A Fool's Gambit

By Amy MacKinnon
Don't mess with success. Write what you know. Stay within your genre. Focus on one project at a time.

I am a fool. I'm a scared fool. A bit of a wreck even. I'm doing everything wrong, I know this, and yet I keep doing it.

Right now, I'm writing two books. One is so dark, I'm not sure there's a market for it, though Jon Clinch assures me there is, right there alongside him and Cormac McCarthy. Have you read Finn, Blood Meridian? Brilliant books written by brilliant writers. Already I'm being warned not to go too dark, to be careful.

The other I have no business writing at all. None. It is an homage to a classic, one I've read countless times over the years, a story I know in my bones because I've lived it firsthand. But the author of the classic is a literary titan. When I told a close friend what I was attempting, he was aghast. Be careful, he said.

But it's not my job to be careful, to play it safe and write the same book over and over again. It's my duty to myself and my writing to reach beyond whatever skillset I have today, to stretch, and then follow my instincts.

Last week at Writers Read for Twain, I was talking to one of my favorites, Stewart O'Nan. He's the author of many, many books including the little gem Last Night at the Lobster. I say little, not because of the story, it's bigger than the jacket can contain, but because I doubt it's more than 40,000 words. I asked if his publisher worried that it was too short, if people along the way urged him to flesh it out. He nodded vigorously.

But you refused, I said.

Yes, he said (and I'm paraphrasing here), I believed in it.

He was right to do so. Lobster represents a return to simple elegance in storytelling. Stewart O'Nan broke all the rules and won; his book was both a commercial and literary success. He took a magnificent risk.

I hope I'll be able to say the same some day.

Why?

By Amy MacKinnon

We each write for different reasons, though last week I couldn't possibly tell you mine. I've been wondering about this a lot lately, why it is we writers are eager to rip away the cloak that shields us from public scrutiny and misinterpretation. Most would tell you it isn't for the money (how many published authors earn a living wage from writing?); it's not for the glory (try facing down an empty bookstore or sitting next to a New York Times bestselling author at a signing); it's not for any sense of immortality (I'm still hoping this one might be true among my descendents).

Last Friday, Patry Francis, Lynne, and I wondered at this conundrum over tea and cakes (for those of you wondering, Patry's doing well and gorgeous to boot). When each of us started writing, we hoped against all reason that we would eventually sell our books, that they would be read by people who connected with them, and maybe one of us hoped for more beyond that-- a scenario too magnificent to lay down black-and-white. Haven't you done the same? And we've been lucky, we know it and are grateful. But this isn't a business for the faint of heart. As Gail Konop Baker once wrote to me as consolation after a particularly awful day, "This can be a tear your heart out kind of business." Some days I've truly feel that wrenching in my chest.

But I think I finally figured out why I write: I don't understand a world in which there is unfathomable pain.

I wrote about the real Precious Doe, Erica Michelle Marie Green who was killed by her parents; about my friends' four-year-old daughter, Mary Katherine, who died of a brain tumor; about the unbearable weight some cops have to bear when dealing with the seediest aspects of our society. Why is the world like it is? Why?

I don't write to entertain readers for vanity or fame. I write because, at least on the page, I can give each of these people some measure of comfort in a world of my making. It's all I can do.

The Voices

Posted by Lisa Marnell

There are many voices that speak to me. They don't come from little creatures, sitting on my shoulders, helping me decide between good from evil. Besides, I don't have enough room on my shoulders to carry about the number of voices that speak to me. Perhaps I should explain.

One voice is gruff and deep like a rumble of thunder. It always says the same old thing: "Hey! Lisa! The stakes in your story aren't high enough." You, again? I complain, But I upped the stakes already! "More stakes! More!" It shouts to me day after day after day.

One voice is soothing, low-pitched female. She's less persistent. She doesn't talk to me as often and when she does, I tend to listen. "Excuse me," she whispers with the trace of a British accent. "What do you say to adding a more poignant detail in this description? And perhaps you should paint this setting more clearly." Her suggestions are fun; I could Word Paint until the cows come home.

The third voice is probably the most annoying. She speaks in a flat tone and only says five words, time and time again: "I don't get this story," she complains. What don't you get? I ask. The character's actions? The plot turns? "I don't get this story," she repeats ad nauseum. Oh, she's annoying, and she's the one that fills me with self-doubt. She's right, I tell myself. I need to change everything, absolutely everything. I must never pay attention to her.

Another voice I love. "Fantastic," it calls out to me in celebration. If this voice were a person, he'd look like Rafael Nadal. Strong. Confident. Awfully cute and definitely either Spanish like Rafael, or maybe Italian. He sings to me that it's time to celebrate! My novel is on track! It's working!

Every day, I hear these voices. Every day I must choose which voices to listen to, which to ignore. I will stay on track, tie my threads, get ready to send it to my writers' group in a few weeks time. In a way, I've won already.

Math and the Artist's Career

by Hannah Roveto

I was reading Rolling Stone yesterday, not because I am cool but because I was waiting for back-to-school haircuts to be completed. The current issue has an interview with Robert Downey Junior, who is, as far as I'm concerned, an artistic genius.

He was talking about his career and what a single choice can mean. People used to say to him, "Hey, I remember you in Weird Science; loved Less than Zero." By that latter movie he'd been in a dozen films, plus a season on Saturday Night Live. His achievements, he said, were like an algorithm -- a moveable, complicated process. Now, he says, people point to him: "Iron Man!" With that choice, Downey said, he has a fixed point from which to build.

