I wrote about a theory I have about Imposter Syndrome on my SubStack today. I’m pretty proud of this one.
Here’s the Link:
I wrote about a theory I have about Imposter Syndrome on my SubStack today. I’m pretty proud of this one.
Here’s the Link:
Imposter Syndrome as a Tool of Self- Discovery by Cami, the Author
Refining Authenticity
Read on SubstackI made mention of sci fi and dystopian in an earlier post (click here for that), but I’m circling back specifically considering the space opera. As a definition, space opera as a category is a story set in outer space that is typically simplistic in nature and dramatic. The most famous space opera: Star Wars. Nebulous futures, scientific explanations about flying through space, the end of the human race, robots, artificial intelligence, heroes who need to save the day. You get it, right? And with my focus on The Ring Academy: The Trials of Imogene Sol—which is most definitely a space opera—and its impending release, my mind is a bit preoccupied in this category.
So look…a lot of the same lessons I’ve mentioned from earlier posts apply here, but rather than be repetitive, here are three new ideas to twist the lesson which can be applied to any category of writing.
Read any info heavy science fiction novel (ah hem… Dune…) and you’ll understand that just like a fantasy story, it’s easy to get caught up in the minutiae of the information that defines the story. The problem, of course, is information dumping and information overload (which I’ll cover in a moment). This turns off most readers. What great writers in the category do well is parcel out information that is relevant to the necessary questions. Of course a reader has questions about the world, but not all the questions are necessary to the story. Not all of them fill in the gaps of the plot hole. While the author has a lot of the questions answered, that doesn’t mean the story needs all of them answered. The trick is identifying which ones need to be answered for the sake of the story.
One of my favorite dystopian writers is Paolo Bacigalupi (Ship Breaker, The Drowned Cities, and Tool of War). The cool thing that Bacigalupi does that I’ve seen some of my favorite fantasy writer’s employ is drop the reader right into the world and unfold the world around them as if the reader is already a member of the society. I LOVE this technique. A perfect literal example of this technique is The Maze Runner by James Dasher. The reader is Thomas dropped into the maze having to learn on the fly what’s what and how he fits in. The pros of this is that you avoid the pitfall of the info dump, and like the character, the reader uncovers the world and the conflict as they go.
There is inherent danger in losing the reader when an author embarks on information overload. I get the temptation to include all the cool things developed in world building, but just because it exists, doesn’t mean it’s relevant to the narrative arc. Well-written books in this category recognize this and employ an “as needed” methodology by understanding which questions need to be answered.
Which leads to the next point…
Space opera (which encompasses Sci Fi/Dystopian) writers build worlds like fantasy writers, but then they destroy them. There is a methodology to this madness of course, even if they make it look effortless. But then consider that a wonderful fantasy story’s world is important to overall conflict from political machinations to traditions and systems impeding a hero’s journey. In Sci Fi/Dystopian the structure of the world and its demise is often the narrative architecture around which the conflict is built.
It’s clear when we enter habitat with Mark Watney in The Martian by Andy Weir, the structure of not only the immediate place is a functional place, but also that as a reader, the structure of the story is about survival. We are surviving with Mark, we are invested in his success, in the tension between learning he will connect with NASA. Or as we siphon through the missives of World War Z, the means by which author Max Brooks structured the novel makes it necessary to understand the hows and whys and what-fors in order to understand the movement of the narrative. The world, the creatures (think Alien) are so integral to the story, they can’t be removed or changed without impacting the overall narrative structure becoming a character in and of themselves.
Which then leads to:
It might be easy to develop a story in this category so high above a reader’s understanding that it becomes inaccessible. But strong writer’s of this category make sure that the average reader is as much an expert as the scientist character or the super computer. Isaac Asimov is a great example of this. A very talented scientist (physicist), he was a pioneer in the science fiction realm of writing, making science fiction accessible (check out his Foundation series).
And really, that’s what any category is about right? Making the narrative accessible to the reader so that they fall in love with the story.
I don’t know about other authors, but I don’t walk into a draft of a story knowing how the narrative is going to go. I start with skeleton pieces: a random scene, a character, an image I need to explore and understand. Then, as I continue writing, the narrative develops, sort of exploding outward. Another metaphor: It’s like a developing polaroid. I know there’s a story and I’ve snapped a picture, but it’s taking time (and processing) to develop.
When I started drafting In the Echo of this Ghost Town, it started with the fight scene between Tanner and Griffin. This scene is in The Stories Stars Tell, but I rewrote it from Griffin’s perspective. When I’d finished it, I knew I had the beginning of Griffin’s story and a really good question that needed answering: What happens when someone reaches rock bottom?
This pushed me to continue writing. The deeper I got into telling Griffin’s story, however, the more I struggled with him. I knew that structurally, if I were to pick up Griffin’s story as a reader, wading through the darkness with him without any light would be terrible! To combat that, I added Maxwell’s voice. I thought the story would follow a similar pattern to The Stories Stars Tell, dual, alternating perspectives. Pretty early on, however, I knew this wasn’t going to work, Especially when Griffin’s story swelled to 190,000 words.
