Critique and Cogitation
Jul52012
I gave Lani and Krissie the first two acts of Liz to read, knowing there were big problems but not knowing what they were. That’s a major problem in writing a book: if you knew what the problems were, you wouldn’t create them, but only somebody outside the book can see them. Lani gave me the manuscript with track changes marked which is the best way to critique since you can make the changes right in the computer on the same doc, and a lot of them were easy fixes, things I could do right away. The rest fell into two camps: big fixes I’m going to have to think about (not whether to make them but how), and things where I could see her point, but what she wanted me to do was wrong.
The second group is where the pitfalls lie. The temptation to say “No, that’s not right because of XYZ” is huge, but you can’t say that immediately; if you do say it immediately, you’re probably wrong because it’s a knee jerk reaction. You have to look at two things: why the critiquer said it and why you’re resisting it. The first one is the easy one: you figure out why she thought that needed changed and you see if you can find another way to achieve what she needed (she’s your first reader so you can’t dismiss it out of hand because other readers will feel that way, too). And then if you’re still reluctant to change it, figure out what your problem is.
For example, Liz’s mother was an alcoholic when she was growing up. She went into rehab when Liz was twelve and she’s been sober since, but the years from four to twelve were bad ones for Liz for a host of reasons, not the least of which is that she loved her mother and couldn’t help her, although like all children of alcoholics, she tried. When Liz comes back to town after a long absence, her aunt tells her that her mother is drinking again, and Liz refuses to believe it although it worries her. After that, she doesn’t look for evidence of drinking and she doesn’t tell anybody except one old friend, who tells her that it’s not true and gives her reasons why. Lani’s objections were two-fold: Liz would look for evidence, and if Liz was asking other people about it, she’d ask her mom. Because those two things were missing, Lani couldn’t understand Liz’s reaction to the news and it made Liz seem cold and uncaring.
So the first thing is why did Lani trip over that? And she gave me the answer earlier because she’s an extremely thorough and insightful critiquer: Liz’s emotions aren’t on the page enough. I’m not a highly emotional writer anyway, but in first person, there has to be more of an emotional spill, and it’s not there until Liz gets hit with a rock. So Liz not reacting with more action to her aunt’s accusation was part of an overall flaw in the first act: Liz doesn’t have much emotion on the page. And that’s going to have to be fixed.
But I’m still not going to have Liz look for bottles and ask her mother. I’ll make other changes in hopes of accomplishing the same thing, but not that way because it would be a character violation. As Krissie pointed out, children of alcoholics, families of alcoholics, in general do not discuss the problem with other people; it’s the big family secret, shameful, especially in a small town. For the same reason, Liz wouldn’t go looking for bottles, plus that would be a betrayal of her mother. I think she’d do exactly what she did do, try to dismiss what her aunt had said, and then an hour later when she runs into a good friend, and the conversation turns to the aunt, she’d blurt out what her aunt had said, and the friend would respond. Later on, something she does makes somebody else ask about it, and she shuts the conversation down, but aside from that one blurt, she wouldn’t mention it.
So that’s character and you don’t violate it. But part of the reason Lani wanted more is that Liz seems cold, so when I said, “She can’t do those things, it would be a character violation,” Lani suggested she be aware of why she wasn’t doing those things, to acknowledge the omissions in her thoughts. But I don’t think Liz would acknowledge that she’s falling back into old patterns, I don’t think she’d recognize that she’s in denial. That’s part of what denial is, not recognizing your own emotions. So somehow I have to fix what tripped Lani up without violating Liz’s character. This is the stuff that takes cogitation. Lani pointed out the problem for readers and it’s a big one if it prevents readers from attaching to her. Now I have to figure out the solution.
But as I said, I think Lani already pointed the way in the big stuff she said needed fixed, particularly in Liz’s detachment in the first act. She also pointed out some big sections that she wanted cut because they weren’t going anywhere, so I have to figure out how to accomplish what I did in those sections elsewhere because she’s right, they’re slowing the story down, but the big problem is Liz’s detachment. The thing is, Liz is detached for a reason and it’s a big part of her personality (although not part of her character; she’s not intrinsically detached), so I have to figure out a way to get the emotional involvement on the page without shifting Liz’s personality too much because losing that detachment is part of her character arc in this book. But you can’t explain to a reader, “Okay, you’re going to have a hard time attaching to Liz and worrying about her because she’s emotionally distant, but if you hang in there, she’ll change.” You need to get that attachment there, in the first scene, and keep it going.
And then there’s the problem I always have which is that Liz has a negative goal. I tried to change it from “Liz wants to escape Burney” to “Liz wants to get to Chicago” but neither one is working. So back to the drawing board on that, too. But the big takeaway is that I now know why I don’t like some of this book. Now all I have to do is figure out how to fix it.
Back to cogitating.
ETA: Micki asked what track changes looks like. The blue is Lani’s comment and the red is my edit.
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73 Comments to 'Critique and Cogitation'
On July 5, 2012 at 3:38 pm Kira said...
That sounds like some really productive criticism. Good luck on the cogitating.
Can I ask you something … about attachment – if it’s like any of your other books, you probably intend for us to get attached to the town and its inhabitants. But if the protagonist’s goal is to get the heck out of the location, how are we as the readers supposed to get attached to it? If she doesn’t want to be there, why would we want to spend any time there? It’s easy for us, we can put the book down.
