Friday, November 23, 2007

What Are Fillers?

Q: I’ve been asked to write a filler for a magazine, but I’m not sure what a ‘filler’ is. It doesn’t sound very glamorous, can you explain what it is and what I need to do?

A: A filler is a short paragraph of information used to ‘fill’ a gap in a magazine or newsletter. It can be a very lucrative sideline for a freelance writer. Although it may seem like a small way to get published, think of it this way: You become a published writer, and magazines, TV, and radio can pay anything from $5 to $50 for half an hours work. Compare that to spending hours, or even days, researching and writing a query letter for an article just to be rejected.

For ideas for fillers, just look around you. Shop windows, newspaper adverts, signs, passing vehicles are all sources of inspiration. Listen to conversations when you’re stuck on the bus or in a queue in your local store, you’ll be surprised how much you pick up once you train your mind to focus on things going on around you. Always take a notebook out with you and jot down details of things as they happen so you don’t forget them later. For example, I was driving home one day and passed a local farm. On their gatepost was a sign advertising their businesses. Instead of reading ‘Furniture stripping & Potatoes’, it read ‘Furniture stripping potatoes’. Yuck!! Would you eat them? It took me less than a minute to write down, ten minutes to type up a filler about a ‘new decorating aid’, and I got paid $15 for it (around £7.50). Not bad, considering I was going about my daily business when I spotted it.

Now, time to do the math. Ten minutes divided by $15 payment equals $1.50 (76p) per minute. Now times the $1.50 by 60 minutes and it equals $90 (about £46) an hour! Where else can you earn that kind of money?

Write your filler and be proud of your achievement.

Using Previously Published Facts and Quotes

Q: I am writing an article and need to draw on previously published facts for my own article. Can you give any tips?

A: Proceed with caution! Although there is no copyright in ideas or facts, there is in the way they are written, delivered or expressed. Any direct copying of other writers material -even close paraphrasing - can leave you open to legal action. It’s ok to draw on facts, ideas and statistical information but it needs to be delivered in your own words and you should ideally conduct your research from several established sources so that you can check the accuracy of the facts. You should also keep a record of your reference material so that you can go back later if you need to clarify anything. Some magazines ask writers to provide details of their reference material.

Tips on Writing Concisely

Q: I have been told that my writing is quite verbose and I need to write more tightly. Any tips?

A: Write with economy in mind. Read your article or story and remove any extraneous words or details. Avoid the following:

1) including too much irrelevant information;
2) going off on a tangent (not sticking to the topic);
3) using too many words when fewer will do (less is more);
4) using too many adjectives
5) poor use of sentence construction or punctuation

Take your time to think about what you want to express. Aim to produce clear, concise writing that flows well. This attention to detail will help you create stronger pieces of writing and your chances of gaining a commission will increase.

When Will the Editor Reply?

Q: I submitted an article to a magazine editor three weeks ago but I haven’t had a reply. What should I do?

A: Firstly, be patient! Editors are often overwhelmed with material from writers and it can take a while to work through the pile of submissions. It’s not unusual for writers to wait months before they receive a response, especially if the material hasn’t been requested or you’re unknown to the editor.

If you have posted material: Assuming that you have sent in the obligatory stamped self-addressed envelope for a reply, wait for about 6 to 8 weeks before you follow up. Then, simply contact the editorial office to ask if they could confirm receipt. It’s not advisable to start pushing for a decision because it’s likely that your manuscript will be returned unread.


As any established writer will tell you, the waiting between sending off your material to gaining a response is an awful time and it’s best to occupy yourself with the business of writing more material and sending out more copy!


If you feel that an editor has had your material for an unacceptable time, then you can choose to withdraw it and send the material elsewhere. But, keep in mind that some writers have had work accepted a year or more after submission, so it sometimes pays to exercise patience.

One thing that does annoy us writers – and rightly so – is when we have sent a stamped s.a.e. for a response and don’t ever receive one! What happens to all those un-used postage stamps???

Writers: What’s the longest you’ve ever waited for a reply and what was the outcome? Share your experience and post a comment!

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Setting the Mystery Scene

Your characters are the appetizer when setting the scene for mystery ... but locale is the entree

You can go a long way in writing a mystery without fleshing out the main characters. But try doing the same with the locale--the story's physical scene--and you'll soon wind up in a boatload of trouble.

Readers don't mind having to wait awhile to get all the information they can possibly get about the people in a mystery. They're used to having characters developed slowly, a little at a time, as events take place and the story unwinds. Characters, after all, show the reader what they're made of by reacting to action and relating to specific events--and those things take place in due time. It's hard to know just how selfless a hard-boiled P.I. is until the reader witnesses his leap off a towering bridge to save a hapless suicide victim.

But readers can and do object to being kept in the dark for too long when it comes to setting a mystery's scene. And for good reason. The scene sets the stage for the element of mystery and triggers a readiness in the reader to be, well, mystified. Does the story take place at midday in a bright, sunny park filled with tittering children and chattering old maids? Or does it unfold at midnight in a rainy alleyway where the only sign of life is a stoop-shouldered ghost of a man shuffling slowly along ... and the only way out is up? It makes a difference. Whereas the one creates within the reader little speculation about mysterious unfoldings soon to take place, the other fills the reader with trepidation and tension--two of the staunchest allies of the eternal mystery.

Take one of the earliest scenes in Arthur Conan Doyle's tales of the exploits of Sherlock Holmes, The Hound of the Baskervilles. The lord of the manor, in hosting a dinner party for some friends, took time out to run food and drink down to a young maiden, whom he held captive, when he discovered her cage empty.

Racing back up through the house, he beseeched his guests to join him in pursuit. ".... Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.

"Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar; some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home.

"They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, through known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.

"The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three dare-devil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days ...."

Just a light-hearted ditty? Hardly. Read at any time of day or night, the scene inspires chills and even fear in the reader--this, in part, for the remarkable clearness with which the author detailed the scene, using words that still today--nearly 200 years later--bring forth mental images of such clarity and reality that hardly anyone could walk away untouched.

Doyle described: the moon shining bright upon the clearing. The unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. The thing plucking at [Hugo's] throat ... a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound. When suddenly the thing turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them.

As in the best descriptive passages in literature, Doyle used imagery as a painter uses oils on canvas. A stroke of his literary brush evoked not only a mere understanding of the artist's words, but also a feeling, a string of emotional responses, that a more careless or lazy writer might never have known.

Unlike descriptions of people or things, however, Doyle's descriptive passage was designed to set the scene and--in so doing--set the stage for the rest of the novel. Something evil lurked among the moors of Baskerville manor. Something frightening and unearthly, some devil of a creature unlike any other known to man. Something hideous. Something immortal. Something ... well, you get the point. By the time the passage had ended, the stage was set for mystery.

So the next time you set out to pen a mystery--whether a novel or a short feature--remember to pay special attention to the scene. That is, after all, where everything within the story lives, from characters to action, from story line to story's end. Set the scene properly, evocatively, and early, and you'll find that the rest of the story will practically write itself. Oh, yes, and your readers will thank you for it.

Improving the Query

Once upon a time I received a letter from an editor, along with the rejection. If I had written the query properly, she wouldn't have had to write me the letter. I noticed at once that the publisher wasn't interested in how well-written my book was, but how well it would sell. Cynical as it may sound, we writers must realize that publishers want to know if acceptance of your book is worth the financial risk. They have to invest thousands of dollars in the production of your book, written by a nobody. Thus the query should focus on salability. Here are some tips the editor gave me in her letter.

What kind of readers will the book appeal to?

How much demand for the book do you anticipate?

What estimate can you make of the competition? Check bookstores and libraries for similar works.

Is the book user friendly? Easy to read? Not pedantic? Not too many sub-plots or unimportant characters?

Are you willing to lecture, sign books, or anything else to promote sales?

Can you provide some prominent person or expert to endorse the book?

If the book is technical, list the related organizations you belong to.

Describe the book for sales purposes.

What makes you especially qualified for writing this particular book?

If you comply with all these requirements in a one-page letter, fine, Of course, this is no guarantee that this will get you published. Think of the query as a book jacket with its teasers, only without bragging about the book.

Of course, if you know someone in the publishing business, you can forget the nature of the query letter.

Becoming an Instant Garden-Writing Expert

Yeah, we know. There's no easy way to sell yourself as an expert these days without having been to the mountain and scaled Everest. Or is there?

Actually, when it comes to garden writing, many "experts" are born over a matter of hours, rather than years. After all, haven't you been a gardener forever? Haven't you grown philodendron, dracaena, and ivy in pots all around your house since you went away to college? And perhaps planted an apple and pear tree in the back yard of that first little place in which you and the spouse set up housekeeping? And haven't you had your share of luck growing roses and carnations?

So, the truth of the matter is that you very likely are an expert gardener--at least to a degree. Now the only question is, how do you convince that hard-nosed editor that you're also an expert garden writer?

You can (and should) list your history of gardening successes on any resume, author's bio, or query letter you send out, of course. But you should also have a history of publishing gardening articles.

Ouch!

What's that you say, bunky? You haven't sold a single gardening piece in all your years as a writer? Well, for starters, you don't need to have sold a piece, you need to have published one. Something that an editor can pick up and scan to reassure himself that you're good enough to create reliable gardening articles for him. How do you get to be a published garden writer without having sold any gardening articles?

Oh, yes, the Web.

