Keeping Promises

It's pretty sad when you haven't posted at a particular blog in so long that you almost can't remember how to log in. Good thing Blogger is fairly friendly to the not-tech-savvy among its bloggers. Still, I had a little moment of near panic staring at the beautiful (if I do say so myself) page of this blog and thinking, "So how is it, again, that I get in here?" but -dah-da-dah-dum! I got in.

I guess you could say I'm awesome that way.

Or not.

Regardless of your opinion concerning my awesomeness, I'm BACK after what turned out to be another prolonged absence while I worked building name recognition for that "other" person who shares my face. But why? you ask? Why come back to this beautiful but sadly neglected blog? Surely all your regular readers jumped ship a long time ago!

Um, well, true.

So I guess the only answer I can give you is: I missed myself.

I've been working so hard to build the platform of my alter ego (that's way more super-hero sounding than pseudonym, don't you think?) that I've lost a bit of touch with me, S. R. Van Ness, the gal behind the tricky initials.

So here's what I'm up to.

I'm planning a come back, sort of like Debbie Gibson and Tiffany, but without the catchy pop tunes and the Broadway/Playboy stops in between tours. (huge sigh of relief)

Sure, I've stepped away from my name for a while, worked on building name recognition with another name in another genre, but while "she" (is it creepy to talk about my alter ego in the third person??) is doing her thing over there, I'm going to keep laying lines here. From time to time I'll drop by and practice setting the sails, preparing for that blessed day when I can carve my name on the mast of the WIP ship, hoist anchor, and catch that fantastical wind that drives the deepest heart of my writing life.

(By the way: my alter ego doesn't write fantasy. She writes romance.--- Oh, stop it. Not that kind of romance, silly. There's no Fabio, no Old Spice Guy -- there are real stories to be told in contemporary romance and I've -- er, she's -- got a few to tell. But she's leaving the fantasy to me. Which is awesome.)

I wrote 6000 words in my YA fantasy WIP this week, and that made me happy. Plus, my other self read and reviewed 2-1/2 books. Which brings me to a very uncomfortable subject.

One. Particular. Book. Review.

Well over a year ago I agreed to read a book for review. The author sent me the book, she even inscribed it to me and... I still haven't published my review. The reason? I was a novice at reviewing books and wasn't sure how to write about the things that bothered me about the book without sounding negative to this generous and talented author. And I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

However.

In the interim, while developing the platform for my pseudonym, I've become an avid reader of others' book review blogs and I've read and reviewed dozens of YA and romance books under my "other name." Of course, not all these books perfect and some (like one I'm reading now) were downright wastes of time. I've had to develop skills in diplomatic, but critical review. And I have. But always, niggling in the back of my mind, is the unfulfilled promise to review this one book.

This book has taunted me, really. It's whispered "You're a liar! You're a procrastinator! You're a poser!" in the night. (And a lot of the characters are vampires. That's not creepy.)

Okay, it doesn't really taunt me. Not audibly, anyway. But it probably should. Because I said I would review it, and I didn't.

Yet.

But the time has come. I feel I have a better frame of reference for discerning a writer's vision and qualifying the story against the writer's aptitude in his or her chosen genre than I did a year and a half ago. Therefore, one of my goals for this coming week, is to FINALLY publish the promised review for the first (but surprisingly not the last) Inspirational Vampire Novel (yes, you read that correctly) that I've had the curiosity and opportunity to read.

I hope I follow through. I hope you'll hold me accountable. And I hope I do a lot more with this bee-ooo-tiful (if I do say so myself) blog in the coming months. But---.

But I'm not promising anything, because honestly: after reading this post, would you take a promise from me seriously?

Exactly.

Now go read a book or something.

Have you missed me????

So I've been away for a while.

Working on a different platform, under a different name.

So there it is.

I haven't even checked in at this blog in like, forever.

Sorry. I feel kind of guilty when I scroll down to the Cluster Maps icon and see that someone out in the middle of the ocean actually looked at my blog and... it was all old news.

Thanks for stopping by.

So I've been busy writing. I finished another novel, I'm shopping for a new agent with said novel, and, in the process, have discovered that my current project (hereafter referred to as my WIP, which is short for "work in progress") is a depressing fraction of usability. In other words, of my approximately 52000 words written on this project so far, I'm going back to do a rewrite which will probably use less than 20,000 of those hard-won words.

But it's just not working.

The problem is, I really love these characters. I love them so much that I'm considering, for the first time, giving up my "fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants" organic writing style in favor of an outline. I'm reading books, watching DVDs, perusing the net on all kinds of outlining/plot planning methods. I've looked at THE SNOWFLAKE, BLOCKBUSTER PLOTS, and all kinds of other stuff. And... the artsy-fartsy part of my brain (the one that rules me, mostly) is saying, "No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-NO!" But the "need to finish this book and have a sellable product" part of my brain (it's a very teensy, microscopic part) is saying, "Make the stupid outline, genius!" (You see, even the miniscule pragmatist within me is sarcastic. It stings. Really.)

