Are You Readable?

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what makes a book readable. And not just readable, but unputdownable. The kind of book you take with you everywhere because the thought of having a spare moment without it at-the-ready is horrifying. The kind of book you hunch over protectively, obsessively, like Gollum over the Ring, desperate to get as close to the words as possible so you can take them in even quicker and more effectively. The kind of book you are ready to re-read the moment your eyes (reluctantly) settle over the words The End on the final page.

The kind of book that might possess you to do a ludicrous thing like this:

This is my brother and I both trying to read The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan at the same time. Probably not an all-time favorite, but still a good book. And clearly, quite readable. (I can only imagine what kind of wrestling match would have ensued had we been reading The Hunger Games or Harry Potter at the same time.)

In less than a month, I am going to the Highlights Foundation's writers conference in Chautauqua, NY. In an effort to make sure I have a printed manuscript on hand while I am there, I have been frantically editing the holy heck out of Ephemeral, my YA fairy tale, trying to make it thoroughly presentable. Trying to make sure it is strong enough to stand up to professional scrutiny. And desperately hoping it is readable.

Which brought me to the point: what makes a thing readable?

Obviously there are certain elements--fluid prose, good character development, engaging plot, etc.--that are staples of the kinds of books that suck readers right in. But the question remains: what nudges acceptable or good writing over into the realm of the Unputdownable? Like so many things in the book world, I think it largely ends up being subjective. Having to do with taste. But I have another theory.

I think it also has something to do with how much fun the author is having.

For example, J.K. Rowling. You know she didn't start Harry Potter (on a train, on a napkin, as a single mom) because she thought it would be wildly successful. She started it because she couldn't help herself. And when you read her writing, you get the distinct impression that she's having just as much fun writing the story as you are reading it. Same with Stephenie Meyer. And Suzanne Collins. Now, granted Suzanne knew the market when she wrote The Hunger Games, so her genius can't necessarily be chalked up to innocent, self-indulgent fun, but it is clear she was enjoying herself enormously while she wrote it.

It's widely established that writers should write what they want, and not what is popular. Toni Morrison famously said, "If there is a book you want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." And we've all heard, "Write what you know." But how about, "Write what brings you alive"?

If we love the books that were written purely out of love, then it follows that we should try and write books with the same motivation. Love. In my last post, I bemoaned a lack of passion born out of an attempt to cater to the needs and wants of publishing professionals. Thank the Muses, I'm back to having fun with my Word Documents. And it's because I'm writing selfishly, out of love for the story I want to read. Sometimes I think that's the best I can do.

Of course, my opinion is subjective. And I'm still a WIP, after all. (*Smile and wink*)

What about you? Do you love what you write? Does your writing bring you alive? What are some books you've found Unputdownable, and what do you think makes them so engaging?

Staying in Love (With Writing)

The world wide web is positively brimming with advice. And for writers, this advice sometimes seems to be leaking from every electronic orifice in existence. What's more, it usually is not faulty or bad advice; the tips one finds online are often fabulous, helpful, and insightful--born out of hard-earned experience and bloodshed.

It's tempting sometimes to read everything with the attitude of a dehydrated camel: drinking it all in with the determined intent to store up and use it later. I am continuously finding myself thinking things like, Of course! That's the problem! That's why I don't have an agent yet! and then immediately setting myself to the task of reorienting my writing habits to accommodate whatever new tidbit of advice or knowledge I have just found.

But here's what I've discovered lately: it gets overwhelming.

When I was in highschool, I played softball. (Yes, it's amazing, I know.) Before I began to play at such a competitive level, I had had very little technical training. My batting, for example, had never been critiqued; but even so, I was a fair enough hitter. In fact, I had a respectable store of home-runs on my record. But on my high-school team, there was a certain way of batting that every player had to learn--regardless of how well one could hit on one's own.

It transpired that I was absolute rubbish at the new technique. But I pressed on at my coach's insistence; learning her method, drilling the old way out of me until... I simply couldn't hit at all. Either way. An infield grounder on average was my best hit, and I bid farewell to anything better than shallow right-field on a good day. All the advice and training my coach was convinced would make me a better player actually killed both the promise of any improvement and the talent I had come in with.

Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't try to learn writing techniques from those who have gone before, or those who have more experience. We should. Those methods are full of wisdom, and have been tested and deemed successful. But we also shouldn't focus so much on what we think we should be doing that we lose all the natural writing instinct we came into this job with. The instincts and talents born out of an unsullied love for reading, or a pure desire to tell stories. Because when we lose those, I believe we also lose our ability to write with passion and love.

Also when I was in high-school, I wrote my first book. And I won't say it was good (it wasn't), but I loved every minute of it. I wasn't concerned with making it publishable, or writing a story readers would adore, or appealing to agents and editors. I didn't even think of trying to publish it. All I thought was that I had a story I needed to tell, and that I had to get it down on paper or die from the effort of holding it in. I wrote in a spiral notebook which I carried everywhere, and I stole every possible moment to scribble down words in it.

It was intoxicating, that kind of storytelling.

Lately, I've lost that passion. With the desire to publish has come an obsessively ambitious drive that sometimes makes it difficult to write purely for the joy of writing. I want to criticize everything that drops onto the page, search it for all the elements I feel I should include in a publishable story. I shove out my natural impulses in favor of the advice I have read. And it is all good advice. But that advice should not come first. I believe, first and foremost, we should tell a story organically; the way it comes most natural to us. And then, we should try and test it against the methods and elements we believe it should include.

Because how else can we write with passion?

What about you? When you write, do you ever find yourself caught up in a list of To-Do's, trying to include a billion things you know should be present, rather than just letting yourself write? How do you handle it? And if not, how do you keep out the extra stuff and allow your instinctive writer to take over?

