Archive for April, 2009

Dealing with time pressures

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

The act of writing often involves tension, and that tension is often a result of time: not enough time to write, for example, or deadlines coming fast and furious.  You have only an hour to write this evening, so you better make the most of it.  You have a deadline tomorrow, and if inspiration doesn’t strike soon, that client will never hire you again.  You look at the blank piece of paper or the glowing computer screen, and you can’t think what to write.  The first sentence you produce is so asinine you should probably give up and become a truck driver instead. This tension blocks you from being able to write as effectively and successfully as possible and the more you stare at the screen with nothing to say, the louder the clock ticks in your ear.

(For Andrew Marvell fans: “But at my back I always hear/Time’s winged chariot hurrying near.”)

    

Most people don’t have as much time to write as they would like.  So the pressure is on to produce golden prose on your first try, in that hour you have set aside for writing this evening. We also complicate matters by both under- and over-estimating how much we can accomplish in a given time.   For instance, you may think it will only take a couple of hours to polish that essay when it may take a whole day.  You may think it will take just a few minutes to revise a query and send it along – but it takes two or three hours instead.  At the same time, you may think, “I only have an hour this evening, it’s not worth getting the manuscript out.”  But an hour can give you time to block out the next scene, or get started researching Civil War dress for your next blockbuster novel.  An hour is enough to write a page or two of your book proposal.

  

The next time you go to sit at your desk and write, and you feel that familiar tension in your shoulders, and you start gritting your teeth and looking for something else to do instead, stop.  Ask yourself what’s causing the tension.  If you’re afraid you won’t get the project done on deadline, ask yourself if you’re being realistic.  If you cannot possibly under any circumstances get the project done on time, then you need to face up to it and call the editor or client and ask for an extension.  But usually this tension is unnecessary.  As long as you sit down and do the assignment, you’ll get it done by deadline.  Ask yourself what is the worst thing that will happen.  In this case, the worst thing is, you’ll miss the deadline. 

 

Well, it ain’t pretty but you won’t be the first writer to miss a deadline.  However, if you make yourself so anxious you can’t write, not only will you miss the deadline, but you’ll miss it by a month instead of by three hours.  Take the attitude: So what?  So what if you miss the deadline?  Does that mean you’ll never be allowed to write again?  Of course not.  (This is not to say that you should tell potential clients and editors, “So what?” when they call to say your copy is late.  It’s just a little exercise you can use to change your thought patterns so you can move beyond the fear and tension.)

 

Purposefully relax.  Do some stretching exercises.  Do a little deep breathing.  Meditate if you have to. Visualize a successful writing time.  Light a candle or some incense.  Give yourself permission to write fifteen totally stupid sentences.  Do whatever it takes to relax those muscles.  If it takes a pound of chocolates?  Good investment.

The Daily Habit

Wednesday, April 29th, 2009

People are often surprised to learn that even full-time writers, such as moi, struggle to find time to write.  You’d think that without the demands of a day job doing something else, a writer would be able to devote hours every day to writing.  That’s not true.  It’s especially not true for the writing that you want or need to do that no one is paying you for (yet).   At the same time, to get to the paying work, you have to do a lot of unpaid writing (putting together a book proposal, writing a full manuscript for fiction, coming up with pitch letters and on and on).  It’s a challenge, to say the least.

A few years ago, a colleague of mine suggested a simple solution:  “Take the first two hours of every day for the writing that’s most important to you, and make the rest fit into the remainder of the day.”  The beauty of this solution is that it helps establish a daily habit of writing.  It also makes a daily priority of the work that’s most important to you, not the work that happens to have landed in your inbox or that is someone else’s priority. 

It took several months for me to routinely give myself permission to use my best writing time this way.  But after a while, I learned not to schedule anything else during those precious morning hours.  Not interviews for articles I’m working on, not dental appointments, not conference calls to discuss projects in the works.  Only the writing that is most important to me.  (And, okay, occasionally a gossip session with one of my friends).  I frequently leave my home office for these two hours so that phone calls and emails don’t interrupt me (as I mentioned in an earlier post, I don’t bring a laptop with me when I do my writing at the coffee shop). 

