Amy Reichert

Truth: Revision resembles a backyard filled with peanut butter slathered toddlers, wiggly puppies, and hungry grizzly bears. While chaotic and confusing, there is a lot of good stuff happening, great even, but what’s bad is horrible and fixing it requires finesse, heavy-duty tranquilizers, Dawn dish soap (peanut butter is tough to get off) and vats of cheap liquor. This week I’m tackling plot points, choosing more interesting actions to reflect my character’s personalities and push them toward certain actions. Some examples involve high-end stationary (did you know people pay $500+ for 100 notecards – insane), hidden identities, and bad gifts.…

Recently, many lovely friends have inquired about my book’s status. Are any agents reading it, am I working on a new book, and when will it be published? To which I reply: none, sort of, and Idonknow followed by a shoulder shrug. I usually add the vague and mysterious, I’m still revising. While my husband believes this is code for watching old episodes of True Blood and taking long naps, it really does mean something. Over the next few blogs, I’ll attempt to explain what revising includes and why it’s more than fixing comma mistakes. Writers and editors may have…

You know you’ve read a great book when after you finish, it lingers. Maybe it’s for just a few minutes, maybe for weeks, or maybe it never leaves and becomes a permanent part of you. Perhaps the beautiful language touched your poetic side, or the events unfolding aligned with your own experiences, or maybe a character was so familiar it was like looking in the mirror.  One of my many goals in writing is to create stories that linger, that hover about your head like you just woke up but can’t shake the dream you had. Good friends are just…

It’s spring break for me and the kiddos. While I’m prepping to do some major excavation in the manuscript, I thought it might be fun to list some of my all-time favorite books. Please note, this list is not in any order, nor is it final. And, dear reader, don’t forget to share your favorites in comments! Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak – Sendak tells the truth. Childhood is scary, lonely, and dangerous. Imagination doesn’t solve all our problems. Sometimes you just need your mommy. I have most of it memorized  – quiz me sometime. Too Many Frogs by…

I’ve been staring at my manuscript for a week now. It’s mostly yellow. Not from age or an inexplicable toner accident, but from a highlighting marathon. I can see from across the room exactly where I need to change things in the manuscript. Where I need more action, less telling, more description, a better transition…you get the point. So I know, boy, do I know. But how? It dawned on me, I’ve reached the heavy-lifting portion of the process. I’ve designed the building, drawn up the plans, dug the hole, and ordered the supplies. But now I have to build…

Time does funny things to memories. Childhood Christmases appeared more colorful with gifts piled so high around the towering tree you could barely see it, and delicious food strained every table with their fat-laden weight. In reality, you found four packs of Smurf underwear and a bag of M&M’s under a Charlie Brown tree while Uncle Ralph poured homemade hooch in the eggnog. You gilded your memory. Or maybe you have memories that make you cringe. Perhaps a verbal barf-fest committed in eighth grade English in front of the boy you liked, and you’re positive everyone noticed and still gossips…

Come on! When will Agent X get back to me? I haven’t heard from Editor Y, is that bad? I want to send out more query letters, but I haven’t revised. What do you mean my book couldn’t possibly be published until 2013 at the earliest? And, gosh darn it, I want to see my book made into a movie! Patience, young grasshopper. Like Kung Fu, the writing world overflows with wisdom passed from one generation to the next. Little nuggets of knowledge meant to make the evolution from novice to professional less painful. Perhaps you wouldn’t naturally compare the…

Once upon a time, The Writer toiled happily in her tower, glancing out the window for inspiration, living only on coffee and stale cookies. Magic flowed from her fingertips and stories wove onto the page. When The Writer finished, she passed her sparkling pages to The Editor, who lovingly polished it. When the story shimmered and twinkled, The Editor handed the story to The Publisher who made it real on crisp, crinkly paper. The Publisher shouted from the rooftops about the glorious tale held within the enchanted tome. The Readers eagerly read the text, and everyone lived happily ever after.…

So while I’m waiting for rejections all the offers of representation to appear, I’m starting Book 2.  Might as well be productive while I twiddle my thumbs (yeah – I know, that doesn’t make sense). When I began The Cake Effect, I didn’t even know I had started. It evolved on its own until it reached a point where I had to write it down. This time, I intend to write a book, a book I hope will sit on shelves someday. Let me tell you, dear reader, this kinda freaks me out. Book 1 floated around in my head…

I just trimmed my nails. I know, you’re thrilled – assuming you aren’t completely grossed out. So why bother telling you? In my odd little world, I rarely trim my nails. Not because I sport extended fingernails like Ginsu knives, but because they never make it that far. My nails usually break well before talon-phase, so they tend to hover around my fingertips, which is where I prefer them. Today, while typing, they kept clickety-clacking against the keyboard, never letting the skin touch the key. As a touch-typer, it’s disconcerting to not feel my fingers return to the home row,…