Principles question

Hey, can you all help me out? I'm writing an article (maybe?) about conversation, and I need to talk about principles and how to deal with them.

Can you all just tell me some principles? I know that makes me sound unprincipled. (I gather others don't think "Don't start a book with a line of dialogue" counts as a principle. :) But I figure if I have a lot of examples, I can come up with some Grand Unified Principle about Principles.

I'm looking for two kinds, and if you could just write out examples in a sentence, like an edict, that would help.

1) The sort we'd identify as principles, sort of bedrock rules, political, moral, ethical, like "Never wear white shoes after Labor Day." (You laugh, but there are women for whom that's a moral principle. :) Or "Always cut taxes." Or "All human beings deserve respect." You see, I must not have a lot of principles, because I can't come up with good examples! See why I need help?

2) Personal life principles that we live by which aren't necessarily things we want to be public about, but shape out lives anyway. "Never let them see you sweat," or "Family first," or "You can only trust family," or -- boy, those all sound so primal.

Anyway, if you could just give me examples, I'd be appreciative!

Alicia

A Topic Close to Alicia's Heart

Romantic rogues.

Been thinking a lot about this character archetype in recent weeks, but I won't bore you with those thoughts. Suffice it to say I encountered a bit of metastory earlier this summer in which the bad boy from a classic novel was redeemed -- transformed into a romantic hero, even -- and it's been weighing on my mind ever since.

For purely academic reasons, of course. *ahem*

Because girls never go all swoony and coo over rogues, right, Alicia? Especially not over cocktails in the lobby bar in Orlando. And especially not us. We're far too dignified for such shenanigans.

Which brings me to my questions for Team Comments, and anyone else who cares to play along. (Yes, it's a non sequitur. Indulge me.)

Is a rogue the same thing as a bad boy?

Do you prefer one character type to the other (as a reader)? Do you avoid either?

How far can a rogue (or bad boy) go before crossing the line into villainy? Got any examples?

What makes you trust that a rogue (or bad boy) has been redeemed and made worthy of romantic love?

These aren't merely speculative questions. I'm writing something on this topic -- not a blog post, go figure -- and am trying to refine my thinking. TIA for anything you care to share.

Theresa

Pitching beyond plot

Been listening to a lot of pitches lately! And I have a couple suggestions if you're heading for a conference or a meeting with an editor/agent soon.

First, read Theresa's seminal series on Tweeting your pitch. This works for log-lines in query letters or synopses too!

Then my thoughts:

1) Don't be nervous. Or don't be nervous about being nervous. Almost everyone is nervous in this kind of situation. The editor or agent won't hold that against you! And if you need to read the pitch, go ahead and read. A couple pitchers made a nice little apology, no big deal, that worked as a good lead-in for the pitch. "I'm sorry. I have to read this."

2) Pitching in person might require a bit different a log-line than a written query does. You have to speak it aloud. Say it several times to several people to trim it and make sure it's not an unspeakable mouthful. The editor/agent should not be the first person to hear you say this out loud! A friend can listen and tell you what word could be trimmed and what can be emphasized.

3) What do you do after the pitch log-line? That might take just a moment. What if you have 7 more minutes to fill? Prepare for that. Think about what the editor or agent needs to know. For example, how long is the book? Is it complete (tell if it is complete-- wait to be asked if not :)? Do you have other publications, and who is your agent if you have one?

4) Do not, please, fill the time with a retelling of your plot. The editor or agent is unlikely to be able to follow this, and to tell you the truth, Gone with the Wind would sound dull recited in summary like that. Find a way to talk about your story that is not a recitation of events.

5) How, you ask? Well, first, keep in mind that this is a STORY, not just a plot. What are the major elements of story? Plot, yes, but character too. Setting. Conflict. Action. Emotion. Think about concentrating (at least to start) on any one of these. That is, instead of presenting your story as a series of events, consider starting with one of the other elements (whichever is more intriguing or prominent). You might, for example, talk about "Hagerton, the quaint little southern town with the dangerous big secrets," and sketch out the setting contrasts (the placid county square where the lynching had taken place, the graceful steeple of the church where the young men had sought sanctuary only to be betrayed by the saintly minister) or the characters and their contradictions (the charming old man who had led the dawn raid, the bored teenagers at the high school today who discover a hideous photograph in the school archives....). That is, tell the story through another approach than "this happened, then this happened." This is something you'd probably have to figure out ahead of time.

