by Anne R. Allen
I had what is known as a “good education.” I attended East Coast and European prep schools and Ivy League colleges. Both my parents were college professors with PhDs in literature.
All of which left me uniquely unqualified for my chosen profession: writing novels.
Why?
Because I grew up knowing almost nothing about what kind of writing actually sells.
One of my favorite funny moments in film is the scene in Star Trek IV, when the Enterprise crew find themselves back the 20th century. Kirk refers to “the complete works of Jacqueline Susann, the novels of Harold Robbins,” and Spock replies, “Ah… The giants!”
Hilarious bit. But the thing is—they were giants. Not great writers, but great storytellers. They provided the stories people of their era were eager to read—the same way Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and Dickens did.
WH-A-A-A-T!!? I can hear the English majors screaming now—”You dare to compare Susann and Robbins with great literary writers?”
Well, yeah. Because Shakespeare, Austen, and Dickens didn’t set out to be “great literary writers.” They set out to make money writing what the public wanted—just like Susann and Robbins.
Hey, I’m an English major myself (technically Art History, but I spent enough time studying literature to qualify.) I could compare and contrast the use of nature imagery in the Cavalier Poets before I’d ever read a Harlequin romance.
But looking back, I realize I should have given the Harlequins more notice. Reading nothing but classic literature gives you a false idea of what people actually read.
It also teaches a cerebral rather than visceral approach to writing—plus it gives us a pretty distorted idea of the typical author’s life.
Here are some things I learned in academia that worked against me in the real publishing world.
1) Genres? We don’t need no stinking genres!
I’ve spent most of my writing life “trampling across every accepted boundary of fiction category with joyful abandon,” as my UK editor once put it.
Which made my work almost impossible to sell.
The truth: Most successful writers get in through the genre door. Even literary authors. Kurt Vonnegut wrote SciFi; Margaret Atwood writes women’s fiction and SciFi; Dennis Lehane and Kate Atkinson write mysteries. Very few purely literary novels sell—and most of those are by authors who have published scores of exquisitely crafted short fiction pieces in prestigious journals and/or have endowed chairs at major universities.
We need to choose a genre and write as creatively as possible within its boundaries. Otherwise, no matter how brilliant we are, we can stay unread forever.
Even self-publishers have to learn to categorize themselves or get lost in the Amazon jungle.
2) It’s all about the theme.
Oh, yes, we loved those classes where we discussed the theme of the eroding American Dream in Fitzgerald, and the decay of the South in Faulkner. They set off fantasies of the novels we were going to write about the demonization of the feminine and the need for adolescent rebellion.
The first novel I wrote showed the darkness and corruption underlying the “happy days” of the 1950s.
I sometimes even stressed the theme in my query letters.
Yeah. For some reason, agents weren’t all that impressed.
The truth: It turns out not many people outside of a literature class actually care about themes. What most readers care about is story. Themes are something you kind of sneak in, just for yourself.
If you want future English majors to ferret out your themes a hundred years from now, you have to actually sell the book now.
And if you’re self-publishing, it’s very tough to sell literary fiction. Most ebook buyers—and ebooks are where the money is—are looking for fast, skimmable stories, not rich, weighty prose. And even the loftiest of publishing houses won’t take on anything they don’t think can make money.
3) Readers are sure to be impressed by your vast knowledge of literature.
If you spent your college years immersed in the classics, you probably long to drop lovely Shakespearean quotes into your descriptions and make clever references to the works of Lord Byron in your sparkling dialogue. That’s sure to let your readers know they’re in the capable hands of a culturally literate author, right?
The truth: Um, not really. That quote from Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko may impress your former Restoration Lit professor, but not many others will have a clue what you’re talking about.
I used to state proudly in my query letter that my first Camilla novel, The Best Revenge was inspired by Mrs. Fanny Burney’s 1796 novel, Camilla, or a Picture of Youth.
How many requests for partials came out of those queries?
Yup. You got it.
4) Use topic sentences; never use fragments; semicolons are our friends.
I was the ultimate grammar nerd. I prided myself on my ability to diagram any sentence, and got a perfect 800 score on my English SAT. I had what it takes to be a great writer—right?
Nope. My editor at a Canadian ezine clued me in. “This stuff reads like a Ph.D. dissertation,” he said. “Your paragraphs are indigestible hunks of text, and for god’s sake break up those sentences!”
The truth: Strict adherence to the MLA rules required for college papers comes across as stilted and boring in fiction or narrative nonfiction. Some people even find it a little hostile.
5) Great writers like Gertrude Stein, Joyce, and Kerouac did cleverclevercleverthings with punctuation and syntax, so people will think you’re clever if you do it too.
Oh, I had to get into that experimental writing thing. I wrote one novel as a series of diary entries by a 10 year old, complete with childish spelling and grammar.
That one got rejections in the return mail.
The truth: Hard to read is hard to sell.
Gertrude Stein gave great parties (and her wife baked killer brownies) which fueled her fame more than her books. Joyce’s books were reputed to be, ahem, dirty (never underestimate the power of banning books to stimulate sales.) And Kerouac tantalized the Mad Men era with tales of the non-conformist life they were starved for.
I’m not saying these writers aren’t great, but experimental writers usually need other factors beyond their actual writing to get them into the public eye.
This is especially true for self-published writers who depend on Amazon’s Kindle store for most of their sales. Amazon flags books that have anything their robots consider “misspellings” and “grammar mistakes” and takes them down if they are not rewritten in what their spell checker software considers standard English. (Yes, I consider this unfortunate, and I think it will have a far-reaching negative impact on our literature. But for some reason, Amazon doesn’t come to me for advice. 🙂 )
Update on Amazon and typos: John Doppler at Words on Words says Amazon isn’t being as draconian about creative spelling as was reported in the Good E-Reader. They only flag books if they’ve had complaints.
6) Beautiful prose=successful writing.
