News | Lauren Spieller | Young Adult Author

My 10 Favorite Novels of 2013

Dec 31 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

At the end of 2012, I resolved to read 52 books in 2013.

I surpassed my goal by reading 61! WOOHOO!

I was going to list all 61 books, but that’s extremely time consuming, and I wouldn’t recommend all of them anyway. INSTEAD, I’m going to link to my top 10, since that’s a much more manageable number for you to pick from.

In no particular order, here are my 10 FAVORITE NOVELS OF 2013!

(Click the pictures to be linked to Goodreads).

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…….AND FINALLY, MY #1 READ of 2013:

Have you read any of these? Do you disagree? Do you have books to RECOMMEND?! Let me know in the comments!

Book Reviews

2013, books 2 Comments

THE PAIN LEXICON: Let’s Make It Hurt

Dec 11 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

Writers want to make their readers feel.

That’s the name of the game, right? We want readers to live vicariously through our novels, to feel what our characters feel. But too often we limit ourselves to writing about how they feel about things. We focus on the internal life of our characters–jealousy, sadness, joy, terror–and forget about making our characters feel the PHYSICAL. That sort of mind-body divide only allows our characters to live half lives…and nobody wants to read about a character who lives wholly inside themselves. That’s navel gazing at its worst!

What can we do to avoid that? We can bring the pain.

Juliana L. Brandt, Charlie Holmberg, and I compiled a list of ‘pain’ words that will help you dig into the physicality of your characters. We’re focusing on pain specifically, but the idea is that you find ways to show physicality, instead of telling the reader about it.

We’re calling our list…

THE PAIN LEXICON

AWESOME, RIGHT?! But that’s not all!

Juliana has already blogged on how to show (vs tell) using the pain lexicon, while Charlie has provided an awesome step-by-step guide to using the Pain Lexicon in your own writing.

As for me, I’m going to talk about Chuck Palahniuk’s amazing “on-the-body” writing advice, using the Pain Lexicon to help demonstrate his approach. According to Chuck, author of FIGHT CLUB, SURVIVOR, and my personal favorite, CHOKE,

It’s one thing to engage the reader mentally, to enroll his or her mind and make them think, imagine, consider something….But if you can engage the reader on a physical level as well, then you’ve created a reality that can eclipse their actual reality. – “Using on-the-body physical sensations.”

ECLIPSE THEIR ACTUAL REALITY. If that’s not EXACTLY what we’re all striving for, then I don’t know what is. Chuck goes on to say that you can’t force the reader to feel a physical sensation. You have to built it up, create it–you have to ‘un-pack’ a given moment, allowing the reader to feel every single sensation as it occurs.
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Don’t rush–this is time to indulge.

I’m going to give you an example, but first, here’s one last piece of advice from me and Chuck: don’t fall back on clichés. “Searing pain” or “sharp, stabbing pain” or “throbbing head-ache”…these are so overdone that they no longer mean anything. Instead, come up with your own ways of describing pain.

Find your own way to make it hurt.

EXAMPLE TIME!

I’ll start with a horrible example of a ‘pain’ passage that should never, ever appear in any book, ever. Take note of all the instances of telling.

The captain shot me. At first it didn’t hurt, but then, all of a sudden, it hurt so much I thought I was dying. I thought the pain would never end. I moved away from him, but he chased me. When I landed on the floor, pain filled my arm.

Terrible, right? Not only do I use the words ‘pain’ and ‘hurt’ twice, but there’s no indication of what kind of pain I’m talking about. It’s a gun shot wound, so you could probably assume the pain is acute, but is it spreading? Is the muscle aching? What muscle are we even talking about?! Let’s unpack this a bit, using the pain lexicon:

The captain fired. My right arm jerked back, pulling me off balance. A moment of silence, of stillness, passed…and then my nerves all fired at once. Burning, stinging, throbbing…an ache that penetrated deep into my muscle, pulsing against the bone. I clutched at the hole in my leather coat, my ears ringing from the shot.

The captain dropped the gun and rushed toward me, his arms outstretched though he was across the room. Still gripping my bicep, I backed away, never taking my eyes off him. My arm felt heavy and strange, as if it didn’t belong to me anymore. I tried to move my fingers, but they hung off the end of my arm, thick and useless. I was almost to the door when my foot tangled in a thick rope, sending me sprawling to the floor. I landed hard on my shoulder, sending a fresh wave of muscle-tearing agony through my arm.

