There are lots of books out there giving you pointers on how to write. My most salient bit of advice is basically "cherchez la verb." The BEST place to learn how verb choice can elevate your writing from the mundane to the magnificent is the sports page. I read the sports page every day. I'm not into sports, but I am into the writing of sports. It's punchy and fun writing that is all about conveying action. Underline all of the verbs in one piece. It's truly inspirational. Sports writers can't get away with inserting dull verbs in their copy and neither should you.
So after you've perused the sports page, first identify all verbs in a chapter and eliminate all the "to feel" and "to be" verbs you can, and replace them with fun verbs, demanding verbs, verbs that give the reader a bigger sense of the drama in front of them. Also eliminate all "to look" verb constructions you can. The "she looked ______" is a cop-out. It's one of those fatal tell-not-show constructions. The writer obviously knows her character is tired but the reader doesn't, and the writer telling you that isn't going to convince you that the character is tired. I call these verbs the tired verbs. They are so overused that they actually detract from a piece. You can't get rid of all of them, because if you do, your writing will sound insanely mannered, but eliminate every single one you can.
Once you've eliminated all the tired verbs, look for other dull verbs and replace them with verbs that have not only pizazz but also have a sound to them. When you switch out dull verbs for sassy verbs, it compels you to alter the sentence so that it can live up to the sassy verb's promise. At least it does for me.
Example: She hit him across the face.
This is an okay sentence. Its got action, which is always a good thing. But that sentence conveys none of the angst that I think should be contained in that sentence. Its language is so pedestrian and, well, common, that it really doesn't convey the true sense of how powerful this interaction is or could be. Thinking for a second I came up with:
She smacked him across the face.
Ooooh, "to smack" is a great verb. That "k" on the end has so much more oomph than that piddly "t" on the end of hit. Plus the harder sounding "sm" of smack is a lot better than the soft "h" of hit. And that little shift in emphasis now takes me out of the mundane and has prompted me to sneak a third look at that sentence. What else could I do to punch this up? While it conveys increased motion--that little "k" is working overtime--it doesn't convey that much more motion. Although personally I think a smack might hurt more than a hit, how can we up the "ante" even more?
This is what I came up with:
She hauled back her arm and smacked him across the face.
Better, but still no cigar.
She hauled back her arm and then let loose, smacking him across the face. Hard. With intent. With malice even.
I like the sentence above a lot. I might keep that one. I like the occasional one-word sentence. In this case the word "hard" mimics the action of that punch: short and not so sweet. But let's keep on playing here, because below we also get a deeper sense of the person hitting and the person being hit.
As she hauled back her arm, she curled her hand into a tight fist and then let that fist fly, catching the hard bone just at the top of his cheek. How satisfying, she thought, as she watched him reel back in reaction to her punch.
Okay, I added a few things. Sadly I lost my "to smack" verb in the reconstruction, but I added the valuable visual of someone curling their fist. Let's add a few more items.
As she hauled back her arm, she curled her hand into a tight fist and then let that fist fly forward, catching the hard bone just at the top of his cheek. How satisfying, she thought, as she watched him reel back in reaction to her punch. Even more satisfying? The wide-eyed shock on his face. He didn't see that coming. Of course that wide-eyed grimace it could be pain. That would be okay too.
Now we've added a shadow dynamic of the hitter and the hittee. Changing that one little verb has not only improved the visual of the sentence, but it's got me thinking about the characters at the heart of the action. It's not just a hit anymore.
Showing posts with label Onwriting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Onwriting. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Thursday, April 10, 2008
On Criticism
I'm going to try to articulate why I think constructive criticism is a critical tool to improving your writing. I know people who write without a critique group, and I don't know how they do it. I need someone to tell me this doesn't work, this does. My head is a pretty weird place (bet your's is too), and sometimes the bridge between the brain and page is nothing more than the-road-to-hell-is-paved-with-good-intentions scenario. My critique group has been invaluable, INVALUABLE, let me tell you. They have played an instrumental role in shaping the books that I have written, and I hope that they will play the same role for book no. three.
Anyway, I think people need to stop thinking of someone's comments on what doesn't work for them in your material as a critique. You need to stop thinking of it as someone saying, this isn't good. What you need to do is completely rewire those circuits. Because what they are saying is not, this is crap, what they are saying is, I don't understand. Yes, it's that simple. I don't understand what you're trying to say. That's what this is all about. It's about communicating what's in your brain to a piece of paper so that you can tell a whole bunch of people what you think. That's it. Writing is about communicating. It's the laptop and printer equivalent of sitting around a campfire and telling stories.
