By Jerry Rice.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Boston Marathon Report
So, a week ago I ran in this little race called the Boston Marathon. I
promised details, so here you go.
Before I really start, let me clarify that the Boston Marathon isn't just a race, it is a 26.2-mile-long party--and I'm not kidding. I felt like I was running along a parade route. Spectators lined both sides from start to finish, and there was music blasting, live bands, a couple of drum lines, dozens of neighborhood parties, signs, bounce houses, horns, megaphones, whistles, balloons, cheering, clapping, people spraying the runners with garden hoses and handing out oranges, water, popsicles, ice, etc. I had my iPod, but half the time I couldn't even hear my music over the cheering crowd; hundreds of thousands of people watched the race. It was unreal.
The checklist:
Carb loading because I dragged my family out for the race, and I’m completing it, Dangit, even if I have to walk the thing. Check.
Revise race goal to finishing in under four hours and not needing medical attention. Check.
Getting up at 4:45 a.m. on race day, and tiptoeing around hotel room to get ready. Check.
Catch a ride at 5:30 a.m. to the subway station with fellow runner and his wife (thanks nice couple from upstate New York whose names I can’t remember) so I don’t have to pay for a taxi. Check.
Ride the subway downtown and read newspaper left on the seat with a front page picture of 2nd place woman’s overall winner last year collapsed across the finish line and in need of medical help. The article speculated about the medical attention that will be needed for this year’s race. Check.
New onslaught of nerves. Thanks a lot, newspaper. Check.
Follow the crowd out of the subway and see the line of school buses stretching as far as I can see to shuttle runners to the start line. Check.
Getting on the bus and sharing a seat with a really nice woman named Janet, who shared the elevator-pitch story of her life (born and raised in Alaska, moved to Boston, then to upstate New York, has two kids, this is 2nd Boston), Boston Marathon tips, and her SPF 50 sunscreen. Check.
And it was on the bus to the start when I realized that I was going to experience something a little different. You see, we had a police escort. The police shut down the freeway to allow us to get to the start, and then opened it back up again after the buses passed through. That was a first.
We unloaded at the Athlete's Village in Hopkinton, which is the whole campus of the town's junior high and high school, with an unreal number of port-o-johns (isn't that so East coast?) lining the perimeter, some really large tents, and an announcer playing music, telling jokes, and directing race traffic next to the jumbo screen.
The people kept coming, along with some costumes (dear person wearing the large Elmo head, I hope you didn't end up in the hospital), the large banners, and the lines to the port-o-johns. It's a good thing the waiting area is so nice, because you're there for a long time. Eventually, like cattle being herded into a chute, 20,000 of us dropped our stuff off in the buses that would be waiting at the finish line and filed into the road lined by metal barricades. That's where I saw my first spectators.
We kept shuffling toward the start line, and eventually got there. This is what it looked like almost 2/10 of a mile from the start.
And at this point I could hear music and a commentator. Spectators lined both sides of the street, cheering and whistling and blowing horns and clapping and making noise. It was a great send off. And the cheering and spectators lasted the entire race.
The first two miles were hot hot. As in, "Oh my gosh, are you serious?" hot. After that, I think I got used to the heat--or at least my body realized that we were seriously going to run 26 miles in it (the highest recorded temperature along the course was 89 degrees). I drank water and Gatorade at every water station, and settled in to enjoy the experience.
I have to give a big shout out to the 10-year-old girls in Newton who were the first to give me ice and to the Buddha guy who was handing out orange slices. A big thank you to the firefighters who opened a fire hydrant, and to all the spectators who sprayed us with water.
I missed the hubby's text saying where to look for him, the kids, and our friends from New York who drove over for the race, so we missed each other at mile 6. They did, however, get to see the Elite Men group run by.
They waited at mile 17, anxiously looking for me...
And here I come (completely oblivious).
Here's my hubby, running out in the throng to get my attention.
And jogging backward to take a picture.
"Oh, Hi! I know you."
And pausing for a pic with my favorite cheerleaders.
Then they loaded up on a free BBQ, and collected free pom poms, clappers, cowbells, and a jump rope. (Remember at the beginning when I said it was a party?)
Meanwhile, I continued on my way to Heartbreak Hill and beyond. Heartbreak Hill isn't that bad, not when you run the hills around my house. But it comes at mile 20, so you're pretty tired by that point. I think I passed more people on that hill than the rest of the course. The spectators just got thicker as we got closer to the Finish line, and at the end you round a corner and go down a block past a massive church like this one.
