Like Fermina and Florentino, the main characters of Love in the Time of Cholera, Gen Z wannabe lovers of today may be forced to exchange letters, albeit while wearing surgical gloves and resisting that auto-reflex of applying tongue to envelope.
And if like Fermina’s father Lorenzo, our senorita’s dad gets (contaminated) wind of the relationship, our lovers may be forced to result to less prosaic, 21st century narratives of seduction: email, intimate voice texts, or a snappy app chat through which flirtations can be zinged back and forth like pinballs.
Personal meetings may be problematic. Open air get-togethers are a fairly safe bet, as long as a scrupulous social distance of six feet is maintained. A movie date may be an option, as long as the kids are counted as two of the only ten allowed to squelch across the floor of the dubiously-sanitized inner sanctum of 200-300 seats. A lunch date may be arranged, in which the food is purchased through an app, collected while maintaining the six-foot distance, and then consumed in separated vehicles.
Faced with never being able to fulfill her dream of making out with Florentino, our senorita comes to realize that the relationship was nothing but a dream since they are still, for all intents and purposes, strangers. She sprays down his letters with disinfectant, and returns them. Though devastated and convinced that love is both an emotional and physical disease, our Fermina falls for a wealthy scientist Urbino, who is committed to eradicating COVID-19. Working alongside him, it is our Fermina who discovers the cure for COVID, but at the same time Urbino’s many indiscretions. Once the ban on interaction is but a socially distant memory, Fermina eventually dumps Urbino and connects with Florentino via Facebook. Their love ignites. And yep, the two live happily ever after.
In the practice of yoga, a Drishti is a gazing point, a means for developing concentrated intention. That point might be knot in the woodgrain of the floor, a light switch, a small design detail at the top of your mat, anything stationary. Keeping your eyes on your Drishti, increases your ability to balance, to hold a strengthening pose. During a practice this week, as I stood in mountain pose on one foot, the other off the floor and held out to the side—a super challenging posture for me–my instructor Carole reminded the class to “Find your Drishti.” And then she added something that resonated with me as a metaphor for my writing goals. “The longer you can hold on,” she said quietly, “you’ll find that your determination grows and the stronger you will become.”
Since February, my literary agent has been submitting my third manuscript, A Cleft in the World, to major publishing houses. We’ve had eight very positive and encouraging rejections and five editors are “still reading.” This week, I had an unexpected opportunity to submit (on my own) my still unpublished second novel Georgie Girl to a small press for publication in 2020. That’s next year, my friend. What a heady feeling! Because, if you’re not aware:
publishing process moves at the pace of evolution.
Even if my agent sold A Cleft in the World tomorrow, it
would likely not be released until 2021 or 2022. I was sorely tempted to take
my eyes from my focal point of traditional publishing, to waver, to wobble, to
cave on my dream.
I wrestled with it for about a day. And then I hopped on the
phone with my agent. She reminded me that my job is to focus on the new manuscript
I’ve begun, my fourth novel Topanga Canyon, while she continues to find the
best home and deal for A Cleft in the World. My yoga instructor Carole’s words
flitted through my mind again. The longer
you can hold on, you’ll find that your determination grows and the stronger you
become. What wisdom.
I’m holding on. I feel more determined and passionate about
my craft than ever. With continued hard work, my writing skills will only grow stronger.
I’d love to hear about a goal you are working towards.
Near my home, a world-class vineyard and winery nestles into
a pastoral valley limned by blue mountains. “Yes, Virginia,” more than fifty
award-winning vineyards make the central part of our state a destination for
oenophiles. At Keswick Vineyards, there’s a popular annual competition in which
wine club members are invited into the cellars. There, oenophile aka “nose”
teams compete to create a blend labeled as Consensus.
Different varieties of grapes make wines more complex and
maximize the expression of a bottle, as do the right blend of characters in our
stories. As a little Merlot can help soften Cabernet’s tannins or a touch of
Syrah can give some oomph to watery inexpensive Pinot, giving characters
distinguishing traits make scenes interesting and robust, worth savoring, and with
just the right finish.
In his (completely brilliant) craft book WRITING THE
BREAKOUT NOVEL, agent Donald Maas says, “Character differentiation is the
technique of making the characters in your cast different and distinct from one
another . . . contrast is the key.”
Aim for contrast by focusing on personality, voice and worldview:
Like sweetness and acidity in wine, characters need each
other for balance.
The good-guys need foils–black-hearted scoundrels–to
highlight the good-guys’ white-knight personas. (While an antagonist acts in
opposition to the MC, a foil simply provides a contrast.) Consider Cal and Aron
in John Steinbeck’s East of Eden, a novel modeled after the Bible story of Adam
and Eve and their sons Cain and Abel. Aron is pale and delicate, the beloved
son, while the murderous Cain is dark and secretive. Not only do the boys’
personalities provide contrast and complexity to the story, they affect the
choices they make throughout the novel.
A great wine speaks. Characters resonate with readers
when they’re given accents, nicknames and quirk. A memorable scene in Susan Isaac’s
novel RED, WHITE AND BLUE features a jumble of soldiers sharing a WWII foxhole.
Issacs gives each man a different regional accent making the scene interesting,
compelling, and yes, hilarious. (Though I grew up in Chattanooga, I still giggled
at the guffawing bumpkin from Tennessee.)
In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s THE GREAT GATSBY, Jay Gatsby nicknames
Nick Carraway Old Sport, which
implies that Nick desires an old-money lifestyle; he wants to play rich men’s
games at the mansion estates of East Egg, Long Island. Old Sport. How catchy is
STAR WARS Yoda, the ancient Jedi Master, says his wise words using an object-subject-verb pattern. (Maybe that’s what everyone did 900 years ago.) Old style and direct it is. Quirky and exotic it is. And love the wrinkly little green badass we do.
