Carie Juettner

Writerly Ramblings on a Rainy Afternoon

: “Up a Tree” won 2nd Place in the Austin Poetry Society’s 2014 Moving Along Award

After two years of writing, I still expect stories to pop out of my head and form, nearly-finished, on the page. Despite more than a decade of telling students to slow down and take their time, I still rush. Although lately I’ve urged myself to focus, to finish things before I start new ones, I still make daily to-do lists that say things like…

Finish chapter 14
Revise short story
Write a blog post
Read for one hour

…and I actually expect that such quick accomplishments and multitasking of the mind are possible.

A few mornings ago, I woke up with a story in my head. I developed it, tweaked it, walked around with it, honed it, until it was practically bursting from me. I was so excited to sit down and write it out. (That simple. Just write it out.) It was my first ever effort in the world of magical realism, yet I expected that this story (so beautiful and seemingly fully-formed in my mind) would just whoosh out onto the page, needing only a little revising before it was ready. (Just draft-ready, of course, but, you know, a pretty polished draft, good enough for me to take to a critique group the next day.) But then I sat down to write it, and that first simple scene took WAAAAAAAY longer to create than I thought it would. And the characters that were so crisp in my head came out kind of fuzzy. And the plot… (I so often struggle with plot, but this story had one! It did!)… the plot seemed less, well, “plotty” when I got it down on paper.

The experience reminded me of Ann Patchett’s essay about writing in her book This is the Story of a Happy Marriage. In “The Getaway Car,” Patchett writes:

This book I have not written one word of is a thing of indescribable beauty, unpredictable in its patterns, piercing in its color, so wild and loyal in its nature that my love for this book, and my faith in it as I track its lazy flight, is the single perfect joy in my life. It is the greatest novel in the history of literature, and I have thought it up, and all I have to do is put it down on paper and then everyone can see this beauty that I see.

And so I do… I reach up and pluck the butterfly from the air. I take it from the region of my head and I press it down against my desk, and there, with my own hand, I kill it… Everything that was beautiful about this living thing—all the color, the light and movement—is gone. What I’m left with is the dry husk of my friend, the broken body chipped, dismantled, and poorly reassembled. Dead. That’s my book.

The thing is, writing is WORK. Real, actual, difficult work. We read books on craft and we pepper our favorite novels with sticky notes and we stay up nights thinking of all the brilliant ideas floating around in our heads. But eventually we must come to the page, and we must take all that inspiration, all that knowledge, all those brilliant ideas, and we must type them. And delete them. And retype them. And type them some more in a different order. And look back at our sticky notes to see if maybe we missed something important. And open those craft books to the highlighted passages to see if maybe the answer is there. And re-read our favorite novels, asking ourselves, How did she DO that? In sum, we must WORK.

So why do we do it? Because it’s so much fun. Writing is like working a puzzle and playing a game and opening an old treasure box all at the same time. When you put in the time and do the work, you find hidden gems, see pieces lock together, and get bursts of joy and energy when you finally figure out how to defeat a frustrating transition and “level up” so to speak. The moment when the thing you thought you had killed suddenly gasps back to life and takes a breath and then another and then another… that moment makes everything else worth it.

And now, back to work. 🙂

Review: The Schwa Was Here

The Schwa Was Here by Neal Shusterman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I’m not sure why I avoided The Schwa Was Here for so long. (It sat on my bookcase at school for years without me reading it.) And it’s hard to say why I finally picked up the audio version at the library. To be honest, it’s kind of hard to pinpoint exactly why I liked it so much. (I just know that I did.)

If you’ve read Neal Shusterman’s middle grade novel, then you’re probably chuckling at my intro, because the story is about a kid you can’t quite put your finger on. He’s there, but he’s not. He’s standing right in front of you—maybe he’s even waving—but you can’t see him. Or you do see him, but when he’s gone you sort of forget he was there. He exists in your periphery, at the edge of your memory, and he’s convinced that someday he’ll disappear completely. They call him “The Schwa” when they remember to call him anything at all.

See? Already this book sounds interesting. Why did I never read it? I don’t know. But wait, there’s more. A lot more.