The last time I took a math class was in high school. Calculus, actually, and that was pretty much the point when I switched with a happy heart to the humanities. But algorithms and fixed points -- the process of a career and its successes -- got me thinking.

As writers, we hope -- try -- for fixed points, one after the other. In part for ourselves, but in part for business reasons, truth be told. We want our stories to resonate and stay with the audience, to create a deep connection. The annoying thing is that -- as with other kinds of artists -- we don't get those starry successes every single time. This career is two-faced, the art and the business, and we can never forget it. And we worry.

What I like about Downey's math analogy is that it provides a long-term rationale for pushing forward, for not letting one moment make or break your determination. Yes, you can have a career and go along for a bit without a fixed point. If you keep at it, if you are smart about it, you will create one. Why am I so certain? Because what must be done comes not from the outside world, but from inside of us. We keep going, we keep creating. It is in our souls. Not to say we shouldn't be strategic. Many writers take pseudonyms to restart careers, extend careers. Or consider John Irving. His first three books didn't get the reception he thought they should have (career as algorithm), so he took his fourth book to a new publisher. That book, of course, was The World According to Garp (seriously fixed point!).

I have had relatives, neighbors and friends in this business; I have been lucky enough to absorb their experiences in preparation for my own. I know there will be times when my career might be more of a process; I also believe that with hard work, belief and determination, there will be points of achievement to stand upon over time, as well.

Choices

Posted by Lisa Marnell



I'm happy today.



Late last night I finished a first draft of Frozen Rose, my YA novel. Hurrah! I woke feeling a sense of relief.

Over the past six months, I've changed the plot at least five times. I had figured out characters. I had established a setting that was magical to me. Though it should be hard to delve into mid-winter New Hampshire as I write mid-summer in sunny California, I managed. I'll admit to closing the blinds in my study and turning on the air conditioning a few hot afternoons. Being surrounded in my many photographs of New Hampshire mountains certainly helped as well. No, getting into my novel, wasn't ever a challenge, but knowing what my characters were going to do was hard for me.


Choices. Commitment.

Deciding that a character will follow one route and not another is something I haven't read much about in writing books on craft. But making choices about the direction for my novel has weighed me down for a long time now. I discovered something. It's easier to have a main character kind of lie, kind of cheat, kind of steal, than to decide on one course of action such as, My main character is a compulsive liar, or My protagonist, when challenged will cheat every time.

In Tethered, Amy's recently released novel - I'm still amazed and blown-away proud - she made choices. Some of them were difficult. But those choices were believable, realistic, and, from a writerly point of view, raised the stakes. Her choices made her novel the gripping and emotional story that it is.


In deciding which direction to take with my YA novel, there was one bit of advice, some wise words I copied and taped above my laptop. My mini-poster reads:

Fiction isn't written to make readers happy.

Its purpose is to jangle their nerves,

Make their hearts race,

Give them goosebumps,

and disturb their sleep.

Words to live by, writers!

Oh, I'm pleased.

A Group Grows Up

by Hannah Roveto

What does a writers' group offer to writers who are not just starting out? How is someone who has a full WIP or even experience in the wild world of publishing supposed to use a writers' group?

A friend of mine with two books on shelves recently formed a group with two other published authors and even among the three of them, the questions arose: What do we need from each other? What are the rules and boundaries? One of the writers has a full manuscript and her first need is for a reading and critique, while my friend is in the development stages, turning a script she wrote into a novel. She asked for my thoughts, which was hugely flattering.

I outlined our group's process as established early on, noting that as we evolved, the rules have become somewhat flexible. We meet regularly, not necessarily every two weeks. We don't turn out pages "just because," and still keep the pressure on ourselves to push forward. We do read full manuscripts and here is our process for that:

* Readers follow a piece's progress in chunks. However, as we near the end (Amy or Lynne's brilliant idea) the author holds back the last three or so chapters and rewrites/completes the entire manuscript. The work is delivered as a fresh story with an ending the readers have never seen.

* A complete manuscript is usually the sole work reviewed in a meeting. Pages are delivered in advance, packaged in gray copy center boxes that to us signify excitement and accomplishment. We read and comment on the entire book, from threads to plausibility to line edits.

The value of those comments is in their service to the author, which is more significant than it sounds. As Lynne once wrote, honesty is in the details, but those details can only be processed by the author, something we all recognize fully. The author can feel free to use readers outside the group. And while the author considers any reader's critique as a flag marking something worth review, critique is recognized by the writer -- and the readers -- as opinion. Our role is to point out details that work and don't work, where the strengths are and where challenges might lie. We hope to help make the foundation strong; what the author does with our thoughts is her prerogative. We trust each other enough to know the advice is good, and we take what is needed as a gift, with deep appreciation.

In fact, The Writers Group members have never seen the final manuscripts delivered by our sisters-in-writing to an agent. (A draft once, but no finals.) We have seen only predecessors. What stayed and what went, what was deleted or added by the author -- and in turn, the agent and editor -- is a surprise. Really. And on that note, is everyone ready for a fabulous book being released on the twelfth called Tethered? I'm dying to read it!

