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Question: What are the Rules for Writing about Friends?

15 Jul

A reader writes:

Where is the line nowadays for writing about friends? I’m talking as a journalist, although another friend of mine the other day had the classic question about writing about family (personal essay) that we each must answer, too. My line so far goes like this: I am happy to quote my friends as sources in part of a larger piece that is not about them. I’m less comfortable pitching a story *about* a good friend’s new business with me as the writer. But am I wrong about this? To me, I can hardly be objective about someone that I know really well, and that I expect to continue to hang out with — i.e., I want to remain friends with that person. On the other hand, I know someone who pitched and wrote a profile of a filmmaker friend for City Pages.

The answer to this question depends a lot on the nature of the story.

If you’re writing an essentially promotional piece, then I don’t think friendship is an issue.

Are the editors of the Times Sunday Style section assiduously combing New York City for that which is objectively most stylish and now? Or are they writing about what their friends are doing? Readers assume a certain amount of logrolling so don’t sweat it.

If you’re writing a critical piece; however, then your friendship might be an issue. If you’ve treated Michael Jackson and you want to write a story about how the media is overreacting to his alleged prescription drug abuse, then readers need to know you have a relationship with your source.

How this is handled is ultimately between you and your editor. You have to recuse yourself from the story. Or, a simple “full disclosure” will do.

The question of whether your friendship will survive the story is separate. Even if you’re nice your friend can take something you wrote the wrong way. Or maybe they get mad at you for not being nice enough.

I think the answer may be as simple as having a conversation with your friend about this very topic. As long as both of you understand that what happens in the public sphere is business (you’ll get some praise but you might take some knocks) and what happens in the private sphere is friendship (you are my special, special star) then if you’re both grownups then you should both be fine.

So go ahead and write that story. And when you’re done:

Wheeeeee!

Wheeeeee!

Question: How Do I Find People to Give Feedback?

2 Jul

A reader writes:

Of all the things that I thought might be challenging about trying to write a book, it never dawned on me — until very recently — that it would be hard to get anyone to read it. I mean be a reader, as in read and comment. I thought writing was the hard stuff, but based on my success at inducing others to read and comment, I would have to say that reading and commenting must be much more difficult, for no one I know wants to do so. I recently read a book by a fairly well known author who identified those people who had been her “readers” –  and low and behold I knew one of them. Wow, I thought, there was my one chance to snag a reader and she beat me to it.

So:  What advice would you offer to a novice writer who is looking for a reader, for someone who will give the writing a fair but critical look and take the time to give feedback?

The practical answer is to take a class. I’ve always had good luck meeting new writers through classes and conferences. Another possibility would be to ask around your local bookstore or coffee shop. I supposed you could also advertise on Craig’s List.

The more holistic answer is that you get what you give. If you start volunteering your time to give feedback other people’s work, then you’ll soon find yourself on the receiving end of sweet reciprocity. Being a good reader means you’ll be good and read.

Some tips:

1. Keep it OUT of the family

Parents, siblings, spouses and dear friends are the absolute worst people to read your work, so it stands to reason that you shouldn’t read their work either. It’s impossible not to think about them hiding inside the characters and story (or worse, yourself) and any feedback will be clouded by preconception. Time to meet new people.

2. Limit your feedback to one or two vital areas

Even the best advice can only be addressed in stages. If you unload a laundry list of observations and insights, you’ll not only muddy your most important points, but you’ll risk the person tuning you entirely.

3. Only copy edit if people specifically ask for it (and even then proceed with great caution)

No one wants to hear about the typo on page 237. It makes people feel ignorant and it makes you look petty and small. Let the machines do the work.

4. Say less rather than more

Give your listener credit. If you feel the beginning is slow, say the beginning feel slow. You don’t need to dissect the slowness.

5. Questions are more helpful than statements

Telling people about the flaws in their work puts them on the defensive. Asking questions helps them step outside themselves and see their work through your eyes.

So instead of saying their protagonist is wimpy, say something like, “Do you want this guy to come across as super passive?”

