Jun 13, 2018 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
“So, what do you write?”
It’s the question we all get. At meetings, conferences, gas stations. Any time we are introduced as a writer. And our books are just as individual as we are.
Sure, there’s some common ground: We all breathe some form of air. We’re all (mostly) human. And I think~I mean I’m not willing to put money on it~but I’m pretty sure 90% of us are made up of coffee and ink in the veins. If I’m wrong, don’t tell me.
Let’s be real. Mommas don’t love all their children the same. We may love them the same amount, but we love them each individually, uniquely. The same for our projects, yes? Each one is special for its own special reasons. And when our stories have their own quirks, well, it can be hard to describe to someone who’s not a part of the family. But then imagine that your child is so extraordinary that no common description will do. “She is tall, lovely, blonde with brown eyes.” Uhm. Yeah. So are a billion other people in the world. Let’s narrow it down some. Okay. “She doesn’t like coffee.” Wait. Did I really give birth to her? “She’s a cat lover.” “Likes to travel.” “Generous spirit.” “Was born in California.” See? Once you start giving more detail, the drill-down shows you the uniqueness. Or I could just cut to the chase. “She’s a go-getter with wanderlust.” Interested? Yup. So’s her husband.
So imagine how hard it is to tell someone the uniqueness of your novel in a way that captures their attention, and respects the elevator-pitch rule.
The “elevator pitch” is a very short synopsis of your story. You have approximately twenty seconds to tell someone (usually an agent or publisher) your idea and get them interested before the elevator doors slide open and they exit.
NOLA is a location mystery set in New Orleans, about a disenchanted woman who runs away from her terrible life in California and falls in love with a man who may or may not have killed his first wife.
Bam. There it is.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Created a Location Mystery Sub-Genre
The two questions I usually get are, “What’s a location mystery?” and “How do you research?”
I’m so glad y’all asked.
Sit on back and I’ll tell you.
A location mystery is a story where the setting is so integral to the plot, it’s a character in itself. You simply cannot tell the story in any other location. It will not work.
NOLA is full of culture, climate, music, food, mythology, weather, local customs, and dialect. Now, y’all know I won’t be writing “y’all” when I work on CENTRAL. No, ma’am. That one will be full of fuggedaboutits and youztalkingtome kind of lingo. NOLA has beignets and chicory coffee. CENTRAL will have Brooklyn-style pizza.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Created a Location Mystery Sub-Genre
Researching NOLA has been incredible fun. Making sure to keep it as a location mystery is even funner. [NOTE TO SELF: Dig out your T-shirt that reads, “FUNNER: gooder than just fun.”] [SECOND NOTE TO SELF: do the laundry.]
Locations are what ground your story. It’s where the action is. If you don’t know where your story takes place, neither will your reader.
There are five things I recommend for researching any location you’re writing about:
- Google Earth. This great app allows you to see real images both from a bird’s-eye perspective and eye- (or street-) level. You can “pin” distances, plot out routes and maps, and get a true visual of what the setting of any real place looks like. I was able to take Josie on a street car ride, a city bus, and a walk all through Google Earth.
- Tourism boards. Contact your location’s tourism department through Twitter. Visit New Orleans has been instrumentally helpful with their quick responses to my questions. Where could Toni take Josie for lunch? How far away are the bayous? Is Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar really 200 years old? I asked, they answered. Often with links to more detailed information.
- Television and movies. I did a Roku search for “New Orleans” and found a plethora of programs to watch. Some gave me insight into character behaviors. Others showed the Crescent City documentary-style. Still others focused on food, fashion, crime, environment, weather.
- Music. Google or YouTube music and videos. Create a Pandora or other streaming station. Find out which bands came out of your location, and listen to them. Listen to a variety. I’ve always enjoyed Harry Connick, Jr. and Otis Redding. But my taste for Jazz has grown exponentially since starting NOLA. Zydeco music is a unique sound. And let’s not forget Honeyvibe from Baton Rouge. Now there’s some uplifting soul music, there.
- Other books and media. Read books in your genre, in your location. Read biographies. Documentaries. Novels. Travel magazines. Search the internet for articles. Get as much information as you can.
As you collect research, take notes. Take lots and lots of notes. Make notes on your notes. Maybe you don’t want to use this information now, but you can reference or change it later.
If you’re world-building for a fantasy novel, well, that’s a whole ‘nother post. Come find me next week and we’ll see what we can dream up.