Five Remembrances

By Amy MacKinnon

I've written in this space before about the Five Remembrances of Buddha:

The Five Remembrances
1. I am of the nature to grow old. I cannot escape growing old.
2. I am of the nature to have ill-health. I cannot escape having ill-health.
3. I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
4. All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
5. I inherit the results of my actions in body, speech and mind. My actions are the ground on which I stand.

Though I'm not a person of faith, these aphorisms appeal to my sense of perspective on the world. To some, they may appear bleak. To me, they are a way of coping with the inevitable. Acceptance is a powerful thing.

How does it all apply to this writing life of ours? When we dream of the possibilites of having our words appear in print, we may include buckets of money, best-seller status, glowing reviews in the New York Times, scads of charming notes from readers, and, if we are so bold, a place on a certain talk show host's nightstand and then her bookclub.

And so you should dream. Dream beyond all reason, but be prepared to balance out the glory with the guts of this business. Prepare yourself so you don't succumb to either the glory or the guts of this business. Seek balance. Know that you're never as good as the sycophants claim, nor are you ever as dim as the critics proclaim.

As many wonderful experiences as I've had over the past ten months, and I know just how blessed I am, I am prepared for the downside of putting myself out there. One week before publication and already people are wondering about the details of my personal life, how they measure up to the trauma of my protagonist Clara Marsh. Others will criticize the writing, the subject matter, the overall quality. I am now fair game. For someone who's spent most of her life hiding among the shadows, I expect some days the naysayers will engulf me. This is the price we pay.

So here are my Five Remembrances for Publication

1) I am of the nature to become irrelevant. I cannot escape being irrelevant.
2) I am in the business of being harshly critiqued. I will be cruelly critiqued.
3) I am of the nature to fail miserably. There will be times when I will fail.
4) My words are of the nature to be misinterpreted by those who cannot understand their intent. There is no way to prevent this.
5) I inherit the results of my actions in body, speech and mind. My actions are the ground on which I stand.

You'll notice I didn't change a word of the fifth one. No need. From this point forth, that's all I can control.

------

A big thank you to blog friend and dear, dear reader Larramie. Your post on Tethered is the most magnificent review a writer could ever dream of. I count it among the dearest gifts I've yet received.

Happy launch day, Kristy Kiernan! You know her as the author of Catching Genius, but her second novel, Matters of Faith, is out today and you will love it. It's already an IndieBound pick for September. If you haven't pre-ordered it, I urge you to run out to your local indepedent bookstore today and grab one for yourself and another for your best friend.

The Hot Seat

Posted by Lisa Marnell

According to Donald Maas …

“If there is one single principal that is central to making any story more powerful, it is simply this: Raise the stakes.”

Donald Maas is a literary agent, president of Donald Maas Literary in NYC. In his book, Writing a Breakout Novel, he goes on to suggest that many writers cannot answer that question of what will happen to the protagonist if he doesn’t reach his goal. Too often, he reports, writers sit dumbfounded; we love our characters and we simply HATE to see bad things happen to them. Not good. Stakes aren’t high enough.

Look at Harry Potter. (Oh, how I loved that series). And think about the stakes, the personal stakes to Harry. Voldemort killed his parents, brutally, and tried to kill Harry as well; he was just a baby! Now, Harry has discovered he is a wizard – how cool is that – and he has this wonderful new life in front of him, away from those dreadful Dursleys. Harry has so much more to fight for now. He has friends now, a muggle-friend no less, Hermione would be first on Voldemort’s list. The stakes are high. Back comes Voldemort into Harry's life.

In his chapter on plot, Donald Maas holds that we, as writers …”must be willing to push characters into situations that you would never go near in your own life.”

I’m afraid I’m too nice, and frankly, I don’t like where I’ve put my protagonist. Chapter 18 gives me a downright icky feeling. But, I tell you, she's staying put! One of our writer’s group members once said something wise. In fact, she’s said many wise things, but one sticks with me and gives me comfort. I paraphrase her words but the gist was this: “It shouldn’t bother us when our characters find themselves in an awful situation because we, as writers, are the ones to help them out of said situation.”

I do love a book with high stakes. So, I’ll keep putting my fiction friends into that mess. I must; I want to write fiction.

Oh My God, It's Almost August!

Posted by Lisa Marnell

With family visiting, I haven't had much time to write. My MUSE has always disappeared with the arrival of people in my home. Even people who are welcome and loved. My MUSE is shy; she's so frightened of being stared at, her whispers being heard. She scrams. I don't want to say anything bad about her, but she's kind of wimpy.

In the past few days, I have had time to think though, and this has been a surprise. As I drove through Hollywood the other morning, pointing out this celebrity's home and that celebrity's home, something about my novel was bugging me. Like an itchy mosquito bite, it was irritating me, asking me to scratch. I realized what it was: things weren't bad enough for my main character. When we went to the beach in Ventura the other day, I saw Rose and Rachael and Ava's faces, dressed in winter clothes, shivering before me instead the bathing suit clad bodies before me.

The other evening, after everyone had gone to bed, I stayed up late, propped in bed with pillows, holding a single piece of paper and a gel pen. I thought and thought, promising myself I would not go to sleep until it came to me. And, yes, it did. I discovered that one single thing my protagonist did that was wrong, wrong, wrong. The next morning I altered my plot outline (it only consisted of mildly changing three scenes but the stakes are higher, I think).

Though a writer mustn't rush or force the pages to come, one must push oneself and this is a conscious decision. This is my conscious decision:

I WILL FINISH THIS DRAFT BY AUGUST 31.