6)Think of talking not about what happens, but what changes. You can bring in what happened, but the focus would be on "what changed." Danny and his girlfriend Kelsey love their little town, and why not? They are both the youngest of prominent founding families of Hagerton, and they're proud of their heritage. Not that they'd boast about it. They don't need to. Everyone in school already looks up to them. They're the golden couple, homecoming court, prom king and queen. And their future looks just as bright. Kelsey's up for a big scholarship at the state university, and to flesh out her application with community service, she decides to write a history of the town. Danny agrees to help her go through the old photos in the school archives. And what they find shakes their complacent sense of their place in the town and their trust in their neighbors. You can tell what happens as a way to explain what changes. But start with how things are going to change-- an overview, not a summary.

7) Keep focused on, "What is my story about?" Whenever you find yourself veering into plot summary, slow down. Talk about some other aspect of the story. "The theme is--" "The main character--" "The conflict is--" Really, any of those will be more interesting than "And then this happened." But this is something you might plan out beforehand. Most pitchers practice their logline, but the pitch is more than that. Before you go into the session, sit down with a friend and try to get through at least five minutes of talking coherently and intriguingly about your story. You don't have to memorize that, but do have several "overview" approaches worked out in your mind. Figure out what your theme is, what your conflict is, what the character journey is, how the world of the book changes. Then you'll have those aspects available to talk about.

8) If you finish early, don't feel you have to talk more. Ask the editor/agent questions about the market, about the publisher or agency, about what she/he really likes in a book, about what sort of proposal is desired and whether to send a submission electronically or snail mail. If you don't have any more to say, just quiet down. Let the editor/agent take the lead there at the end (because you do want to hear, "Send this to me"). If the editor doesn't say that, and you're feeling bold, you could ask, "Does this sound like something you'd want to see?"

9) If the editor/agent doesn't ask to see the story, stay cool. Just smile and shake hands and leave. (Or if you have another book, and there's still time, pitch that.) It's painful to be rejected right there, and it's going to feel like it's YOU being rejected, not the book. But if you present your story well, the editor/agent can decide then if it's right for the publisher or agency. There are all sorts of reasons why it might not be right, and there's really no arguing with that. If this is an angel book and they are no longer looking for those, the best pitch in the world probably won't make a difference. You want to present your book in the clearest and most intriguing way, but it is what it is. You just don't want the pitch to be rejected because the editor thinks it sounds convoluted or boring (when it isn't!). Do your best to represent what the book is about and why it's good, and if that's not what the editor/agent is looking for, say thanks and don't take it personally.

10) There's nothing wrong with asking something like, "If I write something that's more up your alley, can I send it to you?" But put it better. "Now I've really got a good sense of what you are interested in. I'm going to start a new book, now that this one is done, and I'll be incorporating some of those elements. Can I send it to you when I'm done?" The editor/agent will probably say yes, and then you kind of have an open invitation to submit in the future and put "requested manuscript" on the envelope or subject heading.

11) And the editor/agent does understand that you are an author, not a TV informercial host. You won't be graded on whether your voice quavers or your hands shake. Sure, those who are experienced at pitching business tend to do better in these appointments, but it's not so much their confident manner as their understanding of how to present the "product". They know what to focus on and what to leave out. You can't instantly acquire the sort of confidence that lets you fearlessly recite a memorized speech and make it sound spontaneous. But you can have prepared a comprehensive sense of your story and several ways to explain it. You can be ready with a few intelligent questions that can show you know what's important and make the editor say, "Go ahead and send me this book (or your next book)." So if you've represented your story well, no beating up on yourself! Don't think you were rejected because your voice wasn't strong enough or your gaze wavered. The editor is going to try to figure out from whatever you say if this is a book that might work for the publisher. And your job is not wowing her/him with your zowie personality and great public-speaking skills, but rather explaining your book well and cogently.

