Yearly Archives: 2011

Reading Your Way to Better Writing

What book should you read that will make you a published author?  Surely someone has written down all the little secrets in a handy volume, right?  I mean, that’s how I learned to do some household plumbing.

In earlier blog posts I’ve stated that the how-to books about writing do have some value.  You can read them to learn or re-learn a few tidbits, but do not expect that reading a book will make you a great writer.  I’ve stated that I put more stock in critique groups.

Even so, I have read a few books intended to help writers.  The following list of books I’ve read is in no particular order.  I recommend them all, but read them for the occasional “golden nugget,” not because they will make you famous.

  • On Writing by Stephen King
  • How I Write:  Secrets of a Bestselling Author by Janet Evanovich
  • Writing the Novel by Lawrence Block
  • The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (and How to Avoid Them) by Jack M. Bickham
  • Your Mythic Journey:  Finding Meaning in Your Life Through Writing and Storytelling by Sam Keen and Anne Valley-Fox
  • Manuscript Submission by Scott Edelstein
  • The No-Experience Necessary Writer’s Course by Scott Edelstein
  • Story Starters by Lou Willett Stanek
  • The Elements of Storytelling:  How to Write Compelling Fiction by Peter Rubie
  • Creative Writing: Forms and Techniques by Lavonne Mueller and Jerry D. Reynolds
  • The Craft of Writing Science Fiction That Sells by Ben Bova
  • Cosmic Critiques: How and Why Ten Science Fiction Stories Work by Isaac Asimov and Martin Greenberg

I will single out three more for special mention.  Zen in the Art of Writing:  Releasing the Creative Genius Within You by Ray Bradbury is one I read many years ago, but the essence of it still rings in my mind.  Bradbury conveys the passion for writing, how it grabs you and carries you along on a crazy ride.  You can enjoy your writing pastime, but you can’t control it.  A good book.

Consider reading Hooked:  Grab Readers at Page One by Les Edgerton.  That book will help you begin your stories the right way.  Edgerton’s book is new, with fresh insights about what works in modern stories and what the editors of today are looking for.

 

Lastly, and best of all, you must, must, must have The Elements of Style by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B. White.  That’s the formal book title, but everyone knows it as “Strunk and White.”  First published in 1918, this very short book will remind you to keep your writing succinct and to always make things easy for your reader.  You’ll want to re-read this one every few years.

If you’ve read a book on writing that you recommend, let me know.  For all I know, maybe someone has written a book with no-fail, sure-fire advice for making its readers into great writers.  Such a book, if it exists, has not yet been read by–

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 15, 2011Permalink

Passing the ‘So What?’ Test

Why should someone want to read what you write?  Say you’re a writer seeking to sell stories.  Obviously, you are pursuing readers, lots of them.  So how do you appeal to them?  What do they want to read?  Above all, you can’t have them asking “So what?” as they read through your story.

So let’s put ourselves in the mind of the reader.  Most of us like to think of ourselves as virtuous, unselfish, and caring.  But let’s face it, when we pick up a story to read, we’re set for a solely personal experience, a solo cruise.  Reading a story is not a chance to show the world our magnanimous side.  It’s just ourselves and the author’s work.  As readers, we have a choice of billions of stories to read and only a single lifetime, with several other things to do in it aside from reading.  So a reader wants a story that relates to her or his own life.

The writer G.K. Chesterton said, “A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author.”  Please permit me to add my own ending to that quote—“A better novel tells us the truth about its reader.  The best novel tells us the truth about what the reader aspires to be.”  Or put another way, the closer your story’s point-of-view character matches the reader’s inner vision of herself or himself, the more appealing your story.

If we shift viewpoint now and look at the situation as a writer, we face a problem.  How are you supposed to know what all readers aspire to be?  How do you craft stories to appeal to so many unique inner desires of so many different people?  You won’t attract them all, but there are some common elements.

