writing

Trust The Process

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Every writer, through trial and error, develops their own way of approaching their work. While some use the “leap and a net will appear” approach, I outline. I like to know where I’m going. An outline allows me to see the story, to work out plot or characterization problems. I want to catch them before I’m a hundred pages in. I also outline each chapter as I come to it. I do back stories for most of the characters. I create a back story for the story itself, so I know what went on before it began.

I did all that for Alex Bullied. But thirty rejections tells me that it may not be good enough. The agent who asked for the full manuscript and then rejected it did give me some suggestions. He felt the plot did not hold  his interest as he had hoped and that the secondary characters needed more strength. With the help of my critique group, I am editing. I see what I missed and am correcting it.

A woman in that critique group, Amy, recently scored an agent for her young adult novel. She has worked on her book for three years or so. She has workshopped it at conferences and writing retreats. She hired a professional editor. High five to Amy. What this tells me is that it is accomplishable. That it is not a pie in the sky dream to try for an agent. What it tells me is to keep trying.

I try to remember: there’s no glory in easy.

There are times when my brain and creativity go on hiatus. Weeks go by while I do everything except sit my tail bone down to do the rewrites that I know are going to improve my book. I do not believe in writer’s block. I know the ideas and words are there. I trust the process; knowing that I’ve never take a break that I didn’t benefit from in the end. It always results in a pay off that I would not have anticipated and could not force.

Eventually I get out of my own way. I let it come to me, I let it flow. I think that’s part of it. We get so uptight, worrying that we’ll never get it right, that we stand in our own way. Relax, enjoy the process. Trust the process, whatever yours is.

And stay tuned.

 

 

So Much To Do

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I have heaps piled on my desk: my Alex Bullied edit (finally finished), lists of agents who promise they’re looking for books just like mine, Morning of the Mermaid revisions (thirteen critiqued chapters, waiting for corrections), notes for this blog. There are novels to read, how-to books to study, scraps of paper with notes on them and file folders galore.

I organize and reorganize, use stacking trays or wire baskets or file folder holders. I still have heaps, though. They’re just stacked or upright.

I keep thinking I’ll whittle these heaps down into something manageable, but they keep growing. They become crushing mountains of white. Eventually there will be an avalanche and I will be buried alive. And still unpublished.

Then I stop and think about Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. It’s a must-read writer’s book, but really, everyone should read it. The central lesson concerns Lamott’s brother and his school project about birds of America. He didn’t know where or how to start, it seemed so overwhelming. So his dad told him to take it a bird at a time. And really, is there anything else we can do? Bird by bird.

When I got involved with my son’s school’s PTA, one of the things I took on was to organize the school’s annual Family Fun Day. Talk about overwhelming. I’d never done anything like it before. I had some moments of gut-busting fear. The solution was as simple as breaking it down, bird-by-bird style. Focusing attention on one thing at a time. It’s a philosophy that works for everything.

Then, to really help remind me, there’s my name. I wasn’t born Brix. I never cared for my given name. I was always on the lookout for a new name, something that felt more like me. When I was about twenty-five I had a friend who was something of a guru to me. One day, this being my mid-terrible-twenties, I asked him to fix my life.

He said, “The problem with you is that you want the wall to just be there. You don’t realize you have to build it a brick at a time.” This was years before Bird by Bird, so for me, it’s more brick by brick. My friend dubbed me “Bricks.” I loved it and spelled it with an x and changed it legally. So I am always reminded.

That’s what I’m doing now. Perfecting a book and getting it published is my wall and I’m building it a brick at a time. In that way I can face what seems insurmountable and make it manageable. I can organize my desk and my work. I can stop being so hard on myself. As someone recently reminded me — people with messy desks are creative. From the looks of mine, I must be the Queen of Creativity.

Do you also have a lot going on? Work piling up? How do you stay organized? Do you have a special trick that helps you? I’d love to know.

 

Love That Synopsis

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Friday night at the SCBWI Writers’ Conference, I sat on my balconey looking out on the Avenue of the Stars in Century City, contemplating my consultation with Krista Marino of Random House Childrens’ Books, coming up the next day.

