Folk Friday: Wild Women and motivation

I’m really not an analytical person – a bit surprising for a former lab technician I admit. I guess that’s why I’m not in a lab anymore. When I write I just tell that person’s story as it comes to me. Now, after brainstorming at our yearly RWAC retreat last weekend, I want to see my characters from a different angle.

Take Liam, for instance. What does he want? To heal emotionally and physically and get on with his life. What else would an injured war veteran want? But let’s get specific. He needs to work, and he likes physical work, but would he want to work for someone else? Maybe he’d rather have his own company. Maybe he’d like to build houses. Perhaps he was in the process of starting his own construction business when the war intervened.

As for Alice, she wants to teach music to gain some independence, but would she really rather perform? If she didn’t need to support herself, what would she do? I think she’d rather be on stage, where her dyslexia wouldn’t matter.

The joy of a first draft is discovering the characters. The joy of retreating, and brainstorming, is the creative energy it generates – and, of course, the plain old fun.

This week’s Folk Friday is a tribute to my chapter mates - those ‘wild women’ full of creativity. Enjoy!

Some Thoughts on Dialogue

A few months ago, I got some feedback from an RWA contest that puzzled me. I’d sent in the first twenty pages of McShannon’s Heart, and one judge commented “It’s almost as if two different people wrote this.” I was honestly befuddled, but now, I think I understand what she meant.

When I write dialogue, I try to write it the way I think that character would actually speak, but it seems that isn’t always the best option. Dialogue has to match the writer’s descriptive style. I read the passages the judge had marked and realized that in trying to make my characters authentic as nineteenth-century rural people, I’d pared down their speech so that it was too much of a contrast with my descriptions.

I think readers also have certain expectations when it comes to dialogue, especially with historicals, but the truth is that nineteenth-century speech wasn’t all that different from the way we talk now, if novels and journals written at the time are any indication. Court records show that vulgar expressions are timeless. Letters and diaries use surprisingly modern language, but as readers, we expect the dialogue in a historical story to be different. Otherwise, it doesn’t feel right, even though it might be accurate.

Dialogue also has to take into account the fact that readers don’t have the visual cues so important in real conversation. To avoid using a lot of cumbersome ‘stage directions’ – something I have to guard against – every word has to be carefully chosen to convey the desired meaning. Dialogue tags – ‘he growled’, ‘she simpered’ – are another issue. I don’t like them and I avoid them whenever possible. The only tag I use is ‘he/she said’, when it’s necessary to clarify who’s speaking. Anyone who’s read about writing craft has read about these issues, but the craft books don’t tell us that putting the perfect, strong words in our characters’ mouths can be the difference between a good story and a published story. It’s more than a matter of avoiding tags and stage directions. Something else to strive for. I also know I’m guilty of using too much small talk in my dialogue. Greetings and goodbyes and how-are-yous can be left out because the reader’s brain fills them in.

One of the things I enjoy most about writing dialogue is the fact that I can use bad grammar with impunity. I don’t know anyone who uses perfect grammar when they speak, and if we try to we sound self-conscious and affected. The same is true in fiction.
Dialogue is a wonderful way to make characters unique. In McShannon’s Chance I had fun with the contrast between Trey’s speech patterns and Beth’s. Trey’s a lot less wordy and some of his expressions mark him as a country boy, but he doesn’t talk like a rube. After all, he’s read Walt Whitman and Dickens and R.H. Dana. Beth is an educated young woman from a good family, and her language reflects her background. In McShannon’s Heart, I really enjoyed writing conversations between Martin and Chelle. I could almost hear her Georgia drawl and his broad Yorkshire. Of course, in real life they’d hardly have been able to understand each other.

Dialogue. What do you have to say about it?

A Musical Push

I posted recently about the interconnections between music and writing. Now, it seems that the fates are conspiring to nudge me into playing again. We’ll see where that leads.