I loved to labor over a paragraph, or even a phrase, until I got the music of it exactly right. It could take me six months to write a chapter. Each one had to be like a painting of visual delights.
But I’d never actually finish the story. I still have boxes filled with those unfinished “masterpieces.”
The truth: Most book buyers aren’t looking for show-offy prose. They want to be entertained.
I once spent two weeks on a Greek island with nothing to read but Henry James’ The Golden Bowl. This cured me of pretending I actually liked James. (Okay, Portrait of a Lady is pretty good, but it’s way too long. A little less description would make it a lot more readable.)
7) You can’t go wrong if you follow the masters.
Prologues, omniscient POV, weather report openings—literature is full of stuff publishers tell you not to do. If Dickens or Faulkner did it, how can it be wrong?
When I was first out of college, I wrote lots of faux Vonnegut. Plus some very bad imitations of Dorothy Parker. Then I fell in love with prologues. I wrote long, endless ones, detailing the backstory of all my characters and their ancestors. Luckily, I never got around to writing the actual books.
The truth:
- Readers’ requirements change with the times. The Victorians had long winter nights and rainy days to fill. Wealthy flappers had servants and no jobs. Mid-twentieth-centurians had only three TV networks. Even a few decades ago, there was no Internet. Fierce competition changes the rules.
- What’s clever the first time can become clichéd. Good stuff gets repeated. A lot. I’ll never forget taking a person to his first production of Hamlet. “Why do they call Shakespeare great?” he said. “That play was just one cliché after another!”
- Some things are tough to do well. Why sabotage yourself by inviting comparison with the greats?
- They’re famous; you’re not. Once you’ve had some mega-sellers, you’ll get to break the rules, too. (Although you’ll still get snarky reviews. Check out the one-star Amazon reviews of literary bestsellers sometime.)
8) Just be honest and authentic and “tell your truth,” and you’ll be a success.
I followed the dictum “write what you know” to the letter. I was an insecure, neurotic college girl who took a fair amount of drugs, so I wrote about insecure, neurotic college girls who took a fair amount of drugs. Funny thing—nobody else found my musings very interesting.
The truth: People don’t want to read about you. They want to read about themselves. “Authenticity” alone doesn’t sell books.
Unless your work also tells a great story with universal appeal, nobody cares.
9) Writers’ lives are important and interesting.
You spent all those class hours studying every detail of Emily Dickinson’s existence, every nuance of Scott and Zelda’s correspondence, and endlessly pondering why Virginia Woolf took that walk into the River Ouse. So you’re sure that if you get published, people will be interested in your life too.
The truth: If you say you’re a writer, most people will…
1) Let their eyes go glazey
2) Ask directions to the bathroom
3) Tell you their life story and offer to go 50-50 with you on the book if you “just write down the words.”
10) Writers get to spend lots of time in cafés in lovely foreign cities, discussing life’s great questions while drinking exotic alcoholic beverages.
OK, I confess I read way too much Hemingway and Fitzgerald.
The truth: Most writers are shy, boring people who work in hidey-holes wearing old sweats day after day. Hardly anybody sends us to Paris.
What about you? Were you prepared for the realities of a writing career? What misconceptions did you have about writing? Anything to add to the list?
by Anne R. Allen (@annerallen) January 24, 2011
Anne R. Allen is the author of ten books, including the bestselling CAMILLA RANDALL MYSTERIES and HOW TO BE A WRITER IN THE E-AGE, co-written with NYT bestseller Catherine Ryan Hyde.
BOOK OF THE WEEK
The prequel to the Camilla Randall Mysteries.
We meet Camilla and Plantagenet in the big-hair, pastel-suited 1980s. In this satirical romp, a spoiled 1980s debutante comes of age—and discovers strengths nobody knew she had—when she loses everything. The story takes her from the doors of Studio 54 to the coke-fueled parties of Southern California to a cell in the L.A. County Jail accused of murder. We know she didn’t do it, but who did?
OPPORTUNITY ALERTS
Platypus Press. A new UK small press is looking for literary novels and poetry collections. No agent required. Though your manuscript must be complete, the first three chapters of a novel will suffice when submitting. It must be previously unpublished, but work posted on a blog or personal website is acceptable. Accepts simultaneous submissions.
Sequestrum Reprint Awards. Finally a contest that actually wants previously published short stories and creative nonfiction! Entry fee $15. Prize is $200 and publication in the Fall-Winter issue of Sequestrum. The runner-up will receive $25 and publication. Finalists listed on the site. Deadline April 30th, 2016.
WERGLE FLOMP HUMOR POETRY CONTEST NO ENTRY FEE. Limit one poem with a maximum of 250 lines. First Prize: $1,000. Second Prize: $250. Honorable Mentions: 10 awards of $100 each. Top 12 entries published online. Deadline April 1, 2016.
Win a Chance to Write where Hemingway Wrote! Enter the Florida Keys Flash Fiction Contest to win a three-week Key West residency at the renowned Studios of Key West between July 5 and July 31, 2016.Inspire your creativity by spending up to 10 days writing in Ernest Hemingway’s private study at the Ernest Hemingway Home & Museum — and experience Hemingway Days 2016, celebrating the iconic author who called Key West home in the 1930s. Submit your finest flash fiction story, 500 words or less, between now and March 31, 2016.
The Poisoned Pencil: New YA publisher open to submissions! The well-known mystery publisher The Poisoned Pen now has a YA imprint. They accept unagented manuscripts and offer an advance of $1000. Submit through their website submissions manager. Response time is 4-6 weeks.
World Weaver Press: A small press open to submissions for the month of February 2016. They’re looking for sci-fi, paranormal and fantasy fiction: novels, novellas, serialized fiction, anthology proposals, and single author story collections. No zombies.
PSYCHOPOMP MAGAZINE SHORT FICTION AWARD $15 ENTRY FEE. Up to 6000 words. They’re looking for edgy stuff that “pushes the boundaries of genre or form.” First Place Award: $500 and issue publication. All finalists will be considered for publication. Deadline January 31, 2016.
