Thoughts on Writing

I WOULD HAVE PAID MONEY FOR THIS!

2011-11-01T20:17:00.000-07:00

Review: Damn the Rejections, Full Speed Ahead: The Bumpy Road to Getting Published by Maralys Wills

November 1, 2011

reviewed by David McDonald

Yes, it’s a how-to book all right, but not just about dealing with the rejection of a manuscript. The goal of Damn the Rejections Full Speed Ahead: The Bumpy Road to Getting Published (Stephens Press, 2008) appears to be preemptive, an instruction manual on how to write so as to minimize the chance of rejection.

That’s right: yet another tome on technique, writing dramatic scenes, developing characters, how and when to research, the do’s-and-don’ts of collaboration, writing query letters, preparing proposals, and, last but not least, marketing in all its facets, peddling to agents, publishers, self-publishing on the Internet.

But this one is different. Maralys Wills brings us in close, really hunkers down. She confides in the reader. She shares how she has learned, often the hard way, to craft a compulsive read. This type of intimacy to the fledgling (or floundering) writer is something she has in common with a fellow teacher, Stephen King. She refers with great admiration to his seemingly ubiquitous work, On Writing. But Wills does not share his attitude. She does not believe that “books about writing are filled with bullshit.”

Wills shares what works for her, and what doesn’t; how to make the most of being “in the zone”; how to deal constructively with a long hiatus or writer’s block; how to channel persistence, foster patience and build self-confidence. The familiar instructional staples on writing craft are laced liberally with anecdotes of tragedies and triumphs, both personal and professional. She offers tips that are lean, incisive and practical.

She employs by example all she has learned thus far through memoir, fiction, nonfiction, and even reportage. By way of her experience in these different genres, she ends up with an entertaining hybrid. (Incidentally, this isn’t Wills’ first “how-to”; she also wrote a party-game book that took quite a while to find a suitable publishing house.)

As a screenwriter I took particular interest when she spoke of the irony surrounding Schindler’s List and how the story was brought to light about a shop-owner, survivor of the Holocaust, a “caretaker-of-history [who] had tucked away his memorabilia in the back of his store and kept is safe…none of that would have happened without the passionate Jewish man who kept the story alive.” A weird twist of fate brought Oskar’s shrewd, courageous sacrifices to life and earned Spielberg a singular gold statuette for direction. The point is: if there is any consistent thread weaving through the thoughts, devices, tips, tricks, chidings, admonishments and encouragements that Wills lays down for her readers, it is just that: keep the story alive, even against one’s better (or worse) judgment.

Wills uses short chapters which is perfect for her style: precise, pragmatic, avoiding theories and philosophies of creativity which, admittedly, works very well for some teachers of the craft, among them John Gardner, Natalie Goldberg and Dorothea Brande. And because the writing is so spare, each chapter gives you a lot to chew on.

Yet she gives curiously casual regard to her successes, ending the book with a chapter entitled, “The Payoff,” where still she questions her efforts: “Why am I doing this?..When my writing income is about a nickel an hour…when no university is clamoring to drape me in purple and make me its commencement speaker…”

It was her zinger of an answer that spoke to me, the mantra of those of us who discover we have no choice but to write:

“I am most alive when I’m writing.”

‘Nuff said.

–David McDonald is a guest reviewer this month.

Carolyn Hayes Uber
President, Stephens Press, LLC
Las Vegas Review-Journal Book Division
1111 West Bonanza Road, Las Vegas, Nevada 89106
[T] 702.383.0486 :: [E]cuber@stephenspress.com
[W] www.stephenspress.com :: [B] www.workingtitlez.com

Eager Writers! Where Are You?

2011-09-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

Next weekend, hundreds of writers are coming to the Writer's Convention in Newport Beach. I'll be teaching there--but unless you've sent me an Advance Read manuscript, we won't have much time for a personal chat.

Yet in three weeks I'll be in Vermont, at the Landgrove Inn--with editor Carolyn Uber--and we'll have THREE DAYS to give you and your manuscript all the time you need. Three days with three other writers and no interruptions. October 10-October 13.

Three days of great food in a fantastic setting--brilliant red and orange leaves everywhere--and the editor and I ready to give you our full attention. All at a reasonable price. So now I have just one question: WHERE IS EVERYBODY?