All of your readers are trying to struggle through life as best they can.  They all have conflicts and problems, bad relationships they wish were better, skills or character attributes they wish they had, dreams they wish they could fulfill, fears they wish they could overcome, past choices they wish they’d made differently, and hard future choices they hope they’ll make wisely.  Those universal experiences are what you must tap into.  Given their precious and limited reading time, readers are going to devote it to a story where the point-of-view character, or the protagonist, is experiencing the same things.  What keeps them reading is to find out how the problem might resolve—not for the character—but for their own inner selves in their real lives.

Throughout your story, you must keep that linkage in mind and keep reinforcing it.  Your story is about your reader’s inner thoughts.  The methods by which authors maintain that connection are through writing techniques such as describing a character’s thoughts and feelings, showing rather than telling, including all the senses, and ratcheting up suspense and increasing the level of conflict.

I may well address each of those in future blog entries.  In the meantime, as you write, pause from time to time and ask yourself if your reader would be wondering, “So what?”  That’s the question to be avoided, or I’m not…

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 8, 2011Permalink

Short Story Editing

Before I get to today’s topic, I should mention that I’ve shifted my website software and given the website a new layout.  Still a work in progress!

Sadly, writing isn’t just writing—it’s also re-writing.  Perhaps you have a mental image of yourself typing frantically long into the night, then at last typing ‘THE END,’ and attaching your short story to an e-mail and sending it to a short-story market.  That happens sometimes, but I suspect such stories are the easy rejects.

You don’t want to be rejected, so you’re not going to do that.  You’re going to look over your story in detail before you send it in.  You’re going to do some editing.

Ideally, you’ll take time to let the story sit for a time while you work on something else.  How long?  Best to give it a few weeks or even a couple of months.  The idea here is to give your ego some distance, to enable you to look at the story fresh, as your readers will, as if someone else wrote it.  You’ll view it with a more critical eye and find yourself reacting negatively to certain aspects, maybe asking “Huh?” or “So what?”

Take that first sentence, that first paragraph.  Will your readers be hooked, I mean really hooked?  As you read further, look for plot problems.  Does the action proceed in a logical manner, making the conflict more and more difficult for your main character?  Do you have tense scenes followed by more relaxing, reflective scenes?  Does every paragraph, every sentence, every word really support your plot?  Delete until that is true.  This is a short story; you don’t have the leisure to go off on tangents.

Consider the setting descriptions for each scene.  In each new scene, the reader likes to be oriented in that setting.  The reader wants to feel he or she is there, with the characters.  You’re looking to provide just enough detail, facts that trigger as many of the five senses as possible.  You can add an occasional new detail as the scene progresses, to remind the reader where the characters are, but the bulk of the description should be early in the scene.

Think about all of your characters, paying particular attention to the protagonist and other major characters.  Are they too stereotyped?  Give the stock character an interesting twist, but one that ties in to your plot or theme.  Do your characters behave and speak in a consistent manner throughout?  It’s okay to have a major character change behavior at the end (recommended, in fact) but the change must be explained by the story.  Look for “data dumps” in the story, where things are explained in narrative, or characters are just talking in dialogue to each other.  Fix that by giving the reader the point-of-view character’s reaction to new developments or significant statements by other characters.  Look for points in the story where you have significant actions without any reactions.

Next, look at your grammar.  Target weak verbs, passive sentences, adverbs, and clichés.  Check to see if your sentences vary in length.  Note I said “target” and “check.”  There are good reasons to keep some of these in your story, especially in dialogue, or in first person point of view narration.  However, you must be consistent, don’t over-use them, and ensure they enhance the story.  One trick with clichés is to give them a twist—take an old phrase and give it a new spin.  As for sentence length, try shorter sentences in fast-moving action scenes and longer sentences in the tension-releasing scenes.

One way to find grammar problems as well as plot, scene, and character problems is to read your story aloud.  I have no idea why this works but you will find yourself stumbling as you speak some words.  That’s a signal something’s amiss.  Your reader will stumble there too.

