Posts by Liza Nash Taylor
Photo courtesy of @sookieandivy from Instagram, used with permission.
“Everybody’s so creative!” is the catchphrase of social media personality @imtanaramallory. Tanara does interpretive dramatic voiceovers for other people’s disgusting-looking recipe videos and clickbait posts that tell you to put aluminum foil on your bathroom faucet before guests come over. I find Tanara hysterical. She’s one of my favorite creative voices on Instagram and one of my go-tos for middle-of-the-night anti-angst scrolling.
Speaking of being creative, have some of us lost our mojo lately? I know my own has taken a dive. It seems like scrolling Facebook and Instagram turns to doom in about twenty seconds. I got off Twitter in 2018 and recently left TikTok and LinkedIn and my new Bluesky feed seems to be all politics. I’m participating in fewer platforms and being more selective about who I follow. I’m also blocking more content. While I want to stay abreast of news, scrolling can feed feelings of existential doom and burnout. And it’s not just political news. On some days, seeing fellow writers post their multi-book deals and new cover art can unleash my personal demon, (whom I call Icky), who likes to poke me and say, Super impressive. Hey, look what they have that you don’t, you loser. Huh. Think you’ll ever have that? I think not.
Despite the gloom and doom, I still find Tanara and other content creators to be sources of enlightenment and joy. On Instagram, @shifferdiane delivers good sense and “Nana loves you” comfort, while rescue dogs @sookieandivy “sit, stay, and cro-slay” with their hand-crocheted hats. I follow hundreds of knitters, needleworkers, and miniature makers and draw inspiration from the work of my fellow crafters. Of course, I also follow thousands of authors, writers, and bookstores, too, and yes; I spend a ridiculous amount of time on funny dog videos and on forwarding the very best ones on to my daughter, whether she wants to see them or not.
There seems to be a surge—maybe instigated by Covid lockdown, maybe perpetuated by recent political events—of folks taking up crafts and needlework. Are we all in search of new sources of inspiration, or looking for comfort?
At twenty-eight, my daughter began to knit recently, in spite of my cajoling and offering to teach her since she was four. She’s taught herself by watching YouTube videos. I introduced her to a site called Ravelry, which is a mecca for knitting and crochet. She quickly caught the bug and joined some forums there. (I now confess that I spend other middle-of-the-night hours scrolling my happy-place Facebook group called Stranded Knits, where the chatter is all yarn and knitting color work, all the time.) Things can get snarky and heated, such as in a recent query from a member asking for help to find a pattern for a sweater she saw on the TV show Shetland. One member said (I paraphrase), “You could do a reverse Google search from the photograph. So easy and yet it’s amazing how few bother.” Well. As you can imagine, this began something of a kerfuffle over […]
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INTERMEZZO (noun) As per Merriam-Webster: a movement coming between the major sections of an extended musical work.
Usually, I draft my quarterly WU posts about a month before they’re due. This time, I’ve ditched my intended topic. Best laid plans and all that. The piece I find myself working on today is not prescriptive writing advice, nor is it about the angst of the author’s journey. This week, I’m at my father’s house, working with him—at his request—to edit the obituary he wrote for himself. Also, in the quiet of my childhood bedroom, I’m drafting a eulogy. Since I arrived on November 6th, I’ve avoided national news and haven’t begun to process my feelings about the election results.
Real life intrudes. Sometimes endings aren’t clearly visible from the start.
In late October, my ninety-five-year-old father went into the hospital with atrial fibrillation. A week later, on Election Day, he received a stage-four cancer diagnosis with months to live. Hospice entered the plot. The scenery changed, with the guest room of Dad’s house quickly reconfigured into a hospital room. Time changed; with glimpses of future holidays, minus the main character. Simultaneously, present time ticks relentlessly forward as he loses strength. Days and hours drag in a kind of static monotony measured in loads of laundry and empty cubes in the big plastic organizer that holds rainbow-colored meds.
My father’s mind is still razor-sharp. He knows the grass-cutting service needs to be paid. He explains to me how to configure the tube on his nebulizer breathing apparatus. I didn’t know he’d written his own obit until he asked me, from his hospital bed, to edit it for him.
My father’s obituary is a first-person thank-you note for what he calls his “charmed” life, starting with his parents and siblings and expressing gratitude to both institutions and people who’ve helped him along through life. Frankly, if I were being paid to edit it as a personal essay, I’d call his work self-indulgent, rambling, and unevenly paced, burdened by an overabundance of backstory and flashback, with too many named characters. Under the circumstances, I’m doing my best to correct punctuation and grammar and get the great-grandkids’ names right. My brothers and I plan to run whatever version Dad approves.