Also, how are we expected to relate to her? Are we supposed to be smarter than her, and realize, “you think you want to get out, but what you really want to do is rewrite your personal narrative”? Or should we just be on her side throughout?
On July 5, 2012 at 4:49 pm Jenny said...
Good questions.
Did you read Welcome to Temptation? Because that’s a book where the heroine hates the small town she’s visiting and ends up liking it.
As a writer, you want the reader to attach to the heroine and take the same journey she does, which in this case is seeing the place with new eyes. It still has its drawbacks, but it’s like any other arc, you want the reader in the heroine’s shoes.
On July 30, 2012 at 5:43 pm Heqit said...
There’s a really good example of this in Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s Call Me Irresistible. At the beginning of the book, the heroine hates the Quirky Small Town People and the Quirky Smally Town People hate her – a LOT. But she’s stuck there, and then she needs to stay there to accomplish her goal, and then she WANTS to stay there – and then she leaves, and has to find a way to admit that she wants to go back and find a way to do that.
By the end of the book, she loves the Quirky Small Town and people, and they all love her, and the reader has gone on the whole ride with them and has come to love the QST characters, too. But that doesn’t make the QST characters less annoying (and/or seemingly vicious) in the beginning: it’s heroine (flawed but basically relatable) vs. Quirky Small Town (defending its own against the INTERLOPER) until they learn, gradually, to respect and then appreciate each other. As Jenny says (I think), it’s all about the journey.
On July 5, 2012 at 3:54 pm Evelyn said...
wow, this all sounds plenty stressful. I hope you’re taking time out to find your center.
Just my two cents – people who have had alcoholics in their life will most likely always experience the fear of that person going back to drink. Doesn’t matter how long they’ve been sober or if their personality is different. For the person who can’t help or control someone’s addictions there will always be that nagging deep-seated feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. So, perhaps Liz isn’t asking other people about it because subconsciously she always thought this would happen and it’s her worst fear coming to life – being that helpless child again.
On July 5, 2012 at 4:49 pm Jenny said...
Liz is really private, too. But yes, everything you said.
And a good critique like this one isn’t stressful, it’s enlightening. Lani isn’t saying I’m a bad writer or this is a bad book, she’s saying “Here’s where I had problems, maybe you could fix them this way.” It’s extremely helpful.
On July 5, 2012 at 5:09 pm Skye said...
And it’s extremely helpful to us when you share this sort of information!
On July 5, 2012 at 5:45 pm colognegrrl said...
As far as I got to know Liz from what you disclosed on this blog, I find her reactions very believable. She comes across as somebody who is very observant and smart, but she might not be in touch with her own feelings much in the beginning. She would not confront her mother because she doesn’t want to get involved, she wants to leave again (her major goal).
I was reminded of the taciturn Dick Francis heroes (as far as I remember those novels are all in first) who also do not open up much about their feelings but still, the reader gets very attached to them. Now everybody has their own style and you’re not Dick Francis, but you’re not Lani either.
On July 5, 2012 at 5:46 pm Clever Cherry said...
I would not have tripped over Liz being in denial that her mother had given up years of sobriety. I’m not sure a lot of people would. If I were Liz I might have even thought along the lines of – oh no, not going there again.
As far as motivation – I don’t know how to phrase this in correct novel goal terminology – but isn’t Liz scared to wade through the pain that comes up every time she thinks of her hometown? Avoidance. It’s motivation.
Also, I’ve said this before but I’m going to say it again. I love the way you write. I also have enjoyed Lani’s books. But Lani is a tight writer. It’s her style and it works really well for her. You are not a tight writer. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to see that change.
Although, there is the possibility that mysteries need to be tighter.
In any case, it’s going to be interesting to see how this turns out.
On July 5, 2012 at 7:29 pm Jenny said...
Lani’s not trying to make me write like her. She’s just pointing out where things are slow or confusing. And since my openings are notoriously slow anyway, it’s good to know this stuff.
On July 5, 2012 at 11:18 pm clever cherry said...
I anxiously await the results. I suspect that I’m going to really like the Liz book.
Thanks for the track changes example. A beta reader used that for me before and it was very helpful but I didn’t know what it was called.
On July 6, 2012 at 12:04 pm JulieB said...
I also thought the same thing Clever Cherry just said. Liz denying the information that her mother was drinking would not trip me up at all either. I’ve seen/had that reaction too many times as well. I know some people would confront, but many other people would not discuss it. And, I don’t think that not searching for bottles or not confronting the mother is the same thing as not worrying about her mother or being invested in her mother.
For example, I see Liz’s potential reaction with a couple of possibilities:
Does Liz reject the idea out of fear? Is it something she just can’t handle worrying about at the time? She could even be looking at her mother with more questions and suspicion, but not necessarily inviting a battle or mistrust by going through the cabinets.
Does Liz feel that, based on recent interactions with her mother (I know Liz isn’t in town, but presumably they have talked on the phone at some point in the recent enough past to have _some_ reference) that this is just not true?
Does Liz mistrust her aunt? Does she think her aunt has an ulterior motive? Is she a gossip? an attention-seeker? Does she have a reason to put a wedge in between Liz? Any one of these reasons could be enough to Liz to say “Nope, you’re wrong.”
I’m sure there are other reasons as well. But again, even if it was something that would hit Liz in the gut, I don’t think the reaction is a stopper.
On July 5, 2012 at 6:03 pm Jessi S. said...
