With Christmas fast approaching, many of us have gift giving on our minds. If you’re like me, you might be feeling just a bit overwhelmed as you search for the perfect gift for your loved ones. My four-year-old is easy. His current obsession is bowling, so my husband and I feel pretty sure anything bowling-related will be a big hit.
But others in our family-you know the ones I mean, Mr. and Ms. Never Satisfied with Anything-present a greater challenge. Clothes are always too large or too small, the wrong color, or the latest trend too trendy. Candy is out of the question because you don’t want to be held responsible for ruining someone’s perpetual attempts at dieting, and jewelry . . . well, who can afford that anyway? Will this be the year we finally wow that impossible to shop for family member? Will we finally land on that perfect gift that will leave our loved ones happy and satisfied? Probably not.
Here’s the good news. While we may never satisfy those grumpy folks on our shopping lists, as writers, we can offer the perfect gift-fine craftsmanship-to our readers year round. Craftsmanship might not be a term you readily associate with writing. Perhaps the word craft conjures images of a woodworker, carpenter, or some other manual laborer. But the reality is that we as writers are practitioners of word craft. We are in the business of carefully constructing words in a way that effectively communicates with our readership. In order to do that, we must first be masters of the tools of our trade.
What does that mean exactly? As boring and unglamorous as it is, we must know and practice the basics of good writing-punctuation, spelling, grammar, effective and accurate diction. Our job is to powerfully (and clearly) share our insights and emotions, but we can’t do that without knowing (and using well) the mechanics of effective communication.
So, yes, spelling counts. Correct and precise diction are indispensable. Punctuation matters. Sound grammar is a must.
I’ve given up on finding the perfect gift for my family members who refuse to be pleased. So, instead, I turn my focus to you, my writing friends. This Christmas, I offer you the best writing gift I can present. The Commitment to Practice Sound Craftsmanship.
May God bless you with the merriest of all Christmases.
--Cheryl
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Things NOT to do when submitting a manuscript . . .
1) Do not misspell the publishing house’s name. This sounds obvious, but you’d be surprised.
2) Do not misspell the editor’s name. (See above). And to take this a step further, make sure that you get the person’s title correct. Do not assume that the person is merely an “editor” when they are the “publisher.” This may result in perpetual silence from the company. Not that I have ever done this, or experienced said silence, of course.
3) Do not forget to actually attach the attachments if sending an email submission. Having to send a follow up email apologizing for your stupidity makes you look, well, stupid. Once again, not that I know this from experience.
4) Do not hesitate to remind the person of your association. If you met at a conference and the editor requested to see your work, be sure to remind him of that in the email. Editors and agents see so many aspiring writers that it’s foolish to believe they will remember you specifically.
5)Do not send in your only copy. In today’s computer-centered society, it’s difficult to imagine that anyone would only have one copy of a manuscript, but what I mean is your only hard copy. Zip your manuscript through a Xerox machine before you mail it. If I had a dime for every flash drive that self-destructed and erased my work because it could no longer stand the honor of housing my brilliance, I’d have about $.75 (I’ve never been good at math). But you get the point. Sometimes I had hard copies to save me . . . and the other times, well, we don’t talk about those.
6) Do not include ringing endorsements in your cover/query letter unless they really matter (For example . . . "Queen Elizabeth II read my story, and she REALLY liked it). If it's not that special, leave it out. While your mother may have called your novel the “next DaVinci Code,” the sad truth is that mothers have to say that kind of stuff…even when it’s untrue. And usually, it is.
7)Do not tell the editor/agent/publisher how much he/she will love your work. For obvious reasons, presumption and arrogance is off-putting to some. Hard to fathom, I know.
8) Do not stalk the editor. Once the submission has been sent, sit back and relax (easy enough to say, I know). Understand that publishing professionals are inundated daily with stuff, and it may take them some time to get to your manuscript. Sending emails every hour on the hour, or calling the office incessantly will probably only get you a restraining order in the mail, not an acceptance letter.
--Mandy
2) Do not misspell the editor’s name. (See above). And to take this a step further, make sure that you get the person’s title correct. Do not assume that the person is merely an “editor” when they are the “publisher.” This may result in perpetual silence from the company. Not that I have ever done this, or experienced said silence, of course.
3) Do not forget to actually attach the attachments if sending an email submission. Having to send a follow up email apologizing for your stupidity makes you look, well, stupid. Once again, not that I know this from experience.
4) Do not hesitate to remind the person of your association. If you met at a conference and the editor requested to see your work, be sure to remind him of that in the email. Editors and agents see so many aspiring writers that it’s foolish to believe they will remember you specifically.
5)Do not send in your only copy. In today’s computer-centered society, it’s difficult to imagine that anyone would only have one copy of a manuscript, but what I mean is your only hard copy. Zip your manuscript through a Xerox machine before you mail it. If I had a dime for every flash drive that self-destructed and erased my work because it could no longer stand the honor of housing my brilliance, I’d have about $.75 (I’ve never been good at math). But you get the point. Sometimes I had hard copies to save me . . . and the other times, well, we don’t talk about those.
6) Do not include ringing endorsements in your cover/query letter unless they really matter (For example . . . "Queen Elizabeth II read my story, and she REALLY liked it). If it's not that special, leave it out. While your mother may have called your novel the “next DaVinci Code,” the sad truth is that mothers have to say that kind of stuff…even when it’s untrue. And usually, it is.
7)Do not tell the editor/agent/publisher how much he/she will love your work. For obvious reasons, presumption and arrogance is off-putting to some. Hard to fathom, I know.