Three years later, I can say that reserving those morning hours for my most important work has been the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself.  If you can’t devote two full hours each day to your most important work, try an hour, or your commute time, or your lunch break.  Whatever it is, make it a daily ritual, and keep it sacred.

Behind the Scenes: Pitching Agents

Tuesday, April 28th, 2009

A week or two ago, agent Nathan Bransford did a “Be an Agent for a Day” contest where he challenged his blog readers to read 50 queries (more or less what an agent might see in his/her inbox on any given day), and pick 5 they felt had potential and would, if they were agents, request manuscripts or proposals for.  Of the 50 queries he posted, 3 were for books that actually ended up being published, and the challenge for readers who played along was to figure out which three.  See here for the results. 

I found this to be highly instructive.  I’ve always known agents wade through a lot of queries on any given day, but I was surprised at how many of them are good — as opposed to bad and freakishly wrong.  I would have thought a much larger portion of a typical inbox would be easily dismissed, but what’s scary is how much of it could actually be worth publishing.  Scary because the fact is to get noticed I (we) have to be better than the good, not better than the freakishly wrong.  Not surprisingly, after a while the queries all start to sound alike, even the good ones.  Interestingly, one of the queries was for a book with a premise that turned my stomach but I could tell would attract an agent because it was different enough to be marketable.  I was right; it was one of the books that ended up being published.  

One of the queries was for Allison Brennan’s 2006 book, The Prey (at the time titled The Copycat Killer).  If you haven’t read Allison Brennan, you should, and don’t tell me you don’t read romantic suspense, because that’s a poor excuse.  Ms. Brennan reports that the query letter originally had a 58% request rate (that is, of the agents she sent the query to, 58% wanted to see a partial or full manuscript).  She eventually snagged her agent with it.  In the contest, only 15%  of the readers would have requested to see the book based on the query.  Ms. Brennan blogs about her query and the contest and offers various theories as to why so few blog readers would have requested it, versus agents who did request it.

My theory is that writers (that’s mostly who reads Mr. Bransford’s blog) are lucky they don’t have to be agents.   Not only do we have a hard time figuring out what’s marketable, we have a hard time figuring out how to show that what we’ve written is marketable.  So our query letters suck, while our books may be brilliant.  What happens is we end up looking for rules for writing query letters, and we follow them.  When someone like Ms. Brennan doesn’t follow those rules — she puts her bio first, she compares herself to other authors, she mentions that she’s written other unpublished books — we automatically give it a thumbs-down because of all the no-nos.  In other words, we’re idiots.  We think ”following the rules” trumps “compelling book with intriguing hook.” 

So: two lessons I learned.  You have to be better than good, and substance is more important than style any day of the week.

 

 

How to: Your book and its competition

Monday, April 27th, 2009

One of the most difficult parts of writing a non-fiction book proposal is putting together the competitive analysis (this goes by various names but is basically the section where you compare your book to others like it).   People often make several common mistakes. 

1.  They write the competitive analysis after they’ve written the rest of the proposal — the chapter outline and summaries, the marketing/promotion section, the about the author material – which means that if, during their research, they discover that someone else has already published a book almost exactly like the one they’re proposing, they have to rewrite the whole proposal.   Or they pretend the competing book doesn’t exist.  Or they shelve their proposal and go on to something else. 

I’ve always found the best way to tackle the competitive analysis  is to write a draft of my overview (the overview covers what my book is about, who the audience is, and why I’m the right person to write it), then, with that information in mind, start my research on competing books.  Very often what I learn helps me shape my book to be better and more helpful to readers than what is already on the market.

2.  Another common mistake is to claim there is no other book like yours.  This is not the impressive feat you may think it is.  When you say something like that, editors/agents think either you haven’t done your homework, or else there is a good reason there’s no other book like yours, and that’s because there’s no market for it.

