When I was a kid, I had a lot of hand-me-downs from my older sister. She was born in 1980, so it meant I had a lot of cool, older toys. I had Barbies with fun, eighties styles that hung out with my newer, nineties dolls. I had a Soda Shoppe playset that I used to pretend served the concessions for ‘drive-in’ movies in my parents’ den.
Those tiny hot dogs and buns were frustrating to work with. The stools doubled as cups for human consumption of the soda.
My dolls didn’t live in the classic, pink Dream House. They lived in my sister’s version, from the 80s. It was yellow for some reason, but it was still eleganza.
Many a cat also lived in that house. Most probably not by choice.
One ‘new’ thing my Barbies had was a Porsche Boxter with a working convertible roof.
Whenever Barbie or Ariel or Megara (I had a lot of Disney dolls) wanted to go to the drive-in, she’d roll up in that beauty.
The Barbiemovie made me wistful.
America Ferrera’s monologue was the only part that made me cry, though it doesn’t have as much to do with Barbie as it has to do with society’s treatment/expectations of women.
I really liked it. I also liked Oppenheimer, but not as much.
Okay, so now that I’m replotting my novel (BIG thanks to my husband for essentially becoming my writing partner these last several months. ❤️) I’ve been thinking about comparative novels again. Comps are important when you’re trying to find representation for your book, and they need to be fresh if not immediately current. I’ve been trying to get my rewrite done in a timely manner since one of my comps is from 2023 (perfect!) and one of them is from 2019 (ehh… I might need to get a new one.)
I’m learning as I go, and though I hit a low point recently, I’m still excited by the process and the potential of my novel. Though I’m rewriting and restructuring, I’m keeping as much of my original writing as I can, as much as still works. I’m confident the muscle of my story is still strong, it just needs a sturdier skeleton.
Queries go on the back burner for now. Queries are currently not my friend.
In other non-book news, who’s excited for Barbenheimer? My husband and I are planning to see both this weekend (one on Saturday, one on Sunday.) Friends will see Barbie with us. That seems like a great movie to see with friends. Oppenheimer might be as well if you and your friends are more macabre. I’m fully expecting to cry during that one.
A lot of great things are planned for after this weekend, actually. I’ve been staggering toward August when the fun starts. Birthday parties and fancy hotel stays and concerts and Atlantic City and Lizzie Borden’s house…
Have I mentioned we’re going to Lizzie Borden’s house? Oh, don’t worry. I will write about the experience.
Oppenheimer makes me sad yet the Lizzie Borden case makes me giddy. Make no mistake, I am macabre. Perhaps just a more compassionate macabre.
Hip and with-it people reference Flight of the Conchords, don’t they?
After switching tracks with my novel, I submitted a new query letter to the query letter critique group I’m in. They seem to think that, because the novel focuses on the growth of the main heroine that it’s not romance. They suggested common romance tropes (like enemies to lovers, forced proximity, etc) are what make a book romance instead of women’s fiction. I’d argue that a novel doesn’t have to conform to (I’m sorry) tired plot themes in order to be a part of a genre. Plenty of romance novels show heroines going through stuff and the hero helps her out of it.
I’ve decided that I might submit my query letter as women’s fiction sometimes, and romance other times, and see what happens.
But first I need to finish revising it AGAIN. Don’t let it ever be said that I’m not a people-pleaser.
I’ve shared my query letter drafts with a few online groups as I struggle to describe my novel within only about three hundred words. It’s made me have a big think about what people’s reaction has been. Not friends or people in my social circle, just random strangers. After all, it would be random strangers who’d consider reading my novel once my devoted loved ones have read it.
It doesn’t feel great to be told that my lived experience of being a Millennial who graduated from college in 2009 and struggled to find a career for years after that isn’t realistic or interesting. I can’t tell if I need to really rework my selling points or the story itself.
So for this week, I’m mostly sad.
I’ve probably got a lot of revisions to do. Big, overhauly type ones. I hesitate to completely start over because I’ve worked on this story for the past three or so years. The query readers want more conflict, so short of introducing a monster in the third act, I have to come up with something more conflicting than being poor and practically frozen in time.
