January 28 was sixty-one years ago that my mama, a girl of seventeen then, grabbed a handful of feather bedding and bore down with a holler on a cold January morning and pushed me out for a breath of good Alabama air. Right there in my maternal grandfather’s house in Cross Roads community, down the road a piece from Millport, and just across the line from Columbus, Mississippi. And, I don’t know what better birthday present a man could have had (unless it’s that I’ve lived to do a blog post in the year twenty-ten) than to get some really good news that day, which I’m about to share.
'Twas born of a misconstrution, as my friend Whitney Cadwell would say. In early November, John Evans (owner of Lemuria Books) and I sat in the Bulldog Grill in Jackson MS waiting on a cheeseburger and over the noise he asked me what I was working on. I told him I was working on a memoir about all the day jobs I'd had in my writer's life (I was a pants folder at Tom & Huck Togs in Columbus MS, that I was lead singer in a band for three years, six nights a week, and a longish list of other day jobs). John didn't hear me say memoir. Damn good idea, he said. Asked if the pieces had to be from living writers. And before I could correct him that I'm very much alive, he said, Because it would be cool if Richard Howorth (mayor of Oxford and owner of Square Books) would write about Larry Brown the fire chief and ex-marine before he was crowned a God of Southern Lit.
I didn't hear anything else John said as my mind cranked up to about a thousand miles an hour, running by ideas like William Gay writing about hanging sheetrock in the hills of Tennessee (William said he'll write about working at the pinball factory), Silas House about delivering the mail on Kentucky backroads, Lee Smith doing hair at the Kroger's, George Singleton driving a garbage truck, Pat Conroy teaching school in the low country, Rick Bragg breaking down truck tires...all the sketches with a heavy writerly twist, how such day jobs informed their lives as writers.
I asked Winston Groom to write about being a soldier under fire in Viet Nam. Matt Teague, native of the Mississippi Delta, to write about never having had a job other than writing (he writes for National Geographic). On and on. Barb Johnson is writing about her thirty years' work as a carpenter in New Orleans before asking at UNO if she could get into a writer's class and then selling her collection to Harper Collins and winning a grant to complete her first novel. Alabama boy and New York Times writer Warren St. John is writing about a summer he spent mowing grass and doing yard maintenance, which he said changed his life.
First, I'll say thank you to all the writers who agreed to throw in on a collection of essays about Southern writers and their day jobs, work they were advised not to give up. Clocking in at the culture factory, as William Gay put it, generally won’t pay the bills.
But then WB Yeats wrote a poem called The Choice, and warned us:
The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story's finished, what's the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.
So I’m fairly bustin’ to tell you that last Thursday on my birthday we sealed the deal on a home for our anthology, because, otherwise, all our raging would be in the dark.
The news will hit Publishers Lunch with a working title from Howard Bahr’s THE RAILROAD AS ART, the first essay to land in my email inbox, after ten o’clock two nights before Christmas. It’s got steel and feathers in it—time clocks and dreams. And while it’s exemplary of the conceit we want from the pieces—write a nose, not an ear, say—no two noses are alike. I’m thinking now of the philosopher who said show him a man’s nose and from that view he could reconstruct the whole person and all his intellect.
THE RAILROAD AS ART: Southern Writers and Day Jobs, then, will be published by MP Publishing, based in the city of Douglas on the Isle of Man but with an international reach. Our book will come out first in the US, simultaneously as a hardcover and an e-book. It will be published in the UK soon after.
Mark Pearce, our publisher, has a day job himself. He’s an architect and has made a good enough pile of money to found MP Publishing. I met him at BEA in New York in June and took a quick liking to the man, impressed by his intelligence, passion and enthusiasm. He is an eBook entrepreneur. He also loves real books and told me at Commerce café in Greenwich Village how someday he’d find the right book for his initiation into traditional ink and paper publishing. Mark came to Fairhope to see me, and, on a barstool at McSharry’s Irish Pub, he and I agreed THE RAILROAD AS ART is that book. (He’s actually already published two other hardcover books in the UK, and will release my novel, THE POET OF TOLSTOY PARK in hardcover there in 2011.) RAILROAD will lay the tracks—I couldn’t resist—for six other books MP will publish in the US this fall. He’s even going to spend money marketing our book—what a concept!—beginning with having me over to the London Book Fair in April to announce it to the world.
