Magic

By Hannah

The magic has always eluded me.

I can write; people tell me it is true. But I never wanted to write a book just to have something I could hold in my hands, point to on a bookstore or library shelf. I wanted to write a book that had magic. I think, after this year's Grub Street Muse and the Marketplace, I can do it.

I've been to the classes. I've read the books. I've written. All the while, I felt like my final product, even if considered for publication, would be okay. Just okay, in my estimation, at least. I was missing something, some synergy of everything I knew. For some reason, this past weekend, it all came together.

Margot Livesey, talking about character, was everything I'd anticipated and more. She was funny and wise in addressing descriptive details that bring characters to life. She spoke, for example, of making one of her antagonists a beekeeper, an occupation the reader perceives as interesting, having depth, thus creating a level of sympathy. My own antagonist was swinging from two-dimensional to too nice, and now I know what to do about it.

As she continued, she extended her insights into how to use detail to not just describe one person or place or event, but to structure an entire story more effectively. Another light started to dawn for me, as I realized I could redirect reader focus to my character's hands section by section across the manuscript, and the depth I could achieve in doing so. The change is more than a repetitive action, more than a familiar behavior for the character. The shift works -- aha! -- on multiple levels.

The importance of synergy between the smallest details and structure came up again in Martha Southgate’s enthusiastic “Guardian Angels” presentation on masterful books from which we learn bits about craft, device, character, and courage in writing. Examples from Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay to Charles Baxter’s Feast of Love reinforced the point as to why we consider books like those masterworks.

Which brings me to Philip Weinstein. He was humble before us, making clear that he had not written fiction, that he studies it, analyzes it, teaches it. As he made his opening remarks, I wondered whether I should have taken another craft class instead of his. I made the right choice; Weinstein brought everything I learned that day, and everything I have been learning as write, full circle.

In his talk on why fiction is important, Philip Weinstein said that fiction is magical in its manipulation of time. When a writer achieves a mastery of craft –in the details of how the pages come together -- a piece of fiction creates an alternate experience of time for the reader. We are transported, we lose track of reality, we venture outside ourselves. In short, the story’s message, if any, and even characters and situations are secondary to the architecture of a story in creating fiction’s magic.

I am perhaps minimizing what I understood before this weekend about the synergy required to create the magic. Still, I think I do understand fiction writing at a deeper, stronger level: to be honest, at a level that will satisfy my expectations. Draft two of my novel will prove or disprove this, but it will be long strides farther down the road than the baby steps I would have taken before. I feel like the real magic, at least a spark of it, is finally in me.

Lost

I admit to feeling a bit lost this past weekend.

On Saturday at the Muse, several friends told me of their experiences with the Manuscript Mart. Weeks in advance they’d sent in 20 pages of their manuscripts to either an agent or editor from some of the most exclusive agencies and publishing houses – 20 pages to be vetted by the best in the business. The reports back from my friends were glowing: each had a request (though not everyone does), one of whom I overheard being talked about later by editors paired off in a corner. Oh, the buzz.

Later that morning, I ran into a woman, Liz Kahrs, who’s regularly attended our Grub Street South workshops. She’s the kind of woman who makes an impression – the good kind – laid-back with an easy-going charm. She had news. An excerpt of her novel was picked up by Huffington Post. Naturally I read it once I arrived home. It’s good, something to be proud of, with clever phrasing that immediately calls to mind crisp imagery. Quite a coup.

Oh, and you should have seen Lynne shine on the marketing panel! Sitting alongside author Hank Phillippi Ryan, as well as the director of publicity at Da Capo Press and PR goddess Lissa Warren, assistant director of publicity at Houghton Mifflin Taryn Roeder, and president of Newman Communications David Ratner, Lynne offered the perspective of an author’s responsibility to both her in-house publicist and to her book. It was a side of her, the masterful public persona, I’d not yet seen. Gracious and utterly impressive.

Sunday was much of the same. Scott Heim told me he’d made it over the hump with his revisions – I’d been worried since we last spoke in October. He appeared despondent then, as if he couldn’t live up to the expectations that follow an astonishing debut. But this past weekend, his face was clear, nearly serene, he was pleased with the work he’d done. “We Disappear” is due out in February. Another success, no doubt.

Along the way, everyone asked the same dreaded question of me, “How’s the book coming?” To be sure, they were simply being polite, but I had no answers for them. Worse, none for myself.

When we sat down to brunch on Sunday, despondency swelled within me. How could it not? Over there was Michael Lowenthal, right there Pauline Chen, Michael Mezzo straight ahead, and oh dear God, I’d sat at the wrong table, because across from me was the conference keynote speaker, Charles Baxter. I was indeed lost.

After a second cup of coffee, Charles Baxter took to the podium and gripping either side, announced the title of his speech, "Losers." When he began to speak, sharing his own sense of inadequacy and alienation, I realized it’s impossible to be lost when so many others are on the same journey, stumbling over the same obstacles of doubt and desire. Here was the master, and now he was reducing himself to comparisons of the likes of me.

When he finished, I waited until the others had their say and then approached. The only words that could find their way past the catch in my throat were thank you, as if I were a child who’d been separated from the hand that guided me through the crowd of unknowns and he the kind man who steered me back.

So today, and hopefully for a while yet, I’m found again.

Being Alone

Posted by Lisa

Being Alone. That’s one of the things that draws me to writing. Some of the time, anyways.

This past weekend, we in our writers' group enjoyed spending time at Grub Street's Muse & the Marketplace Conference. The comraderie, the sense of togetherness. The tangible evidence that this pursuit is not truly an alone journey. That was nice. Meeting, seeing, chatting with the talented writers who spoke at the Muse. It’s inspiring. It’s humbling. It makes it seem possible. That could be me. That could be you.

But when we leave, as we drive home alone or with a friend. We go back to our quiet, or not so quiet worlds. To the spaces where we work, where we plot, where we gather our thoughts and expend our energies.

Being alone is easier when you carry with you an understanding of Gregory Maguire’s approach to plotting which is so like your own. Or when you hear Michael Lowenthal’s deep voice resonate in your memory, sharing his insights, his inspirations.

Being alone is easier when you aren’t alone. When you have met great writers, who have shared their journeys, you’re no longer alone. They are with you, completely, on some level as you work. So there you are, working at home, where you can write in your jammies, or bicycle shorts even. And you can’t do that at a writer’s conference. Or can you?

Making a Literary Life Friday: The Muse

It's here! This weekend is Grub Street's Muse and the Marketplace writers' conference. In addition to the plethora of workshops hosted by brilliant writers (Michael Lowentahl, Pauline Chen, Charles Baxter), our Writers' Group will have two entire days to spend together immersing ourselves in the writer's life. No doubt, Lynne's panel on marketing (3E) will be the best part of all. Next week, look forward to the photos and epiphanies we'll share.

Lisa
I'm finalizing questions for an interview with a favorite author this weekend while I'm at the Muse. There's so much really to ask someone you respect, admire. The Muse is certain to be a wonderful event this weekend.

Amy
Where to start? First I get the news from Gail Konop Baker that her memoir "CANCER IS A BITCH, Reflections on Midlife, Mortality, Motherhood and Marriage" sold to Da Capo and will be published in October 2008, then I hear that the multi-talented Hank Phillippi Ryan received 4 1/2 stars from Romantic Times -- the highest possible rating -- for her novel "PRIME TIME" (Harlequin, June 2007) and she's been awarded an Edward R. Murrow for best investigative reporting, AND she and her producer Mary Schwager have been nominated for 4 Emmys. Tears and cheers all around!

Hannah
The Muse is the certainly the focus this week. Am looking forward to seeing familiar faces and meeting new people, and of course, absorbing all I can from the speakers. The conference comes at a wonderful point in my process to influence revisions!

Lynne
It's been publicity city for me this week. I spent time planning a publicity meeting with my publicist at Penguin. Wish me luck, I head off to New York next week to meet her in person. I planned my portion of the panel presentation on book publicity for Saturday's session at The Muse and the Marketplace. Details to follow in next week's posts.

What if?

Posted by Lynne

On Monday, I picked up my fourteen-year-old son after jazz band practice. He off-handedly asked if I would drive a friend home. "No big deal, hop in," I said. I'd planned on returning books to the library, but I could certainly do that after the drop off.

Taking the long way around to the library, my son and I missed a head on collision, by one car. Both drivers were okay-- shook up for sure-- but fine. My son, on the other hand, was bothered by the accident for an hour after witnessing it.

"What if we didn't drop Mike off and we just went straight to the library? We wouldn't have even seen it. What if you hadn't waited for him to get inside his house, then we might have been the car that was hit?"

