Write like no one is reading?

I have a confession: I’m neurotic.

yup, neurotic like I've been staring at the eclipse...

What do you mean you already knew? Oh, right, because I’m a writer. Okay. Well, it’s true. Sometimes writing has me seesawing between the pits of despair and egomania. I’m always looking for ways to shore up the crazies as I write, and lately I’ve been struggling with audience. Not who they are, mind you, but that there could conceivably be many. I know, that’s sort of crazy because I’m a writer and having tons of people read my stuff is sort of the whole reason for writing in the first place. But when I think about those hungry masses waiting for my (not yet written, signed, or contracted book) it’s sort of intimidating.

I know, talk about first world problems, but this is what gets me up early to start pounding away at the keyboard. This is completely neurotic because no one can know what path they will take. For instance, even if my query bait gets the attention of an agent, there's no guarantee it'll go any further than an agent's in box. That's publishing, the harsh cruel truth of publishing. So my imaginary reader problem could be a many many years into the future problem.

But that problem is hurting me now. My guess is because writing has to come from somewhere deep. You can’t just write fluff. There’s plenty of fluff out there, but I’m not interested in writing those books. I want to write books that give people something (wow, I really sound conceited there). So how do I keep in mind the whole reason I write, and yet keep the intimidating possible future readers at bay?

There’s an old saying:

Work like you don’t need the money

Dance like no one is watching

Love like you’ve never been hurt

It’s good advice, but it’s hard to apply to writing. I mean would that be "Write like no one is reading"? Let me tell you, I would write very differently if I were the only person ever to read. I would probably write nothing but Mary-Sue fan fic where the MC was an only slightly veiled version of myself. And our plucky heroes would always win by some crafty bit of almost magic that wasn’t revealed until the second to last chapter.

Okay, that would be too boring even for me, but the point is, we tell stories for other people. It’s to communicate something (sometimes just a fun story full of escapism, mind), so how to keep readers in mind without letting them drive us into a darkened, nonthreatening space?

Liz over at Myself without the shell told me about the one person. Pick one person in the world who you’re writing for. Just one. Then the hoards of readers don’t seem so intimidating. You’re not writing for them, you’re writing for that One Reader.

I couldn’t think of anyone good, so I picked an author I’ve enjoyed. That’s not really going to work out in the long run. Just imagine how crushing it would be if your One Reader was a real person who then read your books and didn’t like them. Yikes! So I immediately took this author and I extrapolated them into an imaginary person.

Now my imaginary reader, let’s call this person the Alpha Reader provides a certain amount of comfort. When I’m in a bind I just ask myself “What would Alpha Reader enjoy?”

Usually the answer is to blow something up.

I like explosions too, so I think this new method might really work for me.

What about you? Do you have an Alpha Reader? Do you keep your Alpha Reader a secret? I’m embarrassed to admit that mine may be inappropriate because I’ve never even met said author. (and again, how embarrassing if said author ever did read it and didn’t like it. Talk about awkward!)

So, you want to enter a contest

It’s no surprise that I’m a complete contest junkie. I think I love them because they have that feel of promise. There’s a deadline and everything. Unlike querying, you know EXACTLY when you’ll hear back. It’s very tempting.

But here’s the deal, contests are not a short cut to the front of the query line. You know how you get an agent through a contest? The same way you get an agent through a query letter. You ready for this?

The formula is really simple to say, but really, REALLY hard to do.

You write a spectacular book.

That’s it.

Spectacular. Excellent. Knock my socks off and send me to the moon in my need to join your fan-club good. You want a book that is exceptionally good.

Not okay, or good, but a book that makes people's knees weak with the need to read it. The terrible truth is that there are thousands of good unpublished books out there. Thousands. Probably tens of thousands, if you consider all the books that were trunked, or made it to the acquisition committee but never translated into the big times.

Your book has to be better than all of those.

“But Rena, my book is awesome sauce on toast, and I still can’t get any query love.”

Man, I hear you there. I’m not going to lie. This is a really hard business. Your book has to be awesome. It has to seem like something the agent can sell. And it must be written well. Like better than great. As in you’ve sent it through twenty sets of eyes, and all of them came up with “This is awesome, the only problem I saw was on page 237 where you had two spaces after a period.” This might be a touch of an exaggeration, but remember that you make your book its absolute best before you query or enter a contest.

