Category Archives: Honesty

Signposts of Hope

I photographed this little fella on a warm day last month, when the sun and the clouds fought for supremacy, and the autumn leaves waved brilliant colors to the wind. Surprise blooms from tenacious roses caught my eye. I grabbed the camera and contended with the wind and the ever-changing light.

This one looks like he’s smiling, a mischievous cross between a rose and the image that “snapdragon” conjures in my mind:

c2013, EE
c2013, EE

And more roses nearby, clinging to a brick wall then flying out of shot whenever the breeze wandered by — the precocious pink flirts:

c2013, EE
c2013, EE

Though no longer blooming, these cannes lily plants were sturdy, green, fresh, as if they grew in spring rather than in schizophrenic autumn, chill one day and summery the next:

c2013, EE
c2013, EE

Maybe ten feet away from all this new life was this tree, covered in the vibrant colors of waning life:

c2013, EE
c2013, EE
c2013, EE
c2013, EE
c2013, EE
c2013, EE
c2013, EE
c2013, EE

The end is not necessarily the end. There are signposts of hope, if you know where to look:

c2013, EE
c2013, EE

Now that tree limbs are bare and flowerbeds barren, now that my life hasn’t turned out as planned and my writing is taking new directions, these pictures are reminders that not all death is tragedy, not all unwanted change is failure, and not every loss is cause for mourning.

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Two-Timer

It’s not jet lag but NaNo lag–that draggy, lazy feeling after completing the flat-out run of National Novel Writing Month.

71tOzSj59eL._SL1241_Aside from final edits to Marianne Jordan’s first novel, The First Christmas Carol: A Miser, a Manger, a Miracle, I set aside all editing tasks for the month of November, and wrote. Just wrote.

Oh, the luxury!

And the agony.

I’ve been a stranger to my novels, so becoming reacquainted with them was awkward and stilted. Ideas were pulled along rather than being willing participants; it’s as if they were rusty gears that had to be oiled and finessed until the teeth caught and the wheels turned. And when they started, wow, did they run!

So, now it’s December, and a freelance project is waiting for my editing expertise, but I’ve had an epiphany of sorts. It’s one of those it’s-so-simple-and-obvious-how-did-I-miss-it epiphanies: I tend toward all-or-nothing when I work, but that’s bad for my writing, and bad for my peace of mind. So, simple fix: Edit only two or three hours per day, then write.

That may seem counter-productive, but it might curb frustration and stress, which will lead to greater productivity.

Gonna try it this month.

Gonna hold hands with my novels, maintaining relationship and finally reaching the end, while still doing my job as an editor helping other writers achieve their publishing goals.

Yep. I’m gonna two-time.

 

 

(Note, 12/12/13: Nine days later, it’s still working.)

For Independent (Self-Published) Authors

A fellow writer and blogger, Sandy Appleyard, asked this on LinkedIn, regarding independent (self-published) authors: “Has the bar been lowered?”

One person commented that the bar is easy “to reach if you’re the one holding it.” Indeed.

Appleyard expanded further on her blog:

This past summer, however, I started reviewing strictly indie authors, simply to help them out and to gain more perspective in the indie world.  In a nutshell, as an indie author myself, I have found book reviewing to be a very positive experience, and it has helped my writing career a lot.

What’s disappointing is the amount of less-than-great independently published books that I’ve stumbled upon recently.

Here is a short list of the issues I’ve seen:

-Grammatical/spelling

-lack dialogue

-too much back story

-not enough action

-un-relatable characters and/or story line

When I read these less-than-great stories, I feel like rather than reviewing them, I need to provide a beta read and an edit.  Are indie authors neglecting to take these vital steps?

Susan McBeth, founder of Adventures By The Book, responded with a concern about professionalism:

As an author events coordinator, I am frequently asked to host events for authors with self-published books. I am amazed when I read the books, how poorly edited many of them are (strictly speaking from the ones I’ve reviewed, not to judge all). I recently read a book that I would have considered for an event because the writing was very good, and the story was compelling an innovative, but I just couldn’t get past the fact that it didn’t appear to have been edited, and as a professional who prides my business with quality events, I want to ensure the product I am featuring is professional.

She’s right to be concerned. Not only is the author’s reputation at stake, but so is hers.

By the way, for writers living in or near Southern California, McBeth has begun The Author Academy, workshops to train authors in marketing. (I live a few states away. sigh)

My two cents’ worth:

I’m a freelance editor as well as an associate editor for a publisher, but I was a freelancer first, and have always set a high bar for my clients. Whether or not they choose to rise to meet it is entirely their choice. I do my best for them, and then they submit their work wherever they will.