The human mind has an amazing capacity for coping. My son tried to make sense of his near brush with an accident by playing the scenario out in different ways. Ways where things go well, and ways where things do not.

What if I'd chosen a different agent? What if my novel never sells to a publisher? What if critics don't care for my writing?

I've spent countless hours wondering what if. When I'm fully engaged in the sport of what ifing, I convince myself that I'm merely setting appropriate expectations. I'm preparing myself for the inevitable rejection that is part and parcel of this publishing world, cushioning potential blows.

Or am I afraid? Dare I say wallowing in self-doubt?

Playing the what if game serves a purpose, it's true. Some decisions are made with painstaking thoughtfulness. Others made in a blink. I never really know which of the decisions I've made will play out in a good way or in a disappointing way. I what if before I make decisions; afterward, I may second guess. I confess, I usually what if in the negative.

Rarely if ever do I allow myself to what if about positive things, such as what if my parenting book brings peace to otherwise conflict ridden homes? What if reviewers like my writing?

But what if instead of coping with the uncertainty of writing for readers by sinking into fear of the unknown, I embraced the notion that I am exactly where I am meant to be. The good days and the not-so-good days are filled with infinite possibilities born of faith.

Today, I choose to trust.

Going to Soak My Head

by Hannah

To refresh and revitalize, some love a long soak in a tub. Personally, I am easily distracted and soon find myself calculating the height of a wave that will just miss lapping onto the floor. I prefer a good writers' conference. Luckily for me, The Writers’ Group heads to Boston this weekend for Grub Street’s The Muse and the Marketplace, to soak in the presence, perspectives and wisdom of writers and authors, agents and editors.

(Has anyone mentioned a certain Lynne Reeves Griffin will be on the publicity panel hosted by Ms. Hank Phillippi Ryan, reporter and author of Prime Time?)

As my literary soak will be limited to one day, I will miss Sunday’s sessions with the likes of Sue Miller, Scott Heim, Michael Lowenthal, Ellen Litman, and the keynote speaker, Charles Baxter. So it is Saturday that is making me edgy with anticipation as I long for its arrival, readying for the day on which I will head into the depths.

Each session has so many wonderful choices, it's almost painful to choose. As with a day at a spa, I want to walk out feeling relaxed, yet invigorated. Thus, I am looking forward to Swarthmore College’s Philip Weinstein talking about how to “use” fiction. Christopher Castellani, artistic director of Grub Street, heard this lecture a few months ago and promoted it as inspiring. I am ready for every drop. I chose Martha Southgate, too, looking forward to what I am sure will be an entertaining discussion on serendipity and openness.

(Did I mention that Lynne's panel is one of the alternatives to Southgate, Sheri Joseph, Suzanne Berne and Carlo Rotella? How cool is that?)

Still, the single session that makes all of this year’s Muse worth it for me is the first. Margot Livesey will give a presentation entitled, “Mrs. Turpin Reads the Stars.” One of my very favorite authors is going to tell me (okay, plus fifty or so others) “what brings characters to life, the degree to which they are made by art, and how we can get better at practicing that art.” I was happy reading an interview with her in The Kenyon Review; now the author of Banishing Verona is going to dive into the topic in person, with me (okay, plus the others), three short days from now. This makes me happier than a week at Canyon Ranch. Really.

So if you will be at the Muse, look for us. If not, I suspect we will layer future entries with splashes of insight gleaned from this amazing get-together, and looking forward to your own thoughts and responses after long soaks in the literary!

On the Path

By Amy

As an unpublished writer, there’s the tendency to look around and mourn for other peoples’ successes.

There was a time many years ago when a woman I knew was awash in international sales, over-the-top reviews, big dollar movie deals. Everywhere I turned her face was plastered on some media. A lonely Friday at Blockbuster was made worse when an ad for her movie simultaneously screamed from each of the six televisions – such a bouncy soundtrack! -- and the video-case display took up an entire wall. There were even posters with the words, “based on the novel by…” Sigh.

I’m a better writer, I fumed. Her book is predictable, how hard could it have been to write? Mine were the thoughts of a green-eyed fool.

I remember later this woman telling me how she’d been afraid she would change with success and how utterly unprepared she was to find the people around her had changed more.
As I choked down my slice of humble pie, I began to understand that her success wasn’t my failure. It’s said that we learn more from our mistakes than our accomplishments, and it’s true. I’m glad to have had the experience of being the bad guy in my own silly drama.

Know this: We writers are not competing against one another. Even within the same genre, even while jockeying for position on the same bestseller list, it doesn’t matter how our writing compares to another’s, what his advance was and yours wasn’t. What matters is how our writing compares with our own best effort. I’m satisfied that today I wrote as well as I could. Tomorrow, I expect to do better. It doesn’t matter how poorly written or inexplicably brilliant another’s book is, how much attention it receives from the New York Times Review of Books and Oprah herself. The awards don’t much matter. Frankly, it doesn’t matter anymore how well-regarded my own work is by any critic, any where. I must first satisfy my own standards: write well, write often, write with intention and joy. Isn’t that the ultimate goal?

It’s a relief to be rid of the horrifying creep of envy. I’m ecstatic when I get a call or email from a friend telling me of her significant deal or glowing review or third printing. Their successes wholly belong to them, I understand that, but as a writer, I find myself basking along with them, knowing they’ve just scored one for the team. For me, though, I don’t expect to find an abiding sense of accomplishment once I’ve published a book, done the tour, glowed under some imagined set of klieg lights.

It’s the getting there I find dazzling.

The Big League

Posted by Lisa

Does there come a time when you're not a wannabe? Is it when you finish that first novel? When you are offered representation by a literary agent? Or have you arrived when you walk into a bookstore and see your novel on a shelf?

Maybe you're a writer when you've given it your all. And you're willing to do that again, and again. Self-doubt doesn't visit me as often as it used to - it barely even calls on the phone these days to leave a message. I've worked so hard, perhaps, that another reality, one in which I'm not a writer, doesn't exist.

The other night, a close friend asked me how things were going.
"Editors are considering my novel," I told him.
Silence greeted me on the other end of the phone, then an intake of breath, a clearing of his throat. "What if no one wants it?" he asked.
If he were standing in front of me I would have shrugged my shoulders.
"Oh," I considered, "I suppose that could happen. But it probably will sell. Anyways, I'm working on my next book. I am so into these new characters."

Sure it could happen, not selling novel number one, but I'd be okay. I am a writer. I love it. Not a week goes by when an image doesn't haunt me, or a setting doesn't call to me. Novels, my novels, wait to be written. Perhap one will be a best seller. Does it matter? Not really, because that I can't control, and life goes on.

I wonder then, have I arrived. I suppose that I have. But don't look for my name yet in the New York Times magazine. Or search for my books on Amazon. Give me a little more time. And, as Susan Cooper says, time, for a writer, is not altogether linear.

Making a Literary Life Friday: Pushing Forward

Maybe it is the change in seasons. We seem to be thinking about our work, our lives, and connections between the two as we launch into editing, revising, changing, promoting. A deep breath, and let's push forward!

Amy
Tuesday night at Grub Street South at Buttonwood Books was a rush! Catherine Goldhammer, author of "Still Life with Chickens," was our guest host and she spoke to how poetry should inform our writing. Lynne & I were tickled to learn she reads our blog; I hope she was equally pleased that we love her memoir.

I've been chosen for jury duty this week, so my literary life has been interrupted somewhat. Instead of being antsy at my inability to work on my own writing, I've taken along Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" to keep me company during the judicial lulls. I told Lynne when I was just a few pages into it, that I couldn't understand why this book was so adored. A few pages after that, I stepped onto that road alongside the Man and the Boy, and I've fallen into lockstep with them. Definitely one of my Top Five favorites of all time.

Thanks for awarding us with the Thinking Blogger Award, Melissa Marsh! I love your blog as well, but since I can't vote for you, I'm going to go with Patry Francis's blog, Simply Wait. I always leave there in a thoughtful stupor.

Lisa
Spring! To sit outside, to feel the warm breeze through one's hair, to put one's broken foot up on a bench and hear that satisfying "clunk" of one's cast. Ahhh! It's arrived. Besides soaking in the lovely sunshine this week, I have also been enjoying a wonderful e-mail conversation with one of my agent's other clients. He is encouraging and inspiring and, well, a regular person too! I am looking forward to meeting him at Grub Street's Muse & the Marketplace. And thanks to one of my favorite authors, Christopher Castellani, for the out of the box suggestion he gave me today that I ask writers to sign my cast at the Muse next weekend...hmmm. Sounds like an ice breaker to me!
My nominee for thinking blogger--Therese Fowler.