Open call for the Independent Women Anthology: short stories (flash fiction included), poetry, essays, artwork, or any other woman and/or feminist-centered creative work. 10,000 word max. All genres but explicit erotica. $100 per short story, $50 for flash, poetry, and photography/artwork. All profits will be donated to the Pixel Project Charity to end Violence Against Women. Deadline January 31, 2016 with a goal of publication on International Women’s Day, March 8, 2016.
I’ve had the last item in number nine happen…
Fortunately, I did not grow up with a lot of literary except through school and college. No one is in danger of reading flowery prose in my books. (I doubt I could write that anyway!)
And if Amazon is flagging books for errors, I wonder if Cormac McCarthy’s book, No Country for Old Men, has been flagged since he uses no punctuation?
Alex–Isn’t it amazing how many people do that? They think there’s nothing to “writing down the words” of a book. That figures prominently in the plot of my novel Sherwood Ltd. 🙂
I had exactly that thought. Are they going to be flagging trad pubbed books and classics? Think what they’ll do with Lewis Carroll or Edward Lear! Shakespeare made up 100s of words. A contemporary Shakespeare might be totally blocked from Amazon.
#9, yes! As if writing is the quick and easy part.
I still get hung up by the need to create pretty sentences.theres a big part of me that is unconvinced that pretty sentences arent important 😉
liztai, I completely agree! I just try to keep loose words and crazy dancing in the privacy of my home. 🙂
The problems is that college teachers live in their own world like actors, and it doesn’t always reflect the real world. I was lucky in that I didn’t run into most of what you did. I started writing when I was eight, and I read craft books I got at the library. Plus, my father had heavy B.S. meter on, so when the junior college teacher professed to know about writing and had only a self-published book in the library, I wanted to run away. I still didn’t know much then, and it scares me now that someone who knew less than I did was teaching people how to do it.
Once of the worst things I’ve heard though are writers who sniff and turn their nose up at writing for the “masses” as if there were something wrong with it. They’re usually the ones who call best sellers dreck and writers a hack for not laboring 20 years on one book. I think at least some writers want to make money, and the truth is that 1) You can’t predict what book you might be remembered for years later, so you have to write a lot and 2) You can’t get noticed if you don’t write for the masses. That’s how the “classics” became classics.
Linda–Exactly! That’s how the classics became classics: they sold a lot of copies. Great insight that academia is a kind of self-contained microcosm–very like the theater. I’ve lived in both and you’re absolutely right. You’re also right that you never know which of your books might catch on. I just reread Mansfield Park. I think if Jane Austen had only written that one novel, she wouldn’t be as beloved as she is today. It has some dark stuff her other novels don’t have.
I completely agree there’s nothing wrong with writing for the masses and to make money, but cringe when writers don’t offer a unique voice and storytelling, as if re-ordering common wording and clichéd phrases is what genre fiction is all about. And yes, I’ve been told that’s what you do to make money. It’s a balance…
Jen–Churning out cookie-cutter books may make money in the short run, but if you’re looking for a long career, I think it’s way more important to write well. Genre books can be just as well-written as literary ones. A lot of them are.
Some genre books are very well written, I agree. But choosing to write for the masses, to acquire fans and make as much money as possible, means producing books with required happy endings, concessions to mass values and taste with the addition, here and there, of a few name brands and designer tags, confirming we’re all on the right track in the consumer society. If I read a book that is pure fluff and entertainment, no matter how snappy the prose is, I won’t be buying a second.
Fortunately, there are other writers, those who prefer remaining true to themselves, who want to question society (simply shoving Vonnegut into the Sci-Fi category is unfair, especially when much of SciFi is now a written rehashing of films and TV programs). Such authors know how to polish words and sentences until they sing clearly, and such writing is an intellectual pleasure. Happily, such craftspeople aren’t writing to make money — they know they won’t — but to communicate, and a few publishers are there for them. And, thankfully, readers like me will always be hungry for what they produce.
PS And thanks to you for a highly interesting blog. Look forward to seeing more.
Jill–It’s well known that Vonnegut broke into publishing through the SciFi door. He made great fun of it with his Kilgore Trout character. And this was in the 1950s. I certainly wasn’t responsible for that. I’m old, but not that old. 🙂
I am only describing the publishing industry as it is, not as it should be. There will always be people writing and publishing literary and experimental books–and you will find plenty on the bookstore shelves. But those authors usually enter through the academic door or get published first in small prestigious journals. (Or big ones, like the New Yorker.) If you want your work to be reviewed in the New Yorker or taught in universities, start publishing in some of the smaller university journals. Get 100 or so good solid stories published and then move on to write the literary novel. It helps if you are also a professor at a well respected university.
Anne-Hear, hear! I’ve struggled over the years as I’ve worked on craft while others have pointed to sales earned on books that haven’t had as much development. That mine is a long-term career strategy really resonates. You made my day. Or week. Year? I’ll have to get back to you on that! How nice. And I hope I didn’t imply that genre books aren’t well-written—it’s what I aspire to publish. I’m enjoying and learning so much from your blog that I’m excited to see what I can pick up from reading your work! Thank you!
p.s. Note to newbie-commenter self: click “Notify of new replies…” to avoid delay/missing out on great information. Got it!
Jen–Thanks! And that’s a good reminder to click “notify of new replies” to keep discussions like this going.
I can so relate. I just had a long conversation with an academic colleague about why I think aspiring novelists should get out on the web and see what the current writing landscape is like rather than immersing themselves in MFA programs. A college fiction writing class can provide a good workshop experience if it’s taught well, but even the good ones tend to promote (even unconsciously) the idea that what the world is looking for is the next James Joyce. Students in creative writing programs have no idea about the kinds of market-savvy skills they’ll need to acquire! Keep spreading the word.