Three Days of Heaven

2011-09-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

Three days to get personal feedback on your manuscript. Three days of writing tips from an editor (Carolyn Uber, Stephens Press), and 12-book author and teacher (Maralys Wills). Three days of gourmet meals. Three days of the country’s most spectacular scenery. Three days of author inspiration.

Come join us in Vermont, October 10-October 13. The Landgrove Inn. (802) 824-6673. Or, (800) 669-8466. Or vtinn@sover.net. Only $700+tax and service—for 4 nights, 3 days of room, board and all-day workshops.

We’ll see you there!

WRITER'S HEAVEN IN VERMONT

2011-08-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

The leaves are red, orange, and scarlet. The Inn is quaint, with gourmet meals. And an editor and twelve-book author are there, ready to give you personal, in-depth help with your manuscript.

Come to Vermont at the height of the leaf-peepers’ season—October 10-13--Columbus Day. Carolyn Uber, senior editor for Stephens Press, and Maralys Wills, author and teacher, will give you the help you need to produce a great manuscript. Three days—the kind of writers’ workshop you’ve always dreamed of. Personal help from the experts.

Contact Landgrove Inn: vtinn@sover.net. Or call them: 1-800-669-8466

Or e-mail me: Maralys@Cox.net.

BAD BEGINNINGS ARE FOREVER

2011-07-30T10:30:00.000-07:00

Last month I was a speaker at a Wyoming writers conference. I also critiqued seven Advance Submissions—whose qualities ranged from poor to nearly professional.

Yet one thing they all had in common: nobody knew where to begin.

I still remember some of those slow starts: a young woman taking cookies to her aging grandmother; another girl traveling to Florida on a train, idly musing about her changing life; a couple setting up a tent on the beach; a young girl driving into a strange town, reasons unknown.

Nothing happening anywhere.

Compare these beginnings to the start of a book whose author I recently interviewed: In Las Vegas a young woman falls out of a tour helicopter and lands in the middle of the pirate show on Treasure Island.

Now THAT’S a beginning.

Not all beginnings need to be this extreme. But the book must open in the middle of something dramatic. A beginning can be compared to someone dropping into a rushing river, and any minute he’ll plunge over the waterfall.

Beginnings start at a moment of crisis, after which the characters’ lives change forever, and nothing will be the same.

When I speak to memoir writers I ask, “What’s the most dramatic thing that ever happened to you?” and when they explain, I say, “Start there. Then backtrack and tell us how you got there and why this terrible, or amazing thing happened.

Think of the book “Into Thin Air” in which a mountain climber attempts to reach the top of Mount Everest. Guess where the book starts . . . at the top of Everest. So you know the hero reached his goal, but the interesting story questions remain. How did he get there? What happened along the way? What about the people who never achieved their dreams--who instead may have died?

If you need examples of great starts to novels, you might look at my book, “Damn the Rejections, Full Speed Ahead,” and read the chapter on Beginnings. I’ve got some great ones.

Meanwhile, in your own work, as you begin Chapter One, think DRAMA. CATASTROPHE. EXCITEMENT. PERIL. Anything less won’t do.

HOW TO KILL YOUR CREATIVITY

2011-01-23T16:33:00.000-08:00

I just made a classical writer's mistake. I rushed out to the family room to tell my husband the fantastic name of a new book I intend to write, starting today, and he said, “EEEYOOOGH!” Exactly the way a teenager says "EEEYOOOGH!" when you suggest he abandon his texting and start writing his term paper. Or maybe that he pull his jeans up to somewhere near his waist.

I don’t know how to spell that sound, but I recognize it when I hear it--and so do you! Every published author has heard that dismaying noise at one time or another, so we all know how it strikes the ear, even if we can't capture it letter by letter. It’s the sound of No Way, You’ve Got to be Kidding, or worse . . . That’s a Rotten Idea If I’ve Ever Heard One.

My idea for the new book fizzled like a party balloon with a tiny pin prick. The creative air seeped out, faster and faster, and I just stood there, dismayed. And finally I even said it. “Well, I’ve just broken the first rule of creativity.” Rob simply looked at me. He doesn’t know the rule, and he wouldn’t care about it if he knew. But he’ll gladly give me his first reaction to what he considers a bad title.

Have you caught on to the rule?

In case you haven’t, the rule is, Never share the first blush of a creative idea with ANYONE. Not until you’ve got it all down on paper, until the thing is mostly written and you can’t unwrite it.

