To catch up new readers (or those who care not to peek at my blog that often *gasp!*), I've been asked to rework my latest novel for possible resubmission to a publisher I queried. My concept, grammar, and style was great but the writing itself needed some work, the editor told me. Now that I'm into the rewrite, I want to share something I've learned.

When I would hear editors say, "Trim the fat," I never really understood what that was all about. Did that mean I would have to cut out part of the story? Would the world and characters I created be compromised? I admit before I started the rewrite, I was terrified of over-thinking it. I stressed myself by worrying about what I might have to cut.

Now, though, as I continue to work on the novel according to the advice of the editor, my eyes have really been opened. I'm only 1/3 of the way in and I have already cut out about 3,000 words. That's a LOT of fat trimming. I can see now where I was repetitious and how I used words that didn't have to be used. And now that I'm getting the hang of it, I'm so much more pleased with the novel than I was before and I didn't think that was possible given that I was already in love with it to begin with.

You ask, though, isn't your story being redirected into something different? Not at all! The story is being built on the same foundation just minus the sticks and hay that can cause a collapse of the entire structure. I'm so excited to learn what trimming the fat really means in writing and I'm excited to share it with all of you.

On a side note, it's important to take an editor's feedback to heart. If an editor takes precious time to provide feedback and do some sample editing, embrace it. Their intentions are only to help. If I hadn't been open to learning, I might not have learned this important element of my writing and I might have continued to be in a rut.

Now, on with writing!

"Theory of a Tramp" wasn't just some epiphany that came to me in the middle of a dream. (And yes, I've had those.)  I was actually actively using brainstorming techniques to come up with a viable story.  I used a picture prompt.  I flipped through more than a dozen pictures until one spoke to me.  See the picture up top there?  That's the talking picture.  Not literally.  I'd like not to be committed today, thank you.

Looking at the pic, you see rust.  Apparently there was some water damage.  So my brain started churning.  What could've caused such a mess?  That led to an image of an over-flowing bathtub.  What if someone had drowned in that tub?  How did they drown and why?  One thought continued to lead to another until I had the premise of the story.  Two rewrites and an editor's pick later, the story was finished.  I sent it to a couple of test readers and I got a few "Didn't see that one coming!" remarks which is high praise in my book.  That's how the process worked for me. 

If you're interested in purchasing a copy, click here for the options.  I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading!

I made a decision the other night. I decided to quit.

Before everyone gets worked up in a tizzy, I'll clarify. I quit a short story I was writing.

For the last couple of weeks, I've been working on a short story I titled "Until Death". In this story, I had to explore what it might be like as a 5 year old who had lost her mom and dad. There were some nights when I'd finish writing for the day and I'd have tears streaming down my face, my nose would be all snotty and Hubby would look at me weird and ask me what was wrong. "Writing a tough scene," I'd say and that would garner an even stranger look because I'm one of those writers whose spouse just doesn't get it. Not that it's a bad thing but the point is, I could've said the all-famous female line, "Nothing," and it would've been more acceptable than I was writing an emotional scene.

But it wasn't the emotion that got the best of me. It was the realization that the story was going nowhere. I had over 5,000 words, almost 20 pages... and not only had it taken so much longer than my writing usually does, but I felt the story wasn't going to reach any type of great climax. In order for a story of the length and caliber that I was going for to work, there has to be enough of a climax to satisfy the reader. The story has to have enough of a conflict to be interesting and, for my personal preference, I try not to be predictable. I still feel like it is a good concept and maybe one day I'll have an epiphany that will bring it back to life and allow me to finish it, but this isn't that time.

This is a difficult decision for me. This is the first time in over three years that I've just given up on a story. Usually before I start a story, I think, "How can I take this concept, which undoubtedly has been written before, and make it different? How can I heighten the climax? What can the protagonist learn from point A to point B?" This time, I didn't follow through with my usual train of thought on the process and it reflected in how the story was progressing... which wasn't very far.

It reminded me of what author Nathan Bransford said on Facebook a few months ago: "If you aren't having fun writing it, they won't have fun reading it." And I wasn't having fun writing it. At. All.

Sometimes you just have to scrap them or leave them in a hard drive to collect dust for awhile. I'm not proud of it and I'm trying hard not to see it as a failure. It's time to move ahead.

Just a small update in case y'all are wondering what's up with my submissions lately.  As of right now, the only thing I have out there is my submission to DAW which I've asked for another follow-up on.  I've almost exhausted the pool for my second novel as the genre is confusing.  Most paranormal seekers expect romance and while my protagonist is a young adult, I've been told multiple times that my subject is too mature for a young adult audience.  So I've put it aside and am focusing on my next one.  Maybe one of these days someone will pick up "Memory's Hostage".  In the meantime, I've finished the non-fiction ebook I've been working on and it's going through an edit process. 

I've let my untitled fantasy novel sit for a few months and now I'm going back over it in rewrite and edit mode.  I usually hate revisions but I'm actually enjoying going back through this novel.  One of these days I will have a suitable title but today is not that day.  It will probably take me a few weeks to complete the revisions and then I will start seeking agents.

I've written one science fiction short story lately called "The Hand" and am about to send it out to Analog next week. 

Other then that, it is all I have going on with fiction stuff.  I've had a lot of non-fiction work coming my way lately, a ton of assignments for Yahoo! that I couldn't afford to let go, so it has contributed to slower fiction progress.  But I keep on with it and I hope you are keeping on the path of your dreams as well.

I realized something today.

For the last year to year and a half, I've written on my fiction or poetry (mostly fiction, as poetry tends to be a spontaneous burst) five to seven days a week.  It was constant.  My mind was able to escape for that hour or so that I was able to sit down and fully immerse myself in my fictional world with characters that, while I made them up, take on a life of their own.

