Last weekend I was in Kripalu doing a memoir workshop with Natalie Goldberg. I always approach workshops with "name" teachers a little warily but this was a good one. Not a lot of ego on either side of the podium. We wrote and wrote. Prompt after prompt.
Natalie kept saying "I want to make sure everyone gets their money's worth." So Friday we wrote until 9 pm and we were going to reconvene Saturday at 8:30 am and she gave us three prompts for homework. So we show up Saturday and we write until 11:30. Reconvene at 1:30 and guess what? Two prompts to do over lunch. By the end of the Saturday afternoon I was brain dead. I had definitely gotten my money's worth but the workshop, following directly on the heels (I first wrote "directly on the hells" - interesing slip, Dr. Freud!) of the time in New York was just too much. I didn't do my Saturday night homework (and felt strangely guilty about it...where are you, Sigmund, when we need you?) and took off Sunday without attending the final session. I wanted some time to explore the grounds, sit in the hot tub, hang out in the bookshop, just chill.
Yeah, I was burned out when I showed up, thanks to NYC, but more to the point I really wonder how much first draft writing I can do in a single weekend without it making me spacey, queasy, and borderline sick. I can revise and revamp and research for hours. All those words that start with "re" - they just don't take that much out of you.
But that word that starts with W, as in "write"....it'll just about kill you.
Like I said, good workshop. I liked my roomies, had a nice walk to the gorgeous Kripalu lake and during the writing sessions I generated a lot of material for what I'm calling the God-help-me-third-book (catchy title, don't you think?) So the time was well spent. But it proved to me once again that when it comes to first drafts I need to pace my energy. I drove home from Massachusetts in a complete mental fog.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Jiggity Jog
Home again from my never ending trip up north. I'm tired, but it was all so worthwhile. Here's a synopsis of what I learned:
I have to go to New York more often. I don't know why I treat it as some big deal. But it was almost immediately apparent upon my arrival that there's no substitute for actually meeting with editors and agents face to face - for being a real person to them and not just a voice on the phone or an email address. The standard thing everyone says about editors....ie, that they're distracted and overworked....is actually quite true. When you're there sitting across a dining table from them you move, even if just for that hour, to the top of the pile and have their true focus and attention. I got more feedback in four days than I've gotten in a year at home.
The first day I went to Grand Central, ostensibly to meet with the publicity director about my first book, Love in Mid Air, the one that's coming out in March. And meeting the publicity person is a big deal, but I also had the secret tiny hope that my editor, who received the second book, The Gods of Arizona two weeks ago, would like it enough to make me an offer. An offer on Gods would solve a bucketload of problems, some of the financial and some of them emotional. A lot of novelists are one-hit wonders who spend years writing the first book (God knows I did) and then either never produce another or wait so long to produce another that everyone forgets about them, including their own publishing house. So if she committed to a second book I'd feel like I was really developing a career with my publisher, that my first book wasn't just a matter of "let's throw this against the wall and see if it sticks."
So I get off the elevator and almost the first thing she says is that she's sorry, but she hasn't finished the second book. In fact she had just started it and was only about 70 pages in. We soldier on, talking about publicity for the first book and what they will do (spend time) and won't do (spend money) to promote it. As we're all heading out to lunch, I'm swapping my heels for flats for the walk and make some comment about protecting my feet and we end up talking about my passion for ballroom dancing. I say, honest-to-God casually, that I want to eventually write a book about a ballroom dance studio and my editor just lights up. She loves the idea.
So now I'm thinking that maybe there's a third book in the works and that maybe even she'll buy the second book, for which I have a draft, and the third book, for which I have a one-line concept. It's unlikely on one level....everyone is saying that the market sucks, that it's an impossible time to come out with any sort of book at all, and that publishers have stopped giving big advances or multi-book deals. But on another level I saw that she was excited about the ballroom dancing idea and her interest in book three might nudge her to make a decision on book two. When I talked to my agent the next day, he thought so too.
After that I couldn't get this mythical third book off my mind. Started taking notes for it on the train back to Massachusetts, free-wrote on it during the writing retreat with Natalie Goldberg (more on that later), and was scribbling more notes while driving south on I-95 on Monday. And it seems crazy in a way to always be moving ahead developing new ideas before previous ideas are sold or even consolidated in your mind, but that seems to be how things have to work. Not every idea pans out....who are we kidding? Most ideas don't pan out. So you have to have a lot of them in order to survive this nervous marketplace. And then psychologically I need to feel like all my eggs aren't in one basket.