Following is a list of writers who’ll be included in THE RAILROAD AS ART: Southern Writers and Day Jobs
John Grisham
Pat Conroy
Rick Bragg
Cassandra King
Winston Groom
William Gay
Howard Bahr
Tom Franklin
Barb Johnson
Silas House
Connie May Fowler
Daniel Wallace
Beth Ann Fennelly
George Singleton
Matt Teague
Warren St. John
Jill Conner Browne
Jack Pendarvis
Joshilyn Jackson
Suzanne Hudson
Frank Turner Hollon
Lee Smith
Brad Watson
Michelle Richmond
Richard Howorth on Larry Brown
Clay Risen
And I'm waiting to hear back from Tim Gautreaux
This will be the best anthology I’ve ever done, making that comparison against the Stories from the Blue Moon Café series, books truly squeezed from my heart, an idea born in my driveway during a full moon, a blue moon, and on a night when Alabama was underneath a magical meteor shower that went on for hours. And when I say THE RAILROAD AS ART will be a better anthology, it’s a big deal for me.
All the contributors, to a person, "get" our anthology, understand its value as a compendium of contemporary Southern culture, an important view of its art and its workplace. They realize that these essays—memoir sketches, really—collected in one volume will actually be a kind of history of the modern South. Our South, peculiar and particular, between the covers of a good-looking book that we hope all readers will enjoy, and that Southerners will be proud of.
Sign on to my Facebook Fan Page, and I'll keep you posted...
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Guest Blog: Jessica Handler
You’re at your desk, you’ve got your writing game on, and you are not writing. (I can’t see you, I’m just projecting my own weak moments.) You’re surfing the web, which is why you’re reading me now. Or maybe you’re at a coffee shop, intending to write, but you don’t have the good table and chair yet. So you’re doing something else until what’s known at my local coffee shop as “the CEO desk” vacates.
Congratulate yourself. You’re not procrastinating. What you’re really doing is building community. Almost. The ‘web is one way to build community. Others ways involve your feet (for getting to events involving writers) your voice (for speaking up) and your charming personality, for making friends.
Writers need community because writing is grueling, isolating, work. It’s work that not enough people in your immediate life understand. Seriously, how many of you have had otherwise beloved friends and family members say things like “oh, it must be so relaxing to write all day,” or “if I had free time like you do, I could write something, too.”
Show of hands? Thought so.
Writers need other writers in their lives because we need folks like us who “get it.” We write alone, in the company of our characters, but we desperately love what we do. We want to talk about it ideas, commiserate when the going’s rough, and celebrate when we feel like we’ve struck a little bit of gold.
Now that I’ve passed the six-month mark of publication of my first book, I hereby crown myself a near-expert in how community helps writers. Community gets the word out about your book, before and after publication. If you don’t have a book, that same community pumps you up about your writing.
So, here are my five tips for building community among writers.
1. Read the work of writers you know. Maybe they’re your teachers, your friends, or friends of friends. Read writers who have been recommended to you. You’ll get a better understanding of what’s on their minds, and what’s in their worlds. Check their websites and find out where they’ll be doing author events. Some authors have blogs (hmmm, like the authors here at “A Good Blog Is Hard to Find.”) Read their blogs. Think about what you’d like to blog about on your writing blog.
PS. You don’t have a blog or a website? Start one. A little visibility goes a long way toward being reachable by other writers. Use social media sites, too.
PPS. A caveat here. Do not let social media eat your writing time. One hundred and forty characters isn’t writing, it’s passing notes in class. Use social media to connect with your growing community and to identify yourself to the world as a writer, a reader, and someone interested in writing. Then go write and read for real.
2. Like someone’s work? Let them know! Drop a writer a short message electronically or by that old fashioned technique, mail. You’re not being sycophantic (maybe you are, I haven’t seen your note), you’re just being nice.
3. Get off the computer (no, not this minute) and get out into the world. Attend readings in your area. Yes, the big names, but also the emerging writers. Listen and take notes if something the author says strikes you. And buy the book! While you’re there, look around the room. You’ll recognize folks you know. You might be surprised. Say hello. Get to know your local indie bookstores, coffee shops, colleges, libraries, arts centers… these places host readings, too.
4. Befriend your indie bookstores. Even if you just buy a magnet or some greeting cards, support them, because they support writers. Ask if they have a mailing list. Get on it.
5. Be a mensch. (Yiddish: literally “person,” but in practice, “an admirable person.”) Introduce people to each other. Invite friends to readings. Host a reading or a salon yourself. Start a writers’ group with like-minded people. Send thank you notes.
I guess we could call this post The Golden Rule for writers’ communities. Read the work of writers in your area of interest and in your geographical area. Go to readings. Buy books. Say ‘hello.’ Bring more people, one by one. Say ‘hello’ some more.
Hello! If I see you at a reading, introduce yourself. You’ll help make our community just got a little bigger.
Jessica Handler is the author of Invisible Sisters: A Memoir (Public Affairs, 2009), which was recently named one of the “Eight Great Southern Books in 2009” by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. She can be reached at http://www.jessicahandler.com
Congratulate yourself. You’re not procrastinating. What you’re really doing is building community. Almost. The ‘web is one way to build community. Others ways involve your feet (for getting to events involving writers) your voice (for speaking up) and your charming personality, for making friends.