I think Liz’s reaction to the idea that her mother is drinking again depends on your characterization of her mother. Was she an extroverted drunk or an introverted one? What kind of damage did her drinking inflict on Liz? Was she abusive or neglectful? If she was abusive and Liz’s first thought is protecting herself from her mother’s drinking she’s absolutely going to look for evidence. As Evelyn said above, it’s a control thing. You can’t control their drinking, but forewarned is forearmed. You want to KNOW so you can control your reaction, even if that reaction in detachment.
But that’s just been my experience with an emotionally abusive alcoholic parent that has never stopped drinking, so I don’t know how her mother’s years of sobriety would change that reaction.
On July 5, 2012 at 7:27 pm Jenny said...
Liz’s mother was never abusive, but she was negligent. Well, it’s hard not to be negligent when you’re drunk.
On July 5, 2012 at 8:42 pm Mary Stella said...
This is fascinating because after reading the description of the critiquing I’m trying to look at it from the critiquer’s (i.e. Lani. Hi, Lani!) point of view. I’m also the child of an alcoholic, so it’s difficult not to have that POV too.
Question: Did Liz have therapy or 12 step support? While it is recommended to “detach with love” that’s hard to learn how to do without help. I agree that Liz would not come right out and ask her mother based on someone else’s say so. In the beginning, she probably also would not go looking for bottles. Liz could be absolutely steadfast in her belief that her mother’s drinking is not something that she’s supposed to fix — and she’d be right. To others that might appear cold, but to Liz it is justifiably blocking co-dependent behavior and a survival skill.
However, I honestly believe that when she’s around her mother it would be really difficult for her to keep herself from looking for hints or indications that her mother might be hanging off the side of the wagon even if she hasn’t fallen off all of the way. Hypervigilence is common in children of alcoholics — even ones who deal with co-dependency issues. Some things never leave us, even when the alcoholic we love has maintained sobriety and recovery for years.
If Liz sees all of the signs in her mother’s behavior and decides to confront her but gets nowhere because of her mother’s denial, then she might go bottle searching for evidence.
By the way, count me among the big Track Changes fans!
On July 8, 2012 at 11:15 pm Rosa said...
I can’t agree with this more – if someone told me they thought my alcoholic parent was drinking again, I might not believe it, I might discount it as mean gossip, but I would HAVE to watch closely and check for myself, and inside I’d be a big ball of anxiety about it.
On July 9, 2012 at 4:10 pm Jenny said...
Not in this case. One person has said it and Liz doesn’t trust her. Nobody else has even hinted at it. And she’s seen her mother and there’s no evidence of it.
On July 5, 2012 at 6:37 pm robena grant said...
Yeah, Liz wouldn’t say anything to her mother. She would be doing the old “walking on eggshells thing” because to say anything negative to an alcoholic could do one of two things make them go into a rage and lash out, or drink more to swallow their guilt.
Most kids of alcoholics learn quickly how to monitor a situation, and how to walk softly around issues. She might look in the old places where mother used to hide her stash (like the toilet cistern, or under her bed.) I think Liz might ask a trusted friend but then have a reaction to that friend’s comments. Friend could then accuse her of being in denial, or squashing her true emotions. And that could be yet another reason why she wants to get out of Birney ASAP. Or thinks she does.
I don’t have a problem with Liz being emotionally shutdown, or cool, to begin with so long as there are enough signs that point to why. I know she’s going to grow emotionally and that’s part of why I’d be reading. I’d be interested to take that journey with her, and to see how she evolves or how she handles issues now as an adult.
On July 5, 2012 at 7:51 pm Micki said...
Well, the nice thing about first person is that you are in her head. So, you can show the process of denial pretty clearly. For me, the process of denial goes something like this: “Oh, that’s odd. Well, it’s a hot day, it’s natural she’d be sleeping at 3 p.m. — she’s getting older, too. And I definitely didn’t smell whiskey when I talked to her. So, we’re not going there again. Auntie’s just being a bitch again, probably.” And slowly the odd moments add up to: OMG, we ARE going there again.
Liz has become independent, so she can ignore neglect, I think.
The problem is that it can be awfully hard on a reader — if Liz is stupidly in denial, you just want to kick her and say, “Look, Liz, you’ve got a problem.” You’ll need a really light touch, I think. (-: Which you do have.
Motivation is another tough one. It’s pretty obvious that she doesn’t want to stay in Burney. And it’s also obvious that she’s not really invested in going to Chicago or she’d do it. What does she really want? Control of her destiny? A loving mom?? Some roots for her rootless existence?
What I would really like to see is a page of the critique with this tracking technique. I’m not sure how critiques can look on the computer. I was thinking about a highlighting system for first read, and then putting the document in two columns for second-read in order to make notes. (-: But to tell the truth, I’m very shaky with my Office Word, and although I know it can be done, I don’t know how easily it can be done — especially if one is changing the formatting and ones own comments a lot.
On July 5, 2012 at 7:56 pm Jenny said...
If you have an old version of Word, there’s a Track Changes button on the bottom. Track Changes is also in the pull-down Tools menu. Once you select it, any change you make in the ms is highlighted and you can add notes that appear on the right hand side. I put a grab capture up in the post for you to see; just click on it to make it big enough to read.
On July 6, 2012 at 10:11 am McB said...
My niece, who is incredibly smart – she’s going for her masters in math education – sends me her essays to proofread. She’s a whiz at math theory, but not so much grammar and punctuation. Using Track Changes makes it easier on both of us. She can accept or reject suggested edits, and I’m not re-writing her material.