Virginia–I feel so sad for writers who get into huge debt getting an MFA and think it prepares them for a career as a professional writer. It only prepares them for a career teaching MFA students. It’s a self-perpetuating microcosm that has very little to do with the real world. James Joyce would never make it today. Publishing is more profit-driven than ever. Literary novels are becoming more readable and genre novels are becoming more “literary.”
So agree! You know my ten years writing fanfiction (a couple of novellas a novel or two) taught me far more than the MFA i did. When i began the class, i had already written a couple of novels and novellas and published my own eboos. I realised i knew far more than the classes thought, and worse, sometimes an MFA can give you a very skewed view of being a writer in the digital world (read: pro traditional publishing)
Liz–You make a good point about MFA programs being geared 100% to traditional publishing. They do have reasons to do this. Literary fiction still does not sell well with self-publishing. (Unless the author is already established.) But that may change. An indie breakthrough with literary fiction might change the whole paradigm
Dearest Anne,
Your points are well-taken. So, too, are your semicolons. Literary writing does not sell, except to former Literature majors such as me (I?). That’s a shame. Dickens was indeed a popular writer, but he wrote proverbial circles around Harold Robbins. The reading public has traveled down hill and toward the precipice that borders on the fires of Hades.
Still, I read, therefore I am; and I’d rather read your parents’ books than any of Jaqueline Susann’s excretions. (I once attempted such a feat, but my stomach flipped and my Sicilian complexion turned a nasty shade of blue.
Love, A.V. Shakespeare
Mr. Shakespeare–;-) I prefer Dickens too. And re-reading Jane Austen. I think we will continue to produce great work like theirs, but it may have a different label. The closest writer we have today to Jane Austen is the Irish author Marian Keyes, and she’s marketed as “chick lit”. And we do have experimental writers but they mostly have academic day jobs to pay the bills.
Anne—LOL Been there, done that. Luckily for me, I started out in publishing back when publishers were hungry for what we call “content” today. Because publishing salaries were as lousy then as they are now, I wrote what anyone would pay me for: blurbs, magazine articles, original mmpb fiction. Without meaning to, I learned how to write grabby copy, gotta-turn-the-page cliffhangers, killer first (and last) sentences. My “real” education came via savvy editors and post-pulp pro writers. It came after reading Camus in French and Buddenbrooks & Finnegan’s Way (in English)!
Ruth–You got all the way through Finnegan’s Way? Congrats. That one defeated me. 🙂 I’ll bet working in publishing for a few months writing blurbs and cover copy teaches writers more about how to be a professional writer than a whole MFA program.
You never shirk the tough love, Anne. I’d rather hear it from you than anyone else- most of the people who “tough-loved” you still sound like jerks to me.
Most of my pain derived from #6- I never met a piece of purple prose I didn’t like, and when I re-read or polish, more words go in than out usually. On the other hand, if I only get as famous as Henry James some day, I will be well satisfied!
In the end I don’t think I can cop to the desire of being a real writer. There are some tales I want to tell, and I realize now nothing will stop me telling them. Of course I hope everyone loves them, but I’m not naive. Still going to tell them. I am content.
Will–Mostly they told me that stuff in a humorous way. Some were a little hard on me. But I think a lot of people feel threatened by Ivy Leaguers and feel the best defense is an offence.
Writing high fantasy allows for more leeway in one’s prose. After all, you’re imitating storytelling of another time, so you want to sound old fashioned. If you tried to write high fantasy in a James Patterson or Elmore Leonard style it would be pretty hilarious. (Actually, I might read that. LOTR meets Get Shorty? 🙂 )
I’m on it.
Oh, ouch. Definitely fit #10, sitting my yoga pants with the hole in the seam, wearing fingerless gloves and an old, oversize Michigan (Go Blue!) hoodie with the hood up against our 60 degree house.
But if you’re going to “trample across genres” it’s great that you did it with abandon. And who’s to say you weren’t transcending genre? A worthy goal…
Have to especially blush on #6. I had an agent who said she loved my book, but after a year she had failed to sell it because the voice was “too old-fashioned.” Now, y’know, I’m the kind of girl who will reread War and Peace rather than watch the new BBC production, so in a way I was actually kind of flattered. Nevertheless, I’m not Tolstoy.
The agent and I parted ways for many reasons, but I did go back and take out a lot of description–killed so many darlings! It’s a much better book. (Self-published this month, and the Blue Ink review called the prose “graceful” and “consistently compelling,” so I guess I learned something.)
Shelley–I’ve had five agents and none of them could sell my work. They loved it, but it was too “out there” for any of the genres they were trying to shoehorn my books into. I write romantic comedy-mystery, but that wasn’t a genre in those days. It had to be romance or mystery. I’m guilty of “old fashioned” too. I love the screwball comedies of 1930s Hollywood. They inspired a lot of my humor.
Major congrats on your new book and your great reviews! Sounds like you learned a lot and ended up with a great book.
As a college prof who will be teaching a class of Crafting a Novel on Wed. night this week, I’ve got to say WHAT a fabulous post this is!
Anne, I think my misconception was that I could translate a comedy career over to writing novels, and get the same applause. It seems to me, in-person audiences are much more generous with praise than readers. As well, the applause is instant gratification. You get used to that.
Nothing with publishing novels is instant. And readers are a tough audience. They have so much to choose from now.
Crap – I butchered that first sentence! Can you edit with this new program? Can’t find the edit button. Everyone, please erase that opening and replace it with, As a college prof who will be teaching a class of Crafting a Novel on Wed. night this week, I’ve got to say WHAT a fabulous post this is!
Phew.
Melodie–Yikes. I just realized I don’t know how to edit a comment in this program. I’m just learning this new WordPress stuff. But honestly, I don’t think anybody will care. Blog comments are expected to be a little rough around the edges. No worries. Glad you liked the post.
