The making of a novel, part 6—how writing is like parenting

Posted on by Brieanna Wilkoff

Granted, I only have one child, but all of my friends with multiple kids say the same thing: the second is nothing like the first. In many cases, it seems, they’re the complete opposite.

Having finished one book and begun another, I’m tempted to say the same is true of writing. With Dell’s story, I knew I needed to do a lot of research to get the details right. But I didn’t want to be doing research; I wanted to write. So I started writing scenes in random order, working on the ones that didn’t require medical knowledge—just a solid feel for the characters and their emotions. After I put in the time to learn what I needed to know, I built the structure of the story around the treatment journey and fit the character scenes in where they made sense.

That seemed to work well for me. Only a few scenes couldn’t find a place in the narrative, and it made writing from the beginning go faster and more smoothly. So as I embarked on this next story, I figured I might as well approach it the same way. But my second novel, the little bugger, is nothing like the first.

Rae’s story doesn’t need the framework that Dell’s did, which is good on the one hand because it gives me more freedom, but bad on the other because I don’t have a structure to guide me along. I didn’t edit the last book as I went. But I’m about an eighth of the way into this one and I already feel the need to revise what I’ve got.

We’ll see what happens when I get to the third book. Maybe a pattern will emerge and one of these two will be the outlier. But I have a sneaking suspicion that—like kid #3—it will be its own unique blend of challenges and joys as well.

The making of a novel, part 5—serendipity, and Christmas

Posted on by Brieanna Wilkoff

Around the time of making the switch from GNR to Bon Jovi, I was also noodling around with the theatre aspect of the story. I’m still exploring the relationship between Rae and Mac, but I know they’re going to meet through high school theatre. What show would the school put on? What roles would my main characters play? Would they be cast opposite each other as the leads? Might that lead to awkward physical/romantic moments? 

All valid questions, but because of a session at a writing workshop I attended this summer and some research I’d done for Dell’s story, there was another, more pressing issue: How can I include rehearsal scenes without using dialogue from the script? I’ve learned more about copyright laws, and I’d like to avoid having to deal with getting permission (something I’m told publishers will be reluctant to deal with too). 

Here’s where life comes in handy. Years ago, I was the assistant director of a community theatre production of It’s a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play. First of all, I love Christmas. Second, there are a handful of holiday movies I watch every year, among which is It’s a Wonderful Life. Third, the stage play is one of my all-time favorite pieces of theatre to present or view. And fourth, it’s as much about the props, sound effects, and other stagecraft as it is about the words the actors say. 

I think Rae will be in the show, but Mac will be the student director. They’ll grow closer as they work on bringing the show to life—trips to Goodwill to scour the store for props, late nights in the theatre experimenting with how to make the sound of George jumping into the river (it’s harder than you’d think).

Convinced this was the right approach, I hopped online and ordered a copy of the script. And when I told Shawn, he said what had occurred to me as well: book or no book, I should have a copy of that script in our library because I Iove the show so much. All of the meaningful literary pleasures from our lives have an honored place in our library. I’ve got two shelves of theatre books, including librettos and scripts from my favorite musicals and plays. But should my newest acquisition go with my theatre books or my novel research/inspiration books…?

The making of a novel, part 4—names

Posted on by Brieanna Wilkoff

It’s been a l-o-o-o-n-g time since I was in the brainstorming phase for a book. With Dell’s story, I did most of the ideation back in 2011; when I returned to the story earlier this year, I jumped right into writing.

One of my absolute favorite parts of brainstorming is coming up with character names. Years ago, my grandfather gave me this giant dictionary, and at the back of it was a list of baby names. This was before the Internet, so I poured over this list time and time again, first for my dolls (I don’t know how many times my plastic Playskool doll house family were renamed) and later for my characters. These days, my fire of passion burns for the Social Security Administration Baby Names website. This is a tremendous resource for writers—you can see the top 1,000 names in any given year. So you can give a character a name that was popular the year he/she was born or, if you’re looking for an uncommon name, you can search for names that were popular decades earlier (sometimes they come back around, but other times, I think, Yeah, no one will ever name their kid “Gaylord” again).

After scouring this list in search of a name for a boy Rae will meet through theatre, I had a short list of three names. The problem was that my top choice is the name of my husband’s best friend from college. Part of the challenge of choosing names is that there are so many that are essentially off-limits—I don’t want to use the name of someone I know well, or a name that conjures an image of someone unpleasant from my past. Ideally, characters should have a memorable name, somewhat unique, and not one that already holds a strong position in children’s literature. So as for Amos, the name of my husband’s friend, I was torn. Although we see him occasionally, he’s not a regular part of our lives. Is that still too close a relationship to borrow his name?

