April was a brutal month. Not only was I involved in what felt like a million and three projects at work, I also gave myself an end-of-month deadline to get WTRPCPSU in as-perfect-as-I-could-make-it shape and returned to Julia.
Yeah, no pressure or anything.
As I feared suspected, I needed to do two passes to get my novel right. In the process, though, I’ve identified three fantastic ladies who served as beta readers and whom I’ve elevated to alpha status. (I don’t know if Alpha Readers are even a thing; if they weren’t, they are now.) While I valued all the feedback I got from everyone who read it, their feedback was amazingly beneficial. One day, I hope to return the favor to them, but these are ladies I want to keep close to me for as long as I can.
The month has taken its toll on me, as evidenced by the extra pounds the scale is adding to my weight and the occasional nightmare that floods my brain. But it’s over, my revisions are done, Julia has the shiny new-and-improved manuscript, and I can turn my attention back to the work-in-progress, which is now tentatively titled ILHILHN.
But a writer’s work is never truly done, and I’ve given myself a goal to get a first draft of ILHILHN finished by the end of the month. (Of course, I’m blogging instead of writing, so I’m not exactly off to a great start.) And this particular month includes The Boy’s graduation from Kindergarten, an entire week he’ll be off from school (summer camp doesn’t begin until the first week of June), and a possible trip to New York to meet Julia in person. Add to that a frighteningly full workload at the office, and you’ve got my crazy schedule.
So if I’m sparse, please forgive me. I’ll try to check in at least once a week. But if I’m writing, there’s a high probability it will be on ILHILHN and not the blog.
Write about what you know and care deeply about. When one puts one’s self on paper — that is what is called good writing. -Joel Chandler Harris
There are so many different philosophies on what people should write:
Write what you know!
Write what you feel!
Write what you love!
Write what you’re passionate about!
Write to fill a void in the market!
Write anything – just write!
These are absolutely valid – every single one of them. But if I may, when contemplating a novel you’d like to write, I offer this suggestion:
WRITE WHAT YOU WANT TO READ.
I cannot stress this enough. I’ve been seriously trapped in the revision cave for the last two weeks, and I’ve reread my manuscript at least seven more times in just the past 2 weeks.
To put this into perspective, the only book I recall reading more than three times was S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, which I think I read about five or six times. That means WTRPCPSU is now, by far, my most-often read book. Oh yeah. And I’m not even done with my revisions yet.
Before I even send WTRPCPSU back to my agent, I expect to read it at least another three times. After she sells it to a publishing house, I expect to be working closely with an editor and will probably read it another seven or eight times. Then I’ll get an Advanced Review Copy and read it again. And once it’s released to the public as a real book, I’ll read it yet again.
This is a manuscript based on characters in my head who reside in a world that I created. I know them better than anyone else does, and because of this, I should be the one to read it the most.
Now, just imagine what this would be like if I wrote something I really didn’t want to read?
“But why would you write something you don’t want to read?” I hear you ask.
Fine. You got me.
I like to read what I write. I like glossing over old blog posts from time to time. When I was in high school, I kept fairly detailed daily journals that I remember flipping through from time to time, just to see how much I’d changed as a person.
But these aren’t things I necessarily want to read over and over and over again.
It’s writing, though. It’s writing what I knew. It’s writing what I felt. It’s writing what I loved. It’s writing about whatever drove me to pick up a pen and put it to paper!
It is NOT, however, writing what I want to read.
I came across my high school journals about three years ago, nearly 20 years after writing them, and flipped through them. Bad idea. Horrifically bad idea. Not only were many entries whiny and horribly written, they were just silly. Maybe some random person would have enjoyed reading about my angst, but I opted to toss them into the recycling bin instead of saving them for posterity. Why?
Because I don’t want to read it.
Look, when you’re writing a novel, you’re essentially expecting people to spend money to read your work. (When you write a blog post, you have no idea if it will even reach any eyeballs. And since there’s no exchange of money, there’s no expectation of the writing being any good.) And if you’re going to write a novel, it had better be something you want to read if you’re expecting others to love it. Moreover, as an author, I want someone to read my book over and over again.
But how can I justly expecting someone to want to read my book several times if I can’t even stand the sight of its pixels on the screen?
