The Saturday Slash

Don't be afraid to ask for help with the most critical first step of your writing journey - the query.

I’ve been blogging since 2011 and have critiqued over 200 queries here on the blog using my Hatchet of Death. This is how I edit myself, it is how I edit others. If you think you want to play with me and my hatchet, shoot me an email.

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My thoughts are in blue, words to delete are in red, suggested rephrasing is in orange.

When 13-year-old Morgan Lane, gifted with a superhuman memory, inherits an ancient, mystical chronometer he owns more than world’s most accurate timepiece. It’s a time machine that can transport him to versions of Earth that exist in timelines before and after our own planet. This got a little stick for me in terms of what that actually means - so he can time travel, but it's also alternate universes? I'd try using that phrasing instead, as I had to sort this one out. But, of course, it’s more than that. It bestows on Morgan another special gift.

Suddenly implanted into Morgan’s mind is a memory and a magical spell forgotten by Princess Leila, a prisoner in Doomguard on a different version of Earth; a spell that, if she could just remember it, will save her life and the world she lives in, one in which dinosaurs and apes have evolved into intelligent, non-human, beings. I don't really understand why the chronometer would not only travel through time in alternate dimensions, and ALSO have a very specific person's memory/spell infused in it. In literally all the times in all the possible worlds, it's got Leila's well being in mind?

Together with Lin Rainbow, his sassy adopted sister from Trinidad who possesses an enchanted amulet, What does the amulet do? What's the power it bestows? Morgan finds himself on an Earth with two moons, where evolved saurians and sapiens are close to war over a precious resource - water. Is this Doomguard, Leila's home? I'd put this paragraph in front of the one before it, identify the dinosaurs and apes here, rather than the above para. Then, illustrate that Morgan has picked up Leila's memory and they need to save her. It will eliminate some of the wording in the para above, which is a bit weighty and convoluted.

Morgan and Lin must save Leila, the way this is written it sounds like the save her first, then do these other things cross the deadly Fleshwarp swamp, find their way through the nightmarish tunnels of Droth and the Soundless Plain to the Forest of Gloom. They face dangers from renegade creatures, mechanical animoids, aerial dragons and slither snakes before reaching the fortress of Doomguard, then rescuing Leila and returning her spell.

But it is just five days till Leila’s execution.

I seek representation for my 42k, middle-grade SF/fantasy Earthscape (first of proposed Timeline Chronicles). It would appeal to young readers of ‘A Wrinkle In Time’, ‘Brightstorm’ and ‘Fablehaven’.

I have been published by HarperCollins and Orion and self-published adult and children’s fiction. I have been long listed for several awards including the Page Turner awards. Great bio!

Overall I think you're in pretty good shape, although I would streamline by changing the order of those two main body paragraphs, giving you space to whittle down the overburdened one.

Ann Putnam on Ode to Motherhood

By: Ann Putnam

I'm trying to write a story called “Zoe’s Bear,” which has a deadline right around the corner. It will eventually become part of the novel, I Will Leave You Never, which will be published this May. I began it on the drive home from Glacier National Park, where we'd taken the children not knowing a grizzly bear had just killed three people. The experience of the bear was far more real to me than to them.  They thought it was a grand adventure and loved wearing bare bells tied to their shoes. The terror of that bear has never left me, nor the sense that I would never be big enough or brave enough to protect my children from it, however it came. It began my thinking about motherhood and peril, and thus the urgency of writing this story.

I had worked for weeks in the margins of my life, ideas written on cereal boxes while cooking breakfast, on receipts, restaurant napkins, my car registration. I’ve become so interruptible that the expectation of interruption has become a habit of mind. But if I could just have a single day completely alone to get the fragments of ideas, phrases and lines, even a word here and there into some kind of magical and revelatory combination, I could go deeply into the very heart of what I most need to say.    

This is the story of that day.

I’ve cancelled classes, the kids are all at school, and at last I’m alone.  The day stretches out full of possibility. I sit at my computer and take a deep breath of gratitude.  But I hear voices that do not speak, footsteps and no one's there. Unaccustomed as I am to this silence, I hardly know what to do. Yet this day is what I've wanted for so long—uninterrupted, unambiguous time, hour after precious hour. 

I had decided ahead of time that I was not going to answer the phone. Yet when the phone rings an hour later, of course I answer it. It's my little girl’s school.  She’s in the nurse’s room, throwing up, could I please come and get her?  She was fine this morning!  But with kids, these things turn on a dime. So of course I’m out the door, only stopping for my purse and a towel and pan for the ride home.  She’s lying curled up in a ball on the cot in the nurse’s room, hugging her coat. Her face is damp and flushed. When did this happen?  She’d danced out of the house and slid into her carpool’s backseat, blew me a kiss.  

But now my little girl is in her bedroom, fast asleep. I’ve checked on her about a dozen times, telling myself that if she had a fever, it’s gone now, but keep a lookout. I don’t trust this strange suddenness. Then it’s after lunch, and I'm settled into my writing space. I look out into the woods, crack open a window and the air floats cool over my skin. I can do this after all.