If it was a dumb idea in the first place, you’ll soon know. If it wasn’t a dumb idea, you risk letting someone kill your baby while it’s still in the womb.

Everyone who writes knows this rule, and no one better than I. My inner voice said, “Don’t share this,” and I should have listened, but I didn’t, I rushed out to expose my great idea to toxic fumes. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

I finally said, “Nora Ephron’s published book is called, ‘I Remember Nothing.’ Do you think that’s a good title?" And he said No.

Well, that was some comfort, anyway. I’m sure Ephron has sold a million copies of this very funny book with the dumb title. Except I happen to love it, bad title and all.

ARE YOU READY TO PUBLISH?

2011-01-02T16:47:00.000-08:00

Probably not. If you have doubts, you are certainly not ready.

It’s an impatient world out there—too many of us with too much to do. Too many newspapers to read, phone calls to make, e-mails to answer, meals to cook, minutes to spend exercising, dishes to wash.

And besides, you’re writing a book. (Or maybe something shorter.)

How much time did you give your writing? One edit? Two? Possibly three?

How many people have read it? And what did they say?

“This is interesting.” “I like it.” “You’ve done a good job.” “Nice article.” “An okay first chapter.” “Keep going.”

“Interesting” doesn’t cut it. Nor do any of the other comments. These people are your friends, and they don’t want to hurt your feelings. But their level of enthusiasm is tepid. And you know tepid when you see it.

Your piece is clearly not good enough. None of these people are raving. So all you’ve done is make a decent first start. A dent. But the thing is not publishable. Not even close.

If you go “out there” with this work, even spend money to get it published, nobody will make the effort to read more than a few pages. (Except, maybe, your three best friends and your mother.) You will have spent time and energy on a piece of writing that needs lots more work.

Now wait!! Don’t throw it away. Your idea is probably worth keeping. It’s worth re-working. It’s worth cutting, enriching, dissecting, made funnier. You are no dummy, you doubtless have unusual and interesting thoughts. Your work deserves to be read by others. Trust me on that one. Or rather, trust yourself. If you’re reading this, you are not a throw-away writer.

The stark reality that few of us fully grasp is—good writing takes a ton of work. More work than any newbie ever imagines. It takes more refinement, more re-working, more polishing than most of us dreamed would be necessary. It takes more tweaking than a Lamborghini.

But all that effort is a must. Unless you’re willing to edit obsessively, your piece will never be ready for the larger world. Which means most people won’t read it. So what’s the point?

Okay, then, you’ve gone over your work a dozen times. It’s finally begun to thrill you, to capture even your over-exposed attention. You honestly believe it reads like the best stuff you’ve seen elsewhere. So you give it back to your friends.

Geronimo! Their critiques have changed. “This is great!” “I love it!” “Powerful!” “I’ve given it to all my friends!” “Wonderful!” “Couldn’t stop reading!” “I stayed up all night!”

These are the critiques that should send you to a publisher. Immediately.

A WORLD TURNING UPSIDE DOWN

2010-12-29T15:33:00.000-08:00

For all of you who see your everyday lives morphing faster than you ever dreamed possible, let me say that nothing is changing quicker, or with more uncertainty, than book publishing. Those of us on the inside can only stare and shake our heads. As authors we try to adjust, but few of us can predict which of our books will sell best—if at all--or in what format. Will old-fashioned paper even be involved?

Only a handful of years ago, nobody thought book stores would soon become obsolete. Yet while they still stand around looking formal and important, except for teens with computers under their arms—all heading for the coffee bar—adult readers have largely abandoned them.

Part of this is the fault of the chain bookstores themselves. In their zeal to rid themselves of competing independents, they also killed off the eager librarian types who once “sold” their readers the world’s best books. Today, the chains are not known for selling anything; all they do is display. Which Costco--or your best friends--do just as well.

Meanwhile, we authors are scrambling to become known in that mysterious and semi-visible world of the Net. Those of us who aren’t kids any longer soon learn we need expertise on steroids--so I’m finding computer mavins to make me and my books internet-visible. Will this help me sell some of the books in my garage?

I honestly don’t know.

I’ll be happy to share the answer in a few months.

PUBLICITY: THE WALL TOO STEEP TO CLIMB?