In the meantime, grab yourself a sweet tea and an atlas and have at it.
Now I want to hear from you: What tips do you have for researching your novel locations?
For a more in-depth discussion, watch the Firsts in Fiction podcast episode Gross Anatomy of a Novel: Setting and Detail.
With a digital globe and wanderlust imaginings,
Happy (writing) travels.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
May 31, 2018 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Note: This post is about four times longer than my usual. I hope you’ll read through it. I almost quit writing this week. Almost. Here’s how I didn’t.
First: Why did I almost quit writing? Simple answer: Life. Complicated answer: Life is complicated. I’m in my element at Blue Ridge. Extroverting on coffee on steroids. Learning. Sharing. Laughing. Writing. But this year there were many outside factors drawing my attentions and I had a hard time focusing on being in the moment. I am thrilled ecstatic exhaling and ready to get back to it. Thanks to my peeps who take me as I am and didn’t push, but always pulled, me back into being me. All one hundred billion mosaic pieces of me.
Writing conferences are ahh-mazing experiences. #truestory. From the moment I back out of the driveway to the moment my head hits my own pillow a week later, every nanosecond in between is filled with . . . with . . . [*lifting eyes in thought*] . . . Well, it’s kinda hard to explain. But I’ll try:
When I first realized I was a mystery writer, it was like being diagnosed after a mystery illness. I could tell people what I did, but even I didn’t fully understand it. It was a glimmer of something I didn’t quite grasp. All I knew was there was something in me that no one could explain. A way of seeing things others didn’t. My brain would twist and turn when everyone else took the straight paths. And then I met Victoria Zackheim and Ann Perry at my writers’ club. After listening to them talk about their books, I realized that’s me, too. I’m a mystery writer. I’m not sure they ever knew how influential that day was.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Writing Isn’t a Disease. It’s a Diagnosis
Once I knew who I was, the light bulbs went on. The a-ha moment hit. I could breathe instead of holding my breath. And the best part is, there’s so many others who are just.like.ME.
Understanding the genre I write has been vital to not just my story, but to me as a writer, and as a person.
Flash-forward about four years, and I’m still doing the writing thing. Still working on NOLA. Still thrilled with mystery, suspense, and well, thrilled with thrillers. [Of late, I’m enamored with the Patrick Bowers series by Steven James, and the Dave Robicheaux series by James Lee Burke.] Still going to Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Recovered From my Writers Conference (With Scooby Snacks and a Wheelchair)
Four and a half days of heavenly extreme-extroverting. Froggie photos. Turning acquaintances into friends (thanks, Bob!) and turning friends into family (Edie, DiAnn, JB, exactly-like-her-Heather, and so many more.) Going to classes that focus on whatever I want to focus on: media, marketing, proposal writing, no-rules writing, diving deeper into character. It’s all there.
This year was admittedly harder for me, literally and figuratively. It’s all public knowledge now, but with my history of car accidents (#nevermyfault) and a kitchen-mop-turned-wrong-type-of-dance-move incident a few months ago, my knee now has this thing the doc likes to call “chronic injury”.
Imagine the beautiful, sloping hills of the Ridgecrest campus in North Carolina. All 1,300 acres of it. Yeah. I knew a while ago there was no way This Girl could navigate without help. Quick call to the airlines. “Sure, you can bring crutches on the plane. And would you like mobility assistance as well?” Happy Injured Girl say whaaat?! Turns out, if you have, like me, been assaulted and tormented by moving metal and your knee (or any other supportive part of your body) decides it doesn’t want to cooperate on a regular basis, and walking from Terminal A to Terminal D is more than you can handle (thank you, American Airlines!), you can get a wheelchair and attendant from entrance to exit! So that’s what we did.
Park the car. Take the shuttle. Sit in the chair. Transfer to plane. Boom. #thatwaseasy. Well, for me anyway. The peeps I was with all week had their share of “Will you carry this for me?” and “Please get the Fresca from the fridge in my room.” and “I will beat you with this crutch if you say one more thing about my immobility.” Oops. Scratch that last one. Never happened, okay? Not admitting to anything.
Thing is, a few times [read: at least once a day] my knee would give out. My arms were tired from the crutches. My wrist was sore from the crutches.
I was freaking tired of the crutches.
