Katy Upperman on Letting Ideas Stew For Years

Inspiration is a funny thing. It can come to us like a lightning bolt, through the lyrics of a song, or in the fog of a dream. Ask any writer where their stories come from and you’ll get a myriad of answers, and in that vein I created the WHAT (What the Hell Are you Thinking?) interview. Always including in the WHAT is one random question to really dig down into the interviewees mind, and probably supply some illumination into my own as well.

Today’s guest for the WHAT is Katy Upperman, author of contemporary YA romances Kissing Max Holden, The Impossibility of Us, and How the Light Gets In.

Ideas for our books can come from just about anywhere, and sometimes even we can’t pinpoint exactly how or why. Did you have a specific origin point for your book? 

I started working on How the Light Gets In in 2010, and have returned to the story numerous times in the years it took to sell the manuscript. Way back in the beginning, the book had a different title, different characters, and a very different plot. But it’s always been a story about ghosts (literal and figurative) set on the Oregon coast. The point of origin was a combination of elements that inspire me: the beach, a run-down Victorian, a haunting, a decades-old mystery, swimming, and a layered romance.

I also found inspiration in themes that fascinate me: families moving forward after tragedy, the way some people can help us wade through grief while others hinder forward motion, and how sister relationships can grow and change and, sometimes, bend to the point of breaking. So, the point of origin for How the Light Gets In was really a whole bunch of different components that I eventually pieced together to form a story.

Once the original concept existed, how did you build a plot around it?

I wanted to write about a girl who was sad, confused, and angry, but by the end of the story, I knew she’d need to have gained understanding and perspective, and that she should be taking steps to reclaim the parts of herself she lost along with her sister.

The plot of How the Light Gets In was built around moments that would challenge its main character, Callie, and help her grow. Those include interactions with her aunt, with whom she has a complicated relationship, interactions with Tucker, a local boy she meets on her first morning back in Bell Cove, and interactions with her sister, Chloe, in the past and the (ghostly) present. Additionally, I wanted Callie to discover a mystery within her aunt’s Victorian, one that would parallel her current situation in important ways, as well as keep the reader guessing. Because it was endlessly challenging to fit all of this into a cohesive, compelling narrative, I kept Callie’s character arc in mind while plotting, as it’s what brings the whole story together.

Have you ever had the plot firmly in place, only to find it changing as the story moved from your mind to paper?

Yes—every single time! My process is this: Let a new idea stew. Map out characters’ goals, motivations, and the main conflicts. Write a detailed outline. Feel incredibly confident. Begin drafting. Flail. Flail some more. Revisit and revise the outline. Draft. Revisit and revise outline. Draft. Revisit and revise outline. Draft. Repeat, repeat, repeat, until the first draft is done.

For me, epiphanies come as first drafts grow. Characters surprise me. Seemingly brilliant plot twists start to seem cliché. New ideas—better ideas—burst forth as I get to know the story on a deeper level. So, while I outline, my outlines are flexible and always changing.

Do story ideas come to you often, or is fresh material hard to come by?

Fresh material is very hard to come by. I envy writers who have notebooks full of hooky ideas—that is so not me. I’m character-focused; interesting people pop up in my imagination all the time. Interesting circumstances do sometimes, too. But weaving a workable plot around those fragments of ideas is tough! It takes me months or even years to have an idea fully-formed enough to attempt a first draft.

How do you choose which story to write next, if you’ve got more than one percolating?

I work on whatever is inspiring me most. On the rare occasion I have more than one idea percolating, I choose the one that makes me want to write—the one that feels the least like “work”.

I have 5 cats (seriously, check my Instagram feed) and I usually have at least one or two snuggling with me when I write. Do you have a writing buddy, or do you find it distracting?

I have two cats, and they’re most definitely my writing buddies. One or both of them almost always ends up on my lap when I’m writing, which is pretty perfect, actually, because they keep me pinned to my seat, forcing me to do nothing but work. I can’t imagine making a go at a manuscript without my furry officemates nearby. J

Authors Helping Authors

Whether here or on the podcast, I’m sure you’re constantly heard one word in relation to publishing: networking.