So... I think I'll have to come up with my own plot planning way. Find the method that works for me. I don't do Excel Spreadsheets (although I am taking a class this summer... long story) and I can't write within the constraints of a chart. So I think I'll outline in freeflowing, paragraphical style. Like a 7th grader's book report, with a lot of crappy transitions like, "and then she..." And maybe, just maybe, within those twenty thousand words, a new spark will light, a new fire will burn, and a new phoenix-of-a-story will soar into being.

We can only hope.

Now I'm off to write a book, but you better go read one. Need a suggestion? Lisa T. Bergren's River of Time series is entertaining, funny, and well, awesome. And I'm reading Tammar Stein's KINDRED right now and it is hugely interesting look at angels and demons and powers and principalities... through the eyes of a Jewish teen. So... what's keeping you here on the internet when you could be off reading a good book?

Oh, right. You missed me.

But, seriously, thanks for stopping by.

Now go read a book or something.

YA Lit Labels. Anyone else confused????

Can someone please define a quantifiable difference between "YA" and "Teen" Literature???? -- For a writer (like, ahem, yours truly) to write a book for older teens (15+) through college age and then try to market it as "YA" seems weird.

The YA demographic seems way too wide, in my opinion. 11 year olds and 19 year olds do NOT (and sometimes should not) read the same books!!!!

Would love to hear comments. Thanks.

"...stories help us to start believing the things we already know. " -Steven James

Steven James is one of my very favorite nonfiction writers. Don't get me wrong -- he writes engaging, sometimes frighteningly good fiction, too; but it's his nonfiction titles like, Sailing Between the Stars and Story that have really touched my heart and mind. These books inspire me to not only take my writing up a notch, but to take my LIFE up a notch. To live more poetically, you might say.

Steven has a great post up on his blog, Musings and Meanderings about story power... a quote from it rests above. Please go read Steven's post and, if you're not already a fan or follower of his, I encourage you to become so.

Because fiction mirrors truth.

And story matters.

Fiction Matters!!!!

Following a link from one of my favorite author's tweets, I ended up being inspired. So a big thank you goes out to the incomparable Tosca Lee (Havah, the Story of Eve, Demon: a memoir, etc.) for setting me up to get back to work on my editing.

Author Brad Meltzer has a terrific post up about why fiction matters. What a lovely call to action after all the time I've wasted this morning NOT writing. I have a story that must be attended to, so that is all for today. Go read Brad's post and then....

...go read a book or something. And make sure it's fiction, of course. Because Fiction Mirrors Truth.

Que Sera, Sera

Okay, I don't know if I spelled that title correctly, but let's just go with it.

I'm not quite midway through the latest draft (they're overlapping now. Let's call it #47) of my coming-of-age romance -- yes, romance -- for young adults. And it has changed so much from my original version -- or should I say vision -- for this book that I almost don't recognize it sometimes. It used to be pretty dark, filled with angst and flashbacks and depression. Now it's moving forward, developing minor character arcs, finding a bit of humor, and allowing the romance to blossom at a more believable pace. Yet with all these improvements I'm wondering if I'm losing something. Or gaining something. Or selling out. Or buying in. Or getting better. Or making it worse. Or... losing some sort of grip on reality.

I have to keep in mind who my audience is. Young adults. Teens. And, since I live with one, this should be easy. And as I write this, I realize that, as a mom, sometimes I feel the same way about my daughter growing up before my eyes as I do about this novel. It's a painful growing process--sometimes for both of us (although I think more for me. But I'm biased.) I'm pretty sure the ABBA song, "Slipping Through My Fingers" (for a more recent version, pull out your Mamma Mia! soundtrack. Oh, admit it already. You own it!) is a daily refrain in my subconscious. Time is passing so quickly! Am I losing her? Or gaining new depth to our relationship? Am I selling out or buying in? Am I doing right by her? How often will the words "MY MOTHER" be spoken within the context of therapy when she's in her thirties???? Am I becoming a better mom, or just turning into a fuddy duddy who disses her music choices? (I'm sorry, but the Biebs sounds like a girl. He does.) Oh, dear. I am turning into one of those moms. I wanted to be the cool mom! Am I helping her establish a firm foothold for when she goes out into the world on her own, all too soon? Am I losing my grip on reality, or just my grip on my kid?

I've always said that fiction, well, good fiction, mirrors truth. But I'm learning that the process of creating -- or birthing, rather -- that product has much in common with child-rearing.

My daughter and I, and my manuscript and I, are both navigating the uncharted realms of adolescence. Their voices will change. Their form might too, and though I hate to admit it, I am sometimes little more than a spectator to this blossoming process.

But I was also the one who changed the diapers, walked around smelling like baby-urp, and cheered their first steps into the world. Even in this new phase of development, for my daughter and my book, there are still messes to clean up. Sometimes all it takes is a phrase, spoken at the right time. Sometimes more drastic measures are called for. And sometimes I'm the one who needs a time-out to get a grip on reality and to loosen my hold on my babies so they can earn their own wings.

It's a learning process. It's moving toward abundance for one, excellence for the other. It's gaining. Yes, it's gaining.