But I needed them. Until I needed more. And Kirk did his little minion dance and said, “Molly Jo, it would make me very happy if I could push you around in the wheelchair.” Well, who am I to deny Kirk some happiness? I mean, isn’t that what we’re here on earth for– to make others happy? So of course I get in the chair. Go here. Go there. Park in the corner. Ugh! Extreme-Extrovert going through interaction withdrawals!
And I see in the distance, Mary Denman (y’all remember Mary, she did some photography posts last year) raise her camera and snap a shot.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Book Signings and Froggie Photos
Not sure if y’all can tell by the look on my face, but I wasn’t really having a good time. I was stuck, lower than eye-level, immobile and unable to take part in some of the fun. But then Mary saw me. And she took this photo and put it online and it did something to me. It made me realize even when my body is imperfect, I’m still me. I couldn’t walk very well (sometimes not at all) [and even as I type this, I’m waiting another doctor’s appointment next week], but I could recognize my friends. I could connect with the authors, agents, publishers, editors, and faculty in the room. They were the ones sitting at their tables. And you know what? I was eye-level with every single one of them. From the Ganskys to Bob Hostetler to Steven James (see, Bob, I put you first!) (sorry Steven, he paid me) to Vicki Crumpton to Alycia Morales to ohsomany. And I’m feeling sorry for myself, and in pain, and then I get it.
These are my people. This is my crowd.
And not one of them cared that I was on crutches or in a wheelchair. Schweet.
“But what about the Scooby snacks?” You say. Oh, if only you could see the smile on my face right now.
I never told you about this? Well, sit back, sister. There’s a whole ‘nother story to write. So, last year this whole food fight thing broke out. Wait. Back up. Let me tell you about Lobby Time. That’s when the day’s schedule is over and we have free time. The conference center is set up like a small college with dorms/hotels, and in a few of these buildings like Mountain Laurel (where the cool kids faculty stay), the faculty hangs out in the lobby. It’s our chance, as mere underlings, to meet and greet and accost converse with them about all things writing. So last year, agent Steve Laube [who is never tired of us teasing him about his name sounding like “lobby”. Hulloh, Steve. My last name is Realy. How much sympathy do you think I have for you?!] was regaling many of us with his stories of encounters with, shall we say, interesting people. Paige, Caleb, Pam and I bring our load of junk food down and we’re sitting on the floor like teenagers watching a late night TV movie.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : BRMCWC Lobby Time with Steve Laube
And Steve keeps telling his tales. But I notice he’s looking in our direction. [I begin to wonder if I have powdered donuts on my nose or something.] Then he says something about my eating habits. Whatever, dude. It’s like, college for writers and I’m hungry, okay? So I chuck a packet of Scooby snacks at him. Now, I already told y’all I’m still hungry, right? I figure he’d do the polite thing and give them back.
Nope. Not Steve. He opened the pack and started to eat them. My Scooby snacks. He ate one. And another. All while still telling his stories, and we’re all laughing hysterically, and apparently I offend him [I know! Like I could offend anyone, right?!] because he takes little red Daphne and throws her at me!
So I say, “What did Daphne ever do to you?!” and throw her back. But I miss. So I pick her up and drop her on his head. He retaliates with some potato chips. And then, minutes later, there’s Scooby snacks, and smashed potato chips, and I can’t even remember what else. But it. was. FUN. About five of us got in on it. When I handed him my business card later, he was so tired he misread it. Instead of “Writer. Chef.” he said it was “Writter Chief.” Well, what the heck is a writter chief? “I don’t know! That’s why it puzzled me!”
Being the respectful person that I am, this year when I first saw him I politely acknowledged his old mind busy year and said, “You may not remember me, but I’m pretty sure you’ll remember this.” And I gave him his own box of Scooby snacks. Made even more perfect because I did this in front of others who witnessed last year’s attack. What? Planned? I’m shocked you would recognize suggest such a thing.
That was Monday.
Take a guess how many packs of snacks went flying throughout the week every time we passed each other on campus.
And let’s not forget to mention he stalked me at the airport- THE AIRPORT, PEOPLE! – and even accosted me there. Look, he started it, okay?! All I did was buy some snack food. [wink, wink.]
So, fast forward again to today. I quit writing four days ago. I gave up. Crawled in a hole and died. Resurrected myself just long enough to cry over my loss, then rolled over and died again. Locked up the pens. Turned the journals face down.
I’m not making this up.
Because no matter how much they try to tell you, a writer really is never prepared for the desert valley they return to after the mountain high of a conference.
It. Freaking. HURTS.
