Present tense equals walls or freedom?

A lot has been said recently about the lack of correctness or lack of natural feel with a novel written in the present tense. What if a book written in past tense feels false for the very tense that's being acclaimed as right and best?

There are many writers turning to the present tense, especially in young adult novels. Is it a trend or a desire to stay in the "now"?

For me, writing in the present tense if done right, will leave readers feeling like they are reading the messiness of a possible real life. Much like reality t.v. shows that rope people in, it's real and it can get messy.

And it's current.

In the past tense, an author is  telling the reader, "I shaped this story, I wrote this." In the present tense, there seemingly isn't an author, just a point-of-view character. This character makes mistakes in his or her summation of events sometimes. Sometimes those mistakes are very clear to the reader and sometimes they aren't. But in the character' actions in a present tense novel, the reader traverses this life. In a past tense novel, the reader is told about this life.

Much like reality t.v., in a present tense novel, the watcher sees the action as it's going down. Whereas in a constructed television show, the watcher is conscious these series of events are shaped, edited and portrayed by actors. And none of it's real.

Of course, many believe (including me) that reality t.v. is just as constructed, however, to the regular watcher tuning in, they don't believe it. Or else they don't care because it feels real. After all  it is real. Snooki does get drunk; Brad does actually have a huge fight with Jennifer. And in present tense books, the characters are fighting, eating, barfing--right then and there. There's no waiting, there's no being told about it after the fact.

I think a present tense novel allows readers to feel like they are living this moment in life with the narrator, or even fall into the story so thoroughly they feel they are living these moments themselves. It's current. And even re-reading, it's still current--it's still there. It's not over.
I wish there were studies done on how often people put a present tense novel down vs. past tense novel (or would a study like that even be possible?). In my opinion, more people would continue on reading a present tense book without pausing because they have the uncomfortable feeling it would continue on without them. They might miss something with the story that they are in. But in a past tense novel, there's always that division, that line - "I am being told a story. I can take a walk then pick this back up when I come back."

This is just my opinion. What do you think?

Some say present tense writers are following a trend. What about the story with a girl who dies at the end of the story? This story almost has to be written in the present tense. She's not around afterward to tell the story, so factually, this story has to be told in the present tense or else in third person (which I desire to do less than write in past tense). Trend here, no, just a desire to keep the writing correct in that she couldn't be retelling this story from the grave...unless she's a vampire.

I have no problem with past tense writers, either, and I don't automatically endorse present tense writers.
I'd merely like to open up the conversation...and maybe even take up for us writers who've delved into present tense works. There's been a lot of negative talk about writing in the present tense. Maybe I'd just like to balance that out. And clear the air about it too as there is plenty of incorrect information out there about it.

A popular fallacy with present tense novels is that they have to be told in a linear, non-breaking fashion. No, they don't. A reader can be dropped into a scene that's halfway over in order to view the important things. Days can be skipped, weeks even, just like in a past tense novel. No boring small talk just because we all know that would happen in real life. We just skip it and cut right to the stuff the moves the plot forward, just like any other narrative.

With that said, my favorite novels are written in past tense because my favorites are classics--it has nothing to do with the tense. I think I might like DAVID COPPERFIELD in spite of its tense now, not because of it.

Books written in past tense used to be easier for me to read. But now that I've gotten used to present tense books, it's not as fun or in the moment to read a past tense book. Many people just don't like present tense because it's different. Change is bad...right? I once had someone tell me she'd only read first person, past tense. I thought that was a good way to close yourself off to many good books, but we all have our preferences. What's yours? Past or present tense? First, second, or third POV? Have you ever read a book written in second person?

Another year older… Another year wiser

October has always been my favorite month of the year because it is rockin’ with fun stuff to do. There’s football, oysters, fall festivals, Halloween parties, scary movies, scary pranks and haunted houses. And when I moved to Alabama I was introduced to even more fun things - the Peanut Festival, Harvest Day Festival and all kind of other events held in the month because the weather is just better.
But even though all of these events are great, they can’t surpass a very important day in my life - my birthday!Yes, your beloved newspaper editor and author will turn thirty-seven tomorrow, and I am not afraid to admit it.
As a little girl I never understood the propensity for adults to dread their birthday coming. Now I understand it but, nevertheless, disagree with it. I understand you don’t want to get older. I’m sure you've heard the saying "Want in one hand and…” AA members have a more polite way of saying the same thing, “God give me the strength to accept that which I cannot change…” My point is your birthday is going to come no matter how much you wish it away, so find the good in it.
I have compiled a list below of reasons to enjoy your birthday no matter how old you are turning. Hopefully this will make that inevitable turning of age just a little bit easier to swallow.
1. You are a year wiser now. You've made mistakes and watched others make them. Hopefully you've learned from them and are that much wiser for it. Also, eventually you will be out of mistakes. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.
2. Reverse psychology. Everyone else is overjoyed that it’s your birthday and loves to make fun. If you act happy about it, people don’t have as much fun giving you a hard time. It’s like pretending you aren't ticklish so someone will quit tickling you.
3. It is actually the day of your birth. Aren't you happy your parents had the forethought to bring you into this world? Of course you are and so are your friends and family. And for the people belonging to the "oops" category, and this includes me, your parents were still just as happy to see your screaming, red face on delivery day. So get happy about it too.
4. And my fourth and final thought about celebrating your birthday - enjoy it, rejoice in it, revel in it. You do realize what the alternative is….

