And speaking of swearing one last time…

May 28, 2008

Ayieee…let’s hope this little guy doesn’t start attacking books next.

For the record, my black heart is warmed at this kid’s efforts. Anyone ever listened to a teenage conversation lately? They can’t speak without every other word being the f-bomb. My mama always said that people who cussed had a limited vocabulary and were showing their ignorance. Fu&%in-A, Mom.


(*&^%&$#@*&@!!

May 27, 2008

In light of my post about the author who was told to remove a passage in her manuscript where her character cussed, I give you this.


Ah, Dave, we knew ye when…

May 27, 2008

They say David made a trip to America and this is the result. But I’m not fooled. I think David took up writing. The BIC* Index for novelists is something awful.

*Butt In Chair


Memorial Day

May 26, 2008

I tip my quill to those blessed souls who make up the Army, Marines, Navy, and Coasties. You are the very best of America.


Write with confidence

May 25, 2008

“Should I remove it or not?”

This was a question that a writer asked me at a writer’s seminar a few weeks ago. We were discussing her manuscript, and she was concerned that a scene where a character was swearing up a blue streak was too offensive. Offensive according to whom? I asked.

It turned out that someone in her critique group was embarrassed at the language, so the writer asked me whether it should go out. I told her it depended upon the circumstances of that particular scene. If the character just crashed their Corniche into the backend of a garbage truck, yeah, I think that deserves more than a limp-wristed “fiddlesticks.” Conversely, if the character has a hangnail and doesn’t have Tourette’s, it’s hardly logical to launch into language that would make a truck driver blush. In other words, make sure the language fits the scene and the character.

But more importantly, I was concerned with her rush to edit something out of her manuscript based on one person’s opinion. You can’t make everyone happy all the time, so don’t try. You’re the captain of this particular ship, and you can’t sail it while listening solely to one member of the crew. You’ll never find land.

There is the tendency among new writers to make changes based on a few readers’ opinions because they haven’t learned to write with confidence. Using my ship scenario, captains have confidence when they set sail because they know exactly where they’re going and how to get there. Same goes for confident writers. They have a clear plot*, how to organize their scenes, and good character development (and this includes understanding how each character would logically react).

Confident writers know when to take a crit under advisement and when a change is necessary. It’s the rule of the playground. If one person tells you they hate your radical, dudical skate shoes, his opinion could be borne of jealousy, lousy taste, or brute honesty. If the entire playground is of the same opinion, then it may be time to consider that you made a poor fashion choice. Same goes for writing, and that’s why it is valuable to get critiques from a wide range of readers. If you keep hearing the same crit over and over again, you know you have a problem. Making changes based on one person’s opinion will result in losing your own voice.

I read the writer’s work and thought the cussing fit the scene. After all, wouldn’t you have a few colorful metaphors rolling off your tongue if you’d just had your finger severed by a rabid dog?

*Plot

  • Identify your protag and antog – be clear about what makes them likeable and/or reprehensible
  • Identify the dilemma, what’s at stake?
  • Is it resolved?
  • What happens?

Janice Eidus, you rock

May 22, 2008

Great big congrats and warm, fuzzy hugs go to Janice Eidus and silver place medal IPPY for her tender novel, The War of the Rosens. This touching novel is one of those ‘life observed’ stories seen through the filters of the Rosen family, but more succinctly (and charmingly) 10 yr. old Emma Rosen. This reaches out and touches your heart long after you’ve finished the book.

Booklist captured the essence of this novel and its achingly talented author:

“Eidus is a camouflage artist whose writing has a dark underside while beams of light struggle to break through the gray pall over this complex coming-of-age novel. As the Rosens are cruelly tested, Eidus works out a calculus of guilt, fear, and love. Grim and incisive, caustically humorous, and affecting, Eidus’ drama of moral reckoning is rendered with barbed detail to yield what Leo calls “The Truth With a Capitol T.”

Couldn’ta happened to a lovelier writer. I’ll be easy to spot at the awards dinner where I’ll pick up your medal, Janice. I’ll be the one woo-hooing while standing on top of the bar.


Invitations

May 22, 2008

I love invitations because they usually portend good food, good company, and good booze. Invitations can scratch all kinds of itches; “hey, Lynn, how ‘bout dinner at my house where I can try out my new recipe of barbequed avocado sandwiches with ochre?” My reply would be that she better have great wine. Or, “Hey, Lynn, I hear Captain Bunhuggers hired a new bunch of male strippers. Wanna come?” Only if you pay my cover charge and get me plastered.

