The Right Way to Change (in Literature and in Life)

Pots – Water Pots (Photo credit: NisargPhotography)

As a writer, I struggle to create the pieces of a story that can’t be revealed through dialogue and plot. Part of the reason I struggle with this in writing is because I struggle with it in life. In everyday interactions, I rely almost entirely on what people tell me and what happens. Partly, I’m this way because as a teenager, I decided that it’s incredibly unfair to hypothesize or make assumptions about another person, and thus made it my mission to maintain a perception that matched up as completely as possible to the observable, real-world person in front of me as I could. However well-intentioned I may have been in trying to avoid unfair judgment of another person, though, I inadvertently led myself away from looking beneath the surface, which is quite the tragedy, because most of who we are is beneath the surface. For example, a character or person’s shifts of identity and heart might slowly manifest themselves in his or her behavior and speech, but the change occurs long before it becomes observable.

But how do I write that?

Also, how do people actually change?

Several years ago, there was someone who started attending my church, and almost immediately set out to change some of our stances on issues and certain doctrines we held to. When Dave (Pastor) and I were talking about the situation, I was overwhelmingly sympathetic to the new person. I expressed my beliefs that she wasn’t ill-intentioned and that she needed grace, as well as my broken-heartedness for her; I viewed the church’s response to her as a little mean.

Then Dave said something. He said that God is the one who changes us; she doesn’t get to direct that change.

As a writer, I’m ridiculously well-planned. I don’t like starting without an outline for each and every chapter, along with any number of other “plotter” tactics in place. I write character sketches; I create soundtracks for each scene; I draw maps, and I even create Sims characters or draw really bad sketches to ensure that nothing is left to chance… I have to know everything about every aspect of the story before I write. Then, I force my characters to do what I want them to do, and get frustrated when the plan has to change. And, instead of changing the plan, I just throw all of my work out and start all over at the beginning.

But what if there’s something to just sitting down and writing. I don’t subscribe to all the hippie, “pantser” mumbo-jumbo about letting the characters show me the story, but I also probably shouldn’t outline myself into a corner, eh?

In life, I’ve been trying pretty hard for the past couple of years to just see what happens. I usually stick myself into certain, highly-arbitrary routines, and force myself to keep them, but it seemed like God was ruining all of my routines for awhile there, so I thought that might have been His way of telling me to knock it off.

So I stopped.

I stopped planning every moment of every day; I stopped keeping routines that I didn’t feel like keeping; I stopped attending events that I didn’t have a good reason for attending… I just stopped.

And it’s really difficult to just exist and wait, but that’s what I’ve been doing. I know it probably doesn’t seem like that from the outside, because what others see is that I bought a house, signed up to go to Asia next year, shifted my teaching focus from ELLs to gen. ed., etc…. But, believe it or not, I haven’t been trying to do anything at all. I’ve just let things come my way. or not. and I’ve been patient.

Because changes happen mysteriously and invisibly, and it’s not for me to direct them.

Going off of what’s observable, it seems as if I’m changing in a few specific ways… but those changes are imaginary. Instead, God is changing me how He wills, in ways that haven’t yet manifested  themselves in words or actions.

Still, in the two years that I’ve been trying to be patient and malleable, a few people have said and done things that seem an awful lot like creating a Sim character of me and then trying to make me into that character.

And each time, I’ve felt myself struggling that same internal conflict that came with the new girl who wanted to change a church’s doctrines: Am I being mean by ignoring other people’s aims for me? Sometimes it feels mean, because I know what it feels like to look at another and think I know what he should do and be. I know what it feels like to believe I see his primary flaw and the one change that he should make in his life because it would fix everything.

And that’s why I’m still writing Weston’s story – because I’ve fixed him rather than letting him change slowly, invisibly, in a way that I can’t contrive.

So, while I know (all-too-well) the urge to just fix the problem, I’m trying to do a better job of reserving myself for the changes God has in mind for me (and for Weston too). It’s entirely possible that the flaws people see in me and the ones I see in Weston are terrible and need fixing… but those flaws aren’t for human hands to reshape, because only God’s hands are strong enough to change earthen vessels.

 

Finding and Being an Excellent Critique Partner… And Friend

Mémoires d’un critique (1896) by French writer Jules Levallois (1829-1903) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Every time I come across a blog or forum with “critique partner classifieds”, I enter a description of my manuscript. Usually no one responds, but, even so, I’ve been blessed with a handful of short, helpful partnerships throughout the past three years. Recently, I entered an ad on Mary Cole’s blog Kidlit, hoping some magic might connect me with the long-term partner I’ve been seeking.

It didn’t.

A writer (who will remain Nameless) contacted me, saying something like: I”‘m writing a contemporary YA romance and would love to exchange query letters and first chapters.”