So by all means, write what you know. Write what you love. Write with reckless abandon about anything you want. But when it comes to sitting down to write a novel, save your sanity and write what you want to read.
Why?
Because you’re going to be reading it an awful lot.
As I’ve been rereading WTRPCPSU during this revision process, I’ve been thinking a bit about the Bechdel Test.
If you’re not familiar with the Bechdel Test, it was based on a comic strip by Alison Bechdel nearly 30 years ago and has since been used to point out gender inequality in movies. Well, it began with movies, but it can just as easily be applied to television shows and literary works.
The criteria for passing the Bechdel Test is as follows:
There are at least two named female characters…
who talk to each other…
about something besides a man.
Now, I can’t speak for other women in this world, but I know that my real life would easily pass the Bechdel Test. Even if you discount the writing-centric conversations I have, I talk to my female friends about myriad topics ranging from politics to economics to petty gossip (I’ll admit to that) to sports to entertainment. Yes, we may talk about our husbands and our children, but those conversations don’t make up the bulk of our communication.
Since the main character of WTRPCPSU is a 15-year-old female, it should be a given that my novel would pass the Bechdel Test, right? Well, I’d hope so, but just because you have a female lead doesn’t mean you’d automatically pass. I mean, look at Pretty in Pink. I’ve watched that movie several dozen times, and I can’t think of a single conversation Andie has with her friends that don’t involve a guy. And that’s unfortunate.
(If anyone reading this disagrees or can prove me wrong, by the way, please let me know in the comments. I’d be happy to help myself to a heaping plate of crow if I’ve missed it.)
Well, I’m happy to report that WTRPCPSU passes the Bechdel Test. Despite the fact that it’s Teen Chick Lit (hey – I’m being honest), there are more than a handful of conversations among the girls that don’t involve a guy. (Of course, as Teen Chick Lit, there are plenty of conversations that discuss guys, too.) Moreover, I think I’ve done an adequate job of representing both genders, meaning that I include conversations between guys that discuss something other than girls.
That the Bechdel Test should be applied in reverse seems kind of unfair when you consider the initial purpose of the test, but I think it’s possible to swing too much in a single direction. And that’s part of the problem.
Gender equality is about equality. Female characters should get at least as much screen time as male characters. We absolutely need more strong female characters on the screen and in books who interact with each other and talk about real-life issues, not just boys. I’m not denying that. It happens in real life; it should happen in fictional works, too.
But I do worry, as a writer of a female-centric work, that I might not afford my male characters the same consideration that the Bechdel Test demands for female characters. It could be, as author Jeff Fecke suggests, that novels with female leading characters might not pass a Reverse Bechdel Test because the main character wouldn’t necessarily be privy to male conversation. (This would help explain why so many movies fail the Bechdel Test, if for no other reason than the main characters are often male.)
It’s a lot to consider, I’ve discovered, if an author wants to ensure gender equality in his work. But if you take the time to watch how people interact with each other on any given day, I think you’ll find that if you focus on portraying your characters in realistic situations as accurately as possible, you’ll inevitably pass the Bechdel Test – and its reverse – quite organically.
All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. – Ernest Hemingway
Voice is one of those things that’s hard to define, but you can recognize a good voice when you read it. As such, I think it’s a hard concept to learn. I mean, the voice is either good or it’s not. But how do you really identify what makes a voice good? (Or worse, great?)
I was a voracious reader as a kid. I haven’t changed much as an adult. I never gave much thought to voice, to be truthful, until I started seriously pursuing the traditional publishing path for WTRPCPSU, and only then because article after article discussed the importance of voice. And then I started paying attention to the books I liked. What did I like about them? What drew me in and held my attention? It isn’t necessarily the story itself that compels me to finish reading. It’s that something, the way the story is told, that makes me want to keep reading.
It’s the author’s voice.
I read an interview with an author who talked about how she developed her voice. She used to mimic other writers she’d read, and as she expanded her reading library, she discovered other voices to mimic until she finally developed her own. I really wish I could remember who the author was and where I read the interview because it’s one I would love to share, if for no other reason than to stress the importance of reading to learn the writing craft.