In the past weeks, on the three-hour drive from my home to Dad’s, I’ve listened to multiple audiobooks. I’ve just finished Sally Rooney’s Intermezzo. Set in Dublin over four months in 2022, Rooney’s main characters are two brothers who are different as night and day. Their father died recently from cancer and they’re grieving his loss at the same time, but not together. On one hand, it’s a story that—at times—proceeds with the painful slowness of pulling off a Band-Aid. Despite the prolonged discomfort, I found myself engrossed, helpless to look away from what lay unhealed and oozing beneath. Brothers Ivan and Peter are so fully realized, and Rooney’s portrayals are so intimate that we cringe when they cringe. We hold our breath through many awkwardly squirmy exchanges. We observe pettiness, and the brothers butting heads, blurting out what they’ve been holding inside and stewing over. And then we see their regret.
For me, this resonates this week.
Rooney’s structure alternates chapters between Ivan and Peter and also switches […]
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Recently, I parted ways with my agent and although I know it was the right decision, it’s still gut-wrenching.
Soon after, I sent out a couple of queries and had a request for the full of my latest manuscript. That agent asked for an exclusive look for two weeks. I agreed and withdrew my other queries. The exclusive teased out to a month. She said no.
Fair enough. This is not my first rodeo.
The next day, I sent the full to another agent who had asked to see it, if it was available after the exclusive ran out. After saving the draft I sent to her, I made a new Scrivener document called “Draft Seven”, intending to incorporate the first rejecting agent’s critical input, which I was grateful to receive. I intended to revise, then send out more queries.
When I began, that morning, to rework the opening of my novel, I fumbled. I tripped, started again, stopped, then consumed a full bag of M&M’s (the ‘sharing’ size). Like a floodgate opening, self-doubt rushed in and I felt like I was bobbing around some pretty rank water, trying not to panic and to remember how to float. I doubted I could fix what was wrong and wasn’t even sure what to change. Every shred of negative feedback I’ve ever received on anything I ever wrote came raining down. Should I switch from first person POV to close third? Should I Save the Cat?
After a few more days and a ‘no’ from the second agent, I decided I needed time to stew, contemplate, and process. To float for a bit. Because, yes, those feelings of rejection and failure I was pushing away were absolutely real.
Then I thought, why just step back? Why not walk away?
Please don’t write me off (no pun intended) as a slacker who can’t take criticism. I have and I can. This was a crossroads moment. My third novel has been under construction for three years, and it hasn’t come easily. Soon, I’ll turn sixty-five. Instead of writing, I could use my time to make dollhouses and to garden. Maybe I could become a more interactive grandmother. Maybe I’d order a Jitterbug flip phone and take up Prancercizing!
Afloat in the balmy sea of denial, I decided I’d try Not Being A Writer (henceforward, NBAW) for a few weeks and see how it felt.
My first week of NBAW involved some tidying up of loose ends, beginning on Sunday with a book club talk that had been on my calendar for months. The group had read my second novel, In All Good Faith, which was published in August 2021. I gave the 25-minute PowerPoint slideshow I usually give, with lots of vintage photographs from the Great Depression. After my talk, there was chitchat, with cheese cubes. As always, interacting with readers was gratifying. Someone asked when my next book would come out and I gave my pat answer: I’m revising. I didn’t know how to say that I was no longer writing.
On Monday, I read an ARC of a debut novel by a friend from my MFA program. I’d agreed to write a blurb. I remembered the agony of asking authors for blurbs and the […]
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Sylvia Plath’s grave, photo by author
In mid-January 2023, I flew to Manchester, England on my own, then found my way to a train station, the ticket office, and the correct track. Did you know that the lock for UK traincar bathrooms is cleverly hidden and NOT ON THE DOOR? Well, after one episode, you will remember that, trust me. The train delivered me, after several delays and transfers, to West Yorkshire. I arrived in the early afternoon and, with jet lag and a cast on my wrist, rolled my carry-on along a canal, past house barges, through a winter-quiet park and into the charming village of Hebden Bridge. If you watched the British series Happy Valley, you can picture it. I had lunch and left my bag at a pub called The Shoulder of Mutton Inn, where Dachshunds in tiny tartan coats sat on barstools. I went in search of a wine shop. At about three o’clock, I took a cab from the village through the tinier, even-more-quaint village of Heptonstall. From the top of a snowy lane, the cab zigzagged down a very steep cobblestone drive where the driver made a seemingly impossible K turn and let me out. He remarked that he usually wouldn’t come down the drive in winter because of the treacherous ice.
