I just finished The Last Song, and the most important thing I can say is, I read every word.

To understand that statement, you have to know what kind of reader I am. When I was a kid, I read everything word for word. I even read the typos because it felt dishonest not to. I never liked to be without a book, preferably a novel, preferably from the mystery or sci-fi genres. I didn’t just devour these books. I savored every word and phrase. It might take me a couple of months to finish one book, but during those months I was happy, lost in that other world. My nose, literally, almost always in a book.

When did it change? I wail to the sky. When did I lose that ability to lose myself in a book? Was it motherhood or was it getting serious about writing my own books? Either one might have caused it, but I imagine it was a combination. After all, between those two, my opportunities for reading are confined to a few minutes before bed (unless I’m working at that time) and in the mornings when I’m brushing my teeth and combing my hair.

I still read when I can, but I read differently now. I usually scan the first chapter or two, then I (gasp) skip to the end. If it looks like a good ending and I’m intrigued by how the writer got there, I go back and start reading. Sometimes I read for a while, scan when the book loses my interest and go back to reading. Sometimes I skip forward and backward. Sometimes I completely lose track of where I was. Then I have to figure out whether the story is worth continuing. After all, I already know how it ended.

How did I read The Last Song? Obviously, as I’ve said before, I was intrigued by how the book came into being. I started out and read the first chapter. Then, realizing I really wanted to know what happened to the main character, I skipped ahead and scanned the last chapter. Yes, I thought, I want to know how they get here. So, I started reading. For the most part, I managed to keep myself on track, only getting impatient a few times and skipping ahead a few pages to find out if what I hoped would happen actually did. And when I finally closed the covers and emerged from that world, I added The Last Song to a pile of books that is a dying breed: Books I have read word for word.

What other books have I read word for word? The Harry Potter series (although I did read the last chapter of book 7 first), Watership Down, Little Women, Secret Confessions of the Applewood PTA, Pet Semetary, Wake, and (quite) a few others.

What’s the next book I’m planning to read word for word? Mine. Secrets of the Lotus by Michelle Garren Flye. I’m about halfway through it now in an attempt to make sure I don’t miss any mistakes.

If I weren’t the author, would I read it?

Interesting question.

Sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been at Disney World, which is at one and the same time the greatest and worst place on earth! There’s so much I loved and so much I could have done without… Maybe I’ll go into that at another time. For now:

1. Sent off my latest round of edits/rewrites to my editor. Have I mentioned how talented she is? She’s pulled so much more out of my manuscript than I ever thought was there.

2. I’m reading right now. I don’t read fiction when I’m writing for fear the other author’s style will sneak into mine. At the moment I’m reading Nicholas Sparks’ The Last Song. More about this later. For now I’ll just say that I think my career as a writer sometimes interferes with my enjoyment as a reader. For instance, The Last Song fascinates me because of the way it came into being. The whole time I’m reading it, I’m wondering about how Mr. Sparks wrote the movie script before he wrote the book. Okay, how does that work? Will the parts I love in the book be in the movie? How will they translate to a visual format? I guess I’ll have to see the movie to find out, and I can’t wait!

3. I’ve finally got a handle on the characters in my latest effort, and now I’m working on the structure. Did I mention that I wrote 30,000 words before I had a real idea about the structure? Not a good idea.

4. Finally, I just want to send out a salute to all the writers (and there are many of them out there) who can make me stop in the middle of reading their work and say, “How the HELL did they write that?” I could name a few here, many of whom I consider friends — and some of whom you’ve never heard of and won’t find in a Google search — but I won’t because I’d no doubt leave somebody out. But you know who you are.

5. Now it’s time to put on my editor’s hat. I’m working on Dark Recesses stuff for the rest of the weekend, catching up and getting up to speed, to mix metaphors in (I hope) an effective way. Look for a new .pdf from us soon!

Just a quick update to let you know I’ve gotten the cover art for my book. This makes it seem very real all of a sudden. All this work really is going to pay off. Anyway, here it is:

So finally I get to another update. Fortunately, most of the reasons why I’m so late are good, creative ones, so I’m happy. I’m hard at work on my second round of editing. This one is going much faster, but my editor has also made a few suggestions for possible rewrites (all good ones), so it might be more labor intensive, too. I have also begun my work as fiction editor for Dark Recesses. It’s been fun so far trying on the editing hat from this side of things again. Plus I’ve learned so much about what makes a story read well since my last stint as an editor, I feel like I really have more to offer.