Think about it. Here we sit, in the midst of the greatest technological revolution in history--the WWW, or World-Wide Web--and you're asking so silly a question. Go to http://google.com/ and type in the search box, "gardening." See how many hits come up. Visit a few of the sites. Evaluate them. Do they run gardening columns? Do they have a "Contact" e-mail address? If so, write them and ask if you can submit a gardening piece or two for their consideration--free of charge. If they say yes, go for it. We don't often recommend that writers write for nada, and we're not doing that here. When you write free-of-charge gardening pieces for a Web site, you're helping to build a resume to show to an editor who--and this is the ultimate goal, of course--will be more likely to give you an assignment for that paying piece down the road. Think of it as an investment in your future.

Then, when you go to query that editor, print out a copy of the piece and mail it to him ... or paste it into the body of your e-mail query, if that's the editor's preferred method of querying, being sure to indicate where the piece was first published.

Most gardening editors want to know only two things: can you write with authority on gardening subjects; and do you have a history of publishing on the subject in the past.

Convince them that the answer is "yes" to both questions, and it's practically a done deal. Just be careful, be factual, and be inventive. And, above all, remember the advice that Steve Martin gave to the landscapers laying new sod at the end of the movie, My Blue Heaven. "Green side up, green side up!"

Target Your Style To Match Your Market

Do you know you have more than one literary style? Do you care? Your next editor might!

If you're not getting your share of assignments or freelance sales of late, maybe it's not what you're writing so much as how you're writing it.

Huh?

It's true. If you read those market listings carefully (we're talking mostly about magazine listings, now--book publishers grant a lot more leeway here), you'll pick up on phrases such as "no travelogues" or "impersonal style a must" or "upbeat yet folksy."

These are small, not-quite hidden clues as to the style of writing the magazine is looking for.

Does that mean that, if they're searching for a style that's simply not "you," you have to pass on a potentially lucrative sale, even if the subject matter seems to be right up your alley? Hardly. All you have to do is gear your literary style to the requirements of the publication.

Sound impossible? After all, you were created with a single literary style, a single voice, with which to write. Weren't you? How on earth can you be expected to write any other way?

In psychoanalytical lingo, it's called roll-playing. In writing, it's no different.

Think of yourself as a screenwriter. You produce a genuinely inspired draft of the story of a modern-day man who is shipwrecked on a South Seas island. You've put your heart and soul into the project, put your heart and soul into the main character. You feel as he feels, you speak as he speaks.

The only problem is that the director who loved your down-home, personal, stream-of-consciousness stuff has been fired from the film, and a new director has been hired to take his place. He wants the script to be more narrative and less personal. He wants it to play more like Dragnet than Cheers--far more straight-forward with far fewer introspective musings. Forget Dostoevsky and Nabokov; he wants what he thinks his audience wants.

The same thing happens in writing. You come across an editor who loves your idea but ... All those cutesy asides and introspective meanderings you've spent a lifetime learning how to write? Relegate them to the trash bin. And your assignment--should you decided to accept it (and, unless you're an idiot or independently wealthy, you will!) is to write the piece in a totally different--and much more detached--style. Can you do it? Of course you can.

How can we be so sure? Because you've done it before. Think back to the time your wrote your parents about the wind damage to your home's roof.

"You should've seen it. I've never been so scared in my life. The wind was howling from just after dinner until the middle of the night. When we turned in, we closed most of the windows in case it started to rain. Suddenly, we were awakened by this tremendous crash that sent Darryl leaping out of bed. I grabbed my pillow, afraid to expose myself to what sounded like the roof crashing in on top of us. I thought we'd been hit by a tornado. I shouted to Darryl to come back to bed until the storm passed, but he grabbed the flashlight we keep in the dresser drawer and threw open the window to look out. That's when he saw half of our roof tiles lying on the front lawn. When he finally closed the window and came back to bed, his eyes were wide as saucers. I asked him what happened, and he said we didn't have to worry about replacing those damaged roof tiles anymore. Half the roof was scattered across the neighborhood."

Now think about writing your insurance agent about the very same incident and how differently you'd word the piece.

"On October 17, a wind storm struck our town. Weather station measurements the next day showed some gusts to be in excess of 75 miles an hour, with sustained winds between 40 and 50 miles an hour. Around midnight on the 17th, a really strong gust struck. It uprooted our neighbors' mature elm tree and hurled it against our house. The crown of the tree cracked off and landed just below the peak of our roof, shattering several slate tiles. The wind ripped the damaged tiles loose and sent them crashing along the remaining tiles, cracking or chipping most of the remaining tiles along the way. In order to prevent further damage to the house, we are filing this claim for immediate repairs. We have received three repair estimates from local roofing contractors. They are $875, $1,200, and $1,363. respectively."

Same incident? Yes. Different way of telling it? You bet.

Can you do the same thing when gearing a story toward a particular publication? We're betting you can. In fact, we know it.

So, the next time you go to sell an article or a short story to a market that specifies a preferred style, give it to them. You'll find the number of by-lines you receive--and the number of checks that go along with them--increasing dramatically.

Monday, November 5, 2007

"Rounding Out" Your Characters

Rounded characters are essential to every good story; make yours "pop"!

Think about one of your favorite classic stories in fiction. Something you enjoyed reading more than anything else as a child, over and over again. Was it Alice in Wonderland? Treasure Island? Black Beauty? Some Nancy Drew mystery? The Adventures of Peter Rabbit?

Now ask yourself why you enjoyed reading that story so much. The answer is nearly always the same. The main characters.

Characters are important to the reader. They are what the reader identifies and empathizes with; they are what the reader loves to love ... or hate. Many great stories with weak plots, shoddy descriptive passages, and marginal dialogue have relied for their greatness solely on characterization. If you don't believe me, go back and read Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises or The Old Man and the Sea. Papa's works are notoriously weak on story line and only marginal on description and dialogue. Where Hemingway works his magic is through his characters. When he writes about Ezra Pound or Gertrude Stein, about F. Scott Fitzgerald or even the ubiquitous Brett, we develop a love/hate relationship with those characters that is strong enough to keep us coming back, looking for more pages to turn.

So, how do you get from here to there? How do you take a blank screen and fill it with lovable (or at least empathetic) characters? Let's take a look at some of the things that have always worked for me.

See Your Characters!

First and foremost, you need to take the time to visualize your characters, one by one. See them in your mind. Ask yourself what it is about their looks that makes them stand out, that makes you notice them in a crowd. Come up with some mental images of each character. How does he look dressed casually, formally, and ready for bed? How does he look not dressed at all?

How do his eyes move? Do they dart around quickly, like those of an anxious ferret, or are they slow to move, cautious, hesitant to be seen in the eyes of others? How does he stand? How does he hold his hands? What does his mouth look like? Can you equate that mouth with something non-human (a "gaping hole" is a bit trite; how about a "great sandstone cavern of epic proportions")? Often, equating a human physical trait with a non-human feature enables the reader to conjure up a whole boatload of visual images in just a few words.

Show Your Characters!

Once you've come to see your character physically in your own mind, it's time to sketch him out in a few short paragraphs of descriptive passage that match your own internal vision. Here's an example from The Death and Life of Hymie Stiehl:

I quickly surveyed his large, bulging eyes, puffed out and encircled by several rings of time, then let my gaze drift across his thick, meaty face to his nose—a great bulbous affair that shone bluish-grey in the cast of a long bank of fluorescent lights stretched out overhead. Running from one side of his nose to the other were scores of tiny blue-green lines—ribbons of highway seen from a jetliner, at first barely visible from high above the city, then growing ever larger and more prominent with each passing second until they threatened to explode into a billion shards of concrete and shattered steel.

His mouth was the only thing about him that did not seem too large for his overall carriage. Not his mouth, exactly, but his lips. Two thin lines that, later when I got to know him, I would see purse out in an effort to expand their size, as though he knew these mere slivers of pastel were the one feature out of keeping with his greatness and set about to change them.

These two short grafs say as much about the physical appearance of the man as anything; yet, in doing so, they also reveal something about his character and internal motivation. Just a touch of vanity appears to reside in this character, which we learn when he tries to expand the insignificant slivers of his lips to make himself look more the role of personified greatness.

Notice, however revealing the paragraphs are, that they are not overwhelming. The reader doesn't need to know every physical aspect of the character all at once--and, in fact, he doesn't want to. Just as we come to observe things about the real people around us over an extended continuum of time, so, too, must the writer reveal those things about his characters at a staggered pace, a little at a time. Dumping seventeen pages of physical description on the reader at once would not only place an unbearable burden on the reader's retentive powers, but also would destroy the flow of the story.

So, you'll need to work in additional descriptive passages as the opportunities present themselves. Here is something that appears elsewhere in the same book about the same character:

"You know him?" one of my students asked casually as we stood in the hall, talking of literary greatness and how best to achieve it.

"Who?" I asked foolishly, following the gaze of a pimply faced young literary radical down the corridor to a stoop-shouldered old goat with pock-marked skin and dead stogie dangling from a pale and puckered mouth. "Him?" I'd known of Hyman Stiehl, the great and famous poet laureate, for years. But who was this? I turned to my student and shrugged, then glanced again at the old man. His steel-blue eyes met mine briefly, then darted away, speeding off down the hall where they came to rest on the sylvan form of a young maiden in a tight-fitting green knit dress.

