I've noticed something very interesting of late. If I mention the word "Facebook" or "Twitter" amongst an assembly of unpublished writers, I might as well have let out a loud fart in public for the effect it has on a large number of those present. They fidget uncomfortably in their chairs, mutter comments to each other behind their hands about its dangers, snigger, or ignore what I've said altogether. The concept of "blogging" follows close behind in their little book of suspect practices.
It's all part of the "it-was-better-in-the-good-old-days" mentality, which is synonymous to shooting yourself in the foot if you want to gain global attention for your writing. How do I make these Caxtonites realise that tweeting on Twitter is an opportunity to build up a wide following of people who like your writing style before you're even published; also, that these followers will most likely stick around to become fans of your books after publication, as well as telling their friends about you, and that sometimes an unpublished writer's creative tweets can come to the attention of a publisher, as in the case of Simon Sylvester (@simonasylvester)?
There is an excellent article titled 'Build your profile on Twitter' in the February 2011 issue of Writing Magazine (www.writingmagazine.co.uk). It stresses the importance of connecting with a community, as well as having the opportunity to practice your writing within the very tight 140-character constraint of a tweet.
Facebook is more about connecting with people you know, although it also provides an excellent opportunity to share writing news amongst your friends, or send them invites to literary events and book launches. As well as this, you can start a facebook group for your writing circle and, if you like, make the information it contains more widely available to other facebook users than you might with your own personal information or status updates.
I'm at a loss to know what do about the Caxtonites, some of whom even go as far as objecting to emailing or to word-processing. Perhaps it's one of those cases of my needing to show by example rather than ramming a concept down people's throats with evangelical zeal and ending up being blacklisted or lynched. So often, rejection of something new is based on fear of change, or of appearing an ignoramus because you don't understand how it works.
Who knows? Maybe I spend too many hours on the internet while those other aspiring novelists are secretly penning a masterpiece that will - um, dare I say? - end up as a published novel available for sale on Amazon or for download on an e-reader.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Friday, December 10, 2010
Lift-off: my first story in print
In my previous post of November 09, I spoke about making it through to the finals in the Fiction Category of the Aesthetica Creative Works Competition 2010. To my further excitement, I have now discovered that my selected entry has been published in the Aesthetica Creative Works Annual 2011.
Aesthetica is a British-based art and culture publication that engages with contemporary art and culture both in the UK and internationally, combining dynamic content while exploring the best in emerging and established contemporary arts and design. Established in 2002, Aesthetica Magazine is stocked in WH Smith, prestigious locations such as Tate Modern, Serpentine, and National Portrait Gallery, and in March 2008 the company added a second publication to its fold, the Aesthetica Annual.
The Aesthetica Creative Works Annual 2011 is available in galleries and independent retailers nationwide. It can also be purchased or downloaded from www.aestheticamagazine.com, and will showcase the very best in new artistic and writing talent. The Annual has been comprised of the winning entries of the Aesthetica Annual Creative Works Competition, which received an astounding 4000 entries.
Now in its third year, the Competition attracts entries from across the world, and engages with 4000 writers and artists, providing them with the opportunity to showcase their work to Aesthetica’s readers.
Aesthetica Editor and one of the judges, Cherie Federico had this to say:
“This year’s competition was incredible. I was thrilled by the quality of entries, equally, I had to make some tough decisions, and I spent a considerable amount of time contemplating each piece of work. The work included in this year’s Creative Works Annual is compelling, and acts as a signifier of our times. There is so much to take away from it. I would like to offer my warm congratulations to the winners and finalists.”
With three categories for artwork, poetry, and fiction, the Aesthetica Competition was judged by Cherie Federico, Creative Writing lecturer Dr Kate North, and writer and editor Rachel Hazelwood. Cherie Federico says: “I think I can speak for all the judges when I say that the entries were of an extremely high calibre. We actually had to extend the judging period for a week and a half because whittling the works down to a final 96 proved a huge deliberation, but it’s really encouraged me to continue championing new talent and encouraging creativity in everyone. There was huge potential in so many of the works which Rachel, Kate and myself saw and I would like to urge all the competition entrants to continue developing their considerable talents.”
- Aesthetica Magazine is published bi-monthly and is available through WH Smiths, University Bookshops and Galleries.
- The 2011 Aesthetica Annual Creative Works Competition will open later this month for entries of poetry, fiction and artwork.
- Cherie Federico, Editor of Aesthetica Magazine, is available for comment on behalf of the Competition judges.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Leaving your work to marinade
I have just received the best email notification ever, telling me that I am a finalist in the Fiction category of this year's Aesthetica Creative Works Competition, out of 4000 entries. The winner will be announced on December 01, so everybody keep their fingers crossed.