Why is a raven like a writing desk? Because writing is a frustrating and lonely process. You've got an idea that makes you squeak with joy. It's always more fun to squeak with joy with others than to squeak with joy by yourself (trust me on this one), so you want to share the squeaking and joy part. But since it's your idea, you want to maximum the squeak factor, so you write it down in a way will, hopefully, encourage as much collective squeak as possible.
If I were satisfied with only me squeaking and no one else, then I'd probably write something without pronouns and a lot of misspellings and every other word would be fuck. So, um, no, that's NOT a plan. Plus, again, squeaking with joy by yourself sucks. Back to the drawing board. Let's put down what will get us the maximum amount of collective squeak and don't forget the joy.
That's what writing is. It's about taking this lonely little idea that you have, in your brain alone, with all your baggage that you've collected over the years, the hang-up you have because you are really short-waisted (the fact that every woman in your family is similarly short-waisted doesn't mitigate the woe), the father abandonment issues, the growing up being the daughter of immigrants so you don't feel American OR European, um, where was I? Oh yeah, not that those are MY issues you understand, cough, cough, but we cart around those SORTS of issues and they affect how we tell stories. So our minds are full of this baggage and other people have baggage too (which makes it nice because baggage-less people often don't get those of us with baggage). Baggage usually differs, but the ACT of carrying baggage is the same. Storytelling is ALL about letting that dirty laundry fall out of your suitcase and having people help you pick it up and discovering, hey, I have a pair of socks JUST like that.
How I want to say what I want to say is unique to me, so unique to me that it's called voice in writing parlance. And when voice works it's marvelous, because the writer is speaking to you and I mean speaking full throttle. But when your voice doesn't connect with as many people as you want it to? Then it's just a question of learning how to communicate more effectively. That's it! Nothing more. It doesn't mean that you don't have great ideas, or that you don't have the most profound insight into the working mind of your protagonist. What it means is that you need to improve your communication skills.
That is what it boils down to: learning to speak a more universal language so that your angst, your humor, your insight, your *dream* becomes the reader's angst, humor, insight, and dream.
When I send something out for critique, I want full and complete honesty. Because for me, it's all about taking what's up here (visual, am poking at head) and putting it down here (visual, pointing at laptop screen) so that you and I can have a meaningful chat. And, hopefully, some collective squeaking with joy.
Communication skills. That's what it's about plain and simple. If your writing doesn't get a lot of wows, it doesn't mean you're a *bad* writer. I HATE IT when people denigrate their writing skills. Absolutely truth. Swear to God. I worked on this for years. I started seriously writing around my thirty-ninth birthday, and I'm looking at turning 52 this year. And my initial efforts (um, we are talking the first five years) were really pretty sad. But then I was learning how to "talk," yeah? So think of legitimate criticism as someone saying to you, I don't understand. It's that simple. Go back to the laptop and think, how can I say this so that people will understand what I'm trying to say.
Talk to me.
Anyway, I think people need to stop thinking of someone's comments on what doesn't work for them in your material as a critique. You need to stop thinking of it as someone saying, this isn't good. What you need to do is completely rewire those circuits. Because what they are saying is not, this is crap, what they are saying is, I don't understand. Yes, it's that simple. I don't understand what you're trying to say. That's what this is all about. It's about communicating what's in your brain to a piece of paper so that you can tell a whole bunch of people what you think. That's it. Writing is about communicating. It's the laptop and printer equivalent of sitting around a campfire and telling stories.
Why is a raven like a writing desk? Because writing is a frustrating and lonely process. You've got an idea that makes you squeak with joy. It's always more fun to squeak with joy with others than to squeak with joy by yourself (trust me on this one), so you want to share the squeaking and joy part. But since it's your idea, you want to maximum the squeak factor, so you write it down in a way will, hopefully, encourage as much collective squeak as possible.
If I were satisfied with only me squeaking and no one else, then I'd probably write something without pronouns and a lot of misspellings and every other word would be fuck. So, um, no, that's NOT a plan. Plus, again, squeaking with joy by yourself sucks. Back to the drawing board. Let's put down what will get us the maximum amount of collective squeak and don't forget the joy.