Strike while the iron's hot, right? While it's all fresh in my mind, while I feel passion for this work, I must push on.

When summer comes to a close, I must type the words THE END. I will let you know how I did in my blog post September 1st. Please feel welcome to join me in this quest to finish you own work in progress. Misery loves company right?

Hmmmm...

Posted by Lisa Marnell

Okay, I changed my mind since Friday's Blog. If I could be anything, I would be a professional tennis player. The travel, the excitement, the attention. And with Wimbledon starting today! Yup, pro tennis player. That's the ticket.

Oops, I changed my mind again. Any of you reading this who know me, really know me, would believe I'm not joking. I'm not! Thirty seconds ago I wanted to be a professional tennis player, but I don't want to anymore. It might be too stressful. I mean, screwing up, choking, is one thing in the privacy of my small world. But choking in front of a crowd of thousands - not for me.

I have a point. And it has to do with writing. Plotting, specifically.

I find plotting a challenge. Not for lack of ideas, necessarily, but for sticking with one idea, one theme over the course of months of writing. When a novel idea comes, a writer must give consider it. Then, there is a choice one makes. The option is to either push it aside (none of us want to have a novel with too many subplots; it may ramble and at the end threads may not be tied). The other option is to embrace it. How many writers say that they started with one idea or a couple important characters, but the Russian hockey player (for instance) that was working as a waiter in the New York hotel just TOOK OVER. It happens all the time.

Now, being an indecisive person, I have decided to change my personality, stick to my guns, and commit myself to ONE THEME, ONE PREMISE.

We'll see.

Rose, dear Rose. You clever and tragic and mixed up main character. I will finish your story. I promise!

Agent City

Posted by Lynne Griffin

It's been a while since I wrote anything about taking the illustrious trip to the place we here at the writers' group fondly call, agent city. A place you dare not go, but must, if you are to be published with any of the big six. Certainly searching out the right agent for you is no easy task, but a recent article by Paige Wheeler on the terrific new blog hosted by agents at Folio Literary Management reminded me it all comes down to communication.

I have a secret. I had an agent before I landed my dream agent. I won't say who, but suffice it to say, we didn't work out. I was naive and held her up on a pedestal. Two years and two projects later, I still trembled when I dialed the phone to ask her where my manuscript was, where it stood, was it viable?

To her credit, she got me into a total of five editorial meetings. Though even with strong interest from the publisher, which included editor phone meetings, she couldn't seal the deal. Believe it or not, I wanted to think it was me. Maybe my parenting book was too optimistic, too saccharin. What was my hook? Where was my platform? If it was something I lacked, I could fix it. I would rewrite, rework, retool.

Then I went to New York for business and orchestrated a dinner meeting. I finally met my agent face-to-face. Our conversation was awkward, stilted and when I walked out of The Tavern Jane, I didn't feel any better having met her. I didn't feel she could speak to my work, my writing, my passion. It occurred to me that if I felt this way, then of course editors would too. Two weeks later, I sent a certified letter informing her it was time to part company. In a way, I was thankful we hadn't landed a deal, because we would've been tied to each other for the life of a book.

Clean slate. A wealth of possibilities. I was afraid. Wasn't an agent on the phone, worth hundreds on the Internet? Amy, Lisa and Hannah bolstered me; they agreed, I should trust my instincts. My husband loved my new spin on my nonfiction proposal; my champion urged me to move forward.

When a sixty page proposal and three sample chapters were done, I started my list. You know, the one you compile after spending hours perusing Publishers Marketplace, AgentQuery.com and every other site you can find sharing agent details, like who represents what you write and who has a record of selling projects like yours. I had eight on my list. All accepted e-queries. I was tired of waiting.

My fastest response time was four minutes. I sent my query on a Saturday, and said agent was getting caught up on email. My slowest response time? The clock is still ticking on one agent, and I sent my queries out back in February 2006. In short order, I had six requests for fulls. One week later I'd scheduled four face-to-face meetings--yes, I went to New York. I refused to sign again with someone I hadn't met and didn't have a real feel for, as a professional and as a person. Four offers of representation later, I made an agreement with my present agent. She bowled me over then, and the truth is she still does, with the way she conducts business and how much she cares about my career.

The reason our relationship works is because we communicate regularly. Everything from manuscript feedback sessions, to cursory emails sharing news. I never call her unless it's important, but I keep her updated with things on my end, whenever there's something noteworthy to share. She understands my career goals, and the kind of writer I want to be. She neither pushes trends on me, nor does she tell me my work is fantastic, when it isn't. She holds me to a bar as high or higher than the one I've set for myself.

I have no delusions that our relationship will last a lifetime--though in all honesty, I hope it does. What matters, for me, is that our goals remain compatible, our communication remain open, honesty and frequent, and that we continue to see eye-to-eye on the trajectory of my career.

If you're preparing for a trip to agent city, be sure you know what you're looking for. Last year, the wonderful Eve Bridburg, founder of Grub Street and an agent at the marvelous Zachary, Schuster and Harmsworth shared her thoughts about connecting with agents.

My best advice is to do your homework; read, read, read. And when you're absolutely sure you're ready, take the trip. Be true to yourself, and you'll get there.

Just Show Up

By Amy MacKinnon

Before writing fiction, I was an essayist. I was also a reporter, but I much preferred writing essays and I still seek them out. The good ones take the personal, make it universal, and somehow imbue it with a profound observation on the human condition.

