Call for Betas

Well, well, well!  Look who it is!

Yep.  It's me.

Nothing like a lengthy, unplanned hiatus to make you forget you have a blog, eh?  But I've remembered, and what's more, I've decided to keep on remembering.  In other words, I think it's time to get back in the proverbial blog saddle and start posting again.  Because I'm inches away from finishing my first revision of SUNCHILD, and that means more time for other types of writing.

Which brings me to the main purpose of this post.

I need beta readers.  

(If you don't have the foggiest idea what a beta reader is, click this link and have a look at what Casey McCormick has to say on the subject.)

What I'll be asking you to do, essentially, is to read the manuscript from beginning to end, while keeping a shrewd eye out for things that slow you down, things that don't make sense, and things that make you want to stop reading and go vomit instead (although I hope there will be very few of those instances).  Your assistance in this vital step of the revision process will help me iron out kinks in plot, pacing, and flow, and will demonstrate to me what more needs to happen before SUNCHILD will be ready for querying.  But please be advised, should you decide to offer your help, that the manuscript is still in rough draft form.  It will at times be very like slogging through a swamp.

The book, in case you are wondering, is YA fantasy, and it is currently floating at a little over 100,000 words.  Essentially, it's about a girl with a magical connection to the sun who lives in a land that's cursed by darkness, facing this question: how can a sunchild be who she's meant to be--and save her kingdom to boot--when she has never even seen the sun?  (For more, please click here.)

If you are interested in being a beta reader for SUNCHILD, please email me at hanna.c.howard(at)gmail.com, and I will add you to the list of people whom I will love and adore forever and ever, amen, and send you a very fat attachment on Friday, July 29, which is my self-inflicted deadline.

If you are not interested, then this post is largely irrelevant to you, and I must therefore beg you to stay tuned for my next missive, because I promise I'll return soon.  No more shlepping along silently.  I'm back, now, and I'm determined to stay.  Let's talk writing, folks, and let's talk life.

Let's be e-friends, shall we?

Some (Cool) Annoucements

I'm afraid to say that this is one of those "pimp yourself" posts that I hate so much.  I've been putting it off for several weeks, but the time for its relevance will soon have passed, and I feel it must be done.  Writers, after all, must do their own PR, no matter how much they loathe the task.

So.

I wanted to give you all, my dear friends on the World Wide Web, a few quick announcements pertaining to the book I recently decided to shove into the proverbial Drawer, titled BEAUTIFUL MONSTER.  The first, and most important one is this:

As if determined to spite me for banishing it to the Drawer, the novel has recently advanced to the semi-finals of Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Contest.  You can visit its page by clicking this link, and if you're really feeling generous, you can read the excerpt and leave me a wee review.

Second, Ana Mardoll, a dear reviewer who unearthed my book in this same contest last year, interviewed me a few weeks ago about BEAUTIFUL on her blog.  You can read that interview by clicking here.

And third, I have recently made BEAUTIFUL available for online download if anyone should wish to read it in full.  You can investigate that possibility here.

Whoosh.  Okay, now I'm done with that stuff.  Time to pimp someone else. 

My dear friends at YARN (The Young Adult Review Network) received some exciting news yesterday.  They have been selected as recipients of the Innovations in Reading Prize, given by the National Book Foundation (yes, the same people who give the National Book Awards), which is a TRULY big deal, and so awesome for a publication as wonderful as they are.  If you've never visited their website, please go now and check out all the great things they're doing.  I can assure you that they are on the brink of a remarkable career.  (Here is their post about winning the award.)

And finally, a question for you that is totally irrelevant: Since April showers bring May flowers (and pilgrims, yeah), and we are at last into May, what is your favorite May flower?  If you could have a bouquet or a pot of one flower right now, what would it be?

This one's mine:

Have I Mentioned How Much I Like Quotes?

"The research is the easiest.  The outline is the most fun.  The first draft is the hardest, because every word of the outline has to be fleshed out.  The rewrite is very satisfying."  -Ken Follett

I'm with you, Ken.  I'm with you.

Anyone else with him?

On Typing THE END.

You might have noticed that I've been rather scarce around here for the last few months.  Here's one reason:

This means that I work at a plant nursery, and spring is our equivalent to the Christmas season. 

But here is the the main reason:

This is Siria Nightingale.  She's the protagonist in my WIP, and she's done a fairly good job of keeping me singularly occupied since December.  Turns out, her story was one of those utterly consuming ones that doesn't let you rest until you've sat your little self down and told it in full.  But here's the good news: Today I typed the words, THE END at the bottom of Siria's word document.  This means I can relax a little bit, because revisions are not quite as consuming as first drafts tend to be.

But that brings me to the main point of this post.  I have a few questions for you all.  

If you are a writer, here's your question:

When you type THE END, what does your next step tend to be?  How do you personally approach the massive undertaking of revising, editing, and polishing your manuscript?  Do you use beta readers?  And if so, how do you find them, and what do you ask them to do?

And if you are a reader, here's yours:

What do you expect out of the ends of books?  What has made you feel most satisfied when you close the back cover of a book, and what makes you want to open the front cover right away and read it all over again?  How do you feel about cliffhanger endings?  In a series, what kind of ending makes you ache with satisfaction, even knowing that you have more books to read before you know the whole story?