I’ve been revising my third novel, Morning of the Mermaid, the story of the first mermaid. At my first SCBWI conference, three years ago, when I thought the manuscript was pretty complete, I was told that actually it needed to be “taken to the next level.” It took me a couple of years and the writing of Alex Bullied before I figured out what that level was and how to reach it. Since finishing Alex, I’ve begun a complete revision of the mermaid book. I submitted the first ten pages and a synopsis to be critiqued at this year’s conference. I wasn’t expecting much, but thought perhaps she would let me know if I was headed in the right direction.

Then a thought occurred to me — had I changed the synopsis to reflect the changes in the story? I couldn’t remember. I know I sent the pages in a hurry. I’d waited until the last minute of the deadline. And the synopsis and I — well, let’s just call a spade a spade — are not on the best terms. It seemed likely I’d botched the synopsis. I hate being anything less than professional, but it seems I’d done just that. I could have gone on my laptop to check, but I decided to let the crap fall where is may. It was too late to do anything about it.

I sat there a bit longer hating the synopsis.

It’s a common feeling. I don’t know a writer who doesn’t hate the synopsis. We complain about it, agonize over it and search relentlessly for the magic formula to write a good one. They are a necessary evil. But we don’t have to like them.

Or do we? I had an epiphany. What if I decided to love the synopsis? Change your mind, change your life, right? What if I entered into the writing of a synopsis with the same joy, the same determination to have fun, as I do when writing a story? Why not embrace the process? Why not enjoy it? Would that not be reflected in the finished product?

The internet is full of advice on writing the synopsis. Every writer’s, agent’s or editor’s website has tips. Every writer, agent, or editor has probably written an article or given a talk on the synopsis.

The amount of information can be overwhelming. And yet, we continue to read, hoping we’ve finally found The Answer. I say, take it all in. Read it all. Make notes. Try it all. And enjoy it all. Love the synopsis.

One of the workshops I took during the conference was all about this subject. There was sensible advice about format: it should be in twelve point font, one page, single spaced (approximately forty lines at a twelve point font will fit a page), written in third person, present tense, and the first mention of a character should be in ALL CAPS.

Here are some of the tips given at the conference:

* Focus on the primary plot, no subplots

* Summarize each chapter into no more than two sentences.

* Link all the best sentences in a single, chronological block of text.

* Revise the block of text for length and clarity.

* Read each finished draft aloud.

So if you are not already full to the brim of synopsis advice, this is a good start. Let go of those bad feelings about the synopsis. Start fresh with enthusiasm and confidence. You can do it. I hope I can. Stay tuned.   

The Elevator Pitch. Or Not.

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On my first day of the SCBWI writers’ conference, going up to my room, a woman joined me in the elevator. We went through the usual conference greeting:

Me: Here for the conferrence?

Her: Yes. You?

Me: Yes, third time. Very exciting.

Her: Are you a writer or an illustrator?

Me: Writer. Middle grade. You?

Her: I’m an agent.

My mind went into conniptions. An agent! In an elevator no less. My brain could not access my “elevator pitch.” All I could blurt out was, “I have a great book for you!”

Then the door opened on my floor. Flushed, smiling like an idiot, I slipped out.

Yes, I said that. What an impression I must have made. Not. I didn’t get her name and, thankfully, she didn’t get mine.

When I reached my room and went through my conference packet, I came upon a couple of pages I wish I’d read before talking to anyone — a series of questions and answers and The Do’s and Don’t’s of Conference Etiquette. Apparently the better way to approach an agent or editor is not to talk about your work, but to show an interest in theirs. You don’t need to tell them about your work, unless they ask. Instead, ask them questions that give you more insight into their personal tastes. It’s likely the conversation will turn to your work.

Makes sense. You ask what they look for, what appeals to them, and not only do they like that, given that most people are pitching their books at them, but you learn whether they’d be a good fit for your manuscript. It’s a win win.

A good suggestion for that quick summary of your project: Be able to answer these two questions in one sentence. 1) What do you do? 2) What are you working on? One sentence.

Although we go to these conferences with the hope of connecting with an agent or editor, through our desperation, anxiety and momentary lapse in judgement, we often sabotage our own efforts. We need to keep calm and remember these are people. Mostly they are very nice people who want us to succeed. When we succeed, they do, too.

