Jan 5, 2006 | Uncategorized
I’m an idiot. After more than a decade of writing on and off (more off than on), this is the realization I have come to. You ever read the Belgariad by David Eddings? And there’s that baby horse frolicking around when Garion is stuck in the ground and trying to touch its mind to tell it to go get help? And the baby’s mind flits like a butterfly from one object to another, none of it serious?
Today, I realized I’m the baby horse. My mind has always flitted from one thing to another, which is why I write in spurts and then go sulk in great long fits of self-pity. While sulking, I do lots of other things. Sometimes I don’t even know I’m sulking.
But here’s what I’ve realized:
A. I spent most of last year depressed. How in the hell did that happen? It must be true, because when I look back on accomplishments, they are nada. I can’t think of a single significant thing I did last year. I wrote a short story for Strong Currents 2, I finished up my series in the Hui Lei Magazine, and I taught a workshop at a small local conference. I even wrote a fast and furious 100+ pages of a novel in one week. Until I started second guessing myself and the story fell apart. I also did not finish up the rewrites of the novel I completed the previous year (325 pages in a month. It’s apparent I can write fast when I’m in the groove. It’s falling out of the groove and then being unable to find it again that’s the problem).
B. I’ve been trying to write quiet stories about two people falling in love. Oh, they’ve got their issues and all that, but the story is primarily about them working through those issues and learning they belong together. I’ve tossed in military heroes, but the military is more backstory than anything. A socialite and a Navy guy, for instance, working through the opposite world thing.
C. I LOVE rollicking adventure romances. Spies, secret operatives, military commandos, fate of the free world and all that. SO WHY IN HELL HAVEN’T I BEEN WRITING THAT?
D. The stakes I write are never high enough. I should be thinking bigger.
E. I want a career. In order to get that career, I must do several things.
I must:
1. Finish projects.
2. Write fast (I can) and stop questioning myself until the end.
3. Learn to outline or use a plotting board or something! Even if I change the story, I need a roadmap to eliminate all this meandering along.
4. Set goals and keep them.
5. Query on two novels THIS YEAR.
6. Realize this is a business. It isn’t personal. You don’t like what I write? Fine, someone else will.
7. Realize I will need to fine tune this list as I learn new things.
Jan 4, 2006 | Uncategorized
On the Sunday Times and the Middleton/Naipaul experiment, Miss Snark says:
…to assume that this proves agents don't recognize quality is bunk. If anything it proves exactly what I've been saying: agents are interested in what SELLS. Now, I don't have sales figures for these books….given they were published 35 years ago it would be very difficult to get them. But I'll tell you this: pick a literary novel, any literary novel even from a Nobel Prize winner, and “respectable sales” over the course of YEARS is the height of achievement. Most of them sink like rocks. Rocks similar to the ones in the heads of the Sunday Times editor who let this article run.
Having read Naipaul, I can certainly see why a busy agent/editor would send it back. His writing takes a while to unfold, as do many literary works. Still, it's sad to think what we may be missing out on because the industry is so focused on the next big commercial success. I doubt it's thousands of good novels, but I'll bet it's more than we think. On the other hand, I really do believe that cream eventually rises to the top (unless you're Dan Brown).
But, finding that cream–holy moly! Reading Miss Snark's Crapometer synopsis experiment made me want to imbibe massive quantities of alcohol and huddle in bed for a week. If I had to read those things all day in search of a good book, I'd go nuts. (And I say this fully aware that my own synopsis skills aren't any better.)
Jan 4, 2006 | Uncategorized
But I never would. Now, someone's done it for me. I first saw this on Publisher's Lunch today. Now the NYT has it. What a hoot!
Submitted to 20 publishers and agents, the typed manuscripts of the opening chapters of two books were assumed to be the work of aspiring novelists. Of 2
replies, all but one were rejections. Sent by The Sunday Times of London, the manuscripts were the opening chapters of novels that won Booker Prizes in the
1970's. One was “Holiday,” by Stanley Middleton; the other was “In a Free State,” by Sir V. S. Naipaul, winner of the 2001 Nobel Prize in Literature.
So don't give up. Maybe it ain't you. Maybe it's them. 🙂 It's a nice thought anyway….
Jan 3, 2006 | Uncategorized
From the blogosphere this morning comes these handy tips from The Millions: A Blog About Books:
With Amazon's little known refund program, you can save money if the price of an item you bought goes down within 30 days. Simply fill out a refund request form, even if the price drops 100 times in 30 days. Amazon will credit your account.
Second, you can get 1.57% off your purchases (on top of the Amazon discount) if you sign up and use their A9 search engine. You only have to use it a few times a week to qualify. I signed up this morning, which was easy, simply by logging in with my usual Amazon user name and password and clicking on sign up.
It's all explained at The Millions, so click on the link above and let Max Magee show you how to save money. 🙂
Jan 3, 2006 | Uncategorized
As I continue with my dogged determination to improve my writing life this year, I came across an article I saved. Elmore Leonard, author of such classics as Get Shorty, offered 10 rules of good writing in the New York Times Writers on Writing series last year. Here they are in brief:
1. Never open a book with weather.
2. Avoid prologues.
3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said”…he admonished gravely.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.
6. Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.”
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.
This article is so worth reading if you can find it. The NYT archives these things, but wants about 3 bucks to access it. If you have access to Lexis Nexis or another academic database, you can probably get it for free.
I think my personal favorite is number 10. Do you find yourself skipping passages in a book? Why? I tend to skim long paragraphs of narrative, find where the next patch of dialogue is, and then reassured it's coming, I'll go back and read the narrative a little closer.
I know I've been guilty of breaking these rules on occasion. It's embarassing to think about, much less read in work that's been published and is therefore unchangeable. Just the other day, whilst editing Strong Currents 2 with co-editor Michael Little, I found two horrid turns of phrase in my own work that's about to go to press. I got to change it, but sheesh, how close was that?
The most valuable thing Leonard says in the article (in summing up the 10): “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
