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My Blog
Everyday thoughts on Writing
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Posted on Monday, May 20, 2013 8:42 AM
Whatever your art, never be afraid to ask others in the field for their help. Those who are put-off by this matter about one-millionth as much as those who will reach deep insides themselves and provide a hand-up. |
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Margo Christie: Posted on Sunday, July 08, 2012 9:26 AM
Ah, the nurturing quality of a summer rain. When I was a child, my sister and I would don our bathing suits to tramp around in a rain strorm, our sopping hair slapping our backs as we splashed barefoot through ankle-deep puddles. We’d toss our heads back to gaze skyward at the unrelenting downpour, letting fat drops pelt our hot, dirty faces. Perhaps because we were raised by dysfunctional, alcoholic parents, no one told us this wasn't okay, not even with the threat of lightening strikes. Today, I remember this as one of the freeing experiences of youth in the lush Baltimore suburb where I grew up. Those were the days before adolescence, before my self-image got kidnapped by teen magazines that warned against going around in public looking like a drenched sheep dog. Yesterday it rained buckets in the Denver area. Indeed, it appeared to be raining buckets already to the south and west, as my fiancé and I gazed at the horizon from our home near Old Town Arvada. I wanted to go for a walk. Like Henry David Thoreau, who described his immediate environment as so full of nuance and surprise as to render travelling elsewhere unnecessary, I like to get to know my surroundings. John, on the other hand, is a bit more reserved. An amateur weather man, he prides himself on being able to read the horizon. After 9 years as his partner, I should know his predictions are nearly always accurate. But I persisted and he lovingly obliged, changing into practical shoes, locating his umbrella to embark on a walk through Old Town with me. By the time we reached Grandview Avenue, a high point from which the dark, foreboding horizon was especially visible, a light rain had begun to fall. He announced he was turning back. Again, maybe it is due to my dysfunctional childhood, but I rarely let weather – or anything – deter me from doing what I yearn to do. Telling him I’d meet him back at the house, I pressed on, flipping open my 1960s vintage umbrella as I proceeded across the Grandview Avenue Bridge to the other side of Wadsworth Bypass. There, the houses are Victorian and irrigation water is provided via a drainage ditch that runs along the sidewalk. There, every home has a small pump house somewhere in the yard and the gurgle and trickle of water is pleasantly ever-present. It’s a beautiful old neighborhood, country-like and reminiscent of a simpler time, the time in which I grew up, perhaps. By the time I reached Marshall Street, my usual turning-around point, I was in the midst of a torrential storm. Sheets of rain blew sideways, pelting my chest and abdomen, soaking my clothes. Lightening strikes lit up the sky, and I have to admit I worried a bit about that lightening-rod of a two-inch metal tip at the top of my umbrella. But I didn’t collapse it. Trusty old vestige of a time when products were built to last, that umbrella never once turned inside-out, even when the wind blew sheets of rain under it and across my face. My hair, except for the very ends of it, remained completely dry for the entire walk. My shoes were an entirely different matter. After five minutes or so of downpour, there were rivers of water running down the streets and sidewalks. Like the child of 40-some years ago – bare feet slapping across wet pavement and splashing in puddles – I trudged through those rivers, joy-filled and laughing. Like getting baptized, I was reconnecting with a lost, primal me, the Artist-Child of Julia Cameron’s creativity-provoking self-help books. According to Cameron, most of us have a creative inner child, a child who was taught early-on that painting, drawing, writing, and other creative pursuits are the impractical pastimes of air-headed dreamers. That child is playful but bruised; and needs to be teased out of hiding. “Silly,” “irresponsible” behavior like tramping around in a rain storm is one way to reach that child. Walking back through Old Town, I watched people dash from their cars to bars and restaurants, heads huddled against the downpour. I passed a beauty salon, where all activity seemed to cease as stylists gathered at the window, doubtlessly glad they were dry inside. Nearing our house, I passed an apartment balcony, where a young woman sat Buddha-like beyond the open sliding door, gazing outward at the passing storm. She smiled at me and I smiled back, a connection that seemed based on a primal understanding of the nurturing quality of rain. |
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Margo Christie: Posted on Sunday, June 17, 2012 9:01 PM
I’ll Know I’ve Made it as a Writer When . . .. . . I finish a whole manuscript. . . . I learn how to rewrite that whole manuscript. . . . I get five/ten/fifteen/one hundred/etc rejection letters from real-life agents. . . . I knuckle down and rewrite the book again. And again. And again. Etc. . . . I get a request for the whole manuscript from a real-life agent. The above is taken from the blog of Australian Sci-Fi writer Justine Larbalestier, whose list includes more than 40 criteria -- many of them hilarious, most of them poignant, all of them a bitter bite of reality. As I read them for the first time, my reaction was to wonder why I keep at this writing game. It's fiercely competitive; overly-dependent on who you know and your ability to network. The profit margin is so iffy agents and editors are highly-unwilling to take chances on unknowns. Add to that the fact that fewer and fewer people reads novels