The last thing to do before sending in your story is to ensure you’ve followed the format specified by the market for which you’re aiming.  Someday we’ll live in a perfect word with a single standard for manuscript format, but we’re not there yet.  Editors will reject you for not following their instructions regarding mailing or e-mailing, attachments or text in e-mail, single or double line spacing, font sizes and types, one or two spaces between sentences, where and how to indicate page numbers, how to indicate italicized words, etc.  You want them to publish your story?  Follow their rules.

Once you’ve done all that, then you can hit send.  This all sounds difficult, but it gets to be a habit and becomes a little easier with time.  Here’s wishing you happy editing, from…

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 1, 2011Permalink

Are Outlines…Out of Line?

Do you outline before you write stories?  If you’re not a fiction writer, do you outline in preparation for any substantial non-fiction you write?  I do, but this won’t be an attempt to persuade you to outline, but rather a description of why and how I do it.  Perhaps you’ll benefit from knowing such things.

I’m sure many writers don’t use outlines.  Too much of a bother, they’d say.  Too confining, others believe.  Still others would profess that time spent outlining is time not spent writing.  For some, their outline is in their head, and that’s enough.

More power to them.  I can’t imagine writing without an outline.  For me, it’s not a bother, but rather a way to ensure my story stays on track, stays true to its intended purpose.  I suppose outlines can be confining, but I think if them as flexible guidelines, every bit as subject to editing and rewriting as the story itself.  I rarely adhere entirely to my outline anyway.  It’s true—the process of outlining takes time that could be spent writing.  However, the time I spend outlining is worth far more to me than time wasted writing a story that lacks direction or purposeful flow.  As for keeping an outline in my head, I’m too afraid I’ll forget something important.

How do I outline, you ask?  I always start with a mind map.  If only my teachers had covered mind maps in elementary school!  Instead, I first heard about them in my thirties.  What a marvelous note-taking and brain-storming method!  I recommend reading Use Both Sides of Your Brain, by Tony Buzan, but you can also learn about the technique through internet searches.  I use mind maps initially to form ideas for my story, letting my mind free-stream, and organizing my thoughts on the mind map.  Later I might refine or redraw the mind map as things clarify.

More often I use the mind map to create a document called “Notes for ___” where the blank is either the title of the story, or the initial idea for the story.  This Notes document will eventually contain the research I’ve done, as well as the outline fleshed out from the mind map.

That outline basically consists of: (1) a list of the characters, along with character traits and motivations, (2) a description of the setting, along with any research I’ve done about the setting, (3) some notes about the conflict(s) to be resolved (both external and internal), and (4) the listed series of events making up the plot.

I know—seems like a lot of work, doesn’t it?  But I write short stories, so my lists of characters are short, the settings and conflicts are few, and the plots are not too involved.  As important as outlines are for my short stories, I imagine they’ll be even more necessary when I take the leap into writing novels.  For me, there’s little danger of getting snared in the trap of forever planning the story and never writing it.  Every moment I’m outlining, my bored muse is screaming at me to stop that tedious business and get writing!

As I write the story, I keep the Notes at the ready and refer to them often.  In almost every case, I reach a point where the story wants to deviate from the outline.  This can occur when a minor character starts taking center stage more than intended, or when my outlined plot requires a character to do something he or she just would not do, or many other reasons.  Here I must decide whether to detour from the outline or edit the story to match the existing outline.  Most often I abandon the outline, but I’ve done both.

My process has evolved to this and will likely continue to change.  Perhaps the next time I address outlining in a blog, my method will have altered again.  The process you choose will be different and uniquely you; it may not involve outlines at all.  It’s my hope you enjoy your writing adventure as much as…

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 24, 2011Permalink

Getting Words Down

When I began my writing hobby, I wondered about the mechanics of how real authors worked.  I figured real authors (famous ones, for whom writing was their day job) just sat at their keyboards producing electronic reams of high-quality prose, stealing glances out the window across the acreage of their vast estates.  Or maybe some of them lounged by the side of their Olympic pool with a voice recorder in hand, speaking the words that one of their staff would later type up in a manuscript.  Perhaps some of the older, less techno-savvy of these authors still used their favorite typewriter (remember those?), or wrote on paper with a diamond-studded fountain pen.  Again, the task of typing all those magical, money-making lines into a word processor would fall to a minion.