5. Remember who the writer is

The cardinal sin of giving feedback is getting in and rewriting it yourself. Your job is to give an honest reaction, not right wrongs. Even if you have the coolest idea for the coolest ending ever, please keep it to yourself.

6. Don’t be offended if the person doesn’t take your advice

Rule #6 is Rule #1. Everyone walks their own path. It’s taken me over ten years to follow advice that I got from my first writing teacher. Be kind, generous and supportive and then walk away. It all comes back.

Question: Why Do I Discount My Work?

15 Jun

A reader writes:

I would like to know why I always discount my efforts – I have “real” artwork (that I don’t seem to get around to doing much) and then I have “non-art” that I mess around with and do nearly every day. I tell people it’s a matter of intent and materials – just goofing around with whatever is at hand doesn’t cut it – I can’t show or sell the everyday stuff – only the serious art counts. Am I right or am I wrong?

I’m glad I don’t have examples of your work to cloud the issue. Because it doesn’t matter if your “real” artwork is a collection of fine (but neglected) oils and your “non-art” is macaroni glued to construction paper. What’s happening here is all about attitudes and beliefs.

The critical part of your mind thinks like this:

Food Chain

Your “real” art is up there with the hawks and the orcas. Your “non-” art is down there with the plants and the plankton.

You have these attitudes and beliefs because you grew up with parents, teachers, critics, the Evil Mainstream Media, etc. who feel more comfortable when culture is categorized into high and low, good and bad.

The artistic part of your mind, however, thinks like this:

Food Web

In this context your “real” art and your “non-” art aren’t so easy to judge. Everything’s connected and related and somehow necessary. What it all means is up to you.

Is it better to be a maned goose or sedge? I don’t know. Maned geese are on top, but sedge is awfully central. Even daphnia and decayed matter—lowly as they are—can lay claim to getting good eat-and-be-eaten action.

Both the “food chain” and “food web” models of culture have their merits, but as someone who used to make a living as a critic, I can testify to how limiting the food chain mentality is. It’s hard to see the true potential of your work if you’re constantly putting things into categories.

The answer for you might be to stop goofing off and get serious, but let me ask you this:

What would happen if you stopped dismissing your “non-art” as “non-” and started taking it seriously? Where would you want to take it? How would you get it there?

Good luck and let me know how it goes.

Question: How Do I Start My Writing Career?

8 Jun

A reader writes:

My name is NAME and I’m currently a junior at COLLEGE COLLEGE. My friend, NAME, who is in the same graduating class as me, referred me to your website. While I am a ACADEMIC MAJOR in a WORLD CITY right now, my true passion is writing poetry, and I’m trying to develop my skills in writing short stories. I am fairly certain that I want this hobby to become my career, but I don’t know where to even start! I will be the first person in my family to graduate with a 4-year degree, so I don’t have any relatives with applicable experience or knowledge. Do you have any advice on where to start?

I’ve been sitting on this question for months, and for our readers who are farther along in their writing careers I’m sure you understand why.

Where to start? Where to start? Is there a more impossible question to answer than WHERE TO START?

The advise that springs to mind is of the “just write” variety, advice that I will not give. “Just write” is dismissive and minimizing, like telling someone who’s clinically depressed that maybe they wouldn’t feel so crummy if they just lightened up and, you know, tried to have some fun and not worry so much all the time.

I couldn’t do that to you, NAME from COLLEGE COLLEGE. You say you have the desire. Very well. Now let’s put some shape to all that ambition. Let’s get you doing a web project.

The secret of getting ahead is getting started. The secret of getting started is breaking your complex overwhelming tasks into small manageable tasks, and then starting on the first one.

Mark Twain

Another way of approaching Twain’s advice is to take the “complex overwhelming task” and shrink it—in its entirety—until it’s small enough to be manageable.

Becoming a writer is a simple matter of mastering ideas, emotion, insight, subtext, research, writing, rewriting, polishing, publishing, marketing, publicity and finding, building and maintaining audience. You’re going to do all of those things, but on a scale you can handle.

