Reading as a Writer

I’ve been having such fun catching up on my reading! I chose some excellent books as my Christmas presents this year, and there is still a balance on my Kindle account, so more to be had!

As an author, too often when I’m reading I see flaws in the writing. There are rules we’re supposed to follow as authors, although those rules are flexible to a large degree. When I read a story that blatantly breaks those rules, it sets my hackles up and I worry that I won’t be able to enjoy it. However, my personality is such that once I’ve started something, I will generally finish it. Especially when it comes to books. I know how much work goes into the creation and I feel the author deserves a chance to prove that their work is worthwhile. Often, I find the story is there, even if sometimes it is buried under horrible grammatical errors or convoluted plot points. For that reason, when I am “recreation reading,” I try to take my "writer" hat off and enjoy the story solely as a reader.

As an author, I also know how much authors appreciate feedback on their efforts, so I try to take the time to offer up my opinions, again trying to take the nitpicky author out of the equation and go at it strictly from an audience standpoint. I know I’m in trouble when the nitpicky wins out, but even then, I won’t write a nasty review, knowing full well that the author put a lot of effort into their work.

Some examples of nitpickiness: I’ve just read an engrossing story. Loved every minute of it. The characters are well rounded and believable, the conflicts and situations compelling. I’m even getting a bit of a grin because the author is Welsh and has a distinct distaste for Americans that comes through in her writing (albeit California Americans). One day I’ll explain to you why that fact entertains me so much, but I digress. There are minor critical issues that I’ve noted along the way, as an author. I had been posting my reading progress and the author commented on that. I sent her a private message (sorry, the critic in me couldn’t help it) to tell her where I’d found flaws in the story, but I also told her that I was thoroughly enjoying the story enough that it will likely merit a 4 or 5 star review, and that those flaws will not appear in my review. Like reading Jane Eyre – and I love that story – if you’ve ever read it, there are a gross number of “million dollar” words and several French phrases that are left untranslated for the reader. There is clumsy writing in spots. But how can you not fall in love with Mr. Rochester and how can you not cry for the injustices Jane has to live through. And in the end . . . well I’m sure if you’ve read the story or seen the movie, you know how your heart swells at the end. So am I going to downgrade my review of Jane Eyre because of the writing snafus? Heck no. This is where you have to take your writer’s hat off and enjoy the story as a reader.

I also finished reading a story that had me rolling my eyes from the beginning, because the plot was so far-fetched and so outlandish. The author pens her main character from that vein, so we are expected to believe this is par for the course, and we are expected to believe that her family indulges her in these absurd activities. By the time I’d finished reading the story, I was laughing so hard that I had to afford her a 4 star review. It was a melodrama, a farce in the extreme, and taken in that light, it was highly entertaining. One shouldn’t get too serious about “writing rules” sometimes.

Sometimes there are stories where I can’t get past the flaws. Even then, I look at the story as a whole. I recently wrote a 3 star review on a story that I didn’t much care for. My dislike was entirely subjective, not that the story was awful, but I found the research behind it lacking and with the writing errors, I couldn’t enjoy the story as a whole. Still, I respect this author’s efforts and a less critical reader would likely enjoy it. In fact many other readers did enjoy it, based on the reviews. And this is where reviews are important. Reading is subjective. We all like different things. What didn’t appeal to me was overlooked by someone else.

On the negative review side, I bought a book over the summer written by a friend of mine. I was so excited to finally read her book! And I was so disappointed when I did. Again, the story was there, but I couldn’t do a review on it because the writing was extremely “ruff.” There were parts of the story that made me cringe due to their nature, but overall, the plot was well written and the story flowed. At the end, she gave credit to an editor, but I have to believe that editor was unskilled, because of the large number of grammatical and typographical errors. I felt bad not giving her a review, but when you can’t enjoy the story because you’re trying to decipher the misspelled or misused words, the rating would have been negative. I respect her efforts, and I do believe the story was there, but it wasn’t, in my opinion, consumer ready.

As a writer, I try to note the good examples and the bad examples to remember as I continue with my own writing, hoping to apply the “good” lessons I’ve learned along the way.

Books and movies that make me cry

I don't often post reviews of books I've read on my blog, but this one is definitely worth the space.

I've just finished a book that tugged each and every one of my emotions out.  I knew it would, and for that reason I saved it as the last book to read of the bunch I'd bought. I hate feeling that exposed, that vulnerable. There was a time I loved these movies/books for that reason, but once upon a time I went through a severely emotional trauma (how's that for a little added drama?) and became afraid of letting those emotions go for fear of not being able to rein them back in.