Please share!  I have loved hearing your responses to previous questions, and I find the variety of opinions fascinating.  Happy Monday to you all!

If You Have an Opinion, I Want to Hear It...

And it's a quick question:

If you were ordering a YA Fantasy novel, how would you like your romance?

Subtle and quiet, and not a primary focus?

One of the secondary plot points?

One of the primary plot points?

Or outstripping all other details?  (Actually, I think we just call that genre "Romance.")

As I plug away on my WIP, I find myself wondering idly what readers want most.  Even if it doesn't change the way you write, it's still interesting to know.  So put on your reader hats, all you writers, and tell me what you like best in your YA Fantasy.

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And extra points if you can identify all the books these couples come from... Happy Wednesday!

Raise a Glass to Turnings of the Season

[ATTENTION: This post has almost nothing at all to do with writing. I know. It's weird. I sometimes forget I have ordinary human things in my life, too. But hang in there, and don't judge me too fiercely. I'll go back to being strictly writerly in my next post.]

Oklahoma doesn't get blizzards. Ever.

Except lately.

The last week and a half have felt remarkably like living in the Arctic tundra, or in Narnia, or maybe on a wintry frontier. We had eighteen inches of snow with the first bout last Monday, then an additional four or five inches a few days later, and then today, about four more. This would not be a big deal if we were (like so many other places who had blizzards) a city who knew what to do with snow, but as it happens, Oklahoma is decidedly unprepared for any accumulation beyond two inches. The consequence? Most everyone I know has spent the last eight days caved up in their houses like bears, or hiking cross-country in full Eskimo gear, desperate for some social contact--or just bread and milk.

I've spent the larger part of those eight days working on my WIP (50,000 words! There's an allusion to writing, guys!) or exploring the frontier with my canine friend Ophelia, who turns into an arctic wolf in the snow. Here's proof:

Even if you hate cold weather with all the molecules of your being (like me), it's hard to resist a dog who has this much fun outside. But I'll be one glad little sparrow when Spring arrives.

And speaking of Spring...

I went to see the Decemberists play in Kansas City on Monday. It was unequivocally brilliant (of course), and their new album, The King is Dead--rather more subtle than some of their others--comes at an appropriate time, as one of its primary themes is the changing of the seasons. The first song on the album makes me itch for spring so badly I am tempted to march out into the waist-deep snow on my balcony and start planting petunias.

The lyrics are as follows:

Here we come to a turning of the season
Witness to the arc towards the sun
A neighbor's blessed burden within reason
Becomes a burden borne of all and one

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yolk fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

A monument to build beneath the arbors
Upon a plinth that towers t'wards the trees
Let every vessel pitching hard to starboard
Lay its head on summer's freckled knees*

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yolk fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

A there a wreath of trillium and ivy
Laid upon the body of a boy
Lazy will the loam come from its hiding
And return this quiet searcher to the soil

So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason
And your labors will be born when all is done

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yolk fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

(*My favorite couplet)

Here you can listen:

I'm going to go ahead and raise my glass to a turning of the seasons. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to move out into the sun again, and watch the world grow. Here's to spring... and to leaves on the trees and blossoms on the Jane Magnolias.

Bonus feature: Here's a video I snagged at the concert. If you're a Decemberists fan, you'll like it. I promise.

Comfort Books

There is something about the month of January that makes me want to curl up into a ball under my blankets and wait for spring.  If you're a warm weather person like me, you probably feel the same way.  Possibly you find yourself sighing more than usual this month, or feeling slightly desperate when you look out your window and see nothing but grey for the eighteenth morning in a row.  Or maybe you start to wonder whether green grass and blue sky ever actually existed at all.

It's times like these I start to crave my comfort books.

Some people solve the January blues with comfort foods, comfort sweat pants, comfort music, or comfort movies.  But personally, I find the best antidote to January to be a supply of well-loved books.  These are more like old friends than they are stacks of bound paper.  For example: 

Last week, I saw one of mine on a shelf at an antique mall (it was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) and I had an actual moment of confusion in which I stopped with my mouth open, ready to smile and say hello, before I realized it was a book and not a person.  A second dilemma developed at this point, in which I had to fight the impulse to buy the book on the grounds of it being inhumane to leave my friend-book sitting beside a rusty kettle on the shelf like an ordinary item.  I wanted to march up to the shop owner in outrage, cradling Harry Potter to my bosom and shouting that this was not just any book she had sitting on her shelf like some kind of common antique!  This was my friend!  Thankfully, I recovered my common sense and walked on without causing a scene, but not without experiencing a pang of regret for Harry.

That is what I mean about comfort books.  When you run into them at book stores and thrift stores--and antique malls--you feel a stab of fierce ownership for them, and sometimes feel compelled to buy them even when you own at least one copy already.  This is because, like any dear friend, they loyally offer you comfort every single time you pick them up.  Here are some of mine; some of the books I reach for when the world turns into endless, iron winter and I just need a friend-book:

I suppose Harry Potter goes without saying.

Also, Ella Enchanted

Peter Pan

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Lord of the Rings

Pride & Prejudice

Anne of Green Gables

Heidi

The Princess Academy

Goodnight Moon (before bed, of course)

What about you?  Do you find yourself craving familiarity and comfort books during the long weeks of January?  What are some of yours?