That's what writing is. It's about taking this lonely little idea that you have, in your brain alone, with all your baggage that you've collected over the years, the hang-up you have because you are really short-waisted (the fact that every woman in your family is similarly short-waisted doesn't mitigate the woe), the father abandonment issues, the growing up being the daughter of immigrants so you don't feel American OR European, um, where was I? Oh yeah, not that those are MY issues you understand, cough, cough, but we cart around those SORTS of issues and they affect how we tell stories. So our minds are full of this baggage and other people have baggage too (which makes it nice because baggage-less people often don't get those of us with baggage). Baggage usually differs, but the ACT of carrying baggage is the same. Storytelling is ALL about letting that dirty laundry fall out of your suitcase and having people help you pick it up and discovering, hey, I have a pair of socks JUST like that.
How I want to say what I want to say is unique to me, so unique to me that it's called voice in writing parlance. And when voice works it's marvelous, because the writer is speaking to you and I mean speaking full throttle. But when your voice doesn't connect with as many people as you want it to? Then it's just a question of learning how to communicate more effectively. That's it! Nothing more. It doesn't mean that you don't have great ideas, or that you don't have the most profound insight into the working mind of your protagonist. What it means is that you need to improve your communication skills.
That is what it boils down to: learning to speak a more universal language so that your angst, your humor, your insight, your *dream* becomes the reader's angst, humor, insight, and dream.
When I send something out for critique, I want full and complete honesty. Because for me, it's all about taking what's up here (visual, am poking at head) and putting it down here (visual, pointing at laptop screen) so that you and I can have a meaningful chat. And, hopefully, some collective squeaking with joy.
Communication skills. That's what it's about plain and simple. If your writing doesn't get a lot of wows, it doesn't mean you're a *bad* writer. I HATE IT when people denigrate their writing skills. Absolutely truth. Swear to God. I worked on this for years. I started seriously writing around my thirty-ninth birthday, and I'm looking at turning 52 this year. And my initial efforts (um, we are talking the first five years) were really pretty sad. But then I was learning how to "talk," yeah? So think of legitimate criticism as someone saying to you, I don't understand. It's that simple. Go back to the laptop and think, how can I say this so that people will understand what I'm trying to say.
Talk to me.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
State of the Genre
I often peruse Publisher's Weekly announcements of big deals, and I always find it a fascinating read, and have you noticed that it also includes film info. But, you say, this is, ahem, Publisher's Weekly, and shouldn't it be all about books? But, I say, we are now in the world of bovies or mooks, which has profoundly affected the way books are being written.
In the genre that I write and heavily invest in, the potential for movie and television deals is always a good shot because, hey, the who-done-it is pretty much is a sale. I know several people who have had their books nabbed for at least "treatments" because the media are desperate for material and what's $10,000 to them? I wish they'd send a little of that desperation my way, but hey.
Which means that since books sales are not great in general, across the board, people are writing for the movies. I can see it in nearly ALL the big name crime fiction authors. There's definitely been a shift. Lot less internal monologue and description. LOTS OF ACTION. In fact, the last book I read by one of the biggest names in the crime fiction world read like a screenplay. All that was missing were the character tags. It was so sparse that I expect he will have to do nothing to it for a screen treatment other than hand over the book with a, "Here."
I'm not saying action isn't good. Action is great. Descriptions of physical action move the story along both physically and mentally. A well-written action scene is worth its weight in gold. However, a screenplay is NOT a novel and a novel is not a screenplay. There is not (or shouldn't be) a seamless transition between one and the other. When an author writes a pseudo-book, what gets cut out is the characterization.
Plot becomes ALL. The motivation and the characterization are more or less sacrificed. In fact, I suspect that the author feels it might get in the way of a sale if you have too much characterization. What you are presenting is almost a blank page so that the director and screenwriter can fill in THEIR characterization. Which is nothing more than what hot hunk or bimbo of the week can we slide in here. If it's too defined, then the generic male/female actor won't work. Or it will be harder to make it work.
The last five books I've read are clearly written with movie or television deals in mind. I've been following certain authors for years and a comparison between their earlier crime fiction novels and ones written in the last two years? It's all about the movies.
If I wanted to read a screenplay, I'd buy one. You know?
In the genre that I write and heavily invest in, the potential for movie and television deals is always a good shot because, hey, the who-done-it is pretty much is a sale. I know several people who have had their books nabbed for at least "treatments" because the media are desperate for material and what's $10,000 to them? I wish they'd send a little of that desperation my way, but hey.