So....I'm tired, but it was a productive trip on all sorts of levels. I'll report more later.
I have to go to New York more often. I don't know why I treat it as some big deal. But it was almost immediately apparent upon my arrival that there's no substitute for actually meeting with editors and agents face to face - for being a real person to them and not just a voice on the phone or an email address. The standard thing everyone says about editors....ie, that they're distracted and overworked....is actually quite true. When you're there sitting across a dining table from them you move, even if just for that hour, to the top of the pile and have their true focus and attention. I got more feedback in four days than I've gotten in a year at home.
The first day I went to Grand Central, ostensibly to meet with the publicity director about my first book, Love in Mid Air, the one that's coming out in March. And meeting the publicity person is a big deal, but I also had the secret tiny hope that my editor, who received the second book, The Gods of Arizona two weeks ago, would like it enough to make me an offer. An offer on Gods would solve a bucketload of problems, some of the financial and some of them emotional. A lot of novelists are one-hit wonders who spend years writing the first book (God knows I did) and then either never produce another or wait so long to produce another that everyone forgets about them, including their own publishing house. So if she committed to a second book I'd feel like I was really developing a career with my publisher, that my first book wasn't just a matter of "let's throw this against the wall and see if it sticks."
So I get off the elevator and almost the first thing she says is that she's sorry, but she hasn't finished the second book. In fact she had just started it and was only about 70 pages in. We soldier on, talking about publicity for the first book and what they will do (spend time) and won't do (spend money) to promote it. As we're all heading out to lunch, I'm swapping my heels for flats for the walk and make some comment about protecting my feet and we end up talking about my passion for ballroom dancing. I say, honest-to-God casually, that I want to eventually write a book about a ballroom dance studio and my editor just lights up. She loves the idea.
So now I'm thinking that maybe there's a third book in the works and that maybe even she'll buy the second book, for which I have a draft, and the third book, for which I have a one-line concept. It's unlikely on one level....everyone is saying that the market sucks, that it's an impossible time to come out with any sort of book at all, and that publishers have stopped giving big advances or multi-book deals. But on another level I saw that she was excited about the ballroom dancing idea and her interest in book three might nudge her to make a decision on book two. When I talked to my agent the next day, he thought so too.
After that I couldn't get this mythical third book off my mind. Started taking notes for it on the train back to Massachusetts, free-wrote on it during the writing retreat with Natalie Goldberg (more on that later), and was scribbling more notes while driving south on I-95 on Monday. And it seems crazy in a way to always be moving ahead developing new ideas before previous ideas are sold or even consolidated in your mind, but that seems to be how things have to work. Not every idea pans out....who are we kidding? Most ideas don't pan out. So you have to have a lot of them in order to survive this nervous marketplace. And then psychologically I need to feel like all my eggs aren't in one basket.
So....I'm tired, but it was a productive trip on all sorts of levels. I'll report more later.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
If I can make it there.....
A little excitement this morning. The UPS driver dropped off a nice big box of my advance reader copies for "Love in Mid Air." It's a kick to hold it my hand, looking like a real book and all.
Leaving Thursday for the major northward trek. Going to see Laura in Virginia, then Dawn in Mass, then NYC for four days to visit with editors and my agent and friends there, then to the Natalie Goldberg memoir workshop at Kripalu. All in all I am gone about two weeks and it's like zones of experience I'll be driving in and out of, each requiring some pretty significant shifts of focus (as well as some pretty significant shifts of wardrobe...you should see my suitcase).
This is also when I'll find out:
What publicity is being planned for the first novel
If my editor for that novel is interested in acquiring the sequel
Scary stuff. I'll report in the minute I get back.
Leaving Thursday for the major northward trek. Going to see Laura in Virginia, then Dawn in Mass, then NYC for four days to visit with editors and my agent and friends there, then to the Natalie Goldberg memoir workshop at Kripalu. All in all I am gone about two weeks and it's like zones of experience I'll be driving in and out of, each requiring some pretty significant shifts of focus (as well as some pretty significant shifts of wardrobe...you should see my suitcase).
This is also when I'll find out:
What publicity is being planned for the first novel
If my editor for that novel is interested in acquiring the sequel
Scary stuff. I'll report in the minute I get back.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Twelve Smartest Things Ever Said About Writing
The Twelve Smartest Things Ever Said About Writing
The truth will set you free. But first it will piss you off.
_____Gloria Steinem
I am going to write because I cannot help it.
______Charlotte Bronte
Publishing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But writing is.
