Should a writer have to "pay their dues"?

There are few things that rile children's writers more than bad celebrity picture books! Think Madonna and Sarah Ferguson, and recent books by basketball and football players (many of which are co-written or ghost-written anyway). Picture books are just about the most difficult kinds of stories to get right, and those writers who are trying to break in and get published know that "competent" isn't going to do it.

Unless you're already famous for something else, in which case the feeling from the "real" picture book writers is that it's just not fair. To some extent, the same sentiment can be heard when it comes to adult writers who decide to pen a YA or children's novel or two. "Like it's not hard enough to get published already," I hear people say. "Why do they have to horn in on our territory?" Then there's the Stephanie Meyers of the world who dream an idea and write vampire books that sell millions of copies, and the writing is not even very good.

Sheesh, what's a writer to do?

Apart from anything else, keep writing. And keep improving. That's really all that is in our control. To work hard and get better. When I do goal setting with students and clients, I have to remind them that "Get my novel published" is not a goal so much as a dream. Write novel, revise novel (many times), research publishers and agents, send novel out. Those are goals. But we end up having little control over whether we'll get published or not when we venture into the world of traditional publishing.

Publishing has changed. Once upon a time (very apt term, if you think about it), a writer wrote - usually many drafts, on a typewriter (which meant re-typing the whole novel each time), with no classes or workshops, no MFAs, no manuscript critique services. Just the writer and their words. Sometimes they had writer friends to bounce off, which is why we have collections of letters - back in the day, they wrote real letters to each other about their processes and ideas and doubts. But mostly they had to slog it out on their own. Publication meant you had taught yourself enough, by simply writing and reading critically, to achieve a certain standard.

It's different now. For a start, everyone wants to be a writer. That's how it seems some days. Everyone thinks they can be a writer. That's why publishers and agents are inundated with manuscripts, especially picture books because they're short and easy, right? Computers mean it's easier to pound out a manuscript, use the spell checker on it, and send it off. If a publisher or agent has the time to wade through all those manuscripts, they might find one gem. It's more likely that they will want a query letter instead to try and weed out the competents, incompetents and just plain weird.

And then there is the marketplace. The marketplace is voracious and endless, always wanting something new, something hot, something that will make everyone lots of money. Or win awards. So the idea of an apprenticeship in writing, and even Malcolm Gladwell's theory of 10,000 hours of practice to become a master, can be flipped in an instant when someone comes along with a great, original idea. Or a pretty good idea that can be wrestled into an immensely sell-able one.

What are all those other writers supposed to do? They're "paying their dues", learning, writing, rewriting - why doesn't that deserve the rewards?

I think there are two things at play - one is most definitely the marketplace. Even publishers can be astounded by a book that just takes off, but they also know to hedge their bets with things like trendy series and books "just like that one selling a million". But the other thing is creativity. It's not something that can be pinned down - it's like a gorgeous butterfly. Marvel at it in the air or perched on a flower, but stick a pin through it onto a board and you've just got a pretty dead thing.

If we keep working and writing and rewriting, we are learning. If we keep reading and dreaming, we are learning and growing. Feed your creativity, do the work. Most of us do have to "pay our dues". How else are we going to become better writers? And then hope that when that amazing idea comes fluttering past, that you can capture it without killing it, and make something out it that is publishable!

What poem has stayed with you?

Recently, I picked up a poetry collection I've had for a while and dipped into (as you do - one of the pleasures of a collection of poems) - the book was Dear To Me: 100 New Zealanders Write About Their Favourite Poems (Random House NZ, 2007). A lot of the selections were safe - classics by Keats, Byron, Tennyson etc. A few were odd. Some were new to me, and my favourite was Murray Ball's poem about his cat, Horse.

But it did set me thinking about poems that I've remembered for their effect on me at different times in my life. The list would be quite long, but no doubt there are millions of people who couldn't name one poem! Unless it's one they hated from being made to study it at school. Top of my list is the first poem I remember reading at high school - I think this was the first time I realised that poetry didn't have to rhyme, and that it could say things I thought were indescribable!

