By Jove.

Yesterday, Miss Snark posted a question about how one would go about writing a short hook for a novel with multiple protagonists. Being that my novel has two main protagonists who kind of serve as shadow selves of each other, this is a question I've been pondering myself. When I was writing my hook for my Crapometer entry back in December, I couldn't figure out how to fit both of my protags and their distinct storylines into 300 words or less, so I ended up picking the one that gives the best idea of the overall plot. That didn't go over so well, and it gave a lot of people the wrong idea of what my book's about.

This new discussion got me to obsessing about my hook again. It may seem a little premature to do so, seeing as how the book's only a third of the way done, but as I'm sure I've said before here at some point, I think writing a hook is a good exercise for honing your plot and figuring out exactly what your story's about. Plus, it's motivating. At least for me.

So after obsessing on it all night, I think I've got it: a hook that includes both of my protagonists and their separate stories, as well as the overarching plot that combines them. I did it in about 400 words. I'd like to whittle it down by 50-100 words if I can figure out how to do so without losing the integrity of the thing. At least I've still got plenty of time to pare it down.

As Michael Chambers wraps up the last day of shooting his hit supernatural TV series before it goes on summer hiatus, he's looking forward to some down time before beginning publicity tours and summer film projects; but when his ex-girlfriend and current personal assistant shows up with her cat in tow needing a place to stay, he's too nice a guy to refuse her. When he accidentally lets her cat run away, he's too responsible not to go look for it. When the cat turns out to be a shape-shifting trickster who abducts Michael and delivers him to the militant daughter of the Faerie Queen, he's too wigged out to stick around and hear what she wants. And when his attempts to get home reveal a hidden Faerie world full of violence and terror that is about to spill over into his own world, Michael must decide whether he's too much of a coward to take part in the princess's plan to prevent it.

The trickster has been tricked. The pooka, a shape-shifter who gets his kicks playing cruel practical jokes, has met his match in the princess. He must now perform three tasks to win back his freedom. The first two are simple: get close to the actor, and bring him to the princess. It's the third that proves a challenge, as he must pose as Michael and carry on his life so that no one notices he's gone. The pooka's weakness for human women, and the consequences he would face for indulging that weakness, have for ages kept him from impersonating a human, so he's a little out of practice. The only person close enough to Michael to unwittingly provide the pooka with the guidance he needs is Claire, Michael's beautiful assistant, who is still struggling with feelings for her former lover. The pooka just wants to finish his task and get out of this mess with his immortality intact so that he can return to the simple life of pleasing only himself.

As one world stands on the brink of a war which would bring destruction to the other, Michael's and the pooka's paths eventually intertwine as one discovers the mystery of his past and what it means to possess true power, one discovers the mysteries of humanity and what it means to love someone other than himself, and both discover the sacrifices required of those who would be heroes.

I'm excited about this hook. Looking at it as objectively as possible, this describes a book I would love to read. That means it's a book I'd also love to have written. That last part is what's going to keep me going when I find myself slogging through the second act, trying to fit all of the pieces together and in desperate need of a second wind.

When Writing Plans Go Awry--oops, wrong era!

I've discovered, much to my astonishment, that I've got a chick lit novel lurking in my brain. No magic, no vampires or fairies, no tragically epic or epically tragic romance, just a woman with failed ambitions who changes directions in life and learns some Very Important Lessons about life and love, and hopefully draws a few laughs in the process. It made itself known to me over the weekend, tempting me with its siren song to join it and forsake all others.

Of course, I'm at the point in my current novel where this always happens, about the same point I was at in my first attempt to write it when I thought, "Hey, maybe I should write a romance novel!" and set it aside to do just that, before setting that aside to focus on the romance that had become my life. I always get almost to the halfway point and then get A Better Idea, or at least a New And Therefore More Attractive To My Short Attenion Span Idea, and decide it's so good that I'd better get started on it before I forget and it's gone forever, and this is exactly why I never finish a manuscript.

The New Idea is made even more tempting by the Crapometer reader comments I received telling me that my little faerie tale is so derivative and unoriginal that it's not even worth telling. This despite the fact that those comments were only a few amidst a dozen or so more encouraging notes (and as you can probably tell by this post's title, I'm more annoyed by the personal nitpick comments than by the unoriginal accusations. But still, ow). They say it takes at least seven positive comments to undo the effects of a negative one; I think it takes a lot more than that to assuage the writer ego. Even so, I think my little faerie tale is worth telling, if for nothing else than the simple fact that it wants to be told, and both getting it out of my system and completing a damn novel will do me worlds of good, even if nobody but my friends ever reads it.

