Writer in Residence

Some days, I really think this internet thing is going to catch on. I actually envision a day when I can write electronic letters to people and send them at the touch of a button, rather than have Free Monkey take dictation and hand-deliver every message I send.*

One of the best parts of the internet is the free exchange of information. So many people are out there giving out advice on things. I am constantly looking things up–recipes, tips on how to remove stains, basic lockpicking technique . . .

Occasionally, I look at various things people have written about writing and publishing. I really wish some of this stuff was out there when I was a tiny mj. Some of the advice is just so good. Concepts are demystified. Procedures explained. You can get a really good look at how books are written.

At the same time, some of the advice out there ranges from the breathtakingly silly to the tragically bad. I consider myself living proof that just because someone is a published author, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he/she/it has the slightest idea what he/she/it is talking about. If you took some people’s advice on how to approach an agent and used it on Daphne, for instance, she would climb into her Daphne-sized safe and bolt the door behind her.

When you encounter people over the internet, you have to figure out if they have good judgment. This is often hard to do, because people can write blog entries and articles and make it sound like they have just received a FedEx directly from God, and are now pronouncing the Very Last Word on whatever subject they are expounding on. Writers, in particular, can pull this off–sometimes slickly, sometimes smugly, sometimes by the seat of the proverbial pants.

Learning who to listen to . . . figuring out who has good, solid judgment . . . this is one of the key skills to develop in life. I have tried and tested friends who know their stuff. Not about all things, of course, but I consider them generally competent, with certain fields of expertise and certain weaknesses. None of us is good at everything.

Same goes with the internet. For example, if you say, “Help! I am becoming overconfident in all things and have lost all sense of caution! I need to develop a healthy sense of irrational fear!” Then come to my site. I am the right woman for the job. I can help you find the potential danger in anything. But you don’t want to listen to me about how to do your taxes.

Having said that . . . why don’t I add to the virtual wisdom bank today? Since I am writing my very first sequel, I am the obvious person to turn to for killer advice on this subject. I am currently well into the process of writing Suite Scarlett 2: the Suitening.**

Now, I realize that almost no one has read the first book of the series yet, since it isn’t out until May. But don’t worry. You don’t need to know what happens in Scarlett. There are no spoilers, and my advice is general enough to be used by ANYONE writing ANY SEQUEL.

Today, I will cover just two points. I may do more in the future, if my wisdom increases as I work.

1: REMEMBER WHAT YOU WROTE IN THE FIRST BOOK

I have written five books prior to Scarlett, and each time I have had the luxury of forgetting what they were about as soon as I finished them. (I still jump about five feet in the air when the jellyfish suddenly appear in the middle of Girl At Sea. Did I write that?)

My work was done, and my attitude relaxed.

It turns out, when you write a sequel, people expect you to know what happened and who all the characters are. You can’t just change their names, or give someone a peg leg. For instance, Suite Scarlett takes place in Hopewell Hotel in the New York City. That’s the Martin family home. I can’t just, on a whim, say that Scarlett Martin now lives in a convent in Chicago or a small craft at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. (Or, if I did, I would have to come up with a VERY GOOD explanation.)

This quest for continuity provides for some EXCELLENT TIME WASTERS. As I’ve said many times before, there is nothing writers like more than things to keep us from actually writing. Now I can make long master documents about all the characters, charts of the action of the series, or just sit around and read the first book . . . and I can say I’m working! If I had known this, I would have written many sequels before now.

2: ADD AT LEAST ONE ZOMBIE

If the first book has failed the basic “contains one zombie” test, you can make up for it now. Now, you may think that adding zombies is gratuitous and may be inappropriate, but I say you are wrong. Most zombies barely speak. All they do is shuffle in the background. They add something to every book!

To demonstrate, I will add a zombie to this scene from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen, in which Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy have one of their first important encounters during a ballroom dance. See the difference just one zombie can make:

Â

“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.

“Books? Oh! No, I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”

“No. I cannot talk of books in a ballroom; my head is always full of something else.”

Hearing this, a nearby zombie turned, lured by the prospect of whatever was contained within Elizabeth’s head. He was within striking distance of her when the other dancers caught him up and swept him away by accident.

“The present always occupies you in such scenes, does it?” said Darcy, throwing a look of doubt at the still-flailing zombie as he was pulled down the line.

“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject. Elizabeth’s distraction was not related to the zombie. She had not seen it, and was only vaguely aware of the fact that the time of the dance had been thrown off by the newcomer’s awkward shuffling and the panic that ensued.

“I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.”

The zombie once again made his shambling way toward Elizabeth and the delicious promises of her coconut-like head.

“I am,” said he, with a firm voice designed to scare away the interloper.

“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”

“I hope not,” Darcy replied, noting with satisfaction that the zombie had once again been dragged into the action by the remaining dancers who had not yet observed his presence in their midst.

The zombie, confounded by recent events, tired of the chase for Elizabeth. He instead ripped off the head of the nearby Sir Watkin Smiley-Franklin and commenced in the eating of his brain, which pleased Mr. Darcy even more. Sir Watkin was a terrible bore on the subject of farm taxes, and Mr. Darcy was much relieved to see all of his thoughts on the subject being consumed by the zombie’s loose, grinding jaw.

Now, you see. I barely changed a thing–and yet that scene is about a million times better, isn’t it? This is just one example. This can be done with ANY BOOK.

I must now get back and continue on my journey into sequeldom. Be aware, though, that this is my last week on insideadog . . . and that means that I will be making good on my promise to give away my VERY LAST Suite Scarlett ARC. Watch this space!

* In case you have ever written to me and the reply has been slow in coming . . . this is the reason. It’s certainly not that I am six months behind on my “e-mail.”

** Not the real title, in case you were confused.