And networking, much like marketing, is something that can make a lot of authors shiver. It sounds schmoozy. It sounds showy. It sounds… social. It can be all those things, but it’s in the way you approach it, and how you choose to do it.

Honestly, the better way of putting it is just making connections. And if we’re going to be even more hand-holdy about it, it’s called making friends. I know, that’s totally scary, too.

This past week is a great example of how networking has helped my career, and shaped me into the person - and writer - that I am today.

Let’s start with Kate Karyus Quinn and Demitria Lunetta. These are two authors I met through the Class of 2k13 - a group of children’s authors who debuted in 2013, and banded together for support. Kate and Demitria and I have gone on to work on multiple projects together - including the anthology Among the Shadows, and the upcoming Betty Bites Back: Stories to Scare the Patriarchy.

With Betty Bites Back nearing publication, we’ve been in contact every day, 24/7 - and I do mean that. Whether it’s Slack, emails, or text, there is a constant line of communication open between the three of us. Without the connections - networking - I made by joining the Classof2k13, these two anthologies wouldn’t exist. And neither would quite a few road trips, panels, workshops sessions, and some stories about Mindy when she’s had too much to drink.

What else? I’ve got an on-going text conversation with my friend and fellow Ohio author Kurt Dinan. We text, and often call each other to air ideas, try out a new plot, or just honestly, bitch a lot.

The same is true of Kamerhe Lane, who has a short in Betty Bites Back. She is my PitchWars mentee and we share an agent. Just last week she ran two pitches past me, and can I just say - she is one hell of a talented author.

Just scrolling through my texts I see a conversation I had with David Arnold, who reached out to ask me about some specifics of bodily harm for his newest novel. I get those questions a lot. Sometimes I know the answer, and sometimes I don’t. When the latter happens, I rely (heavily) on Lydia Kang - a practicing doctor and novelist who I also met through Class of 2k13.

Madeleine Roux was in my neck of the woods recently and we took advantage of a long ride to the airport (okay, okay so I got turned around while we talking, alright?) to talk about publishing - and how to survive it. Writers need these conversations to keep ourselves sane.

I see texts in my recent conversations from Brittany Cavallaro and Kendare Blake - we’re all going to be at the same event coming up (soon-ish) and I reached out to see if we can not-so-accidentally cross paths there. I’ve toured with both of them, and I know good people when I meet them!

There’s Natalie D. Richards in my emails - another Ohio author. We’re trying to put together an event soon, since we don’t get to see each other enough.

I’ve got a note here to myself to text Jeff Zentner and SL Duncan about some questions I have about the manuscript I’m working on. They’re both lawyers, and I need their lawyer brains.

That’s just this past week. That’s how much I rely on other authors, and how much I’m relied upon. When we talk about a writing community, this is what we mean. We’re supportive, helpful, and kind. If only the same were true of all workplaces!

Liz Coley On Some Hard Truths About Publishing

It’s time for a new interview series… like NOW. No really, it’s actually called NOW (Newly Omniscient Authors). This blog has been publishing since 2011, and some of the earlier posts feel… dated. To honor the relaunch of the site, I thought I’d invite some of my past guests to read and ruminate on their answers to questions from oh-so-long-ago to see what’s changed between then and now.

Today’s guest is Liz Coley, fellow Ohioan who has been writing long and short fiction for teens and adults for more than ten years. Her short fiction has appeared in Cosmos Magazine and several speculative fiction anthologies: The Last Man, More Scary Kisses, Strange Worlds, Flights of Fiction, Winter's Regret, and You Are Not Alone.

In 2013, psychological thriller Pretty Girl-13 was released by HarperCollins and HarperCollins UK in print, eBook, and audiobook editions. Foreign translations have been published in French, Spanish, German, Portuguese, Swedish, Norwegian, Russian, Czech, Slovakian, Traditional and Simplified Chinese.

Has how you think (and talk) about writing and publishing changed, further into your career? 

Last time around this blog, oh back in 2012 or so, I wrote, “Relax and trust the people who’ve done this hundreds of times.” I don’t feel that way anymore. There’s a saying in author circles, that if you stick around long enough, eventually anything that can happen will happen to you or someone you know. Publishers have folded, contracts have been cancelled, the ever-revolving door of junior editors has broken up author-editor teams, and agents have betrayed their clients. I’ve kind of lost faith that anyone can predict anything in this crazy biz. And yet they keep trying.