A few years ago, my sister gave me a Kindle for Christmas. It was (and still is) one of the best presents I’ve ever received. I love that device, and I mean I truly love it. The very first book I read on it was Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, and I downloaded several dozen books within a week of receiving it. One of those was a novel I had wanted to read for some time now but had always intimidated me by its sheer size: Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
Before you think that I was only reading classics, I’ll have to interject that that definitely was not the case. But I mixed things up quite a bit. I read War and Peace, yes, but I also began Ally Carter’s Gallagher Girls series right after it. I mixed up the genres, authors, and time periods. I mixed up subject matter. I read both self-published and traditionally published work.
A crazy thing happens when you read all over the map like that: You start recognizing voices and identifying with them. You subconsciously make notes of what deliveries you liked and what you would do differently. You start to rewrite entire paragraphs while you read – and that is when you are establishing your voice.
I dare you to try it. Pick a book off the shelf (preferably one you know pretty well), turn to a random page, and rewrite a couple of (non-dialogue) paragraphs. Note how you might say things differently. Note how you might use a different vocabulary. Note how you may emphasize different things than the author did.
Those differences? Those make up your voice.
Me? I write the same way I talk. You can read this post and know that if you and I were having a conversation about voice, whatever I’d say would sound a lot like this post does.
That’s my voice.
When I’m writing business communications at work, I write the same way I talk. It’s a bit more formal, and I tend to use industry-specific terms, but whatever I would say in person sounds a lot like my emails.
That’s my voice.
But when I’m writing, I assume someone else’s identity, and I write the same way I imagine that character would talk.
My male friends know they’re about to be asked a really random question when I approach them with this opener.
“Pretend you’re a guy,” I said to a friend once. “If your best friend liked your sister…”
“Pretend you’re a guy,” I said another time. “If you liked this girl and she totally friend-zoned you…”
I think if I approached people who didn’t know me, I’d probably get some awkward looks. Some may even run from me. But fortunately (or perhaps not), my friends know that I’m a bit of an eccentric and like to humor me.
There are times when I’m writing that I need to check my characters. More specifically, I need to check their motivation. And while I can speak somewhat authoritatively about how a 16-year-old girl might respond to something, I’m unashamed to admit I have no idea what goes on in the male adolescent mind. I mean, I guess I can speculate like I did when I 16, but then my male characters would be ridiculously unrealistic.
So I ask.
I’m an equal-opportunity stupid question asker, though. I’m completely aware that I am clueless, and even worse, I’m a couple of years decades removed from my characters. So then I have to ask even more inane questions to make sure I’ve captured the mindset. But those conversations can be aggravating.
“Pretend you’re in high school,” I said one day to the intern at work. (She’s all of 22 years old.)
“Um, that was a while ago, but, okay.”
I fought the urge to beat her on the head with my notebook but may have still rolled my eyes. (Oddly, it’s less annoying when someone who is 27 years old says that, by the way, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’ll accept 10-ish years as “a while” but not five.)
Because I like to write character-driven stories (which is another way of saying I really just like to think up characters, throw them into a setting, and see what they do), pretending is everything. How else can I draw the reader into my imaginary playground if I don’t pretend first?
It’s not just for Young Adult books. You can do it for any character, any age, any gender, any socio-economic class. Don’t believe me? Try it. The next time you get stuck trying to figure out a character’s motivation, take a step back and ask someone else to pretend to be [insert one or two characteristics of your character here].
Not only will you get an answer that either validates or invalidates your thoughts, you’ll have an opportunity to probe the respondent’s motivation further.
With all due respect to the bard, I think music serves as the food of memories, not love. But by all means, play on.
Music is my ultimate emotional recall tool. What do I mean by that? I can listen to a song now that I listened to in junior high and have total recall about people, places, and certain events. I can picture scenes in my mind as they happened (or at least as my brain remembers them), including whatever emotions I was feeling at the time.
Some writers will listen to songs from their youth to get back in touch with their inner teenagers. That’s a little tougher for me because while my characters are an extension of me to some extent, they aren’t me. I like to think they are their own people. And I can’t imagine how some of my characters might be thinking about the guys they like if I’m listening to “One” by U2 or “Black” by Pearl Jam. And perhaps it’s because I’m older now, but “Institutionalized” by Suicidal Tendencies makes me laugh more than remind me of what it was like to be at my parents’ mercy.