Even though romance isn’t my thing, I responded. I let her know that I haven’t yet written a query, but offered to exchange first chapters. I also gave her some background on myself (always a good idea when attempting to build any type of relationship out of thin air) and my first chapter. In the background, I gave her the basics… unpublished, unrepresented, big-picture critquer who is good with plot structure and character development… Plus, the personal… 28, interested in minority main characters and the church, high school English teacher, etc…

My expectation: I thought Nameless would probably write up an email about her background and her manuscript, letting me know what she wants feedback on, her vision for her current manuscript, and her writing experience. I thought she’d probably attach her first chapter, and take a week to look over what I sent her.

Reality: Nameless responded two hours later with her critique of my work. It was two paragraphs long. The first paragraph said that she thought I should show rather than tell. The second paragraph was a quote from Writer’s Digest. Then, she attached her query letter and the first three chapters of her manuscript.

Okay, so I get that there are writers out there who haven’t done the critique partner thing before, and they deserve some slack. It seemed like Nameless was one of those. However, what she did was INCREDIBLY rude for at least two reasons:

• She didn’t give me helpful feedback. EVERYONE who’s done ANY research on the craft of writing knows the phrase “show; don’t tell”. Everyone. Therefore, the point of having a critique partner is to help with that. She’s supposed to SHOW how to do it by pointing out specific sentences/passages in my writing where I should have done it, but didn’t. She’s supposed to offer her thoughts on individual words in my manuscript as well as an overall critique. She should also be asking questions, offering opinions, and editing my conventions. Instead, she spent a few minutes meeting an obligation so that we could move on to her.

• She sent me MUCH more work than I sent her. In the beginning of a partnership, there’s a balance that has to be achieved. It’s chapter for chapter, because neither of us has committed to the partnership or knows what the partnership will look like. She sent me AT LEAST three times as much work as she did for me, which left me with the unfortunate dilemma of how much feedback to give her. I knew I didn’t want to be her partner, but I didn’t want to be a critiquer like her. I wanted to be helpful and selfless in the relationship even if she wasn’t.

So… I took almost exactly a week to get back to her and began my email with the following:

“Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I was having a dilemma about how much feedback to give you. I’m used to inserting comments into the document, and giving specific feedback, but I decided to mirror your style as best I can.”

That was my polite way of pointing out her error. I figured she just didn’t know how things work and needed a gentle nudge,

Then, I wrote close to ten paragraphs of critique on her first chapter and query letter. Normally, I’d have written those paragraphs AND inserted my comments into the actual document, investing about 45 minutes per page she sent, and it killed me to only complete less than half of the job.

My expectation: I thought Nameless would see how much feedback I’d given her, and realize what this critique partner thing entails. I thought she might even go back and re-read my first chapter so she could make the trade a little more equal.

Reality: She responded with two different emails. In one, she wrote that my critiques were right in line with what she was hearing from agents (whoohoo!), but that she wasn’t sure what she should do to fix the problematic premise of her story. In her second email, she wrote about how she’d written an alternate version of her opening chapter and wanted me to look at it. As an afterthought, she suggested I send her more of my manuscript.

After that, I realized that my true annoyance didn’t have anything to do with her inexperience; it stemmed from my expectation that critique partnerships should be similar to friendships. I believe that being an excellent critique partner requires the same character qualities and skill set that friendship requires. In order to critique well, I have to put aside my thoughts about what I’m working on… and replace them with thoughts about what my partner is working on. I have to resist the urge to use her… and instead help her. And she has to do the same for me.

Sadly, I’m not 100% sure Nameless even read what I sent her. She was so focused on her story and her characters that she couldn’t even spare a week to think about mine. She was looking for a hired hand rather than a friend. She wanted someone to serve her, but she was unwilling to serve another oblivious to her call to service. Had she hired me as a freelance editor, I would have gladly worked on her project without any help for mine, and perhaps she would be better off taking that route, but a voluntary partnership shouldn’t be quite so one-sided.

Last week, I let Nameless know that it wasn’t going to work out, but now, I’m wondering if I should tell her why. Should I just move on, or provide her with a bit more feedback? Does she need help understanding the etiquette of critiquing? Or am I an ass to even think about telling her how it should be done?

 

Lyrics I’m Loving

“The worst things in life come free to us…

‘cus we’re just under the upper hand…

She don’t wanna go outside tonight…

It’s too cold outside for angels to fly…”

(Ed Sheeran “A-Team”)

“…I drink myself of newfound pity
Sitting alone in New York City
And I don’t know why.

…

So I walk up on high,and I step to the edge, to see my world below. And I laugh at myself while the tears roll down, because it’s the world I know,”

(Collective Soul “The World I Know”)

“It’s not a cry that you hear at night. It’s not someone who has seen the light. It’s a cold and broken Hallelujah,” (K.D. Lang’s version of “Hallelujah”)

“Bless the Lord, oh my soul. Oh my soul. Worship His holy name. Sing like never before, oh my soul. I worship your holy name,” (Matt Redman “10,000 Reasons”)

Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older
Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long
And wouldn’t it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong

You know its gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new
And after having spent the day together
Hold each other close the whole night through

Happy times together we’ve been spending
I wish that every kiss was never ending
Wouldn’t it be nice

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true
Baby then there wouldn’t be a single thing we couldnt do
We could be married
And then wed be happy

Wouldn’t it be nice

You know it seems the more we talk about it
It only makes it worse to live without it
But lets talk about it
Wouldn’t it be nice

(Who knew the Beach Boys were being all fuzzy romantic in that one?)