Peeta/Gale Poll Results

The results are in, the votes have been tallied... and nothing really turned out the way I expected it to. But isn't that just how life is?

If you visit this link, you can read all about it. http://www.examiner.com/x-22594-Tulsa-Young-Adult-Literature-Examiner~y2010m5d21-Hunger-Games-Poll-Results-Peeta-or-Gale

Meanwhile, if you are considering cooking fresh beets, may I recommend this course of action?
-Wrap them in foil
-Bake at 375 for 45 minutes
-Unwrap, and peel skins under cold water.
-Replace beets in their foil sleepingbags, and cut them up.
-Douse them in red wine vinegar and white sugar.
-Re-wrap them, and cook for another five minutes.
-Eat them. Mmm.

I'm only suggesting this because I just cooked three beets three different ways, and this was BY FAR the best way. Seriously tasty. And good for you, too. Of course, the draw-back is that you're hands (and your kitchen) will look like you've been avidly murdering someone when you're done, but it's it's a small price to pay.

Reasons You Should Write

To the Universe:
Cc: The World, The United States of America

To Whom it May Concern,

Here are some reasons you should write books:

1.) You must.
2.) You can't help yourself (see #1).
3.) You have stories bursting out of you.
4.) You'd feel like a wormy raisin if you didn't.
5.) You're damned good at it.
6.) You're cursed or blessed (see #1 and #2).

Here are some reasons you shouldn't write books:

1.) You're already famous and think you might as well.
2.) You think it sounds like fun.
3.) Your mom says you'd be a best-seller.
4.) You have a cool idea for one.
5.) You've done everything else, and want to expand your resume.
6.) You're an ex-supermodel (see Tyra Banks).

Thank you for your time, Dear Universe. Please do something about this.

Yours most sincerely,

Hanna C. Howard

(With a respectful nod to facepalm.org)

Calling All Hunger Games Fans...

A little over a month ago, I set up a short poll exploring individual reader preferences to the two male protagonists in Suzanne Collins' (fabulous) dystopian series, The Hunger Games. I am fascinated by the way people react to what they read--ie., what they bring to books, what they take away, what they like and what they don't--and the Gale/Peeta dilemma has intrigued me from the start. Even more intriguing was the discovery that there is no clear favorite between these two characters among readers. So, in an effort to discover what kinds of people prefer which hero, I created this poll.

Unfortunately, on the first attempt, I did not get a wide enough range of responses to formulate any kind of theory.

But... I'm still curious.

So, I am going to attempt to revive the poll. I still have room for 98 responses, so if you've read the books and have an opinion, I'd love you to go to the link and offer it up to the poll. Ultimately, my goal is to show some statistics--and hopefully some conclusions--on this blog and on Examiner.com. Because Collins' books are really catching fire (pun shamelessly intended), and the subject gets more interesting every day.

Any thoughts on the exploding phenomenon? I know I've seen a lot of non-readers become fanatical over the Games. And it's beautiful to see. Do you have any stories to share?

Star Wars Day

Okay, I can't get over this. Today is Star Wars Day. Why? Because it's May the 4th. May the Fourth...

May the Fourth be with you.

Seriously. And I can't stop laughing. Awesome.

So, happy Star Wars Day. And may the fourth be with you.

Blogfest, May Day, and Foxes

To begin with, today is Lilah Pierce's Last Lines Blogfest. Check out this link to her post today, and you'll have access to the list of all who are participating. (A gold-mine of last lines--from novels and short stories alike.)

Following these rules...

Sign up below, pull out your favorite ending, and post it to your blog on May 1st. Entries do not have to be last lines only, it is understandable that a build-up may be necessary. I'd say that the previous 25 lines would be a reasonable length. It also does not matter if the last line is for a scene, chapter, or book, just as long as you wrote it. And lastly, don't forget to spread the word! The more people that participate, the more fun the blogfest is!

...I am posting my entry below. These are the last lines from EPHEMERAL, my Beauty & the Beast re-write:


“Yseult!” he cries, incredulous.

“If you can catch me,” I yell over my shoulder, “I’ll marry you whenever you want. But I don’t think you have a chance against me now that you’re human again!”

I am laughing riotously as I fly down the steps toward the open forest. I hear his footsteps behind me, and I remember the first time we raced. It was exhilarating then, just as it is now.

The autumn grass is beneath my feet; slightly brown, crunching as I run. The leaves are falling in the forest, red, orange, and plum. They spin lazily down around me, their pace countering my own light speed. I am smiling so broadly it hurts, but I cannot stop. Behind me, René is laughing like a boy playing chase.

We are young, we are children, but I will let him catch me.

I’ll let him catch me for love, and for change.

When I reach a little clearing in the trees, I turn around to face him, feeling the sunlight on my back like gold. He is running toward me with the light on his face, smiling, radiant with love.

He is running toward me, and a happy tear escapes my eye. I smile at him, my own ephemeral beauty, and skip forward to meet him.


The End.


In other news, it is May Day. Happy May Day! Today is the perfect day to read Corinna's Going A-Maying, by Robert Herrick--one of my favorite springtime poems. (Click here for the pleasure.) Today is also a good day to leave a basket of flowers on someone's doorstep, and then run for it. You might just make their (May) day!

Lastly:

A few moments ago there was a fox at the intersection of my street and the next. He was just sitting there, looking from right to left, as if debating which way to turn. In the end he decided to go left, and continued down Main street at a trot; undoubtedly on his way to some fantastic party. It's nice to see foxes in the city. I always give them a little nod, as if to say: Good. Keep Foxing.



To cap off this May Day morning, there is now a rainbow in the west, where a moment ago there were only angry clouds. Happy Saturday, all! I hope your day is full of beautiful Last Lines, unexpected foxes, and triumphant rainbows.