The point of this pitch isn't to sell the book. (That probably won't happen right there.) It's to vault over the query stage and get the editor to look at your actual story. That's quite valuable. But it's not your only option, so don't ever assume a "Sorry, I don't want it" is a rejection of you as an author. You can always send an email afterwards thanking the editor/agent for listening to your pitch or meeting with you. And then, when you have another project, you might already have a bit of a relationship with the editor/agent to build on.

And it really is true: "Not right for us" doesn't mean any more than that. It doesn't mean, "Burn that manuscript!" or "Give up your dreams of being an author!" Send the book elsewhere. Pitch it to someone else. The pitch-taker hasn't read a word of your story, so he/she isn't rejecting it, and can't (and won't) comment on your skill as a writer. Do listen, but understand that, "This sounds really convoluted," might mean that your story is convoluted, or alternatively, that you have presented it in a way that's hard to understand (as is very likely if you try to recite the plot). If the pitch isn't successful, take a few moments afterwards to review what happened. Do you think that you didn't present the story well? That the story wasn't right for this place? A couple things you can't assume from a rejection: 1) the editor/agent hates you, and 2) there's necessarily something wrong with your book. Either might be true (well, the first is unlikely), but a pitch-rejection doesn't mean either of those. Don't change yourself or your book solely on the rejection of a pitch. :)

So do prepare, but prepare your explanation of the story. You can't transform your personality in an hour ahead of time (and you shouldn't want to), but you can make sure that you have the understanding of your book-- of what it's about, of what changes-- that will help you present it in the clearest and most intriguing way.

Alicia

Italics again

Theresa, was it you that mentioned the problem with Courier and italics? Or someone else?

Anyway, here's a link that states categorically NO UNDERLINING in a manuscript.

And a friend just emailed me asking, and I had to agree that I too am an "italics only" advocate. However, at the RWA conference, someone (maybe not Theresa, maybe yes, but you know, that was probably after several drinks, and ...) said that in Courier, the italics doesn't look much different than the regular font, so it's better in Courier to underline. (Yet another reason not to use Courier. :) Have you guys heard that?

Also, any thoughts here? Would you use italics for some things and not others? To emphasize a word, maybe? Or underline foreign words? Or what?

And what about this Courier thing?

Alicia

The Language of the Senses

For some time now, I've had a note on my desk that reads, "Blog about that comment about smell/language." There was a time when I knew which comment this note referred to -- one of you posted something interesting and should be recognized for it, even if I can't for the life of me remember which comment or commenter it was. (My brain has been a sieve all summer. Counting down until school starts again, and can I get an amen on that one?)

Oh, well. If any of you remember posting a comment about writing the sense of smell, please pipe up in the comments so I can credit you appropriately. Luckily, I do still remember what I wanted to say. This is all about the words we have at our disposal to narrate the physical senses. Our language doesn't treat the senses as equals, and this can sometimes present writing challenges.

Vision

We have an extensive vocabulary to describe what we see:

• concrete nouns
• verbs of action
• verbs of appearance
• verbs of being (sometimes)
• adjectives
  
• some other modifiers

Usually, when we narrate an action, we're doing it by accessing the sense of sight.
The little girl skipped rope.
Bobby tapped his bat on home plate.

When we read these words, we get a visual image from them. Each of us may get a slightly different visual. Doesn't matter. The point is that most of the words in most narratives will draw on the sense of sight. Our language is rich and evocative and packed with possibilities for describing what we see.

If you don't get what I mean, try an exercise just for kicks. Write 150-words about a woman grocery shopping for ingredients for a dinner party. Now write the same piece from the point of view of a blind man. What is the experience like when you strip out the sense of sight? How does it change the narrative? What words can you use with the sighted woman that you cannot use with the blind man? There are probably quite a few changes that have to be made, if only because what we see is such a large part of what we narrate.



Sound

Look again at our sample sentences about the kids on the playground. Either of these are suggestive of the sounds, too -- the slap of rope against asphalt, the thud of wood against plastic. We see the images first, and perhaps we also hear.