Yesterday, Jezebel posted one that is all of those things. Allegedly written by an anonymous runway model, Tatiana, it's everything an essay should be. Study it for lessons in clarity and story arc, how to give an unflinching account without a hint of sentimentality.

But as a writer, as someone who's faced with rejection and criticism, conflicting advice and conditional approval, withering reviews and fickle attention, read it for the next to last graf too. Remove all references to modeling and instead insert writing:

"But there is one way in which this industry has taught me to take less of an obsessive interest in how I measure up, appearance-wise. The feedback you receive as a model is breathtaking in its contradictions, vehemence, and beside-the-point meanderings. My shoulders, too broad for one client, will be criticized for their narrowness by another. I have been told I have too many freckles, and also too few. I've been too pale, too tan, too old, too young, too brown, too red, too blonde. I'm too tall or too short. My feet are too big or not big enough. At first, this was unsettling, and kind of withering, but it soon became white noise — when a casting agent shares advice with me ("Tie your hair back for castings!" "Walk more smoothly!" "Work out so you have some arm muscle!") I thank him or her politely and do precisely nothing — because I know the next will want to see unfettered hair, a cocky swagger of a walk, and arms that aren't as "bulky" with muscle as mine. It all cancels out, and I'm left with the conclusion that the client will cast whomever they will cast and they'll know it as soon as the right model walks in the door and nothing in my power will change that. The best I can do is show up."

Familiar? There is a cacophony of opinion about what constitutes good writing, good storytelling, a good book --there is nothing harmonious about public/private/professional opinion. With few exceptions it should all be white noise.

What you must do, all you can do, is write for the story. Write what compels you, what consumes your every thought. Don't worry about producing ten pages every day or even writing every day. Write because you want to, because you have to. Write because you love to write. Do that, and you'll become the person you want to be. Really. Because no matter what, your shoulders will be too narrow, too wide; your sprinkle of freckles will be too dense, too sparse; your arms too muscular, too flabby. I don't mean to imply that a worthy critiquer doesn't exist, I give as the best example my writers' group. What I do mean to say is it's crucial to be selective about whom you choose to listen to and when. No voice should be louder than your own.

And on those days when the voices overtake you, when there's another rejection in your email and you're certain you're no writer at all, remember: the best you can do is show up.

Slimming Down the Prose

by Hannah Roveto

For those accused of putting too much food in your scenes, this post is for you. For those of you who keep your characters thin, well, feel free to nibble as well. I have been accused, rightfully so, of overfeeding my readers. "Too much food." "They're eating again?" "He drinks too much coffee. Didn't he just have a cup?"

In real life, much happens around food, doesn't it? People who would never be caught together, for any reason, meet over food. Reunions and ruckuses ensue. Major issues are raised -- tentatively, forcefully -- as we are trapped between a salad and the main course. Our best sides and our worst arise as we gather with the ones we love, the ones we are trying to like, and the ones we, well, would rather never see again. And we show our best sides to the latter, the worst to the former. I read once that Sarah Jessica Parker said she and Matthew Broderick talk some evenings about how lovely their first cup of coffee will be in the morning. That one detail changed her from someone I knew existed to a soul sister.

Even my memories of funerals have food details. I remember only two things about my grandmother's funeral: it was open casket, and at the reception afterward, two women were talking about the lemon chiffon pie brought by my grandparents' housecleaner (and friend and possibly an earthly saint). The conversation quickly went from how wonderful the pie was, to the fact that it was made with fresh eggs, which made all the difference, to a comment on how its baker kept chickens, said in a tone of voice that implied a great deal about social status.

Oh, but am I talking too much about food? Apologies. You see, I discovered how to cut down on food, at least in my writing, at a funeral reception my protagonist had to attend. How to get him through socializing with a hundred people, moving through rooms with tables of food, drinking coffee and perhaps sneaking something stronger, without talking about food?

I pulled him aside, or rather, had him pull his sister and a friend aside for a key conversation. I kept the scene focused on what I needed to convey, and left the food literally in the background. He didn't even bring a cookie to munch. When he returned to the group, he shook hands, accepted sympathies, closed out the scene.

Plot above setting, action above food. Chew is not an action verb. I'd finally gotten it.

Scanning back through the manuscript, I was able to mark every sip, every bite, and decide whether it was necessary. At times, yes, I allowed them to indulge. After all, the fact that someone drinks a lot of coffee can be useful, as long as the reader doesn't get the jitters, too. I did allow my protagonist a sausage sub at a baseball game, and indeed, a juicy burger at a bar. But for a reason. This is a man whose peers eat lamb chops and drink Grey Goose vodka. That he would prefer a sausage sub and a burger with a draught beer means something, as long as the reader doesn't have to dab at the grease while listening to conversations and watching the events that are the real action.

So, yes, it is possible to move characters through the day without making sure they have every beverage and snack, every mouthful of their three squares recorded for posterity. I am living proof. Focus on the comment about keeping chickens; keep the pie to a single reference. Focus on the interaction between the man with sub and the woman with the diet soda, their relationship falling apart with each word, not each bite. Don't track every meal; the reader will assume they ate. Pull characters aside and let them act and react with something other than food. Even the heartiest of writers will find it is possible to trim down the prose and let the proof of a story be in the pudding. (Sorry!)