Now we know a little more about the looks of this character. As a bonus, we also know a bit about the physical appearance of the student to whom the narrator is talking, as well as about some of the habits of our main character. In particular, he smokes a cigar, has quick-moving eyes, and lusts after young girls in tight dresses.

Be Your Characters!

Once you've envisioned your character's physical traits in your mind and written them down to share with your reader, it's time for you to become your character. Step into his shoes. Learn what motivates him, how he reacts to certainly stimuli around him. After all, if a character were developed simply by describing his physical attributes, writing would be damned easy stuff.

No, we must actually get into the character's persona, give him a personality, much as an actor studying a role would do. Writers are, after all, little more than actors off-stage. So let's act!

“Yeah,” the student replied as the old man turned and took several sure steps toward us. “Hymie Stiehl. You know him? We have coffee together at Francie’s in the mornings.”

“You? You and …” My mouth fell open as I looked from one face to the other.

“Hey-yeah. Pleased to meetcha,” the two thin lips said, quivering lightly as he held out his hand. “What’s your name again?”

“This is D.J.,” the student responded. “You know, the guy I told you about. The writing instructor?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure,” he said. His eyes glowed suddenly brighter and his brows—already sprouting in every conceivable direction—seemed to rise and swell to twice their previous size. “Oh, so you’re D. J. Yeah. I’ve read your stuff. Some of it. A little. In the papers. Or the magazines. Very nice.”

He held out his hand, and I grasped it firmly, surprised at how weak it felt, how light the grip, delicate, effeminate practically.

Here, the reader learns that the character is more complex than originally revealed. And, perhaps, just a tad superficial ("What's your name again?"). He's also not above laying out a little trash, as when he claims to have read D.J.'s stuff, then quickly adds "Some of it" without being able to recall where. Notice that, even though the main elements of physical description had been laid out earlier in the book, new bits and pieces are constantly emerging, to keep adding to the overall portrait. Here's some more revelation shedding light on Hymie's personality, revealed as he and D.J. attend a college staff party:

Suddenly I felt a strange aching in my heart. Not as though I wanted her. More as though I realized I couldn't possibly have her. Not now nor ever. Not so long as she was with Alexis. I felt the need for air; I felt the need for escape; I felt the need to put myself as far from this woman and Alexis and the stink in the room that Hymie had talked about as possible. But now Alexis was talking with him, with Hymie, who seemed to know Alexis from years back. At least from their body language. And now I would have to stay and listen to the chatter, cringe over the bragging, waddle through the bullshit. I would have to watch the overt glances, ache over the subtle touches, struggle beneath the tremendous weight of all the crap Alexis loved to throw around. I'd been to parties at which he was in attendance before. I'd seen him with other goddesses.

Hymie turned his head half toward me as if to whisper a secret. I pulled closer to him so I could hear above the growing din.

"Christ, I wouldn't mind fuckin' her," he said in a voice loud enough to carry to the end of Navy Pier and back, and then he shuffled his feet right past a stunned crowd, parting Alexis and his busty young companion on the way out the door.

I suddenly felt all eyes upon me. My feet clung tenaciously to the floor as if they suddenly had some vested interest in the real estate along North Lake Shore Drive and, as tenants in good standing, were not about to vacate the premises even a second before their lease expired at the end of the month. My face grew redder and hotter by the moment as I realized just how many people, including Alexis, Denise, and the goddess herself, had heard the remark. I didn't say it, I proclaimed via a sheepish grin. Don't look at me, for Chrissake, I didn't say it!!!

But it didn't work. They did look at me, and just about the moment I thought I would die or melt away beneath their hostile stares, my feet grew tired of their inactivity and began shuffling slowly but steadily across the grey-tile floor.

"Have a nice day," I heard my lips mutter to Alexis as I slipped through the door. I found myself winding my way down the stairwell and out through the arched opening leading toward the thick summer air, and when I finally emerged, I could hardly contain my fury.

"Jesus Christ," I shouted as I slipped into the cab and slammed the door behind me. "What the hell did you do that for? It'll be a miracle if I still have a job in the morning. Alexis knows everyone in this town. What the hell did you have to say that for? What the fuck did you say that for???"

"Aww, forget it," Hymie said, fumbling for a match to re-ignite a stogie that he had originally lit in the spring of '46. "They're nothin' but a bunch of horses' asses, anyway. You wanna spend the rest of your life kissing up to them, that's up to you. Me? I got better things to do, thanks. Besides, you always got your night job."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Right. That's easy for you to say. You've got a secure future. You've got money in the bank. Me? I need this job. You know, to help provide for the little things in life. Food, clothing, shelter. My night job at the ‘Y’ doesn't pay shit."

"Thirty-fifth and Shields," Hymie barked at the cabbie, motioning off to the right as the car shifted into gear and lurched from the curb. "And step on it, will ya?"

Now we're getting some character development! Now the reader knows for sure what he has so long suspected: Hymie is a stitch! A round, full, surprising, surprisingly likable, stitch. He's also a tightwad--relighting a cigar that should have been laid to rest long ago. He's opinionated (putting it mildly). He's selfish, not particularly concerned whether or not the kid loses his job over Hymie's comment. He's animated, talking with his hands as he barks directions at the cabbie.

These grafs also speak worlds about Hymie's character through the words he chooses to use. "Wanna" instead of "want to." "Nothin'" instead of "nothing." "Ya" instead of "you." All in all, within the relatively short space of a dozen or so pages, the reader learns that Hymie is crude, boorish, educated, selfish, vulgar, opinionated, self-confident, perpetually horny, rough, gruff, and--throughout it all--somehow likable. And, remember, it's only the beginning of a portrait of a strong, well-rounded, living, breathing character that is as real as any we've ever met in life. From here on out, the reader is hooked. Hymie is reason enough for the reader to continue turning the pages, if for no other purpose than to find out what extraordinary things he's going to do--or say--next.

And that's exactly what a round character in a work of fiction is supposed to make us do.

Editors Q & A: Where Has All the Inspiration Gone?

Q. I was wondering about something. It seems like more and more publishers, book publishers, require that writers submit their material exclusively through agents. Some come right out and say that unagented material will be returned unread. This seams ridiculous to me. Is it some sort of good-old boys club, in which you have to be a member, go through the hoops, hire an agent before a publisher will stoop to reading your stuff? I don't understand the concept. Do you? - Mark G.

The Editors Respond
We're not sure what the percentage of publishers demanding agented submissions is, but we agree that it seems to be growing, and for good reason. Basically, publishers use agents as a filtering mechanism. Since quality agents (those who don't charge reading fees and who actually think long and hard before taking on a new client) only handle quality writers, writers dedicated to writing--not only today, but also years down the road--the submission of a writer's material by an agent to a publisher automatically weeds out the wannabee-writers and those with no talent and nothing to say. Sure, there are some unscrupulous agents who will handle anyone for a "fee" (something no scrupulous agent would ever do); but it doesn't take long for a publisher to identify those agents and steer clear of them and their writer-clients, both. So, it makes sense from a publisher's point-of-view to demand to see the works of agented writers only, although it does put more pressure on a writer to do things "by the book." Still, if you wanna run with the bulls, you have to go to Spain. Or something like that. The bottom line is, if you're unagented because you haven't been able to find a legitimate agent to handle you, stick to submitting to publishers who will accept material from writers lacking agency representation (there are still a lot of them around). Otherwise, start looking for the agent of your dreams ... and, hopefully, of your very successful future. - The Editors

Q. Hi. I have read the many frustrating emails, and it is the same old stuff about editors and how busy they are and not wasting their time or ticking them off. I say this is a very arrogant profession and we work very dedicatedly to get the job done and it is like walking on eggs with them. I see Stepford editors and ones who have no heart or retrospect about how hard it is to get started out here. To me and many of my writer friends it seems that it is all about "who one knows" and it seems to be if that is the case it can be 10%talent and 90% who one knows and that really gets on my last nerve. I just wanted to express truth rather than fiction for it works for the real world and not this stuffy little society whom I believe gets their cookies off of rejecting people. I say they are drunk on power and I suggest that they hire more editors so that the bunch of little know it alls who corner the market can find some real talent. New and untapped talent is constantly being rejected, and when the books come out it is the same old rehash of something everyone already read or a take off of it. That is ridiculous, and I say get more editors and get ones who have some compassion and have not forgotten about how hard it is down here since they are at the top. Sincerely, IGAA

Do you feel that the role of the writer and publisher have changed in light of the information age. In other words don't people want information that is both accurate and fast. This would obviously not apply to fiction. But what about a book that is non-fiction and more or less investigative.

Point in question. I have spent up to 4 years working on a book covering the assassination of JFK. It is speculative to a degree, but I feel rather accurate. It has only something like 15,000 words and several publishers have turned it down because it's too short. Many thanks, Bob Cornell


The Editors Respond
Without a doubt, publishers today--especially those having any connection to the Internet whatsoever--are being asked for more information delivered more quickly than ever before (yet, without sacrificing accuracy). In essence, our Information Age has revitalized and revised an entire industry. But it has also placed an enormous strain on our information-gathering resources, i.e., the modern-day journalist.