Home

Some of my best memories are from home. And what I call home is not the house my parents purchased: not a home I lived in while I was in my teens; nor was it my great-aunt’s home where many of my life's problems and goals were discussed. Home was Granny's house and all the little pleasurable things that surrounded it.

The history of Granny’s home in Florida is admirable.
My grandmother and grandfather married young and did not have very much money. But they worked hard and soon built a home by themselves (with the exception of a few relatives). I am not sure which came first, the house or children, but they had one girl and two boys.
They added on to the home when they adopted the four children belonging to my grandmother’s sister—she had passed away. I believe the youngest of those children was about five.
So, with all of the responsibility she already had and the new ones acquired, my grandmother was still able to create the fondest memories for them and their children. The nature of her personality took care of almost everything. Mother Nature took care of the rest.

Let us go back in time to the smells. A smell bordering on bad comes from the back room. It is the yeast coming from rising dough. She is making homemade cinnamon buns, yes buns since they’re too big to call rolls. They are as big as two of my seven-year-old fists. Then she bakes them and prepares the icing. The aroma of cinnamon and vanilla pervade the furthermost corner of the house and my mind. I can’t think of anything else but those sweet, gooey pastries.

“Are they done yet, Granny?” I ask for the fifth time.

Then there are the mental pictures stored away. Crepe myrtle trees cradle the driveway like the precious path that it is. The nurturing arms are blooming the sweetest pink petal that float to the drive like a dream. The trees blossom often but they seem prettier every year. This is so lovely my eight-ear-old mind can’t understand why this picture isn’t on everyone’s walls.

Sounds. Can I describe the sounds well enough to convey how special they were? Every Sunday the whole bunch got together and had lunch. It was such fantastic chaos. Her seven children along with their children came together for a day of food, play-time and catching up on each other’s lives.

BANG!

“Melanie, I’m going get after you if you slam that door again,” Aunt Sara says.

“That wasn’t me; it was Sally.”

“Are you watching her out there?” Aunt Terry asks.

“Yes ma’am."

“Debra, did you boil the potatoes?” Granny asks. “You know what happened last time.”

Everyone laughs. One day our potato salad was made with raw cubed potatoes. It was a case of too many cooks. No one turned the burner on, but each one thought the other turned it off.

“Yes,” Aunt Debra says. “But I have a new recipe I want to try.”

“Remember to keep some out for me before you add relish,” my mother says.

“Amy, go out the back door – you’re letting the cold air out.”

“Yes ma’am,” Amy replies.

I start follow Amy out. Melanie, Amy and I are going to make sand castles.

“Lisa, you haven't given me a hug yet,” Granny says.

This episode leads me to the feelings part. My grandmother has mentioned a hug three or four times since I've been here. I am ten now and feel too old for hugs, but I know she will eventually get one. I have to walk out the back door, which is beside the bench she is sitting on.
“Ah-ha-ha. I got me one,” Granny sings in the childish voice she uses when she teases us, and then she grabs me and squeezes.

Hugs. She thought about that bit of affection continuously, and I knew it.

You see, she loved all of her children. That feeling of unconditional love came through in her hugs, her cooking and even her discipline. My grandmother’s love has never been replicated in my life, and it is unlikely it ever will.

I love you too, Granny. You are my Grand Mother. I miss you.

Oh Holiday!

by Lisa Terry

Editor

I have come to the conclusion that there are two types of holiday people in this world, and each of the groups think they are better than the other.

I shall explain. I was in a department store the other day and noticed prettily decorated Christmas trees on display. I was shocked they were already out as I haven’t even thought of Halloween costumes yet. But there were two ladies looking them over who weren’t surprised at all; as a matter of fact, they were talking about how their Christmas preparations were coming along already.

"I’ve got all the grandkids' presents now - even Benny. You know, he’s at that age it’s hard to buy for, but I found him one of those electronic games," said the lady with a rather tall hair-do.

"Mm-hm. Linda is gonna get you if you keep calling him that," said the shorter lady.

"Pff. At least I got them young’uns something. I always wonder how she pulls off Christmas when she puts it off so long," Tall Hair said.

