It Just Isn't Respectable!

Last weekend, I watched the movie "Miss Potter" starring Rene Zellweger, a delightful telling of Beatrix Potter's life that I missed somehow when it was released in 2007. (I recommend it highly, by the way.)


Beatrix struggled against the skepticism of her mother, who believed she ought to marry as any other proper young Edwardian lady rather than wasting time with watercolors and silly children's stories. But Beatrix did not relent. Eventually, she found a publisher who accepted her "Tale of Peter Rabbit"--not because he thought it would sell, but perhaps it would occupy his younger brother who kept pestering him for a role in the family business. (If the book failed, all the better. His irrepressible brother would give up the dream of being a publisher and let them get back to serious publishing.)


But Beatrix's parents and Warne's brother were dead wrong. Children loved Peter Rabbit and soon that little storybook became a best-seller. In fact, the best-selling book of the publishing house. Make that the best-selling children's book of all time.


Eventually, Beatrix grew so weary of her mother's domineering attitude that she asked her banker whether she had enough money to buy a house of her own. "My dear Miss Potter," said he, "not only do you have enough money to buy a house. You could buy an estate. Several estates. In fact, you have enough money to last the rest of your life."


(Imagine yourself in her place. Feels good, doesn't it?)


When movers came to carry Beatrix's belongings out of her parents' home, her mother laughed derisively. "How could you possibly afford to live on your own?" she cried.


"Mother, I am an author. People pay for my work," Beatrix replied.


"Dear, Beatrix is famous," Mr. Potter whispered. "The only person in the world who doesn't know it is you!"


Who says that you're wasting time on stories when you could do something "respectable"? Their scornful comments may seem perfectly reasonable now, but...oh, let them say what they will. You know what you must do.

Congratulations, Mr. or Miss Christian Novelist -- You've Been Drafted Into The Culture War!

by Jeff Reynolds

What is the role of fiction in these contentious, divisive days?  

My original plan for today's blog failed to materialize, and it would have been interesting to see the reaction. The would be interviewee is a cartoonist where everybody would fall into three categories:

1. They love it -- it's one of their favorite strips (count me in this one).
2. They hate it -- it's one of their least strips.
3. They either ignore it or aren't aware of its existence.

While the very busy cartoonist didn't have time to get back, I'm going to look at today's society. Some would say we're in a full blown culture war (I'm one of those), and there are those who'd even dare suggest it could evolve into a civil war. 

An idealist would see fiction as a diversion from this antagonism if not a possible bridge between sides. However, the more likely scenario is that our storytelling is caught in the cross-fire. So allow me to suggest three random thoughts and see if and how they fit together.

THOUGHT #1 

WE ARE PART OF THIS WAR, 

LIKE IT OR NOT.

 If all you're doing is telling stories, you're safe. However, my hunch is that most of us either don't hide our Christian world-view or we have a Christian theme we're actively promoting. I'd be interested in hearing how many of the published authors get one star reviews on Amazon solely because there lamp's on the lampstand and not under a bushel. One speculative author friend was looking for people to listen to his book on Audible because the only people who critiqued that version panned it because of its faith angle.

THOUGHT #2 

WE NEED TO RIGHTLY DIVIDE THE TRUTH, 

NON-FICTION OR OTHERWISE.

In a newsletter Becky and I receive, there is critique of various views, and a pair of novels have been scrutinized. They receive numerous letters basically saying, "Leave them alone. It's only fiction. Who cares if the doctrine is off?"

You know what's interesting? In How Should We Then Live? Francis Schaeffer points out that existentialist philosopher Jean Paul Satre influenced more people through his fiction than his philosophical tomes. And would Scientology have been as successful if Hubbard wasn't a novelist? The truth is that we can influence others through what we write.

On my to-do list is to write a letter to the newsletter stating that if I get published I want that ministry to scrutinize my novel and point out its errors. After all, I'm an ordained minister which makes me a minister of the Word. But in a sense if I'm writing Christian fiction, I'm automatically a minister of the Word. We need to be leading people to the truth - not just evangelistically winning the lost but to give the new believer a solid foundation and the more mature believer edification, comfort and Spiritual encouragement.