But it's a gain that rips out a mommy's heart sometimes.

"Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning. Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile..."

lyric quoted from "Slipping Through My Fingers" by Andersson/Ulvaeus

A Voyage to the Ugly Heart of Me -- and back.

I haven't seen the newly released film version of C.S. Lewis's The Voyage of the Dawn Treader yet.

GASP!

I know, right?

The truth is, I'm scared of it. This is my favorite book in the series. What if they mess it up? What if they downplay the reality of THE LION's role in Eustace's transformation? What if they skip an island or two? What if I can't smell the lilies??????????

*****TANGENT ALERT*****

Oooh. I just had a random thought: I hope Disney does a Dawn Treader ride at DisneyWorld. That would be soooo awesome. Like the Pirates of the Carribbean ride except with dragons and a LION and children as heroes and the scent of lilies at the end and the mist in your face all along. Oooh. I really hope they do that.

Anyone who's been to Disney World will tell you how utterly transported you are to other worlds via the Imagineers. They use sight, scent, sound, mist, light, film, motion, and, I think, a few generous pinches of pixie dust to make multiple worlds come alive in one magical kingdom.

And to think: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter is right down the road at Universal Studios Orlando. It would be a little like studying Shakespeare at Stratford-upon-Avon, except much less stuffy and with better weather. It would be so awesome: the mirror-world realization of two of the 20th Century's literary greats (Okay, Rowling crossed the millenium with her series) only a couple of miles from each other. Wouldn't that be the theme-park trip extravaganza of all time???? One day you're in Narnia via Disney, the next day you head over to Hogwarts via Universal.

awwwwwwwesome.

So, Disney Imagineers, please, please, please get on this.

****END TANGENT****

But back to my original thought -- I haven't seen the movie yet. I only hope that next weekend (when the wind chill factor is in a more human-friendly zone and my emotions are stabilized enough to handle the fear of epic disappointment) that I am awed by the cinematic interpretation of one of my favorite books of all time -- my favorite of all The Chronicles of Narnia. When I read/see Eustace Clarence Scrubb in the ways C.S. Lewis created him, I see myself, my own dragon scales getting ripped off by the claws of the LION who loves me enough to bathe me with his rough pink tongue and make me clean.

Some of you may know that I have dabbled in the world of songwriting. In fact the music business was my chosen career path when I moved to Nashville and entered Belmont University's Music Business program in 1991. Moving to Iowa put a bit of a kabosh on my career plans, but I couldn't stop writing lyrics. This musical penchant has helped me as a writer, to feel the rhythm of prose, the musicality of story, as I try to create that which moves the emotion of a reader.

Some of you also know (because I have blogged about it before) that for most of my reading life I have tried to read through the complete Chronicles of Narnia every 2 years or so, to see how much bigger the Lion seems based on my own growth (see my old post Countdown to Prince Caspian, or another one: Lions & Chiggers & Dragons, oh my!) After one such re-entry into Narnia (in 2006) I penned the following lyric, entitled "Eustace's Daughter", based loosely on another lyric I had created in college many years before, again, after reading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I still hope to someday put it to music -- but the right melody hasn't revealed itself yet; the lyric itself needs revision. But due to the release of the film it seemed appropriate to share the lyric here, even in its imperfect state. And, who knows, maybe some other music-writing Narnia-lover will be interested in contacting me (leave a comment in the comments form) about the possibility of co-writing a melody for this song someday. In any case, here it is, unedited & unrefined, like me. Because, unfortunately, I still must seek the rough pink tongue of a LION regularly.

--my apologies for the weird formatting -- I've been fighting with it to make it more uniform, but it isn't translating from the "new post" page to this page accurately. Go with it. ----

“Eustace’s Daughter”

words by Shawna R. Van Ness

Thick scales

a dragon’s tail

the heaviness in my soul

is like a man drowning in gold

Scalding tears

breathing fear

Your presence shocks the fire from my eyes

I know just who You are to my surprise

Layer by layer by layer you bid me

My own strength is spent but yet you still bid me

Sir, your vicious mercy scores my skin

Dig deep enough to gut the soul within

Wound to heal me with that golden claw

Wash me with the tender sting of love

Treasure cave, a dooming grave

the shame caused by my greed

hangs like mist below the trees

My golden lair, His burning stare

Your beauty puts the brightest gem to shame

You see me as I am and douse my flame

Layer by layer by layer you bid me

My own strength is spent but yet you still bid me

Sir, your vicious mercy scores my skin

Dig deep enough to gut the soul within

Wound to heal me with that golden claw

Wash me with the tender sting of love

Naked and raw in the water

I step in like Eustace’s daughter

and I scream -- oh, the sting....

Layer by layer by layer you bid me

My own strength is spent but yet you still bid me

Sir, your vicious mercy scores my skin

Dig deep enough to gut the soul within

Wound to heal me with that golden claw

Wash me with the tender sting of love

The water turns sweet on my skin

You've washed away all of my sin

In your view

I am new….

copyright 2006 Shawna R. Van Ness

fiction mirrors truth.