Hannah
Amy's post this week prompted me to pick up Carolyn Heilbrun's Writing A Woman's Life. "We women have lived too much with closure... "if I marry him, if I get this work accepted..." -- there always seems to loom the possibility of something being over, settled, sweeping clear the way for contentment. This is the delusion of a passive life. When the hope for closure is abandoned, when there is an end to fantasy, adventure for women will begin." Here's to Grace Paley and all the other writers who keep at it, showing us the way!
My nominee--Debutante Ball.

Lynne
This week I met my publicist at Penguin, first via email, later in a phone meeting. I am planning a trip to NYC to meet her in person. I traveled to NH and then to OK, and instead of being overwhelmed by the long drive and plane rides, I listened to a book CD and read a beautiful book. I adore Look at me, by Jennifer Egan and love The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai. Both are must reads.

Ditto the thanks to Melissa Marsh for nominating us for The Thinking Bloggers Award. It's an honor to be in such fine company. I nominate Tess Gerritsen's blog and our Writers' Group collectively nominates another four person blog--Jungle Red Writers. Jan Brogan, Hallie Ephron, Rosemary Harris, and Hank Phillipi Ryan--have a smashing blog about mystery writing.

To those we tagged with the Thinking Bloggers Award...

1. Patry Francis
2. Tess Gerritsen
3. Jungle Red Writers
4. Debutante Ball
5. Therese Fowler
   

If you feel so inclined, please do the following:

• If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
• Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
• Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

As Many Times as it Takes

Posted by Lynne

In parenting, small actions make a big difference in a child's ability to learn. Take the classic power struggle at the crosswalk. A four-year-old boy runs up to the walk signal. He presses the button convinced the more he pushes it, the sooner the word walk will flash permission to cross. His mother cautions him to wait for her. She offers, at first, a sing-song kind of warning. Then she raises her voice in frustration. Later, in fear she yells. But the boy, as little boys will do, dashes across the street with confidence, or perhaps he's simply unaware of the danger of rushing.

When I talk with parents about this or any other predictable behavior, I recommend taking small action, proactively. This mother's power lies, not in reacting to a situation that doesn't go as she's hoped, it lies in taking small action before getting anywhere near the crosswalk the next time. When I tell parents that the best strategy is to take small action-- reach down and take a child's hand-- inevitably, I'm asked the same question. "How many times will I have to do that before he learns what to do?"

My answer--as many times as it takes.

In writing, as in parenting, oodles of patience is required. I've sat in countless writers' workshops and gone to many author events and like a bell ringing at the end of class, someone asks one of the following questions. How many agents should I submit to, before I give up? How many novels did you write before you got your first one published? How many times do you recommend a writer revise a manuscript?

The answer to all of these questions? As many times as it takes.

Patience is a value. Patience is a skill. Patience is hard to have when you want to write well and share your work with readers, more than anything in the world. Like the mother at the crosswalk, teaching her little one to follow the rules, writers must learn similar lessons. Wait until it's time. Be cautious. Let others help you. Learn from your mistakes. And, of course, no need to rush; you will get to the other side in due time.

For those of you who know me, you see the irony in my post this morning, since I'm not famous for my patience. It's true, I can be impatient. And yet, it will be seven years from idea to published parenting book. It's been five years from first query to first national parenting magazine assignment. Six months after completing my novel, I'm still revising. Maybe like me, you struggle with patience. That doesn't mean you don't have it. The path to patience is small action. Each day, take one step toward your goal, whatever it may be. Each step brings you a little closer to your destination. Small actions accumulate, and one day you'll be on the other side. On to the next intersection.

For the Love of the Game

By Hannah

Toronto’s attributes begin with its status as the only non-U.S. city to host Major League Baseball. The Rogers Center, formerly the SkyDome, sits like a giant tortoise with an armadillo retracting shell near the blue sweep of Lake Ontario. Last week, when the Boston Red Sox played the Toronto Blue Jays, my family watched from 36 rows up behind the away dugout, along the first base line.

I promise not to wander onto the topic of seeing the Sox outside of Fenway, to stick to the subject at hand: The inspiration of watching people who love their jobs, doing something for which they have a passion, day after day, year after year. Lucky Sox, lucky Jays.

It's not really luck, of course. It is hard work, physically and mentally. As a backyard catcher, I know only a fraction of the demands of getting legs squatting and rising, stretching a shoulder with the overhand return, over and over. I watched Varitek, head tucked down to his shiny red catcher's gear, considering all the possibilities, all the ways the batter next to him usually hits, before dropping his hand down to call the perfect pitch for ever-stern-faced Tavarez to throw, managing the pace and intensity of the game with a pointed finger, a touch of a hand.

Or take Cora, or Drew, or yes, even our Manny. Why does a major leaguer practice, on the field or in a gym every day, in addition to playing five, six, seven days a week? How hard can it be to swing a bat, to catch a ball? Repetitive motion, my children’s coaches would tell you, a learned response that dims quickly. In batting, it’s how you point your feet, stand, shift your weight, turn your hips, carry the bat, move your shoulders, twist your wrists, bring it across and through and up, trying to hit the ball before it crosses the plate instead of when it is over the plate, to maximize how far it will go out into the field. The way you catch a ball on the fly is knowing instinctively how to anticipate the curve of the ball, the speed, the distance, how far you have to run, how far you can stretch your body in midair, how far your body will travel if you fling it across the grass.

Repetitive motion, the way you and I put together nouns and verbs in ways that carry an image, deliver a sensation that is familiar or better yet, unfamiliar to the reader. Thinking about possibilities, combinations to manage pace and intensity. The way a character is shaped, how he walks with a bounce, how she flicks at her watch when impatient, how to craft the way a reader responds when the two collide on a street corner.

The ones who get to The Show are the ones who do it over and over, focus on the minutiae, work at it because there is nothing else they'd rather do. So often people sit on the sidelines and watch and marvel. You and I, though, we are in the game, standing up not just off the bench but out of the stands. We play, day in and day out, and can take it to whatever level we wish. In turn, maybe someday, someone else, somewhere watching us will be inspired to do something for love of it, too.

Grace

By Amy

As a woman on the verge of forty, I’m not deaf to the sirens’ call from writers who beseech me to wear a plunging neckline while there’s still time; nudging bioidentical hormones toward me, promising to spark my libido; laying out all of my plastic surgery options, right down to big toe liposuction. They are all successful authors, all of whom have been on bestsellers’ lists.

But then I think of Grace Paley.

I ran into her at a The Muse writer’s conference last spring. I was rushing from the women’s room, on my way to have my chapters critiqued by an editor at a major New York publishing house. I wanted to look my best.

At an earlier panel, a literary agent said author photos mattered; they sold hard covers and booked writers on the morning talk show circuit. Think Sebastian Junger, Candace Bushnell, Jhumpa Lahiri.

But in that bathroom mirror, I saw a middle-aged woman whose laugh lines no longer disappeared when she stopped smiling; a woman with limp hair and a thickening waist from age and too many hours spent in front of a computer exercising her mind. Pulling the skin of my face back and up, I wondered at the possibilities. Something as simple as a shot to the face or a chemical burn to strip away the top layers could work. But it was too late. Hurrying through the halls, I thought let the work matter more.

Along the way, I bumped into Grace Paley. If not for the fact that she was supported on the arm of Chris Castellani, she would have been swallowed by the crowd. Her shapeless clothes were an afterthought, as were the frayed silver curls crowning her head. She was devoid of all sense of style or youth. Tiny and hunched, she appeared so utterly frail I thought she might not survive until her lunchtime keynote address.

After my meeting with the impossibly young and winsome editor, I met Lisa, Hannah, & Lynne in the dining room for lunch. Naturally, I told them all about my meeting (more on that another time). Once coffee was poured, feedback from a microphone squealed across the room. It was Chris introducing Grace Paley.

My heart broke. Her age, her diminutive size, that weak shuffle as she crossed the stage all spoke of a woman too fragile to offer much of anything to the crowd of hundreds before her. I wondered if even with the microphone she could be heard.

And then she began to speak. Her voice was strong, richly textured and inflected with a rhythm known only to poets. She told us of the day before, how she and her husband had been protesting in New York, had a terrible argument, and then parted ways before reaching the subway. Such passion, I marveled, for both politics and a man. At her age. She then read snippets of linked essays she’d jotted down on the bus ride north to Boston. Captured in those few hurried words were brilliant observations on the human condition.

Over the next hour or so, Grace told more anecdotes, read from some of her earlier writing. I, along with so many others around the room, reached for my napkin to wipe at tears, or flung myself forward, overwhelmed with laughter. Her vibrancy engulfed the room. At the end, we all stood and cheered for a woman whose life has been one of dignity, passion, and unparalleled beauty. The kind of woman – and writer –I want to be, a woman who knows what it is to age gracefully.