2010-12-18T15:54:00.000-08:00

EACH DAY I'M learning afresh: There are writers and PR types, and they're seldom the same person. My daily wish is simple: Please, dear brain, grant me the skills to find the readers for all these words I've already written.

Writing is the part I love. I could cheerfully spend every day creating word pictures. I love the process, and everything about it: the search for rhythm, for vividness, for the exact right word. I love looking back to see what I've done, to decide whether I managed to get to where I intended to go. I love the re-writing--taking this wobbly little skeleton and propping it up, making it stand on its own feet and sing to the world.

There's nothing about writing I don't like. The moments spent in creation--surely they are a kind of life force, a renewal of the most exquisite sort. When you've written something good, you've LIVED. And nobody can take it away.

But what's this business about PR?

How hard should we work to get known? How many internet/web tricks must we learn? And how many of them work? How many people read what I've written on the web? And will any of that reading translate into sales of my books?

What about the hucksters who appear on your e-mail and glibly promise to make you famous, who swear up and down they can make your books best sellers? How often does this happen? Are any of these promotions worth the price? Can they REALLY create huge audiences for your books? Or are all these promotional types simply padding their own pockets? Of one thing I'm sure. If I send this Harrison fellow ten thousand dollars, I am definitely making HIM rich.

I haven't a clue as to whether he'll do the same for me. And frankly, at the risk of losing ten thousand dollars, I'm afraid to find out.

Meanwhile, as I ask these questions, I keep searching--I peek behind new internet doors, scramble to learn the latest tricks, ask other authors what they do. Currently I'm trying everything: Writing blogs; enhancing my author page on Amazon; calling all the groups I can think of, offering myself as a speaker. I'm giving writing workshops at libraries, applying for slots at writers conferences, calling womens' groups and book clubs.

Once in awhile, to my amazement, somebody calls me. I try to act blase, as if it happens all the time. I never tell them that they've just made my day.

If any of you have suggestions, please tell me. I'd love to hear them.

Do I yearn to be rich and famous? Well, maybe. But only because rich and famous would mean people are reading my books. But more than that, it would mean I could stop making all these phone calls, soliciting speeches.

Rich and famous would mean I could once again concentrate on writing books. Maralys

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2010-09-07T15:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not crazy about giving away time. After twelve published books it feels like I ought to be paid for speaking and teaching. Yet more and more I'm learning that what you do for free often pays off best.

A couple of stories make the point: A writers group at Leisure World contacted me to speak at a writers day--the first big event of their new writers club. Nobody offered to pay me, but I agreed to go anyway. I was one of several speakers, and sold a few books--four or five. Not many, but I felt good about the day. I felt I'd really connected with the group.

It seems I did. Weeks later they called me again, this time to give a talk on memoirs. They asked how much I wanted to be paid--always a tough question to answer. How much is too much? But I asked for $75.00, and the club readily agreed. Expecting 20-30 people, I was flabbergasted to find a crowd of over 70. This time, to the group's excitement, I gave away some books--but I also sold about a dozen.

Now the group wants me back again, for two in-depth, all-day memoir workshops. With no fuss at all, the price has gone up to $150 each. Even so, it's not the money that's so exciting, but the fact that this group and I have made an exciting connection. We all expect the best out of each other, and my stints down there have become a lot of fun and not much work. For everything I gave away in the beginning, I've been repaid many times over.

And just today I heard a wonderful story about Landgrove Inn in Vermont--an inn I've stayed at many times and with whom I'm now engaged for my second writer's workshop. It seems Landgrove agreed to host a charity event for a worthy cause, offering not only their site, but also picking up the bar tab. In what could have been a losing event, with perhaps 50 to 100 people, the Chocolate Festival attracted 500 people and earned $30,000--giving the inn free publicity up and down the state of Vermont. For the price of some liquor, they received what will turn out to be a hundred-thousand-dollars worth of publicity. You couldn't BUY an event that attracted so many people from so many Vermont towns. Because of their generosity, little-known Landgrove Inn has suddenly become one of the premier inns in the state.

Whenever I consider the advisability of doing something "for free," I think twice about turning it down. The payoff is sometimes in doubt, and never the reason you do anything. On the other hand, often enough the good-luck gods are right there with a reward.

BLAME IT ON THE BALL

2009-12-27T12:25:00.000-08:00

People acquire reputations for all kinds of crazy things: the number of days spent camped out in a tree; the unlikelihood of delivering eight babies in one sitting; the variety of women willing to appear naked in your magazine. I've yet to hear of a "name" acquired by the number of times you get hit by a ball.

