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Q&A (& Giveaway): Jan O’Hara, author of Opposite of Frozen

On the whole, the town of Harmony did its best to live up to its optimistic name. the streets were neatly plowed, the sidewalks free of snow and litter, the storefronts cheerful and labeled with lettered script. The mountain ranges on either side of the valley were snow-peaked and set off by attractive architecture. ~ from Opposite of Frozen

Harmony is a good word to carry around in your front pocket these days. And books are always a great medium with which to promote such good will, whether they provide more information or ways to reason through chaos or if they simply offer reprieve from political dialogue…as in today’s feature, which invites us to indulge in a light-hearted love story.

cover image for Opposite of FrozenJan O’Hara’s debut novel, Opposite of Frozen, weaves humor, love, and light into its pages of mystery and romance with a story that revolves around the lively dynamics of a group of seniors citizens–walkers, canes, and all.

When Oliver Pike takes charge of his brother’s fledgling tour guide business, he anticipates guiding a bus full of aging clients on a easy ride from Edmonton to Los Angeles. But there’s trouble in the luggage compartment, namely Page Maddux, a half-frozen stowaway buried in a pile of discarded clothes. Oliver would have easily passed her on to paramedics, but the group of seniors insists on saving her from imminent death themselves, bringing her into their fold. Then begins a curious tale of stolen backpacks, missing tourists, and two stubborn hearts brought to bay.

I’m thrilled to host Jan today for a Q&A and am offering a free copy of her debut novel for one lucky reader (on Kindle or in paperback). Click HERE to enter the giveaway (deadline is Tuesday, November 22nd at noon).

Now, welcome Jan O’Hara!

Christi Craig (CC): In your novel, you paint a picturesque setting of a tiny town in the Canadian Rockies and–alongside the budding romance of Oliver and Page–slip in a little mystery. Elusive characters, tricky cell phones, and locks that won’t give. While Harmony is a fictional place, is there any truth in the mystique and magic of a small Canadian community?

jan-oharaJan O’Hara (JO): To some degree, I believe mystique and magic are in the eyes of the beholder. We encounter miracles every day, talk to ordinary heroes in the guise of our teachers, our parents, our grocery store clerks. Speaking for myself, I often fail to appreciate those special moments and people.

But as to the qualities of a small Canadian community, I don’t think they are all that different from their American counterparts, with the exception of the number and prominence of flags on display in residential areas, or the accents you’d overhear at the bank. Or the number of concealed-carry permits. Or the emphasis on football.

Okay. There are some significant differences. (I’ve got tongue planted firmly in cheek, in case that’s not obvious.)

Harmony, though, has a mystical quality I’ve never encountered in a real Canadian community: a benevolent and mischievous spirit. The authors in our series make use of him to varying degrees. In my case, because the overall tone of the book is madcap, he plays a significant and helpful role in pushing my hero and heroine together.

CC: Speaking of community, the “oldsters” (as Page calls them) stick together like a band of heroes to save Page from imminent death at the beginning through a little action and a lot of sass talk (who can ignore the pointed stare from a ninety-five year old with a cane?). And, they set Oliver straight near the end. I love that your romance novel includes such fun, atypical characters like this traveling montage of seniors citizens. As you were writing, did you develop a particular fondness for one in the bunch?

JO: That’s a little like asking a mother to choose a favorite from amongst her children! I appreciate different aspects of each of them. Paul Dubois is fun because he resists the stereotype of the rumpled, sexless senior. Mr. Lee is fun because he resists the stereotype of the inactive senior.

I’m partial to Avis. Of all the seniors, she mostly closely resembles my maternal grandmother with a motto which might be described as “give it a try”. Who couldn’t use a little more of that in their life?

If forced to pick one senior, I would choose Mrs. Horton, mostly because she kept her secrets and personality somewhat hidden until the epilogue. I really enjoyed her voice, when it came to me. It was strong and unexpected, and gave a broader perspective to a story told in a lighthearted tone.

CC: Your book is the second in a series of twelve about the Thurston Hotel, a series that incorporates the work of eleven different authors. In your interview with Sophie Masson on Feathers of the Firebird, you say that, “Without a commitment to the other writers in the group, I’m not sure I’d have pushed through to completion…OoF would not exist in its present form if not for the project’s boundaries and invitations.” Beyond deadlines and outlines that come in working on a collaborative project, what’s the greatest gift in being a part of a tight-knit writing collective?

JO: I’ve been blogging for some time and I read a lot about the publishing industry, so you might be forgiven for thinking I’d be prepared for publication. Not so! At least as pertains to me, there’s a vast gap between reading about something and understanding its application.

With a supportive community, though, when I encountered an obstacle or decision quagmire, there was almost always someone available who had already worked it through and was willing to loan their expertise. As a small example, I had help with distribution choices, formatting, cover design, and title selection. It’s enormously helpful to have a place to go where you can have your good instincts validated and bad instincts corrected, especially for your first book. And honestly? The amount of help I required was far too much for any one person to handle.