As a result of reading said book, After Forever Ends, by Melodie Ramone, I am now compelled to purge my soul (aren't you glad you stopped by to read this today?) so please forgive me for a bit of saccharine sentimentality. This is one of those books that sucks you in. Taps into your emotions. It crosses generations, so there's a bit in there from all viewpoints, from teenager, to newlywed, to parent, to grandparent.

Here's a link to the review (http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/458739643), but I want to use my blog space to share a little of myself today.

In talking with friends, I've often heard people complain about their dysfunctional family life. Their parents don't understand them or they don't have any relationship with their parents. They hate their parents, their parents hate them, etc. I think that for the most part, that's par for the course. I know I went through it with my kids as they were growing up - when you discipline them, the first thing out of their mouths is "I hate you!" or "Why do you hate me so much!" when in truth the decisions you make are because you love them.

As children get older, sometimes they begin to understand, and sometimes they don't. The funny part is that as a parent, you still feel like you're a kid yourself. Your children may never understand that you know EXACTLY how they feel when you have to discipline them. That's part of our jobs as parents. This book takes you on both sides of that coin through the main character's adolescence and subsequently into her parenting and her realization that her own parents weren't quite so off base as she first thought. It's a 360 degree view of children and parents and grandparents, and I think that was one of the things that most struck me.

As people, we all have different personalities, different ways we deal with the world and with the people we love. On a personal note, I can tell you that my children know that I love them, and I did the best I could while I was raising them. Now, as adults and taking charge (or nearly taking charge) of their own lives, I saw things in this story which gave me pause. I stopped to wonder if some of our interactions might have been misinterpreted, because it's natural that they would be. I know I did it with my own parents. Something you said while trying to teach them to fly on their own that they took offense to, something that they felt displayed how much you loved one more than the other, when that was never the case and the furthest thing from the truth. We always have our children's best interests at heart, and sometimes when we give them a little push, it's so that they learn to fly on their own.  More than hearing my child say "I hate you!" or "Why do you hate me!" I think the thing that strikes my heart deeper (because I know that the other is just the anger speaking) is "I don't want to argue with you for fear of saying something I might regret later." That phrase is the one that throws up walls and says "I don't want to talk to you, I don't trust you with my true feelings." I'm not sure adult children realize that they can open up to their parents without fear of retribution, and that comes through in this book as well as the main character comes to terms with her anger toward her father. Instead of harboring hurt toward me, I hope my children always feel comfortably arguing with me if the situation warrants it. Much better to clear the air than to hold in the hurt, and that hurt goes both ways. I know one of my children knows that lesson!

Another poignant part of this novel was the viewpoint of the main character as she ages and her friends and family start to die. One of my favorite quotes in the book was at Oliver's funeral: "None of us promised to see each other again when he left that evening.  We just hugged again in the front garden and wished each other well. That was fine with all of us. We'd seen each other once more if never again, and that meeting we'd keep with us forever." As we get older, we know that we're older. We see it in the lines in our face and the way we have lost a step, but when we are with those people we have grown old with, we still see the young people we were. In our minds, we are the same age we were when we first met. It isn't denial, it's blindness. If I've known you since we were both 17, in my mind, we will always be 17 together, having fun, talking about the silly things we talked about then.

Yes, this book moved me. Profoundly. Its filled with all the life stages and life lessons you learn. A little regret over the things you cannot change, a little hope that people can look at things from the point of view of the people around them so that it is a little less one-sided, even when they are lost in a singularly personal emotion that demands a touch of selfishness. We all suffer during an emotional crisis, and those things are better shared than worn as a personal badge of pain.

And this, my friends, is why I don't like to read books or watch movies that make me cry.  It leaves old wounds raw, opens up feelings that have scarred over and, personally, I don't like a good cry. I've had my share of tears.  That being said, this book is excellent, and I think mainly that is because in the end, it makes you smile. It turns that vulnerability into joy. It reminds you that love is magic and, ladies and gentlemen, I'm soft in the head when it comes to true love. I believe in the magic of love.

Happy New Year! What's on your Kindle?

There is something very appealing about cozying up with a book on a cold winter’s day. Through the course of the year, I don’t always have a surfeit of free time, so reading is usually one of the things that goes to the back burner. I manage to pick up a book here and there, but in the winter . . .

Winter is my time to splurge on books, to curl into a corner and spend all day reading when I have the time to spend. One of the things I can count on since I was gifted with a Kindle a few years ago is a gift certificate(s) to fill that Kindle each Christmas. And I do. So far, I’ve downloaded five books by authors I’ve not read before and I have more gift dollars to spend. I am a happy camper! I’ve also read some of the classics that I am familiar with, some of which I have never read. This year, I read Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol for the first time.

