The verdict

While I wait for Taryn to finish falling in love with CHICKEN SHACK and possibly negotiate the subject of my next novel, I sit and wait.  Since the choice of my next story might be left in the hands of my publisher, I cannot begin either one of the books that I have planned until Taryn is finished with her wheeling and dealing.

I had visions of spending this free time working in the backyard, cleaning the basement, and improving my golf game, but about ten minutes after finishing my final revisions of CHICKEN SHACK, I couldn’t resist starting a new book.

Taryn and I have settled on two possible ideas for my next book, which she will soon propose to my publisher, so while I wait to see what they say, I started on a third idea.  It’s a story that I’ve talked about with Elysha, Taryn and several friends before, and I’ve always received a rather lukewarm response.  In order to make the book work, I will need to turn a prostitute into a likeable protagonist, and few thought this would be possible.

Tonight I asked Elysha to read the first three pages of the book.  1600 words.  And I knew that she’d be honest.  After reading the first chapter of CHICKEN SHACK, she looked up, shook her head and said, “I don’t like it.”  She crushed my spirits, but her honest assessment sent me back to the drawing board and helped me to discover things about my protagonist that I had missed while writing the first draft.  The book is supremely better because of her honest appraisal early on. 

So it was with great trepidation that I slid the computer over and asked her to read.  I knew that she was already predisposed to not liking it, and she has always frowned on the idea of me working on more than one book at a time.  Before she even looked at the screen, she asked, “So what are you going to do with this story?  It’s not going to be your next book, but you’ll be thinking about it while you write your next one. I don’t get it.”

I don’t know,” I said.  “These three pages might suck and we won’t have to worry about it.  Just read.”

So she did.    

When she finished, I braced myself for her criticism.  I honestly expected her to hate it.  But she looked up and said, “I really like it.”

“You do?”

“I really do.  I really, really like it.”

She went on to tell me why she liked it, including the fact that I had somehow made my prostitute protagonist quite likable.  There was a mixture of surprise and grudging acceptance in her voice, but there was genuine enthusiasm for the story and the character. 

“Maybe you could make this your next book,” she suggested.  “Maybe you should talk to Taryn.  I want to know what happens next.”

While I’m going to stick to my two other story ideas for the next book, perhaps this will be a book that I peck away at from time to time when the work on the primary book gets bogged down or I just need a break from the story. 

I don’t know.  Could I write two novels at the same time?  I’m not sure.  Does any writer work on more than one book at a time?  Is this even possible?

All I know is that Elysha loves the new story, and that made me happier than you could imagine. 

If you can find ten minutes, you can find the time to write

I was listening to the Barnes and Noble Meet the Author’s podcast today.  Authors from across the publishing landscape discuss their latest book and their life as an author. Specifically, they speak about the books that influenced them as children and how they began their writing careers. Again and again, I listened to authors talk about how they quit their jobs, took sabbaticals, moved to England and otherwise devoted a year or more to their first novel, carving out huge swaths of their lives in order to write their masterpiece.

While this sounds fine and dandy for someone who is married to a breadwinner or has spent enough time on Wall Street to amass a small fortune, many writers are not this fortunate. This is the message that I try to convey to would-be writers who waste away their time under the delusion that writing requires a full-time commitment.

Not so.

While I may one day write full time, I continue to work as an elementary school teacher, meaning that between my job, my fifteen-month old daughter, and my DJ business, my time is limited. Yet in the span of five years, I’ve managed to write three novels.

How?

I take advantage of every moment I get.

Sometimes this means that I sit down for ten-minute increments, and sometimes this means I spend an entire Saturday afternoon working on my book. I write whenever I can, wherever I can, and my priority is words-on-the-page. I don’t spend time making myself tea, clearing off the table, driving to the local coffee shop or any of the other time-wasting rituals with which so many writers seem so enamored.

Words-on-the-page. That is what writing is about. All the rest is fluff.

My wife and daughter went to the store for milk. I put my butt in the chair and write.

I’m waiting for a parent to pick up a student who has missed the bus. I open my laptop and begin pecking away.

My wife has decided to fold some laundry before we watch this week’s episode of Lost. I’ll use the fifteen minutes to write.

I worry that too many would-be writers hear about the year-long sabbatical, the book-lined office, and the late-morning and early-afternoon writing schedule and assume that they must do the same in order to write successfully. While I may long for a day of full time writing in a quiet office surrounded by my books and a fountain soda dispenser, for now I write at the kitchen table, in the teacher’s lounge during lunch, on trains and planes, and anywhere else that I can carve out ten minutes or more.

I wrote on my wedding day, on every day of my honeymoon, and I was literally writing between my wife’s contractions on the day that my daughter was born.

I write whenever I have time.

Jane Friedman of Writer’s Digest writes that those who don’t have time to write:

  • haven't yet made the necessary sacrifices to create time (like giving up TV or sleep)
  • OR don't yet have the discipline to set aside the time to write
  • AND may be too afraid to make the time (fear of failing or starting at all)

While Jane eventually discounts these assumptions in her piece, realizing that she simply did not have the time or energy because of outside forces, I don’t discount them at all. I think her initial instincts were correct.