As for your work on JFK, we understand your frustration with not having been able to place it with a publisher because of its shortness, but that's the nature of the beast. Books, are of essence, book-length. Have you considered either trying to sell the work as an investigative article to someone such as Mother Jones or Rolling Stone magazine? Or, at the other end of your options spectrum, make it longer and try it again as a book. You may feel there is no more new information "out there" to warrant expanding the work to, say, 60,000 words. But there's plenty of history and new ways to present previously published material that could bolster your own investigative findings. - The Editors

Q. I have a question that may sound stupid, but just exactly what does S.A.S.E. mean? I see it most often in writers' sights, and I know it has something to do with submitting your work for publication. But what is it exactly (please excuse my ignorance, I'm pretty new at all this). - Doris J.

The Editors Respond
Ohmahgawd, it's been a long time since we've seen that question. But that's good! It means new writers are still coming along ... and still anxious to learn everything they possibly can about the writing game. S.A.S.E. means simply Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope, which is what most publishers expect you to enclose if you want your material returned in the event that the publishers chooses not to publish it. Agents and other media professionals, too, are increasingly demanding an S.A.S.E. for the return of your work.

As a phrase, S.A.S.E. is used most often like this: "Enclose S.A.S.E." or like this: "If you don't enclose S.A.S.E., we won't return your manuscript" or, in worst-case scenarios, like this: "Listen, blockhead, either enclosed an S.A.S.E. or we're sending Guido to your front door to have a little 'talk' with you, get it???"

We get it. And so should you. Good luck with your writing. - The Editors

Q. Where Has All the Inspiration Gone? - I'm not normally the kind of person who needs to be inspired in order to write, but I was thinking that a shot in the brain on a regular basis might be just the thing I need to get my creative juices flowing first thing in the morning. Do you know of any worthwhile inspirational books for writers? - Frank J.

The Editors Respond
Hmmm, we're almost positive we've seen a book on just that subject (inspirational messages arranged by day of the year) somewhere, but a recent search of Writer's Digest and a few other likely sources turned up negative. Perhaps a leisurely perusal of the Amazon.com e-bookshelves will help. As an alternative, you might try taking one of your favorite authors and keeping one of his or her books close at hand. Read a few paragraphs a day before starting your own writing program. In that way, not only will you enjoy what you're reading and be inspired by it (knowing that your favorite author would never steer you wrong!), but also you'll subliminally pick up on the author's literary voice, mannerisms, etc., and get your brain primed to create. We think that will help. In the meantime, if anyone else knows of a book of inspirational sayings suitable for writers, just click here to send us an e-mail so that we can put your submission in print. - The Editors

Q. About That First Novel - This may sound like a silly question, but I'm wondering how you know if you're ready to try writing that first novel. I've written numerous short stories and even had some published, both in anthologies and on the Web. But I really want to write a novel. I've had the idea for years. Of course, I want to do it right so that it gets published. But maybe I lack the confidence to just do it, or is there a way of telling when you're ready? - S. J.

The Editors Respond
There's really no gauge that tells anyone, "It's first-novel time!" If you want to write it, go ahead. It won't get written, remember, unless you get started. Now, if your hesitation stems from a lack of understanding how to write a good novel, that's another matter. There are numerous books on the market, telling at least one author's approach to writing a novel. There are also numerous courses and workshops--both real-time (at colleges and universities, mostly) and on-line. Of the on-line workshops, the best offer personal attention (since novel writing is such a personal matter, you really need someone guiding you through your work, step-by-step). One of the most effective we've ever seen is our own: From Outline to Publisher ... Guaranteed! It not only guides the writer through the act of writing the novel he wants to write, but also involves an agent in the presentation of the manuscript to one or more suitable, legitimate (not vanity) publishing houses. The rest, as they say, is history (or, in this case, future history?). You can check it out by clicking on the workshop's title, above. So get going, and good luck! - The Editors

Q. What Do Publishers Want? - I'm wondering, with all the rejection slips I've accumulated lately, just what is it that publishers want? Sometimes I get the feeling they don't even read what I send in, just tack a "No thanks" slip to it and send it back. Could this be true? If that's the case, how does a new, unpublished writer ever get published? - L. J.

The Editors Respond
Certainly we understand your frustration with getting published. And, yes, we have heard of and even seen proof of some editors moving a manuscript from the "in" to the "out" pile without ever even glancing at it. However, that is relatively rare. Most editors will at least read the first few paragraphs of an article or short story and the first chapter or two of a book to see if they feel excited about it. If so, they'll go on to read the rest. Fair? Perhaps not. But you have to remember that few editors have the luxury of excess time on their hands. Some we know actually have to take manuscripts home with them to read at night, because their other duties (copy editing, jacket copy creation, scheduling, meetings, etc.) don't allow them enough in-office time.

With that said, it becomes obvious that you want your best "stuff" loaded up front in whatever it is you write. Catch an editor's eye early, and you'll do the same with the reader after your work is published.

As for what you may be doing wrong, possibly nothing. Many published writers, including some of our most famous, spent years collecting rejection slips before breaking into print. We do have a few suggestions for you to follow in approaching editors with your work that might help boost your chances for publication, however.

1.) Query first. Either by fax, phone, e-mail, or snail-mail, depending upon the publication's preferences (check the market listing). Make your query short, punchy, and to-the-point (and, yes, you can be light and even humorous, if so inclined). Spell out your idea and why you think the editor should review it. Never submit your work without a query letter unless the publication specifically requests that you do so (as in their market listings).

2.) Always include an SASE (self-address, stamped envelope) with every query letter submission and short article or story submission or include sufficient return postage for longer works, like books. Failing to do so alerts the editor to the fact that you're a novice, probably therefore not good enough to be published by him, and/or unconcerned about traditional values within the publishing industry.

3.) Don't telephone, fax, e-mail, or write to check up on a query letter or a submission unless the editor has had it for an extraordinarily long time. Remember, editors are busy. Your cutting into an editor's work day with unnecessary correspondence will hardly place you in a good light. If the market listing says an editor reports within four weeks and you haven't heard anything for five, we suggest a short letter or e-mail requesting if the editor received your query or submission.

4.) Follow up when asked. Sometimes an editor will turn down your suggestion or submission but tell you to feel free to query again. This is an open invitation saying that the editor likes your writing and your approach. So make sure you follow up with something you feel might be appropriate! - The Editors

Q. On Failing To Sell - I have a question that may or may not be appropriate here, but I hope so. Lately, I've been getting some positive responses to my queries, but when I write the articles (most of them are travel or sports-related) and send them in, they've been getting returned to me, along with a nice letter, as not being right for the publications submitted to. I've gotten four in a row, now, and it's disappointing from several points of view not the least of which is all the work I put into the articles without getting anything back. Is it the economic climate we're in? And why would these editors (all different publications by the way) request an article and then turn it down? The pieces are pretty well written, if I do say so myself, so that's not the problem. What gives? - Don Martindale

The Editors Respond
It's impossible to know for sure, but we wonder if you're "overselling" your ideas. We know from talking with numerous editors that a query letter written too creatively can lead the editors to expect one thing and get something else. This may not be the case with you, but it may. The only way to find out for sure is to write or call the editors, express your concern ("I'm worried that I might have misled you with my query and, if so, would certainly like to know so that I don't do so again in the future" is a good way to phrase yourself), and ask for some clarification. If you are overselling your ideas in a query letter, back off. Present your queries honestly and concisely, without the "puff" so many beginning writers, especially, like to throw in to catch an editor's eye. Remember, catching an editor's eye with a query letter doesn't result in a check--making him happy after reading your article does. Good luck, and keep us posted if you learn more. - The Editors

Promotion, Promotion, Promotion!

Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love that Marketing

Like most writers, I used to assume that my marketing responsibilities were concluded once I sold a publisher on the idea of sending me a contract. After all, once I write a piece, it's the publisher's responsibility to sell it to its readers. Isn't it?

Well, yes and no. The truth of the matter is that, while virtually no magazines and even fewer newspapers have in-house (and rarely even freelance) marketing directors whose job is to promote readership of the features they publish, most larger book publishers do. But even those marketing specialists are often so overburdened with titles to market that they rarely give all their publisher's books even a small percentage of the marketing time and expertise they deserve. That's where the author comes in.

An author can often promote his own work more effectively--and at far less cost--than the most skilled marketing director. Here's why.

The marketing director does not exist who knows everything the author knows about his subject. Whereas a creative promoter will come up with dozens of concepts for getting word out when it comes to marketing a new book, a creative author will come up with even more--and usually (except in the case of mammoth-budget marketing campaigns) do a more effective job. How? I thought you'd never ask.

Spread the Word

Authors can generate interest in their work simply by word-of-mouth. One example: I recently wrote a travel piece for a newspaper I'd never written for before. The piece ran in the Sunday travel section of my new home-town daily. I happened to mention the fact to a neighbor, who told three other neighbors, all of whom read and loved the article. Two of them called the newspaper and told the managing editor so. Within the next two months, the paper bought four more pieces from me ... and word of the paper's new, really good travel writer spread through town.

Of course, word-of-mouth takes many forms. Besides dropping hints with the neighbors, you can take out free ads in the local classified papers and the local e-classifieds, telling people to watch for your upcoming articles, stories, or book. You can post notices on the bulletin board at local supermarkets and libraries. You can write local schools and colleges or submit notices to their school papers. You can run posts on various e-boards. The trick here is to be creative.