Way better, right? I only used pain once (and I bet I could get rid of it entirely if I wanted to!), but I also managed to include a) where the speaker was shot, b) what the pain felt like at first, c) how the pain changed, and d) how he responded to that pain. I also included more details about the shooter, since he’s also an extremely important part of the scene. Instead of just saying ‘he shot me,’ we know he fired…and then dropped the gun. He rushes toward the victim–to finish the job? to see if he’s okay?–his arms outstretched.

Not only do you get a very clear, ‘on-the-body’ description of this injury, but you also get a clue about the character’s interiority. Because ultimately, that’s the name of the game–you want the reader to know your character inside AND out.

Wasn’t that twisted and fun?! I’d LOVE to see your writing in the comments. Bonus points if you use The Pain Lexicon!!

Uncategorized

Editing, Pain Lexicon, writing 2 Comments

How I accidentally became a “full-time” writer…and the 5 things it taught me

Nov 21 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

I didn’t mean to become a full time writer. After I finished grad school, I got a job almost immediately. I didn’t enjoy it, but I was working full time and I had benefits…and that’s a lot more than a lot of Americans can say. Than a lot of people can say. I was lucky. My Dad was relieved.

Then one day, I quit (okay, actually it was a well-thought-out decision and I gave three weeks notice. But it still felt very sudden). I had already been freelancing on the side, so I decided to make that my full time job. But the thing is…you cannot edit for 15 hours a day. You just can’t. Or at least, I can’t.

So I broke up my day into writing and editing. Eight hours here, eight hours there. At first, I felt like I couldn’t breathe…there was so much to do! But then I got into a rhythm. I’d have breakfast with Patrick, then write from 8:30 to 1. I’d take a lunch break…usually 30mins to an hour. Then I’d edit for the rest of the day..and into the night. I’ve been doing this for about…let’s see…4 months now (a lot longer than I originally planned, and yet it’s flown by). And in doing so, I’ve learned a few things:

PRACTICE makes perfect. Or at least…practice makes things take less time! At first it took me hours and hours, sometimes a full day, to write a chapter. Now I can write and edit a solid chapter (so it’s focused and clean, not perfect) in about 2 hours. Still not super fast, but a whole lot faster than before.

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SKIM. WRITE. EDIT. If I read over my work from the night before, it puts me in the perfect mindset to tackle my writing for the day. But if I spend too much time editing previous pages, I have a hard time transitioning into writing. Skim. Write. Edit. That’s my process.
AM/PM. If I write in the morning, I am still fresh enough to edit for clients in the afternoon. If I do the reverse, my brain is potato mush by 2pm.
My PRODUCTIVITY goes down the longer I work on something. So if I want to get something done (write a chapter, edit a page, read a manuscript), I can’t linger over the task. In other words, stretching out a given project over days and days makes the same project ultimately take longer than if I just work on it in a sitting or two.
My CREATIVITY goes down if I push myself to ‘create’ for too many hours in a row. Writing “full time” is great, but it’s important to do other things. My brain works better when it’s given some time away from work. Imagine that!

In sum: writing full time is awesome, but ultimately you can accomplish your goals without doing it. A few hours here, a few hours there. Focus on a given task, accomplish it. Move on to the next one, but make sure to take a break.

At least, that’s what works for me 🙂

YOUR TURN! What sort of schedule works best for YOU?

Business Time, Reading + Writing

Editing, freelance, writing 3 Comments

Is Your Novel REALLY Finished?: Why Taking a Break REALLY Matters

Nov 13 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

One of the more common pieces of writing advice I’ve heard is that it’s extremely important to put your work aside for an extended period of time before you revise. Some people say to do this after draft one, some say to do it once you think the book is “finished.” Some say to put your work aside for a month, others say 5 months, and still others say a year. But the commonality here is this: you cannot truly be “finished” with (read: ready to query/submit/self publish) a novel unless you take some time away from it first.

Now, I always thought the point of this advice was to catch the “mistakes.” Maybe a plot hole, or a characterization weakness, or a continuity error. But there’s so much more to it than that.

When you reread a manuscript you haven’t worked on in months, you suddenly see all the new storytelling opportunities you didn’t know were there all along.

Maybe this is obvious to everyone else, but I was flabbergasted by this revelation. I hadn’t touched DIVE in 2 months (not even that long!). When I picked it up and started reading, I expected to find a few typos, maybe a dangling plot line, etc. Nothing major, I thought. Bring it on.