Lumb Bank
The house, called Lumb Bank, is an 18th-century stone mill owner’s house that was once the home of the late British Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes. It overlooks bucolic pastures with grazing sheep, and is set in twenty acres of woodland. I would spend a week there with fellow writers and two instructors and the following week, I would move north to Scotland for another writing retreat with strangers. Over those weeks, I would meet and live with more than twenty writers.
Arvon is the British charity that runs Lumb Bank and a non-profit program that promotes creative writing with classes and retreats held at three country houses in England (the others are in Devon and Shropshire). The fees are affordable and they offer grants. The program I signed up for was for novel writers, and we had workshops with two British novelists and a mid-week visiting writer, who turned out to be Maddie Mortimer, wunderkind author of the fabulous Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies.
At Lumb Bank, our rooms were small and simple, bathrooms were shared, and we had to bring in firewood and coal and each had to help cook dinner for the group on one night. My room had a twin bed, a dresser, and a small desk in front of a drafty window overlooking a hillside populated with sheep. We went twenty-four hours with no heating when the boiler broke, and for one very cold night we stayed up late around the stone fireplace, drinking Scotch and reciting poetry. I don’t know any poems by heart, so instead, as the only American in the group, I read the opening paragraphs of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise.
On my cooking night, I was tasked with preparing a vegan chocolate cake, which I ruined […]
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A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending the WU Unconference in Salem, Massachusetts. There were some fantastic presentations, starting with a welcome dinner and an inspiring keynote address by Therese Anne Fowler. It was a thrill to meet our founder, and Therese Walsh was as warm, welcoming, and funny in person as she has been in our email exchanges.
At the Salem Waterfront Hotel, the only water I could see from my room window was a wide puddle on the flat tar roof of an apartment across the parking lot. Night one found me in my fave pajamas, knitting in my cozy beige-and-brown Junior suite, which met my needs with every complimentary toiletry imaginable (daily toothbrushes!), a bathtub, and a small fridge that held wine. Snacks were just down the hall in a vending machine that emitted Darth-Vader breathing sounds.
During the days, after attending sessions, I would run up to my room and put up the “do not disturb” sign. Then, I’d try to plug whatever brilliant piece of advice I’d just gleaned into revisions of my current manuscript. I loved the infusions of inspiration I felt throughout the week. The Unconference was set up to allow us to write in isolation, to learn, and to socialize and connect with fellow writers and with mentors.
I spent some quality time (and enjoyed some excellent meals) with two women who have debut novels coming out in 2024 and 2025. Hearing Sharon J. Wishnow and Sharon Kurtzman describe their experiences and excitement reminded me of all the feels that come with selling and publishing a novel. So I thought that for this post, I’d share their stories and some joyful news because, goodness knows, we call all use a little fairy dust and a dose of inspiration.
Tell us the title, publisher of your forthcoming book, and the release date.
Sharon Kurtzman- My historical novel, The Lost Baker of Vienna, will be published by Pamela Dorman Books/Viking in 2025.
Sharon Wishnow- (Sharon Ritchey writing as Sharon J. Wishnow) Pelican Tide will be published by Lake Union Publishing, May 21, 2024.
Tell us a little about your agent, why you queried him/her, and the process of getting signed.
Wishnow- I’m represented by Ann Leslie Tuttle at Dystel, Goderich, & Bourret. I found Ann Leslie through a private pitch event through the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA). I participated in an online event where I presented a short pitch on my book and invited agents read the pitches and asked for pages if they were interested. I had just started to query agents for that project and trying to write the perfect query. Ann Leslie made an offer and that was incredible. With her offer, I then contacted all the agents who had my query and pages. It was like winning the lottery with agents suddenly paying attention to my work after weeks of crickets. I received a second offer, and I began to believe this was not a fluke. I chose Ann Leslie because she has a strong editorial background. I wanted an agent who would help me shape my work and make it marketable.
