back to the old draft. I finished it.
It scares me to death. It is full of suck right now, as all first drafts are. It may not even make sense. But I cared what happened in that last scene in this version. I deeply, truly cared.

So there. Why I’ve been AWOL. I’m back now, though. Any of you Writer Friends have big news while I was angsting away my weeks?

 

* Years, actually. I have been writing this story – starting over again and again, for at least three years.

** Unnecessarily, it turns out. Yay!

Talk Amongst Yourselves

Ever have one of those weeks where all the troubles of the world come crashing down on you? And your kids need you, and your house looks like a slob pit, and you haven’t updated your blog in a week, and you don’t even care, because you MUST FINISH WRITING YOUR NOVEL?

So, that’s where I’m at. I’m going to stay away from the blog until the end of the week to give myself time and permission to make a fairly major change in my Work-in-Progress, and to polish and send off some Secret Contracted Work.

But I won’t leave you with nothing to do! So, courtesy of YA Highway, here’s the Stick Man game. Do it. It’s really fun!!

And I have a bit of good news I can share. I have an essay coming out in a Chicken Soup for the Soul anthology in November! *confetti*

I’ll be back next weekend, after the amazing Austin Teen Book Festival. Seriously, check out the line-up on this one. Scott Westerfeld, Maureen Johnson, Tera Lynn Childs, and all the local YA literati! Wowza — I’m taking my niece, her friend, my son, and however many other teens I can fit in the minivan.

And we’re all going to go paparazzi on these amazing authors. There will be pictures, promise.

Take care, and write well!

Vlog Fail…?

It’s been an interesting day in Nikkiland, Writer Friends.

I spent an alarming amount of time working on my Very First Ever Vlog (Or Video Blog, for my technophobe friends), for which I actually put on makeup, changed clothes, and tried to speak intelligently.

And failed. I did so many takes, it was ridiculous.

Why was I failing so awfully, so often? After a while, I figured it out.

It wasn’t vlogging I was particularly bad at. (At least I don’t think so.) It was that I didn’t want to vlog for YOU.

Now, don’t go storm off in a huff. I AM going to vlog for you, Dear Writer Friends. Someday soon, probably. But the particular topic I had chosen to vlog about this time was a topic I very dearly wanted to talk about — just not to Grown Ups. I want to share this thing* – and this whole SET of related things – with kids.

It shouldn’t surprise me, I know. After all, I set out to write Grown Up Books years ago, and found myself three manuscripts into a middle-grade career before I realized I REALLY wasn’t going to be doing a whole lot of romance novel-writing. At least not at this point in my life. *grin*

So, why should it shock me – or anyone- that my audience, the ones I really want to address — are nine to twelve-year olds? Even when it comes to vlogging, apparently.

It shouldn’t. But this blog isn’t the exact right place for this new set of vlogs. So, while I’m cooking up some plans for Cool Other Internet-y Things where I can have lots of interaction with my audience, I’ll leave you with a question:

Who is your audience, when you are writing — or blogging, for that matter? Middle grade kids? Young Adults? Toddlers? Other Writers? Or –dare I say it? — Agents and Editors?

And have you ever questioned who you have chosen to write for/speak to?

Lots to think about, Writer Friends.

*thing= cool lessons for kid writers on how to become a writer with amazing Super Powers, like the power of Revision, Submission, and even Termination. It’s going to be so awesome.

Possess: How A Book Saved My Whole Neighborhood*

I was supposed to be writing today. I came home from my other job, setlled down in front of my computer, checked the email… and gazed longingly at this.

My new book, the book I’d been hearing all those good things about.What? You haven’t heard of it?

Well then, here’s the blurb from Goodreads:

Fifteen-year-old Bridget Liu just wants to be left alone: by her overprotective mom, by the hunky son of the police officer who got her father killed, and by the eerie voices which she can suddenly and inexplicably hear. Turns out the voices are demons–the Biblical kind, not the Buffy kind–and Bridget possesses the rare ability to banish them.

San Francisco’s senior exorcist and his newly assigned partner from the Vatican enlist Bridget’s help with increasingly bizarre and dangerous cases of demonic possession. But when one of Bridget’s oldest friends turns up dead in a ritualistic sacrifice that mirrors her father’s murder, Bridget realizes she can’t trust anyone. An interview with her father’s murderer reveals a link between Bridget and the Emim: a race of part-demons intent on raising their forefathers to the earth in human form. Now Bridget must unlock the secret to the Emim’s plan before someone else close to her winds up dead, or worse–the human vessel for a Demon King.

 

It was supposed to be my Reward Read – the one I let myself devour after I finished the week’s word quota.

But it kept calling me.

The call of this book was stronger than chocolate.

