Review of "Freedom" by Jonathan Franzen

Dear Jonathan Franzen,
I do not presume to give you any writing advice. I'm a good writer -- not brilliant.
However, if you are at all interested, which, you very well are probably not, here are my thoughts regarding your latest best selling novel, "Freedom."


1) I got the theme the first time. There was no need to hit it over the head repeatedly, and with each character.
2) Your dialogue is great, but your stream of consciousness and descriptive paragraphs are LONG. For us poor mediocre brained readers, add a carriage return (do they still call it that?) every now and then. It helps.
3) As intelligent, and brilliant, and forward thinking Walter's conservation rants and raves, and endless discussions about with multiple characters were...they also got incredibly dull.  I am reading this character driven book for the characters. Not for a lecture. I don't mind admitting I skimmed parts.
4) This is a flaw I do as well, in my own writing, and thus, why I was able to spot it in yours: your characters are too flawed.  Each one must have some redeeming quality of their own.  Their respect and love for someone else does not count as a redeeming quality if they continually act in direct opposition to that said love. The fact that Patty is good with kids does not count. The fact that Walter is obsessed with nature and Richard with music and Joey with masturbation does not count. They are all too selfish (which, honestly, all people are), to like.  Mind you, I agree, people are too selfish, which is sadly why I don't like most people, but when I am reading a book, I want to love the characters (or, at least one!) and I was too busy being disgusted with each one at varying intervals in order to love any of them. 
Readers want to love the characters so much that when the book is finished they will MISS them. I can live a full and complete life without a second thought to Patty, Walter, Richard, or any of their off spring.


Just my two cents.
For what it's worth.
I think it's worth about that much.

On to Plan B

I hit a groove today with help from a reheated cup of coffee; plus Coffee Mate Caramel & Vanilla, and 4 scoops of sugar.  Don't say it -- I know, I know!


Unhealthy drinking habits aside, I am now three quarters of the way through Chapter Five, with only one more scene to go.  This brings my heroine to the next part in the saga.  Plan A is ruined, thus, we are on to Plan B.


Plan B is much more exciting, and introduces our love interest, so hurray, hurray -- things are about to get rather complicated.


Sugar and caffeine aside, my brain is a little fried from my work today, so I am leaving the last scene for tomorrow, thus fulfilling my quota of completing one new chapter a week.


Plan A's chapters were relatively short, so come Plan B, it should prove interesting if I can maintain my schedule.  I believe more work days will have to be utilized.  So far, I've been getting away with writing three days a week. Somehow, I have a sneaking suspicion, that Plan B will not allow me that luxury.


Guess I'll conquer that bridge when I come to it.
In the meantime, I must say, I am so so so very glad I fixed the Chapter Four story issue in the first draft. 
Yay for me!


Now, I must exit my cave and deal with real life.


Joy.

Excerpt from my YA/Tween novel, "Shut Up"

After school that day, Mrs. Chastain asked me to stay.

“Mary,” she said. “I’ve realized over the last few weeks, you’ve stopped turning in your homework, your test scores are down, and you aren’t turning in your extra work for the Pentathlon team.”

I didn’t know what to say to this.  It was true.  Since Gwen had been home I just didn’t feel like it anymore.  So, I stood there like a dummy.

Mrs. Chastain stared a long time as if she was waiting for me to say something.  Finally, the teacher lowered her face and asked, “Is everything alright at home?”

In an instant, I was crying again.  I was so tired of crying all the time!  In a rush of happiness, I decided then and there Mrs. Chastain was the greatest teacher in the whole world, because she’d seen I was unhappy.  Finally, I could tell the truth!  I tried to talk, but was having a hard time catching my breath.  All I managed to squeak out was, “I…can’t…do…anything…right.”

There!  It was out!  I let out the heaviest sigh of relief.  It was all going to change now.  I could feel it!

The soft expression on Mrs. Chastain’s face suddenly changed, and a weird smile crossed her lips.  She shook her head.