Being a writer is so isolating sometimes, isn’t it?
A lot has been said about Millennials. Too much, probably. We just want to live, but every time we turn around, we’re being blamed for something by Boomers or looked down upon by Gen Z (so the articles would have you believe anyway… what generation is writing those articles, though, hmm?)
As a card-bearing Millennial — it’s called an I.D. card — I can assure you that we’re hard-working, stressed out, and kind of done with the whole generation debate. We graduated college and entered the workforce at a terrible time. Most people I know who got jobs after college were working retail or waiting tables, or both. Being able to afford things was a constant struggle. Living with one’s parents, though not great, was the only way to stay afloat, and moving out of their houses was no walk in the park either. Unless you live in a place with low rent or mortgage rates.
But this post isn’t about complaining. I just wanted to start with some perspective.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the changing landscape on the Internet. Homestar Runner and StrongBad were bickering. Badgers and snakes were badgering and snaking around. When I first started using Facebook, it was only available to people who were currently in college. MySpace was a serious rival, with its customized profiles and annoying autoplay music. I started using Twitter in 2006, back when it was used for people to share their inane, random thoughts. YouTube was random and silly. Things were fun back then.
It’s not surprising that things have changed. Everything has become discussion-based. Argument-based, more like. Even the memes have become a lot more cynical than they used to be. Remember Charlie the Unicorn? That was just dumb; it didn’t have any underlying social commentary.
Please don’t tell me it has underlying social commentary.
I suppose the Internet is just a day-to-day example of the way things change, and how fast change happens. It feels strange to be nostalgic for something so goofy that didn’t really matter, but I suppose every generation has their version of that.
I leave you with this song. It’s about MySpace, played with a ukulele, and it’s on old-school YouTube. You’re welcome.
Everyone’s talking about the Titanic now because a tourist submersible apparently got lost trying to explore it in the depths of the Atlantic (not exactly a surprise.) Rich tourists are gonna rich tourist… It boggles my mind that people actually want to go down into the deepest ocean to look at the wreckage when a) there are photographs of it, b) it’s slowly breaking down and becoming one with the ocean floor*, and c) it’s creepy as heck.
I was ten when Titanic came out and the big 90s craze happened. There have been many other Titanic crazes since the sinking, because people are fascinated by catastrophes and frivolous wealth and death. But when I was ten, I read a picture book about it and watched a made-for-TV movie about it (starring Tim Curry!) and I. was. terrified.
I had nightmares about my bedroom actually being a stateroom aboard the ship, sinking and drowning me until I woke up screaming. I dreamt about drenched ghosts in my bedroom doorway. Then I watched some TV documentary about finding the wreckage and the nightmares continued.
Suffice it to say, I didn’t see the James Cameron movie in theatres until years later. Oh, I saw it though. I owned it on VHS and watched it like a true masochist. Occasionally, I’d only watch the first half, saving myself from seeing those poor, dead, frozen mannequins.
So, you can imagine it’s been an interesting time for me this past week, with all of this new Titanic news. I made the mistake of googling photos of the wreckage while on my lunch break on Monday. One of the things that most stayed with me from the documentary I saw in around 1999 was that the clock on the wall was reduced to a yellow circle where the clock used to be. I don’t know why that gave me such heebie-jeebies, but it did. I couldn’t find any photos of that. It might not even be a yellow circle on the wall anymore.
The wall may not exist anymore.
Eventually, all of the wreckage will be gone. Especially if people keep joyriding down there to see it like it’s not a giant, rusted gravesite.
*such wonderful tings surround you / what more is you lookin’ for?
[Edited 6/22/23 to add] They found debris that indicates a “catastrophic implosion.” The 5 people in the submersible are dead. The silver lining, I suppose, is that there’s no mystery. They were technically found.
I’m probably not going to sleep well for a few days. Gahhh. Rest in peace, people. I disagree with what you did, but that’s a horrible way to die.