Just found the edit button. It’s too obvious. Instead of an obscure icon you right-click, there’s a button that says, “edit”. So clever! Ha!
Melodie–I\’m so glad this post will help your students. I relate completely to the comedy issues in novels. I had a long career as an actor, and I knew how to deliver a line and get laughs. I once had a Catskills comedian give me the supreme compliment: he said \”You don\’t act funny; you *think* funny.\” So I thought I could get the same laughs with the written word. But nothing but a live audience can really \”get\” that kind of comedy.
This made me laugh out loud. OMG! You nailed it and me, and most the writers I know. Thank you, and points taken! Guess I better go edit. LOL.
~ Tam Francis ~
http://www.girlinthejitterbugdress.com
There’s zero chance of me filling my books with flowery prose. I doubt I could write that way if I wanted to. Poe especially had something magical that can’t be reproduced. It’s a slippery slope when writers try to imitate other authors, any other authors.
Sue–I think it’s probably good practice to imitate other authors when you’re learning to write. You can see how they put sentences together and how their story arcs worked. Art students used to train by copying the works of the masters. But then we have to find our own voices.
And here I’ve always thought that not having a college education or even a creative writing class was a handicap! It wasn’t. Instead, I read and read and read, and eventually I was able to tell the difference between good writing and not-so-good writing. When I began to see a lot of the not-so-good, I thought maybe I should take a crack at it. After forty years of business writing, I knew I could at least spell, punctuate, and structure a decent sentence. I’ve now written and published two YA novels and I’m working on the third in a series. My readers are enjoying them, and I think my writing is getting better with each book. Admittedly, I bought, read and studied about a dozen books on the craft of writing fiction, but after reading this blog, I’m convinced that not being over-educated was a blessing!
Claire–I don’t mean to put down creative writing classes or the study of literature.. You can learn a lot of essential information in creative writing classes (stuff you got on your own from craft books.) And literature classes teach you how to read and think critically. But they don’t necessarily prepare you for a writing career. But all writing is good practice. Certainly business and technical writing gave you a leg up with creative writing. Congrats on your two books!
I love this post. Such down-to-earth suggestions for selling our books. What worked before doesn’t work now. Plain and simple, right? I enjoyed this immensely.
Patricia–It’s true. Readers needs are changing rapidly. What sold in the 1980s doesn’t sell now. We need to be aware of changing tastes.
I’ve made that point about Shakespeare a lot. I think he’d be surprised at how he’s revered. “Hamlet? That old thing?”
Steve–Shakespeare is unlike a lot of other authors because so many people had input into his work. What we have now isn’t just the work of his genius (and I do think it was his, not the Earl of Rochester or whoever). But there was so much input first from the actors and then the people who put together the first folio. Even the oldest versions we have weren’t written by his hand. So his plays were more “written by committee” than most people realize. Same with Homer. Many, many storytellers added their own bits to the Iliad and the Odyssey before they were written down.
I think there is much truth in this post, Anne, and much of it has to do with the time we are writing and offering our work. I do bristle at some of the RULES that current agents and publishers are insisting on. And I recently heard about a program for writers: you run this and it finds all sorts of what are considered MISTAKES in your text–and you’re supposed to eliminate them, like adverbs. How boring reading will become if everyone is using this program. The robots will have their say–not the creative brains that each of us possess. I do think we have to watch that.
Beth–I totally agree! I loathe those editing software programs. It’s like putting autocorrect in charge of your novel. (Autocorrect, I’m tired of your shirt!) Robots can’t tell a mistake from wordplay, so they just eliminate everything that’s creative or fun. One of my pet peeves. Grrr.
Love the SHIRT reference. Come on Robots, get some grit. Beth
Wrote my first novel with flowery prose. Spent the next four years editing it down. Left it alone. Wrote some short stories with more stripped-down prose. Returned to the novel and whittled it some more. Kept writing with the more stripped-down prose, and now prefer it. Finished my second novel last night using the sparser style, and have now returned to the first novel to edit again. However, I still love purple. But I love other styles, too. I recently read a comment on Daniel Woodrell’s book Winter’s Bone. The commenter said they could have done without “all the description.” The book wasn’t even 200 pages long. And to my mind, the description added to the harsh atmosphere of that book. Without the description, really, what was left? I had to laugh about that. But I agree, story, in the long run, is more important. I love themes, and I could riff on themes all night, if given half a chance. That’s something I always have to watch when I’m writing. 🙂 Thanks for the great post!
Jan–Sometimes putting all the description on the page gets your juices going, and there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you edit it later. So much of writing is rewriting. But I agree we don’t all have to write Raymond-Carver minimalist prose. There’s room for many different voices and genres. A literary novel like Winter’s Bone is going to appeal to a different audience than Elmore Leonard. Neither is “wrong”. They simply have different readers..
Agreed. And, yes, I find writing more and then cutting is easier than writing too little and having to bulk it up. I’ve been in both situations, and I’d rather have the first problem. 🙂
Ah – you see I love description.
I love to read it (Dorothy Dunnett, Rosamunde Pilcher, Jilly Cooper – now there’s a cross-genre mix for you!). For me it is fertiliser for my reading imagination. It captures, setting and character. I adore it!
And I love to write it. For exactly those reasons.
If I’m reviewed as writing flowery or gilded prose, so be it. But my most cherished review says ‘writes in 3D and surround sound and there’s nothing loud or obtrusive about it.’ So I guess I’ll keep doing it because to write or read without description would be like viewing an impressionist painting without the ‘impression’. Or worse, viewing a painting of a desert whilst standing in the desert.
And I have no MFA or BA (Creative writing) – just a BA in politics and history.
But then, perhaps that’s a good thing?
Prue–It varies so much by genre. When you write historical novels like yours (or high fantasy), you want an “old-fashioned” voice. As I said to Will Hahn, high fantasy told in an Elmore Leonard voice would be comical. (Although I’d read it 🙂 ) But your books also have lots of conflict and tension. That’s what a modern reader wants, while a Victorian could get away with much more languid storytelling.
