The Author’s Skin: Part 2

I wrote previously about how writers respond to criticism of their work.  There’s another reason to make sure our skin is thick enough, though: If you’re in the public eye, people might go after more than your work.

Think of all the things about you or your personal life people could make fun of or attack.  Your appearance, social status, ethnicity, religion … I’ve got a mental list of “easy targets” ready and waiting.

I could save the late-night talk show hosts some time and money by writing the jokes myself.

Where do we draw the line between standing up for ourselves and ignoring people who just want to get a rise out of us?  How do we keep ourselves from taking it personally when it is personal?

Since I halfway expect it, I think I’d just brush it off as ignorance.  I’d also want to try to educate people, to counteract that ignorance, but it’s tricky.  Of course, I won’t really know unless I ever get into that situation, though online communities have given plenty of small-scale practice.

Last thing I want is to become known as the author who blew up over a supposed personal affront.

I’d rather be known as the author who wrote great books and conducted herself in a classy manner.  Anyone else?

Name Soup

How many characters can we absorb at a time?

In working on query letters and pitches, I’ve become conscious of the “name soup” that can happen when too many characters are crammed into that tiny space.  Like a party in a tiny apartment, there’s no elbow room and no way to keep track of who’s who.

What about in the novel itself, though?  How many new characters can we introduce before the reader needs time to breathe and process?

I suspect part of the answer lies in how we introduce them.  Don’t start a ticker-tape parade for a minor character who serves a limited function for a few pages.  Conversely, if the character is important, they need to stand out.

I wonder how much genre and audience play a role.  Do readers expect a large cast of players in certain books?  Readers of sci-fi and fantasy will be more prepared for strange names than readers of a modern-day crime thriller.  What about the number of names to keep track of?

Speaking of strange names, we can make up the craziest names we want, but let’s make them pronounceable.  Even if the reader might assume a different pronunciation than we intend, it needs to be possible to come up with something.  Too many fantasy novels evoke my “Pat, I’d like to buy a vowel” reaction.

Now that I’ve posed the question, I’m going back to check the first scene at the foster home.  Have I thrown too many names in too small a space?  Hopefully not.

Blinders

What is it about our own work that makes it so hard to see problems?

Granted, it’s not always the case.  I’ll often write a sentence and know immediately that I hate it.  If I can’t figure out a better way to word it at that moment, I’ll let it stand, knowing I’ll be able to hash out something better when I return.

Sometimes I read others’ work and wonder, “How could they not spot that doozy?”  Yet I’m sure I overlook similar problems in my own work.

Nothing brings you down to earth like having one of your fifteen-year-old students spot a typo for you.

The scientific part of me wonders exactly what’s behind these authorial blinders.  In matters of typos and missing words, I’m sure our familiarity with the material causes us to fill in the gaps.  What about those big gaps in logic, though?  Or glaring inconsistencies?

How do we miss those?  And how can we help ourselves by taking those blinders off?

Looking for Logic

There is some debate about whether any unpublished writer is qualified to critique the work of another.  When it comes to genre-specific conventions or highly technical aspects, maybe not.  But other areas are fair game.

I know not every writer is also a math teacher.  (Okay, hardly any are.)  Still, any literate person should be able to identify where logic fails — things that make you go, “Huh?”

If these show up in my writing, I hope someone would point them out for me.  All examples have been made up by me, though I’ve seen similar in my own writing and others’.

Continuity Errors
With an effort, Grandpappy lowered his aching bones to sit in the comfort of his rocking chair.
[5 lines later, during which Grandpappy does not stand up]
The doting granddaughter supported him by the arm so he could sit in the chair his father had lovingly crafted so many years ago.

Being unemployed was doing a number on Stella’s self-esteem.
[a chapter later, during which Stella does not get a new job]
Stella supposed being kidnapped by aliens was a satisfactory reason for missing work.

Contradictory Language
Before he even began considering alternate transportation, Trent developed a variety of jetpacks, maglev skis, and hovercars.
[Pretty sure Trent was considering alternate transportation when he came up with those Jetsons-style contraptions.]

“If you want this done right, I’m your man,” Freddie said humbly.
[Do I have a different definition of “humble” lying around?]

Any other examples of things that make you go, “Huh?”

Enter 2010

I’m not a New Year’s Resolutions type.  If I need to change something in my life, why wait ’til January 1st?  I do, however, think the turnover is a nice time to take stock.

What got done this year?  What still needs to get done?

I can tell you one thing.  On January 1, 2009, I had no idea I’d finish the year with a completed novel, let alone thoughts of getting it published.

This year, I wrote Fingerprints and slowly started educating myself on the publication process.  Things shifted into high-gear (and high-reality) when I joined Authonomy and then AgentQuery Connect.

Now I know more than I realized I didn’t know before.  I’ve got a decent query letter ready to go out (I hope), a solid synopsis … and, oh yeah, there’s already a promising partial out there.  (Everybody, cross your fingers, please.)

What will 2010 bring?  No telling, really.  But I can hope for an agent and more progress on the road to publication.  Maybe entering ABNA (or maybe not).  Definitely finishing the sequel to Fingerprints.

There’s always my day job, too.  Getting more kids to learn math and hate it a little less, if I can help it.

I hope the new year brings lots of good things for all of us … May we all have the energy we need to get the work done!

Drawing the Line

As a writer, where is the line between self-confidence and self-delusion?

We must have some confidence in our work.  If we don’t, why should anyone else?  If we want to be published, we need to “sell” it to an agent, a publisher, and ultimately the public.

Feedback shouldn’t necessarily lead directly to changes (see previous post).  Sometimes we need to stand by what we wrote and the way we wrote it.  Sometimes we won’t take a suggestion, but it leads us to another idea that we run with.  All good things.

When do we cross that line to thinking our book is the best ever, and nothing anyone says gets through our thick skull?

How much harder is it to be realistic when much of your feedback comes from people with ulterior motives?  Maybe other authors who want to engage in mutual back-scratching.  Maybe friends and family who see everything you do through those wretched pink spectacles.  (Note the sorry attempt at avoiding cliché.)

If we refuse to believe it when someone tells us our book needs major work, will we ever get the message?  Won’t agents hit Auto-Reject, and we’ll never know why?  What will it do to us to spend years failing to publish the greatest masterpiece of all time?

Where do we find the balance between humility and confidence?

(I think it’s safe to say the balance is way off when one refers to their novel using a gender-specific pronoun.)

What do we do when our own blindness is the cause of our failure?

POD, I guess.