“Well bless her heart," Short lady said.

Their conversation went on but I quit listening. I, like Linda, haven’t started my Christmas planning and rarely do until the month of December begins. But here’s the interesting thing. I’m not ashamed of it. I am actually kind of proud of that fact.  I can get done in a few weeks what people like the above women get done in a few months. I have many family members that tut-tut over what they view as my lack of organization and preparation but they just don’t understand.

The craziness that I bring upon myself in December is fun. I wallow in the chaos of the season. I often think of my aunt’s and cousin’s preparations and say to myself "Bless their hearts. How can this be fun for them? They make it seem like work."  But I am wrong.

As much as I revel in the chaos of the season, they revel in the planning and creative thinking they put into the holiday. So I am calling a truce. I will no longer pity you if you no longer pity me.

Everybody Knows a Person Like This

I did this exercise recently where you had to tell a story with no narration.

“What are we gonna do?”
“Mmm. This coffee is good, Tooki. What to do about the bushes… Should we do anything?”
“Yes, we should do something. You didn’t hear the commotion when she came in last night - this morning actually. Ruined my hibernation. Coffee is kona blend.”
“I thought your fur looked ruffled. Kona blend? Are you sure? I usually don’t-”
“Kodan, shut-up about the coffee. I say we intervene. We’ll have a conversation with Jada about how her behavior is unacceptable. She’s old enough to know better… and her pollinator only dead two weeks. Breaks my heart.”
“I don’t know. I think some of the males are to blame. They should keep their pistons in their pants…”
“I could say the same for her. She should keep her petals togeth-”
“Shshsh.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a human. Get under the table.”
“Kodan, look at the cute little girl- Oh no! The sun’s beaming and Jada will open to its rays.”
“I know, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“Stop her.”
“Be reasonable. How can I warn her without frightening the little-”
“It’s happening. See her petals trembling? She’ll open up and Jada’s too pretty not to be picked, Kodan.”
“Maybe she won’t. Oh...”
“I can’t look. It’s too sad.”
“Open your eyes, Tooki. The girl just left.”
“Maybe Jada will be a pressed flower. She would be beautiful resting in the pages of a journal.”
“Come on. Coffee is getting cold.”
“I’m going to miss her. Jada was a good friend to me. She was a beautiful soul. Like my best friend.”
“Really?”
“Like sisters.”
“What? Earlier you all but called her a floozy.”
“Kodan, quit being so quarrelsome. Wait til I tell the others. Everyone will feel so badly for me. My best friend…”

Press release?

Have you ever had something in your hand one minute and the next it is gone? Poof! into thin air. How can that be?.

It can't always be my fault. There is someone somewhere pulling my strings and putting distractions in my way. But losing things may not be my only problem.

I have a press release in my hands. I am about to pull some quotes from it along with tech­nical information for the award-winning article that I am about to write. (If it doesn't win any awards, it is sure to make some new drug-dealer enemies).

I open the appropriate window on my computer, then click into the box. I pick up my press release... I pick up my press release... I pick up…. Where is that sneaky piece of paper?

I look through my document holder, where it is supposed to be. There's that press conference notice, my personal mail, little notebook, caption notes (that can go in the garbage). There's that phone number I was looking for earlier. Why did I throw that away? Good. I can call the Lions Club about that barbecue. No answer.

I know - the president of the club came by yesterday. I bet he can help me.

Now what was I doing?

Oh, press release.  

Where’s that press release? Why am I always losing things?

I must have laid it back on the scanner. That’s where I had it before. There’s the Kid’s Day announcement. I wonder if I’ll be able to take the girls. Let’s see. Maybe I can pull double duty - cover it and attend with my children. Wednesday night is good. I’ll call for tickets. Wait, there is a Website. Took care of that. Now what was I doing? Press release!

Look on your desk. There’s the information on the store. I still need to have a review written about that. Focus!

Here’s a press release. Nope - It’s about fire department training. Another release, fire prevention week. Here is the Alzheimer’s training announcement. Did I put that on my schedule?

Now that is done. I won’t forget to attend it. Where is that press release? I just cannot find it. Was it emailed? I bet it was emailed.

Let’s see. There’s the Kiwanis Club meeting, an engagement. There’s the mug shots from Headland P.D. It must have been faxed to me.

Mystery solved. Who put my press release back in the fax machine?

Until next time!

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Lisa Terry did a wonderful job editing my manuscript both in terms of catching those pesky typos (that we swear we checked for) as well as grammar comments and plot help. My MS in particular was weak in a few areas and she (very kindly) let me know where it was slow/disappointing and why. She also was willing to discuss possible fixes with me, which I found incredibly helpful. She is easy to work with and I'm so glad I won her first contest!!

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