Getting Into the Groove

I just received a really nice note from a Goodreads friend named Alex who has the itch to write but doesn't know how to start.

We've all been there, haven't we? Think about all the skills you've learned over your lifetime--reading, riding a bike, cooking a pot of pasta, driving a car--and what it felt like at first. The word that comes to my mind is overwhelming. I remember, vividly, my first driving lesson: hands on the wheel trying to steer, foot on the gas (or brake, more often), eyes bouncing from the road to the mirrors to the dashboard, my brain on overload. It seemed impossible that I would ever be able to drive with ease. But eventually I did--and I never would have if I hadn't gotten behind the wheel in the first place.

And so it is with writing. You'll learn by doing. The trouble is that learning to write, or learning to create any kind of art, feels different than other skills because our thoughts and feelings are so exposed. Emotionally, there's more at stake. We're afraid of appearing idiotic or dull to others--or, even worse--to ourselves. Spoiler alert: No matter who you are, at one time or another both are going to happen. But you will also experience moments of joy when you turn out work that surpasses your expectations. If ups and downs are a given for all of us, why not stop fretting and just get to work?

Whether you're picking up a pen for the first time or returning after a long hiatus, here are a few baby steps to help you get into the groove. 


Step 1.  Buy yourself a beautiful notebook and a bunch of your favorite pens. 

Even if you think you'd rather work on a computer, I urge you not to skip this step. For the first several months it's best to stick with paper and pen. Nothing is more discouraging than a blinking cursor, or more distracting than knowing the Internet is just a tab-click away. Lovely paper and a smooth-writing pen are a pleasure to use. By purchasing good writing materials, you are making a commitment to taking yourself seriously as a writer.


Step 2.  Schedule your writing time.

No matter how busy you are, I guarantee you can find ten minutes a day to write. You can either block out the same time every day or you can choose to be flexible--as long as your ten minutes are done by bedtime. No excuses. For the first month, I recommend sticking to ten minutes only. Even if you're on a roll and could write for an hour, shut it down after ten minutes. It's always best to stop when you're hot--it makes it a lot easier to sit down and write the next day. In fact, it will make you look forward to writing the next day. Getting the motivation to sit down and write is half the battle.

After the first month or so, up your time to fifteen minutes. Then twenty. Settle into a block of time that is comfortable for you. Most writers I know only write for a maximum of about four hours a day. How long you write for is less important than keeping a consistent schedule. Some writers insist that you must write every day. Personally, I take weekends off. If your schedule allows you to only write on weekends, do that.


Step 3.  Give yourself permission to be bad. 

Oh, the hours I wasted, staring at a blank screen, afraid to write a single bad sentence! It would have been so much better to just give myself permission to write the worst possible sentence and then fix it later. You can't edit what isn't there. Every writer writes junky first drafts. The real art, the real skill is in the editing. You have to write garbage--a lot of it--to get to the good stuff. To learn how to write, you'll need to be a garbage-producing machine. In my college oeuvre of junk-writing I produced a schmaltzy story entitled "Pink Soap and Lilacs", that still makes me want to gag whenever I think about it. I will not be sharing the awful details of this particular story with you, which brings me to the next step:


Step 4.  Don't share with anyone--yet.

As you begin to churn out your requisite pile of word-sludge you may suddenly strike gold. You might suddenly hit upon an idea for a nail-biting thriller or you may turn out an exquisite sentence that makes you proud. Your instinct will be to share it with someone, but I urge you to keep it to yourself. As I've said over and over again, you will rarely get the ecstatic reaction you are hoping for and early on your writer's ego will be too fragile to handle it. When you find a golden nugget in your junk pile, hoard it. Keep this treasure for yourself. Keep hoarding your literary gold until you have enough of it to feel confident in your ability. If it pleases you, that's all that matters.


Step 5.  Read, read, read. 

When I got my first ghost-writing job, I still wasn't quite sure how to intersperse dialogue with action.   I wasn't even sure how to properly punctuate dialogue. To learn how, all I did was open a book and see how it was done. Every book is an instruction manual. Unsure how to open a story? Or create suspense at the end of a chapter? What about using page breaks? Everything you need to know is sitting on your bookshelf. Take down a few of your favorite books and see how it's done. I still do this all the time.

