A reader comments:
Too bad you couldn't have explained this to Joseph Heller before he wrote Catch-22. Armed with such knowledge he could have written a Gothic novel instead.
Of course, Heller took my advice immediately when he wrote Catch-22. He was a very apt pupil and wise to consult me even though, as I recall, I was in fifth grade at the time, and most didn't trust I knew what I was talking about. But Joe saw my wisdom right away.
Per my suggestion, he made sure Yossarian was sympathetic and that he had a problem.
And from the opening pages, he had one event in the novel lead to another and to another, etc. Sure, these techniques were from Writing Your Novel 101, but even then it shocked me how many talented wannabes forgot the basics.
I recommended to Heller that he write a memorable opening line. He came up with a classic: "It was love at first sight."
I'd told him the ladies are nuts about a guy in love. But don't make it too Hallmarky.
So Heller added the twist: He made Yossarian in love with the chaplain? (What the hell? Over.) Strange how back in those good old days, "Yossarian in love with the chaplain" was taken as absurdist hyperbole.
Today it would be the story.
Then I pointed out what a catchy idea Joe had with that catch-22 thing, and I insisted he slip an example in the first paragraph, so the reader would understand from the get-go that this was going to be a story that was not only engaging, but that would expose the dark underbelly of war. I was pleased to see he wove the first "catch-22" in early enough to be on the opening page when his novel was in manuscript format.
As a final coup de grace, I suggested that he make good use of his incredible dark sense of humor throughout.
And, the rest is history.
After the success of Catch-22 Heller wanted to write a Gothic novel. He was crazy about castles, ancient prophecies, and overwrought emotion. But once the public got a load of the original, they wanted "Catch-22 goes to Disneyland," "Catch-22 takes the 14-day European Tour," "Catch-22 on Route 66," etc.
I told him over and over, if he wanted to write about the absurdity of doors grating on rusty hinges on the night the howling wind blows out the lights, he should follow his dream and to hell with with all the naysayers.
Sadly, he only took my advice on the first novel. His later attempts, of course, were readable, but sheer originality rings such a clear bell that its younger brothers don't stand much of a chance.
So it has been, and so it will always be.
Please note: the above entry is fiction, which isn't to say it doesn't contain truth.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
How Not to Begin Your Novel
I recently saw the movie Paris, Je T'Aime on DVD. I'd heard that it was good, but I hadn't heard what kind of movie it was.
I watched the opening scene, and then there was another scene and another scene. Each scene was interesting, but I couldn't see how the scenes were connecting into a story.
The shots of Paris were lovely, and I continued to watch, but I kept saying, "What the hell?"
I figured it would soon begin to make sense.
Eventually, right before I began to pull my hair out, I realized these were a series of very short films. There was no connection at all between the stories except they were all filmed in Paris, and each was some kind of love story. Each short had its own director. All different actors, etc. If only I'd read a review before seeing the movie!
Once I realized I was watching a string of shorts, I stopped looking for how the scenes were linked into a story, and I began to enjoy the short pieces as the little gems they were.
I also liked the idea that I could stop watching at any time and send the DVD back to Netflix.
As charming as Paris Je T'Aime is, this is not a good way to begin a novel.
Even if your opening scenes are gems, they will not engage your reader if they don't give a sense of story with forward momentum.
If your opening page contains the basic story elements (sympathetic character who wants something and who has obstacles to what he/she wants) you buy some time with a reader.
If the writing is good, you buy a little more time.
But, if you don't get a reader to buy into the forward momentum of your story (and by forward momentum I'm talking about something that happens that leads to something else happening that causes something else to happen, etc.) fairly quickly (first few pages) then you will lose your reader.
Paris, Je T'Aime never had the intention of having a central story with a through-line. It is a filmed collection of short-short stories. It's also a great example of how not to begin your novel.
I watched the opening scene, and then there was another scene and another scene. Each scene was interesting, but I couldn't see how the scenes were connecting into a story.
The shots of Paris were lovely, and I continued to watch, but I kept saying, "What the hell?"
I figured it would soon begin to make sense.
Eventually, right before I began to pull my hair out, I realized these were a series of very short films. There was no connection at all between the stories except they were all filmed in Paris, and each was some kind of love story. Each short had its own director. All different actors, etc. If only I'd read a review before seeing the movie!
Once I realized I was watching a string of shorts, I stopped looking for how the scenes were linked into a story, and I began to enjoy the short pieces as the little gems they were.
I also liked the idea that I could stop watching at any time and send the DVD back to Netflix.
As charming as Paris Je T'Aime is, this is not a good way to begin a novel.