SYMPTOMS OF LOVE

Love is a universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;

Are omens and nightmares --
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.

Take courage, lover!
Could  you endure such grief
At any hand but hers?

Robert Graves

(from Collected Poems, Cassell 1975)

So what poem would be on your list that you've never forgotten, and why?

What happens when you stop procrastinating

Nearly all writers procrastinate. The ones who don't are on some kind of deadline! Either publisher-induced or from some outside requirement. How do I know this? From talking over the years to many, many writers, and observing myself. You're not alone.

Procrastination is a manifestation of different things but the one biggie is fear. Fear that what you write will suck. That what you write will cause some kind of upheaval. That what you write will cause you to be REJECTED. I do think that 95% of the time, there is a very direct line between procrastination about your writing and your fear of it being rejected.

It doesn't matter by who. It is likely to be a publisher, but can also be any or all members of your family, your spouse, your second cousin twice removed that you used as a character because she is just so weird. The thing is - it's in your head. And the only person who can get it out there, lay it on the table and dissect its cause, is you. A lot of writers either don't realise this, or don't want to do it.

But what happens when you stop procrastinating? When you actually shove aside every excuse, reason, fear or "block" and write?

You write. And you often write good stuff. You end your writing day feeling terrific. Feeling like a million dollars. Feeling like "why did I spend half my day avoiding that when it was so GOOD?".

Next time you write, and you have that great feeling, this is what you do. You take a few minutes to describe that feeling to the best of your ability. You use every descriptive word, you explore the feeling, you can even draw pictures of it. Then you put it up above your computer or your writing space so the very next day, there it is. You read it. You remember what it was like to write, how good you felt, how the words flowed out despite your struggling.

You read it several times if you need to. And then you write again. Use that feeling. Over and over, use it to remind yourself that yes, writing is hard, but when you do write, the writing itself is the best reward ever. Make it part of who you are as a writer. Celebrate the writing.

Poetrix magazine - our final issue 40

This is the editorial I wrote for No. 40 - I debated writing something different but really, this says it all!

It’s hard to believe we have come to the final issue of Poetrix. It’s not the 40 issues so much as the 20 years! A rough estimate would put us at publishing around 1200 poems in that time, which might not sound like much but it’s been amazing how many people have written and told us that Poetrix published their first poem, or inspired and encouraged them to keep writing and submitting. Many poets who have appeared in our pages have gone on to publish collections; several have appeared in Best Australian Poems anthologies.

In this inaugural year of the Stella Prize, with all the discussion of “do there still need to be awards for women writers”, we stand tall and say “Yes”. We began Poetrix in 1993 because of two things – a survey published in the NSW Poet’s Union newsletter that showed a marked imbalance in male vs female publication and reviewing, and a passed-along story about a male poetry editor who refused to publish poetry by women that he called “domestic suburban vignettes”.

So, as women so often do, we rolled up our sleeves and went to work. Literally. We cooked and catered for book launches and lunches, and earned ourselves enough seed money to start the magazine. We have always put each issue together by hand, around a kitchen table, and kept our production costs low, so we have never needed to go looking for more money. Yes, women are self-sufficient and thrifty, too!

In 2010, an organization called VIDA: Women In Literary Arts undertook a project to count the rates of publication between women and men in many of the writing world’s most respected literary outlets. Sadly, nothing much seems to have changed since we first launched Poetrix 20 years ago. You can see their results at http://www.vidaweb.org/the-count. But they believe that by doing this and keeping the conversation going, change will happen. We hope we have been a part of that, however small.

Have we published domestic suburban vignettes? Undoubtedly. After all, doesn’t all the real drama of life happen in the home and in the suburbs? The personal is still political. Women speaking out – about death, grief, longing, dementia, divorce, children, their experiences, what makes them laugh or cry – creates powerful poetry. We don’t much care if that doesn’t speak to men, but we suspect it does, all the same. Why on earth wouldn’t it?