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But that’s exactly the point: I never dreamed it was possible because I was too wrapped up in what was already there to see what could be.

So the next time you finish a book, actually follow that advice we all ignore because we’re too excited to send the book out. Take a step back. WAIT AT LEAST A MONTH. It won’t kill you, it won’t kill your book. In fact, it’ll MAKE your book what it truly has the potential to be…

Something you dreamed up.

DIVE, Reading + Writing

books, writing 4 Comments

SHORT STORY: “The Library at the End of the World”

Oct 22 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

I wrote a short story. It would be awesome if you read it and left comments 🙂

The Library at the End of the World

by Lauren Spieller

I pulled Tara down into a crouch behind a white van, then peeked around the corner. There were only two of them wandering around—their eyes clouded white and red, the skin on their faces torn and swollen. The policeman was already dead, and that kid from down the block looked like he was limping. By the time the creature caught up with him, we needed to be long gone.

“How’s your head?” I whispered, pushing Tara’s bangs away from her face. The hair was matted against her head, thick and dark and wet. “It looks like you’re still bleeding pretty bad.”

Tara handed me the baseball bat and grimaced. “Means I’m still alive.” She pushed back into the van and inched her way up till she could peer through the window. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face, pooling along her collar.

“Jules, we should keep moving,” she whispered. “The one in the track jacket is almost finished eating the cop.” Tara slid back down and gritted her teeth. “My head is killing me.”

I took her sticky hand in mine and squeezed. Our rings shone gold through the blood. “The old library is only two blocks away. We’ll break in through the back and board it up behind us. Then we can fix up your head, okay?” I patted my bag, where our first aid kit was waiting.

Tara smiled. “I’ll race you.”

“On three,” I said, getting to my feet but staying low. “One. Two. Three.”

We took off running, our feet pounding the pavement as we skirted around abandoned cars and jumped over the rotting corpses that had once been our neighbors. The library was close, so close—we just had to hope we didn’t run into anything alive enough to chase us. I kept my eyes on the back of Tara’s head as we sped through the streets. I wasn’t letting her out of my sight, not again.

Something slammed into my shoulder, throwing me to the ground. I rolled sideways, feeling around for my bat. A foot away from me, the thing slowly righted itself, its single arm swinging back and forth. I caught sight of my bat just as it rolled under a car.

I tried to get to my feet, but it grabbed my foot and pulled me back down. It’s mouth opened wide enough that I could see it’s swollen, rotting tongue rolling toward the back of it’s throat. “Help me!” I screamed, kicking at its face. “The bat, get the bat!”

Tara spun around and ran back toward me. I kicked the thing in the forehead, cracking it’s skull, but it didn’t let go. It tightened its grip on my leg, it’s fingers edging between my ankle bones. “Fuck, Tara, grab it!”

Tara took hold of its legs and pulled. The thing slid away from me, finally releasing my leg. I jumped to my feet and ran toward it just in time for it to sit up and reach for Tara.

She screamed and jumped back. I searched the ground for something to use as a weapon, but for once the street was clear of debris. “Jules!”

I ran forward, picturing soccer balls and footballs and every other kind of kickable-thing. A moment later the zombie’s head collapsed in on itself and it’s went body limp on the ground. I pulled my foot out of it’s skull and shook it off like I’d just stepped in a brain-filled puddle.

“Holy shit,” Tara said, her face bright white against the blood in her hair. “Thank you. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I kicked the body again for good measure and chased after her. That wasn’t the closest we’d come to one of those things, but it was enough to make my legs feel like wet paper.

A siren wailed in the distance. For a second I considered pulling her off course, but the last time we changed our plan in the middle of a relocation, Tara had ended up falling through a ceiling vent into a nest of zombies. We’d barely made it out alive. We couldn’t afford another mistake, especially now that she had a head injury.

The lot around the library was empty, save for a lawn mower and a pile of dead leaves. We climbed over the railing and up onto the porch at the back of the building so as not to make any extra noise by taking the rickety stairs. The library had been boarded up for over a year, every entrance sealed to keep kids from sneaking in and smoking pot. Funny how your priorities change…

“Jules.” I swung around, only to come face to face with Tara, holding a huge axe. “What do you think?” she said, gripping it tightly.

Her tank top clung to her body and I could still see the hickey I’d left on her neck a few days ago. “I think you’re hot and if we weren’t in danger of being eaten alive, I’d eat you myself.”