Of course, I really NEEDED a good read – I’d been stressed to the limit by all the Texas wildfires, and the one that had broken out twice across the street over the weekend had made me pack and unpack my Most Precious Preciouses more than once. (Look for a vlog on that late this week.)

You know what happened. I started reading. But what you don’t know was that I couldn’t put the book down. It was un-put-downable. I kid you not, this book? AMAZING. It reminded me of Lisa DesRocher’s excellent Personal Demons a bit, but maybe more scary. It has everything: hot guys, a great, strong female main character (maybe I should hve put that before hot guys?), scary demonic possession stuff, and pacing to beat the band.

LOVED it. You need this book – go out and buy it. But how, you might ask, could this book have saved my whole neighborhood?*

I’m getting there.

My favorite reading chair is upstairs, in my bedroom, next to the window that overlooks the valley by my house. After I read a while in my office, near my computer, I got tired of the way Ms. SmartyPants Computer was staring at me, whispering tacky things about “word count failure” and “lazy procrastinators” and “reward books are the Devil,” so I gave up and went upstairs.

I was reading there, by the window. I happened to look up (probably to entreat the Heavens to allow me to write something this awesome) and saw a wisp of smoke out the window. And then, red flames.

Yep, the next door property was on fire again.

Poeple, if I had been downstairs, I would not have seen this. I would not have KNOWN to call the fire in. It’s entirely possible that Gretchen McNeil’s book, POSSESS, saved my home, my neighborhood… possibly my life.

So, seriously. But this book NOW. The next life it saves could be your own.

* Okay, truthfully? One other neighbor saw the smoke and called it in, so maybe we wouldn’t have all been left without homes. But you NEVER KNOW.

Origami Yoda, or How To Do an Author Signing

So, one of those things Debut Authors do in those months up to The Big Day (whch I have found out recently for MY first book, is August 21, 2012!! Woo hoo!) is go to other author’s events.

Of course, we do this anyway, sometimes because the authors are friends/heroes/mentors, and/or because we love their books, and sometimes because we have no other lives anyways and the Roller Derby was sold out. But anyway…  we debuts go, and take notes.

Oh, wow. I could have *filled* a notebook last week at Tom Angleberger’s Darth Paper Strikes Back book signing at Bookpeople in Austin. I could have… but I was laughing too hard to take any notes at ALL!

Now, I’ve been to some pretty good author events. But this guy? He remembered something, I think, that many of us forget when we start talking to a large group of people about our writing-y things.

He remembered who his real audience was. And he spoke to them.

Adults were there, sure, but Tom writes for middle grade kids (of which there were MANY in attendance) and he never forgot that. It was like a stand-up comedy skit for kids, with some juggling and reading thrown in to break things up.

How’s this for getting your audience? He dressed a kid up in an enormous origami Yoda costume.

Every kid there was taught how to make a five-fold “emergency” Yoda, to take home. You know, just in case you need some Jedi wisdom some afternoon.

He drew pictures in all the books he signed.

And every time a kid raised a hand, even if their comment was way off-base (as can happen when kids get REALLY excited and try to make jokes with their favorite author), he was respectful and considerate.

And in doing that last one? He had every single parent there in the palm of his hand, too. Like me. He could write a thousand books, and I would buy them all in hardcover at full price, just because I want to show my appreciation.

Now, I don’t fold paper in my debut novel. I also can’t juggle, and I don’t have a hilarious scene about pee stains guaranteed to have the elementary-aged set rolling on the floor. But Tom gave me a whole lot to think about for my upcoming signings. Things about connecting with your target audience, dressing the part, and giving respect to the whole crowd.

Even the tiny, noisy little 3rd grade Sith Lords.

Sixth Grade PTSD

Today is one of the worst days of the year for me: the first day of school. No, not school for me, sillies. For my kids.

I know, I know. It’s dumb. I get all worked up, worrying about them all day. Will they get to eat lunch with a friend? Will their teachers like them? Will they be teased/bullied/left out?

And this year I have a sixth grader, so my fears are intensified. My memories of sixth grade are… painful. Yes, that’s a word that fits. But not painful in the “wincing when I think about my clothing choices back then” way. More like “throwing up in my mouth when I even hear the words ‘sixth grade’ and curling into the fetal position for a week” way.

Yes, Friends. THAT bad. I had to transfer out of one school and into another one in the middle of February in sixth grade, when my mother finally figured out just how psychologically disturbed I was getting.  (Of course, when we had that talk, she switched me to my new school in two days. And those two days were hooky days, where we went shopping and to movies. Good mom, right?)

Anyway, all this got me to thinking — why in the name of all that’s holy do I write middle grade? Because, seriously, I have to put myself in the head space of an 11 year-old kid every freaking day!!! I have to remember exactly what that was like, and recreate it on the page, and then try to solve the problems of my poor, tortured characters. I’m trapped, mentally, in sixth grade.