Even if your opening scenes are gems, they will not engage your reader if they don't give a sense of story with forward momentum.
If your opening page contains the basic story elements (sympathetic character who wants something and who has obstacles to what he/she wants) you buy some time with a reader.
If the writing is good, you buy a little more time.
But, if you don't get a reader to buy into the forward momentum of your story (and by forward momentum I'm talking about something that happens that leads to something else happening that causes something else to happen, etc.) fairly quickly (first few pages) then you will lose your reader.
Paris, Je T'Aime never had the intention of having a central story with a through-line. It is a filmed collection of short-short stories. It's also a great example of how not to begin your novel.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Why Finishing a Novel is Hard
Beginning a novel is not so hard. Given a little time, a spark of inspiration, and an idea, a writer can get pretty far.
But the closer a novel gets to being finished, the bigger other projects become to distract a writer from finishing. This is how houses get bought and sold. This is how one decides it’s time for a new car or to take out the whole lawn and replace it with a rock garden. This is how one just happens to go shopping for a puppy and comes home with two dogs and a goat.
One of the best things about writing a novel is a lot of odious household chores get done instead — dish washing, lawn mowing, laundry, weeding, ironing dress shirts, waxing the car, checking e-mail and one’s regular mail box, although no one has received an actual letter since sometime in the late ’90s.
It's amazing how often, in the middle of writing an especially challenging scene, a writer will realize the time has come — and not a minute too soon — to regrout the bathroom tile. If ordinary life-changing events are not sufficient to stop a writer from finishing, then natural disaster can be brought in. It is safe to say earthquakes, fires, and tsunamis are not caused by angry gods. These cataclysmic events are the result of novelists who are roaring along, three quarters of the way done with their novels, and they need something big to stop their momentum.
Why is it that it is so hard to finish writing a novel? The biggest reason is that a novel has to be very good in order to make it through the stages of finding an agent, selling to a publisher, and then persuading the public to buy and read the final product.
In the fresh bloom of inspiration, a writer doesn’t worry so much about these things, but when the end of the writing is in sight, it is painfully clear that if one finishes, the next step will be to put the manuscript out into the world to suffer scrutiny and possible rejection. Nobody likes rejection. So most people try to avoid it.
It’s estimated there are between 10 and 15 thousand novel manuscripts written for every one that gets published. If a hardworking writer hears these numbers (true or not), it is a very good reason to forget about writing, call a like-minded friend, and go for an all-day lunch laced with many fruit-flavored martinis.
So what’s a writer to do? Get a therapist? Take up golf? Walk the dogs and goat acquired in an earlier paragraph? Sure. But after that, the only choice is to give up writing … or to schedule writing time and get back to work. If one focuses and puts in the writing time, one will finish. That's a promise.
After finishing there are still fear of failure and fear of success to deal with. There are many possible pitfalls in regard to agents, editors, publishers, reviewers, and the public. There is no author alive who doesn’t have a litany of publishing war stories to tell.
This writing business is not for sissies. And if one is crazy enough to want to be in it, then one has to, at the very least, finish writing the book. One has to face the blank pages and fill them up. One has to do it brilliantly. And then one has to offer this baby to the wolves.
As unlikely as it seems that a fully informed person would continue to write, the truth is there are a few million who are willing to take the odds and do the work.
Some novels will never be finished. Some will be finished but will never sell. And a few will be brilliant and rise to critical acclaim and/or bestseller status. Pick your goal and go back to work.
You can call yourself a writer from day one, but you can only have a chance at being a successful author if you finish your book.
But the closer a novel gets to being finished, the bigger other projects become to distract a writer from finishing. This is how houses get bought and sold. This is how one decides it’s time for a new car or to take out the whole lawn and replace it with a rock garden. This is how one just happens to go shopping for a puppy and comes home with two dogs and a goat.
One of the best things about writing a novel is a lot of odious household chores get done instead — dish washing, lawn mowing, laundry, weeding, ironing dress shirts, waxing the car, checking e-mail and one’s regular mail box, although no one has received an actual letter since sometime in the late ’90s.
It's amazing how often, in the middle of writing an especially challenging scene, a writer will realize the time has come — and not a minute too soon — to regrout the bathroom tile. If ordinary life-changing events are not sufficient to stop a writer from finishing, then natural disaster can be brought in. It is safe to say earthquakes, fires, and tsunamis are not caused by angry gods. These cataclysmic events are the result of novelists who are roaring along, three quarters of the way done with their novels, and they need something big to stop their momentum.