Sound creeps into the narrative in many ways through action verbs, but there are more obvious uses of sound, too. Dialogue is spoken by characters, and if you're anything like most readers, you "hear" those words differently in your silent mind as you read them. (How many of you shifted your inner ear to accommodate the quotation marks around the word hear in that sentence?)

Then we have words we use, usually verbs and adverbs, to describe the quality of the character's speech. People yell and whisper. They speak throatily or brightly. This manner of conveying sound qualities in speech has fallen out of favor, but we still have the vocabulary to accomplish it.

Then there are the fleets of nouns to describe non-spoken sounds -- hoots, thumps, scrapes, rustles, and so on.

If you look at the vocabulary set for vision and sound, the words directly describe the sensual impression conveyed. When you read the word hoot, you get a direct and instant knowledge of what is being heard. When you read the words little girl, you get a direct and instant knowledge of what is being seen. No need for translation or further interpretation.

Smell

Not so with the sense of smell. For narrating scents, we have a blended vocabulary, you might say. Some of the words are direct -- pungent, acrid, cloying, and other similar terms all describe the native characteristics of a smell.

But this vocabulary in English is not as well developed as the vocabulary for sight and sound. We just simply don't have the words to accurately convey a sense of smell as directly as with sight and sound.

Take, for example, cloying. We know our response to a cloying scent. We don't like it. It's invasive, and not in a pleasant way. But is it sweet like cheap perfume? Or disgusting like roadkill? Either of those scents can be cloying, but they're cloying in entirely different ways.

We can work around this as writers by drawing on comparative language. When I asked the questions above about cloying, I used the word like both times. This is no accident. Our vocabulary for the sense of smell almost demands this kind of usage if we're going to be precise about what we're trying to convey. It's not always necessary -- we do have some good, robust, precise words for smells -- but this particular sense does often demand an indirect approach in the narrative.

There are other work-arounds. Sometimes context will control the way a reader interprets a word meant to describe a scent. Yeasty, for example, can be used to describe the smell of bread (a pleasant smell) or the smell of an infected body (an unpleasant smell). If the word is used in a hospital ward, the reader will know which way to lean.

The bottom line is this: Pay attention to the way you're using language to evoke a sense on the page. Not all senses are handled alike.

Theresa

Query question

Someone asked me how a query to an editor will differ from a query to an agent. This is just my opinion!

So check out the Query Shark blog for lots of (mostly bad) examples and an agent's comments. (Not for the faint of heart, but very helpful.)

My thoughts:

The diff between querying an editor and agent? Well, think of their different purposes. The editor wants a publishable book. The agent wants a client.

So for an editor, you put the emphasis on your book, what it's about, how long it is, etc. The last paragraph might be about you, but most is about the book. Generally, that's what the editor is going to be dealing with. Not your career, no matter what they might say at conferences. Editors work for their publisher's success, not yours. That doesn't mean they don't care about you and your career, but the book and how it's going to help make money for the publisher, or fill an open slot in the schedule, or win a prestigious award and result in good press for the publisher, that's what really matters.

In the agent query, you want to talk about the book you're submitting, but the agent is also going to be interested in you as a writer. What else are you writing? What genre or sub-genre do you mostly concentrate in? What is your background and how is it relevant to your writing career? (Like you live in a fishing village in Oregon, and that's where you set your books. Or you work in the oil industry and write "oil thrillers" -- don't laugh, there is such a thing. In fact, I think some writer invented the BP oil spill before it happened. I recently saw a book -- I'm fuzzy on details-- where the main character tutored rich kids in how to write college application essays and got dragged into the corruption of writing them herself... well, turns out the author had done that, and I'm sure she explained that in the query, as it's all over the marketing material that's out now.)

Don't get too high-flown here when you talk about your future plans. Your life coach might want to hear about your expectations of a quick rise to the top five of the NYT list, but the agent just wants to hear that you intend to write a four-book series in this universe and then have a YA version with the same basic storylines, and then you intend to parlay that success into a follow-up series about.... (You're not actually swearing you'll write all those. )

So in an agent letter, you might do the first paragraph or two about the book, and the next about you and your background, and then one or two about future books and future plans.