Kurtzman- My agent [Wendy […]
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Three years ago, in mid-August, my first historical novel debuted in the summer of lockdown. The launch situation was far from ideal, and those of us who were published that summer did the best we could with bookshops closed and no in-person events. When August 2021 rolled around and my second novel was released along with the paperback version of the first, my expectations weren’t high. Another eerily quiet summer, another novel comes out into the world with a whisper.
The summers of 2020, ‘21, and ‘22 were all about book release and promotion, so there was some structure to my writing/author life. It’s late August 2023 as I write this. Things are better now for publishing authors, and though I don’t have a novel in the pipeline, through two launches I’ve developed a community of fellow writers and supportive readers. I’m celebrating friends’ book launches and live events, and sometimes speaking, mentoring, and teaching.
While my first two novels were coming out into the world, I found it tough to begin a new draft. Here, I should qualify that when my manuscript sold in a two-book deal, I had a completed draft of the second and it was a stand-alone sequel. I have real admiration for authors who crank out a book a year. While promoting a recently published book, I needed to keep that set of characters fresh in my head so I could talk about them when questions were asked (even though all authors answer the same questions multiple times). We hone our sound bites, quips, our interjections of humor, and (especially with historical fiction) we can recall historical dates and events at the drop of a hat. It’s tricky, when you’re interviewed for 45 seconds on live radio and the DJ poses questions like: So, who stars in the movie? The clock is ticking while you hem and haw, trying to remember the names of any under-thirty actors. So I was reluctant to try to bring a new set of characters to life. Plus, the pandemic sucked the creativity from my soul for a while.
For the past year, I’ve been working on a third manuscript on and off. The most recent (fifth) draft is, at present, with an editor. So there’s that waiting-to-hear-comments time, which I am now really good at enduring, as well as the sense of relief that comes with completing specific goals. The fine-tuning of this novel has been slow going, and that’s fine. There’s no deadline. I’m surprised by how nice I’ve been about it—to myself, I mean. I’ve felt fortunate that I’ve been able to move at my own pace with this project. While I work well under the pressure of a deadline, I know now that I couldn’t have written this book in one year. The story needed time to germinate and develop. I like to leave room for historical research to shape my plot, and for my characters to surprise me. Don’t get me wrong, I do still feel a strong drive to get this novel to the finish line. I’ve learned—with no deadline—what my own writing process is, and also, that I need to trust it. That’s worth something, isn’t it?
When asked to choose, I’ve considered myself a hybrid Plotter/Pantser. […]
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From the Flickr of briantvogt, INFphoto.com.Ref: infusmi-20/21|sp
My last article, in March, addressed the process of finding and hiring a professional editor for a novel manuscript, comparing the insecurity this sparked as akin to entering one’s dolled-up toddler in a baby beauty contest. There might be harsh criticism and unflattering light. My metaphor was similar to one I’ve used to describe the sensation of having a novel launch into the world: It’s like pushing one’s naked toddler out into traffic to cross a busy intersection alone, while one can only watch what happens from the curb (and one is also naked). So, yeah. Anxiety is involved.
I promised an update in this installation, and I know that millions of you have been on the edge of your seats waiting to hear how it’s going.
It’s going well. Thanks for asking.
As I mentioned last time, there are many ways to find a professional editor. I’ve heard recommendations from writing bloggers, and there are many options available through reputable sources, such as Poets & Writers magazine and The Author’s Guild (if you’re a member). HERE are some great articles and advice from the WU archives.
I asked some fellow historical novelists about their experiences with editors-for-hire. Denny S. Bryce’s next novel, THE OTHER PRINCESS: A NOVEL OF QUEEN VICTORIA’S GODDAUGHTER, comes out in October from Harper Collins. Denny had this to say: “For my first novel, I hired a developmental editor. I wanted to work with someone who had been an editor at a traditional house and could help me with character arcs, turning points, and conflict. I considered the decision an investment in my writing career, and working with her one-on-one definitely contributed to my growth as a writer and the success of my first novel: WILD WOMEN AND THE BLUES.” (Kensington, 2021).
For me, a conversation with a fellow historical novelist led me to an introduction. Have you ever “met” a fellow writer on social media, and instantly liked their vibe, and then loved their book, and struck up some sort of friendship? That happened with me and Tori Whitaker, author of MILLICENT GLENN’S LAST WISH (Lake Union, 2020) and A MATTER OF HAPPINESS (Lake Union, 2022) when we bonded over launching books during a pandemic. Tori is a bourbon aficionado and perhaps something of an expert on the subject. I asked her to contribute a cocktail recipe to my annual series of December Instagram posts called “The Twelve Cocktails of Christmas”. (Tori’s Holiday Old Fashioned recipe was excellent, BTW).