We were strongly advised not to pitch to editors or agents in the hallways, at lunch, between sessions, in the elevator (oops), or anywhere in between. Again, and I guess this cannot be stressed too much, editors and agents appreciate questions that allow you to get to know them and their house/agency so that you can submit to or query them once the conference is over, if they are a potential fit.

That’s another great thing about attending conferences. Most of the agents and editors on the faculty will be open to submissions just because you were at the conference. It cracks the door open a bit.

The best thing, of course, is to go prepared and to not act like you’ve seen your favorite movie star when someone introduces themselves as an agent.

There’s so much to learn about this business. Stay tuned.

Rejection

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We all have that dream, right? You know, the one where your query gets an immediate response, with a request for the entire manuscript. A week later that Big Agent in NYC wants to represent  you.

Yes, that dream.

That dream actually happened to me, with my first book, Riding On The Wind. I was so green at the time I didn’t realize what a miracle it was to have an agent accept the book on only my third query. Now, this was not a Big NYC Agent. It was smaller, The Bookstop Agency in Orinda, CA. That didn’t matter. The Call came, with the agent on the other end, telling me how her assistant had insisted she read my manuscript and how it “made” her weekend. She was excited about my book, how great was that?

Pretty great. Unfortunately, I learned about rejection after that, when no publisher bought the manuscript. There were a few close calls and some very nice rejection letters, but no sale. Soon after, I attended the Maui Writers Conference and in a workshop, when I asked about sending the book out again, I was told that it was too late. Even if I changed the title, no one would look at it now. It had done the rounds. So I self-published.

I don’t want to self-publish again. I want more readers.

The reality is we’ll all get our share of rejections. Sometimes it seems we may be getting someone else’s share, too. My first experience encouraged the dream. My second and third, not so much. Now I’m on my fourth book, the best so far, I believe. And my first round of rejections have arrived.

I was initially ambitious about querying. I promised myself I would send one a day, at the very least. That was two months ago and I’ve sent four. I’ve been distracted by travel and company and my son and editing another book, and, well, life. It happens.

Now we’re deep into summer and we’ve always heard this is one of the worst times to query, the other being the Winter holidays. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.

I’ve received two rejections. Maria Caravainis of the Maria Caravainis Agency had to, unfortunately, report that she did not feel sufficiently enthusiastic about my project to pursue it further. She regretted the impersonal nature of her letter but they just don’t have time to respond personally to all the queries they receive. She did appreciate the opportunily to consider my work and wished me much success and pleasure in my writing.

Then Michael Bourret of the Dystel & Goderich Literary Management thanked me for letting him look at my materials and asked forgiveness for the form letter. However, the volume of submissions, etc. , etc. The project I described does not suit their list at this time. He, too, wished me best of luck in finding an agent.

I really believe Alex Bullied has what it takes — I could be wrong — but I’ve only had these four queries out since I had the book professionally edited.

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett, received sixty rejections from agents. She kept going back and rewriting. The fortieth told her, “There is no market for this kind of tiring writing.” She kept rewriting. Number sixty-one was the charm.

Agatha Christie spent five years collecting rejections. Two hundred rejections for Louis L’Amour until Bantam took a chance on him. My reading life would have been sorely lacking if Audrey Niffenegger, author of The Time Traveler’s Wife, had given up after her twenty-five rejections. Twenty-four for Nicolas Sparks’ The Notebook (not my cup of tea, but can’t argue with success). Stephanie Meyers only suffered through fourteen rejections before placing Twilight with an agent.

I wonder if each of these authors, and all the others, too many to mention, went back, as Kathryn Stockett did, and rewrote, making their books better. That is my plan. I will figure ten agents may not be wrong and I’ll take another look at the manuscript then. So I have six more queries to send with two who have not yet responded.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Stay tuned.

Query Eye for the Writer Guy

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Today I sent four queries to four agents at four agencies. It took all day.

I had my ducks in a row: my manuscript has been professionally edited, as has my query. My synopsis is a one-page quick read. I have a website on which I sell my first two, self-published books and I have this blog, which, so far, comprises my platform. I have a list of agents who represent children’s literature.