Which means that since books sales are not great in general, across the board, people are writing for the movies. I can see it in nearly ALL the big name crime fiction authors. There's definitely been a shift. Lot less internal monologue and description. LOTS OF ACTION. In fact, the last book I read by one of the biggest names in the crime fiction world read like a screenplay. All that was missing were the character tags. It was so sparse that I expect he will have to do nothing to it for a screen treatment other than hand over the book with a, "Here."
I'm not saying action isn't good. Action is great. Descriptions of physical action move the story along both physically and mentally. A well-written action scene is worth its weight in gold. However, a screenplay is NOT a novel and a novel is not a screenplay. There is not (or shouldn't be) a seamless transition between one and the other. When an author writes a pseudo-book, what gets cut out is the characterization.
Plot becomes ALL. The motivation and the characterization are more or less sacrificed. In fact, I suspect that the author feels it might get in the way of a sale if you have too much characterization. What you are presenting is almost a blank page so that the director and screenwriter can fill in THEIR characterization. Which is nothing more than what hot hunk or bimbo of the week can we slide in here. If it's too defined, then the generic male/female actor won't work. Or it will be harder to make it work.
The last five books I've read are clearly written with movie or television deals in mind. I've been following certain authors for years and a comparison between their earlier crime fiction novels and ones written in the last two years? It's all about the movies.
If I wanted to read a screenplay, I'd buy one. You know?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Bulls I
I've done a lot of mental meta about writing. This is a separate exercise from actually putting down words and making some sort of coherent (and being me, sort of funny with an edge) narrative. I think that if you don't do the meta part of it, then a lot of the horrible, mean reds part of writing remains inexplicable. It does help a little when you desperately need perspective. Because writing is so personal. And reading is so personal. Sometimes, there just isn't a groove there. Insert frustrated grunt. So, you know things. But a lot of the time that means that the knowing isn't anything more than just a tacit acknowledgment that you write, you try to say something somewhat meaningful, you put stuff down on the page, and then you wait for the arrow to puncture the small of your back.
Being an extremely practical person at heart, I never really understood the concept of art as a form of self-flagellation until I started writing. Because I'd always been in the world of the concrete. As a pastry chef, you can completely quantify whether this is a good apple pie or a bad apple pie. Really, there's no contest. I can make an apple pie that's better than sex. I wish I had that sort of confidence with my writing.
As I said today to friend, art (and for me that means writing) is more or less about putting a gigantic bulls-eye on your back. Because art is not a one-way street. The reader brings their baggage. You bring your baggage. And pretty soon we need an entire contingent of Sky Caps to cart this shit around. When it works, your baggage (as the writer) meshes nicely with the reader's baggage so that you're basically opening up your suitcases and laughing hysterically and tossing all your shit that goes bump in your night into the air so that it co-mingles with their shit that goes bump in the night. And it's sort of the same color. Lots of scarves. Heavy on the red.
But how to ensure the contents of the suitcases match? You can't. You just HOPE that they have lots of red scarves because you've done your best and you can't say it any other way. Writing is based a lot on hope.
When you don't connect with your reader, then there is the opening of suitcases and they haul out suits with matching spectator pumps and you haul out jeans with a humongous rip in the right knee and tee shirts foisted on you for your generous donations to your local blood bank. And although they are both technically defined as clothes, the similarity ends there. Book is shut, author is consigned to the resale pile, sale is resented. You have not connected and you will never connect because we are literally casting pearls before swine. Or, more to the point, casting words before those who think you are swine.
The point I'm making is that as artists, whether it's with words or pen, we are so vulnerable. I'd like to think that what makes my writing appealing is that I share with you, the reader, my inner secrets. Okay, I'm not about to blab that Ive got some closet fetish for pink underwear covered with garish hearts (I do not), but in the book that's about to come out, I have my protagonist admit that she'd rather write checks than admit to car mechanics that she's stupid. THAT'S ME! I'd rather write a check (fortunately, my husband understands cars so this isn't my reality) than admit I'm stupid about cars. I am profoundly stupid about cars. Machinery is the anti-christ as far as I am concerned. I am a complete and total Luddite. That I happen to be profoundlly smart about a lot of other things sort of balances out this disability, but I couldn't help but put that silly, stupid tidbit about me down in words. Because I recognize that it's stupid, but it's profoundly human as well.