Writers need community because writing is grueling, isolating, work. It’s work that not enough people in your immediate life understand. Seriously, how many of you have had otherwise beloved friends and family members say things like “oh, it must be so relaxing to write all day,” or “if I had free time like you do, I could write something, too.”
Show of hands? Thought so.
Writers need other writers in their lives because we need folks like us who “get it.” We write alone, in the company of our characters, but we desperately love what we do. We want to talk about it ideas, commiserate when the going’s rough, and celebrate when we feel like we’ve struck a little bit of gold.
Now that I’ve passed the six-month mark of publication of my first book, I hereby crown myself a near-expert in how community helps writers. Community gets the word out about your book, before and after publication. If you don’t have a book, that same community pumps you up about your writing.
So, here are my five tips for building community among writers.
1. Read the work of writers you know. Maybe they’re your teachers, your friends, or friends of friends. Read writers who have been recommended to you. You’ll get a better understanding of what’s on their minds, and what’s in their worlds. Check their websites and find out where they’ll be doing author events. Some authors have blogs (hmmm, like the authors here at “A Good Blog Is Hard to Find.”) Read their blogs. Think about what you’d like to blog about on your writing blog.
PS. You don’t have a blog or a website? Start one. A little visibility goes a long way toward being reachable by other writers. Use social media sites, too.
PPS. A caveat here. Do not let social media eat your writing time. One hundred and forty characters isn’t writing, it’s passing notes in class. Use social media to connect with your growing community and to identify yourself to the world as a writer, a reader, and someone interested in writing. Then go write and read for real.
2. Like someone’s work? Let them know! Drop a writer a short message electronically or by that old fashioned technique, mail. You’re not being sycophantic (maybe you are, I haven’t seen your note), you’re just being nice.
3. Get off the computer (no, not this minute) and get out into the world. Attend readings in your area. Yes, the big names, but also the emerging writers. Listen and take notes if something the author says strikes you. And buy the book! While you’re there, look around the room. You’ll recognize folks you know. You might be surprised. Say hello. Get to know your local indie bookstores, coffee shops, colleges, libraries, arts centers… these places host readings, too.
4. Befriend your indie bookstores. Even if you just buy a magnet or some greeting cards, support them, because they support writers. Ask if they have a mailing list. Get on it.
5. Be a mensch. (Yiddish: literally “person,” but in practice, “an admirable person.”) Introduce people to each other. Invite friends to readings. Host a reading or a salon yourself. Start a writers’ group with like-minded people. Send thank you notes.
I guess we could call this post The Golden Rule for writers’ communities. Read the work of writers in your area of interest and in your geographical area. Go to readings. Buy books. Say ‘hello.’ Bring more people, one by one. Say ‘hello’ some more.
Hello! If I see you at a reading, introduce yourself. You’ll help make our community just got a little bigger.
Jessica Handler is the author of Invisible Sisters: A Memoir (Public Affairs, 2009), which was recently named one of the “Eight Great Southern Books in 2009” by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. She can be reached at http://www.jessicahandler.com
How an editor helped me take my writing to the next level
By Karen Harrington, authorJANEOLOGYWhen I was little, my mother had a silver dressing table mirror. It featured a normal mirror on one side and a 5x magnified mirror on the other side. Me and my sister liked to make funny faces into it, seeing how big our lips looked, viewing our tonsils at the back of our throats. Even, dare I say, looking up our noses. For us, looking into this mirror was amusing. Of course, for my mother, it was a beauty tool.
As I've entered my 40s, I see the value of this kind of mirror, although it’s no longer as amusing. Well, sometimes it is, but not for the same reasons. No one likes to hold up a mirror to their flaws. But often it’s helpful to see the finest, smallest details in sharp focus. Dare I say, it reveals things you didn’t even know were there and promise to God were not there yesterday!
In some respects, it wasn’t until I put my sentences in front of a 5x magnification tool that I really took my writing up to the next level. The tool I used wasn’t a mirror, but an editor. A damn good one. And now that I’ve magnified the writing, viewed the small details and imperfections, can I ever go back to writing as before?
What happened was that I’d written my second novel. I’d given it to valued readers for critique, revised it and written several drafts. Only then did I think it was ready to go out into the world. I sent out query after query to agents and publishers. To no avail, I received a tidy stack of rejections. Then one day I happened upon a website that offered a free, five-page critique and edit of one's novel.
I sent in my pages. In two days, they were returned with edits, comments and suggestions. The editor read the first 15 pages of the manuscript and gave comments on my writing style in general.
After reading through the edits, I pictured what the entire manuscript would read like should she go over every sentence. I held the image of my novel as a purse. Her edits would create the draw-string at the top, tightening and pulling it together.