Big time. The absence of like-minded people. Walking through the day without crazy peeps at your side understanding when your mentor says things like this:
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Aaron Gansky the Bigfoot Killer.
And what? We’re supposed to go back to, you know, what the rest of you call “regular” life? nothankyouverymuch. Oh the sadness of it all. And, yes. Yes, I admit. Edie had to talk me off the ledge of comparison. She always tell us our writing journeys are our own. Don’t compare ours with anyone else’s. And I get that. I do. But dannnng . . . You know.
So. Life. Complicated. Writing. Compared. Blue Ridge. On the other side of the world.
So yeah. I quit writing.
Until today. Until now. Until a good-night call to Mom turned into a 45-minute “Oh, I forgot to tell you . . .” verbal essay. And since it’s getting time for MailChimp to send this out, I guess I can stop typing now.
The moral of this story is surround yourself with the Good Ones. The peeps who see past what you say. Who remind you what you’re meant to be. The Aarons, Alycias, Paiges, SuperGirls. The leadership teams. The ones who want to know you as a person, not a product. And the ones who understand the importance of a good hug, or a smile, or a Scooby snack.
The ones who not only stand by you no matter what, but who help you to stand when you can’t do it alone.
Bonus: You get to bring them along when you board first.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Recovered From my Writers Conference (With Scooby Snacks and a Wheelchair)
With a huge gulp of sweet tea and a hug for almost everyone,
Happy living.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
May 30, 2018 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
May 30 is National Creativity Month. But, I think y’all might have picked up on that based on this post’s title. Am I right?
So, I just got back from a lovely trip along the milky way my yearly excursion to the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference. It was, as always, life changing. How many life changes can This Girl go through and still be changed? I’m so glad you asked. Apparently, the answer is, well, quite a bit.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Celebrated National Creativity Day
I still can’t put into words all this year’s trip meant to me. So I’m using my other creative notions today. Oh, but I do wanna add this. First, Mr. Laube started the Scooby Snack fight this year . . . Okay. It’s possible likely accurate that I may or may not have provided him with the snacks prior to the throw-down. But he’s the one who stalked me all the way to the airport just to chuck another pack at me. [Shhh. I don’t want to hear how he was “actually” flying home on the same plane we were taking halfway across the country. Reality has no bearing on this tale.]
Oh. Also: They. Served. GUMBO. #truestory
Frankly, My Dear . . . Gumbo at Blue Ridge
Oh, sorry. Did I get my drool on you? Anyway . . .
Creativity for many of us isn’t just one thing. Sure, we have That One Thing we do awesome-sauce well, but it’s not the only thing. So today, I’m embracing the many pieces of my creativity that make up the mosaic of me.
Whether you are an artist, a writer, a construction worker, a parent, sibling, or child, there are many ways you can express and celebrate today.
You can use this day as your catalyst to begin a creative project [click here to Jump and Jot], or start a new Happy Planner layout for next month. You can celebrate your muse by taking it (and yourself) to a movie, a concert, or a park and pay attention to the world around you.
Frankly, My Dear . . . Celebrating National Creativity Day
I’ll be sketching, cooking, journaling, plotting a backstory, editing some NOLA. Oh, did I tell you? I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a publisher . . . And now that publisher knows me. Fingers crossed, this may be the year of the NOLA. Schweet, yes?
Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get some fun/work done.
With smiley balloons and a song to sing,
Happy National Creativity Day.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
Click on the photo below to sign up for my monthly Author, Etc. newsletter, filled with marketing, social media, and other creative aspects of being a writer. And if ya do, there’s an award-winning short story in it for you. You’re welcome. [Insert creative smiley face here, wink-wink.]
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Writing Isn’t a Disease. It’s a Diagnosis
May 16, 2018 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Well, I’m just hours away [read: one day without problems. So, realistically, Thursday] from launching my newsletter, Author, Etc. I’m very excited to bring this to you, chock full of authors being, well, not authors.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Started a Newsletter and Gave Away a Story
Curious? Here’s a little of what it will contain:
- Social media and marketing tips.
- Creative ways to stay organized.
- Recipes. Because food is fun to play with.
- Links to author-related sites I think you’ll enjoy.
- Happy Planner downloads created by Yours Truly, and not just for writers.
- Polls, surveys, and much more.
Want in? Just look for the Author, Etc. banner on the upper right of the website, and click. Easy peasy.
