Take the five percent challenge!

If you could get a professional opinion on the first five percent of your fiction piece for no charge other than filling out a questionnaire, would you dare to send it in?

Do you have the confidence in your writing to risk absolutely nothing except having someone give an honest opinion?

If the answer is yes, then take the five percent challenge. Send me the first five percent of your finished work and get free, in depth suggestions about your piece. In return for a simple questionnaire report card on how helpful you felt my suggestions were, you get professional editing at no charge.

Is your fiction ready for an editor? There’s only one way to find out.

Fiction Writers – You Need to Read!

Would you take seriously the ambitions of a competitive swimmer who didn’t like to get in the water? Or a person who wanted to direct movies, but proudly stated they have only seen two movies in the last year? How about someone who wanted to be a great orchestral composer, but didn’t take the time to listen to music?

Yet in the last several months, I’ve run into an increasing number of aspiring fiction writers who didn’t read fiction for pleasure – who seemed proud of that, or felt it was a good thing for their writing. This boggles my mind.

Now, I’m not talking about people keeping dream journals, or writing only for themselves. I’m talking about people who want to write commercial fiction, believe they have a career ahead of them in doing so, and intend to get published in one way or another.

Here are some of the reasons they give as to why they don’t read books, and my answers.

- “I don’t have time. I work a full job, have family commitments and can’t find enough time to do everything I’m supposed to, plus writing – how can I read?” If you cannot find time to read, how are you planning to find time to write? Writing takes effort, time, mental space, commitment and dedication. I suspect you might be listening to the ‘easy money’ myth that writers don’t work hard, and there’s lots of money in it. That is just not the case.

- “I don’t want my work to be influenced by other writers’ styles.” Then you will run into two problems. One, you will be unknowingly using cliches and done to death ideas that other writers have already used. And two, your style will be unreadable, because you have failed to absorb and internalize the flow of different styles. A writer’s unique voice is made up of their experience with lots of different styles – the reader has chosen and discarded what fit into their own style, then added something different of their own. That’s how you build a unique writing style. You can’t do it in a vacuum.

- “I don’t enjoy reading, in fact it’s boring. I’d rather watch the movie. Anyway, I don’t have to read other people’s work – it’s MY writing I’m interested in, after all.” This sounds arrogant, and it is. Its underlying assumption is that people are going to want to read your stuff, and you aren’t going to have to learn anything to make that happen. I’m sorry, but that is very rarely true. Also, with an attitude like that, your work is probably going to be somewhat on the arrogant side as well, which may not appeal to a lot of readers who are not you.

- “Reading hurts my eyes, confuses my mind, and I find it hard to follow.” There’s a little bit of justice in this one, but unless you’re afflicted with a major disorder, it’s usually about practice. Reading is a skill, and it’s hard to do anything for pleasure, even walking, if you don’t do it enough to be reasonably skilled at it. Out of practice? Start with flash fiction, work up to short stories and novellas before you start reading novels. If you look at a novel and it just looks TOO LONG, if it looks like work, then try something shorter.

Here’s why I think reading a great deal isn’t just fun, isn’t just important, but is crucial to the careers of fiction writers. In very basic, toolbox terms, reading increases your vocabulary, improves your understanding of workaday spelling, grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, paragraph length, dialogue tags. But that’s not all!

Nonreaders are doomed to write stories that come across like bad copies of ideas better writers have already published, because the nonreader doesn’t know it’s out there already. The nonreader’s work is riddled with cliche.

Writing takes time, effort and commitment. If you can’t find the time in your life to read, then where are you going to find the time to write… especially since you’ve made it harder on yourself by not reading?

Reading the work of other writers gives you a chance to have your style influenced. That’s a good thing. You cannot find your unique voice in a chorus of silence; you must hear other voices and discover how yours is different. Reading good fiction and bad fiction gives you the groundwork, the place to stand, to understand fiction at all, and to make your fiction understandable to others.

The nonreader cannot resonate to the rhythms, the functions, the unspoken rules of fiction unless they have absorbed a great deal of it, through reading it, in the past. The output of a nonreader is going to come across as disjointed, confusing and badly structured to those who have spent their lives reading a lot of fiction.

And, if you don’t believe me, here’s a challenge. I dare you… I DOUBLE DARE YOU to find me a published how-to book about writing good fiction that tells you there’s no need to read the work of others. If you find one, put it in the comments. If there’s even one that doesn’t advise you to read, I will be very, very surprised.

Chasing Details

One of the most difficult things about revisions is dealing with what isn’t there. Finding the details that need to be changed if you’ve taken something out is often harder than changing things that result from putting something in.

Here’s an example. In my current work, Spark, a steampunk novel, one of my characters is being held captive by some island natives. In the original scene, the local shaman comes in holding a large basket. He sets it down to listen to some dialogue back and forth, then settles in to do a ritual in the cell, involving fire and knives. Then he picks up the basket and walks out again.