If you can’t find time to write and you still have time to watch television, you have time to write.

If you can’t find time to write but are unwilling to sacrifice thirty minutes of sleep every morning in order to write, you have time to write.

If you can’t find the time to write but are unwilling to disconnect from the Internet, you have time to write.

My favorite quote seems apropos here:

“Don't say you don't have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.”

- H. Jackson Brown

My only complaint about Brown’s quote is that hours should be minutes.

Got ten minutes? Sit down and write.

Tick tock

This is the worst part of the writing process for me:

The waiting.

The manuscript is done, and it’s in Taryn’s hands.  I sit and wait, usually for about a week, hoping to hear that it’s absolutely perfect. 

Expecting to hear that it’s absolutely perfect.

That’s a long week.  A frustrating week. A hair-pulling, gut-wrenching week, and sometimes, it’s more than a week. 

Can you believe it?  More!

And even if the manuscript is perfect, then there’s the submission process.  The manuscript goes to my editor and publisher for review, and so begins the agonizing wait for an offer, which can take another month or more. 

Sometimes I feel like screaming, “I just spent a year writing those 100,000 words, people!  And you’re going to make me wait more than a month to find out it’s fate?  C’mon!  No eating or sleeping until you’ve read the damn thing!”

I secretly wish that Taryn, my editor, and the suits at Doubleday would just read along with me as I write, sentence for sentence, word for word, like some giant, interconnected video game, so that just as I type that final word of the book, my phone would ring.

“Hi, Matt.  It’s Taryn!  I love the way you ended the book.  So much heart!  So much humor!  And your editor loved it even more.  We were sitting here, watching you finish it together.  Doubleday’s offering a four-book, seven-figure deal.  What do you think?”

I don’t know what’s less likely: the read-along-with-me scenario or the seven-figure offer.

Probably both. 

Cell phones make for more creative writing

Over the past three days, as I’ve suffered from the most unholy of stomach viruses (losing eleven pounds in the process), I’ve spent a great deal of time lying on the couch, watching old, bad movies like Planes, Trains and Automobiles.  As a result, I’ve reached the following conclusion:

With the advent of the cellular telephone, writers, especially in comedy, have been forced to become more creative, and as a result, movies and television are better today.

The classic situation-comedy in which confusion or misunderstandings occur as the result of an inability to communicate were blown up because of the cell phone, and good riddance.  These contrived situations were overused, overblown and deserving of retirement.  I contend that nearly half of all Seinfeld plots would need to be re-written had the cell phone been ubiquitous in the 1990s, since so many of those episodes hinge upon characters who are unable to communicate with one another.

George and Jerry lose each other on the highway in the Bubble Boy episode.

George, Kramer, Elaine and Jerry are unable to find one another while attempting to see a film together, forcing George to purchase multiple tickets.

George and Kramer drive from airport to airport as Jerry’s plane is re-routed.

All plots that would have been ruined if the characters had been carrying cell phones.      

And many older action-adventures and thrillers would also be ruined by the ease of cellular communication.  No more nail-biting, last-minute, near-misses.  With characters able to call one another on a whim, there is no more opportunity for dramatic tension via the breakdown in communication.  

Hell, almost every Shakespearean plot would be ruined as well. 

Friar Lawrence calls Romeo and Juliet before either one has a chance to commit suicide.

The shipwrecked survivors of Prospero’s tempest call one another so there is no mistaking who is still alive and well.

Hamlet calls Laertes to inform him of Ophelia’s death before Claudius can get to him first and poison his mind.

The list is endless.  In fact, when I have time, it might be fun to re-write some of Shakespeare’s plays with the advent of the cell phone.  See how things might have turned out instead.

If only I had that kind of time.

Of course, when the cell phone becomes troublesome for plot purposes, one can always do what Stieg Larsson does:

Have your characters turn off their phones at the most inexplicable and inconvenient moments, or better yet, allow for the batteries on these phones to run at at the most inopportune time.   

But I don’t recommend this strategy. I think it annoys the reader.  It annoys this one. 

Dueling with my literary agent

This morning I wrote the last words of CHICKEN SHACK, finishing the book in almost exactly one year.  After getting up to pee and grab a cookie, I sat back down and began the revision process. 

My agent, Taryn, has read the first half of the book and sent me notes to consider during revision.  My books tend to need a lot more revision in the first half of the novel because I tend to wander a bit and fumble around for a plot.  Once I find the story and kick it into the action, there tends to be a lot less to do in the second half, and Taryn’s notes reflect that.  She had made many, many comments in the first few chapters of the book, and they become less frequent as the book moves along.  By chapter 13, the last chapter that Taryn has read, it would seem that she’s hooked and pleased with where the book is going, but she admits that it was a struggle at times to get there.

So now I begin to revise, which is usually a quick and painful process for me.  As I read through Taryn’s notes and consider her suggestions, along with ideas of my own, I engage in an inner dialogue with her.  And while I love her dearly and value her opinion a great deal, the imaginary Taryn who speaks to me through her notes becomes someone who I despise at times.  He comments become stinging barbs and tiny acts of cruelty, and I latch onto her occasional compliments like life preservers. 