I am notoriously bad at keeping up with streaming shows. The fact that I can watch things whenever I want means I’ve become in charge of my own television schedule, and it can become so easy to forget things I’ve been watching (unless I’ve lost interest.) For example, The Great is back, which is… great! But I keep forgetting to watch it because my brain is used to it not being back. No offense to the show; I like it a lot. Hiatuses are difficult to keep track of when they’re all different for each show or streaming service.
One of the shows that I never forgot to watch is — er, was — The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Watching that was like a warm, colorful hug every week for me. Like a Wes Anderson movie about women. It was cinematic and crass, and a lot of fun. There should definitely be more shows about talented women and the women who support them. And it’s important to note that Midge Maisel’s father had a nice growth arc that made me tearful. Tony Shalhoub is just a gem in general.
I wish it wasn’t over, because I think there was much to expand upon. The last season felt rushed, for some reason. I also wasn’t a fan of the forward jumping. It spoiled the ending for me, so when it did end I was left feeling less emotional and “Yeah! She did it!” than I was hoping to feel. I never questioned that she and Susie would still be friends. A friendship like theirs can survive the mafia. C’mon.
I would’ve ended it with the Gordon Ford show moment. That was heartwarming and delightful. In my opinion, the last season’s greatest strength was everything on and to do with the Gordon Ford show. The writers’ room was always fun. The kooky staff was entertaining. I’m going to be thinking of poor Mike and his Christmas tree for at least the rest of the year.
This morning, as I walked to catch the bus, my George Carlin-esque, hippy neighbor with the native plant front garden came outside looking surprised. “Is a house around here on fire? What’s with all the smoke?”
“It’s from Canada,” I told him. “It’s blowing down.”
“Whoa, really?!” He stepped back a bit in his shock. “Daaamn!”
My computer and phone have been warning me about “Haze” for the past few days. My phone also has an Air Quality Index message that I didn’t used to have.
It’s surreal to see the faint, white cloud of smoke over everything. Up north of me, it’s even more bizarre. New York looks like it’s on Mars at the moment.
I’m worried about Canada. I wish more could be done to make the environment better.
Reading this blog post made me realize that many writers feel like I do. Reading other books in my genre* is inspiring and the best way for me to learn how to write better, but it’s a double-edged sword at times because I become envious of other authors’ storytelling techniques.
For instance, as I read Georgie, All Along, I’m so jealous of Kate Clayborn’s ability to create such a sweet, warm story full of interesting, realistic characters. It seems effortless, but I also know it takes a lot of effort to seem effortless!
It’s important to remember that my story is mine, so of course it won’t sound like another writer’s story. Finding my voice has been a fun journey. Being inspired by others who write similar books is a good thing, but I shouldn’t let it intimidate me or make me think I need to overhaul my plot.
So give yourselves permission to love what you write, because if you fall in love with it, we can feel that. And odds are much better we’ll fall in love with it too.
Kristen Lamb
At least no one in my life has told me that I shouldn’t be a writer. Who needs that kind of negativity?
*I’m not struggling with which genre I’m writing. At least not really. It’s definitely romance. I’ve waffled a bit between calling it “new adult” or “coming-of-age” though. I’m probably just going to call it both. But at least I’m not confused about the romance aspect!
I attended the Gaithersburg Book Festival this past Saturday. It was inspiring to see so many book lovers and listen to authors detail their work routines (and their addictions to reading Goodreads reviews!) I left with three new books and several publishing companies’ bookmarks. A+ would do it again.
I’ve reached the point in revising my novel where I’ve tasked myself with making a significant change. I think it will really help the plot, but it’s still weighty to make a big change when the story has been one way for so long. All good authors make changes though! That’s what I keep telling myself.
Next month, I’m planning to attend an Ali Hazelwood event for her newest book (Love, Theoretically) — day job permitting. I find that what ignites me the most is reading/watching other authors discussing their writing. Enthusiasm breeds enthusiasm, at least for me.
Sara Mazariegos 