CC: What are you reading these days?

JO: For non-fiction, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel. It’s a fascinating look at the commonalities between New York Times bestsellers as teased out by a text-reading computer program.

For fiction, I’m trying to keep up with my colleagues in the Thurston Hotel Series, which isn’t easy with a new release coming out every week.

That should be enough, but I got sucked into A Man Called Ove. It’s absolutely wonderful. Humorous and profound. It also features one of my favorite types of men: the kind that bristle and shout, but are principled marshmallows on the inside.

CC: Along with publishing Opposite of Frozen, you also have an essay on “The Health and Maintenance of Writers” in the recently released writing guide, Author in Progress (Writer’s Digest Books, 2016). With a debut novel under your belt and several thriving writers’ collectives at your back, what’s next on your docket?

JO: I have five partially completed manuscripts on my hard drive, of which three are a series of linked contemporary romances that revolve around a Texan family. (Don’t ask me why I’m drawn to that part of your wonderful country, but I am.) My daughter, who is an intuitive and helpful beta reader, insists I have to finish the first in that series. She wants to revisit one scene, which she read more than five years ago and still recalls as being “hysterical”. It’s hard to argue with that opinionated opinion, so I won’t, especially since she still lives at home and we get to share a dinner table.

Jan O’Hara lives in Alberta, Canada with her two children and husband (aka the ToolMaster). She writes a regular column for the popular blog, Writer Unboxed. Once obsessed with helping people professionally, she has retired from medicine and now spends her days torturing them on paper. See? Win-win scenarios really do exist. While Opposite of Frozen is Jan’s first published novel, she is hard at work on its successor. Visit her website, follow her on Twitter, like her author page on Facebook.

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway by Nov. 22nd for a chance to win a copy of Opposite of Frozen!

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Writing Lessons & Pinky MacOinkus: Guest Post by Jan O’Hara

I met Jan O’Hara somewhere along the cyber highway. The when or where doesn’t matter so much as the fact that I liked her immediately. Maybe it’s her red hair or that sassy attitude or the fact that she loves Colin Firth as much (if not more) than me. Any fan of Colin is a friend of mine. I’m thrilled to host Jan today; she offers us great insight into writing and leaves us with a link to a virtual hug any time we want one. Welcome, Jan!

How Introvertus Interruptus Taught Me
Four Simple Writing Lessons

As a self-identified introvert, who generally becomes re-energized in solitude, imagine how surprised I was to find myself rocking a people-filled errand day this past summer.

It didn’t seem to matter where I went, either. Whether I was in the coffee shop, the grocery store, the bottle depot, the library, people were uniformly warm and receptive to my jokes. “Wow,” I remember thinking. “This could be addicting.” For a brief time it almost seemed possible to have a hive-free social life.

Then I caught a woman eyeing my chest.

Now, peeps, you don’t know me, but trust me when I say she wasn’t flirting with me or evaluating me as a sexual competitor. Nor was she a reality show makeover artist who’d found her next hapless victim client. Rather, she was my educator, for as her gaze scanned my boobage and a smile bloomed on her lips, I finally understood what had triggered that morning’s success:

  1. When I’d straggled out of bed and, in an unthinking moment, thrown on my husband’s pumpkin-orange t-shirt – the one with the caption My Mama Thinks I’m Special – I began to project a certain personality.
  2. Presumably thinking I was informal, approachable, and had a healthy sense of humor, strangers engaged me at an atypical level.
  3. We began a positive feedback loop in which pleasant conversation led to more of the same.
  4. The change was so profound I rethought my self-imposed label of “socially awkward.”

Why am I telling you this, and what bearing does this have on the world of writing? Well, I took a few lessons from that experience:

1. When working with people, it’s hard to go wrong if you operate from a place of self-deprecating humor. This is true whether you’re crafting blog posts, tweets, a Facebook status, or simply putting butt in chair to write fiction. People are eager to laugh and connect.

2. If the writing is going well, huzzah! Carry on. But if it isn’t and you’re trying desperately to recreate whatever worked three months or three years ago because that is the way you write best, dang it!, reconsider. Quite simply, we aren’t always the best judge of why things go well or go poorly. All we can do is experiment in a spirit of hope and tenacity until we find the combo that works for right now.

3. Be mindful of the stories you tell yourself about your struggles as a writer, because to some degree, we get what we expect. Optimists label setbacks as temporary, external, and specific to particular circumstances. So for instance, it’s healthier to say, “I haven’t mastered the art of scene transition yet,” than to say, “I suck as a writer.” (And it’s healthier to say “I tend to be an introvert” rather than “I’m a socially-awkward hermit.”)

4. Take the time to view your writing environment with fresh eyes. What does it tell the world about the importance writing plays in your life? What does it tell you? Within the resources available to you right now, are you making it as easy as possible to slip into a productive writing mode?