I scraped together the funds for her fee and sent off my novel for her full edit. What I got back was overwhelming. Deletion here. Rewrites there. Notes that I’d taken a paragraph one sentence too far. Highlights on inconsistencies and verb tense. A notation that I’d given two characters “thin, wiry hands.” A whole chapter towards the end of the book had a cruel X mark through it that just said “No.” Gulp! “And I PAID for this!
She told me to go through the book a little at a time, taking on a few pages a day. I followed her advice. By the time I got to the chapter marked X, I fully agreed that it had to go.
In two months, I’d completed the edits. By subjecting my writing to an uber-magnification via an editor, I’d taken not only the novel, but my writing to the next level. The horrible “chapter X” was replaced by a satisfying scene which brought the entire story into sharp focus and added extra urgency near the book’s end.
I geared up to resubmit the new and improved manuscript. In two months, I had two offers of publication. The result is my debut - JANEOLOGY.
I love telling people this story because it reminds me of the value of another set of super objective eyes. And I’m now able to put a magnified mirror on my writing, putting on my own editor’s hat. The edited draft became the basis of a personal editing checklist, which I use to this day. I’m not afraid to put a giant X over a section or chapter. Only through thorough objective editing can I see the finest, smallest details of my writing.
If you want to know, I worked on my upcoming novel with this same editor. We worked through it thoroughly, again taking a great story and bringing it up several levels. In the process I told her “This edit seems so much slower, much more challenging. I’m questioning EVERYTHING.” She replied, “For some reason, the better the novel the harder the edit. Plus, you’ve raised the bar on yourself. You know you have to do better. You know you can do better.”
She’s right. Now that I choose to put my writing in front of a 5x magnified mirror, I can see the finest, smallest details in sharp focus with my own eyes. And it’s all because I invested in an editor. A damn good one. And that, my friends, is how I took my writing up to the next level.
Visit me http://www.karenharringtonbooks.com/ or http://www.scobberlotch.blogspot.com/
Thursday, January 28, 2010
What I Learned from a Pear Purse: Or Bam! How to Kick Your Writing Up a Notch While Hunkered Down in the Kitchen
By Augusta Scattergood
What does any self-respecting writer do when deadlines loom and words fail? Take to the kitchen! I learned to cook when I was barely tall enough to reach the counter with a rolling pin, and I learned that, until you truly know your way around the ingredients, measuring is crucial, following recipes mandatory.
What does baking have to do with writing? you might ask.
(Then again, what on earth is a Pear Purse? Stay tuned.)
Beginning to write for publication is a lot like learning to bake. When baking, you need to pay attention, use the timer, follow the recipe and add flourishes at the end. Writers need to think before embarking on a new project, assemble our ingredients, see what goes best with what. Does cinnamon spice up the apples or do you prefer nutmeg? Does your story need an old and crusty obvious villain or is it the bad boy down the street? Is your hero the one who first bites like a sour cherry and then saves the day? Choose your characters with as much care as you pick over those blackberries at the Farmers' Market.
Once your characters speak up, they often invent their own settings. Certain characters cry out for a small town, the school yard, the post office. And the dessert made with my Christmas gift pears works best in a festive setting, with real whipped cream.
Once the the recipes are part of your persona, move to the next level, break a few rules. Or at least bend them with ease.
But the writing lesson learned from baking is not to take every shortcut you can. We all know that’s a slippery slope. Instead, adapt from the tenets of baking. First, measure twice, carefully. Then be sure your spices fit the dish. Take care that your dinner guests are the right one for your pie (or your audience is right for your short story, essay or script). Pop it in the oven to rise to the occasion. Once learned, start breaking the rules. You now cook, or write, "to taste."
What else does writing have to do with baking? Actually, there's a lot home cooks can do to become better writers.
Remember that Rice Krispie ad a few years back? While sitting with a juicy romance novel in hand, the mother/chef called out “Ready in a minute” a few times. Before stepping through the swinging doors, she poofed a handful of flour at her face. Then she emerged from the kitchen proudly holding a plate of Rice Krispie Treats for her guests. Any short-cutting writer/cook worth her mettle loves hiding in the kitchen penning short poems or pondering aha! moments for an essay while the rest of the family waits expectantly to enjoy the proverbial fruit of her hard work.
But writers need a dish that looks like you slaved in the kitchen and emerged with more than Rice Krispie Treats. My dessert purses take about 15 minutes to assemble, 3 minutes to prettify, and 30 minutes in the oven. Plenty of time to scribble a note or finish the last chapter of the current book to be reviewed.
The best part of being a writer who occasionally cooks? Stirring and thinking, proofing the dough while pondering plot, savoring the smells and dashing off descriptive phrases while the tart is in the oven. Ah, it’s enough to send a writer into the kitchen right now.
Just don’t forget your paper and pen.
