I periodically get hits to my blog from people Googling "books like magic under glass", etc. Of course, I don't know what it is that these readers are looking to replicate...the style, the time period, girls who fall in love with robots, what? But I thought I'd recommend a list of some YA that I like that I also think my readers would probably like because some aspects remind me of my own work.
Faery Rebels (in the UK, Knife) by R. J. Anderson
The Hollow Kingdom trilogy by Clare Dunkle
Jessica Day George's books
Eva Ibbotson's YAs like A Countess Below Stairs
Shadows on the Moon by Zoe Marriott
A Long, Long Sleep by Anna Sheehan
Born Wicked by Jessica Spotswood
A True and Faithful Narrative by Katherine Sturtevant
Are there any other books you've read and enjoyed that remind you of my books? Feel free to let me know in the comments. If I haven't read them I'll certainly add them to my list!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
10 Best Things About Orlando
I have now lived in Maryland for almost three months. And getting out of Orlando was such a huge endeavor that I dumped on it a lot, like a bad boyfriend I finally broke up with. I feel a little bad, so, now that I've had a little time away, I am giving you the ten best things about Orlando. I was tempted to do Florida as a state, and talk about Sarasota and St. Augustine and some of the good times I've had with my friend Amanda in West Palm Beach...
But NO. This is JUST Orlando.
1. The ViMi District.
Many people don't even realize Orlando has a bonafide concentrated ethnic neighborhood. You can easily find good Thai, Chinese, Japanese or Korean food there, but it is first and foremost a Vietnamese neighborhood. There are a number of great Asian markets where you can stock your pantry with sauces and always find reasonably priced avocados, but the best thing of all are the Vietnamese restaurants. They rocked my world and I miss them. My favorite was Lac Viet Bistro, where I always ordered grilled pork or chicken on vermicelli with some fresh basil and cilantro on the side. The scrumptiously marinated meat and light noodles come with raw slices of tomato and cucumber, mint, chopped peanuts and little bits of browned garlic, and you can top it with a generous pour of nuoc mam, the Vietnamese dressing that is a little sweet and a little fishy, and a lot better than that description makes it sound. The perfect compliment, to me, is a glass of sweet and fresh young coconut water.
Basically, every time ANYTHING good happened, even a six-figure book deal, and someone asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate, I always went for yet another $6 bowl of grilled pork on vermicelli noodles.
The ViMi District also happens to overlap with the gay district and the hipster part of Orlando, so you can also find vinyl and vintage clothes and wax nostalgic about the time you saw a Hedwig and the Angry Inch performance at Parliament House at the same time.
2. Nature
Florida has a number of interesting habitats. Most of the year if the heat doesn't kill you, the mosquitos will, but when the north is stark and cold, Florida is lovely and green and indulgent. Flowers are blooming, the swamp looks like a dinosaur could come out of it (but you'll have to settle for an alligator, which, I'm sorry, always did scare the crap out of me), there are cypress trees so massive and ancient that if you could hollow one out it would be about the size of a Manhattan apartment, there are quiet places with gobs of birds. It can be really gorgeous and unusual. Florida also has some of the best sunsets.
(Though I still think northern nature is better, mostly because it has less mosquitos. =P)
3. Polonia
Polonia is a Polish restaurant that was around the corner from where I lived, in Longwood. It was really authentic and a-Polish-Grandma-made-it tasting (although it was not made by any actual Grandmas). At lunchtime they'd have killer sandwich specials, like, $6 for turkey, bacon and provolone with super delicious horseradish sauce on freshly baked challah with a cup of chicken and pickle soup. One time they had a salad with homemade goat cheese. So good. Another time the soup was the best butternut squash soup I've ever had. On a cold day I was partial to the wazanki, which was little dumplings with bits of bacon and kielbasa, cabbage and onion. If I was feeling rich, a bowl of their homemade apple sauce was REALLY GOOD poured over the wazanki.
4. Best Used Books and Bright Light Books
These two used bookstores were also very near where I lived. Best Used Books was the kind of junky bookstore that has a ZILLION things including weird magazines and you can find anything there. I found two volumes of L. M. Montgomery's diaries once for $2.50, and another time I found a magazine from the 1920s about party planning. Bright Light is the polished cousin. It is run by religious conservatives, which always made me feel a bit weird, but is slightly balanced by the fact that they employ young folk and play indie music. Also I can't deny that it is, perhaps, the most well-organized used bookstore I have ever seen, and they always had an amazing selection of non-fiction for research for very good prices, which I'm a sucker for. I think every area needs a very polished used bookstore and an "everything but the kitchen sink" used bookstore, we were lucky that we had them both near each other.
5. Thrift Stores
Thrift stores in Orlando were plentiful, mostly bad for finding furniture or home decor but good for finding clothes. Values Reborn in Longwood was consistently a great place to score cheap stuff. Sometimes you'd go in and it would be picked over but other days I'd find amazing stuff and they didn't get all Goodwill-prices on you. The best thrifting locale I have ever found, however, is still the Cocoa/Merritt Island area. There are many, many cheap thrifts in a concentrated area, and they always had something old and good in them, every time. I found two-tone spectator shoes, 60s coats with huge buttons, my favorite Western shirt, 60s dresses, Le Crueset, tumblers with drink recipes printed on the side, you name it; even a gorgeous 1960s Emilio Pucci tie one time that I wore until the silk started to disintegrate, probably from how often I fondled it lovingly while wearing it. There are also good places to eat around, which is a must for thrifting.
6. Winter Park
Winter Park is a fine old southern town, with Spanish moss and a train station that Amtrak still stops at and old houses, all the things such a town should have. It's also quite ritzy with a lot of stores I can't afford and mansions to goggle at, but that makes it a romantic place to wander on a nice evening. There is also a decent art museum with a nice Louis Comfort Tiffany collection, and the best public library around. I paid $120 a year to use that library instead of my county library. (Well, actually, not really INSTEAD, but ALONG WITH, I can't resist libraries.)
7. Jeremiah's Italian Ice
Many flavors of ice, which you could also get swirled with soft serve ice cream. Central Florida loves Jeremiah's, evidenced by the fact that they went from one store to like, four, in ten years or so. The best thing, in my opinion, was the horchata flavored ice swirled with chocolate ice cream. It was like $3 for a cup big enough to make you feel slightly ill.
8. Dechoes
Vintage and designer clothing store with two locations. The prices are very reasonable, the stock is good, and they also give you a pretty decent price if you sell them stuff. Sadly I only discovered Dechoes as I was leaving, but if I had known about it earlier I would have bought and sold a lot of stuff there.
9. Disney
Some locals hated Disney. I was not one of them. I love Disney World, especially Epcot, especially the World Showcase. Some of the best parts are the Mitsukoshi department store in Japan and the France movie and the smell of the rides, which stirs deep childhood memories, but there are many wonderful little bits. The downer about Disney is that it is expensive. I didn't really get to enjoy it until I bought us annual passes. Between the passes, the gas it took us to drive across the vast expanse of Orlando to get to the parks, and all the food and drinks we had to buy, it cost me easily over $1000 to enjoy Disney for a year. But, it was something I really wanted to do before I moved away, and I have no regrets.
10. Rock Springs
Central Florida has a lot of springs but this one was my favorite. Spring water is the same temperature year round, which means on a hot day, when you first get in you go "GaaaaHHHH" when it hits your sensitive bits, and then you get used to it and it is amazing. If you get in the water near where the spring feeds in, then you can have an exciting journey down the run, first getting scraped up on rocks, and then reaching a big swimmin' hole type area, and then ending by floating down a shady, low-key stretch, before walking back to your blanket for a much-needed sandwich. There are also a few magical secret spots where tinier springs burble out and you can sit with your feet in them, and sometimes you can find shark teeth, so I am told, although I never, ever did.
So there you have it. I probably forgot a few things, though not many, because Florida never suited me well. But you can't spend 30 years somewhere without missing a few things.
But NO. This is JUST Orlando.
1. The ViMi District.
Many people don't even realize Orlando has a bonafide concentrated ethnic neighborhood. You can easily find good Thai, Chinese, Japanese or Korean food there, but it is first and foremost a Vietnamese neighborhood. There are a number of great Asian markets where you can stock your pantry with sauces and always find reasonably priced avocados, but the best thing of all are the Vietnamese restaurants. They rocked my world and I miss them. My favorite was Lac Viet Bistro, where I always ordered grilled pork or chicken on vermicelli with some fresh basil and cilantro on the side. The scrumptiously marinated meat and light noodles come with raw slices of tomato and cucumber, mint, chopped peanuts and little bits of browned garlic, and you can top it with a generous pour of nuoc mam, the Vietnamese dressing that is a little sweet and a little fishy, and a lot better than that description makes it sound. The perfect compliment, to me, is a glass of sweet and fresh young coconut water.
Basically, every time ANYTHING good happened, even a six-figure book deal, and someone asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate, I always went for yet another $6 bowl of grilled pork on vermicelli noodles.
The ViMi District also happens to overlap with the gay district and the hipster part of Orlando, so you can also find vinyl and vintage clothes and wax nostalgic about the time you saw a Hedwig and the Angry Inch performance at Parliament House at the same time.