As it turned out, it was a moot point. My brain was still churning, and here’s how my mind works: Ellie and I were eating mac and cheese from Panera. This led me to think about Friends (because many things make me think about Friends) and The One With Mac and C.H.E.E.S.E. I liked the name “Mac” and I immediately had an idea of having it be short for something the boy dislikes (“Macmillan”) and there being a scene between him and Rae in which they banter about pretentious-sounding names.

At this stage in the process, my brain is always on, and anything from the depths of its recesses is up for grabs. As it turned out, the hours and hours I’ve spent watching Friends weren’t just mindless entertainment. (And hats off to you if you thought of Friends when you read the word “moot” in the paragraph above—Joey: “a moo point. It’s like a cow’s opinion. It just doesn’t matter. It’s moo.”—you know I did.)

The making of a novel, part 2—titles

Posted on by Brieanna Wilkoff

When Rae’s story was intended for adults, the key elements of the narrative were as follows: Patrice’s husband, Derek, had died almost a year before the beginning of the book; Derek loved Christmas, and the book opened with Patrice struggling to deal with her first holiday season without him; Rae was struggling as well, and Patrice didn’t know how to help her—musical theatre was Rae’s one salvation but not something she shared with Patrice. Eventually, Patrice came up with an idea of doing kind things for others as a way to distract themselves from their pain, thus leading them down the path to kindness and, ultimately, healing.

As I’ve started thinking about how to rework the story for a young adult book, I’ve decided to keep Rae’s interest in theatre, but not a whole lot else. Rather than her mom organizing the kindness crusade, it’s a random act from a stranger on Rae’s darkest day—the one-year anniversary of her father’s death—that prompts Rae to explore the power of doing good for others. And instead of her dad loving Christmas, now it’s 80s rock music.

It’s been interesting writing after having attended two writing conferences this summer/fall. I find myself brainstorming with half a mind for what may be more likely to sell. And because I know I’ll ultimately have to write a query letter and synopsis and so forth, I tend to focus my thinking in terms of how I’ll one day describe this book—which led me to the title.

I know publishers often change the title of a manuscript before it gets published, but I’d still like my work-in-progress title to have the potential to go the distance. So while I drove to work one morning, thinking about the main themes of this book—theatre, kindness, and rock—I had the idea of using those three elements in the title. After a moment, I felt I had it: Ghost Lights, Kindness, and GNR.

Excitedly, I told Shawn that night—but I knew even before I revealed the title that he wasn’t going to like it. Sure enough, I got a blank stare, and when prompted, he explained that my title doesn’t tell him what to expect from the book, what it’s about. He likes literal titles—The Hobbit, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. When I asked him if he would know what to expect from a book titled The Fault in Our Stars or All the Ways the World Can End, he admitted he is not a competent authority on book titles, especially young adult book titles.

So for the time being, Rae’s story is called Ghost Lights, Kindness, and Jon Bon Jovi. Shawn (probably rightly) suggested that my target audience likely doesn’t know that GNR refers to Guns N’ Roses. Switching to Bon Jovi also filled in some other missing plot points in the story, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, but that’s a tale for another post.

The making of a novel, part 1—a young adult voice

Posted on by Brieanna Wilkoff

After more than eight years, I’m on the verge of finishing Dell’s story and sending it out into the world. So as I embark on my next project, I’ve decided to chronicle the journey from germ of an idea to completed manuscript.

First, some background: in the fall of 2017, I was dabbling in writing again after taking a several-year hiatus as I adjusted to life as a parent. Shawn, Ellie, and I had started doing our happy tasks, and I thought, Hey, this would make a cool book. So I began writing an adult novel about a woman whose husband has died and who, over the course of the novel, discovers the healing power of kindness.

Fast-forward two years. When I made a New Year’s resolution to write more in 2019, I picked up where I had left off on what I was calling The Happy Jar. But something wasn’t working. The 50 pages I had felt flat.

I had debated whether to spend my newly committed writing time working on this kindness story or on Dell’s, so when I hit a wall, I switched. Obviously, I saw Dell through to the end, but as I was working on it, I realized something about the other book: it shouldn’t have been an adult novel.

One of my strengths as a writer, I think, is my voice—and it’s a young adult voice. So why was I telling the story from the mom’s point of view? A logical question, but scary nonetheless. It’s hard to abandon something you’ve put time, effort, and heart into. And although I knew something was wrong with what I had, there was a lot I liked about it too. I’d begun to fall in love with the characters—my main character, Patrice; her late husband, Derek (revealed in flashbacks); and her daughter, Rae. But once I was willing to entertain the possibilities of starting over, it became clear that Rae needed to be the one to tell this story.

So, meet Raina (Rae) Ballester—you’ll be seeing more of her soon.