anymore, especially novels of the type that I write. I write literary fiction. In a nutshell, that means character- rather than plot-driven. That's not to say there's not a plot. There is, of course. Characters have to get from point A (problem/crisis) to point B (resolution) somehow, and that somehow is the plot -- the series of events that move the character along. The difference between literary novels and the more mainstream genres is that literary novels are heavy on character development. In other words, character growth and struggle are the plot. There's no crime to solve; no mystery to unravel; no fantastic, futuristic device to drive the action forward. There's a sympathetic character we can identify with. This character wants something very badly; is often in a moral or psychological quandary over what they want and how to get it. We want what they want because we like them; and the plot lies in how they change and grow as a result of getting or not getting what they want. Literary novels are among the least popular these days. In this high-tech age where questions are answered with the click of a mouse, readers want immediate action. They don't want to get to know characters; don't want to bear witness to their uncomfortable wriggle out of a dilemna. So why not write crime thrillers or murder mysteries, you might ask. I'd likely improve my chances at getting to the fifth criteria on Justine's list -- getting a request for a full manuscript from a real-life agent. The answer is that I do what I do because I love it. I write literary fiction because I love to read literary fiction. I have more interest in what makes people tick than in how to solve crimes or build time machines. In short, I'm intrigued by what French writer André Malraux called "The Human Condition." Asking me to write fantasy or mystery would be like asking James Brown to record the greatest hits of The Carpenters. I love a novel that makes me cry when its characters cry; leap for joy when they triumph. I love the sense of fellow-feeling I get reading about something I've felt or experienced. I love knowing characters so well I feel I've lost my best friend when the novel ends. I love giving this to my potential readers (if, indeed, I ever get any!). I love symbolism. Real life is full of it and, when used to good effect by a literary masters like Scott Fitzgerald and Toni Morrison, it's pure genius. I like a novel that reminds us where we've been and gives us a glimpse, perhaps a foreboding, of where we're headed. I don't want anything as quick and tidy as the unraveling of a crime. I want to know why we do what we do, even when the insights are ugly. When I hit my mark without even trying; when a passage or a chapter that kept me awake countless nights finally comes together, there's nothing better than this writing game. When I get to know my characters so well they seem to write themselves, the feeling is better than any high I tried in my sorely mis-spent youth. That's what keeps me going when, despite finishing surprisingly well in the 2012 ABNA, despite the stellar reviews I now can use in my pitch, I haven't yet gotten to Justine's #5. On that note, I'd like compose my own list of writing criteria. You know you're a writer when you keep slogging away at novel #2 even though novel #1 has yet to get much notice. You know you're a writer when writing is the first thing you do every morning, 7 days a week. You know you're a writer when every time you encounter a unique individual or situation, you think "There's a story there." You know you're a writer when the thought that your novel may never see the light of day wells you up with tears. And finally, you know you're a writer when you've written a novel-length manuscript complete with deep, compelling characters and a believable plot; when, despite the fact it never got edited by anyone but yourself, it finished in the top 1% of a major novel contest. More to come! Cheers and Peace, Margo
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Margo Christie: Posted on Sunday, June 03, 2012 5:53 PM
As a writer moves through the often-lengthy, always-tormenting process of getting from written word to published novel, how does he or she know when a manuscript is truly ready to market to agents and editors? Every agent's website I've visited cautions writers to send only their best work, yet writing is such a solitary process that it's hard to know when a manuscript has reached its best. Indeed, even best-selling authors admit their work is never really 'finished.' In a Writer’s Digest interview of a few years ago, Sara Gruen of Water for Elephantsfame admitted to jotting potential changes in the margins of her already-published novel while giving a public reading! Need more be said about achieving (or never really achieving) one’s personal best? At this early point in my publishing game, as I slog through the process of getting These Days from semi-finalist in a now-finalized contest to agent-represented manuscript, the answer that comes to mind is this: A manuscript is ready to market when an agent who didn’t ask to see it responds to it favorably. On that note, I’ve decided to keep a weekly blog on the process of getting These Days into the hands of an interested agent. Comments are welcome. I especially look forward to hearing from anyone who's been here before and anyone who finds these words beneficial. Unpublished writers, take heart! You're not alone and this is not a wilderness! About six months ago I sent a pitch, synopsis and first 50 pages of my manuscript to an agent whose name I'll leave out for now, as I plan to query her again. As so often happens in this highly-competitive world in which agents receive hundreds, even thousands of submissions each week, I got no reply. Many books on writing for publication later, I've taken to heart Susan Page's words of wisdom for unpublished writers: If you're