08/04/2010

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Planning to Lose It

By Jessica Quillin

This week, I faced every writer and business person’s worst nightmare: I lost a contract. Arguably worse than rejection, losing a contract or writing project means that you initially did something right to win business, but later, something went drastically wrong, whether through your actions or someone else’s.

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The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

By Elizabeth Milo

When I picked up The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, I was drawn in by the rich colors and pictures of old books that adorned the cover. But it only took a few pages before the story drew me in as well. At approximately 400 pages, The Thirteenth Tale takes its time to work through the multiple storylines that Setterfield masterfully weaves together, but with so much intricacy to the plot, anything less would feel hurried and sloppy.

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By L.L. McKinney

Last week we delved into the topic of the different kinds of writing groups out there. Though there are several types, we took a closer look at three. A writers group is one suggestion I made as a means to occupy the time between finishing your first draft and starting on the revisions. A second suggestion was to work on a different project altogether. This week we’ll focus on other work that can be done to bridge the gap. Notice: I didn’t say pass the time, because what we do is more than that, remember?

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WNW talks with author Jennifer Brown

By Chris Stokum, Sarah Schiavoni, and Elizabeth Milo

We recently spoke with Jennifer Brown, author of the forthcoming In Jen’s Words: Facing the Issues and founder of Authors for Humanity.

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By L.L. McKinney

Last week we delved into the topic of the different kinds of writing groups out there. Though there are several types, we took a closer look at three. A writers group is one suggestion I made as a means to occupy the time between finishing your first draft and starting on the revisions. A second suggestion was to work on a different project altogether. This week we’ll focus on other work that can be done to bridge the gap. Notice: I didn’t say pass the time, because what we do is more than that, remember?

I’ve already started my own six-week break. It literally seems like only yesterday I was dreading going 48 hours without working on Swayed—now I’m already halfway there. Three whole weeks! A personal best. My Pushing Pals help stem the restlessness, but they can’t be with me every hour of every day, so I have chosen to work on a second manuscript in addition to attending group meetings.

Granted, I could spend my time doing other things to aid my efforts on the road to publication. As writers we have a checklist that can feel like it’s a million pages long and filled with so much to do. We could read more or do research. We could look up agents to add to our lists of query prospects. We could work on our websites, update our blogs (which I really need to do), or any number of things. Actually, I do all of those, but my focus is on completing my current work in progress, and that is what takes up most of my day. My goal is to have the first draft of Heritage Blade: Awakening finished by the time my self-imposed break is up.

Working on a second manuscript keeps the creative juices flowing. I have to admit, I was worried about the coals cooling with Swayed, but I am amazed at how often working out things for Awakening gives me ideas for when I start on Swayed’s second draft. I don’t spend more than a moment jotting them down in a notebook I keep in my work area-- that way I don’t break the out-of-sight-out-of-mind rule-- and then I go right back to writing. One thing that amuses me in all of this is how a number of problems that arose while working on Swayed are cropping up all over again. But this time around I have a better grasp on handling them.

One of those complications, the one that drives me the craziest, is writer’s block. (Okay, I lied.  But not intentionally. This article will focus on two things.) A lot of methods I learned while writing Swayed in order to deal with blocks have come in handy this time around. These methods have helped me with writing novels, short stories, and even poems. They are...

Alternate Scenes:
Take your protagonist, antagonist, or whichever character is giving you trouble and plop them down in a random scene that is not a part of your main plot. Present them with a problem or have them react to an event that is still a part of their world but outside of what you’re trying to do with them. You can even set your character in my favorite kind, the what-if scene: what if, earlier on in your plot, they chose to go left instead of right? What if they decided to run instead of fight? What if the hero wasn’t too afraid to put the moves on their love interest? That’s a lot of untapped material that can start the flow, and who knows, maybe you’ll come up with something you can add to your manuscript. Or maybe you have the makings of a sequel.

Prompts:
These are those phrases or sentences that can spawn short stories or entire novels. There are countless books filled with prompts that we can put to use. One of my writing groups spends ten to twenty minutes each meeting writing little blurbs based on the same prompt, then we take turns reading them aloud. It’s a lot of fun, and can be done alone or with friends/colleagues. You can even combine this method with the previous one and use a prompt to write a scene about one of your characters. All kinds of literary gems will turn up!

