So Who are You Going to Be This Year?

Browsing through the endless collection of Halloween costumes this year, I found myself wondering exactly what kind of Halloween celebrationist I am--and no, celebrationist isn't really a word, but go with me on this.

I figure the Halloween scale must run from Pruney-faced, dress-up fuddy-duddy, to costume awesomealist.

And you remember the awesomealist. Those that make Halloween costume history by getting into full character and most likely annoying the hell out of everyone around them. They make a major statement and are difficult to forget.

I'll readily admit that can be both a good and a bad thing.

Me? I figure I must be somewhere in the middle. I dress up every year. I pick on friends and coworkers until they dress up too, but the end result is only semi-enthusiastic.  I get that dopey tone in my voice when someone asks. "Now what are you supposed to be?"

Which by the way, must go down as an epic Halloween fail in my book. If you have to explain your costume, it isn't a costume. It's a candy-melted-mistake. You know, like the little candy corn blob that went terribly wrong in production.

As a writer I feel that I put myself into different perspectives all the time.
But like my costumes, am I only going in semi-enthusiastic mode?
It's an easy gear to slip into when your audience is on your mind. Or when you have to pitch your book in public.

During last year's URWA writer's retreat I attended, we were encouraged to take masks with us to the keyboard. A way to put aside the outside world and be someone else jabbing the keys. It works pretty well too.

So let's hear it. How are things going? Let's open a forum to see just how well our writer friends are fairing at the keyboard. Who's dressing up, and how's it working for you?

How Does a Muse Hire a Babysitter?

You may have already heard the concept of filling out a character interview to bring out the depth and motivation of your character. Those nifty little questionnairs can really help bring an otherwise flat character into three dimensional, jump off the page form. It's amazing what you can find out when you simply ask them.

As a fun twist I decided to invite my good friend Tobin to the Hook Me blog today.

Tobin: Easy sister, We're not that good of friends... And did you seriously just use the word "nifty"?
How old are you again?

Kacey: Don't mind him. He's still pissed because of his little flesh wound at the end of book one.

Tobin: Flesh wound? You call this a flesh wound?! Come over here and I'll show you a flesh wound. I'll make us a matching pair. How does that sound, FRIEND?

Kacey: Tobin, focus please.
As I was about to say, our little Muse friend here seems to think he's got a pretty good handle on people.

Who can blame him really, with his ability to see into the human soul with deadly accuracy. But now that he's laid up in bed with nothing to do, his hired help is getting on his nerves.
Tobin's decided to fire his staff and hire himself--and this is the part that baffles me-- a babysitter.

Tobin: What's so baffling? I'm hiring a babe that will sit anywhere I ask her to. Mostly on my lap.

Kacey: I think you're a little confused at the job description, but we're getting off the subject. Tobin here managed to swipe--

Tobin: Borrow

Kacey: Oh-kay borrow  his brother's employment requirements for when he hired his nanny and now Tobin's making a few adjustments.

So lets get into this Muse’s head. Lets find out how a muse shops for his own babysitter.

Tobin: All right, but I'm letting you know right now, this is going to cost you...
Question number one: No one is above my influence. When I say jump, you...

Kacey: Ask how high?

Tobin: No. Not even close. Don't talk, just jump. Muses are all about visual stimulation, not chatter. And did I mention push-up bras are a dress code requirement?
You're fired by the way.
Next question: Women fall at my feet on a regular basis. How do you avoid violating our business relationship.

Kacey: I--

Tobin: Upupup! You see that right there? See how you're opening your mouth?
Fired!
Again. No yapping. just doing. It's perfectly natural to fall at my feet, on your back, or in any other compromising position. I'm hiring you to sit on my lap, woman. It would take an awful lot to violate a business relationship like that.  Something like, oh, I don't know, a FLESH WOUND!

Kacey: You're just not going to let that go, are you?

Tobin: Shut up.Next question: I feed on the human soul. I'm always hungry for my next meal. How do you keep me nourished?

Kacey: *shakes her head*

Tobin: Oh?...  what is this? Look at this, ladies and gentleman she is learning.The author can be taught. Just look at those pursed lips. Lovin the pout Kacey, really. You're almost back into my good graces. Just do me one more favor...

Kacey: What kind of favor?

Tobin: Jump up and down.

Fond Memories of Summer

Good morning to you all,
Rabbit in a Hat Hooker here.

Remember those countless hours--and for me countless sumburns, spent in the neighborhood of your youth? Remember Tag? Kick the can? Hide and go seek?

I think my parents must have lost track of me about the day after school let out and didn't find me again until days like today. *Sigh*

For many of you, today marks the first day of school for your children. A day filled with anxiety, excitement, and maybe even a small tinge of grief for those long summers meeting a bitter, bitter end... Kinda tastes like chalk dust.

