Write Through Manuscript Malaise; January newsletter

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Greetings!
Welcome to your January newsletter. As always, I hope you enjoy it, and I encourage you to contact me with topics you'd like covered in future newsletters.

Let's face it -- ideas are everywhere. Even when you think you have no clue what to write about, you take the dog for a walk and see your neighbor doing the most absurd thing, or you listen to the evening news and hear an even more absurd thing, or -- more gratifying yet -- you're in the shower or stuck in traffic or slicing carrots and you're bowled over by the all-time greatest idea ever, one that you know was dropped down from the heavens just for you.

And in the beginning, you adore the idea. You're infatuated with it to a frenzied degree, ignoring all its faults and dizzily in love with its promise. The idea can do no wrong.

But after the initial giddiness wears off, and when you realize you're stuck with the same idea day in and day out, you see it in a new, dulled light. It starts to look shabby and ordinary. When you're struggling to shape it into something that -- on the page -- accurately reflects that sparkling epiphany you had while washing your hair, you might even begin to hate the idea. And that's when you cast your net wide for new, shinier, more capable inspirations.

I beg you to break that cycle! I implore you to resist the temptation to abandon pieces sluggish with malaise and instead funnel the resourcefulness and creativity I know you all have (you're writers, after all) toward giving those floundering manuscripts every possible chance at survival. Here are some suggestions for giving your tired manuscript a leg up, and in the process making your work fresh and exciting.

Delete all the boring parts (which includes anything that's not absolutely necessary).

This may sound easy, but it's tough in practice. We're writers because we love and respect language, so when we create a sentence we can't wait to show off, it's horribly difficult to see it objectively (with detachment) and decide that it doesn't help our story or article along in any way.

If you don't have a deadline nipping at your heels, put the work away for a few days (or longer, if you can) so that you can approach it with a fresher perspective. That imposed distance will help you spot things that can be plucked out. Remember, just because it pains you to lift out a sentence or paragraph or even a whole scene, it doesn't mean it will pain your reader. Quite the contrary: your reader can't miss something they've never seen, and if what you're deleting is really superfluous, it will only make your reader's job easier and more enjoyable.

If you're one of those people who'd rather watch a cow become steak than choose what needs to be axed in your own work, approach a trusted reader (someone who will give you the real truth, even if it makes you squirm) and ask him/her to note areas where the mind wandered. Listen to the feedback without commenting or interjecting. Bite back the urge to blurt, "That sentence took me four hours to write: what do you mean it's not absolutely necessary?"

~Stretch instead of wrap up.

Ratchet up suspense by knowing where to end your chapters.

Because we've had the five-paragraph essay drummed into our heads (the framework where everything is neatly tied up at the end of each paragraph), many writers apply the same ideology to their own work, thereby missing out on the opportunity to create suspense. Today's readers have more than ever competing for their attention. They need a reason to keep turning pages, and suspense is one of the surest ways to give them that. Don't treat each chapter like a paragraph in that old essay formula.

Look at where you're ending your chapters: do you end at a suspenseful place (high point), a place that makes the readers want to see how things will play out, or are you wrapping things up as Mrs. McGillicuddy taught you in eighth-grade English, ending on a low point, where things are settled so that the reader can choose to go on or choose to put the book down? Give your reader burning questions to answer at the end of each chapter. Learn to stretch your premise out through suspense. Wrap little things up along the way when you need to, but leave the final wrap-up for the end, when you decide to stop writing.

~Keep conflict/tension high (don't be afraid to show people at their worst).

Whether they're reading non-fiction or fiction, readers don't want to read about people getting along beautifully, swimming in an endless sea of serenity. (Unless you're reading a how-to book on meditation, which I suppose shouldn't be filled with strife.) Most of us want to experience peace and harmony in our own lives, but reading about situations that are running smoothly is dull, dull, dull. We read to learn or to escape our own lives or to get a glimpse into worlds different from our own. So don't be afraid to show the ugly side of people, even when it's tough to write and involves people behaving as you never would.

When writers base their stories on something they experienced, I often hear, "But I can't change it -- this is how it really happened." Remember, unless you're writing a memoir that needs to stand up to Oprah's scrutiny, people don't want to hear about how it really happened unless it was exciting. And that often means you need tension, discomfort, trouble. Tension often (but not always) involves forces in diametric opposition, each working to get what they want and in the process foiling the efforts of the other.