You should also be constantly reading for pleasure. Read what you like, not what you think you're supposed to read. Fill your head with words and they will be accessible to you when you need them.


Moving Forward

Once you've practiced enough to produce a rough draft of a short story or several chapters of a novel, then you might want to consider finding a writers' group in your area. Don't rush this step, but when you're ready writers' groups can be an invaluable resource for every skill level. For more info on choosing (or starting) the right group for you, see my post about writing groups.

Do you have a question about writing or publishing? Leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer it in a future post. 

Happy writing!

Down Time

Right now, I'm in the midst of some serious downtime.

It's not exactly of my choosing. In early May, I sent off my finished manuscript to my agent and I'm still waiting to hear back. It's been a month and a half and I'm trying to be patient. Book Expo America happened somewhere in the middle and I'm sure he was busy with that. He has other clients. It takes a long times to read 156,000 word document.

But I'm trying to be patient. I'm dying to hear what he thinks.

I might just send him an e-mail in a week or two if I don't hear back, but I know I haven't been forgotten. This, my friends, is the nature of the publishing business. It's S-L-O-W. If we do manage to find a publisher, I know that my book won't hit the shelves until about two years from now. At least. If it takes a client two months to hear from an agent, you can maybe understand why unsigned writers wait upwards of 3-6 months to hear anything.

What to do in the meantime?

The smart thing to do is to roll right into another project, to get so excited about something new that I forget I'm waiting to hear back, but I'm finding that to be difficult. The kids are out of school. The neglected corners of my life need some attention. I've been re-reading a few abandoned pieces and the novel I started a few years ago--but my bookshelf, stocked with all that delicious summer reading, seems much more appealing. I'm gardening, cooking, enjoying my children, and just taking a moment to exhale. In the vernacular of Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, I'm filling the well.

When I was a ghostwriter my schedule required that I produce a 250-page book every six weeks, with an additional two weeks for revisions. Even with an outline, even with such light material as comedic teenage angst, it was a tough schedule. On my own, now with considerably more responsibilities and subject matter requiring a bit more thought, I'm on track to produce a book every 5-10 years. My writing is slow, thoughtful, deliberate. I often berate myself for being so slow. I know I could work harder, put in more hours, but writing isn't my everything. And I feel almost apologetic about it.

In April, I had the chance to meet the extraordinary writer, Andre Dubus III. In the few minutes we spoke, I sensed he was also an extraordinary human being. He asked me what I did for work and I told him I was a writer. I told him I was on the verge of completing my second adult novel, which took me nearly nine years to write. I was a little embarrassed by this, citing my twin girls as one of the reasons it took me so long. I admitted I found it hard to work as much as I'd like given the demands of family life. Writing, for me, takes quiet and concentration. Family life is noisy, complicated, messy. (For example, in the forty-five minutes that I've been writing this blog post, I've been interrupted about once every five minutes.)

Mr. Dubus looked up from the book he was signing and said with the utmost sincerity, "Your life comes first. Enjoy your daughters. Wait until they're all grown up, then you can write a million books."

I wish it were that simple, but the sentiment was certainly a relief to hear. I think of it often. When I grow old, will I regret not publishing more often? Probably not. But I would definitely regret missing out on my daughters' childhoods. What's the point of writing if there's no life to write about?

Luck=Opportunity+Preparation

Even though I’m a big believer in not taking advantage of people’s kindness, I’m also a big believer in being aggressive when an opportunity is presented to you. If the favorite metaphor for opportunity is a door, I like to think that if someone opens it even just a crack, I’m going to wedge my foot in there to make sure it doesn’t close again.

Haste is your best tool for the job. When someone offers to meet with you or talk with you—no matter how off-handedly the offer is made—try to nail down a date as soon as possible. If someone offers to read your work, get it to them as fast as you can. It shows that you’re serious and keeps the momentum going while you’re still fresh in mind.

