No one knows how myths about writing fiction get started, but we believe what we want to believe and it's easy to see how the hopes of writers everywhere sustain them. You’re a lot better off without these:
1 The hardest part of writing a novel is getting the first draft done. Yes, it’s hard to hack your way through the first draft, especially if you've never done it before, but the discipline it takes to get that far is nothing compared to what you'll face editing your manuscript and trying to gain the interest of an agent and/or publisher. Writing that first draft is actually the easy part.
2 Agents will be interested in handling a marketable book. Not really. In theory, they're looking for books they think they can sell, but few of them are millionaires, meaning they bet on losers much of the time. So they're wary. They can be clueless. They have to quickly evaluate queries and samples of manuscripts. Since stories are unique, there's no easy, objective measure.
How do you think they decide? They can spot dumb ideas and bad writing, but after they weed those out, they really don’t know how the public is going to react to a particular book. So they go with what they think is good. In other words, they take on the books they like personally. They don’t necessarily go with books that might sell well, because they don’t actually know what’s going to sell. If you talk to agents, read interviews with them and peruse their griping blogs, you’ll quickly realize that the vast majority of agents don't try to determine if books they personally dislike might still be potential best sellers. They just refuse to handle them.
It’s a pathetic way to make business decisions, but it's how agents go about their selection work. Long ago, major publishing houses realized it was cheaper to let agents weed out bad manuscripts than to pay their own editors do that work. By refusing to consider work that doesn’t come through an agent, they also guarantee that they’ll only be considering work that has appealed to an agent’s personal preferences. Writers and the reading public are largely at the mercy of what agents like.What does all this mean to you? It's actually an advantage --if you can find out what a particular agent likes. Do research on particular agents and when appropriate, tell them why your book matches their tastes. Forget about convincing them that the public is hungry for your book-- they’re the experts. They know what’s best and they’ll hate you for suggesting you know better than they do. What’s actually going on is that they’re understandably sensitive about all the books they liked and took on that never sold, or that they sold and saw flop. If they don’t like and understand your book, they won’t handle it. If they do, they might.
3 A publishing house has editors to help you clean up your manuscript; all you have to do is come up with the creative ideas. Wouldn’t that be nice? The publishing house is worried about making ends meet, you have thousands of competitors and if your book isn’t perfect already, they’re not going to give you the time of day. If you have trouble with grammar or any other aspect of your book, get professional help—but get references first. There are plenty of people who call themselves freelance editors and the actual help they can give you will vary tremendously.
4 A publishing house will take care of marketing your book. No, they won’t. More often they’ll want you to come up a marketing plan and if you don’t, and your book still gets published, your manuscript will have a limited first printing. Unless by some miracle it happens to catch on, that will also be its last printing. You have to promote your own book if you want to sell more than a couple hundred copies.
5 It's relatively easy to get published No, it’s not. Thousands of books get written every year that are never published. Some of them are good, some of them are bad, many are okay but weren’t in the right place at the right rime. It’s not easy to get published unless you’re famous.
6 What you've written is good. Sorry, but it probably isn’t. You may have enjoyed writing it and may enjoy thinking of yourself as a writer, but it’s nearly impossible—even for professionals—to regard their work objectively, see its flaws and correct them. The only things you can do about this (and you must do them both) are to have readers who will give you honest feedback that you pay attention to, and be extremely critical of your own work. Go through it on different levels: is the plot interesting? Are the characters believable? Do you give the reader enough information so they believe the characters would do what they do? Do you bore the reader to death with things you think it’s really important the reader knows about the background, at the expense of telling the damn story? Do each and every one of your sentences make logical sense? Do you tell the story in the proper sequence, where you describe the first thing that happened before you tell us the second thing that happened? Do your characters “sigh” sentences instead of saying them? Do you use cute, unpronounceable names? These are just some of the common mistakes you may be making. There are hundreds of them. 5 The odds of becoming rich and famous as a writer may not be great, but you’ll be the exception because of your talent and hard work. Much more likely you won’t be the exception, no matter how much you want to be. I was once in a writing group that met every two weeks to critique each others’ work. At any given meeting there were eight or ten people present. One evening, I asked the group collectively why they wrote. Not one of the people there was able to give me a coherent answer. Either they really didn’t know what was motivating them, or they didn’t want to admit it.