I know this is daunting, but it’s the book that matters. You can write the world’s greatest pitch, and get a full request from every agent in a contest, but that’s not going to translate into representation if your book isn’t awesome.

I hated this advice when I first started querying, but it’s absolutely true. Requests are not representation. There are no gimmicks. Your book must be spectacular.

Now, having said that, it doesn’t hurt to have a really stellar pitch and a spectacular query letter.

In the end though, it’s the book that will get you the attention you’re hoping for.

I know I hated this advice when I was getting started, but I came around to it in the end (got enough partial rejections to “get it” I guess). So I’m curious what advice did you hate getting that turned out to be completely true and eventually useful?

On Contests, disenfranchised writers, and commercial success

 

I don’t know if any of you witnessed the dust up over at Cupid’s Literary Connection on Friday, but it’s had me thinking about contests and writers all weekend long.

Some background: Cupid got trolled. She responded in a very professional manner. Unfortunately, the attacks were pretty personal, so she had to delete the most offensive comment. It’s really too bad, I sort of like giving people enough rope to hang themselves, but I can see where Cupid was coming from. Good on her for responding with the calm of a steely-eyed missile man (that’s a nerdy NASA compliment).

More background: It was a guest post by Dahlia about who should enter contests and why. Zang! She was spot on, and I have to sheepishly admit that I have violated her “If your novel isn’t ready, don’t submit it to a contest. You are just wasting our time.” (Hangs head in shame and considers littering up inboxes with apologies and thank you notes).

What was controversial about Dahlia’s statements was something I thought everyone knew: If your manuscript has been making the contest rounds, consider not entering every single contest. She rightly stated that many, many contests have all the same agent judges. They like contests; that’s how they play. Simple as that. Which means that if you get your stuff in front of the same agent more than once, they can see how your submission is (or is *not* changing), but pretty much, if they’ve seen it twice and passed both times, they really aren’t interested. Dahlia suggested that if you’d already put your manuscript out that you be considerate and not stick it out there again and again and again. She suggested that such a write might want to give someone else a chance to get their work in front of agents.

I totally understand why some people were upset about that idea. But she’s pretty much spot on.

So why would writers keep throwing out their trodden down manuscripts over and over so much that she would suggest that some people with tired manuscripts leave off for a while? As writers, we sometimes start to feel desperate about our work. “Will I ever get published?” “Why won’t an agent just read my manuscript?” “Why is this taking so long?” “Holy Krakatoa, am I going to have to trunk another novel and start this business over from scratch?????” “Please dear god of literary awesomeness, let THIS novel be the one. Pretty please.”

It’s easy for these thoughts to become the blackened vitriol of the disenfranchised. Perhaps you’ve heard a few:

“Agents never sign clients from the slush.”

“Agents never read query letters unless they already know you.”

“Agents are only interested in commercial drivel.”

“Agents are three horned devils who only wear Prada and Jimmy Choos.”

Okay, maybe that last one is on to something, but I can honestly say that the whole idea of the first three statements are utterly negated by a shred of logic.

Statement one “Agents never sign clients from the slush.”

This one is so laughable, I don’t even think it’s worth mentioning that the number of clients signed by a contest versus those who get signed from the slush? It’s not even a contest (see what I did there), it’s something ridiculous like 95% of clients signed come from the slush.

Statement two “Agents never read query letters unless they already know you.”

Then what is the point of being open to queries? I mean really, if they’re so busy that they only read queries from people they know, they have a mode for that. It’s called the “I’m closed to queries except for by referral.” Yeah, I know, it’s crazy the information you can find out about an agent by doing some research!

Statement three “Agents are only interested in commercial drivel.”

Sigh, internet, you make me so sad some days. Yes, agents want something commercial, and I understand if there are really popular books that have both massive fan followings and massive detractors (cough coughtwilightcough cough), but to insinuate that all commercial successes are drivel shows an incredible closed mindedness that should be educated by watching Phineas and Ferb Across the Second Dimension. No really, it’s a great movie, a commercial success, and aimed at children so the content isn’t too mentally challenging.