Problem Solving:
The thing about writer’s block is it tends to crop up when we know what needs to be done (i.e. the hero needs to confess his/her love), but we just have to figure out how to get the character to do it.  And what’s the biggest help when you don’t know how to do something? Instructions! Problem solving provides those instructions tailor made for your manuscript. I’ll use myself as an example of the process: at this very moment I am at a point in Awakening where a big secret has been revealed and I am having trouble writing my protagonist’s reaction. I don’t want it to be over-the-top, but I don’t want him to just accept what’s going on. After struggling with this for over a week, it was suggested to me that I write down what I wanted to happen. I wrote that I want my protagonist to be surprised but not hysterical, maybe try to laugh it off, and then grow nervous when he sees it isn’t a joke. It made me take stock of what I wanted to accomplish and what I wanted to avoid. It gave me a sort of checklist to follow when writing the scene. I’ll let you know how it turns out next week.

Exercises:
I suppose all of the aforementioned could be counted as exercises in one fashion or another, but what I mean by Exercises (with a capital E) are the activities that we’ve all been taught since elementary school. Rhymes and riddles, focus practices, formulas and the like. I remember several teachers who taught the class to use character sheets. We had to write extensive sheets, and then read what we’d already written. Everything from a character’s hair color to a peanut allergy was put on paper, and then gone over repeatedly. The idea was for us to immerse ourselves in the protagonist and antagonist so much so that they would tell us what to have them do. At least, that was the general idea. It tended to irritate my characters more than help me connect with them.

Of the four mentioned methods, the one I have found the most helpful is the first, writing out alternate scenes. Problem solving is a close second. I’m not all that fond of exercises, if it wasn’t obvious; they’re a little too rigid and constricting for my taste. Even so, they work. Each of these methods will help, in one way or another. Find one or two that work for you so you can keep up the flow on not only your gap-bridging work (what is done during your break), but also on your second draft or any projects in the future. Beating back writer’s block isn’t easy, but it can be done.

“Writing is thinking. To write well is to think clearly. That's why it's so hard.” David McCullough.

Happy writing!

L.L. McKinney is a freelance writer, a published poet and a playwright. As an active member of First Tuesdays and YA Lit Chat, she is currently seeking representation for her young adult paranormal urban fantasy, Swayed.

By Jessica Quillin

This week, I faced every writer and business person’s worst nightmare: I lost a contract. Arguably worse than rejection, losing a contract or writing project means that you initially did something right to win business, but later, something went drastically wrong, whether through your actions or someone else’s.

While disappointed and somewhat confused, I feel cool-headed and almost pleased at having lost this contract. Why? I had a feeling that an ending was on the horizon with this particular client, and had already lined up new clients as a replacement.

But sometimes it’s not always that easy to identify when a project or client relationship is beginning to sour. Breaking up is hard for both sides, particularly with inevitable differences of interpretation, miscommunication, and even contractual difficulties. So, how can you anticipate and perhaps prevent losing a writing project or client contact?

It is cliché to note that the majority of business problems boil down to ineffective communication. Yet, anyone who believes this is a bottom line is losing sight of the intricacies of human interaction and the frankly rotten way in which many businesses manage outsourcing, which, of course, is a huge liability for freelancers and external consultants.

While I obviously believe in the efficacy of communication and the necessity of maintaining an open dialogue with clients, I think a lot of the contention over client and project relationships actually results from ineffective organizational strategy, poorly established project expectations and guidelines, a lack of management oversight, and an overworked, undermanaged, and undervalued workforce.

The contract I just lost came from one of my favorite clients. They offer a variety of interesting projects and are pleasant to work with. However, take a challenging two-phase project and add in fuzzy guidelines, a high volume of work, tight deadlines, and no firm internal communications strategy—then, suddenly, my life as an editorial contractor becomes a mess.

For this project, mistakes happened on both sides. This was in part because project expectations in the first phase of work were not firmly established and continually shifted; but also, this was because we mainly interacted over email, which created inevitable misinterpretations of assigned work and major version control problems.

