The problem with believing writer’s block is just a sign that you’re writing the wrong thing is that sometimes it’s difficult to figure out what the right thing is.

Aside from being stuck in an endless cycle of revisions, I’m in an endless cycle of planning. I can’t tell what would be best for my novels.

What game-changing information should I reveal at the midpoint of Narrator? How should I handle the romantic interest of my main character in Shadows, Echoes, and Reflections? How do I twist together the layers of lies and misinformation in Fragment of the Moon?

So I’m thoroughly stuck in a series of ruts right now. Which is why I’ve decided to ask you for help! Anyone have any tips on determining what’s right and what’s not for your novel?

Don’t forget! You only have until Wednesday, 12:59 pm EST to take the survey and enter for a chance to win Incarceron. Remember to post a comment saying you took the survey!

One of the most powerful weapons in the writer’s creative arsenal is the “what if” question. While talking about the royal wedding with a friend, I stumbled upon an interesting what if:

Ignoring for the moment that it goes against everything we stand for, and that it was one of THE reasons we fought for independence, what if we had a monarch?

I actually first heard of this on West Wing. A crazy congresswoman wanted to establish a monarch to take care of the president’s traditional ceremonial duties, and let the president actually govern.

But the real question is who would make up our royal line? I believe George Washington would be the best choice. Founding Father, leader of the Revolutionary troops, practically unanimous choice for our first President.

What do you think of an American monarch? Do you have any fun what if scenarios you’d like to share?

Sorry for the super late post, everyone. I completely forgot yesterday!

Have you ever had a discussion with your friends that ends up in a really wacky place, and then you try to trace your path back through all the conversation topics to what you were talking about first? I was doing that, but with Narrator. I thought it was fun to see how far the story’s come, so I’ll share some facts with you:

1. The idea for Narrator was born from – I kid you not – a writing exercise. A teacher had said that if we described a setting for long enough, characters would emerge. So I tried it out. I got so bored of describing a desert at night, the narration picked up a sardonic tone and quickly became a real character – complete with narrator powers.
2. When I started writing, I didn’t have names I liked for most of the characters. I stole Calder and Tayryn’s names from two other stories. Surprisingly, they adapted, and the names became theirs – so now I have to find other names for the old characters.
3. As you may remember, I based Saydie on my dog of the same name. They share similar traits: quickness to bite (although my Saydie uses steel), fear of fire, being too clever to be good.
4. In the original draft, Arianna – the princess Calder is trying to rescue – was turned into a five-year-old by Pennington. I worked very hard to make sure the reader couldn’t tell until Calder saw her in person.
5. The first draft also had an OCD dragon.
6. Tayryn’s real name Thom is an homage to both the twin brother of Alanna in Tamora Pierce’s books, and to Tom Riddle.
7. Writing Narrator is the only time I’ve won NaNoWriMo, though I’ve been trying every year since my second in college.

I think it’s safe to assume that one of your new year’s resolutions involves writing. Whether it’s to write more, or finish a first draft, or improve your craft, in some way you want to get serious about writing.

One of the most common complaints I see is the inability to come up with a story idea. Of course, nothing comes of trying to force it. You can’t sit in a dark corner, press your hands against your temples, and hope to come up with something.

Instead, why don’t you try these tried and true idea sparkers?

1. What if? A classic. It can work in any situation.
   • What if a girl disguised herself as a boy to become a knight? (Alanna by Tamora Pierce)
   • What if the most evil wizard in the world created the one destined to destroy him? (Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling)
   • What if a girl won a “create a wedding” contest but the guy hadn’t planned to propose? (idea sparked by listening to the contest ad on the radio)
2. Why? This is similar to What If, but can be used in different ways.
   • Why would a rich and self-assured young woman who doesn’t want to get married change her mind? (Emma by Jane Austen)
   • Why would five children who imagined a fantasy world suddenly find themselves in an altered version of it? (The Secret Country by Pamela Dean)
   • Why would a war goddess not help her people during a war? (one of the many problems in my Fragment of the Moon)
3. How? I think this works best when you’re not sure how the answer would turn out. Your story is a way to figure that out.
   • How do fairy tale princesses deal with their “happy ever afters?” (The Stepsister Scheme by Jim C. Hines)
   • How does one man solve a centuries old puzzle? (The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown)
   • How would a theme park with real dinosaurs turn out? (Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton)

So get out there and start asking questions. You’ll be surprised how the ideas start flowing!

Any other idea sparkers you’d like to add to the list?

I saw Tangled on opening night and wow. Instant classic. But as I watched the story unfold, I thought I could see how the script writers came up with their ideas, adapted the original.

Now, if you’re a Spoilers Nazi, don’t read any further. Granted, you’ll learn most of this in the beginning narration of the film, but I don’t want to be stepping on any purists’ toes. (This means you, brother!)

Are they gone? Awesome.

Now, when you’re re-telling something as familiar as a fairy tale, you need to be able to add your own twists. And I like that Disney actually gave this one some thought. You can almost see them asking: why on earth does Rapunzel have such long hair? Sure, the witch who imprisoned her uses it to climb up and down from the tower, but so could a rope. Or stairs. Why the hair?

The answer? Because the hair has magic. And it loses that magic if it gets cut.