THOUGHT #3

WE CAN USE OUR SOCIETAL CRITIQUES TO BRING

OPPONENTS TOGETHER  

OR TO DRIVE THEM FARTHER APART.

One class that made a lasting impact on me was a high school course titled "American Humor and Aesthetics of Film." The textbook for the former part mentioned five types of humor: Low comedy, Comedy of manners, Satire, Black humor, and High comedy. I learned there are two types of satire, both named after Greek satirists -- Horatian and Juvenalian. 

What's the difference? The spirit. Horatian is kinder and gentler; Juvenalian has a mean streak (is it a coincidence it sounds like "juvenile?"). People like Anne Coulter and Michael Moore are good at the latter, as are many political cartoonists. I prefer the more Horatian type, and I think Indianapolis is blessed to have Gary Varvel who fits that description.

Juvenalian satire is good at rallying the camps. Both camps. It gets those who agree laughing and firmer entrenched, and it gives fodder for those in oppostion so they're also ready to fight. Horatian is better at using humor to point out a fault in a way the "target" has a smile on his face, and both sides are then in a frame of mind to have a productive conversation and reach an understanding.

*     *     *     *     *

Thanks for letting me ramble a little. So what about you? Have you faced opposition because of your message? Have you ever been challenged on the theology of your story? Have you used either Horatian or Juvenalian satire in your stories, and to what effect?

 

So you want to be a writer? Then you better get a thick hide.

Source: Wikimedia Commons

For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a writer.

And for as long as I can remember I've had issues with rejection.

We all have them, really. But my issue is more pronounced since I was abandoned at birth, and for other reasons I'd rather not share, I feel rejection to the core.

Of all the occupations to long for, I managed to pick the one where rejection is more the norm than the exception. Especially when starting out.

If you want to be a writer, you're going to have to grow a thick hide. You're going to want to be a writer more than you hate the feeling of rejection.

I started submitting stories back in the 1970s (you know, when the ice was just beginning to thaw from the ice age). I received more rejection letters than acceptances. In fact, I'm not sure I received any acceptance letters from any magazines of major importance. But I continued to write. I enrolled in writing courses. I kept practicing the craft. The passion was still there. The rejections hurt, but my unction to write was stronger than that hurt.

I truly believe that it's not the most talented that get published but those that are the most persistent. It's the ones who refuse to give up and who are open to criticism and willing to learn how to master

their craft that make it.

Get yourself in a critique group that will filet you, and you'll learn to write well. It will do you no good to surround yourself with people who pat you on the back. Iron sharpens iron. Pens sharpen pens. Create an environment for yourself that stretches you and demands more from you.

Recently I was asked by a major magazine to do an article. I had longed to be published in such a magazine during the 1990s but my submissions were consistently rejected.

Now the magazine has come to me, not me to them.

I do not boast in myself. I only share this to say that it has nothing to do with my brilliance, but it does have to do with my work ethic and my willingness to learn all I can and to work like a dog. When I'm not doing something else, I'm writing. I'm not kidding. When I'm not writing, I'm usually researching or learning about writing. (I'm also a full-time college student, pastor's wife, Mama, caregiver of a mother-in-law with Alzheimer's...) But when I'm not doing those other things in my "other life," I'm working on my craft. I sacrifice personal free time to do so. (Naturally, in balance with keeping God my God and not putting the writing before Him.)

My point is this: Work Hard. Learn to take it on the chin. Grow a thick hide.

And never, never quit.

This post is cross-posted from Karla's Blog.  

 

Karla Akins is the award-winning author of The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Books due out August 9, 2013. Her ebook, Jacques Cartier went #1 in its category on Amazon and one of her columns was featured on the CNN homepage.