However, I also confess to internal problems with managing my writers, which resulted in a stupidly missed deadline that added tension to an already delicate client relationship. I blame myself for not better staying on top of my consultants and for not enforcing my internal editorial guidelines and review processes, which I create to give me time to edit and review work before submitting it to clients.

Yet, I firmly believe that these types of mistakes were inevitable given the constraints under which all of us were operating. My client was dealing with a high-maintenance client of their own who had very specific expectations about how work should be done without clearly outlining what those expectations were.  As a result, I was left to interpret guidelines and did my best to provide written output that matched this interpretation, which, as you may predict, turned out to be incorrect. In this way, I honestly feel that it would have been nearly impossible for me to provide them with a polished, professional product considering to what degree the project scope and even basic style guidelines had changed by the end.   

But, my problem with this client is perhaps more fundamental than that, and speaks of a complaint that most writers and professionals encounter when receiving rejection letters, losing jobs/projects, or simply not getting replies to new business queries: our relationship became impersonal.
This is where I saw the writing on the wall with this client in massive, multi-colored graffiti-like fashion. Our professional relations went from being open and flexible, wherein we held weekly conference calls and my email questions were always quickly answered, to an uncomfortable situation wherein my contract massively changed without discussion, emails were rarely answered, and work halted to a minimum.

To be fair, my client was negotiating things on their end to find a mutually beneficial resolution to the disastrous project, which understandably takes time. Yet, I was continually kept in the dark. Similarly, though also understandably, they revised the way they handle outsourcing in an effort to improve accountability and increase transparency with a new online system in which to bid for work and a more convenient way to bill for time. Yet, again, these changes occurred without warning or explanation, which made me hugely uncomfortable.

With this client relationship on the rocks, I quickly mobilized to look around for new clients and new projects. However, whereas when I started freelancing I took whatever work was available, this time I sat down to figure out exactly what kind of projects I want to take. This forced me to think about the direction of my writing business and career and how I want them to grow.
Happily, these efforts proved fruitful. I located several new clients that actually seem to be taking me and my business in a more cohesive direction. As my readers may know from last week's column about balancing work and my indecision over teaching, I actually have been lucky enough to have a lot of business options to choose from. While discussions about teaching and other new clients continue, I feel confident that my writing business is now moving in a solid direction.

While losing a contract is never good, I think it was beneficial in that it caused me to think on my feet and take responsibility for my writing business.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Sarah Schiavoni

Too often when we think of stories, we think of books, magazines, blogs, movie scripts—anything written on paper or saved in a Word document. One storytelling medium that we tend to overlook is video games. Growing up with an older brother during the budding electronic age, I was surrounded with video games and game systems. I played Sonic the Hedgehog with my neighbor, had Mario Kart races with my two cousins, recklessly drove a cop car in Twisted Metal 2 with my brother, and played countless rounds of Super Smash Brothers (all three games) with friends in college. I’ve looked up game walkthroughs on IGN.com, beaten the Donkey Kong game for the Gameboy, toned up my calves with Wii Active, and logged countless hours playing Yoshi’s Island for the Super Nintendo. I own a Sega Game Gear, a Gameboy Color, a Gameboy Advance, a PlayStation, a Super Nintendo, an N64, and a Wii, not to mention that I have access to other game systems through friends. I’m an intermediate player at best, but I’ll play just about any game on any system given the chance.

While video games can offer multiplayer fun with friends, immersive adventures that keep you playing late into the night, and a way to blow off steam after work, it is the stories they tell and the depth of the gameplay that keeps me interested. While my more experienced gamer friends will often skip through the game introduction and barely glance at the booklet that comes with the game, I prefer to learn as much as I can about the back story, the characters, and my mission in the game. Like books, video games feature a beginning and end, good guys and bad guys, fighting and love, and countless adventures. Also like books, there are games for all ages and game genres for every interest—fighting, adventure, role-playing, shooter, and strategy, to name a few. While some games follow a set format that doesn’t change no matter who plays, others offer gameplay that evolves with the player. Video games have developed from simplistic setups, like Pong, to detailed and involved games like World of Warcraft. With so many systems cranking out new game titles each year, there are countless new stories being told.