The Wills family does have a ball reputation of sorts--trophies and medals won by hitting balls with a racket, smashing balls with a wrist, slinging balls over water, slamming balls against a wall. No medals have yet been won by offering one's body as a pelt spot. However, this is about to change; I demand that personal impact be recognized as an official event.

My unique sport began innocently enough when I stood near a railing at my grandson's ice hockey game. First time I'd ever personally witnessed this game--and to add to my uncanny luck, other family members stood beside me. But only I was singled out by the puck that ricocheted off the ice and found its target on my upper arm. It was Chris, (standing next to me), who noted, "Of course, Mom, you were the one that got hit." How he recognized this tendency so early, is difficult to imagine. But let's just say his statement was predictive of future events.

Once Dane became fully invested in volleyball, Rob and I attended most of his matches. The Anaheim Sports Arena contains some twenty volleyball courts. Unlike other spectators, I've been hit by balls flying out of at least ten of those courts. Balls from courts behind me smash against the net and find my back. Balls from warm-up smashes clunk off my head. Balls from near-empty courts find me as I head for the cafeteria--and one managed to knock off my glasses. In fact my glasses alone have been tweaked three times. Other parents noticed and began saying things like, "You do seem to have a bulls eye painted on your body." "You need to arrive wearing a helmet." "Don't sit by her--she gets hit every time."

Once a ball from a nearby court followed me down a narrow hall and nailed me as I entered the ladies room.

The gold-medal moment actually occurred in a high school gymnasium. Like other spectators, I was sitting innocently in the bleachers when it happened. A ball from the court in front of us sailed down the length of the gymnasium, hit a side wall at the end of our bleachers, and flew like a homing pigeon straight for my head. Dozens of other heads were available, of course, but obviously none of them qualified.

Aware of my propensities, this year 23 members of our family spent Christmas Eve trying to hit me with an under-inflated beach ball. They gave themselves great credit for originality and timing--howling with glee when they connected. Only at the end did I assure them they hardly qualified for "best shot of the year."

That came a few weeks earlier when, with my granddaughter, I visited a tiny tots birthday party. Like grasshoppers, some ten three-year-olds leaped and frolicked across a small living room, chasing little toys and pinata candies. Among the objects on the floor was a tiny ball. To my astonishment, a miniature boy took a mighty swing with his miniature toe, caught the ball just right, and sent it cascading into my face.

The man sitting next to me said, "Oh! Are you all right?" He probably didn't believe me when I said, "Well, that was certainly the smallest of my assailants. You wouldn't know this, of course, but I do have a national reputation--as a target."

THE PERILS OF POPCORN

2009-12-08T10:13:00.000-08:00

My husband, Rob, has a THING about burning down the house. "Don't leave the teakettle on, Babe. You'll incinerate our place." The other night he rousted me out of bed at midnight. "What? You left the clothes dryer running? Probably oughta shut it off. By the time the smoke reaches our bedroom, the house will be gone." Once he even closed down the oven when I wasn't looking. "I turned it off. You weren't in the room."

"I was in the bathroom."

"When something's cooking, you have to be in the kitchen." Before my eyes he turned deaf when I tried to explain that ovens are DESIGNED to function when you're not physically present. For Rob, the most logical man I know, the logic has to arrive when he asks for it--from a source that's more exotic than a wife. As to the house burning down . . . apparently he wants me right there, watching, when flames start licking out of the oven.

This same Rob has few problems with stenching up the house. One evening, two weeks ago, he stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave and set the timer in the dark. Exempt from the watch-the-oven rule, he hobbled back to his chair, using a cane because his knee hadn't quite recovered from its eighth surgery.

I began smelling a smell. Not a good smell. Tentatively, I peeked into the microwave, and quickly slammed it shut. Smoke had already collected into a black, stampeding ball, just waiting for some fool to let it out. "The popcorn's burned!" I shouted toward his chair. "The microwave is full of smoke. I don't dare open the door!"

"Just wait, Babe," he said calmly. "It'll go away." Well, he was right. Some of the smoke escaped without anyone's help. Out through seams and cracks that only a demon could find. Our kitchen took on an overlay of evil. This wasn't your ordinary smoke--it was the kind of chemical effluvium that seeps out of dangerous labs, forcing people to grab gas masks.