One unexpectedly useful thing I think this whole hook-writing business has taught me, though, is that writing hooks is a good way of shaping a story. If you put the hook first it becomes a mini-outline and helps to narrow the focus of what, precisely, the book is about. So I wrote a hook for the New Idea and filed it away to revisit after I'm done drafting my faerie tale. Simply telling that much of the story satisfied it enough that it's content now to wait its turn. And I think writing a hook for an idea is also a good way to tell if you really have a story there. So useful. So helpful. So much more thanks due the mighty Miss Snark. If I kiss her rear-end, it's because she's earned it.

Anyway, back to the chick lit that's suddenly infecting my brain. What's that all about? It's not really a genre I go out of my way to read. Or watch. I mean, I only watched both Bridget Jones' Diaries on cable, and only for the Firth factor. I never read the books or any of the dozens of knock-offs. Okay, there's Mary Janice Davison's Undead And... series, but at least that has vampires, so it still fits comfortably in my urban fantasy/horror cozy blanket of reading pleasures. But then there are also Pamie's novels, the first of which I bought mainly out of blogger solidarity and a lingering sense of MBTV loyalty and, by the way, LOVED, and the second of which I finally got around to buying yesterday. And there's my recent addiction to the ongoing chick-lit-disguised-as-medical-drama that is Grey's Anatomy. So I guess it's not that weird, being both a member of the target demographic and having fairly recent personal, relatable experience with the whole 'round-thirty-and-still-single dynamic that seems to form the foundation of chick lit, that my subconscious would start forming ideas that fall into that category. I don't think I need to be alarmed that this signifies a change of tastes or, horrors, that I've attained a certain level of maturity.

Whatever it is, at least I know what I'll be doing after The Hero Factor is finished.

Crapometer Ho

Like a good little Snarkling, I fired off my hook as close to 7:00 (CST) last night as my connection would let me. Then around 11 I began to worry that it was awful, she'd hate it and I'd never get my first pages read, so in my peppermint scnapps enhanced panic I sent in a revision. When my mom kicked me off her computer and kicked me out soon after, I went to bed fretting that sending an unasked for revision would get me disqualified from the whole thing.

I guess not, though, because my original hook is posted at #63, along with her comments (and those of some of her readers). Miss Snark herself called it not half bad, but admitted that she just doesn't get my genre. The reader comments are mostly positive so far--a couple of accusations of being unoriginal and ripping off Galaxy Quest (a movie that I'd honestly forgotten all about until they mentioned it, though I'm sure it's stuck in my subconscious somewhere providing some influence) mixed with suggestions on how to make it more original and a few commenters even declaring they'd at least give the first few pages a try if they didn't decide to read the whole book then and there. So all in all I'm feeling pretty good about it. No idea yet whether Miss Snark will let me submit my story pages, but even if she doesn't, at least I've finally figured out how to write a decent query hook.

As for the revision, I'll never know whether she'd have liked it better--she just e-mailed me to let me know it's been deleted because I forgot to grant her permission to post it. I'd berate the schnapps for causing my memory lapse, but they made my hot chocolate so much tastier that I can't get mad at them. Anyway, for posterity's sake, here's my second hook.

Michael Chambers is a nice guy. Five years as a leading man in a hit TV series hasn't managed to drive the nice out of him. So when his ex needs a place to stay while her apartment's fumigated, of course he says yes. She can even bring her cat. When the cat runs away, Michael goes out to look for it, because that's the kind of guy he is. That is, until the cat transforms into a perfect double of Michael and delivers him to a militant faerie princess who wants to borrow him for a little spell. Michael may be nice, but he's not a putz.

After refusing the princess, he's free to go; but he finds getting home is more than a simple matter of calling a cab when it turns out nobody can see or hear him--at least, nobody human. He's trapped in a version of Los Angeles where ogres roam the subways, faeries are technology junkies, and the opposing faerie courts are preparing to go to war--a war that will naturally have devastating consequences on the entire human race. As Michael learns the stakes, he realizes that what's needed is not a nice guy actor. What's needed is a badass hero. What's needed is his alter ego, Simon Caufield, a supernatural superhero with an uncanny ability to both get his way and get things done.

Good thing a certain princess knows just the spell to make Simon real.