2. Nature
Florida has a number of interesting habitats. Most of the year if the heat doesn't kill you, the mosquitos will, but when the north is stark and cold, Florida is lovely and green and indulgent. Flowers are blooming, the swamp looks like a dinosaur could come out of it (but you'll have to settle for an alligator, which, I'm sorry, always did scare the crap out of me), there are cypress trees so massive and ancient that if you could hollow one out it would be about the size of a Manhattan apartment, there are quiet places with gobs of birds. It can be really gorgeous and unusual. Florida also has some of the best sunsets.
(Though I still think northern nature is better, mostly because it has less mosquitos. =P)
3. Polonia
Polonia is a Polish restaurant that was around the corner from where I lived, in Longwood. It was really authentic and a-Polish-Grandma-made-it tasting (although it was not made by any actual Grandmas). At lunchtime they'd have killer sandwich specials, like, $6 for turkey, bacon and provolone with super delicious horseradish sauce on freshly baked challah with a cup of chicken and pickle soup. One time they had a salad with homemade goat cheese. So good. Another time the soup was the best butternut squash soup I've ever had. On a cold day I was partial to the wazanki, which was little dumplings with bits of bacon and kielbasa, cabbage and onion. If I was feeling rich, a bowl of their homemade apple sauce was REALLY GOOD poured over the wazanki.
4. Best Used Books and Bright Light Books
These two used bookstores were also very near where I lived. Best Used Books was the kind of junky bookstore that has a ZILLION things including weird magazines and you can find anything there. I found two volumes of L. M. Montgomery's diaries once for $2.50, and another time I found a magazine from the 1920s about party planning. Bright Light is the polished cousin. It is run by religious conservatives, which always made me feel a bit weird, but is slightly balanced by the fact that they employ young folk and play indie music. Also I can't deny that it is, perhaps, the most well-organized used bookstore I have ever seen, and they always had an amazing selection of non-fiction for research for very good prices, which I'm a sucker for. I think every area needs a very polished used bookstore and an "everything but the kitchen sink" used bookstore, we were lucky that we had them both near each other.
5. Thrift Stores
Thrift stores in Orlando were plentiful, mostly bad for finding furniture or home decor but good for finding clothes. Values Reborn in Longwood was consistently a great place to score cheap stuff. Sometimes you'd go in and it would be picked over but other days I'd find amazing stuff and they didn't get all Goodwill-prices on you. The best thrifting locale I have ever found, however, is still the Cocoa/Merritt Island area. There are many, many cheap thrifts in a concentrated area, and they always had something old and good in them, every time. I found two-tone spectator shoes, 60s coats with huge buttons, my favorite Western shirt, 60s dresses, Le Crueset, tumblers with drink recipes printed on the side, you name it; even a gorgeous 1960s Emilio Pucci tie one time that I wore until the silk started to disintegrate, probably from how often I fondled it lovingly while wearing it. There are also good places to eat around, which is a must for thrifting.
6. Winter Park
Winter Park is a fine old southern town, with Spanish moss and a train station that Amtrak still stops at and old houses, all the things such a town should have. It's also quite ritzy with a lot of stores I can't afford and mansions to goggle at, but that makes it a romantic place to wander on a nice evening. There is also a decent art museum with a nice Louis Comfort Tiffany collection, and the best public library around. I paid $120 a year to use that library instead of my county library. (Well, actually, not really INSTEAD, but ALONG WITH, I can't resist libraries.)
7. Jeremiah's Italian Ice
Many flavors of ice, which you could also get swirled with soft serve ice cream. Central Florida loves Jeremiah's, evidenced by the fact that they went from one store to like, four, in ten years or so. The best thing, in my opinion, was the horchata flavored ice swirled with chocolate ice cream. It was like $3 for a cup big enough to make you feel slightly ill.
8. Dechoes
Vintage and designer clothing store with two locations. The prices are very reasonable, the stock is good, and they also give you a pretty decent price if you sell them stuff. Sadly I only discovered Dechoes as I was leaving, but if I had known about it earlier I would have bought and sold a lot of stuff there.
9. Disney
Some locals hated Disney. I was not one of them. I love Disney World, especially Epcot, especially the World Showcase. Some of the best parts are the Mitsukoshi department store in Japan and the France movie and the smell of the rides, which stirs deep childhood memories, but there are many wonderful little bits. The downer about Disney is that it is expensive. I didn't really get to enjoy it until I bought us annual passes. Between the passes, the gas it took us to drive across the vast expanse of Orlando to get to the parks, and all the food and drinks we had to buy, it cost me easily over $1000 to enjoy Disney for a year. But, it was something I really wanted to do before I moved away, and I have no regrets.
10. Rock Springs
Central Florida has a lot of springs but this one was my favorite. Spring water is the same temperature year round, which means on a hot day, when you first get in you go "GaaaaHHHH" when it hits your sensitive bits, and then you get used to it and it is amazing. If you get in the water near where the spring feeds in, then you can have an exciting journey down the run, first getting scraped up on rocks, and then reaching a big swimmin' hole type area, and then ending by floating down a shady, low-key stretch, before walking back to your blanket for a much-needed sandwich. There are also a few magical secret spots where tinier springs burble out and you can sit with your feet in them, and sometimes you can find shark teeth, so I am told, although I never, ever did.
So there you have it. I probably forgot a few things, though not many, because Florida never suited me well. But you can't spend 30 years somewhere without missing a few things.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Magic Under Glass movie deal, Dark Metropolis update, and more!
Sooo I have some exciting news today!
I had plans to like, draw pictures of Nimira and Erris sitting in a theater or wearing old-timey director's gear or peering out of dressing rooms or SOME kind of iconic movie imagery, but, well, I have been insanely busy and today I am actually HOME TO WRITE so I should probably actually do that, since I have deadlines and stuff. Sigh.
But, here it is: MOVIE RIGHTS TO MAGIC UNDER GLASS SOLD! To Nostromo Pictures in Spain! (They make movies in English too. Here is an article about them, if you are curious: http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118041742)
So what does this mean? It means that they have bought the rights to try and make the movie. This takes a lot of time and effort and people and money, and if you know anything about books being optioned for movies, you know that of all the books optioned for movies, few of the movies ever actually happen. But I like to look on the bright side and think that of all the books that are made into movies, they all had to be optioned first. And I am SO very excited that they read the book and had a vision for a movie!
This also shows that SERIOUSLY YOU NEVER KNOW what might happen with a book. Magic Under Glass has been out for 2 1/2 years and I never dreamed it would attract a movie option, much less in Spain, which is one of a small handful of countries it was published in. Pretty awesome.
Anyway, I also must tell you that I talked to the good folks at Hyperion lately and we're all in agreement that Dark Metropolis (new title pending) would be better as a Fall 2013 book. Yes, I hate that I'll be going a year and a half without a book out again, but, it will really only be a short bump, and the book will be better for it. I can't wait to see this book's cover and new title and see it take shape!
I also got my royalty statement for Between the Sea and Sky and...apparently rights sold in complex Chinese? If any reader happens to spot a Chinese cover for the book at any point, please do let me know! Asia gets my vote for continent with the best covers, usually, because they still seem to prefer illustrations there...
Also, while I have not been blogging HERE lately, I have been out and about the past few months. You still have time to : win a copy of Magic Under Stone with Misty at the Book Rat for Fairy Tale Fortnight. Also at the Book Rat, I talked about how Disney movies led me to love genies and a quest for genie lore, which culminated in Ifra the jinn in Magic Under Stone, while Misty did a fabulous Magic Under Stone review, and if you're not tired of Fairy Tale Fortnight yet, there is an interview with me at Books from Bleh to Basically Amazing.
I also did some DEEP THOUGHTS types of posts, one for Megan Crewe's The Ways We Struggle series here and one for Nova Ren Suma's Turning Points series here.
But, here it is: MOVIE RIGHTS TO MAGIC UNDER GLASS SOLD! To Nostromo Pictures in Spain! (They make movies in English too. Here is an article about them, if you are curious: http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118041742)
So what does this mean? It means that they have bought the rights to try and make the movie. This takes a lot of time and effort and people and money, and if you know anything about books being optioned for movies, you know that of all the books optioned for movies, few of the movies ever actually happen. But I like to look on the bright side and think that of all the books that are made into movies, they all had to be optioned first. And I am SO very excited that they read the book and had a vision for a movie!
This also shows that SERIOUSLY YOU NEVER KNOW what might happen with a book. Magic Under Glass has been out for 2 1/2 years and I never dreamed it would attract a movie option, much less in Spain, which is one of a small handful of countries it was published in. Pretty awesome.
Anyway, I also must tell you that I talked to the good folks at Hyperion lately and we're all in agreement that Dark Metropolis (new title pending) would be better as a Fall 2013 book. Yes, I hate that I'll be going a year and a half without a book out again, but, it will really only be a short bump, and the book will be better for it. I can't wait to see this book's cover and new title and see it take shape!
I also got my royalty statement for Between the Sea and Sky and...apparently rights sold in complex Chinese? If any reader happens to spot a Chinese cover for the book at any point, please do let me know! Asia gets my vote for continent with the best covers, usually, because they still seem to prefer illustrations there...
Also, while I have not been blogging HERE lately, I have been out and about the past few months. You still have time to : win a copy of Magic Under Stone with Misty at the Book Rat for Fairy Tale Fortnight. Also at the Book Rat, I talked about how Disney movies led me to love genies and a quest for genie lore, which culminated in Ifra the jinn in Magic Under Stone, while Misty did a fabulous Magic Under Stone review, and if you're not tired of Fairy Tale Fortnight yet, there is an interview with me at Books from Bleh to Basically Amazing.