An acquaintance of mine once returned from a writers’ conference very excited—she had made contact with an agent who was interested in reading her work. She told me the news a week after the fact, and still hadn’t sent him her work. She was hesitating because she didn’t think her manuscript was in perfect shape. Every day that passed, she grew less and less confident about sending it, and it’s very likely that as each day passed she was fading from the agent’s memory. I didn’t keep in touch with her so I have no idea if she ended up sending it in. If her manuscript was ready enough to pitch at a writers’ conference, then I think her best course of action would have been to FedEx that puppy the second she returned home.

When I tried out for my first ghostwriting job, my writing sample was initially rejected. The editor called to tell me what was wrong with my sample. During the course of the phone conversation, I took copious notes. At the end of the phone call, she said, “If you have any other questions, you can call me and maybe we can meet for coffee sometime.” She said this so casually I don’t think she really expected me to take her up on it. I could have said, “Sure, thanks,” and left it at that, but instead I said, “I’m free next week—is there a day that works for you?”

I’m really not sure where this confidence came from—I just didn’t want the opportunity to slip away. The editor was caught a little off-guard but kindly agreed to meet with me, under the guise of talking more about how my sample needed to be improved…but I had other plans.

In the week prior to our meeting, I spent my time carefully going through her suggestions and studying the series to see what I needed to fix. Then I worked hard to get my sample into shape. We didn’t end up having coffee—instead, we met in her office. She let me know that she was very busy and that I had just a few minutes to ask questions. Instead rehashing our previous discussion, I presented her my revised sample and politely asked her to look it over “just to make sure I was on the right track.” She was taken aback that I was so prepared. She read the first page and hired me on the spot.

When an opportunity arises, you have to be prepared to jump on it.

Good Enough Opportunities

A few weeks ago I watched an episode of Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares and the show had me in fits. For the uninitiated, Ramsay is a famous chef and TV personality with restaurants all over the world, who swoops into troubled eateries and saves them from financial and culinary ruin. Ramsay’s style runs somewhere between foul-mouthed drill sergeant and exasperated life coach. With a little cleaning, some blunt advice, and a whole lot of free publicity, Ramsay usually manages to turn the restaurant around.

Not so with Piccolo Teatro, a tiny vegetarian restaurant in Paris, which was the subject of the episode that made me crazy. The restaurant was bleeding money, yet it appeared that no one was making any effort at all—not even with Chef Ramsay standing by and pointing out the problems. The cook was goofy and unprepared. The restaurant’s only waitress quit the second Ramsay criticized her. The owner, the worst offender of all, was lazy and had no authority. At times, it seemed as though she cared about saving her restaurant, and then she’d do something like stay home all day (without informing anyone) because she said her cat was having kittens. Instead of making an effort, she was full of excuses.

Despite revamping the menu, hiring a young, talented new chef, starting a lunch service and making the restaurant profitable again, even Ramsay couldn’t save Piccolo Teatro. When he returned to Paris a few weeks later for a follow-up, he discovered that the owner had closed the restaurant.

Arrrrgggghhhh!!!!!!

It seems inconceivable that someone with so many great opportunities, with a road map to success spelled out explicitly, would just throw it all away. I can’t begin to speculate as to her reasons for giving up, but I do know that some people are so afraid of success or failure that they’ll sabotage every opportunity that comes their way, sometimes without even consciously knowing it. I truly believe that what separates successful people from the rest of the pack is not talent or money or connections—it’s hard work, perseverance, and most of all the ability to seize opportunities, no matter how small.

When I moved to New York City from a small town in Maine, I hardly knew anyone. I was 22 and timid, largely unfamiliar with city life, and had no connections. I had just enough money to last in New York but a few months. I knew my time was limited there. I also knew that if I went back home right away, my chances of having a career in the publishing business would be zip. Back home, I had been offered a great position in sales by someone who had seen me working at my summer job. The offer included a car and a great salary, and the security of being in familiar territory. All I had to do was say the word and the job was mine. The problem was, this opportunity didn’t coincide with my goal of working in publishing and becoming a writer. I was scared to be in New York, but the thought of giving up on my goals—without giving it a real try—was even scarier.

I made a promise to myself that whatever publishing opportunity came along I would take it, no matter what. It didn’t have to be a perfect opportunity, just a good enough opportunity. I didn’t have resources to wait for something perfect, which may or may not have materialized, anyway.