Why is it that it is so hard to finish writing a novel? The biggest reason is that a novel has to be very good in order to make it through the stages of finding an agent, selling to a publisher, and then persuading the public to buy and read the final product.
In the fresh bloom of inspiration, a writer doesn’t worry so much about these things, but when the end of the writing is in sight, it is painfully clear that if one finishes, the next step will be to put the manuscript out into the world to suffer scrutiny and possible rejection. Nobody likes rejection. So most people try to avoid it.
It’s estimated there are between 10 and 15 thousand novel manuscripts written for every one that gets published. If a hardworking writer hears these numbers (true or not), it is a very good reason to forget about writing, call a like-minded friend, and go for an all-day lunch laced with many fruit-flavored martinis.
So what’s a writer to do? Get a therapist? Take up golf? Walk the dogs and goat acquired in an earlier paragraph? Sure. But after that, the only choice is to give up writing … or to schedule writing time and get back to work. If one focuses and puts in the writing time, one will finish. That's a promise.
After finishing there are still fear of failure and fear of success to deal with. There are many possible pitfalls in regard to agents, editors, publishers, reviewers, and the public. There is no author alive who doesn’t have a litany of publishing war stories to tell.
This writing business is not for sissies. And if one is crazy enough to want to be in it, then one has to, at the very least, finish writing the book. One has to face the blank pages and fill them up. One has to do it brilliantly. And then one has to offer this baby to the wolves.
As unlikely as it seems that a fully informed person would continue to write, the truth is there are a few million who are willing to take the odds and do the work.
Some novels will never be finished. Some will be finished but will never sell. And a few will be brilliant and rise to critical acclaim and/or bestseller status. Pick your goal and go back to work.
You can call yourself a writer from day one, but you can only have a chance at being a successful author if you finish your book.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Taming the Foul-Tempered Beast
Published writers have two distinct qualities -- talent and the willingness to work. This combo tends to propel writers ahead into successful careers as authors. If you are so endowed, no need to read further. Just get back to work.
If you are a writer stuck in a limbo between what you think is a final draft and publishing, you most likely have two distinct qualities as well -- a sense of your own greatness and fear that you are wrong.
A sense of greatness coupled with intermittent fear tends to cause bursts of brilliance that fizzle in the light of shifting sands of iffy self-confidence.
For example, take a writer who has been dreaming of being a great novelist since childhood. He or she decides it is time to finally get to work on this dream. He’s always been successful at everything else. He's smart and determined. He buys all the books on writing. He takes classes. He quits his day job. He works like a fiend at writing.
Six months (or six years) later he has written a novel. He thinks it is very good. His wife likes it, too.
He hires an editor to make sure his novel is a good as he thinks it is.
The editor offers the sad news that this is only a draft.
If the editor is a good editor, she or he will describe all the good things the draft has going for it and then will give a list of specific things that need more work.
A good editor will avoid the phrase “this sucks” and will remain encouraging while also being honest.
But it is hard for a hopeful writer to hear anything but that the novel still needs work.
This is the point for the writer to make use of the feedback, but it isn’t easy if self doubt starts running the show.
It is much easier to think the editor is a foul-tempered beast who wouldn’t know brilliant writing if it leapt up and bit the editor on the ass.
Each writer is the final expert on his or her own writing, but the process of making good use of professional editorial feedback involves the ability to be open and objective toward comments that are offered.
If a writer cannot make use of the correct advice to write another draft, and perhaps many more drafts, the writer hits a brick wall, and the writing is stalled in an unpublishable state.
Not every editor gives perfect advice, and a writer has to learn to sort out what is valuable and what is not.
Listen, ask questions, decide, and then keep working. If publication is in your future, it will only happen if you do the work.
If you are a writer stuck in a limbo between what you think is a final draft and publishing, you most likely have two distinct qualities as well -- a sense of your own greatness and fear that you are wrong.
A sense of greatness coupled with intermittent fear tends to cause bursts of brilliance that fizzle in the light of shifting sands of iffy self-confidence.
For example, take a writer who has been dreaming of being a great novelist since childhood. He or she decides it is time to finally get to work on this dream. He’s always been successful at everything else. He's smart and determined. He buys all the books on writing. He takes classes. He quits his day job. He works like a fiend at writing.
Six months (or six years) later he has written a novel. He thinks it is very good. His wife likes it, too.
He hires an editor to make sure his novel is a good as he thinks it is.
The editor offers the sad news that this is only a draft.
If the editor is a good editor, she or he will describe all the good things the draft has going for it and then will give a list of specific things that need more work.
