How to be awesome (here)
Today’s article is written by Nathan Bransford, who is a writer, ex-agent, and social media expert.
It’s called “How to write a good blog comment” and I can heartily confess to rampant self-interest in sharing it here.
Let’s begin:
The art of writing blog comments may at first blush seem like a frivolous and unimportant one, but that is not actually the case!
Writing excellent blog comments is perhaps the very best way to build your own blog and/or social media presence. Consider a blog comment an audition to show off your own personal awesomeness.
Not all blog comments are created equal. Here are some good rules of thumb as you work your way up to becoming a blog comment ninja.
Read the Post You’re Commenting On, Then At Least Scan it Again
Yes, this takes time and the careful suppression of twitchy fingers. But there is no quicker way to leave an ineffective blog comment than to miss something in the actual post or to accuse the poster of saying something they didn’t actually say.
Accuracy is important. Good blog comments take into account the entire post and then come up with a good and original response. So not only take the time to actually really read the post, keep the comment on topic rather than bringing in an outside and unrelated agenda.
That said……
Get There Early
The most effective and influential comments are near the top of the comments section.
Read Nathan’s other four excellent points here.
My own personal tips:
1. Always assume everything you post online will be read by your mother, your boss, your worst enemy, and your best friend.
2. Never, ever express anger online (see # 1) unless you are fighting for a cause outside yourself.
I’ve also discovered that writing about where your manuscript is at with agents/editors/publishers (or how long they take to reply) is also a no-no. Unsurprisingly, they don’t like to be publicly discussed.
Perhaps more importantly, proudly reporting – or weeping over – your dozens of rejections has the effect of making you look unpublishable, which can put professionals off – because they definitely do look at your blog and google you before offering representation (see #1). Which is why you won’t be hearing any more about the publication process until I have an offer (and permission to talk about it here).
3. If you’re young, invent a fake last name that you use everywhere online (if you’re a writer, it can become your pen-name, so make sure it’s distinctive but easy to spell).
I also recommend you visit Nathan’s blog and/or his top-notch writer forums.
Here’s an Easter-themed cat picture – this is Indah pointedly ignoring the Lindt Bunny bell I tinkled and then threw at her.
Hosting Christian Passover
My family has two feasts each year: Christmas and Passover. Both are hugely significant. In some ways Passover is more special because I’ve never knowingly met another family that celebrates it – so there’s absolutely no commercialisation (not even presents – not even *gasp* chocolate!)
I blogged about our Christian passover ritual last year, and I’ll almost certainly blog about it again next year.
This year was unusual. My Mum was running a passover at her church, which meant I could either join her church for the day or do something completely different. Since I’ve recently developed a strong phobia of church and even church buildings (sad but true – although a Bible Study group still meets at my house each week), I decided to look at it as an opportunity rather than a barrier, and run my own.
It was actually quite special to run my own without my parents’ presence – it meant I could do things in whatever way felt best to me – instead of trying to recreate past Passover experiences. (For example, my parents have a script with questions and answers that we read aloud – but I just told people what things mean.)
Sidebar: Passover is a Jewish festival. According to the Christian Bible, Jesus celebrated Passover with his disciples just before he was arrested (Christians know that meal as the last supper). The reason Easter moves around each year is because it’s linked to Jewish Passover (which moves because it’s linked to a different calendar) – which is the Thursday night before Good Friday.
For better or worse, CJ and I celebrated our own version of Passover this year (with four friends who had never been part of a Passover ritual before). Be advised that I’ve blurred together several quite different rituals with information from google and my own family’s traditions.
As people came in, they washed their hands in a bowl of clean water.
All the ritual foods (except the lamb) were set out on the table:
In the centre is the matzoh bread – bread made without yeast, representing the hasty departure of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt.
Beside it is a full wine glass that doesn’t belong to any of the guests. It is called the Cup of Elijah, and it represents the expectation that Elijah will return. Many Christians leave it empty, on the basis that we believe Elijah has already returned.
On the right and left of the matzoh there are bitter herbs (I used mustard, ugh), representing the bitterness of slavery; and sweet charoses (a blended mix of grated apple, grape juice, cinnamon and crushed walnuts – yum), representing the cement used by the slaves to bind bricks together.
On the right there are boiled eggs, greens, and salt water. The eggs represent life and the perpetuation of existence. The greens (parsley) represent hope and redemption. Salt water represents the tears of slavery.