Unprotected, I ran around the family room and front hall, opening outside doors, propping them open. The cats were bewildered. She's letting us come and go--at willl? I turned on the attic fan in the hall, which sucks in air from outside. I switched on the fan over the stove. Nothing helped. The foul air grew worse, crept over to Rob's chair.

He said, "You'd better remove the popcorn. Grab it quick and throw it outside." He made it sound easy, but the job actually required preparation. First I ran to the back door, grabbed a lungful of clean air, and holding my breath, I darted to the microwave, grabbed the popcorn, and flung it out toward the garage. Eventually I allowed myself another real breath. But not in the kitchen.

For the rest of the night, our kitchen and family room remained toxic. Unless you stood in an outside doorway, breathing seemed a dangerous option. Inevitably, a question ocurred to me: WHAT did they put in the popcorn? I said to Rob, "Surely you'll never eat THAT again!" And Rob, who would abandon a wheelchair for a penny in the gutter, said, "Well, there's only one more bag." Implying that even one bag of poison was worth saving.

We could only escape the fumes by going to bed.

The next day the two rooms were still alive with odor. A rag dipped in Pinesol and swabbed around the microwave's interior removed a horrible, yellowish layer of scum, but in no way interrupted the smell. A second swabbing was equally useless. Some odors simply can't be overcome. We'd have done as well with the residue from a skunk.

At last, one week later, the kitchen was once again breathable. But not near the microwave. Our appliance survived a bad encounter with popcorn, but now it has putrid pores and bad breath, and so do parts of the family room. You don't have to burn down a house to destroy it. You can actually accomplish the same thing by stinking it to death.

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Running Through the UCLA/SC Game in my Underwear

2009-12-03T20:37:00.000-08:00

I just re-read a funny article on author book tours by the L.A. Times writer, Al Martinez. It was a comforting article, actually. Makes me feel like I'm not alone. He talks about accompanying the famous writer, Irving Wallace, to a signing in San Francisco --a disaster in which Wallace sat in a San Francisco book store for a full hour gazing at fifty white plastic chairs--with not one person sitting in them. As Martinez says, "Absolutely no one came to buy a book." Wallace was so incensed he never did another signing.

Then Martinez talks about his own signing--where he only faced 25 white plastic chairs . . . with the same dismal results. Nobody ever sat down in any of them. He claims he did sell five books, however--three of which he bought himself. He thought he'd sold another one to a man in overalls who stood for some time thumbing through the book--then made a sour face and put it down. Martinez says, "It's just as well. I don't sell to men in overalls." He admits he stays for the whole hour, "amusing myself by humming and scratching and reading what I wrote and trying to figure out why I wrote it."

The last chapter in my book, "A Clown in the Trunk" is called, "The White Plastic Chairs." And it's all about all those chairs nobody ever sits in, and how, unlike Wallace and Martinez, I'm willing to pursue people around the book store, striking up conversations designed to entice them into opening their wallets. My husband says, "I suppose you put them in a choke hold." Well, not quite. But I thought of it.

But now that a certain blonde bimbo and her husband have attracted worldwide fame by breaking into a White House dinner, they'll probably get a book deal--and sell loads of books. As for me, I've considered running through the UCLA/SC football game in my underwear. Has any grandmother ever done that? Would it give me a big enough name to sell books? I'd love to consider it. But first I'll have to lose a few pounds.

Anyone out there have a better idea??

Everyone Wants Your Money

2009-09-13T17:32:00.000-07:00

I've just published a new book: Damn the Rejections, Full Speed Ahead: The Bumpy Road to Getting Published." Lots of writers love it. I've gotten wonderful reviews on Amazon.

The book is written--there's nothing else I need do. Except sell it. Well, hey, that should be easy? Right?

Wrong. And here's where it gets interesting. Somehow, all the promoters in the world know I've written a book, and now all of them want to help me sell it. And I'm not exaggerating. I get new offers almost every day. Let us take your book to the libraries. Let us take your book to the media. Let us take your book to New York. Let us teach you how to sell on the internet. Let us sign you up for a class. Let us introduce you to TV producers. To your neighbors. To all the other writers in the world. We'll do it all. You'll soon be famous. Even more, you'll be rich.

Well, hey, I do need help.