Short Cut Fruit Purse
(NB the many uses of approximately and to taste. This is not baking science.)
1 Refrigerated Pie Crust
Fruit (whatever’s in the kitchen. Blueberries, cut-up pears, apples, alone or in combination)
Seasonings (cinnamon? grated fresh ginger?)
Sugar (to taste, brown or white, depending on your fruit’s sweetness)
Cold butter, sliced (also to taste, approx. 2 T.)
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter or spray your cookie sheet.
Unroll the dough and place it on the cookie sheet.
Pile the fruit in the middle.
Sprinkle with spices.
Dot with butter.
Pinch the pie crust together, attempting to close the top until it looks like one of those little purses your grandmother dangled from her wrist.
Dab milk or water on the crust.
Sprinkle outside with white sugar (approx. 1 teaspoon).
Bake till it turns brown, 30 minutes?
Serve warm with vanilla ice cream (My personal favorite being Bluebell…) or real whipped cream.
Makes 4 generous servings.
For an authentic Pear Purse recipe, AKA Pear Galette, with more exact measurements, made with homemade pie crust, check this entry on the food blog of a true Southern cook, my friend Lee Hilton,
What does any self-respecting writer do when deadlines loom and words fail? Take to the kitchen! I learned to cook when I was barely tall enough to reach the counter with a rolling pin, and I learned that, until you truly know your way around the ingredients, measuring is crucial, following recipes mandatory.
What does baking have to do with writing? you might ask.
(Then again, what on earth is a Pear Purse? Stay tuned.)
Beginning to write for publication is a lot like learning to bake. When baking, you need to pay attention, use the timer, follow the recipe and add flourishes at the end. Writers need to think before embarking on a new project, assemble our ingredients, see what goes best with what. Does cinnamon spice up the apples or do you prefer nutmeg? Does your story need an old and crusty obvious villain or is it the bad boy down the street? Is your hero the one who first bites like a sour cherry and then saves the day? Choose your characters with as much care as you pick over those blackberries at the Farmers' Market.
Once your characters speak up, they often invent their own settings. Certain characters cry out for a small town, the school yard, the post office. And the dessert made with my Christmas gift pears works best in a festive setting, with real whipped cream.
Once the the recipes are part of your persona, move to the next level, break a few rules. Or at least bend them with ease.
But the writing lesson learned from baking is not to take every shortcut you can. We all know that’s a slippery slope. Instead, adapt from the tenets of baking. First, measure twice, carefully. Then be sure your spices fit the dish. Take care that your dinner guests are the right one for your pie (or your audience is right for your short story, essay or script). Pop it in the oven to rise to the occasion. Once learned, start breaking the rules. You now cook, or write, "to taste."
What else does writing have to do with baking? Actually, there's a lot home cooks can do to become better writers.
Remember that Rice Krispie ad a few years back? While sitting with a juicy romance novel in hand, the mother/chef called out “Ready in a minute” a few times. Before stepping through the swinging doors, she poofed a handful of flour at her face. Then she emerged from the kitchen proudly holding a plate of Rice Krispie Treats for her guests. Any short-cutting writer/cook worth her mettle loves hiding in the kitchen penning short poems or pondering aha! moments for an essay while the rest of the family waits expectantly to enjoy the proverbial fruit of her hard work.
But writers need a dish that looks like you slaved in the kitchen and emerged with more than Rice Krispie Treats. My dessert purses take about 15 minutes to assemble, 3 minutes to prettify, and 30 minutes in the oven. Plenty of time to scribble a note or finish the last chapter of the current book to be reviewed.
The best part of being a writer who occasionally cooks? Stirring and thinking, proofing the dough while pondering plot, savoring the smells and dashing off descriptive phrases while the tart is in the oven. Ah, it’s enough to send a writer into the kitchen right now.
Just don’t forget your paper and pen.
Short Cut Fruit Purse
(NB the many uses of approximately and to taste. This is not baking science.)
1 Refrigerated Pie Crust
Fruit (whatever’s in the kitchen. Blueberries, cut-up pears, apples, alone or in combination)
Seasonings (cinnamon? grated fresh ginger?)
Sugar (to taste, brown or white, depending on your fruit’s sweetness)
Cold butter, sliced (also to taste, approx. 2 T.)
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter or spray your cookie sheet.
Unroll the dough and place it on the cookie sheet.
Pile the fruit in the middle.
Sprinkle with spices.
Dot with butter.
Pinch the pie crust together, attempting to close the top until it looks like one of those little purses your grandmother dangled from her wrist.
Dab milk or water on the crust.
Sprinkle outside with white sugar (approx. 1 teaspoon).
Bake till it turns brown, 30 minutes?
Serve warm with vanilla ice cream (My personal favorite being Bluebell…) or real whipped cream.