It’s also brilliant in a super nerdy way.

And there are lots of nerds in the world.

There are also a ton of screaming teenage girls in the world. That doesn’t mean that every boy band is untalented and incapable of singing a real song. It just doesn’t hurt their music that they’re cute and overproduced. Same with books.

My point is just because it’s commercial doesn’t mean it lacks emotional value.

As writers, when we fall into those desperate places, and those disenfranchised thoughts start to turn our heads inside out, it’s time to take a break. See the world not from your own corner, but take a look around you. I get that life isn’t the basket of roses Annie promised, but that doesn’t make it a pit of depravity either. Writing is very insular, and sometimes we need a moment or two away from the publishing scene to really create something that will knock the judges off their podiums.

Take a break. Recharge. Write what you love. And for the love of chocolate, don’t take your frustrations out on anyone, especially not the contest providers. Now, go watch The Kid President if you’re having a hard time, and get back to writing (it’s the only part that matters until you sign or decide to self publish).

Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to go offer my services to some of these bloggers who are always hosting the contests I LOVE entering. What they do is above and beyond, and I’m in awe of their paying back (or forward or sideways).

p.s. I didn't talk about people charging for contests, but that's because I don't have a deep meaningful answer for that. If you feel entering a contest is worth paying the paltry fee, then do it. If you don't, then don't enter, simple as that.

A steaming hot side of Tea Theft

I was going to write you all another sappy post about how much I’m in love with my novel in edits, but even I can’t take the syrupy sweetness anymore.

So let’s talk cats.

Long ago, I decided that cats are something of the villains of the pet kingdom. I have two cats and two dogs. My cats are Puck and Gimli (Underfoot Toe-Slayer), and they rule the house with an iron fist of tyranny.

Despite having two 70lbs dogs, scraps go to the cats first (because the dogs are afraid of the cats!). The dogs sleep in the cat beds, while the cats luxuriate on the expansive doggy beds. The dogs tiptoe around Puck, knowing that if they look at her askew, she’ll rearrange their faces for her own enjoyment.

You think I'm scared of your cage?

Puck is the epitome of a cat in need of a diet, weighing in at 14 (!) pounds. She’s a Russian Blue, but we got her from the pound. Russian Blues were bred to take down small game, a heritage she delights to remind us if we ever let her outside (which we stopped doing when we noticed how nice the coyotes in our neighborhood looked!). Puck embodies the brutish sort of villain, the street tough. I’ve seen her pick fights with the dogs because they had the audacity to breathe in her general direction. She’s like a mobster thug: she doesn’t say much, but when she does, you know you’ve had a talking to. I once read a bunch of cat Haikus, and this is the one that describes puck best.

“Rule for today,

Touch my tail, I shred your hand.

New rule tomorrow.”

Gimli Underfoot Toe-Slayer on the other hand has a somewhat more subtle approach to villainy. I suppose this could have something to do with his diminutive stature tipping the scales at a whopping 7 lbs (between the two of them, we’re doomed for finding a cat diet to fit the needs of our house, erg!). His philosophy on life boils down to: “All your teas are belong to us.” 

This is my hoomin. Git ur own.

He’s a thief. He doesn’t pick fights with the dogs, he snuggles up and sleeps with them, then steals their food once they fall asleep. There isn’t a horizontal surface of the house that hasn’t been climbed by him, and he colluded with the dogs to commit house-plant-murder. Then he made the evidence look like a dog had done it when he cleaned all the dirt off his fur by rubbing it on the dog.

He does get himself into trouble from time to time, so I don’t think his villainous plans are well thought out. He’d be the kind of cat burglar with the elaborate plan to get into the vault, but no idea how to get out. Sometimes I wonder if he’s a little more like Captain Jack…

His cat haiku is

“Grace personified,

I leap into the window.

I meant to do that.”

And how about you, got any outrageous my-cat-opened-the-door and let all the chickens out of the henhouse stories?

IWSG: There is no thick skin

Here is my monthly contribution to The Insecure Writer’s Support Group. If you haven’t heard of this yet, be sure to check out the NinjaCaptain, hop on the Linky, and go say hi to the Co-hosts Misha  and Joylene.