Here’s what you need to do:

Pick the project

That memoir about your experiences growing up as the daughter of a cruel pineapple magnate is not a project. That’s your life’s work. A project is something like Skull-A-Day or SMITH Magazine’s Six-Word Memoirs. You will pick a project that is finite, manageable and low stakes, something like 36 Poems about Strawberry-Banana Yogurt.

Do the project

You will write your 36 poems about strawberry-banana yogurt. Or, if you are acting as an editor/curator, you will collect your 36 poems about strawberry-banana yogurt. (Per Doug’s comment, you will also need to set a deadline.)

Produce the project

Your project has to be public, but you’re not going to wait for permission. You’re going to put up a website (36PASBY.com is available, btw). You’ll do this yourself, or you’ll gain the invaluable experience of collaborating with other people who have different skills than you have. Either way you’re going to make it look rad.

Support the project

You will do all the things that people with “real” books do. You will throw a launch party. You will start a Facebook group (even if you are over Facebook). You will pitch a story to your local newspaper. (Again, if you’re up to the task, then collaborate. Doesn’t everyone know an aspiring publicist?)

Put an end to the project

The point of this exercise is to be quick and light and effective. If 36 Poems about Strawberry-Banana Yogurt takes off, then that’s great. If it doesn’t, then you will have already built in a sunset provision. Let your project be what it’s meant to be. Then walk away.

Rest

Rest is important. Rest now.

Asses the project

How did it go? What went wrong? What went right? What was in your control? What was out of your control? Be honest with yourself, but also be kind. It’s just a project.

Learn from the project

This whole time you’ve been (lightly) learning about what you do well, what you struggle with, what you think you could improve, what you’re always going to be hopeless at. Now take a moment to write down the lessons learned.

Rest again

Did I not mention that rest is important? Please rest again.

Do another project

Take what you’ve learned from the first project and do another one. And another. And another. And another. With a little hard work and luck these projects will grow in scope and size and important.

Then one day you’ll wake up to find that your next project is that memoir about growing up the child of a cruel pineapple magnate. Project and life’s work have become interchangeable. Fortunately, the muscles and skills you developed doing your web projects apply quite nicely. You’ll also find that you’ve managed to collect some friends, readers and collaborators along the way.

Then the book comes out, and you go on the radio, and the interviewer asks you how you got started as a writer, and you’ll smile and tell her about 36 Poems about Strawberry-Banana Yogurt and that story will absolutely kill.

You win. The end.

Question: Does POD Interfere with Traditional Publishing?

20 Apr

A reader writes:

I haven’t yet put my [Publish-on-Demand] novel up, and I was wondering about agents. I’m sending out query letters (yes, I’ve read what you have to say about those). Will having this novel out there in POD form damage my ability to get an agent? I’m not sure the current attitudes towards these publishing outlets. For so long there has been a stigma against vanity presses and I don’t want that kind of reaction. But I also want to be someone who is . . . well, I don’t know the word exactly, but waiting around for the magic of an agent seems inadequate these days.

First, I will answer with Photoshop:

It Depends

[Thanks to daneilmmfx for the raw image. Click this link to visit his site and make your own Hollywood sign with proper font.]

Second, with words:

As I can’t tell from your question if you’re worried that your POD novel will sour your chances for getting an agent for the POD novel, or for other projects, I’ll answer both.

It’s very, very, very rare that a self-published book gets picked up by a mainstream publisher, but it does happen. Christopher Paolini’s ERAGON is a famous example. (Want some old news? Here’s the 2003 Seattle PI story on Paolini’s deal.) But it’s not like ICM has a department devoted to finding the next POD-to-traditional hit. Most will politely decline.

As for future project interference, I think it all depends on how you play it.

You will lose points by saying this to an agent:

“I self-published PINEAPPLES ARE PICKED SOUR: The Fleecing of the American Hospitality Customer because ignorant, hot-shot cretins like you were blind to my genius.”