What has kept us going all this time? A sharing of the load, first and foremost. We’ve always had a solid core of 5-6 of us, with others helping. Our editorial process is cumbersome (everyone on the committee for that issue reads everything and votes) but democratic. People get to stand on the table for poems they absolutely love that no one else is keen on. Generally, when the committee numbers 5, it takes 3 definite Yes votes for a poem to get in. It’s the Maybes that cause the most discussion!

It means that a wider range of poems are published than if we just had one person choosing, which is a good thing. Poetry is nothing if not subjective. For the Selected section of Issue 40, each of our current five editors chose five poems from Issues 1-38. That was an enormous amount of reading, with long shortlists, and the proviso that a poet could have only one poem in the Selecteds. Again, you’ll see a wide range of poems here, and sadly not all of our most consistent contributors are represented. But it was an individual choice. Could you choose five from 1200?

In almost every issue, we have published one poem by a Western Women Writer. Poetrix has never been just a showcase for our own work, but we did want to show that we, too, wrote poetry! In Issue 40, we have one from each of us, chosen by the others. And of course we have our usual new poems. We think our Selected section definitely stands the test of time.

You may notice that on our cover are two aeroplanes. One is the Lockheed 5B Vega flown by Amelia Earheart. The other is the de Havilland Gypsy Moth flown by Amy Johnson. Why? Firstly because back in 1993 it seemed logical to us that if a female aviator was an aviatrix, then a female poet must be a poetrix! So for Issues 1 and 2, Adrienne Mazer-Swinton, fellow WWW and artist, drew our planes for the covers. She also drew racing cars, sculptures, spaceships and yachts – all areas in which women had excelled and broken records. We are incredibly sad that Adrienne is no longer with us to share the celebration of 40 issues.

There are many, many people to thank. All of our editors over the years, for a start, and those who helped us earn our seed money. Flashprint (for designing our covers) and the Victoria University Print Room for printing the insides. Tracey Rolfe for doing nearly all of the typesetting over the years, and being our editor-in-charge-of-grammar-and-style (and for the photo on the final issue). 

WWW demonstrating editorial voting!

We also thank our many contributors, some of whom have sent poems in for 20 or 30 issues, and kept sending despite rejections (but their persistence and dedication to craft has paid off, too). We also thank our subscribers. Some have subscribed for almost every issue, and Janet Limb has even subscribed for her three daughters, as well! All of this support, along with wonderful letters, has made us feel like Poetrix has been a worthwhile, valuable thing to do. We thank all of you who have sent letters of sad farewell and thanks when you heard that this was our last issue.

Will we start publishing again one day? We’ll never say no. With the advances in technology, you might see a Poetrix e-magazine one day! But for now, we’re hanging up our poetry editorial boots and slipping back into our poetry writing shoes (the red ones with the high heels and sparkly sequins). What do we wish for you all? That you will keep writing poems about subjects important to women, and important to the world, but more than this – we want you to send them out to all those other magazines and keep the voice of women poets alive and resoundingly loud!

Sherryl Clark, Tracey Rolfe, Lorraine Neate-Benson, Margaret Campbell, Lynette Stevens

Western Women Writers Editorial Committee, Issue 40.

Copies are available for $14 incl postage from Box 532, Altona North VIC 3025, Australia.

Patrick Ness at the SWF

I freely admit that I travelled up to Sydney for the Writers' Festival so I could go to the sessions with Patrick Ness and Kate Atkinson. Why? Well, yes, they did do sessions in Melbourne, but I wanted to be at a writers' festival where everyone was talking and thinking about writing fiction, for a change. Instead of social issues and politics. And let's face it - great fiction does that anyway, without being pedantic about it. Just ask Mr Ness about the Spackle!