I also did some DEEP THOUGHTS types of posts, one for Megan Crewe's The Ways We Struggle series here and one for Nova Ren Suma's Turning Points series here.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Events! Contests! Et cetera!
Sorry for the lack of blogging! I turned in the first round of revisions for Dark Metropolis last week and now I've been trying to catch up on EVERYTHING. But I wanted to do a quick update.
The winner of Magic Under Stone here at the blog was Nicole Settle. Congrats, Nicole! I will have time to sketch in your copy this week and send it out to you.
Some of you have asked me why the release date for the Magic Under Stone ebook is still April when the hardcover got bumped up, and if the ebook will come out any earlier. The short answers to those questions are I DON'T KNOW and ERRR...I GUESS NOT. And there is no long answer. Sorry that I am not more informed! I am still feeling rather surprised that Magic Under Stone is actually out...!
I'll be participating in one of my favorite blog events again this April, Fairy Tale Fortnight!:
I started a Tumblr, J for Juvenilia, where I will be posting highlights from all my childhood notebooks. This is mostly just a way to keep myself accountable for getting all my old stories typed, organized, and loosely dated. But you may find it amusing, as well: http://jaclyndolamore.tumblr.com/
More EVENTS added to the sidebar! A friend of mine is hosting a party for Magic Under Stone at Balticon on May 26th. You need a Balticon membership to attend, but there is a lot of other stuff going on there related to YA and adult speculative fiction and publishing, so it could be a fun day. I'm also confirmed for the PAYA festival in West Chester, PA in August. And I'm working out an event in Alexandria, VA in May, more to come!
I also have a Magic Under Stone Goodreads giveaway going on. This one is US only but I hope to do an international one soon. Blogger does not seem to like the Goodreads widget, so just go here to enter:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8171792-magic-under-stone
The winner of Magic Under Stone here at the blog was Nicole Settle. Congrats, Nicole! I will have time to sketch in your copy this week and send it out to you.
Some of you have asked me why the release date for the Magic Under Stone ebook is still April when the hardcover got bumped up, and if the ebook will come out any earlier. The short answers to those questions are I DON'T KNOW and ERRR...I GUESS NOT. And there is no long answer. Sorry that I am not more informed! I am still feeling rather surprised that Magic Under Stone is actually out...!
I'll be participating in one of my favorite blog events again this April, Fairy Tale Fortnight!:
I started a Tumblr, J for Juvenilia, where I will be posting highlights from all my childhood notebooks. This is mostly just a way to keep myself accountable for getting all my old stories typed, organized, and loosely dated. But you may find it amusing, as well: http://jaclyndolamore.tumblr.com/
More EVENTS added to the sidebar! A friend of mine is hosting a party for Magic Under Stone at Balticon on May 26th. You need a Balticon membership to attend, but there is a lot of other stuff going on there related to YA and adult speculative fiction and publishing, so it could be a fun day. I'm also confirmed for the PAYA festival in West Chester, PA in August. And I'm working out an event in Alexandria, VA in May, more to come!
I also have a Magic Under Stone Goodreads giveaway going on. This one is US only but I hope to do an international one soon. Blogger does not seem to like the Goodreads widget, so just go here to enter:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8171792-magic-under-stone
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Magic Under Stone releases TODAY!
So, a couple weeks ago a blogger was like, "Hey, it says on Amazon that Magic Under Stone comes out on February 28th. Is that true?" And I was like "WHAAAA!?" Because as far as I knew, it was April 10th.
Yep. It's true. They moved it up. It snuck into bookstores all stealth-like. Poor little book, no one's even reviewed it!
Well, a few people have. Emily at Red House Books says: "I didn't think it was possible but I loved Magic Under Stone even more!" She's also offering up a giveaway of your choice of any of my three books HERE, along with an interview about some books that evoke memories and associations for me.
I'm also giving away a copy of Magic Under Stone (at least, when they show up). It'll be signed and have a few sketches of the main characters peppered throughout. US only, this time, unfortunately, because I am still cash-strapped from the move, although I hope to open up a foreign giveaway later when belts are less tight. Just comment with your email address, that is all you have to do! If you want to mention it somewhere, you get an extra entry, but you know, I'm being casual about it. I'm in the middle of edits for Dark Metropolis and there's no time to get fancy.
Also, now is a good time to mention that I'll be doing more author events now that I live in Maryland. If you live in the mid-Atlantic or northeast, keep an eye on the "Events" sidebar. I've already got a few cooking, including a signing with Michelle Zink at Oblong Books in New York in April that should be a ton of fun!
Yep. It's true. They moved it up. It snuck into bookstores all stealth-like. Poor little book, no one's even reviewed it!
Well, a few people have. Emily at Red House Books says: "I didn't think it was possible but I loved Magic Under Stone even more!" She's also offering up a giveaway of your choice of any of my three books HERE, along with an interview about some books that evoke memories and associations for me.
I'm also giving away a copy of Magic Under Stone (at least, when they show up). It'll be signed and have a few sketches of the main characters peppered throughout. US only, this time, unfortunately, because I am still cash-strapped from the move, although I hope to open up a foreign giveaway later when belts are less tight. Just comment with your email address, that is all you have to do! If you want to mention it somewhere, you get an extra entry, but you know, I'm being casual about it. I'm in the middle of edits for Dark Metropolis and there's no time to get fancy.
Also, now is a good time to mention that I'll be doing more author events now that I live in Maryland. If you live in the mid-Atlantic or northeast, keep an eye on the "Events" sidebar. I've already got a few cooking, including a signing with Michelle Zink at Oblong Books in New York in April that should be a ton of fun!
Monday, February 13, 2012
Library Visits in West Palm Beach
I've moved to Maryland! No time to blog yet, but I wanted to belatedly stop in and tell you that if you're in the Palm Beach area, you have two chances to see me:
Wednesday, Feb 15th at 6:30 at Glades Road in Boca (561-482-4554 for more details), and Thursday, Feb 16th at 6:30 at Wellington (561-790-6070 for more details).
It should be a lot of fun!
Wednesday, Feb 15th at 6:30 at Glades Road in Boca (561-482-4554 for more details), and Thursday, Feb 16th at 6:30 at Wellington (561-790-6070 for more details).
It should be a lot of fun!
Friday, January 13, 2012
The Post in which I Dissect Revision in Excruciating Depth
Recently Maggie Stiefvater posted an absolutely wonderful blog post where she dissected the hell out a first draft chapter and a final draft chapter. It is a long post, but worth the read. Even thought I am a multi-published novelist myself I really get something out of these. It never hurts to be reminded how a good story is crafted, how many little details go into it.
And when I read it, I had two wishes. One wish was that I had the time to do a similar post. The second wish was that a bunch of other authors would do them too so I could print them all up and stash them with my favorite writing books.
So then, Maggie emailed me and a bunch of other authors and asked if we would indeed like to do posts like this. At that point, I was like, OKAY I WILL FIND THE TIME. When opportunity and desire collide, what else do you say, even if your house is a disaster area of half-packed boxes with no end in sight.
But then came a problem. What selection of first draft and last draft could I offer you that would be helpful?
I don't actually have the final draft of Magic Under Stone right now, because I did line edits and copyedits together, on paper, and mailed them off, without getting finished copies yet. So that's out.
Between the Sea and Sky was kind of odd, because I wrote one first draft, which I barely revised before sending to my editor because I polish as I go and I don't save all the polishings, (although still warning her that it was kinda rough and suffering from second book-itis), which I then almost complete rewrote in revisions, cutting out entire characters and plot points and replacing with new ones, and then did more light polishing on. So there are very few chapters I can really compare in a helpful way.
So that brings me back to Magic Under Glass. It was my first novel and I did a truck-load of major surgery-type editing passes on it before it was published.
I thought, then, perhaps, instead of comparing line edits for one chapter like Maggie did, I would show you how the first two pages of Magic Under Glass changed and changed and changed again, so you will get a sense of both global edits and line edits an author might make and what the reasoning is.
Apologies that this post is very long and not formatted in a cute way but I tried to make it so you didn't have to click around too much. My comments on the pages will be in bold.
FIRST DRAFT EVER
Scarlet and green are the colors of my homeland; the colors out the window of the little house where I spent my first birthday and my fifteenth, and every birthday in-between. From the room I shared with my sisters, I could see the piercing red of Joy-Flowers blooming, and the rounded shapes of the Shai Mountains in the distance. I wanted to begin with a sense of what Nimira had left behind, and give the reader a visual of a place that was peaceful, and very different from the setting she's in now...with the serenity, perhaps, of a Chinese brush painting.
My sixteenth birthday was the first where I awoke to any other sight. Now you know how old she is and how long she's been away from home! Convenient!
No one even knew it was my birthday. I woke before the other girls and crossed the chill room to stare out the murky glass panes "chill room", "murky glass panes", ways of showing she is in somewhat distressed circumstances now. at the street below. The streets of Colsom Lake were already bustling with activity. Street urchins stood on the corner, urging passerby into impulse purchases of flowers and sticks of candy. A milkman was bringing his horse cart up one side of the lane, while a rag seller wandered door to door on the other. A faint, misty drizzle cast everything in shades of grey; mud puddled on the streets. Ah, the classic setting of the Victorian novel, you got your urchins, your rag sellers, your drizzle...I wanted to indicate to readers as quickly as possible what kind of place they're in, since Nimira herself is foreign. But perhaps it is a bit TOO commonplace.