As Mrs. Chastain struggled for the correct words, I watched her, completely confused.  This wasn’t the response I’d expected at all.  I tried to catch my breath between choked sobs so I could explain what I’d meant, but Mrs. Chastain found her words first.

“Oh,” Mrs. Chastain said, “we’re in this phase, are we?”

My mouth slammed shut as I thought about what Mrs. Chastain had said.  Was she making fun of me?  But…but…she understood, didn’t she? 

I just told her I couldn’t do anything right and she thinks I’m joking?

The tears instantly dried from my eyes as I ate my humiliation whole. 

I’m not joking!

 My heart thumped against my chest and I had a sudden urge to throw up. 

Oh my God, I can’t even tell my teacher right!

I hadn’t a clue what to say to Mrs. Chastain to explain to her.  The teacher was looking at me just like Gwen did, whenever I came into a room, like she was sorry for me, like she was looking at a stupid, ugly dog begging for a bone.  Like, “Get away, you mangy mutt!”

I just stood there, shaking, so full of emotion I got lost in them.

Mrs. Chastain sighed and moved some papers around on her desk.  “I gave you a spot on the Pentathlon team thinking it would spark more effort out of you, but it hasn’t.  If you don’t get it together, Mary, you’ll be removed from the team.  I have many other kids who would love this opportunity.  Understood?”

I shook my head ‘no’ but Mrs. Chastain’s eyes were back to the papers on her desk.

“You can go,” Mrs. Chastain said.

For a moment, I thought I’d try and explain again.  I hesitated in front of the teacher’s desk, on the cusp of spilling my guts.  But, Mrs. Chastain’s head was down, her expression was hard, and I knew I’d blown it. 

As always.

I snatched my backpack from under my desk and when I got outside Tammy was waiting for me.

“What happened?” she asked.

I was so upset I couldn’t form two words.  “Nothing.” 

I walked off in the opposite direction.  I was crying so hard, I forgot to pull the tabs on my backpack straps loose so that it hung down past my bottom, to hide the cuts on the back of my thighs as I walked away.

Don't Rush Thinking

My personal rule to complete a whole chapter a week has been shot to hell, but I am actually quite glad of this.


I've spent the last few days mulling over my Sub-Plot B in Chapter 4, and what it actually needed to accomplish.  It came to me yesterday.  I'm so glad I didn't rush and write the first thing that came to mind. This is much better.


This is so good, in fact, that the Sub-Plot that I added brought me to tears as I was writing it, and it's not even PMS week.


Do you know what that means?
It means, it's actually good.


It was so damn good, in fact, I stopped on a good note, and ended for the day.
It's like George Castanza in 'Seinfeld' leaving the room in a rush after he manages to say something witty.


"I'm out!"


God Bless the reheated cup of coffee I drank this morning.
God Bless the dear friend who listened to me ramble on for an hour last night about what was missing, and how I wasn't sure how to fix it.
God Bless the thinking time I allowed myself this morning so I could figure out what the solution was.


When it works, it's grand.
When it doesn't, well...Then it's time for a coffee break.

Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing...! Subplot B!!

Writing a first draft is always so messy.  Sure, the outline is written and you have a plan of what's going to happen and how, but once you get in down on paper, it takes a sensitive writer to realize when your plan is not working.  Stubbornly, in the past, I've been known to stick to my outline whether it's working or not, just because I don't want to have to rewrite, but luckily, I'm only into Chapter Four of the new book and came to the conclusion that if I'm bored writing Chapter Four, imagine out boring it will be for the reader!


Hence, during the karate marathon yesterday I sat in silent contemplation, thinking, and thinking, and thinking.  Sometime during all that thinking, I figured out why Chapter Four was so dull.  I also figured out that what was happening in Chapter Four was necessary for the BIG PICTURE, and will pay off in the end, so I have to write this chapter, I just have to find a way to make it more exciting.