All I had to do was send the query, right? Nope. That’s where the time comes in.

This is my process…

I choose an agent from my list and go to their agency’s website. This is the place to start. Agents move around all the time, so it’s best to make sure they are still at this agency. I once sent out a dozen queries ( for a previous manuscript), back when it was all done snail mail. I had used the Writers Market to find the agents. When I got one envelope returned to me with DECEASED scrawled across it, I knew I had to sharpen my research.

By the way, when choosing the first agents to send to, I always start at the top, with the agent I would most love to have represent my book. Someone suggested sending to lower level agents to test the waters. That doesn’t make sense to me. I am sending a book that I think is ready for agents and publishers. So why not start with the most desired? if a smaller agent loves it and wants it, do you tell them no and figure a bigger agent will love it as well? Maybe. But, to me, that seems unprofessional. My list starts with the biggest and works its way down.

Since we’re on this subject, I also caution any new author against premature querying. Once again, to test the waters, sending in a query that is not right, not finished and querying a book that still needs editing, is foolish and can burn bridges. Don’t do it! Spend your time on perfecting the book. Don’t send it out until you honestly think it has reached that perfection: no grammatical or spelling or punctuation mistakes. Proof it several times. Don’t do anything to take an agent’s attention away from the content, which should be brilliant. It’s called an invisible manuscript.

Okay, so I go to the agency’s website to begin the research on the particular agent. I subscribed to Publishers Market so I can check the recent book sales of this agent and agency and if the books are similar or radically different from mine. I get on my Kindle and buy or sample the books. This is a great tool. I can preview the books, reading several chapters, or buy the book outright, just because it looks like a good story. Doing this tells me what appeals to this agent. If the agent has a blog, I read it. Follow them on Twitter.

Now I can personalize my query and show the agent I’m invested. I can suggest how this book could be marketed.

All of this clicking and reading takes time. It’s amazing how much. But with something this important, there’s no cutting corners. You only have the one chance to make a good impression.

Once I have all those ducks in a row, I check the agent’s submission policy. Always do this. Some agents are not taking on new clients. Some will only accept submissions from people who have been to a conference the agent has attended or through contacts. Those that do take unsolicited queries will tell you exactly what they want in a submission (some want only a query letter, some want pages, some want a synopsis. It can be different for each) and how they what the work submitted (by mail, or electronically, sometimes with a form to fill out). Whatever they ask for, it’s important that you ALWAYS BELIEVE that they mean what they post. Do not second guess. Do not think this applies to everyone but special you. Do as they ask. Be professional.

There you have it. That’s how I do it. And just because I haven’t succeeded at it yet, it doesn’t mean I’m wrong. It means I haven’t been ready enough or had a good enough manuscript. Yet. Alex Bullied could be the one. I asked a couple of writer friends what their processes are and here’s what they said:

“1) buff query 2) research markets 3) find out requirements 4)complete package 5) send query 6) record the submission 7) wait 8) go on to next query 9) repeat as necessary.”

One word on multiple queries — do it! All agents expect we will query more than one of them at a time. If we didn’t, with the sometimes months of waiting for a reply, it would take years to sell one manuscript.

Another friend said:

” I look at a list of a thousand literary agents, but click on AGENCIES, rather than the AGENTS. Then, going agency by agency, pick one that takes my kind of work. Then look at website to be sure agent is still there, is still accepting queries and how he/she wants to be approached.”

Are you detecting a theme here? There really isn’t that much variation on how to query. Having said all this, you never know what is going to catch someone’s attention and certainly there’s room for querying outside the box. If you do, or have, please write and tell us what  you did and how successful it was.

The waiting begins on the four queries I have out there. Some say six weeks, some three months, some say if I don’t hear from them in six months, I can consider that a rejection.

Gosh, isn’t this so much fun?

But maybe, just maybe, i will get a request for the full manuscript. And maybe I will get The Call. Rejections are always by mail (mostly email) but an acceptance will always be by phone.

On to the next four queries, and the next four and so on.

Good luck to me. Good luck to you. May you receive The Call. Now, go write a really good story.