I stepped away from the window with a sigh.
“You awake, Nim?” Saraki whispered from her tangle of sheets. Assara sprawled beside her, uncovered, still sound asleep.
“I’m walking around, aren’t I?” Nimira is snapped from her reverie, and...rather snappish for it.
Saraki sat up and yawned. “Is it time to get up yet? Has Tantan been in here? Wow, but I’m tired!” But Saraki is totally unfazed by Nimira's moods. She's an easygoing girl in every draft, although her appearance is always brief.
“Tantan hasn’t been in yet, but any moment now, I’m sure. It’s definitely morning.”
Saraki nudged Assara. “Get up, get up. It’s morning.”
I shook Feiji’s shoulder, and within moments all four of us were out of bed, sorting out clothes that we’d strewn across furniture the night before, exhausted from our last show. Now you're getting to know the nature of these girls' work, conveyed not with an infodump but with a sense of movement and setting--they're getting out of bed, their clothes are everywhere. We had no more engagements in Colsom Lake; today was a traveling day. We pulled on wide trousers of grey cotton and knee-length homespun tunics grown tattered over our months of travel, and drew our waists in with wide red sashes. When Tantan came in, we were braiding one another’s hair.
Tantan, we called her. Auntie. But she was not our real Aunt, nor could she ever be mistaken for it, with her round, red face and long, thin mouth. When she was displeased, which was most of the time, her eyes twitched, first one, and then the other. She walked like a particularly graceless fat person, although she wasn’t fat at all: slow and waddling. Her eyes twitched now, as she waddled into the room, and looked at all of us trying to tame long strands of black hair into braids.Tantan enters with this unlikable description. She was later cut, as you will see.
“Hurry up, girls,” Tantan said. “There’s been a change of plans. We won’t be stopping in Hammarue. We’re going straight to New Sweeling.”
“New Sweeling!” Saraki clapped her hands together and whirled her excited gaze around to encompass all of us, but I wondered why Tantan looked so grim. The end of page two is where we know something bad is afoot. But was that fast enough, I wondered?
DRAFT 2.0
There are few things worse than being shaken awake when you expect the privilege of sleeping in, but that is exactly how my sixteenth birthday began.This time the reverie of the Shai Mountains and Joy-Flowers has been discarded as being too slow and dreamy for the first page.
“Wake up, Nimira.” Tantan’s voice sliced through my dreams. “Get dressed.”
I opened my eyes. Next to me, Saraki stirred with a long, irritated groan. As usual, she had hogged all the blankets.
“What’s going on?” she murmured, without opening her eyes. Saraki still begins with an air of languid selfishness, hogging the blankets and not even bothering to open her eyes when she's ordered to get dressed.
I sat up, and now I saw Tantan waking Feiji and Assara in the other bed. None of us expected this; everyone began complaining at once.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Tantan said, throwing open the dingy curtains of our hotel room. “We’re leaving for New Sweeling.”
“This morning?” Feiji asked, squinting at the sunlight. “What about our show tonight?”
“Cancelled,” Tantan said. “I’ll be back in five minutes to see that you’re all dressed.” She left the room, slamming the door shut behind her. The description of Tantan has also been moved back a few pages. Now she's just a blur of opening curtains and orders. This draft is much more in-the-moment. Almost too much so. I was struggling at this point to strike the balance between action and description, information and info-dump.
We dragged ourselves out of bed, reaching for clothes that we’d strewn across furniture the night before, exhausted from our last show. My muscles ached, my head felt dull, and I shivered as my bare feet crossed the uneven wooden floorboards, even though it was summer.Description thrown in with Nimira's movement.
Feiji yawned. “Why do you suppose we’re in such a hurry?”
“Who cares?” Saraki replied. She thrust her arms through the sleeves of her tunic, then picked up her sash with a flourish. “New Sweeling!” she said, hugging the sash around her like a blanket. “Girls, don’t you know what this means?”
I already knew perfectly well what it meant to Saraki: the same thing she and Feiji hadn’t shut up about since the first day of our acquaintance. Men. To be specific, husbands. Nimira is telling you about Saraki, but in the process, she's also telling you about herself.
Sure enough. “Businessmen and sorcerers I made sure to throw in sorcerers to establish this was a fantasy before it became too late! and handsome, dashing actors!” Saraki said. “Just waiting to meet lovely foreign dancers like us. They say you can find anything in New Sweeling, and that includes the love of our lives, I’m sure of it.”
Feiji sighed, and then Saraki sighed, This version is also a bit more light-hearted than the last. and Assara, the youngest of our troupe, stared at them with eyes like saucers. I ignored them as I hunted for my slippers. I had more important matters to consider than the marriage prospects in New Sweeling.
Tantan tried to hide it, but I knew the audience for our shows was dwindling. Six months ago, we had packed the halls with ladies in plumed hats and gentlemen in tail-coats. Now we played shabbier venues for smaller crowds, and even then we often couldn’t fill them. Tantan had paid good money for each one of us. What would she do if we ceased to be profitable? This time at the end of page two, we not only know something has probably gone wrong by Tantan's behavior, but we also know what it might concern--their dance troupe is out of money, and these girls are basically slaves that need to make a profit...or what?
DRAFT 3.3
If I had been home, it would have been my wedding day. The day my village would welcome me into womanhood, with feasting and firecrackers. My sixteenth birthday. This was the first version I actually queried agents with. I combined a little of the first two beginnings...now the flippancy of the second draft is gone, but so is the dreaminess of the first. There is a brief indication of where Nimira came from, and now the new detail that she would have been married off at this age if she'd been home. Perhaps subtly implying a sense that romance will be in her future and it won't be at all what her old life would have given her. The day everything would have changed.Of course, today will also be the day everything will change. That's why I'm writing this book. =P
Instead, I woke to Tantan throwing open the curtains of our dingy hotel room. Tantan, we called her, Auntie. But she wasn’t our aunt at all. In draft two, Tantan gets no introduction, but I decided the reader needed a little more orientation from the start. There is also a touch of description sooner.
“Wake up, girls.” She shook my foot and then Saraki’s. “Get dressed, and quickly.”
Next to me, Saraki stirred with a groan. Lots of trimming has occurred. We don't really NEED a "long, irritated" groan. Most sleepy groans are not quick and chipper, after all. “What’s going on?” she murmured.
I sat up and saw Tantan jostling the shoulders of Feiji and Assara in the other bed.
Saraki swept her long hair back from her face. “What about our show tonight?”
“Cancelled,” Tantan said. “I’ll be back in five minutes to see that you’re all dressed.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.
We dragged ourselves out of bed, reaching for clothes that we’d strewn across furniture the night before, exhausted from our last show. My muscles ached, my head felt dull, and I shivered despite the summer heat as my bare feet crossed the uneven wooden floorboards. More trimming--"even though it was summer" becomes "despite the summer heat".
Feiji yawned. “Why do you suppose we’re in such a hurry?”
“Who cares?” Saraki replied, thrusting her arms through the sleeves of her tunic, then picking up her sash with an excited Why I decided the flourish now had to become "excited", I don't know. flourish. “New Sweeling!” She hugged the sash around her like a blanket. “Girls, don’t you know what this means?”
I already knew perfectly well what it meant to Saraki: the same thing she and Feiji hadn’t shut up about since the first day of our acquaintance. Men. To be specific, husbands.
Sure enough. “Businessmen and sorcerers and handsome, dashing actors!” Saraki said. “Just waiting to meet lovely foreign dancers like us. They say you can find anything in New Sweeling, and that includes the love of our lives, I’m sure of it.”
Feiji sighed dreamily, and then Saraki echoed her. Assara, the youngest of our troupe, stared at them with eyes like saucers. I ignored them as I hunted for my slippers. I had more important matters to consider than the marriage prospects in New Sweeling.
Tantan tried to hide it, but I knew the audience for our shows was dwindling. A year or two ago, we had packed the halls with ladies in plumed hats and gentlemen in tailcoats. Now we played shabbier venues for smaller crowds, and even then we often couldn’t fill them. Tantan had paid good money for each one of us. What would she do if we ceased to be profitable?
DRAFT 4.0
If I had been home, this would be my wedding day. My sixteenth birthday. The day my village would welcome me into womanhood, with feasting and firecrackers. Instead, for the second time, I saw the value of my life in a handful of coins.After some feedback from agents and crit partners, I reworked the novel. I decided that the initial opening was still a little too slow, not enough of a hook. In the first-through-third drafts, Nimira is ultimately sold to be a maid in a rich woman's house. I decided that rather than bothering with the other girls in the troupe, who barely have a personality anyway, I'd just get her right to the turning point.
Tantan slipped the money in her purse and would not meet my eyes.This time, we get almost nothing of Tantan, except this heartless act of selling Nimira--although we know, since she won't meet her eyes, that she does feel guilty about it.
“Come along now, girl.” My new mistress’s voice was unyielding, with a highbred accent. She walked to the door without a backward glance, as if she had no doubt I would follow.
The day my father sold me to Tantan’s dance troupe had been bad enough, but to be thrust into serving some pampered lady of Lorinar— Look at me, Tantan!Our protagonist's hard-knock life in a nutshell.
Tantan kept her head bowed.
My new mistress said nothing, but the look she passed over her shoulder, a smooth mask with a hint of irritation, said it all. I trailed after her into a corridor, leaving Tantan behind, and with her, everything I knew.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked, leading me down a hall into the depths of the house. Distantly, I heard the kitchen door shut. Tantan was gone.I don't know if we really needed the final detail about Tantan, but I guess I was thinking that Nim would definitely be attuned to the final shutting of that door.