 

 

Gift of Gab or Dialogic Flab?

by Rachael Phillips

 Like all good little fiction writers, we attend conferences, classes, and webinars that forbid us to pad the narrative in our novels. Books and articles, too, shake a finger in our faces and demand that we keep our descriptions lean, clean, and healthy, with only a small dollop of adjectives to sweeten our offerings.

 With all the caloric concern about narrative, I’ve heard little about indulging in too much dialogue.

 Except from my critique partner. She pinpointed several scenes in my current novel—consisting mostly of dialogue—that she believed served no purpose.

I had to admit I encouraged my characters to talk because I like to talk. We find each other fascinating conversationalists. My partner, less than mesmerized, insisted our dialogue should further the plot.

But that wasn’t all. She said my last novel’s epilogue needed to shed some pounds. Half its weight, actually.

She was kidding, right? I agreed that I’d set the action in three different scenes—too many for an epilogue. But I’d crafted those last encounters between my characters to summarize the camaraderie they’d experienced in my novel. I’d put rich words into their mouths that readers would roll on their tongues for days afterward.      

My partner complimented me on my wordsmithing. But she still suggested I trim down the exchanges: “Seems like you’re taking awhile to wind it up, like you don’t want to let go of the characters.”

Tell me, what right does a critique partner have to be right?

After spending survival camp with my characters for months, huddling at 4:30 a.m., interviewing them, arguing with them, clobbering them, and rescuing them, I wanted to coffee klatch with my buds one last time. So the dialogue ran on . . . and on . . . and on . . . .

Meanwhile, the future reader would no doubt give up on the book, give in to weighty subliminal suggestions, and head for the refrigerator.

How about you? Have you ever had to put your dialogue on a diet?

5 Ways to Ruin Your Good Name in the Publishing Industry

Writers know the importance of making a name in the industry. We carefully choose a pen name. We devise and implement a brand. We strategically title blogs and websites to draw the most hits on the Web. But the surest way to ruin your good name in publishing is to put our writing in front of the people who matter--agents, publishers, and readers--before it is ready.

I recently paid good money for a self-published book recommended to me by a colleague. I don't want to get into an argument about the pros and cons of self-publishing, for that is not the point I wish to make. The point I wish to express is that this author put her cart ahead of her proverbial cart. Sometimes agents, editors, and publishers reject manuscripts for good reasons. This novel might be the best example of how to make sure your name is remembered--and not for any of the things for which writers hope.

So whether you are self-publishing, entering a contest, or submitting a manuscript to an agent, here are a few things you should do if you want to make your name infamous in publishing--and probably ensure you won't ever get a read again.

1. Disregard proper form and style. In the book I read, the author either did not have any idea how to properly write dialogue or she thought she had enough clout to create her own style. On the plus side, the writer was consistent. She wrote every line of dialogue in the entire book incorrectly.

2. Freely abuse the English language. Write the way you talk and if you mispronounce words or use improper syntax and context, stay true to form. Write things like, "James feared Melissa was a cereal killer" or "Marty didn't hafta check the phone number, he knew it by hard."

3. Ignore continuity. One character's last name changed mid-way through the book with no explanation. Another character fluctuated between two different spellings of her name. Tomato, to-mahto, potato, po-tahto. Let's call the whole thing off, Molly--or is it Mollie?

4. Skip spell-checking, editing, and proofreading. This particular author misspelled the same words with enough frequency that it could not have been an accident. Repeated misuse of homonyms made it clear that the author just didn't know witch, I mean which, word to use. I guess some people just don't want to be told what to do--even by their spell checker.

5. Get your facts wrong. A simple subtraction problem should have shown the author that her character could not have been married for 22 years unless she walked the aisle at the age of nine. And at one point, two characters flew home to Seattle, went to bed and woke up the next morning in their beds--in Las Vegas.

I found the story idea engaging, the voice interesting at times, but the inaccuracies, errors, and typos convinced me that I won't ever spend my hard-earned money on another book by this author, nor will I take seriously another recommendation from that particular colleague. Some more time snuggled up with a good critique partner, a dictionary, or a computer with spell check would have made a tremendous difference with this manuscript. Did this author ruin her good name and her chance of ever signing an agent, getting a publishing contract, or securing a fan base?

