A Necessary Skill to Learn on the Way to a Publishing Contract

I do not have an insider’s view of the publishing industry — I am still unpublished — but I have read enough to know that the days of sitting back and waiting for the royalty checks to come flooding in once we have been published are long gone. Whether we publish the book ourselves or are lucky enough to get a publishing contract, the name of the game is marketing. The irony is that many of us writers are retiring types; if we knew how to sell ourselves, we would probably have reached literary fame a long time ago.

I have entered a writing contest. (No, I am not going to solicit your vote, but if you are interested, the link to my entry is in my previous two blog posts.) I am currently in the lead, but there are a few contestants who are rapidly gaining on me. For me, though, winning is not the name of this game. Learning how to market myself is. Even more than my rank, what pleases me is the number of comments I have been able to garner. Some, I admit, are from friends and relatives, but most are from other members of the site. Members I specifically asked to vote for me, I might add.

The way I figure it, win or lose, I have won. I can take this newfound skill of self-promotion and offer it to potential publishers. It should make them more interested in me as a potential asset since I will be coming to them with more than simply a novel.

That this is the most fun I have had since starting this blog (which was a thrill in itself) is a bonus I hadn’t counted on.

Writing is About the Choices We Make

When we choose to write, we are faced with a universe of choices where all things are possible. Many would-be writers never put a single word on the page because the number of choices to be made seem insurmountable. First, we have to choose what to write about. The topic can be anything: love, abuse, super novas. Next we have to choose how to present the topic. As fiction or nonfiction? As a blog? A poem? A short story? A novel? 

By making these decisions, we begin to limit our universe of choices. A blog has certain criteria to be met; it must be brief and interesting or we run the risk of losing our readers. A short story can contain complex ideas, but a novel has the scope for us to develop those ideas more fully.

Suppose we choose to present the topic as a novel. Now there are more choices to be made. How are we going to write it? First person or third? Sassy, sarcastic, serious? Who is going to be the main character? What does she most desire? Who or what is stopping her from fulfilling this desire? What does she look and act like? What are her internal traits, both her admirable ones and less admirable ones? Who are her allies? Who are her mentors? 

And those choices lead to other choices. What does the character need? (As opposed to what she wants.) Is she going to get what she wants or is she going to get what she needs? For example, maybe she wants to be a homebody, to marry the boy next door, but what she and the story need are for her to become a senator and possibly leave the boy behind.

And so the choices continue, each choice narrowing the story’s universe a bit more.

Some writers love the choosing, the creating, but I love when the weight of those choices become so great that the answer to all future choices can be found in past ones. The character might need to fight off an attacker, and when we try to choose between success and failure, we realize there can be only one outcome. Because of who she is and what she has done, she cannot succeed. To succeed might mean to kill, and she cannot kill anyone even to save her own life.

When the story gets to the point where it seems to make its own choices, it takes on a feeling of inexorability, as if there was always only one way to tell the story.

But, in the end as in the beginning, writing is about the choices we make.   

Describing a Scene in an Interesting Way

One of the search engine terms somebody used to find my blog was “Describe a Scene in an Interesting Way,” and I thought it would be a great subject for today’s post.

The trap even the most successful writers fall into when describing a scene is to simply list the objects in a room or landscape, and a few adjectives thrown about for color or texture do not make the description any more interesting. Writers often cheat by pretending to see the scene through the character’s eyes, but it still comes down to being nothing more than a list.

We are not children padding our flimsy essays with adjectives and adverbs. We are adults who know that the number of words seattlein a story mean nothing; it’s only what the words mean that counts. And in description, those words must count twice: to give us a feel for the setting, and to give us a feel for the character.

Description by its very nature is static; we need to find ways to make it flow with the story. One way is to have the character interact with the setting: to sit in a mahogany armchair with a faded green cushion; to hear the deep notes of the grandfather clock in the corner; to feel the texture of the oriental carpet underfoot, to smell the old leather bindings of the books. Without ever stepping away from the character, we know what the room looks like, including the parts that were not described.

Another way to describe a scene is to pick one significant item and describe it. Perhaps the dusty lace curtains, or the stains on the ceiling where the roof leaked. Even better would be to show what the curtains or stains mean to the character.

We can also describe a scene by showing contrasts. Yellow is brighter when it is next to purple than when it is next to green. Green is brighter next to red than it is to blue. The color combination with the strongest visual impact is black on yellow. I’m not suggesting that we use color in such a way; these are merely examples of how one thing looks different when it is next to something else. Those dusty lace curtains may be in an otherwise spotless room. Or they might be scrupulously clean in a dusty room. Either way, it says more about the character than just describing the curtains or the room.

Describing scenes by sound rather than sight can give the scene movement. We do not perceive sound as being static. A train whistle in the distance is not always the same pitch, is not always the same volume. Even taste seems more dynamic than sight; for example, the taste of the smoky air on a winter day. And smell is the most evocative of all the senses; perhaps the smell of lilacs makes one think of grandmother’s house.

However we decide to describe our scenes, we need to keep our characters in mind. They and their problems are the story. The scenes need to reflect this, to be a part of it.