_____Anne Lamott
Pleasure is not always at the time.
______James Salter
The only advice I have to give a young novelist is to fuck a really good agent.
_______John Cheever.
Nothing is as important as a likeable narrator. Nothing holds a story together better.
_____Ethan Canin
The protagonist cannot be a perfect person. If he were, he could not improve and he must come out at the end of the play a more admirable human being than he went in.
____Maxwell Anderson
You must be aware that the reader is at least as bright as you are.
_____William Maxwell
The story is always about the person who is telling it.
_____Jack Heffron
The subconscious mind seeks truth. It wants truth so badly that it will cease to speak to anyone who wants something else more than he wants truth.
___Anne Sexton
The work will show you how to do it.
____T-shirt
Hard days, lots of work, no money, too much silence. Nobody’s fault. You chose it.
____Bill Barich
The truth will set you free. But first it will piss you off.
_____Gloria Steinem
I am going to write because I cannot help it.
______Charlotte Bronte
Publishing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But writing is.
_____Anne Lamott
Pleasure is not always at the time.
______James Salter
The only advice I have to give a young novelist is to fuck a really good agent.
_______John Cheever.
Nothing is as important as a likeable narrator. Nothing holds a story together better.
_____Ethan Canin
The protagonist cannot be a perfect person. If he were, he could not improve and he must come out at the end of the play a more admirable human being than he went in.
____Maxwell Anderson
You must be aware that the reader is at least as bright as you are.
_____William Maxwell
The story is always about the person who is telling it.
_____Jack Heffron
The subconscious mind seeks truth. It wants truth so badly that it will cease to speak to anyone who wants something else more than he wants truth.
___Anne Sexton
The work will show you how to do it.
____T-shirt
Hard days, lots of work, no money, too much silence. Nobody’s fault. You chose it.
____Bill Barich
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Chapter Cometh
Okay, now this is freaky but true. I was down at the beach over the weekend and while I sat under my beach umbrella looking out at the gorgeous ocean I was also performing three writerly tasks:
1. Proofreading the galleys for Love in Mid Air, which were mostly fine.
2. Rereading the second draft of the second book, which I plan to send to my agent and my editor sometime this week. A little traumatic because while there are certain parts of the book I really like there are some definite chunks missing, especially this one part about 2/3 of the way through where I know I've always needed a scene. Not just a scene. A strong scene showing a strong internal shift.
3. Reading this absolutely infuritating book that I found in the back bedroom of my mom's condo. It's about writing so I can only assume that I bought it at one point during the 34 years she has owned this condo and left it there but I don't recall ever reading this book. Of course, come to think of it, I might not recall reading this book since this is the kind of book that gives you a stroke. It's all about how it's easy to get an agent and a publisher and just so long as you take care of your work and create the best manuscript you can that it will certain find itself a home. So Pollyanna-ish, so unreal and unhelpful, that I can't believe a published writer would say this to hopefuls. A pox upon her!
Anyway, I get home yesterday afternoon with a buttload of work to do because this is a very full week and I'm still missing this scene. So as I'm drifting off to sleep last night I summon the ghost of my dead father and any other random general benevolent spirits from the other side and say "Send me the scene."
And I woke up with it. Pretty much the whole bloody thing. The only thing I didn't have was a good last line, but hell, the rest of it was exactly what I needed and it might be the strongest scene in the book. I scrambled out of bed and came straight to the computer at 6 this morning and began furiously typing notes...just a brain dump and then I stood up and went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and then, for some reason, I said "Amen."
So I rushed back to the computer and wrote "For some reason I said 'Amen'" Which is the perfect last line for the scene.
I've got to start praying more often. And I am NOT kidding.
1. Proofreading the galleys for Love in Mid Air, which were mostly fine.
2. Rereading the second draft of the second book, which I plan to send to my agent and my editor sometime this week. A little traumatic because while there are certain parts of the book I really like there are some definite chunks missing, especially this one part about 2/3 of the way through where I know I've always needed a scene. Not just a scene. A strong scene showing a strong internal shift.
3. Reading this absolutely infuritating book that I found in the back bedroom of my mom's condo. It's about writing so I can only assume that I bought it at one point during the 34 years she has owned this condo and left it there but I don't recall ever reading this book. Of course, come to think of it, I might not recall reading this book since this is the kind of book that gives you a stroke. It's all about how it's easy to get an agent and a publisher and just so long as you take care of your work and create the best manuscript you can that it will certain find itself a home. So Pollyanna-ish, so unreal and unhelpful, that I can't believe a published writer would say this to hopefuls. A pox upon her!
