I have a confession to make. I can listen to workshop after workshop and read up on a subject and, even though I can spout all the proper words, and help others with revisions, sometimes I simply don't "get it" in my own work.
Here's my example: I wrote a book years ago that made me tingle. It was a pure paranormal roller coaster ride-before paranormals were hot. I wrote it on a whim and in 30 days, since I was published in sweet historical romance and had a deadline on another book. Still this story pulled and tugged and I had to get-it-out. Once I finished my deadline book, I went back and revised the paranormal and queried it. I found a NY editor who loved it as well. She kept it with promises of copy edits and taking it to her editorial board. But after two years she ultimately failed to sell it to her board. So, the book sat until I decided that there was something there and queried it out to agents. I found a NY agent who loved it and convinced me it was going to be huge. Unfortunately the paranormal tide had yet to turn and after 7 rejections said agent lost interest in both the book and me. BUT-(here's my point.) This time I had the advantage of reading publisher rejection letters. They seem to be more helpful when telling agents why they are rejecting a book. The one comment that stuck with me was "There is not enough world building." Of course, my thought was this: "Its set in Kansas, what's to world build?" I puzzled over this for years as the book sat and I wrote other stuff.
Then a year or so ago the word went out that YA Paranormal was huge. So, I returned to this book and re-read it and discovered that book 2--yes, NY agent had me write book 2--was more YA than single title adult. I spent the time to re-write book 1 with a YA bent-it was already snarky and a coming of age story so that changing it to YA was not a big problem. I then tested the waters by sending it out to various agents- most of them agreed that the YA paranormal market was saturated and this story was now nothing new. But one beloved agent said this to me: "There isn't enough world building in this story." Gah!
She hit that sore spot. What do they mean? I've researched the topic. I've gone to seminars. Its Kansas, what's to world build? (Sometimes my brain can be stubborn.)
This last residency week at Seton Hill University's MFA program, I signed up for a course in World Building YA given by Shelley Bates. (No, not paranormal but any kind of YA.) I was determined to try to figure out what was missing from the novel.
When Shelley launched into the subject of her latest Amish YA and how she built the world around her heroine. I carefully compared how she constructed her world to how I constructed mine and it hit me like a fast pitch softball. duh.
I started my story at the first turning point in a moment of trauma and breathless action-where the heroine's stepmother is murdered by a nightmarish demon hound and how she uses her "imagination" to escape only to discover that her reality has changed and her choices become terrible-save herself or save the world; believe the men who try to guide her in the outrageous new reality or believe the smooth talking devil who tells her she is merely having hallucinations and needs a doctor's help.
I was certain this was the perfect place to start with serious action and the call to adventure.
If you've ever read the Hero's Journey you probably already see what I did wrong. And in fact I had listened to yet another workshop on the Hero's Journey just the day before and had not put it together... What did I do wrong?
I did not start with the ordinary world.
It's that simple. I felt like a dunderhead. I know and have given talks on the Hero's Journey. (If you haven't heard of this, let me know I'll write a blog.) I have given talks on how the first two minutes of a movie always give the viewer the ordinary world before the first turning point so that they can relate to the protagonist and understand how important the call to adventure is and why the protagonist is forced to choose it.
In this case I skipped the ordinary world thinking that starting at this powerful point of action would suck the reader in like a vacuum. It was a vacuum alright, an empty space where the reader had nothing to compare with the problem.
Even crazier is that in book 2 I start with the ordinary world, but, of course, no one ever read that story since book 1 failed to sell.
So there it is--my example of how sometimes it can take years, a few subtle clues and tons of rehashing of writing craft before you can see why a book failed to sell. And yes, I'm going to go back and rewrite the opening of this book if for no other reason than to practice world building. Maybe someday this book will sell and someone will get to read book 2. Meanwhile, I am happy knowing that I finally figured out what I could do to make the story better. And that, after all, is what being a writer is all about. Cheers~