A good editor will avoid the phrase “this sucks” and will remain encouraging while also being honest.
But it is hard for a hopeful writer to hear anything but that the novel still needs work.
This is the point for the writer to make use of the feedback, but it isn’t easy if self doubt starts running the show.
It is much easier to think the editor is a foul-tempered beast who wouldn’t know brilliant writing if it leapt up and bit the editor on the ass.
Each writer is the final expert on his or her own writing, but the process of making good use of professional editorial feedback involves the ability to be open and objective toward comments that are offered.
If a writer cannot make use of the correct advice to write another draft, and perhaps many more drafts, the writer hits a brick wall, and the writing is stalled in an unpublishable state.
Not every editor gives perfect advice, and a writer has to learn to sort out what is valuable and what is not.
Listen, ask questions, decide, and then keep working. If publication is in your future, it will only happen if you do the work.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Why Listen to Me?
Writers want to know why they ought to take my editing advice. That is a very good question.
There's no school of editing (that I know of). There's no official regulation of editors. No tests to pass. No government agency to please. And no license to edit. Freelance editing can be done by anyone, and writer beware.
I began my “training” as an editor in second grade when I set myself the goal of reading all the books in our grade school library, including YA novels, such as TOM SAWYER, HUCK FINN, as well as all THE FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS and the BOBBSEY TWINS series. I accomplished this goal in one school year, although I admit I did skim the library’s babyish picture books.
When I turned in my reading list in the spring, I received a prize — a babyish picture book, BAMBI. The irony of such a prize did not escape me. My thoughts were: The idiots are in charge, but that is no reason not to keep reading.
Seeing how I had already read all the books in the school, I had to move on to our town library, which was the approximate size of a walk-in closet. Thanks to supplements from the Weekly Reader Book Club (hundreds of titles at 25¢ each) I was able to keep pace with reading a novel a week.
I also paid attention when we studied grammar in school. I was crazy about diagramming sentences. I fell in love with the inner workings of the English language, and I spent long hours reading dictionaries with the same gusto I read novels. This might sound crazy, but it's true.
Luckily, I grew up on a farm near a very small town (population 99) in Nebraska, so there weren’t very many other kids to compare myself to. Otherwise, one of them might’ve wised me up that my behavior was not normal.
Instead, the other kids were glad I grabbed their school essays on the school bus and corrected them before the teacher saw them. I made the marks and then told my classmates to REWRITE. They did.
With this kind of quirky background, one might expect I went directly from my high school graduation to sit at the knee of Eleanor Gould Packard, longtime grammarian for the NEW YORKER magazine. But life isn’t that straightforward. Instead I opted for college where I studied philosophy, figure drawing, and poetry. Then, in supremely logical progression I spent a few years as a house painter, a few more as a gardener, and a few more as a freight handler, before I returned to the world of words by taking a writing class.
Writing somersaulted into working as a freelance editor.
Throughout my life, I have averaged reading a novel or so per week. I wish I had kept a life-list, because I’m sure it would go a few times around the block by now.
I don’t know if any of the above has made me “smart.” But I'm experienced enough to realize the odd direction of my life has given me a position from which to offer relevant feedback to people who write books.
The more I do it, the more I am faced with the reality that each book comes into being in its own way, and no amount of smartness or experience will allow the process of editing to be a sure thing.
I keep reading, so that I know what is out there.
I keep writing, to stay in touch with what it feels like to be a writer.
And I keep working with people who are writing, because they continue teaching me how to be better at this profession that began nipping at my heels when I was seven years old.
There's no school of editing (that I know of). There's no official regulation of editors. No tests to pass. No government agency to please. And no license to edit. Freelance editing can be done by anyone, and writer beware.
I began my “training” as an editor in second grade when I set myself the goal of reading all the books in our grade school library, including YA novels, such as TOM SAWYER, HUCK FINN, as well as all THE FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS and the BOBBSEY TWINS series. I accomplished this goal in one school year, although I admit I did skim the library’s babyish picture books.
When I turned in my reading list in the spring, I received a prize — a babyish picture book, BAMBI. The irony of such a prize did not escape me. My thoughts were: The idiots are in charge, but that is no reason not to keep reading.
Seeing how I had already read all the books in the school, I had to move on to our town library, which was the approximate size of a walk-in closet. Thanks to supplements from the Weekly Reader Book Club (hundreds of titles at 25¢ each) I was able to keep pace with reading a novel a week.
I also paid attention when we studied grammar in school. I was crazy about diagramming sentences. I fell in love with the inner workings of the English language, and I spent long hours reading dictionaries with the same gusto I read novels. This might sound crazy, but it's true.
