Mina Witteman – author | editor | teacher of creative writing

YA Writing Workshop in Amsterdam

Posted on July 15, 2013

Time to announce a writing workshop, my friends!

Writing for Young Adults, an advanced writing course with Mina Witteman

You have that YA novel brewing in the back of your mind and you want it out on paper? You are working on a — your first? — YA novel and need inspiration and guidance? You would like to hone your YA writing skills?

This is your chance!

From September on, I offer a course Writing for Young Adults, where we will go into the most important traits of the YA novel. We will explore structure, voice and character building. We will dive into famous and less famous YA novels to find out what it takes to entice young adults into reading your novel.
And we will write. A lot! On your project. In English or Dutch.

When: 8 Sundays 2pm – 4pm
Dates: September 22, October 13, November 10 and 24, December 8 and 22, January 12 and 26
Where: The English Bookshop in Amsterdam (Jordaan)
Costs: € 325 for SCBWI members / € 375 for non-members
Registrations: registration opens August 1 and closes September 7.

More information and registration: nlscbwi [at] gmail.com or with me, of course!

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Categories: Amsterdam Views, Books, Children's books, The Views, Thrillers, YA books

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Write Now! Revise Later!

Posted on June 11, 2013

Writing prompts are an excellent way of keeping the writing juices flowing. It is supposed to be an old writer’s adage that you should write every day. Some advise you to write in the early morning, even before the day has begun, with your eyes still closed just penning down what bubbles up from your subconscious. Others think it’s best to allocate a dedicated time frame to writing and force yourself to scribble down anything, even if it’s a shopping list, as long as you keep your hand moving.
Both methods and numerous others have their merits, but require at least some form of self-discipline, a trait that we writers seem to lack every now and again, be it because we lure ourselves into the traps of social media, or because we’re frustrated about a work in progress that refuses to take shape, or simply because we think that we’re no good anyway.

Write Now! Revise Later!

Write Now! Revise Later!

Joining a writing group — in real life or online — could nudge you in the right direction. Within a writing group you have no excuse. You write, because that’s what it’s all about. NaNoWriMo is another good way to get going, spurred on by the challenge of churning out a set word count a day.
For me, the most important condition to keep writing, alone, in a writing group or during NaNoWriMo is a silenced inner critic. And I promise you, my inner critic won’t shut up just because he’s asked politely. Write Now, Revise Later! That’s what I beat myself up with, that’s what I write on notes that I stick all over the place.

Just to show my inner critic that I’m stronger than he is, I’ll publish a first draft written with a ‘first line’ writing prompt.

The only way John could pass the exam was by cheating. He decided not. He would do it as he had planned. He would sit and work and do his best and if he failed, he would just do it again and again and again until he passed. He would not, and he repeated that, he would not cheat. Or work his teacher, get her to mellow up on him and grade him less strict than she’d grade the others. It would be an easy job to win her over. No sweat. He would just talk to her, lower his voice a little more, put his hand on the small of her back, make her feel like she mattered to him, like he couldn’t do without her. She’d cave in, he knew she would.
But he wouldn’t do it. Not this time. It would be too easy. He was done with easy. He wanted to do things the hard way. He wanted to feel pain surging through his brain when he searched for the right answers. Answers that wouldn’t come as unchallenging as putting a hand on the small of another person’s back. He wanted to feel sweat pricking his forehead, burn his armpits. He longed for his T-shirt to stick to his back. No, he would not cheat this time.
He entered the classroom and smiled at his teacher as he brushed past her. She returned the smile, shy and insecure, her eyes begging.

Tell me: what do you do to keep writing?

Categories: Books, Thrillers, YA books

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Writing Prompt: Fleshing Out Your Protagonist

Posted on June 4, 2013

Exploring my protagonist’s true feelings is hard labor. In this particular manuscript Max hides his feelings as much from me as he does from himself and his fellow characters. I force him to come out and show himself by pulling him into situations he hates. This way I explore the most likely and most believable behavior, acts and moves.
For this exercise I used the writing prompt: Describe a time when you’ve settled an argument between two close friends. 

