Save the Cat! Writes a Novel

I've been working on The Sharpest Claw, the sequel to The Loudest Meow since August. When I started writing this book, it felt effortless. I thought that perhaps I would just whiz through it in a month or two. (Cue ironic laughter.)

Since that time, I've written a character in and out of the story at least three times. (Now I believe that she'll show up in Book 3 of this Cats of the Afterlife series, but we'll see!) I thought that the one thing I was sure of was how this book was going to end. It's no longer ending that way. I've had a character show up in a big way that I never imagined would happen. Another character threatened to steal the show away from my main character. And another one was acting in a way that I just couldn't understand, and, try as I might, I couldn't convince her to do anything else.

By mid-January, I knew I had a problematic first draft that I could no longer “see.” I turned it over to my readers. One came back with suggestions that I thought were great. Then I tried to implement them in the draft, and the pages bit me, and I had to realize that if this reader wrote this story, those scenes would be front and center, but that's not my story. Besides, I hadn't heard from my other reader yet. Why was I going down that garden path when I hadn't talked to him yet?

When my other reader called me, he had a very different take on the book. I'm waiting to hear what my developmental editor has to say. In the meantime, in order to avoid insanity writer style (a feeling of deep gloom when you wonder if you will ever be able to create anything of value ever again), I decided that this was probably a good time to study up on my craft. I had some Audible credits lying around. I promptly ordered Save the Cat! and started listening. (I am an auditory person. Listening and taking notes is the best way for me to learn.)

I thought I was reading the book because I might want to write a screenplay in the future. But I quickly discovered that there was a treasure trove of information here for novelists. I'm specifically talking about Blake Snyder's explanations of genres and beats. He explains that there are fifteen beats that make up a story, fifteen things that need to happen, and that there are ten thematic genres. Once I finished that book, I decided to listen to Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody. I am still listening to this book. Brody takes the same information that is in Save The Cat!, but she tailors it specifically to novels. You get a better sense of where the story elements fall into your novel. She gives many examples from many different types of novels (Pride and Prejudice to Confessions of a Shopaholic to Misery and more). It's taking me a long time because while I listen and take notes, I'm having ideas on how to revise my draft. So I have to stop the audiobook and write down these thoughts. Brody also has created a very helpful PDF that you can download with your audiobook purchase. There's charts and tables and exercises to do. Here's my true confession: I rarely finish these kinds of books. If I do, I race my way through it. If I fill out the exercises, it's without much thought. I don't know if I would be so engaged if I was reading this book. I think listening to it really helps me. But I also think that there's a timing factor. I checked out Save the Cat! five years ago from my local library, and I returned it when it was due without ever opening it. But right now I'm absorbing the ideas. I'm excited. I feel like I am adding quite the snazzy tool to my writing tool kit. And I'm happy about it. I'm not moaning that it's “taking so long” and “it's so much work.” I feel like this study, this revision, this book will make me a better writer, and that is my lifelong journey, to up my skills, to let my characters sing their song

Snow

When we moved to Sonora last year in late April, we knew there would be snow in the wintertime. We had seen patches on the ground in March when we found our home. We had heard about the weekend last winter when the power went out and things shut down.

So we were delighted to see the snow that lasted a day or two around Thanksgiving. Ditto the two- or three-day cover that looked so festive at Christmas. Then came the storms. We've had several weeks of them now, one after another with several feet of snow on the ground. Yes, I got to make my first snow angel since when I was a child in Michigan. (And discovered that I had forgotten one fundamental instruction, both legs need to move! I saw later on the video that Mike made that my left leg had apparently not read the memo.)

It is beautiful. It is wondrous. And it's challenging. I fancy myself an introvert who can spend days on end with just my family, spending a certain amount of hours by myself in my office. But right now, I would love to see other faces. I long to engage in meaningless banter. I want to drive a car without worry and walk down a sidewalk.

Perhaps it also has to do with writing. I'm in wait mode. I want to hear my developmental editor has to say before moving forward. I'm trying to be patient. I'm attempting to learn a lesson from the past weeks, where I had heard from one of the two of my beta readers and jumped ahead without waiting to hear from everyone.