Wait. It might even be this one. I can't really remember, because after 20+ miles, your brain doesn't work that well, honestly. I couldn't even do more than the most basic math at that point. Example of typical thought process: Let's see, I'm at 24.5 miles so that means I have... um... Two miles. Wait, less than two miles. Oh look, she has a pink tutu on. That's gotta itch. Anyway, one mile and... *looking at Garmin* Crap, now it's 24.7 miles. So that means one mile and... something to go. I can do that.
Then you turn another corner and all of a sudden you are hit with this wall of sound and people lined up on either side in every available space and in front of you is the giant blue and yellow arch that declares FINISH. Just a side note, to get in the bleachers at the finish you have to have a ticket, and to get within a few blocks of it, people camp out overnight. I'm serious.) So I start to sprint (I can't believe I could sprint still) and make it across the finish line. A line of orange-jacket-clad volunteers cheer me on, and I step aside to pull my phone out of my fuel belt with fumbling fingers (because your fine motor coordination is only working marginally better than your math skills) and turn to take a pic. A nice volunteer asks if I'd like him to take one of me and I probably alarmed him with my effusive thanks.
And here we are sharing stories with the runner on the ground--who couldn't exactly get up. (Marathon tip: don't get on the ground right after the race, unless you plan on staying there for a while. Getting up is a challenge.)
For those who like statistics, I finished 7329 overall out of 21554, 1882 out of 8966 women, and 1364 out of 4580 in my division. That's not too shabby. :) The volunteers were great, the crowd was ah-maz-ing, and it was a total blast! I would definitely do it again. I have to thank all the friends and neighbors who talked me into running the race. I thought of you all during that 26 miles of heat, and the encouragement from everyone helped keep me going.
And here's the fancy finisher medal, which is hanging in a prominent place in my room. I earned that puppy. I might just give it a name and sleep with it under my pillow.
Before I really start, let me clarify that the Boston Marathon isn't just a race, it is a 26.2-mile-long party--and I'm not kidding. I felt like I was running along a parade route. Spectators lined both sides from start to finish, and there was music blasting, live bands, a couple of drum lines, dozens of neighborhood parties, signs, bounce houses, horns, megaphones, whistles, balloons, cheering, clapping, people spraying the runners with garden hoses and handing out oranges, water, popsicles, ice, etc. I had my iPod, but half the time I couldn't even hear my music over the cheering crowd; hundreds of thousands of people watched the race. It was unreal.
The checklist:
Awesome vacation with the family in NYC and then Boston,
where we used almost every transportation method available (plane, taxi, foot, subway,
bus, shuttle, train, amphibious vehicle). Check.
Increasingly nervous checking of the Boston weather forecast
as every day the predicted temperature got higher. Check.
Email from Boston Athletic Association informing
participants that the heat would be in the red zone, and they strongly
encouraged participants not to run if we: undertrained, were only used to cool
weather, had several underlying conditions, were not extremely fit, were sick
in any way, etc. Check.
Second email from Boston Athletic Association reiterating that
it’s going to be incredibly hot (mid to upper 80s) and if you can say yes to
any of the listed situations, you should not run. And they really mean it. Check.
Third email from Boston Athletic Association telling us
again (in case we missed the first two emails) that it’s going to be very hot,
and if we do decide to run to understand that this race is not one for personal
records and that it will be imperative to adjust accordingly, i.e. hydrate well
and slow down. To quote the email: “Speed kills.” Check.
Call out to friends online for good vibes because at this
point I’m getting nervous. Check.
Overwhelming encouragement and support from the best friends in the world. (Thank You!!) Check.
Carb loading because I dragged my family out for the race, and I’m completing it, Dangit, even if I have to walk the thing. Check.
Revise race goal to finishing in under four hours and not needing medical attention. Check.
Getting up at 4:45 a.m. on race day, and tiptoeing around hotel room to get ready. Check.
Catch a ride at 5:30 a.m. to the subway station with fellow runner and his wife (thanks nice couple from upstate New York whose names I can’t remember) so I don’t have to pay for a taxi. Check.
Ride the subway downtown and read newspaper left on the seat with a front page picture of 2nd place woman’s overall winner last year collapsed across the finish line and in need of medical help. The article speculated about the medical attention that will be needed for this year’s race. Check.
