Seeing Red? How to Respond to Your Editor

Posted on September 6, 2013 ·

First, breathe.

It’s not easy being edited. When you first view your work with an editor’s changes/comments/criticisms, there will be a moment when your heart freezes, and then it will start to burn. This is normal. Do not respond.

Throughout the day, you will compose imaginary emails and engage in silent conversations where you defend your art against the insult of Track Changes. Because obviously this editor just doesn’t get you. You meant to be evasive in paragraph two; you wanted to sound ironic in your closing phrase.

Go ahead and rant silently. Your children may stare in confusion as you mutter and burst into occasional mirthless laughter, your spouse may disappear into the bathroom. They know you’re a writer, that you’re a little strange sometimes. They’ll forgive you.

As the evening goes on, you’ll whittle down your editor’s suggestions to the ones that bothered you most; they’ll play over and over again and the thought of implementing them will make you feel like crying. Pay attention. These are the changes you have to make.

The others, the ones that don’t hurt or merely sting, will categorize themselves:

  • Confirmed—I knew that sentence didn’t feel right.
  • Enlightened—I didn’t realize this wasn’t clear, but I see the problem.
  • Embarrassed—Did I actually write that?
  • Opposed—I see what she’s saying, but this phrase is important.

It may take a few days to get to this point. Wait until you’re there. If you have to, send your editor a polite email explaining that you’re reviewing her comments and working through them. She’ll understand.

When you can think of her with gratitude (she did save you from using the word “just” three times in one page) and remember that she wants your work to be its absolute best (it is also a reflection of her, after all), then you’re ready to respond.

While you’re drafting your reply, don’t be surprised to realize that out of the dozen changes you thought you couldn’t live with, there are now only two.

And when she answers you, don’t be surprised if she says, “I can live with that.”

What’s your experience working with editors? How long do you wait to respond?

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

Let’s (Not) Talk About Sex

Posted on August 30, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by cheerfulmonk

Image from Flickr by cheerfulmonk

Last month, a magazine called Bartleby Snopes published my short story “The Dinosaur Graveyard.” It’s a partly fictional story about first love and the fleeting quality of memory, and there’s plenty of sex. So which parts are fictional?

I’m not telling.

We’re all grown ups here. Honestly, I’m not embarrassed writing about sex, because when I write I’m not thinking about publication. I’m thinking about the story, and how to stay true to it. For nonfiction, that means staying tethered to memory even as you drift far enough away to examine it from the outside. For fiction, it simply means staying true to your characters.

The moment a story is accepted for publication is when I start picturing my family reading it. And that’s not a pretty picture if the story is a sexy one. There’s my dad to think about (cringe), and my brother (thank God he’s not on Facebook).

It’s ridiculous, of course. They both know perfectly well how children are made, and that I have two. They both know the definition of fiction, and that not everything I write is based on—ahem—experience.

Still, it’s awkward, and no one addresses this in a more funny or eloquent way than Barbara Kingsolver. In a March 2000 essay for The New York Times, the famous novelist confessed that unlike her previous books, her upcoming Prodigal Summer (HarperCollins 2000) had lots of sex, and she worried how she’d be judged:

I’ve begun to think about the people who will soon be sitting in their homes, on airplanes and in subways with their hands on this book. Many people. My mother, for instance.

. . . I’ve written about every awful thing from the death of a child to the morality of political assassination, and I’ve never felt fainthearted before. What is it about describing acts of love that makes me go pale?

It’s comforting to know I’m not alone. What I’m reminded of is me as a little girl having sneezing fits in the car when George Michael came on the radio:

George Michael: I want your—
Me: Achoo! ACHOO!
My mother: Goodness! Are you okay?

I’m not a little girl anymore, but some things never change. So when I published the link on Facebook to my story, I added a warning for my family’s benefit: “Rated R for sexual content.”

I felt kind of silly doing it, but I’m only following Kingsolver’s advice. Among her suggestions on how to make peace with coition in writing is, “We must warn our mothers before the book comes out.”

Do you ever feel nervous about your family reading your work, even when it’s fiction? Share your story with me, and don’t forget to subscribe. 🙂

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , ,

How to Trick Yourself into Writing

Posted on August 23, 2013 ·

Once, when I was about five, my mother tried convincing me to color a picture so she could get some housework done. She laid out a coloring book and a handful of bright crayons sure to tempt any little girl into 30 minutes of quiet, non-disruptive activity.

But I wasn’t tempted.