The session on Saturday with Patrick Ness was great. And I am here to tell you that he is funny! If you read his books (especially A Monster Calls), you might not think so, but he was very witty and dry. I failed to take detailed notes in this session because I just wanted to listen. Later, things came back to me that I jotted down, and he did repeat a few things in the Sunday session with Carlos Ruiz Zafron. But here are the things that stuck with me (a little paraphrased in some cases):

* Writing vernacular is a lot more fun than reading it (we might also call this dialect). He started writing Todd's voice in the Chaos Walking books in deep vernacular, which didn't work, and it was only when he kept simplifying it that the voice finally worked and he found it. Even third person, past tense has a voice.

* "I don't think about whether a book should have a happy or a sad ending. I think about how a book should have a truthful ending."

* He said he needs 3 or 4 or 5 things to start a novel - images, scenes, ideas. He thinks about how they all connect until he gets an "exit feeling" - the last line. He never starts a book until he knows the last line. (If you think this is unusual - the big scenes and ideas - read "Write Away" by Elizabeth George).

* "A book is not a song. It's the performance of a song. So you can take an idea that has been done before but it's the way you perform it."

* He wants to treat his teenage characters as complex beings - people who are complicated make mistakes. He talked about "A Monster Calls" - the moment when a character realises they are capable of believing contradictory things.

* If you are trying to write humour, you have to write stuff that makes you laugh. You can't write stuff that you think will make other people laugh. That has been Hollywood's mistake.

* He often has people tell him that they want to write a novel one day, "when they have time". He says if you want to write, you will be writing now. You will always be writing, working on a project, if you are a writer.

And the thing that Carlos RZ said that stuck with me was: "I have to squeeze out every letter, every word. I have to animate my characters myself. When I write, I am trying to get into your brain and rearrange the furniture." For once, not one writer I heard waxed lyrical about being swept away by story and characters - they were all quite honest about the hard work that writing really is!

Review: "The Dark" - Lemony Snickett/Jon Klassen

I have to say I do enjoy a good, scary picture book, especially one that's a bit weird or different. Two of my favourites are The Wolves in the Walls by Neil Gaiman and Wolves by Emily Gravett (coincidence that they are both about wolves? Maybe not, given Red Riding Hood etc). I've also used Bruno Bettelheim's book, The Uses of Enchantment, in myths and symbols classes, where he talks about how original, scary fairy tales can help children overcome fears.

So when I heard about the new picture book called The Dark, I was keen to read it. I even bought my own copy! So what do I think of it? Well... a bit disappointing. Maybe that's because I'm an adult, not a five-year-old, but there are a couple of things that didn't work for me. However, there were things I did like. I like the first half a lot, and the illustrations. It's a story about a boy called Laszlo who is afraid of the dark. The dark lives in his house, specifically in the basement, and is presented as though it's a living entity.

By nearly halfway through the book, things are getting scary. Laszlo has tried to "manage" the dark and keep it in the basement, but one night it comes to visit him in his room (the picture shows you that his nightlight goes out). At that point, the dark says, "I want to show you something." Laszlo takes his torch and goes all the way down to the basement, and finds an old chest of drawers, and the dark wants him to come "even closer".

Then we get a whole page full of text which is this kind of adult philosophical speech about why the dark is useful. Huh? What happened? All the tension is gone, all the scary stuff goes pfft. And then the story resumes. And the outcome is just kind of nice and tidy, and the last three double-page spreads are pleasant and affirming that the dark is good.

I'm not sure what is going on here. I've seen one review that asked the same question. Did the editors fall in love with the story and let Snickett/Handler get away with the diversion into dullness? Or did they really think it worked? Other reviews are full of praise for the book (it helps that the illustrator, Jon Klassen, has just won the Caldecott Award for This is Not My Hat), but it gets 2/5 from me. It makes me feel as though there was another story to begin with, somewhere, one that stayed scary all the way and had a really satisfying, victorious ending, and that story ran away or got "nice-ified". But this is a review, and it might just be my dark heart talking!
(There is an audio clip of Neil Gaiman reading the first bit of the book but it's only 40 seconds)

How do you know your writing is improving?