I’ve been looking up some of my old stuff. My plan is to track everything of mine that is still online down and get links put on this blog, maybe even as a sidebar if I can figure out how to do it. Anyway, here are a few of my oldies, in no particular order:

The Steps My Lover Built
Prenup
What the Rooster Taught Me

I have this great story I’ve been working on for a long time now. I’ve got the plot and the conflict figured out. The problem is, my characters keep changing on me. For instance, I had this great career all figured out for my heroine — it’s such a cool career I’m not going to tell you what it was because I may want to use it later on. She’s changed her mind, however. She wants to be a business owner, evidently. I hope this solves more problems than it creates.

I’ve been struggling with the story and the characters for some time now. I know it’s a good story, probably as good or better than the one book I’ve had accepted for publication. I’ve gotten almost 40,000 words into this thing now and I’ve got to go back and rework it to fit my heroine’s new career. The task is daunting.

Still, I figure it’s a good sign that I had to listen to her. It means she’s really coming to life for me and that’s when I do my best writing — when my characters are as real to me as my next-door neighbors. That’s when they start telling the story and I’m just the scribe writing it all down.

Here. This moment. My desk in my home and my novel is back in the hands of my capable editor.

Whew.

Okay, breathe and on to the next step, next project, next thing. But I’m finding it’s hard to let go. Ever since signing the contract I’ve been back and forth — did I do the right thing? I’ve come to the conclusion that I did.

No, it’s not my dream contract. There’s no big advance and my book must prove itself in e-book format before it even gets a chance at being published in print. But it’ll be out there. Somebody will read it. Somebody will like it. More than a handful of somebodies, most likely. I have that much faith in my book and my publisher.

I’ve read a lot of blogs by people much more experienced than I am at this publishing thing. Lots of good advice. Lots of don’ts. Don’t jump at the first contract. Don’t sign before you read. Don’t give up when you get rejected.

I did all the right things. I persevered in the face of many rejections. I didn’t sign without having a lawyer look over the contract. (That’s expensive, by the way.) I did take my first acceptance. Keep in mind that I’d gone through months of rejections by the time I got that letter from Lyrical Press. Acceptance letters are sweet manna to writers. Rejections are spinach — necessary and full of vitamins to keep us growing, but really icky.

What would have happened if I had held out for a better deal, a bigger publisher, an agent who appreciates my brilliance? I have to say, acceptance in the face of rejection and possibly more rejection made me weak.

So that’s where I am, and I’ve learned so much already, things that will make my next book better, possibly more acceptable to a bigger publisher. Possibly enough to make my dreams come true.

I’ve been reading the copy of Easter Rabbit that Joe Young was kind enough to autograph for me (nothing like a well-placed hint, right?), and it’s gotten me thinking about the art of microfiction. Anybody who tells you you can read a good piece of microfiction in a few seconds is either joking or an idiot. The first story in Joe’s collection, “Sine”, is exactly twenty-one words long, including the title. It’s one sentence that I’ve read and read and re-read and re-read. I’ve probably spent half an hour on this one story. I know it tells a story. I can feel it. If I knew how to read between the lines of Joe Young’s brain, I’d know what the story was. As it is, all I can do is puzzle over it, wonder, and fill in the gaps as best I can.

As a writer who has tried her hand at microfiction, I know how challenging it is to resist filling in those gaps for the reader. As a novelist, I don’t leave many gaps. I tell the reader what my character is thinking and what his/her motivation is in doing what they do. There really is no mystery. Microfiction should be the exact opposite. Sometimes the writer reveals what happens but not what the motivation of the character was in doing so. Sometimes you know a little about the character, but not much about what she’s done or why. A good example would be Joe’s second story of the collection, “Marie Celeste”. In it, we know the character’s name and a little about her: she has “cup moons beneath her eyes” that are “in decline” and she talks about tsunamis and ping pong balls. But Joe doesn’t tell us what’s happened to her or what she’s done. After my tenth reading, I decided she had done something horrible, but after my twentieth, I decided she was dying in some slow, horrible way. Who knows what I’ll think after my thirtieth reading?

At the rate I’m tearing through “Easter Rabbit”, I may finish it some time next year, but that’s okay. The allure of good microfiction is the same as the allure of good poetry. It makes you think, and in doing so, it pulls something out of you that maybe you didn’t know was there.