On July 8, 2012 at 3:03 am Micki said...
OK, I’ll look for it. I have 2007 Office Word, I think, which doesn’t play nice with others, and has Very Many Features. In Japanese. But if I know what I’m looking for, I can usually find it if I need it. Thank you!
On July 13, 2012 at 2:44 am CrankyOtter said...
I’m pretty sure it’s on the Review ribbon, but maybe just the View ribbon. Searching help for “track changes” should point you in the right direction.
On July 5, 2012 at 8:51 pm katyL said...
Sounds to me like Liz has a very important positive goal–to keep the life she’s built since leaving town on track. She also has the strongest conflict to this–her own emotional pulls getting triggered.
You hit on something good in a previous post too. Children of alcoholics (and truthfully lots of other types of “dysfunctions”) often take on different roles–one option being becoming “super responsible” which seems to have been the one Liz took on. Not just in sort of raising herself but in taking care of her mom & becoming a fixer. There’s a lot to work with there. Plus, if this detachment of hers is portrayed as self-protection, that’s really relatable for most women and creates empathy for the character. And if she gradually lets her guard down with Vince so that at the end she’s capable of being vulnerable with him that’s a fab achievement for her and a happy moment for the reader (which I thought you talked about somewhere in the sex scene blog posts).
Think the trick is to tie Liz’s emotional journey to the mystery plot–if that’s what drives the story. That worked really well when you did it in Agnes:)
On July 5, 2012 at 9:25 pm Water Cherry said...
I can’t stop associating teddy bears with evil demons minions from Wide Ride. For some reason, that makes me dislike Liz’s mother and fear for her life all at the same time.
On July 5, 2012 at 9:52 pm Jenny said...
There are no demons in Lavender’s Blue. Well, not supernatural ones.
On July 5, 2012 at 9:46 pm Water Cherry said...
“I’m not a highly emotional writer anyway, but in first person, there has to be more of an emotional spill”
I disagree (but I’m only a reader). In Bet Me, you wrote the character’s emotional thoughts quite often in 1st person. For example Min thinks, “If I had an untraceable poison, I could drop it in his drink now and not one of these suits would notice”. How is Liz different? Is she less like your inner voice? Does she lie to herself? Can you write it in 3rd person and then change it to 1st?
On July 5, 2012 at 9:52 pm Jenny said...
That’s snark, not emotion, and it’s still third person interior monologue. Real emotion would be the fear Min spills on the street outside the restaurant after Cal sings to her.
First is just a whole ‘nother ballgame.
On July 5, 2012 at 10:31 pm Kieran said...
I learned from Blake Snyder that a great way to attach to someone who’s difficult to attach to is to see them right away “saving the cat,” which is the name of his screenwriting book, of course. You watch the character do something unexpectedly or unusually nice for someone or something else, often with no one else being aware–which lends sincerity to the act of kindness or to the rescue. A lot of people have criticized Blake for this approach, saying it’s too obvious, but it doesn’t have to be.
On July 5, 2012 at 11:45 pm Kate George said...
I always hate when the posts and comments end because it’s just so doggone interesting to hear what everyone has to say.
I’m personally pretty shut down emotionally, so it’s hard for me to write emotion. It feels so over the top to me. Although after Midnight passed on I wrote some fairly emotional scenes. I tend to mistake snark for emotion in my own writing so I’m glad you pointed that out!
On July 6, 2012 at 1:55 am Kieran said...
I want to add that I don’t think Blake meant for any writer to impose an action on a character that doesn’t fit. I think he meant that it’s important to show a character’s essential humanity right off the bat. The writer has to discover what the character would do to reveal that in the context of the first scene.
On July 6, 2012 at 5:17 am Reb said...
I might be completely on the wrong track, but from the snippets of story, I’ve been thinking Liz’s goal is to save herself. Or, as KatyL said, to keep the life she’s built for herself.
On July 6, 2012 at 7:05 am Jenny said...
But that’s a negative goal still, to stay the way she is, to not grow and change.
On July 6, 2012 at 7:57 am JaneB said...
Don’t know that it’s necessarily negative. It might be a matter of feeling she’s preserving her integrity/who she really is rather than returning to a place where she’s felt manipulated in the past. In other words, she wants to continue on her journey, rather than allowing herself to be hijacked again. Maybe? (She knows she can’t fit back into that box; but she’s perhaps confused the place of her childhood experience/imagination with the real place, which will be much bigger than her story of it – as people and places always are.)
On July 6, 2012 at 10:23 am colognegrrl said...
I’d say her goal is to reach a safe haven where the past can’t hurt her. Like a shipwrecked person trying to swim to the shore. Would you consider that negative?
On July 6, 2012 at 12:36 pm Jenny said...
Yes, because her goal is to avoid something not to achieve something. You’ve stated it positively, but it’s still a reaction to a negative goal. It’s the different between “I want to go over there because I don’t like it here” and “I want to go over there because there’s something there I desperately need to do.”
On July 6, 2012 at 12:32 pm Jenny said...
Sorry, not negative as in “not good” but negative as in “not positively going toward something.” She wants to stay the same. That’s not good for story tension.
On July 6, 2012 at 10:09 pm toni said...
One of the things that has helped me in the past is to look at the (oversimplified) logline for a story and see if I can fill it out. It’s barely going to touch on all that the story is, of course, but this tends to help me.