The daily routine of a real author, I imagined, would go something like this.  Noon: wake up.  Afternoon:  Do something to get in the writing mood, such as scuba diving, skiing, hunting bear, skydiving, or piloting your private jet to some city for lunch or dinner with famous editor or agent.  After dinner:  intimate party with one hundred celebrity friends.  Midnight:  write until four a.m.  Sleep.  Repeat every day.

Such imaginings did my psyche no good at all.  Inevitably I would compare my own situation to that of my fantasy author and find that I fell somewhat short.  I lacked not only the vast estate and Olympic pool, but even the diamond-studded pen and private jet.  Most of all, I lacked the long stretches of time available to famous writers.

Somehow I would have to make due with a computer located in a small downstairs den, a plastic ballpoint pen, and the short, irregular snatches of time I could steal from my day job and family obligations.

How should I make best use of these scanty resources?  Should I carve out an hour of each day and declare it my writing hour?  Sit down at the computer and do nothing else but write during that time?  Such a strategy would have the advantage of forming a habit, establishing a mental boundary that would keep other activities out and ensure a fixed routine.  The act of sitting down every day to write at the same time, in the same setting, would ensure a steady flow of output.

That approach might work for some, and how I wish it worked for me.  But my muse would have none of it.  I’d sit down at the beginning of my writing hour and think, “Now, be creative.”  But nothing happened.  Apparently my carefully arranged writing hour was inconvenient for my muse, damn her.  So a wasted sixty minutes ensued in which a few words got typed, the delete and backspace keys saw much action, and nothing of consequence resulted.  In frustration I retired for bed, first taking my customary nighttime shower.  Don’t you know—it was then the stupid muse decided to visit, with me naked and soaking wet, without a computer in sight.

In time, I came to realize that writing—for me—would mean adapting my schedule to that of my muse.  I’d have to be ready for her appearance at any time of day.  I formed the habit of carrying a writing pad in my briefcase to and from work or when going on errands.  I put a voice recorder in the car, and another writing pad on the nightstand.  Yes, it means extra work since I write by hand first, then type the same words into my computer’s word processor.  But I find the typing process serves as a first edit along the way to a finished draft.

As a story progresses, I hand-write several pages, then type them up and print them out.  By stapling blank pages to the back, I can then use my (and my muse’s) available time to edit what I’ve done before and add to it.  Then type and print some more, etc. and edit the result until the story’s done.  It may seem cumbersome, but it works for me.

Those last four words are the main point.  If a writer you would be, then you’ll have to work out the mechanics of the process for yourself.  I wish you luck, says–

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 17, 2011Permalink

A Stroll through My Mental Library

Why would you read a blog post containing a list of writers who influenced me?  My aim is to provoke you to think about (perhaps even write down) the list of those who inspired you.  It’s a useful exercise.  Perhaps the most important part of the exercise is to describe those writers as well—what they mean to you.

Come on, walk along beside me now through the library of my mind.  The shelves have all the books I ever read.  My apologies for its small size; a busy life interferes with reading, unfortunately.  But I’m trying to read more.  For the purposes of today’s tour the books have been arranged by author, and we’ll be viewing busts of the more prominent ones.  Engraved on the pedestal of each bust are the author’s name and a few words describing his or her works.

Ah, I see you noticed the 30-foot high bronze statue just within the entrance.  Kind of hard to miss.  Yes, that’s Jules Verne.  I’ve read most of his works that have been translated into English.  His Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is the only book I ever re-read, and I do that every couple of years.  That book inspired me both to join the submarine service and to major in naval architecture in college.  To me, he represents scientific accuracy, exotic voyages, high drama and adventure, and a glimpse of a time when technology seemed on the verge of making everything possible for the first time in human history.