Shockers

Posted by Lisa Marnell

Call it your drop shot: a slice in tennis that falls just over the net and surprises your opponent, surprises you too: you nailed it.

Risk. In all endeavors, such as singing or sports, taking risks is what separates the champions from the also-rans.

I've been watching the local Grand Slam, Pacific Life tournament, and that's what I noticed. The great players take the risky shots; it's true they don't always come up winners, but when they do...


Here...

is a photo of the desert very close to where the tournament is taking place. There is sand covered in shrub and Joshua Trees as far as the eye can see. This handful of palm trees was planted, it seems, they aren't actually endemic to this area. But they fit so well.

I had to take this photo while at the tennis tournament because elements here didn't jive, but they fit together so beautifully. Snow? In the desert. Tons of it in the mountain. Surreal and breathtaking. And the wind! OMG! Do you SEE how those those green tops of the trees are being blown? That, too, fits but doesn't fit.


Shockers. Surprises. They are one of the delights we have as readers. Part of the joy in turning the page and gasping at a novel turn of events is that we didn't see it coming, but of course; they make such sense.

The Price of Fame

Posted by Lisa Marnell

This...
...is my photo of Andy Roddick seconds before he threw his racket to the ground then tossed it into the crowd Saturday morning during practice. Ranked sixth in the world and coming off a win in Dubai, Andy was considered a favorite for doing well at the Pacific Life tennis tournament this weekend in Indian Wells, California.

Five minutes after we entered the tennis grounds Saturday morning a man pointed my family and I in the direction of the practice courts. "Andy Roddick's warming up." He is? We hurried in the direction the man pointed. The crowds were lined against the waist-high fence. As a couple of people left, we made our way into their spots.

I settled by the fence at the periphery of the court as my husband and son walked to the other end, perhaps to get a different view. The excitement I felt at watching this tennis celebrity quickly settled into knots in my stomach. I'm a big fan of his and I still am, but Andy was having a bad day. His opponent made such strong shots. I felt I was spying. People cheered then gossiped and whispered that Andy shouldn't have fired coach Jimmy Connors.

Sunday Andy lost to Tommy Haas (ranked 36th). So Andy's out. We win some. We lose some. We must.

Here, is someone who's hit the BIG time. Andy Roddick's a multi-millionaire at the age of twenty-four. He's travelled the world. How delightful it must be to have achieved such success! But there's highs and there's lows. For him, this tournament was rock bottom; such an upset to be eliminated so early on. And on American soil, with his fans watching!

Of course, I think of my own dream: to BE a writer.

Does it ever get easy? I used to think it did. My old dream of what life would be like as a writer used to involve starting my day with a five-mile run along New Hampshire mountain roads, followed by tea by the fire, a morning of writing before me. It's not that simple. It's not.

Count on Change

By Amy MacKinnon

Many of you may have read award-winning author Jenny Crusie's post last summer, one that left the industry gasping just a bit. In it, she detailed the luncheon when her agent "broke-up" with her. I know, the mere mention of such a thing is verboten in writing circles, but there it is.

And did you read about the cancellation of various imprints? Imagine if your book, the one you spent months, if not years, writing and revising, was plucked from the slush pile by your dream agent -- oh, happy day! -- sold to an enthusiastic editor -- life is good! -- only to have the publishing house shutter the imprint? Oh dear dog.

Then there are the books publishers expect to be blockbusters, usually the works of untested debut novelists. The writer enjoys a ginormous advance that's widely publicized; the marketing team at the publishing house is eager to push the book out into the world with a six figure campaign; and every one in the industry is certain this is the break-out book of the season -- even the reviews are good. But for some reason the book doesn't quite take off and no one knows why exactly. The poor writer thought he was on path only to learn his journey was terribly off course. It happens.

Last week, though it seems much longer ago, my editor, my beloved editor, called to tell me she'd taken a position with another house. I was devastated -- though not entirely surprised.

Welcome to publishing where life can turn on a dime. Expect change. Never say never. There is no arriving in this business. And that's okay. That's just how it is. Have you read Jenny Crusie's post yet? She took the news with aplomb because she knows getting a book published isn't about happily-ever-after-the-end. It's more an erratic continum.

Enough sob stories. Are you ready for a happy "change" story now? Well, there's this author who sold a novel, trade paperback, to a great publisher. Her book earned a starred review and was well-received by readers. She wrote another, but the editor outright rejected it, asked for a sequel to the first. The sequel, also trade paperback, did well, too. The writer was building a solid career. But that writer couldn't stop thinking about her second book. She took it out, worked on it some more, and tried again. Her agent believed in the book, too. Months and months later, that book her first editor rejected is still on the New York Times' bestseller list.

One more? The day after my editor broke the news, my publisher called. Shaye Areheart is a woman whose career I've followed for years, not with any expectation that I would ever be on her list, but because I so admired the writers whose careers she personally guided. I even managed to interview her once for story I was preparing on the publishing industry. I was giddy when she agreed and utterly charmed by our conversation. She was gracious, funny, generous with her insights, and told me some of the most memorable stories about her career in publishing. Well, I'm thrilled to say Shaye will personally be taking on my book.

So remember, don't be surprised when everything changes. It will. But be assured that there's one thing that never has to and that's your joy for writing. Love your words, stay true to your story. Don't waver in your desire for writing the best book you're capable of. Be passionate.

Never allow that to change.