This meant (besides cutting), I needed to determine how this story was going to fit together.
My other books have varied structures. Swimming Sideways is told chronologically. The Ugly Truth is told with a present timeline of “now” that branches into flashbacks of “before.” The Bones of Who We Are is told backward with a forward dream state thread. The Stories Stars Tell is told mostly chronologically with a few flashbacks peppered in to make sure the relationship and characterization were established. These choices weren’t made beforehand but were sort of born from the organic development of the story, hence the polaroid.
Griffin’s story and Max’s companion story When the Echo Answers weren’t any different. Both are chronological. For Griffin’s journey, however, I broke it up by months. It felt like a natural fit for his story to demonstrate the way someone might be able to change over time.
How do I know this is “right”? I don’t. Not really. To claim it's instinctual isn’t helpful for you, so here’s another tip that might be more concrete and useful. I’ve studied narrative structure for years, so when considering how to tell the story, it’s important for me to use the three act structure and Vogler’s Hero’s Journey work based on the work by Joseph Campbell (some might suggest Save the Cat! which is a great resource as well). For example, many years ago when I was writing The Ugly Truth, I had the story set up chronologically. I couldn’t get the narrative structure to work even though I knew I had the pieces I needed. Using the Hero’s Journey, I plugged in the pieces and realized that the story was out of order, hence the shift to employing the flashbacks interspersed throughout. Being willing to try something different with the structure worked and solidified for me the practice of being willing to let go of how I think it should be for how it is.
It’s the final update for the April Challenge. There’s good news and bad news.
I’ll start with the bad: I didn’t write everyday.
I have learned this month that an important part of my writing process is the necessity to step away and allow the story to rest while the flavors meld. It reminds me a bit of that space between a finished draft and a revision. When I attempt to force it, I mess things up—like globbing on too much makeup— and then have to do a lot of rewriting. When I’m patient, however, I’m able to approach the writing with clear understanding and perspective. So this month, those goose egg days were time spent away, but time thinking things through.
So, the good news is that this first draft is complete even if it’s only bones. Better yet, I have a sense of how to revise! Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
I must share some credit for this breakthrough. My wonderful writer friends, Brandann R. Hill-Mann, author of The Hole in the World series, and Stephanie Keesey-Phelan were gracious enough to read the first act for me. Brandann offered me this golden nugget: “What would happen if this story occurred in a white room, removing the setting?” The obvious outcome is that if you can remove the story to a white room and the story essentially remains the same, the setting either doesn’t matter OR the setting isn’t working hard enough to help tell the story.
Lightbulb moment!
I realized while I could remove this story to a new setting and still have a story, that wasn’t my problem. I’ve written strong characters, and one of my strengths as a writer is being able to write character driven narrative, but plot driven narrative, which is important to fantasy as a category, is sorely lacking. My problem was that I hadn’t weaved the setting enough into the conflict to support the plot driven element.
So dear friends, I’m smiling as I finish out this April Challenge, because I have a draft, and I have a sense of which way is forward. THAT is exactly what I’d hoped to achieve. Time to set this book aside for several weeks, work on that setting and conflict, then it’s time to revise.
Are we coming or going at this point? I’m not sure. It would seem I’m just following the road, windows down, music blasting and hoping beyond all hopes that the car is headed in the right direction. At least I have you all with me.
We just passed the week six marker. SIX WEEKS!?! Can you believe it? Feels like yesterday that I started this Independent Author Marketing Series, and now we’re here at the six week mark. Three weeks left until The Cantos Chronicles rereleases, and though it’s difficult to tell with accuracy, *preorders seem strong (which potentially is exciting).
*based on numbers provided by wholesale book distributor.
The method to keep things on the road this week involved these check list items:
I listened to a great 15 minute podcast by Mixtus Media this week that purported it isn’t necessary to spread yourself too thin by doing ALL Social Media hotspots. Maybe that’s a little like visiting Disneyland and California Adventure and trying to do both parks and all the rides in one day. Instead, chose the format that works best and commit to that one. My favorite is Instagram. I touch base on Facebook. I’m rarely on Twitter. I do a drop in of Tumblr, but I spend the bulk of my social media presence on good old IG.
My GOAL for IG this week was to offer a bit more character depth to potential readers. All three protagonists (Abby, Seth and Gabe) were featured in my stories. Truthfully, I don’t think it worked as well as I had hoped. It was my fault - the premise of asking characters questions operates on the assumption that people already know them. What do you ask if you haven’t read the story? On the other hand, people who have read the stories saved me by asked some questions. Those answers may have offered potential readers food for thought. What do you think?
I don’t think the idea is a bad one, just perhaps that the execution could have been better.