This time, I’ve decided to use Twitter to record some of this inner dialogue,in hopes that it will at least make this process more entertaining.  If you’d like to follow the running commentary, which should persist for a week, you can follow me at twitter.com/matthewdicks or just follow the hash tag #Taryndialogue.   

After an afternoon and evening of work, here is what I have tweeted so far:

Taryn comments that one of my favorite paragraphs in chapter one is "GOOD STUFF!!!" She's such a smart agent and editor.

Taryn notes that snowmen's eyes are traditionally made from coal. Not buttons. Nice catch.

My agent hates my chapter 2. She has ideas for improvement but I suspect she'd like me to delete the whole thing. Not happy.

Oh dear... Taryn might be right. I hate re-writing even more than revising.

Fine. I'll re-write chapter 2 tonight. But I'm not happy about it. As my wife would say, Taryn is now "on my list."

Scrolled back to Taryn's "GOOD STUFF!!!" comment in chapter one to remind myself that I don't completely suck.

Just spent an hour reading books to my 15-month old. girl And none of them had a chapter 2 . So jealous of Sandra Boynton.

Ironically, chapter 2 had a section that deals with handling criticism without falling apart. Damn you, irony.

Okay, Taryn. I started the chapter off in the way you advised. And it's a lot better, I think. Until you tell me it's not.

Taryn crossed out two of my favorite lines from the material I salvaged from chapter 2. I'm really not liking her right now.

I mean, I know she's usually right, but I like these lines. I know why she doesn't like them and why I shouldn't, but I do.

I know. I'll keep one but kill the other. But I like them both...

I know I'm not in fifth grade, but I wish Taryn would follow my "two compliments for every one criticism" class rule.

I hope I'm not making my agent sound rotten. She's a truly amazing person and my hero. I just kind of hate her right now.

Okay, chapter 2 officially re-written. And yes, it's much better. Still, her comments stung. I'm going to bed mad.

On the precipice of revision

CHICKEN SHACK should be done by the end of the week. 

After allowing myself fifteen minutes to bask in the joy of finishing another book, I will begin revising. 

I’m not a fan of this process. 

I’m the kind of writer who edits and revises along the way, so that when I finish a page, I’m finished with the page.  Though I know that I may ultimately return to the page for revision, I have no desire or expectation of doing so while I write.  I work at it until I think it’s just right, then I move on.

Kurt Vonnegut, amongst others, wrote in a similar manner.  He often wrote just a single page a day, but when that page was done, it was done.

Three things get in the way of making this a reality for me:

1.  I’m not as talented as Kurt Vonnegut.

2.  When I begin to write a book, I have no idea about where the story is going to take me, and as a result, I am often fumbling around in the dark for the first half of the book.  The plot tends to meander, the characters are more opaque than I would like, and some characters appear for no discernible purpose.  As a result, the first half of the book often needs a lot of work.  Plot must be tightened, action must be expedited, characters must be more clearly delineated, and some (break my heart) must be jettisoned if they do not serve the story.  While the second half of my books tend to be tight, well crafted, and well characterized, the first half are often a mess.  Therefore, work is inevitably required.

3.  Even when I think that a chapter is solid and ready to go, not everyone agrees.  My agent litters the manuscript with phrases like “Cheesy!” and “I don’t buy it!”  She complains that I over-describe or under-describe certain sections of the text.  She informs me that my characters are flat and underdeveloped.  And she always, always, always tells me that the pacing needs to be quickened.  Each one of these remarks is like a tiny dagger piercing my heart, but nine times out of ten, I know she’s right (which just sharpens the blade).  As much as I adore Taryn, there is inevitably a time during the revision of my book that I begin to despise her, when her words of criticism echo in my mind, causing me to doubt myself.

The only good news about the revising process is that it doesn’t usually take that long.  By the end of the book, I know where I have missed the mark and often have plenty ideas percolating in my mind.  I’m also smart enough to listen to the ideas and opinions of others and spend more time trying to negotiate their suggestions into the book rather than arguing about why they are wrong.

I don’t always agree, and sometimes I stick to my guns, but more often than not, Taryn and some of my more trusted friends are correct.

Of course, if my manuscript resembled the draft of the President’s recent speech on healthcare (what a great photo), the revision process might take considerably more time.

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Witticisms or lacking wit?

There's an iPhone application called iQuote which is essentially a database of thousands of quotations from famous and intelligent people, and one by Angelina Jolie which I am surprisingly fond of:

If I think more about death than some other people, it's probably because I love life more than they do.

I think about death a lot, too. 

The software allows me to rate each quote, email them to myself and friends, and categorize them according to my need.

I know it sounds like a simple concept, but I love it, and I use it all the time.  Whenever  I have three minutes or less to kill, I'll pop it open and gather some wisdom from years gone by.

Or become annoyed at famous people for their stupidity. 

I've decided to write to the creators of this software and attempt to have one of my own quotes included in the database, the first step on my path to Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, one of my Plan A goals.  I've assembled half a dozen for your review, culled from writing that I’ve done over the past five years.  I'd love to know which, if any, you think are worthy of submitting.

