What We're Writing: Hank is CUTTING!

HANK  PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Jonathan and I went to a black tie event the other night–a gorgeous fundraiser for the Boston Public Library. (Speakers included Heather Cox Richardson, Alison Bechtel, Stacy Schiff. Ooh.) Don't we look happy? 

I am especially happy because I–maybe–am ALMOST  finished with this round of edits.

My book is due in exactly 7 days. I sent in the first draft last month, at, ahem, 121,446 words.

 

That, darling ones, is, as they say in the biz: too long.

 

Well, they say a lot more than that, but ‘too long’ is the point. I do remember, back in the day, when I wrote my very first novel. The first draft of PRIME TIME was 723 pages. How many words is that? Calculating now.

 

Hey Siri, what is 250 times 723?

 

SIRI:  250 times 723 is 180,750.

 

HANK: Well that's pretty hilarious. And I remember, back then, 2005 it was, realizing that I had to cut 400 pages. And it was the most extraordinarily educational thing I've ever done. I cut everything that was repetitive, derivative, cliched, tangential, stuff where I was trying to be funny, and a lot of things where I was trying to be writerly. (That is always the kiss of death.)

 

But killing your darlings is a great thing. If those darlings are clogging my pacing, and keeping readers from the story, they are not my darlings, and I cut cut cut with mad passionate glee.

 

In writing a novel, though, I don't know what to cut until I've written the whole thing.

 

So, that’s what I've been doing for the past two weeks. Going through every word, every sentence, every paragraph, every scene, and asking myself: what work is this doing? Why do I have this? Is this advancing the story? Why would this make you turn the page? Why do you care?

 

As has been announced in Publishers Lunch, my new book is called ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS. It stars Tessa Callaway, a debut novelist with a surprise best-selling book. She's been sent on book tour by her happy publishers, only to discover she's being stalked by... someone. Someone who is out to ruin her career and destroy the family she's left back home --and it's all a result of a faustian bargain she didn't realize she'd made.

 

Great story, huh? When I wrote that little synopsis, I thought so too. Then all I had to do was figure out what it was.

 

Who is after Tessa, and why? Is there something wrong with her family? Her past, her book? Her publisher? Is it arrival author? A rabid fan?

 

Why do you think they call them fans? someone asks her. It comes from fanatic.

Ohh, Tessa says. I thought it was from fantastic.

 

It's very meta, as you can imagine, and quite hilarious to be on book tour while I was writing this. And anyone who's ever traveled, on book tour or not,  will certainly relate to some of the situations Tessa encounters. Anyone who's ever flown, or raced through an airport, or battled with hotel air conditioning. And, most importantly, anyone who's ever been to an author event at a bookstore, or done research in a library.

 

And anyone who has ever tried to juggle a career and a personal life. Tessa realizes she's trying to be a mom to her kids via zoom. And she knows, because of her laptop discussions with her husband, that Henry has control of the zoom screen, and only allowing her to see the specific slivers of the world he wants her to see.

I finally figured out the story! Now. Cut cut cut.

 

And I have discovered kind of a secret for this last stage of editing. As I write, I begin to realize that I am using the same words again and again.

 

Tiny little words like... tiny. At least. Of course and you know and actually and certainly. And wow, people are pausing and smiling and shrugging and grinning like crazy. So I keep track of them, as I notice them, in a notebook.

 

Then, at the end of my draft, I have a page of those pet words. And it's so much fun to go through and do an edit-find for them, and cut cut cut.

 

But the cool part is that not only do I cut those words, but that every time I extract one, the entire sentence it was in gets rearranged. How do I say it in a cooler smarter better way, I ask myself. And sometimes the cooler smarter better way is to take out the sentence entirely.

 

I will confess to you I had said ‘of course’ 64 times. I mean, you know? (Oops. I had 32 ‘I means’ and 15 ‘you knows.’)  When you are writing 1000 words a day or so, you forget the words you used the day before. And I don't worry about it as I go,  I just write write write and have faith that I will take out the right words at the right time.

 

And sometimes, when the book turns to mush in my head, I just pick one of those pet words and search for it. And somehow (21) the Zen of the search gets me back into the book.