Over here is the bust of Isaac Asimov.  I’ve read only a fraction of his published work but it’s still a lot, both fiction and non-fiction.  The words engraved beneath his name are scientific accuracy, easy-to-read writing style, clever ideas, and love of wordplay.

Walking along, we’ve come to Arthur C. Clarke.  To me, he too symbolizes scientific accuracy, but also an optimistic view of mankind’s future, and various ways we could deal with aliens of far greater and different intelligences.

That bust there depicts Robert Heinlein.  Hard-edged style, a strict morality, a libertarian viewpoint, and success through struggle are the hallmarks of his writing, to me.

Watch your step; this area is not well lit.  Here, take my flashlight.  That bust you just bumped into is Ray Bradbury.  He has the most poetic prose of any author here—a flowing style that seduces you into his stories with the sheer magic and power of the words.  Then he often slaps you hard with some dark and twisted surprise.

And that one over there is Ayn Rand.  She’s the only woman on the tour; I wish there were more.  Her writing is characterized by emotional power, uncompromising philosophy, and a deep belief in human freedom coupled with strict ideas about how to live one’s life.

We’ve come to the bust of Larry Niven.  Amazing ideas, compelling characters, and the most well-thought-out aliens of any author in the library.

Here we are in the Children’s section—quite dusty, I know.  This next bust looks a little strange, with no discernable features.   Maybe you don’t recognize the name, Victor Appleton II. It’s a pseudonym used by many authors.  I grew up reading the Tom Swift, Jr. series written by the various “Mr. Appletons.”  With fondness I recall the high adventure, the marvelous inventions, and the use of science to solve problems.

One more and I think we’ll wrap up the tour.  Clive Cussler’s bust bears the following descriptions on beneath the name on its pedestal—engaging adventures set at sea, a writer with an easy-reading style that really puts his characters through hell.

That’s enough for this trip.  Perhaps we’ll continue the tour in a future blog post and examine busts of authors we missed.  I should mention you won’t necessarily see the influences of all of these writers in my own stories.  Also, I don’t necessarily agree with the viewpoints of all of them—I just enjoy reading their books.

Thanks for stopping by for a tour today.  Hope you enjoyed strolling through the mind of–

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 10, 2011Permalink

How to Read

That title is a bit illogical; those who can’t read would not turn to a blog post to learn how.  By ‘how to read’ I mean something more along the lines of ‘how to appreciate what you read.’

Ever notice how familiarity brings an added dimension of appreciation?  Let me explain.  Those who have never played football or studied its finer points watch and appreciate a game at a different level of enjoyment than do those who have played it or otherwise understand its intricacies.  If you have played a musical instrument, you listen to music in a different manner from those who have not.

I’m suggesting the same is true of reading.  Here I’ll confine the discussion to short stories, my area of familiarity.  Those who haven’t written or studied fiction since school will appreciate short stories in a different way from those who know something about the craft.

Understand–I’m not disparaging either level of appreciation.  Unfortunately, our lifetimes are limited and you can’t become an expert in everything.  There’s nothing wrong with reading fiction for pure enjoyment without understanding its finer nuances.  In fact, writers selling to the mass market hope plenty of people do just that.

Even so, you might be a non-writer and still wonder about how writers read.  What things do they look for in a short story that non-writers may not be aware of?  Non-writers know stories involve characters, and there always seems to be a main character, about whom they come to care as the story progresses.  But writers look at the way characters are described and portrayed.  Is the description brief yet impactful?  Does the character have depth or is that protagonist stereotypical or one-dimensional?

Non-writers understand whether a story is written as if God were telling it (the story makes clear what is in the mind of several characters), or if it only enters one character’s thoughts.  Writers use the term ‘point of view’ and form judgments about whether the author selected the right POV for maximum effect.