Luckily, I grew up on a farm near a very small town (population 99) in Nebraska, so there weren’t very many other kids to compare myself to. Otherwise, one of them might’ve wised me up that my behavior was not normal.
Instead, the other kids were glad I grabbed their school essays on the school bus and corrected them before the teacher saw them. I made the marks and then told my classmates to REWRITE. They did.
With this kind of quirky background, one might expect I went directly from my high school graduation to sit at the knee of Eleanor Gould Packard, longtime grammarian for the NEW YORKER magazine. But life isn’t that straightforward. Instead I opted for college where I studied philosophy, figure drawing, and poetry. Then, in supremely logical progression I spent a few years as a house painter, a few more as a gardener, and a few more as a freight handler, before I returned to the world of words by taking a writing class.
Writing somersaulted into working as a freelance editor.
Throughout my life, I have averaged reading a novel or so per week. I wish I had kept a life-list, because I’m sure it would go a few times around the block by now.
I don’t know if any of the above has made me “smart.” But I'm experienced enough to realize the odd direction of my life has given me a position from which to offer relevant feedback to people who write books.
The more I do it, the more I am faced with the reality that each book comes into being in its own way, and no amount of smartness or experience will allow the process of editing to be a sure thing.
I keep reading, so that I know what is out there.
I keep writing, to stay in touch with what it feels like to be a writer.
And I keep working with people who are writing, because they continue teaching me how to be better at this profession that began nipping at my heels when I was seven years old.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
What Does an Editor Do?
Editing is hard work and it doesn’t pay that well. Luckily, people buy me breakfast just to get me to tell how I repeatedly enter into secret and sometimes risky relationships with writers.
I say secret because the rule is client privacy for the writers I work with. And I say risky because, once I enter a writer’s creative space and muck about, things do not always go as planned.
When someone asks to hear my editing stories, often it is because he or she has been thinking about retiring from a day job with full benefits to enter what is generally believed to be the lucrative world of editing. For a six-dollar plate of huevos rancheros and a coffee, these hopefuls learn it ain’t necessarily so.
On the surface, each editing job looks similar — someone has written a book and wants me to praise what is good and help fix what is bad. Sometimes that is exactly how it goes. I find myself donning the caps of the psychologist, cheerleader, story critic, and grammarian. I do my work, the writer does his, the book is published, and we all live happily every after.
Often, however, the editing process leads to a brick wall. And every time I think I know where all those brick walls are, a new one pops up. Even for someone who knows plenty about great prose, structure, compelling characters, punctuation, and the difference between a transitive and an intransitive verb, editing is not easy money. Why not? Because each editing job also involves interacting with a human being who, understandably, thinks of his or her manuscript as a newborn babe. Visualize asking a new parent to lop off his baby’s nose. It is not easy.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Delusions of Grandeur vs. Profusion of Doubt
Writers, after polishing their work, tend to develop delusions of grandeur.
Then after comments from even the kindest editor, they tend to develop a major case of low self esteem.
It doesn't matter really if the editor says, "This is effing brilliant!" If there's even a word or two mentioned that could use some tweaking, pride melts into a puddle of self doubt.
This sounds like a stupid waste of time. Why not just write, hear the comments and fix up what needs fixing? So much time would be saved.
But apparently that is not the makeup of the mind of a writer.
For all who must grapple with self doubt, rest assured that you are not alone.
The good news is, if you know (and accept) that you will alternate between thinking you are the most brilliant writer ever born and feeling that you produce nothing but crap, crap, crap, this can work in your favor:
You need sufficient humility to keep looking at your work until it is ready.
Then you need plenty of moxie to put it out there in the world to be judged.
For more in this vein, read BIRD BY BIRD by Anne Lamott.
Then after comments from even the kindest editor, they tend to develop a major case of low self esteem.
It doesn't matter really if the editor says, "This is effing brilliant!" If there's even a word or two mentioned that could use some tweaking, pride melts into a puddle of self doubt.
This sounds like a stupid waste of time. Why not just write, hear the comments and fix up what needs fixing? So much time would be saved.
But apparently that is not the makeup of the mind of a writer.
For all who must grapple with self doubt, rest assured that you are not alone.
The good news is, if you know (and accept) that you will alternate between thinking you are the most brilliant writer ever born and feeling that you produce nothing but crap, crap, crap, this can work in your favor:
You need sufficient humility to keep looking at your work until it is ready.
Then you need plenty of moxie to put it out there in the world to be judged.
For more in this vein, read BIRD BY BIRD by Anne Lamott.
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