Two of the Things I Cannot Do

I think I may have written myself into a corner. Not the way most people mean it though. The story is coming along fine. Fine, not amazing. Progress has been glacial because of the distractions and overall unsettled feelings of the last several months. I get discouraged for a while, then plunge in with a new wave of inspiration. The ending is in sight and while it does seem to be taking forever to get there, I am still enjoying it.

So what’s the problem, this corner I’m facing? While working on the book, I’ve been trying to brainstorm titles and cover ideas. One of the minor characters – who will have a larger role later – is an amateur artist. I got this idea that I could use some of “her” paintings on the covers. It would be a different picture on each book but still a painting, which would create a cohesive feel to the series. This idea could even tie in with a title suggestion that I kind of like. I’m becoming more and more enamored with the thought of putting paintings on my next books.

Except that I can’t paint.

I really cannot paint. I do not possess the talent, the space or the supplies or anything else I’d need to create these paintings I’m imagining. I don’t even know what else I’d need. It’s that hopeless. But I still can’t talk myself out of the idea. Why should I give up an idea just because it won’t happen? Now I’m brainstorming ways to change what is possible. Learning how to paint isn’t an option. There are certainly things I could learn if I invested enough time and money. The books don’t have the time it would take. I’d hate to have a stack of finished books sitting around unreleased while I’m ruining canvases.

I’m beginning to pray that I might have enough computer skills to fake some art skills. Though I’m trying to delay finding out if I’m right. I’m planning in my head. I’m thinking about the pictures I could use and the filters I could try. I’m matching possible titles with possible scenes. I’m sitting in my corner building up a list of ideas before I start kicking the walls. Obviously, painting is one of the things I cannot do, another is give up easily. If these books end up with anything other than paintings (or the appearance of paintings) on the covers, rest assured that I did not go down without a fight.

No Changing, Some Fixing

I recently read one of my own books.  That’s not weird.  Most people read books where they already know what happens.  When it’s my own book, I’m not just entertaining myself (though I do enjoy my own stories).  I like to remind myself of expressions and mannerisms I’ve used, comparisons or descriptions, and scenes inspired by real life.  The more I write, the more I begin to worry that I might unintentionally write something that sounds a lot like something I’ve already written.  (Except that I ignore that person who insists all love stories sound exactly the same anyway.)

Sometimes it’s dangerous for me to read already published works.  Sometimes I find things I want to change.  These are only minor revisions, like rewording a sentence or adding a new detail.  The dangerous part is that I could make those changes.  Ebooks are fluid.  Paperbacks are mostly printed on demand.  I can easily access the files used to distribute the books.  I refrain from making those changes both because I need to be able to let the project go at some point and because I don’t like the idea of people reading different versions, however subtly different they may be.

Can you imagine if something as wildly popular as the Harry Potter books got tweaked after release?  Websites would crop up to catalog the differences. Readers would see where Harry yelled something with two exclamation points in some books and only one in others.  There would likely be heated discussions over which was better, with many exclamation points.  My books are obscure enough that I doubt anyone other than me would ever know, but I still won’t change them.

Even more than the release date, the first copy sold is when I have to consider the work final.  Unless I spot a legitimate mistake.  While I will not change an adjective to a different one, I will fix it if I discover that I somehow misspelled that adjective.  My fans can rest easy knowing that they won’t find out Jojo was looking for a Beagle in someone else’s copy.  But there could be a scene like this one.

Fan #1: It’s so nice that we can sit here talking about how much we love Amanda’s books.

Fan #2: I know.  They’re awesome.

Fan #1: I’m glad she does a good job on the proofing.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a typo.

Fan #2:  There was at least one.  I’m sure she had “at” where it should have said “as” in one.

Fan #1: No way!  Where?

Fan #2: Give me a minute to find it.  I think it was Into the Fire.  (Paging through her well-worn copy of that title.)  Yeah.  Right here.

Fan #1: I don’t know how I missed that.  (Paging through her own well-worn copy of the same title.)  Wait.  Mine says “as.”

Fan #2:  Really.  (Both fans look back and forth in disbelief until they get distracted by the story and forget about the typo.)

I have a good imagination, right?  I imagined that particular typo as well, so don't bother trying to find it.  Just skip to the part where you start rereading one of my books, too.

How much is too much?

When you’re reading a series and the author mentions something that happened in a previous book, how much do you want to know?

There are plenty of opinions on this. Some people would say, “There should be a lot of recap in a series. I don’t want to be lost, especially if I happen to be reading the books out of order.” Some would say, “There should be as little recap as possible. It’s boring, and hinting at previous events makes me curious to go read them while giving away plot points makes me think I can skip that book.” Still others would say, “Why are you reading a series out of order? What is wrong with you?”

The same person’s answer might change in different situations. Was the previous book just finished or was there two years and fifty books between them? Is the event important to the current plot? I’ve read a few books with so much recap, I groaned every time I had to skim to something new. Even when deemed necessary, recap can be done poorly. I read something recently that felt as though the author inserted a blurb for an earlier book in the middle of the one I was reading. That was kind of annoying. None of this is meant as criticism, or at least not harsh criticism, just to say that I seem to be on the side of people who only want to reread material I’ve made the choice to reread.

When an author is working on a series, she needs to remember that this is definitely one of those you can’t please everyone situations. She might use that as an excuse to do whatever she wants. But probably not. She’s probably doing her best to not confuse anyone while not boring anyone else.