I think I have PTSD. Sixth grade PTSD, to be exact.

Anyone else out there conducting their own self-therapy regimen through your writing? Maybe your freshman year at high school was the one. Think about it — are all your characters 14/15 years old? Or am I the only one who seems to be stuck in the WWI Foxhole Year of My Youth?

On a side note, it is rather satisfying to make money off all that pain. So there is that.

Thoughts? Sympathy? Horrible stories about swirlies and sadistic teachers? (FYI, I’m going to be writing a book in November/December set in a demon-infested sixth grade where I poorly veil and only ever-so-slightly change the names of all the teachers and kids who tortured me. Maybe then I’ll have peace. )

 

Unicorns in the Desert

So, the thing is, there were unicorns there.

No, not the kind with sparkly horns and magical rainbow-surfing skills. The real kind.

Last week, I got back from the A Room of her Own Writing Retreat in Ghost Ranch, New Mexico. I’m pretty sure the founders of the conference, Mary Johnson and Darlene Chandler-Bassett, chose to host the conference there because it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world. Like, this beautiful:

So, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that unicorns would hang out there, right? But here’s what I mean by “unicorns.” You know how no one with a philosophy degree ever finds a use for it? At dinner one night, I was talking to another writer who admitted she’d majored in philosophy. “Did that turn out to be useful?” I joked, fully expecting her to laugh and tell about her mother’s despair at the endless string of fast-food jobs philosophy degrees usually auger. “Well, I guess so,” she said to my surprise. “I’m teaching philosophy at XXX College now.”

Seriously? These people do not exist. A total unicorn.

A day later, on a drive back from the Ojo Caliente hot mineral springs spa (yeah, we totally took a day off from the writing — mud baths, too!), one of the poets in my car protested that “poets can make money! I did it.” I asked her to explain, and she spilled the details of her recent win of a major national poetry competition, the prize being publication of her debut chapbook AND a wad of money. Sweet. And also, a unicorn.

So, you know how your mom told you to for-Gods’-sake go to law school and not that Creative Writing program that was just a money pit and who ever gets a job as a writer anyway?*

Yeah, turns out? This conference was full of exceptions to the norm.

And the readings — every night, the unicorns read from their work. And it was glorious. First off, I took this picture from my outside seat on the second night:

And the words they read… I was stunned. I’ve never been in a group that was so talented, such a large gathering (about 80 of us) who all had something to say , and had found a way to say it that transformed the listener. Poetry that brought tears to my eyes, short fiction that made me laugh so hard I thought I’d pee, excerpts of novels that made me grab my pen and write down the name of the book so I wouldn’t miss it.

Okay, I’m gushing.

Anyway, it was a glorious week. Readings and a keynote address from Marilynne Robinson (who is pretty much a unicorn herself, with her Pulitzer prize and all) set the tone, and Mary Johnson’s surprise Oprah-like book giveaway to the entire assembly (perhaps brought on by the news that Oprah magazine is planning to do a piece on her forthcoming memoir!) wrapped it up nicely.

I’ve never been to any of those other conferences – Breadloaf and the like — but this one was amazing, and I’m so glad I went. Oh, and I also got ten thousand words written on my new, tragically beautiful WIP!

So, Writer Friends, how was your summer vacation?

 

* Okay, to be fair, my mother never said that to me. But I knew a lot of other writers whose moms did. My mom was mostly happy I wasn’t going to law school. I think.

Conference News

No, actually, I’m too tired. But I promise I’ll post about the AROHO conference in a day or two. I’ll just say one thing: There were unicorns there. Dozens of them.

 

No, I’m not kidding, I’ll explain later. (I know I’m a tease. But how else am I going to get you to come back to this site in two days?)

I’m inspired and exhausted. I haven’t partied that much (I guess I should call it “networking” so it’s a tax deduction) or learned that much in a long, long time.

I’ll post pictures and everything else soon.But if you were jealous, there’s a chance for a free conference in your very own home — one with a talk by my super-fabulous agent Suzie Townsend, and dozens of other industry professionals who specialize in kid lit. Go now to the second annual Writeon Con site and register.

Oh, and the Writeon conference starts tomorrow. Hope you have some frozen dinners for the kids  — they’re going to have to take care of themselves, as this event is Not To Be Missed.

 

Writing From Spite

Have you ever written a guest post and thought, “Hey, maybe I shouldn’t have been quite that honest?”

Yeah, me too. Recently, actually.

Hop on over to my friend (and excellent writer) Samantha Clark’s blog to read my overshare about Process.

And, for the record, I don’t just write for spite. I also write for my kids, the glory of the written word, the elusive possibility of attaining a literary sort of immortality… and money. Gotta love money.

Have a great week! (And thanks to Samantha for asking me to share!)