Share Your Expertise

Do you write how-to articles in a certain area of expertise, such as gardening, home decorating, or collecting? Considering donating an occasional freebie to some smaller, regional print magazines and newspapers whose budgets are too limited to pay. Or offer something to an e-zine that specializes in running articles in your area of expertise. Include a short statement in the "About the Author" section at the end or your submission, notifying your readers of where else your writing may be appearing or of any up-and-coming special pieces in the works. Invite your readers to contact you with any questions they may have about what you've written or your area of expertise in general, and then answer them promptly. You'll be amazed at how that can boost your literary following.

Book Some Time

Have you just brought out a book but worry that it's going to get lost among the publisher's shuffle of titles? Write or e-mail your local newspaper with an announcement and volunteer to do an interview with a book reviewer or even with a general-interest features reporter--either in person or by telephone or e-mail. Most local publications are glad to run exclusive pieces on successful local talent.

Reach out farther from home with autographed copies of books sent to newspaper and magazine book reviewers.

Write a Letter to the Editor

Pick up some copies of high-circulation daily newspapers and monthly magazines. Thumb through the articles. Then tie-in your book or short feature in a letter to the editor. You have to be careful, here. Editors don't mind plugging an ambitious author, but it can't look like a shameless promo. That's where the tie-in comes in.

For example: I wrote a book on the Soviet-Afghan War way back in 1990. The mere fact that I'd written on so complex a topic made me something of an expert (or at least more of one than the average American). That gave me the perfect opportunity to respond to something in the news pertaining to the war while plugging my book.

Sometimes, I'd start off my letter like this: "As author of a book on the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan (The Afghan Rebels, Franklin Watts Publisher, 1990), I've done quite a bit of research on what the Soviets hope to accomplish in invading their neighbor to the South. It seems that the invasion was no fluke ..."

On other occasions, I would voice my opinion, then include the book title with my signature block, like this: "D. J., author of The Afghan Rebels, Franklin Watts Publisher." Either way, it worked quite nicely, and I was able to contribute some useful information to the newspapers' Op/Ed pages.

Start Stumping

Okay, you might not be ready yet to make the circuit: Oprah, The Today Show, and David Letterman. But you can offer to speak at your local bookstores, schools, church gatherings, social clubs, ladies' auxiliaries, gardening clubs, Chamber of Commerce luncheons, gift shops, and libraries. And if you just happen to have a few copies of your book along with you (I've even seen authors sell autographed copies of magazines containing their articles or short stories), well, all the better.

Set Up a Web Site

It may sound like a given, but you'd be amazed at how few writers actually have a Web site of their own. Yet, a Web site gives people a place to come to buy your writing or to learn more about you, to request your literary services, or simply to become more familiar with your work--past, present, and future. It needn't be a sprawling affair, and you don't necessarily have to hire someone to set it up and keep it running. Chances are you already know somebody who would be more than happy to teach you the basics of transferring your MS Word documents to a site of your own and perhaps even enough html coding to keep things up and running (html, or Hyper Text Markup Language, is a set of instructions that tell a browser how to "read" the material on a Web page so that others can see it in their browsers).

Join a Literary Group

Not just any group will do. Join the most prestigious literary group that will have you. The reason is that, while listing AmSAW or ASJA or the Writers' Guild of America on your resume looks damned impressive, listing the Peoria Writer's Exchange doesn't.

There are dozens of literary groups around, of course--fewer prestigious ones. But it's worth trying to get in. And, if one turns you down, try another. Some are pickier than others about membership requirements. All have writers as a basis for their existence, and many bend the rules a bit for someone who comes recommended by an existing member or who seems very enthusiastic about joining.

Writing Stronger Dialogue

Anyone can put a few words between two quotations marks; but not everyone knows how to make those words sing

Here's a tip you can take to the bank. If you have to describe your character's dialogue to your reader, you're not writing believable dialogue.

Sad but true, and it's all too common a shortcoming in writers of all calibers.

Now, admittedly, different writers handle dialogue differently. That's one of the things that helps to establish a writer's literary voice. It's one of the things that defines his style. But there are effective ways of handling dialogue, and there are ineffective ways. Take a look at this example:

"I hate you," she screamed shrilly.


What's wrong with that, you ask? The writer tells us that she screamed and that her voice was shrill. Isn't that merely an example of good descriptive dialogue, of being specific?

Well, it may be specific, but it's not good dialogue--not by a long shot. Why use the word, "shrilly," to get the point across when there's a better, sharper, more effective way of delivering the same message. Take a look at this:

"I hate you!" she screamed.


Surprise, surprise. By leaving off the adverb "shrilly" and emphasizing the word "hate" through the use of italics, we've killed two birds with a single deletion. We've economized the writing, and we've strengthened the dialogue. Now, when a reader reads "I hate you!" he gets the message at a glance. In fact, provided there are only two people in the conversation and it's clear who is saying what, you may not need the words, "she screamed," at all, thus strengthening the dialogue even further:

"I hate you!"


Of course, there are ways to strengthen dialogue without putting words in italics. Take a look at this example:

"I don't want to see you anymore," he said with a defiant, final tone in his voice.


Short, sweet, and ineffective, pure and simple. Now this:

"You're out of here. For good!"


Wow, totally different words delivering the same message, although the second example does so through the clarity and finality of the words. And there's no awkward explanation needed. Hmmm. You know what? There really is something to this effective dialogue thing.

The Right Stuff

Another way of creating strong, realistic dialogue is by replacing the word, "said," with a stronger, more defined, more graphic word. Here's the weak way:

"Bring him to me," he said. There was a certain authority, a terseness to his voice that Charlie couldn't mistake.


Now, we have not only weak dialogue, but also weak supporting structure in the explanatory sentence following the quote. A sure way to get around those shortcomings?

"Bring him to me," he snarled.


Do you see how changing a single word--deciding how the speaker's voice is supposed to sound and then using a more powerful verb to communicate that thought to the reader more effectively--improves the dialogue? A word of caution though when using this technique. Use dialogue-defining verbs such as "snarled" sparingly. Use the general word, "said," as the rule-of-thumb and all other verbs as the exception. See how overusing other verbs can end up sounding stilted:

"What are you doing?" John demanded.

"Washing my feet," Bill explained.

"That's a queer thing to do at this time of night," John offered.

"It's a queer thing to do at any time," Bill proffered.

"I guess so," John admitted.


Ouch! Does that sound a bit awkward, as if the writer is just aching to be precise? As if he's hung up on telling the reader more than he needs to know? Uh-huh, I think so, too. Here's a much simpler way of handling the same exchange:

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Washing my feet."

"That's a queer thing to do at this time of night."

"It's a queer thing to do at any time."

"I guess so," John said.


Notice how leaving out most of the attributes helps to move the dialogue along. Assuming the reader knows there are only two people in the conversation--John and Bill--it's pretty easy to guess who said what after the introductory question is attributed to John.

Rambling Man

By now you're beginning to see how using descriptive words and rambling explanations to illuminate a character's dialogue only weakens the dialogue and slows down the reader's progress. Descriptive passages belong in all writing, of course, but not where dialogue is concerned.

What's that, you ask? What if you have a whole lot of information to get across and don't want to sound as if you're rambling? Check out this example:

"Go get me my hat and coat so that I can put them on and leave here, because I no longer feel wanted," Mary said.


Well, there's an easy way around that rambling, disjointed dialogue, too. It's as easy as cutting Mary short, as in this example:

"Get my hat and coat," Mary snapped. She knew when she wasn't wanted.


By shortening Mary's dialogue and moving part of what she was feeling out of quotes and into a straight expository sentence, we've made the dialogue crisper and more believable without sacrificing any of the thoughts we wanted to get across--namely, that Mary knew when she wasn't wanted.

I think you get the point. Dialogue has to be crisp, sharp, and pointed to be effective. Once you begin stringing it out in a prolonged effort to drive home all of your thoughts, once you fall into the trap of using adverbs as descriptive modifiers to enhance your dialogue, you've lost game, set, and match.

So, keep your dialogue believable; keep it simple; keep it crisp. You'd be amazed at how far you can go in creating a really strong piece of writing. Make your dialogue ring with the sound of reality, and you'll keep your readers coming back for more.

Editors Q & A: Literary Genre Toughest To Write? Rejection slips?

Q. Do most publishers still send rejection slips? I've sent a ms. to a house, followed all of its submission rules, and despite making two polite queries concerning whether the ms. had been received, have heard not a word--and it's been over three months. What's up? - Anon.

The Editors:

We're glad you asked. We always enjoy getting into the heads, hearts, and souls of publishers. (Hold the smart remarks, please). In short, yes, nearly all publishers still send rejection slips. Although three months may seem like an inordinately long time to you, it often seems like the flash of an eye to an overworked or under-achieving editor. Several reasons could be behind the delay. The worst possible: the publisher didn't get your submission. Fortunately, this happens so rarely that we wouldn't even consider the possibility. More likely: your ms. has gotten bogged down somewhere on some editor's desk. Sooner or later he/she will be struck by pangs of guilt (or at least a desire to see what color the desktop is), and several months' worth of manuscripts will be unveiled and rejected within a matter of hours (maybe even minutes). Hey, we wish life weren't like that, but it is.

Still another possibility: some editor there liked your ms. and kept it aside to bring up at an editorial board meeting, where its merits will be hotly debated before it's either accepted for publication or, ultimately, rejected for any one of a variety of reasons.

The fact that your two follow-up queries on the status of your ms. have been ignored doesn't surprise us. After all, if an editor can't get around to responding to a ms. in three months, why would he have a better track record in responding to a letter?

