guest blogger: jenny martin, librarian extrodinaire
Monday, September 14th, 2009
When Jen asked me to post about advice I’ve gleaned from writers’ groups, I wasn’t sure what suggestions to give. After all, as a writer, I’m a novice. I have zero expertise to offer on the mechanics of writing.
But I am a librarian. As such, it’s my job to read widely and well. I’d like to think I’m acquainted with the transaction between reader and book. Perhaps an examination of this exchange could be helpful. After mulling over the helpful hints offered at AQ and writer’s workshop, I’m struck by a single question.
What happens when I read a good story?
Reading is an interactive experience, an emotional communion between the reader and the tale. If a story reaches me, touching my intellect and psyche in a meaningful way, I consume the story.
Or does the story consume me?
After reading a really good book, I absorb the emotional core of the plot and carry it with me. Although I may never read it again, it never leaves my subconscious. Like a talisman, I examine the tale each time I devour something new. I compare its characters, its setting and its message against those inside the novel in my hands.
A good story haunts the outposts of the soul.
If this is true, what implications does it have for the writer?
Simply put, if the writer’s setting, characters, themes and plot do not spark an emotional connection, the story dies. It is not carried on, it is not absorbed, and it does not take root in the consciousness of the reader. The story slips away, a vapor. It’s lost.
If your story is does not yet live in the heart of its reader, do not lose faith. Return to your characters. Reach inside of them and extract the essence of that which makes them real and vibrant. Close your eyes and experience the story through their eyes. Transfigure this experience until it fits comfortably on the page.
Then, with any luck, your story will either break the reader’s heart or heal it.
About the blogger:
Jenny Martin is a school librarian in the DFW area. She holds a Masters Degree in Library Science from the University of North Texas. She also reviews books and writes YA.



1. School is in.
2. Yesterday I noticed three blooms on my flower. Normally it only has two, and when I see another about to bloom I know that one flower will fall off before it gets a chance to open. This is the first time there have been three blooms all at once actually attached to the plant. I was pondering the reason why this made me so happy. It has to be that it was unexpected and it involved a pretty lilac colored flower that has a perfect yellow circle in the middle.
7. The forget-me-nots have grown, but why aren’t they flowering?
Dear to us are those who love us… but dearer are those who reject us as unworthy, for they add another life; they build a heaven before us whereof we had not dreamed, and thereby supply to us new powers out of the recesses of the spirit, and urge us to new and unattempted performances.
The dogs seemed uncharacteristically happy when I came home from dropping the kids off to school this morning. Lola hopped around wagging her tail and spinning in the only way a barrel tummied, bow-legged, bearded terrier can. She’d already been fed, watered and let loose in the backyard. I could only surmise that she knew what day it was. The start of 7 hours a day, five days a week where the only noises are Sam (my corgi mix) snoring and me punching the keyboard (or doing a little snoring myself–wait, I don’t snore). So I danced with her for a moment, letting her get her wiggles out and exclaiming that yes, I do know that the kids aren’t here.
too. There was definitely more action than in the Dessen novel (did I just compare YA fic with a western?) but it wasn’t up to McMurtry’s normal heart-pounding and gut-wrenching abilities. It wasn’t nearly as serious as the Lonesome Dove series but not as comedic as Sin Killer either. I get the feeling it was written for fun–as an easy-going western. That said, it was still superbly written with McMurtry’s trademark realistic almost lyrical back woodsy prose.