So, {Enter Sub-plot B}.  It's Chapter Four; it's long overdue anyways. It may come to pass that I will have to go back to Chapter Three and introduce the sub-plot earlier, but for now, as of today, I am attempting to insert it into the full rewrite of Chapter Four.


Wish me luck.
Also, thanks for the comment(s) and emails regarding which book I should read next.  I picked up two. I generally try to stay away from reading the same genre I'm writing (I'm paranoid someone else's ideas will eep into my poor pathetic subconscious), so I got "Freedom" by Jonathan Franzen because he's supposed to be the next great American novelist (we'll see), and "Tess of the D'Ubervilles" by Thomas Hardy because it sounded completely tragic, and I just love that crap.


Freedom: A Novel
Tess of the D'Urbervilles (Arcturus Paperback Classics)

Brain Slug

I need a new book to read. I've finished "Pillars of the Earth" and find myself listless.  I attempted writing this morning and got one scene out.


It isn't much, but I'm feeling sluggish and am stubbornly attempting NOT to make a pot of coffee. I'm not sure why.


Silly girl.


I'm thinking if I had a good book to read, it would serve as a spring board for my creativity. It's worked in the past.  But I've read all the books in this house and despite being three quarters of the way through "Crime and Punishment" and "Vanity Fair" -- they are not calling to me.


There is a Barnes and Nobles underneath my daughter's karate class, but that does not take place until tomorrow.


For today, I must be content with my singular mediocre sluggish scene, and count on caffeine and literary inspiration to bail me out at another time.


Meanwhile, it's taking all my strength not to put my head down on my desk and snooze.


The good news? I'm one scene into Chapter Four and the manuscript is already 9,000 words.  Good sign? Or bad?


Too early to tell.


Crime and Punishment
Vanity Fair (Barnes & Noble Classics)

The All Time, Always Solution: Coffee

Wednesdays are a "half day" in my daughters' school district.  This means I have only a few hours that day to get things done before my entire afternoon gets consumed by homework, straightening up after The Tornado (my youngest), and cooking an early dinner so we can take it with us to karate classes, which takes ALL AFTERNOON.  No joke. It really blows.


So, given my afternoons are always a wash when it comes to creativity, I was a bit panicked when my own chores during school hours took longer than anticipated.  I had no time to write yesterday.  Not a moment.


My new personal deadline of writing one sucky chapter a week was in danger of being blown the exact same week in which I had set the deadline (as I had previously blogged about) and I was pissed.


So, in an effort to save some of what's left of my self respect and ambition, when I packed our dinner, the sparring gear, the girl's math worksheets and my purse into the car for our FOUR HOUR stay at the karate studio (you can tell how much I love this new schedule), I also packed my lap top for a writing experiment.


Writing Experiment #335: The Hypothesis: iPod blaring loud classical music in my ears, chair in the corner of the studio so kids and parents aren't constantly brushing passed my knees, and my lap top perched on my lap. 
Can I write under those conditions?  Would I be able to concentrate with thirty kids shouting, kicking, punching, wrestling, and sweating? Would I be able to drown out the constant barking from their instructor? Would I be able to think clearly with one of my daughters asking me questions about their math homework? How much focus could I muster?  Enough to write a scene? Two scenes?


The Answer: That day, yes. But ONLY after I took a few minutes break and walked over to the Starbucks and got myself, you guessed it, a cup of coffee.


Once again I am reminded how I can only seem to write worth a crap when I have a cup of java in my hand.


I admit it. I'm addicted.
Better this than cigarettes, or booze, I suppose.
And good for me, I only seem to abuse this addiction when I'm writing. Otherwise, I don't really need a cup of coffee.
Diet Coke will do.


But for writing, coffee, it must be. 
Anyways, the moral of the story is, I worked today on Chapter Three to fine tune and word smith the scenes I wrote while in karate class yesterday, and it wasn't all that bad.  In fact, it was down right satisfactory -- which is the biggest compliment I'll pay a first draft.