“Nimira,” I said.
“Nimira. Very good. Easy to pronounce. "Easy to pronounce"--a hint that she is a rich woman who has hired a foreign maid and mostly cares that her foreignness will not get in the way with difficult names or anything like that. I am Elsba Swanney, but that is Mistress Swanney to you. Now, I must acquaint you with some ground rules. All my staff awakens at five o’ clock, sharp. I expect you to keep your dress clean, and your face and hands. Never speak to guests, unless spoken to, or unless offering food or drink. Do not even think of stealing anything, for I am good friends with the Mighty Hollin Perris, the Ambassador of Magic, "Hollin Perris" was a considerably more comical and older villain than the young, troubled Hollin Parry in the final version. I threw a mention of him in early, again, to establish the fantasy aspect. and he has ways of finding things out. Do you understand me, girl?”
I nodded. Nim's emotions won't come out until Mrs. Swanney's instructions are all done. Her personality is still rather underdeveloped in this draft.
“Excellent. Now, this is the servants’ common room. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll call Ronna.” She pushed open the door of a small, poorly lit room with a handful of wooden chairs, a pile of mending in the corner, and a small framed print of a perfectly groomed maid mopping the floors with a smile on her face. More touches of almost-humor that were more common in this draft. I was trying for a "Howl's Moving Castle" sort of air. I didn’t sit down, but Mrs. Swanney was already leaving.
I paced on restless feet as a flurry of suppressed emotions came rushing back. In five years, I had almost convinced myself that coming to Lorinar with the dance troupe had been my choice, not my father’s. Dancing had always been my dream, so I had clung to some small delusion that I had control over my own life. Working as a rich woman’s slave had not fit into my childhood dreams anywhere. Now we get a brief look into Nimira's thoughts before Ronna shows up.
TAKE FIVE?
After sending out version 4 and collecting another slew of full requests that led to rejections, I realized I needed to write the book entirely again. Make it less comical, less of a Victorian farce, and give Nimira, and all the characters, considerably more personality and motivation. This misstep was my first attempt at this.
“Suck in your breath!” Saraki yanked on the corset strings. Saraki is back, but the personality-less Feiji and Assara never return.I gripped the banister of the stairs. The whalebone stays tightened about my already slender waist, pressing my breasts up like a shelf for the cheap jewelry around my neck.This opening is definitely the seediest. Corset strings and breasts right from the get-go.
How far my dignity had fallen these days. I hoped to make Nim sympathetic by letting the reader know how much she disliked the situation. But it was still too light-hearted and too cliche. Both the "new maid in a house" of the previous draft and the "girls tightening each others corsets" have a rather familiar ring, frankly.
Saraki tied the corset strings and handed me my dress. While the fabric might have been straight from home, the puffed sleeves and plunging neckline were in the Lorinar fashion. Only my sash was truly my own, and Saraki formed the traditional bow at my back.
I checked my reflection in the mirror, smoothing the rigid bodice, tugging at the knee-length skirt. I would never stop thinking how ridiculous I looked in these clothes, my legs encased in bright red stockings, my feet in toe-pinching slippers, my thick black hair in a pompadour instead of braids. Would Father still say I looked like Mother? The girl blinking back at me, with the circles under her dark eyes, cheeks drawn and sallow, didn’t look like any member of the Safei family to me. One of the biggest changes of this draft was that Nimira was no longer a slave who had been sold by her father and then Tantan, but the daughter of a dancer who comes to Lorinar of her own accord. Her mother, although dead, becomes a character in this draft, just like the final--Nimira's mother looms large in her memories as an influence, and she is always comparing her circumstances to her mother's life, which now seems far away.
I was only Nimira, lost and alone, where my family name meant nothing.Now we know Nimira's name and family is a matter of pride to her, suggesting she has come from something better than this.
Mr. Granden popped in the room. “Nimira? Are you quite ready? You’re almost up.” He eyed Saraki, who was polishing her tei-tan, a small stringed-instrument, with a cloth I never actually say, here, that Nimira is from another country, but I tried to slip in these details, like the tei-tan, to show it.. “And how is my little Saki tonight?”
She gave him a coy smile and rose without a word to go to the stage. Saki had no shame—I knew Granden gave her special favors as long as she pleased him. I would rather die than sell myself. Again--the seedy version!
Of course, every day I lived and breathed, I was vulnerable. Men could take what I wouldn’t give. Granden could. The fear of it had been with me so long that it had turned into something rock-hard inside me. I was always prepared to fight, and always aware that I might lose, any day now. The snappishness of Nim, way back in the early drafts, now has a reason. Nimira's deep desperate loneliness and desire for more meaningful relationships becomes a theme of the book, whereas in early versions she just sort of muddled through bad circumstances without having a deep yearning in her own heart. But this was too blatant.
I went rigid as Granden slipped his hands around my waist. “Tiny Nim,” he said, his waxed moustache tickling my ear. “My fingers almost meet about your waist.” His breath smelled of brandy.
“Because you spent more money on these costumes than you do on food.”
“You’re welcome to spend your wages on food.”
He knew very well I squirreled away every spare penny for a ticket home. He had promised me food and lodgings. He provided only bare sustenance.
“Kindly take your hands off me,” I said, staring at myself in the mirror. My mirror-self reassured me. Tiny but strong, she seemed to say.
His hands slid away, reluctantly. “If you please.” He chuckled. “Do you have a heart at all, Miss Nim?”
“No.” I turned from the mirror. “I have a show to do.”
Although Nim is more proactive here, I discarded it all as just being a little too heavy-handed, with Granden closer and grosser than he needed to be, and Nim both too composed and too hard-edged.
DRAFT 6.0
The audience didn’t understand a word I sang. They came for our legs. As the posters said, “Trouser Girls from the Exotic Land of Tassim!” We were billed just under the acrobats and the trained dogs.If you've read Magic Under Glass, this will finally start to sound familiar. This opening worked--it's snappy but it also establishes the situation well--Nim, the foreign dancing girl with a grim acceptance, and a slight touch of wit, about the whole thing.
While Saraki plucked the tei-tan, I paced about the stage, my slippers whispering the words "slippers whispering" actually sound rather like the sound of slippers swishing about a wooden floor! on the wooden floor. My hands curved and wove and paused, each gesture as familiar to me as the words I’d heard my mother sing in the cradle. “Gathering Flowers on My Sister’s Wedding Day” was one of the first dances I had ever learned, a reflection on family and what it means to say goodbye. I felt it was better to establish that Nim had an artistic soul, and cared about these dances, before I showed her getting all snappy with Granden and the other girls.
Before I even finished the last plaintive note, a few men began to whistle, and one shouted something I chose to ignore.More subtle seediness, now paired against Nimira's real feelings for her art. Boys on the balcony shelled chestnuts. Clusters of boarding house girls in tatty straw hats giggled to one another.Details: chestnuts, tatty straw hats. One of my favorite writing rules is to never be general when you can be specific.
My eyes leapt to a tall hat in the crowd. A gentleman. I locked upon a pair of dark eyes.This is one of those cases where writing is almost like being a director. The camera goes from the stage, to pan over the crowds, and then to focus on this single man.
He stood in the back, like he had just slipped in the door and wouldn’t stay long. Among all the dim faces that watched me, I kept my focus on him alone.
“The Dragon Maiden’s Revenge” was a favorite of mine, based on a myth of home, where I pantomimed a girl taking up her father’s sword to avenge his death. I hoped I looked very noble. Was he watching?I felt Nimira was a little too disdainful of love and romance in older drafts. This time we know she's not immune to noticing a man.
Yes. Looking right at me, in fact.
Fifteen years ago a railroad baron had married the most famous of trouser girls, Little Sadi, back when our song and dance had been the fashion, before they even called us “trouser girls”. Another thing about this later draft was, I'd begun to learn the importance of knowing where your characters and your world have been, and not just where they go. Nimira's mother, Hollin's father and uncle, the history of Trouser Girls...they pop up easily now because I'd taken the time to think about them, and give the story a sense of reality. Saraki was always dreaming of following in her footsteps. I scoffed when she spoke of it, but late at night I dreamed of things I scoffed at by the light of day.Still one of my favorite lines in the book...I do dream of things at night I scoff at by the light of day!
When I finished my song, the gentleman still lingered. The raucous crowd around him whooped, but he kept still, his eyes roving over our crude set: a painted village house on a piece of wood shorter than Saraki, and some dried flowers in mismatched vases.There is an unspoken hope quivering here--the dude is still here, ohmigod, he's looking at our craptacular set, I hope he doesn't walk out now, I'd better really pull this off...
Our last number, “The Fairest Blossom in a Maiden’s Heart”, had been my mother’s signature song. She had performed it at the King’s coronation, as a new bride of seventeen, just my age now. The song was an ode to a lover who had died, never to be forgotten, but I could never help but think of Mother. Her performance had always left the audience in tears, but no one would cry here, no matter how I poured out my heart. If her spirit still watched over me, I knew it must have been ashamed.
As I took my bow, with Saraki’s hand in mine, I sought one last glimpse at the gentleman stranger, but he had gone.And here is almost a touch of resignation--no one ever cares about the artistry of her dances, and this guy is like all the rest, isn't he...?