The Bell Boy

Posted by Lisa

Southern California is nice. Palm trees. Dry mountains in every direction asking to be explored. Really nice. My family and I went there this school vacation week. My Muse stayed in Boston; crutches (I have a broken foot) and kids scared that fickle Muse away. But it was lovely.

As an exercise to "wake-up" those writing muscles I neglected this week, I selected a random writing exercise from Word Painting by Rebecca McClanahan. It reads as such:

Write a physical description in which a first person main character describes himself so the reader can visualize him...Now write a description of a first-person narrator that reveals his experience of living inside his body.

Hmmm. Well, there was a bell boy I noticed ... okay, I'll try. Bear with me?

First, a description so the reader can visualize him:

His nametag read Andre, the letters written in delicate cursive under the bold print of the Hyatt label. The A of his name started and ended with the sweep of a curl, the rest of the letters were smaller, following along for the ride, obedient. When the Mercedes stopped in front of the Hotel just before the tallest palm tree, he took his time bending over, opening the door. With a sigh he forced his face into a greeting. His teeth were as white as the cotton gloves he wore.

Andre's hair was sandy, blond at the top as though he was letting a bleach job grow out, a bad idea that maybe he regretted. Every now and then something about him seemed familiar to passers-by. But probably he just had that sort of face.


Second, a description that reveals his experience of living inside his body:

Andre had gotten used to the nametag - sort of. After two years of poking that label into his shirt it no longer felt like he was fastening it to the skin of his chest, attaching the Hyatt name to his soul for the day. Though every day it said: "Here I am. At your service." That nametag called out to every tourist that glanced in his direction.

He had the right look. Andre knew that. People in the movie business agreed; his break would come. Good looks. Straight nose. Smooth around the rough edges. But everyone in L.A. put the same effort into getting that just-right, tousled-haired, comfy-jean, casual look. It was work. More work than opening car doors, closing them again. Taking luggage up to the guests' rooms. No one recognized him. And why should they? Not everyone has seen that Tide commercial from last year. It only aired for two months, and let's face it, it wasn't that remarkable to start with.

Poor Andre - must be tough. Kind of like writing I think. Well, I've cracked my writing knuckles.
Have a wonderful writing week!

Making a Literary Life Friday: Inspiration

Lisa and Hannah are away this week, but reading truly inspired books no doubt. We'd love to hear what was the most inspired moment or event in your writing career. Was it a book you read as a child that transported you to new worlds? A teacher who said the four most important words of your life, "You're a good writer?" Or something altogether different. Share your story in the comments; inspire us!

Amy
I took a page from Francise Prose's "Reading Like a Writer" and have been reading 5 books this week --yes, 5 -- to compare what works and what doesn't in terms of plot, setting, character development, dialogue, and writing. I love vacation week. I also sent two charming notes and a charming gift -- to a writer friend who made her dream come true. Each time it happens, I want to celebrate, too, because I understand the journey that brought them to that place. Congratulations, friend.

Don't forget, Tuesday, April 24 @ 7:00pm, Grub Street South is happy to host Catherine Goldhammer, author of "Still Life with Chickens." She'll be speaking to how poetry informs good writing. Hit the link to read all about it; we'd love to see you there!

Lynne
I took a wonderful weekend class at Grub Street Writers given by Stace Budzko on Story Construction. I finished The History of Love by Nicole Krauss which made it into my top ten best books of all times. Last night my daughter and I went out to dinner and spent two hours talking about it. It is a must read for characterization, plot--most of all for the beautiful writing.

Compelling

Posted by Lynne

Saint James Church lies on a hill as if God himself placed it there. Fluted spires reach toward heaven, the cathedral begs to go back home. Stained glass stories march around the whole of it, promising you there is something inside you, too, can have.

**

Saint James Church is parked on the hill as if god himself dropped it there. The steeple gestures toward heaven as if to say thanks a lot for kicking me out of paradise. Oval glass saints, stained bloody, wander around the outside of it. These martyrs have no power to tempt me inside.

Compelling. As writers, the word compelling is bandied about in workshops, online and in print. The dictionary definition is wonderful. The word compelling means to force or drive a course of action, to unite by force or to have a powerful and irresistible effect or influence. Understanding the word, compelling, as it relates to story building is complicated.

Until last Saturday, when I thought of the word compelling I thought about characterization and plot. Of course, the trouble that comes into a life must move the action forward, there must be powerful irresistible complications-- plot. The characters must be three dimensional, have depth and motivation.

Now, after a weekend course on story construction, taught by the smart and talented Stace Budzko, I think about setting in a whole new way. Compelling and setting were two words I wouldn't have put together before.

The opening paragraphs about Saint James Church are my efforts to complete an in-class writing assignment. Stace asked us to think of a place and write about it from two perspectives. The first perspective was to think of the place as pleasing. The second, forbidding.

This exercise freed me from what I would have to call an area of weakness in my writing. In the past, my descriptions of setting were merely a backdrop for my characters. I fear my descriptions were stale and predictable. Dare I say, boring to read?

Realizing setting is one more way in which to make my stories compelling, equates to a light bulb moment. I want my descriptions of setting to be at times a pleasing vantage point from which my story is told. At times it can and should be forbidding or somewhere in between the two extremes. At the least, setting should unite all the aspects of my story with force. I want places, locations, time, and seasons to ground my characters. Like in the House of Sand and Fog or Rebecca, I want my setting to have an profound influence on my readers, too.

Do you have any craft secrets that you've discovered along the way that have informed your writing? Any light bulb moments that could help other writers better understand the word compelling?

The Gnome

By Hannah

If I thought it would work, I would bang my head against the wall each time I sat at the computer. Perhaps in doing so, I could jar my real knowledge of how to write into place, and scare off the Writing Gnome.

You see, I love to revise. Coincidentally, of course, that’s the stage at which I find myself now. I do enjoy it. The story comes back to life as I refine it, hone it, smooth it, shine it. As a bonus, I find line editing a snap. I am a Grammar Nerd from way back. No problem there.

But who really wrote these pages I am revising?

There, did you see it? The But. I have buts all over the page, every other chapter, throughout the story. They come and go in waves. The character thinks one thing. But, he considers, it may be something else entirely. He starts to head upstairs. But he turns. But but but. That’s one thing I don’t need, those awful buts. Still, there they are.

I also am guilty, it seems, of the infamous giving and being. How did they get in there? My character can't simply look at a woman, no. He *gives* her a look. What's with that? Ha! Outtathere. Edit, edit, edit. Or this gem: He was angry. Wow. The intensity of those three words; can't you feel it? Of course not. Okay, so maybe it needs details: a furrowed brow, a kick against the baseboard, a grunt bursting forth. I know to show, not tell. Really!

What’s with me? I know how to write. I know the rules; I’ve heard authors talk about pitfalls and nodded, promising to stop falling into those pits, too. I know better. Who wrote these passages I come across? Thus, I believe there is a Writing Gnome who delights in taking out the gorgeous phrasing I must have used to start and replaces it all with this predictable drivel. Have you met this beast in your own efforts? If so, how did you expel it, exorcise it?

I suspect part of the answer is in the doing. The more I revise, the more I write, the more I think, the more I envision, I can feel the power rising up to beat back the Gnome. More experienced writers may know whether it is possible to banish it for good, or whether it is something to guard against on a constant basis. Suggestions and guidance welcome!

Crushing

By Amy

My husband thinks I have a crush on Atul Gawande.

True, Dr. Gawande is breathlessly handsome. He’s a surgeon too, and my husband knows how I’ve always dreamed of being a trauma surgeon. A MacArthur Fellow, an assistant professor at Harvard University, husband to a beautiful woman. He is all of these things and more; Atul Gawande is one of the most perfect writers I’ve ever encountered.

I met him last October at PEN New England’s reception for Best American Short Stories 2006. Lynne and I went together, stood alone at first like groupies at a rock concert, pointing out the literati: Tom Perrotta, Ann Patchett, Michael Lowenthal, Scott Heim, Paul Yoon, Edith Pearlman, Mameve Medwed, and there, over by the bar, Atul Gawande. How my hands shook. I’d devoured his first book “Complications” three times over, his essays in the New Yorker and the New England Journal of Medicine, his first attempts at writing in Salon. I’d even sent him a charming note after reading his book and he wrote back, telling me about his work-in-progress, as if a surgeon, New Yorker staff writer, father of three didn’t have enough to do. Now he was standing across the room, a (cashmere?) scarf thrown carelessly around his shoulders. I spoke easily with the rest of the writers, but waited until Dr. Gawande was leaving before I had the nerve to gush to him.