This month, I have a confession. Most of you already know that I spent a ton of time working on a story that wasn’t exactly the book of my heart. I enjoyed the story. It was fun, it was—well, lighthearted isn’t the word for it—not as intense from an emotional stand point.

I should preface with: it was a NOVEL. I wrote the bloody thing, poured my heart and soul into it (like you do with all novels). I worked; I revised; I rewrote, and I rerevised. In short, I didn’t give that novel a half attempt. I Worked. Hard. I polished it up and got it all spiffy and clean.

Still, it was not the novel of my heart. Not even close. In fact, I sort of felt like it was a bit of a throw away project because of some feedback I’d gotten from agents. So, expectations low, I sent that novel out to go collect me some rejections. It would be practice, I told myself. Everyone needs practice. It would help me develop a thick skin.

I didn’t query widely, in fact, it sort of went to the usual suspects as far as agents go. I was pleased that it got a number of partial requests (that was much better than I’d expected frankly). Mostly it got form rejection and silence.

In the mean time, I did what you’re supposed to do: I moved on. I had just finished a first draft, and while that stewed, I wrote another first draft. Then I went back and started working on the previous first draft. I fell absolutely in love with that book all over again. I mean head over heels, laughing out loud at my own work (I’m such a dork!) in love. Rapturous love. I want to grab people on the sidewalk and shake them until they go read my book (I should probably come up with a better market strategy).

Then something happened that I didn’t expect: I got a rejection letter for the practice novel. Not just any rejection letter: the last. The last rejection letter for the practice book.

I bawled.

I hadn’t cried at a rejection letter in over a year, and I cried.

Not because I was weeping for the practice novel, oh no. That novel I’d already called it quits on twice. No, I was crying because the book I love is now my query bait. This book could break my heart. I kid you not, this book is me laid bare (why yes, I do fight space pirates in my spare time, why do you ask?). There are moments in that book that are so raw for me that I had to put it away because just the idea of it getting a rejection sends me into fits of chocolate.

In short, despite practicing, I have no skin at all, thick or otherwise. The notion of having a thick skin has always been false. No one can. The only things you can do are learn how to deal with it better, or fall into apathy.

I’ll admit, I was pretty apathetic with the practice novel. It was an easy place to be. The novel was born out of a joke. Yes it was great fun to write, and the story was awesome, but It wasn’t something near and dear to my heart. It cost me nothing to query it. Nothing. There was nothing important to me in that book. Good story, lots of fun, but I didn’t feel naked for having it out there.

This new book is different. It costs me something very deep to let people read it, and at the same time, I’m aching to just print off copies and go sell it on the street corner because I think the rest of the world will love it as much as I do (no, I don’t really think that; I know that there are plenty of people who won’t love it).

So yeah, thick skin? I think you only get that with numbness or apathy, and I don’t think good stories come from either of those places. So if you’re in the query trenches, and you’re wondering why rejections still hurt and sting, just remember, that’s a sign that you’re doing it right. Have some chocolate and take a deep breath. 

Good luck in the trenches. I’ll be joining you soon.

Something fun

So I've been messing around with some audio editing software, and I found some that's really fun: Audacity.

It's freeware, and it's really powerful. When I had just gotten my Bachelor's degree, I had a job making educational films. At the time all of our software was state of the art, awesome, and this audacity program, which is free, does everything the pro version did, only better, and easier to use.

And why am I messing around with audio software, you might ask?

Well, I've joined up the A to Z, and instead of writing, I'm going to vlog. I know, the point of A to Z is to write, but you all know I'm a rule breaker. So for the month of April, I'll be posting stuff up on Youtube and linking back to the blog. I doubt I'll get more than a couple handfuls of views, but let's just say that it's something I've been meaning to figure out so I can do video chat with people. So you guys are all my guinea pigs beta viewers.

Yay, back to messing around with music....

I'm so excited, and I don't know why

I'm back to the editing cave today, but I wanted to help spread the word about a contest coming up.

I'm a complete contest junkie, so it's no surprise that I'm gearing up for Pitch Madness, over at Brenda Drake's Blog.

As with all contests, there's no guarantee that I'll get anywhere, but it's so much fun to try!

How about you guys, know of any really awesome contests coming up?