Here's to a New Year of Writing!

There are two kinds of writers in the world. And no, I don't mean fiction writers and nonfiction writers, plotters and pantsers, or literary writers and commercial writers. I mean the writers who make New Year’s Resolutions and those who don't.

I fall in the first camp. With a vengeance. An inveterate list maker and planner, I view the new year as the Super Bowl of Goal Setting.

2017 is no exception. My calendar is already full of sales objectives (for my clients), events and conferences (for agency business), writing deadlines (for my publishers), and more. So many of the hard targets I aim for this year are related to these enterprises; hitting them is not an aspiration, it's an imperative.

But I know that freaking out about having too much to do in too little time will only sabotage any progress I hope to make—and kill the creativity I count on to keep me on track.

My New Year’s Resolutions are the ones critical to my creative process. They're the ones that I've proclaimed loudly and in technicolor in the one place I'm bound to visit more often than I should every day: my refrigerator.

That’s right. Last summer I painted the bottom half of my refrigerator with chalk paint, thinking it would prove an amusement for my grandchildren. But over time the space morphed into my own personal and professional planner.

This morning, in honor of the dawn of 2017, it reads: Breathe. Read. Write.

Breathe, because yoga is the fastest way for me to plug into my subconscious.

Read, because as Stephen King says, “If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write.”

Write, because real writers write. End of story.

Okay, so my kids will all tease me unmercifully when they see it, my non-writing friends will think it's weird, and my neighbors may view it as downright subversive, but I don’t care. It works, as least for me.

            So … what's on your refrigerator this year?

Note: If you're having trouble getting started, check out my new book, The Writer's Guide to Beginnings.

GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT

It’s Monday morning, and as I sift through the many submissions in my in-box, as well as those by my own clients, trying to plan the week ahead, I can’t help but think of Evan Marshall. Evan Marshall is a literary agent and author of several novels, as well as The Marshall Plan series of writing books and writing software. I’d been a fan of his for years, but I had the good fortune of meeting him in person not long ago, and that encounter has stayed with me.

I was at the Writers Digest Conference in New York City, where I moderated a panel with the congenial Mr. Marshall and fabulous authors JaneK. Cleland, Libby Cudmore, and Reed Farrel Coleman. The “You Know My Methods, Watson” panel was billed as the “Secrets to Succeeding as a Mystery Writer.”

But the words of hard-earned wisdom revealed there applied to stories of all kinds, not just mysteries. But perhaps the most intriguing story was the one Evan told of his own path to publication. He’d been a big success as an agent, but was not having much luck selling his own work.  When his wife asked him what he’d tell himself if he were his client, he said, “Give the people what they want.”

Evan had been writing whatever he wanted to, without regard to his audience—and failing to sell it. As opposed to giving the people want they wanted—which is what he always told his clients to do (and the aspiring writers who read his writing books, of whom I was one). So Evan changed his strategy, gave the people what they wanted, and went on to sell several traditional mysteries.

If you’re writing commercial fiction, you can figure out what your people want.  Study the conventions of your genre, and then play with them. Tweak them, twist them, turn them on their heads—but do not ignore them. Becasue you ignore them at your peril.

I often meet writers who know their craft and tell a good story, but have not found a publisher, or if they have, they’ve not broken out of mid-list. Often this boils down to a failure to take the audience for their work seriously. They’re not acknowledging the conventions of the genre; they’re dismissing the expectations that the readers of the genre bring to the reading experience. (Note: If your work is often called “quirky,” this could be you.)

So respect the readers you’d love to call your own. They know their genre, and they’ll reject those writers who think they are “transcending the genre” (a phrase bound to annoy the devotees) when all those writers are really doing is playing without a net.

Which is another way of saying: Give the people what they want. 

PS: For more on Evan Marshall, see http://www.themarshallplan.net.

PPS: For more on my upcoming Well-Sold Story intensive at the Writers Digest Novel Writing Conference, see http://novel.writersdigestconference.com/index.php/schedule/well-sold-story-intensive.

Yes, Virginia, the Beginning Does Matter

This morning I got an email from a writer that I found very disheartening. It went something like this:

Dear Paula,

I have written a great novel that I’d like to send to you in the hope of obtaining representation. Now I know that the first chapter doesn’t really work, but the rest of it is very good, and I know that you’ll love it if you read the entire manuscript. Does that really matter? Should I send it to you now or wait until I figure out how to fix the first chapter?

Best,

Aspiring Writer

At the risk of repeating myself: Yes, your story opening DOES matter. Because if the beginning doesn’t work, the rest doesn’t matter. The truth is that few readers—and even fewer agents and editors—will read past a poorly executed first chapter.  That’s why I do so many First Ten Pages Boot Camps and that’s why I’m writing a new book about story openings called BEGINNINGS:  How to Craft Story Openings That Impress Agents, Engage Editors, and Captivate Readers that Writers Digest Books will publish in the fall. Because I know how much the beginning matters—and I want to help as many writers get past that first hurdle in the novel-writing process as I can.

The First Page Sells the Book…

That’s what they say in publishing. So take the time to craft a first page, a first scene, a first chapter that engages readers—and keeps them reading.  Here’s a checklist designed to help you ensure that your first chapter:

•          What actually happens?

Too often the answer to this is, “not much.” Make something compelling happen!

•          Why will the reader care about/relate to the characters?

Readers want to fall in love with the protagonist at first sight.

•          How do you want the reader to feel? What have you done to evoke that feeling?

Art is meant to be an emotional experience, not simply an intellectual one. Make your readers feel something.

•          Have you used all the elements of fiction at your disposal—setting, plot, character, theme, etc.?

So many first pages fail to weave in all these elements—and you need them all to write fully realized scenes.

•          Have you chosen the right voice?

When the voice is right on, readers read on.

•          Does the dialogue ring true?

Bad dialogue kills the reading experience faster than most anything.

•          Are the story questions strong enough to keep the reader turning the pages?

Without story questions, there’s no story—just writing.

•          Is it clear what kind of story you’re telling?

Readers play favorites with genre; they want to know what kind of story they’re reading right away.

•          What makes this story different from others of its ilk?

You need to set your story apart from the brand-name competition in your genre—and the sooner the better.

•          Have you gotten the point of view right?

The misuse of point of view is one of the big reasons I pass on stories, even when everything else works.

•          Is the scene well-written and well-edited?

Professionalism counts.

If your story opening passes this checklist test, then you may be ready to shop your work.  Good luck—and happy querying!