Frankly, My Dear . . . Sign Up Here
Oh, did I mention there’s a free short story in it for y’all? My award-winning Walker Smith. #truestory. It’s one that I’ve always been very proud of, and love to share. Back in my college days, it earned third place in a blind-read contest. That means the judge didn’t know who the authors were, so all entries were based on writing merit. My English professor, Conrad Balfour, was an instructor at Minneapolis’ prestigious The Loft, and asked the group to bend the rules: They created a scholarship and extra position for me to join. I’ll never forget their kindness in opening up mid-semester to me. Unfortunately, it’s an opportunity I couldn’t take as I was already in the motions of transferring back to Cal State. Walker Smith changed my life in many ways. It was the first time I got paid for my writing. An entire $15. So I bought a collection of short stories from the campus bookstore, and a pint of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream from the market.
And here I am, many many years later, and I’m still doing the writing thing. Still doing the networking thing. Still doing the loving life out loud thing. And I’m ready to put it all together in Author, Etc.
I sure hope you’ll be a part of the inauguration.
With a groovy dance and a ready pen,
Happy writing.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
May 11, 2018 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Ohhhmagosh. This thing happened. I got this email, and I swear to you, the sweet tea poured and the heavens sang. Wanna know what it was? The Happy Planner is looking for new Squad Members. #trustory!
And I’m over here like Donkey in Shrek, screaming “Pick me! Pick me!” And as I’m trying to wrap my head around the application, I decide music is the way to soothe the soul (or at least drown out the pleading taps coming from my own fingertips as I type out why I’m a good selection for the Squad) so I say, “Hey, Echo. Play music.” And, #truestory again, she/it says, “Here’s a song you might like.” And I hear “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” You know what I’m gonna say to that, right? *Insert Southern-Belle-Bohemian-Hurricane nod of approval here!*
Frankly, My Dear . . . : That One Time I Crafted a New Envelope System
So I’m trying to impress them with my amazing creations and my. mind. goes. blank. I have written blogs and shared Instagram photos, tweets, and endless Facebook posts about my love need addiction for Happy Planners since my first recipe for Hobbes, my #NOLA-inspired Creole Meatloaf, and even using the blank calendar pages to storyboard my novel-in-progress. (Which, btw, is coming along quite nicely in the rewrite stage. thankyouforasking.) But right now, oh-the-pressure of coming up with that one ahh-mazing idea and submitting it in time to be considered but I have so many other things to do like clean house and make dinner and do the work and the coffee and the budget and the cat love and writers conference prep pack and and and . . .
Ah. Mental click and the light comes on.
Stop. Breathe. Focus. Use what you already have.
Well, I think it’s quite evident I already have enough to create some great pages.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Happy Planner #SquadGoals: Getting Started
I parked myself at my big-enough-to-work table and spread out all the Happy love I could muster. Oh, and this is just for the daily planner. This doesn’t include my essential oils planner, my recipe planner, my novel planner, or my writing conference planners. Yes, plural. I have a writers conference planner from 2017 and a writers conference planner for 2018.
All of which you can scope out by searching for them here on the blog and my other social media sites. [Shameless self promo, what can ya do?]
Wait. What was that? Prepping for the annual writers conference? Why, yes. What kind of planning does that take? Oh, I’m so glad you asked. You got your story writing. You got your schedule. You got your journal. You got your packing list, to do list, coffee appointment list, travel itinerary list. Ohsomanythings. And then of course there’s the money, honey.
So it’s a good thing I created an envelope system to keep my funds organized, yah?
Frankly, My Dear . . .: My Happy Planner- A New Envelope System
With some blank cards, washi tape, paper clips and HP stickers all tucked into a Happy Planner organizer tote, This Girl is ready to go places.
But wait! There’s more! I can track it all with my budget pages, too. Remember this awesome Budget Inspiration Dashboard? I love the ability to keep stickee notes on it, and move it to the current month. It keeps me focused, on track, and aware of my spending.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : My Happy Planner Budget Dashboard
That little turtle sticker is there to remind me that “slow and steady wins the race.” I don’t need to pay off everything all at once, or buy everything the first moment I see it. I just need to know I can do all things, with God, with a budget, and with a plan.
Who knew a Happy Planner addiction could keep me so fiscally responsible?
I have plenty of other Happy Planner creations in the works, and I’ll be sharing them with you more regularly. For now, I wish you many pages and tons of stickers.
With an open planner and lots of plans,
Happy Planning.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Be Your Own Scarlett