As an editor for a publisher, though, the circumstances are different: A contract has been signed, and now I must help the author polish his work for public display. Still, I encounter authors who don’t seem to realize that, yes, there’s still work to be done. A contract doesn’t mean a pat on the head, all is well, the work is perfect, and all the editor has to do is fix a few commas and grammatical errors. No, there are often major story overhauls and dialogue fixes, et cetera.

Even then, authors dig in their heels, revert corrected sentences to their original incorrect state (dangling/misplaced modifiers are a huge problem), refuse to insert a necessary scene or do the proper research into an industry about which they know nothing, and so on. It can be right warlike, trying to edit the book of an entrenched, recalcitrant author who deems his work perfect and my work meddling.

On the other hand, there is real joy in editing a writer who has already done much of the work, and submits a manuscript with clean copy, good story pacing and flow, dialogue that contributes to the story rather than stagnates on the page, and has considered every word’s right to be there. That means the author is a self-editor, and knows how to be strict with his work, and is therefore able to take the advice of another editor.

And, yes, I’ve encountered many self-published books similar in state to the ones described in your blog, Sandy. I wish authors could take a few steps back, release their “babies” into someone else’s arms, and open their minds to honest feedback — before publication. Perhaps they don’t realize that those nagging misspellings or a saggy middle or the anti-climatic climax really are big problems. Readers won’t just overlook them, nor will they be likely to forget. The next time they encounter a book by an author who disappointed them, they’ll pass.

Independent authors, don’t be afraid of feedback. Welcome it.

Honest critiques by beta readers are worth more than money, and you don’t have to pay for them. Beta readers have an objective point of view that you, as the author, do not. They’ll help you find plot holes, flat dialogue, forgotten plot threads, weak scenes, and much more. Not only will they find problems, they’ll provide solutions.

Hire a freelance (independent) editor. Seriously. Save up the money, no matter how long it takes, and hire an editor skilled in editing your type of book (novel, memoir, reference, et cetera). Ask for references or editing samples, establish a good rapport, and let the editor have at your manuscript. Nothing beats a well-edited novel.

If one or more of your beta readers is also skilled at grammar, spelling, punctuation, and such, they’ll likely find and point out many nitpicky errors as they read. This is helpful, especially if it’ll be a while before you can afford to hire that editor.

Writing can be a lonely business. If you have no close support system — a writers group, for instance — several can be found online via an Internet search. I belong to a couple, but don’t use them as much as I thought I might. Actually, I’m on the hunt for a group in my town or in a nearby community, and have considered posting signs, seeing if any hidden writers will join me in starting a new group. Just as honest beta readers are priceless, so is a solid group of writers who can critique and encourage one another toward excellence.

Questions or comments? I’m happy to help where I may.

Blessed Betrayal?

On a social media site this week, a fellow writer started a new discussion thread:

What is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve received? Mine is a quote from from Peter deVries: “I only write when I’m inspired, and I see to it that I’m inspired every morning at 9 o’clock.”

The answer that sprang to mind wasn’t a famous quote or advice from a famous author, but something said about fifteen years ago by a writer who encouraged many others toward publication while she herself remained obscure: “So what?” and “Who cares?”

The best advice I’ve received wasn’t intended as advice, but as an offhand, snarky question: “So what?”

So what if Character X did thus and so? Why should the reader care?

That question revolutionized my storytelling.

I’m still learning all the time, and my drafts can be sloppy, meandering affairs, but when it comes time to edit the mess and turn it into something worth reading, “So what?” is a constant guide. It helps me determine what stays and what goes. It helps me revise dialogue from bland to tense, or turn an otherwise dull “just going from point A to point B” passage into a suspenseful journey.

In the end, because I’ve already asked the question of every scene, conversation, event, and plot thread, my hope is that no reader picks up my work, shrugs, and says, “So what?”

I don’t know where she is, the writer who tossed the casual question, or even if she still walks the earth, but she came along at the right moment in my life, when I struggled to return to writing after many years of literary muteness. For a few years after our chance meeting, she welcomed me into her inner circle, and many of us learned so much and were so encouraged that we took her word as gospel.

Then something happened — I don’t really know what — that changed everything. Maybe someone misunderstood something said or written. Maybe there was a power struggle, like children vying for a parent’s attention or approval. Maybe the teacher saw the students leaping past her, succeeding where she had not. Maybe we started questioning some of the advice and thinking more independently.

Whatever the reason, the kinship broke, and some of us were cast outside the circle.