I'd love to hear what you think.

*Note: My goal is not to bash this author, which is why I don't list the author or the title. I've also altered some of the telling pieces of information so as to make it more difficult to recognize the book in question.

“Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to Be Said”

Today I’m attending a girl’s rite of passage. The girl’s mother invited each guest to counsel or encourage her daughter through any number of written forms. What about a fairy tail? Having loved them all my life, but having never written one, I visited an expert through his essay titled as above.

C.S. Lewis begins with a distinction between the author as Author and the author as Man.

In short, the Author is the artist and the Man is the critic. Each has his reason for writing an imaginative work. If only one is present, the book will not be written. If the first is lacking, it cannot. If the second, it should not.

The Author’s mind bubbles with story material. The ferment longs for a Form. The boil paws to get out, nags all day, gets in the way of eating and sleeping. It looks like being in love.

The Man turns down the heat. Perhaps gratifying this impulse will not fit in with all his other wants and responsibilities. Perhaps the project is too frivolous and trivial from the Man’s point of view. Or perhaps, best of all, it is good and edifying in every sense.

If the Man consents to the Author, the next question is what Form to give the story. Lewis’s mind bubbled with mental pictures—a faun in the snow, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion. These images began to sort themselves into events demanding no love interest and no close psychology. The Fairy Tale was the Form that excludes these. “And the moment I thought of that, I fell in love with the Form itself; its brevity, its severe restraints on description, its flexible traditionalism, its inflexible hostility to all analysis, digression, reflections, and ‘gas’” (p. 37). Even its limitations on vocabulary attracted him as does the hardness of stone, a sculptor or the difficulty of a sonnet, a sonneteer. The Author in Lewis was having a fine time.

But the Man in Lewis had his turn. Was the story worth the time and pain? Could it be edifying and good? He thought yes: stories of this kind might help him “steal past” his inability in childhood to feel about God and the sufferings of Christ as he had been told he ought to feel. He believed there were others who were likewise paralyzed, even as adults. Lewis believed that casting the whole subject of Christianity into an imaginary world and stripping away Sunday School associations might allow God and His Christ to appear in their real potency. The Man had his reason for moving forward, but these would not have occurred without the ardor of the Author.

This was not popular thought in Lewis’s time. The Fairy Tale had been relegated to children’s literature as old furniture, to the children’s nursery, not because the children like it but because the adults ceased to like it. But since Lewis never spoke down to children and never wrote below adult attention Lewis’s fairy tales garnered delighted readers of all ages.

The Fairy Tale may say best what’s to be said: “At all ages, if it is well used by the author and meets the right reader it has…power [to overcome inhibitions]: to generalize while remaining concrete, to present in palpable form not concepts or even experiences but whole classes of experience, and to throw off irrelevancies. But at its best it can do more; it can give us experiences we have never had and thus, instead of ‘commenting on life’, can add to it” (p. 38).

So while the Author in me stirs a boiling brew, the (Wo)Man in me paces the floor.

Sound familiar?

Lewis, C.S. “The Fairy Tale May Say Best What’s to Be Said.” Of Other Worlds: Essays and Other Stories. Ed. Walter Hooper. London: Geoffrey Bles, Ltd., 1966.

Faithful Wound

Two years ago I headed cross-country to a writers’ residency. Early chapters were forged, later chapters were forming. Those five days would not only sharpen the current drafts but also define drafts to follow. I could hardly wait.

On day three a mentor slashed the chapters. The content, the style, and especially the voice were inappropriate to the story. I was astonished. She continued. They were inapt because I was inept, both as observer and communicator. My mind went numb. My fellow residents shifted in their seats. I could hardly wait to jump out of mine.