The only time I really, really, REALLY don’t do invitations is with a submission or query. If you tell me that you lurve me more than any other editor alive and, in the next breath, invite me to look at your website so I can see your manuscripts and bio, my blood pressure will inch up a notch. If you finish this with, “call me,” I’ll whip out my form rejection letter and think terrible thoughts about you. In the publishing biz, we query, we submit, we do not invite.

Query: an inquiry from a writer to an editor of a magazine, newspaper, etc., regarding the acceptability of or interest in an idea for an article, news story, or the like: usually presented in the form of a letter that outlines or describes the projected piece. (Good!)

Submission: The act of submitting something for consideration. (Good!)

Invitation: a (written) request to come or go somewhere. (Bad!)

An invitation communicates to me that you’re lazy and boorish – whether it’s true or not. It’s like inviting a friend to dinner and a movie then asking them if they’ll drive and pay for the entire evening. I’ll hang up and redline them off my Christmas card list. This goes true for the author who invites rather than queries. I won’t drop the other 250 submissions and queries that were properly written and go to your website to hunt and peck around for the info I need. It’s rude and disrespectful. And think about it – is this the impression you want me to have?

Lastly, when I take time out of my morning to point out your breech of etiquette so you don’t make the same mistake elsewhere, stifle your urge to fire back a snarky reply. I could have just as easily deleted the email, and you’d be none the wiser.


Credentials

May 20, 2008

I had a phone call today from a lovely woman who wanted to write a “How to Write a Novel” book that dealt with the typical POV issues, character development, etc., and asked if I’d be interested in pubbing it. First question I asked was, “And your credentials for writing this are…?”

“Well, I wrote a novel…a mystery.”

“Published by whom?”

“AuthorHouse.”

Silent groan and twist of the intestinal tract. “Um, may I ask why you feel authoring a mystery that you paid to have published puts you in the driver’s seat above all the gajillions of How To Write a Novel already populating the shelf?”

“I thought you might say that,” she replied.

“Well, yeah. See, depending upon the work, author credentials are vital because you’re presenting yourself as an authority. If you’re writing How To Write a Novel, you’d better know what the hell you’re talking about, and a mystery book from a vanity press doesn’t cut it.”

In the same vein, I received an emotional missive the other day about how Hollywood is made up of spoiled richies whose millions buy jewelry and homes all over the world, yet they aren’t doing their job to speak out about ending the war. Despite of the huge holes I saw in his premise, his credentials were that he’d taught military dependents overseas. Huh? If he was part of the Hollywood set and knew this community intimately, I may have had a mild interest. But his presentation was disjointed and bolstered with nonexistent credentials that failed to convince me he knew anything about Hollywood or the war. I couldn’t take him seriously.

And that’s the rub of it. If you are writing nonfiction (and some fiction) and you’re calling yourself an expert, you better be able to support your theories. Believing it isn’t enough. You must have the qualifications that tell the reader you know what you’re talking about. It’s the doc who writes about the medical status of America or the airline pilot who writes about the Blackbird.

As much as I love the idea of writing about how Twinkies should be considered part of the vegetable family, I know better than to take the literary plunge because it would be based on nothing more than my opinion. And who cares about my opinion? Don’t answer that…I was being rhetorical. I’m not a dietician or nutritional expert, so readers are going to blow me off – as they should. The only caveat to this, and it’s a large one, is if the author has done miles of research and has a specific reason for the research – as in, “my uncle died of an inverted bellybutton, and I made him a promise on his deathbed that I’d find out all I could about Inverted Bellybutton-itis.” How can I, as an editor, not be drawn in with the author’s passion and motivation?

And yet I see submissions that have great intentions but no credentials to back up their claims. Remember, the reading public is a savvy beast, and we’re not all that stupid either. If you’re passing yourself off as an expert in something, your bio better support it. Otherwise, you don’t stand a chance.

Now excuse me; I have an interview with a Twinkie.


Promises, promises

May 17, 2008

In the course of doing my usual sleuthing with submissions this morning, I’ve come across seven Print On Demand websites that make me want to scream. Like flowers whose scent attracts bees, POD websites offer a scent of their own to attract unsuspecting authors…and it’s not nearly as sweet. The first thing everyone always asks me is, “How do I know if a publisher is a Print On Demand business model?” Okay…you ready?

The verbiage on their websites are almost always the same. Note that all the emphasis is on the author, not the selling and marketability of the work. This is a big red flag. Also take note that this sleight-of-hand flattery obscures the fact that nothing is mentioned about marketing and promotion of their titles.