Anyway, I get home yesterday afternoon with a buttload of work to do because this is a very full week and I'm still missing this scene. So as I'm drifting off to sleep last night I summon the ghost of my dead father and any other random general benevolent spirits from the other side and say "Send me the scene."
And I woke up with it. Pretty much the whole bloody thing. The only thing I didn't have was a good last line, but hell, the rest of it was exactly what I needed and it might be the strongest scene in the book. I scrambled out of bed and came straight to the computer at 6 this morning and began furiously typing notes...just a brain dump and then I stood up and went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and then, for some reason, I said "Amen."
So I rushed back to the computer and wrote "For some reason I said 'Amen'" Which is the perfect last line for the scene.
I've got to start praying more often. And I am NOT kidding.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Oy
This has been a rough week. Not only did I get this bizarre attack (dutifully described in the "ouch" entry) on a scene from the second novel, but I have also been getting a lot of feedback on the first novel as well. The finished one. The whole thing is making me feel horribly exposed.
It started like this. My publisher sent me four sets of galleys to have when I visit workshops and conferences this summer, in case I meet someone artsy who might want to blurb the book. (Well...no one wants to blurb the book. Maybe I should say someone I can persuade to blurb it.) Since it was two weeks before the Queens session I decided this was a good chance to give some friends and family members a preview. They'll have to read it at some point and I suspected it would be upsetting for some of them. I figured this way we'd have ten months for them to read it, digest it, and get used to it before the book actually came out in print. So I start sending these four sets of galley copies around.
Some people were fine. A couple of friends/family members were very supportive and complimentary. A couple were lukewarm. A few struggled, clearly bogging down in attempts to figure out who the people in the book were based on, what was true and what was fiction, etc. A couple of people were hostile in a passive-aggressive way, either opting not to read it or claiming they couldn't finish it, based on the fact it was "chick lit." I found this last response the most insulting. ...I think when men use the term "chick lit" they almost always mean it in the most dismissive way possible. Some people offered suggestions for revisions as if they didn't realize that the book has been sold and this is the version that's actually coming out in print. In short it was pretty much what writing has taught me to expect, i.e., you can't predict how people are going to react to material. Some people who you consider to be experienced readers respond in a very simplistic way, people who you think might get upset are fine, people who you never thought about reacting in a thousand years get completely ripped out of the saddle.
But the aggregate of so much feedback over the course of ten days has laid me low and made me remember why I have a policy of not showing work in process to anyone who isn't a writer. Last night I went over and watching the Dancing With the Stars finale with my writing buddy Ed and his wife, my dancing buddy Schelley. He said that she is his first reader and Dawn says Steve is her first reader, but I can't imagine using a spouse as a first reader. I'm glad it works for them but I find this mystifying and wonder if I'm doing something wrong....if I show work to non-writers it seems that have trouble seeing it as a) a story and not either a confession or some secret message to them and b) my story and not theirs. I dread the moment people who know me read my work, dread the discussions which inevitably follow....so why do I have so much trouble doing what other writers seem to do easily?
Maybe it's just a matter of the material I work with, which tends to be about suburban life in Charlotte and thus easy for people to read me or themselves into. Maybe it's the fact I seem to know a lot of blocked creatives and they can't resist hijacking any story in progress and trying to turn it into the story they'd like to write. Maybe I present things in a defensive way, unconsciously looking for trouble and ergo I find it.
I honestly don't know. I just know this has been a tough week. Dawn and I have been talking a lot and it's got me thinking that feedback comes in three forms. There are the people you don't know at all - the anonymous readers who buy or don't buy the book, the critics, the reviewers, the people who rate your book on Amazon. There are the people you know slightly - the people in the community who take offense for reasons you never could have seen coming, the friends of friends who want to be writers and who thrust their manuscripts into your hands, the people you read for at workshops or conferences. And then there is that inner circle of friends and family, the twenty or so people whose reaction could have a huge impact on your life. That's the circle where you think you'd find your most support but it's where I seem to find a strange mixture of support and trouble.
At least it's almost past me. Three people have the galleys in hand right now. After I get it back from them, I'm not going to hand it out any more. I guess I'm glad I did it, and I'm definitely glad it's over.
It started like this. My publisher sent me four sets of galleys to have when I visit workshops and conferences this summer, in case I meet someone artsy who might want to blurb the book. (Well...no one wants to blurb the book. Maybe I should say someone I can persuade to blurb it.) Since it was two weeks before the Queens session I decided this was a good chance to give some friends and family members a preview. They'll have to read it at some point and I suspected it would be upsetting for some of them. I figured this way we'd have ten months for them to read it, digest it, and get used to it before the book actually came out in print. So I start sending these four sets of galley copies around.