Millefeuille

by Hannah

Can you tell I haven't had breakfast yet? I was trying to think of something with lots of layers, and pastry popped into my head. You know, Napoleons and those other yummies with the thousands of sheets of pastry and cream (or fruit) and icing... but I digress, a bit.

My own challenge in writing also has been plot. Not so much in creating one, but in creating a full set of events that together make it richer, stronger, worthwhile. I could take a thread and stretch it one end to the other. A second thread, fine. A third, even. In the past, however, I found it easy to get lost. I might start with a firm beginning, and follow my primary thread to hit key points along the way, but in between it would wander.

I learned to manage that to a greater degree, and my last draft was close. The unanimous opinion, still, was that it needed more action. There were already so many characters, so many pieces, how could it need more? As I reviewed and played with it in my mind, the answer (as usual) was that everything I needed was really already sitting in front of me. What I have discovered in this last revision is precisely how many threads I'm really working from end to end; that number is far more than I ever realized.

Before it seemed thin, and suddenly it felt rich, excessive. At first I panicked. How presumptuous to assume I could take so many elements and truly craft them start to finish! Do I really have it in me to pull the right ones at the right times, to make sure the heavier ones march solidly along and the delicate ones add depth by popping up gently here and there? How do I interlace them so they happen in the right order, like dominoes with intersecting paths?

What I have learned with this revision is that more threads are not necessarily harder. In fact, like a narrow writing prompt, it makes the work easier. I set out the main character's thread and the basic plot, writing it step by step with lots of space in between on 8 1/2 by 11 sheets of paper. I added in the secondary character's bits between. Then the third most important person. Then I made a list of all the elements: relationship with father, funny unconscious habit, details on backstory that main character is unaware of but that he -- and we -- need to put together along the way. Layers and layers and layers on sheets across my dining room table.

This was different from the outlines I had done before, different in that every aspect of every character was on the sheet somewhere, not only in my head. In doing so, it was suddenly far clearer what was important, what drove the whole thing forward, what could be eliminated. Who could be eliminated. Who had drifted into lesser importance and was waiting patiently to return to greater prominence. Best of all, I was able to find the action that was so dearly needed.

Like a baker, I am taking those layers that stretched across my table and am folding them not once, not twice, but what seems like a thousand times into something new. A confection that I hope will be as impressive in the tasting as it is in the presentation. A thousand layers in nearly that many pages? Not quite, but close enough. And now, off for breakfast!

Staying True

By Amy

After I finish writing this, I intend to print it out and tuck it away in my Tethered binder. Hannah gave me the idea for the binder about a year ago as a way to organize both my thoughts and voluminous amounts of paper. Contained within the plastic covers are: various drafts of the manuscript; all correspondence having to do with what I hoped would someday become a book; and a title page slipped through the plastic cover with a black and white photo of daisies. I indulged myself with that one.

Next, I'll place this in it. It's a promise to myself to stay true to my writing. Not to let external pressures influence what should be an internal experience. How many times have we said to ourselves and each other, his earlier work was so much better. I think what happens with a lot of authors is they begin writing with an eye toward the market, and the passion, what initally compelled the reader to fall in love, falls by the wayside.

So here are my goals for my future self:

- I will always trust my gut. This applies to all areas of my life and has so far served me well in both my writing life and beyond. Unless you've proven otherwise, this is good advice for each of us.

- I will not write for a deadline. Though this is something others can do with aplomb, I know myself well enough not to try. The moment I write with a date in mind, I will write for it instead of for the story.

- I will allow the story as much time as it needs. I sometimes grow frustrated with myself because I don't write quickly. Some days, just a good paragraph, others an entire page and a half. Though twice I've written entire chapters in just a single morning -- chapters that remain largely untouched -- I must be patient with myself and the story. It will come in time.

- I will listen to all who voice an opinion, but no voice will be louder than my own. It is ultimately my story, one I need to stand behind with vigor and confidence. I must believe in it and shape it honestly. Yes, I will listen and take what rings true, but I must remain faithful at all times to the story.

- I will write the best book I can at this point in my life. Years from now, I'm sure I'll look back on Tethered and think of ways to improve upon it. No point in that, is there? I haven't yet become that person. All I can do is the best I can do today.

- I won't read my reviews. Many will disagree with me on this point, but hear me out. To what end? If they're horrible, it will devastate me and if they're glowing, it might paralyze me. Could I learn from a terrible review? It depends. There are few book editors whose opinions I know and trust. I can name them on three fingers. If one of them hated my book, I would be crushed to bits and then how to pick-up the pieces? If it were a reviewer I'm not familiar with, then there's no established trust. Worse would be a fabulous review. It's a fool's folly to believe one's own press. And save me from the middle-of-the-road reviews; mediocrity is the bane of my existence and to be labelled as such would plunge me into an existential funk. Understand now?

- I will work with the best editor available. Having had the opportunity to be edited by a variety of newspaper editors, I know how invaluable a good editor is -- not only to the work itself, but to the psyche. A good editor pushes and pulls forth the very best from a writer, all the while giving encouragement. It's fun and the work is so much better for it. A poor editor dictates and bullies, undermining the writer's confidence in the work. This scenario leaves the author embarassed by the work once it's in print. I allowed that to happen once, years ago. Never again.

- It's not about the money. No matter how much is on the table, if you don't respect the people offering, if the editorial suggestions don't ring true, if the enthusiasm is geared more toward sales than it is toward a passion for the work, then walk away. The price is too high. I've been poor most of my life, I can live with it. I'm pretty sure I can't live with bankrupting my literary aspirations.