The truth is, most of us write for petty, selfish reasons. We write to make ourselves feel better about something else in our lives. This doesn’t always produce good work. Nor does it mean you don’t have any talent; it just means you’re not doing it for reasons that come purely from that talent. The pain you’re escaping from through writing may be something that keeps you going and gives some power to your work, but it can also be a tremendous stumbling block, because you won’t even want to acknowledge that it’s there. As you’re reading this, you’re probably insisting this isn’t true about you.
Figure out why you want to write, and don’t settle for a childish, superficial answer such as “I just feel as though I’ve got stories to tell.” So why do you feel you have stories to tell? You’ll never succeed until you get to the heart of this question. You’ll never succeed if you think you were simply destined to become a great writer. If you believe these things, you’ll spend years dealing with rejection letters and wondering why people don’t appreciate all your hard work. It may take you several unpublished novels and many years before you start being honest with yourself about this. When you can coherently describe why you write, you’re finally getting to the point where you can deal with yourself, and thus your readers honestly. That’s what writing is all about.
Next: more on removing the blockades to publication
cal.ledford@yahoo.com
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Writing Fiction, Finding a Literary Agent, Getting Published
Writing Fiction, Finding a Literary Agent, Getting Published
Having Too Much Fun
Admit it- you have a writing problem. As someone who writes fiction, you know it’s seductive. Do you know why?
Every day, we spend a lot of time on projects other people designed for us. Our bosses, teachers, customers, clients, family members and friends all have ideas on how we should spend our time. We accommodate their needs to avoid getting fired, to make them happy because we love them, or because it’s easier than listening to them screech. Other people are constantly telling us --directly or indirectly --what they need right now, and consequently, how we have to spend our time. We can fight with them or give in—it doesn’t matter. Either way, people demand your attention and how you deal with that not only dictates what you do, but who you are.
Writing fiction gives you a new world and a new identity: You are the writer. You may wonder if it’s okay to call yourself a writer, but if you write, you know that’s exactly what you are. The world you’re writing about is always available-- not just when you find the solitude to sit down and write, but any time you can think about your story. You can be a writer as you drive down the highway, wait in line at the bank or while you do the dishes. Your story is yours. You’re running that show. Your writing is who you are, and no one can take it away.You have experienced the magic of finding out how your characters seem to decide for themselves exactly what's going to happen next. Like rebellious children, the characters you created ended up doing just what they wanted, even though it wasn’t what you planned for them in your story. As the author, you’ve felt like a conduit at times, the mere typist who recorded the story as it unfolded. It’s fun to watch your characters develop their own identities and take over.
But the identity writing gives you, and the identity your characters seem to give themselves are two of the great dangers of fiction.
Yes, writing fiction is dangerous. It’s not dangerous in the sense that it causes any immediate harm (unless you’re typing on your Blackberry while you’re driving) but it’s dangerous for your ego. It’s going to hurt you sooner or later. Let’s face it: writing fiction is an escapist activity. The more you live in your fictional world, as you must, the less you live in the world other people inhabit. They’ll sense it; they’ll resent it, and they’ll punish you for it in large and small ways. They’ll want those blocks of time you’ve carved out for yourself to work on your writing. Tell them that you’re writing a novel and they’ll call you a dreamer. Tell them you’ve finished one, and they’ll ask if it’s been published before they even ask what it’s about. Lapse into thinking about your characters when you’re in the presence of other people and they’ll label you as unfriendly or spaced out.
You’ve probably already found ways to deal with those obstacles. Maybe you write in secret. For a while, writing is great for the ego --as long as you can convince yourself your story is terrific and that other people are going to think so too. But when you start trying to get a literary agent to work with you, or start trying to get a publisher to out the book out, or start trying to get the public to buy your book --and find out nobody but your and your mother and best friend seem to agree it’s the greatest story ever told, the high evaporates quickly.
