On Craft--Certainty in Vodka

Publishing people are drinking people. We just are. One of the first things I learned about when I entered this noble profession was the two (three?) martini lunch and the more prosecco the better. Along with the drinking goes the gossiping. Publishing people are the biggest gossips. So when out with another editor, I know there will be two things: lots of drinking and lots of gossiping. And both are renewing. But also, when out with another publishing person, especially when another editor, along with the drinking and gossiping, there is also a lot of craft talk. Tonight was such a night. There was talk of one editor going through over 20 drafts with an author. I confessed I was on my 7th draft with an author. Tenth piped another. Fourteenth piped another. And then the knowing nods and smiles. None of us were saying that there was anything shameful about going through so many rounds with an author or that it was even unusual, just that it was the job and what we do as editors. We read and read and read again. We read and edit and have our authors revise until it's ready. And being ready is the thing. Publishing a book too early can be the death knell of a book and we all know it. Though we've all been guilty of publishing a book early--because of market pressures, in-house pressures, but most especially author pressure. Twenty revisions is not for the feint of heart, but it is sometimes necessary...necessary to ensure that books get starred reviews, get hand-sold by indie accounts, get award consideration and recognition and get the kind of grass roots enthusiasm and support than can assure a bestseller. Waiting for a book to be ready can make or break a book and we all know it.

And when we have been guilty of publishing a book too early, it's most often because an author is fatigued and not quite up for that twenty-first draft or even that sixth draft or even that third draft. Authors will and can sometimes judge a book ready before an editor does and in this moment an editor must face their mortality so to speak. It's not, in fact, our name going on the cover. It's not, in fact, our book. And we have in our hands a book we love and an author who has reached their limit. So we publish. And often these are not the most successful, memorable books, though they could have been.

One of the most successful authors on my list repeatedly forces one promise from me: Do not let me publish a bad book. And I don't. I tell this author when I think the book is not ready and this author listens to me and every book we've published together has received starred reviews, award attention and sold well. This author isn't in a rush, and trusts the publishing team, including me, especially me (author-editor trust is paramount to success) to tell them when they've done their best. For me as an editor, this is an ideal publishing situation and one that has been fruitful for the author, for me as editor and for the publisher, overall.

This is when I believe in gatekeepers. This is when I believe in the traditional publishing model. This is when I believe in publishing. It can be a well-oiled machine and talent can always shine if it's given the proper time and space to develop. So if your editor is putting you through the paces, don't let impatience overwhelm you or rob you of the time you need to produce the best, most thoughtful book. Craft is also about ensuring that no book is published before it's time. Craft is time and patience and listening to your revision partner--your editor--who is your main cheerleader and wants to see you reach the highest heights (because an editor's career also grows as an author's career grows, so editors do have a particular vested interest). Craft is waiting until your book is ready and embracing each step in the revision process with enthusiasm and not fatigue, even when you really are tired. Give yourself every possibility. Give your craft every chance to shine. Whether that means 3 or 8 or 30 drafts, patience is not only a virtue but when it comes to publishing, it can be the difference between a viable, long-lasting career and getting lost to the mid-list.

So a night of drinking, gossiping and craft has recommitted me to the best of what I do and the certainty of slow and steady wins the race. And the certainty of revision. And also vodka. There is certainty in vodka.

Stacey

On Craft--Consistency of Theme

One of my favorite parts of the editorial process is the way narratives are enriched just via regular old conversation. This may sound strange at first. After all, isn't it expected that authors would talk to their editor? Yes, but conversations between editors and authors don't often happen until after an editor has done the work of going through a manuscript line-by-line and turned around an editorial letter. And the conversation at that point is often a brief check-in with the author before the author heads off into revision land for a few weeks or months. Ultimately, because of the ease of technology, I think we often forget to talk to each, voice-to-voice no matter what the task or collaborative project or relationship. Email just becomes easy. And then add to that social media making us feel like we are seeing and talking to each other often even when we aren't; it's not hard to understand how voice-to-voice contact could be left behind. I know people who don't even use voicemail anymore and eschew telephone conversations...okay, I'm one of them.  Texting tends to be my primary mode of conversation even with those closest to me.