~Add texture and dimension when you revise.

When you're grappling with an idea, let yourself write it any way it comes to you the first time around. Because new ideas can be tenuous and fragile and elusive (and sometimes are reluctant to be born the way you imagined them), you shouldn't distract yourself with the machinations of the editing/logical/polishing part of your brain while you're focusing all of your attention on the burgeoning, squirmy idea itself.

But then, once you trap a first draft on the page (and first drafts should be lousy, so don't worry), go back and add texture, the tapestry of craft that will make your manuscript memorable. Use specifics instead of generalities whenever it makes the writing fresher. If you're writing nonfiction, use vivid examples instead of murky hypotheticals. Weave details into your manuscript wherever you can (without overloading your manuscript so that it feels listy). At the same time remember that adjectives and adverbs don't count as details, so cut down on those and replace them with powerful, specific verbs. Take ideas that you only glossed over in the first draft and expand them into full-fledged scenes that show instead of paragraphs that tell. Craft dialogue that crackles off the page instead of sentences where people don't mumble much more than "um" or "okay" or blasé conversation-filler.

You may have stumbled upon THE most fascinating story idea, but if you smother it in ornate language, that idea will never see the light of day. Remember that your primary job isn't to impress your reader, but to engage your reader. The minute the reader feels like s/he has to work hard just to untangle your sentences and get a glimpse of your meaning, you've lost the reader's rapt attention. And you may never regain it.

Instead of writing as you think your favorite college professor wants you to write, write more like the way you speak. If you have trouble with this and still tend to write using overly-complex sentence structure (especially if you overuse the passive voice), dictate your ideas directly into a tape recorder, and then transcribe them onto the screen. This trick helps many people write more simply and effectively.

~Turn things upside down.

Sometimes the best way to look at a manuscript that's giving you trouble is to look at it in a radically new way. No, not through prescription sunglasses or a monocle, but through a totally different point of view, which means you'll need to roll up your sleeves and flex your creativity muscle. Switching point of view is a great trick to better your piece, even if you ultimately revert back to your original POV.

For example, if you're writing a novel about an out-of-work carpenter from the carpenter's point of view (first person), shake things up and write a few scenes from the third-person point of view. Or from the mind of the carpenter's employer or spouse or arch-enemy. If you're writing an article about the auto insurance industry with the consumer's point of view in mind, flip it and write some of it from the insurance company's perspective.

You don't have to use these flipped exercises in your finished product, but they will go miles in helping you stretch your thinking on your subject. You'll notice where you have to fill gaps in your story or holes in your approach; you'll think up creative solutions or important additions that you wouldn't have discovered otherwise.

It may sound like impossible nonsense, similar to, "In order to keep your gums healthy, watch someone else floss," but it really works (the reading, not the flossing). As you read (and the more you read), you will internalize all the good and have a heightened awareness of the not-so-good, all of which can only help you as you write.

Writers often mistakenly think they shouldn't read while they're working on something for fear that they'll be unduly "influenced" by what they're reading. Toss that worry aside, because reading often and widely can actually only help you unstick yourself when you feel the most stuck. When you're grappling with a problem in your work and you shift your attention to reading, you'll be open to solutions and can identify techniques other authors used to deal with similar issues. You'll also inevitably read things you don't love, and if you read like a writer, you'll determine which facets of the book missed the mark. This type of intellectual training will help you avoid making those same mistakes when you're at your own desk.

The First Five Pages: A Writer's Guide to Staying Out of the Rejection Pile by Noah Lukeman.

Lukeman uses his considerable experience as an editor and literary agent to share some invaluable tricks of the trade. We all like to think our submissions are being read cover to cover by the faceless powers-that-be, but Lukeman disabuses us of this idealistic notion. Most manuscripts are rejected within the first five pages (often much sooner, even), and he tells us exactly why and how we can avoid the same fate. I highly recommend this well-written, smartly organized and information-rich book.

"Gardens are not made by singing 'Oh, how beautiful,' and sitting in the shade." Rudyard Kipling

Don't forget about my f*r*e*e critique. If you've got a manuscript you're grappling with, send me an e-mail describing it, and I'll give you instructions for sending me a 10-page sample. I'll critique it, send you my detailed notes, and we'll have a 30-minute phone consultation about your work.