The best writing is the bravest writing. When you do sort of silently bleed on the page. But then you have this sharing of baggage that happens between the writer and the reader and if the contents of the suitcases don't work? You've just bared your soul as an idiot who would rather write checks than admit to stupidity to someone who took four years of auto-shop.
It's a gamble. One that I obviously make. But I cringe at the thought that someone's lining up the arrow and positioning the bow. And then letting go.
Ouch!
Being an extremely practical person at heart, I never really understood the concept of art as a form of self-flagellation until I started writing. Because I'd always been in the world of the concrete. As a pastry chef, you can completely quantify whether this is a good apple pie or a bad apple pie. Really, there's no contest. I can make an apple pie that's better than sex. I wish I had that sort of confidence with my writing.
As I said today to friend, art (and for me that means writing) is more or less about putting a gigantic bulls-eye on your back. Because art is not a one-way street. The reader brings their baggage. You bring your baggage. And pretty soon we need an entire contingent of Sky Caps to cart this shit around. When it works, your baggage (as the writer) meshes nicely with the reader's baggage so that you're basically opening up your suitcases and laughing hysterically and tossing all your shit that goes bump in your night into the air so that it co-mingles with their shit that goes bump in the night. And it's sort of the same color. Lots of scarves. Heavy on the red.
But how to ensure the contents of the suitcases match? You can't. You just HOPE that they have lots of red scarves because you've done your best and you can't say it any other way. Writing is based a lot on hope.
When you don't connect with your reader, then there is the opening of suitcases and they haul out suits with matching spectator pumps and you haul out jeans with a humongous rip in the right knee and tee shirts foisted on you for your generous donations to your local blood bank. And although they are both technically defined as clothes, the similarity ends there. Book is shut, author is consigned to the resale pile, sale is resented. You have not connected and you will never connect because we are literally casting pearls before swine. Or, more to the point, casting words before those who think you are swine.
The point I'm making is that as artists, whether it's with words or pen, we are so vulnerable. I'd like to think that what makes my writing appealing is that I share with you, the reader, my inner secrets. Okay, I'm not about to blab that Ive got some closet fetish for pink underwear covered with garish hearts (I do not), but in the book that's about to come out, I have my protagonist admit that she'd rather write checks than admit to car mechanics that she's stupid. THAT'S ME! I'd rather write a check (fortunately, my husband understands cars so this isn't my reality) than admit I'm stupid about cars. I am profoundly stupid about cars. Machinery is the anti-christ as far as I am concerned. I am a complete and total Luddite. That I happen to be profoundlly smart about a lot of other things sort of balances out this disability, but I couldn't help but put that silly, stupid tidbit about me down in words. Because I recognize that it's stupid, but it's profoundly human as well.
The best writing is the bravest writing. When you do sort of silently bleed on the page. But then you have this sharing of baggage that happens between the writer and the reader and if the contents of the suitcases don't work? You've just bared your soul as an idiot who would rather write checks than admit to stupidity to someone who took four years of auto-shop.
It's a gamble. One that I obviously make. But I cringe at the thought that someone's lining up the arrow and positioning the bow. And then letting go.
Ouch!
Monday, January 28, 2008
On Writing, Post 1
Below are several epiphanies that I have had during my tiny, insignificant writing career that I hope will help you. I struggled and bashed myself unmercifully until there was light so that you don't have to.
(1) You should never stop writing because you think your writing is full of shit. The first draft of Beat Until Stiff was absolutely horrible. I had several people tell me this and they were right. It was AWFUL. Did I stop writing? No, I licked my wounds, and because I am rather a pugnacious and stubborn person, I said to myself, "Okay, make it better." And I did. The second draft was only sort of awful. I kept at it. Is it a great book? No. It's an okay book. It does what it set out to do, and I learned a hell of a lot about the process of writing from rewriting it, oh, say, six times. I re-wrote the first chapter 30 times. I am not making that up. And it took me five years to sell it. I was lucky, yes, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time (after going through wrong place and wrong time on numerous occasions).
(2) Keep writing. You'll get better. Half the game of writing is learning who you are as a writer. Your voice. How your brain works with the English language. This takes TIME. I mean years, not weeks, not months. So your first few attempts weren't great. Keep at it. Part of this process is voodoo. You keep on writing and gradually it will come to you that, hey, this is the way I put words together. It will feel like the shoe fits. That doesn't mean that you'll be able to write flawless prose, it just means that you now *know* what your characters are supposed to sound like. And when you've found your voice and then you can't find your voice for a specific idea, it is hell on earth.