As various events happen in stories, the non-writer reads along and forms opinions about them.  Afterward the non-writer might say she “liked the plot,” meaning it seemed logical and held her interest.  A writer examines the same story’s plotline looking for characters reactions to events, and whether each character’s actions spring from motivations aligned with the character’s established traits.

Most non-writers can spot the major conflict in a story, understand how the passage of time occurs (whether in a straight sequence or through the use of flashbacks or gaps), and can feel themselves to be ‘in’ a setting if it’s well-described.  Writers are alert for other aspects too, such as tone, symbolism, allusions, and themes.

In the end, both a non-writer and a writer will form an overall judgment about the story they’ve read.  Either one might say, “I liked it” or “I didn’t like it,” though their overall assessment is based on integrating different things (and differing numbers of things) they noted as they read.  But is the writer’s assessment more correct than that of a non-writer?

No.  If every wine expert in the world considers a certain wine terrible, but you (a non-expert) like it, then go ahead–drink it and enjoy.  Everyone’s different and entitled to his own opinion.  Short stories are meant to be enjoyed by individuals, so judgments about quality can only be made by each person according to his own level of expertise.  It’s my fervent hope that you gain some enjoyment reading stories written by…

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 3, 2011Permalink

It’s Not the Critic Who Counts…

So begins the famous and stirring quote by Theodore Roosevelt, which goes on to praise “the doer of deeds” over the one who “points out where the strong man stumbles.”  I certainly agree with TR when it comes to uninvited criticism, but what about the case when you seek it out?

In a writing critique group, Teddy, everyone intentionally takes turns being the doer of deeds and pointing out where he stumbles.   More than any other method I’ve used to improve my writing, participation in a critique group has been the most effective.  I’ve subscribed to writing magazines, attended writing conferences, read books about writing, and gone to writing classes.  Note that each of those other venues features a writing professional, an expert with some stature as an author.  How is it that a critique group formed spontaneously from a group of rank amateurs, without any money changing hands, can be superior to the other methods?

I don’t know that answer, and it may not be true for you.  Certainly one can have a bad experience with a critique group and get soured on the whole idea.  But if you live in a populated area, or are willing to travel to one, it can be easy to start up another group.  Perhaps that new one will suit you better.

In a later post I’ll discuss various critique group arrangements and rules, but for now I’d like to concentrate on what you bring to it and what you get out of it.  What you bring to it are: (1) your written stories or chapters, (2) an open mind and a thick skin willing to receive well-meaning criticism about your work, and (3) a willingness to provide good critiques of other people’s work.

Notice I didn’t say anything about bringing money.  Most critique groups are free, or nearly so.  I’m amazed at what you can get people to do for free.  Among fellow amateur writers, if you’re willing to critique their work, they’re willing to critique yours.  It’s said you get what you pay for, so maybe each individual critique is not as comprehensive or as accurate as if a professional had done it, but you’ll be getting more than one—generally you’ll get critiqued by every other member of the group.  The combined thoughts of the group (even when some thoughts contradict) will come close to the quality of a professional’s critique.

I’ve listed the things you bring to the group.  What do you get out of it?  (1) Taken in combination, you get well-meaning written reactions from a group of readers to your work.  Some of these criticisms will sting, but remember that these people are criticizing your work, not you.  Their only interest is in helping you get published.  Wouldn’t you rather hear the sad truth from a group of friends than realize it later after enduring many dozens of rejections?  (2) You get the supportive urging of a group to write more.  It’s strange how the looming date of the next critique group meeting can serve as the prompting force making you churn out some text.  (3) You get the benefit of learning from others about the business side of writing.  Depending on the expertise of the group and the time available, talk often turns to experiences they’ve had with agents, editors, submitting stories, their website, the conference or workshop someone just attended, etc.  (4) You get the invigorating and energizing atmosphere of just being among fellow writers, people going through the same private agonies and ecstasies, people who get it.  Most of us don’t enjoy that atmosphere at home, unless you happen to live with a group of writers.  (5) Over time, you’ll find you grow as a writer, and as a critic of other people’s writing.  While editing your own work in preparation for the group meeting, you’ll find yourself making corrections you just know the critique group would have recommended.