Makes 4 generous servings.
For an authentic Pear Purse recipe, AKA Pear Galette, with more exact measurements, made with homemade pie crust, check this entry on the food blog of a true Southern cook, my friend Lee Hilton,
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
You've won the Golden Ticket
By Nicole Seitz, author of SAVING CICADAS, A HUNDRED YEARS OF HAPPINESS, TROUBLE THE WATER, and THE SPIRIT OF SWEETGRASS.
This is a picture of me when I first started writing. See how young and naive I was? See how curly? Today I'm going to tell you "How I took my writing to the next level." I've been thinking about this a lot. First, I have to ask, "what level am I on now? What level was I on before?" I had no idea I was on a level, actually. But here goes. I hope some writers out there, whether you are unpublished, newly contracted, or multi-pubbed, might get something out of this.
This is my first official photo as an "author" on the right. Notice the hair is short and smart, the smile, sly, yet few gray hairs. When I signed my first book contract for a two-book deal a few years ago, I was on TOP of the world. I thought the road ahead was paved in gold and someone was carrying my bags. I thought the powers-that-be had every facet of my future in their capable, caring hands, and that my hard work was done. Surely, once I was published, it was all easy-peasy, right? I suppose that was Level 2, Ignorant Bliss. Level 1 came just before that-- writing and trying to get published.
Level 4 is something like this. You have conquered FEAR and just completed and turned in your new manuscript. Meanwhile, your first book is releasing, so you have to start doing book events...on your own dime, and much time, for not a lot of people--maybe Mom and Dad. At this point, I was offered another 4-book deal, which is a dream, I know, but if you could see my desk, you'd understand that this just upped the ante. Up went the stress and time and out-of-pocket money. This is a photo of me and my editor before I signed my second contract. At this point the hair is a little longer, still short. I'm not gray yet, and is that confidence I see on my face?
Level 5 is when you are balancing writing your new book, editing your last book, launching the book before that and speaking to book clubs and organizations about any and all books you've written. Sometimes, and I'm not kidding, you tend to forget which book you're supposed to be talking about to whom. You wait until you get there and look to see which book they're holding in their laps. Then you know.
And next comes...level 6. You are now teetering on the edge. You are wondering if you can keep all the balls up in the air. You can't write anything remotely inspired because you spend so much time doing promotion on blogs and facebook and twitter and your website and your email blasts, and driving to out-of-town events. You miss your family. You wonder if anyone else is working this hard. And then you attend some conference or writers event and you talk to other authors and realize, hey, we're all in the same boat here. You are not alone. (This is me with authors Jamie Ford, Pat Conroy and Melissa Conroy in Jefferson, TX for the Pulpwood Queens Girlfriend's Weekend a couple weeks ago. The hair is longer, but you can't see how much gray I'm covering. The smile is not confident, cocky or naive. It's something more like exhaustion and gratitude.)
In the final hour, after all they've been through is a blur, they must take a deep breath, ask God to open the door if it's His will, and then be willing to give it everything they've got...to take it to the NEXT level. There's always a next level.
---------------------
This is a picture of me when I first started writing. See how young and naive I was? See how curly? Today I'm going to tell you "How I took my writing to the next level." I've been thinking about this a lot. First, I have to ask, "what level am I on now? What level was I on before?" I had no idea I was on a level, actually. But here goes. I hope some writers out there, whether you are unpublished, newly contracted, or multi-pubbed, might get something out of this.
This is my first official photo as an "author" on the right. Notice the hair is short and smart, the smile, sly, yet few gray hairs. When I signed my first book contract for a two-book deal a few years ago, I was on TOP of the world. I thought the road ahead was paved in gold and someone was carrying my bags. I thought the powers-that-be had every facet of my future in their capable, caring hands, and that my hard work was done. Surely, once I was published, it was all easy-peasy, right? I suppose that was Level 2, Ignorant Bliss. Level 1 came just before that-- writing and trying to get published.Level 3 hit about the time I had to start writing book number 2 and realized it was much harder to write than the first book because I knew more about writing and the business, and my FEAR of failure kicked in. Gulp.
Level 4 is something like this. You have conquered FEAR and just completed and turned in your new manuscript. Meanwhile, your first book is releasing, so you have to start doing book events...on your own dime, and much time, for not a lot of people--maybe Mom and Dad. At this point, I was offered another 4-book deal, which is a dream, I know, but if you could see my desk, you'd understand that this just upped the ante. Up went the stress and time and out-of-pocket money. This is a photo of me and my editor before I signed my second contract. At this point the hair is a little longer, still short. I'm not gray yet, and is that confidence I see on my face? 
Level 5 is when you are balancing writing your new book, editing your last book, launching the book before that and speaking to book clubs and organizations about any and all books you've written. Sometimes, and I'm not kidding, you tend to forget which book you're supposed to be talking about to whom. You wait until you get there and look to see which book they're holding in their laps. Then you know. 
