DeepGenre

Madeleine Robins April 29th, 2008

I have an erratic career path.

My first four books were written between 1976 and 1981; book number five took another two years to write (I went to the Clarion SF Writing Workshop; I moved from Boston to New York; I worked part time and then full time, I fell in love, I fell out of love.  Life, right?).  I also started writing SF and fantasy short stories.   When I turned in my last romance (in 1984) I kept writing short stories and started noodling around with a story which grew into a book.  It took me more than ten years to finish that book (worked freelance, picked up my acting career again, fell in love, got married, started working at Tor Books, had a baby, went back to work again, left Tor, left the job after that, edited comics for three years, had another baby).  I sold the book on a partial manuscript while I was still working at Tor, and was more than half-way through it–but it still took what seemed like forever to finish.  After I turned in The Stone War I got a chance to do a work-for-hire novel based on a Marvel Comics superhero–Daredevil.  I wrote that book in about six weeks, from a fiendishly tight outline (remind me sometime and I’ll tell you the hoops you jump through to write tie-in novels) and it was fun.  Then I wrote Point of Honour, and almost immediately afterward, Petty Treason.

Then, two weeks after I turned Petty Treason in in 2002, we moved to California.  My writing path since then has been, um, erratic.  And with the benefit of hindsight and a several-decades-long career, I now realize that my writing history is punctuated by gaps.  Some of them very significant gaps.  I am not, nor do I ever expect to be, one of those 2000-words-a-day-year-in-and-year-out, writers.  But there have been times when I wrote consistently, turning out a book a year or so.  And times when I didn’t, when I felt guilty because I wasn’t writing, or because I wasn’t finishing a book.  Guilt, needless to say, butters no parsnips and is the enemy of the creative process.

But a time has come, at the end of each of these hiatuses, to jumpstart my process and get back to work.  What to do?

Here, in no specific order, are some of the tricks that have worked for me:

• Retyping the stalled manuscript.  Yes, even at book length.  Maybe especially at book length.  Retyping immerses me in the book in a way that merely re-reading and line-editing doesn’t.  I often find myself adding, branching out, finding the places where I went astray, cutting out wholesale chunks.
• Writing “cover copy” for the story.  Nothing focuses what you believe are the salient points of a story like trying to convey it in a punchy, convincing two paragraphs.
• Following The Artist’s Way or some similar program.  The Artist’s Way requires, among other things, that you write three pages, longhand, every morning before you do anything else.  When I was stalled on The Stone War this was one of the things that helped get me moving again.  And you don’t have to follow all the rules the Way suggests: Julia Cameron isn’t going to show up at your house at 6am to make sure that you’re writing before you feed the kids, or that you’re making all your “artist dates.”  The right way to do this is the way that helps you.
• Participating in a writers’ workshop–one where I have to show up in person (nothing against online crit groups; I just found that having to show up was useful to me) and one in which I focus as much on the critiques I’m giving other people as I do on their critiques of my work.
• Reading stuff that makes me want to write.  What is that going to be?  Sometimes it’s fiction that, in some way, approaches what I’m trying to do.  When I was working on Point of Honour I was reading The Maltese Falcon, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, and The Name of the Rose.  If another writer has pulled off a particular technical trick, I may want to read that work for awe and inspiration.

I am reasonably certain that, however long my writing career continues (until they prise my laptop from my fingers, no doubt) there will be lulls in my creative process.  That means I’m always looking for new ways to jumpstart that process.  Got any you want to share?

• Business of Writing , Craft , Novels
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Kate Elliott February 14th, 2008

Reader Adam S queries:
Most publishers I’ve seen ask for a portion of the novel you’re hoping to have published and a synopsis of the story. So where does the multi-volume novel fit into the picture? The publisher isn’t buying all the books right away, just the first (in case the first doesn’t sell well), so the synopsis should be only the first story, right? Do they need detail about where the entire story is heading? Because other than the last scene in the series and a few locations and events along the way, I don’t know what happens between the end of the first book and the end of the last book. How did you handle this with the Crown of Stars series?

