5 Secrets to Keep You in the Game

The writing game is really, really easy to quit. Maybe it's because your first novel always sucks but, like an American Idol first-rounder, you have no idea. Maybe it's because you need to write a million words before you start writing good ones. Maybe it's because you get rejected 100 times before something clicks and you understand why.

I don't mind if people quit -- less competition for me. But since you guys keep coming back and saying such nice things, I'm going to tell you a few secrets to keep you in the game.

It's okay to rehash old plots. I quit for almost a decade because I rewrote The Fellowship of the Ring without realizing it. Granted that novel would never have sold as written. But I could have worked the story and reworked it. I could've injected it with other rehashed plots, original twists, and my own voice until it was something fresh. Everything's been done and will be done again. Don't let that stop you.

Your first draft will suck. Write it anyway. Everything bad can be made good with revision. Even something good can be made better. But you can't revise a blank page.

Everything can be deleted. That clever turn of phrase? Gone. That supposedly-important chapter? Don't need it. That boy you thought was the protagonist, but actually this girl over here is far more interesting? Delete him. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is necessary. Everything can be cut. Try it and see.

Your first story will not be published. Harsh? Yeah, but it's better for you to know now. Don't let it stop you. Try and get published anyway, because the stuff you learn from failing will help you too. Who knows? You might get lucky. But don't be surprised when your dreams are shattered, cutting your bare feet on the floor.

You have more than one story in you. A lot of folks learn the previous truth the hard way then get bitter, decide the game is rigged. It's not rigged, it's hard. The only way to keep your hopes from piling up on a story that can't sustain them is to write another story. And another one after that. If your dream is to get published, then keep writing until it happens. Who knows? Maybe you can pull that first story back out of the gutter, rinse it off, cut it up, and try again.

How about you? Got any secrets?

That Thing Where I Draw: Novice Suriya

No, this isn't Aang (though she does live at a temple, and she is, for all intents and purposes, firebending). I've paused work on Cunning Folk to implement Air Pirates Plan B, but Suriya's story is still bouncing around my head in pictures like this one.

So after fleeing the villages and ditching Anna (a decision she's still not sure was the right one), Suriya takes refuge at a Buddhist temple in the countryside. It becomes almost a home to her, the first place she has felt safe since she was little. But it's only temporary -- someone will find her eventually.

When she sees a vision of bounty hunters burning the temple to the ground, looking for her, she wonders if she should trust the monks with her secret.

5 Things I'm Proud Of (Sort Of)

1. Won a 99-minute round of Super Smash Bros. (MattyDub and I played only because that's how high the timer went, and we wanted to see if we could do it).





2. Watched all three Lord of the Rings' movies in one sitting (extended versions).





3. After a 3.5-day fast, finished an entire El Champion plus chips and salsa. (Though I didn't eat anything else for another 24 hours).





4. Can play the theme songs of Laputa, Crystalis, and Firefly.





5. Once out-ate a guy twice my size on a trip to Mexico. I finished his dinner for him too. The next morning, while he was cradling his belly and waving off breakfast, I made a fat burrito and ate it in front of him with a smile.

So that's mine. What lame accomplishments are you proud of?

The Slow Death of a Literary Agent

Average American
You are an average American. You sleep 8 hours, eat 2.5 hours a day, work 40 hours a week, and commute a quarter of an hour each way.* The rest of your time is split pretty evenly between things you Have To Do (cooking, cleaning, fixing things, buying things...) and things you Want To Do (watching TV, reading, playing guitar, having a social life, etc).

* Those last two are actually below average, but I'm being generous with the numbers in this post to make a point.

No Response Means No
You decide you want to be a literary agent. That means, in addition to your regular work hours which make money, you have to read query letters. Thinking a query letter is something like a resume -- you send it out widely and only hear back if you get an interview -- you adopt a "no response means no" policy.

Still, it takes you an average of 3 minutes to read and make a decision on each query. Getting through 200 queries a week, plus partials and fulls, means 12 extra hours of work. Fortunately you weren't very good at guitar anyway. And you probably don't have to see a new movie every week.

Form Rejections
Writers, you discover, are needier than the average job seeker. Without a response, they pester you endlessly wondering if you've gotten to their query yet. After talking to your agent buddies you adopt a form rejection policy. Copying/pasting everything, including the author's name and their book title, takes an extra minute per query -- over 3 hours more each week. No big deal, but it does mean you have to stop watching those reality shows.

Improved Form Rejections
After a few years of interacting with writers on your blog (which you do now instead of going out Saturday night), you decide form rejections aren't enough. You're eager to give writers what they want, so you personalize your rejections -- not all the way, of course, but since a query usually gets rejected for one of a few reasons, you create five "personalized" form rejection letters.