For instance, I work better without clutter. If my office gets away from me and I don’t have time to tidy it, I’ll head to the coffee shop or library to write, then come back to establish order.

I also work better when I don’t take myself too seriously, so I’ve tried to extrapolate that Forrest-Gump-shirt ethos to my office, using free or reasonably-priced props that require little maintenance. Once set up, they act on a subliminal level to relax me and buoy my spirits.

This is why my office walls feature Betty Boop tin art and I’ve been known to wear Mr. Bean t-shirts. My mechanical timer, which I use to motivate myself for less-pleasant tasks, is a pig named Pinky MacOinkus.

On days where I’m feeling a touch of loneliness, I switch Pinky out for a timer my brother made specifically for me. The latter displays a customized picture and sound, so every time I use it, it’s almost like getting a hug. (If you have a PC and would like to try it, you are welcome to download the TartAlarm with this link).

What about you folks? Are you an introvert who’s discovered untapped depths of extroversion? Have you worked to change your internal dialogue about your writerly struggles? If you could make one modest improvement to your writing space, what would it be? Conversely, what feature of your office brings you the most pleasure?

Jan O’Hara left her writing dreams behind for years to practice family medicine, but has found her way back to the world of fiction. Currently the voice of the Unpublished Writer on Writer Unboxed, she’s hard at work on her contemporary romances, hoping one day soon to become unqualified for the position. She lives in Alberta, Canada with her husband and two children, and welcomes visitors to her citrus-infused blog, Tartitude. You can also find her on Twitter and Facebook.
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Maybe If I Had Those Boots: A List, Linda Carter, and Letting Go

I am a listmaker, a planner, and a victim of my own high expectations. I began the summer by designing a hefty writing goal: finish the current draft of my novel by the end of June. Even now, as I type those words, the task seems like it should have plausible. Easy. But, after only two weeks into my summer vacation, I realized I wouldn’t reach that goal.

Couldn’t reach it.

Headaches ensued, followed by a case of the “poor me’s,” and soon those clouds in the sky that lingered well past their welcome meant more than just rain.

“It’s summer, for crying out loud,” I complained to a friend. “Life is good. Why do I feel so bad?”

My friend suggested I write another list, a different one, a list of every expectation I set for myself. Later, when I read it back to her, she pointed out an interesting theme, so that I understood the skewed vision I had, of me:

Linda Carter could kick a novel into submission in no time, and have dinner on the table by six o’clock. She could swim the deep ocean to rescue a sinking sub and then surface, lipstick and mascara (and sanity) in tact. But I’m not Linda Carter. My hair gives way two minutes into a workout, and those bullet-deflecting bracelets are useless against the snide remarks of that committee in my head.

Making that list of expectations was quite a revelation, from a personal point of view and a writer’s perspective. I can’t do everything I set out to do, and that’s okay. So now, I have two new goals: relax and just be —

Present.

Amanda Hoving talks about similar revelations in a recent post on her blog. Yes, time is ticking away, but that I don’t need to drive myself crazy or beat myself up.

Wise words came from a few other folks, too, words that help keep me grounded, lately:

1) Comments on a recent post of my own, which reiterate I am not alone in my struggle to complete a novel, and that perhaps I could consider that story as a shorter work (there’s that perspective bit again).

2) Passages from Roz Morris’ Nail Your Novel, a great book for writers with just an idea or with an unfinished draft in hand. Early on in her book, she says something that speaks directly to me, in how I work my draft and (apparently) in how I plan my days:

Don’t make lists…lists tie you down to having events happen in a certain order, and this is not the time for you to be deciding that.

Lists do help me get organized. But, like every asset, making lists quickly swings to a defect when that particular action takes me down into a feeling of failure. Morris knows this, and she offers several tasks for writers that help move a novel forward, without obsessing over the mantra, “I should be doing this, or that, by now.”

3) Jan O’Hara’s recent post on Writer Unboxed, a poignant essay on letting go, relaxing, and embracing the kind of writing that feeds your spirit. She says:

I’ve noticed a tendency for writers to devalue their natural talents, perhaps because the writing can feel easier. (Not “easy”, because writing is seldom that.)  Sometimes I think we are so used to telling stories about struggle, we believe that’s the only way to exist. If it isn’t hard, it doesn’t count. If we aren’t wrung out by the process, it can’t contain much worth.

Go read Jan’s essay. Then, set out – or head back – to do what you love.

Speaking of, just for today, this is what I’m doing:

  • Using Morris’ book to push my story draft towards the finish (whether that be 80,000 words or 40,000), but not panicking if that happens at a much slower rate.
  • Writing and revising flash fiction (maybe even putting them into a collection), because that’s a genre I enjoy, and one in which I feel I can succeed.

Linda Carter can keep her boots.

What high expectations can you let go of today?