WRT: Submissions - Keeping and Staying on Track

Probably one of the most tedious (if not frustrating) aspects of the writing-for-publication process is keeping track of submissions. A necessary evil, it still manages to drive me batty. Every house, editor, and agent wants something different: SASE/no SASE, first 10 pages (no, first 20 or 50), snail versus email versus online form sub, YA but not MG, MG but not mystery... and on and on.

Plus, we're seeing even more uncertainty in the market - who's where when, who's going where, who's no longer open.

Gaah!

So, what's the easiest way to store and maintain all that information in a way that ensures you have the most up-to-date details? Do you use an online website such as QueryTracker? A dedicated software package? An analogue system (hardcopies of letters, file cards, etc)? Regardless of what you use, it's absolutely essential that you keep track of those subs, if even to avoid those embarrassing breaches of etiquette. Mostly, it's just good business practice.

For me, what I've found is a spreadsheet (MS Excel) works best. I like knowing that I have control over the information. And while that means doing the legwork myself, it also means I can customize it however I want.

My spreadsheet looks something like this (click on image to get a Hi Res shot):

I like Excel because you can keep multiple levels of information through hyperlinks, comments, and embedded text. You can freeze panes so that headers are always in view. Colors provide cues as to what's out, what's been rejected, where I want to send, who's closed, etc. I also use shorthand notations and other tricks to minimize text while maximizing information. For example, I use ISO standards for dates (YYMMDD) that allow me to search and sort.

It took me a lot of time to set up, and it's a lot of work to maintain the information. But, like I said, it allows me to control the information. And that's really what's important, isn't it?

I'm curious. How do you keep track of all this information?

WRT: Putting Horse Before Cart – Why You Should Consider Writing Your Query Letter Before Finishing Your Manuscript

You know, you really should write your query letter summary paragraph before you sit down to write the first words of your next project.

Say what?!

Let me explain what I mean.

Anyone who has ever finished a novel and sat down to query an agent or editor knows what it’s like to freeze in front of the keyboard, unable to summarize key story points and characters in 250 words or less. Why is that? Well, aside from the obvious reason (you know your story so intimately that pinpointing the most critical elements sometimes seems like an exercise in arbitrariness, though it’s really more like not seeing the forest for the trees), I think a lot of the difficulty derives from our writing habits.

Maybe the problem stems from holding onto outdated perceptions of what the story is about. While you might set out to write with certain objectives in mind, you don’t adapt those objectives as the story matures. It’s so easy to forget that those unexpected and compelling twists of plot or character insights that waylaid you along the way have also commandeered your story. It’s no longer what it started out to be. While discovery is so intrinsic to the organic nature of writing and why we derive so much pleasure out of the act of doing it, it makes writing the summary a bit more challenging. Now, you have to go back and reassess with the mindset not of a writer, but of a reader.

One of the biggest reasons I struggle with querying comes from realizing I haven’t spent enough time developing the most commercially relevant aspects, whether it be story arc, conflict, character... whatever. I get to the query and, for the first time, am forced to think about this character’s role, the purpose of that character’s personality strengths or flaws, the reason for structuring the story a certain way, or defining the conflict as I did, from a purely market-driven point of view. I often find then that the most compelling attributes haven’t been well developed or even incorporated.

Arguments aside about whether you should outline or synopsize before writing, you might find it useful to write that brief query letter summary both before and frequently throughout the course of writing your book. This will help you focus on those oh-so-important key elements and make writing the real query afterwards a piece of cake. (For those new to writing queries, a few keystrokes and your basic search engine will reward you with a trove of helpful resources :blogs, boards, articles....)

Oh, and one last thing: those early query letter summary paragraphs? Nobody should ever see them except you.

Happy RoadTripping.

WRT: The Lonesome Journey – Traveling Alone, with a Loved One, or with Strangers?

I have something to confess: I hate admitting I’m lost. Oh, I don’t mind getting lost (happens a lot), or being lost (it's practically a perpetual state for me), it’s the idea of having others know I’m lost that I hate. And forget about asking for directions. I’d rather slink into the nearest Walmart or Texaco for a map (I know, it’s so-o-o 2005 not to have a GPS):

Cashier: “So, you’re lost?”
Me: “Me? Ha-ha. No, actually I needed something to line the birdcage in my car.”

Or:

Gas station attendant: “So, you’re lost?”
Me: “What? Ridiculous! No, I’m just trying to revive the ancient art of map-folding.”

I know, I know: it’s a guy thing.

Except it’s more than that.