And next comes...level 6. You are now teetering on the edge. You are wondering if you can keep all the balls up in the air. You can't write anything remotely inspired because you spend so much time doing promotion on blogs and facebook and twitter and your website and your email blasts, and driving to out-of-town events. You miss your family. You wonder if anyone else is working this hard. And then you attend some conference or writers event and you talk to other authors and realize, hey, we're all in the same boat here. You are not alone. (This is me with authors Jamie Ford, Pat Conroy and Melissa Conroy in Jefferson, TX for the Pulpwood Queens Girlfriend's Weekend a couple weeks ago. The hair is longer, but you can't see how much gray I'm covering. The smile is not confident, cocky or naive. It's something more like exhaustion and gratitude.) There are other levels too. My daughter was reading a book tonight about Bad Cats and she started with the cover. "New York Times number one bestseller," she read.
"That's what Mommy's trying to be," I said, sheepishly. It sounded a little foolish saying it to a 6-year-old. Just what WAS that? Is that what I want? And as I envisioned the levels that must lie between here and there, I wondered if I was up for it and all that might come with it. "Maybe," I added. "Might be a while."
I have four novels out and I'm writing my fifth. My most recent book, SAVING CICADAS, was risky as I took on controversial topics. I like to do that. I like to be bold in my writing. But along with that comes the need for very thick skin, which I don't have. Yet. I think authors are extremely sensitive creatures. We may not look like it, but who do you know who puts it out there, everything they are for people to see and comment on and criticize? Okay, maybe the kids on American Idol...
These kids start out with a dream. They audition and see a little dream come true. They think they've "made it" when they get the golden ticket to Hollywood. But then the true work begins. You can't rest on your laurels, you have to get better to stay in the game. You have to take criticism and get right back up after it. You have to know who you are as an artist and not change depending on what the theme of the day is, rock or country or vampires or Amish vampires in love. And at the end, the ones still standing, the ones who persevere, who make it to that final level must be absolutely ecstatic. They must be exhausted too. They must be proud of all they've accomplished and must be okay with being voted for or voted against. They must be grateful to the ones who got them there and find comfort in the deep friendships they've made along the way. And they must always remember to inspire their wonderful, adoring audience. And do it all with a smile.
In the final hour, after all they've been through is a blur, they must take a deep breath, ask God to open the door if it's His will, and then be willing to give it everything they've got...to take it to the NEXT level. There's always a next level.I have made amazing friends in readers and writers in this journey, I just can't tell you. As open as I've been in my books, my readers are equally as open with me. I am so thankful to have people working on my behalf, thankful to be here. But, where is HERE? If I had a map like the ones in the mall, I'd have a little star that says, "You are here." But my star is harder to pinpoint. All I know is, I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Enjoying this crazy ride. Ready to take it to the next level, whatever that may be.
---------------------Nicole Seitz is the author and cover illustrator of four novels, SAVING CICADAS (Jan 2010 Indie NEXT List Notable, Pulpwood Queens Book Club Bonus Selection Feb 2010), A HUNDRED YEARS OF HAPPINESS (2009 SIBA Award nominee), TROUBLE THE WATER (Library Journal's Best Books of 2008), and THE SPIRIT OF SWEETGRASS (Books-A-Million FaithPoint Book-of-the-Month May 2007). Visit her at http://www.nicoleseitz.com/
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Purchase of Creativity
by Zachary Steele
Creativity is an instrument of great torment. Not always is the torment self-inflicted, but generally speaking it's swung about like a screeching cat at the end of a rope, taking out any and everyone in its path with the razor sharp precision of an unclipped claw. It doesn't come easily, and in the particular case of writing, it isn't often absolved from a clumsy hand. In fact, creativity itself doesn't ensure much more than the ability to tell really fantastic stories, that often take the breath from strangers minutes before they beat you over the head for lying so badly, and wasting their time in the process.
In the end, that's what writing is: The ability to tell creative, and sometimes fantastical, lies that stand to belief long enough to keep people from beating the hell out of you. The best make it through a career with nary a bump on the noggin', while the remaining bunch range from generally bloodied, to horrible stumps of pulverized humanity (or semi-humanity for some). To be in the latter, well, let's simply say that a career is the last thing on your mind. Generally, you're more diligent with your insurance premiums than your skills as a writer, since only one of those guarantees that your bills are mostly paid, or that your loved ones have some sense of financial gain from your death.