published, by all means say so. If not, say something else. In other words, point out whatever it is about you that makes you stand out. Needless to say, "unpublished" lumps you onto the heap of others whose submissions will likely end up in the virtual slush pile. I therefore decided to replace "I'm as yet unpublished," with "These Days is my first novel," followed by a blurb about my second novel -- also important to agents, all of whom profess an interest in "Managing careers, not individual books." I also recalled another Writer's Digest article, in which the importance of entering contests as a way of getting one's name 'out there' was emphasized. I heard about the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award on NPR's On the Media, then, in an experience of what Julia Cameron calls "serendipity," I heard about it a second time in an e-mail from Create Space, Amazon's self-publishing partner. It was as if the "Great Creator" had caught me napping and decided to give me another nudge! At first, I was skeptical. I've little interest in self-publishing. But the contest is open to unpublished, English-language novels of 50,000 - 150,000 words and there's no obligation to self-publish, so I decided to give it a try. Indeed, my name got out there, in a small but not insignificant way. Thirty-year publishing veteran and renowned literary agent Donald Maass was one of the contest panelists; and my second prize finish garnered These Days a highly-favorable review from Publisher's Weekly. It is the latter that I hope will give my pitch letter the boost it needs to get noticed. My initial thought was to query Don Maass -- Send him 3 mylar balloons anchored by my gift-wrapped 365-page manuscript. He's read it already; the balloons are but a way to help him remember it. Then, while reading his industry help book, "The Breakout Novelist," it occurred to me that he's not interested in manuscripts that need ornamentation to get them remembered. He's interested in damned good writing. And, as he devotes an entire chapter of The Breakout Novelist to selecting an agent, I decided to heed his advice and NOT select the first agent that comes to mind. Mr. Maass, though you scare me with your thousand-and-one ways to deepen my characters, fire-up my plot, add tension to my every written word, I know you know what you're talking about. I'll query you later. In the meantime, I'll utilize your character-deepening, tension-building tools in the writing of my next novel. So, after tweeking my pitch to include my newly-won accolades, I got to work researching agents. Writer's Digest comes out with a yearly list of agents accepting submissions, many of them categorized by genre and with submission details included. That said, it's best to check an agency's website for their specific guidelines. Last week, I cold-queried two. First was Peter Rubie of Fine Print Literary Management. Peter is a former professional jazz musician who admits to being a "sucker for outstanding writing." As These Days is jazz-themed, I felt a potential connection there. Need I add that I believe These Days to be outstandingly-written? If I didn't, I'd have ulcers by now! If I didn't, I wouldn't have spent every spare minute of the past 5 years of my 40-hour a week, working-girl life writing and re-writing it! Second was Doris S. Michaels of the DSM Agency, who represents Sarah McCoy (The Time it Snowed in Puerto Rico). As McCoy is a fairly recent success story with just two novels under her belt, I know Ms. Michaels is a risk-taker with a passion for divining new talent. Thus far I've received no replies, but its only been a few days. Kudos are in order for the DSM Agency, though. At least they send an auto-reply stating they've received your work. Call me an eternal optimist, but I can't help but feel there's a sign there! |
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Posted on Thursday, May 31, 2012 9:53 AM
With deftness of characterization and quick plot progression, Charles Kelly has created a worthy tale of a real-life, early-20th Century female lawyer, investigator and human rights activist. " Beautifully descriptive and quickly progressive. Charles Kelly manages to do with 9 pages what the other 2 General Fiction finalists fail to do with 15. That is, he sets the scene and reveals character motivation with as few words as possible, all the while unveiling the plot line bit-by-bit and just enough to keep me reading! As well, his description of early 20th Century New York hits its mark without bogging me down with windy description. Likewise, his use of small details to reveal character motivation -- Kron's somewhat chauvinistic yet tender admiration of his female lawyer/detective employer, for example. Kron is clearly in love with Grace Humiston, yet Kelly is quick to show the impossibility of this love. They live, after all, at the turn of the 20th century. A low-brow investigator like Kron, having scraped his way up out of Hell's Kitchen into the employ of a higher-pedigree married professional, wouldn't dare dwell too long on his boss's athletic frame and fine fitting dress in that day and age, now would he? Bravo! You've won my vote! " |
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Posted on Saturday, May 26, 2012 9:36 PM
The Finalists in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award have been announced. I'm sorry to say These Days did not make it, but making it to the top 50 out of 5,000 is quite an accomplishment. These Days is my first attempt at novel-writing, and I'm quite pleased to have finished in the top 1%. In the days to come, I'll be using the wonderful review received by Publisher's Weekly to market my manuscript to agents and editors. Check out the finalists' entries at Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award web page. There's some worthwhile reading there. The winner is chosen by customer vote, so be sure to cast yours. Thus far, Charles Kelly's Grace Humiston and the Vanishing will be getting mine, but I've yet to read The Beautiful Land. |