Eventually, my mother gave up on her work and sat at the table. “Hmmmm,” she murmured. She slid the coloring book closer. She paged through it, fascinated, and exclaimed over something I couldn’t see. I crept closer, wondering what could be so interesting, but she shifted in her chair, blocking my view. Then she chose a crayon and began to color.

I rounded the table and sat beside her. Her hand swished across the paper as she meticulously shaded her picture with long light strokes. My pictures never looked like that. I wanted to try too. I reached for a crayon. “I’m using those,” she said without looking up. “Just go ahead and do what you were doing, honey.”

I was crushed; how badly I wanted to color! Coloring was the only thing in the world that would make me happy! I sat in anguish until she finished her picture. Then she turned to me, smiled and said, “Do you want to color one for me?”

Of course I did.

Perspective is everything. Remember Mary Poppins’ “Spoonful of Sugar”? When writing begins to feel like a chore and you’ve lost your inspiration, try turning your perspective on its head. Here are a few tricks to get you started:

Limit your writing time. If you have six hours a day to write, block off three hours. If you have four hours, block off two. Force yourself to use the rest of the time doing laundry, running errands, paying bills, etc. You’ll spend that time wishing you were writing, and realize it’s not such a chore after all.

Change your space. If you write in your home office, move your laptop to the dining room. If you write at a coffee shop, try the library. Instead of playing classical music, switch to rock and roll. Different lighting, sounds, smells—these elicit a different response and turn what was routine into something new and interesting.

Picture your favorite writer at work. My mother infused mystery and longing into the act of coloring a picture because she was doing it instead of me. I was five; anything she did was worthy and important.

Now picture a writer you admire and imagine him at his desk, typing away or scrawling outlines for his next brilliant manuscript. He has the same tools you do: a keyboard, a pencil, a stack of paper. Imagination and the need to tell stories. Embody that spirit, and start writing.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

The Secret to Social Media

Posted on August 16, 2013 ·

Writers love to rant about the (undignified! soul-sucking!) task of social media promotion. I’m sure at some point I’ve used those very words (blush).

But here’s the thing: when you stop thinking about it as promotion, and give yourself permission to have fun, it’s kind of, well, fun.

Of course, I just started; my Facebook account is four years old, but my Twitter, Goodreads, and Pinterest accounts (not to mention this blog) are babies.

It’s funny—now that I’ve figured out how to format a blog, scan Flickr for Creative Commons photos and attribute them correctly, and quell the anxiety of hitting “publish” without the validation of an editor, I find that blogging doesn’t take much time. What takes time is researching topics like

  • should fiction writers blog?
  • what should fiction writers blog about?
  • aren’t writers just blogging to other writers?
  • how do I keep my chocolate chip cookies from getting all crunchy around the edges?

Whoops, never mind that last one.

Anyway, if I’d applied those hours toward blogging, I could have started a year ago. And this article from The Write Life by Chuck Sambuchino silences the question of whether fiction authors need a web presence.

You’re supposed to ease into social media, but that’s what they say about gardening, too. And my family was so excited about our first, we bought an abundant, crazy mix of seeds and scattered them wherever we felt like it. That was our most fruitful garden; since then, we’re lucky to grow zucchini (and anyone can grow zucchini).

So I plunged in, and here’s my take so far:

Pinterest

Ah, I get it now. As a writer, I’d forgotten the pure joy of expressing emotions solely through visual imagery. I remember doing it as a child—with stickers on my school binders, magazine pages lining my bedroom walls and dreamy abstracts floating on my computer screen. With Pinterest, you can create boards that reflect the things you care about, and you never have to say a word.

Goodreads

What I love most about this site, so far, is I have one place to list my “to be read” books. Now I can collect all the scraps of paper, sticky notes, and electronic lists buried in my phone, and shelve those titles in Goodreads. Voila! A book lover’s dream.

Twitter

This was supposed to be my favorite, because that’s what everybody says. I do like Twitter—there’s something about the immediacy of it that’s freeing—but it’s confusing. I tried learning it before tweeting, but on Twitter it’s easier to learn by doing. There’s no real fear of judgment; people are just cool. And it moves so fast, no one’s going to hold it against you if you, like I did at first, respond instead of retweet, or whatever. It’s all good.

Facebook

After being on Twitter, Facebook feels like watching life in slow motion. But that has its moments.

Blogging

My personal favorite. This has been a shock—I worried about the time it would take to blog (see above), I worried no one would read my blog . . . now I know it’s about perspective. If you enjoy doing it, the rest is just icing. And since I enjoy writing (and am used to doing it for free), blogging doesn’t feel like wasting time at all.

Still, comments are nice 😉 Got one to share?

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,
« Previous Page