Let’s talk about the balance between the creative versus the business side of the industry. Do you think of yourself as an artiste or are you analyzing every aspect of your story for marketability? Has that changed from your early perspective?

I had a revelation about my brand: apparently, I write library books. Books that are empathetic and well-written, about interesting issues and interesting humans. They are readable and the kind of book a teacher or librarian or mom would want to hand to the kid in need. I also know this isn’t what the publishers are looking for. Not high concept or sensational. Not a multibook YA fantasy romance. I’ve seen my rejection feedback; the editors may praise the writing, but say, sorry this isn’t a breakout story for the market today. Yeah. Duh. I knew that.

I’m fortunate in that I don’t have to earn a cent. In fact, I pledged away all my first-sale income to a worthy cause. So I write stories I think are important, and that’s why it breaks my heart a little that no one wants to publish them. There are gatekeepers, and I don’t consciously write to please them, to my detriment, I guess.

The bloom is off the rose… what’s faded for you, this far out from debut?

The year I sold Pretty Girl-13, a lot of things changed. I believed that my ten years of writing and attending workshops and reading books on craft and submitting short stories were finally paying off. This was the cusp. The threshold from Liz’s life part I to Liz’s life part 2. I was also on the cusp of a significant round number birthday. I said to my husband, “I’m really excited for this next decade.” I made a lot of valued writing friends, I spoke to marvelous kids at a few schools and a lot of festivals, I won a few awards, and I received letters from people who said my book had changed their path in life.

The energy of that launch period carried me through the unforeseen disappointments—my editor rejected two manuscripts for my option and released me; although I wrote three additional manuscripts after those, my agent failed to sell anything; there were betrayals of trust and financial shenanigans. And now, it wasn’t . . .

You know what this reminds me of? It reminds me of a huge windstorm in Columbus that brought down a maple tree in our yard. My oldest son, about twelve at the time, very excitedly asked if he would be allowed to use an ax to cut up the tree. About ten minutes later, he came into the house and reported sadly, “That wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

So, yeah. Publication was awesome. But the writing life? I’ve been hacking at that tree for almost twenty years. It wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be.

Likewise, is there anything you’ve grown to love (or at least accept) that you never thought you would?

In my dark night of the soul, with twelve and two half manuscripts under my belt, one sale, and five self-pubs that net me about $25 a year, I decided to try something different to fight the despair. I enrolled in a week-long immersive playwriting masterclass at the university. Changed my life.

Playwriting plays to my strengths—brevity, dialogue, character. The ten-minute plays that rolled off my laptop that week were deep, playful, engaging, and most of all, appreciated by the actors who voiced them, the instructors, and my first audiences. The immediate gratification of this art was an overwhelming experience, and I began developing another whole network of supportive friends in theatre. After three years of masterclasses, I became a TA, I’ve accumulated a small inventory of works to submit and/or self-produce, I founded Next Stage Cincinnati Playwrights, and my work has been performed in San Diego and Cincinnati.

And lastly, what did getting published mean for you and how has it changed (or not changed!) your life?

Getting published means that one of my tales swims in the eternal sea of story-telling, like an imperishable plastic straw among the millions. Even though to date, I haven’t replicated that success, I remind myself to be content with what I have achieved: the ongoing reviews from people who stayed up all night reading; the letters I continue to receive from people with Dissociative Identity Disorder in their own lives or those of someone close to them; the recognition of librarians and teenagers who call it a favorite book; and the simple fact that my kids have a copy of their mom’s book on their own bookshelves. The fans have been the greatest gift, and on top of that, there’s a beer waiting for me in Prague as thanks for mailing an autographed Czech edition to a man to give his girlfriend. 

In terms of changing my life, because I haven’t gotten back on the all-absorbing post-release merry-go-round, I have had the time to sing at church, watch Netflix while I exercise, write plays, volunteer in literacy, captain a tennis team, and work on political campaigns. I suppose, in that sense, it is better that my publishing experience didn’t end up consuming all of me.