Those of you who read this blog will know that I have been spending the past 22 months studying at Hamline University in Minneapolis/St Paul, Minnesota (graduating soon). I'm doing an MFA in Writing for Children and YA. Has it been hard? Yes. Especially when I was working. This year I have taken 12 months off work to complete my last semester - this is when I work on my creative thesis, which is a novel. Has it been worthwhile? YES! Before I went off to Hamline, I had around 45 published books out there, and a lot of people asked - why would you want to study? (Subtext: aren't you already "there"?)

Well, no. Like most writers, I suspect, I'm rarely happy with my writing. And when I am, it can turn out that people in publishing are not. That's the reality. Writing is a craft, and as soon as you think you know everything there is to know about it, it tends to leap up and slap you with a wet, cold fish. That fish can be of the species "remainder table", or the species "horrible reviews" or even the species "your story ideas are old fashioned and we want something HOT".

If enough time passes between my writing and re-reading, I am quite capable of declaring everything I write is appallingly bad, and it's time I gave up. Doing the MFA has gone a long way towards saving me, because I went into it determined to write daringly. To have a go at things I might have not dared otherwise. To learn as much as I could about the craft (which is why I loved the critical essays, and even the thesis - sometimes). And to try my hardest to IMPROVE.

Even though I'm not entirely sure what that means. In today's publishing world, it probably doesn't mean what I want it to. Writing better doesn't mean I will come up with the next new hot chapter book series, or the next best-selling trilogy (of something) that will get optioned for a movie. Writing better doesn't seem to necessarily mean every editor will be anxiously waiting for my next book.

Writing better will mean to me that when I get a fantastic idea, I'll be able to create it on the page as a story that readers will love to read. That's the key - being able to grasp what is in my head and move it onto the page and be happy with it, instead of despondent that it's not nearly as terrific as I thought it was. What does give me hope, though, is that most writers feel like this. It's a bit like seeing that beautiful, glowing stone shining up at you through the water, and when you reach down and grab it, once it's in your hand, it turns out to be rather ordinary and dull.

So how do we know when we've improved? One way is to keep all of your old drafts of stories and bring them out and compare. I have horrendous stuff that I keep just for that purpose (no matter how much it makes me cringe). Another way is simply to do it - work hard on your craft, and I think you will know in your heart when you are getting better. Don't take any notice of family (unless they are good critical readers). Test it by sending it out, then rewriting, and trying again. A big part of craft is perseverance. That's what counts in the end - the realisation that work is what it takes, and the real desire to do better every single time.

"Runaways" - new verse novel

I've missed posting this month because I've been writing - around 30,000 words of a new SF novel for my Hamline creative thesis, plus a new project for Penguin. But now I'm taking a little time out to celebrate the release of my new verse novel, Runaways.

Jack and Cassie are brother and sister, and when Dad turns up and takes Jack away "on holiday", Cassie is not convinced. But Jack is a difficult kid and Mum doesn't seem bothered that he's gone.

But Jack is a long way away, with a dad who gets a better offer, so Jack takes to the road. He knows where he's going - he's following a story Cassie used to tell him. But is she brave enough to join him?

And can you ever really run away? Or does it just make things worse?

Here's an excerpt:

CASSIE

three years since

we’ve seen Dad

and suddenly he’s back

flashing fifty dollar notes

buying Mum perfume

calling us his little buddies

I’m not so little anymore

I know a fake

when I see one

even if Jack doesn’t

that’s what happens

when you’re younger

you believe anything.

*

Jack wears a grin

from ear to ear

Dad takes him

to the cricket

to the pub

calls him ‘little mate’

Jack soaks it up

but when Dad gives him

fifty dollars

just like that

he gives it to me

worried

that Mum will be angry

she doesn’t say a thing

I hide it anyway

for Jack’s birthday

Jack gets more from Dad

in a day

than Mum gives him

in a year

but it’s totally suss

I know it is

but I stay silent.