The Schwa is not even the main character. The story is told from the perspective of Anthony “Antsy” Banano (Is that a great name or what?) and he’s a lot of fun too. He’s a fully developed character, with a strong family dynamic, friend issues, problems of his own, and yes, even a love interest, who happens to be blind. (Hooray for #DiverseBooks!) Antsy is hilarious and has a great voice and, just for the record, so does the author. Shusterman narrates the audio book himself and does a FANTASTIC job. Now, whenever I’m reading a novel with a first person male narrator, I hear it in Neal’s voice. That includes my own novel draft, which is kind of weird.

But wait, there’s still more.

This book really kept me on my toes. When it started, I thought, Okay, so this is a story about a boy who no one sees and the problems and funny escapades that happen because of that. Cool! Then a couple of chapters later, I thought, Oh, that’s just one story line. The book is really about the bond that forms between Antsy and a grumpy old hermit who makes him walk his fourteen dogs, who are all named after the seven deadly sins and the seven heavenly virtues. Great! Then a couple of chapters later, I thought, OH! The book is REALLY about the love triangle that forms between Antsy, the Schwa, and the hermit’s blind granddaughter. Interesting! Then a couple of chapters later, I thought OH! The book is REALLY about… and so on.

There are so many little twists and turns in this book that I cannot imagine how many hairs Shusterman must have pulled out trying to write the one-page synopsis for it. I mean, this review is already a page long and I haven’t even gotten the chance to mention the Schwa’s awesome paperclip collection or the fact that the book begins with a group of boys trying to destroy a plastic mannequin named Manny Bullpucky.

There’s just too much good stuff to mention.

Despite the plot twists, everything flows together smoothly in The Schwa Was Here. The story is an easy, enjoyable read from start to finish. I liked it so much, I’m thinking about buying a paperback copy to put on my bookshelf again, just so I won’t forget about it. (You wouldn’t think I could forget such a good read, but the Schwa effect is a powerful force.)

View all my reviews

Endings, Beginnings, and Middles

Hello blogosphere!

I’m sorry about my recent lack of posts. It’s been a big couple of weeks here in my little writing world. Grab a cup of coffee or a glass of wine and settle in. I’ll tell you all about it.

Excuses, Excuses

I was determined to finish my middle grade novel by mid-June. (That was, of course, after I had been determined to finish it by the end of May and by the beginning of May and by the end of 2013. But, you know, things happen.) I was working really hard, but at the end of each day there was always still more to do—more chapters to finish, more scenes to write, more words to put on the page.

Finally, on Thursday, June 19^th (which is totally still considered mid-June, definitely, just like how at thirty-seven-and-a-half I am totally still in my mid-thirties) I had the feeling that it was THE DAY. I worked all morning at one of my favorite coffee shops (#4 actually) with my friend Lori. In the afternoon, when my brain was fuzzy, I decided to head home for a change of scenery and then I was going to FINISH MY NOVEL, all caps.

I wanted a change of scenery and I got it.

Whoops! I should have told you to set down that cup of coffee or glass of wine before I showed you this picture. Sorry. My bad.

When I came home, my dog and I found a snake in our backyard. A HUGE snake. At first I freaked out, thinking it might be a rattler. I grabbed Uno by the collar and put him inside. Then, I went back out to investigate from a safe distance. (In my flip flops.)

My racing heart calmed down a bit when I determined two things: 1) This was not a rattle snake or any type of venomous snake and 2) it couldn’t bite me anyway because it currently had another snake in its mouth. (!!!) The eater (from here on referred to as Snake #1) was, we think, a coachwhip and it was about six feet long. The eatee (from here on referred to as Snake #2) was probably a checkered garter snake and may have once been up to three feet long, but I never got to see it in its entirety. The sight was so gruesome/ interesting/ horrifying/ cool/ creepy I had to get my camera. (Still in my flip flops.)

