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The BLOG TOUR begins! Today I travel all the way to the UK, where I'm guesting with Thea and Ana, The Book Smugglers.


It’s Not About the Idea
I often hear from young writers despairing because they can’t come up with a totally new and unique idea. All the good ideas are taken, they say.
Here’s a secret: it’s not about the idea. It’s about the execution. Really, it is. All writers stand on the shoulders of other writers. Fantasy tropes persist because they work so well in story.
Wise old wizard mentor, anyone? Think Merlin. Think Gandalf. Think Dumbledore. Think Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Vampires keep coming back (ha!) because they’re scary and primitive and hot. Stephenie Meyer achieved extraordinary success with a new take on an old premise. Though she was pilloried by some for departing from vampiric convention, resulting in hilarious debates about whether “real” vampires could be “sparkly” or go out in the daylight.
Who made the vampire rules?
J.K. Rowling was not the first author to write about wizards. It was what she did with the premise that made her books so successful. Fortunately for us, there’s no copyright on wizardry.
There, now. Pressure’s off about the idea. Pressure’s on about the execution.
So how do you make a story your own?
On to The Book Smugglers for the rest. 

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Holly Cupala was kind enough to ask me to be a part of the current series she's hosting on her blog, What YA Bloggers Want. The guest post I contributed is up on her blog today, and if you comment you have a chance to win books!

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Today's post comes from Sarah Miller, author of the terrific Miss Spitfire (review and interview), writer of a very fine blog, and all around great pal.

Her obsession with the Romanovs is evident in her current work-in-progress, "a novel about the final years of Russia's last imperial family, told by the daughters of Tsar Nicholas II." And today is a very important day in Romanov history. . . .

The other day I succumbed to the dual temptations of peer pressure and procrastination to fritter away a few hours composing a video tribute to the last Russian imperial family. The 90th anniversary of their assassination is July 17th, you see. Cheesy as it's become over the last ten years, I began with the theme from Titanic as my background music. That song fairly drips with connotations of love, loss, and opulence, and I couldn't resist the cliche. Plus, it's pretty music. (No Celine Dion vocals though, thank you very much.) About halfway through the process, I took a break to surf YouTube and peek at some other Russian history nerds' memorial movies. A LOT of Romanov videos use the Titanic music, I've discovered. But one had a tune vaguely similar to the theme from Finding Neverland, which I love. On a whim, I duplicated my iMovie project, yanked out Titanic, and dropped in Finding Neverland instead. That's when the trouble started. Um, what on earth does this movie-making stuff have to do with being an author? Well, suddenly I discovered that swapping out the music tracks changed the voice, pacing, and tone of my video. I was still telling the same story, still trying to express the same underlying themes of family love and lives cut short, but a slew of the photos I'd so carefully selected no longer fit. Welcome to the wonderful world of editing. Have a look and see what I mean: The Titanic version is relatively fast, and the mood of the music fluctuates throughout the piece. By following those natural crests and troughs in the melody, I could construct a fairly straightforward visual retelling of the imperial family's history and rely on the music to amp up the emotional level. (Romanov buffs will recognize a chronological progression of images from Nicholas and Alexandra's courting days to the last known photos from family's imprisonment and exile.) In short, the photos are representative first, and emotional second. There's also a lot of plain old motion, both in the images themselves and in the way I panned the camera across them. At the end, the fate of the family is portrayed more or less directly. The Neverland version is essentially a sliver of ambience. The music is slower and softer, with a constant, level mood. Consequently, the sense of story has to arise out of the emotion inherent in the images rather than from the music. So the photos I'd originally chosen to represent specific stages in the Romanovs' life weren't nearly as effective, which meant I had to give up scenes I loved - in particular, that cut where the music swells and the children grow from darling toddlers in matching sailor suits into a line of poised young adults. *le sigh* But the trade-off was resurrecting photos I'd discarded from the original Titanic version -- photos that were emotionally stirring, but too static visually. Also, this time the Romanovs' death is only implied: while panning over the field of white lilies (the site of the family's original mass grave) the music itself fades away without the customary drop in pitch on the final note. It's downright unsatisfying the way it leaves you hanging, but oddly enough I think it works in this context. What do you think? Which is more effective? I'm really not sure, myself. Mostly, I'm just fascinated by how quickly I recognized what needed to change, and how willing I was to make the necessary cuts. I am not nearly so amiable when it comes to editing my writing -- probably because in that case I don't get to share the alternate version. I'm also mulling over how many ways there are to tell the same story, even using a heap of the same scenes. All it takes is one change, and everything shifts.

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I am so happy to be presenting to you my first ever guest post by an author. Cecilia Galante is the author of the extraordinary The Patron Saint of Butterflies as well as Hershey Herself (which I have on hold at my library and can't wait to read). You can visit Cecilia online at her website. Here is her thoughtful post on writing, which I believe artists of any kind will be able to relate to. (For instance, as a writer and an actress, I could definitely empathize with what she said.) Enjoy!

I was thrilled when the Divine Miss E. asked me to write a little something for her wonderful website, since (a) It’s an honor to be a part of such a well-read, illustrious group of book-lovers and (b) I’m having a heck of a time right now working on another book of mine and the diversion is most welcome. (Plus, it might even kick-start an idea or two in the back of this head of mine.)
So.
Writing.
The most wonderful and agonizing times in my life have been spent writing. After ten years of writing, rewriting, licking oh, maybe 400 envelopes and mailing them to agents and publishers and editors, and getting maybe oh, 375 (very nice) rejections, and then, finally, one magical day, getting THE call, I am living my dream. I have two published young-adult novels out right now (The Patron Saint of Butterflies and Hershey Herself) and have just signed a two-book deal with Simon & Schuster. So why am I gripped every once in awhile (okay, every hour or so) with a sudden and paralyzing fear? Why, after finally “crossing that line,” do I still feel that I have so much farther to go? And why does that frighten me so much?
One of the most incredible things about writing for me is sitting down with just a tiny idea in my head – a girl’s face perhaps, or a picture of a winding, pine-needled path in the middle of a forest – and then watching that single idea take shape and blossom into something else. Ideas lead to other ideas which lead to formations of plot and character and all that other good stuff. And I think that one of the things that scares me so much is that I’m never really sure that the image I sit down with is actually going to lead me further. I have this mean little voice in the back of my head that yammers on and on....”Who do you think you are? You really think you can do this? That idea blows. It is so stupid. Just give up, turn the computer off and go join the circus.”
Seriously. My head does that to me all the time. And I guess that’s where the fear comes from. Am I the only one, or do we all have a fear of not being enough? Of not “reaching the top.” Of not “winning.” Whatever it is. It can be paralyzing, right? It can make you abandon your dreams, your work, even yourself.
If you let it.
Here’s the thing. And I’ve just realized it now, by writing this piece.
DO IT ANYWAY.
Sit down scared. Sit down with the yammering voice in the back of your head that says you can’t do it. Turn on the computer. Summon the tiny picture in the back of your brain. Start typing, even though the mean little voice may get louder. Keep going, even if it says it’s all crap, you’re wasting your time, you’re nothing. Turn on some music that you like. Keep typing. Close your eyes if you have to, so that the picture doesn’t disappear. Keep typing. Sit back after awhile and stare at the paragraph – or two, or three – that you have just written. Wipe the sweat off your brow.
Relish the silence in your head.
Feel the absence of fear.

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