Beta Readers

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Eventually we finish an improved, edited version of the first draft of our novels. We’ve run every chapter past our critique groups. We’ve read and applied editing tips. We’ve sweated over and changed our openings a dozen (or more) times. We’ve spell checked, grammar checked and read it over and over until we know it by heart. But is it really done? Now what?

Beta readers, that’s what.

I don’t know why we call them beta readers. Beta is the name of the second letter in the Greek alphabet. It’s the second of a group or series and the second brightest star in the night sky. So beta is second. Wouldn’t it be alpha readers? Alpha, the name of the first letter of the Greek alphabet, the beginning of everything, seems like it would be more apropos. I suppose, though, that we, the writers, could be considered the first readers.

Now we need second readers, but the first to read what we hope is the finished manuscript. Or close to finished. You would think family and friends would be lining up. Not so much. And really, are those the folks we want to read this first finished draft? An instructor in a writing class I took early on told us that when you have a very early draft, it’s good to give it to someone who is not going to be too critical and will probably tell you how wonderful you are. That’s when we want those loved ones to read it. It encourages up to soldier on with the project. eventually, though, we’re going to need people who can give us constructive criticism so that our manuscripts can get better. Mom or Sister may love our words, but they are not agents or publishers.

The beta reader thing is tricky.

The beta read is not an editor. He may find and mark mistakes and this is good but mainly you want your reader to answer questions. Did the beginning grab you? Did it bog down anywhere? Did the characters, the dialogue seem real? Was any of it confusing?

One downside of beta readers is that they can take their own sweet time getting around to reading our manuscripts. This waiting, on our part, can be agonizing. Did our first pages bore? Is the manuscript so bad that they’re afraid to tell us? We swallow our pride and call, only to find out that they haven’t even picked it up yet.

My friend Jack is the perfect beta reader. He sits down immediately and reads through the entire thing. Jack is smart, well read, and a writer himself. This is the reader we want. His critique is valuable. These people are harder to find than you might imagine. But keep looking because getting that informed overview of you story is not just helpful but necessary.

Stephen King says, “The scariest moment is always just before you start.” But I wonder if the scariest moment isn’t the one just before you hand over your manuscript to someone to read. And judge.

Critique Groups

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Critique groups are like sardines — you either love them or hate them. Me, I love critique groups. Sardines, not so much. I think the love/hate issue with the former depends on whether you’ve ever been in a good one. I don’t know if there is a good sardine.

I’ve been in a few groups. The best have strong leaders with some knowledge of what constitutes good writing and how to go about improving. I’ve gone — one meeting is all it takes — to classes or groups with egocentric asses or clueless idiots as leaders. This doesn’t work for me. Getting together once or twice a month doesn’t work for me, exchanging pages beforehand doesn’t work for me — feels too much like homework. What I do like are read-and-critique groups that meet once a week, with members I can respect. The writer brings pages, usually not more than eight, and five or six are best. A chapter, basically. She may or may not pass out copies.Then she reads and everyone reads along or listens and gives their knee-jerk critiques.

This is amazingly helpful. Some have mocked the critique group, calling it “writing by committee.” It is not that. Be assured, it is always your story and you can tell it in any way you want. However, if you want your writing to improve, to maybe get to that level of traditional publishing, you may want feedback.

The writers who do not want to be critiqued generally believe they are already way too good to allow people to tell them what doesn’t work. This is a big mistake. It stops the progress of their writing. You have to be open to change. You have to be open to getting your butt kicked. It’s for your own good, believe me. Anyway, if you’re going to be any kind of artist, you’d better develop a thick skin. A critique group is a good place to start doing that.

Another great thing about committing to a weekly critique group is that, at least in ours, everyone is required to WRITE. Members can only go a couple of weeks before they are prodded to bring something: a new chapter, a revised chapter, an old or new short story. Knowing that I will have to read a new chapter every week makes me write a new chapter every week. And I get my first feedback on it immediately. I’ve written three complete novels since joining this group. I’ve seen other members finish novels and memoirs. We help each other with queries and synopses. I’ll be reading this blog entry to them. By the time  you read it, it will have been improved.