Today I bought his second book, “Better: A Surgeon’s Notes on Performance.” I didn’t expect to like it as much as “Complications,” but by page 3, I was in tears.

That’s how it is sometimes, isn’t it? There are writers who possess a certain voice on the page that entices and seduces, leaves us feeling as though we’ve shared an intimate moment. With Atul Gawande, his writing appears so effortless, casual and off-hand, yet he leaves his readers feeling as though he’s reached inside our bodies and wrung us through. I feel the same way when I read Gail Konop Baker’s columns on Literary Mama. There’s a frenetic energy there that bursts forth. My God, I actually burned my children’s dinner the other night rather than stop reading. She had me! Ever hear one of Maureen Corrigan’s book reviews on Fresh Air? Not only is it her actual voice that ensnares her listeners, it’s her writing. So few reviewers are as adept with the written word as she; whenever I hear her introduction, all activity around me must stop: the dishwasher, the clacking of the keyboard, even the children are silenced. She’s that good.

So how to be that good. Attention to craft, of course, careful reading across all genres, but mostly with care, I think. Each of these writers cares deeply, intently about their subject. Each word is carefully chosen, each sentence constructed, each and every paragraph ever so carefully designed with breaks in mind. I want to be that kind of writer.

No, it’s not that I’ve a crush on Atul Gawande, though it’s easy to understand my husband’s concern. It’s more that I want to be Atul Gawande.

Perspective, and Having Some

Posted by Lisa

Today I sport a big and beautiful baby blue cast. I broke a bone in my foot - worst pain I've ever felt. I was playing soccer - if you count running fifteen feet after a black and white ball playing soccer. Remember, hockey's my sport.

For a week and a half after the fracture, it went undiagnosed. Tendonitis, that's what the first doctor called it. The ten recent days that I hobbled on my fracture were some of the worst of my life. It was the physical therapist I went to see that said to have a doctor take another look. "Get thee into a casting room," another good friend who's a nurse told me.

When the second doctor took out the casting supplies and wrapped that warm and delightful sky blue wrap around my leg, I could have reached forward, grabbed hold of him, and kissed him. Suddenly, the pain was gone. I could breathe.

As I left the doctor's office, I happened to notice a sign posted by the receptionist's deck. Dr. Oliver, a well respected orthopedic surgeon in my town, is taking a leave of absence. "Dr. Oliver", it reads, "is traveling to a third world country (unspecified) for three months to offer his expertise to those who need it."

When I left that office, I was walking on a cushion, not a cast. I was on my way to recovery. How many that day had no access to medical care.

Yesterday I went to a get-together with neighborhood friends. "Oh, how awful," people groaned in unison as I hobbled on my crutches. "You poor thing!" "You must wear it for six weeks." "How will you cope?"

Ten days of walking on a broken foot taught me something about perspective. How lucky I am that I can get a second opinion, have a strong and protective cast cure me. How many people in this world will endure pain that I can't imagine.

Now, poor me, I must have my groceries delivered for a ten dollar charge. And how will I cope with folding laundry and putting it away. My big and beautiful baby blue cast hugs me gently, warm and caring. My life is golden; I am privileged. What can I do to give back?

Making a Literary Life Friday: Persistence

This week we blogged about the persistence factor, a central ingredient in the writer's life. Though we don't expect we'll all take up hockey, or god-forbid be 96 when we get published, living a literary life is hard. But like building a beautiful home to live in, work in and play in, we will persevere. And to all our writer friends who stop by and visit our blog, remember: The difference between a writer and an author is persistence.

Lisa
This week Lynne's entry really struck a chord with me. Over the last year I have read several books. Some I loved: Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, Al Capone Does my Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko. Perhaps it's time for me to take another look at them to better understand the elements of these books that resonated with me.

Amy
I am over-the-moon to learn Alice Sebold's latest book (her third), The Almost Moon, will be released October 16. More exciting news, Jennifer McMahon's Promise Not to Tell was released this past Tuesday and my dear friend, Hank Phillippi Ryan's website is up and gorgeous. Take a look. And if you're as intrigued by the human psyche as I, take a gander at Tish Cohen's website where people are sharing their phobias. Mine? Did you see the photo's of the Taipei Zoo's Nile croc?

Hannah
I started to dive back into my story, deeper, farther, more. Had to keep coming up for air and interruptions, making me all the more itchy to get back down! Reread some P.D. James in the evenings to slow the swirl in my head. I love her Dalgleish mysteries, points of view.

Lynne
This week I received my Berkley Penguin Fall 2007 catalogue. My book resides on page 26 of 151 pages! It was lovely to see aspects of my book in print. I also received my first national parenting magazine freelance writing assignment. I will have a piece in Parenting Magazine this fall. And in keeping with my make-time-for-reading campaign, I started savoring every word of Ann Patchett's Bel Canto. If you have a must-read list, I strongly recommend it.

Slow Down

Posted by Lynne

All my life I've been called fast. Oh no, not in that way. I mean finishing work in record time. Rushing to get here, there and everywhere. I'm afraid I've never been referred to as easy-going. Perhaps it's a cosmic lesson in patience that I should enter the world of writing and publishing. Here, everyone is required to slow down.

Prior to spending every stolen moment writing, I read. I devoured three or four books a week; books in almost all genres. Since I started writing non-fiction parenting books, a novel, blog posts and now freelance magazine pieces, I've spent less time reading. The reality, that there aren't enough hours in the day, is a sad one.

Recently, friend of our blog, Therese Fowler published a list of must reads on her blog. Though I could proudly say I'd read more than fifty percent of her suggestions, I couldn't say the same for Jane Smiley's list. In Smiley's, Thirteen Ways to Look at a Novel, she includes her one hundred and one suggested must-reads. Here I came in at a shabby fifteen percent. I admit I felt like a bit of a fraud as a writer. I haven't yet made time to read Toni Morrison's Beloved or Nabokov's Lolita.

I've been a tad overwhelmed of late with all the wonderful books I want to read, but struggle to find the time to read. And then I picked up a copy of a book Amy recommended last week. Francine Prose, author of Reading Like A Writer, gave me hope.

While Prose also includes a list of Books to be Read Immediately, she gives writers permission to perform what she calls a *close read*.

With so much reading ahead of you the temptation might be to speed up. But in fact it's essential to slow down and read every word. Because one important thing that can be learned by reading slowly is the seemingly obvious, but oddly under appreciated fact that language is the medium we use in much the same way a composer uses notes, the way a painter uses paint... we lose sight of the fact that words are the raw material out of which literature is crafted.

I'm certain I will always be a person for whom there are so many books, so little time. My I-haven't-read-it-yet shelf will always be burgeoning. Still it's nice to know that dipping into a classic to study the way a writer chose to handle a certain type of conflict is recommended. Or that reading a beloved book aloud is time well-spent. It's freeing. Permission to slow down has been granted. In fact, it's encouraged.

I love reading like a writer. Like at a banquet of desserts, I don't need to eat every cake. I simply need to savor each delicious bite I take.

They Said What?

By Hannah

My husband took it far worse than I.

Our group met at my house for the first time since Amy, Lisa and I met Lynne. After pleasantries and general business, we pretended I was invisible and they critiqued my first full draft. Having done my own initial review, I was not surprised as they confirmed certain elements as strengths and of course, as weaknesses.

As after each of these full draft sessions, the reviewers’ faces crinkled in concern. Is this overwhelming? Do you know criticism comes from the heart, that you have Something, that we want to help you prepare to revise? As always, the reviewee was grateful, smiling despite the faults found, indeed, because of them. Confirmation of direction, next steps clear.

After they left, my husband, who had been puttering in the background, ears wide open, looked stunned. “You did all that work! How much of this do you take? Do you listen to everything they say? Where do you go from here?”

Up. Out. Better.

Fiction as a process is only revealed to people who throw themselves into it in a true way. I have always written, I write for work; still, I committed myself to fiction in a deeper way only two or three years ago. I didn't realize the difference at the time. It is only by doing, reading, doing, listening and doing, that the layers of skill and thought and craft required to complete a work, in every sense, become clear.

I explained to my husband that writing -- including revision -- is like building a house. The first draft is the shell, the walls, the layout. To put them up is a huge accomplishment, and to the outside world, the house appears done. Like new construction, however, it is highly unlikely to sell because of course, it is not finished. Still, you can walk through a first draft to see what it will become, its potential. You start a list of to-do’s to complete it. Structural pieces to shift, details to refine. Decorating, if you will, of scenes, of characters, of wordplay.

My husband heard, really for the first time, how far a first draft sometimes needs to progress before it is ready. What I heard from the group is that I have a house with potential. I am excited to move back through it, room by room, to make it a proper home for my story and characters.