Reading through the comments, it seems that everyone has their own style preferences. For example, I love genre-cross literary stuff with themes, and my favorite book, Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, is brimming with obscure references. The great thing about indie publishing is that there’s something out there for everyone’s tastes, and no one is telling us what those tastes must be. The market can support a spectrum of books, from Austen to Austen with zombies.
E.D. I prefer complex literary reads, too. But I usually only buy something that’s got good reviews in respected journals. Beginners generally don’t write good literary fiction and the alternative can be so awful. I’m more willing to take a chance on an indie genre book. And that’s how the majority of readers seem to behave. It’s hard to sell indie literary fiction without a big platform in place. It can be done, but probably not without trad-pubbing first.
Your article reminds me of one of my fiction workshop classes in college. The professor asked us whether we wanted our work to gain critical or popular acclaim, and most of us hadn’t considered the two were divided. We were quick to scoff at authors like Stephanie Meyer, but the reality is she made more money off of Twilight than the rest of us were likely to make in our entire novel careers.
Being able to recognize that early on in the creative writing major helped each of us find our voices and individual talents sooner, I think. (And it took our young writer egos down a notch. Both of which were useful!)
Nova–Sounds as if you had a good writing professor. Also, it’s possible to do both. Donna Tartt, who had such a huge success with her literary novel The Goldfinch, broke into the business with a mystery: The Secret History. (A beautifully written mystery. You can write genre fiction that is every bit as “good” as literary fiction. It just needs to be more carefully structured.)
One of my favorite books of all time, The Secret History. I was trying to think of a book that took the best from both worlds, and this one does it. Beautiful writing with a great plot. Thanks, Anne!
Brilliant article! Thanks.
Elizabeth–Thanks for stopping by!
Fantastic post Anne. As usual, I agree with what you’ve written. Writers do have to change with the times, and time is short for everyone, so reading fufie filler is enough to make myself skim books. As a reader I gravitate to author’s books with a certain storytelling style that grabs my attention. As a writer, I try to keep to my own true self, my style of telling stories, that judging by my reviews, people enjoy my voice. Voice and style meet up with genre, It’s a whole new world. 🙂
D. G.–Voice is #1. If you hook your reader with voice, you’re halfway there.
I’ve had a few writing acquaintances that I read for and they over did it on the prose and one I couldn’t even finish I was so bored. I lost touch with that person. I wonder what happened to that story.
Patricia–I think a lot of newbie writers forget that they’re writing for the reader’s enjoyment, not to show off. Maybe your friend finally listened to an editor and got on with the storytelling. Or maybe not. A lot of writers want to stay at the newbie stage, so they manage to learn nothing over the years so they don’t have to deal with the realities of getting published.
I love this line: “People don’t want to read about you. They want to read about themselves.” So true.
Elie–I think that’s the hardest thing for most new writers to learn. Your story is only interesting to others if there’s something universal about it.
#6 is a personal favorite. I actually won a first-page-of-your-novel contest with extended, self-indulgent descriptions that readers would surely have appreciated (if only they’d take the time to wade through it). I spent years finding a balance between predictable, clichéd phrasing and the unique yet readable storytelling that I love to discover. And #9? Ha! So true!
Jen–Contests are problematic. They can give you a false sense of what’s going to sell. Judges are usually swayed by “gorgeous” writing, especially with short pieces. Stuff that would drive you batty by chapter 3 can be very impressive in the first 250 words.
I’ve been fortunate enough to get a reality check way early on in my writing life, so most of those points only peripherally apply to me. However, over the years I have developed an intense (almost pathological one might say) dislike to anything that even remotely smacks of literary writing, be it fiction or non.
For me, the literary genre is so formulaic that it’s impossible for me to tell one writer apart from another. Call me old fashioned, but fifteen+ page info dumps make a not a story (literary non-fiction writers are notorious for this, as well as turning a topic that they’re writing about into a story about them).
And as for those “classics” that everyone raves about, if you’re forced to read them for school assignments, you have a tendency as an adult to avoid them at all costs.
G. B. I’ve heard agents say the same thing about literary writing. I do read literary fiction and enjoy it very much. I reread Austen and Dickens and Trollope to relax. They take me to another time, which is the best kind of vacation for me.
But I know I’m not typical. I have stayed away from some of the current male literary fiction writers because they tend to spend way more time than necessary writing about middle aged academics with prostate issues. 🙂
But I recently read Pynchon’s Inherent Vice. It’s 100% more readable than the Crying of Lot 47. In fact, it’s a rip-roaring yarn. I think literary fiction is moving closer to genre and genre is moving closer to literary.
This list was so on pointe for some thing that my crit partner and I have been discussing. Totally sharing with her.
Edge of Your Seat Stories
Raquel–Thanks for sharing the post! Writers shouldn’t be discouraged. We can write good books if we always keep the reader in mind.
Ha! I must be a writer. I’m a “shy, boring person who works in hidey-holes wearing old sweats day after day. AND, nobody has ever even offered to send me to Paris. Wow!
CS–Me too. 🙂 Not a lot of trips to Paris these days.
Some things I hadn’t thought of here, Anne. Thanks for the insights. I’m very critical of academic writing courses after a writer friend, a gorgeous quirky writer with her own unique voice, who taught me so much when she joined my writing group. She worked as a cook for years, working a 24-hour weekend so she could write all week, she was that passionate. Finally she got her PhD in writing, had letters after her name that got her academic jobs, gave up the cooking, but the whole experience killed her muse stone dead. She doesn’t even READ. She’s taken up painting instead, so she’s found a channel for her creativity but what a loss to readers 🙁 I’ve met other people who similarly totally lost confidence in their own voice — a form of literary analysis paralysis — after taking the academic route.