When we get to the point where we can suggest our character’s inner conflicts by the way we describe the scene, we will be on our way to mastering our craft.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Follow Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

The Scan Test: Paragraph Size, Italics, and Dialogue

Appearances count. This might sound like grade school all over again, but I’m not talking about the neatness of your work. I know your work looks great; you are or you want to be a professional, and you act like it. What I am talking about is the overall appearance of the printed work; what the book, blog, or article looks like as a whole.

You have a great beginning, so you sit back smugly thinking that all a reader has to do is pick up your work and they will be hooked. Not so fast. Even before people read that first line, they quickly leaf through the book or scan the article. If they don’t like what they see, that fabulous first paragraph will never be read.

So, what is it they are looking for?

First, potential readers look at paragraph size. If the paragraphs are too long, they feel that the work will be ponderous; if the paragraphs are too short, they think it will be lightweight. And if all paragraphs are more or less the same size, they get an immediate impression of stagnation. An experienced writer knows how to vary the lengths of the paragraphs according to the flow of the story. Since everything in a story is connected to everything else, the size of your paragraphs should be connected to the rhythm of the story: short paragraphs for action scenes, longer ones for a respite. A variety of paragraph sizes from one to ten lines tell readers you will keep their attention.

Second, potential readers look for italics. An occasional italicized word is good for emphasis. An occasional italicized sentence is a way of indicating the character’s thoughts. But when there are long italicized paragraphs, or even entire italicized chapters, readers lose interest. Italics tell them that those passages are not part of the story, and can be skipped. So if you know most readers won’t read those passages, may even use the sight of them as an excuse not to read the entire work, figure out another way to present the material. I know that some experienced writers fall into the trap of italicizing flashbacks, but they (or their editors) should know better.

Third, potential readers look at dialogue. Long dialogue looks like preaching, and few readers are interested in your sermons. And long sections of one or two word dialogue looks inane. And generally is inane:

“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How are you.”
“Fine, how about you?”
“Can’t complain.”

Even worse is using dialect. Too many apostrophes say that you do not know how to write dialogue. It’s better to use colloquialisms like “That dang fiddle-foot don’t rightly know what he’s talking about.” It gets the point across, and is easier to read.

Now that you’ve passed the scan test, you are ready to hook your reader.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Be Your Own Editor

 Today I took a break from my study of a bestselling writer, (I can handle only so much romance before it makes me cynical). Instead, I picked up a thriller. To say I found it less than thrilling is an understatement. (See what I mean about becoming cynical?) I hope in my search to become a publishable writer I do not lose my love of reading, but I can feel it happening. I get caught up in the words and lose the story.

And the authors are not helping.

In this particular thriller, a character was supposed to be a precise individual who did not use contractions. The writer did fine for most of the first chapter, then forgot what his character’s persona was and started contracting all over the place. So, is the character precise? How do I know if the author does not?

According to Emerson, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” Some authors must think any consistency is an indication of a small mind, or they do not know the meaning of the word. The only consistency I see is poor writing.

Okay, so I will give the author the benefit of the doubt. I know that sitting at a keyboard for any length of time can be rough, and that one can get so involved in one’s own story that one loses track of the words one is typing, but that’s why there are editors.

Are there editors, though? I don’t see much indication of it. Too many elemental mistakes are being made by authors who should know better.

The moral of today’s tale? We must learn how to be our own editors if we hope to reach the brass publishing ring. This blog is no place for a tutorial on editing, but you know how to do it anyway. Make sure you use proper grammar (except for when you purposely do not want to use it). Take out all unnecessary adverbs and adjectives, remembering that most of them are unnecessary. Remove anything, no matter how much you love it, that does not move the story along.

And be consistent.

Cheat Your Way to a Colorful Character

The Luscher color test for gaining accurate psychological information about a person has been around for six decades, and though it is not widely used in the United States, it is prevalent in Europe.

A few years ago, I bought the book, thinking to take the test, but I never could decide which of the colors I liked best; they all looked murky to me. Even if I did manage to arrange the color cards in order of preference, I would have had to go through all the equations to figure out what that order meant, and it seemed to be a lot of trouble for nothing. I set the book aside, promising to take the test some day, and that book has been sitting on the shelf taunting me. But no longer.

I found the test on-line today at colorquiz.com, and took it. Finally. In some respects it was surprisingly accurate. It said I felt restricted and prevented from progressing; that I was seeking a solution to remove these limitations. Which does describe my quest for publication. It also said that the fear of being prevented from achieving the things I want leads me into a relentless search for satisfaction in the pursuit of illusory or meaningless activities. Like this blog, perhaps?

The results were divided into six sections: the existing situation, stress sources, restrained characteristics, the desired objective, the actual problem, and the actual problem 2. Those sections seemed familiar, and then it occurred to me they were similar to the character profile I create when outlining a new novel.

So, here’s how to cheat your way to a colorful character: if you don’t want to go through the trouble of figuring out what your character wants, what stresses him, what his secondary problem is (the primary problem you already know; it’s the story problem) go to the color quiz website, imagine you are your character, and pick the colors your character would choose. Instant profile.

You still have to write the character, but at least you won’t have to worry about making him psychologically realistic.