Boom. Instant reasoning. What witch in her right mind is going to risk losing a source of magic because a girl may have somewhat freakishly long hair?

But what magic to give her? None of the other princesses had magic, there certainly isn’t any precedent. If you look at the original story, the prince is blinded and Rapunzel cries on him (yeah, lame, but what can you do?). He’s healed, they live happily ever after, etc.

Boom. Magic healing hair. So many ways to go with that right there.

This may not be the reasoning the Disney team used to arrive at their version of Rapunzel, but I certainly enjoyed tracing it back. Of course, it’s harder than it looks. I tried to do something similar with other fairy tales and couldn’t come up with anything as brilliant as magical healing hair for Rapunzel. Then again, they worked on this for how many years? I think I’ve got some time.

So when you’re working on re-telling a story, and trying to think of twists, try to answer these types of questions logically. (For example, I’m still trying to figure out why there’s a cursed prince (the Beast) living in the middle of the woods and nobody knows about him. He’s a freaking prince.) It can really help move your story along paths you’d never have dreamed of otherwise.

P.S. Go see Tangled!

Shannon Hale’s Austenland was a quick, fluffy read, but the ending was unsurprising, and therefore disappointing. (Remember, endings should be inevitable, but surprising.)

The plot is that Darcy-obsessed Jane Hayes goes on a three week vacation to immerse herself in Regency times. She and a few other lady clients are surrounded by top-notch actors who entertain and woo them. The problem is, she can’t tell if she’s falling in love with a character or an actor.

The ending is inevitable. Of course she falls in love with one of them, and he with her.

But it wasn’t surprising. A good twist, I thought, would have been that the person she fell in love with wasn’t an actor, but a client like herself. (Especially since she’s constantly worried about the line between fantasy and reality.) He could come back year after year like all the regulars, looking for love and an escape.

Instead, you get the usual blather that in all his time at the Regency gig he’s never met anyone like her.

Don’t be afraid of surprises. There are tons of stories like yours, since plots can’t help but be recycled. The way to distinguish yourself is with a good twist.

Sometimes you read a story and think “Darn. I wish I’d thought of that first.”

I’m sure you can name your wish list. Mine includes, but is not limited to, Fruits Basket, Harry Potter, and pretty much any Tamora Pierce book.

Fortunately for us late bloomers, ideas aren’t copy-righted. Good thing too, or J. K. Rowling might have been in serious trouble using a large three-headed dog and a boy destined to rid the world of evil. I could write a novel about a zodiac-cursed family, and the worst thing anyone could say is that Fruits Basket is better. (The fact that it probably would be is another point entirely.)

So you like an idea. Use it!

Write about girls disguising themselves as boys to become knights, write about wizarding schools, write about vampires if you must (all I ask is that you do it well).

Don’t be discouraged just because someone else “got there first.” Maybe someday you’ll discover young writers complaining that you got there first!

If you want some nice brain benders, check out Fake Science. It’s a website that uses old textbook pictures and makes up science to explain them. It’s good for a few laughs, but it’s also a good exercise in thinking from a different perspective.

You’re going to need that different perspective when you start finding cliches in your work. And trust me – you will find them. Those darn things are embedded in our stream of conscious. But they’re tired and over-worked, like an old nag, and we want to put a new horse in the race.

You could just take the cliches out. There’s nothing wrong with that. But why not use the cliches to your advantage? Find a way to turn them on their heads with a new perspective. Astound your readers with insightful twists!

For an example off the top of my head, instead of saying “he had a warm heart,” (which by the way, is telling, not showing – but that’s a different matter entirely) you could say “he had a lukewarm heart.”

Or instead of “she was at death’s door,” you could say “she was at death’s door, but there was a sign reading ‘back in twenty minutes.’”

Actually, I kind of like that one…

So go out there and push some cliches on their heads!

A creative hot spot is a place where you generate a high level of creative ideas for your stories. Every writer has their own. And if you don’t, well maybe you just haven’t found it yet.

During college, my creative hot spot was, believe it or not, the bathroom. Usually in the shower, but sometimes while brushing my teeth. One time I stepped into the bathroom for thirty seconds to change my clothes, and came out with a brand new comic idea.

Now, my creative hot spot is in the car, while singing along with the radio or a cd. Odd circumstances, but true. I drove down to school to visit a friend yesterday, and came up with several fixes for my NaNoWriMo revision. And on the way back today, I came up with a scene for Too Many Princesses.

I think this means I need to drive more!

So, where are your creative hot spots?

As I mentioned last Monday, my book club went to see Alice in Wonderland. Finally, a world that fits Tim Burton perfectly. The movie was okay – not spectacular – but I prefer the SyFy special Alice as far as Wonderland sequels go.

I did fall in love with several lines, including the Hatter’s admonishing that Alice had lost her “muchness.” But the exchange I keep coming back to in my head is cruelly cut off in trailers and reviews.

“Alice: This is impossible.
Hatter: Only if you believe it is.
Alice: Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
Hatter: That is excellent practice.”

Our job as writers is to believe in the impossible, and then show that world to others. But as with everything, we need to practice. It’s no good being lazy and believing in possible things – they may have been impossible at one point, but no longer. We must find new impossible things instead.

After all, we don’t want to be accused of losing our “muchness,” do we?