Virginia–Love the phrase “literary analysis paralysis”. That’s so sad about your friend. But maybe she was meant to paint. I was warned many decades ago NOT to major in English. A wise mentor said it would stifle my creativity. I will always be grateful to him.
While I started writing when I was young, I flunked high school English. (long story) So I certainly never pursued Lit as a major or minor nor ever expected to write much. But things changed.
I quite understand what you mean about academic writing though. Grad school was the worst – you where obliged to write in obtuse ways and add excess references that clogged up the flow.
David–I grew up in academia, so I know how convoluted and inbred it can be. Obfuscation of the obvious becomes the norm. Alas.
Almost spewed my wine on this: “I once spent two weeks on a Greek island with nothing to read but Henry James’ The Golden Bowl. This cured me of pretending I actually liked James.” You and me both, Anne, but unfortunately I didn’t have a Greek Island as diversion.
One misconception I’m still grappling with — the myth that I can get the story in my head directly onto the page. It’s usually better in my head. And those pesky characters always have a mind of their own.
Debra–It was dire. I kept trying to read it, and I’d read the same page over and over, trying to find the plot. But of course it wasn’t there.
It’s so true that characters will never do what you expect them to do. That’s why rigid outlining never works. You need to give those characters free rein to do their own thing.
Anne, you had me rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter. Your sense of humor is wonderful. I relate closely to #9. I love it (not) when I’m mid way through my dissertation (elevator pitch) and get interrupted with a yawn, and then my captive audience says, “I have a story idea in my head which I’ll write one day”. LOL
Tracy–Oh, yeah. And don’t you like the ones who say “Oh, I’d be a novelist too, if I only had the time. I’ve had such an exciting life.” Sigh.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that one too. All you can do is chuckle.
Thanks for the post. No matter how much I think others might be intrigued by my personal story, you are right… ““Authenticity” alone doesn’t sell books.”
Tina–You can spend 5 pages describing exactly what it felt like in 1987–wearing three garments with shoulder pads, all piled on top of each other–but if there’s no plot, nobody cares.
I think we’re using the wrong terms here, authentic vs realism. What is authentic for me is not necessarily authentic for you. You can write a real account but it doesn’t mean its what everyone else went through. Authentic home style meatloaf for one person may be a clump of beef with peppers and onions baked in, for the next person it’s a clump of beef baked with ketchup on top.
You can say, “just like mom used to make” and create an authentic experience for the reader. If you describe it as your mother made it, it’s only going to be authentic for those who had that exact experience.
Eating meatloaf is a reality for millions. What constitutes authentic meatloaf is determined by our experience with it.
Frank–I’m not saying authenticity isn’t important. I’m saying that it alone can’t carry a novel. Your meatloaf description may be magical, but if it’s not attached to an interesting plot, nobody cares.
Anne, this is one of your best posts, yet. I hope it goes viral
Maggie–Thanks! 🙂
Oh, Anne, you’ve done it again! Another great post. We spend so many years getting educated, and then have to spend more years learning to write so someone wants to read it. I majored in economics. You wouldn’t BELIEVE what my writing was like before I spent twenty years learning the principles you outline above. I recently read a sentence from my master’s thesis in economics. About half a page long, it was totally unintelligible to anyone who wasn’t an economist. And boring. But it was grammatically correct.
Sandy–Ha! Oh, those academic papers! Full of so much jargon and convoluted structure they might as well be written in Klingon. But nobody cares because only 5 people read them. Sigh.
I am trying not to worry about the warning from Amazon anout typos thing because I feel it opens a door for awful people to use that privelege for abusing others. But never mind. Yeah about 10 years ago, after an exposure to literature studies i bought almost all these “truths”. I put aside my science fiction stories because someone in my lit class told me i waswriting garbage and wasting my time. i forced myself to write things I didnt like because i thought I should write like the great masters. Heh. Well that resulted in me walking away from writing original fiction, convinced i wasnt cut out for it.
Fortunately during those years i honed my storytelling skills by writing fanfiction. Fanfiction became. Lifeline of sorts where i learned to tell a good yarn instead of being hung about pretty sentences and deep themes.
Elizabeth–I know for a fact reporting “typos” to Amazon has been used against authors. A #1 bestseller I know had her book taken down (losing thousands a day in sales) because an anonymous person reported “typos” that were simply British spelling rather than American. Bullies know how to game the Amazon system.
Others have mentioned writing fanfic as a good way to learn to write, and I think there’s something there. As I said somewhere in this post., painters used to be trained by copying the masters, and authors can learn that way too. Writing fanfic in the style of Jane Austen, Vonnegut, or George RR Martin would teach a whole lot of stuff it’s hard to grasp otherwise.
I can totally relate to this, Anne. After I submitted my PhD thesis in creative writing, it took me five years to learn to think like a human being. My poor wife! If she remarked “It’s a clear sky today” I ‘d reply “Indeed, it is lambent and pellucid!” Please note: I wasn’t trying to be pretentious. That’s truly how I thought. Some professors never do get their heads straightened out. That’s why academic luminaries like Julia Kristeva, George Steiner, J E M Poster and the like wrote awful novels. Brains like pretzels…
John–My mom was an academic who wrote novels. She had a terrible time with queries. We finally convinced her to leave out her PhD in English Literature and requests for partials started coming in. Agents know that most academics write terrible prose. For my mom, learning to write sentence fragments was the toughest thing. I’d beta read for her and try to tell her that a ten year old who thought he was being pursued by bears was not likely to worry about the proper use of the subjunctive
Thank you so much for this. It doesn’t take anything away from the classics to acknowledge that most of them wouldn’t sell today if not for required reading. Writers looking to make a living today would be much better served studying The Hunger Games than they would dissecting Crime and Punishment.
Frank–I don’t mean to put down the study of literature. It expands the mind and the spirit. But for the specific training of a *writer*, it’s smart to read the bestsellers as well.
I apologize if that sounded like I was putting down the study of literature. That was not my intent.