You will score points by saying this to an agent:

“I self-published PINEAPPLES ARE PICKED SOUR: The Fleecing of the American Hospitality Customer because I thought it was an opportunity to explore a niche market and gain experience promoting my work. I hope to apply what I learned from PAPS to my mainstream book experience.”

The real question here is whether or not you’re willing to do all the things you’ll need to do to make that POD novel worth your while. Check out the Self-Publishing Review and other sites that offer a similarly realistic view of the POD experience.

Final thought: Sometimes that novel that you can’t sell is the novel you can’t sell as your first novel. Lots of authors end up publishing out of sequence due to timing, subject matter, audience robusticity, etc.

Question: Agent Green-Hungry? Or Agent Salty-Busy?

2 Apr
Broadway Danny Rose

Nice guy. Terrible manager.

A reader writes:

I’m been putting final polishes on my manuscript, and I think I’m there, so now, I’m looking at agents. Actually, I’ve been building a list for a while, but when looking at some larger agencies, I wonder as a first-time novelist, what would be the ‘good idea’ when deciding which agent to send a query letter – a newer agent, ‘actively building’ his or her list, or a more established agent? This is assuming both are looking for the genre I write in, of course. I tend to think sending to the newer agent at a large agency would be the best choice. What do you think?
First, kudos to you for building a list. Double kudos if by “building a list” you mean
  1. Scanning the acknowledgments of books you admire for agent-related intel;
  2. Reading Galleycat, Publishers Marketplace, etc. for same;
  3. Going to conferences and meeting people in a non-crazy way;
  4. Avoiding generic directories such as Writer’s Market.
Your interest in having a new agent at a larger shop tells me that you want the attention of an up-and-comer with the caché of a brand name.
*
On paper this is a solid approach, but I have the following thoughts for you to consider with great gentleness:I’d hate to see you avoid high-powered agents simply because you’re afraid they don’t have time for you
*
It’s true that less established agents are more active in the list-building department, but truth be told everyone is always building their list. That’s how the business works.
*
If you’ve got something, then you’ve got something. A known ass-kicker can often get you a better deal, which is good for you and your book.
*
I’d like for you to think about what you want out of an agent
*
Different writers have different philosophies about what they want from their agent. Some writers only want their agents to get them book deals. Others want editorial help. Still others want a best friend, therapist, social pimp, etc.
*
There is no right or wrong answer. But please keep in mind that your agent’s primary job is to get you a book deal. Yes, agents are stepping up and taking on other functions such editing, publicity, etc. But if an agent can’t deliver on the basics, then that’s not the right agent for you.
*
I hope you’re also doing things to make the agents come to you
*
Back in December, I wrote a silly yet informative parable about getting published without querying. I’m not in any way trying to talk you out of querying. But while you’re at it, you can also start attracting some attention.
*
For example, a lot of new fiction writers don’t realize that you can spin nonfiction articles off your novel. Matthew Pearl just did a great piece for Slate on Charles Dickens’ 1867 tour of the United States. Not all books will have that kind of direct tie-in, but if you’ve done any research for your novel (please tell me you’ve done research for your novel) you can find a way. (The personal essay is a very forgiving form.)

Question: (I Have 20 Projects!)

26 Mar

A reader writes:

Help! I have ten paper children and a series of WIP’s that seem to be multiplying behind my back. I can’t stop writing, it’s like crack. I only know writing. I would like to know a literary agent, a publisher, a marketing genius, and perhaps even an author who could steer me in the right direction….oh wait…might that…be you?

If so… Should I have an authors website? It seems a bit presumptuous. I have a blog, I’m not sure anyone reads this blog but it does exist. I write literary fiction and women’s fiction (let’s call a spade a spade, it’s chick lit). I have three partials out and one outstanding query. This past summer I sent (no joke) near 100 query’s. I attended last years BEA and met amazing literary agents all of who requested and rejected partials.

Oddly enough, I’m still not convinced I’m a bad writer. Perhaps I can send you the first page of say, three or four of my novels and maybe you can tell me whether or not I should be watching more TV?

Any help is invaluable as you are the only person (sans a Deity) I am looking to for advice.