 

The WHY Dilemma

I’ve been writing again, which is great, but I’ve rejoined my manuscript only to find that the same problems it had when I left off are still problems. The primary one I’m focused on right now is character motivation.

In my story, an incredibly clever, fun, beautiful girl from a good family REALLY likes someone it doesn’t make sense for her to like, and I’m not sure how to solve this problem.

My first instinct was to reveal something in the past that made her like him… even though it seems like he’s an idiot who she could never have true affections for, maybe there’s something more to him than we’ve seen. This is my favorite solution to the problem because it overcomes a few additional problems with their friendship, including the fact that they don’t have much positive chemistry (they’re awkward together) and they don’t have anything in common. Also, she’s not driven completely by emotions, and this solution offers the opportunity to involve her mind in the attraction.

My lazy instinct is to say that she can’t control who she likes. It doesn’t matter how smart she is or how wrong the match is, we sometimes love people we oughtn’t to love and there’s no reason or logic to it. She loves him because she does.

The problem with ALL solutions is that they either elevate his character or degrade hers. Every time I try to write a moment where she sees something deeper and valuable in him, it makes him seem lovable; it makes him into a secretly good guy… and he isn’t. He’s a mess in the he-needs-therapy sort of way. He’s a depressed partier who can’t seem to get a break in life and just makes his own situation worse by his foolishness and uncontrollable emotions. So I can’t make him it seem like he’s redeemable. It ruins the story if he’s redeemable. And she loses some of her credibility and lovability if she loves someone who is unredeemable.

Now… when I take this into real life, it’s completely plausible to me that she would be an amazing girl in love with an idiot. The question is how to make it plausible in the story.

So I thought I’d start by polling you good people…

Why do amazing people fall in love with wretched ones? Is it the way they look? Is it a desire to redeem them? Is it impossible to answer this question? Have you ever loved an unredeemable person? Why did you love him or her?

 

The Inconsequential Ending

I’ve been thinking recently about the proper process for writing a book review. I wrote a review on Goodreads a few weeks back, and someone I don’t know responded with a bit of criticism because I hadn’t finished reading the book before reviewing it. I frequently review books without having finished them, and I actually believe it’s a good practice.

In the review in question, I mentioned that I hadn’t finished reading the book and didn’t intend to, and therefore, it may not have been a valid representation of the book as a whole. I believe that sort of feedback is more beneficial to prospective readers than reviews in which we struggle tirelessly through the bog of purple prose and nonredeemable characters. Often, if I push myself to finish a book I’m hating, I end up ranting all over the interwebs and to everyone I know about how horrible every aspect of the book is. On the other hand, if I tell readers that I didn’t finish because I didn’t like it, I’m usually more constructive in my criticisms because I don’t feel like I’ve wasted hours of my life reading sub-par work.

Also, I’m just not sure I believe endings are very important.

If, as a teacher, I lecture on how the writing process is at least equally as important to becoming a good writer as the product is, then I also have to believe that the journey is at least equally as important as the destination in other areas of study and life.

I’ve written before about how difficult vulnerability is for me because of the uncertainty of outcomes. And yet, I believe vulnerability is one of the noblest actions of the human experience. Similarly, if a book is worthwhile, the ending is of little importance. What matters is the characters, their desires, their tribulations, and the world they live in. While finishing well is important, a well-run race that ends in defeat doesn’t suddenly become a poorly-run race (unless we’re considering the spiritual realm of heaven and hell here… so don’t think of this too theologically or it won’t work), nor does an amazing story transform into a mediocre one because it ends badly.

Think of poor Frodo’s journey to Mordor.

What if he’d died? What if Sauron had won and covered Middle Earth in a second darkness? Does the rest of the story become a waste? Should Frodo have stayed in the Shire without even trying?

And think of Harry.

What if Voldemort had killed him? Would that mean that Lilly’s sacrifice was stupid? Would it mean that she should have let her son be murdered so that she could be “the woman who lived”?

Of course not.

We all agree that it’s more important to try. We all agree that certain journeys must be attempted, and the while the outcome matters, it doesn’t dictate the choices we make about setting out to destroy the Death Star.

Therefore, I often write book reviews before I know how stories end. For, if I’m unable to estimate the book’s value prior to the ending, it musn’t be a very worthwhile book, because the value of the journey is based entirely on its success or failure. The best journeys justify themselves, as do the best books. They don’t need perfect endings if the journey was worthwhile to begin with, and I’ve never read an excellent book in which the ending significantly altered my judgment of the book as a whole. Never.