But then I patiently scroll through the testimonials, and FINALLY, FINALLY reach the bottom line. This will cost me only $500. $700. A thousand dollars. Five thousand dollars. Enough money so I'd have to sell thousands of books just to come out even. Somehow, no one offers a money-back guarantee that this will happen.

What they DO offer is a guarantee that THEY will get rich. It only takes a few of us, at five thousand dollars each, to make the promoters famous. No, wait . . . they don't care about famous. They care about RICH.

By now, my five thousand dollars is gone. And yes, I've probably sold a few books.

But my husband is reminding me it might be another few years before I've sold enough books to pay myself back all that promotion money. I've finally seen the promoter's catalogues and realize my book is one of hundreds--or thousands. NO ONE will single me out to purchase my book.

A writer friend recently bought a $2000, full-page ad in a catalogue. She has yet to see a single sale.

If any of you out there know some way to promote yourself the slow, old-fashioned, inexpensive way, please let me know. I'm all ears. But for now, my wallet is closed

REJECTION IS A DAILY EVENT . . .

2009-04-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

This morning I was turned down for a corporate speech. Another rejection. I should be used to rejection, but I'm not. You never get used to it. You never just pass it off. Not entirely.

Still, you don't scream and yell. You don't run around telling people how bad you feel. Instead, you tell yourself, I won't let this ruin my day, and you give yourself a few minutes to feel rotten, and then you think about something else.

But the rejection is there, like a thorn, from time to time giving you a small stab. No, we never get used to it. But above all, we never "get even," we don't turn on the people who rejected us. We thank them and go on. If you learn anything in life, it's the futility--the stupidity--of burning bridges.

When rejection overwhelms you, and it does occasionally, you think about Abraham Lincoln, who was rejected endlessly--who "lost" at least once, in nearly every political office he aspired to, yet became such a venerated man his inspiration has lasted over a century.

My response to rejection works for me. I say to myself, "What do THEY know?" and tell myself--actually communicate with my soul--that some day that person will wish he'd taken me on, that eventually I will surprise him and he will regret the day he turned me down. I take the "long view." And you know what? Most of the time the "long view" comes true.

2009-04-14T20:14:00.000-07:00

Just discovered your computer can turn into the cyberspace version of a ninety-year-old's junk-filled house. Old e-mails, old newspapers, old, forgotten messages, all piled in a corner waiting for a spark to ignite them. Spent two days "cleaning out" my old stuff, some dating back to 2001--and in the process discovered people I'd forgotten ever existed . . . and other people who absconded with my time--more time than I ever should have given them.

The whole process was exactly like house-cleaning. Felt kind of creepy while you were doing it, but gave you that freshly-washed feeling afterwards. Got rid of 2000 messages in all. (Did I really need all those old Washington Posts? And all those old rants about old President Bush?) Maybe now my computer will run faster. Whether it does or it doesn't, my clean computer house gives me a good feeling, kind of like starting a new day without all the junk left over from yesterday.

Have You Ever Noticed?

2009-04-10T16:18:00.001-07:00

Have You Ever Noticed?

Even big corporations don’t always produce good writing.

Try reading Annual Reports. Some are so dense the meaning is entirely obscured by . . . well--garbage. Words that have no meaning. It seems almost every corporation has members who can learn to write better.

I’m here to make this happen.

THE DO’S AND DON’TS OF WRITING A NOVEL

2009-04-10T15:36:00.001-07:00

Good technique is difficult to see in a well-written piece because the better a story is done, the less we notice how it’s done. What the author says becomes more important than how he says it. Technique is the mortar that holds the stones together, but in good writing all you see is the stones.

DO’S

Do play your key scenes: This means milking the drama--enlarging scenes to capture and “play out” important moments. . . .giving key scenes the lines, the pages, they deserve.

Do hint at some bits of action: Not every moment of every scene needs to be described in detail. We describe some and leave parts for the reader’s imagination to fill in.

Do be specific instead of general. Say, “pine tree,” or even “aleppo pine,” instead of “tree” . . . “tulip” or “tiger lily” instead of “flower.”

Do pause for reaction time: A big, dramatic moment must be surrounded by lesser statements of lesser importance so the reader has time to absorb, or react to, the important thing.

Do keep transitions simple: Transitions can often be accomplished with a simple, “Next morning, he . . . “ or, “Back in Paris . . . “

Do vary your sentences: Vary them both in length and in structure. The reader quickly tires of sentences that are all the same length. An abundance of long sentences feels stuffy, whereas too many short ones make the work seem childish. Likewise, the text gets monotonous when all sentences are constructed alike--subject, verb, object.