We were angry, hurt, confused, but fledgelings might feel the same. The warm nest is no longer home. They must fly alone.

So we did. Alone together. And we succeeded. We won contests. We published our work.

That tight little group of survivors has broken once again. One married and moved away. One divorced and is selling her house. I moved to another state to help family. Another remains right where she always was, but is surpassing us all with her publishing achievements.

Still, some of the best advice we ever received was from the one who embraced us then betrayed us, and that, too, became a blessing.

So what?

The question ever remains: Had we stayed in the embrace, would we ever have left to become the writers we are now?

Always Greener: Extended Edition

Ever feel like you’re contending with / against your own life?

Everything’s a struggle, even when it doesn’t have to be.

Someone at work takes a notion not to like you. Your boss makes demands of you (he calls them “challenges”; you call them “soul suckers”). Family or friends know what’s best for you, even when they don’t. Especially when they don’t. You seem to live life in a hamster wheel. Dreams wither. You’re your own worst enemy.

Just as you’re the hero of your own story, you’re the villain in someone else’s. Or, if not the villain, at least the antagonist. Some folks enter your life to knock of your rough edges and help you grow stronger. In turn, you’re the sandpaper and fertilizer to others. (Take that statement as you will.)

Someone once wisely said there should be a statute of limitations on blaming our screwed-up lives on our parents.

Agreed. At some point, we have to stand on our own, look around, decide who and what we want to be, where we want to go, and shed all the crap that keeps us from getting there. If we don’t achieve our goals, let it not be said we blamed others and never really strove for the prize.

But, truth be told, some people do seem to exist simply to crush the dreams right out of us. How much joy can there be for someone who must always be right or in control? They often only see the bleakness in life, or all the bad possibilities, so they use their words, attitudes, and actions to cripple anyone else who might dare leap despite the risk. Well, maybe not leap. Maybe the optimist dares build a bridge that the pessimist refuses to cross. After all, it might collapse. And how dare anyone ignore or usurp the control he’s trying to wield? How dare they step beyond that boundary and live and think and dream for themselves?

Respect or control?

Whether they realize or acknowledge it, everyone wants to be respected. It’s not a matter of pride, but of common decency among fellow human beings. It’s nigh inherent in freedom-loving souls. I live my life, you live yours, we respect one another’s boundaries, and one need not dominate the other.

But what happens when someone’s negative attitude affects the group? Nothing’s ever done right. No one else can do it as well as that person. If one small hiccup occurs in the plans, then might as well scrap the whole day.

If anyone does something differently, then they’re usurping that person’s perceived authority, or they’re just ignoring them. While that may be true in some cases, many times the control-addict is not allowing anyone else to think differently, approach a problem or situation differently, or be in any way independent of the controller

Kinda reminds me of a totalitarian government, one which decides for its citizens what is acceptable or forbidden, what is right or wrong, who will live and who will die — but what is that government’s criteria for morality?

It’s a way to keep the people on edge and subservient, afraid to do anything that might rouse the ire of the monolithic motherland that can destroy them because today she’s feeling put-upon, threatened, or out of sorts.

This kind of thinking and behavior gorges the ego, and creates strife where none need exist.

So, like me, are you at war with your life and striving to take back control that’s been scattered to others who shouldn’t have that much power over you?

Or are you trying to exert control over everyone at work or at home, or elsewhere in your life, and you just need to let them be?

Once we get this sorted out, we’ll be much happier, you and I.

Well, perhaps not happier, but more content, more relaxed, able to see the world clearly and weather whatever life sends our way.

The grass isn’t always greener elsewhere. We need to tend to our own sod. Maybe the life we’ve always wanted is in our own backyard.

Always Greener

March 2012, c EE
March 2012, c EE

We work all week so we can rest for a couple days. We scurry through chores so we can sit down and enjoy a moment of quiet, watching TV, reading a book, playing a computer game, solving a puzzle. We dream about winning a million dollars, retiring from a decades-old job, having more time, doing only what we love.

The grass is always greener. Our lives are always better. In some rosy far-off paradise in the future, everything will go our way and we’ll have everything we want.

In your mind, how does that future look? Who will be there? How will you spend your time? What does happiness look like?

In the present, I’ve caught myself complaining about things I once loved but now cause my jaw to clench. They chase away sleep and inspire rants.

Am I someone who is above being pleased? Never satisfied, plagued by perfectionism or idealism or just plain I-want-more-ism?

Maybe that’s not it.

Yeah, I’m like ‘most everyone — I dream of that nebulous someday — but what if the source of angst and complaint is something fixable? Not a bad attitude and “it’s all about me”, but something more tangible?