I'm telling you about this, as its an example of how you should leave a piece of work to marinade for anything from a few weeks to several years, and then go back to view it afresh. The story I entered for the above competition was originally 2,700 words in length, written in the third-person past tense, with an ending that didn't seem quite right and yet had no obvious alternative.
Fifteen years on - yes, that long - it "called" to me from a drawer. Shaking the dust off it, I carried out a savage revision on it, knocking it down to 1,600 words, rewriting it in the first-person present tense, and giving it a completely new ending that I really liked.
And the moral of this tale? ...That following years of hard work and numerous knock-backs, success starts happening when...
I'm telling you about this, as its an example of how you should leave a piece of work to marinade for anything from a few weeks to several years, and then go back to view it afresh. The story I entered for the above competition was originally 2,700 words in length, written in the third-person past tense, with an ending that didn't seem quite right and yet had no obvious alternative.
Fifteen years on - yes, that long - it "called" to me from a drawer. Shaking the dust off it, I carried out a savage revision on it, knocking it down to 1,600 words, rewriting it in the first-person present tense, and giving it a completely new ending that I really liked.
And the moral of this tale? ...That following years of hard work and numerous knock-backs, success starts happening when...
- You take on board constructive criticism from people whose expertise you respect.
- You resist the temptation to enter the first draft of a piece of work into a competition, also applying this same rule to submission of work to publishers and agents.
- And you don't let yourself be misled by stories in the press about writers who are overnight successes, as it's unlikely you're ever being told the full story.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Fitting your novel into a niche
When people start comparing your creative works to those of best-selling published authors -- especially the ones whose novels end up regarded as classics -- you know you're on the right track.
Before publishers or agents takes on a novice author's work, they like to know that it will fit into a niche in the market and sit comfortably on bookshop shelves alongside published works of a similar ilk. People prefer to know what type of book they're buying as they resent wasting money, especially in a recession.
If the dust jacket of your unknown work has an endorsement on it from an established author, or a review comparing your writing style to that of someone famous, this acts as an added incentive for readers to take a punt on it.
When pitching your novel to a publisher or agent, don't be too shy or too humble to draw a comparison between yourself and a well-known author, especially if the comparison was made first by others whose judgement you respect. If you keep this bit of information to yourself, hoping a busy editor will come to the same conclusion without prompting, you will have left it too late. You must mention it in your initial proposal or covering letter to that editor.
Having recently emailed a submission without doing the above, I've decided from now on its imperative to practice what I preach. Therefore, to engender interest in my children's novel, I must draw a parallel between the imagery inherent in my Zyx-dimension and and the fantastical world portrayed by C.S. Lewis' in the Magician's Nephew (his pre-sequel to his Narnia series). And when selling my short-stories, I must mention that my dark humour has shades of Roald Dahl and Terry Pratchett.
In a highly competitive market there is no room for false modesty, unless you want your typescript consistently returned to you unread and to find yourself passed over by others who are less shy about selling their product. Whether you like it or not, a novel is a product and not a precious baby to wrap in cotton wool, preventing it from ever seeing the light of day.
(Look out for my next post which will detail how to make a study of your favourite authors and learn from their writing...)
Before publishers or agents takes on a novice author's work, they like to know that it will fit into a niche in the market and sit comfortably on bookshop shelves alongside published works of a similar ilk. People prefer to know what type of book they're buying as they resent wasting money, especially in a recession.
If the dust jacket of your unknown work has an endorsement on it from an established author, or a review comparing your writing style to that of someone famous, this acts as an added incentive for readers to take a punt on it.
When pitching your novel to a publisher or agent, don't be too shy or too humble to draw a comparison between yourself and a well-known author, especially if the comparison was made first by others whose judgement you respect. If you keep this bit of information to yourself, hoping a busy editor will come to the same conclusion without prompting, you will have left it too late. You must mention it in your initial proposal or covering letter to that editor.
Having recently emailed a submission without doing the above, I've decided from now on its imperative to practice what I preach. Therefore, to engender interest in my children's novel, I must draw a parallel between the imagery inherent in my Zyx-dimension and and the fantastical world portrayed by C.S. Lewis' in the Magician's Nephew (his pre-sequel to his Narnia series). And when selling my short-stories, I must mention that my dark humour has shades of Roald Dahl and Terry Pratchett.
In a highly competitive market there is no room for false modesty, unless you want your typescript consistently returned to you unread and to find yourself passed over by others who are less shy about selling their product. Whether you like it or not, a novel is a product and not a precious baby to wrap in cotton wool, preventing it from ever seeing the light of day.