Never Give In

By Amy

I often wonder at what point I’d give up hope of ever being published, if there would come a time when I’d stop trying. I think of Archer Mayor when he told me he wrote seven manuscripts before his first book was published. Or Amanda Eyre Ward who told us at a Grub Street South workshop that all of her writer friends who persevered were eventually published, years and years later in some cases. And now I have Harry Bernstein to bolster me, the ultimate beacon of hope for us writers.

Perhaps you read Motoko Rich’s profile of Mr. Bernstein in last Saturday’s New York Times. No? Then you may not know Mr. Bernstein had his first short story published when he was just 24. About four years ago, after being rejected by several American publishers, he sent his memoir “The Invisible Wall” to the slush pile of Random House UK where it was plucked from obscurity by Editor Kate Elton. Who knew editors still bothered to wade through the slush! Since its release on March 20, his book has received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Booklist, and that adoring profile by the inestimable Motoko (and gracious, she answered my charming note with one of her own, ergo inestimable).

All incredible achievements, a multi-layered happy story, yes, but there are lots of happy stories. What sets Mr. Bernstein’s apart from the others? Harry Bernstein finished his book when he was 93. That’s right, 93.

Throughout his life, Mr. Bernstein wrote with the intention of getting his work published. He wrote short stories and novels; some efforts were rejected, others were met with indifferent acceptance. But the man never stopped trying. He never gave up, never gave in.

How is that? What compels us to write, to reach and reach even when there’s nothing in sight to grasp hold of? I suppose the more interesting question is why. When I walk into a bookstore and imagine my own book there, I realize it would be one among many, nothing particularly special tucked on a shelf of thousands. I was talking to a woman this week about her own book and her reasons for writing it. We agreed we each had a goal for publishing a book that didn’t include enormous advances or glowing reviews – yes, we’d be delighted with both, of course – but what we really yearned for was that letter from a reader telling us how our writing touched them. A single charming note. Sentimental nonsense, I’m full of it, but a desire to be heard, to be felt, to be relevant is what each of us yearns for in life.

Mr. Bernstein is now 96 and has nearly completed a second memoir, written on an IBM electric typewriter. He has fortitude, alright, and heart. And soon he’ll have something else: A charming note from a reader - a hopeful writer -- whose life he touched by writing a book.

Writing and Hockey

People don't understand hockey.

Growing up in Montreal, when there was an evening game scheduled, the city came to life. In Montreal, hockey is culture. People in the red seats in the old Forum, the good seats, were couples, ladies dressed in fine Montreal style. Fans, both men and women, Montreal's elite, had season's tickets. The Montreal Canadiens played a game of finesse, and speed, and timing. Does the name Guy Lafleur ring a bell?

One day, when I was nineteen or so, a girlfriend and I decided we wanted season's tickets. When I called the Forum box office, I was told there was a six year waiting list. My name is on that list somewhere - I haven't heard back yet.

I've recently been involved in a new program for women's hockey in my town south of Boston: people who never before have tried the game. Women who came had a range of skills. One played field hockey - she can stick handle. A couple were figure skaters - those two can skate well. It was a mish mosh those first few weeks: sticks borrowed from a son, a daughter's helmet, and too-tight shorts. There was a lot of falling. Not much passing.

But every Friday, I see my new friends improve - big time. Johanna gets faster each week, Julie has found a consistent way to get the puck in the net, Meghan seems to know where to position herself. Many others are quickly gaining skills.

At times I attend writing courses, I read a beginning writer's work. I see their flaws, rather quickly, but with the right attitude, I know they will improve. Writing is hockey. Slower, not more cerebral, and less good for the cardio. But writing is work, hockey is work. Both are fun. Real fun!

Making a Literary Life Friday: Voices

This week we've shared with you what we hear when we read. There's an initmacy between the writer and reader, something found in quiet corners and stolen moments. We each seek specific qualities from our writers: an experienced voice to guide us, a thrilling plot that leaves us breathless, a desire to be carried along an arc that builds to an unexpected climax, and/or the simplicity of a single, beautiful sentence that leaves you bedazzled for years to come. What do you long for in a book?

Lisa
This week, by random circumstance, I found myself in a place where I had read and dreamed and wondered many years ago. So long, it's been since I sat in that quiet chair with the flower pattern that should have been distracting, but wasn't. The smell hasn't changed. The lights are as bright. When I was last there I dreamed of writing a novel, finding an agent. All that has happened. I have traveled so far along that road. It was strange and satisfying and frightening.


Amy
This week I wrote several charming notes and received lovely responses in return. Something to consider when you become a published author -- and some of you already are -- remember your readers. When they write you and return the kindness, they will never forget how you took the time to drop them a note, they will tell their friends. Of all the writers I've written, only two never bothered to respond. Hmmm...what do you make of that? Someone I'll be sure to write once I've finished her book is Francine Prose, author of Reading Like a Writer. Before you write another sentence, read this book. Thank you for sending it, Patry.

Hannah
This week there was tiny forward motion in several directions, rather than any major motion. Frustrating, yet I know these phases exist as a natural part of the flow. (They do, don't they?) I am nearly done with a fly-high. fly-low review (not revisions), per Hallie Ephron, in anticipation of edits. I toyed with a list of agents. I made new contacts. My paid work involves pitching television and print for interviews and stories; a little voice in my head noted which might be interested in writers -- perhaps a fabulous parenting book called Negotiation Generation, coming out this fall?

Lynne
This week I submerged myself in red. I reviewed the copy edited version of my book, Negotiation Generation. I've never been happier to see all those squiggles and lines. It's been amazing to see my manuscript pass through so many capable hands. This morning, I mail it back to Penguin and the next time I see it, it will be in galley form. As for my fiction writing, I completed a synopsis in preparation for my twenty page review at this year's Grub Street conference.

Beginning to End

Posted by Lynne

There's an old song, It's not where you start it's where you finish. We've talked a lot about beginnings this week, beginnings of books, beginnings of chapters. I thought endings deserved their just due. Well-crafted chapter endings have the power to convince someone to read just one more page. Hooking the reader has as much to do with a good ending as a good beginning.

I'll borrow Hannah's technique to demonstrate.

1. There was my father with his head sewn up and my mother just having told me her life was a joke and I finally felt like things were a little bit normal.

The Patron Saint of Liars, Ann Patchett

2. Lester got in his Toyota and pulled into the fog of the coast highway, heading north for Point San Pedro and Corona. The fog was so thick his headlights were reflected off it and he had to drive slow, and careful.

The House of Sand and Fog, Andre Dubus III

3. People dealt with grief in different ways, but somehow he couldn't see himself lounging by a swimming pool just four days after his dead sister had been plucked from the ocean in a fisherman's net.

Amagansett, Mark Mills

4. I can't think of one way in which Alden resembles Harry, and yet, there I sat on the furniture of both marriages feeling as diminished in one man's company as I had in the other's.

Okay, that's from my novel. Do you think it works to keep you reading?

While the beginning of a book gets a great deal of a writer's attention, readers more often than not, say they're concerned about endings. I've heard from more readers than I can count, that a rough beginning is forgivable. A weak, or contrived, or disappointing ending is a sin. I admit my word of mouth recommendations have a great deal to do with endings, too.

Enter into a debate today over the importance of beginnings vs. endings. Which do you spend most of your energy on? Do you write like Tess Gerritsen? This week, she blogged about her first draft process of writing through. It's during her second draft process that she methodically chooses her chapter endings.

Beginnings draw the reader in, chapter endings keep us reading. Novel endings keep us talking about a book long after we've handed it off to a friend. Don't you dream of someone saying this about your novel? "You have to read this. It's amazing!"

At Random

by Hannah

Hallie Ephron asked whether anyone wanted to read his or her first paragraph. Lynne, brave woman, did and was rewarded by Hallie’s strong, positive reaction. My hand stayed in my lap. I stared at the first line of my recently completed draft; I could not bring myself to read it aloud. Bad sign. I changed it before handing it to the Writers’ Group.

With all the talk of first lines, I wondered, how do great books start? Can you tell right away that This One is going to be Different, because of what it reveals? I pulled a couple dozen off my shelf at random, ignoring covers as much as possible. You can play along. Rank the following first lines; think about whether you would keep reading, why, what you would say if you read this from typed stationery rather than in hardcover.

1. Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.
2. Imagine a ruin so strange it must never have happened.
3. The house was built on the highest part of the narrow tongue of land between the harbor and the open sea.
4. The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a fluttering of the sails, and was at rest.
5. I went back to the Devon School not long ago, and found it looking oddly newer than when I was a student there fifteen years before.
6. The boy with the fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon.

