August Skirmish

Merry tanned greetings, Skirmishers!

I say “tanned,” while what I mean is “almost imperceptibly darker than a winter’s eve fresh snowfall,” thanks to my 92% English/Irish/Scottish ancestry. I do tan, but I’m an onion: I caramelize low and slow. Some of my sisters are garlic, browning in nano seconds, but I take the marathon route. It suits my leisurely personality. (That’s a joke. If you can’t tell that I live most of my life like my hair’s on fire, let’s be friends so you can remind me to chill.)

Whether you’re similarly coaxing more color out of your skin by the local pool, or shuttling a dozen kids to a dozen and one sports, or hiding under a rock (and a deadline)—enjoy these mid-summer tips, recommendations, and updates!

Writing Tip: Moody, Specific Metaphors

Since I’ve been on a steady Terry Pratchett diet the past year, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to make metaphors sing and dance in all the best ways.

1) Make metaphors moody.

There are a couple ways to do this.

Are your metaphors and similes world-specific? Do they match your novel’s mood board, so to speak? For example, if you’re writing a snowy Viking fantasy, your metaphors involve black-sand beaches, long ships, battle axes, furs, and primitive medicine. If you’re writing a swashbuckling adventure, your metaphors should be filled with barnacles and full sails and sea breezes. Wielding metaphors and similes like these, you (the author) take a backseat, creating a consistent, immersive world the reader can get lost in.

Or do you write like Pratchett, using your voice, shoplifting any metaphor that works for you? “The memory rose up and hit him like a zombie with a grudge” works in a novel that doesn’t mention zombies in any other way (though zombies do exist in Pratchett’s universe) because Pratchett will conscript any real-world metaphor that suits him. “It was a dining room, containing the kind of table where the people at the other end are in a different time zone” works in a medieval-esque world long before time zones were standardized. That’s Pratchett pizzazz for you. Pratchett doesn’t take any back seat. He himself is a major player in almost every book he writes. You read a Pratchett novel for Pratchett.

Either way, make your metaphors moody. Pick a voice and stick with it.

2) Make metaphors specific.

Don’t say: “He wore a chunky gold necklace that could have towed a car.” Be Tom Wolfe and say: “Adorning his neck was a gold chain so chunky you could have used it to pull an Isuzu pickup out of a red clay ditch.” (The “Isuzu pickup” is great, but the “red clay ditch” is the real magic sauce because we’re in the South, where ditches are red and made of clay.) Don’t say “The commercials would have sickened a goat that eats anything.” Be Raymond Chandler and say: “The commercials would have sickened a goat raised on barbed wire and broken beer bottles.” Be specific.

3) Wherever possible, turn similes into metaphors.

Delete the “like.” The wind doesn’t “moan like a witch with cancer in her belly.” The wind “moans, a witch with cancer in her belly.” (Thank you, Stephen King.) Metaphors require a very tight association between the two things you are comparing. Similes are looser. Metaphors force you to hunt for the absolute best analogy—so find it!

Recommended: Brandon Sanderson’s Writing Lectures

For you fantasy and sci fi writers out there, I highly recommend Brandon Sanderson’s Writing Science Fiction & Fantasy lecture series. He is funny, engaging, articulate, and energizing, and if writing/industry knowledge is wealth, then he is Elon Musk. I’ve enjoyed feasting on his tips about pacing, characters, world-building, magic systems, and much more.

As with any writing advice, I suggest pairing Sanderson with John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story, since Truby offers the best explanation I’ve found so far on how to build plot + theme + character development together. Almost any other book (or lecture) about novel-writing functions best on top of a Truby foundation. So read Truby first, then listen to Sanderson.

Writing Update: Time to Mood Board

Waiting for my editors’ feedback on Immortal Kai, I find myself with time to check off the little tasks that are mostly for fun but will also prove useful down the road—like creating a mood board. Both my publisher and my front cover artist needed mood boards for Forbidden Child, which I had to whip up (too) hastily. So it’s worth creating one for Immortal Kai now.

Does this look like your jam?