1.  Nothing convinces me about the stupidity of human beings more than driving in the vicinity of the mall on a Saturday.

2.  I am more impressed with the quality of a person’s questions than with the quality of their answers.

3.  It is all about me, but you’re welcome to occupy space.

4.  Spock said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, but what if the many are all incredibly stupid?

5,  You can determine the effectiveness of a teacher by the frequency by which you can enter the classroom and speak to the teacher without grinding learning to a halt.

6.  If you are not delegating enough, you are not lazy enough.

My book has been hijacked by a couple of no-nothings.

I have been betrayed by my book. 

As I come closer and closer to completing the manuscript to CHIKCEN SHACK, the story continues to veer off in unintended directions.  When I began writing  a year ago, I thought I’d be telling the story of two rival brothers and how their familial relationship did not preclude them from being ruthless and cruel to one another.  I wanted to demonstrate how friends can sometimes be more loyal and loving than family and that genetic similarity is not always a good reason to remain close to a person. 

Then the brothers in my story began growing closer, even as I tried like hell to force them apart.  It’s instead becoming a story about reconciliation, forgiveness and acceptance, at least in terms of these two brothers, and as much as I like the story and feel that this is the correct direction, I don’t like it. 

It’s not what I had planned.

I wanted the book to reflect my feelings on the issue of friends and family, but instead, the characters took a life of their own and stopped listening to me.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true, and it annoys me.   

In the past, I’ve taken some criticism for the value that I place upon friends. Having come from a family that is not terribly close-knit, I have relied upon my friends for much throughout my life and have never been let down. In fact, during every crisis and time of need in my life, I can point to a friend or friends who played a crucial role in helping me get through. For reasons that I don’t entirely understand, this has prompted some to take offense to the elevated status of friends in my life, presuming that I undervalue family as a result.

While I have assured these people that this is not the case, perhaps it should be.

Research reported on in the New York Times seems to indicate that friends are significantly more beneficial to a long and happy life than family, and that close ties to family can actually reduce lifespan and overall wellness.

“In general, the role of friendship in our lives isn’t terribly well appreciated,” said Rebecca G. Adams, a professor of sociology at the University of North Carolina, Greensboro. “There is just scads of stuff on families and marriage, but very little on friendship. It baffles me. Friendship has a bigger impact on our psychological well-being than family relationships.”

Research, for example, has demonstrated that people with friends are less likely to catch colds and are more likely to enjoy reduced stress levels, lower blood pressure and greater measures of happiness. A Swedish study found that only smoking has a greater impact on the likelihood for a man to suffer from coronary disease that friendship. And all the research demonstrates that people with friends live longer lives.

Conversely, research has also found people with close ties to family often suffer from higher blood pressure, increased stress levels, and shorter life spans.

In short, your family will someday be the death of you.

This makes sense. Right?  Everyone knows how crazy your family, or certain family members, can make you. And while you may have friends who do the same, most people are eventually able to cut those poisonous friends out of their lives, while those rotten, good-for-nothing family members linger on like a festering sore. In fact, I might argue that the meanest, most despicable comments and actions that I have ever seen or heard have taken place between members of a family and not between any friends who I know.

Does this mean that I undervalue family? Of course not, but I have actively eliminated ties with family members who I would not otherwise befriend, and I will continue to do so. Family is an opportunity to establish meaningful relationships with people, but it is not a requirement. While there are members of my family who I cherish, I do not find the genetic or societal links to family strong enough to allow rotten people into my life. So I simply treat my family as I do my friends: If I like you, you’re in. If I don’t like you, I don’t waste my time on you.

And based upon the research, it turns out that I may live a longer, happier life as a result of this philosophy.

Unfortunately, the brothers in my book seem to be unaware of this research, so despite their obvious differences, they are struggling to make their relationship work, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop them.  Ironically, my agent and a couple of my friends saw this as a story about two brothers coming together long before I ever did.

I suspect that it was my inability to see the forest through the trees that caused me to misread the direction of the story, but I’m still annoyed nonetheless. 

It’s my story.  Not theirs.   

A novel idea about a novel idea

I’m lucky.  I have a lot of ideas for books.  Lots and lots and lots.  I just need more time to write them all.  As I attempt to wrap up my third book over this upcoming vacation, these ideas have begun to crowd my brain, each one vying for the top spot. 

Invariably, I will choose two or three ideas and combine them in some way to create a more compelling story, but I for long time, I thought was pretty set on what my next book would be.  It’s an idea that I like a lot, and my wife and agent liked it when I proposed it six months ago.

Then a new idea came to mind about three days ago while I was monitoring students at recess.  It’s a slight departure from my first three books in terms of theme and content, but it would be character-driven and focused primarily upon a single character, which seems to be my bread and butter.  And it’s this new idea, and specifically this new character, who has been consuming most of my recent mental energy.  I mentioned it to Elysha a couple nights ago and she seemed to tentatively approve, pending more details. 