What you didn't realize was how difficult it is to stop and analyze every query for why it doesn't appeal to you. And some queries don't even fit into your categories. It ends up taking another 2 minutes per query, leaving you with only 4 hours of "Want To Do" time a week. You survive though, trading sleep so you can play Halo or read a book occasionally.

Personalized Rejection
It's still not enough. Instead of being thankful for your help, the writers are arguing with you over why you didn't like their story! Years later you'll learn it's just human nature, that it's hard NOT to defend your work even when faced with hard evidence. For now, you decide you'll write truly personalized rejections. It takes a while -- about 10 minutes per query, actually -- but it's worth it if it helps writers improve their craft.

Of course everything you eat is ordered online now, weekends are something that happen to other people, and cleaning is right out (and you can't afford a maid, of course, because you're not getting paid for any of this). But finally the writers will be satisfied.

Won't they?

Books I Read: The Graveyard Book

Title: The Graveyard Book
Author: Neil Gaiman
Genre: YA Horror/Fantasy
Published: 2008
Content Rating: PG for scary situations

An orphan grows up in a graveyard, raised by ghosts, but is the man who killed his family still after him? (This, by the way, is what we call a high concept novel).

I love Neil Gaiman. Love, love, love, love. He's got this gift of turning the mundane into something magical, while simultaneously making the fantastic seem perfectly reasonable. So even when the climax felt slightly predictable -- essentially each element of the boy's life came into play to help him win -- it was so much fun I didn't care. (Besides which, the resolution mattered more to me than the climax. It's not like I ever thought Bod would lose.)

I'd recommend this to pretty much everyone. I'm even going to read it to my kids, but... probably not until they can handle scary better. I'm still having trouble telling the Passover story in a "this is scary but it's okay" kind of way.

The 3 Laws of Critiques

Often I'll have doubts about some section of a story, but I'll send it out for critique anyway. I hope it's good enough and nobody will say anything. The First Law of Critiques tells us why this doesn't work.

#1: If you think a story has a problem, others will too.

Other times I send out work too soon because I secretly want my critiquers to do my work for me. Just tell me all the problems -- those I know and those I don't -- and I'll fix them. But no critiquer can identify ALL the problems of a manuscript. In a story plagued with bad characterization, a critiquer won't notice subtle plot holes, and they'll completely ignore line-edits (that will likely be rewritten anyway). Thus we have the Second Law of Critiques.

#2: A single critique can only tell you about the most glaring problems.

So a critique comes back with problems you knew about. You just fix them and send it back asking for more, right? Well, no. You already know that when you've worked on a story for too long, you become blind to what's wrong with it. The same thing happens to critiquers who are asked to read the same story over and over.

#3: A critiquer's usefulness decreases with each revision they look at.

This is why it's a good idea to have multiple critique rounds, with different critiquers each round. But there are only so many people in the world willing and able to critique your stuff, which leads us to the point of this post.

Corollary: If you fix all the problems you can BEFORE sending out your work, the critique will improve your story and your craft beyond what you are able to do alone.

If you don't, you're wasting both your time and your critiquer's.

* NOTE: Professional editors and agents are capable of reducing the effects of the Second and Third Laws. Though, I would argue they are still subject to them, in the same way space shuttles are subject to gravity.

Nothing Like a Fat Man Dancing for His Dinner

For some reason, our culture has it in our heads that when we give somebody money, they are then in our debt. If I deign to grace a restaurant with my service, they sure as heck better do everything I ask. My taxes pay the salary of my kid's teacher, so they need to give my kid a break when I tell them to.

And I've invested time and money into [Famous Author's series], so they'd better deliver the story I want.

Guys, it's not like that. All the restaurant owes you for money is food. If you don't like the way they serve it, you leave. If you don't like the way your kids are being taught, you take them out of public school (or suck it up, because seriously, the teacher also pays taxes; that's just like the worst excuse for entitlement ever).

And if a book disappoints you, or a sequel isn't out and you've been waiting for years and oh my gosh doesn't the author realize how much you personally have invested in this series and WHY THE HECK ARE THEY BLOGGING ABOUT A BASEBALL GAME WHEN THEY SHOULD BE WRITING?!

Sorry.

You get it, right? The author does not owe you anything. They are not your personal entertainer singing for their dinner. Unless you paid them a four-to-six figure advance, they're going to write what they want to write, and you are welcome to buy it or not when it's done.

And if you don't like it, return it. I mean, as long as that stupid system is in place, might as well use it, right?