Outside I can hear a kindly neighbor plowing our road. The snow-laden branches of my writing tree beckon. Try another snow angel! Maybe this time, both legs will work. I turn on my heated mattress pad and focus again on the screen. I try to accept where I am in this time of unexpected snow, of hanging out, and letting go.

Impatience and the Writing Process

If I had to sum up my writing issues with my current work in progress (The Sharpest Claw, Book 2 in the Cats of the Afterlife series), I would say that impatience would top the list. It has dogged me in writing this particular talking cat fantasy. As Mike would tell you, it is also not my friend in life. It seems I often feel like I'm late for a very important date, but in actuality, I'm an independent. I earn my living through my day job, editing and transcribing. There is no need to be in a rush. I like to write a book a year. It is the start of the second month in 2019. I'm at a good place. But try telling that to the monkeys in my head.

So when I wrote the first draft of this particular book, I came to a point where it no longer felt fun. It certainly didn't feel on the right track. I printed out what I had done and read it and realized that I had jumped over steps in the story. I backtracked, filled in the spaces, and then could hum along again

After I had written and revised until I could no longer see the words clearly any more, I sent it off to my beta readers and my developmental editor. Usually I send it to my DE after my beta readers had given me their feedback and I had revised it until I could no longer look at it. But for this book, I had checked in with my DE and she said she might not be available later on in the year. It felt wise to send it to her now.

But here's what happened. One of my beta readers gave me her feedback in record time, and she had some important things to say. I realized I would need to revise the last third of the book. Thinking about it, I decided that the changes were substantial enough that I didn't want my DE to read it right now. It would be better for me to roll the dice and see if she was available in the future once I had revisioned the end. And then I set to work, and I had some good ideas, but then I felt rotten about it and started playing the Loser Writer's Greatest Hits in my head starting with, “How Could I Have Been So Blind?,” continuing on with “Why Did I Think I Could Write?” and finishing with, “I Should Abandon This Now.”

Then I took a deep breath. I watched a sitcom and danced around the room. I took my anti-anxiety medication three hours earlier than I normally do. And I had a thought. “Hello? I haven't heard from my other beta reader yet. I had scheduled a month for this process. That would be starting writing on February 23rd. It is now February 2nd. Hello?”

So I emailed my other beta reader, my primary reader, the one who has been with me through this entire writing process, the one who I hope will be my beta readers always. I asked him if he received the manuscript. I didn't even know if that was true. And he responded right away and told me he had it, that he had read fifty pages, that he could get back to me at the end of the week. And everything felt right again.

This morning, instead of working on the draft, I began listening to Save the Cat by Blake Snyder and taking notes. Humility is a writer's best friend. I have so much to learn. (And I think I will explore impatience in one of my novels soon, perhaps this one. It really does get in the way of dreams!)

Speaking in Public

When I was young, I used to dread speaking in public. I would shake when the spotlight was on me. It was out of my control. I kept thinking that the next time might be different. I would try not to drink coffee on the day that I would need to speak. But that just left me with a headache and shaky hands that distracted me and everyone else from anything that I had to say.

But then, years later, I heard my dad make a presentation. It was for an honorary chair at his hospital. He went up to the podium, and he was funny. He didn't stumble. I asked him afterwards how he did it. Was he just talking off the top of his head? It seemed to me like he was. But he told me his secret. He practiced. When he was in his car driving around, he would be rehearsing what he was going to say.

I happened to be involved with a women entrepreneurs' networking group at the time, one where you could sign up to make presentations. After I talked to my dad, I volunteered to speak. And I did just what he told me. I wrote out what I wanted to say, and then I said it over and over again while I drove in my car. When the time came, I was steady, and people liked my talk. I found that I actually enjoyed doing it.

So I signed up for more presentations with this group. After my first novel came out, I volunteered to speak at the local Rotary Club. When I became active in the Young Writers Program in Santa Cruz, mentoring student writers, I was always happy to speak in front of the groups.

And this year, since moving to Sonora, I've been a leader for the Odd Fellows Cemetery tour. I made a video for an Indiegogo campaign, where I spoke on the power of audiobooks. I've talked about being a writer at a Tuolumne County Historical Society meeting, and last night I presented a talk on Robert Burns at the Burns Supper.