Then, on a whim, I sent a summary of this new idea to my agent, wondering what she thought of it.  This evening I received her response:

_________________

Dear Matt,

I LOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE this idea. YES! Please! LOVE IT!

_________________

It was admittedly a stronger reaction than I had anticipated, but it was also one that I was exceedingly pleased to see.

Taryn likes it. 

And in my world, the hierarchy is:

1.  I like an idea.

2.  My wife likes an idea.

3.  Taryn likes an idea.

4.  Everyone else can go to hell.  

So it would seem that I’m off to a good start.

Good advice

As a writer, I rely on quality feedback from my readers.  I know there are many writers who prefer to write in a vacuum, absent of comment or criticism, and this may actually be the preferred way of writing for most authors.  “Write with the door closed first,” Stephen King says. 

But this is not for me.

Having grown up playing video games (Atari 2600, Atari 5200, Nintendo, PC gaming, Funspot, Half Moon Arcades, Salisbury Beach arcade), I thrive on the immediate feedback that they provide.  Spending a year writing a novel without showing a single page to anyone is incomprehensible to me.  Call me needy but that’s the way I operate.  I often tell people at appearances that if I could, I would write on a giant laptop screen while people behind me watched the action, sentence by sentence, nodding their approval or disapproval along the way.

And if all goes well, you may actually be able to do just that with my next book.  If you want to.  If anyone would want to. 

We’ll see.

Thankfully I have a solid core of friends who read my books, chapter by chapter, as I writer and offer feedback in a variety of forms.  While the content and story tend to remain the same regardless of their opinions, my work is often clearer, more concise and better targeted as a result of their comments.  

The Lone Gunman recently posted some excellent advice on eliciting quality feedback that I highly recommend.  I couple of his more salient points include:

  • If you give blunt feedback, you are actually less likely to get blunt feedback in return. The law of reciprocity does not apply.

This one might be difficult for me, since I tend to be direct and no-nonsense in my advice to most people. A friend of mine has supported my quest to become a life coach, saying that my willingness to tell people what they do not want to hear could prove to be a valuable asset in this arena.  But this comes natural to me, since I arrogantly (and sometimes foolishly) assume that I am always correct.  Gustave Flaubert said that “Happy are those who don’t doubt themselves,” and I think this sums me up rather well.  When you know that you are right, it’s hard not to be blunt. 

  • Less experience often means better advice.  

I have often found this maxim to be true.  The ability to provide feedback is not specifically correlated with experience, and oftentimes the best ideas for an industry comes from outside its walls.  When those walls are especially high and the inhabitants behind them are especially deaf, the industry often fails.    One need not be a writer to offer me quality feedback on my book. 

  • Be wary of people whose lives look perfect.

Also true.  If the seeming perfection that a person has attained has come from the pulling up of bootstraps, then I trust the person’s feedback.  But if a person’s life has instead been governed by a silver spoon or blind luck, I tend to discount their feedback considerably.

The best example of responding in an honest, direct and effective way to feedback has been Dominos recent Pizza Turnaround campaign, in which they have actively publicized their customer’s most frequent complaints about the product (the crust tastes like cardboard) and attempted to do something about it while the public watches.  The video, which is surprisingly compelling considering it’s basically a Dominos advertisement, is below:

 

Ten minutes at a time

“What the writer needs is an empty day ahead.”  CATHERINE DRINKER BOWEN

I saw this quote in my Twitter feed recently and thought, “No, No! No!”

A couple weeks ago, I was in Vermont with a handful of other authors, speaking about our books and writing.  During the question-and-answer session, an audience  member asked about when we write.  Specifically, do we write on a regular schedule, or do we write in bursts of creativity?  It’s a question commonly asked by readers, but it was the first time I had the opportunity to listen to other writers answer it.  In our group of five, at least three of the authors work on their craft fulltime, describing long mornings in which their writing takes place, followed by leisurely lunches and afternoons of writing and revision.  They travel to writer’s retreats for weeks at a time, work in offices away from the hustle and bustle of home and are otherwise unencumbered by the demands of other employers.

As I listened to them describe the lives as fulltime writers, I suddenly felt the need to leap from my wobbly chair and silence them.  Though I was indescribably envious of their ability to spend their days writing, this envy had nothing to do with my desire to stop them from speaking.  Instead, this desire was born from a need to protect the audience from the most common misconception of writing.

It’s been my experience that the most widespread reason for people not writing is a lack of time.  Prospective-authors envision writing as requiring three hour blocks of uninterrupted silence in the middle of the day.  With a family and a fulltime job, most people cannot find a way to carve out this kind of time from their already busy schedules. 

I understand this dilemma well.  As a teacher, I work fulltime, leaving the house around 7:00 every morning and arriving home after work and a stop at the gym around 5:00 every afternoon.  I also own a mobile DJ company and entertain at about thirty weddings a year.  Each of these weddings require me to meet with clients at least once before the actual wedding, taking more time away from writing.  As a secular minister, I even marry people at some of these weddings, necessitating even more meetings.  And I have a couple other irons in the fire as well in terms of business. In short, I’m a busy guy.