I found my first job through the New York Times’ classifieds. The position was for a file clerk in the accounting office of a small literary agency. It paid very little. I wasn’t sure I could handle the accounting they wanted me to do. It wasn’t a perfect opportunity (or so I thought at the time) but it was good enough. Jump in first, I told myself, and figure out the rest as it comes. I had nothing to lose.

I wasn’t there but five months when I co-worker told me about one of the agency’s clients—a company that packaged book series for teenagers. She told me they needed ghostwriters. That’s all I needed to hear. I asked around and got more information about the process. I made a phone call. I wasn’t really interested in writing books for teenagers, but I was interested in writing, period. Good enough.

Within a few weeks I had my first ghostwriting contract and was writing at night in addition to my day job. My income doubled and I was leading a comfortable existence in New York. Soon I was writing, building valuable contacts, learning everything I could about the publishing industry, and writing books along the way. Good enough opportunities turned out to be perfect opportunities. I ended up spending six productive and fun years in the city, and used all that I learned along the way to get my first adult novel published.

And as far as Kitchen Nightmares goes, the episode did end on bit of a bright note. Even though Piccolo Teatro closed, Gordon Ramsay saw tons of potential in the young chef he had hired for the restaurant, and offered her a new job in one of his own kitchens. I’m happy to say that she jumped at the opportunity.

Ghostwriting Part V--Inside a Ghosting Job

We’ve finally reached the last installment of the ghostwriting series. Let’s get this over with so we can move on to something a bit more interesting, shall we?

Once you land a work-for-hire agreement with the series of your choosing, your editor may hand you a packet which contains a series bible, a few story outlines, and a book or two. The series bible tells you everything you need to know about the series thus far; major story arcs, important backstories, physical descriptions and names of all the characters and places, relationship details and personalities. It’s important to know this info inside and out. I would also recommend reading as many books in the series as you can handle so you can thoroughly digest the tone and style. It will make your work much easier.

The outlines you are likely to be given are the outline for the book you've been hired to write, plus the outline of the book that comes before yours in the series and the outline for the book that comes after yours. These outlines can run somewhere around ten or twenty pages and hit the major plot points of the story. They are sometimes written by the creator of the series, and sometimes they are written by an editor, who then shows it to the creator for approval. You are not allowed to deviate from this outline, but luckily there is a lot of wiggle room with settings, transitions, and all the little nuances that take a ho-hum story and make it gripping.

When I was ghosting, I had six weeks to write my first draft. My outlines were around 20 pages or so and I was expected to flesh it out into a 250 page novel. I’m a pretty slow writer, so I found the deadline to be a challenge, but I always found a way to get my work done on time. As I mentioned before, ghosting for a series is a bit like riding an escalator—when one person stops at the bottom, it puts a lot of people in trouble. Be sure to respect your deadlines.

After turning in the first draft, my editor would take about a week or two to look the manuscript over. Then it was returned to me with comments. I would look over her notes and ask questions about anything that needed clarification, then I would have two weeks to make the corrections. Sometimes the changes were substantial; other times, they were minimal. If you do your work correctly, once you turn in the revised draft, that should be the end of it. If not, you might have to do a little more fixing, but this is usually pretty rare. Once the editor approves of the final manuscript, she will submit the approval to the accounting department so that you can receive the final installment of your advance.

That’s basically all there is to it. If you work well under pressure and don’t mind writing for teenagers, then I highly recommend using work-for-hire as a first step to a writing career. If you are professional and reliable, ghosting can open many doors. Over the years, several editors of mine have moved on to bigger and better things—one wrote a best-selling series of her own that became a movie. Developing good relationships, even at this level, can become beneficial later on when you have higher aspirations of your own.

Ghostwriting Part IV—Landing the Gig

Finally, after weeks and weeks of waiting, the envelope you’ve been waiting for has arrived. Maybe it’s a rejection letter. Being rejected from a teen series might carry with it an extra bit of sting—you know you’re capable of writing gorgeous prose and meaningful stories, so you might be tempted to throw up your hands in disgust and say, “What do they know? I can write a story a thousand times better than this junk.” Don’t let yourself become bitter. I assure you that the people working on these series are highly educated and are well-acquainted with good literature. What a rejection simply means is that you weren’t right for the part. As I mentioned before, hiring ghostwriters is a lot like finding actors for a movie. If you were a casting director, would you have given the role of Forrest Gump to Al Pacino? Probably not. Several years ago, I tried out for a series (after having thirteen teen novels under my belt, mind you) and was rejected. Even though I had a lot of experience, my writing was deemed not edgy enough. That was fine by me—I have no interest in being edgy.