First of all, the publishing world has altered significantly since I sold the first book in the Crown of Stars series. The winds of change have howled through, and the paperback rack in the front of the store looks markedly different than it did five years ago much less than it did in 1995 when I sold the partially-written King’s Dragon (then with the working title of Dragon’s Heart) to DAW Books.

I believe I may have sold the Crown of Stars series as a potential trilogy on the basis of a five page synopsis. Which I doubt, after multiple computer changes, I even possess any longer. Nor would that synopsis bear much relationship to the books as they were finally written, although certain plot elements would stand out as unchanged. However, I was able to do that because I already had a track record with DAW Books, having published four Novels of the Jaran with them. In addition, I made the deal for Crown of Stars in the wake of signing a contract to collaborate with Melanie Rawn and Jennifer Roberson on The Golden Key, also for DAW Books.

In this case we’re talking about a multi-volume series by a new author, in today’s market.

It’s an entirely different kettle of worms now. Urban fantasy and paranormal romance are hot. Young Adult remains very strong. Second world fantasy in a series still sells, and I am pretty sure can sell well, and publishers are still looking for new voices, but it isn’t as wild as it might have been ten years ago as people scrambled to find the next Robert Jordan. Laurel K Hamilton is the new Jordan in terms of marketing strength and coat-tails, if one must use that analogy.

Also–and this is important–I’m neither a publisher or an agent. Publishers and agents will have different perspectives than mine, so anything I say must be understood as filtered through my limited understanding and experience and my own biases. Booksellers will have a valuable perspective on this also; seek out their opinions, if you can.

In general, however, and in a simplistic form, this is what I would say:

1) publishers like series.

A strong series generates reader loyalty. There is absolutely nothing wrong with standalone novels, but in marketing terms a standalone novel is a new sell every time even though there may be other compelling angles (reader investment in a particular writer, forex). A series is a known quantity, a story-line or characters or world the reader is already invested in.

I don’t say this to suggest you should write a series over a standalone novel (publishers like standalone novels, too). Or that standalone novels are morally superior to series. Me, personally, I read both with equal pleasure (as long as I like what I’m reading).

2) Think about how you want to structure the volumes and the story within each volume.

You can write a true multi-volume novel (or trilogy) in which each volume is incomplete, a part of a larger whole (think Crown of Stars), or you can write installments in which each individual novel stands more or less alone with some form of a complete plot which is resolved by the end of the book while also advancing a larger overall plot (the earlier Harry Potter books are examples of this method).

To market to market to buy a fat pig?

Have a complete first novel.

In these days where you want a strong follow-up close upon your first publication (no big gaps between books), I personally think you’re better off with a second novel in hand as well, but it isn’t required.

If you have a complete first novel, I suppose you should include a synopsis of that novel, but you absolutely (I think–more knowledgeable folk may know better) must include a synopsis of the rest of the larger story 1) to show that you know where you’re going with this and 2) so the publisher can see you have a colorful journey and a firm destination in mind and larger plot on which they will judge how well the material will hold up to being extended over multiple volumes (you want a fat narrative not a thin one).

If, for instance, your plot consists mostly of “and then there was another encounter” - you’ll have more trouble selling a publisher on the idea of a multi-volume novel. If your plot shows significant chance of twisting turning layering and depth, they’ll be more interested. I’m not actually sure how detailed the synopsis needs to be. I have written few synopses, all of which were pretty sketchy, and even then I’ve never followed those outlines. But you must show you have a long, large plot in mind that can sustain multiple volumes. That doesn’t necessarily mean a detailed 50 page outline; a sketchier outline can show off the big plot questions as well, but you have to be sure to highlight the Bigness and Epic-ness of your plot if you’re going sketchy.

Your strongest selling point remains a well written and exciting first volume, that shows off your capabilities. Show them two well written and exciting volumes, and it’s likely an even better sell because they’ll see volume one isn’t a fluke or the result of ten years of painstaking labor that suggests volume two won’t follow for another ten years.

Beyond that? I’m not sure there is more to do except to start sending material to publishers. Again, as much as the market has seen an explosion in urban fantasy, there are still plenty of new secondary world fantasy writers breaking in and getting a great deal of attention. The market is open. Good luck.