3.  They badmouth the competition.  It’s true that you want your proposed book to come out looking like a winner, but you don’t accomplish this by denigrating the other books out there.  Keep in mind that someone thought those books were worth publishing (possibly the very same editor who is about to read your proposal).  There’s nothing wrong with using objective information:  “This book doesn’t include the results of recent studies.”  ”That book is intended for scholars, not a general audience.”  “This other book doesn’t include exercises and resources for readers.”  But saying things like “This book sucks” is a no-no.  That’s not just because you don’t want come across like a jerk; it’s also because “this book sucks” doesn’t tell the reader anything about why the book doesn’t accomplish what it’s supposed to accomplish.

4.  They forget to clearly explain how their book will be different and/or better.  You have to connect the dots for your reader.  If Competing Title doesn’t include the results of the most recent research, it isn’t enough just to point that out.  You have to also specify that My Planned Book  will include that information.  Don’t forget to explain the benefit to the reader.  In sales, they talk about the difference between features (an index) and benefits (the ability to quickly turn to the page that has the information sought).  Keep that distinction in mind as you write about your competition.

5.  They dig up and include every obscure title ever printed on the topic.  In the interest of thoroughness, some people include everything every done on the subject, which can be overwhelming and doesn’t give an agent/editor a clear picture of what the market for your book may be.  If the only books on your topic were published twenty years ago, agents/editors are going to wonder what audience you think your book will have now.  If the only books on your topic have been published by tiny presses or self publishers, agents/editors are going to wonder if you have a large enough audience to warrant their investing in your book.  If you include everything but the kitchen sink, you’re forcing your readers to wade through a lot of information to find the useful bits.  Instead, choose more recently published books put out by major publishers which have sold well.  (It can be difficult to figure out how well a book has sold, but Amazon rankings can help, as can extended best seller lists.  Google is your friend; if the book in question turns up three hits, it’s probably not a great success.)

For more on writing the competitive analysis, see agent Rachelle Gardner’s excellent blog.

Things that make me smile

Saturday, April 25th, 2009

The other day I was at the coffee shop when the train delivering newsprint to the newspaper plant next door rolled in.  It let out a long low whistle that sounded something like a foghorn.  The barista remarked, “That always reminds me of the call to arm in Lord of the Rings.”

 

Which prompted one patron to call out, “The orcs are coming!” and another to leap to his feet and say, “Time to break out the battle-axes!” 

 

Well, it was kind of an amusing moment on an otherwise quiet morning.

 

 

 

Practice 10,000 Times

Friday, April 24th, 2009

A martial arts master once told me, “You have to practice a kick at least 10,000 times before you start to understand it.”  Now, if he had told me that on my first day of class, I would probably have been a little discouraged, but I wasn’t a beginner at the time and I conceded that he was right.  It coincided with my experience.  Even if, as a beginner, I could do the kick without falling over after the first ten tries or so, I really didn’t have any idea what the kick was about.  I didn’t have any clue about technique until I had done it 10,000 times.  And that 10,000 times was only the beginning.  At that point – after 10,000 tries – I was only scratching the surface.

    

So if you have to practice your kicks 10,000 times before you start to understand them. . . then as a writer you have to practice your craft at least the same amount.  In writing, there is no substitute for experience.  You may have an ear, you may have talent, but in the end a writer becomes a writer simply by writing a lot.  The good news is, the sooner you get started, the sooner you=re on your way to understanding the craft.

    

When a certain level of competency has been achieved – and it will come sooner than you think if you keep at it – then you will write as if it were second nature.  It will simply be a reflex that happens automatically.  That doesn’t mean you can stop developing and growing, it just means you won=t have to focus so much on process.  You will be confident that this time, just like last time and next time, you’ll be able to produce a good piece of writing.  Achieving that confidence and that competence is worth the time it takes to get there.

    

Have you done your 10,000 kicks today?  If you’re having trouble getting your daily writing in, try a different approach.  Compose into a tape recorder while you’re on a walk.  Treat yourself to coffee and a scone at the coffee shop while you write.  Take your notebook with you to your kid’s soccer game.  No one says you have to do the writing the same way in the same place, so long as you do it.