Tara rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was trying not to smile.

I held out my hand and she handed me the axe, then hopped back off the porch and peered down the street. “I don’t see anything. Go ahead.”

I swung the axe into one of the boarded windows. The sound of wood cracking bounced off the surrounding houses. I cringed.

“Keep going,” she whispered. “We’re still alone.”

After a few swings, I pushed the board through the window and stepped back. “It’s dark and creepy inside,” I said, leaning through the opening. I pulled my head back out and grinned. “Let’s go.”

We climbed through the window and set to work boarding it up again behind us. “You’re sure there’s nothing else in here?” Tara whispered, her eyes shining in the dark. “What if we’re trapping ourselves in here with one of them?”

I pulled a small flashlight out of my back pocket and handed it to her. “I guess we’ll have to hope we have them outnumbered.”

A low groan sounded outside. I put my eye up to the crack in the board. “There’s one outside. Wait—no, two. Shit.”

I grabbed Tara’s hand and we backed away from the board, the darkness of the library swallowing us. The noises outside grew louder, hungrier.

“Did you hear that?” Tara whispered. “They’re on the stairs.”

“It’s okay. Just stay—”

A hand burst through the boarded window. The fingers were bent in all directions, raking the air like twisted snakes. I took a step forward and swung the axe through the wrist, severing the hand.

“We’ve got to lock ourselves in somewhere,” I yelled as another hand pushed through the hole in the wood. Tara’s hand slipped out of mine. “Tara?”

“My head. It feels funny….” She pressed her hands into the side of her head.

“Are you sure it’s not just them, I said, straining to see her.

“No, it’s not them, it’s…” Tara slumped forward, and I only just managed to grab her around the waist before she hit the floor.

“Tara!” I yelled, shaking her. “Shit, are you okay? Tara!”

The wooden board shuddered and another hand slammed through the hole. I jumped so hard I nearly dropped Tara. “Okay….okay we’re going to find an office, and we’ll lock ourselves in. Okay, Tara?”

She slid further toward the ground, her head slumping forward onto my stomach.

The boarded window shuddered again, so full of holes and hands that it looked alive. I dragged Tara into the darkness, my heart hammering in my chest. I’d lock us in somewhere, anywhere, and we’d just have to hope they never made it in, or that they’d leave. We had to hope.

“Jules?”

I helped Tara to her feet and stared into her face. “You’ve gotta help me, okay? You’ve gotta walk. They’re coming—”

A body burst through the wood, bringing a blast of sunlight with it. I covered my eyes, blinded for a second. The smell of decaying flesh filled my nose. More of them crawled through the hole in the board, blocking out the light as they entered.

The first one through was fast. I yanked Tara toward me, just in time for it’s grasping hands to miss her face. I swung the axe madly. The thing threw itself forward, leading with the gaping hole in its face. I jerked backwards and tripped over a chair. The axe clattered to the floor. Tara grabbed it from the ground, then we took off blindly into the darkness.

A bookcase loomed out of the darkness. I hit my shoulder hard on its edge, sending a sharp stabbing pain through my right side. “Help me,” I gasped, pushing hard on the side of the shelving as one of the slower creatures staggered toward me. I looked to my right, hoping to see Tara pushing the bookcase with me, but she wasn’t there.

A scream filled the air, bloody and terrified and inhuman. I threw myself around the other side of the bookcase just in time to see Tara fall onto her back, her feet kicking at the creature on top of her. The axe lay discarded at her side.

“Hey!” I shouted, shoving aside a slow moving body sagging toward me. I stooped down and grabbed the axe, then faced Tara again. It’s dripping mouth was inches from her face. I planted my foot in the thing’s side and pushed hard. It fell off her, but was back on its feet almost immediately. I grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her up. “Go!”
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“I can’t, I’m already—”

“Just run, Tara!” I gripped the axe tightly and took a swing. The creature staggered forward just in time for the blade to sink into it’s body with a sickening crack.

“Fuck!” I yelled, grabbing for the axe hanging out of its chest.

“Jules, come on!” Tara screamed behind me.

The creature swung its arms wildly at me, it’s blackened fingers clawing at my sleeves. I planted my foot on its chest, then lunged forward and grabbed hold of the axe. I pulled as hard as I could, the zombie continuing to claw at my leg and arms, until the blade came free from its chest with a sickening slurp. Seconds later I sliced through the creature’s neck, the axe making short work of its decaying flesh and bone.