Tori had this to say about her choice to hire an editor: “I retained a trusted developmental editor whose work I admired and who brought 20+ years’ experience teaching writing. That decision was indispensable in finally landing a deal for my debut novel—rather than having another book stuck in a drawer.”
Since Tori writes historical novels, I trusted her personal recommendation and contacted her editor, Jenna Blum. Jenna requested five pages of my manuscript and […]
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Playground World Beauty pageant, photo from Picryl, Creative Commons.
As I write this, a sneaky plan is afoot. Today, while my injured, crated, Elizabethan-collared dog is nice and sleepy from his morning dose of Gabapentin, I will tiptoe out of the house without waking him, get in my car, drive to town, and meet my contact, Beth. At Sir Speedy Printers I will pay Beth money and she will hand over the spiral-bound 375-page draft of my third novel. Back in the privacy of my car, I will stroke its flimsy black plastic cover, imbuing it with good vibes, and perhaps enjoy a fleeting feeling of accomplishment before I drive it to FedEx (sorry, USPS, I’ve lost faith). From there, my precious baby draft will take wing and fly to Florida, where, for three weeks or so, it will be in the hands of an editor while I await a verdict. I equate this with having one’s trusting, innocent toddler dolled up with false eyelashes, hairpiece, and spray tan to be paraded in a frilly spangled fuchsia dress before harsh judges, like a paper Honey Boo-Boo in a reality-TV pageant.
For the first time, I’ve hired a professional editor. Can you tell I’m a little nervous about it? Allowing–heck–paying someone to read our work critically can produce anxiety. My personal impostor-syndrome demon (who goes by the moniker of Dobby), is having a field day here.
So, Liza, you might ask, how did you choose a professional editor? And this brings us to the point of this article.
I started looking for a paid editor a few months ago and realized that there are a lot of people offering editing and book coaching services these days. The pricing structures vary, with some charging by the page, the word, or the hour. I decided I wanted an editor with a track record as a successful author, plus editorial experience. I asked another historical novelist pal if she had any leads and she highly recommended the woman I am now working with. In our communication thus far, she seems genuinely nice. She hikes. I like the looks of her dog on Instagram. She is a New York Times bestselling historical novelist, and luckily for me, she had an opening for a new client. After she read my first five pages, she agreed to take me on. She quoted me an estimate for her services. We discussed timing, deadlines, and that she worked from a paper copy. Our communication has been smooth; she is professional and seems really on the ball.
And so, I’m entrusting her to tell me everything that’s wrong with my new book and how to fix it.
This is a new process for me. My first novel had a lot of good eyes on it before publication. It was conceived eight years ago in a college English class, which was my first writing class, at age 53. Then I took a semester-long course where I worked with a harshly critical Big Book Editor from New York, who humiliated me and then taught me a hell of a lot about writing novels. After that, I worked on it in […]
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Photo by author
Recently, in his writer’s newsletter, Story Club, George Saunders wrote about packing for a move and completing what he called a “death cleaning”, which is not his concept, but a Swedish one, he explained, where a person edits their belongings before death, in order to simplify things for their survivors.
I’ve been doing some of my own death cleaning lately (I’m just fine, BTW, nothing dire to see here), and I admit that just maybe, there is a little teensy smidge of avoidance behavior going on. I tell myself it’s a good time to set my novel-in progress aside for a bit and then go back to it with fresh eyes after the holidays. Anyway, I started the Big Clean in my studio (see above), which was originally built in the 1920s as a bunkhouse on our farmhouse property. It might have held two sets of bunk beds in its prime, and originally had a wood stove. It has no central heat, air conditioning, or plumbing, but it is MINE—my she-shed, or whatever. Honestly, I hate that term. But I digress. For the twenty-two years I’ve lived here, it has been my place. I began by sorting a bin of tangled needlepoint yarn in a mélange of harshly bright 1970s shades. There were four unfinished needlework projects—two by me and two I inherited from a friend of my mother’s when she died, comprising one knotty, half-finished, floral pillow cover and a just-started monogrammed tennis racket cover. I’ve no idea whose monogram it is (was?), and the cover is small enough to fit a 1970s-era wooden racquet. Toss!