Just a different focus. See what I mean?

Announcing the September Workshop

Alicia and I are very excited to announce the first ever edittorrent online workshop.

Starting September 1 and running for two weeks, I will be leading an intensive class in Fiction Structure. (Some of you out there may have taken the face-to-face version of this seminar and might be able to comment on what our workshoppers would be in for. *evil grin* Try not to scare them too much.)

We'll start by examining some of the classic theories analyzing structure (Aristotle, of course). This is all big-picture stuff that gives form and coherence to your story as a whole.

Then we'll look at mid-scale structure: scenes, sequences of scenes, and how to create coherency in blocks of actions. We'll talk about structural tricks for incorporating things like theme and motif in easy ways, all with the goal of making the text feel integrated.

We'll wrap up with a brief look a small-scale structure at the sentence and paragraph level, but if history can predict the future, we won't dwell too long on this part of the workshop. When I teach this class in person, we tend to spend a lot of time on the large scale and mid-scale sections, which is where the students seem to gravitate. I always want to cram in some thoughts on sentences and paragraphs, but I'm also willing to be guided by ongoing Q&A. That's the nature of a workshop. :)

This course will be conducted through a simple yahoo loop, meaning that you'll need to be able to join the yahoo group.

The cost will be US$50. There's a paypal button on the blog sidebar for those of you interested in signing up.

I'm leading this one, and Alicia will lead the October workshop. We'll be alternating months with this ongoing series, and I'll have more information for everyone on the course schedule soon. Some of you might recall that we talked about a different topic for the September workshop, but that particular one has been rescheduled.

Anyway, registration for the September workshop may begin now. The class size is limited, so you might want to sign up early.

Questions? You know where to post them. :)

Theresa

Series synopsis

A student asked me how I'd suggest writing a "series synopsis," to go along with the proposal of the first book. (Now as Jami just reminded me, I must define that: Proposal usually equals the first 3 chapters of the first book, and a longer, more detailed synopsis of that first book. That is, this series synopsis accompanies, doesn't replace, the book synopsis.)
She wanted, sensibly, to give an idea of what the trilogy or tetraology is about, along with the more detailed first-book synopsis. But she didn't have much of the plot of the other books outlined.

I suggested that a series synopsis is (in my experience) about a page long, and goes along with the synopsis for the first book. It isn't about plot (of course, I'd say NO synopsis should be about plot-- plot-based synopses are usually so boring), but rather about the problem or situation that will carry through the whole series.

You outline that series-long situation and how it affects the main characters ("Jack Aubrey's ships are all involved in the naval war against Napoleon. This war rages over six seas and four continents, and involves complex historical issues like slavery, democracy, and colonialism. Jack is always in the middle of the action. But the huge war is not the only conflict he faces. Starting out as a young, merry lieutenant, he grows in every command to become a leader, but the problems he faces on each ship teach him to be a man too. ETC.") or the group. ("In The Church of England series, between-the-wars Anglican clergymen face dangers theological and personal as their country and their parishioners change around them during the decades leading to World War II. One by one, the clerics achieve power through their ambition, but are brought down by their spiritual failings. ETC.")

Then you might quickly sketch the first book in a paragraph, and then finish up with a paragraph about the rest:
"The second book (title) explores the growing tensions in the friendship between Stephen and Jack as they compete for the same woman. In the background of this very personal battle is the war with Napoleon, which rises to an explosive point when.... Other books in the series will address (a few big-picture and personal things). The last book of the series will resolve the major questions and reveal (some major revelation), finally bringing the warriors home to England as the war and its aftermath finally wind to a close."