FINAL DRAFT (18 months and at least twenty documents after the first...)
The audience didn’t understand a word we sang. They came to see our legs. As the posters said, “Trouser Girls from the Exotic Land of Tassim!” We were billed just under the acrobats and the trained dogs.
Our voices joined in harmony My editor pointed out that Nimira is supposed to be a singer, and...she wasn't singing. while Saraki plucked the tei-tan and I pranced around the stage, my slippers whispering on the wooden floor. My hands curved and wove and paused, each gesture as familiar to me as the words I’d heard my mother sing while I was still in the cradle. I’d done six shows a week in this dank music hall since I’d stepped off the ship that carried me away from home three years ago. Much trimming of detail about the dances themselves--they are less important than the emotions involved.
Even before I finished the last plaintive note, a few men began to whistle, and one shouted something I chose to ignore. Boys on the balcony shelled chestnuts, occasionally tossing one onto the people below. Clusters of boarding house girls in tatty straw hats giggled.
Through it all, my gaze was drawn to a tall hat in the crowd, and the pair of dark eyes beneath it. A gentleman.
He stood in the back, his face still turned halfway to the door, like he had just slipped in for a glimpse and wouldn’t stay long. Among all the dim faces that watched me, I kept my focus on him alone.
Saraki let the applause wane, and then she began to shake her pick across the tei-tan’s strings, bringing forth a tense melody.
The program held no surprises. “The Dragon Maiden’s Revenge” had followed “Gathering Flowers for My Sister’s Wedding” in every show we’d done this year. Still, I hoped I looked very noble as I pantomimed taking up the sword of the fallen king of dragons. Was the gentleman—my gentleman—watching? When Nimira claims him as "her" gentleman, the stakes become ever so slightly higher--he's not just an intriguing guy in the audience. He's keeping her going, raising her hopes, even if it's all a fantasy for now.
Yes. Looking right at me, in fact.
Fifteen years ago a railroad baron had married the most famous of trouser girls, Little Sadi, back when our song and dance had been the fashion, before they even called us “trouser girls”. Saraki dreamed of following in her footsteps, charming some rich man into whisking her away. I scoffed when she spoke of it, but late at night I dreamed of things I scoffed at by the light of day.
When I finished my song, my gentleman still lingered. The raucous crowd around him whooped, but he kept still, his eyes roving over our crude set: a painted village house on a piece of wood shorter than Saraki, and some dried flowers in mismatched vases.
Our last number, “The Fairest Blossom in a Maiden’s Heart”, had been my mother’s signature song. She had performed it at the King’s coronation, as a new bride of seventeen, just my age now. The song was an ode to a lover who had died, never to be forgotten. I could never help but remember Mother, her haunting voice pitched high, her delicate gestures transforming her into the very embodiment of sorrow. Her performance had always left the audience in tears, but this audience was far from the one she had known, both in temperament and location. Toned down from "no one would cry here". If her spirit still watched over me, I knew it must be ashamed.
As I took my bow, with Saraki’s hand in mine, I sought one last glimpse of my gentleman, but he had gone.
TA-DAAA!
As you can see, once I nailed it, it didn't change too much. This is often the case with me. Sometimes I can flail about with six entirely different versions of the same story, other times it just comes out right the first time and is merely tweaked. I hope this has been helpful as far as showing the thought process of why I felt each version might work as I wrote it, and then why it changed.
And when I read it, I had two wishes. One wish was that I had the time to do a similar post. The second wish was that a bunch of other authors would do them too so I could print them all up and stash them with my favorite writing books.
So then, Maggie emailed me and a bunch of other authors and asked if we would indeed like to do posts like this. At that point, I was like, OKAY I WILL FIND THE TIME. When opportunity and desire collide, what else do you say, even if your house is a disaster area of half-packed boxes with no end in sight.
But then came a problem. What selection of first draft and last draft could I offer you that would be helpful?
I don't actually have the final draft of Magic Under Stone right now, because I did line edits and copyedits together, on paper, and mailed them off, without getting finished copies yet. So that's out.
Between the Sea and Sky was kind of odd, because I wrote one first draft, which I barely revised before sending to my editor because I polish as I go and I don't save all the polishings, (although still warning her that it was kinda rough and suffering from second book-itis), which I then almost complete rewrote in revisions, cutting out entire characters and plot points and replacing with new ones, and then did more light polishing on. So there are very few chapters I can really compare in a helpful way.
So that brings me back to Magic Under Glass. It was my first novel and I did a truck-load of major surgery-type editing passes on it before it was published.
I thought, then, perhaps, instead of comparing line edits for one chapter like Maggie did, I would show you how the first two pages of Magic Under Glass changed and changed and changed again, so you will get a sense of both global edits and line edits an author might make and what the reasoning is.
Apologies that this post is very long and not formatted in a cute way but I tried to make it so you didn't have to click around too much. My comments on the pages will be in bold.
FIRST DRAFT EVER
Scarlet and green are the colors of my homeland; the colors out the window of the little house where I spent my first birthday and my fifteenth, and every birthday in-between. From the room I shared with my sisters, I could see the piercing red of Joy-Flowers blooming, and the rounded shapes of the Shai Mountains in the distance. I wanted to begin with a sense of what Nimira had left behind, and give the reader a visual of a place that was peaceful, and very different from the setting she's in now...with the serenity, perhaps, of a Chinese brush painting.
My sixteenth birthday was the first where I awoke to any other sight. Now you know how old she is and how long she's been away from home! Convenient!
No one even knew it was my birthday. I woke before the other girls and crossed the chill room to stare out the murky glass panes "chill room", "murky glass panes", ways of showing she is in somewhat distressed circumstances now. at the street below. The streets of Colsom Lake were already bustling with activity. Street urchins stood on the corner, urging passerby into impulse purchases of flowers and sticks of candy. A milkman was bringing his horse cart up one side of the lane, while a rag seller wandered door to door on the other. A faint, misty drizzle cast everything in shades of grey; mud puddled on the streets. Ah, the classic setting of the Victorian novel, you got your urchins, your rag sellers, your drizzle...I wanted to indicate to readers as quickly as possible what kind of place they're in, since Nimira herself is foreign. But perhaps it is a bit TOO commonplace.
I stepped away from the window with a sigh.
“You awake, Nim?” Saraki whispered from her tangle of sheets. Assara sprawled beside her, uncovered, still sound asleep.
“I’m walking around, aren’t I?” Nimira is snapped from her reverie, and...rather snappish for it.
Saraki sat up and yawned. “Is it time to get up yet? Has Tantan been in here? Wow, but I’m tired!” But Saraki is totally unfazed by Nimira's moods. She's an easygoing girl in every draft, although her appearance is always brief.
“Tantan hasn’t been in yet, but any moment now, I’m sure. It’s definitely morning.”
Saraki nudged Assara. “Get up, get up. It’s morning.”
I shook Feiji’s shoulder, and within moments all four of us were out of bed, sorting out clothes that we’d strewn across furniture the night before, exhausted from our last show. Now you're getting to know the nature of these girls' work, conveyed not with an infodump but with a sense of movement and setting--they're getting out of bed, their clothes are everywhere. We had no more engagements in Colsom Lake; today was a traveling day. We pulled on wide trousers of grey cotton and knee-length homespun tunics grown tattered over our months of travel, and drew our waists in with wide red sashes. When Tantan came in, we were braiding one another’s hair.
Tantan, we called her. Auntie. But she was not our real Aunt, nor could she ever be mistaken for it, with her round, red face and long, thin mouth. When she was displeased, which was most of the time, her eyes twitched, first one, and then the other. She walked like a particularly graceless fat person, although she wasn’t fat at all: slow and waddling. Her eyes twitched now, as she waddled into the room, and looked at all of us trying to tame long strands of black hair into braids.Tantan enters with this unlikable description. She was later cut, as you will see.
“Hurry up, girls,” Tantan said. “There’s been a change of plans. We won’t be stopping in Hammarue. We’re going straight to New Sweeling.”
“New Sweeling!” Saraki clapped her hands together and whirled her excited gaze around to encompass all of us, but I wondered why Tantan looked so grim. The end of page two is where we know something bad is afoot. But was that fast enough, I wondered?
DRAFT 2.0
There are few things worse than being shaken awake when you expect the privilege of sleeping in, but that is exactly how my sixteenth birthday began.This time the reverie of the Shai Mountains and Joy-Flowers has been discarded as being too slow and dreamy for the first page.
“Wake up, Nimira.” Tantan’s voice sliced through my dreams. “Get dressed.”
I opened my eyes. Next to me, Saraki stirred with a long, irritated groan. As usual, she had hogged all the blankets.
“What’s going on?” she murmured, without opening her eyes. Saraki still begins with an air of languid selfishness, hogging the blankets and not even bothering to open her eyes when she's ordered to get dressed.
I sat up, and now I saw Tantan waking Feiji and Assara in the other bed. None of us expected this; everyone began complaining at once.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Tantan said, throwing open the dingy curtains of our hotel room. “We’re leaving for New Sweeling.”
“This morning?” Feiji asked, squinting at the sunlight. “What about our show tonight?”
“Cancelled,” Tantan said. “I’ll be back in five minutes to see that you’re all dressed.” She left the room, slamming the door shut behind her. The description of Tantan has also been moved back a few pages. Now she's just a blur of opening curtains and orders. This draft is much more in-the-moment. Almost too much so. I was struggling at this point to strike the balance between action and description, information and info-dump.