If you’d like a copy of Joe’s “Easter Rabbit”, you can get it here: Easter Rabbit.

If you’d like to know who can write like Joe Young better than me, check this out: Easter Rabbit Contest Results.

If you’d like to read a couple of my better attempts at microfiction, try these: Day Care; Bubbles; Mantra and Thunderstorm.

Sorry it’s been so long since my last update. I’ve been busy with mom stuff. It seems I no sooner get done with my morning activity — playdate, PTO meeting or just errands — before it’s time to wolf down lunch and go pick up one kid or another. So I’ve not had much time to explore any of my thoughts in depth, but here are a couple things that have occurred to me over the past week.

1. I’m glad I got to see the the new Sherlock Holmes. Robert Downey Jr. was brilliant, but I really enjoyed Jude Law’s portrayal of an updated, completely non-fuddy duddy Dr. Watson. The movie had a little too much action, a little too little story, but it was fun, and I think that’s what it’s intended to be.

2. Speaking of movies, I’m really looking forward to the new A-Team movie. I saw the trailer and it was like the old television show on a much bigger budget. And it never hurts to have Liam Neeson in a movie, even if this is a surprising choice for him.

3. Still plugging away at the edits on my novel. Hope to have them complete within a week. After that, I plan to get back to writing, if I can just pick one of my many projects-in-progress. Seems these days the smart writers are writing about vampires, werewolves, zombies or time travel. One of my projects actually does incorporate one of those, so maybe I’ll go with that one. I’ve written about all four in the past and never been successful, so wish me luck.

4. I’m also planning to take over as interim fiction editor of Dark Recesses online literary magazine in February. I haven’t had a regular job as a fiction editor since edifice WRECKED, and I’m a little nervous about the schedule necessary. If you want to visit me over there, you can find it here: Dark Recesses.

Here’s a little something I wrote for a contest. It didn’t win and I have no intention of doing anything else with it since I don’t think it’s that great, so I don’t mind sharing it with you guys. The object of the contest was to sound like the brilliant Joseph Young, for which the prize was a copy of his new book “Easter Rabbit”. Guess I’ll just have to go order the book now, darn it, and I was hoping for an autographed copy!

The Beginning

By Michelle Garren Flye

“Watcha got?”

The boy raises the speckled object, held between thumb and forefinger. “Bird.”

“Egg?”

“Yeah.” He runs his finger over the egg’s surface. It appears smooth, but he can feel tiny pits and uneven valleys. It reminds him of his mother’s face, so fine from a distance but full of imperfections up close.

The Middle

By Michelle Garren Flye

He wishes she would turn the stereo up. The clock sounds so loud in the near silence. Somewhere upstairs he hears Joe Cocker’s wails working their way through the floorboards but by the time they reach him they are indistinct and the clock overwhelms them. He touches the threadbare covering of the green chair. The calluses on his thumb and forefinger make a raspy noise that overwhelms the tocking and ticking, so he caresses the fabric with a lover’s zeal.

The End

By Michelle Garren Flye

The floor is glass. The floor is ice. Hard. Cold. Perfect. He never noticed its fineness before. He’s on the ragged rug, the bare floor just inches away. The wheels of his chair spin above him, puffing air onto swollen knuckles as he extends his arm and lets it fall, feels his palm slap on the shiny surface. Dust wisps cloud his weeping vision, but the icy perfection tingles his fingertips like a flawless diamond in a jeweler’s grasp.

So I have this awesome editor who made all sorts of wonderful suggestions for tightening up my writing and generally improving my manuscript. I’m learning a great deal about novel-writing (not so much about blogging). Problem is, making these changes is incredibly painful. I’m slowly slogging my way through but I’ve only made it about halfway. Admittedly, holiday shopping and preparations did slow me down even more, but the truth is I can barely make it through a half hour of edits before my mind (and my internet) wanders.

Today, I even found myself coming up with other tasks to avoid editing today. I washed the dishes (hallelujah!). I put away the kids’ old schoolwork. I made cookies. In keeping with my New Year’s resolutions, I spent forty minutes on the elliptical and took a shower. I hauled up the boxes to pack away the Christmas decorations … and decided I’d rather edit. I still don’t know of anything I hate more than taking down Christmas decorations!