I’m not belittling my playlist from back then. Not at all. My “ideal guy” song back then (circa 1984) was “Somebody” by Depeche Mode, and it still holds up:
I mean, who can argue that Martin Gore isn’t singing about the perfect life partner? But it’s old, and from a completely different generation. I’m not saying that kids these days wouldn’t appreciate it, but I’m acknowledging my age, and that’s why I have a whole other Pandora station, strictly devoted to what I think my characters would be listening to right now. It’s more current stuff, though I’ve realized (much to my dismay) that some of these songs are from the ‘00s and are considered “old school.” (If planning my 20-year high school reunion last year wasn’t enough to make me feel old, this certainly did.)
This may be old school, but this is what I’d envision my characters calling the “ideal guy” song now (circa 2007): “I Could Get Used to This” by Everlife.
Same general concept, but with a different delivery. And even I, in my old and jaded adult stage, can appreciate it.
As I go through revisions for WTRPCPSU – and also as I inch my way through The WIP, I’m relying on my Pandora station more than ever. I don’t feel like it’s enough for me to tell a story or paint a picture. When I was younger, my favorite books made me feel. They drew me in and made me cry and laugh and get angry with characters. That’s why it’s so important for me to get these emotions right. It’s not enough for me to remember what it’s like to be a teen. I want to capture what it’s like to be a teen today.
I may not be able to walk in their shoes (I wouldn’t pass for a high schooler anymore), but I can listen to their music (or, at least, something more current than my high school soundtrack) and let it speak to me. And while themes haven’t changed over the past 25 years or so, it’s still nice to feel like I’m getting a fresh perspective.
I’ve spent the last couple of days in the Revision Cave, poring over WTRPCPSU with Julia’s notes beside me, carefully scrutinizing every sentence and often wondering how this manuscript (a) passed muster with my beta readers and critique partners, (b) how a small press could have thought it was good enough to publish, and (c) how Julia could have thought it was good enough to represent me!
I was so frustrated by my writing that it made me wonder what others could possibly be submitting. Just the idea that manuscripts out there are worse than my work makes me shudder.
I’m being hard on myself. I know that. I really am proud of my story, and I think my characters are great. I really do love these kids, and I love being able to step into their world. They are so much fun to write. But I found parts of my manuscript that made me circle entire paragraphs and write, “FIX!!!” in letters that can probably be seen from the International Space Station. I yelled at my pages (as if they’re to blame) for being inconsistent and told my husband that I don’t understand why no one questioned how Bianca would be able to see her friend’s reactions when they were sitting behind her in class.
See what I mean? I’m a hack.
[sigh] Okay, I’ll be serious. I am my own toughest critic. Of this, I am all too aware.
Anyway, I have revisions to do, and my goal is to have my first pass at them finished by Tuesday, April 9. I’d then let it rest on the 10th, reread and tweak it on the 11th, then send it to beta readers on the 12th for their perspectives.
Writer’s Digest posted a link on Twitter this morning that I’m taking to heart in soliciting new betas for this pass, and I think I will implement the following strategy in asking for betas:
Short survey before: I need to make sure I’m getting a good cross-section of people. I won’t do me much good if everyone reading it is in my age bracket or in one given geographic location. I need to ensure diversity, and I can’t assure myself of that unless I ask.
Deadline: I also need to make sure people can read this in a week and provide feedback. Why so quick? I’m on my own (self-imposed) deadline and expect to have more changes to make after this pass. Plus, it’s a very short book and a quick read; it will probably cap out at around 65,000 words (if even that!). And in order to ensure the feedback I receive covers all the bases…
Short questionnaire after: I need to include a questionnaire for my betas to fill out after reading. The questions would be simple; I can even provide a 1-10 scale so they can easily pick one and provide open-ended feedback if they want. But I need to know what people think of characters, of relationships, of events. Is Character X likeable? Did Character Z behave realistically? Does Character Y come across too needy?
I’ll put out a general “Call for Betas” post as I get closer to completing my revisions.
Will I even get any betas after these requirements, and especially after the glowing reviews I’ve given my own work at the start of this post? I have no idea. But I’m willing to try.