Oenophiles use the term “earthy” to describe
wines delivering a sense of place and origin, from where the grapes were grown,
even to the type of soil.
Great characters have complex root systems. We empathize
with them–even the rascals–because we know where they came from and how their
experiences have shaped their worldviews for better or worse. Even if opposing
characters have similar desires or goals, it’s the origin of what drives them that matters.
Contrasting worldviews make characters believable and
relatable. Sharpen your shovel, and dig deep. Give your characters deeply
buried secrets and internal struggles that will trigger the decisions that
drive your plot.
Just as Keswick Vineyard’s Consensus competition affords
noses an inside view of what makes great wines work, allowing readers to see what
makes our characters tick as individuals, makes for richer, fuller, and more satisfying
Relatable: (adj.) that someone can understand or feel
I’m one of the three or four women in America who has never watched an episode of TV’s “The Bachelor.” But the other night, while randomly thumbing the remote, I landed on the show’s season finale.
With time to spare at the end of the show, the host proposed (pun intended) that the woman chosen as next season’s bachelorette offer a red rose to one of five new bachelors. An “I like you the best at first blush” gesture. By the audience’s gasps and giggles, I guessed it was an unprecedented, slightly scandalous move.
One at a time, the bachelors approached the gorgeous bachelorette, Hannah, and gave her their personal “pitches.”
Then Hannah made her selection: the guy, who in only thirty seconds had captured her eye, sent her heart a-flutter, and piqued her interest, the dapper Cam.
Cam was polished. He had done his homework, personalized his pitch. He’d performed a ten-second rap he’d written for Hannah, tacking a reference to her Alabama alma mater onto the end: “Roll Tide!”
The guy risked making a fool of himself on national TV.
And it worked.
Hannah understood; Hannah sympathized. “How you pumped up your jams,” breathed the giddy bachelorette, “that was awesome.” Cam gave her a glimpse of who he is and left her wanting to know more. He stood out from the pack, and Hannah tucked a rose into his lapel.
Do your homework. Personalize your pitch for each agent you send it to. Make your characters relatable, even if they are post-apocalypse zombie tax accountants. Don’t give away too much plot too soon. Make the agent want to know more.
In 2015 and on the heels of a twenty-year teaching career, I
began writing my first book. I had no experience with creative writing, simply a
passion for evocative women’s fiction. Nine months later, the manuscript was
complete. I emailed query letters and sample chapters to literary agents. While
I received several requests for additional chapters, the manuscript was
ultimately rejected by more agents than I have teeth. I decide to self-publish.
Six months later, the big brown truck unloaded two-hundred books on my front
porch. I threw myself a fancy book launch party and expected to become the next
Anne Rivers Siddons.
I had a lot to learn.
For the next year, I spoke to book clubs, made eight Barnes and
Noble appearances in eight cities and vended the book at countless Saturday
farmers markets. Despite my efforts, IN ROBIN’S NEST never took wing. Too late,
I learned that self-published (vs. traditionally published) authors need
publicists. After paying the publisher, my writing budget was nonexistent. And
publicists cost more than foot surgery.
But I had another story to tell. In 2017, I began writing GEORGIE
GIRL and studying the craft of writing. I hired a young freelance editor, who
affirmed my talent, while teaching me more about the craft than I believe any
MFA program could. A year later, the manuscript was complete. Believing it was “the”
book, I again queried agents. Unfortunately, this was the boom period for
thrillers such as GONE GIRL. A coming-of-age story set in the seventies wasn’t
making agent pulses race. Though I did receive encouragement, another barrage
of rejections (which aren’t personal, but leave you feeling as gutted as
fresh-caught trout) hit my inbox.
I moved on. I read everything I could get my hands on about
the craft and joined the Women’s Fiction Writers Association. Writing can be an
isolating endeavor. Every writer needs a tribe of supporters. Through WFWA I
met my Nashville-based critique partner with whom I’ll be friends to the grave.
I helped others celebrate landing agents, while thinking it would never happen for
me. But I wasn’t giving up.
In March of 2018, I began writing my third novel A CLEFT IN
THE WORLD, the story of an agoraphobic French professor whose raison d’etre is
a women’s college on the skids. Midstream chapter six, my wonder girl editor
took a health-related leave of absence. Scrambling, I was fortunate enough to
find a powerhouse book coach through Author Accelerator and finished the manuscript
in September 2018. Again, I faced the dreaded querying process. With heart in
mouth, I emailed queries. A few rejections hit my inbox. But one month later, I
had received full-manuscript requests from two agents.
The day before Thanksgiving, I received an email from Pamela
Harty of the Knight Agency. She had just finished my book, loved it and wanted
to “chat.” I screamed and prayed and prepared. That afternoon, I had a
delightful conversation with Pamela, and she offered me a contract. Me! I hung up, screamed some more and
cried. I celebrated Thanksgiving with special gratitude. And then dove into the
revisions she suggested.
This week my agent began submitting A CLEFT IN THE WORLD to
publishers. A manuscript can sell in a week. Or a year. Meanwhile, I’m
outlining a new book and deciding what I might do with GEORGIE GIRL.
In today’s market, it can take two or three or ten books to
garner the attention of an agent. If you are pursuing a career in traditional
publishing, learn from rejection. Do your research. Interact with other writers.
Most important, don’t give up! Keep writing and honing your skills.
*Today I serve as Director of Craft/Education Programs for
“I love her because she is the one friend who remembers when we were twelve and figured out that Nancy Drew didn’t have time for a boyfriend because she had business to attend to.” from A CLEFT IN THE WORLD