As an introvert, it's surprising to me that this is something that I really like to do. I find that with each presentation, I feel more confident. I don't have to recite my speech as many times as I used to, although I do still need to practice quite a bit. Here are some things I've learned:

1. When I'm brainstorming a speech, I use the cluster approach, where I write single words or ideas all over a page and circle them and connect them to other words that seem to belong together. When I first started public speaking, I then wrote my presentation out linearly. I no longer do that. I sometimes write down my ideas in list form to figure out the sequence, but then I just start talking it out. In that way, I figure out where my stumbles are, what works and what doesn't.

2. Try not to expect anything. Sometimes I feel that a line is funny, and I think people will laugh, and they may just smile. That's all right. Keep going.

3. My hands no longer shake. But when I am having fun and excited in a presentation they can fly around. I am not Italian. I've been told that I'd be a natural to learn ASL. Perhaps at some point, I'll work on minimizing my hand gestures. But right now, I'm letting them do their thing.

4. Honesty really works. People appreciate it when they think you're being real with them.

5. Respect the time: Know long your presentation is supposed to be and conform to that time limit. Your audience will have a built-in sense of how long your presentation should be. It may be stated in the program. It may be a weekly or monthly part of their agenda. People will be frustrated or annoyed if you go long. And that's hard because I often have much more material than I can use in a given time. You have be willing to use your editor brain and be brutal. You have to prioritize what are the most important things you need to say.

And, maybe like me, you will see that it's something that you really enjoy doing. Maybe you too will start dreaming up places where you can speak next.

Growing Up

This week, in writing news, I have finished a draft of The Sharpest Claw, Book 2 of the Cats of the Afterlife series, and I have sent it off to my beta readers. It was the right thing to do. I really could not look at it any more. But when I woke up this morning, forty-eight hours after I sent the drafts, I had major doubts about the work. But then the next thought was, “That always happens,” followed by “Perfectionism is not your friend,” followed by, “It was time. You will hear what they have to say and then move on with your work.”

The Sharpest Claw features kittens, based on our young cat siblings who live with us, Indiana Jones and Samantha Bee. They will be two this April. We've had Indy and Sam since they were eight weeks old.

When I was a kid, I remember mama cats giving birth to kittens in boxes inside our home, but before Samantha and Indy, I hadn't been around kittens for years on end. I loved the experience. Sometimes I mourn the loss of their kittenhood—how Indy can no longer sit inside of a hat. But Sam still squeaks. Indy remains a shoulder cat, although most of the time now I lift him up. As a teenager cat, he doesn't like to have his picture taken, but Sam will still look up at the lens and accept the click. To my great sadness, Indy is no longer interested in lying on my legs. I know I sleep better without him there, but I miss it. He still loves Mike's legs and sits on them when we're watching TV and dozes on them in the early morning hours.

For some reason, the other morning, after I prepared coffee, I wondered if Indy and Sam might like to play. I had gotten out of the habit of playing with them. When they were kittens, they had a monkey's head on a string that they were quite fond of until they bit it so much that the head tore apart. But we had several stringed toys that I would whirl around while singing. It seemed important to sing while I played with them.

Since that time, they've grown up, and we moved, but there was still some stringed toys hung up on the closet door. So that morning, I picked one up and started dragging the string down the hall. Well, Indy showed up immediately, his ears pricked, ready to play. Sam observed from the top of the sculpture. After a few flicks of the string, she came barreling down and captured the string in a flying leap.

Then Indy looked at me. He sat down at the end of their cat tube. When we had played in the past, I would dangle the string from the other end, and he would run through the tube and capture it, then let it go, and sit down at that end, waiting for me to dangle it at the other end now. Something about this activity, of him racing through the tube and racing back always made me laugh. It was wonderful to see that he remember and he still wanted to do it.

Of course, I sang. There are two ballads that I've sang to them ever since they were small, “Till There Was You” from The Music Man and “Close to You.” Yes, it's the Carpenters. Of course, it's sappy. But it's really sweet, “On the day that you were born, the angels got together, and they decided to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled moondust in your hair and golden starlight in your eyes of blue.” Most of the time, I substitute “fur” for “hair.” Sam has blue eyes, and Indy's are brown. So I switch back and forth with that.

So this is our new thing. When the coffee is brewing, we play. How long will it last? Will they outgrow it soon? I don't know. But I intend to enjoy it as long as I can.