A little over a week ago, I finished up my latest science fiction short story.  I've sent it to a few test readers and I'm letting it sit; only after letting it sit for a few weeks will I be ready to go back over it with a fresh perspective.  In the meantime, I've been working on a non-fiction booklet.  During this time, I've felt... well, antsy I guess would be the word to describe it.

I've always felt down or depressed somewhat when I wasn't writing for long stretches at a time.  It was those times when I'd tried to give up the craft in favor of something more tangible, more normal.  It was after struggling with myself for so long that I knew I couldn't ignore it.

Even though I'm writing for a living now, it is the fiction aspect of writing that gives me a sense of belonging, a sense of peace, a sense of purpose.  I can write non-fiction to my heart's content; I've had descent success even.  But it's not my calling and it's not something that I will be happy doing forever.  Only those who have heard their true calling will understand that.

I won't be doing many more of these longer non-fiction projects, that's for certain.  I want my fiction worlds back!

Theresa Wiza  (left) is a long time content writer and blogger.  In September of 2009, she learned she had breast cancer.  She is still battling it and will be for a long time.  In the meantime, she has provided her readers and friends a journal on Associated Content that details her experiences with the disease.  

An excerpt from Diagnosis: Breast Cancer - Part 1- 


"We [a dear friend and I] talked about how I could now use breast cancer to excuse myself from having to do anything I didn't want to do:

Sorry, can't mop up that mess. I have breast cancer. Sorry, didn't hear you - my breast cancer is acting up. Sorry, officer, I was in a rush to beat my breast cancer. And on and on.

From that point we went off on a tangent to discuss how my grandchildren could use the breast cancer excuse too. Sorry, couldn't make it to class today - my grandma has breast cancer.

Am I delirious? Possibly."

I came across these in part because I remembered someone saying that Theresa had breast cancer.  My next fiction piece centers on a woman with breast cancer.  Since I didn't know anyone close to me with the disease, I asked Theresa if she would mind helping me in my research.  She continues to answer questions that pop up as I write the story.

I admit that I didn't realize what I was getting into when I first came up with the story idea.  I knew very little about breast cancer, treatments, or the toll it takes on those afflicted.  But it's the best part of being a fiction writer; researching and seeing an entirely different side to life. Even when the topic is an unpleasant one, the knowledge that comes with researching the personal side of things is often eye opening and emotional.  And it's thought provoking in a way that helps you understand the world around you and appreciate people and their struggles more.

If you'd like to read Theresa's breast cancer journal, the links are below.  It's a bit long but well worth the read.

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV

Here are some other links where you can find her:

Theresa's Yahoo! Contributor Profile
Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help for Single Parents
My Heart Belongs to You
Writer of Blogs

Grammar rules when writing dialogue seems to be a tough spot for many writers. Over a year ago, I wrote the Rules of Grammar and Punctuation in Dialogue Writing (click here) which has had tens of thousands of page views and has been shared across multiple writing sites. Now, I'm going follow up on that with two more dialogue writing rules, rules which I've seen broken many times.

Read More...

It's been a really rough couple of weeks.  My mental state has been dragged through burning coals.  Here was my rant last week:

Whine and Rant Alert: I want to crawl into my hidey hole.

So after the plagiarizing thing, I've made some progress which has empowered me and made me feel a bit better about my situation.  Here is the post I wrote to follow the plagiarizing situation:

Waging War Against a Plagiarizer

With all that going on, even though the stress of that was dying down, it was still fresh when I happened upon a local story about extreme corporal punishment that really upset me.  I'm probably one of the most outspoken people in my community when it comes to speaking out against the school system's superintendent.  I've gotten cheers for doing so but have inevitably made some enemies as well.  I wrote an editorial on the story (click here) to which a relative of mine, who is also a teacher, wrote to me and said that I was unprofessional and bashing all teachers in the system.  Caring about her as I do, I took a step back and clarified my position in a second editorial (click here).  I tried to tell her that I was not "bashing" anyone, but she disagreed.  And you know what, that's fine.  It's a little disconcerting when someone, especially a relative, doesn't agree with you or thinks bad of you, and I can deal with that.  What happened next is what had me so upset.  She threatened a friend of mine, saying that he would "get in trouble" because he had the gall to tell me about a situation where his son's teacher bullied his son.  Apparently, saying anything bad about any teacher regardless of what they've done is a huge no-no.  We should all just keep our mouths shut.  Next, she went on to say that my kids probably wouldn't fit in in public school.  And she hadn't even met my children. 

Now, despite the fact that I'm related to this woman, we haven't been close at all.  But there was that semi-distant blood tie there that had us bound.  Well, being a snob doesn't excuse a person, family or not.  I've spent far too much time in my life having people look down on me that I refuse to allow myself to hold on to someone who makes me feel that way these days.

In any case, while I am still a bit upset at that, it is rolling off.  I'll be fine, I'm sure.

With all this, I've also had a rough go with my fiction lately.  It's been moving along and I've been getting the words down but I haven't had one of those "in the zone" sessions in a long while.  You know what I'm talking about; one of those sessions where you lose track of the words you are writing because it's all coming together, flowing nicely, and at the end it leaves you breathless and euphoric, like an athlete's endorphin rush.  It's a drug and if you can hit it just right, it eases all stresses.

I was finally able to hit that zone last night, propped up in my bed with my netbook, the kids having already gone to sleep, with my MP3 playing soothing instrumentals.  I wrote a couple of thousand words without realizing it.  All I saw was my characters and their story.  When I emerged, it was like coming up out of water.   I looked around and felt a sense of peace that cannot be matched.  It was something I didn't realize that I desperately needed until it was over.

Today, my outlook is more positive.