Do use setting to enhance mood: References to external stimuli--activities, odors, sounds, weather conditions--can heighten the emotion of what’s going on in the scene itself. Rain, wind, hail storms . . . the sounds of battle, the smell of lilacs . . . all heighten and build on the scene’s emotions.

Do choose strong nouns and verbs: Use words like “sprinted” “rushed” “loped” to substitute for “ran.” Describe a mountain as a “crag,” “peak” “spire” or “precipice.” The more strong verbs and nouns you choose, the fewer adjectives and adverbs will be needed.

Do handle your inconsistencies by pointing to them: As long as someone in your novel points out that yes, this is an inconsistency, the reader will know that the writer understands what he’s doing and is not just making a mistake.

DON’TS

Don’t rely on an overabundance of adjectives and adverbs. They can be useful, but strong verbs and nouns are better. Some writers adverb their material to death . . . things are never just “said,” they are “said haughtily,” “said defensively,” “said angrily.” Instead of writing, “She walked out furiously,” use a better verb. “She stomped out . . . “ “She banged out.” Same with adjectives. Don’t call it “a large, dark, warehouse,” better to say, “A tomb--a cavern.”

Don’t let your dialogue be repetitive: People do speak repetitively, but it makes for dull reading. Our characters may be irritating, but they’re never boring.

Don’t repeat an action over and over: If the action really was repeated . . . summarize.

Don’t use “was” and “were” as helping verbs: They merely weaken the action and produce a passive voice. “He was rubbing his eyes,” is weaker than, “He rubbed his eyes.”

Don’t use repetitive words: Duplicated words make for boring text. Word repetitions are sometimes hard to detect, even harder to avoid, but they can be caught by reading aloud. Re-writing invariably makes the prose fresher.

Don’t be wordy: As writers, we’re trying to go in two directions--saying more and more using fewer and fewer words. All unnecessary words should be removed. Anything that can be said in 5 words becomes tedious when it’s said in 10. For instance, your hero never “Proceeds” to do something. “Proceeds” adds nothing. He just does it.

Don’t get into ping pong dialogue: long dialogue passages with no bits of action, no reference to emotion, can become hard to follow, and dull. When occasional bits of action or emotion are interspersed, the reader hardly notices, but life and interest are added to the scene. These unnoticed bits are more of that writer’s “mortar.” (Caution: too many dialogue interruptions, however, can be distracting. We don’t want to focus the reader’s attention on the unimportant things the character is doing instead of the vitally important things he’s saying.)

Don’t use “it’s” unless you mean “It is.”

TEN SECRETS OF GREAT WRITING

2009-04-10T15:29:00.000-07:00

1. Extraordinary Vision: A thought worth expressing: An observation, a mental image, an analysis, an emotion, a storyline, a description of a person or situation.

2. Finding unusual, even startling, ways to express your thoughts, so your reader is constantly surprised: “He was making me crazy, this maverick rolling through my life like an escaped tire.”

3. Great Dialogue: Using dialogue as a tool . . . to add a sense of immediacy, but also to illustrate offbeat thoughts or a unique character. (Dialogue never mirrors dull, common, everyday thoughts, like “Have a nice day.”)

4. Great, appealing characters: In fiction, or in nonfiction profiles, finding ways to illumine characters so they come to life. One remarkably easy way is to have one novel character describe another.

5. Using varied sentence lengths . . . at times letting your thoughts roll on, like a river. At others, pulling the sentence up short and making it abrupt, like the splash from a rock thrown into the river.

6. Great Drama: A feel for drama and a willingness to squeeze out every last drop from your scene—until it’s dry, like a squeezed lemon.

7. Use of the exact right word: A willingness to search endlessly until you find that one perfect word . . . either traipsing through your own mind or thumbing through your thesaurus.

8. Understanding the rhythms of language: A sense of the ebb and flow of prose—its rhythms, and yes, its poetry. Ability to create a “forward rush,” so the reader can’t stop reading.

9. A relentless search to make scenes vivid: a constant search for the words that seem to “lift off the page.” One trick: finding comparisons between what you’re describing and other, unrelated objects or situations.

10. Vowing to stick with what you’ve written when you know in your heart it’s right.