For a few years, in my late twenties, I worked quite hard at becoming a better singer and guitar player. That’s how I met my hubby. He had moved from Ottawa back to his family’s roots in Nova Scotia to pursue music, and he was looking for guitar students. I had decided I was in a rut with my playing and wanted to take lessons. I saw his ad and phoned him. It wasn’t long before he stopped charging me for the lessons. The rest is history.

With music, as with writing, life gets in the way. I found out by experience that bands are like marriages, without the perks. They’re transitory, and breakups can be painful. I got a real job, got a house and a garden and a dog. I discovered watercolors, and there was always writing. I wasn’t playing much guitar, and because singing and playing are very physical, if you don’t use it, you lose it. When I got inspired to write a novel, I immersed myself in that and stopped playing more or less completely.

I’ve always known that I’m not a performer by nature. I’m an introvert, which is one of the traits that makes me a writer. Still, I’ve missed making music, especially making music with my guy. I’ve been telling myself for a long time that I’m going to pick up my guitar again, and last week I did. I’m rusty – very rusty – but I know that once I’m past sore fingers and botched chords, I’ll be glad I made the effort.

Everett’s cousin John Chiasson has a recording studio in Dartmouth, and a couple of weeks ago John helped me record ‘She Moved Through The Fair’ as the soundtrack for my McShannon’s Heart book trailer. Shameless plug: John is a consummate musician. He’s played bass for the Rankins and Natalie MacMaster, is well known in the local jazz scene, and his ear is flawless. He’s also one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, a joy to work with. If you’re in the Halifax area and have any reason to use a recording studio, call him. He’s in the phone book.

We did three takes, mixed and matched to get the best version of each verse, and voila! When I played the trailer as part of my session at RWAC’s all day workshop this past Saturday, people suggested I record more. Hmmm. A little more time and work, and we’ll see. Just what I need, another side-path to follow. But the best journeys are always along the roads less travelled. Meanwhile, I’m just happy to be playing and singing again.

Words and Music

Music has always been a big part of my life. My mother tells me that when I was very small I used to sing to myself in bed at night. When I was a little older, I sang in the car. I had a fixation on Johnny Cash when I was about six, and cheerfully belted out Fulsom Prison Blues and Ring of Fire as we drove along. Later I learned to play guitar and fell in love with Celtic music. I enjoy other musical genres as well, but the simple, heartfelt tunes I can play and sing myself are closest to my heart. Luckily for me, Nova Scotia has a wonderfully vibrant music scene.

I suppose it’s inevitable that music has found its way into my writing. Martin Rainnie, the hero of McShannon’s Heart, is a talented fiddler who also sings. He gives up his music when his wife dies in childbirth, but finds the will to play again thanks to his baby daughter and Chelle McShannon. Whenever I think of Martin, I think of this tune, She Moved Through The Fair. It’s a haunting story of lost love.

Some authors I know choose music that suits their characters or settings and play it while they write. I don’t – I think I’d find it too distracting – but I do find that my characters evoke songs. Or is it the other way around? If I could score a movie of McShannon’s Chance, this tune, Shady Grove, would be there somewhere. I think Trey would like it.

One of the secondary characters in Chance is a teenaged girl, Holly Greer, who has aspirations to be a professional singer. I gave Holly this tune to sing at the Wallace Flats concert. It’s an old tune I first heard at the Lunenburg Folk Harbour Festival about fifteen years ago, called Siuil a Ruin. I’ve heard it done as a slow lament, but I think Holly would sing it with less pathos and more youthful defiance. She needed it. I like this version.
It’s an iffy thing, putting music in fiction, but I couldn’t resist. Do you associate music with fictional characters? Do you listen to tunes while you write? Do they influence your writing?

Revisions, revisions

At the May meeting of Romance writers of Atlantic Canada, Julianne MacLean, author of many beautiful historicals, gave a presentation on revision. Her session gave me several lightbulb moments and took a sizable weight off my shoulders.