The basic formula (which I’m pretty sure you’ve taught somewhere, if I remember correctly), is:
_______(main character), (brief description) must ___________(task/ in order to / goal) or else _____________ (stakes/consequences.)
So in this case:
Liz, a woman suffering from terminal fix-it-itis must… (and here’s where I can see your problem — there’s not a specific task / goal, so the consequences aren’t there.)
What’s Liz’s “or else?” in the story? What is the worst that can happen to her here?
In Welcome to Temptation:
Sophie, a woman trying to rise above her grifter past, must distract the mayor from the fact that they’re making a porno film in order to help her sister or else they’ll be shut down and lose their entire savings. (Um, that is off the top of my pointy head–it’s been a couple of years since I read it and I’m at the hospital, so crappy internet/no kindle books to review.) (Also, that’s the plot, not the romance.)
[I have no clue if this helps. Just sometimes going at it from a screenwriting perspective helps me, because in screenwriting, story = structure. It can be limiting, because of length and depth, but it does at least help resolve those connections.]
On July 7, 2012 at 1:40 am Jenny said...
Why are you at the hospital? Don’t drop in news like that and walk away. Jeez.
Unless, it’s, you know, personal.
On July 7, 2012 at 9:13 am toni said...
Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. Brain mush. My brother was being tested last week for the final whatever-they-had-to-do for the bone marrow transplant when they discovered the lymphoma had come back. They have to do two major rounds of chemo (24/7, five days, two weeks off, repeat) and then re-test him to see if that knocked back the lymphoma so that they can proceed with the transplant. It has not been a good couple of weeks.
On July 7, 2012 at 10:07 pm Jenny said...
God, I guess not. Sending him good vibes and thinking of you, too, babe.
On July 13, 2012 at 2:59 am CrankyOtter said...
Hrm. I rather thought stories were written about the changes to a character or place – don’t most stories start out with “everything was fine, really, we mean it” where no one is looking for change, but something happens and they must change whether or not they want to. So her default is, “no, I’m comfortable with my life right now and do not want to change”. But I can see where that’s not her goal.
Is this a case where she doesn’t start with a goal beyond a quick bear drop, but the mystery plot starts, so she’s forced to get a goal after the plot is set in motion? Because I’m not seeing Liz coming to town with a goal that will drive the book. I see her getting ambushed by the plot and needing to get a goal on the fly, which means leaving her comfort zone, although she will resist if she’s realistic.
Do we need to know her goal from the start as readers, or just you as author and creator? Goals could be to intervene for the young daughter of the latest alcoholic (not on my watch!), helping a friend, helping her mom, making sense of the insensible (curiosity), etc. those aren’t Liz specific as yet, but I don’t know the book beyond the snippets here. If these aren’t helpful, skip right by.
On July 13, 2012 at 1:01 pm Jenny said...
All good questions.
The basic problem is that Liz’s goal–to get to Chicago–isn’t central to the book. The reader doesn’t care that Liz isn’t getting to Chicago, so there’s now worry when everything thwarts her. By the time the story evolves to the point where Liz is fixing things so she can get to Chicago, the story works because her goal is to fix something the reader cares about (presumably) but the reader still doesn’t care about Liz getting to Chicago. Kind of like in Support Your Local Sheriff where Jason keeps saying he’s just doing things to get to Australia, which is true, but you don’t care about him getting to Australia, you care about him defeating the local crime family which he has to do to get to Australia . . .
My head hurts.
On July 6, 2012 at 9:45 am Terri Osburn said...
Reading through the comments, I keep thinking I’d need to know more about the aunt to know how I’d feel about her believing or not believing her. Do the aunt and mother get along? Is the aunt the “cry wolf” type? Does she have it out for the mother? If the mom & aunt are siblings, is it a life long rivalry? I guess the intentions and history of the aunt would play into it for me.
I grew up in a house with an alcoholic grandmother and somehow never made the connection that this might be why I stay emotionally detached from pretty much everyone but my daughter. Huh. Enlightenment through Argh.
On July 6, 2012 at 9:48 am McB said...
I had a heck of a insightful comment before the internet ate it …
Anyway, I think I see your point, Jenny. If Liz went confrontational based on the word of just one person, she would be a less sympathetic character. Which doesn’t mean that she won’t keep her eyes and ears open, but that’s different from actively snooping and confronting her mother. If her mother has been sober for a long time, then jumping to a negative conclusion based on just one person’s comment would be a betrayal of her mother. People who are blunt and confrontational at the drop of a hat are usually trying to hide something of their own by shifting attention away from themselves. Which makes me wonder about the aunt …
On July 6, 2012 at 10:02 am stephanie said...
Once, in a group dynamics class, I tried an experiment. This was a hard class for me – 40 hrs, 3 hrs on Friday nights and all day Saturdays for several weekends – and as an introvert it really got to me. I started to shut down and not participate outwardly. Then I did something that someone noticed – I was rude. I rolled my eyes. I turned my body away from the speaker – and not subtly, mind you, I mean a full 90 degrees. I huffed. No one bothered to bring me into the conversation – which, of course, was the point of the class but the facilitator caught my eye and smiled. I crossed my arms and then did a triple whammy: rolled my eyes, turned the other way, and huffed all at the same time. I did this several times over the course of the afternoon. Still no one asked me if I was okay or brought me into the conversation but when we took a break a woman who sat across the circle from me stopped me as we left the room and said, “You’re usually so quiet. It was great to see your real personality coming out today.”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t thinking WTH! but of course, the best part is that this ended up being the major thesis of my semester paper. My first person account of the events are so different from her’s. Liz’s view of her life and her family are her own and even though she might not be vocal about them that doesn’t mean that other people can’t be talking about them in her presence. It doesn’t have to be right to illicit a reaction from Liz. Anyway, just some thoughts ’cause I’m a fixer.