In a recent conversation with my boyfriend, an avid gamer and owner of countless games and gaming systems, he explained to me what he views as the five common story structures for games: 1. Traditional story structure (Halo, Call of Duty, Super Mario Bros.), 2. Branching story structure (Mass Effect 2, The Witcher), 3. Little to no story (Pong, Tetris), 4. Less story, more symbolism (Ico, Braid, Katamari Damacy), and 5. Emergent story (EVE Online, Second Life). Rather than blather more about the games I’ve played and the stories I’ve encountered, I thought it would be helpful to explore these five common game story structures and how they might be compared to literature.

1. Traditional story structure: This is your basic story—the equivalent to, well, a typical book. You play as one character (or sometimes interchanging characters) through various levels, defeating bad guys and working towards a (hopefully) happy ending. These can play out like basically any book genre—mysteries (who stole the treasure?), romance (save the princess), horror (kill the zombies), and general nonfiction (explore the world and interact with townspeople), to name a few.

2. Branching story structure: This is a subset of the traditional story structure, but in this set up, the story in the game is partially determined by the actions of the player, much like a reader influences a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book. In many of these games, you choose who to play from a set of different kinds of characters, and depending on who you choose, the story will change. More detailed games involve your player choosing what to say during a conversation or what action to take during a mission, which further changes the story. Your choices may make you a trusted leader or a hated betrayer. Games with this type of story structure have grown more popular lately because they allow players to become much more involved with the story, but because these games still have an underlying story structure, your decisions have little impact on how the story ends—there are only so many paths you can take to reach a limited amount of endings to the story.

3. Little to no story: There are some games that offer little to no story and provide a basic challenge. Pong, Tetris, Pac-Man, and Minesweeper are perfect examples. They are mindless self-indulgences that let us flex our fingers and put our brains on hold. These could be like advertisements, the backs of cereal boxes, and the classifieds—no real story, but there’s still something to be told.

4. Less story, more symbolism: In the literary world, these would be poems. There’s less of an emphasis on a beginning-to-end story and more of a focus on symbolism and abstract ideas. Things are often less real—there are shifting landscapes, blurred faces, objects acting in opposition to their nature. There isn’t a set-in-stone story, but rather a rambling path to take.

5. Emergent story structure: Rather than have players influence an existing story set up by game developers, the stories in these games are created by players and their interactions with the environment and other players. These games involve making creative use of the people and objects in a game and continually changing the story structure. While branching story structure still holds to a basic plot and can only be taken in so many directions, emergent gameplay is like living in a new world with endless endings and countless adventures to be had. This story structure is a lot like the process of writing—you have ideas in mind and are writing, but the story is not complete.

Video games have their own stories to tell, and I’ve only touched the surface in this essay. They have their own genres, audiences, and difficulty levels. Like books and movies, games can spawn spin-offs or morph into sequels, prequels, or whole series. They can be set up similarly to poems or novels—games can be abstract or straight-forward. Players, like readers, grow attached to the characters—perhaps more so because they can literally be the character. Every game has its own story, simple or complex, and I think they’re well worth playing, whether you’re a reader, writer, or gamer.

By Anne Millbrooke

(In demonstration of the superiority of Wallace Stevens' poem "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird")

I
Animalia
Chordata
Aves, Passeriformes
Corvidae
Pica hudsonia

II
Common and conspicuous
In fact, ubiquitous

III
Black-billed like the relations
Crows, jays, and ravens
Yes, a big family.

IV
Wock wock-a-wock weer weer.
My ear not tuned for the noisemaker,
I cannot translate.

                                                                                ➞

V
Tail raised for walking
Straight for flying,
And dropped, descending.
Am I as obvious?

VI
Black hat, coat, and tie, white vest
Iridescent and flashy and formal

VII
The magpie is a scavenger
by occupation, but why, what
do we scavenge each day?

VIII
Following people through centuries
along paths, dirt roads, and pavement
Finding carrion for carrying on

IX
Dine on ticks and mice,
fruit or seeds, or roadkill,
Just as omnivorous as
the literary magpie.

                                                                                ➞

X
Flight.  Flying.
Take me.

XI
As spring snow covers blooming flowers,
go easy, go to the feeder, take the handout.

XII
Build a nest for speckled eggs
But winter roost among the trees

XIII
Birds, branches, snow:
piebald bird in piebald scene.
Where’s Waldo?