I was taking pictures of the awesomeness of nature happening in my backyard, feeling proud of myself for my bravery and my lack of fear of non-venomous snakes when Snake #3 arrived. (!!!) It was another coachwhip, also close to six feet long. This one was moving fast and had nothing in its mouth to prevent it from biting. And that’s when I flipped out and ran screaming back to the house. (Flip flops flying.)

I eventually calmed down enough to venture out again (this time in cowboy boots) but by that time, the snakes were leaving. Snake #1 and Snake #3 slithered through my back fence into the greenbelt area behind our house and curled up together. “Cuddled” is really the best word to describe it. Snake #3 protected Snake #1 while he/she digested Snake #2, and then they left. They don’t, presumably, live in my yard, but had just come here to dine.

What Does This Have to Do With Your Novel?

Right… my novel. Nothing. Snakes have nothing to do with my middle grade novel about a quirky boy who starts a game club at his school. Nothing at all. And that’s why I was unable to finish my novel on June 19^th, because if I had, it would have ended with, “AND THEN THREE GIANT SNAKES CAME AND DEVOURED EVERYBODY!” and while that is indisputably a great ending for a book, it was not the right ending for my book.

The End

On June 20^th, with no snakes in sight, I finished my novel. The Legacy of Bamboo Bilski was complete.

I wrote all that! Well, not The hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Douglas Adams wrote that. I wrote the thing in front of it.

The Beginning

One week after finishing my book, I attended my first big writing conference, the Writer’s League of Texas Agents & Editors Conference here in Austin. If anyone is considering attending next year, I highly recommend it. The WLT staff did an excellent job organizing the event. It was easy to navigate, even for a first time attendee, and the speeches and panel discussions and presentations were all interesting, relevant, and inspiring.

Plus, the faculty was amazing. There were agents, editors, and publishers from Folio Literary, Sterling Lord, The Gernert Company, ICM, Dystel & Goderich, Polis Books, Scholastic, Henry Holt & Company, Carol Mann Agency, Foreward Literary, and more, as well as several local authors. The conference was set up in a way so that there was plenty of time to talk to these leaders in the business both formally and socially. (My favorite part was listening to them talk about the BBQ they ate for lunch. For the first-time visitors to Texas, I think it was an eye-opener!)

During the weekend, I pitched my novel to three different agents and editors and received positive responses and good feedback. One agent (superstition keeps me from revealing who) was very excited about my idea and asked me to send her pages, which was, of course, extremely exciting. (I’ll be working on that query right after I post this!) For me, this is the beginning of another exciting step on my road to publishing—sending my work out into the world. I hope the world is kind to it.

Somehow, this is the only conference-related photo I took. I think I was too absorbed in the information to think about taking pictures. — Somehow, this is the only conference-related photo I took this weekend. I think I was too absorbed in the information to remember to take pictures.

It wasn’t just the industry professionals that I enjoyed meeting. The conference gave me a chance to get to know other writers of all genres and backgrounds and stages in the writing process. I came home with business cards from several local writers who I can’t wait to connect with again.

If you do plan on attending the WLT conference, get your tickets and consultations early because this year they sold out of everything—conference tickets, keynote tickets, 10-minute consultations—EVERYTHING. Take advantage of their early-bird offers if you can.

The Middle

Finishing my novel was a huge accomplishment, and I celebrated it accordingly, with beer and horror movie sequels. (I’m saving the champagne and party for when I get it published.) But even while flinching at the scares in Insidious 2, I knew that this was really less of an ending and more like the start of the middle, because my work is far from done.

As I think about the revising that lies ahead of me, my mind keeps coming back to that image of the snake. As I dive into the inevitable cutting and chopping and rearranging of my story, I picture myself as Snake #1. Deleting text or characters will likely feel a bit like devouring one of my own. While each “bite” I take out of my novel will hopefully make it stronger, I imagine that the process will leave me feeling a bit helpless. Luckily, I’ve got good friends like Snake #3 who I know will support me along the way.

(Did I seriously just turn that creepy snake-eating-snake photo into a sweet/cheesy metaphor about writing? Why, yes I did. As Jason Pinter, founder of Polis Books, said after making a “meat cake” metaphor in his presentation about publishing, “I stand by it.”)