New onslaught of nerves. Thanks a lot, newspaper. Check.
Follow the crowd out of the subway and see the line of school buses stretching as far as I can see to shuttle runners to the start line. Check.
Getting on the bus and sharing a seat with a really nice woman named Janet, who shared the elevator-pitch story of her life (born and raised in Alaska, moved to Boston, then to upstate New York, has two kids, this is 2nd Boston), Boston Marathon tips, and her SPF 50 sunscreen. Check.
And it was on the bus to the start when I realized that I was going to experience something a little different. You see, we had a police escort. The police shut down the freeway to allow us to get to the start, and then opened it back up again after the buses passed through. That was a first.
We unloaded at the Athlete's Village in Hopkinton, which is the whole campus of the town's junior high and high school, with an unreal number of port-o-johns (isn't that so East coast?) lining the perimeter, some really large tents, and an announcer playing music, telling jokes, and directing race traffic next to the jumbo screen.
The people kept coming, along with some costumes (dear person wearing the large Elmo head, I hope you didn't end up in the hospital), the large banners, and the lines to the port-o-johns. It's a good thing the waiting area is so nice, because you're there for a long time. Eventually, like cattle being herded into a chute, 20,000 of us dropped our stuff off in the buses that would be waiting at the finish line and filed into the road lined by metal barricades. That's where I saw my first spectators.
We kept shuffling toward the start line, and eventually got there. This is what it looked like almost 2/10 of a mile from the start.
And at this point I could hear music and a commentator. Spectators lined both sides of the street, cheering and whistling and blowing horns and clapping and making noise. It was a great send off. And the cheering and spectators lasted the entire race.
The first two miles were hot hot. As in, "Oh my gosh, are you serious?" hot. After that, I think I got used to the heat--or at least my body realized that we were seriously going to run 26 miles in it (the highest recorded temperature along the course was 89 degrees). I drank water and Gatorade at every water station, and settled in to enjoy the experience.
I have to give a big shout out to the 10-year-old girls in Newton who were the first to give me ice and to the Buddha guy who was handing out orange slices. A big thank you to the firefighters who opened a fire hydrant, and to all the spectators who sprayed us with water.
I missed the hubby's text saying where to look for him, the kids, and our friends from New York who drove over for the race, so we missed each other at mile 6. They did, however, get to see the Elite Men group run by.
They waited at mile 17, anxiously looking for me...
Then they loaded up on a free BBQ, and collected free pom poms, clappers, cowbells, and a jump rope. (Remember at the beginning when I said it was a party?)
Meanwhile, I continued on my way to Heartbreak Hill and beyond. Heartbreak Hill isn't that bad, not when you run the hills around my house. But it comes at mile 20, so you're pretty tired by that point. I think I passed more people on that hill than the rest of the course. The spectators just got thicker as we got closer to the Finish line, and at the end you round a corner and go down a block past a massive church like this one.
Then you turn another corner and all of a sudden you are hit with this wall of sound and people lined up on either side in every available space and in front of you is the giant blue and yellow arch that declares FINISH. Just a side note, to get in the bleachers at the finish you have to have a ticket, and to get within a few blocks of it, people camp out overnight. I'm serious.) So I start to sprint (I can't believe I could sprint still) and make it across the finish line. A line of orange-jacket-clad volunteers cheer me on, and I step aside to pull my phone out of my fuel belt with fumbling fingers (because your fine motor coordination is only working marginally better than your math skills) and turn to take a pic. A nice volunteer asks if I'd like him to take one of me and I probably alarmed him with my effusive thanks.
I am so happy! I did it!
3 hrs. 54 min. 13 sec.
And no medical attention required!
(Unlike the dozens of people getting wheeled away on wheelchairs and puking lemon-lime Gatorade on the curb. It will be a really long time before I can drink that flavor again.)
Fifteen or twenty minutes later, my husband calls and they finally made it to the finish by subway. I literally outran them. We meet up and I get a "good job" hug.
You see the look on my face in the next pic? You can tell I was still suffering Marathon Brain.
For those who like statistics, I finished 7329 overall out of 21554, 1882 out of 8966 women, and 1364 out of 4580 in my division. That's not too shabby. :) The volunteers were great, the crowd was ah-maz-ing, and it was a total blast! I would definitely do it again. I have to thank all the friends and neighbors who talked me into running the race. I thought of you all during that 26 miles of heat, and the encouragement from everyone helped keep me going.