I caught up with Tara just as she rounded a corner into the administrative hallway of the small library. We flung ourselves into the first room we found. Tara slammed the door behind us and I immediately threw my weight against it. The room went black.

Something rustled in the dark and I heard Tara flick a light switch. Nothing happened. A second later a beam of light hit me in the face. “You have the axe?” she asked, breathing hard. When I nodded, she spun the flashlight to face the door. A bolt shone dully a few inches above the handle. “I still have that lock you found, but not the key. You’ll have to cut your way back out.”

I nodded and held up the axe. “I guess those things do bleed after all,” I said, watching the blade drip onto the ratty carpet. “Wait. What do you mean ‘I’ll’ have to cut my way out?”

Something hard rammed into the other side of the door. Tara slapped the lock onto the deadbolt as I backed further into the room. Another thump and a groan told us there were at least two of them out there.

“How’s your head?” I asked. If she thought I was going to be leaving here by myself, then she had hit her head harder than I realized.

“It hurts.” I felt her fingers snake through mine. “I shouldn’t have locked myself in here with you. I should have stayed out there.”

“What?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I was bitten,” she said quietly. “When I fell through the ceiling this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, that’s not possible. You’ve been fine all day. It’s not a bite. You just hit your head.”

She opened her eyes and held out the flashlight to me. “I need you to take the flashlight, and shine it on my temple. You’ll see.”

I looked to the door, which had begun to shake. “There’s no time right now, we have to figure out how to get out of here.”

She pushed the flashlight into my chest. “Please, Jules.”

I swung the light down to our hands, not wanting to see what was on the side of her head. Tara reached out and put her hand on mine, helping me guide the beam of light up her right arm, past her neck, finally stopping on the side of her head. It only took a second for me to find it. I dropped the flashlight to the floor.

She put her cool hand on my face. I closed my eyes and leaned into her.

“I was planning on leaving once we found somewhere safe for you to stay,” she said, “but it looks like that’s not going to happen. So, you need to either get out of here before I—”

“Shut up.” I pulled away and walked back to the door. The things were still there, pounding on the wood. I thought of the boarded up windows, and wondered how long it would take them to claw through a door. “We have time. You just got bit this morning, which means you still have a little while.”

“I have minutes, Jules. I can feel it.”

The silence of the room pressed in on me, somehow louder than the things outside.

“You said you still have the axe.”

I looked back at her. She held the flashlight under her chin, lighting up her face from the bottom, like a kid who’s telling a scary story. “I’m not going to use it on you,” I said, my voice hard. “No way.”

“You don’t have a choice. If I turn, you’re going to have to do it. You’ll be stuck in here with me if you don’t.” She lowered the flashlight. “You promised,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “We both did.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather be in here with you than out there with them! I’d rather—”

She sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

I ran back to her. “It’s too soon,” I said, my voice cracking. “Fight it, you have to fight it!”

She looked up at me, her eyes unfocused. “I can’t.”

I crouched in front of her and took her hands in mine. “We can figure this out. Maybe I can, I don’t know…cut it off?” She smiled, but her eyes were watery. I squeezed her hands. “Tara, I can’t do this without you.”

She pulled one of her hands away and ran her finger along my lips. “Remember how we used to come here during the summers when it was too hot to be outside? We’d read to each other, and you’d use funny voices for the characters.” She wiped away a tear rolling down my face. “I always thought this place was so romantic. ”

I grabbed her fingers and kissed them. “It still is.”

Tara rested her forehead against mine. “I think I need to lay down.”

A screaming moan filled the air and I jumped to my feet. The entire wall shook, as if they were ramming themselves against the other side of the door. I had to find us a way out before she turned. If I could fight through them, maybe we could relocate again. Maybe I could find the source of the siren I’d heard earlier.

“Hey, hand me the axe,” I said, turning back to face her. “I’m going to—”

Tara lay on the floor, her arm stretched out to me, her fingers curled in toward her palms.

“No no no.” I picked up the flashlight and shone it on her face. She stared at me, but her eyes weren’t right. And her mouth…it was open, but her lips were pulled back against her teeth.

“Tara?” I dropped down on my knees in front of her and reached out a shaking hand. “You’re scaring me, okay? I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that for me? Please?” I took her hand in mine, but it was limp. “You have to wake up. We have to get through them, and then I’m going to find someone to help you.” I grabbed her shoulders and shook them. Her head fell back. “Tara! Tara please!”