See, this is also exactly how I behave when I write. I hate the idea of a work-in-progress that's not absolutely, positively one-hundred percent polished (in which case, it's not a WIP anymore). I hate the idea of a WIP being judged as directionless, when, in fact, that’s how most of them spend the majority of their life, seemingly aimlessly wandering about. That’s usually how I write, with a vague notion of my destination and how the story unfolds. Okay, that's an overstatement, but for me, writing is a constant battle between journeys of discovery (where every possibility is worthy of exploration) and journeys of efficiency (shortest distance, two points, blah, blah, blah). It’s messy, sorta like sausage-making. And who wants to see that?

It’s especially bad for my wife. She has to patiently wait until I’m done with a story and have polished it to a fine sheen before she even gets to peek at it. She’s not a writer, and so I should take her input with that in mind. Right? But I don’t. Her opinion matters to me. Which is why I avoid asking for it until I’m beyond sure it’ll be positive.

Cripes, I have issues.

On the other hand, I ask my kids all the time to sit down and listen to what Daddy’s written. They love it unconditionally. But then again, they love it when I read Politico or Newsweek out loud to them, too (which probably goes a long way to explaining my son’s fascination with a certain politician, who shall remain unnamed [initials S.P., rhymes with parasailin’] and my daughter’s overfamiliarity with the phrase: “Drill, baby, drill!”). My kids love what I write. (And no, I don’t mention any of this in my query letters).

But it’s not just about always getting positive feedback. I don’t mind sharing my work with perfect strangers. Why is that? Sure it hurts when I get less than stellar feedback— even more so, since a lot of it comes from those in the know. So, why don’t I mind exposing myself to other writers, to admitting I’m lost or that my WIP is a mess?

Because I know their WIP journeys are, for the most part, just as messy, just as circuitous, just as seemingly directionless. Among this community of writers, it’s okay to get lost and to be lost. It's a writer thing.

How about you? Do you feel the same way about your writer’s journey? Or do share your journeys more than I do?

WRT: Revision Roadblocks - Sentimentality is a Dead End

Last month, the cassette player in my truck died. That's right, I wrote cassette player (yes, my truck was built in the last century). For the analogue-challenged MP3 generation, cassettes are those plastic things about the size of an iPod Classic that your parents used to record music on... from their vinyl LPs. (What are LPs? Oh, never mind.) Anyway, the point is, for weeks I mourned the passing of that player. Call me sentimental. I went through the same angst when my 8-track boombox died in high school.

The reason I'm bringing this up is because my reluctance to replace the cassette player with a CD player (or, better yet, a Bluetooth-enabled 4G networked XM-ready satellite radio/MP3 player with Bose electronics), is the same reluctance I struggle with in removing what doesn't work in my WIPs. But there's no denying it: There's no place for private sentimentality in a novel.

For the last week, I've been tweaking Chapter 9 of one of my YA novels. I thought it was because it contained some of the best writing I'd ever done, and while that may be true, it's not the reason I was spending so much time stalled out there. It was because it didn't work. I was engaging myself too much in adoring my lovely words and sentences, that it blinded me to the fact that what I'd written didn't add anything to the story. In fact, it detracted. Once I realized this, you know what I did? I went and ripped out the cassette player from my truck. It felt like I was ripping out my guts. But it made deleting Chapter 9 that much easier.

You've got to do the same with you revisions. Sure, if you're writing for yourself, keep everything. Who cares.But if your aim is to publish your work, you've got to be brutally honest with yourself when revising. Rip out what doesn't work, no matter how much you like it or the way it sounds.

My carpool mates are breathing a sigh of relief. Now, if I can just figure out how to download and make a Lynyrd Skynyrd/Journey/Chicago mix and get it transferred to my iPod, we'll be back in business.

Side Trip - What it feels like to pitch a project

Here's a hilarious take on what it's like to be a writer pitching an idea. Comes from the British comedy That Mitchell and Webb Look. Thanks to Colleen Lindsay at The Swivet for posting this there first.

WRT: The Importance of First Words - What Does Your Character Crave?

It's a rookie mistake to introduce your main character as a flawless, perfectly content human being. Who cares? Well, you do. You love your protagonist and you don't want anything bad to happen to him. But your reader does. That's what makes your reader come back for more. There are two things you, as a writer, will naturally resist doing to your character.

1. Make them want something.

2. Put obstacles in their way to getting it.

The first is called Craving, and it's what I'm focusing on today. It's what compels your character to act, and what compels your reader to connect. Which is why it's so important to define what your MC wants very, very soon after you introduce them.