But it's the fun part, right? (I haven't counted the’ rights’ yet) . This is the time I get to carve away everything that isn't the book, and the book I meant to write is revealed.

 

Now I'm down to 100, 437 words. Yay me. And a week to go.

 

Do you notice, readers, when an author has repeated a word? There was one book I read, years ago, when the author used the word façade about 50 million times. Didn't anyone catch that, I wondered? I once got a note from an editor saying ‘please be aware of the use of the word flickered.’ Sure enough, I did an edit -find and everything was flickering: eyes, birds, monitors, video screens, digital clocks. Flicker flicker flicker.

 

Writers, do you have words that you constantly use? Whether they are things you don't even notice like just, or some word you've heard that you love, like... lattice, or convoluted, or imbroglio.

 

Tell us the words you notice in your own books, or in the ones you read.

 

And now I'm off to cut cut cut. I mean: cut.

 

(And because you will understand this: YAY. ONE WRONG WORD hardcover went into second printing, did I tell you? Yay.  AND so did THE HOUSE GUEST trade paperback. And HER PERFECT LIFE trade paperback went into third printing! And yes, all because I cut cut cut.)

What she wrote: Still loving getting older?

 HALLIE EPHRON: Welcome once again to WHAT WE'RE WRITING week! I wrote a magazine piece years back, about getting older, written from the perspective of middle age. It's one of the many efforts I've exhumed from my computer's depths and am revising. Here's the opening: 

I'm sitting at my computer trying to read the title of this piece, the letters swimming on the screen – "I Love Getting Odder"? Make that "Older." I try to remember where I left my glasses. In the bedroom? I go upstairs, pause on the landing. Why did I come up here? When I scratch my head, that’s where I find them.

Yes, middle age can be a series of bad jokes. Failing eyesight, forgetfulness, not to mention a drooping eyelid that reminds me of Columbo (who’s that actor – Peter something with an F?) whenever I look at myself in the magnifying mirror.

On the upside: not having to wear panty hose, shave my armpits, or blow-dry my hair.

Would I trade aging for youth? Not a chance. I was a pathologically self-conscious teenager for whom life was a constant source of humiliation. I slouched through high school with my shoulders hunched, school books hugged to my front like a plate of armor.

Every new place had its unwritten rules that everyone knew but me. When I walked down the street I was sure everyone was staring at me because I had on the wrong clothes, the wrong shoes, the wrong haircut, and walked like a duck. When I got lost I was too embarrassed to ask directions.

When I was 15 I begged my parents for modeling lessons which of course they refused, saying it was a ridiculous waste of money. For weeks I practiced walking with a book balanced on my head. I posed the way I thought models posed – one arm bent, my hand floating in front of me, the fingers delicately arranged. Holding that position, I pushed my hips forward, trying to imitate the way those sylph-like creatures slide down the runway, pause, pivot, and then retrace their steps, eyes trained on some invisible vanishing point at the horizon.

When I sprained my pinky finger for the third time ramming it into a door jamb as I tried to pass through, my mother gently suggested that I give it a rest.

At least now I don’t worry about how I walk and I know strangers aren’t looking at me – in fact, I’m not even on their radar. As an older woman with graying hair and a blurring middle, I am wonderfully invisible. Best of all, I’ve discovered that I can pretty much do whatever I please because there are no rules. There never were any. Other people are just as clueless as I am. ...  

So today's question: So how's it going for you? Are you embracing the years or fighting like hell to turn back the clock?

Pick Your Poison by Barbara Ross

 Jenn McKinlay: I'm delighted to be hosting one of Jungle Red Writers' favorite guests, the brilliant Barbara Ross, here to tell us all about her latest release. Take it away, Barb! 

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Barbara Ross: Torn Asunder, the twelfth book in my Maine Clambake Mystery series, releases on Tuesday. I am so happy to be there with the Reds to celebrate! The Reds supported me for the release of my first book, The Death of an Ambitious Woman, and for Clammed Up, the first book in this series. It’s kind of amazing that we are still all here together.