Well, I decided this ritual was both too important and too space-consuming to be done INSIDE the cell where our hero is being held. So I moved it outside. The part of the scene that remained in the cell was the conversation. So here’s how it ended up: shaman walks in, conversation, shaman walks out, THEN ritual. That makes sense, right?

But it took me three read-throughs to realize that my shaman put down the basket for the conversation, then picked it up again, for no apparent reason. This is not a heavy basket. Nor does anybody need both hands for the conversation – it’s just not that intimate. So my shaman, a muscled, tattooed fellow with glowy blue ink inscribed in his skin, sets down a perfectly ordinary basket like a jerk, only to pick it up again once the talking is done.

Sure, it’s a basket. That’s not a big deal, but it could have been a knife, in which case our hero would have had every opportunity to grab it and make a try for escape. If he didn’t do so, then my hero looks like the jerk. Could be big!

So whenever you take something out, or move something around, it can be difficult to find all the little details that were changed by the change. Today’s lesson – revisions are hard!

The Editorial Wheee!

I give good advice. I have to. Otherwise, people would never forgive me for my addiction to giving advice.

Recently Jeff Kirvin asked me to hire on as freelance editor of his seven-book sf-thriller series, the Unification Chronicles. I don’t have an English degree or any freelance editing experience, but Jeff’s had lots of exposure to my critique style, my judgement and my general lack of typos through being in this critique group. I wasn’t sure at first whether to take this on – what… me? I’d never thought of such a possibility before. ‘Flattered’ and ‘excited’ were the two words I’d use to describe me.

Shortly after starting, I would have to add ‘addicted’. You mean I get to be involved in the creation of this awesome project, have a part in seeing its birth, in making it the best I possibly can… yet I don’t have to do the difficult writing part? Sign me up twice!

Being able to offer my insight, reading experience, critique experience, judgment and ideas to an excellent writer and be taken seriously, being able to contribute to a project with this kind of scope and interest… I feel like I’ve come home to a place I never knew existed. I have barely started and I’ve learned so much!

I’ve learned that I have to pace myself, that I can’t get so wrapped up in someone else’s work that I neglect my own. That my years of practice in balancing truth and tact are coming in seriously handy now. That every piece of fiction (very much including my own) needs another invested eye than the author’s – it’s a necessary part of the process. That I can deeply respect another author’s work and still find improvements, without losing any love for the piece in question. That I can, in fact, give advice and strong opinions and yet stand back and let the author be in charge of deciding whether to take that advice, without feeling slighted or being pushy.

I love doing this so much that I’m considering offering it as a service on my website. What do you think? Can a lifelong tendency to avoid hurting people’s feelings… a balancing passionate belief in radical truth… a practiced writer’s insight, wisdom and judgment… and an addiction to giving good advice… be turned into a semi-career?

Around the Interwebs

A couple of agent blogs have come to my attention in the last few days, and since I had commentary on both, I thought I’d mention them here.

The first is by outstanding agent Nathan Bransford. This post was brought to my attention by our own Jeff Kirvin. It’s entitled ‘The One Question Authors Should Never Ask Themselves When Reading’.  Go and read it. No, go ahead. I’ll wait.

Don’t forget to bookmark his blog. I highly recommend it for writers at any stage.

I really like the points he made in that article, and agree. But I don’t think ‘do I like this’ is a useless question to ask yourself – as long as you don’t stop there. Consider WHY you like what you’re reading, or don’t like it. Once you’ve read it, pick it apart and see what bits you most enjoyed. Where did you skip past paragraphs, or get bumped out of the story’s grip on you, and how could the author have prevented that?

Reading with an eye to how you would do the same thing is an occupational hazard of being an author. You should still get lost in fiction – we’re readers first, after all – but there’s nothing wrong with admiring cool things as they go by, tucking them away in your head for later. And nothing wrong with reading bad fiction and seeing how you could do better.

The second article was brought to you by the magic of Twitter. This is from top agent Rachelle Gardener, entitled Managing Expectations. Go forth… read, bookmark, return.

The next to last paragraph resonated most strongly with me. As authors in a rapidly changing publishing environment, it’s really required of us to keep our expectations under control.

It’s always a wrench for a new author to realize what ‘getting published’ really means to them – usually a far cry from what they thought. Certainly the beginning of a journey, not the end.

But nowadays, with things changing so fast the word ‘book’ doesn’t even mean what it did when you were a child, it’s even more strange. We would be shooting ourselves in the foot to hold any unrealistic expectation. Ambition and optimism are good – expectation must be fluid. Discover the difference between what you desire and what you expect. The world may give you the former, if you work for it… the latter can cripple you.