I know that many experienced authors have critique partners, and I find feedback from other writers and readers invaluable. That said, I’ve always had this idea in the back of my mind that really talented authors can see most of the weaknesses in their writing for themselves. I’m not talking about technical glitches like grammar, but deeper issues like characterization, POV and plot. When a reader makes suggestions on my writing, I ask myself “Why didn’t I see that?” I found it very reassuring to hear a multi-published author whose books I admire say that she doesn’t always see those things either. As writers, most of us are just too close to our work to see the forest for the trees.

I’ve written before about being a pantser. My natural tendency is to start each writing session by going back over what I wrote the last time and polishing it before moving on. I depend on that process to help me figure out where the story is going next. If there’s something in the MS that bothers me, I can’t go forward until I’ve fixed it. It turns out that Julianne’s process is similar. For me it can lead to painful episodes of being bogged down, but the upside is there’s less work to be done after the first draft, because it isn’t really a first draft.

I’ve tried various revision methods, hoping to become more efficient. I’ve found Holly Lisle’s “one-pass revision” technique useful. It’s explained on her website. In a nutshell, you go through a printed copy of the MS from beginning to end and make notes on the pages, and when you’re done – you’re done. Only I still find myself going back and making more changes. I seem to be hardwired that way.
So, I’ll go with the flow. Write, polish, write a little more. See where the story takes me. Go back and detour. Been there, done that. Should design a T-shirt. But in the end, I get there.

I'll be getting first edits back on Heart before too long, so Julianne's workshop came at the perfect time for me. I'll go through the MS again, and keep in mind that just because I didn't see all the flaws for myself doesn't mean I can't write. It'll be a better story, and that's what it's all about.

A Family Divided

“In my Father’s house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you…”

Rochelle McShannon closed her eyes, but she couldn’t shut out the minister’s words or the scent of the freshly turned earth waiting to fill her mother’s grave. She couldn’t connect the thought of death with a beautiful March morning like this, cloudless and bright, with new green everywhere and the wind carrying the fragrance of Morgan County’s rich soil, ploughed and waiting for seed.

But not our fields. Not this year, maybe never again.

The spring sun warmed the black wool of her dress, sending trickles of perspiration down her back. She slipped her black-gloved hand into her twin brother’s, felt his fingers close tightly around hers and knew he was struggling for control, too. Through the rest of the service, Chelle clung to Trey’s hand, gathering her strength for the task of receiving condolences.

Most of the county was there. Sidonie McShannon had been popular with her neighbors, from the Sinclairs and the other large planters down to the hardscrabble farmers. It wasn’t in her nature to look down on anyone, and she’d been good at smoothing the feathers that the less than tactful little Yorkshireman she’d married tended to ruffle. She’d possessed an easy grace that Chelle had long ago given up trying to emulate. She was too much like her father.

This is the opening scene from McShannon’s Heart. It’s the springboard for my series, with the family on the verge of splitting up, Rochelle and her father to return to his old home in Yorkshire and Trey to come of age on the battlefields of the Civil War. McShannon’s Chance is Trey’s story, as he makes a new life for himself in the Colorado Territory after the fighting is over. Heart follows Chelle during the war years, as she finds her place in the Dales village of Mallonby and comes to terms with her new life.

I chose Colorado for Trey because it captured my heart with scenes like this. As for the Yorkshire Dales, I fell in love with them years ago through James Herriot’s stories. The old farm above makes me hear the haunting strains of Chelle's hero Martin's fiddle in my mind. The third book in the series brings the twins together again in Colorado after ten years of separation. It features an old neighbor from Morgan County, Nathan Munroe, a secondary character from Chance who demanded a happy ending of his own.

I love a book with strong secondary characters that make me yearn to read their story, too. Nathan’s book promises to be a lot of fun to write. I seem to find myself laughing a lot when I work on it, the kind of laughter that writers understand and others find just plain weird.

After all, if I didn’t write, how would I explain my quirks?