Of course, I reserve the right to hate every single word when it's finished and I have to go back for draft #2.
Until then, I am now off to complete my daily chores, because as much as I'd like to be one of those people who can devote 100% of their brain power to a book, writing non-stop until it's completed to perfection -- I am not one of those people.


Besides, I don't have any coffee.

Time Kills

There is too much to do in so little time and I am frustrated with my lack of progress this week.  I am going to retreat to my "cave," as I call it, on Thursday and Friday, so I apologize in advance for not answering the phone.


If I set a goal to write a chapter a week and then fail to meet that goal in the SAME week, it's so beyond pitiful I can't stand it.


How many times can I use the word 'week' in the same paragraph?
Ugh.


No time to stick around and pontificate.
Must...Finish...Chores...So...I...Can...Write!

The Midnight Realization Strikes Again!

My new goal: a chapter a week. Though, I haven't gotten a thing done today because we have no food in the house. Seriously, we were out.
For the girls' lunches I had to dig.  It was that bad.
Food shopping was a must.


Tomorrow I will sit down and pound out a few more pages of Chapter Three. 
Is a chapter a week too light, or too heavy a work load?
I wonder what's normal?


Of course, given the fact that I am far from normal, it's not going to bother me too much.


In my search to find the perfect song for the new book I have come across four that are close, but still, no "perfect" song. At least not one that I own.
The runners up are:
"Shadow Proves the Sunshine" by Switchfoot
"The Stone" by Dave Matthews Band
"Protectors of the Earth" by Two Steps from Hell
"Trinity" by James Dooley


Off to do more shopping. It's rather annoying I have to go to multiple places to get all the food we need, but there you have it. At least we have the means to GET the food we need, so I'm going to shut up now.


Also, I'm reading "Pillars of the Earth" and fell victim to the midnight realization - which is when you look up from reading and realize that you should have gone to bed an hour ago. 
It's that good.
The Pillars of the Earth (Deluxe Edition) (Oprah's Book Club) (Paperback)

September 11, 2001

It was 6:15 am in the morning when our phone rang. I remember, I was annoyed because it was so early and I didn't want the baby to wake up.  My husband rolled over and checked the caller ID, it was his folks from the East Coast.


He answered and immediately sat up. "What? What?"
He clicked the speaker button on the phone.
My in-laws were sobbing. "We're under attack!  The World Trade Center has just been bombed!"


"Oh my God!" I bellowed.
We padded down the hall to our only T.V. set and flicked it on. We watched in terror when the second plane crashed into the remaining World Trade Tower.


I don't remember if we even ate that day, or got dressed for that matter.  At one point, the baby woke and I brought her into the living room so I could watch.  We just stood, and watched.


We all cried as the towers fell.


It was like watching freedom itself crumble and burn with all those poor lost souls in between the twisted metal, and the blankets of paper snowing across the city.


I know my experience is small compared to those who were actually there.  For them, my heart weeps.
I wish the world was further along in our quest for peace so that a day like that is never repeated.


Though I choose not to dwell in fear, I shall never forget. And neither should you.

Inside My Shell

I have to remind myself that this is not a race.  At the same time, I should not be standing still.
I finished the first draft of the new book's second chapter.
And although I am presently pleased with it, I reserve the right to change my mind at any given moment.


The way I work, I have to finish the whole book and judge it as a complete set, before I can determine if there are major issues that need changing.


I would like to be in that phase already, and have a book closer to completion. But, first, I have to lay down the crap that is considered the first draft, and so, my patience is getting tested.


Tortoise.
Not the hare.
Tortoise.
Slow and steady, dear.
Slow.
Steady.


Shutting up now.


P.S. And on a personal note: Thank God this book is not so depressing to write! I can work, and finish a day's writing, and not dwell in the deeper regions of my psyche, functioning as a "normal" (well, you know, as normal as can be) person. 
How nice! And how nice for my family who has to learn to live with me as I'm writing. Some might consider that progress on a number of levels.