The door shuddered behind me and I jumped. Tara didn’t move, didn’t blink. I brushed her hair out of her face, leaned down and kissed her head. My lips came away wet with blood.

I got to my feet, my legs shaking beneath me. Tears were falling fast, blurring my vision. I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. Tara was going to wake up any second, and I didn’t want her to see me crying. Even if it wasn’t her, even if it was one of them—I still didn’t want her to see me cry. It always made her cry too.

I picked up the axe and walked back over to the door. I could hear them clawing against the other side. I took a deep breath, then swung the axe hard, cracking the lock clean in two. It fell to the floor with a thud I could feel in my bones. The door groaned, nothing holding it closed now but the bolt. I pictured them pressing against the other side, flesh melting across bone, teeth covered in clotted blood and hair. One of them had swallowed a piece of Tara’s beautiful skin.

The door shuddered again, and a crack appeared near the bottom. I wanted to be scared, to feel something inside me other than the slow twist of my stomach, but I couldn’t. Tara was gone.

The groaning and the scraping of nails on wood dulled to a gentle hum as I turned to look back at Tara one last time. She still lay on the floor, her eyes half open as if she was falling asleep. But she wasn’t sleeping and she wasn’t coming back, no matter how much I wanted her to. Not as Tara, anyway. She was gone, and I was still here. Alone. But without her, without Tara…I was more than alone. I wasn’t even me anymore.

Without her I was nothing but a body in a room.

I swung back around to face the door. The moaning and the strain of wood roared back to life. I lay my palm against the wood, feeling it shudder and shake and strain. They were out there, calling for me. And behind me, in only a few seconds, Tara would be too.

I bent down and put the axe on the ground, then stood up and closed my eyes. I pictured Tara leaning back against me, a book in her hand. We were happy.

I opened my eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled open the door.

Uncategorized

horror, short story 4 Comments

#PonyFest13: DIVE

Sep 30 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

PONYFEST13 is here! Take a look at my DIVE themed pony, then head over here (link to come) to vote for it! If I win, I’ll get a real pony based on my design. Fun!

First off, here’s a quick description of DIVE, my YA Magical Realism:

Fifteen-year-old Kiro has been training to become a cliff diver since he was small, but his dream of completing this male rite of passage is put on hold when a strange girl washes up on the beach… and demands to participate in the male-only dive.

And here’s my pony!
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Since my novel takes place on an island in the Pacific, I decided to make my pony ocean themed. Kiro spends as much time as possible diving off the cliffs of Makai into the warm island waters below, so I thought a water-themed pony would be perfect (you’ll notice that I purposefully coordinated colors found in the sea, and chose hooves that reminded me of waves).

Thanks for visiting my site and taking a look at my adorable Dive themed pony. Oh! And a major thanks to Rebecca Enzor for hosting this fun contest. 🙂

Uncategorized 4 Comments

Critique Partners: How Many Do You Need?

Sep 27 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

There are a bunch of blog posts out there about the benefits of critique partners (feedback! support! snacks!), but I haven’t come across too many that discuss how many CPs you actually need.

Some people get by with one or two, while others have upwards of TEN. I think it goes without saying that everyone works differently and that there is no “right answer” (for those of you who were hoping for a magic number…it’s 42), but I do think there’s a relatively straightforward way to determine how many is *too many* and how few are *too few.* To do so, let’s talk about QUALITY vs. QUANTITY.

QUALITY > QUANTITY

Some writers only have a few critique partners, and even fewer beta readers. Maybe one or two people read their early drafts, and then they give it to a single beta reader. That’s only three people reading your book…not very many given that you just spent the last however many months writing at least 50k words!

Benefits: You will receive a limited amount of feedback (sure, one reader might give you tons of comments, but that’s nothing compared to having 10 readers giving comments), so you won’t have trouble deciding who is “right” and who is “wrong” about the direction your edits should take. You won’t have to worry about keeping track of a bunch of readers. You can carefully pick who you want based on their strengths.

Drawbacks: Assuming you’ve chosen your readers carefully, this won’t happen…but what if your CPs don’t like the book at all? What if they sort of…don’t “get” it? What if their feedback flies completely in the fact of your vision? Or, on the other hand, what if they take forever to get back to you, and you’re left waiting for months and months? Worse yet…what if they take forever and THEN they don’t “get” the book? And if you only have a few people you work with, what do you do when it’s time for draft 2? or 3? or 7?!