8) Do not stalk the editor. Once the submission has been sent, sit back and relax (easy enough to say, I know). Understand that publishing professionals are inundated daily with stuff, and it may take them some time to get to your manuscript. Sending emails every hour on the hour, or calling the office incessantly will probably only get you a restraining order in the mail, not an acceptance letter.
--Mandy
Monday, December 1, 2008
Avoiding the Information Dump
Here are two scenes, both expressing the exact same exchange, same place, same time, etc.
#1:
“Hey,” Donald Williams said to the cashier without pausing in his efforts to unload the cart’s contents onto the conveyer belt.
Why was he even here? It was a Friday night, and he was thirty years old, raised in the booming metropolis of New York City, and single. And pathetic man that he was, he was buying Doritos and goldfish food at nine o’clock. Of course, he wouldn’t be out grocery shopping alone if Aileen hadn’t left, but really, that had been months ago. One would think by now he’d be over that, ready to get back in the game so to speak. But the only game he played lately was Scrabble. On the computer. By himself.
It was nothing like when he used to play Scrabble with his younger twin sisters. Those were the times. All three would sit around the scarred oak table chortling over someone’s attempt to convince the others that “jafflequ” was indeed a word. But that had been before both Isabel had gotten married and Roxanne had run off to Archeology school. Their parents still didn’t like to talk about it. But since the divorce the fourteen years ago, they didn’t like to talk about anything.
He ran his hand through his sandy brown hair, looking up in surprise as the bagger asked, “Paper or Plastic, sir?”
#2
“Hey,” he said to the cashier without pausing in his efforts to unload the cart’s contents onto the conveyer belt. And he tried to ignore the inescapable lameness of being a single man in the grocery store on Friday night.
As he lobbed the Doritos onto belt, his mind wandered, tossing up images of happier, less lonely times to torment him. He was so lost in his reverie that he was startled by the bagger’s voice asking, “Paper or Plastic, sir?”
Succumbing to the “Information Dump” temptation is a common mistake for both new and seasoned writers, and for those who write both fiction and nonfiction. As the ones telling the story, we think the reader needs to have every single detail right off the bat in order to appreciate the literary magic we’re working. We rationalize our back story overload by convincing ourselves that the readers will toss the book aside in disgust if they don’t find out in the first paragraph that the protagonist is 6 feet tall with a learning disability.
Many publishing professionals will tell aspiring authors that there should be absolutely no trace of back story in the first chapter. Others will disagree, seeing the near impossibility of having an entire chapter free of any mention of the past. I think there is a happy medium.
As writers, we need to trust that our audience will “get it” if we’ve done the rest of our job correctly. They’ll wait patiently for several chapters, maybe even half the book, to find out what drives the characters and makes them tick. We can drop bits of information here and there without overloading the reader and confusing him with too much too soon.
So, the best way to avoid the temptation to drop an entire biography of the character into your reader’s lap is to choose your words carefully. Consider the relationship between the reader and your character to be as fragile as the interaction between two people on a blind date. Neither needs to know initially that one snores in his sleep and the other has a foot fungus that won’t go away even after exhaustive treatment. A little mystery can be nice.
Essential, even.
--Mandy
#1:
“Hey,” Donald Williams said to the cashier without pausing in his efforts to unload the cart’s contents onto the conveyer belt.
Why was he even here? It was a Friday night, and he was thirty years old, raised in the booming metropolis of New York City, and single. And pathetic man that he was, he was buying Doritos and goldfish food at nine o’clock. Of course, he wouldn’t be out grocery shopping alone if Aileen hadn’t left, but really, that had been months ago. One would think by now he’d be over that, ready to get back in the game so to speak. But the only game he played lately was Scrabble. On the computer. By himself.
It was nothing like when he used to play Scrabble with his younger twin sisters. Those were the times. All three would sit around the scarred oak table chortling over someone’s attempt to convince the others that “jafflequ” was indeed a word. But that had been before both Isabel had gotten married and Roxanne had run off to Archeology school. Their parents still didn’t like to talk about it. But since the divorce the fourteen years ago, they didn’t like to talk about anything.
He ran his hand through his sandy brown hair, looking up in surprise as the bagger asked, “Paper or Plastic, sir?”
#2
“Hey,” he said to the cashier without pausing in his efforts to unload the cart’s contents onto the conveyer belt. And he tried to ignore the inescapable lameness of being a single man in the grocery store on Friday night.
As he lobbed the Doritos onto belt, his mind wandered, tossing up images of happier, less lonely times to torment him. He was so lost in his reverie that he was startled by the bagger’s voice asking, “Paper or Plastic, sir?”
Succumbing to the “Information Dump” temptation is a common mistake for both new and seasoned writers, and for those who write both fiction and nonfiction. As the ones telling the story, we think the reader needs to have every single detail right off the bat in order to appreciate the literary magic we’re working. We rationalize our back story overload by convincing ourselves that the readers will toss the book aside in disgust if they don’t find out in the first paragraph that the protagonist is 6 feet tall with a learning disability.
Many publishing professionals will tell aspiring authors that there should be absolutely no trace of back story in the first chapter. Others will disagree, seeing the near impossibility of having an entire chapter free of any mention of the past. I think there is a happy medium.
As writers, we need to trust that our audience will “get it” if we’ve done the rest of our job correctly. They’ll wait patiently for several chapters, maybe even half the book, to find out what drives the characters and makes them tick. We can drop bits of information here and there without overloading the reader and confusing him with too much too soon.
So, the best way to avoid the temptation to drop an entire biography of the character into your reader’s lap is to choose your words carefully. Consider the relationship between the reader and your character to be as fragile as the interaction between two people on a blind date. Neither needs to know initially that one snores in his sleep and the other has a foot fungus that won’t go away even after exhaustive treatment. A little mystery can be nice.
Essential, even.
--Mandy
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