The lamb represents the lamb sacrificed and eaten at the original Passover. On God’s instructions via Moses, the Israelites put lamb’s blood over their doorways on a particular night. The Angel of Death passed over those houses – but killed the firstborn children of the Egyptians (note to self: don’t make God angry, particularly after being warned by Moses and by numerous miraculous plagues). That night, the Israelites were finally released from generations of slavery.
And on to the ritual. . .
We drank the first cup – the cup of sanctification.
CJ took the three pieces of matzoh, broke the middle piece, and hid it.
We ate the other two pieces of matzoh with the bitter herbs and then with the sweet charoses (putting the charosis in a matzoh sandwich to represent bricks).
We drank the second cup – the cup of deliverance.
We ate the eggs and greens (first dipping them in the salt water – they taste very nice that way).
We drank the third cup – the cup of hope.
At that point we served main course and dessert, and I took this photo of my friend’s seven-month old trying sweet charoses for the first time:
We drank the fourth cup – the cup of praise (which for Jews is the final cup).
At that point, with a teensy bit of help, our youngest guest found the hidden matzoh from the start of the evening and gave it back to CJ.
I personally believe that it was at this point in the last supper that Jesus (like CJ, the patriarch of the ritual) took the matzoh – the bread that was broken, buried, and then brought out again – and said, “This is my body broken for you. Eat this in remembrance of me.” I believe that he then took the Cup of Elijah and passed it around for everyone to drink saying, “This is my blood, shed for you. Drink this in remembrance of me.”
I believe that when Jesus was crucified the next day, he fulfilled the symbolic promise of the original sacrificial lamb of Passover – saving us from death and slavery to sin – and that the Passover ritual was designed as a supernatural foreshadowing of Easter. Because God knows his literary techniques.
Christians echo the bread and wine of Passover every time they take communion – but most don’t realise the fact that Jews celebrated this ritual for centuries before Christ was born.
Get it right – this time
I knew before I began my steampunk novel that I would need to learn a whole new set of rules when it came to my Koori character, Matilda (you’ll notice that’s not a Koori name – names are just one taboo area).
A week or two ago I attended a lecture (in the gorgeously squished building above) by bestselling chicklit author Anita Heiss, who is a member of the Wiradjuri nation.
The lecture itself was very interesting (especially the various covers – some early drafts had Koori art from utterly the wrong nation, ugh), but the best part for me was that, as I’d hoped, Anita was able to tell me exactly where to look to find out how to write respectfully about a Koori character.
These are the two documents she recommended I read before approaching the correct Koori nation for more detailed consent:
http://www.australiacouncil.gov.au/__da … _guide.pdf
http://www.asauthors.org/lib/ASA_Papers … tralia.pdf
The bits about copyright were especially fascinating, because of course copyright law isn’t designed for oral stories – which means extremely valuable stories are not legally protected. Not yet.
Also, I’ll probably need to pay actual money to representatives of the nation I choose for Matilda’s background. I can handle that. Given the classic steampunk theme of rampant colonialism, it’s neat that I will be giving something back in order to honourably write about that era.
There is a huge wealth of religious tradition that non-Koori Australia is largely unaware of – not because we’re helplessly undereducated, but because much of it is secret, and needs to stay that way. My rule when it comes to other religions is, “What if they’re right?”
What if it’s true that a woman playing a didgeridoo causes terrible harm? What if outsider knowledge of sacred rituals destroys a people group?
Frankly, I’m not going to risk it.
This was part of the reason I made Matilda half-British, and a rebel against both her parents’ cultures. That way I can steer well clear of a lot of traditional knowledge or ritual – since Matilda has left much of it behind her.
And of course I’ll take care that the facts about historical Koori that make it into the book are accurate.
If you are writing about a people group you’re not a part of, here’s a good list for you to think about:
1. Respect
2. Indigenous control
3. Communication, consultation, and consent
4. Interpretation, integrity and authenticity
5. Secrecy and confidentiality
6. Attribution and copyright
7. Proper returns and royalties
8. Continuing cultures
9. Recognition and protection
And here’s a great resource for finding Koori artists by state:
http://www.theblackbook.com.au/
I’m setting my book in Australia because I love it with all my heart. Matilda exists because there is no WAY I’m going to pretend Koori people didn’t exist in 1854. (That’s exactly what was done at the time – nice work, Empire.) I’m so pleased to have finally found some detailed resources so I can make the book something special for all Australians.
Or at least, all those who like steampunk.
Zombie Begonia
Not all plants die horribly immediately after I bring them home. Some manage to live despite the odds.
Others die. . . and then claw their way back from the grave.
You may remember my heavy metal begonia. It looked cute for a bit, and then it died – emphatically.