I never actually studied English or Creative Writing in College. Nowadays, because I’m in a very college town, I’ve attended various lectures for writers given by professors, and I’m always amazed by how ridged their rules always are. I’ve always been grateful I chose a different field of study for college.
kquintana–I was told by a college professor that if I wanted to be a writer, I should not major in English, because studying literature doesn’t teach you to write: it teaches you to be a critic. And creatives need to get the inner critic out of their heads, not encourage it. Those lectures are great for you as a reader, but when you’re writing, you have to forget everything they said.
This post was absolutely wonderful — and so humorous! I’ve bookmarked it. And thanks for the good links! Have a great day.
Elizabeth–Thanks! 🙂
Great post, spot on! I was brought up the same way, with all the classics of English, French, Spanish, Italian and Russian literature (and no, not German except for Goethe’s Faust!) and feeling that “genre” was a silly concept (until I discovered its marketing value). So, yes, I’ve come a long way and the hard way from my initial misconceptions.
But I’m still baffled by what constitutes “a story with universal appeal”. Too often what appeals to others doesn’t appeal to me (and vice-versa). A real problem. Would you care to elaborate? Yes I know, one is supposed to “know one’s audience”. But that’s easier said than done! And one isn’t supposed to jump on the latest popular trend, zombie stories and vampires and write the same stuff. Any suggestions to cut through the mess of contrary notions about what is appealing?
Claude–I avoided German too. I think I was the first person who ever graduated from Bryn Mawr in Art History who didn’t read German. But I thought French, Italian, Spanish, Latin and Greek should be enough.
I don’t pretend to know what the masses want to read. When I see The Revenant is the most popular film in the US, I scratch my head. Watching a man get mauled by a bear is not my idea of entertainment. So I’m not in the mainstream.
What I meant about a story with universal appeal is something with characters, conflict and resolution Not just a self-pitying rant or a bunch of clever wordplay with no story.
#4 I wonder if the same’s true for any kind of writing, be it fiction, non-fiction, narrative non-fiction, etc.
I came across an acclaimed biography lately. I’m sure it was very well researched and informative, but I found it very hard to read. Big chunks of text, lots of commas, dashes.. It did read like a Ph.D. dissertation.
I had such an urge to “break up those sentences” as I tried to make my way through the book 🙂
Great post, Anne, thank you!
Wonderful, wonderful. I’ve been trying to tell more educated friends that times are changing for awhile and some of my more creative writer friends that readers require writing that’s easy to read. I’ll be talking and sharing your post for days.
Redd–Thanks! They should listen to you. Obscure, 1970s Donald Barthelme-type stuff is not getting published. And indie buyers aren’t interested in wading through dense metaphors with no plot. The Guardian ran an article about this last summer. I’ll be talking about it in future posts.
Mighty fine advice, Anne. As always. Dang you’re good. You really are. Best content on the web.
Julie–That’s so kind. Awesome to hear that from you. You’re an amazing, award-winning blogger yourself.
Anne: I’ve just read your six latest blog posts in order to catch up. That’s because I had a minor stroke a few weeks ago and was in Urgent Care, the hospital, had a million tests, and now, according to my G.P. am doing well. So here I am to tell you I loved your posts. I never had the kind of education you had, but a few “writing classes” repeated them, and I learned better. I’m back to finishing Book #4 of my S. Holmes novellas and have my second book, after DEAD IN THE WATER, coming out soon. I am, once more, a happy camper. And still Love you.
Phyllis–I’m so sorry to hear about your medical woes. But that’s great news that you’re back to health again. My mom had a series of those small strokes, but she always bounced back. Very cool that you’re on your #4 of the Holmes novellas. Those are great! Best of luck with it!
Wow. I could’ve written this. I agree with every point you make here. I think college was a good experience, but it certainly didn’t prepare me for the life of a writer (or even teach me how to sell stories. Had to figure that out on my own), or what an audience would want.
Beks–I’m glad you agree. I cherish my time at Bryn Mawr and Harvard, and I know my courses taught me to think and grow as a human being. But training for a writing career takes a different set of skills I had to acquire outside of academia. Ruth had the same experience.
Funnily enough, I’ve had the opposite reaction to number nine! I’m still struggling with a lot of the rest of them – especially genre, which I know is bad for sales – so thank you for the frank reminder 🙂
ZR–Don’t worry, you’ll run into the guy who wants you to “write down the words” of his story and split the profits 50/50.:-) Every writer meets that guy sooner or later. One thing about genre, it’s fluid. I’ve heard agents say they’ll pitch a book as one genre to one editor and another to a different editor. So you can play around with it.
One thing I like to tell my writers’ group is you can’t really take another author’s advice (including this!) because what works for them, might not work for you. It’s frustrating & freeing at the same time that there are as many paths to writing as their are writers. You can’t make rules for a subjective subject 😉
Regarding theme: I find, at least for me, it gets in there sort of…subconsciously. Although, I did have a beta reader tell me she couldn’t finish a novella I’d written because she “couldn’t find the theme.” (The story did need work)
Stephanie–I always say that a writer’s group can pinpoint what needs work, but the fixes they suggest are usually wrong. 🙂
I’m not saying your book shouldn’t have a theme. My books all have MAJOR hit-you-over-the-head themes, but I attach them to page-turning stories. Most people will read just for story, but some readers will find the themes, which is great. I figure they are like “Easter eggs” for discerning readers to find. And sometimes readers will say the theme is something else for them–totally different from what I intended. A reader adds his own dimension to the book
4) Use topic sentences; never use fragments; semicolons are our friends.
Ah. So it’s the collage students that dislike fragments? Well, I like them sometimes as they add a punch. I like them so much I add too many. xD I do know bettet, its just easier when bashing out the first chapter. The goid punchy ones stay the choppy one go. Now, being able to tell the difference hrrm, a bit hard takes a few revisions. :p Another good article, thanks