Quote of the Month

“Your first chapter sells your book. Your last chapter sells your next book.” - Mickey Spillane, quoted in Conflict & Suspense (p. 57) by James Scott Bell

What I’m Reading: An Arthurian Fantasy & Pratchett Gala

I read (and enjoyed) Tonke Dragt’s thoroughly Arthurian The Letter for the King. Penned in the 1960s, the novel has what could be called slightly old fashioned flaws, but I see them rather as slightly old fashioned charms. It’s a classic story of knights, kings, castles, horses, monks, inns, bridges, secret messages, pretty ladies—the works. The story grip and the layers of tension are fantastic. I couldn’t believe how deeply I was invested within the first 2-10 pages. Dragt’s prose is also a breeze to read. The classic mantra, of course, is “show, don’t tell,” but her nimble style demonstrates that “tell, don’t show” has its place when it comes to making reading effortless—even hundreds of pages at a time. All in all, The Letter for the King is a marvelous book for preteen and teen readers, especially boys aspiring to be modern knights.

I’m now about 100 pages into the sequel, The Secrets of the Wild Wood, which doesn’t boast the same story grip but is so far thoroughly enjoyable.

I’m also reading Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett: another gold mine of wit, humor, characters, and metaphors. It’s also something of a mirror, for I’m afraid Granny Weatherwax reminds me of who I’m destined to be as an old woman, short of a helpful midlife crisis. “It was one of [her] weak spots…that she never bothered to get the hang of steering things. It was alien to her nature. She took the view that it was her job to move and the rest of the world to arrange itself so that she arrived at her destination.” Given that this was my method for navigating Dublin, Paris, Nürnberg, and half a dozen other foreign cities (with my travel buddy gently extricating me from the path of oncoming busses and whatnot), I can’t deny the likeness. If we were thrown into the same adventure, Granny and I would sail arm-in-arm to an early grave—either because we annoyed each other to death or because nobody was there to save us from Grannying and Gwenning straight into catastrophe.

What I’m Watching (“What Is a Weekend?”)

Besides 24 (remember the ticking clock?), I don’t think I’ve ever watched a hit series in its heyday. I’m usually fashionably late. So it’s entirely appropriate that I’m just now diving into Downton Abbey. I’m enjoying the good, the bad, and the maudlin at least as much as Lady Violet Crawley enjoyed that swivel chair.

What I love: the hook, the miniature world, the historical period, the social hierarchy, the costumes, the tension between characters, the pettiness of the villainy. Lord Grantham, Mr. Bates, Mr. Carson, and Matthew Crawley (and his mum) are current character favs.

What I find “meh”: Cora Grantham (is she terribly written, terribly acted, or both?), Mary (feels underdeveloped), the on-the-nose dialogue, the self-aware anachronistic preachiness, and the over-reliance on nosiness and gossip to drive the plot. But none of these are deal-breakers.

If You Loved Forbidden Child…

I’ve enjoyed all the positive reviews for my intense little debut novel. If that was you, a million thanks. I’d love to see even more! So if you’ve read and liked Forbidden Child, and have thus far kept this secret to yourself, I’d be ever so pleased if you took to social media and shared your (monstrously positive) review. Facebook, Instagram, and especially Goodreads are excellent places to spread the word. Thanks for sharing your love for the most anxious Christmas read of all time!

Parting Shots

As I mentioned, Immortal Kai (draft 3) is in the secretive hands of my editors, who have mentioned getting round to reading it in the next couple months. Which means edits won’t come for (I’m guessing) another few weeks after that. Which means I need to get busy or I’ll go crazy. (Granny Weatherwax and I don’t handle idleness well. We handle ennui even less well.)

My husband suggested that rather than draft Immortal Kai Book 2 (which I’ve already plotted), why not start something new? Clear my head? So I plan to start brainstorming at my next coffee shop session.

How do I decide what to write? I make a list. A huge list. A list of everything I love and know. Characters, settings, historical time periods, moods, favorite eucatastrophes and character arcs from books/movies—everything. I dump it all on paper, then talk myself through “what ifs” until something (usually 3-5 things) click. This is how I discovered the girl walking through the snow with a baby (the image that inspired Forbidden Child), as well as the image behind Immortal Kai, and I bet it’ll lead me to my next story idea. Wish me luck!

Go write win!

Cheers,
Gwen