I’m reminded of a story told by Philip Yancey: He once served as the managing editor of a magazine, a job he could do but one that robbed his sleep, stressed him, and took away from his writing time. So, after trying and praying and plodding onward, he quit. Best decision. Now he could sleep.

A while back, I left a long-time job, and suddenly I could sleep. When I woke, I was rested.

Now, the sleep-thief is back. I’m doing a job for which I’m perfectly fitted, skill-wise, but temperamentally, not so much. The perfectionist in me expects more of others than they may be able or willing to give.

Do I quit?

Or do I alter my approach?

Do I change myself but still quit?

I’ll let you know.

Moment of Truth

Everyone stresses. Even those of us who meditate or pray, or try to set aside burdens that are not our own and let others take responsibility for their own actions — we all stress about something.

One person’s concern is not necessarily another’s. What angers one may make another laugh. What makes one cry may make another contemplative.

I try to be balanced in thinking and reacting to whatever life hands me, but have been known to let my train go screaming spectacularly off the rails over the stupidest things.

There’s no train wreck now, but a quiet, intense waiting. Earlier this week, I told the truth that had been roiling inside me and expressed to everyone but the two people who needed to hear it the most. For months, I wrestled with this truth — let resentment build, and anger. I worried that I might be wounding a tender young ego (the author’s), or might invite the wrath of an older but still tender ego (a founding editor’s).

So, instead of speaking truth, I stressed. I ranted. I grit my teeth and got to work, knowing that all these hours of labor might very likely be in vain when the egos refused to admit the same truth: the manuscript is weak, full of holes, and displays a lack of insight, knowledge, and life experience that can only come with maturity and hard work and a few knocks from the mere act of living.

But I, as the editor, am supposed to fix all that and make the novel worthy of publication.

I remember being a young teen author, maybe thirteen, maybe only twelve, when a novel-in-progress was critiqued by a local author. At the time, I didn’t appreciate her effort and time and wisdom. All I saw was the stuff she didn’t like, the flaws and the corrections. I didn’t absorb the truth. Not for many years, sometime in adulthood.

Then, finding her notes one day while looking for something else, I read again those words printed in pixelated font on yellowing paper. She thought I was a good and imaginative writer. She liked the story. It’s good; now, here are a few ways to make it better. If she didn’t think it or I were worth the time, she wouldn’t have written such a long critique.

In that moment of realization and shame, I wanted to thank her, but surely she’s long passed, and I don’t even recall her name.

So, decades later, I am hoping my own honest critique, written in the spirit of encouraging the author while still telling the truth, will be received in the way I intend.

Worry is fear, and I don’t want to be ruled by fear: fear of what others may think, say, or do; fear of a future that hasn’t arrived. Come what may, truth has been told. Stress is gone.

A Rose in the Wind

I’ve been in search of focus, calm, a quiet core of creativity and peace. However, like this rose blown about in the wind, the goal eludes me. The camera strives to focus, but can only capture pieces of clarity.

a rose in the wind      (c2013, EE)
a rose in the wind (c2013, EE)

There is light.

I’ve been finding old stories, pieces of unfinished poetry, barely-decipherable notes on odd scraps of paper towel or restaurant napkins or torn half-sheets from spiral-bound notebooks.

After long weeks and months of literary drought, ideas are coming, rain to parched ground.

No final decision has been made, but perhaps it is time to set aside editing for others, and write. Only write. Write until the dreams come true.

 

The Poo Hitteth the Fan

I love books. However, due to being an editor, when I read for pleasure and not work, I don’t necessarily finish every book I attempt. Call me jaded. I won’t argue.

When I was younger, my mother scolded me for having too many novels stacked by the bed, bookmarks sticking out, because she said I started more projects than I finished. That was a valid concern. But I was voracious and not very discriminating: If a book was even remotely interesting, it was read. Or, at the very least, it was skimmed for the good parts.

Recently, I posted a review of a novel that shall remain nameless. It isn’t a glowing review, as many of them are, yet despite being in the minority, it isn’t the only review to point out a glaring fact: Although the artwork and premise of the book are good, the writing is not.

I don’t make a habit of posting negative reviews, and I generally have to feel strongly one way or the other (positively or negatively) before reviewing anything. In this instance, I really wanted to like this book. It had been talked up and marketed, and the artwork is fantastic, so I opened up the book in anticipation of a great ride.

Disillusion in the first paragraph.

But I kept going.

As the pages piled up, so did my disappointment.