Add to the Instagram mix, my awesome helpers on the book review and book recommendation blitz have been posting - one a day. That has been lovely to see and share. Anyone see a post from someone else that sparked your attention?
One more social media point was the completion of a flash giveaway on Instagram. It was a quick: “First 10 people to comment about some such or other will receive an ebook copy of Swimming Sideways.” It moved quickly, ten people received the ebook and hopefully they LOVE it! My thinking was to get some advanced copies out into the world to 1) generate excitement, 2) provide an early copy, and 3) perhaps inspire more people to share.
Further planning was done for a book signing at my local Barnes & Noble in Honolulu. With the Hawaii Literacy Project contacted and the event planners at my local B&N on board, the end of April or early May is looking like it might be a real possibility; I will use my newsletter to announce an event like this. When the plan solidifies, it will be a bit like turning full circle because I started this journey way back in November and it became the impetus for the entire rebrand of The Cantos Chronicles books.
I contacted two local book events: A children’s literature conference held in June as well as a Book Festival held in October. I applied to both as a panelist and vendor and will be presenting at the Children’s Literature Conference in June! Still waiting to hear back on the second event, but I will keep you posted. This means I will have an event in April, perhaps one in May, one in June, one in July, am working on October and still waiting to hear back about November.
In addition to those events, I met with a high school librarian to develop a workshop for high school students about creativity. This presentation will happen at the high school where I work in April, but I’ll get to serve in a different capacity outside the realm of classroom teacher and stepping into the role of published author.
Finally, I’m giving away all of the remaining ARCs of the books to my students. They are super excited and don’t care that there are editorial mistakes in the books. Their response was: “Mrs. C, we won’t even know the mistakes are there.” (I don’t know if that is a reflection of my teaching or something else - LOL).
The road is stretched out ahead of us. Are we going the right direction? I think so. I’m feeling confident, accomplished and filled with hope that where ever the road leads is exactly where I’m supposed to go. Did I have some missed turns -yeah, I think so - but that’s learning, right? With Week Six Independent Author Road Trip Marketing Journey stretched out along the asphalt behind us, we’re on to Week Seven. Only two more blogs until The Cantos Chronicles rerelease, and a final post to wrap up the road trip. I am super interested to know what you’ve noticed over the last six weeks? What has stood out? What kinds of questions are popping up for you? How can any of my experiences help inform you moving forward? Be sure to follow me on IG (@cl.walters) and keep an eye out for questions about this series in a couple of weeks.
My father - my rock - passed away in October 2017. I miss him everyday. I didn’t think I would ever find the words to write again. When I tried, all that made it to the page were visceral and painful images of where I was stuck: my cave. About six months later, I was sitting at a traffic light and heard Abby say “I need you to write my story.” The pilot light was relit, and I found my way through a new draft of SWIMMING SIDEWAYS.
The summer of 2018, with SWIMMING SIDEWAYS and THE UGLY TRUTH drafted, I went home to Oregon for a month to help my mom and sister go through my father’s things. Most of the month was spent broken-hearted, trudging through necessary spaces. I cleaned the garage breathing in my father’s work space and going through each of his tools. This was something my mother wasn’t going to be able to do. My dad and his workshop were symbiotic; he could fix anything, and his workshop reflected this. So, immersion in his workshop, going through each of his toolboxes and trinkets, the jars of things he saved because they’d come in handy one day, cracked me open. Somehow, in the breaking of my heart and the diligent reorganization of his things, I was able to assemble the broken parts of myself back together. It was during this four weeks in Oregon that I began drafting Gabe’s story, and as I stitched myself back together, Gabe’s began to unravel.
I’ve warned readers that Gabe’s story isn’t an easy story to experience, and that is because THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE deals with heavy topics: bullying, depression, identity, loss, grief. Maybe in a way, the loss of my father is reflected in the pain of Gabe. My pain became his, though Gabe’s story was always this, I just couldn’t write it before. The pivotal scene in the book - the reason Gabe is who he is - was written back in 2009, eight years before I lost my father; nine years before I went through his workshop and faced my own undoing.
Perhaps, I was never going to be equipped to tell Gabe’s story without understanding the complete loss of someone so essential to my own identity. Perhaps, sitting inside my father’s workshop by myself allowed me to grasp loss, life, and grief in a way I never would have without that struggle. As writers our life experiences impact the depth of our knowledge. Virginia Woolf wrote, “Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works.” So, I suppose by realizing how painful it was to look at my father’s empty steel-toed work boots and be slammed with the awareness of how much I missed him, it forced me to jump into the deep end of loss. When the only thing I could do was climb into bed and bury myself in romance novels because those stories were as much as I could handle to not sink and drown, I found a way to tread water. Perhaps, this trial was the only way I was ever going to be able to empathize with Gabe’s experience.
THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE isn’t an easy story, but then life, love, loss, grief never are. That is the truth of what it means to be human. We hurt, but there is power in the warmth of hope. That - the hope - is what my father would have loved about Gabe’s story.