First, some light scolding.

If I were still a literary agent, I probably would’ve stopped reading after the first sentence. I have no idea what “ten paper children and a series of WIP’s” means. In the cold, cruel world of publishing, if you can’t be clear in your first sentence, you’re done.

Fortunately, I’m here to help and not to keep gates.

I had an e-mail exchange with the author in which I learned that she has written ten books. Four aren’t marketable. Four are stand-alone novels. The remaining two are part of a “chick lit” series.

Much better. But there is still way too much going on here.

Think of your first book as a small business. You want to start up this little company called Someday I’ll Be Great, Inc. or Everything I’ ve Ever Hoped For, LLC.

Now imagine going to the bank for a loan. You’re not going to tell them you want money for a car wash . . . or maybe a hair salon . . . on second thought, make that a children’s photography studio . . . no, that’s not it . . . how about an organic apple orchard?

Agents are the same way. You may end up getting a multi-book deal, but generally it’s the one book that gets you in the door.

Furthermore, that one book (or any book for that matter) has a very long life cycle. It takes time to sell, time to edit, time to promote in hardcover, time to promote in paperback, time to continue to promote in paperback. (They are, indeed, paper children.)

What is that one book for you? I do not know, my friend. But it is one book. Make your choice, hunker down and get ready to work it to death. (At least, until you write the next one.)

Question: How Do You Manage Ideas?

18 Mar

A reader writes:

We probably all have a million ideas for things we could write or produce. How do we know which ones are worthy of our time and attention?

I used to write down every idea. I carried around an Ampad Reporter’s Notebook (Gregg ruled, please!) that I special ordered from a business supply company in St. Paul.

amp25280_2_1-1In my idea-hoarding prime, I might go through two or three pads a month. I wrote down everything:

  • Update Smokey and the Bandit but make it so it’s, you know, good
  • Sci-fi story where humans are second on the food chain?
  • Start magazine that makes The New Yorker obsolete

Then, about three years ago, I stopped.

It wasn’t because the ideas were as absurd, vague or grandiose as the above. The reason I stopped was because I was getting much better at having ideas than I was at executing them. I had a storage closet filled with boxes filled with notebooks filled with ideas, but I wasn’t writing or publishing any more than I did when I first started my career.

Now when I have an idea I do the following:

1. Enjoy it

Ideas feel good. They make me smile and feel smart. Good for me.

2. See if the idea can be re-purposed to fit into an existing project

As writers and artists we tend to circle around and inhabit certain themes. Often a new idea isn’t new at all, but rather another way of getting at something you’re already working on. See what happens when you start thinking about ideas not as “new” but as part of an ever-forming whole.

3. If it doesn’t fit, then I say goodbye

I have three books in various stages of completion and precious little time to work on them. It’s a shame to throw out a perfectly good idea or insight, but these books need my help, not my divided attention.

4. If it comes back and it’s genuinely a new idea, then I ask myself if I really want to do the work

I recently had an idea to do a piece on Arnold Schwarzenegger. The Running Man was on cable and I thought, “Look how far this guy has come. And yet he’s still a punchline. Maybe it’s time for a reappraisal.”

But do I really want to do the work it would take to write that story? Do I really want to try to get access? Or watch all of his old movies? Or become well-versed enough in California state politics?

The answer, sadly, is no.

5. If the idea comes back again, and still can’t be re-purposed, then I have no choice but to work on it

[Sighs] All right. If you insist. But you better be worth it . . . .

Question: How Do I Know if I’m Ready?

4 Mar

A reader writes:

You know, you’ve mentioned this issue of “readiness” in at least a couple of posts now. [ed. note: she is referring to What the @#$%! Am I Doing with My Life] I think intuitively I get this, but maybe you could talk about how to practice and/or recognize readiness. For e.g., I didn’t get why you said in one of your previous posts that you wouldn’t be ready to write a film. But maybe it’s because you haven’t been living the steps that would lead to that?