We dragged ourselves out of bed, reaching for clothes that we’d strewn across furniture the night before, exhausted from our last show. My muscles ached, my head felt dull, and I shivered as my bare feet crossed the uneven wooden floorboards, even though it was summer.Description thrown in with Nimira's movement.
Feiji yawned. “Why do you suppose we’re in such a hurry?”
“Who cares?” Saraki replied. She thrust her arms through the sleeves of her tunic, then picked up her sash with a flourish. “New Sweeling!” she said, hugging the sash around her like a blanket. “Girls, don’t you know what this means?”
I already knew perfectly well what it meant to Saraki: the same thing she and Feiji hadn’t shut up about since the first day of our acquaintance. Men. To be specific, husbands. Nimira is telling you about Saraki, but in the process, she's also telling you about herself.
Sure enough. “Businessmen and sorcerers I made sure to throw in sorcerers to establish this was a fantasy before it became too late! and handsome, dashing actors!” Saraki said. “Just waiting to meet lovely foreign dancers like us. They say you can find anything in New Sweeling, and that includes the love of our lives, I’m sure of it.”
Feiji sighed, and then Saraki sighed, This version is also a bit more light-hearted than the last. and Assara, the youngest of our troupe, stared at them with eyes like saucers. I ignored them as I hunted for my slippers. I had more important matters to consider than the marriage prospects in New Sweeling.
Tantan tried to hide it, but I knew the audience for our shows was dwindling. Six months ago, we had packed the halls with ladies in plumed hats and gentlemen in tail-coats. Now we played shabbier venues for smaller crowds, and even then we often couldn’t fill them. Tantan had paid good money for each one of us. What would she do if we ceased to be profitable? This time at the end of page two, we not only know something has probably gone wrong by Tantan's behavior, but we also know what it might concern--their dance troupe is out of money, and these girls are basically slaves that need to make a profit...or what?
DRAFT 3.3
If I had been home, it would have been my wedding day. The day my village would welcome me into womanhood, with feasting and firecrackers. My sixteenth birthday. This was the first version I actually queried agents with. I combined a little of the first two beginnings...now the flippancy of the second draft is gone, but so is the dreaminess of the first. There is a brief indication of where Nimira came from, and now the new detail that she would have been married off at this age if she'd been home. Perhaps subtly implying a sense that romance will be in her future and it won't be at all what her old life would have given her. The day everything would have changed.Of course, today will also be the day everything will change. That's why I'm writing this book. =P
Instead, I woke to Tantan throwing open the curtains of our dingy hotel room. Tantan, we called her, Auntie. But she wasn’t our aunt at all. In draft two, Tantan gets no introduction, but I decided the reader needed a little more orientation from the start. There is also a touch of description sooner.
“Wake up, girls.” She shook my foot and then Saraki’s. “Get dressed, and quickly.”
Next to me, Saraki stirred with a groan. Lots of trimming has occurred. We don't really NEED a "long, irritated" groan. Most sleepy groans are not quick and chipper, after all. “What’s going on?” she murmured.
I sat up and saw Tantan jostling the shoulders of Feiji and Assara in the other bed.
Saraki swept her long hair back from her face. “What about our show tonight?”
“Cancelled,” Tantan said. “I’ll be back in five minutes to see that you’re all dressed.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.
We dragged ourselves out of bed, reaching for clothes that we’d strewn across furniture the night before, exhausted from our last show. My muscles ached, my head felt dull, and I shivered despite the summer heat as my bare feet crossed the uneven wooden floorboards. More trimming--"even though it was summer" becomes "despite the summer heat".
Feiji yawned. “Why do you suppose we’re in such a hurry?”
“Who cares?” Saraki replied, thrusting her arms through the sleeves of her tunic, then picking up her sash with an excited Why I decided the flourish now had to become "excited", I don't know. flourish. “New Sweeling!” She hugged the sash around her like a blanket. “Girls, don’t you know what this means?”
I already knew perfectly well what it meant to Saraki: the same thing she and Feiji hadn’t shut up about since the first day of our acquaintance. Men. To be specific, husbands.
Sure enough. “Businessmen and sorcerers and handsome, dashing actors!” Saraki said. “Just waiting to meet lovely foreign dancers like us. They say you can find anything in New Sweeling, and that includes the love of our lives, I’m sure of it.”
Feiji sighed dreamily, and then Saraki echoed her. Assara, the youngest of our troupe, stared at them with eyes like saucers. I ignored them as I hunted for my slippers. I had more important matters to consider than the marriage prospects in New Sweeling.
Tantan tried to hide it, but I knew the audience for our shows was dwindling. A year or two ago, we had packed the halls with ladies in plumed hats and gentlemen in tailcoats. Now we played shabbier venues for smaller crowds, and even then we often couldn’t fill them. Tantan had paid good money for each one of us. What would she do if we ceased to be profitable?
DRAFT 4.0
If I had been home, this would be my wedding day. My sixteenth birthday. The day my village would welcome me into womanhood, with feasting and firecrackers. Instead, for the second time, I saw the value of my life in a handful of coins.After some feedback from agents and crit partners, I reworked the novel. I decided that the initial opening was still a little too slow, not enough of a hook. In the first-through-third drafts, Nimira is ultimately sold to be a maid in a rich woman's house. I decided that rather than bothering with the other girls in the troupe, who barely have a personality anyway, I'd just get her right to the turning point.
Tantan slipped the money in her purse and would not meet my eyes.This time, we get almost nothing of Tantan, except this heartless act of selling Nimira--although we know, since she won't meet her eyes, that she does feel guilty about it.
“Come along now, girl.” My new mistress’s voice was unyielding, with a highbred accent. She walked to the door without a backward glance, as if she had no doubt I would follow.
The day my father sold me to Tantan’s dance troupe had been bad enough, but to be thrust into serving some pampered lady of Lorinar— Look at me, Tantan!Our protagonist's hard-knock life in a nutshell.
Tantan kept her head bowed.
My new mistress said nothing, but the look she passed over her shoulder, a smooth mask with a hint of irritation, said it all. I trailed after her into a corridor, leaving Tantan behind, and with her, everything I knew.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked, leading me down a hall into the depths of the house. Distantly, I heard the kitchen door shut. Tantan was gone.I don't know if we really needed the final detail about Tantan, but I guess I was thinking that Nim would definitely be attuned to the final shutting of that door.
“Nimira,” I said.
“Nimira. Very good. Easy to pronounce. "Easy to pronounce"--a hint that she is a rich woman who has hired a foreign maid and mostly cares that her foreignness will not get in the way with difficult names or anything like that. I am Elsba Swanney, but that is Mistress Swanney to you. Now, I must acquaint you with some ground rules. All my staff awakens at five o’ clock, sharp. I expect you to keep your dress clean, and your face and hands. Never speak to guests, unless spoken to, or unless offering food or drink. Do not even think of stealing anything, for I am good friends with the Mighty Hollin Perris, the Ambassador of Magic, "Hollin Perris" was a considerably more comical and older villain than the young, troubled Hollin Parry in the final version. I threw a mention of him in early, again, to establish the fantasy aspect. and he has ways of finding things out. Do you understand me, girl?”
I nodded. Nim's emotions won't come out until Mrs. Swanney's instructions are all done. Her personality is still rather underdeveloped in this draft.
“Excellent. Now, this is the servants’ common room. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll call Ronna.” She pushed open the door of a small, poorly lit room with a handful of wooden chairs, a pile of mending in the corner, and a small framed print of a perfectly groomed maid mopping the floors with a smile on her face. More touches of almost-humor that were more common in this draft. I was trying for a "Howl's Moving Castle" sort of air. I didn’t sit down, but Mrs. Swanney was already leaving.
I paced on restless feet as a flurry of suppressed emotions came rushing back. In five years, I had almost convinced myself that coming to Lorinar with the dance troupe had been my choice, not my father’s. Dancing had always been my dream, so I had clung to some small delusion that I had control over my own life. Working as a rich woman’s slave had not fit into my childhood dreams anywhere. Now we get a brief look into Nimira's thoughts before Ronna shows up.
TAKE FIVE?
After sending out version 4 and collecting another slew of full requests that led to rejections, I realized I needed to write the book entirely again. Make it less comical, less of a Victorian farce, and give Nimira, and all the characters, considerably more personality and motivation. This misstep was my first attempt at this.
“Suck in your breath!” Saraki yanked on the corset strings. Saraki is back, but the personality-less Feiji and Assara never return.I gripped the banister of the stairs. The whalebone stays tightened about my already slender waist, pressing my breasts up like a shelf for the cheap jewelry around my neck.This opening is definitely the seediest. Corset strings and breasts right from the get-go.
How far my dignity had fallen these days. I hoped to make Nim sympathetic by letting the reader know how much she disliked the situation. But it was still too light-hearted and too cliche. Both the "new maid in a house" of the previous draft and the "girls tightening each others corsets" have a rather familiar ring, frankly.
Saraki tied the corset strings and handed me my dress. While the fabric might have been straight from home, the puffed sleeves and plunging neckline were in the Lorinar fashion. Only my sash was truly my own, and Saraki formed the traditional bow at my back.