On July 6, 2012 at 10:25 am Concord Cherry said...
You’ve got me thinking about character attachment and leaving small towns… I usually lurk, but this is an interesting discussion, so I hope you won’t mind my chiming in. You’ve already got some really universal themes and conflicts. Your biggies that I see here are shame and vulnerability.
I’m trying to think about what attaches me to a story and characters…I guess that the biggest hook is watching a character solve a problem I can relate to. I think I attach to characters that are working on a problem I might be facing myself. In your story, I think I’d get emotionally invested in seeing how Liz conquers her shame and vulnerability. However, most children of alcoholics that I’ve known are very defensive about being vulnerable – one they don’t like to show it, and two, they have deep-seated shame about being open or visible. There are strong hiding tendencies. Not as in, hiding bottles themselves, but being very private. There isn’t a whole lot of “My life is a fishbowl, nothing to see here.” It’s more like “There’s nothing to see here. See these shutters? Go away.” That can actually feed curiosity. Ah, the mystery. I want more. I want explanations. I want the character gestalt.
Also, having left a small, quirky and colorful hometown myself that I rarely visit anymore except to see my mom, I find that revisiting it swamps me with old memories, very concrete, very sensory in nature, extremely powerful. As in, I can’t walk down the street and pass the deli and not remember the old Italian guys who sat hunched over the bar stool with their butt cracks showing when I went in to buy a candy bar, and how creepy the deli was because it was dark, smelly, smoky and the wooden planks squeaked. And the men looked like perverts, even though they probably weren’t, but they just stared at me when I came in as a little 8 year old for my Hershey’s bar, and I didn’t like being the focus of their concentrated attention. My childhood memories seem larger than life these days. Maybe it’s a trick my mind is playing on me, but I’m realizing they are profoundly powerfully influential when it comes to some of the decisions I make.
Also, Mother/daughter issues are universal. Deborah Tannen wrote a book about it. “You’re Wearing That?” Who can not relate? I mean, really.
Also, children of alcoholics are always extra-vulnerable. It’s hard not to attach to someone who’s vulnerable but doesn’t want to/can’t admit it. There’s the constant struggle to appear all “I’m stronger than anything you can throw at me, you should see what I’ve been through” and then that weird truism that it takes even greater strength to actually *be* vulnerable and then show it. Brene Brown talks about this on TED talks.
Also,… that’s it. *grin*
On July 6, 2012 at 12:37 pm Jenny said...
This is all excellent, couldn’t agree more.
On July 6, 2012 at 1:05 pm Skye said...
Just took a class from Brene Brown on shame, vulnerability, love, worthiness. I was thinking of it as I read what you wrote. Then you totally mentioned her TED talks.
Maybe Liz needs to listen to one of Brene’s TED talks.
On July 6, 2012 at 11:12 am Marcia in OK said...
I think I’d very much like to read Liz’s story. I think I’d identify with her very much.
As an Adult Child – oldes of three – of VERY disfunctional parents. I totally get the concept of setting Negative Goals. I never had any practice at setting positive goals – at least for the right reasons. For years, my overriding everything else goal was to Finally BE NORMAL. Sounds stupid right, but I really wanted that with every fiber of my being.
If only, I gradutated – HS, College, business school, certification programs, got married, got a great job, bought a house etc. etc., I would finally be normal like everyone else.
And, absolutely, positively, NO GOING BACK. Because back was bad, and anywhere forward and away had to be better. Except it really wasn’t because what always stayed contant was ME.
I was ruled by emotions – but they very rarely showed on the outside of me to the people around me. My “surface” people. I was always afraid – “what if they figure out that I’m a great big fraud and that the me on the outside never matches the me on the inside. Right along with the fear was my ANGER. It would escape in snippets. My calm and even thinking was all fake. I’d just detach and not let myself feel anything. I’d become a director in a play or the fly on the wall. All kinds of self talk going on in my head. No one ever knew.
I could totally understand Liz drivintg in a car talking to herself, or thinking in her head to herself . . . or talking ot the bear. Self-insulated from others is not nearly the same as detached. Others may see it that way, but it doesn’t FEEL that way to the person feeling it.
Took me forever to realize that what makes us all “normal” is that we are all weird in our own way because of our varied experiences.
Sorry to prattle on, Liz has already touched me. Also she’s reminded me of my own successful journey. Even when I finally did Go Back, I was changed, so after a little while, it was OK. And, being Normal is just a big Joke. Thankfully, I get the joke now.
Good luck with the book. You can do this! We believe.
On July 6, 2012 at 2:19 pm Terri Osburn said...
It’s like you just stepped into my brain. Especially this > “Self-insulated from others is not nearly the same as detached. Others may see it that way, but it doesn’t FEEL that way to the person feeling it.” Exactly.
On July 7, 2012 at 1:34 am Chris J. said...
I have a friend who likes to say, “Normal is what other people are…until you get to know them.” And now I say it too.
On July 6, 2012 at 11:20 am Evelyn said...