And not because I don't enjoy talking to my friends or colleagues on the phone, but in the day-to-day grind, efficiency becomes paramount and I don't often even realize how much I'm missing that voice-to-voice connection, especially with my authors, until a day like today when I spend 45 minutes on the phone with an author I not only love working with because she's so talented, but is also someone whom I adore personally. We spent at least half the time on the phone today catching up on our respective families and laughing a lot.

And then we got down to the business at hand, last round revisions, meaning this author is one step away from being publication-ready after going through several rounds of revision. She's so close and we both found ourselves energized by being so close. How do we know she's close? The characterization is strong (as both a reader and editor I really care about these characters--they mean something to me as if they were real people); the pacing is well-executed and the book reads as if the author wrote the narrative in one effortless breath; the conflict is compelling and not something easily or neatly solved; the writing is memorable; the conclusion satisfying. So what's left you might ask? One never knows. What's left when all the must-haves for any novel are all in place actually differs from project to project and it's often in this final conversation where author and editor find out what's left.

Today's "what's left" happened to be consistency of theme, which ranged from something as minor as ensuring the main character's dog wasn't forgotten by the narrative to something slightly more complicated like ensuring the idea that a character is struggling with the concept of unfulfilled dreams doesn't suddenly appear in the last third of the narrative without being developed and consistently so earlier in the narrative. And in this examination of craft there is also another pitch for outlining--and not just outlining plot points or character growth but use of theme, clarifying for yourself how you want themes and their accompanying details to develop and appear in the narrative and to make sure it's done purposefully and seamlessly (we don't want to be heavy-handed with narrative themes, but we also don't want themes to be too subtle to resonate or awkwardly introduced too late into the narrative.)

Forgetting to properly integrate themes is a common craft concern, especially for my seat-of-the-pants writers out there. But clearly establishing the themes you want to explore in a narrative and always having those themes at the forefront of your mind when writing character descriptions, scene details and dialogue will save you from having to go back and rework everything to ensure themes read as a seamless part of your narrative's foundation. It's not impossible to revise for theme and make it feel seamless after the fact, but it's a lot harder and can involve a great deal of dismantling and rebuilding of narrative elements you are by now married to. Even if it's heavy-handed to start, it's easier to peal away layers than it is to build those layers. So today's advice on craft? Go into your narrative not only with a mind on character and story, but theme as well. Make it an organic part of your narrative from word one. You'll thank me in the revision process later. Here's hoping your "what's left" is little more than the words The End.

Revision, and Revision, and Revision by Susan Arscott

Excuse me Will, but I’ve got my own spin on this soliloquy

A Shameless Rewrite

Revision, and revision, and revision,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of my YA novel;
And all my earlier work has lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, bad sentence!
A writer’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his angst upon the page,
And then is read no more. It is a tale
Writ by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.


With apologies to Shakespeare for my bastardization of Macbeth’s haunting soliloquy (only Shakespeare could make repetition sound so gorgeous) as a way to express most writers’ gloomy attitude as they begin their revisions. Even those of us who feel energized by revision (I include myself in this disgustingly cheerful bunch) can’t help but sigh at the amount of work they must do as they start on page 1 of their 300-page manuscript.

However, it is only through revision that we can make our writing shine. I wish I could compose an amazing piece of fiction first draft, but I can’t. If you are one of those, please know that I hate you and want to knock you severely about the head and shoulders, because I, unfortunately, am not that talented.

You wrote that in one sitting? Take that, you show off.

And because of my lack of initial brilliance, I have become quite the master of revision, hence this post. If you, like me, dump everything into your first draft then you, too, must revise. The key to this process (described below) is to separate yourself from your manuscript; doing so allows you to return to it with fresh eyes and new ideas on how to improve.

When I finished my first draft of The End of Normal, formerly known as The Threshing (I know, awful right?), I set it aside for a bit in order to let it stew, and perhaps for me to get stewed a time or two. Anyway, after giving both my manuscript and myself a breather, I began rereading and revising with the help of my MFA mentors. I rinsed and repeated this step until I thought it was ready for an opinion outside of my MFA program. I gave my manuscript to a couple of friends, and yes, a couple of relatives (believe me when I tell you that my mother hated it and didn’t even try to lie) with instructions to be honest, which they were, bordering on the precipice of brutality. After getting back their comments, I made changes and foolishly thought, “Eureka, I’m ready to submit this sucker.”