And here's the fancy finisher medal, which is hanging in a prominent place in my room. I earned that puppy. I might just give it a name and sleep with it under my pillow.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Stand in the Moment
Happy New Year!
*squints at the date*
I mean, Happy March. Er... Happy Mid-March. It's only taken me two and a half months to kick off my triumphant 2012 return to the blogosphere, which is a lot less triumphant now that it is March rather than January. But no matter. Today I'd like to share a small bit of wisdom that it took me far too long to learn.
First, the writing application. My rough drafts are often messy, wandering, tell rather than show, boring verbiage. In other words, they aren't very good. And that's okay, because there are always revisions sparkling in the distance, where I can take my train wreck stories and get them closer to that wonderful idea that made me catch my breath in the first place. But the other day I had an epiphany as I was revising yet another rough draft of a chapter that was sucktastic: I had to stand in my story.
Being a true storyteller isn't about telling someone a story, it's about weaving words so someone is transported through them into my world and my characters, and doing it effortlessly so the reader doesn't realize it's happening. And to do that, I have to live it first. Don't get me wrong, I get there through revisions, but I can make my writing time more efficient if I stand in my story from the beginning.So now before I start, I close my eyes and put myself in the scene first.
This applies to life as well. I am a big get-things-done person, and there have been many times I find myself focusing so much on my To-Do lists (yes, plural) that whole minutes, hours, days have passed me by. I have to put myself into life--stand in my own story. I need to pay attention to what is happening. Right. Now. And if that means less things get crossed off my list (like a triumphant blog return) or I close the laptop more and focus on what's happening around me, then so be it.
A good life, like a good story, is in the moments.
*squints at the date*
I mean, Happy March. Er... Happy Mid-March. It's only taken me two and a half months to kick off my triumphant 2012 return to the blogosphere, which is a lot less triumphant now that it is March rather than January. But no matter. Today I'd like to share a small bit of wisdom that it took me far too long to learn.
First, the writing application. My rough drafts are often messy, wandering, tell rather than show, boring verbiage. In other words, they aren't very good. And that's okay, because there are always revisions sparkling in the distance, where I can take my train wreck stories and get them closer to that wonderful idea that made me catch my breath in the first place. But the other day I had an epiphany as I was revising yet another rough draft of a chapter that was sucktastic: I had to stand in my story.
Being a true storyteller isn't about telling someone a story, it's about weaving words so someone is transported through them into my world and my characters, and doing it effortlessly so the reader doesn't realize it's happening. And to do that, I have to live it first. Don't get me wrong, I get there through revisions, but I can make my writing time more efficient if I stand in my story from the beginning.So now before I start, I close my eyes and put myself in the scene first.
This applies to life as well. I am a big get-things-done person, and there have been many times I find myself focusing so much on my To-Do lists (yes, plural) that whole minutes, hours, days have passed me by. I have to put myself into life--stand in my own story. I need to pay attention to what is happening. Right. Now. And if that means less things get crossed off my list (like a triumphant blog return) or I close the laptop more and focus on what's happening around me, then so be it.
A good life, like a good story, is in the moments.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Coming Out of the NaNo Shell
Whoa. *blink blink* Is it December already?
Because I still have the November Turkey/NaNo hangover, this post will be short and sweet. And most likely include bullet points. Because I like them (those cute little black circles).
November Update
- I did participate and succeed in NaNoWriMo, and here's my shiny new blog swag to prove it. (Ooooh, Aaaaah.) But some of my writing buddies pwned NaNo with vengeance! Way to go NaNo gurus!
- Words written on brand spanking new book: 50088
- Number of those words that are not total garbage: I'm going to say roughly 50%
- Also in November, I worked on revising another project. About halfway through the month it got shoved to the side, but I dusted it off today and am back at it.
- I am continuing to query. For those who are curious, have I gotten rejections? Yes. Have I gotten partial requests? Yes. Have I gotten full requests? YES!!!!!!!! (Exclamation points just don't do justice to the happiness in that one word.)