(If you’re reading this and would be willing to be a guinea pig beta reader, please leave a comment including your email info and/or send me an email. I’ll get a survey out to you shortly. Thanks! – E)
It is no secret that I am not a Steinbeck fan. My earliest introduction to his work came in the sixth grade when Mrs. Rowley assigned us to read The Red Pony. At the time, I was already a fan of Edgar Allen Poe and reading everything I could find by Charles Dickens. Surely someone like Steinbeck would interest me, right?
Wrong. Oh, I was so very wrong. I didn’t care for The Red Pony. My mother (and sister) suggested I try Of Mice and Men, which I did like, but when I had to read The Grapes of Wrath a few years later, I realized that I would rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon than read it. I didn’t care that it won a Pulitzer. It was dry and dull and so incredibly boring.
Several weeks ago, I explained this to a woman in my writing group, and she asked if I had read Travels with Charley.
“No,” I answered truthfully. “I’d heard of it. Isn’t that the one that earned him the Nobel Prize?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s my favorite book of his. I have two copies of it. You can borrow one, if you’d like.”
And the following week, she slid Travels with Charley across the table to me.
Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck
I approached Travels with Charley with an open mind. I’m much older than I was in high school, I reasoned, so I was certain it would hold my attention. After all, I’d read War and Peace and loved it. This was a 277-page memoir. How bad could it be?
Travels with Charley was a slow read. And in truth, I think it was designed to be. By Steinbeck’s own admission, Travels with Charley is a study of America at the end of 1960. It starts off well and has occasional moments that held my interest peppered throughout, but for the most part, I don’t know that it’s a book I would care to reread. His descriptions of the countryside and of the handful of people he writes of encountering are, of course, beautifully written, but he there were so many instances where it seemed he rambled more than I would have liked. I dozed off reading it more than a handful of times, and there were pages I had to reread because I got to the end of the page without knowing what it was I’d just read. But overall, my general feeling following Steinbeck on this cross-country journey seems to mirror the sentiments he expresses at the end of the book: general relief that the journey is over.
I don’t dare dismiss Travels with Charley outright, and not just because it earned the man a Nobel Prize in Literature. It’s an important literary work because it captures sentiments held so strongly in this country in the early ’60s. There were a number of thought-provoking passages that, if I was reading my own copy or reading it off my Kindle, I would have highlighted. And the fact that I read it slowly allowed for additional introspection.
It’s the fact that I felt compelled to discuss ideas within its pages that results in my rating of 3 stars out of 5. I liked it but wouldn’t necessarily pick it up for another read.
Over the past few weeks, as I’ve given some thought into how I’d like to form my Author Platform (oh, yes – even before Julia submits my work to the publishing world, I’d like something substantial in place), I realized the obvious: I really need pictures of myself.
I’m a mom. And though my high school drama coach liked to tease me because I could almost instantly find center stage without needing tape markers, I’ve been more inclined to stay behind the lens than in front of it since, oh, maybe sixth grade. The result is that I have thousands of photographs of my darling little boy (and several hundred of random things he has created), but hardly any of myself. Even worse, the few photos I have of myself are usually group photos.
So, no, there aren’t very many pictures of just me.
Julia emailed me several weeks ago asking for a photo and a brief Author Bio for her website. The biographical blurb was pretty easy for me to write. I struggled with it for a few hours, but once I found my beginning, I kind of ran with it. The photograph, on the other hand, was much more difficult to find. I found a picture of me – just me – from several years ago, but I decided then that I really needed to schedule an appointment to have real Author Portraits taken.
I told a handful of people about my plan, and several told me, “I’ve got a really good camera! I’ll take your portraits!” And while I’m sure they do have great cameras (and lenses because, let’s face it, the lens makes the difference), I really wanted to hire a professional photographer. And I wasn’t talking about going to one of those in-store studios at Target or Sears or JC Penney, either. While those are reputable places, I really wanted to go to someone who would work with me.
And so I booked my appointment with Ansa du Toit, a fabulous photographer in the Orlando area.
I know Ansa personally, and I’ve seen her work, so I knew that she would absolutely capture just the right images of me for me. She’s got a mobile studio and is able to set up just about anywhere, but since I booked the appointment the morning of The Boy’s Field Day at school and only had a few hours, I asked if I could meet at her house.