(Look out for my next post which will detail how to make a study of your favourite authors and learn from their writing...)
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Showing versus telling: tread the minefield...
This is a subject I've spent the last few weeks exploring and have come to the conclusion that novice authors must slavishly stick to the rule "show and don't tell", whilst those with a track record sometimes break this and many other rules such as author intrusion (which is a form of telling), going off at tangents, shifting viewpoint etc. This is because they have an established readership, which, in theory, means a ready market for future novels.
Showing rather than telling is also a thing of literary fashion. Many Victorian writers did it with impunity. Dickens did a whole load of telling, especially of the author intrusion kind, but, in doing so, provided us with a wonderful social history of the time.
Put simply:
"telling" is desciption,
"showing" is dramatisation.
You don't write: Suzie looked really sad. ...telling
You do write Suzie slumped in her chair and hung her head. ...showing
You don't write: 'You are so annoying, I could punch you,' James said angrily. ...telling
You do write: James punched the wall and then shook his fist at Luke. 'I'll rearrange your face if you don't shut your fat gob.' ...showing
And now an example of a first draft extract from my novel for older children. I've coloured green anything constituting "telling", when "showing" would do better:
A smooth-talking presenter, called Denis, flashes a smile stuffed with polished dentures at a rather dim-looking woman called Bev as she coos over a velvet-lined box of cheap jewellery that Denis is holding. His hands have immaculately manicured nails emerging from pinstriped shirt cuffs fastened by gold-plated cufflinks with pretend diamonds.
Apart from having obvious examples of telling, there is also too much information in these two sentences. This holds up the story. The reader doesn't need all this detail, because the reader is intelligent enough to fill in the gaps for himself. Make it as simple as the brush strokes in a Japanese painting and leave the rest to imagination.
And now a revision of the earlier draft:
The presenter, Denis, flashes his false teeth at a woman called Bev, who has straightened hair and a fake tan. She shrieks with delight at some gold loop earrings that Denis shows her, as if they're special, when I've seen ones exactly like them in the Pound Shop. I expect Denis' cufflinks are from the Pound Shop, too.
In the first draft, the author speaks. The twelve-year-old first-person narrator, Noah, might as well have disappeared off for a cup-of-tea backstage. It is a description with all the gaps filled in and with no room left for imagination. Also, all of us have different ideas about what constitutes a "dim-looking" or "smooth-talking" person.
The rewrite is a narration from Noah's point-of-view and in terms that relate to his life experience. The word-count of the two examples are about the same but somehow the second one reads faster and is simpler to take in. This is further assisted by dividing it into three shorter sentences rather than two longer ones.
As a general rule, be sparing with adjectives and adverbs. If you're using too many of them, you're probably also doing too much telling. Especially don't use adverbs in dialogue, as above in "James said angrily".
Of course, sometimes telling is a perfectly justifiable way of building a narrative bridge between scenes. For instance, you don't want a scene dramatised with a whole load of action and dialogue, when you need to get a character from A to B and the finer details of the journey are not essential to the plot. You don't need to describe every time someone stops at a traffic light in their car, or how many trees they pass on route, or if they have to stop for a pee, and so on. But you would want to dramatise a journey in which a deer runs across the road in front of the car and causes an accident, or your wife goes into labour miles away from civilisation.
On closer inspection, often a bridge passage can be dumped altogether in the same way that scenes are cut in films.
Summarising is another form of telling and a cop-out at the end of a novel for which your readers may not ever forgive you. Novels must have a dramatic conclusion and not give an impression of the writer having run out of steam or lost interest in the project. Summaries at the end of books are for non-fiction.
How do I know all the above?
...Because I'm savagely revising my novel for older children and wincing every time I come across blatant examples of inappropriate telling, or the author standing on her soapbox moralising about some environmental or social issue, when the story is meant to be told in the voice of a 12-year-old.
...Because there's a whole chapter towards the end of the book, posing as one of the book's characters telling their side of the story to Noah, when it is really a summary.
In the above instance, the use of summary isn't because the author was getting bored with the novel, but because she was getting worried about whether publishers would consider her word-count too high for a first novel!
In conclusion, it is quite permissible for a first-draft to contain too much telling, author intrusion, summaries, over-use of adjectives and adverbs, misspellings, grammatical errors etc., as the most important thing is that nothing should interfere with the author's flow of thought as she gets her idea down on paper. But the author must acknowledge it is a first-draft and not final copy.
The majority of published authors have done numerous revisions prior to seeing their final work in print.
Good luck ...