In fact, you’ll probably crash. Within the space of about a month, you can go from thinking you’re the greatest new thing in the literary world to the piece of scum you always suspected you were. The worst part is the realization that you haven’t even been wasting your life properly—you’ve been slaving away at the keyboard, sober, alone, worrying about whether you could finish, how you might make the plot more exciting, whether you’ve included enough details and whether you’ve supplied your characters with enough motivation to do what they do. It seemed like fun at the time, but it wasn’t real fun. It was also work. You hoped there would be a reward when you finished, a reward bigger than just being able to stand up from the keyboard.
Yes, all that time you could have been out having some real fun. While you were writing there were parties going on, movies playing, people hiking, skiing, dancing, kissing and talking. At some point, it will dawn on you that you were sitting at your stupid keyboard while all that was happening. You have nothing to show for it but a story nobody else seems to understand.
There are some theories, popular among amateur writers, that may also contribute to your writing problem. One is that if you are talented and you try really, really hard, you will succeed (become successfully published.) Another theory is that writing should be enjoyable (after all, why do it otherwise?)
But if writing is entertaining you in the same way that television or baseball games entertain you, your story may falter. Because you’re not out having real fun, you made the writing fun. The problem that’s almost impossible to see when you’re in the middle of writing a novel is that what’s interesting to the writer isn't necessarily interesting to the reader. You have to be considerate of your reader, not self indulgent. That can be as much work as being polite to people you don’t like. Unless you have a team of critical readers looking at your material every week who can and will keep you on the right track, you may let your characters take over your story, because it’s fun. You’ll keep yourself more amused than you’ll amuse your reader, because it’s fun. Your story will suffer because it’s fun.
Because those characters who so charmingly hijacked your subconscious and dictated where their story is going also trampled on your carefully written character outlines. They wreaked havoc with the arc of your plot –the plot that was supposed to have a beginning, a middle and an end. What started out as fun turned into so much fun that nobody else will want to pay money to read it.
In the writing process, a wall quietly starts to go up between the author and the rest of the world. What’s meant to be the ultimate act of communication leads to alienation instead. The wall grows slowly—at first it’s low enough that the writer thinks "-People can step over that!" --but it keeps growing, fed by the momentum of the story, by those unexpected lives the characters took on and the ever-present conviction that the world is about to discover the greatest writer since (your favorite author’s name goes here.) Writing is not the solitary act it appears to be. It’s critical that you tell people you write and allow them to read and comment on your writing. It’s just too easy to kid yourself otherwise. You’ll overlook problems and eventually pronounce your story finished, while wondering what lucky publisher is going to get to offer you a large advance.
The truth is that writing well is a lot of work, isn’t always fun, shouldn’t always be fun and that getting your fiction published will border on the impossible. These are all good reasons to quit if you’re a normal, sane person, but if you’ve read this far, you may be beyond hope. You may have a writing problem. You may be in for the long haul. The only cure is to get your work finished, loved, published and read by others.
Next: myths about getting published
Cal Ledford (not his real name) Cal.Ledford@yahoo.com
Having Too Much Fun
Admit it- you have a writing problem. As someone who writes fiction, you know it’s seductive. Do you know why?
Every day, we spend a lot of time on projects other people designed for us. Our bosses, teachers, customers, clients, family members and friends all have ideas on how we should spend our time. We accommodate their needs to avoid getting fired, to make them happy because we love them, or because it’s easier than listening to them screech. Other people are constantly telling us --directly or indirectly --what they need right now, and consequently, how we have to spend our time. We can fight with them or give in—it doesn’t matter. Either way, people demand your attention and how you deal with that not only dictates what you do, but who you are.
Writing fiction gives you a new world and a new identity: You are the writer. You may wonder if it’s okay to call yourself a writer, but if you write, you know that’s exactly what you are. The world you’re writing about is always available-- not just when you find the solitude to sit down and write, but any time you can think about your story. You can be a writer as you drive down the highway, wait in line at the bank or while you do the dishes. Your story is yours. You’re running that show. Your writing is who you are, and no one can take it away.You have experienced the magic of finding out how your characters seem to decide for themselves exactly what's going to happen next. Like rebellious children, the characters you created ended up doing just what they wanted, even though it wasn’t what you planned for them in your story. As the author, you’ve felt like a conduit at times, the mere typist who recorded the story as it unfolded. It’s fun to watch your characters develop their own identities and take over.
But the identity writing gives you, and the identity your characters seem to give themselves are two of the great dangers of fiction.