That afternoon the Lord initiated treatment.

antiseptic

Rehearse what she said and determine which comments were correct and which ones were

not. Sift them, keep the true ones, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away, as

Dinah Mulock Craik counseled.

antisthetic

Turn your eyes to Me. Keep looking at Me—My character, My ways.

stitch

Consider the source. She has a proven record of writing and being published.

another stitch

Consider her risk. Even though she could not guess how you would respond, nor did she have anything to gain by harsh critique, she risked, using painful candor.

Faithful wounds are better than deceitful kisses.

and another stitch

Look at the submission with different eyes.

She shocked you out of arrogant naivete. She has invited you to improve.

still another stitch

Choose a healthy response. Vengeful options—criticism, ridicule, gossip, slander—feel pleasant for a moment; but only forgiveness can ultimately satisfy and set free.

how many stitches will there be?

Turn twice:

First, turn toward her. Ask her questions. Listen to her answers. Learn all you can from her. Genuinely thank her for her help.

Second, turn to Me. I have called you. I am faithful to you, even in this pain. And through this pain we will know each other far better. You’ll thank me for it.

And I have. My soul bears that day’s mark. By it--that faithful wound--I am tutored and encouraged.

Have You Hugged a Critic Today?

We already know that we need to be careful what we say online, because people are listening. And some interesting things can happen because of that listening. This notion isn’t new; it’s the basis for the borderline paranoia that frequently masquerades as “caution” in our writing circles.

But if we flip over that paranoia—if we actually start thinking in terms of “who might be looking at my blog, and why”—this notion, and the reality it represents, can bring about some pleasant surprises. I had one, some time ago, through my personal blog. Not through the blog posts themselves—although I certainly try my best to make those instructional—but via the comments.

Yep. The comments.

On most blogs, the comments section can be a dicey place. Crazies surf widely, post erratically, insult freely, and spam comboxes, to the point where you may have myriad fans of your blog who never look in your combox. It’s just not worth the hassle of weeding through the nonsense to get to thoughtful conversation.

On the other hand...

I don’t often receive mail at my day gig; my authors and I communicate largely by e-mail, in some instances by telephone or by fax. Even our proofreaders who prefer “hard copy” to “track changes” will send their hard-copy page corrections via fax. So, unless it’s a Christmas card or something else wonderful from an author, I rarely have things addressed to me at the day job. Thus, when I got a package one day, I was surprised. I was even more surprised when I opened it and found a book, and a note, from an author whose work I had criticized at some length, months earlier, in the comments section of my personal blog.

I admit, I opened the note with some trepidation; I’ve received more than my share of damning-with-faint-praise under the guise of such letters, and on that particular day, I wasn’t in the mood to be grownup and mature should that prove to be the case. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I read a thank-you note—for my criticism. I had pointed out what I saw as glaring weaknesses in an author’s work…and she thanked me for it.

She looked over the first several chapters of the book in question, thought to herself, “Yep, I can do better than that,” and proceeded to revise—based largely on the comment-conversations I and a couple of others had had about her writing. She has the option of making changes relatively easily  in her particular publishing situation, so she took the opportunity to do so, and she wanted to give me credit for “inspiring [me] to continue to improve.”

That would have been impressive enough—but she didn’t stop there. She also thanked me, by name, in the acknowledgment section of the new version of the book.

Now, if you don’t already know this about me—or haven’t figured it out by now!—I am, as I often put it, “a sucker for lavish praise.” Everyone loves to be praised, of course, but I think I love it even more than average; so anytime I’m thanked on a page of a book, it’s an occasion to remember for me. I’ve had other authors do it, although not nearly enough times so it’s in any danger of “getting old” (as if being praised ever can). But I have to admit, this is the first time I’ve been thanked, in public and by name, for something I’ve said in what in essence can be a “throwaway” part of a blog.

That, I think, says something important—even encouraging—to all of us. It’s one thing to recognize intellectually that everything you say can be heard by someone, and that what you put online stays up pretty much forever. It’s another thing entirely to realize that someone whose name you “take in vain” might be reading one day…might examine what you say and how you say it…and might have that resonate enough that your words become a learning moment for all concerned.