I learned this many years ago, after a number of failed attempts to crack the publishing brotherhood, and decided instead to take the necessary steps to ensure that I took as few lumps as possible on the trek to writering stardydom. It wasn't an easy journey, and ultimately it cost me dearly, but it brought my writing to a new level of exuberant glee that I, myself, could never even reach. And though it doesn't behoove me to share this, nor will it enhance my opportunity at fame, or glory, I will tell you the secret--the terrible secret--of how I altered the path of my writing life forever. How I turned the stacks of moldy writing cheese into a glittering bath of gold (and honey, though I have yet to use that).
I bought it, outright, from the Elvin Wordsmiths of the Underworld.
It didn't cost much, actually. You'd be surprised how cheaply these guys grant such skill. The greater cost was my cat Rocky, whom they fancied mightily, and insisted I leave in their care. It was heartbreaking, but ultimately worth it. I mean, I loved that cat, don't get me wrong. There aren't too many guys who will wander into the Underworld with a cat sprouting from his backpack like a fuzzy, chattering, well, cat in a sack I guess, but I did it. Granted, I only took Rocky with me because I had read that the Elves were terribly frightened of cats, especially the ones with the ability to hiss a river, like my Rocky. That turned out to be a crock. See? There's an example of a creative liar who's gonna get his head kicked in. You don't tell people they can take their cat to the Underworld, as a means of protection! Surely he had to know that someone would do this, at some point.
Ugh.
Anyway, they were really nice creatures, and knew an awful lot about the craft. Of course, if I had simply wanted to learn how to be a better writer I would have just taken a class, or read a book, or gone to a conference, or a seminar. Then I'd still have Rocky.
Crap.
Um, hm. Did I really give my cat (and cash, don't forget the cash!) up for this? Wow. That kinda makes me look bad. I mean, it's pretty cool to be able to say that Elves magicked up some skill for me, and that I got published because of it. And it was a fantastic journey deep into the mountains of (not gonna tell you). Not to mention the cavernous waterfalls, and ancient riddles that moved walls, and opened channels of water that flushed me under the mountains like...
I miss my cat.
You know, it might have been worth it if I had seen a dragon. Anything is worth it, if you get to see a dragon. But, well, nope. Just some stupid elves that stole my cat, and gave me the ability to lie in an entertaining fashion that may, or may not, result in my head getting bashed in some day. So, well, hey, this has been fun.
Well, I'm gonna go now. I want to see if I can find pictures of Rocky. Maybe I can sell enough books to fund another expedition to the Underworld. Then I can get my cat back, and blow the Elves to hell.
After I go beat the hell out of the writer that told me I could take my cat.
Zachary Steele is the author of Anointed: The Passion of Timmy Christ, CEO, and has been featured on NPR and in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Publisher's Weekly, and Shelf Awareness. If he manages to survive the process, his next novel, Flutter, will be out in later summer 2010. He can be found boring the world with his thoughts on his blog, The Further Promotion of ME.
Tell Me a Story
Last night, for the first time I can remember in the twenty years since she’s been gone, I dreamed about my grandmother. It took me all day to figure out why: Don Hewitt. What, you might ask, do they have in common? A world-traveling television news producer from New York City who created Sixty Minutes and a woman who lived a simple life in the mountains of North Carolina?
Don Hewitt died in August 2009 and last night Sixty Minutes reran an episode about his legacy. I vaguely remembered seeing parts of it when it first aired, but this time something caught my attention. It was Hewitt’s motto, the secret to his success. “Four little words that every child knows,” he said. “Tell me a story.” Tell me a story. Tell me a story, Nanny, I would say to my grandmother. Tell me a story. And she would, she always would.
Just before I watched Sixty Minutes, I’d been struggling with a lesson plan for my freshman composition class. The rhetorical triangle, discourse, context – all that academic speak is a foreign language to me. Story, on the other hand, is my native tongue. It’s native to all of us, the human need for story. And I realized that’s all we’re doing in composition class, talking about stories and how to tell them. I believe all good writing can be distilled to that simple and profound concept I learned as a child: tell me a story.
In the last years of her life, my grandmother slept in a twin bed in a room off the kitchen of her house. Whenever I stayed with her, I slept in the other twin bed right across from her. She would tell stories all night long and I would try and fail to stay awake so as not to miss a word. In my dream last night, we had on our nightgowns and were getting ready for bed. Her bed was a double and I started to climb in with her then decided I’d better sleep in the adjoining room. There was no door between our rooms and I could see her curled up under the covers. I lay there waiting for her to start talking, to tell me a story, but she never did. This morning I woke up feeling so sad and disappointed, totally clueless about the origin or meaning of the dream.
When I got home tonight after a busy but good day of writing and teaching writing, it occurred to me that the dream did mean something. It reminded me that my grandmother, my storyteller, is not really gone, she's just in the next room. The stories are still there, too, but they can't tell themselves. I remind myself of what I tell my students: you can’t just sit around wishing for stories, waiting for inspiration. You have to call them to you. “Tell me a story,” I say to myself. And I do, I always do.
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