By Elizabeth Milo

When I was a kid, my mom knew I would be different when my favorite task was matching all of the markers to the right color of cap.  I’ve always had a touch of OCD, and one of my enduring quirks is my love of making lists.  I used to write them on sticky notes, in my planner, even on my hand.  I’m a member of the Facebook group “I love to make lists.” I love to categorize all of my items, put them in sequential order, use my super neat handwriting to make the list look nice, and I love the satisfied feeling of crossing something off the list when it’s done.  I especially love merging multiple partially completed lists into one new, fresh list.  So, it’s only natural that I wanted to write a list of some kind for my next editorial-- but what should it be?  A list of books to read over the summer?  Overdone. A list of favorite movie quotes?  Fun, but not relevant… You see my conundrum?  I stumbled upon my answer the other day, though, when considering the state of our language: a list of grammar rules that everybody should learn.  Not rules to follow, but to learn.

After a conversation with a few friends (who shall remain unnamed) the other day, I realized that even among the educated elite of our generation, there is a woeful lack of common knowledge about the rules of the English language.  Some of you may remember I wrote an editorial a few weeks ago about why we shouldn’t be concerned that the English language is changing, and I stand by that.  What concerns me now, though, is that fewer and fewer students are learning and retaining the rules of the English language.  If one intends to argue that it is unimportant to learn or follow a specific rule, one should be able to properly identify that rule and present a case as to why it is unnecessary.  There are plenty of rules I find outdated, but I would not be able to argue against them adequately if I didn’t know what they were and why they were invented in the first place.

The English language is changing every day, but it takes some time for the rule book to catch up to the way that people are speaking on a day-to-day basis.  Every year, the newest edition of the MLA handbook comes out so that professors can assign their Writing 101 students to purchase a copy as a reference guide and the Modern Language Association can make more money; but the differences between Editions 3 and 6 are so few, you would have to go through the book with a fine-tooth comb to find them.  (Should I put one space or two after this period in this very specific citation? What to do, what to do??)  Big changes in our language take place over long periods of time and can only be noticed when comparing samples from two different eras.  Metaphorically, as we grow older, we rarely notice day-to-day changes in our appearance; after a year or two we may note some differences, but we see the starkest contrast when looking at ourselves as infants and aged adults side-by-side.  Language change works the same way: we may only see a few differences in our lifetime, but when we compare examples from hundreds of years apart, we start to see big differences.

My list for you is not a list of English rules that I think you should follow-- It is a list of rules that you should go out and learn about so that you can make up your own mind as to whether they are important or not.  Although there’s not much chance that any controversial rules are going to be thrown out the window, there is always an interesting and ongoing debate about those rules that any English speaker has the right to join.  But if you want to play, you have to know the rules of the game. Literally. Sometimes it’s not enough to go by ear or feel when deciding if something is correct.  If you want to see an old-fashioned rule eliminated because it sounds awkward or clumsy, you need to have more back-up to your argument.  What’s the part of speech?  What’s the purpose of that rule?  How could confusion be avoided if the rule were changed?  Knowing about your language and how you use it makes you a dangerous and skilled wielder of words.

Remember, this is a list of rules that you should learn the names of and be able to identify in a line-up, not that I think you should blindly follow. I didn’t define them because part of the challenge is for you to find out what they are on your own.  Once you do that, though, I hope you will come back and share your informed decisions with me.  I added my vote at the end of each in the hopes it will entice you back to engage in a lively conversation, whether you agree with me or not.

Milo’s Relatively Short List of Nit-picky Rules that You Should Learn to Identify and Use Correctly so as to Better Support Your Choices in Your Speech and Writing

1). The Dangling Participle—much dreaded among school teachers and students alike, this common error can cause some genuine confusion (Milo’s vote: for)

2). Never End a Sentence with a Preposition—a volley of arguments is constantly flying back and forth over the validity of this rule (Milo’s vote: against)

3). Misplaced Modifiers—like a bad melon, once you learn to identify them, they will never slip past you again (Milo’s vote: for)

4). The Oxford Comma—the result of too many stylistic formats, it lies at the heart of the MLA v. AP debate (Milo’s vote: for)

5). That vs. Which—to master this rule, you have to really know your parts of speech, including clausal phrases (Milo’s rule: against)

6). Split Infinitives—another rule teachers tend to be sticklers about; this rule sometimes has to be broken to make the intent of the writer clear (Milo’s vote: against)

By Elizabeth Milo

When I picked up The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, I was drawn in by the rich colors and pictures of old books that adorned the cover.  But it only took a few pages before the story drew me in as well.  At approximately 400 pages, The Thirteenth Tale takes its time to work through the multiple storylines that Setterfield masterfully weaves together, but with so much intricacy to the plot, anything less would feel hurried and sloppy.  