All of this is sad news for writers, we know. But it brings up one important point: Don't sit around waiting for one publisher to pass judgment on your work.

One last point. We hope (although you didn't say for sure) that you didn't send your ms. to the publisher unsolicited. We'd like to think you first queried them and they responded with a request to see your work. If you did send the completed ms. out unsolicited, our guess is that it's been relegated to the notorious "slush pile" where few people--editors, most of all--dare to tread.

We hope this information helps some, and we'd enjoy hearing the outcome of this tale when it finally plays through. - The Editors

Q. I was wondering if it's common practice for a novelist to begin writing fiction with shorter pieces, such as short stories and novellas. Or is it possible to be a good novelist without having written any other form of fiction. I haven't had much success with short stories, but I feel like my novels are my real strength. - Anon.

The Editors:

We think it's a fairly widely held belief that, in writing fiction, you have to learn to crawl before you can walk. Crawling, of course, is the short story. Walking is the novella. Running--well, that would be the novel. It's a widely held belief, but it's false. Few successful novel writers working today can turn out a good short story, and few have ever tried. In a nutshell, the belief that fiction is fiction is a fallacy. Short-story writing is completely different from novel-writing, and the one does not necessarily make for success with the other. In short-story writing, the writer has to be able to develop a story line (or plot), characterization, and description within a very short space. That's a restriction the novelist doesn't need to worry about.

On the other hand, a good short-story writer isn't necessarily able to string together enough material to crank out a good novel and still have the entire project coherent enough to work. Bottom line: we think a writer should stick with what he feels most comfortable. That said, we also think it's imperative for a writer to experiment with enough different genres to know just exactly where his strengths--and weaknesses--lie. - The Editors

Q. In your vast experiences as editors and writers, what literary genre do you think is the toughest to write? I'm not being flip here. I've written in several different areas and am struggling with a new genre like I've never struggled before. I just can't seem to get the hang of it. Yet, I keep telling myself that writing in one genre is just like writing in another--in the end, it's all writing. What do you think? The genre I'm having so much trouble with, by the way, is literary. - Jake

The Editors:

Well, thanks for clueing us in, but we had a hunch that was the genre you were talking about. And, no, it's not just you. Many people have trouble writing literary fiction because it is, technically, the most complicated. Why? For starters, there's more character development involved in literary fiction than there is in a contemporary genre pieces, such as detective, mystery, and romance. There's more internal development, as well--more getting into the head and defining the motivation of each character. Beyond that, the plot for a literary novel, especially, is often more convoluted than a simple boy-meets-girl story line in a romance novel or a boy-saves-girl story line in action-adventure.

Does all this justify the difficulty you're having with the literary genre? For the answer to that question, we turned to our own writer-in-residence, who has been known to write in just about every genre there is, including literary.

"Writers write best where they're most comfortable," according to him. "I spent a good deal of my youth experimenting with everything from the literary novel to the period piece, mystery, detective story, erotica, even poetry--beat poetry, mostly, but some conventional and contemporary forms, as well. If you don't practice what you set out to write, you're going to have some problems, pure and simple. My guess is that, if you study enough good examples of literary fiction and spend enough time working within the framework of that genre, sooner or later, you'll be as comfortable in writing literary fiction as anything."

Q. I have a question about getting a literary agency to represent you. I have been toying with the idea for some time, but I'm not sure if it's the right thing for me to do. I have to tell you that I'm not nuts about giving someone 15 or 20 percent of my money to handle my work and act as a bridge between writer and publisher. Is a literary agent really worth that much, or can a writer who puts his or her shoulder to the task do just as well? - Anon

The Editors:

Jeez, we thought you'd never ask! There are lots of thoughts on this subject, so let's cut right to the chase. Although many publishers still say publicly that they welcome un-agented submissions, in private everyone in the publishing industry knows that un-agented writers are usually that way because they can't find an agent to represent them. Why not? Because they're not good enough or they don't have "what it takes" to become a writer. Thus, in most editors' minds, an agent acts as something of a filter, screening out the chafe while letting the wheat flow through. Hey, that's how they feel; don't blame us!

In reality, there's something to be said for that rather narrow-minded viewpoint. Some people feel (and rightly so) that finding a good agent who will agree to represent you is tougher by far than finding a good publisher who agrees to produce your book. The reason is simply one of numbers. There are far fewer agents out there than there are working editors; therefore, the competition for an agent's services is keener.

That said, we feel it's our responsibility here to point out that a good agent does more than sit around all day, making a few telephone calls and asking if someone wants to publish your book. It starts with market research. Who's publishing what, when, and for how much money? What editors are working for XYZ Publishing House this week? Who replaced them at ABC Books last week? What genres do different editors specialize in? What is the current reader trend in literature? Which publishers are flush with money, and which are watching their purse strings? And then there's a whole new can of worms about Hollywood, book options, and publisher-producer tie-ins.

All of this might point up one more important fact: due to the increased technological strains placed on business relationships these days, a good agent has to know the difference between a good and a bad contract. If legal representation or advice is called for, the agent must know whom to ask and how much to pay for consultation or document preparation. And that's just before the agent's real work begins. Still to come: packaging up your proposal or manuscript, addressing and stamping it, sending it out, tracking its progress, evaluating any editorial correspondence upon its return, and then starting all over again.

Now, a writer certainly can do all of that himself. It's been done before, and it will be done again. The question is: can a writer do it so efficiently as an agent? And, even more importantly, does he want to? That's something every writer must answer for himself.

For a listing of literary agents openly receptive to new clients, check out the SCRIBE! Media Magazine of the American Society of Authors and Writers (http://amsaw.org/), which carries featured agents each month and provides an archives of several years' worth of formerly featured agents. To learn more about the non-profit media organization dedicated to bringing writers and other members of the production team together, check out http://www.amsaw.org/amsaw-benefits.html. - The Editors

Q. I knew I had written a fantastic novel. The story was different, exotic, interesting... Friends who read the manuscript told me how beautiful it was. That is why with the encouragements I took the chance to send it to the writing contest. Many months went by without ever hearing about it ... almost a year. My second novel was already half way through, until one morning I heard the great news: My name was in the paper. All this is to tell all fellow unknown writers in hope to be published to keep on writing, harder and harder, sooner or later, your work will be recognized. It takes time, but most of all, patience. Until the words you wrote are repeated, remembered by many. Since half of my story is happening in Spain, my novel has also been generously translated into spanish. I strongly believe now that it will go beyond boarders. - Geneviève Gaillard-Vanté author of Ombres du temps,(Sombras del tiempo, Shadows of Time) Prix Deschamps 2001, special 25th anniversary.


The Editors:

How right you are. Each and every day, we see signs of writers getting published, of good books going unnoticed. It all boils down to timing and marketing. If you write a quality product and keep it in circulation, sooner or later something good is bound to happen. Unfortunately, editors are not necessarily looking for the best writing or even the most inspired work. They're looking for what they think will sell six months to a year down the road, when their current "list" leaves the bindery headed for the warehouse. Perseverance pays.

Congratulations, Genevieve, and thanks for sharing. - The Editors

Q. So many writers around the world have talents and are waiting to be discovered. The sad news is that most editors won't take any risk to promote a new author. Which is perfectly understandable, especially in these so terrifying days. Best-sellers fly away at three digit copies in a few weeks too with contracts in Hollywood awaiting in line... The law of the offer and of the request. Now, for new authors, any solution? Keep up the good work all the way! And stay convinced of the good work! But most of all, it's time too for new editors experienced both in literature but especially in marketing to start taking interest in new talented authors. With a great strategy, just like promoting commercial brands, the magic will occur!

The Editors:
We couldn't have said it better, ourselves. We think. - The Editors

"Flattening Out" Your Characters

Every good book-length work of fiction has them; so, can that be bad?

Characterization. The word, itself, strikes fear into the hearts of trembling young novelists. What I'd like to know is ... why?

The characters in your fiction make the whole thing work. It doesn't matter how brilliant a plot you construct or how lively the action. It doesn't mean a thing if you paint the most glowing descriptive passages ever. The whole book isn't worth a tinker's damn if your characterization is flawed. Here's why.

People care about people. Or, at least, they want to. They may love them, they may hate them. But the bottom line is they're empathetic toward them. Even books that have non-people as their characters (remember Christine?) imbed those non-humans with human-like characteristics, making them, in effect, people.

So, what are some of the things our readers want to know about the characters in a book?

1.) Physical appearance. Readers like to be able to "see" the characters in their minds. That's where descriptive writing comes in. Take this description, for example:

Studley was small in size, 5-foot-nothing, with saucer-sized eyes that never seemed to close even when he slept. His nose was larger than normal, shaped like a walnut before it's husked, and his mouth turned down at one corner, down even farther at the other. His skin showed the color of concrete before water is added--ashen, dry, powdery, mildewed, with small blue and green flecks in it, like a piece of aged Stilton pocked with mold. He bore none of the features that could normally be called "striking." Yet, he held a twinkle in those saucer-eyes, a glow that displayed a love for life unlike any anyone else had ever seen before.

Contrast that with this:

Ruggles was the kind of guy you wouldn't look at twice, plain, average-looking, with little to set him apart from the average Joe.