This is a really educational post – thank you so much for sparking debates. And also, I never noticed that your books are slow start – I’ve always felt the opposite. Whereas, most other novels set up physical conflict first, you always manage to get the reader attached within the first few pages by pointing out the secret, emotional struggle (stuff most people don’t admit to in real life). Case in point – Faking It.
Also, I really hope you go over some of this stuff in Writewell – third person interior monologue and negative goals…huh?
Thanks again for responding to our chatter. Hope the book sorts itself out soon.
On July 6, 2012 at 11:53 am wendy said...
You read because you want to find out why she doesn’t want to attach or stay. Also with the mom, sometimes we choose to ignore the obivoius out of love, or that we do not wish to go through again. It sounds to me that Liz wants to visit and get the hell out of dodge and something pulls her in to stay. Maybe you should have her remind herself of her goal to get out of town, how easy life is away. I have just visited this site here and there so I could be wrong, and missing something entirely.
On July 6, 2012 at 3:42 pm robena grant said...
I’m just wondering if it would be worth slipping in a tiny bit of reflection when Liz is first pulled over. Maybe it reminds her of her mother being pulled over in Burney for driving under the influence. Or her riding shotgun and keeping a lookout for the cops and praying they’d get home safely. She could quickly squash the memory and remind herself that mother is now clean and sober. That way when the aunt makes the comment the reader already knows some of Liz’s feelings.
Also on the negative goal thingy, isn’t going to visit her mother and taking her the bear a positive goal? Get in, get out, get on the road again so she can get on with her own career goals. She’s thinking she’s in control (positive) but then she gets sidetracked by the town, the people, and the murder mystery.
On July 6, 2012 at 4:18 pm Anne said...
Liz was a child during her Mom’s drinking years. I believe her emotional reaction would be tied to that history. What did that kid do? Keep low and small? Keep alert? Watch for the signs? Mentally weigh each one–if she’s slurring that means this, if her fork misses her mouth it means that? Yes–Liz’s Mom might have been negligent, and not *physically* abusive, but I’m willing to bet as a child of a Mom who was a raging drunk that there is always rage behind the drunk, and that cruel words marinate in every bottle of booze. Those bon-mots of ‘honesty’ can leave bruises on the soul of the child who made the mistake of stumbling into their path, and the imprint of their marks can be near impossible to erase on the adult.
I think Liz wouldn’t have automatically believed the news because that path would have led to great hurt again. Who wants to believe that? But she might have gone immediately into alert mode. Everything her mother did, or said, would be weighed against those old sign posts. Is the house tidy? Or is looking messy? Is there no food in the frig? Or lots of decaying food? She would be looking with an adult’s eye, and the broken heart of the child she once was.
On July 6, 2012 at 7:02 pm JenniferNennifer said...
Fascinating discussion. From reading the parts you posted in the 12 days post, I felt connected to Liz already. I get that she thinks of herself as detached, but I don’t get cold/closed down/mean.
This brought to mind a Barbara Michaels character who is tough and difficult and presented even as unlikable, but you are supposed to like her anyway. I didn’t. Comparing her to Liz I see it is because BM’s heroine was actually very self centered – it was all about her all the time.
Liz isn’t like that. She seems observant of others (at least, if they aren’t related to her), considerate (dirty hands when climbing out of the ditch) which means that it is a BIG DEAL that she has not visited her mother all this time. As a reader, I feel these two things don’t go together which is what puts the tension there for me. This is where I get “cold”. She also keeps saying “I don’t want to be here” which is pretty close to saying “I don’t want to be in the same room with you” which sounds mean, but I actually get desperate. As long as I keep seeing things I like about her creeping in then I get that she is trying to be the cold, distant person who she thinks will successfully get out of town. Seems to me that actually, she’s not too good at distancing herself from getting involved in any of this stuff, which is why she had to distance herself physically. Or I could be totally wrong about what drives her, of course. Either way, I am ok getting warmth from her actions instead of her thoughts.
On July 6, 2012 at 9:05 pm Rachel said...
What Barbara Michaels character??
On July 8, 2012 at 2:43 pm JenniferNennifer said...
the one where she is posing as an expert on roses
On July 18, 2012 at 3:05 pm Rachel said...
Yep, I remeber her, she was pretty cold. But her father was an a** so I guess it came naturally.
On July 8, 2012 at 1:20 am Louisa said...
So why is Liz coming back to Burney? Isn’t that because her aunt wrote to her? (sorry I try to keep up but life’s mad here) And isn’t she bringing the bear for her mother? Because it seems to me that the aunt could hint in the letter that her mother’s hitting the bottle again and that’s what brings Liz to Burney. With the bear. The visit is to save her mother from the aunt (who’s talking her mum down) and the bear is to reinforce that so she can get out quick. Fix Mum, get out quick. Because Burney is full of bad memories. That puts a ‘save the cat’ in the first scene. It seems to me that if the mother got sober and stayed that way all these years, there would be old wounds but mostly there would be admiration for that kind of resolve and courage somewhere in the mix. Mother/daughter things are very complex though.
. I’m not trying to air my family’s dirt here, just thought that might give you another perspective.
On the surface, my Mum looked kind of selfish. I know that’s the way my older sister saw it. But when I was 18 I left home and I met a girl whose mother had left right around the time my father walked and I got it. I got that my Mum had stuck through thick and thin, a heck of a lot of thin. And I still can’t bear to be around my sister when she does the character assassination of my Mum, I don’t think it would honour my mother’s memory to go for her throat
On July 8, 2012 at 2:32 am Jenny said...