For a few days leading up to my appointment, I agonized over what I wanted to wear and how to fix my hair. And I culled the following photo shoot guidelines based on things I learned in my own photography classes many years ago, conversations with Ansa, and helpful photography websites:
Bring three or four outfits to be photographed wearing. This may seem like overkill, but what looks good in real life might translate differently in a photograph. I know I have a lot of outfits that I think look cute when I’m wearing them, but as soon as I see myself in a picture wearing it, I wonder what I was thinking. Plus, each outfit you have will give you and the photographer extra options to play with backgrounds and lighting.
Bolder is better. Colors, that is. Pastels have a tendency to get washed out in the light. Of course, a skilled photographer can make (almost) anything work, but bolder colors tend to show up better. But whatever you wear, just make sure you’re wearing a color that looks flattering on you.
Beware of all black or all white. Again, a skilled photographer can ensure your photo doesn’t look like you have a disembodied head floating in the center of the picture, but you can hedge your bets and make it easy for everyone involved. Be mindful of the backgrounds you might use and dress accordingly.
Think “classic”. It’s very rare that a particular style has an ability to transcend time and place. Three-piece suits with solid colored ties are classic outfits. Denim jackets are fairly classic. Solid sweaters are classic. So beware of prints and anything trendy unless you want to redo your photo every year. While your photographer won’t have a problem with that, your bank account might.
Avoid sleeveless or strapless tops. I got some flak on Twitter for posting, “Unless you’re 16yo or have skinny arms, avoid sleeveless or strapless tops. The camera adds 10 pounds – TO YOUR ARMS!” It’s a terribly harsh statement, but it’s so true! Arms look bigger because of their proximity to the camera. Think about it. If you’re facing the camera with your arms at your sides, everything remains to scale. But as soon as you turn your body, your shoulder and arms are now closer to the camera than your face is. It may only be a few centimeters’ difference, but what a difference it makes! So even if you think you might not turn your body even a fraction of a millimeter, just play it safe and avoid showing off your arms if you can help it.
Wear a little more makeup than usual. If you’re a man, ask if there will be a makeup artist on site and/or purchase a clear translucent powder. If you’re a woman and wish to do your own makeup, just wear a touch more than you usually do. Why? Well, the flash of a camera has a funny way of washing out features. Even more, it has an evil way of highlighting every shiny spot on your face. Even if you’re only taking photos outside, you’re going to want that powder to help you even out your skin tone. And besides, I’ve yet to meet a photographer who photographs portraits outside but eschews the flash altogether. The flash is there to help even out lighting; the powder evens out your skin. Wins all around.
Keep an open mind and don’t be afraid to play. I didn’t study a lot of authors’ photographs before my photo shoot, but I know I should have. Luckily for me, Ansa is a pro and knows portraiture. I knew I wanted to have some outdoor shots, but she suggested we start with some photos against a white background, and then we switched to a black background before going outside. This was brilliant because I was able to get every kind of photo I could possibly want. Something for a poster advertising a professional seminar? I’ve got that. Book jacket? Got that, too. Julia’s agency website, my Twitter avatar, my Linked In picture, my Google accounts photo – you name it, I’ve got a photo to fit it.
Listen to your photographer. A good photographer can look through the lens and has the ability to translate that image from 3D to 2D. A great photographer can provide direction to capture the absolute best pictures of you. This is another reason I suggest contracting the services of a professional photographer instead of going to one of the store photo shops. But, of course, that direction only goes so far if you don’t heed it.
Have fun! Nothing is worse than sitting in a studio (or in a tree) and straining to feign a smile. After two hours of this kind of smiling, you’ll probably be sick of it, and your jaw will hurt. But if you let yourself have fun, it will come across in the photos. And your photographer might catch some of the best shots of you just making goofy faces, cracking up at a joke, or just being your usual, interesting self. Besides, that’s the side of you that you probably want the world to see.
Ansa, the pro that she is, had proofs for me to review just a few days after I met with her. Our shoot was on a Thursday; I had proofs Sunday night, about a hundred in all to sort through and decide which ones I like best. I’m still wading through the list; I’ve narrowed it down to about 50 and want to pare it down to about 15 or so. Once I narrow it further and secure the rights to my photographs, I will, of course, share them. But there are so many great photos that I’ve got my work cut out for me.