2.) Internal makeup. This is the stuff that powers a character, that makes him go. It's what's inside, a character's character, and it can be a strong motivating tool. Check this out:

Sean had the kind of fire burning in his stomach that you read about. On days when everything went well, he was all fired up, burning, yearning for some action. On those other days, those days when everything turned to shit no matter how hard you tried to prevent it, he was worse. He carried the thought of revenge like a carpenter carries a tool belt, from one day to the next, from hour to hour, minute to minute. He was obsessed with the stuff. He never ate, drank, or slept without feeling it gnawing inside of him, trying to escape, like a rat chewing its way to freedom from inside a barn ... one angry, determined bite after another.

And now this:

Angelica was always upset. Nothing ever seemed to calm her down.

3.) Personal history. This is what your characters have experienced before the reader ever has a chance to meet them. It is, to a great degree, what determines their internal makeup (and sometimes, even, their physical appearance). For example:

Bartell's face lit up from within, not with a pleasant, warm, loving kind of glow, but with a maniacal fanaticism that threatened to devour him. In fact, it almost had. When he was just a kid loading hay in the mow, one of his brothers thought it would be fun to scare him. Bartell had always been afraid of fire. So, three days later, still wrapped in the nebulous protection of Intensive Care, the first of the bandages came off ... and eight months after that, after four attempts at covering the damage through plastic surgery, the last. There was little difference between the two unveilings. But there was a world of difference in Bartell. Staring at his grotesque, misshapen form in the mirror, he vowed not to get even. No, that would be too easy, too predictable. He vowed, instead, to remove the plague that had haunted him for most of his life. He vowed to share his misfortunes with his brother the best way he knew how.

And this:

Margo's life had been wrapped in sorrow ever since the accident. She walked with a limp still. And the anger she felt because of it followed her constantly.

What's it all about, you ask, Well, in each instance above, the longer, more elaborate descriptive detailing of the characters creates what's called a "rounded" character. It is someone the writer intentionally fleshes out. It is someone he wants to expose to the reader simply because that character is going to be pivotal within the story. He's there to make a difference. That character needs to be known and understood--pitied or admired, shunned or respected. Upon that character (and usually other nearly equally rounded characters within the story) lies the success of the writing.

But imagine what that writing would be like if every character that passed through your pages received the same rounded development. The bellboy who shows the young couple to their room ... the gas-station attendant who makes a four-paragraph appearance ... the priest saying mass one Sunday, never to be heard from again. What a slow, boring, agonizingly distracting read that would be!

That's where "flat" characters come in. Not only do flat characters receive less development than their rounded brethren, but they deserve less. Think of them as foils, human bridges to get from one scene or set of occurrences to the next. Then you'll see how ineffective giving them too much "roundness" would be to the overall flow of the story.

Flat characters serve to connect the dots in a work of fiction; but they also tend to enliven the rounded characters by their very comparison. You, as the writer, throw together a flat character; you spend tons of time developing a rounded character (not necessarily all at once, of course, but throughout the entire work). But in so doing, you automatically and instinctively trigger in the reader a feeling of which characters are most important (and, therefore, to which they need to pay the most attention) and which are little more than window dressing.

Make sense?

So, the next time you sit down to write a work of fiction, take the time to identify those characters who are rounded versus those who are flat. You'll find that characterization becomes much easier ... when you're not trying to make too much out of too little.

Having Trouble with Writer's Block? Try Quantity, Not Quality!

Do you find yourself sitting down to write the great American novel, only to find yourself staring at a blank screen for hours on end? Do you type a sentence or two, go back and read what you've written, then delete it only to start anew, over and over again? Do you find yourself trembling in fear of writing something unworthy of publication or even a quick read by another person?

If that's the case, then you are one of millions of writers currently suffering from writer's block. And one of the reasons you're experiencing it ... is that you're simply not writing.

Sound too obvious? Well, perhaps. But the big question is why aren't you writing? Chances are you're afraid of not doing it "right," not getting it "perfect." And that is a very dangerous mindset to have, indeed.

From the start, we need to get something clear. No writer writes what he wants exactly the way he wants it the first time around. Nada. No one. Yet, a major misconception among unpublished writers is that they have to crank out extraordinary quality each and every time a finger strikes a key. You can see how that expectation (not only unlikely, but virtually impossible to achieve) can poison a writer's production and stifle his or her style. So how do you defeat so nasty a literary habit?

Write.

Write often.

Write a lot.

The best way to get in the habit of writing is to sit down at your computer (or--ohmahgawd!--your typewriter), take a good long look at the clock, and figure out just how much uninterrupted writing time you're able to allow yourself. Fifteen minutes? Three hours? Whatever it is, set your timer to that time period. Then start writing and don't stop until the timer goes off.

What's that you say? You don't know what to write about? Is that your problem ... coming up with a topic?

Nonsense! You don't have to write about anything earth-shattering. You don't have to write something destined for publication. If you're looking for a topic, write about what happened to you yesterday. Or write about a major news story you heard this morning. Or about something you love ... or hate. Write about a person in your family whom you admire or respect. Write about a fellow employee you find particularly amusing. Write about a particularly memorable dream you once had. Write about ... well, you get the point.

And don't let those little mistakes in grammar or syntax or spelling get in your way. Remember: It's not what you write about or how you write it that's important to get you writing; it's that you write. (You can always go back later and rewrite to your complete satisfaction.) Once you come to understand that premise, you'll be amazed at how quickly writer's block flies out the window and productivity drifts on in.

As a bonus, you just might find yourself writing about something that triggers an idea for a short story, an article, or even a book. If so, all the better. But don't count on that happening, because that's not your goal.

So, the next time writer's block keeps your from writing, get out the timer. You'll find it a marvel for helping you turn out perfectly cooked three-minute eggs. You'll find it even more remarkable for helping you turn out perfectly written literature at the drop of a hat.

Marketing: Salesman, Sell Thyself!

It's a sad fact but true. The sale of literature has less to do with the ability to write well than it has with the ability to market well. This is not much different today than it was when I began writing some four decades ago (has it been that long?), although today the marketing dictum seems to be taken to the absurd.

Back then, as an eager young writer of nearly 14, I was crushed when I learned, in a face-to-face confrontation with seasoned editor Louis Zara, then heading up a major U.S. publishing house, the bitter truth: writing the book is easy; getting it published (i.e., selling it) is damned hard.

Today, successful writing revolves around what I call pre-sales. Whereas in the past, when you could walk into a publisher's office and sell yourself and your project on the spot and maybe end up getting a reading or even a publishing contract, today you can't even get in the front door. You can't, at least, unless you pre-sell yourself.

Sound too Orwellian for you? Don't turn me off yet. It's not so difficult as it sounds. Here's how to do it.

1.) Get a precis. I like the word and use it because it sounds professional, yet artsy. You may feel more comfortable calling it a resume or a list of credits. Don't have any credits to include? Oh, hell, that's easy enough to correct. If you're lacking writing credits (that is, by-lines), list auxiliary credits. Did you volunteer for the local library? Send a letter to the editor of your local newspaper, write something that was turned down by a major magazine? List them. (You needn't go into the fact that you didn't get your article published, only that you wrote it.) Any other media connections? In television, film, photography? If so, list them. Any media-related courses in high school or college? Any awards? Did you write your school's valedictorian speech? Address the local Y.M.C.A.? Teach tots to read? Receive honorable mention in writing- or journalism-related courses? Study the history of great writers throughout the world? If so, list them. I'm betting that, by the time you finish working up your first piece of pre-sales ammunition, you'll find you're a lot more impressive looking to a future publisher than you thought you were.

2.) Get more writing credits. If you think, "Well, that's easier said than done," I'm here to tell you otherwise. In these days of I-net publishing, it's actually very easy to do. You can write for the Web site of your local chamber of commerce, write reviews of products for hundreds of Web sites actively soliciting them, write movie reviews, set up your own Web site and self-publish your writings, or even write for your various writing organization e-sites (such as this one). So far as the print media goes, you can nearly always write "think" pieces for your local paper. Write travel pieces for small magazines that pay in contributor's copies. In short, do whatever it takes to get published and get by-lines, even if you're not getting rich. Those credits will look well on your professional precis.

3.) Get in touch. Decide where your writing heart is, where you're strongest (romantic novels, investigative reports, non-fiction children's books, sci-fi) and find a few good, professional publishers in that area. Then contact them with queries--regularly. Once a week ... once a month ... whatever. The point is to contact them often enough so that they come to know you're a writer, you are real, and you'renot going to go away. Let them know you're the kind of writer who writes the kinds of things they publish. That's not to say that you might not decide from time to time to wander into different genres and have to deal with different publishers. But for the most part, find those publishers who publish the kinds of things you want to write and make yourself known.

4.) Become affiliated. It makes editors at major publishing houses comfortable to know that you're a professional. That means they're not likely to give you a go-ahead to write a book on, say, identifying wild mushrooms, give you an advance, give you a deadline ... only to find months down the road that you failed to live up to your contract. As a former editor, myself, I can state without question that the writers at whom I looked most closely were those whom I thought were in it for the long haul. Writers who were members of the same societies as I, writers who were members of societies I hadn't yet managed to crash, writers with a long track record, or writers who showed through their very activism that they were serious about being writers always got my attention first. No editor wants to connect with a one-time wonder. It takes just as much money to publish a first novel by a writer who will deliver 14 more over the next decade as it does to promote a novelist who will produce one book and then disappear from the scene forever. See what I mean?

