self-analysis
I Need a New Category for Myself
I’m not particularly girly. While I wear makeup and the occasional skirt and high heels, I’ve never had a manicure. I don’t get excited over things like shopping sprees and spa getaways. I’m not crafty, and I don’t knit. If people are coming over (I can’t say I’m having a party, because I can’t think of the last time that happened), the last thing that occurs to me is decorating or making a cute centerpiece.
But I’m not a tomboy, either. I played soccer when I was a kid, and I don’t mind watching football games with my mom now and then. Like I said, though, skirts and heels and makeup aren’t foreign to me. I never had that comfortable buddy-buddy relationship with guys that goes along with the tomboy stereotype.
Yes, I just answered my own question. These ideas of “girly” and “tomboy” that I’m working off of are stereotypes. That doesn’t change the fact that I see/meet people who seem to fit in with one or the other, and I don’t quite identify.
What do I identify with? Seems to depend on what group I’m with at the time.
When I’m hanging out with authors, I often feel like the math-geek. At least, that’s the role I seem to play. And that definitely plays into my author side, with the whole science fiction angle and everything.
When I’m with other math teachers, I feel like the weirdo who actually knows how to spell and talk about things like “tightening prose” and whatnot. (Doesn’t mean there aren’t others who know, too … but they tend to keep it to themselves.)
Am I normal in this? Is that what we do? Feel like the trait that most defines us is the one least like those around us at that moment?
What does all this rumination imply for the characters I write? Hopefully that even when a character has some traits that fall solidly within a stereotype, they also have other layers adding nuance and complexity.
That’s what people are, right? Complicated and hard to categorize.
In other words … I’m normal and can stop worrying now.
Speak up:
1 commentIs There Such a Thing as "Bad"?
From the Department of Uncomfortable Questions:
Is there such a thing as bad writing?
Let’s assume we’re not talking about misspellings galore, egregious grammar gaffes, and other such technical things that make it about as comprehensible as the typings of Pika the kitten. Let’s say we’re talking only about manuscripts that have been through the world’s best spelling and grammar checks.
Then, is there such a thing as “bad”? When discussing things like voice, style, plotting, character, and all that makes fiction worth reading, is there a minimal level of competence? Some magic line below which is an auto-reject and above which is a “well, it depends”?
Do we do ourselves damage when we assume it’s all just subjectivity, rather than making the effort to improve our craft?
Do we do ourselves damage when we assume our writing is crap, rather than acknowledging our strengths and the fact that we can’t please everyone?
If there is a line, even a murky one, how do we find it? Our gut? Honest critique partners? I’m guessing “murky” is a key word there. Really excellent writing seems easy enough to identify, whether it’s our thing or not. I know I’ve had the experience of reading something and thinking, “Wow, this is so well-written. I’m just not into (insert genre here).” Likewise, writing that’s super-far off the mark is easy to spot.
But that pesky gray area in the middle … what about that?
Lots of questions and no real answers this time around. What are your thoughts?
Speak up:
2 commentsAccepting When You’re the Buck-Stopper
You know the saying—the buck stops here. A simple phrase, easily understood. It means recognizing when the responsibility for something lands squarely on ourselves.
In the realm of the aspiring writer, rejection is the norm. We’ll all experience more rejection than acceptance (although hopefully, the magnitude of the acceptance makes up for the sheer number of rejections). There are also a lot of possible reasons for the rejections. Some are within our control. Some aren’t.
When we’re not getting any nibbles, we need to consider all the possible reasons. Here are some that we may like telling ourselves to feel better, and they may even be true.
It’s all subjective. Yes, it is, to a large degree. What one person loves, another may hate. (Just ask my sister.) Maybe the agents you’ve tried so far just aren’t into your premise, but if you keep trying, you’ll find one who feels that resonance.
The agent’s not really looking for new clients. Well, maybe. Kind of. Personally, I think most agents who are open to queries really are hoping to find new clients. BUT … a modified version of this may apply if the agent already has a manuscript to shop that’s in a similar vein to yours.
The agent was in a bad mood when going through hundreds of queries. Possible, I suppose. Call me an optimist, but I like to think most agents are professional enough to keep moods out of it. But they’re human, they’re not perfect, so it could happen. Perhaps more likely is unfortunate timing. If an agent is seeing several queries in a row with similar premises—most of them badly done—and then comes across your similarly-themed query, they might be too burned out on the concept to recognize your fresh take.
All those reasons shift the responsibility away from us. That’s kind of appealing, right? “It’s not MY fault I’m not getting nibbles.” Appealing, but dangerous, because here’s the thing:
The Buck Stops HERE.
Let’s face it. It’s WAY more likely that the reason we’re not getting nibbles is our fault in some way. Here are a few candidates to consider:
The query sucks. This is even more basic than not finding that magical, evasive, perfect query. Glaring errors. Weak writing. Newbie mistakes. Do your homework, get your rear-end kicked by knowledgeable people (such as those over at AgentQuery Connect), and get the basics right.
The premise is stale. Maybe the actual premise isn’t stale, but in the query, it might come across as a tired old rehash of something that’s been done. The query needs to highlight what’s fresh and awesome in your story.
The un-sucky query isn’t doing its job. Getting a well-written query that follows the rules is only the baseline. A query’s job is to COMPEL. It must compel the recipient to read more. That’s probably what I see lacking most often in queries I critique. The writing and set-up are okay, but it leaves me flat. It doesn’t grab me and say, “You must read this!”
The sample pages are letting you down. This is a tricky one, because it can overlap with the idea of subjectivity a LOT. But this is where it all has to come together. Your voice, your technique, your style, your plotting choices, your characters … they all need to sing in gorgeous harmony. One piece off-key can mean a quick rejection.
That last one can be the hardest. It’s easy to say queries are hard. Figuring them out is a whole new learning curve from writing a novel. But it can come down to something as simple and frightening as this:
It might be the writing.
Maybe we’re not ready. Maybe our skills need a touch more development.
We have to be open to this. If we’re not, we won’t take the next step—working harder to improve.
Maybe it’s one of the other reasons—the reasons that are out of our control. Personally, I choose to assume I need to make my work better, because in the end, that attitude will do my writing the most good.