Often when  you read articles or blogs by agents and editors, they will tell you that if you’re going to spend any money on your manuscript, use it on a freelance editor. That’s good advice. But a professional editor can be expensive. My critique group serves this purpose nicely. They can weed out the offending grammar and unnecessary adjectives, tell me when my POV or tense changes and notice if the plot is going off the rails. Better still, they know my voice and the way I tell a story.

I still think we should all use an editor, if possible. We want to give that person the best we’ve been able to do with our book, so that hopefully she will not have all that much work to do on it, making it less expensive for us. Having run our manuscript through our critique group helps with that.

If you do get a group together, its a good idea to establish some ground rules. For our group, which we named The North County Writers Bloc, we have guidelines which set up how the meeting will be run. New members are given a copy. None of the rules are carved in stone but it helps to have some order.

You’ll find some critiquers will specialize. In our group we had the man who encouraged starting a chapter with dialogue, someone else who looks to shorten sentences, others specialize in opening up the plot, or finding those pesky passive verbs or pointing out problems with tense or point of view. And often, when others are being critiqued you’ll find you learn something, too.

Here’s what a few members of the North County Writers Bloc had to say about this blog entry:

“Yes, I agree. I’ve completed four novels. For a guy who doesn’t type, that’s pretty good. My stress is my business and it is forgotten when I’m writing. So is this extending my life.”

“I learn from others’ writing styles, vocabularies. It’s great entertainment, having all these stories. Orin ( a recently deceased member, sadly) always changes my beginnings.”

“If I hadn’t found NCWB, I would never have written anything. Let alone anything halfway decent.”

That All Important First Sentence

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I belong to the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators – San Diego chapter. Award winning author of forty-one (and counting) children’s books, Richard Peck, spoke at a recent meeting. His topic was First Lines and he gave examples of great ones. Would the opening to my Alex Bullied be one of them? I thought not. It’s certainly no Charlotte’s Web, which begins “Where’s Papa going with that ax?”

Back to the drawing board. How do I make that first sentence sparkle? Sometimes a writer works and reworks a first sentence. I did that with my first book, Riding On The Wind.When I finally wrote–  “Carrie could barely sit still on the hard wagon seat. Never in her fifteen years had a trip into town taken so long.” I knew I had my opening.

When I first thought of writing Morning of the Mermaid, I was inspired by a line I thought would be the first sentence — “When Calista’s parents died, an hour apart, she thought, now I will experience great grieving and utter desolation.” I thought that had punch. But it just didn’t work and ended up somewhere in the middle of the book.

Anything else in the whole two or three hundred pages can be changed. We all know the quote — credited to everyone from Hemingway to King — “kill your darlings.” We know we cannot become attached to our words. But we fall a little too much in love with our first words. They’re our first-born. The words that make up our first line are the favorites of our darlings. But sometimes, woe is us, they have to go.

Here’s the thing about that first line, that first page. When we write the original, it feels fresh and right and pulls us in to keep writing all of those 200-300 pages. When we have to go back and start the book again, it can feel forced. Not like the first time when we were so inspired. We are all too aware, this second or third go-around, of how important our first lines are.

After listening to Richard Peck speak, I knew I would have to rethink the opening to Alex Bullied. I kept staring at it, hoping, I suppose, that it shone with such brilliance that it jumped off the page, snaring the reader. It didn’t. It began — “Geeks and losers streamed int Gureville Math and Sciences Charter Middle School.” Not exactly Richard Peck-worthy. I continued with — “September sunlight blinked off eyeglasses and mouths full of braces. I’d never seen so many buttoned up, tucked in, wrinkle-free shirts or high-waisted khakis in one place in my life. Where were the jocks? Oh yeah, no sports, unless you count chess or glee club.”

Don’t judge.

My first attempt was even worse. I had the kid imagining himself in an old black and white Twilight Zone. That really didn’t work, for so many reasons. Three pages in and I knew if I didn’t change it, the entire book would fall flat.

I kept thinking how important that first impression is, to the agent’s assistant, the agent, the publisher, the reader. And that’s when I came up with this, the final first sentence and opening to Alex Bullied — “You only get one chance to make a good first impression,” my mom said.

Seems to me that says it all.