I googled begonias and decided to keep it inside, and water it less.
So, after a few weeks of having a dead plant on my writing desk, I was as surprised as anyone to see new leaves emerging beneath the dead sticks.
It’s ALIIIIIIIIVVVVVVEEEEE!!!!
I might not be good at caring for plants, but this is also not the first time I’ve watched a dead plant spontaneously revive after getting moved inside. Evidently it’s not me that kills things. . . it’s nature.
*walks off whistling innocently*
Today is day three of my writing binge, and I’m loving it. Ana decided to get in on the paperweight action (FYI, the gun on the left is a pepperbox, and the other is a Colt – the same type Ned Kelly used):
Writing Binge
Guess what I did yesterday?
I slept in, then did some writing.
I rode my exercise bike, then did some writing.
I went shopping, then did some writing.
I did a load of washing, then did some writing.
I cooked dinner, then did some writing.
I saw friends, then did some writing.
Due to the vagaries of my tutoring schedule, I have absolutely no work – not a single hour – for the next two weeks. So from my absolute lack of lemons, I’m making lemonade.
The Easter Weekend is pretty busy, but before and after that I’m doing almost nothing but write.
Today, for example, is just like yesterday except without the shopping and the friends coming over. Instead I’m vacuuming the house and getting the car blinker fixed.
Tomorrow is similar, except I may dust. Or not. And I may have a job interview (for reasons that I think are pretty clear). Or not.
On Thursday I’ll emerge blinking into the non-fictional world. Until then, I’ll be wearing my pajamas and having a ball.
And, as always, discussing the finer points of grammar with my paperweight, Indah:
It’s time
I think all the readers of this blog also follow my main blog at http://twittertales.wordpress.com. Since the twittertales blog now has Miscellaneous Mondays (as well as shiny new writing articles on Saturdays, and Steampunk stuff on Sundays), this blog no longer has any unique purpose (unless my realist novel is accepted for publication under the Felicity Bloomfield name, in which case I’ll grab the metaphorical paddles and revive this blog like I never left).
I will still see comments posted here, and will respond to them.
Here to say farewell is a selection of relaxed cats:
Top Ten FREE Awesomenesses
It’s finally here! The ultimate awesomenesses for my poverty-striken peeps. I’ve marked with an asterisk those I think are worth clicking on (either for stylish writing or for pictures). And without further ado. . .
10. Feed ducks
8. Join the Library and Read Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan trilogy*
7. Lord of the Rings Movie Marathon*
6. Sculpture Garden or The National Carillon or whatever’s free in your area*
5. Kidnap your date (or a friend)
4. Light a Fire
3. Steal Flowers*
2. Bubbles!*
This is it. . . the youtube clip that’ll soon reach 13,000 views. I can only conclude that the internet was expecting something else.
I have a special treat for next Monday. You’ll never guess what it is, but here’s some random clues all the same:
1. It involves a visitor from China (who is not Chinese).
2. Americans should find it especially entertaining/horrifying/insulting, depending on their personality (but it’s not at all mean in any way).
3. It is, allegedly, educational.
4. It is very, very funny.
Love in a time of corsetry
This is a true story that took place in Victorian-era Australia.
The “rather mature” man-servant, Mr Supple, asked permission to marry the “very young and pretty” servant-girl, Mary.
My husband thought, as she was so much the younger of the two, it was a pity for her to throw herself away, so he spoke to her.
“Mary,” said he, “what makes you think of marrying Supple, a man old enough to be your father – and such an ugly man, and you such a pretty girl?”
“Well, sir, John Supple is NOT a pretty man, but his manners! Oh! Sir, his manners!” said Mary.
We could say nothing to this, and manners carried the day.
-From “Colonial Ladies” by Maggie Weidenhofer.
Tomorrow: The top ten awesomenesses – that didn’t cost a cent.
In the beginnings. . .
Time to hide in your box, quivering in terror.
Today we’ll be visiting the Pub Rants blog (“pub” as in “publication”, you lush) for the bad news about beginnings: 99.9% are rubbish.
You can tell an experienced writer because they don’t bat an eye when someone says, “Send me the first two hundred words of your book, and I’ll know whether I want to read the whole thing” – because that really is all it takes to sort the maybe-quite-good from the heh-no-way.
Don’t believe me? Go to a critique site like this one and critique twenty first chapters. You’ll soon see exactly how easy it is and exactly how little time it takes. And if you’re serious about writing books, critique at least fifty first chapters and you’ll learn more than you’d learn from reading fifty bestsellers (which you should also read, but that’s another article. . . ).