When I first joined a critique group, I thought the objective was to wean myself of the need to be in the group.  After all, I imagined, the world’s greatest writers aren’t in critique groups, are they?  Now I’m not so sure.  It’s hard for me to imagine being a writer and not being in a critique group.

One final thought.  There’s an aspect of critique groups that I find intellectually appealing. These groups form spontaneously; they are essentially self-generating.  Order emerges somehow from what were, at one time, several writers working in isolation.  Out of nothing at all comes shared wisdom and shared growth.  That creative magic of critique groups is, to me, akin to the writing process itself.  Maybe, President Roosevelt, it is the critic who counts, too.

Tell me what you think about writing critique groups.  In the meantime, with limitless gratitude to my own group, I remain—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 27, 2011Permalink

The Worst Click

You’re a beginning writer and you’ve been writing and rewriting your manuscript.  For some reason, the actual product doesn’t match in grandeur the masterpiece you had in your head when you started.  The process of assembling the actual words, herding them together in some sort of order, made the whole resulting story seem more juvenile than you intended.  Not juvenile as in ‘written for juveniles to read,’ but ‘written by a juvenile who nearly failed English.’

You could go through and edit your creation one more time in hopes that greatness will finally emerge, but you’ve done that already repeatedly and it hasn’t worked.  It’s doubtful if one more edit will accomplish much.  Besides, you’re getting a little sick of the thing.  Your muse has flitted off, interested in different and ever newer pursuits.

Somewhere you’d heard that even the best writers let a manuscript sit for a time—a few weeks or even months—and then come back to it, able to look with a fresher eye.  In your case that’s not an option, since today’s the deadline for the anthology for which you’re aiming.  Or maybe you already did let the work sit for a while but it didn’t result in a better manuscript, just further loss of interest in the story.  In either case, this opus isn’t going to get any better than it is right now.

So you sit staring at the monitor, looking at an e-mail you’ve written to the editor.  The e-mail has your story attached—oh, you triple-checked that.  The file with the story is in the format preferred by the editor, again triple-checked.  The e-mail is short and upbeat.  Everything is ready.  All you have to do is click the ‘send’ button and your first-ever story will be on its way to an actual editor.

So what gives?  Why the delay?  It’s a single mouse click, for crying out loud.  What happened to that boldness you felt when you couldn’t wait to charge in and start writing the story?  Where’s that reckless abandon with which you stayed up until three in the morning last month to pound out the first draft of the final scene, typing “The End” in weary triumph?  What’s happened to reduce that bravely audacious writer to a quivering mass of doubt, consumed with fear at the sight of a Send button?

What if, you keep thinking, the editor doesn’t like it?  What if it’s the worst piece of tripe the editor has ever read?  It would be bad to receive a rejection, but devastating if the editor replied with something like, “It was enough for me to endure your opening paragraph, and how I wish I could have that precious time back.  I have many enemies, but none so vile that I would force them to read a single sentence of your work.  Not only am I rejecting your story, but I beg you, for the good of humanity, to take up another hobby—any other hobby.”

It’s that and a thousand similar scenarios that keep your finger poised above, but never quite clicking, the mouse button that would send your first story on its way.  I’ll write about dealing with rejections in a future blog post, but in this case you’re rejecting the story yourself before you even send it in.

Would it help if I told you that every writer goes through that the first time?  What if I said that no self-respecting editor ever sends a rejection full of personal put-downs like you imagined?  How about if I told you it’s only this first submission that causes such angst, that all the rest are far easier?

Since you face an irrational fear, one of your own making, there’s no works-every-time cure I can offer.  However, I suggest you dig deep inside yourself.  Remember when you started this quest?  You wanted to find out if you could be a writer, if you have what it takes.  This little moment of truth is part of the process, part of the writing game.

