Listening In

We were sitting in a restaurant in Arkansas; the little boy behind me, voice laden with drawl, expounded on how good he was at "ropin'," and how he had his eye on a new Stetson that could be found at "Wahllgreens."

I smiled in delight and leaned forward towards Danny. "Are you hearing all this?" I asked.  "This is fantastic!"

Danny shook his head.  "I try not to listen to other people's conversations."

I didn't know what to say to that.  I live for other people's conversations.  They're one of my great joys in life.  Keeping in tune to others helps me keep my dialogue realistic, and reassures me of the quirkiness of others.  But my husband had spent a lifetime granting privacy to others, which made me feel guilty.

Until I read this and discovered - I'm not alone! And I agree with Connie - y'all are fascinating.  My favorite places to hear things tend to be dressing rooms, where people don't realize that even if you can't see everyone else, it's doesn't mean we're out of earshot.  Whether it's body image confessionals from angsty teens or cries of delight from little girls in dresses ("It's poufy and pink and it twirls!"), it's all insights into human nature.  Same for women's restrooms (as noted here).

And not to be left out, restaurants.  While sitting and working on a book proposal, I can't help but hear a young man speaking with great authority on the subject of breast feeding.  Not only does he spend several minutes expounding on said feeding, but he does so to two other young men and a woman.

Now, another moment's listening clarifies things to the point where I gather that they'r pre-med students.  But that's besides the point.

I write fiction; I make up stuff people say for a living.  But real life? There's no way I could match it.  Fiction is good, but life?

It's grand.

Not Dead

Sorry. I know, it's been a while. Turning in the book sucked out my will to blog. Or write, really, much of anything.

To catch up:

1. Robin Hood. Thumbs-down, sadly. Honestly, you don't know how much that breaks my heart. I wanted to love this movie, but it wasn't meant to be. You really do have to have characters to make a story work. More on that later.

2. The Losers. Thumbs-up. Honestly, the trailer made it look like the poorer, potato-sack wearing cousin of this summer's The A-Team. Which I haven't seen yet. But The Losers does, it does well. The characters are drawn broadly with much love and affection. The action sequences are fun. The villain is pitch-perfect. If she could sound feasibly British, I'd nominate Zoe Saldana for the Tomb Raider reboot. I recommend much.

3. Letters to Juliet. Thumbs-up. It's swoony and unapologetically romantic in a take-no-prisoners sort of way. When I am old, I want to look like Vanessa Redgrave.

4. Crazy Heart. The scriptwriter really did go with the "less talk more rock" approach. Literally. And while I won't begrudge Jeff Bridges his Oscar in the slightest, I found the story itself to be lacking. My engineer husband (who spends a lot of time these days with a novelist) summed it up this way: "It's like it was an act and a half, rather than three acts. There was a lot of setup, the climax, some plot, and then it was over. I didn't like it.)

*Note* He'll come home from work and tell me I didn't quote him right. But it's pretty close and true to the intended message.

That's it for movies. We've been watching a lot of Top Gear lately. So much that the phrase "Some Say" followed by a pause will now cause a Pavlovian-type giggle reaction. (This is inconvenient for Ridley Scott, since it happened during Robin Hood while one of the actors was trying to be profound. I don't remember who. I was giggling at the time). But it's really delightful and is the only media-related item I've ever found that can make my frequently stoic husband weep with laughter. WEEP.

And honestly, I can't blame him.

One of the reasons I heart it much is that the three hosts - Jeremy Clarkson, James May, and Richard Hammond, are all very good at being characters. And I'm all about characters.

So maybe Ridley Scott needed to watch a little more Top Gear, because the sense of character was missing from a film about one of the most famous literary characters.

Lessons We Can Glean From Robin Hood (2010)

1.) It's important to give the audience a reason to like the main character. If we like the character, we will care about his story. If we don't like him, we won't give a cockroach's tush. The late Blake Snyder wrote about this in his seminal screenwriting book, Save the Cat. Basically, give your protagonist an opportunity to save a cat, or something - anything - that makes us like him. It doesn't have to be much. It doesn't have to be a cat. Russell Crowe could have saved a horse, and it would have helped. This is true for anti-heroes as well. Even if they have issues, the likability has to be there.

2.) Characters have to be consistent. When characters are consistent, we believe they're real people. When they're not, we struggle with the suspension of disbelief. So if you give us a smart, gutsy woman like, say, Marian, and especially if you cast a smart, gutsy woman like Cate Blanchett to play her, do not have this character threaten to remove a man's manhood at knifepoint and then have her light a lamp so she can undress behind a thin curtain, giving the aforementioned man a lengthy opportunity to observe and admire the silhouette of her feminine form.

I mean, really.

3.) No plot development is going to be interesting enough to save your story if your characters are flimsy. In fact, if you don't have characters, it's not a story. It's not. It's a recitation of events. Character make story. Stories make character. You can't have one and not the other, if it's going to work. A lot of plot-driven writers struggle with this, particularly sci-fi/fantasy writers. I've seen it in both published and unpublished work. Political machinations don't mean a thing if we don't care about the characters. The reason why is that if we have nothing invested, the stakes will never be high enough to create the tension necessary for a moving plot. And you need high stakes. You need tension. As Lauri Deason once said, "The original Star Wars movies were about saving the universe. The new ones were about tax reform."