To celebrate the release, I’m giving away signed copies of Torn Asunder to two lucky commenters below.

Readers often ask me if I outline or “just write.” The answer I always give is, “A bit of both. I have to send a synopsis to my editor for approval before I begin writing so I have a general idea of where the book will go. But in truth, the synopsis is a hand wave. Once I’m actually drafting there are still so many decisions to be made, each one affecting the other.”

For example, a six-to-eight-page, single-spaced synopsis might refer to a character called, “the son-in-law.” But what is his name? What does he look like? How long have he and the daughter character been married, which will surely affect his relationships with her and the other relatives? Most of all, what kind of person is he? I know generally how he will move through the story, but not how he will react to the situations unfolding around him.

Another example is a synopsis that says, “So-and-so drinks a glass of brandy that has been poisoned.” You see the issues. What poison? How did it get in the brandy? Who had access to the glass and when? It’s a mystery so multiple characters must have been able to do the deed. And, always a tricky one, how did the poisoner make sure the target drank the poison instead of some other person? You get the picture.

I haven’t used poison much as a weapon in my cozy, culinary mysteries. There’s a cliché about poison being a woman’s weapon and a cliché about it being a cozy murder weapon. Those twin beliefs have kept me away from it, in a sort of reactive, rejection mode. Up until Torn Asunder, I had only used poison once, and that was in non-fatal way.

I don’t know exactly why I decided on poison as my murder weapon in Torn Asunder. It may have been because in the first eleven books I had never had someone die from a massive allergic reaction to shellfish, something someone who runs a clambake like my protagonist, Julia Snowden, would worry about all the time. But this was a murder, so I needed a poison that would look like an allergic reaction but would not be one and would not respond to treatment for one.

As I wrote, other conditions emerged. How would the poison be administered? How long would it take for symptoms to show? How long to die? As the portrait of the killer emerged, I had to figure out how a person in those circumstances would have gotten ahold of the poison.

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Luckily for me, I had a resource at hand, Luci Zahray, renowned in the mystery community as the Poison Lady. In a series of emails, I described the circumstances of my murder. Luci made suggestions. Through the first draft and revisions, more detailed questions emerged. I wrote more emails and go more answers. Luci was a fan of my series which made it fun for me and I hope fun for her. Others have sung Luci’s praises here. Truly, she is a wonderful resource. It takes a village to write a cozy mystery.

I’m sure I still got things wrong. If you have murder in mind, please don’t follow the directions in Torn Asunder. Your results will certainly vary. But gaining an understanding of my poison gave me confidence. And confidence is what makes good writing possible.

Readers: How do you feel about poison as a weapon? Over-done or not-nearly-done enough? Do you want the descriptions and uses of poison in a work of fiction to be accurate or is near enough, good enough to suspend disbelief? Answer the question below or just say hi to be entered to win the giveaway.

Barbara Ross is the author of twelve Maine Clambake Mystery novels and six novellas. Her books have been nominated for multiple Agatha Awards for Best Contemporary Novel and have won the Maine Literary Award for Crime Fiction. Barbara lives in Portland, Maine. Readers can visit her website at www.maineclambakemysteries.com 

About the book:

A short boat ride from Busman’s Harbor, Maine, Morrow Island is a perfect spot for a wedding—and a Snowden Family Clambake. Julia Snowden is busy organizing both—until a mysterious wedding crasher drops dead amid the festivities . . .

Julia’s best friend and business partner, Zoey, is about to marry her policeman boyfriend. Of course, a gorgeous white wedding dress shouldn’t be within fifty yards of a plate of buttery lobster—so that treat is reserved for the rehearsal dinner. Julia is a little worried about the timing, though, as she works around a predicted storm.

When a guest falls to the floor dead, it turns out that no one seems to know who he is, despite the fact that he’s been actively mingling and handing out business cards. And when an injection mark is spotted on his neck, it’s clear this wasn’t caused by a shellfish allergy. Now, as the weather deteriorates and a small group is stranded on the island with the body—and the killer—Julia starts interrogating staff, family members, and Zoey’s artist friends to find out who turned the clambake into a crime scene . . .