I would have let the matter lie, and just walked away in search of something else to read, but this particular author and his enthusiasts acknowledge and even defend the poor writing while extolling the virtues of the overall story. After all, they say, many bestsellers aren’t necessarily written well (Twilight and Harry Potter have been cited to me several times, as if they are the standard).

There was a time, years ago in my wide-eyed youth, when I might have joined their parade, and berated any ol’ jaded editor for being hung up on the sentences and missing the big picture.

Now, though, after years on the other side of the writing and publishing biz, I thoroughly understand the need for the writer to take pride in his own work first. After all, if he doesn’t, why should anyone else? Why should an editor fix all his mistakes?

“Yes, but that’s your job,” you say.

Agreed. An editor’s purpose is to help a writer shape and polish his work.

It is not my job to pat him on the head and let him get away with crappy writing just because his noggin is chock-full of cool ideas.

Below are excerpts from my original review, as well as a brief exchange with one of the author’s fans who is not pleased with what I wrote. (Excerpts, because the original exchange is rather long.)

Me:

The artwork is fantastic, and this book appears to have an enthusiastic audience, which bodes well for the author’s future…The story may very well have been as intriguing as all the glowing reviews indicate, but I could not get past the awkwardness/clunkiness of the writing.

Someone else who also attempted reading the book wasn’t bothered by the writing so much as by the execution of the story. When I pressed for more details, this person just handed back the book and said she lost interest after the first few chapters.

Disgruntled Fan:

You are an editor… your job is to find problems with books. Some of the most poorly written novels sell in the millions (Twilight, Harry Potter). This is because the masses are not editors but normal people who enjoy a good story. As someone who works for a competing publisher the ethical move would be to remove this review.

Me:

As for the argument that poorly-written novels are often bestsellers, I have no argument there. They are.

However, it’s not in me to lie about writing quality — to simply go along to get along, because, hey, everyone else seems to like it, so I should just shut up. No, this is my craft, and it matters to me…So when I expect excellence from fellow writers, that’s not unethical or negative. It’s simply a matter of course. After all, I’d much rather walk over the bridge built by the meticulous craftsman than walk over the one constructed by someone content with “good enough”.

Disgruntled Fan:

And as to your craft, is it only to give negative criticism? I was not aware that this was an editor’s job. Is it so hard to find redeeming qualities in a book (granted you only read two pages) when I see a multitude of people making a laundry list of redeeming qualities…(W)hat I read is “Your writing sucks; how did you get published? This was a mistake. Don’t quit your day job.” There was nothing positive and you made it sound like the worst book in the world. I do not want him to quite writing, I loved the story. You mention a bridge that is good enough… But that isn’t what you said. You didn’t say that his novel was good enough. You said that the dung was so rank that you had to walk away before vomiting. (comments truncated due to being more of the same)

Me:

I never said I quit reading after page two (“the first few pages”), nor did I tell the author to quit writing. As a teacher, I would never tell someone to quit writing. And you’re the one who mentioned dung and vomit — not I.

You also seem to be saying that, since I’m an editor, I have no right to an opinion regarding any book, nor should I post a review unless it’s positive. To the contrary, only saying positive things would be unethical, because I wouldn’t be completely honest…I can appreciate a person’s creativity and effort without enjoying how those efforts and creativity are employed.

…I never attacked his creativity or his ability to conjure up intriguing stories. In your first comment, you stated, “Some of the most poorly written novels… .” Seems you already know that the author, while creative in his storytelling, could have spent more time on the way he presented his story. And that, (dear reader), is my original review in a nutshell.

Proverbs 26:4 comes to mind: “Don’t answer the foolish arguments of fools, or you will become as foolish as they are” (The Bible, New Living Translation).

Just as I don’t often post negative reviews, I don’t often become mired in online debates. I’m not one who enjoys arguing or conflict. What would you have done? Would you have posted any review at all? Would you have let Disgruntled Fan have his/her say, and remained silent?

Perspective and Storytelling

No, I’m not going to dive into a point-of-view lecture (I’ve done that too many times, and have borrowed from the lectures of others).

Yes, point of view is eminently important in shaping a story, lending it tone, flavor, expression.

What about perspective? How does the mountain look from your hero’s point of view? From the villain’s? From the guy on the street’s? From the guy who lives in a yurt at the top?

EE, a walk at sunset in April, c2013
EE, a walk at sunset in April, c2013

This photo makes the water tower appear small and the tiny barbecue grill seem greater.

We know that’s just a trick of the eye, made so by where we stand.

How do your characters view their world?

How do those perspectives conflict, mesh, create new perspectives?

How do those perspectives affect the story?