Showing rather than telling is also a thing of literary fashion. Many Victorian writers did it with impunity. Dickens did a whole load of telling, especially of the author intrusion kind, but, in doing so, provided us with a wonderful social history of the time.
Put simply:
"telling" is desciption,
"showing" is dramatisation.
You don't write: Suzie looked really sad. ...telling
You do write Suzie slumped in her chair and hung her head. ...showing
You don't write: 'You are so annoying, I could punch you,' James said angrily. ...telling
You do write: James punched the wall and then shook his fist at Luke. 'I'll rearrange your face if you don't shut your fat gob.' ...showing
And now an example of a first draft extract from my novel for older children. I've coloured green anything constituting "telling", when "showing" would do better:
A smooth-talking presenter, called Denis, flashes a smile stuffed with polished dentures at a rather dim-looking woman called Bev as she coos over a velvet-lined box of cheap jewellery that Denis is holding. His hands have immaculately manicured nails emerging from pinstriped shirt cuffs fastened by gold-plated cufflinks with pretend diamonds.
Apart from having obvious examples of telling, there is also too much information in these two sentences. This holds up the story. The reader doesn't need all this detail, because the reader is intelligent enough to fill in the gaps for himself. Make it as simple as the brush strokes in a Japanese painting and leave the rest to imagination.
And now a revision of the earlier draft:
The presenter, Denis, flashes his false teeth at a woman called Bev, who has straightened hair and a fake tan. She shrieks with delight at some gold loop earrings that Denis shows her, as if they're special, when I've seen ones exactly like them in the Pound Shop. I expect Denis' cufflinks are from the Pound Shop, too.
In the first draft, the author speaks. The twelve-year-old first-person narrator, Noah, might as well have disappeared off for a cup-of-tea backstage. It is a description with all the gaps filled in and with no room left for imagination. Also, all of us have different ideas about what constitutes a "dim-looking" or "smooth-talking" person.
The rewrite is a narration from Noah's point-of-view and in terms that relate to his life experience. The word-count of the two examples are about the same but somehow the second one reads faster and is simpler to take in. This is further assisted by dividing it into three shorter sentences rather than two longer ones.
As a general rule, be sparing with adjectives and adverbs. If you're using too many of them, you're probably also doing too much telling. Especially don't use adverbs in dialogue, as above in "James said angrily".
Of course, sometimes telling is a perfectly justifiable way of building a narrative bridge between scenes. For instance, you don't want a scene dramatised with a whole load of action and dialogue, when you need to get a character from A to B and the finer details of the journey are not essential to the plot. You don't need to describe every time someone stops at a traffic light in their car, or how many trees they pass on route, or if they have to stop for a pee, and so on. But you would want to dramatise a journey in which a deer runs across the road in front of the car and causes an accident, or your wife goes into labour miles away from civilisation.
On closer inspection, often a bridge passage can be dumped altogether in the same way that scenes are cut in films.
Summarising is another form of telling and a cop-out at the end of a novel for which your readers may not ever forgive you. Novels must have a dramatic conclusion and not give an impression of the writer having run out of steam or lost interest in the project. Summaries at the end of books are for non-fiction.
How do I know all the above?
...Because I'm savagely revising my novel for older children and wincing every time I come across blatant examples of inappropriate telling, or the author standing on her soapbox moralising about some environmental or social issue, when the story is meant to be told in the voice of a 12-year-old.
...Because there's a whole chapter towards the end of the book, posing as one of the book's characters telling their side of the story to Noah, when it is really a summary.
In the above instance, the use of summary isn't because the author was getting bored with the novel, but because she was getting worried about whether publishers would consider her word-count too high for a first novel!
In conclusion, it is quite permissible for a first-draft to contain too much telling, author intrusion, summaries, over-use of adjectives and adverbs, misspellings, grammatical errors etc., as the most important thing is that nothing should interfere with the author's flow of thought as she gets her idea down on paper. But the author must acknowledge it is a first-draft and not final copy.
The majority of published authors have done numerous revisions prior to seeing their final work in print.
Good luck ...
Monday, April 26, 2010
Constructive criticism:heed it or stay on the slush pile
When someone in the publishing industry tells you why they're turning down your work, by all means punch a pillow or kick a door to deal with your hurt pride. You may then shove the rejected typescript into a drawer, not wanting to risk further rejection. Alternatively, you may send it out again to someone else, thinking the first person has poor judgement.
Maybe at this stage it's better to tell yourself, if a publisher or agent has bothered to say anything outside of the standard rejection, then it's probably a compliment to me (unless it's to tell you you're absolute rubbish and to give up writing for ever).
If a second or third publisher or agent says the same thing, then don't waste postage on sending your typescript out to anyone else until you've given the offending flaws in your writing major consideration.