The full article for today is here. If you’re a writer, read the whole thing – please. My favourite part is when she lists the most common first-page mistakes. Here is that list, with my comments underneath each item.
1. Telling instead of showing.
Don’t say, “I felt scared” – say “My mouth went dry, and I willed my hands to stop shaking.” It makes a surprising amount of difference. Also, know when your scene should be described in full excruciating detail (when there’s action, interesting dialogue, or some incident that makes a difference to the plot) and when not to (when characters are unconscious for three days, or talking about non-plot-relevent geraniums, or quietly grieving someone that they also grieved in the previous chapter). Your first scene should always be interesting, and full of blow-by-blow detail with no summary.
2. Including unnecessary back story.
You should know that the main character was attacked by an aardvark when she was three and that it caused her to hate all animals – but you will probably NEVER mention that incident in the whole book. You’ll just show her flinch when a dog walks in. That SHOWS us she’s had a bad experience instead of telling us.
We don’t actually care about the aardvark incident, or anything else that was exciting at the time – sad but true. Only the present truly matters.
We really don’t care about the fifteen changes in the government of your fantasy world that led up to this particular crisis. Again, keep it in your head.
3. Loose sentence structure that could easily be tightened.
Grammar is important for two reasons: So you make sense, and so your writing is invisible. Any time someone has to re-read a sentence, they are no longer inside the story. Learn how to talk good.
4. The use of passive sentence construction.
See what she did there?
“I hit the cop in the face” is a million times more interesting than “The cop was hit in the face.”
5. Awkward introduction of character appearance.
Please, no glancing in the mirror.
I use a lot of tricks for character appearance including action (I pushed my hair out of my eyes), comparison (Robert towered over me), style rather than lists of hair/eye colour (He pulled at his lower lip again, not realising he was doing it), senses other than sight (I heard a scratch at the door and realised Miss Smith couldn’t quite reach the bell), and other people’s reactions (Harrry stopped talking mid-sentence. Sure enough, Miss Aurelia was adjusting her top again). Anytime you’re physically describing someone while doing something else at the same time (showing character, moving the story forward, etc) you win.
6. Awkward descriptions/overly flowery language to depict.
If you must have an adjective, don’t have a list. “The fat dog wagged its tail at me” is stronger than “The fat little brown dog wagged its tail at me”. But verbs tend to be stronger still – “The dog waddled over to me, wagging its tail.”
7. Starting the story in the wrong place.
Start with something happening. Look at action movies, and you’ll see that the opening scene is often a mini-story that is related to the main plot – eg one young woman is killed by a guy in a mask, and later we realise he’s stalking another. It’s SO much more interesting that starting with a placid/static scene, or a conversation. Ideally the opening scene is the inciting incident that kicks everything else off. But there has to be some kind of risk.
8. Not quite nailing voice in the opening.
Be yourself. Or at least, be that small part of yourself that you have in common with your narrator. Sarcasm? Short sentences? Big words? Yeah-I-couldn’t-think-of-the-exact-word-so-I-made-it-up adjectives? In my opinion, you’ll find your voice somewhere in the first draft, and then if any parts don’t match you can fix them in editing. So relax about voice, and it’ll come.
9. Dialog that didn’t quite work as hard as it should.
For starters, use contractions (“I’m, he’s, you’re). Listen to real-life dialogue and you’ll see how much information people leave out. But do please skip the boring bits of real life – notice how rarely fictional characters say “Hi how are you?” “I’m fine, how are you?” and “Goodbye”.
10. A lack of scene tension even if the opening was suppose to be dramatic.
You get tension by having a clear, important, and difficult goal right away – anything from “Nerdy kid asks out popular girl” to “Bruce Willis defends USA against terrorists”. (To get readers to care, they need to be interested in your character – there’s another article in that.) You keep tension by having things go wrong – the girl’s mean friends show up to watch his humiliation, or Bruce Willis is barefoot in a place full of broken glass.
Again, detail helps. I find that the longer a scene takes, the more time readers have to feel stressed. And readers love stress.
Mmm. . . cafe
The other day I discovered a new cafe – the Red Herring (near Canberra’s merry-go-round). It’s all couches, books, movie and TV posters, free foosball, ug-booted staff, and young ruffians either playing acoustic guitar or sleeping.
Yes. Literally people sleeping, and others playing acoustic guitar with their friends. And I was only there a few hours.
It’s not Melbourne-ish, but it’s pretty darn good.
Unsurprisingly, it’s run by uni students. All the best cafes are run by uni students, artists, or both.