All are nice sentences, of course. In reading only first lines, I picked the first two as “best” for their lyricism. The next two give only setting, the fifth offering a touch more with point of view. The last is direct in its narrative; if you recognize it, know its title, you might get a chill:

1. Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston
2. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
3. Islands in the Stream, Ernest Hemingway
4. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
5. A Separate Peace, John Knowles
6. Lord of the Flies, William Golding

I am off to the bookshelf to uncover more first lines, maybe more of those that deserve attention for what hides behind them rather than what they reveal. What else will I find?

Sing

By Amy

Many of you know I read the fiction slush pile for Post Road. It’s a wonderful literary journal that’s published some memorable short stories, my favorite among them being those of Tom Perrotta, Paul Yoon, and H. H. LeCraw, especially August by H. H. LeCraw. I promise that in years to come you’ll find yourself stilled in unguarded moments, wondering about the old man holding the baby fast to his chest as they nap.

The editor sends the submissions in bunches and, for the most part, I read them in their entirety. A very few are written for simple shock value and don’t warrant more than a single page of a reader’s attention. Most are fine. Just fine. And then there are those that sing with the first line, where the writing has been given a voice, infused with a particular tone, a rhythm that cradles and lulls the reader.

Voice is what gives life to your writing. It’s a tone that’s struck from page one and the good writers are capable of maintaining it through to the end. In Jon Clinch’s Finn, his first line is all you need to understand his voice: "Under a low sun, pursued by fish and mounted by crows and veiled in a loud languid swarm of bluebottle flies, the body comes down the river like deadfall stripped clean." His voice is languid, melodic, ever so slightly menacing, thunder on the horizon on a sweltering summer’s day.

Voice calls to life your writing. If structure and plot are the bones of the story, characters the flesh, then voice is the soul a writer breathes into it all to make it come alive.

How does one find one’s voice? I don’t know how others do, for me it was through essays. I wrote of the most personal experiences of my life, stories about miscarriage and war, postpartum depression and hope. My first attempt at writing a book, I admit to copying other voices, an amalgam of successful authors. It was fine, just fine, but it wasn’t my voice. It failed, but I kept trying.

I started a second book and sent off a very rough first chapter to a friend, an avid reader, but not someone familiar with writing or any of its terms. After she read it, she replied with a one line email, one I’ve saved to this day, “You’ve found your voice!” She had no idea that voice is a craft designation, she knew only that I was writing in a manner that was wholly my own.

I suppose a writer’s voice is what springs from our cores, if only we would listen, the one that speaks from that thoughtful place within each of us. The next time you find yourself stilled in one of those unguarded moments, after your thoughts turn over the old man and his grandson, take a moment and listen, really listen to that voice inside of you. Can you hear it murmur? It’s whispering now. Listen. There. Do you recognize that tone? Let it go, allow it to lull you. Feel it envelope the words, cradling them as the rhythm carries you away. Deep breath now. Ready? It’s time to sing.

Write Well

Okay. Check out these random chapter openers.

“In less than a minute, everything returned to normal.”

“Monday. Lunch. This time I stayed put when Stargirl came toward my table…”

“In the Sonoran Desert, there are ponds.”

“That was fifteen years ago. Fifteen Valentine’s Days.”

They’re from Stargirl, by Jerry Spinelli. On a trip to New York, my literary agent recommended I read this book. It’s one of my new favorites. Because it’s fantastic. Because it’s beautifully written. Because it has a message that is meaningful.

But overall, it’s because, like Miss Snark says, “Ya got to Write Well.” And Jerry Spinelli does.

A few weeks back, one of the members of our writers' group announced we needed to raise the bar. No holds barred. Expect the best writing from each of us. After her words, there was silence. A loud kind of silence that bounced off the walls around us. We took this in. We nodded to agree.

It made sense to me, in a cerebral sort of way; we know each other well, we each have strengths to share, weaknesses to improve on. My pages sat before each of us. Wayne’s Gretzky’s words from a long ago interview came to mind: “You’re only as good as your last shift.”

As I work on my current novel, I know I owe it to myself to produce my best story. In a funny way, I owe it to the writers' group and to my characters too. Though my first draft’s done, it will be a good chunk of time until it sees the light of day, until it makes its way outside of our writers' group training camp. Plot, sequence, characters, setting. I will toil. I must. We have raised the bar.

And I vow, this day forward, to have great chapter openers, great clinchers, and great words in between. I’ll give it a shot anyways!

Making a Literary Life Friday: Networking

Amy and Lynne had a great time at the Grub Street South program hosted by Buttonwood Books on Acquiring a Literary Agent. For more details on the talk, given by literary agent and Grub Street Writers founder, Eve Bridburg, see yesterdays post.

We can't say it too many times: network, and put positive energy into your writer, agent, editor relationships. Remember, you're nurturing a writing career.

Lisa
I'm putting the writing bar higher these days. I've been working on my novel. Working at work. Living the rest of my life. I can't wait for the Muse & the Marketplace Conference in early May in Boston!

Amy
I bought Jon Clinch's highly acclaimed debut novel Finn. His book, his entire concept, is a perfect example of what it is to be bold. In terms of networking, I urge each of you in and around New England to attend PEN New England's PEN Hemingway/Winship Awards this Sunday, April 1 at the JFK Museum in Boston. You'll come away both inspired by the speakers and agog over the writers you'll meet. If you haven't joined PEN yet, there are five across the country, please do so. You won't regret it.

Hannah
In anticipation of edits on Draft One (ten) from the group, I am preparing to sit at the computer for another few weeks, and as a "break," to finalize a query letter. How do I write thee, let me count the ways... Many thanks to everyone (a la Miss Snark, Jenny Bent, Kristin Nelson) who shares strong queries with the public!

Lynne
I met a freelance writer who is looking for an agent for her book; and I could learn more from her about querying major magazine markets. She and I have set up a meeting to share information. I continued to work on revisions to my novel. My business partner, aka my husband, and I worked on a detailed publicity plan for Negotiation Generation. I was in touch with Penguin's publicity department and found out all the ways they will work with me in my efforts. Chris Castellani, Artistic Director of Grub Street asked me to sit on a panel on promotion and publicity at this year's Muse Conference.

What One Agent Wants You To Know

Posted by Lynne

Buttonwood Bookstore hosted a Grub Street South evening talk for writers on acquiring a literary agent. This informative program was facilitated by Eve Bridburg, founder of Grub Street Writers and literary agent at Zachary, Schuster, Harmsworth in Boston.

Eve structured her remarks around the reality of work at a literary agency and in the world of publishing. There was something for everyone in her suggestions for approaching an agent and then developing a good working relationship with one.

She was generous with her advice on what writers need to do to secure the attention of a reputable agent, given the reality of the current volume of submissions. Whether you already have an agent or dream of landing one, Eve recommends that you always submit your best work. She strongly urges writers to network with other writers, agents and editors at writers' events like the upcoming Muse and the Marketplace Conference in Boston. There, Eve says, you can meet and connect with other writers with whom you may form a writers' group or lean on as trusted readers.

When it comes to querying agents, Eve reinforced what anyone who's done their homework already knows--do your research, follow submission guidelines, and write well. Again, only submit your best writing. Query letter and sample pages must sing; they have to stand out among the hundreds of submissions an agent receives each week.

The insights Eve shared into a day in the life of an agent was compelling. Acquiring work, offering editorial feedback, proposal development, negotiating contracts--in short shepherding a project from inception to completion--is hard work. But wonderful and rewarding work, too.

I enjoyed the part of the program where Eve defined some of the new industry buzz words. She feels strongly that while it's a tough time for "quiet books" and literary fiction, she believes this will turn around. It's a good time to be a debut novelist, according to Eve. Publishers are all looking for the next brilliant voice in fiction. When asked to define the terms upmarket books and high concept projects, Eve said, agents know it when they see it. Upmarket manuscripts bridge commercial and literary fiction, while high concept novels have a more than compelling hook.

In the end, Eve says the writer's goal is to charm and seduce the agent into reading the work. Falling in love with the writing is required, since an agent will read and reread a manuscript to provide direction numerous times.

Feel free to post a question in the comments section of the blog. Perhaps Eve answered it during last night's program and I can pass along her insights. Already have an agent? What advice would you give someone looking to charm and seduce an agent into reading their work?

Hey, You!

By Hannah

The blank page. Every writer seems to tackle it in a slightly different way, starting with a different story element. I love hearing about each approach. Many start with the hook or plot, an idea coming in a sudden “what if” moment. What if Donald Trump was a writing teacher, pounding down the halls at Grub Street?