(3) Learn basic grammar. Yeah, I mean this. Because a misplaced comma can change the ENTIRE mood of a piece, and, no, I can't be arsed to put up an example. But punctuation can make a BIG difference. And lack of it. Punctuation is the conductor of your words. It has the baton, and it gives your writing the beat. Trust me on this one. You'll find yourself debating comma choices before you know it. That doesn't mean that you let grammar strangle you. Some of it depends on your voice. I have a colloquial style and my current series is written in first person. I can get away with a lot of grammar no-nos because my narrative sounds like a person talking to you. It's one of the strengths of this series. Having said that, I need to watch it because I have a tendency to overdo it. Grammar really is the drumbeat of your writing, so don't neglect it. Make it work for you.
(3) The grammar subset. If you don't learn basic grammar and you start sending off query letters with big errors in them, then what it says to the person reading the letters is that you're not taking this very seriously. You need to start thinking of yourself as a professional, and part of that is presenting yourself as someone who knows the value of a comma.
(4) This is probably the second most important thing I am going to say. There are other writers who are better than you. For the rest of their goddamn lives they will write rings around you. Perhaps they work REALLY hard at their writing and you have kids and a job and a dog and two cats (not that I'm describing me, you understand) and you cram your writing in when the kids are asleep...okay, this is bullshit. Some people are just better writers. I can think of several people I know personally (coughcough Ann Parker for one coughcough) that make me green with envy. I am no slouch, but you know, they are just better writers. Okay. Deal with it. I can deal with it, and I have an ego the size of Montana. Take pleasure in what *you* write. How you put it together. How you want it say it YOUR way, which is unlike anyone else's way. Do I get pleasure out of reading superior fic? Sure. I also get *tons* of pleasure out of other writers who may not be Nobel Prize in Literature contenders. IT'S STILL GOOD WRITING. It scratches an itch. It might not be the best put together story, but the writer is fresh and is striving to get an idea across and does a damn fine job of it. IT'S GOOD. I LIKE IT. I WANT TO READ IT. ALL OF IT.Does this mean you can be lazy and just slop down what ever comes to mind. NO! I abhor lazy writers. There is no excuse for this. Each project should be a little better. Haven't you picked up a book and thought that the author just phoned it in? They probably just cut and pasted their previous book and changed the names and the verbs. I will NOT read people who are lazy. It shows. You can't hide it. Think about what you're writing.
(5) So you've come to the horrible realization that you're not as good as author (A). And, sob, you'll never be as good as author (A). This is my reality. I don't mean to put up ANY roadblocks because the strides I've made in my writing over the last five years have been phenomenal. Basically from being unable to get a job writing fortune cookies to getting a book published. But still. Like I said, I'm pretty smart, but I can name names who are obviously JUST smarter than I am and are better writers to boot and do we curse them? We do not. WE LEARN FROM THEM. Take an author you admire and PICK APART her/his novel. See how the tension rises and falls, study the voice of the piece, how the characterization is done. A great writer chooses every word with care. EVERY WORD. Nothing is superfluous. IT ALL MATTERS. Whatever is there is there for a reason. Find out what makes this story work. I do this with every piece of fiction and non-fiction I read. Writing fiction has almost destroyed my love of reading because I CANNOT turn off the internal editor. Good writers either (a) just won that mental lottery and can write; (b) work their asses off to craft a story; or (c) both. You can learn from them. They are laying out their craft for you to enjoy and learn. See the bones of the story for what it's worth.
(6) Don't wallow in your mediocrity or flog yourself. I do this all the time, and it is self-destructive with a capital "S." Do not do this. This relates to No. 4 above but takes it one step further. PUSH yourself to be a better writer. Take classes. Buy books. "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott is highly recommended. Don't let your talent go to waste. Do you have talent? Yes, you do.
(7) Eliminate the verb "to feel" from your vocabulary. Yes, I do use it, but I shouldn't.