The two main characters, Margaret Lea, a bookseller’s daughter, and Vida Winter, a beloved England author, share the spotlight as Miss Winter dictates her autobiography to Margaret.  The juxtaposition of these two characters creates a wonderful tension that prevents the reader from ever getting bored with one storyline.  At first, I was concerned that I would find the construct of The Thirteenth Tale pretentious: it’s supposed to be the narrative of a woman who is one of the greatest living writers of all time.  But as the story progressed, I found it utterly engrossing and completely worthy of such praise, even if it was fictional, intra-novelic praise.

Setterfield’s academic background in literature shines through in the way she utilizes the Gothic tradition.  In homage to the Victorian novels (Jane Eyre, Woman in White) that her characters love so much, she makes use of many of the Gothic tropes that were adopted by sensation novels, adapting them for a contemporary style of writing. In true Radcliffian style, Setterfield hints at ghosts and mysteries that-- for the most part-- turn out to be nothing more than tricks of the mind.  Setterfield strikes a wonderful balance between allowing the reader to make enough connections to feel clever, and still keeping enough hidden so that the twist comes as a  surprise.  Because of the intricacy of the story, once the big reveal occurred, I wanted to immediately go back to the beginning and reread the novel with my new perspective in mind.

The charm of the English culture that Setterfield describes in The Thirteenth Tale  only adds to its allure.  Her debut novel was not quite as successful in the UK as it was in America where it sky-rocketed to 1# on the New York Time’s Bestseller list.  But for an anglophile, mystery-loving, book junky like me, it’s no wonder why it was a break-out hit.

By Chris Stokum

At the conclusion of “Rock Springs,” the title story from Pulitzer Prize-winning author Richard Ford’s 1987 collection, the narrator is utterly lost. Frantically trying to regain his bearings, he looks to the east -- to the con-man’s life he’s anxious to escape -- to the dull motel that his girlfriend and daughter sleep in, to the car he’s considering stealing. And finally, in desperation, he turns his eyes to the reader. And the reader chokes.

Ford’s protagonists are tired, tragic and deeply flawed, yet the reader sympathizes with them from the stories’ opening lines. Herein lies Ford’s talent for capturing the humanity of the downtrodden and overlooked: men and women and children whose lives are defined by struggle. And these are no Horatio Alger knock-offs in which the pauper becomes the prince. Ford is much too realistic for that kind of dreaming. Some of the happiest endings that he offers involve the protagonist becoming aware of his own mistakes and character flaws.

That is not to say that Ford’s protagonists never break even. But their gains are made more in terms of wisdom and experience than in material objects. In “Going to the Dogs,” the protagonist is robbed by a woman while her friend lies side-by-side with him in the other room, presumably to ease his loneliness. While he loses his money, he reflects upon himself and upon his plot in life for what seems to be the first time.

The other stories in Rock Springs follow similar emotional lines. In “Children,” two young boys entertain one of their father’s mistresses, a girl not much older than them, for an afternoon and struggle to treat her humanely. In “Sweet Hearts,” a man drives his wife’s ex-husband to jail and is torn between acting sympathetically toward the convict and loyally toward his wife. “Empire,” the longest story in the collection, presents a detached, meandering portrait of a married man’s various experiences that approach, but never reach infidelity. His curiosity draws him into a number of questionable situations, though his intentions hardly seem impure. The difficulties in his life result less from his actions than from how those actions are interpreted by others.

Richard Ford’s Rock Springs is initially as sparse as its Midwestern setting, yet life and heart lie just below the book’s surface. Ford’s authorial voice blends regional dialect with true lyricism, and Rock Springs is, in Joyce Carol Oates’ words, “the very poetry of realism.” Though Rock Springs is at times dark, gritty and somewhat depressing, it is gripping in a way that makes it difficult to put down.