- Have I sent out a query to one of my top agents with the wrong name even though DUH I know her name? And then had to send out another query immediately after, which said, "Ha ha *weak laugh* I really do know your name. Honest." (subtext = I'm really not an idiot, really, so please believe that I have more intelligence than a rock and give my book a chance, PLEASE). Unfortunately, yes, I did this too. *headdesk*
- I also managed, with a fantastic committee on my side, to get registration up and running for THE most awesome writers conference on the planet. (If I do say so myself, and I do.) Registration for the 2012 LDStorymakers Writers Conference opened yesterday and it is going to be EPIC! (Check it out here.)
Monday, November 7, 2011
Self-publishing: Why I'm Not Doing It
If you dabble in the writing and publishing industry, unless you've gone blackout the last two years, then you've heard about the surge of self-publishing (or Indie publishing) as things go more digital. And since you've likely heard all the pros and cons and predictions from a whole bunch of people with more credentials than me, I'm not even going to get into that discussion. What I do want to say is that I've decided not to pursue that direction right now.
Before I share my reasons, I want to first make it very clear that I have many good friends and acquaintances who have chosen to go this route. And I truly wish them all the best. I hope they become wildly successful and their books get a gazillion fans, because the more good books we have, the more readers are looking for good books to read. And that's fantastic news for every book lover and author out there. Yes, there will be some good Indie titles, some that could have used some more editing, some that make people who like the written word go all twitchy, and some that will blow traditional books away. It's called a bell curve and it's apparent in just about every group of anything in life (yes, I took statistics in college).
So, now that I've established I am in no way anti-Indie, there are two big reasons I'm not doing it.
1) I want my butt kicked by an editor/agent
2) The work involved
The first reason, because it's the biggest one, is that I want to be edited. I want to go through the process of a professional revision letter. I know it might sound masochistic, but I want to be a better writer than I am now and though I'm doing everything I can to improve, I want that experience.
The second reason is that unless you already have a solid reader base, making self-publishing work for you is a lot of work. You have to format your book, design your cover and make sure it isn't shudderingly horrible, upload your book to Amazon/Smashwords/whatever other places there are, and then do the initial marketing push -- all by yourself. You could hire professionals to help you with these different aspects, of course, but then you are the one footing the entire bill.
I found a fantastic guest blog post by Tracy Marchini on Nathan Bransford's blog called "The Real Skinny About Indie Publishing." To quote her, Indie authors have to be:
-- excellent writers and moderately good marketers
-- moderately good writers and excellent marketers
-- zombies who don’t ever sleep, and are both excellent writers and marketers
And I'm not ready to do that. In fact, just writing about it makes me feel tired. So hats off to all you indomitable spirits tackling that monumental challenge.
And hey, zombies are "in" right now you know.
Before I share my reasons, I want to first make it very clear that I have many good friends and acquaintances who have chosen to go this route. And I truly wish them all the best. I hope they become wildly successful and their books get a gazillion fans, because the more good books we have, the more readers are looking for good books to read. And that's fantastic news for every book lover and author out there. Yes, there will be some good Indie titles, some that could have used some more editing, some that make people who like the written word go all twitchy, and some that will blow traditional books away. It's called a bell curve and it's apparent in just about every group of anything in life (yes, I took statistics in college).
So, now that I've established I am in no way anti-Indie, there are two big reasons I'm not doing it.
1) I want my butt kicked by an editor/agent
2) The work involved
The first reason, because it's the biggest one, is that I want to be edited. I want to go through the process of a professional revision letter. I know it might sound masochistic, but I want to be a better writer than I am now and though I'm doing everything I can to improve, I want that experience.
The second reason is that unless you already have a solid reader base, making self-publishing work for you is a lot of work. You have to format your book, design your cover and make sure it isn't shudderingly horrible, upload your book to Amazon/Smashwords/whatever other places there are, and then do the initial marketing push -- all by yourself. You could hire professionals to help you with these different aspects, of course, but then you are the one footing the entire bill.
I found a fantastic guest blog post by Tracy Marchini on Nathan Bransford's blog called "The Real Skinny About Indie Publishing." To quote her, Indie authors have to be:
-- excellent writers and moderately good marketers
-- moderately good writers and excellent marketers
-- zombies who don’t ever sleep, and are both excellent writers and marketers
(Image from "Plants vs. Zombies" game.)
And I'm not ready to do that. In fact, just writing about it makes me feel tired. So hats off to all you indomitable spirits tackling that monumental challenge.