This is when it's the right time to put your work aside and examine the alternative techniques successfully published writers employ to say what they want to say. Sometimes you'll come across the very flaws in their writing that you're meant to possess. These flaws, apart from making you wonder how they've managed to get published, will probably also irritate you like crazy. The difference between you and them, is that they have a publishing track record and you're an unknown. This means you can't get away with breaking the rules like them.
One agent, two publishers, and now my son (who is reading for a BA in Creative Writing) have told me that my writing is really good, except for a couple of faults. The first is an occasional slip into telling rather than showing, for example, using adverbs and adjectives where dramatisation would work better. The second is author intrusion, especially when I go all preachy over some moral/ethical issue that I feel strongly about, so it's no longer my fictional character's voice but my voice talking.
Whoops ... I do hope you don't think this post is preachy!
I'm off to do a strenuous rewrite of my latest novel now, having already found a model of brilliant writing in Philip Pullman's "Dark Matter Trilogy", which I've spent the last couple of months reading.
Friday, April 2, 2010
One publisher's meat is many publishers' poison
The list below speaks for itself, although it's impossible to vouch 100 per cent for its accuracy as different sources do quote slightly different figures, but the overall impression is of some shockingly bad calls on the part of publishers and agents over the years. In their defence, they do have the fairly awesome task of second-guessing what novels the reading public will want one year to eighteen months in advance. Also, the version of a novel they reject may not be the one that finally sees print.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (J.K. Rowling):
8-14 rejections... SOLD 400 million copies of all her books added together.
Watership Down (Richard Adams):
26 rejections... SOLD 1 million+ copies.
Lord of the Flies (William Golding):
20 rejections... SOLD 14.5 million copies.
Jonathan Livingstone Seagull (Richard Bach):
140 rejections... SOLD 40 million copies.
Catch-22 (Joseph Heller):
29 rejections... SOLD 10 million copies.
Lust for Life (Irving Stone):
16+ rejections... SOLD 25 million+copies.
A Wrinkle in Time (Madeleine L'Engle):
30 rejections (took 10 years to get published)... SOLD 6 million+ copies.
Carrie (Stephen King):
30+ rejections... SOLD has sold over 350 million copies of all his books together.
The Thomas Berryman Number (James Patterson):
24+ rejections...SOLD 160 million copies of all his books together.
A Time to Kill (John Grisham):
45 rejections (15 publishers/30 agents)... SOLD 60 million + of all his books together.
Does this list encourage or discourage aspiring novelists? Which of the above novels were taken on in a recession? Would they be taken on in this recession if they had landed on a publisher's or an agent's desk? Were there more publishing houses then than now? How many fewer publishers/agents accept unsolicited submissions? Are there any junior editors in the employ of large publishing houses with the time to discover new talent, or guide a promising writer through a rewrite?
To close on a positive note, there is still such a thing as the love factor an editor has for a particular novel. It does happen and why shouldn't it happen with my novel or yours? Meanwhile, us aspiring novelists must keep up our self-belief and determination.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (J.K. Rowling):
8-14 rejections... SOLD 400 million copies of all her books added together.
Watership Down (Richard Adams):
26 rejections... SOLD 1 million+ copies.
Lord of the Flies (William Golding):
20 rejections... SOLD 14.5 million copies.
Jonathan Livingstone Seagull (Richard Bach):
140 rejections... SOLD 40 million copies.
Catch-22 (Joseph Heller):
29 rejections... SOLD 10 million copies.
Lust for Life (Irving Stone):
16+ rejections... SOLD 25 million+copies.
A Wrinkle in Time (Madeleine L'Engle):
30 rejections (took 10 years to get published)... SOLD 6 million+ copies.
Carrie (Stephen King):
30+ rejections... SOLD has sold over 350 million copies of all his books together.
The Thomas Berryman Number (James Patterson):
24+ rejections...SOLD 160 million copies of all his books together.
A Time to Kill (John Grisham):
45 rejections (15 publishers/30 agents)... SOLD 60 million + of all his books together.
Does this list encourage or discourage aspiring novelists? Which of the above novels were taken on in a recession? Would they be taken on in this recession if they had landed on a publisher's or an agent's desk? Were there more publishing houses then than now? How many fewer publishers/agents accept unsolicited submissions? Are there any junior editors in the employ of large publishing houses with the time to discover new talent, or guide a promising writer through a rewrite?
To close on a positive note, there is still such a thing as the love factor an editor has for a particular novel. It does happen and why shouldn't it happen with my novel or yours? Meanwhile, us aspiring novelists must keep up our self-belief and determination.
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