Bottom line: fewer mixed messages. Risk of not receiving helpful feedback; needing all new CPs.

QUANTITY > QUALITY

Flip Side! I know quite a few writers who have tons of CPs. Tons. Some read early drafts, some read later drafts, some read beta drafts. Some do line edits, some do big picture comments, some focus on worldbuilding, some specialize in dialogue. All told, they might have as many as ten people reading a given draft.

Benefits: You get tons of feedback from tons of sources. You can pick and choose what works, and what doesn’t. You can point your CPs to specific parts/aspects of your manuscript, and be assured that they will do everything they can to make THAT aspect of the draft work. If one CP falls through, no big deal! You have nine more out there waiting to read.

Drawbacks: Who do you listen to? How do you know who will be best at what? What do you do if they read the whole draft and it turns out that their feedback conflicts with someone else’s? All in all, this approach can easily lead to the “too many cooks in the kitchen” phenomenon.

Bottom Line: Lots of feedback to choose from. Risk of being overwhelmed.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY
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So, you guys know what just happened right? I basically ended up telling you…..there’s no right answer. Every single writer needs to make this call for themselves. But that’s not very satisfying, is it? I had to see a doctor. The neuropathologist prescribed Valium. I took it exactly as prescribed by the doctor. Thanks to the medicine, the sleep returned, the feeling of constant tiredness passed, the irritability disappeared. More information on https://dentallogic.com.au/assets/Services/valium.php after the funeral of a loved one, my condition worsened sharply. I was haunted by fear and panic. I could not fall asleep at night for a long time, and if I fell asleep, the dream was disturbing and short-lived. I became irritable and nervous.

So here’s MY approach:

I typically have 1-2 people read each draft (not counting draft zero, where I vomit words onto the page). For DIVE, I asked my lovely writer friends Jody Holford and Ifeoma Dennis to read my early drafts because I knew they’d point out minor worldbuilding problems, but still be really encouraging (which is super important to me in the early stages of writing). With draft 2, I wanted someone who could balance big picture with detailed feedback, so I worked with Corrie Haluga for the first time. It was a risk because we hadn’t read each others stuff before, but it paid off!

When those early drafts were finally done, I was ready for beta (round 1) readers. I looked for writers who are good at BIG PICTURE editing. For instance, my friend Charlie Holmberg is great at worldbuilding, while Juliana Brandt is fantastic with characterization. Next, I asked Kiersi Burkhart to read my draft because I knew she’d find the weak spots in the plot and press me to find smart answers.

Finally, when all that was finished…I was ready to have someone who excels at line-by-line edits. I know this seems a bit backwards, but I felt the bones of my story (and the muscle, come to think of it) were really strong, but the skin needed…okay this is getting gross. Basically i wanted someone to spit shine my draft. Enter the amazing Claire Donnelly.

So there you have it! I had SEVEN readers. Three CPs, and 4 Betas (I don’t call them Alphas, b/c…I don’t know. I just don’t).

But how do you FIND Critique Partners?

Trial and error, honestly. You have to put yourself out there, for starters. Websites like CPSeek.com are helpful, as are contest and blog hops. I also recommend asking your Twitter friends. Sometimes you’ll strike out, sometimes the matches won’t be good, but it’s worth the work and the risk. A great CP makes ALL the difference.

Now YOU tell ME….

WHAT WORKS FOR YOU?

How many CPs do you have? Betas?

And most importantly…WHY?

DIVE, Reading + Writing, Uncategorized

Critique Partners, Editing 11 Comments

Professionalism in the Time of Social Media

Aug 23 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

I’ve been thinking a lot about my presence on the internet lately, and how I want to “brand” myself. Obviously I’m a writer in the query trenches, but I’m also an intern for PSLA, so it’s important that I conduct myself with a certain level of professionalism. Or at least…it’s important that I try!

This doesn’t just go for me though. For those of us just starting out, it’s important that we take into consideration how we present ourselves to the world. I’m not saying you shouldn’t tweet about having a bad day or how hard it is to reach your daily word count–by all means do this, especially if it helps you to connect with other writers. But does it make sense to tweet about how you never write, and you feel like you’re failing? What about how you’ve written twenty books and none of them are worth a damn? That’s the kind of thing we can all relate to, but does it send the “right” message to the professional world? (note: I’m playing a bit of the devil’s advocate here, so don’t freak!)