But when you’ve got a great photographer (who magically erased about 20 years off my life with just lighting alone!), pick out the right things to wear, and have fun with the process, you’ve increased the odds that you’ll flip through the proof sheets and find the photo that makes you say, “That one! I want to look like that forever!”
And if you really love it and want it replicated with multiple outfits? Well, a great photographer can make that happen, too.
Ansa du Toit owns and operates Picture This by Ansa. She is the consummate professional, and she’s available for event photography as well as portraits. And should you get stuck in a tree that you insisted on climbing so that she could photograph you, she’s also kind enough to not immortalize this embarrassing moment and will help you down. You can check out her gallery at www.PictureThisbyAnsa.com.
New Adult is, for all intents and purposes, really just a shelf label. It’s a marketing tool, just like “Young Adult” and “Middle Grade” are both marketing tools. I mean, it was coined by a publishing imprint. If that’s not a sign of being a marketing tool, I don’t know what is.
I’ve been giving the whole New Adult thing a good deal of thought, since it currently seems de rigueur for an author to at least be thinking about a New Adult concept, or at least have an idea of how she might approach it. And here’s what I’ve decided:
New Adult is that time when you’ve left the structured confines of school and/or living at home and you’re striking out on your own for the very first time.
It’s not an age, per se. A New Adult novel could have a protagonist who is a recent high school graduate, someone in their mid-twenties, someone in their late twenties, or even someone in their early thirties. It’s not about age: It’s about the life stage.
“What are you talking about?” you ask. “Give me some examples!”
If you’d like to watch a few movies that illustrate the time period I’m thinking of, check out Reality Bites. (No, really. Click on the link to the trailer above if you haven’t seen the movie before, or if it’s been a really long time, or if you just want to drool over Ethan Hawke in all his yummy GenX glory.) This is definitely New Adult. St. Elmo’s Fire, too. I think Singles is on the older end of New Adult, but it definitely qualifies in my mind. Want something a little more recent? How about American Reunion?
Are TV shows more your thing? Consider Don’t Trust the B* in Apartment 23 or see if you can catch earlier episodes of Melrose Place. And of course Girls on HBO is a perfect example of what I would consider New Adult.
If Middle Grade is about capturing a time when anything is possible and Young Adult chronicles a time when everything is tragic, I see New Adult as the combination of the two. Anything is possible, but any failure is tragic. Gone are the rigid confines of school (though I think characters in grad school, law school, and med school would still qualify) and parental authority. Now the burden falls entirely on you, and you no longer have that safety net to catch you.
You’ve been on your own long enough to let your crazy side loose (if you have one), so you’ve already Been There Done That.
You’re embarking on your first career, maybe planning a wedding, maybe watching your friends get married and wondering if you’ll ever meet That Guy.
You’ve experienced just enough to think you’re worldly but haven’t quite realized there’s a hell of a lot more that you don’t quite know yet – and you hate it when people condescendingly pat you on the head and say, “Yeah, well, you’ll learn.”
You’ve survived adolescence and are back to thinking that you can do anything you set your mind to doing – and that’s awesome because you haven’t yet learned that there are limits to what you can do.
Like I said: I think New Adult is a life stage. Maybe your character is newly out of high school and is thrust into the very scary Adult World. Maybe your character is still in college and figuring out how to pay tuition and bills and expenses on her own. Maybe your character is a new college grad desperately seeking a job – any job – to make ends meet.
There’s way more drama in New Adult than in Young Adult, but on such a different level. There’s a lot more at stake – real things, like the potential of getting your car repossessed or facing eviction from your apartment. Sure, your character can believe anything is possible, but she’s got a whole lot more on the line if she fails because Mom and Dad aren’t going to be there to help pick up the pieces. (And if they are, she wouldn’t want them to be.)
Am I right in my approach to it? I have no idea. I’m not a published author (yet), nor am I an expert on the publishing industry. From what I can tell, the general consensus lumps college experiences in with New Adult, but I respectfully disagree. I also disagree with those who think New Adult is just “sexed up YA.” But I do agree with those who say that New Adult stories represent that time between being an Angsty teenager and being an established woman.
And based on my experiences, there’s no magic age when you’re suddenly “experienced.” That title comes after a lot of – you guessed it – experiences.