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Posted on Tuesday, April 10, 2012 12:06 PM
Excerpts from op-ed by Annie Murphy Paul, New York Times, March 18, 2012 "AMID the squawks and pings of our digital devices, the old-fashioned virtues of reading novels can seem faded, even futile. But new support for the value of fiction is arriving from an unexpected quarter: neuroscience. Brain scans are revealing what happens in our heads when we read a detailed description, an evocative metaphor or an emotional exchange between characters. Stories, this research is showing, stimulate the brain and even change how we act in life. ...." "What scientists have come to realize in the last few years is that narratives activate many other parts of our brains as well, suggesting why the experience of reading can feel so alive. Words like “lavender,” “cinnamon” and “soap,” for example, elicit a response not only from the language-processing areas of our brains, but also those devoted to dealing with smells. In a 2006 study published in the journal NeuroImage, researchers in Spain asked participants to read words with strong odor associations, along with neutral words, while their brains were being scanned by a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) machine. When subjects looked at the Spanish words for “perfume” and “coffee,” their primary olfactory cortex lit up; when they saw the words that mean “chair” and “key,” this region remained dark. The way the brain handles metaphors has also received extensive study; some scientists have contended that figures of speech like “a rough day” are so familiar that they are treated simply as words and no more. Last month, however, a team of researchers from Emory University reported in Brain & Language that when subjects in their laboratory read a metaphor involving texture, the sensory cortex, responsible for perceiving texture through touch, became active. Metaphors like “The singer had a velvet voice” and “He had leathery hands” roused the sensory cortex, while phrases matched for meaning, like “The singer had a pleasing voice” and “He had strong hands,” did not. Researchers have discovered that words describing motion also stimulate regions of the brain distinct from language-processing areas. In a study led by the cognitive scientist Véronique Boulenger, of the Laboratory of Language Dynamics in France, the brains of participants were scanned as they read sentences like “John grasped the object” and “Pablo kicked the ball.” The scans revealed activity in the motor cortex, which coordinates the body’s movements. What’s more, this activity was concentrated in one part of the motor cortex when the movement described was arm-related and in another part when the movement concerned the leg. The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated. Keith Oatley, an emeritus professor of cognitive psychology at the University of Toronto (and a published novelist), has proposed that reading produces a vivid simulation of reality, one that “runs on minds of readers just as computer simulations run on computers.” Fiction — with its redolent details, imaginative metaphors and attentive descriptions of people and their actions — offers an especially rich replica. Indeed, in one respect novels go beyond simulating reality to give readers an experience unavailable off the page: the opportunity to enter fully into other people’s thoughts and feelings. The novel, of course, is an unequaled medium for the exploration of human social and emotional life. And there is evidence that just as the brain responds to depictions of smells and textures and movements as if they were the real thing, so it treats the interactions among fictional characters as something like real-life social encounters. " Raymond Mar, a psychologist at York University in Canada, performed an analysis of 86 fMRI studies, published last year in the Annual Review of Psychology, and concluded that there was substantial overlap in the brain networks used to understand stories and the networks used to navigate interactions with other individuals — in particular, interactions in which we’re trying to figure out the thoughts and feelings of others. Scientists call this capacity of the brain to construct a map of other people’s intentions “theory of mind.” Narratives offer a unique opportunity to engage this capacity, as we identify with characters’ longings and frustrations, guess at their hidden motives and track their encounters with friends and enemies, neighbors and lovers. ...." |
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Posted on Wednesday, April 04, 2012 10:48 AM
In a rare recent interview, Baltimore writer Anne Tyler called the initial stage of novel-writing a "wretched" time in which the characters resemble puppets being mechanically manipulated across the page. Fledgling writers, take heart! This is coming from an award-winning author of a dozen or more novels. An excerpt from the interview follows: And beginning the book, any book, says Tyler, who is frank about the pleasures and pains of her process, is "wretched." "I have nothing to say. In fact, that's the first thing that occurs to me as I sit down with my piece of paper: I have nothing to say. Why do I think I could do this? And the first pages that I write are just the most mechanical pages where characters are being moved around like puppets." She thought The Beginner's Goodbye might be her last book, only to realize — not at the beginning of the book but somewhere in the middle — that she enjoys writing too much. "I always say, when I die and go to heaven, I'm going to have an 11-year-old daughter and a new cat and I'm going to be in the middle of a book. I'm just trying to get there."
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