Xena, and the Trash Heap

Five pages in two hours and I'm mentally exhausted.  Action scenes are a pain in the ass.  Details, details, details.
It reminds me of the first time I wrote a television spec script, a million years ago.
I was a big fan of "Xena: Warrior Princess" and wrote an episode where she meets Medea. For those of you who were not forced to read all the Greek tragedies in college, Medea was married to Jason of the Argonauts, and when he married some other chick, and claimed Medea and he were never "officially" wed, Medea slaughtered their two sons in retaliation.
Nice.
Then, the freaking Gods forgive her and send some chariot down from the heavens to carry her off to the afterlife, because really, it was all Jason's fault.
Huh?
Anyways, I wrote the "Xena" spec and spent days choreographing and writing the fight sequences down to every twist, turn, slash and drop of sweat, only to have a friend of mine read it and let me know that the fight scenes are choreographed by the stunt coordinator on set.
Oops.
Dummy.
I should have gotten a Xena script from Samuel French, or from a collection shop on Hollywood Boulevard (because, heaven knows I didn't know a soul in the "biz"), but I didn't know the proper "procedure," as it were, on how to format and submit a spec script.
I eventually learned, but my point is this...Five pages in two hours! At least this way I got to write every twist, turn, slash and drop of sweat without fear of stepping on the stunt coordinators toes.
Plus, it took me two hours versus days to write it.
Good grief.
And in this one, the heroine is literally saved by a pile of trash. And not in the, "I'm going to drop into a pile of trash to break my fall" way you see in every procedural cop show on television.
And, somehow, I don't think Xena would have handled it the same way. She would have used that ring boomerang thing, shoot...what was it called?
Now I'm going to have to look it up.
No more writing today.
My brain hurts.

Have Coffee, Will Write

I. Love. Coffee.


Two cups today and I'm tossing and turning come bedtime. So, I'm laying in bed and I'm thinking, "Might as well get some thinking done." Because heaven knows I do some of my best thinking just before I fall asleep.


Sure enough! Boom! It hits me.


I know what the problem is, and I know how to fix it.  The reason I couldn't figure out where to go next was because I had gone to the wrong place.  Back track, baby.  Back track. Send her someplace else FIRST, then put in the scene that's already written. It makes sense now where she has to go next. Perfect sense.


Booyah!


Caffeine is my friend. My muse.


One detailed outline later I'm back in business, and I know exactly where it leads her next.


Damn, this book is going to be long. Or, at least longer than anything I've written before.
Might even crack 90,000 words by the time I'm through.


Epic.


Exciting.


Now, if only I could get some sleep...

Think, dammit! Think!

Today is a new day, and with each day brings new possibilities.  Okay, now that I'm done blowing sunshine up your ass, here's today's blog. :)


First day of school. First day of school? First day of school!
Hurray!


I wrote.  In peace. With the only interruptions coming from telemarketers ringing my phone. Not bad. Not bad at all.  I worked on voice in the first chapter, and refining scenery description in the beginning of the second, but I am now deep in contemplative thought about how to set up the next part of the book.  I know what she needs to do. I know exactly.  The next question is, how does she get there? And, where is 'there' exactly? I don't know the answers yet.


Still thinking.


I keep staring at the computer screen trying to 'think' and it's not coming to me.
Guess I'll go fold laundry.


I'm still in my search for my heroine's song.  Every character I write has one.  I haven't found this new girl's song yet, and it's driving my kids a little nuts.  Every song only lasts about one stanza before I click my iPod to the next song, searching for perfect lyrics, and a minor key.  Because, this book needs a minor key. It just does.  You'll have to trust me on this.


If all else fails perhaps I'll write a poem that can serve as the heroine's theme mantra. But I prefer a song.


We don't need any more crazy. We're all full up here.