I meant to be facetious by suggesting this, but now that I think about it, it’s not a bad idea. I might follow my own advice.

What do you call an unpublished writer?

What do you call an unpublished writer? A writer, of course. All it takes to be a writer is to write, and going by the proliferation of blogs on the Internet, almost all of us are writers.

Being a novelist is something completely different. You need to be a writer, certainly, but you also need to know the elements of storytelling, how to create characters that come alive, how to describe a scene without losing the momentum of the story. And then you need to put it all together into a cohesive whole that engages the reader’s attention.

But most of all, you need to actually write the novel, to put your idea into words and get it down on paper or into your word processor. That takes discipline. So does rewriting the same novel perhaps a dozen times until you get it right. Because, as we all know, there are no great writers, only great rewriters.

You do all that, and then one day your novel is finished. You’re proud of yourself for having accomplished something many people only dream about, then the terrible truth comes crashing into you with all the force of a linebacker’s tackle: no one cares. Perhaps your family and friends will care, but even from them you will hear the same self-absorbed comments you get from strangers.

You know the ones I mean:

  1. I could have written a book, but . . .
  2. I always thought my life would make a good book . . .
  3. I wrote a book: My diary.
  4. I’ve written a book; it’s all up here in my head, I just have to get it down on paper.
  5. So? I’ve written a hundred books; they’re all packed away in my closet.

Taking their lack of support in stride, you send out your opus to find you’ve reached another level of indifference. On this level, you are not the only person who had the discipline, the ability, perhaps even the talent to have written a good novel; you are one of hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions. And the agents and editorial assistants who have to plow through those mountains of words don’t care; they haven’t the energy.

If you are lucky, one day your manuscript will be on the right desk at the right time, but until then all you can do is what you’ve always done. You write.

Because, even though no one else knows the truth, you do. You are a writer, and even more than that, you are a novelist.

The Power of Three

 Three is a powerful number that satisfies our need for symmetry. Think how many times it shows up in mythology, fairy tales, and popular culture. A few obvious threes:

Three wishes. Three bears. Three little pigs. Three fates. Three furies. Three graces. Three muses. Three outs. Best two out of three. Three Faces of Eve. Three Days of the Condor. Third time lucky. Love triangle.

So, to make your stories more powerful, harness the power of three.

1. When describing a character or scene, mention three attributes. Also, if a particular attribute needs to be fixed in the reader’s mind, mention it three times (and only three times) during the course of the book, and it will stick.

2. When devising a plot, follow the storyline of The Three Bears. The first time the hero tries to reach her goal, she fails but learns the risks. The second time she tries, she confirms that she’s doing things wrong, but she learns from her mistakes. The third time she tries, she gets it right.

3. Look for patterns in your story. If your character has made love under the stars and perhaps gone to a concert under the stars, mention stars once more to solidify the pattern.

I could give you more ways to make your stories more powerful, but since I’ve given you three suggestions, that should satisfy you.

Stories are our foundation, as necessary to us as love.

Ever since humans first noticed they were different from the other creatures, they (we) have been trying to figure out what specific quality sets us apart. Opposable thumbs? Awareness of self? Awareness of death? It can’t be; other creatures share, or at least seem to share those characteristics.

From the beginning, as humans huddled around the fire, they exchanged stories, and the best storytellers were revered. That is the one trait we humans alone have: the ability to tell and appreciate stories. Stories are our foundation, as necessary to us as love. Stories help us figure out who we are as individuals, and who we are as a people. Stories take us away from our problems, yet they also help us solve them.

We cry at the misfortunes of people we’ve never met, people who never were, people who seem more real to us at times than our own families. And we rejoice in the successes of those story people as if they were our own successes.

With all our sophistication and technology today, we haven’t come far from our primitive beginnings. Where once we huddled as a group around flickering fires, we now huddle singly before our flickering screens, but the need, the basic human need for stories is the same.

Although most of us may never get published, thanks to the Internet we can still reach others with our vision of the world, with our interpretation of it.

There is satisfaction in that, though, to be honest, getting paid would be even more satisfying.

Capturing the Attention of an Editor

 I started to write this blog as an investment in my future, sort of a pre-publicity platform in case I was ever so lucky as to get published and needed a forum.

At first I was satisfied with putting my thoughts into words, and recording what I have learned on my seemingly endless quest for publication, but now I want people to read what I have written. To that end, I am trying to write titles that grab, first lines that compel one to keep reading.

This is a good skill to have if a writer is trying to capture the attention of an agent or editor. We all have this image in our heads of editors and editorial assistants eagerly pawing through the slush pile in search of our literary gems. In truth, all they are looking for is a reason to dismiss our manuscripts. If our first words don’t grab them, too bad. That’s all the time they are going to give us.

And if by chance our first words do entice them to read further? They are going to be looking for any excuse to stop.

So, while I am trying to figure out how to get you to look at my post, I am still investing in my future. Perhaps one day I will write first one compelling sentence, then a second and a third until I have written the literary gem that, all unknowingly, those editors and editorial assistants really are searching for.

Until then? Well, writing a blog is a lot more fun and interesting than playing stupid computer games.