Chances are this submission will result in rejection, but that won’t deter the writer within you.  Oh, no, that inner writer will instead be spurred on, intent to do better next time.  That would-be (no, will-be!) author inside you laughs at rejections, even prints them out and saves them as badges of honor.  That confident scribbler within you knows that one day the act of submitting stories will be routine.  And on that day you’ll look back on this first moment of indecision and laugh.

So click ‘send,’ brave writer!  Hold your creation—your baby—aloft so the world can see.  You can do it.  I did, and survived.  As always, write to me here if you have some reaction to this post.  Now well past that first, worst click, I call myself—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 20, 2011Permalink

Just Short Stories? No Novels?

Should an aspiring fiction writer start with novels or short stories?  Don’t look to this blog entry for a concrete recommendation for your situation.  I can only tell you the path I took and my reasons for choosing it.  For you, success could well lie on a different path.

When phrased as an either/or choice – novels or short stories – the question itself is too limiting.  There are a variety of other avenues for the creative writer of prose, including flash fiction, novellas, podcasting, television and movie scriptwriting, and playwriting.  I’m sure I’ve left out some options and many more possibilities remain to be discovered, or forgotten ones rediscovered.  Some writer will have to be the pioneer who leads these expeditions.  Why not you?

While serving aboard a submarine many years ago, I thought of an idea for a story.  So grand was this story idea, I was certain it would make me both famous and rich.  To truly capture this story, only the novel format would do.  I was sure my tale would seize the attention of the country and even the world.  I could already see myself resigning my commission in the Navy, doing the talk show circuit, and traveling to book signings.

Though chock full of enthusiasm and energy, I was less well supplied with writing experience.  I’d heard all the arguments for starting with short stories, of course.  But such well-meaning advice could be safely ignored.  It simply didn’t apply to my case, I was sure.  Undeterred by these considerations, I set to work.

Actually writing the novel proved harder than I’d counted on, which surprised me at the time for some reason.  There was a lot to think about, with plots and subplots, characters, settings, even a theme.  How to keep it all straight?  Confident that my future fans would patiently await the great opus, I struggled on.

The struggle filled some time, like two decades or more.  At the end of that period I found I’d created a manuscript of which even my desk drawer was—and still is–ashamed.  To this day, the desk’s immune system occasionally rejects it and I have to gather up the pages, force them back in, and nail the drawer shut again.

In truth I had more to show from all the work than just an unpublishable manuscript.  Without knowing it, I’d been honing my skills in a harmless way, practicing the craft and making all my early mistakes.

Abandoning that first novel, I started another.  But doubts had set in about whether I was cut out for this.  A novel is a daunting task and a significant investment of time with very uncertain payoff, particularly for the beginning fiction writer.  It’s easy for discouragement to build up and eventually overwhelm enthusiasm.

I then read The Mammoth Book of New Jules Verne Adventures, edited by Mike Ashley and Eric Brown, published by Carroll and Graf in 2005.  It’s a marvelous collection of short stories inspired by Jules Verne, all written by modern authors.  As a Jules Verne fan, the book inspired me.  I wrote my own short story, a work that would have fit well in that collection, or would if they decided to put out a second anthology in a similar vein.  That story, “The Steam Elephant,” appeared in Steampunk Tales issue #5.

That started me off writing more.  There are several reasons why I’ve enjoyed my switch to short stories.  I can churn out many more of them per year.  They keep my ever-fickle muse interested and focused.  It’s easier to test out different genres.  Short stories represent a good method for further growth as a writer while getting the positive feedback of more frequent acceptances.

At some point I’ll return to the novel length story.  The average non-writer doesn’t regard an author as serious until she or he has published a novel.  Certainly the pay for a published novel is greater as well.  Who knows, one of these days I may dust off the two novels I started, rewrite them, and send them out for consideration.  If you’re engaged in writing a novel equally as good, perhaps I’ll join you on the talk show circuit!  Until then, I’ll remain a short story writer, and—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 13, 2011Permalink