I also have a one-year-old daughter who keeps me quite busy, and I still make time to play golf, poker and basketball with friends quite regularly.  I’m a member of a book club and read a lot, and I own a dog who I walk twice a day.

As I said, I’m a busy guy.

Finding a three-hour, uninterrupted block of time for writing is rarely possible in my life.  Hell, even an hour is sometimes impossible to find.  Yet I’ve written two novels and am about to finish my third, all in the span on about four years.

How have I accomplished this?

By writing whenever and wherever I can.  Oftentimes this means writing for incredibly short periods of time: ten to twenty minutes in many cases.  But I never allow the length of time available to me to be an excuse not to write. 

I write in the morning, between walking the dog and leaving for work (as I’m doing right now).  I write during my lunch break.  I write for ten minutes while my wife is finishing dinner.  I write for the forty-five minutes that my daughter is still napping.  I write for fifteen minutes while waiting for a meeting to begin.  I write for twenty minutes while waiting for a wedding to begin.  I write in waiting rooms, train stations, hotel lobbies, McDonald’s restaurants and highway rest areas.

Wherever I can, and whenever I can, I cobble the time together to write my stories. 

Would I like to write fulltime?  Of course.  In addition to my fiction, I have a cartload of other projects that I’d love to be working on.  But for now, I stick to fiction because that is what pays the bills and allows my wife to stay home with our daughter.  Perhaps someday in the future, I will have the same opportunities as my fellow Vermont writers, but until I do, ten minutes here, an hour there, and the occasional lunch break will have to do, as it should for you.

If you have ever dreamed of writing and cannot find the time, make the time.  Cobble together little bits of your day, writing a paragraph or even a sentence at a time if necessary.

No excuses. 

Long days, spacious offices and lovely, seaside views are wonderful, but Stephen King began his career beside a washing machine and John Grisham wrote his first novel on a legal pad while eating.  I wrote mine on a laptop that I drag with me wherever I go.  SOMETHING MISSING was written at the kitchen table, in the teacher’s lunch room, and on planes and trains.  I wrote while waiting to be married, while on my honeymoon and every day in before and after. 

I was working on my second book, UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO, between my wife’s contractions during the birth of our daughter.

So please don’t start believing that the scene must be perfectly set before you begin scribbling with your pencil or pounding at the keys.  Let the world be your office, and make the time that you have count. 

Write for ten minutes if that’s all that you have.  Write one sentence a day if necessary.  But please don’t wait for the ideal writing situation.  Most ideal situations are the product of years of less-than-ideal situations.   

What I have to say

Toby Lichtig writes in The Guardian about how all writers repeat themselves.  That is, they seem to return to the same themes again and again.   

When I wrote SOMETHING MISSING, I had no idea what I was doing.  No idea what I was trying to communicate other than Martin’s story.  I just allowed the character to show me the way, and low and behold, I had a novel. 

My second book proceeded along these same lines, and my third is proceeding similarly:  Find the character and the rest will come. 

But along the way, I have uncovered some of the themes that seem to interest me.  Oddly enough, there was no conscious decision made when identifying or choosing themes.  I had no grand vision of the ideas that I wished to express.  I write like a spelunker in a cave without a headlamp or a lantern.  I’m just chipping away at the rock and hoping to find something.  So these are just the themes that have unconsciously emerged from my work. 

I seem to be obsessed with the secret lives that people lead.  Each of my protagonists possesses a profound secret that they strive to keep hidden at all costs, and its upon these secrets, and their potential revelations, that the plots of my books hinge. 

I also seem drawn to abnormality.  None of my protagonists are conventional human beings in any sense of the word.  Each possesses oddities, quirks and degrees of non-conformity that make their lives challenging and unique.  I couldn’t imagine writing a book about someone relatively normal. 

Lastly, I appear to be drawn to characters who have become disconnected with society.  They are lonely people: isolated, unrecognized and ignored by the world around them. Each is seeking acceptance, appreciation and love.

Why have I been drawn to these themes?  I wish I know.  But they seem to be working for me. 

Will I continue to make them focal points of my novels?  The Guardians’ Toby Lichtig seems to suggest that I will.  I do not know.  I will simply continue to listen to my characters and allow the stories to take whatever direction they so choose. 

Frightened

I’m currently proofreading UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO.  This is my last chance to make changes, and they cannot be big ones.  A word here or a word there at most.  Everything else is pretty much set in stone. 

It’s an unnerving process for me.  Walt Whitman once famously said that a poem isn’t finished until the poet is dead, but once my book is proofread, it’s done, whether I like it or not.

No going back. 

On page two, I found the the following descriptor:

“…sweating uncontrollably”

Really, Matt?  How the hell does anyone have any control over the degree to which they are sweating?  You can sweat profusely, perhaps.  But not uncontrollably. 

And how did I fail to notice this during the first dozen reads through the manuscript.   

Sweating uncontrollably. 

See why I am so nervous?

Elmore Leonard’s rules of writing

Elmore Leonard posited some writing rules in the New York Times way back in July of 2001, when the towers still stood and water boarding was presumed to be an odd reference to surfing. 