For me it's not a situation. It's a character who appears out of nowhere, like a new neighbor across the fence. My last main character popped into my head, all swagger and underneath, frustration. What the heck was his problem, I wondered. He seemed to have it all. “No, no,” he’d insist. “There’s more to me.” We took a meandering path to find his story, worth it in the end because of his quirky style.

As I started to revise Mr. Swagger's tale, another character arrived, presumptuous. Brute force was required to push her back out the door. I wasn’t ready; I was busy. Part of me wanted to see if she was strong enough to come back. Oh, she was.

"Hey, you!" she said. She returned with a clear "what if," dangled it in front of me. I didn’t know if I wanted to take her on, in fact, because readers will assume Hannah-the-Writer is making a statement that Hannah-the-Person wouldn’t. “Yeah? Well, what of it?” said this character. “Hey, life hands you what it hands you, doesn’t it? Are you going get dirty, or not?”

So I’m getting dirty, trying to find the details, to recognize pieces of my character. I don’t make it up, take something and hang it on her like a new sweater. I see something and know it belongs. A VW Bug pulled up next to me a few weeks ago, driven by an angular older woman with a sharp haircut. Whomever she is in real life, I recognized her as my character’s mother. A whole backstory tumbled into place. It's coming together, and it's about time. "Hey, you," says my character, "c'mon and get to it."

The Black Days

By Amy

If you can do anything else, do it. Don’t write.

It was advice given to me once at a reading, offered by a debut novelist. We were surrounded by tables with thick linen tablecloths and lovely crystal glasses, a view of the harbor and robust coffee. All in her honor. She should have been beaming, celebrating this first reading of hers before a restaurant filled with eager readers. Instead, her shoulders were hunched and her young face had about it the weight of someone who’s suffered a great loss and knows not to trust that everything will be all right.

Though it was her debut novel, it wasn’t the first book she’d written. She had two more under her bed. Talking with writers, it’s a familiar scenario. Some manage to pick themselves up and move on to the next project, while others cut themselves free of the writer's life, make their way doing something far more reasonable, less damaging: Accounting or office work, perhaps bartending because one night’s tips are better than all the money your writing has earned in a year.

If you’re a writer, you understand the melancholy. That sense of numbness that descends after too many rejections or a particularly difficult one. Or worse, silence. You give into the voices, playing on an endless loop inside your head, voices you’re afraid others will hear, too: You’re not good enough, you have no right to hope to be something you’re not. Your dreams will never come true.

I’ve heard from writers, ones whose names you undoubtedly know, that they’ve shared this affliction. Some call it “angst,” others the “in-between days.” It all amounts to the same. Sometimes all that can see a person through the Black Days is fear. Fear of never being the person you want to be, I want to be. It leaves no choice.

So have a good cry, the kind that wells from the core, painful, wrenching sobs that leave your eyes horribly swollen and your insides twisted, and then catch your breath and press on. Keep moving. Forward. One step, then another because there’s nothing else you can do. Not really. And know there’s hope.

You’ll find it on the next blank page.

Donald Trump: The Writing Teacher

Posted by Lisa

Sure, he has bad hair days. But what millionnaire needs to worry about his hair? He's got money and cars, mansions, not to mention his own TV show. Let's face it, Donald's got it figured out. His mantra, if you don't watch the Apprentice, is this: "It's not personal it's business." Every writer should learn this lesson from the get-go. Why? Because every writer has reacted, at least once, probably more times, to a rejection letter as a personal affront.

So, sign me up. Get Grub Street's Muse & the Marketplace conference to put him on a panel. I imagine how he could help we needy writers. In fact, let me propose just what lessons he would want to get across to us:

Lesson #1: Never, Ever Quit
Donald HATES quitters. How, he asks, will you succeed at business if you give up before you reach your goal. If every person who hopes to write followed this single rule, you just know, most of them would succeed.

Lesson #2: Work Well Together
My writers' group is the one factor that made the difference for me between writing a lot of words and writing a novel. Constant support and solid constructive feedback raised the bar for me. I honed my craft and improved my final work.

Lesson #3: Don't be Late
Though there's no clock to punch, that laptop and chair are waiting for us. Structure. Dedication. It all adds up to pages and revision. That's the business side of it. That's the math.

Lesson #4: Be Confident
Taking chances. Testing new waters. Writer's ideas, their images and imaginations, suggest plots and characters that may seem too extraordinary. If Michael Lowenthal was never bothered by the plight of women detained with venereal disease in the Second World War, the beautiful novel, Charity Girl, would not have been written.

Donald Trump would help us. Surely, he's a mentor, a Muse even? Maybe not (the hair may be too distracting). But maybe lessons from business are fruitful to writers. In any event, it would be neat to meet him. I'll mention it to Chris Castellani, Grub Street's artistic director. Who knows? Next year's conference, maybe?

Making a Literary Life Friday: Why Do We Blog?

This week we got tagged by Shanna Thompson to answer the question, why do we blog? We thought our weekly recap of our personal literary journeys was a good place to respond. Especially since we're really a grog, and each of us may have different reasons for doing this crazy thing we call blogging.

Lisa
Blogging, for me, is taking a trip to writer's cyberspace each week. Sharing my thoughts and hopes and dreams and frustrations with other lovely and talented writers.
This week, also, I am enjoying reading a very unique, engaging, and terribly fun first (or tenth) draft of a novel.

Amy
"Spring, spring, spring!" said the frog. "Spring!" said the groundhog. Remember that bedtime story, Moms? It about sums it up for me this week. On the matter of why do I blog: I do it because I want a voice in this parallel universe called the Internet. As for my literary endeavors the week, I did some PR for various writers and organizations I admire, and I met with a dear friend, a literary agent. If you or someone you know is writing literary fiction, let me know; she's looking.

Hannah
I never would have blogged unless Amy suggested it to the Group; when she did, we all jumped at the idea. The blog has been an education, as we seek to find and refine its structure, how we manage it. There is the challenge of putting aside chunks of literary effort and focusing on one essay a week, hoping to strike a chord. The growth of a community and new friends around the blog is a quiet reward, as well! On the literary side, it's been Muse sign-ups, and a new Page One, Page Two...

Lynne
I enjoy writing my weekly entry at The Writers' Group blog, and my two or three posts at my parenting blog for different reasons. My parenting blog is aimed at getting my thoughts, and opinions out into the world, and to publicize the release of my book. Here at TWG, I blog for the sense of community, and it's a great exercise in writing essays. As for my literary life, I signed up for the Muse and the Marketplace conference, which will include a twenty page critique of my novel by an editor I admire. Several charming notes, and revisions to my novel rounded out the week.

Literary Happenings: If you're local, please come to Grub Street South at Buttonwood Books this Wednesday, March 28 at 7:00 pm. This month we're featuring Eve Bridburg, a literary agent with Zachary Schuster Harmsworth Agency. Check out the Grub South link for more information. Hope to see you there!

Nature's Design and Loneliness

By Lynne

The water droplets scattered all over the sky, known to scientists as altocumulos clouds, can provide hours of fun. I remember lying in the grass trying to make out shapes, arguing with my sister. I pointed to a mass of fluff and called out, bunny. She said it looked more like a cat. The presence of these cotton balls of moisture, there in the morning hours, quite often meant late afternoon thundershowers.

Shapes. Patterns. Nature's designs. I like them. This week's blog posts have subtle themes, but they are connected nonetheless. Lisa, and Hannah wrote about the characteristics of the muse. Call it motivation, call it divine intervention. The muse is inspiration, and she can be a fair weather friend. Amy wrote about the intensely personal, "tilted perspective" each writer brings to the art form. Emily Dickinson was quoted as saying, "Tell the truth, but tell it slant."

When someone asks me about my writing, they want to know about my writing routine. Do I write at a predetermined time, schedule a visit with the muse? Is the truth I'll uncover, decided upon in advance?

Anyone who writes knows intimately the sentiment coined by Robert Burns, “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men, oft go awry." As Amy wrote earlier in the week, this is a common theme for mothers.

In my opinion, there is only one way to be rewarded with the inspiration to tell my story slant. Heather Sellers, in Page by Page, calls it butt in chair. Elizabeth George, in Write Away, calls it the value of bum glue. I prefer the shape of inspiration described in Natalie Goldberg's, Writing Down the Bones.

The pattern for me is to beg, borrow, or steal any time I can. As often as I can. Sometimes just once a day, less often than I'd like for a whole day, I sneak away to my chair, coffee in hand, of course. Then I allow loneliness to find me.

"Use loneliness. Its ache creates urgency to reconnect with the world. Take that aching and use it to propel you deeper into your need for expression--to speak, to say who you are and how you care about light and rooms and lullabies."

Do you welcome loneliness or fear it?