In Markus Zusak's Fighting Ruben Wolfe, Cameron Wolfe, Ruben's brother, is the narrator. In the book's opening page, we find them at the track making illegal wagers on the dogs:

A girl walks past.
Jesus, I think.
"Jesus," Rube says, and that's the difference.

Zusak immediately shows us the kind of person Cameron is. He idolizes and wishes he could be more like his older brother. This is how Zusak sets up the story, which we know almost from the start (if you haven't read the jacket blurb), entails an eventual boxing match between the two Wolfe brothers. Zusak helps us connect with Cameron by showing his weaknesses, because, like the rest of us, we all wish we were better and stronger and smarter than reality reminds us we are. (Although the next First Lines subject is about conflict, it's worthwhile to point out the irony in how Zusak provides it here: in order for Cameron to prove he's more like his brother, he'll have to beat him).

In the English translation of his book, the invisible, Mats Wahl tells us in the very first sentence what minor character (but the story's focus) Hilmer Eriksson wants:

It was on one of the first days of May that Hilmer Eriksson discovered he had become invisible.

It's obvious what Hilmer wants: to be visible. Why? And is he really invisible? And if so, what made him invisible? We shortly discover that Hilmer is missing, later presumed dead. During the investigation, Hilmer "haunts" the novel's main character, Inspector Fors. Which leads to an even greater craving by Hilmer: he wants to know what happened, for his disappearance to have meaning. Who among us hasn't at one time or another feared disappearing without leaving some kind of trace behind, for our lives to have meaning? (In fact, I would have to say that that is one reason so many of us write.) Reminds me of a quote by Jim Morrison (of Doors fame): "The appeal of cinema lies in the fear of death." It's what makes the invisible so appealing to read.

So, dear Writer, make sure you know and show what your main (and even secondary)characters want in your story's First Words.

Next time: Conflict.

Happy RoadTripping.

WRT: The Importance of First Words - Character Clues and Cues

I see a lot of writers write about when and how to introduce characters into a story (not too many too soon, provide unique clues to aid the reader, avoid multiple characters whose first names share the same first letter, etc, etc ...). One thing you don't see a lot of is how do you use character introduction - and I mean in the first paragraphs of your first chapter - to help readers connect with the story and to provide a sense for where the story is going to take them.

Most likely you, as the writer, will want to introduce your main character(s) very, very soon after the reader opens your book to that magical first page and reads, "Chapter One." There are exceptions to this general rule, of course, but unless you're intentionally delaying this critical introduction for a very good reason, then seriously consider adhering to this guideline.

To see how successful authors introduced their characters, let's look at a couple examples, randomly pulled from my bookshelf.

Here's the first paragraph from Kim Edwards' The Memory Keeper's Daughter:

The snow started to fall several hours before her labor began. A few flakes at first, in the dull gray late-afternoon sky, and then wind-driven swirls and eddies around the edges of their wide porch. He stood by her side at the window, watching sharp gusts of snow billow, then swirl and drift to the ground. All around the neighborhood, lights came on, and the naked branches of the trees turned white.

We meet the story's two main characters immediately, husband and wife, not by name (in fact, we never learn their names until Chapter Two), but by a sense of how they see the world. How does Edwards clue us into the wife's character? The imagery she uses is soft, low-contrast, gentle ("snow started to fall" "few flakes" "dull gray" "swirls and eddies"). In contrast, the husband is cold and unfeeling. He watches out the window (why isn't he watching his wife as she labors to have their children?). He comes to us in a sentence where the first adjective is "sharp." Not directly defining him, but those "sharp gusts" tell us how he sees the scene outside that window. Interestingly, Edwards uses the same word twice ("swirl/s"), surprising us with our contrasting response to it (first, as something soft; second, as something cold). In those first four sentences, we have everything we need to know in order to move forward with the story.

The opening line of Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex is:

I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkable smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974.

Eugenides deftly uses contradiction to tell us about his main character. First, he emphasizes the miracle of a smogless Detroit day to underscore the mistake of Calliope Helen Stephanides' birth. He then tells us that she became Cal in a venue we associate with accidents: the ER. How does this make the reader feel? Sympathetic. Why? The idea of a transgender main character is enough to make most people squeamish (even more a decade ago when this was written). And yet, by giving us some insight into Cal's mind, we can't help but feel sympathetic.

Do your character introductions fall flat? Do they provide a sense of the person you mean them to be without actually describing them in such terms? Do you help your readers connect with your characters by showing their flaws, by giving them something to yearn for, by making them human, no matter how foreign the subject matter might be to the reader?

Speaking of yearning, that's the subject of the next FIRST WORDS discussion: CRAVING.