I watch them bicker. I know why they fight, but I can’t help them. It’s time that works against them, not their friendship. Time and the second batch of their endeavours that turned out a disaster. The tension between them built since their first failed crop. It got worse when they set out, bought new seeds and had to wait an agonizing six weeks to only find out they failed again. I’ve secretly visited their hidden grow-op. It looks good. Humidity was fine, air circulation was okay. They use fresh water, had their lamps hanging a perfect two feet above the plants. And now they fight.

I step back into my room and close the door. They don’t even notice that I’m gone. They yell at each other, or rather Lizzy yells at Venus. About nothing. A dress. One of Venus’ dresses. Lizzy tells her to quit wearing them, to quit attracting attention, start acting like a normal person and not some retard hippie girl from the sixties. Her voice echoes through the marble hall. Venus cries. She doesn’t understand. She always dressed like a hippie.
It’s not about the dress. It’s Lizzy’s frustration about the lost crop, about how Venus accepts defeat and wants to move on and be happy. It clashes with Lizzy’s determination to succeed at all cost. 

I switch on the music, turn up the volume. One of Venus’ favorites and I hope she hears it. I want her to stop crying. I need her happy again, so she can steel herself against Lizzy’s overpowering presence. But she loves Lizzy too much. I know Lizzy’s anger will seep into her system as a dark spot on her heart that will grow like a tumor and eventually kill her. 
The front door slams and all that’s left is heart-breaking sobs. I rush out and take Venus in my arms. It takes half a record before she calms. She leans into me, exhausted. Bright blue mascara smudged her face. I kiss her on the forehead.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, Max,” she says. 
“You can stay here,” I tell her. “Jimmy and I will be out all night. You can use my room, keep an eye on things while we’re gone.” I hesitate. “Promise you’ll stay away from the weed floor, okay? We’ve got a bunch of ace sprouts that I haven’t counted and bedded out yet.”

She looks up at me and I see how the seed I planted already germinates. “Promised,” she whispers. 

352325My protagonist is evasive, doesn’t like getting into fights and arguments. And every time I think I have him he tries to shake me off. He won’t succeed, though. Soon after this episode in my manuscript he will have to step up and act, and not in the passive-agressive way he did here. He will have to show his true colors. 

The prompt came from The Writer’s Block, 768 Ideas to Jump-Start Your Imagination… 

Categories: Books, Thrillers, YA books

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Flexing the Writing Muscles: Character and Love

Posted on May 29, 2013

Another writing prompt. This one features character and love: have two characters sit on a bench and talk about love. Again from the amazing Writing Maps.

I watch her from behind a wave of butterfly bushes. She sits on a bench tucked away in a corner of the park. Her hand taps a rhythm on the empty seat next to her. I draw in a breath and push away from the oak. I stare at my feet and how they hesitate, as I cross the nine steps that part us.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.
Her eyes rest on my face for a while, before she lowers her gaze to the joint in my hand. Her nostrils flare when the musty scent of burning pot hits her.
She smiles.
I offer.
She accepts without any hesitation.
I sit down and watch her tug.
She nudges me with her elbow and wants to return the joint.
“I’m good,” I say.
She rolls the joint between her fingers. The left corner of her mouth curls up. “A peace offering?”
“If you wish,” I say. I want to tell her that I miss her, that I need her to come back to the Haunt, that life sucks without her.
“So…” she says. “Now what?”
I stare at the gravelled path that winds its way around the butterfly bushes.
“You don’t want to smoke. You don’t want to talk? Sounds like dead love to me,” she says.
The sound of kids bickering in a nearby sandbox travels through the thicket.
“Max, I’m not coming back, if that’s what you’re after.” She tosses the half-smoked joint on the ground and grinds it into the dirt. “You’ll have to do way better than a lame peace offering like this.” Her boot slides away from the crushed butt.
Come back scream my lungs, but before the words hit my vocal chords they’ve already turned in powerless wheezes. My hand slips off my thigh and drops between us. Not half an inch from where her hand rests on the bench. The wood is warmed by the sun and her body, warmth that seeps into my skin and into my system, but never reaches my lungs.
She gets up and halts for a moment, turns.
I look up at her. The sun illuminates her hair and makes her stand out against the dark clouds that sweep in at lightning speed.
“Goodbye Max,” she says and she saunters off.