That is, set up the situation that makes this a series, what connects all these books. Then sketch the first book. Then (quickly) sketch the rest of the series. You don't have to know every plot, just what the series as a whole will confront and eventually resolve.
What do you all think? Have you ever submitted a series? Did you do a series synopsis? What did the agent or editor want?
Alicia

Trimming sentences

You know, I like some "roundabout" in a sentence, if it fits the character, and when I first draft, I have a lot of longer sentences with a lot of roundaboutation. I'm not the writer you go to for terse, just the facts sentences. :) But... but character-revealing voice-ian roundaboutation might be acceptable, but confusing verbosity is not. Hence:
He was just as glad he had to duck into the alley to get back to the mews where he assumed was the door she had identified as the rendezvous place in the note.

The "he was just as glad" is the roundabout stuff I want to keep. (It really helps, when you're trimming, to identify precisely what you want to keep. Trim the rest. :) When you have a voice that allows for more fulsome sentences, more elaborate constructions, that doesn't meant it's open season on adding junk into a sentence. In fact, the rest of the sentence should be as trim as possible, so that desired roundabout stands out.

Fortunately, I always put in plenty of junk that can be trimmed. To wit:

He was just as glad to duck into the alley to get back to the door her note had identified as the rendezvous.
So I let myself keep "just as glad". The rest was trimmable! And everytime I look at this sentence, I find more places to trim. :) So, I'm sure, can you, but tell you what-- instead of revising MY sentence (that is my job!), take a moment and choose a sentence of your own and revise THAT. (Put in comments and tell us what you did! So we want the before and after. We're mean that way. :)

Now I'm not trying to eliminate every word that might not need to be there. I want to keep the setting in there in almost every sentence-- that is, I want to keep the characters interacting with the environment-- so while otherwise I might delete the alley, I won't here. (In fact, I might make it the "dark alley" or the "gloomy alley." So there. I am such a slut. :)

But once I decided to trim, I realize that "rendezvous" sort of implied place.
Also that he really wanted to get back to the door, so who needs 1) the alley, 2) the mews, AND 3) the door? In one sentence? Alley, yes (because the previous sentence has him on the Strand, a big street), but mews? Why, other than to show that I know what a mews is? If I truly want the muse, I should make this two sentences, alley to mews, mews to door.
One problem I have, and I see in a lot of submissions, is trying to put too many actions (I mean, little actions) into one sentence. Nothing wrong with two sentences with two actions each and some transition in between. In fact, that will likely lead to more supple narration.

Okay, so:
1. Trim redundant words.
2. Trim excess and "understood" actions.
3. Look for relative clauses and see if you can reduce them.

What's a relative clause? Well, it's a clause (has a subject and verb), and usually begins with a "wh" word (which and who are the most common), and performs as an adjective (modifying a noun).

Question: Do you need the relative clause? Do you need that thought even?

There are two relative clauses here, probably two too many! What, you say? There's only one "wh" word in there! Well, the other is "elliptical." That means it's there in meaning but taken out, just by custom:
He was just as glad he had to duck into the alley to get back to the mews where he assumed was the door (which) she had identified as the rendezvous place in the note.

Relative clauses are by nature interruptive, and because they are clauses (subject and verb), often feel more weighty than the meaning they impart. I think in conversation we often use them to mark time while we think of something else, or add some information we forgot to say. ("So John, who is my ex, called last night and wanted to go out.") When they show up in our written prose, they can often be trimmed outright (the "he assumed") or reduced ("she had identified").

I noticed that the "she had identified" was really clunky, and that "in the note" was misplaced at the end of the sentence. It was hard to figure out where to put "in the note" and "as the rendezvous" as they both go with the same verb (identified)-- what's first? what's second? Hey, whenever there's a conflict (in a sentence, not in the plot), punt! Prepositional phrases are (like relative clauses) adjectival, modifying a noun, and they're often reducible. Notice that I reduced "in the note" to make it actually the subject == the note identified... But then I thought I'd lost the "she" and the sense that it was her action, so I made it "her note" rather than just "the note." "She" is in there now, but in fewer words.

Anyway, I kept what I wanted to keep, but refined the sentence so that it's less verbose and thus less likely to attract the gentle attentions of the editor.

So everyone go out into your own work, and give us a "before and after" sentence, and tell us why you revised as you did, and what worked for you. And if you tell us you don't have any sentences that need trimming, we'll all hate you, so... just don't. :)
Alicia