Write
Now Literary is pleased to be organizing a two-week
book tour and book giveaway for Hearts Set Free by Jess Lederman. The book tour
will run January 18-29, 2021.
Book Title: Hearts Set Free
Genre: Literary Fiction/ Historical/Christian
ISBN-10 :
1098511093
ISBN-13 :
978-1098511098
A graduated with a degree in music from Columbia University, Jess Lederman is an author of Christian-themed fiction who lives with his wife and two young sons in the Pacific Northwest.
How to Write by the Seat of Your Pants:
Outline or No?
(or perhaps retitle this post, “Adventures in Plotting and Pantsing”
Jess
Lederman
While I was writing my first novel, Hearts Set Free,
I became convinced I was a plotter, not a pantser. The arc of the plot and key
scenes, especially in the climactic last third of the story, were clear in my
mind almost from the beginning. This provided tremendous inspiration—I couldn’t
wait to get to those scenes, and I didn’t allow myself to write them out of
sequence. As a debut novelist, having a detailed outline gave me great
confidence. I’m certainly not the only writer for whom starting a novel feels
like taking the first step toward climbing a towering mountain. You look up and
the peak is hidden, shrouded in mist. At least having a detailed route to the
summit allays some of the anxiety.
The plot of Hearts Set Free was clear in my mind; all I had to do was
the hard work of actually writing it. A little over two years later, I
completed the 129k word novel, which interweaves three different plot lines
over multiple time periods. It’s won a couple of awards, garnered critical
acclaim, and has been selling steadily since publication in March of 2019.
Success! Being a plotter had worked for me, and I resolved to stick with that
approach.
I was about to learn a very painful lesson.
I had the first embryonic ideas for my second novel in
the fall of 2018 and started work on it soon after Hearts Set Free was
released. As you can guess, my first priority was to create a detailed outline.
I was a bit concerned, because I wasn’t starting with the clear, overall vision
that I had for my first novel. So I allowed myself to jot down notes and ideas
and then hope they could eventually be shaped into an outline. I was so convinced
that a detailed outline was crucial that I spent one full year filling
notebooks with those notes and then reading them over and over.
No outline emerged.
The success of Hearts Set Free had given me
tremendous confidence, but had it been a fluke? Was I a one-hit wonder? Did I
have what it takes for the long haul? It seemed I had wasted an entire year!
Okay, Lederman, I told myself, this is all just a
colossal exercise in procrastination. You’re a writer—just write! Take that
germ of an idea and write by the seat of your #$%$ pants! At first I thought
that was exactly the right decision. I wrote two very decent chapters and then
realized it simply wasn’t the right story.
All right, I could deal with that. I started again, and
a few months later ground once more to a dead halt.
I was especially excited about the opening scene of my third reboot, made it through
five chapters—several of which received terrific feedback from prominent people
in the publishing industry--before once again crashing. It wasn’t a case of
writer’s block; I was simply convinced that I wasn’t writing the story I was
meant to write.
Finally, in June of 2020, everything came together. I
simply knew that I had the right story this time, and I’m on track to finish The
Ballad of Henry Midnight by this coming summer. My new approach is a blend
of plotting and pantsing. When I began to write, I had only a general idea of
the story’s arc, but I had what to me is the most important thing—characters
who were completely alive in my mind. In retrospect, there were twists and
turns in Hearts Set Free which in fact hadn’t been planned from the
start. My characters had simply taken matters into their own hands and led me
to see what needed to happen. Sure enough, the more I write by the seat of my
pants, the more the characters themselves fill in the (many!) blanks in my
outline. It’s an iterative process, writing and then outlining.
The idea for my third novel is something I’ve been
kicking around for nearly ten years, and I believe I’ll finally be ready to
write it. Will the technique I’m currently using work for that one as well? Who
knows! Writing is an adventure, I can’t wait to find out.
Seven Lives
Inexorably Intertwined. Over Eighty-Six Years. That Will Bring a Revelation
Beyond What Any of Them Could Imagine.
The Alaska
Territory, 1925. When Yura Noongwook’s husband abandons her and her
thirteen-year-old son, she vows to win him back and destroy the woman who stole
his heart. They embark on an epic cross-country quest that leads them to the
Nevada desert, where they meet a man who has turned into the last thing anyone
expected him to become …
David Gold.
Reno, 1930. A Bible-school dropout known as the Pummelin’ Preacher. His boxing
career is fading, just like his faith. But then a former call girl shows up,
tells him about the rag-tag congregation she’s part of; how their pastor was
murdered. And that the Spirit is moving and David’s destiny is to lead their
tiny flock.
Las Vegas,
2011. Cable TV star Tim Faber is an atheist bent on proving God is only alive
in people’s imaginations. But Joan Reed, his producer, is trying to recapture
the faith of her youth. And both of them are driven to unravel a mystery
surrounding the Big Bang theory, never dreaming the answer will forever change
their lives.
To do that,
they have to meet with the now 99-year-old Luke Noongwook and David Gold’s
grandson, Daniel.
The veil is
being pulled back, but none of them are prepared for what they’ll find on the
other
side.
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Chapter One
Luke and Yura: The
Alaska Territory, 1925
My father deserted my
mother and me when I was thirteen years
old. He had become
famous that winter on the Great Race of Mercy, one
of the Athabascan
mushers who brought diphtheria serum to Nome
and saved ten
thousand lives. He’d done the impossible, a blind run in
the howling darkness,
crossing the open ice of the Norton Sound, the
temperature falling
to sixty below, the sun a distant dream. He was our
hero, our North Star.
And then he was gone.
He left us, of
course, for a woman. A blizzard had hit him at
Unalakleet, a storm
so powerful that it travelled four thousand miles,
till at last it
reached New York and froze the Hudson River. The woman
lived in just that
far-away land, on the wild island of Manhattan, and
her name was Kathleen
Byrne. The Hearst papers had been giving the
Great Race front-page
headlines; Kathleen was a reporter, lean and
hungry, she’d go to
the ends of the earth for a good story, and one day
she got her chance.
No one in my hometown
of Nenana had seen anything like her,
a slender redhead
with emerald eyes, smoking Lucky Strikes and
exhaling expertly
through her nostrils, this coolly confident young
woman with fiery
hair.
She wanted details
that would bring the story to life, so Father
brought her to our
home to show off his sled dogs. At least, the ones
who’d survived, for
three he had raised since they were pups had died
on the trail.
Somewhere in the madness of that journey he’d forgotten
to cover their groins
with rabbit skins, and they’d perished of frostbite
in the unfathomable
cold.
I gaped at her stupidly.
“Excuse my son,” said
my mother. “He has no manners.”
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1 comment:
Thanks for the opportunity to appear on your blog!
Much appreciated,
Jess Lederman
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