I just found his list of rules today.  For the most part, I agree with Leonard’s assertions.  Several even echo Stephen King’s sentiments in his invaluable book ON WRITING.

I thought Leonard’s fifth and sixth rules were especially amusing:

5. Keep your exclamation points under control.

“You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.”

6. Never use the words ''suddenly'' or ''all hell broke loose.''

“This rule doesn't require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use suddenly tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.”

While amusing, I tend to think that we should not eliminate an entire word like suddenly from our writing vocabulary.  While I can certainly imagine the horrors of its overuse, it seems to me that it is a perfectly reasonable word to use when the occasion calls for it.

That said, I immediately turned to CHCIKEN SHACK to find out how many times I have used the word suddenly in the 55,000 words that I have written.  Eight times.  I eliminated five of them.   

Leonard’s second rule is:

2.  Avoid prologues.

“They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.”

UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO has a prologue, but it does not serve as backstory.  In fact, the prologue is a flash-forward to a scene that is yet to come.  I opted to use a prologue (my agent’s suggestion, if I remember correctly) in order to give the story a bit of a jump start.  A vision of what is to come.  A promise of great things ahead. 

It seems that my lot in life to write novels that are more in tune with eighteenth century sensibilities.  I prefer a slowly developing, occasionally meandering story while today’s readers expect the novel to hit the ground running.  In SOMETHING MISSING, this meant moving a pivotal chapter (the toothbrush scene) closer to the front of the book.  In UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO, this meant offering the reader a prologue as a guarantee that the story will eventually get roaring down the tracks.  And I think it works well. 

I suspect, however, that Elmore Leonard with disapprove of the use of prologues for this reason as well.

Commas from the gut

I have to say that the latest quote from AdviceToWriters is spot-on:

The use of commas cannot be learned by rule. Not only does conventional practice vary from period to period, but good writers of the same period differ among themselves. . . . The correct use of the comma—if there is such a thing as “correct” use—can only be acquired by common sense, observation and taste.  SIR ERNEST GOWERS

Of course, try telling this to standardized test designers or curriculum experts. 

My abyss

Nathan Bransford writes about the nervousness that he feels when starting a new book.  He writes:

“I liken it to staring down at a deep, dark abyss. You know it's a long way down and it's pretty scary to jump.”

I have never felt this way.  In fact for me, it’s completely the opposite.  I have about a dozen ideas for books rattling around in my head, and I’m ready to start almost any of them on a moments notice.  I can’t wait.   

For me, the abyss begins to loom around the halfway point of a book, knowing that I have fewer and fewer pages left to uncover a satisfying ending.  Not knowing where a story will take me, I become disconcerted around the 40,000-60,000 word point, when the pieces of the plot haven’t quite clicked into place yet and the expected crescendo to a satisfying conclusion has yet to happen. 

Stephen King once described this feeling while writing THE STAND.  Midway through his 1,100 page novel, he had lost the thread of the story, unsure where it was supposed to go, and like me, he bean to panic, fearful that he was losing his story. 

I was feeling this way about CHICKEN SHACK for the last month of so, wondering where the hell the story was supposed to go.  I had about 45,000 words written and worried that my story was petering out just when it was supposed to be hitting third gear.  I fumbled around for a while, revising an earlier chapter and taking some hesitant, tentative steps forward until this past week, when I found the thread again, watched the pieces fall into place, and uncovered what will likely be the ending.

And once this happens, the book tends to wrap up rather quickly.  It’s taken me about eight months to write about 50,000 words, but I expect that the second half of the book will come fairly quickly and I have a decent shot to finish by my birthday in mid-February.

Abyss successfully traversed.  Writing is fun again.   

Rock opera update

Last night my friend, Andy, and I had our first reading (and listening) of the rock opera that we have been working on for several months.  A group of friends gathered round my dining room table, gobbled pizza and drank beer, and read the parts that were assigned to them for the evening. 

It was a lot of fun. 

It was the first opportunity for me to hear Andy’s music and my dialogue come together, and even though much of what I had written sounded like nails on a chalkboard, I thought that together, we had the potential for something good. 

It needs work.  Lots of work.  But I think we’re off to a fine start.

The greatest challenge for me throughout this process has been attempting to write a story that someone else has already outlined.  The opera began with about a dozen songs and the outline of a story that Andy had conjured up during a fit of boredom.  Since then it has grown to eighteen songs, and I have begun to flesh out the characters and plot that Andy had originally imagined through characterization, plot and dialogue.  But throughout the writing, I have attempted to remain as loyal as possible to my friend’s original concept, and it hasn’t been easy.  The first thing I did was change the protagonist, inventing one that I found more interesting and sympathetic, and necessitating the writing and recording of more music.  I’ve added other, minor characters along the way and shifted the plot a bit, but each time, I’ve felt more and more guilty for not staying true to Andy’s original vision. 

Last night’s reading, however, was enlightening.  Our friends seemed to agree that for the most part, Andy’s music rocked but the underlying story didn’t hold up under scrutiny.  There wasn’t enough dialogue to make the characters real and believable.  There wasn’t enough back-story.  The characters, except for my protagonist, were flat, lifeless and oftentimes irrelevant.  In short, my friends sent me the message that I must do more, and in doing so, they gave me permission to be creative.