Yes, writing fiction is dangerous. It’s not dangerous in the sense that it causes any immediate harm (unless you’re typing on your Blackberry while you’re driving) but it’s dangerous for your ego. It’s going to hurt you sooner or later. Let’s face it: writing fiction is an escapist activity. The more you live in your fictional world, as you must, the less you live in the world other people inhabit. They’ll sense it; they’ll resent it, and they’ll punish you for it in large and small ways. They’ll want those blocks of time you’ve carved out for yourself to work on your writing. Tell them that you’re writing a novel and they’ll call you a dreamer. Tell them you’ve finished one, and they’ll ask if it’s been published before they even ask what it’s about. Lapse into thinking about your characters when you’re in the presence of other people and they’ll label you as unfriendly or spaced out.
You’ve probably already found ways to deal with those obstacles. Maybe you write in secret. For a while, writing is great for the ego --as long as you can convince yourself your story is terrific and that other people are going to think so too. But when you start trying to get a literary agent to work with you, or start trying to get a publisher to out the book out, or start trying to get the public to buy your book --and find out nobody but your and your mother and best friend seem to agree it’s the greatest story ever told, the high evaporates quickly.
In fact, you’ll probably crash. Within the space of about a month, you can go from thinking you’re the greatest new thing in the literary world to the piece of scum you always suspected you were. The worst part is the realization that you haven’t even been wasting your life properly—you’ve been slaving away at the keyboard, sober, alone, worrying about whether you could finish, how you might make the plot more exciting, whether you’ve included enough details and whether you’ve supplied your characters with enough motivation to do what they do. It seemed like fun at the time, but it wasn’t real fun. It was also work. You hoped there would be a reward when you finished, a reward bigger than just being able to stand up from the keyboard.
Yes, all that time you could have been out having some real fun. While you were writing there were parties going on, movies playing, people hiking, skiing, dancing, kissing and talking. At some point, it will dawn on you that you were sitting at your stupid keyboard while all that was happening. You have nothing to show for it but a story nobody else seems to understand.
There are some theories, popular among amateur writers, that may also contribute to your writing problem. One is that if you are talented and you try really, really hard, you will succeed (become successfully published.) Another theory is that writing should be enjoyable (after all, why do it otherwise?)
But if writing is entertaining you in the same way that television or baseball games entertain you, your story may falter. Because you’re not out having real fun, you made the writing fun. The problem that’s almost impossible to see when you’re in the middle of writing a novel is that what’s interesting to the writer isn't necessarily interesting to the reader. You have to be considerate of your reader, not self indulgent. That can be as much work as being polite to people you don’t like. Unless you have a team of critical readers looking at your material every week who can and will keep you on the right track, you may let your characters take over your story, because it’s fun. You’ll keep yourself more amused than you’ll amuse your reader, because it’s fun. Your story will suffer because it’s fun.
Because those characters who so charmingly hijacked your subconscious and dictated where their story is going also trampled on your carefully written character outlines. They wreaked havoc with the arc of your plot –the plot that was supposed to have a beginning, a middle and an end. What started out as fun turned into so much fun that nobody else will want to pay money to read it.
In the writing process, a wall quietly starts to go up between the author and the rest of the world. What’s meant to be the ultimate act of communication leads to alienation instead. The wall grows slowly—at first it’s low enough that the writer thinks "-People can step over that!" --but it keeps growing, fed by the momentum of the story, by those unexpected lives the characters took on and the ever-present conviction that the world is about to discover the greatest writer since (your favorite author’s name goes here.) Writing is not the solitary act it appears to be. It’s critical that you tell people you write and allow them to read and comment on your writing. It’s just too easy to kid yourself otherwise. You’ll overlook problems and eventually pronounce your story finished, while wondering what lucky publisher is going to get to offer you a large advance.
The truth is that writing well is a lot of work, isn’t always fun, shouldn’t always be fun and that getting your fiction published will border on the impossible. These are all good reasons to quit if you’re a normal, sane person, but if you’ve read this far, you may be beyond hope. You may have a writing problem. You may be in for the long haul. The only cure is to get your work finished, loved, published and read by others.
Next: myths about getting published
Cal Ledford (not his real name) Cal.Ledford@yahoo.com
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