And hey, zombies are "in" right now you know.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Concept vs. Character Death Match
Yes, the kidlets have been watching a lot of Homestarruner lately and I've been inundated with Strongbad, hence the DEATH MATCH. *cue cheesy dun dun dun..* What started this was a review I saw the other day of Incarceron, by Catherine Fisher.
I enjoyed the Twilight series (until book 4, which I threw across the room) because of the concept. Some of the characters I liked, others I wanted to slap silly. *cough* *Bella* *cough* So in that case it was concept over character.
In Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, I'm going to say the concept won me at first, and kept me long enough to get into the characters. So it was concept hook, then character reeled me in. And in a death match, I have to choose one over the other, so...
In Scones and Sensibility, by Lindsay Eland, it was all character. The concept wasn't super-different, but boy, I loved the characters.
In Paranormalcy by Kiersten White, it was another case of character trumping concept, although the concept was pretty good.
Then comes Soulless by Gail Carriger, which was a super fun read (the whole series), and all about the concept for me.
The Artemis Fowl series is another of my top favorites, and this one has the knockout combination of a fantastic concept AND great characters.
Scott Westerfeld's Uglies, Pretties, and Specials stand out among books I've read, and that was for the awesome concept.
Almost every Jodi Picoult book has a foundation of great characters, and my favorite, My Sister's Keeper, is no exception. Jodi always adds a nice concept twist, but the characters carry the book.
Another favorite, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, is very much a character book too.
I just finished this book a couple weeks ago, and it is sort of a sci-fi, dystopian, fantasy, quasi-historical.It has two POV characters, and the story alternates between the two. It took me a little time to get into the groove of the book, but once I did I enjoyed it. The person's review that got me thinking was that she didn't like it because she couldn't become really invested in the characters.
As I thought about it, I realized that sure enough, I was pretty ho-hum about the characters too. But I still enjoyed the book because the concept was intriguing. And since I'm a writer-type, and like to mull about this sort of thing rather than pay attention to the football game I'm watching with my hubby on TV (shh, don't tell him), I started pondering about what is more important to me as a reader, concept or character? I thought back to some books that stand out in my mind.
I enjoyed the Twilight series (until book 4, which I threw across the room) because of the concept. Some of the characters I liked, others I wanted to slap silly. *cough* *Bella* *cough* So in that case it was concept over character.
Concept = 2 (including Incarceron), Character = 0
In Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, I'm going to say the concept won me at first, and kept me long enough to get into the characters. So it was concept hook, then character reeled me in. And in a death match, I have to choose one over the other, so...
Concept = 3, Character = 0
In Scones and Sensibility, by Lindsay Eland, it was all character. The concept wasn't super-different, but boy, I loved the characters.
Concept = 3, Character = 1
In Paranormalcy by Kiersten White, it was another case of character trumping concept, although the concept was pretty good.
Concept = 3, Character =2
Then comes Soulless by Gail Carriger, which was a super fun read (the whole series), and all about the concept for me.
Concept = 4, Character = 2
The Artemis Fowl series is another of my top favorites, and this one has the knockout combination of a fantastic concept AND great characters.
Concept = 5, Character = 3
Scott Westerfeld's Uglies, Pretties, and Specials stand out among books I've read, and that was for the awesome concept.
Concept = 6, Character = 3
Almost every Jodi Picoult book has a foundation of great characters, and my favorite, My Sister's Keeper, is no exception. Jodi always adds a nice concept twist, but the characters carry the book.
Concept = 6, Character = 4
Another favorite, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, is very much a character book too.
Concept = 6, Character = 5
So, the result of our Death Match is . . . concept wins by one! (Not exactly a death match, but still.)
**Revision: For those who visited earlier and my math was off (pathetic when you're only counting to 6, right?), I have learned not to write a blog post while helping kidlets with homework. Doesn't work so well.
But what I learned from it is much more exciting. I think a story needs to have either a killer concept OR killer characters. Of course, as a writer, it is best if you can knock both out of the park, but either your characters or your concept need to really shine, and then the other has to be pretty good, or at the least not turn people off. (I'm thinking in particular about a book I read with a really
intriguing concept but I couldn't stand the main character, so I couldn't finish the trilogy. I even gave the story a chance in Book 2. Nope, still couldn't stand the MC.)
How about you? Do you prefer concept over character, or vice versa? Perhaps our Death Match can be revived...
Monday, October 10, 2011
Awesome Quote
Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.
Winston Churchill
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