My dog, my eighty-five pound black and white shadow friend, is lying under the computer table, chewing on an old tube sock. Time flies, then stops, as she crawls out from under the table. She's making a funny noise, sort of like choking or gagging. I start to rush her outside, but whatever was going to come up must have gone back down, because now she's standing there, looking up at me, wagging her tail. Then I notice that the sock is gone. Bring her right over, the vet says.  I scoop up my daughter, who’s still half asleep, buckle her into her car seat, and hand her the pan and towel. Her eyes look funny.  She really is running a fever. 

The X-rays, examination, and diagnosis pretty well took the rest of the afternoon. It was lucky you were home today, the vet said, this could have been life-threatening. Ah, there it is—the presence of that bear and the necessity for my constant vigilance. But I get weary keeping track of it all. I look at my daughter in the rear-view mirror. She’s fallen asleep, which is just as well. The dog is nestled as close to her as she can get.  We’re all tucked in now. All safe.  At least for now. I’ve done everything I can to keep that bear away, with my secret chants, tokens, charms, cruciferous vegetables, vitamins, seat belts, mittens, and scarves—incantations all, against certain unspoken things.

I pull into the driveway, and just sit there, looking at the waiting house.  It’s about time for my little boys to be coming up the hill from the bus top.  Party’s over.                    

We would watch to see if the sock reappeared, which I'm happy to report it did quite unceremoniously, the next day.  Well, you can't live real life with pets and kids without, say,  somebody putting a bean up their nose, though all of this makes me feel that there really is too much of everything. I do not know what the answer is to this conflict between one’s attachments and one’s work in the world, because I have never learned how to be two places at once and I do not know how to love either any less. Other than death, I do believe that having a child is probably the most life-altering experience a person can have. Certain ways of feeling and thinking are changed forever. What I do know is this: even as they diminish my capacity for work, the tugs and pulls of those I most love have enriched that work in strange and wondrous and continuously surprising ways.

Ann Putnam is an internationally-known Hemingway scholar, who has made more than six trips to Cuba. Her novel, Cuban Quartermoon, came, in part, from those trips, as well as a residency at Hedgebrook Writer’s Colony. She has published the memoir, Full Moon at Noontide:  A Daughter’s Last Goodbye (University of Iowa Press), and short stories in Nine by Three:  Stories (Collins Press), among others. Her second novel, I Will Leave You Never, will be published this spring. Her literary criticism appears in many collections and periodicals. She holds a PhD from the University of Washington and has taught creative writing, gender studies and American Literature for many years.  She is finishing a third novel, The World in Woe and Splendor.

India Holton on the Inspiration for The Secret Service of Tea and Treason

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. 

Today’s guest for the WHAT is India Holton, author of The Secret Service of Tea and Treason, the story of two rival spies who must brave pirates, witches, and fake matrimony to save the Queen.

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?

The Secret Service of Tea and Treason originated with the character of Daniel Bixby, who was the hero’s butler in The League of Gentlewomen Witches. I hadn’t intended him to be anything more than a bit player, but then he walked into a scene with his deadpan attitude and his sexy glasses, and I was instantly smitten. Plus the gossip network of servants to which he belonged intrigued me, if you’ll pardon the pun. 

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

This is the most fun part of the writing process! When I have a concept, I first create a blurb for it, which is just a few lines capturing the heart of what I want to tell. If it’s impactful, I know I’m onto something. Then I write a synopsis of the plot. I work on this for quite a while, layering in hooks and character arcs until I have a comprehensive overview of the story that still gives me breathing space while writing. This approach helps me see very quickly if a plot is engaging and will hold its momentum.

Another thing I find helpful is to have a few scenes vividly in mind so I’m sure my imagination as well as my intellect are up to the job. Ironically, the scene that I used as a foundation for Tea and Treason’s plot ended up being just one line in the book!

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

Always! This is why I use the synopsis method rather than a detailed plan. It’s like having a blueprint of a house and then being free to decorate each room, maybe even take down a wall or two. For example, the main characters in Tea and Treason, true to their rule-obeying nature, tried to follow the synopsis nicely, but the side characters went off on tangents, created unexpected twists, and generally had a field day with my ideas.    

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

They used to come thick and fast, but these days they’ve slowed right down, probably because I’ve developed a better sense of what ideas will work as a novel. This is a relief, because having a wealth of stories you can’t wait to write is less fun than it sounds! 

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

I look at my body of work thus far and what I want to do with my brand going forward. I consider the market and consult with my agent. Then I make a rational decision wild guess based on that. 

I have 6 cats and a Dalmatian (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’m not able to have pets in my current home so unfortunately am catless for the first time in my life, which is a sore trial to me. Writing goes so much more easily when you have a purring ball of fluff curled up on your lap. On the other hand, I recently puppy-sat for a couple of weeks and barely got any work done. Puppies and writing are not a productive mix! 

National bestselling author India Holton lives in New Zealand, where she grew up running barefoot around islands, wandering forests, and messing about in boats. She writes historical fantasy romcoms featuring unconventional women and charming rogues. Both her books have been Indie bestsellers, Amazon Editors Picks, and featured on several Best Of lists. The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels was a New York Times Notable Book of 2021. India's writing is fuelled by tea and thunderstorms.