(8) And the most important thing I'll say. You get to say it your way. Relish this. This is what it is all about. You get to have a little contract with your readers that says, "I'm going to entertain you. I am the magician here." You might not have the audience of writer (A), but hey. That's the breaks. I did a signing at a mystery conference, and I got sat next to Mary Higgins Clark. Her line went out the door, and my line was, well, five people and two of them were just gawking at MHC. But my three people were fantastic and really liked my book and were so grateful that I was actually talking to them and was interested in what I had to say about mystery fiction and it was all good. Do I want 200 people at my book signing? Hell yes, but realize that your story is speaking to someone and that someone deserves your attention. They gave you theirs.
(9) Yes, your story is speaking to someone. And sad to say, it won't speak to everyone. There will be people who will not like your book. They just won't. You cannot please everyone. There will be people out there who think you're a mediocre writer, and they might be rude enough to tell you. Or they will trash cooking mystery fiction when you're in the audience (and yes that has happened to me). Of course, thirteen other people said they loved it. Focus on the thirteen that took the time to tell you how much they enjoyed it. You're doing something right.
(10) Listen to criticism. Sifting through feedback and determining what is valid for you and what is not is also an art and takes time to develop that skill. If three people say something isn't working, listen to them. You're not keeping your end of the contract to weave that magic, however, see above. At some point, you will have to make a judgment call. Or sometimes it's just, "I like this and I'm keeping it in," because, after all...
(11) You're writing for you. Write what makes you happy. This should be fun, and if it's not fun, there's something wrong. You should be your most avid fan (and harshest critic). Write what you're passionate about. The passion will come through, believe me, and will hide a lot of faults. If I were given the choice of reading a book by someone whose writing might not be uber polished versus someone who can string a sentence together like whoa but doesn't give a flying fig about what they're writing about, I'll pick-up the passionate newbie every time. The words don't lie. You can't hide. The voodoo is all powerful. So, yeah, write what you love. That love comes through as well as the ennui.
(1) You should never stop writing because you think your writing is full of shit. The first draft of Beat Until Stiff was absolutely horrible. I had several people tell me this and they were right. It was AWFUL. Did I stop writing? No, I licked my wounds, and because I am rather a pugnacious and stubborn person, I said to myself, "Okay, make it better." And I did. The second draft was only sort of awful. I kept at it. Is it a great book? No. It's an okay book. It does what it set out to do, and I learned a hell of a lot about the process of writing from rewriting it, oh, say, six times. I re-wrote the first chapter 30 times. I am not making that up. And it took me five years to sell it. I was lucky, yes, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time (after going through wrong place and wrong time on numerous occasions).
(2) Keep writing. You'll get better. Half the game of writing is learning who you are as a writer. Your voice. How your brain works with the English language. This takes TIME. I mean years, not weeks, not months. So your first few attempts weren't great. Keep at it. Part of this process is voodoo. You keep on writing and gradually it will come to you that, hey, this is the way I put words together. It will feel like the shoe fits. That doesn't mean that you'll be able to write flawless prose, it just means that you now *know* what your characters are supposed to sound like. And when you've found your voice and then you can't find your voice for a specific idea, it is hell on earth.
(3) Learn basic grammar. Yeah, I mean this. Because a misplaced comma can change the ENTIRE mood of a piece, and, no, I can't be arsed to put up an example. But punctuation can make a BIG difference. And lack of it. Punctuation is the conductor of your words. It has the baton, and it gives your writing the beat. Trust me on this one. You'll find yourself debating comma choices before you know it. That doesn't mean that you let grammar strangle you. Some of it depends on your voice. I have a colloquial style and my current series is written in first person. I can get away with a lot of grammar no-nos because my narrative sounds like a person talking to you. It's one of the strengths of this series. Having said that, I need to watch it because I have a tendency to overdo it. Grammar really is the drumbeat of your writing, so don't neglect it. Make it work for you.
(3) The grammar subset. If you don't learn basic grammar and you start sending off query letters with big errors in them, then what it says to the person reading the letters is that you're not taking this very seriously. You need to start thinking of yourself as a professional, and part of that is presenting yourself as someone who knows the value of a comma.