Great question. Please allow me to respond with a series of questions that you can ask yourself:

1. Am I ready to do the work just once?

Go read the comments section on Nathan Bransford’s blog. There are any number of posters who you can tell are further along in their dreams than they are in their work. (And bless them for it.)

Depending on what you’re doing, you may be in for a long apprenticeship. Would you really want to get your big break if you couldn’t deliver even once?

2. Am I ready to do the work with some frequency and consistency?

You think Genre Writer X is a hack, but she’s producing a book a year. You laugh at the unintentionally funny columnist in your community newspaper, but his work does meet a certain standard.

Even being consistently mediocre is harder than it looks. You may have an excellent spec script for a sitcom, but could you produce 22 episodes a year?

3. Am I ready to handle the attention?

Say you create your breakout work. Good job. So what else do you have?

“What else?” is the first question the gatekeepers ask. If you don’t have a vision for the next thing (and the next and the next) then there is a chance that you’ve wasted that particular opportunity.

4. Am I ready to go out and attract attention?

Actors have it easy. Their need for attention borders on the biological. The rest of us struggle with promotion, self- and otherwise.

It’s not just a matter of being good at radio, TV, print, etc. It’s being able to take a project, put it on your back, and carry it for years.

5. Am I ready to sustain attention?

You’re a success! Enjoy it! You’re a success! Now you have a f*cking target on your back!

Do well and your fans love you, but they also start to raise their expectations. Do well and your critics and enemies are actively trying to take your ass down. How are you going to deal with all that (in public) while also getting the work done?

6. Am I ready to make use of that sustained attention?

I always think of Michael Pollan as a writer who’s not only at the top of his game creatively, but who’s also assumed a leadership role in our culture.

Now we’re talking about the full integration of work, audience, and public profile. We’re talking about having a direct effect on how people talk, think, behave, vote. Are you ready to be at the center of all that?

***

If this sounds overwhelming, don’t worry about it too much. You don’t have a lot of control over how, when or why things happen. We’re all familiar with stories of people for whom success came too fast. We also know people who never got their due.

That said, if you’re starting out and you have grand ambitions, then the aforementioned questions could help you in your quest.

If you want to be the Michael Pollan of sustainable architecture, then there are certain skills that you can practice to help make that happen. Join Toastmasters in order to bone up on your public speaking. Take up podcasting to work on your radio mojo. The big dream is completely impossible, but also eminently doable.

Question: Does Ghostwriting Count?

23 Feb

A reader writes:

Do ghostwriting credits carry any extra weight with agents? Does this help you with an industry “in” as well as the learning curve of book writing?

When I worked for a literary agency, we often got query letters from aspiring writers who had what you might call “related experience.” In other words, they had written copy or marketing materials or press releases. In some cases, they had ghostwritten speeches or articles for the opinion page or even books.

At first, I paid extra attention to people with related experience. I believed (and still do) that all writing counts. Even if you spend your entire day naming subdivisions, it all contributes (if obliquely) to your art’s grand design.

The problem is that people (related experience or not) invariably query too soon. The typical agent probably gets more query letters from people who want to be published than they do from people who are ready to be published. As a result, all kinds of things that should count toward credibility end up in the category of “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

For example, let’s say you get a query letter about a murder mystery set in Antarctica, and it’s written by someone who lived in Antarctica for five seasons. Great, right? It’s set in a very specific place and the guy has lived in the very specific place.

But then the partial comes and you immediately see that the writer has no ability to evoke Antarctica. He’s thinks he can, but he can’t. Five years from now he’ll have that skill. Ten years from now he’ll not only be able to evoke Antarctica, but he’ll have the savvy to use that experience metaphorically in a book about a community of germaphobes who live an extremely isolated existence in the middle of Manhattan.

All that said, you will want to mention your ghostwriting credentials if said project

a. was published by a major house

b. was published by a smaller house but sold well

c. involved a high-profile collaborator

d. is supremely kick-ass.

Just know that anything and everything you put in front of an agent is going to be met with a certain amount of self-protecting skepticism. You never want your query to hinge on one thing. Spread the awesome around and you’ll do fine.

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