Some people were fine. A couple of friends/family members were very supportive and complimentary. A couple were lukewarm. A few struggled, clearly bogging down in attempts to figure out who the people in the book were based on, what was true and what was fiction, etc. A couple of people were hostile in a passive-aggressive way, either opting not to read it or claiming they couldn't finish it, based on the fact it was "chick lit." I found this last response the most insulting. ...I think when men use the term "chick lit" they almost always mean it in the most dismissive way possible. Some people offered suggestions for revisions as if they didn't realize that the book has been sold and this is the version that's actually coming out in print. In short it was pretty much what writing has taught me to expect, i.e., you can't predict how people are going to react to material. Some people who you consider to be experienced readers respond in a very simplistic way, people who you think might get upset are fine, people who you never thought about reacting in a thousand years get completely ripped out of the saddle.
But the aggregate of so much feedback over the course of ten days has laid me low and made me remember why I have a policy of not showing work in process to anyone who isn't a writer. Last night I went over and watching the Dancing With the Stars finale with my writing buddy Ed and his wife, my dancing buddy Schelley. He said that she is his first reader and Dawn says Steve is her first reader, but I can't imagine using a spouse as a first reader. I'm glad it works for them but I find this mystifying and wonder if I'm doing something wrong....if I show work to non-writers it seems that have trouble seeing it as a) a story and not either a confession or some secret message to them and b) my story and not theirs. I dread the moment people who know me read my work, dread the discussions which inevitably follow....so why do I have so much trouble doing what other writers seem to do easily?
Maybe it's just a matter of the material I work with, which tends to be about suburban life in Charlotte and thus easy for people to read me or themselves into. Maybe it's the fact I seem to know a lot of blocked creatives and they can't resist hijacking any story in progress and trying to turn it into the story they'd like to write. Maybe I present things in a defensive way, unconsciously looking for trouble and ergo I find it.
I honestly don't know. I just know this has been a tough week. Dawn and I have been talking a lot and it's got me thinking that feedback comes in three forms. There are the people you don't know at all - the anonymous readers who buy or don't buy the book, the critics, the reviewers, the people who rate your book on Amazon. There are the people you know slightly - the people in the community who take offense for reasons you never could have seen coming, the friends of friends who want to be writers and who thrust their manuscripts into your hands, the people you read for at workshops or conferences. And then there is that inner circle of friends and family, the twenty or so people whose reaction could have a huge impact on your life. That's the circle where you think you'd find your most support but it's where I seem to find a strange mixture of support and trouble.
At least it's almost past me. Three people have the galleys in hand right now. After I get it back from them, I'm not going to hand it out any more. I guess I'm glad I did it, and I'm definitely glad it's over.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Ouch
I am a little stunned right now. I sent a working scene to a friend, a scene from the second book...Granted, it's a violent scene and violent in a sexual way and this a double risk....but it's pivotal to the story I've imagined and I've just talked to him and he hates it. He hates it in a way that I couldn't even respond to. I just caught this torrent of words and now...I don't know what to think. This is the midpoint scene. Other scenes either lead up to it or devolve out of it. The thing is, I like the scene....or at least I think I do. I'm rattled right now. I haven't had anyone jump me like that in years. So now I have this scene that's pivotal in a book I'm going to show David and show Karen in a matter of weeks and someone whose judgement I trust has just eviserated it.
The scene is risky but I think I like it. Until about an hour ago I was sure I liked it and if you ask me an hour from now I might it again. But right now I am rattled to the core and wondering if he has really hit on something that's to be extremely upsetting to lots of people (he kept using the word "repugnant") in a way that makes the whole book unreadable or throws it into the category of pulp fiction....or is he just having a personal reaction to what is, on some levels, a rape scene?
What do you do with feedback like this? Or is it even feedback? I'm shaken.
The scene is risky but I think I like it. Until about an hour ago I was sure I liked it and if you ask me an hour from now I might it again. But right now I am rattled to the core and wondering if he has really hit on something that's to be extremely upsetting to lots of people (he kept using the word "repugnant") in a way that makes the whole book unreadable or throws it into the category of pulp fiction....or is he just having a personal reaction to what is, on some levels, a rape scene?
What do you do with feedback like this? Or is it even feedback? I'm shaken.
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