The kids of today rarely spend as much time outside as we did, but I can gurantee it builds more memories than what level they got to on their X Box game. And the best part is, it's free. No cords, no power bill, no expensive gaming system. You get the idea. I'm preaching to the choir here, I can almost hear the collectibe Amens.

My children and I celebrated our last day of summer  running through the sprinklers and playing in the pool. If I had suggested going inside for some quality TV time, I'm pretty sure they would have tied me up with their jump rope and left me to sponge up sprinkler water.

As readers and writers alike, we all have this in common. Given the choice we'd rather go out and experience than sit back and obsorb. I encourage you to keep this in mind in your writing.

But how do we keep people turning pages if they'd rather be out there experiencing it?

By locking on to those common memories even until the snow starts flying. Embrace it in your writing so readers can dust of those fond memories and enjoy them.

Your characters don't always need to go through a monolighic and heart wrenching event in order for your reader to connect. It can be found in the small things too. Like scene and setting, common references, and your character's culture.

Coyboy Up! Finding the Strength in Our Characters

I had the great pleasure of attending the Cache County fair and rodeo this weekend. Its probably like any other county fair...The food that always smells better then it tastes. The carnival rides filled with delighted passengers, and the throngs of oddly shaped and decorated people-watching opportunities.

My favorite part of all is the rodeo... well, more specifically the cowboys.

Its easy to cheer for these guys because you see the determination in their face, their walk.

Even the little cowboys and girls have it. From the comfort of my aluminum bench seat, I watched a swarm of six-to-ten-year-olds chasing cows around the ring, trying to catch the bright colored bow attached to the cow's tail. As they tumble and scramble through the dirt, you know these aren't the kids that cry when they fall down and scrape their knee. They get right back up and do it again. Save the scrapes and bruises only to solidify their glory later.

These people are born and bred to be heros.

But back to the cowboys for a moment (I'm sure you don't mind), This is going to sound really bad, but after watching a few successful bronc rides, and tight wranglered butts victory-strut around for several minutes, I found myself hoping that someone somehow would find themselves flying off the saddle.
Why? Because I want them to get hurt? Have a sick obsession with gore? No, no, not at all.

Okay, well, maybe a little. But the bottom line is, I want it to be difficult for them. The entertainment isn't about looking good in the jeans, or the personality. It helps, but after a while it's boring. I want them to triumph but I want them to work at it and face real risk. That's what makes it exciting.

Much like the American cowboy, we need to give our characters opposition that isn't easy to overcome. Sometimes we like our characters so much, we don't want to see them get hurt. You need to push them out there to face their fears before they can develop into characters you really want to root for!

You don't have to turn every character into a cowboy or girl, but I would recommend giving them "cowboy up" moments that makes us admire and respect them.

Need A Save The Cat Moment?

We like our conflict. Evey story needs conflict. But what do we do when we find that our characters have gone a little overboard with their enthusiastic opposition?

I'll tell you what you can do... You make them save the cat!

You may have already heard about a character’s need for a "save the cat moment". Some heroic or selfless act to prove that your character isn’t as mean and nasty as they appear. Screenwriter Blake Snyder is the ultimate resource for learning about save the cat moments. Pick up his book and you won't be disappointed.

I’m a voracious romance reader, and I’m not shy about telling you that I love me some Alpha hero like an ice cream cone in July, but their occasional frosty attitude can have a tendency to bite back. In situations like this when you feel like your character is unbelievably harsh,  you have to give them a break at humanity to keep your reader from throwing the book across the room.

And this is only a suggestion, but why not use even their save the cat moment to pile on a different layer of conflict and drag more information from your characters. For instance, let me introduce you to my cat.

Let’s just call her scruffy, my baby-doll tortoiseshell Himalayan.

Her mother and father were pedigreed. They had white, fluffy fur that appeared chalk-lined in the softest grey stripes and eyes as blue as a clear morning. A real match made in kitty heaven, those two.  

What they spawned, however, was my pretty little beast from hell.

Having been born with severe hip dysplasia, as misfortunate purebreds tend to do, she was medicated most of her life. When a storm front rolled in, you could see it in her pitiful three-legged limp.  But if anyone dare lift her into their arms for a comforting hug they might earn themselves a limp of their own.

She was the snottiest cat to have ever lived. She hated everyone.
Ahem, well, everyone but me, anyway.
If a stranger got too close, her greasy spikes would jut out like a porcupine. And yes, by the way, I did say greasy.

In addition to the hip displaysia she also had a condition called seborrhea. An overactive production of oil glands. To touch her would result in pulling back a well lubed hand (if you pulled back a hand at all). Huh... Who needs lotion, right?

She always looked drenched because the grease would mat her fur together in clumps. Visitors would often ask. “Did your kitty just get a bath?” Because she had that wet/pissed look permanently etched into her appearance.

And if her glare wasn't enough to scare you off, there was always her growl. A sound that must have been dragged up from the bowels of hell.

I’d like to see a hero try to save my cat. No, really I would. In fact, I may just write that into my next story!