Next, I found the accoutrement required to make a smocked infant garment, given to me by a friend who taught me this craft twenty-some years ago, before the birth of my daughter. Back then, I completed one dress and thought I’d rather go through first-stage labor again than start another smocking project.
And so it went.
Bin by bin, I had to decide which things I might use again someday. I still knit obsessively, so my yarn stash and pattern books remain. My newest hobby, originated during lockdown, is knitting little 7” forest animals with clothes, and making rooms for them and telling their stories @tinyfoxstory on Instagram. So there are myriad minuscule fiddly bits to misplace and step on. My three sewing machines stay in use these days mainly for repairing chewed dog beds. I’ll also save craft supplies I hope to use with my toddler granddaughter someday. Pneumatic upholstery stapler? Nah.
From a post on Instagram by the brilliant cartoonist Roz Chast @rozchast, I found an organization in New York called Materials for the Arts, a government-sponsored “creative reuse center.” They are happy to accept donations of beads, buttons, fabrics, art supplies, etc. So boxing up things to mail off kept me busy for a good few days and produced a flattering glow of accomplishment. I tossed! I culled! I donated!
My Marie-Kondo-inspired self (have not read, BTW) was feeling pretty pumped by now—warmed up and ruthless. It was time to double down and tackle the alternate function […]
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Stephen of England, 1153 from WIkipedia.
In my last post about revising a novel draft, I offered up some primo advice from four successful and wise author friends. I’m still revising my own draft, so, being totally self-serving, I thought I’d stay with this theme and tell you about a fabulous program I found for self-editing. Then, I’ll fangirl for a bit over two gifted authors who don’t follow the rules, and finally, I’ll wrap up with a short rant about style. If you’re up for it, read on.
I’ve just joined up with two talented writers in a novel critique group and I look forward to having fresh eyes on my work. My number hasn’t come up yet, so being the insecure impostor that I am, I wanted to buff up my pages as much as I’m able to on my own before handing them over to my critique partners. I’m deep into the hairpulling stage of revising my third novel manuscript and I have some character arc issues to and some sequencing to work out, so it’s a great time for feedback. In the meantime, I’m exploring techniques for polishing pages on one’s own.
Here are the resources I used so far:
MS Word. I wrote my first two novels in Word. 350-page documents, and I used up hours of my life scrolling, searching for a keyword to find where I wanted to be in the manuscript. I kept separate desktop files for research, photos, and drafts. I like Word for finding overused words. A word search through the manuscript produces a tidy list in the left margin, and slap, slap, slap, like a teacher’s ruler across one’s palm, those pesky overused words go away and you can enjoy the smug self-satisfaction that only a lowered word count can bring. Also, Word’s basic spelling and grammar checker is easy to use to find glaring typos.
Scrivener. As a pandemic pastime, I converted. Like the camera on my iPhone, I know Scrivener has a lot of cool features I haven’t mastered yet, but to utilize them, I’d have to remember 1. what they are, and 2. how they work. So there’s that. Once I learned the basics, there was no going back. And I haven’t gotten much past the basics. I love the corkboard feature for sequencing, and I can add a mood photo to accompany each scene. It’s also handy to have research right there at hand, as well as character sketches. I’m not a Save The Cat devotee, but I did recently see a Scrivener template for that construction format offered from writer/blogger Jen Terpstra. (Save the Cat was originally a book about screenwriting, by Blake Snyder, recently adapted as a novel-writing format by Jessica Brody).
Grammarly. I’ve written about this program before, with mixed reviews. I don’t trust it. I’ve fed it my novel manuscripts, chapter by bloody chapter. Sometimes I get a proper hand slap: [really, Liza, how many times are you putting in “its” where “it’s” belongs, and vice versa?] As writer’s grammar goes, Grammarly is often just plain wrong. It […]
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With permission from Alan Levine, pxhere.com
Recently, I allowed myself to type those two precious words:
THE END
I’d completed my first rough draft of my historical novel-in-progress. Of course, finishing a draft is not THE END at all.
Those two magical words are the call to arms, the rallying cry to get one’s butt back into one’s damned chair, to double down, dig deep, grovel, beg, and maybe ugly cry.
It’s time to revise.
Hopefully, one is armed with tissues as well as a stash of tried-and-true methods for honing, pruning, enriching and revealing; plus the fresh input of trusted beta readers, freelance editors, a publishing editor, and/or literary agent (if one’s agent is the editorial sort).