After all the hullabaloo leading up to the holidays, it’s nice to fill the down time. As an author, reading enriches me. Authors have an overly critical eye when it comes to reading other authors, and that can be both good and bad. For me, it helps to see what another author has done poorly so that I can avoid a similar pratfall. It also shows me what another author has done well that I can strive to incorporate into my own writing.

During this winter glut of books, so far I’ve read a story by an author who I believe should have researched her subject matter a little more. Even with limited knowledge, I could see failure to address important details. Another author that I’d had on my TBR (to be read) list, Terry Reid, impressed me a great deal. In her Mary O’Reilly series, I believed she was an ex-police office writing from experience. It helps that I am familiar with the setting for her books, so I could visualize the area. I also picked up a fantasy book (and I’m not a huge fan of fantasy) by an author I was curious to read. While the first two chapters centered around world-building and gave me a struggle, the rest of the book was filled with brilliant descriptions, reminding me how important it is to “show” the reader what they need to see (rather than telling them).  I loved it!

Lessons? For the good books, reminders of what makes a book good. Brilliant descriptions that don’t detract from the story, woven in seamlessly. From the “less good” books, reminders of what takes a reader out of the story, things that are missing or poorly incorporated.

I have two more books that I’m anxious to get to, stopping, of course, to do some writing of my own and punch up the weak spots in Epitaph. Any books you want to recommend? I’m almost through my first flurry of downloads.

What books did you get for the holidays?

Tradition! and my recipe for Ofenschlupfer

As I write the word, tradition, I'm somehow channeling the Fiddler on the Roof, although this post has nothing to do with brokered brides, or Jewish traditions.  Nevertheless, the song is there.

As time marches on, traditions come and go.  For most of my life, we had a tradition of gathering the family together for Christmas at the old homestead.  The family grew from my sisters and my parents to my sisters and their spouses and my parents, to my sisters, their spouses their children and my parents . . . well you see where this is going.  A few years ago, my parents  moved from the old homestead, and with that move, the tradition that survived for all those years necessarily had to change.

Our children have grown and now have children of their own, and as this progression takes place, the tug of war that goes with who gets to spend time with which in-laws on which day has grown exponentially. And with the addition of the grandchildren/great grandchildren, it becomes increasingly more difficult to gather our families together for Christmas. Nevertheless, the initial group of us (my sisters, their spouses and my parents) still try to make the effort, a monumental feat some years.

During the writing process of Mist on the Meadow, I tapped into my German heritage which, like Christmas traditions, has become diluted with the number of years my ancestors have spent on this side of the ocean. Traditions have to change as circumstances, and locations, change. The main character, Marissa, is a baker, and she carries forward a traditional German dish for Christmas. For years, my family  made cinnamon dinner rolls, but I didn't feel that was German enough for the book, so I went in search of a more German dessert.  The result was Ofenschlupfer (you may have seen my guest post with fellow writer, +Terry Odell on one of her "What's Cookin' Wednesdays" posts about a month ago).

This year, gathering my family together has been a challenge. We are creating new traditions with our children and grandchildren, which makes it more difficult to celebrate the old traditions with my sisters and parents. But for the couple of hours that I saw my sisters and my parents, I decided to celebrate our German roots, and made Ofenschlupfer - Rockin Around the Christmas Tree in a New Old-Fashioned Way. Who knows? Maybe this will be a new tradition, either with my sisters and my parents, or with my children/grandchildren.  So here is my Christmas present to you: Ofenschlupfer.

Do you have any traditions that you hold onto? New traditions to accommodate the progression of time?

Prosit!

A German recipe for apple and bread pudding from Southern Germany. If you have apples and some stale bread, then bake this recipe for bread pudding.

Ofenschlupfer literally means sneaking into the oven. So if you are looking for an easy German dessert recipe, sneak my Ofenschlupfer into your oven. 

Recipe For Ofenschlupfer

(Apple Bread Pudding)

1-2 golden delicious apples, chopped
4 slices of bread (I used 4 Hawaiian rolls, sliced into thirds)
2 Tbls butter
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/3 cup raisins
3 eggs, slightly beaten
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla
dash of salt
2-1/2 cups milk, scalded

Heat oven to 350 F. Toast bread slices lightly. Spread slices with butter (margarine).   Peel apples, cut in fine slices and toss with brown sugar and cinnamon. Arrange bread slices buttered side up in a 1-1/2 quart buttered casserole dish.  Top with apple mixture and raisins.  Mix eggs, sugar, vanilla and salt. Slowly stir in milk.  Pour over bread. 

Place casserole dish in a square pan, 9x9x2, on oven rack. Pour very hot water (1 inch deep) into square pan. Bake until knife inserted halfway between center and edge comes out clean, 65-70 minutes. Remove casserole dish from pan of hot water.  Serve warm or cool  6-8 servings.