5.) Get an agent. This is the really tough part. Agents are so few and far between in comparison to writers that there are very few who are willing to sign on a new or unproven writer (unless the agent is also new and unproven). There are exceptions, of course, and you need to search them out. The value of having an agent is that the agent spends his time selling, while you get to spend your time writing. Agents, however, very much like publishers, look for quality writers ... but beyond that, they seek quality writers who are dedicated to their craft and guaranteed to be around for years to come. If you can do all of the above, I guarantee you, you'll find a good agent.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Getting Published: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to a By-Line Part I

It's not always easy, getting published; in fact, it's damned hard

Let’s face it. Getting published is a God-awful adventure. The process of turning a manuscript into a published document is a long and convoluted one and can happen in one of several ways, some even deliberate. This process is nearly the same whether marketing a book to a publishing house or a shorter work, such as an article or short story, to a magazine or newspaper, although some practical differences apply.

Book Marketing

When working on a book, a writer can approach marketing in one of two ways—as a bumbling idiot, the approach that most publishers seem to prefer—or as a successful entrepreneur, which is really what a freelance writer is. Either the writer can hold off on beginning the marketing process until the book is completed, or he can begin the marketing process before that point in time—in fact, before he’s even begun writing the book. That’s generally how seasoned writers market their works. There are a few good reasons.

First, publishers are notoriously slow in responding to queries or submissions. It’s not uncommon for an editor to keep a writer waiting for a response for from two or three weeks up to six months or longer. I once received a rejection slip from an editor nearly three years after the submission! I’d long since given up on hearing from him, assuming simply that he’d died. Who can afford to spend six months to a year working on a book—or even a couple of weeks on an article—with no income and no positive feedback to sustain himself?

Second, if you spend months of your life working on a project that simply has no market value (as in no one—and I mean no one—wants it!) and come up empty-handed, you’re not going to be a freelance writer for long.

Finally, even if you spend months working on a project, send it out, and have it accepted, you could still end up kicking yourself for not having marketed it sooner. Even the most receptive editor is likely to say something like, “Yeah, I really love this story. But I think Danny should be the murderer, and Rhonda should be the victim ... and she shouldn’t be a marine biologist, she should be an airline stewardess ... and you shouldn’t kill her off in Chapter 7, you should wait until the last paragraph. That way it builds suspense. If you can give me that, we’ve got a deal.”

Imagine how much more productive it would have been to have been told that right up front—before you’d spent a lifetime writing the entire book instead of producing a simple outline or synopsis to shop around. Get the picture?

Which brings up the approach that a really productive writer takes when writing a book: he starts with an outline, usually chapter-by-chapter. Then he condenses the outline into a synopsis, which is basically the entire story told in a few pages or less. Finally, he boils the synopsis down to a blurb—a few sentences that do the same thing as the synopsis, with less detail. The outline is for his own use. The synopsis will be sent to the publisher. And the blurb will be useful in creating an effective query letter—more about that later. But for now ...

The Search

A writer sets about the joyful task of locating a suitable publisher (which means any publisher who appears to be even remotely receptive) by finding those publishers who “fit” the genre or type of writing he’s working on. If it’s a non-fiction book, that might mean a publisher who specializes in Self-Help, How-To, Memoir, History, Biography, Personal Experience, Gardening, Computer Programming, Raising Earth Worms for Fun and Profit, or any one of a number of other subject areas to which the publisher has for some reason taken a liking. If it’s fiction, the publisher might want Action-Adventure, Sci-Fi, Humor, Detective, Romance (with its own list of built-in subcategories, including Contemporary Romance, Historical Romance, Fantasy Romance, Dirty-Dancing Romance, and on and on ad nauseum), etc.

Naturally, it’s absolutely critical that a writer fit the genre of his work to a publisher who is actively seeking that genre. A publisher who specializes in Romance will not, under any circumstances, even consider a Sci-Fi novel or a Mystery, no matter how good it is. Publishers develop specialized markets, called “niches,” into which their readers—and, even more importantly, their wholesale outlets, such as Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble retail stores--fall. Worse still, they stick to them.

One of the most successful examples of niche publishing is the Romance publisher, Harlequin (which is so associated with the genre that the name of the company was once Harlequin Romance). Harlequin now has several divisions, called “Imprints,” that specialize in different types of Romance fiction—Contemporary, Historical, Action, Fantasy, etc. For Harlequin even to consider a writer’s proposal, the novel would have to fit into one of those Romance subcategories. Miss the category, and the result is a sure, swift, and irrevocable kick in the ego. The same holds true with other, less specialized publishers.

Adding to the general difficulty of finding a suitable publisher, some houses change their “actively seeking” list more often than you change socks, depending upon the anticipated buying trends by the reading public for the upcoming publishing season. (Publishers usually produce new lists twice a year—spring and fall—when they introduce that season’s new work.)

For example, Publishers-R-Us might normally publish Action-Adventure, Sci-Fi, Mystery, and Western novels. But, because they recently hired a hot-shot editor who specializes in signing top-quality Literary novels or because the editor left his last job and brought four top-selling Literary novelists with him or even because Publishers-R-Us thinks that Literary novels will be the rage next season, they suddenly begin a search for the latter at the expense of the former. While they might not summarily reject an Action-Adventure or a Western novel that comes across the transom, they’re far more likely to pay more attention to Literary novels crossing their threshold—at least for as long as the in-house trend lasts.

Before submitting a book proposal to a publisher, then, a writer needs to be able to do a couple of things. He must first run some sort of search of all publishers seeking the same genre that he hopes to market so that he can eliminate the need to contact those who will reject his proposal outright (saving an enormous amount of time and effort in the process). Most writers begin their searches by checking the publishers’ market listings, the most popular of which is Writer’s Market, http://writersmarket.com/.

The Query or Book Proposal

Once a writer finds a likely target publisher, he works up a query letter, a cleverly named literary device that actually queries an editor to see if he’d be interested in reviewing the first few chapters of his coming book (say, The Devil’s Workshop). Please note: The query letter is just that, a letter. It is not a writer’s entire biography, nor is it a vehicle of condemnation of all other writers’ similar works. To be successful, it needs to distill the entire book into a few sentences so that the editor can quickly determine whether or not it’s something his publishing firm might be interested in (that’s where having created a “blurb” earlier comes in handy—and you thought I was merely being cute!). An example of a typical query letter:

October 3, 2007


Judd Reinhold
Publishers-R-Us
2222 First St.
Gallsworthy, TX 10330

Dear Mr. Reinhold:

I’m a freelance writer with several hundred article credits and dozens of short stories published in major magazines over the past 20 years. My book, The Devil’s Workshop, is the dramatic story of a man who makes a pact with the devil—not in exchange for untold wealth, health, love, or longevity, but in order to stimulate his mind (he loathes boredom and boring people). The devil agrees, and soon the man heads up the most powerful terrorist network in history.

But the man fails to anticipate his still human weaknesses and soon falls in love. The only problem: the woman is a CIA operative who has been assigned to paranormal investigations of terrorist links. When she learns from her lover who he really is and where he gets his power, she sets out to do the only thing her conscience will allow her to do—destroy him, even if it means making her own pact with the devil to do it.

The book is underway and estimated to be complete within eight months. It will be approximately 90,000 words long—more if my funds hold out. I’m enclosing a short synopsis and an SASE. Can I send you some sample chapters?

Sincerely,

Name,

Address


The writer then sends the query letter, synopsis, and SASE to the publisher and waits to hear some positive feedback. (By the way, novices send material UPS, Federal Express, or Special Delivery - Return Receipt Requested. Real writers send things First Class. Period!)

As an alternative to sending out a query letter and synopsis—which, as we’ve already seen, can take a lifetime to return and almost always results in a pre-printed rejection slip—some writers first contact an editor who seems a likely publishing candidate via e-mail, asking, in effect, if his publishing house might be interested in receiving a submission. The e-mail (which, of course, is much quicker to send and usually much quicker to receive back) might go something like this:

Dear Mr. Reinhold:

I have a remarkable story underway that should make extraordinary reading. It’s called The Devil’s Workshop. It’s the dramatic story of a man who makes a pact with the devil—not in exchange for untold wealth, health, love, or longevity, but in order to stimulate his mind (he loathes boredom and detests boring people). The devil agrees, and soon the man heads up the most powerful terrorist network in history.

But the man fails to anticipate his still human weaknesses and soon falls in love. The only problem: the woman is a CIA operative who has been assigned to paranormal investigations of terrorist links. When she learns from her lover who he really is and where he gets his power, she sets out to do the only thing her conscience will allow her to do—destroy him, even if it means making her own pact with the devil to do it.

Would you be interested in seeing more? I can send a synopsis and the first three chapters for your review.

Best,

Name,

Address



Although being quicker and less costly to send than a snail-mail proposal, the e-mail query is not acceptable to all editors. This is because most still live in the Middle Ages where correspondence and submissions are concerned and demand that hard copy be delivered via snail-mail. But for those editors who do accept e-mail queries, it’s the way to go in order to minimize wasted time and effort.

A word of caution: Don’t assume that, if e-mailing an editor is quick, telephoning is even quicker. It is, but only if you’re looking for the shortest route to the unemployment line. Unless a publisher’s market listing specifically requests that writers call with ideas, avoid doing so at all cost. Most editors are far too busy to take calls from hopeful writers looking for a quick and painless way into print, and they avoid those writers like botulism.