I asked four generous and highly esteemed fellow authors whose names begin with “J” about their tips-n-tricks for revision so that I can, selfishly, mine their ideas for my own use. And yes, I am sharing the 411 here with you.
Janet Fitch- author of the Oprah’s Book Club selection and feature film, WHITE OLEANDER; and most recently, CHIMES OF A LOST CATHEDRAL. Her Janet Fitch’s Writing Wednesday YouTube series is a gem.
“I think in terms of revision “layers”. First layer, the scenes—making sure each scene has a change, that something has good and truly happened, and the POV character can’t go back to the way it was before. Second layer, I check the senses—am I embodying the story, using all the senses, every page? I make sure the WHERE is firmly established and continues to be refreshed. Third layer, the polishing. I make sure every sentence sings—checking the verbs for specificity and flavor, that the language has texture or ‘crunch,’ and that there’s variety in sentence length and structure. I will read this draft aloud, listening for the music I’m making.”
Jane Healey- bestselling historical novelist and host of the fab webinar series H3- Historical Happy Hour. Her most recent book, THE SECRET STEALERS is out from Lake Union Publishing.
“When I’m revising I always remind myself that readers are very smart, so in the first round of revisions, I do what I think of as a “macro” review and question every chapter, every scene and every event and ask myself, does this chapter/scene/event matter enough to remain in the story? Does it advance the narrative or shed light on character enough that it deserves to stay in the novel? And if it doesn’t, I take it out (always saving it somewhere else just in case). And then the next round is the micro review – more of a line by line review of exposition, dialogue etc. to make sure that I’m not talking down to readers in any way – I’m not repeating things they already know, or annoying them with details they don’t need to know. I find reading out loud helps at this stage, it’s much easier to spot clunky dialogue or unnecessary description when I read out loud.”
Jacquelyn Mitchard- #1 New York Times Bestselling novelist (and a former MFA advisor of mine), whose latest, Read More
The German playwright and novelist Gustav Freytag wrote Die Technik des Dramas, a definitive study of the five-act dramatic structure, or arc, in which he laid out what has come to be known as Freytag’s pyramid. Under Freytag’s pyramid, the plot of a story consists of five parts. (Definition paraphrased from Wikipedia).
1. Backstory/Exposition: The story begins in late January, 2020, when the debut novelist (nine months out from pub day) hears an international news piece about contagion on cruise ships. The author is on a cruise ship; a three-week trip around South America. The ship staff have protocols—lifeboat drills and announcements, outside doors locked in high seas. The author lines up with the other passengers, and like obedient preschoolers they insert hands into a portable spray-sanitizer station before returning onboard after shore excursions. She finds the delay an inconvenience, the alcohol gel irritating. She starts to carry scented hand cream. The term “Legionnaires disease” circulates and goes away. From Buenos Aires, the author telephones a foundation in France to secure the use of a photograph from 1930 for cover artwork. At sea, she is frantic for a good internet connection; final blurbs are trickling in, the cover design is finalized, and the title font.
Then, somewhere near the Falkland Islands, there is a new page up on Amazon, with her own name and a preorder link for her book. The author drinks free shipboard Champagne and Googles her title over and over and each time it hits she feels a little thrill. She posts photographs of the cover design on her Instagram page along with whales and seals and by then, the cruise is over and she returns home, anxious to begin pre-publication marketing of her debut novel.
Inciting Incident: CNN reports about a ‘wet market’ and pangolins, and the world gets stranger and stranger. “Those poor authors who have books coming out in June!” the author laments, with shallow sympathy and large-but-silently selfish relief, that her book does not come out until August 2020, and all this virus foolishness will be old news.
The author has a live reading with a poet in late February, in a bookshop, and tells herself that by August and launch time, she will have her talking points and gestures down. She orders a Great Outfit for the book festival talk, along with mounted posters of her book cover to stand in the background behind the podium. The Great Outfit is expensive; a little edgy-in-a-good-way, and she rationalizes that it will help her feel confident at public appearances.
2. Rising action: By March, signs of spring are appearing, but the author’s focus is not on her garden. The news is sobering. Dr. Fauci is introduced into the plot. The author worries about elder loved ones and is afraid to get on a plane and fly halfway across the country and stay in a hotel and mingle with thousands of people in a convention center. Thousands of attendees back out, thousands vow to go anyway. She cancels attending AWP at the last minute. She feels bad for the members of her speaking panel, but they replace her easily.