Honoring your work

Thursday, April 23rd, 2009

I had one of those conversations this morning where I got teased for the 500th time about something.  I laughed the first 499 times, but I didn’t laugh this time, because it just wasn’t funny anymore.  I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor, but sometimes my ability to laugh at myself backfires, and I end up feeling disrespected. 

That happens occasionally to all of us, but it’s particularly common when we aren’t honoring ourselves and what we do.  Too often we downplay or even denigrate our work.  “Well, it’s not brain surgery,” we’ll say.  And that’s true (except for those of us who are brain surgeons, but I’m thinking they probably don’t downplay their skills the way the rest of us do).  But even if our work isn’t brain surgery (or whatever we think is amazing and worthwhile), that doesn’t mean it lacks value.  Being a good writer is at least as valuable as being a good plumber, and we know how important plumbers are. 

    

One of the ways you can show respect for your profession is to treat it like a profession.  Nora Roberts, who publishes four or five best-selling novels each year reports [not specifically to me, but in published interviews] that she writes in her office from 9-to-5 every day, just like any other person with a job.  She believes that her writing is a business and she has to treat it like a business.  So just because she’s had a string of best-sellers, she doesn’t kick back and drink daquiries under the palm trees.  She respects her profession and treats it seriously.  I’m pretty sure she never says something like, “It’s better than a real job,” because it is a real job.

 

Take an Adventure

Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009

All too often, we spend so much time behind our computers that we forget there=s a whole world out there waiting for us to explore it.  If you feel isolated and bored, chances are, you=ll lose enthusiasm for your writing.  So a little adventure — getting out from behind the monitor — can make a world of difference.  When I started training in martial arts (many years ago) the experience got me out of the house and introduced me to people I=d never otherwise have met in professions I didn=t know anything about.  Not all of my adventure require quite so much committment to a new lifestyle, but I always feel reenergized and ready to take on challenges with more enthusiasm.

Exposure to new thoughts, people and ideas sparks me right up again and gets me out of my rut, so whenever I wake up, think about my day’s work, and say “meh,” I give myself permission to go on an adventure.  It doesn=t have to be costly or time-consuming, it just has to be different from what I normally do.  Sometimes it’s just checking out a little art gallery that just opened or listening to music a friend recommended but isn’t my usual genre.

You can do the same.  If you haven=t been to the zoo in fifteen years, now=s the time.  If you=ve always wanted to go to L.A. but never found the time, find the time.  You can even visit your own hometown as if you were a tourist, stopping at all the sites you never see because you live there.  Feed your spirit and your writing will wake up.

How to: 7 Tips for Pitch Sessions with Editors and Agents

Tuesday, April 21st, 2009

It’s that time of year when writers throw themselves into a panic over conference pitch sessions with editors and agents.  As a veteran of approximately five million of these sessions, I wanted to weigh in on what has worked best for me.

 

The most important thing to remember is that you’re not going to sell your book in a five-minute (or even a ten-minute) session with an editor.  So relax.  What you’re trying to do is start a relationship.  That’s how books get sold.  If you can just have a conversation with the agent or editor, you’re way ahead of the game.  So while it’s important to think about what you’re going to say ahead of time, if you get too focused on you and your pitch, you won’t listen to what the editor or agent is saying.  It’s hard to make a connection with someone if all you can think about is your own agenda. 

 

That said, here are 7 tips for getting ready:

 

1.  Figure out how to describe what your book is about in a couple of sentences.  Practice these sentences in a couple of different ways, but don’t memorize them.  Know what shelf your book will fit on in the bookstore (this is true even for cross-genre or sub-genre stuff – figure out who your main audience is and where they’d look for your book.)  Look up a few titles of books similar to yours so that the agent or editor can relate to what you’re trying to do.

 

2.  Be prepared for obvious questions:  Why are you the right person to write this book?  What made you decide to write this book?  Who is the audience for this book?  How will you research and write it?  Again, think about what you’ll say but don’t try to memorize the answers.    