ML tells her that her mother’s going crazy. Liz doesn’t believe it, but the guilt is enough to bring her home.
On July 8, 2012 at 4:00 am Micki said...
I don’t quite see the obsession with the “likable character” in modern stories. There are tons of really weird, ghastly main characters in mystery stories.
I’ve been struggling with this all weekend, and one of the more horrifying visions that crossed my mind was a “likable” Sherlock Holmes — kind of a Muppet Babies version of the great detective. I don’t need him to be likable. I need him to be clever, and he delivers, and has for more than 125 years. OTOH, Stephanie Plum is very likable, but I gave up actively following the books after the first six, I think.
I think a mystery series is a lot different than writing a single-book romance. A lot of those characters are really messed up in order to give the character room to grow. Harriet Vane didn’t really become likable until after she’d been in a couple of the Peter Wimsy novels. She wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy in Gaudy Night, either, come to think of it.
The fact that Liz, at the price of great embarrassment, brings her mother a giant purple bear as a peace offering (get-well-from-the-crazy-soon gift?) is extremely interesting to me. I think this is her first “saving the cat” gesture. Even though she is striving for a normal life, she’s driving through half the country with this purple monstrosity next to her to check on her mother. (-: It’s a good-hearted band-aid.
Great thread! So much food for thought in the post and in the comments . . . makes me a little nervous about tackling my WIPs, though. (-: I’ll get over it, though. The only way I’ll learn to do it is by doing it.
On July 8, 2012 at 11:57 am Jenny said...
I think “likable” as a universal is wrong. It’s probably important in romance fiction although I wouldn’t state is as a rule.
The word you want for your protagonist is “fascinating.” As in can’t-take-your-eyes-off-her-have-to-see-what-she-does-next. I think with Stephanie Plum (I’ve never read the books so I’m guessing), she was fascinating in the beginning books and then, as I have heard readers say, she began to do the same things over and over again. There’s a difference between expectation and repetition, although I do think that many readers respond to repetition, they do want the same thing over and over again. Just different (g).
On July 9, 2012 at 8:36 pm misspiggy don'twannabe said...
I never made it through the Stephanie Plum book I attempted but when we look at fascinating instead of likeable – the poster child is Scarlett O’Hara. Our Katy Scarlett certainly wasn’t likeable but we were fascinated by what she accomplished.
On July 8, 2012 at 6:47 am londonmabel said...
I was reading a book about the brain, and one patient who was emotionally disconnected. Emotion starts in the body and goes to the right brain first, then the left. But the signals were stopping in the right side, and not reaching the left. Which makes sense to me cause often people who are emotionally cut off are still charming or fun or interesting because they’re running off the left side, the intellectual side, of their brain. They still want to talk about politics, or books, or other people, but all through a logical, intellectual approach. They can be passionate, but just not in a personalized, vulnerable way; they’re passionate about subjects, hobbies etc. So… being emotionally cut off doesn’t mean you aren’t still fun to be around. And by extension, that an emotionally cut off character can’t be made likable to the reader. I think that charm can carry you until the character’s vulnerable spots are revealed, at which point we can attach at a deeper level.
On July 8, 2012 at 11:59 am Jenny said...
I had a writing prof, Ron Carlson, who used to say, “Emotion lives in the body.” And it’s true, it’s a physical thing as much as it is mental.
But I don’t think “distant” is the same as “cut off.” People who are distant have built walls, but those walls can be breached. And breaching those walls is character arc.
On July 8, 2012 at 9:25 pm Evelyn said...
so, how would you describe ‘cut off”? thanks
On July 8, 2012 at 11:54 pm Jenny said...
Basically, dead inside. Unable to attach or feel. Liz isn’t like that, she’s just uber-careful.
On July 9, 2012 at 10:20 pm Jill said...
I interupt your regular programing to make a special announcement. Sorry , Jenny.
There will be a Cherry/Orchard Dinner during RWA in Anaheim.
Date; Wednesday July 25
Time : 9PM After the Literacy Signing
Place: Cheesecake Factory near the Marriott
RSVP: email me joedpjilldp@yahoo.com if you can come
On July 9, 2012 at 11:58 pm Jenny said...
No need for apologies. Have a wonderful time!
On July 9, 2012 at 11:37 pm robena grant said...
Jill, I’d figured it would be on Thurs evening. I’ll need to check with my crit partners as I think we’d arranged a dinner for that night. My brain is fried. Just got copyedits today. I know, be careful what you wish for. : ) I’ll email you. Must hookup some way some how.
On July 13, 2012 at 12:02 am Amyzon the Oracle said...
I’m new here, so you can tell me I’m insane. Is there any way for Liz to attach to something? It’s easy enough to say Liz isn’t attached to people. Why should she be? Her mother, whom she should have formed her primary attachment at an early age, betrayed that attachment. But that doesn’t mean she can’t attach to other things. She could be fond of fish. She could have a thing for houseplants. She could have a cat. Something that couldn’t betray her, but would still offer some emotional outlet. That way she doesn’t seem quite so irredeemable, but she can still seemed detached from the rest of the human race.
On July 13, 2012 at 1:03 pm Jenny said...
That’s her character arc. It starts in this book and arcs across all four books until at the end, she’s firmly established back in town with a family-you-make around her, lots of attachment. But in the beginning of the book, she’s detached.