By Chris Stokum, Sarah Schiavoni, and Elizabeth Milo

We recently spoke with Jennifer Brown, author of the forthcoming In Jen’s Words: Facing the Issues and founder of Authors for Humanity.

WNW: What motivated you to begin writing suspense novels?       
Brown: I love the edge that suspense novels have. I love to create twists the reader never sees coming. I grew up loving mysteries and then became drawn to suspense for that very aspect.

WNW: How have your experiences working on newspapers affected your later work?  
Brown:  I actually wrote short fiction pieces with recurring characters for my high school paper, which I had fun doing, so that was a definite influence. Also, working with deadlines taught me responsibility. My newspaper experience is useful when I am writing about a fictional newspaper or other issues surrounding the media and reporting. I received great support from my advisors and editor of “The Generation Gap” at Springfield News-Sun that I have also carried with me throughout the years. That kind of mentoring makes a huge difference when you are sending out queries and trying to establish yourself as a published author.

WNW: Is In Jen’s Words: Facing the Issues aimed at a different audience than your journalistic writings were?
Brown: In Jen's Words is aimed at mature readers of suspense. One of the publishers I submitted it to and who also turned it down suggested it would be suited for young adults, an audience I hadn't originally considered. When I write fiction, I normally think of an audience from teens to the elderly. Students, teachers, parents and the general public read my articles when I did newspaper reporting, and I feel confident the same audience will be drawn to my book.

WNW: What do you hope to accomplish by addressing such weighty issues as rape, mental illness, incarceration, etc.?  
Brown:  I want to engage the reader in a gripping story of a family on the edge. These issues are realities of society which lots of readers can relate to. The most interesting thing about writing a story with a  main character suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder is how many different storylines can develop. I think it will be very interesting to see what Jen encounters as she discovers what her other personality has done in the past.

WNW: You and your main character have the same name—is this meant to reflect any similarities between your personalities?  
Brown: I first developed the Barnes siblings in another unpublished storyline over ten years ago. Jennifer was originally based on myself, and even though the first storyline went nowhere, I fell in love with the characters and didn't think about changing any names as I began writing a new storyline. I didn't even originally decide Jennifer was going to have different personalities--it just came up one day during a good flow. Now, the only similarity between me and Jennifer Barnes is the fact we are both writers.

WNW: You frequently switch between storylines in your novel—what approach did you take to map out these storylines?  
Brown: Switching storylines is something I think I first picked up from watching soaps. I would envision what I was writing as if it were on the screen being acted out before me. Switching storylines is also a good idea because all of the characters are not always together at once. It lets the reader know what is going on with everyone while building suspense at the same time.

WNW: What authors have inspired your work?  
Brown:  I love reading Linwood Barclay novels. If Mary Higgins Clark is the queen of suspense, Barclay’'s the king. Harlan Coben, Wendi Corsi Staub, and Lisa Jackson also grace my personal bookshelf.

WNW: What has been your experience working with a small publisher?  
Brown:  Author/publisher communications seem to happen on a more personal level than in big houses. For the first time in my writing career, I think I was fully impressed by the cover made for my book by a publisher. Every big publishing house had its start as a small one, and I feel proud to be part of the small group of authors I share a spot with on their list.

WNW: Where do you look for inspiration when you can't find it?  
Brown:  I have been writing long enough to know inspiration is best when it comes to you, not when you force it. Sometimes the only thing you can do in a case of writer’s block is walk away and do something else. In time, it will come.

WNW: Tell us more about Authors for Humanity.  
Brown:  I came up with the idea for Authors for Humanity this past spring after gathering together my own short story with other authors' submissions for a book whose proceeds would go toward Haiti . After raising over 25 dollars, there were a few people asking why we couldn't help out with causes here in the U.S. So I set up a site, along with a Facebook page and Twitter page, to begin gathering more submissions and ideas for books to go toward other causes. You can check out more at the site www.freeweb.com/authorsforhumanity.

To learn more about Jennifer Brown and her book, set to be released on October 15th by Shadowline Press, visit her website.