 

JACK

out on the highway

trees and trucks whiz past

zzzooom!          zzzooom!

are we there yet?

are we there yet?

no, but

after a while

I feel sick

not car sick but

lonely sick

for Cassie  

and I can’t say anything

because Dad’s hands

are really tight on the wheel

like Mum’s.

*

we drive and drive and drive

nights and days

like we’re never gonna stop

I’m too hot to jiggle

                        I’m a fried zombie

Dad squints behind

his dark stingray glasses

yells at truck drivers

never wants to stop

even when I have to pee

‘hurry up,’ he says

while I freak out

behind a bush

it’s scary

the dark

wants to suck me in

like a black hole. 

*

I ask Dad where we’re going

‘you said the beach’

no answer

I ask again

where we’re going

‘what about school?’

no answer

I ask again

‘where are we going?’

I get a whack that

makes my ears ring.

Runaways is available now - $14.95!

Are you unhappy with your agent?

I’ve been thinking about this as the result of several comments by different people in the past few days – some on blogs and some in person – and wondering why. After all, getting an agent, we’re told, is the key to being published and successful these days. (If you disagree, great, but that’s not what this is about.) In the US, the standard perception is that if you don’t have an agent, particularly in the area of adult fiction, you have very little hope of getting your book in front of an editor.

How to get an agent is the focus of many articles. I even wrote one myself after interviewing two agents at a conference. A lot of agents, such as Janet Reid and Kristin Nelson, have blogs where they give a truckload of advice on how to be professional and get an agent, and what an agent will do for you. But lots of writers are saying, behind closed doors where no one can hear them (or out loud when they want to complain to the world), that they are unhappy with their agent.

And all the writers who don’t have an agent yet wish they’d be grateful they’ve got one at all and shut up.

Why the complaints? I suspect it’s for one of the following reasons:

·       *   The agent was new or starting out when they signed on, and now the agent is really busy and doesn’t have the same amount of time to spend on each writer anymore. Or that early enthusiasm and determination the agent had has been worn away by the ups and downs of the traditional publishing world. 

·      *   The writer thought they’d be getting a combined cheer squad/friend/supporter/partner and their agent believes it’s a business and the writer needs to find that stuff elsewhere.

·   *      The writer thought their agent, who genuinely loved their book, would sell it in a flash for big dollars, and the agent either hasn’t been able to sell it to anyone, or for a much lower advance than hoped for.

·   *      The writer didn’t get any of the “dream” agents he/she was hoping for, but they got this agent (who was better than no agent, right?), and now they’re thinking it was a bad move. Why? For any or all of the reasons above. Most agents only take on books and writers whose work they love, but sometimes it doesn’t happen the way either of them hoped.

· *        The writer didn’t really investigate well enough how this agent operates. Some agents work on your manuscript with you (often they’ve been editors before), some expect you to give them perfection, more or less, that they can sell. Some agents see it completely as a business, and you make appointments like everyone else if you want to talk, and some agents are much more about career-building with some hand-holding added in. The spectrum of how an agent likes to work with clients is vast. Writers need to know this stuff.

Over the years, I’ve realized that many writers have no real idea of what agents do, or are supposed to do, for the percentage they earn. They also don’t know or accept that a bad agent, or an agent unsuited to the relationship they want or need, is worse than no agent at all. Once you have an agent, you can’t keep sending your own novels out, and the agent probably won’t want you self-publishing willy-nilly either. It is a business relationship. Yes, you make money and then your agent makes money. A good agent will want to make you lots of money, for obvious reasons. They may not want you calling them every week for an encouraging pep talk when you have writer’s block. Or maybe they’ll be OK with that. But you have to know that upfront or you’ll be disappointed.

There are plenty of ways to find this stuff out. All over the net are interviews with agents, to start with, plus the information on agency websites. It’s no longer a guessing game. But like anything, you’ll get out of your research what you put into it. Since getting an agent is an important career move for many writers, it pays to put a LOT into it.

I’d love to have a discussion about this – if you’re one of those unhappy writers, you might like to take advantage of the Anonymous option and comment.