Andy has already encouraged me to be creative many times throughout the process.  He has told me on several occasions that I have the freedom to do as I will, but I think I needed to hear this from someone other than the man who gave birth to the idea.  I’ve been so worried about stepping on his toes that I have been afraid to take a single step.  Now that the critics have spoken, I am ready to take a leap and put my stamp on this rock opera.

I find myself more excited than ever about it.

A war of words inside my head

Another gem from Nathan Bransford in regards to responding to a manuscript critique:

“If you find yourself getting mad it's probably because your editor/critique partner is right.”

Thankfully, the editorial process for my first two books was relatively simple.  Both were “light edits” (my editor’s words) and I adored the person with whom I was working.  But it’s the process that I go through with my agent (which most assuredly makes the editorial process easier) that can give rise to the occasional spout of anger to which Bransford describes.  

As I read through Taryn’s notes on a manuscript for the first time, I find myself engaging in a heated, inner dialogue with her.  I assign tone to her comments.  I fire back mental retorts to her critique.  I question her ability to understand my point of view.  I openly mock her suggestions. 

Please understand: I adore Taryn a great deal.  I have no animosity toward her.  In fact, I think she is wonderful and downright brilliant.  A complete professional.  But that initial reading of her commentary and critique can be tough, even when she likes most or almost all of what I have written.  I labor over every sentence until I think it is perfect, so to say otherwise isn’t easy for me to accept at first.

Even though I know it’s not realistic, my secret hope is that Taryn will declare the manuscript a work of genius, and to alter it in anyway would be blasphemy.

This, however, has yet to happen, so instead, I feel annoyed, wounded, and angry as I finish reading her critique.           

Then I walk away.  I take a shower.  I go to the gym.  I play some golf.  I read a book or watch a ballgame.  My wife and I go out to dinner.  As I am doing these things, Taryn’s insidious suggestions begin to take root in the fetid soil of my mind.  They work on me the way a masseuse works on a sore muscle, exerting painful but necessary pressure on my thoughts.  Before long, I find myself begrudgingly agreeing with her suggestions, even though every fiber of my being wants to reject her commentary as sheer lunacy. 

Eventually, I return to the laptop and begin revising my manuscript, adhering to most, if not all, of her suggestions.  And by then it’s easy, because Taryn’s suggestions are typically spot on.  I just need time to accept my fallibility and the imperfection of my story.  And eventually I do.   Any animosity that I had felt toward her is washed away by appreciation for having such a smart, talented and insightful person in my life. 

At the end of the day, Taryn Fagerness may refer to herself as a literary agent, but in reality, she is a writer and editor above all else, and my stories are better because of it.

She gets me. 

And my mental version of Taryn, the one that I berate and belittle as I read through her suggestions for the first time, always finds forgiveness in her heart for a writer who doesn't always see the light upon first glance.

Overconfidence

Last month Nathan Bransford wrote a post centering on five lessons that he has learned about writing from watching reality television.  It’s an amusing and insightful piece, and I thought his first lesson was the most pertinent:

“Overconfidence is your greatest adversary.” 

As a published author, I have received many requests from fledgling writers asking for help in the publishing world.  I often find this shocking considering how much I still need to learn and how relatively inexperienced I am. Nevertheless, I am always honored by these requests and attempt to accommodate them whenever possible. 

Some, however, are easier to help than others.  

A few people have wanted me storm the halls of Random House with their manuscript in hand, demanding that it be published. 

Others are looking for the name of my agent (which is easily found with a Google search or by simply read this blog, demonstrating a complete lack of effort by these people), thinking that her name alone is the key to the publishing kingdom.

More reasonable people are simply looking for advice.  They want tips on finding a literary agent.  They ask about the path that I took in order to be published.  They are trying to glean some insight about the publishing world.   

Occasionally someone will ask me to read something that they have written in hopes of receiving an honest critique, and in these cases, I always agree to read at least part of the work (though not always on a timely basis).  But I’ve discovered that these requests for a reading and critique usually come in two forms:

1.  I’d love to hear what you think about my piece.  I’ve worked long and hard, and I’m proud of what I have accomplished, but I’m sure that there is still a lot of work to do.  Any comments that you might have would be appreciated.

2.  I have written the next great American novel.  Seriously.  My friends don’t understand my fiction, and my mother refuses to read another word, but I’m telling you, it’s amazing.  The best.  And it’s just the kind of thing that you would appreciate.  You’re going to love it.  I promise. 

I have great faith that with remarkable persistence, enormous amounts of hard work, and a little luck, the first set of writers that I described will eventually find some level of success in the publishing world.  They may not become wealthy or even well paid for their work, but they will achieve their dream in some way. 

As for the latter group, regardless of how talented the writer may be, I do not hold out much hope.  If you’ve written something great, you don’t have to be the one to proclaim its superiority.  Allow someone else to do it for you.     

Humility is easy.  Why do so many people seem to have such a hard time adopting it?