I checked my reflection in the mirror, smoothing the rigid bodice, tugging at the knee-length skirt. I would never stop thinking how ridiculous I looked in these clothes, my legs encased in bright red stockings, my feet in toe-pinching slippers, my thick black hair in a pompadour instead of braids. Would Father still say I looked like Mother? The girl blinking back at me, with the circles under her dark eyes, cheeks drawn and sallow, didn’t look like any member of the Safei family to me. One of the biggest changes of this draft was that Nimira was no longer a slave who had been sold by her father and then Tantan, but the daughter of a dancer who comes to Lorinar of her own accord. Her mother, although dead, becomes a character in this draft, just like the final--Nimira's mother looms large in her memories as an influence, and she is always comparing her circumstances to her mother's life, which now seems far away.
I was only Nimira, lost and alone, where my family name meant nothing.Now we know Nimira's name and family is a matter of pride to her, suggesting she has come from something better than this.
Mr. Granden popped in the room. “Nimira? Are you quite ready? You’re almost up.” He eyed Saraki, who was polishing her tei-tan, a small stringed-instrument, with a cloth I never actually say, here, that Nimira is from another country, but I tried to slip in these details, like the tei-tan, to show it.. “And how is my little Saki tonight?”
She gave him a coy smile and rose without a word to go to the stage. Saki had no shame—I knew Granden gave her special favors as long as she pleased him. I would rather die than sell myself. Again--the seedy version!
Of course, every day I lived and breathed, I was vulnerable. Men could take what I wouldn’t give. Granden could. The fear of it had been with me so long that it had turned into something rock-hard inside me. I was always prepared to fight, and always aware that I might lose, any day now. The snappishness of Nim, way back in the early drafts, now has a reason. Nimira's deep desperate loneliness and desire for more meaningful relationships becomes a theme of the book, whereas in early versions she just sort of muddled through bad circumstances without having a deep yearning in her own heart. But this was too blatant.
I went rigid as Granden slipped his hands around my waist. “Tiny Nim,” he said, his waxed moustache tickling my ear. “My fingers almost meet about your waist.” His breath smelled of brandy.
“Because you spent more money on these costumes than you do on food.”
“You’re welcome to spend your wages on food.”
He knew very well I squirreled away every spare penny for a ticket home. He had promised me food and lodgings. He provided only bare sustenance.
“Kindly take your hands off me,” I said, staring at myself in the mirror. My mirror-self reassured me. Tiny but strong, she seemed to say.
His hands slid away, reluctantly. “If you please.” He chuckled. “Do you have a heart at all, Miss Nim?”
“No.” I turned from the mirror. “I have a show to do.”
Although Nim is more proactive here, I discarded it all as just being a little too heavy-handed, with Granden closer and grosser than he needed to be, and Nim both too composed and too hard-edged.
DRAFT 6.0
The audience didn’t understand a word I sang. They came for our legs. As the posters said, “Trouser Girls from the Exotic Land of Tassim!” We were billed just under the acrobats and the trained dogs.If you've read Magic Under Glass, this will finally start to sound familiar. This opening worked--it's snappy but it also establishes the situation well--Nim, the foreign dancing girl with a grim acceptance, and a slight touch of wit, about the whole thing.
While Saraki plucked the tei-tan, I paced about the stage, my slippers whispering the words "slippers whispering" actually sound rather like the sound of slippers swishing about a wooden floor! on the wooden floor. My hands curved and wove and paused, each gesture as familiar to me as the words I’d heard my mother sing in the cradle. “Gathering Flowers on My Sister’s Wedding Day” was one of the first dances I had ever learned, a reflection on family and what it means to say goodbye. I felt it was better to establish that Nim had an artistic soul, and cared about these dances, before I showed her getting all snappy with Granden and the other girls.
Before I even finished the last plaintive note, a few men began to whistle, and one shouted something I chose to ignore.More subtle seediness, now paired against Nimira's real feelings for her art. Boys on the balcony shelled chestnuts. Clusters of boarding house girls in tatty straw hats giggled to one another.Details: chestnuts, tatty straw hats. One of my favorite writing rules is to never be general when you can be specific.
My eyes leapt to a tall hat in the crowd. A gentleman. I locked upon a pair of dark eyes.This is one of those cases where writing is almost like being a director. The camera goes from the stage, to pan over the crowds, and then to focus on this single man.
He stood in the back, like he had just slipped in the door and wouldn’t stay long. Among all the dim faces that watched me, I kept my focus on him alone.
“The Dragon Maiden’s Revenge” was a favorite of mine, based on a myth of home, where I pantomimed a girl taking up her father’s sword to avenge his death. I hoped I looked very noble. Was he watching?I felt Nimira was a little too disdainful of love and romance in older drafts. This time we know she's not immune to noticing a man.
Yes. Looking right at me, in fact.
Fifteen years ago a railroad baron had married the most famous of trouser girls, Little Sadi, back when our song and dance had been the fashion, before they even called us “trouser girls”. Another thing about this later draft was, I'd begun to learn the importance of knowing where your characters and your world have been, and not just where they go. Nimira's mother, Hollin's father and uncle, the history of Trouser Girls...they pop up easily now because I'd taken the time to think about them, and give the story a sense of reality. Saraki was always dreaming of following in her footsteps. I scoffed when she spoke of it, but late at night I dreamed of things I scoffed at by the light of day.Still one of my favorite lines in the book...I do dream of things at night I scoff at by the light of day!
When I finished my song, the gentleman still lingered. The raucous crowd around him whooped, but he kept still, his eyes roving over our crude set: a painted village house on a piece of wood shorter than Saraki, and some dried flowers in mismatched vases.There is an unspoken hope quivering here--the dude is still here, ohmigod, he's looking at our craptacular set, I hope he doesn't walk out now, I'd better really pull this off...
Our last number, “The Fairest Blossom in a Maiden’s Heart”, had been my mother’s signature song. She had performed it at the King’s coronation, as a new bride of seventeen, just my age now. The song was an ode to a lover who had died, never to be forgotten, but I could never help but think of Mother. Her performance had always left the audience in tears, but no one would cry here, no matter how I poured out my heart. If her spirit still watched over me, I knew it must have been ashamed.
As I took my bow, with Saraki’s hand in mine, I sought one last glimpse at the gentleman stranger, but he had gone.And here is almost a touch of resignation--no one ever cares about the artistry of her dances, and this guy is like all the rest, isn't he...?
FINAL DRAFT (18 months and at least twenty documents after the first...)
The audience didn’t understand a word we sang. They came to see our legs. As the posters said, “Trouser Girls from the Exotic Land of Tassim!” We were billed just under the acrobats and the trained dogs.
Our voices joined in harmony My editor pointed out that Nimira is supposed to be a singer, and...she wasn't singing. while Saraki plucked the tei-tan and I pranced around the stage, my slippers whispering on the wooden floor. My hands curved and wove and paused, each gesture as familiar to me as the words I’d heard my mother sing while I was still in the cradle. I’d done six shows a week in this dank music hall since I’d stepped off the ship that carried me away from home three years ago. Much trimming of detail about the dances themselves--they are less important than the emotions involved.
Even before I finished the last plaintive note, a few men began to whistle, and one shouted something I chose to ignore. Boys on the balcony shelled chestnuts, occasionally tossing one onto the people below. Clusters of boarding house girls in tatty straw hats giggled.
Through it all, my gaze was drawn to a tall hat in the crowd, and the pair of dark eyes beneath it. A gentleman.
He stood in the back, his face still turned halfway to the door, like he had just slipped in for a glimpse and wouldn’t stay long. Among all the dim faces that watched me, I kept my focus on him alone.
Saraki let the applause wane, and then she began to shake her pick across the tei-tan’s strings, bringing forth a tense melody.
The program held no surprises. “The Dragon Maiden’s Revenge” had followed “Gathering Flowers for My Sister’s Wedding” in every show we’d done this year. Still, I hoped I looked very noble as I pantomimed taking up the sword of the fallen king of dragons. Was the gentleman—my gentleman—watching? When Nimira claims him as "her" gentleman, the stakes become ever so slightly higher--he's not just an intriguing guy in the audience. He's keeping her going, raising her hopes, even if it's all a fantasy for now.
Yes. Looking right at me, in fact.
Fifteen years ago a railroad baron had married the most famous of trouser girls, Little Sadi, back when our song and dance had been the fashion, before they even called us “trouser girls”. Saraki dreamed of following in her footsteps, charming some rich man into whisking her away. I scoffed when she spoke of it, but late at night I dreamed of things I scoffed at by the light of day.
When I finished my song, my gentleman still lingered. The raucous crowd around him whooped, but he kept still, his eyes roving over our crude set: a painted village house on a piece of wood shorter than Saraki, and some dried flowers in mismatched vases.
Our last number, “The Fairest Blossom in a Maiden’s Heart”, had been my mother’s signature song. She had performed it at the King’s coronation, as a new bride of seventeen, just my age now. The song was an ode to a lover who had died, never to be forgotten. I could never help but remember Mother, her haunting voice pitched high, her delicate gestures transforming her into the very embodiment of sorrow. Her performance had always left the audience in tears, but this audience was far from the one she had known, both in temperament and location. Toned down from "no one would cry here". If her spirit still watched over me, I knew it must be ashamed.
As I took my bow, with Saraki’s hand in mine, I sought one last glimpse of my gentleman, but he had gone.
TA-DAAA!
As you can see, once I nailed it, it didn't change too much. This is often the case with me. Sometimes I can flail about with six entirely different versions of the same story, other times it just comes out right the first time and is merely tweaked. I hope this has been helpful as far as showing the thought process of why I felt each version might work as I wrote it, and then why it changed.
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