Meanwhile, if any of you all out there have specific insights into the synopsis, I’d love to see your comments here or as posts in your own spaces (if you do that, please flag them here–thanks!) because it’s not a subject I can really say much about on as I am a notoriously poor synopsis/outline writer.

• Business of Writing
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Madeleine Robins December 7th, 2007

Tom Doherty’s blog on the vanishing mass market paperback should be required reading for anyone who is serious about writing genre fiction (or fiction generally, or anything generally, actually). Disclaimer: Tom is the Publisher and President of Tor Books, and I was his assistant for nearly five years. Tom knows mass market publishing better than just about anyone, and more to the point, he is passionate about publishing and books. Not book-shaped salable widgets, not product, but books.

For years Tom has talked about the diminishment of the mass market in places like supermarkets and drug stores. We used to swap stories about the allure of the spinner racks. When I was a teenager and we’d moved out of New York City and into rural Massachusetts, the drug store was my life line to genre fiction. The local libraries didn’t have much by way of SF or fantasy–lots of historical fiction, Regencies, romances of every stripe, but SF and fantasy were still a sort of untouchable literary caste. But in the drugstore there were spinner racks, and every month I’d go (I got so I knew when the stock would be refreshed, and show up that afternoon) and pick up as many new paperbacks as my allowance would permit (in the days when books were fifty cents to a dollar and a quarter you could actually do that). I encountered Suzette Haden Elgin, Damon Knight, Philip K. Dick, Donald Barr, Robert Silverberg, Terry Carr’s wonderful Years’ Best anthologies, as well as Asimov and Heinlein and Herbert and other Usual Suspects. I found writers I would not necessarily notice today because of the sheer volume of SF and fantasy books that are out there. When there are four genre books a month on the racks it’s easier to buy all four; I didn’t worry about whether a book was my kind of SF because I was so happy to have any SF at all. I was forced by circumstance to read whatever there was, and I was the richer for it.

I love bookstores. I loved bookstores when I was a teenager but even then I bought differently at Barnes and Noble or B. Dalton than I did at the drugstore. I’d encounter a new writer at the drugstore, and after that seek that writer’s work at the bookstore. The books from the spinner racks were the doorway drug that led to the harder stuff. Nowadays when I buy a book it’s most likely on a recommendation from a friend, or it’s by a writer I already know, or something I’ve seen reviewed. What I don’t get too often is surprises, that great feeling of opening a book with no idea of what I’d get. Of course some of it was lousy, but a lot of it was at least entertaining, and some of it was really good.

How do you find new books? Do you get any surprises? I think Tom’s right, that the demise of the spinner rack has a lot of impact on my career, on the sorts of people who might once have picked up a book of mine from the spinner rack but now don’t get a chance to do so. There are other ways to get in touch with potential readers (this blog, after all, is one of them). But that surprise is rarer and rarer, and I, for one, don’t know how to replace it.

• Business of Writing , Industry News & Updates , Miscellaneous
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Constance Ash November 26th, 2007

Joss Whedon answers the New York Times, who try to characterize striking writers as latte-sipping dandies.

http://www.firedoglake.com/2007/11/25/joss-whedon-on-the-wga-strike/

[ The easiest tactic is for people to paint writers as namby pamby arty scarfy posers, because it’s what most people think even when we’re not striking. Writing is largely not considered work. Art in general is not considered work. Work is a thing you physically labor at, or at the very least, hate. Art is fun. (And Hollywood writers are overpaid, scarf-wearing dainties.) It’s an easy argument to make. And a hard one to dispute. ]

There is much more, and it is all wise.

Love, C.

• Business of Writing , Industry News & Updates , Media , Miscellaneous
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Kate Elliott October 11th, 2007

Some months ago I received email asking me, “Any advice for first-time fantasy novelists?�

The two short answers, which are not as contradictory as they may seem:

If you can quit, do.

Never give up.

But who ever said I wrote something short?

Really, what can you do except to write as well as you can, revise to the best of your ability at the time, allow yourself room for growth, and nurture the joy you feel in the process?

But if I were giving cold-hearted advice to a first time fantasy novelist, it would go something like this:

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Constance Ash May 27th, 2007

Plus and interview with director and screenwriters, Chris Weitz.