  1. Their companies were established with the express purpose of assisting authors in achieving their elusive dream of being published. Benevolence is lovely, but it doesn’t pay the bills. Good books, marketing, and sales pays the bills. If they are going to stay in business, the author has to think about who their sales force is…it’s always the author. Always.
  2. They are a small, independent publisher who specializes in first-time authors. This is meant to fluff up the first time author. Any company who plans on being around longer than the lifespan of a gnat needs to look for good, marketable writing that they believe they can sell regardless of whether it’s from a first-time author.
  3. Their vision is to seek new talent that’s on par with John Grisham, etc, but because these unknowns don’t have agents or connections, they won’t ever find a publisher. This is a particular irritant of mine because it’s so blatantly false. I know many, many “nobodies” and first-time authors who have agents and very good publishing contracts. Spreading the notion that a first-timer can’t be published is obscene.
  4. They want to give those new voices a chance to see their books in print. Be careful with this one because it’s cagey. They say “in print.”
  5. They promise to give feedback to their new writers. Well, this is just plain silly. All editors give feedback to their authors. We have to in order to do a proper editing job.
  6. They promise to read the work in its entirety rather than reading just the first paragraph. They don’t state at what point they promise to read the manuscript in its entirety. I know a few POD companies that offer contracts based on nothing more than a synopsis. Maybe they’ll read a page or three. But this is a silly thing to put on a website because, at some point, all publishers have to read the manuscript. It’s a no-brainer.
  7. We accept all genres. Big red flag and also one of the easiest ways to sniff out a POD company. Because print on demand business models have very little operating cash, they have very few editors, and most of them are inexperienced because, after all, you get what you pay for.

Small trade publishers also have small editing teams, but they specialize in a particular genre – be it mystery, romance, socially relevant personal journeys, or horror. They do this because they’re experts in marketing that genre. They have established relationships with buyers and reviewers of their particular genre. Likewise, their editors are proficient at that genre.

There is no way a small publisher can do justice to every single genre from an editing, sales, and promotional standpoint.

Some realities:

Nearly every POD company is about quantity, not quality. Their sole sales force consists of their authors, and the POD depends on authors to buy lots of their books. This is what keeps them in business. If PODs had too many authors who didn’t buy their own books, they’d be out of business faster than I can say “whoever ate my last Twinkie will die a slow and ugly death.”

Some may ask what’s wrong with being given a chance, and I’d say nothing, providing that acceptance actually means something. PODs need to publish a lot of books per month (to offset what authors will and won’t buy their own books) to get their bills paid. This means that they have much softer acceptance criteria. Where is the pride in knowing you were accepted by a company who will accept practically anything? And contrary to what many authors believe, this isn’t a viable publishing credit in the eyes of trade publishers.

Lastly, and probably the most depressing of all, is that PODs prey upon the new author with the notion of entitlement; that every author deserves to be published. It doesn’t matter that the truth eventually comes out because there are too many other authors waiting in the wings. And this is why PODs will never die. Is this a good way to honor your hard work?


One more time…

May 15, 2008

…with feeling. The purpose of a synopsis is to tell the specifics of your story. This is called THE PLOT. Way too many submissions come in with a description, which are generalized and nonspecific and give the overall idea of the story. Descriptions reside quite nicely in a cover letter and perform under the guise of a pitch.

Here is an example of a description masquerading as a synopsis:

Joe Landlubber is a charming carpenter who trades in his hammer and nails for a 50 ft. boat and sails around the world with his best friend Alex Scaredypants. It isn’t until they get out to sea that Alex realizes he’s deathly afraid at not being able to see land. To make matters worse, Joe and Alex discover that Joe’s buxom girlfriend, Vanessa VaVaVaVoom has stowed away with her seasick cat. The three of them sail to distant lands and have all kinds of hilarious adventures, including surviving a typhoon in Hawaii and a ripped sail. All this makes Joe wonder if he’s doing the right thing, but he decides to sail on anyway.

This would have been great if this had been sitting in a cover letter. But a synopsis better contain a plot, and it better answer the following:

1. Identify the characters – what makes us empathize with them?
2. What dilemma does he face?
3. Does the problem get resolved?
4. What is the outcome?

As written, this looks like it could be a good story, but there are too many unanswered questions, and I need those blanks filled in.
• What adventures do they have?
• What makes Joe wonder if he’s doing the right thing?
• Why did he decide to sail on?

Those answers could be contrived and cliché or soul-searching and compelling. But I need to know what they are in order to decide if this fits in with the types of works we publish.

So, one more time…make sure a plot is sitting in your synopsis and not a description. Otherwise, I may have to call upon my hit team of rabid surgeons who wield their scalpels on hapless submissions with deranged glee.


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