Enjoy this easy bread pudding recipe on its own or with a thick creamy vanilla sauce.

Let it snow

I live near Chicago, a city notorious for wintry weather, especially around Christmas. We haven’t had any “measureable” snow so far this year, in fact Tuesday was the first sign of flurries I’ve seen. We’re setting records for the longest time between snowfalls (going back to the beginning of the year) and the latest first snowfall of the season. Some people are good with that. Happy. Me? Well, if it’s going to be cold outside (granted, the temperatures have also been mild), I want the snow to go with it. And then there’s Christmas. Cue Irving Berlin.

Today, we are expecting an ugly storm which should dump 2-4 inches on us later today. Reports from the great white north (a.k.a. our neighboring state of Wisconsin) are that the snow is falling. Five inches reported from one source, eight-ish reported from another. Haven’t checked in with the Minnesota rellies, but news reports they’re getting feet as opposed to inches. I’m ready for a little of the white stuff – enough to make it feel festive. No, I don’t like driving in it, but yes, I like looking out, holding a cup of something warm and watching a blanket of white shroud the earth. Especially for Christmas. There’s something so peaceful about it. Quiet. Clean. Fresh.

The holiday is less than a week away. With my latest completed work sitting on the agent’s desk (or, in her email), I’m taking a break from writing something new. I still have Epitaph on my radar, so there is a project to keep me fresh until the new year. For now, I’m going to sit back, relax, and enjoy the holiday season. I wish the same luxury to you.

Merry Christmas!

It's the end of the world as we know it

Today, I'd like to extend my sincerest sympathies to the familes who have lost children to violence.  Waking up this morning to the horrors in Connecticut, yesterday to the horrors in Vermont, I can only wonder when it will end.

I have friends who own guns.  They trap shoot.  They hunt. They use those guns for a purpose.  I know people who have guns in their homes for safety.  I don't necessarily agree with having a gun for the sake of having a gun, and for those people who own one for safety, my view is that it is more likely to get them killed or be used accidentally.  Is that going to stop the crazies who go on shooting sprees?  I don't think so.

I'm a pacifist.  Can't we all just get along?  Gun control controls guns, but not the crazies that use them.  I DO NOT UNDERSTAND what could motivate someone who is mad at a particular person to storm a school and kill dozens of innocent children, but then I don't suppose someone hell bent on murder cares much about who his victims are.

So my next point of contention is why the news continues to report these things.  Because it's news?  Yes. But when you publicize the killer's name, now you've given other people looking for that five minutes of fame an outlet. 

I can't watch the news anymore.  Pretty soon I'm going to be agoraphobic (that means I won't want to ever leave my house).

Someone mentioned that this is happening because people are stressed that the world is going to end next week. Okayyyyyy, so if you believe that, can't you wait for the world to kill off the people that you're mad at?

Peace on earth, goodwill to men.  God bless us, every one.

Grimm!

My husband is not a very imaginative fellow on the whole. Very smart. Very logical. Everything should make sense on some level. And yet, when he does exhibit those sparks of imagination, he can be very imaginative. Creative even.  Me? I have a very vivid imagination. I like ghost stories and things that stretch belief, things he often makes fun of me for. Can I just tell you how surprised I was when he told me that Grimm is one of his new favorite television shows?

And speaking of Grimm. Have you ever read Grimm's fairy tales? Many of them are the basis for old familiar stories we've all grown up with, but like many of those familiar stories, the original stories are much darker than the stories we know. This is where the TV show goes. Grimm's fairy tales are often bloody and frightening. But let's focus on the light-hearted, frivolous ones.

I mentioned a few weeks back that I'd pulled out my copy of said book. I was looking up the story of the Shoemaker and the Elves, which is actually a very short story and titled simply "The Elves." It is included in another group of similar stories which feature the little guys, and it plays a role in my latest flight of imagination. Yes, while I wait to send off Mist on the Meadow to my editor, I've discovered that even though I'm still fatigued with the efforts of editing and creating, there is no stopping my imagination.

Authors often go through bouts of self-doubt and are easily able to convince themselves that they have no talent and they are wasting their time, Yours Truly included. And yet, there's this bug inside that refuses to be ignored. So maybe my writing sucks. Maybe I'm stretching beyond my limits. (Making a point here, and let me thank those of you who have been so very complimentary and would contradict me.) That bug inside sees the world through a different filter (as has also been addressed in previous ramblings on this very blog). Something triggers my imagination and a story insists on playing in my head.

It's the dawn of a new day, and tired, fatigued, full of angst about my abilities to create a story, I can't resist the allure of a bright, shiny new idea. Like the sunrise this morning, there are clouds to  battle, but there's no denying the sunshine that always wins out.

And so begins the new book.