That notion is heady stuff. In the end, it's a big part of why many of us who critique, edit, and mentor do what we do. So if you're at the receiving end of someone like me pointing out a weakness in your work, and after thinking about it you realize they have a point...do keep in mind that getting thanked for such a thing may just make someone's day. Be it a critiquer, an editor…or even some fool just holding forth in her combox. :-)

It did mine.

Thoughts?
Janny

Are YOU in Aesop’s Fable?

Do you remember Aesop’s fable about the man and his son taking their donkey to market?  Poor guys, they’re just tromping along happily enough, but keep encountering groups of critics. The first group mocks father and son for walking alongside the donkey when they should be riding it. Like, hello, what are donkeys for?

So Dad puts the boy on the donkey, only to be criticized by another group for the son’s lack of respect in making poor, old Dad walk. The two switch places, but are now chided by yet another group for making the boy walk.  So up climbs the boy behind his father.

Wouldn’t you know it, they meet a group of animal rights fanatics, who shake their fists at the two riders. Yeah, the man and the boy—they should be the ones bearing the donkey! Ever compliant, Dad and son tie the poor beast upside down on a pole and carry him the last quarter mile to the marketplace.

On the bridge into town, a crowd gathers, laughing, shouting, snorting at the spectacle. The frightened donkey kicks free of the ropes and tumbles, alas, into the raging river below. The moral of the story? If you try to please all, you please none.

Now, does that not describe a dilemma we writers face?

Yeah, critics.

Sigh. Those who do not know enough to appreciate the sterling quality of our work.

Okay, okay, so some of them have good points to make. But do we have to comply with every nit-picking one of them? Might we, in our eagerness to please, end up losing who we are? Isn’t there a line in the sand we should draw and stand behind, arms folded, face scowling?

I’ve discovered some answers for those donkey-do, donkey-don’t encounters.

Number one, get educated. At my first writers conference I was handed a silver dollar critique, but I had a copper penny understanding of what in the world my critiquer was talking about. I couldn’t benefit because my knowledge base was inadequate. Learn the language, learn the concepts, grow ears that can hear.

But don’t stop there. Go beyond workshops and blogs and books. Trouble is, they leave you standing there all by you widdle self. There’s no interaction with the teacher, no evaluation of your attempt to translate knowledge into skill. When I started taking online writing classes and submitting assignments, I not only received instant feedback (and second and third chances) but I also profited from the instructor’s comments on my classmates’ assignments. The cost of online classes varies from $15 to $40, a mere pittance, really. I’m here to tell you, those classes will put arms and legs on those ears you’re growing.

Number two, be intentional. Sniff out good critiquers. At conferences, pay for critiques from authors. Their feet have landed where you want yours to tread, and their experience and knowledge will be worth more than the money you paid. But don’t just pick any old author. Be selective. Check out the different authors’ books from the library or survey them on amazon.com. Do you like a particular author’s writing style? How he tells his story? The kind of story he tells? Pick him! Then, when you meet, be ready with questions specific to your needs. If you choose well, you’ve set up a critic encounter that will reap gain, not pain.

The same goes for critique partners. Be intentional. Find partners who offer what you want. I have four CPs in three different partnerships. Two write romance, one writes women’s fiction, and one writes mysteries. None of these are my genre, but each partner provides different plusses for my writing, and critiquing their genres stretches me in beneficial ways, as well. Commitment to CPs is a huge investment, so enter those relationships with careful consideration. Choose well, and the sharing and caring will bring muscle—and maybe some extra heart—to your writing.

As for that line in the sand, well, yes, eventually it should be drawn. It’s called “voice.” Ideally, your critics will help you gain confidence in who you are as a writer—your style, your message, your approach to story. You’ll know the “rules” and be comfortable with where you’ve decided to settle down amidst all the possibilities. You’ll know when to comply and when to fold your arms and stand firm.

Skip the scowling face, though. Along the road you might encounter a critic called an editor. Yeah, you’ll definitely want a smile on your face.

Steph Prichard