(4) This is probably the second most important thing I am going to say. There are other writers who are better than you. For the rest of their goddamn lives they will write rings around you. Perhaps they work REALLY hard at their writing and you have kids and a job and a dog and two cats (not that I'm describing me, you understand) and you cram your writing in when the kids are asleep...okay, this is bullshit. Some people are just better writers. I can think of several people I know personally (coughcough Ann Parker for one coughcough) that make me green with envy. I am no slouch, but you know, they are just better writers. Okay. Deal with it. I can deal with it, and I have an ego the size of Montana. Take pleasure in what *you* write. How you put it together. How you want it say it YOUR way, which is unlike anyone else's way. Do I get pleasure out of reading superior fic? Sure. I also get *tons* of pleasure out of other writers who may not be Nobel Prize in Literature contenders. IT'S STILL GOOD WRITING. It scratches an itch. It might not be the best put together story, but the writer is fresh and is striving to get an idea across and does a damn fine job of it. IT'S GOOD. I LIKE IT. I WANT TO READ IT. ALL OF IT.Does this mean you can be lazy and just slop down what ever comes to mind. NO! I abhor lazy writers. There is no excuse for this. Each project should be a little better. Haven't you picked up a book and thought that the author just phoned it in? They probably just cut and pasted their previous book and changed the names and the verbs. I will NOT read people who are lazy. It shows. You can't hide it. Think about what you're writing.
(5) So you've come to the horrible realization that you're not as good as author (A). And, sob, you'll never be as good as author (A). This is my reality. I don't mean to put up ANY roadblocks because the strides I've made in my writing over the last five years have been phenomenal. Basically from being unable to get a job writing fortune cookies to getting a book published. But still. Like I said, I'm pretty smart, but I can name names who are obviously JUST smarter than I am and are better writers to boot and do we curse them? We do not. WE LEARN FROM THEM. Take an author you admire and PICK APART her/his novel. See how the tension rises and falls, study the voice of the piece, how the characterization is done. A great writer chooses every word with care. EVERY WORD. Nothing is superfluous. IT ALL MATTERS. Whatever is there is there for a reason. Find out what makes this story work. I do this with every piece of fiction and non-fiction I read. Writing fiction has almost destroyed my love of reading because I CANNOT turn off the internal editor. Good writers either (a) just won that mental lottery and can write; (b) work their asses off to craft a story; or (c) both. You can learn from them. They are laying out their craft for you to enjoy and learn. See the bones of the story for what it's worth.
(6) Don't wallow in your mediocrity or flog yourself. I do this all the time, and it is self-destructive with a capital "S." Do not do this. This relates to No. 4 above but takes it one step further. PUSH yourself to be a better writer. Take classes. Buy books. "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott is highly recommended. Don't let your talent go to waste. Do you have talent? Yes, you do.
(7) Eliminate the verb "to feel" from your vocabulary. Yes, I do use it, but I shouldn't.
(8) And the most important thing I'll say. You get to say it your way. Relish this. This is what it is all about. You get to have a little contract with your readers that says, "I'm going to entertain you. I am the magician here." You might not have the audience of writer (A), but hey. That's the breaks. I did a signing at a mystery conference, and I got sat next to Mary Higgins Clark. Her line went out the door, and my line was, well, five people and two of them were just gawking at MHC. But my three people were fantastic and really liked my book and were so grateful that I was actually talking to them and was interested in what I had to say about mystery fiction and it was all good. Do I want 200 people at my book signing? Hell yes, but realize that your story is speaking to someone and that someone deserves your attention. They gave you theirs.
(9) Yes, your story is speaking to someone. And sad to say, it won't speak to everyone. There will be people who will not like your book. They just won't. You cannot please everyone. There will be people out there who think you're a mediocre writer, and they might be rude enough to tell you. Or they will trash cooking mystery fiction when you're in the audience (and yes that has happened to me). Of course, thirteen other people said they loved it. Focus on the thirteen that took the time to tell you how much they enjoyed it. You're doing something right.
(10) Listen to criticism. Sifting through feedback and determining what is valid for you and what is not is also an art and takes time to develop that skill. If three people say something isn't working, listen to them. You're not keeping your end of the contract to weave that magic, however, see above. At some point, you will have to make a judgment call. Or sometimes it's just, "I like this and I'm keeping it in," because, after all...
(11) You're writing for you. Write what makes you happy. This should be fun, and if it's not fun, there's something wrong. You should be your most avid fan (and harshest critic). Write what you're passionate about. The passion will come through, believe me, and will hide a lot of faults. If I were given the choice of reading a book by someone whose writing might not be uber polished versus someone who can string a sentence together like whoa but doesn't give a flying fig about what they're writing about, I'll pick-up the passionate newbie every time. The words don't lie. You can't hide. The voodoo is all powerful. So, yeah, write what you love. That love comes through as well as the ennui.
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