And we all know which ones were the most successful.

4.) Pick your tone. Own it. Films like The Losers, Clash of the Titans, and Letters to Juliet work because they know what they are and they're good with that. They're not trying too hard to be too much. Robin Hood swung around from battle epic to comedy to drama to romance in such an awkward way that it didn't work at any of those. (Note: kissing someone in the midst of battle while blood drips onto that person's face...gross. Not romantic. Not sexy. Gross and awkward. No one wants to kiss a bio-hazard.)

So there you go. I've been reading a lot of British Chick-lit lately. I can't wait for this book to arrive at the library (it's currently out). I have a thing for books in which a woman inherits or manages to land into a large, old, decrepit house and has to make it a home of some sort. I don't know why, but I've had this thing for a long time. It's a big plus if the house has a secret history, or if the heroine makes curtains for it. Books like this, this, and this, and obviously this. I just finished Harriet Evans' A Hopeless Romantic, and that was a lot of fun :-)

Speaking of books, need to get back to Simply Sara edits. More later...in less than two weeks :-)

P.S. The frog pic at the top is one of the ones I shot at the Oregon Garden during out getaway weekend. The rest are in the slideshow - go take a peek.

You know you're a (fiction) writer when...

1. Certain office supplies have the power to bring you to tears. Of joy.

2. You about had an apoplectic fit while viewing Stranger Than Fiction.

3. You've found yourself editing the Bible for run-on sentences.

4. You discuss characters in your book to the point that the person you're conversing with thinks they're real.

5. You see unending possibilities in a blank sheet of paper.

6. You see unending failure in a blank Word document.

7. You own more books than anything else.

8. Though you haven't read all of them.

9. However, none of them are going anywhere. You are a haven for the printed page.

10. The librarians at your library have dirt on you.

11. Good dialog makes you swoon.

12. You collect names the way other people collect recipes.

13. No one in your household has clean socks.

14. You re-plot popular fiction in your head so that it actually, you know, works.

15. You re-plot films and TV shows verbally.

16. Your spouse may not always appreciate this input.

17. You've spent serious time trying to figure out if Irish creeks are frozen in February, or if Amish women wear normal bras.

18. There's a list of words you love - and hate.

19. A lot of good reviews make you happy.

20. One bad review makes you, very, very, very, very sad.

21. Forget review. One negative comment in the middle of a good review, and it's depths of despair, all over again.

23. Your work space used to be clean.

24. You say things like, "That was such a good set-up/pay-off" during a movie.

25. You enjoy crosswords.

26. You know a little about a wide variety of subjects from past book research.

27. You keep track of who knows what in your circle of friends - for future book research.

28. Carpal tunnel is referred to in hushed tones.

29. You fulfill over stereotype concerning writers and chocolate.

30. Like Emma Thompson's character in Stranger Than Fiction, you know that while storyboarding and synopses can be your friends, truly good ideas - like anything worth writing - come inexplicably and without method.

Confessions of a Name Freak

My name is Hillary Lodge. I'm a name-o-holic.

The indicators showed up early. As a child, I renamed myself frequently. My first grade teacher quickly learned that if the name on the top of the page did not belong to a child on her roster (and in fact was odd to the point where a set of hippie parents would shake their heads at it), it must be mine (blessings upon Mrs. Bauer).

I loved Anne of Green Gables. Her desire to be called Cordelia made complete sense to me.

I spent a lot of time naming my dolls and stuffed animals the right name. Because heaven help us if they had the wrong name.

One thing led to another. My condition worsened. I began to write fiction.

I collect names. I've sat in movie theaters watching the credits, looking for good names. I'm very interested in the etymology of names. I'm always looking out for good baby name books. I'll write down random names that I like. I'll make fun of ones I hate.

I didn't think much about this until recently, when the subject came up in a blog interview. The section I had the most to write about was how I chose characters' names.

Now I've got my protagonist, Sara, starting in a new atmosphere, and I need to meet the people she'll encounter.

First, writing a follow-up novel means you've got a cast of thousands. There's more than half of the characters from the first book, plus all of the new ones. I actually had to pull out a copy of the book to remember what Jayne's mom's name is.

To avoid name conflicts (because I worry about such things), I made a categorized list of everyone in the book so far.

And wow. I have an addiction to names from the middle of the alphabet. Grady, Gemma, Jayne, Joely, Kim, Kip, Levi, Nora - this is Simply Sara alone, and does not count Grace, Jenna, Joel, Livy, Lewis, Mark, or Nick from my first novel.

Sure, I've got Sara and William and Zach and Arin, and Beth and Spencer and Sol, but good heavens. And talk about a soft-G/J addiction; I want to write a book about someone named Ginger (no idea what, just love the name), and now I realize it would just feed the pattern.

I'm teaching a class at OCW next month about creating an ensemble cast, and let me tell you that this experience of trying to add three characters has completely changed the way the seminar will be presented.

After a couple days, I finally managed to name the three young women I'd been working on. I'd think I was settled, then made changes at least once per character. I love the women I ended up with! Sometimes I wish some of the characters I wrote were real, I'd love to hang out with them.

Since then, writing's been a bit easier. There's knitting in this book (finally! I get to write about knitting!), which is happy. And like I said - I have people to play with!