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In classes and conferences we’re taught to be better writers, but it’s up to us to get our work out there and learn how to be writers in the world. If you have an intention or desire to publish a book, submitting to literary magazines and contests can be a good place to start down the road. As with any undertaking, it helps to have credentials and to that end, validation of your work and getting your name out there are always a plus. Winning a writing contest, fellowship, or grant looks really good on a cover letter. Having your work chosen and published gives you street cred that you really can’t get anywhere else.
Here’s one thing I’ve learned about getting published: you’ve got to get noticed to get noticed. To that end, here is a basic guide to submitting, entering contests, and applying for fellowships:
1. Buff it up– Be sure that your work is as polished as you can make it.
2. Gather information– Part of choosing where to send your work is knowing your market. Almost all print magazines and online journals request that you familiarize yourself with their preferences and style before you submit. Fair enough, right? You could spend a fortune buying copies, but many have excerpts on their websites. Make a list of those that sound right for your style and whichever piece you are planning to submit. Duotrope and New Pages have a weekly newsletter listing calls for submission, including themed submissions and contests. Authors Publish newsletter also offers a free weekly lists. Entropy, The Master’s Review, and Literistic all have submission listings. Submishmash is the weekly newsletter of the Submittable entry portal, featuring submission opportunities. Also, writer’s magazines such a Poets & Writers and Writer’s Chronicle have good databases.
3. Make a list of markets -Remember that each piece you write may fit into a different market. Some publications pride themselves on featuring debut writers, some only want well-established authors. Whatever magazine you choose, be sure that your piece fits their style. In addition to litmags, consider widely distributed magazines that aren’t exclusively literary but publish fiction and poetry, like The Oxford American or Garden and Gun. Look at their websites and at the physical mag if you can. Most of the websites have a tab for “submissions” or a blurb in the back pages or masthead. If they say “no unsolicited submissions”, don’t waste your time unless you sat next to the editor at a dinner party and he asked you to send something.
4. Tier your targets– Duotrope has a really nice feature where they show you the percentages of acceptances by specific magazine as well as where writers who submitted to one place also submitted. Send to the top first, then wait before sending out round two because what if you send out fifty submissions at once, and immediately hear from someone at the bottom of your list with an acceptance but then, the next day The […]
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A lion tamer at Bertram Mills Touring Circus, Ascot, 1936. Photo by Edward G. Malindine
Certainly our work is the most important component of an author event. With that in mind, most of us choose what we’ll read with care, incorporating the anticipated audience, reading time allowed, and how much backstory setup is required for a particular passage. Maybe we practice reading aloud and timing ourselves. I know I do.
As a person who has issues with anxiety, I need to feel prepared. Yes, a large part of that is about what I’ll speak about or read. But I also pay more attention than I probably should to my personal presentation.
Below are some of the tricks I found during the pandemic launch of my debut novel. I used these all again for the launch of my second novel, two weeks ago. Note: Many of these are for virtual events, because #covid.
“Pointless fluff!” you might scoff. Perhaps. But for me, using these tools helps me feel prepared, and that takes the anxiety level down a notch.
Sound your best! Publishing Guru Supreme Jane Friedman recommends corded Apple earbuds with mic for good sound if you don’t want to invest in or wear a full-on headset. Keep a glass of water handy in case your voice gets scratchy. I once replayed a recorded interview where I had my volume turned way up and I was irritatingly louder than the interviewer throughout. You might ask your host to run a sound check with you ahead of time, or else ask someone you trust to tell you if your audio equipment needs to be upgraded.
Be aware of ambient noise. I have twice done live radio interviews from my closet, while three power mowers droned away outside the house. Will the air conditioner kick on while you’re talking? Turn it off. Might your landline ring from the table beside you, then broadcast a voicemail? Unplug it. Will your roommate walk through behind you, wearing skivvies, and shout that your puppy just made a mess on the carpet? Put a sign on the door.
Spend some time with your camera. First, be sure it’s quality and that your image isn’t grainy, thanks to old technology. Second, do not ignore camera angle! An adjustable laptop stand is great to set your screen and camera at eye level. If you don’t have one, prop up your laptop on a sturdy stack of books. If you use an external camera, be sure that is at eye level. Nobody wants to look up your nostrils, trust me. Try not to look at the screen while you’re speaking, look at the camera lens. Also, be sure there isn’t a big smudgy fingerprint over the camera lens on your laptop screen.
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