I was wrong. I sent it to three agents I met at a conference. One immediately shot me down. The other two actually spent the time to send me lengthy emails about the problems with my manuscript. At that point (end of January 2013) I sent my book to an editor for a professional edit and critique. Good ones are expensive, but they are worth it. Professional editors help you pinpoint the problems so you can either once again revise or toss the whole thing out and start on something new.

The person editing my book wasn’t in love with my story and didn’t encourage me to submit it to anyone; she was more into NA romance than my upper middle grade science adventure. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, she pointed out numerous really dumb things I’d done and helped me come up with ideas to fix them. To give you an idea of how much my first draft changed to the final, I’ve got the first part of both for your edification, or more likely, your little bit of daily humor.

First revision of the first paragraphs of The Threshing:

Sitting under the jagged ruins of what once was a concrete overpass in one of the largest cities in the world, I look at the others slumped against curved concrete walls, together yet apart. It’s odd that we still find comfort being together. I guess it’s a human thing. But even though we come together at night, we remain strangers. We share space in concrete cave but nothing of ourselves. It’s easier.

As I look at the others’ faces crusted with layers of dirt and grime, I wonder if they, like me, long to be back in our old world. To be back to the way things were before the Threshing. Our strange alien masters tell us we are the chosen, we few remaining ones who have survived but I wonder if the truly fortunate were those who died quickly at the beginning, before discovering real pain and suffering. I think -- no, I know those who did not survive the first onslaught were far luckier than those of us stuck here in this living nightmare.

Dark, depressing, and not well received. After many revisions (I can’t even begin to tell you how many), this is what will be published in June.

The End of Normal (Note the new title)
Part One: The Gloaming (the editor suggested dividing into parts, which I’ve done)
 
One

On the last morning of normal, I wish I could say I did something important, something that mattered, something noble even, but I can’t. No, instead of performing some major act of amazing, I wasted an entire hour pulling on and tugging off jeans, shirts, and sweaters, searching for that one combination that would make me look incredible.

Why was I so reckless with my time that morning? Because it was the day I had decided Sawyer Rising–hottest guy in school, goalie extraordinaire, and so gorgeous, just a hint of his crooked smile made me weak—was not only going to notice me, he was going to talk to me.

For forever I’ll regret my obliviousness to what was really important. Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Absolutely nothing.

Instead of weaving back and forth like the earlier version, this starts on the morning before their lives change, allowing the reader to meet the characters in their original world. Although I really liked my gloomy apocalyptic stuff, my many revisions and reader comments forced me realize that it didn’t do my book any favors, which is another lesson all writers must learn, which is to bravely kill off all of our darlings.

As a treat for those of you still with me, I’ve included a link to Patrick Stewart reciting Macbeth’s soliloquy. It’s beautiful and I hope you’ll take the time to enjoy it. Every day should have a little Shakespeare in it.

http://youtu.be/HZnaXDRwu84

After receiving a BA in international business and French history, Susan lived in Yokohama, Japan, with her husband Mike while he served in the U.S. Marine Corps. When they returned to the States, she taught at a Catholic Girls High School until she thought her head would explode from all the things she learned from her students. She then worked as a community college fundraiser and became an active board member, officer, and president of the national organization, Council for Resource Development (CRD), a nonprofit institution serving the 1,655 community colleges in the U.S.; she also was a member of the board for the American Association of Community Colleges.

In the fall of 2010, Susan decided to pursue her love of writing and enrolled in Spalding University’s MFA program in Louisville, Kentucky, under the direction of one of her favorite authors, Sena Jeter Naslund. At Spalding, Susan discovered her love of Middle Grade and Young Adult fiction, completing her first YA novel, The End of Normal, for her graduate thesis. Susan also has two books in progress; their working titles are Spillover and Entranced.

She is a member of SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators), Broad Writer’s (the society to promote and support science fiction, fantasy, and horror written by women), and the Writers’ League of Texas. Susan lives in Seabrook, Texas, with her husband, two children, a deaf dog Chester (who does not know sign language), and Vladimir the cat.