TEACHING ON WRITING

Saturday, I spoke about writing to First Coast Romance Writers, a writers' organization which is very education-oriented.

My topic was the "20-Point Self-Editing Checklist."

I covered 20 things writers need to know.

In the days of Eugenia Price and even farther back than that, all the way to F. Scott Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Faulkner, etc. (and even farther back), it wasn't uncommon for publishing companies to "develop" authors. They recognized good talent and then took a writer under their wing and honed their skills. In Eugenia Price's book, St. Simons Memoirs, she credits her editor Tae Hohoff for making her novels a success.

And of course editors do help published authors. Every published book goes through an editing process, and changes are requested and made. I've gone through this with all of my titles, and it's a wonderful, learning experience. But, that happens after they are contracted and right before they're published. When a writer is "prepubbed"and wanting to get published, s/he must learn the craft of fiction and strive for excellence since s/he doesn't have the benefit of having an editor look over her shoulder and say, "This isn't working, so change it," or (hopefully) "Great writing! This sings."

That's why I enjoy teaching writers. I like to help writers because writers helped me. I've taught in a variety of venues, including Florida Christian Writers Conference , Southern Lights Writers Conference, and Polk Community College. And I always add humor when I speak.

On Saturday, I was teaching on "creative paragraphing," which means a writer paragraphs more than is necessary in a certain section in order to give it some punch and pizzazz. It's also to heighten the tension and create a hook (beefed-up interest).

I read the following humorous story, saying "Paragraph" each time there's a paragraph indention. The writers were howling by the time I got to the punchline. Enjoy, below: (If there isn't a doublespace between the paragraphs, it's Blogspot's fault. Just pretend they're there.)

A plane passes through a severe storm, and one wing is struck by lightning. A woman is panic-stricken. "I'm too young to die," she wails. "But if I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a woman?"

There is stunned silence.

Then a man stands up. He's gorgeous. Tall. Well built. Sun-streaked hair. Hazel eyes. He walks up the aisle.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he unbuttons his shirt.

One button at a time.

No one moves.

He removes his shirt.

No one speaks.

Muscles ripple across his chest.

No one breathes.

He reaches out for her, gently caresses her hair, and whispers, "Here. Iron this."