So for those of us (and I think there are many) who use Twitter as a professional resource as well as a social one, walking the line between professionalism and provocation can be hard. Especially when you have a potty mouth like I do.

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So what should we do? Stifle ourselves in hopes of seeming perfectly professional? Let loose because we refuse to be silenced? Or is there some line in the middle that we can walk?

If any of these components get disrupted, problems with sexual viagra prescription report viagra prescription functioning may be experienced. You probably have a family sale viagra and therefore want to purchase a new car that will accommodate all of you. But today, modern medicine has enabled us to use viagra samples australia these herbs and get satisfying results too. In the lead up to every Valentine’s Day is the abundance of adverts http://secretworldchronicle.com/2016/07/ viagra online for chocolates and wine as gifts for your loved one. Agents and editors talk about professionalism a lot. Things like your email address, your profile picture, and the way you communicate in correspondence can sometimes mean the difference between a request and a pass, and I’ve heard many people in publishing complain about people who break protocol by calling their office or showing up at their door. But what about how we handle ourselves on Twitter, and, to a lesser degree, Facebook and Tumblr?

So what do you think? Should we be able to say whatever we want, or should we try to keep things PC? Is there a line to be walked, or is this so nebulous that it’s pointless trying to predict who will be offended?

Thanks for reading!

Lauren

P.S. I’m not trying to preach conservatism–just using this as a forum for thinking through the intersection of social media and professional goals.

Business Time, Reading + Writing

professionalism, social media, twitter 3 Comments

Words to ELIMINATE from Your Writing

Jun 16 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

I just finished the first draft of DIVE (Hooray!), but now I’m left with no writing to do (Boo!). So I decided to compile a list of words to eliminate from my writing once I get back to work on my manuscript.

With the help of Twitter and Facebook, I came up with a pretty solid list. Obviously this is a) not a complete list, and b) not meant to suggest that you MUST ALWAYS REMOVE THESE WORDS.

In fact…a lot of the time these words are EXTREMELY useful (see what I did there?)

Take a look, and if you can think of any more words to add to my list, let me know in the comments!

WORDS TO ELIMINATE

• Very/Really/Totally/Extremely
• Basically/Actually/Generally
• Definitely
• Suddenly/ All of a sudden
• Then
• In order to
• Is/Am/Are/Was/Were
• Started/Began
• That
• Like
• Had
• Got
• So
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•Asked

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• But

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Will this list help you with your writing? Do you disagree with my list? Did I miss any? Let me know in the comments!

Thanks for reading!

Lauren

Reading + Writing 18 Comments

I’m Still Here!

Jun 07 2013 | Posted by Lauren Spieller

I’ve been really bad about blogging recently. I was on a roll there for a while, but then I went to Mexico and POOF. Fell of the wagon.

So, here’s a quick update:

I went to Los Cabos. It was beautiful and we had a great time. Pictures coming soon.
I haven’t been writing a ton, but I have recently completed the 17th chapter of DIVE. Only 7 more to go! (that means I have between 24 and 29k words to go, for you writerly types).
My sister moved back to Los Angeles! She’s going to start her acting career soon, but for now she’s getting back into the swing of living in LA. In the meantime, we’re hanging out and baking cookies and it’s GREAT.

I found out that I’m going to COMIC-CON! I am extremely excited.
I came up with an idea for my next novel. It’s going to be YA Horror, and I am PUMPED.
I didn’t get a job I kind of wanted, but I’m not feeling too bummed about it. I honestly don’t think it was the right position for me anyway. Now I just gotta jump back on the application train.

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I read I AM NOT A SERIAL KILLER and PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER, and I am now about 10 chapters into THE 5TH WAVE. It is pretty great so far.
I bought 4 bunches of Peonies. Here are a few of them:
I started watching Grey’s Anatomy. I like it, but I don’t love it. Yet.
I made 2 people *very sad* with my writing. I consider this a success, since it was on purpose.

I’m sure other stuff has happened, but that’s all I can remember for now! I’ll be jumping back in on the #row80 posts this Sunday, so if you’re interested in reading an excerpt of Dive, make sure to check back in!

Thanks for reading.

Lauren

Business Time, Decor and More, Living in LA, Plants + Gardening, Reading + Writing, Row 80

Cabo, flowers, reading 1 Comment

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