- The only competition is my best self. About a month ago, a book in my genre with a striking hook sold at auction in a major deal and then some. Worse, it's due out the same month as my novel. I'll be honest, for a few days I was obsessed with it. And then I realized, not only was I powerless over it, but it didn't make me any less pleased with my own situation. There's nothing I would trade with that author: not my agent, not my editor, definitely not my book. Though others may see our novels as competing titles, I don't. As Lynne always says, each will have its own journey. I wish that author the best of luck.

- Be kind. It's a small world, as is my place in it. Be gracious to everyone, thankful to those who help, and helpful to those who need it.

Hopefully I will remain faithful to these goals, though I imagine I will stumble along the way. Some will be harder to aspire to, others will remain easy. Will I stay true? We shall see.

The Rules of Writing

By Amy

If you want to be a writer, a real writer, then you must write every day. You must meet a daily minimum word count. A true writer has read the classics. Before you may call yourself a writer, you must -- must! -- know proper grammar; this is non-negotiable. Writers never read within the genre they're writing while they're writing; we might fall prey to osmosis plagiarism. If you are to be published, then you will never be at a loss for ideas for the next scene, the next chapter, the next book. True writers don't write in first-person, present tense; everyone knows how much agents and editors detest this. Don't edit your work until you've written that $hi!!y first draft. If you're a short story writer, then you've heard a thousand times over the dictum of a certain editor that a short story must take place within the time-frame of a single day. You must write what you know. You must, you must, you must...

These are a few of the rules of writing I've heard over the years. I reject them all.

Writing is a personal journey. It's something that happens within each of us and is then poured out, massaged, and refined before being shared with the world. It's an explosion of passion, an obsessively controlled expression.

There are no rules for writing, though there are guidelines. I believe in certain truths: reading enriches my writing; grammar is fun; write not what I know, but what I want to know; become one with the protagonist. But these are my truths. I know if I were to write every day, the words would soon become stale, perfunctory. They would appear on the page only because they had to, not because I felt them. Perhaps you must write each day. Good on you! You know your strengths and weaknesses best. Feel confident with your choices.

My advice (not that you asked)? Know the rules, become intimate with them, and then throw them all away. When you're ready, pick and choose that which resonates with your own literary life. Trust your gut more than those books on writing you picked up at the library or bookstore. Read them, definitely do, but again, choose what is right for you.

This is your journey, navigate your own path. You may find yourself crossing trails with others along the way; enjoy the commiseration. But know that ultimately you'll find your way, on your terms. You must.

What You Know, Not Who -- Really

By Amy

A friend asked me to call a man she knew tangentially, a man doing some work around her mother's house, a writer. A memoir, she said, though she couldn't say how far along he was in either craft or pages. I promised to call. I knew what it was to wander the maze, blind to the ways of the publishing world. It took me years to figure out what little I know today. After he described what he was writing, what drove him, I offered the basics about the role of a literary agent and how to find one. Then the business of finding an editor.

"Look, I know this is all about politics, it's all who you know," he said in so many words. "I don't have time for that. What do I have to do?"

Remember when you still thought that, when you believed it was simply a matter of a "publishing insider" you happened to know picking up the phone and -- viola! --you'd have a book contract? Maybe some of you still believe that. Fact is, for some it is true. The celebrity tell-alls or picture books are, we all assume, fast-tracked by insiders. How else to explain them? But for most of us, it's what we know, not who.

For the past 5 1/2 years, I've been writing with the intention of getting a book published. I've taken many classes, attended workshops and readings, wrote authors seeking advice, volunteered countless hours at various literary venues, and signed up for more conferences than I care to remember (all while working part-time and raising three children). Each of those experiences informed my craft, helped me understand the business of publishing, taught me about the writing life. I've met, and sometimes befriended, writers, literary agents, editors whose work makes me shiver with awe, who've been kind beyond measure. In all those years, though, only two writers have offered to refer me to their agents (once before and once after I was had representation) and two editors asked to see my novel when it was completed, one of whom had read the first three chapters at a conference. None of the people I've met in those 5 1/2 years led me to my agent or editor.

In some ways this must be reassuring to those of you about to embark on your agent search. A simple query letter, the first few pages of your manuscript will hopefully start the process. My advice is to research agents using every resource available to you. Start when you've nearly completed the first draft of your manuscript. Have your list of top twenty ready, read the books they represent, read every interview and profile you can find. When you're just about finished with the final draft, write that query letter. It will take only 20 minutes or so, I promise. You know your work well enough. As foolish as it sounds, have a dream agent.

The day before my agent submitted my novel to editors she said, "Tell me again how you came to me. It wasn't over the transom."

"It was," I said. "You pulled me from the slush pile."

I'm not sure if the writer I called believed me when I told him that. I do know he was a little put out that this wasn't a business that could be easily fast-tracked. That the journey to getting a book published requires trekking through that haphazard maze with its many dead ends and wrong turns. As Lisa noted in a recent post, it's not altogether linear.

That's okay. Knowing that it wasn't an insider's game gave me hope. Realizing it was up to me to figure out which way to turn, having the tenacity to forge on when I had no idea if I were headed in the right direction, believing it was within my power to figure it out was all I needed to know.

It's all within your reach, too, you know.