[Referring to the Magisterium - the all-powerful religious body that wields total political power in the world of Lyra, the heroine - he said: "In the books the Magisterium is a version of the Catholic church gone wildly astray from its roots. If that's what you want in the film, you'll be disappointed. We have expanded the range of meanings that the Magisterium represents."

 He added that there would be no specific marketing to neutralise any potential religious backlash in the US. "We're going to let the film talk for itself," he said.

Speaking from his home in Oxford, Pullman told the Guardian: "The Magisterium as I conceived it always did stand for a range of things, including organised religion and secular authority.

"The outline of the story is faithful to what I wrote, given my knowledge of what they've done - and given they have compressed a story that takes 11 hours to read out into two hours or so." ]

Pullman criticizes children’s and young adult television programing in another part of the Guardian Review issue. 

[ Pullman went on to say that fiction loses its value unless it 'tackles the great moral dilemmas of our time'. 'Fantasy, and fiction in general, is failing to do what it might be doing,' he said. 'It has unlimited potential to explore all sorts of metaphysical and moral questions, but it is not doing that.

'You can't leave morality out unless your work is so stupid and trivial and so worthless that nobody would want to read it anyway.

'Taking children's needs seriously is not different from taking every human need seriously,' he said. 'It is absolutely central to a true and humane vision of the whole of life. If we need to challenge the prevailing neo-liberal, market-based religion in order to do it, then we should do so proudly.' ]

Love, C.

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Constance Ash May 4th, 2007

A lot of you probably know about this, but this is the first time I’ve heard of it.

Free Comic Book Day is tomorrow (Saturday, May 5 — which is also the Kentucky Derby, and this year the Queen of England shall be in attendence, as well as my Lexington native pal, T.R. Johnson).  The link is to the NY Times, which requires free registration ….

[ There is no better day to visit your neighborhood comic store than tomorrow: Free Comic Book Day, the annual industry promotion in which participating retailers nationwide will give away titles ranging from “Little Archie� and “The Amazing Spider-Man� to “The Lone Ranger� and “Transformers,� a spectrum as wide as the stores that sell them.  ]

 The article also provides a survey of the best comic retailer in each of the 5 boroughs of NYC.

Love, C.

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Constance Ash May 2nd, 2007

As so many of us have noticed, over the least few years there has been a contraction and elimination of book reviews in the traditional print media.  Recently the pace of this has speeded up, as this article speaks to.

Is this going to be an opportunity for those who have been traditionally shut out of the reviewing / critiquing media, or is this going to ultimately further hurt published writers?

Certainly within the genre communities, online reviewers have proliferated like kudzu in Georgia.  There are so many really good ones, and interesting ones, that I personally have bookmarked, that I cannot keep up with them.   And these don’t include the other review and critique sites for books that are not necessarily genre or even fiction.

Since the publishing industry-book review in newspapers and magazines industry have been so thoroughly entwined  and inter-dependent for so long, and with both industries changing so much, what do you think the future of this will be?

Love, C.

• Business of Writing , Industry News & Updates , Reviews & Criticism
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Carol Berg March 5th, 2007

Lots of good topics arise on our Questions page, some that deserve a somewhat longer answer than the quick response. A few weeks ago, Debbie White asked:

So, published writers: Do you think that a person who has reached a certain skill level will get published if they are persistent enough to find someone who likes their style? (And that if you keep getting rejected, you might want to think about revising further?) Or can even someone who is genuinely skilled and is sending their novels to the right markets with good query letters still not get published simply because they don’t have the right connections or some other ‘luck-based’ thing?

And so to my own answer,

Will everyone who deserves to get published get published?

Alas, no. Would that it were true. But there are many reasons a deserving work won’t hit the shelf. Here are two biggies:

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• Business of Writing , Craft
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Kate Elliott February 23rd, 2007

ehjones asks:

But if writers write every day, especially as much as I’ve been lately, isn’t there a chance of burnout?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not feeling it yet.  I’m still going strong and working on a short story for entry into the writers of the future contest.  But is there a point where a writer just runs out of steam and has to step back, take a breath, and close the laptop for a few weeks or so?

My short answer to this question is:  you’ll know it when you get there.  Until you get there, don’t worry about it.

My long (long) answer:

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