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Categories: Amsterdam Views, Books, Children's books, The Views, Thrillers, YA books

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Writing Prompts on Character

Posted on May 21, 2013

character_map_side_view_2_low_grandeI am a big fan of the Writing Maps from Write Around Town. Nifty maps filled with writing prompts that force you to flex your writing muscles. A must-have for every writer, I think. Great exercises that keep the creative writing juices flowing.
Last night I dove into the The Character Map. I read a prompt, thought about it for two seconds and started writing for 15 minutes.

This is what the soundtrack prompt on The Character Map inspired me to write. Mind you, it’s a first draft and it should be considered a first draft. Nothing fancy, just a character exploration.

He switched on the music without thinking. He didn’t have to, the score was on repeat anyway. There was a slight hitch in Lizzy’s breath when the first cello string was touched, almost as if the bow had touched her. She sat upright, her head slightly cocked. He watched her as the music rolled through the room, as the crescendo built.
It took her exactly one minute and fourteen seconds before she lost interest. She slumped against the headboard and fiddled with the sheet, pulling and tucking it.
So, no Yo-Yo Ma, he thought. His finger traced her shoulder and arm all the way down to her elbow. Would there be a chance that he’d find a tune that would please her? Or would she stick to Rage Against the Machine forever? RATM mirrored her tough attitude and he could see how that comforted her.
“Jeez, Max. This is boring. Do you have anything more cheery. It’s like freaking funeral music.”
For a moment he considered explaining the music. If she would just give him five minutes, he could make her listen to the only thing in the world, in his life, that calmed his nerves, that made him forget the dreadful day his life changed.
He flicked off iTunes. “Let me hear some of yours,” he said.
“Got a new one.” She bent over and leaned out to reach into her jeans.
His hand hovered the air for a bit, still warm with her body, then fell onto the mattress.
It wasn’t Rage Against the Machine. No trace of her at all in this music.
“Why?” he asked.
“Heard it on the radio. Made me think of you.”
“What?”
“The sadness. Just like your music. It’s always around you, like a shroud or something.” She plucked the sheet and pulled it up to her chin. “You like it?” Her voice was nothing more than a small whisper.
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in, brushed her hair with his chin. “Into the wild,” he said.

Categories: Books, Children's books, Thrillers, YA books

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Daily Prompt: Landscape

Posted on May 9, 2013

Today’s Daily Prompt is about Landscapes: When you gaze out your window — real or figurative — do you see the forest first, or the trees?

Let’s hit the real part first. When I gaze out of my window I see a cityscape. Not your regular cityscape with skyscrapers and all, but the gentle Amsterdam skyline that seems pretty much the same as it was centuries ago. The trees grew taller, the people inside changed, but the rooftops are still silhouetted against blue skies and scurrying clouds as they were in the 17th century.
No forest at Herengracht, just trees. Elms. On this spring day, their delicate bud green flowers catch the sunlight in the most amazing way. Diaphanous petals that seem to emit light from within. It won’t be long before they will turn white. Soon after, the elms will shed their blossoms and cause a spring snow.

 

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That’s when the figurative part starts, at least in my mind. I envision my protagonist cycling through that storm, trying to elude the bad guy chasing her. Stooped deep over the handlebars of her BMX, she has no eye for trees. Gusts of wind blast clouds of falling blossoms in her face. They stick to her cheeks and forehead, they get caught in her eyes. Every time she skims over her shoulder the shiny black coat and the blue Vespa are right there. She turns and twists her way through the city center, but the guy tails her like a leech.

That’s what happens when I gaze out my window. I don’t see a forest or a tree, I see a world of possibilities and stories.

What happens if you gaze out your window?

Categories: Amsterdam Views, Books, The Views, Thrillers, YA books

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