 

3.  Be prepared for not obvious questions.  This is a matter of knowing your subject matter thoroughly, and understanding what you can bring to the table.  I’ve written a ton about women and martial arts/self defense, so I blinked when an editor said, “I’m trying to expand my line of how-to books for men.  What could you do that would help them improve their training?”  Fortunately, I knew a lot about martial arts in general (not just as it specifically relates to women), so I was able to formulate a credible answer.

 

Also, a little honesty goes a long way: “I think I know the answer to that, but I’d better double-check.  May I email you the actual stats on Monday?” 

 

4.  Ask your own questions: What are you looking for?  What is a common mistake writers make when pitching you?  What is the most important thing a writer can do to make their book proposal more appealing?  Use the time to listen, not just to talk.

 

5.  Don’t get freaked out if the editor or agent hates your book idea.  You can take the time to ask some of the questions in #4 – “Okay, then, what are you looking for?  What would you like to see come across your desk today?”

 

Once I could tell that nothing I ever did in this lifetime would be of interest to a particular editor, so I just suggested we wrap it up and asked her if I could bring her a cup of coffee so she could have a little break before the next writer showed up.  No, this never resulted in a book deal, but we ended the session feeling fine about each other and life went on.

 

6.  Breathe.  Like most people, I have a tendency to talk fast when I’m nervous or excited.  I also talk too much.  When I go on and on, I lose my listener.  I start to sound like I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.  Now I have a little rule.  I allow myself to say two sentences, then I shut up and give the other party a chance to say something.  This gives me a chance to breathe and listen.  Then, if indicated, I say two more sentences.  No one seems to think I’m strange for doing this.  In fact, it actually turns out to simulate a real conversation remarkably well.

 

7.  Have a way for the agent/editor to contact you.  No agent or editor is going to want to lug home fifty-seven book proposals and thirty-two full manuscripts, but there’s nothing wrong with having one sheet of paper that gives your contact information and a brief overview of your book idea.  That will help the agent/editor remember you.  The way to offer it is to hand over your business card (if requested), and then say, “I do have a one-sheet here, if you’d like to have that.”

 

What do you do to make pitch sessions go better?

Frames of reference

Monday, April 20th, 2009

 

In a spate of recent blog posts, other bloggers have written about how to hire people for various jobs, and they suggest questions to ask to help determine whether that person will be able to help you.  The trend I’m noticing is that these bloggers want to know a great deal of personal information about someone before hiring them.

 

For example, on a personal finance website, the blogger suggests asking potential financial advisors what kind of cars they drive and if they’re married, the idea being, I guess, that if someone drives an SUV and I despise SUVs, then this is not the person for me, or if I’m married and my advisor isn’t, s/he won’t have the first clue how to help me get buy-in from my partner.

 

On another website, someone posted about how she would never hire a life coach who had a lot of money and didn’t really “need” the job – in other words, how could anyone understand her problems if that person had never had to make a choice between, say, attending a kid’s school play and making a client meeting?

 

To which I say, you have got to be kidding me.  Frames of reference are all well and good – you’re probably never really going to understand how it feels to be punched in the nose until someone punches you in the nose – but creativity, imagination, empathy, experience and education are way more important than “my advisor is a carbon copy of me.”

 

In fact, I would suggest it’s a terrible idea to have advisors who are just like you.  When you’re trying to solve problems, you need to get outside of your own little brain and get a bigger picture.  You can’t do that if you’re only willing to consider valid those lifestyles and experiences that are just like yours.

 

A case in point:  I have a special needs daughter.  You would think that I would get my best ideas for coping with my situation by connecting with single moms who live in small Kansas towns and have preteen daughters with special needs.  You would be wrong.  My very best coping strategies come from a friend in Brooklyn who is childless.  She is imaginative, sympathetic and she listens. 

 

This relates to writing, I swear.  In order to write well, we don’t have to have “be” what we’re writing about.  We just have to be able to use our imaginations, think creatively, and listen.  We sell ourselves short if we think the only way we can authentically tell a story is to have lived it ourselves. 

 

And just a note: if you’re going to hire someone to clean your house (for example) you don’t need to know what that person’s house looks like.  You only need to know how clean his or her clients’ houses are afterwards.