Instead of a rejection, you might get a personal letter encouraging you to re-submit your sample or even try out for another series. This is what happened to me when I tried out for my first ghosting job. The editor thought I had potential, but my sample wasn’t quite up to par. I wasted no time finding out what my weaknesses were and re-submitted the sample within a week. As soon as she received the revised sample, I was hired on the spot.

Maybe you won’t be rejected at all the first time around and instead you'll get a call from the editor. Congratulations--they’d like to hire you to write for the series. You are thrilled—you’re also scared out of your mind. Take a deep breath, enjoy the moment…and brace yourself because you have a lot of work to do in a short period of time.

Before I get into the writing side of things in my next post, let’s cover the business side first. This will be one of the very few times you’ll hear me say this, but you don’t need an agent. That’s because work-for-hire contracts are pretty much set in stone. The pay scale and royalties (if there are any) are pre-determined. Series are run on tight budgets and there is little room, if any, for negotiation. Newbies are given a set price. If you like ghosting and want to do it regularly, my advice would be to write at least three books before asking for more money. At that point, if you proven yourself to be professional and indispensable, you should have no trouble getting bumped up to a higher advance. Other than that, there’s nothing else to negotiate that you can’t handle on your own. It’s generally a take-it-or-leave-it proposition.

When you accept your first work-for-hire job, you'll probably be offered a one-book contract. This is a good thing. It’s better not to be locked into anything the first time around, just in case you discover that ghosting isn’t right for you. After that, I would recommend not signing up for more than three books at a time, which equals about six months of work. You never know what might crop up in your personal or professional life, and it’s best not to be tied down for too long.

Upon receiving your contract, read it thoroughly. It will be short and straightforward. Pay attention to the word count required and mark the deadlines on your calendar. Series deadlines are critical. Imagine that the series is an escalator and the writers are the passengers. If someone suddenly stops at the bottom, everyone is in trouble. Ghosting is an opportunity to establish your reputation as a professional writer. Act accordingly.

Finally, put your advance check in the bank until your manuscript has been accepted. Work-for-hire agreements—especially your first—are more fickle than the average book deal. It’s better to hold onto the advance until you’re sure it’s going to work out than to scramble to return money you’ve already spent.

Ghostwriting Part III—The Audition

Before I continue with my series on ghostwriting, I’d just like to I apologize for the sudden infrequency of my posts. Family life has been overtaking my writing life in a big way lately, so I’m not posting as often as I’d like. Soon I hope to have a little more time for work, so thanks for your patience.

Now, onto the business at hand…

Trying out for a book series is a lot like auditioning for a role on a television show—even if you’re a terrific writer, you might not be suited for the part. You can, however, increase your odds of getting the job if you do your homework.

While you’re waiting to receive your guidelines from the publisher, it’s critical that you read at least two or three of the most recent books in the series. It won’t be difficult to get caught up in the action—most series are like soap operas, written so that it’s very easy to jump into the story—but what you’re really trying to do is absorb the style and tone of the series. Keep an eye out for key descriptions of places and characters which are often repeated from book to book. Notice how chapters start and end. Really study how the story is constructed, until you feel that you can almost predict how a character will react to a certain situation or person. Read until it becomes second nature to you.

The guidelines sent from the publisher might contain an outline of a book that is currently being written. Depending on what they require, you might be asked to write a chapter from that outline. If you’ve done the reading I’ve mentioned above, the audition chapter will be much easier. If you haven’t, expect to trudge through it, stopping to look up details along the way.

When writing your sample, keep in mind that the goal is to make your work blend in as much as possible with the series. Avoid showing off. Save the verbal acrobatics and large vocabulary for your own personal writing. What’s really going to wow the editors is your knowledge of the series and the smoothness of the storytelling. Dialogue is key; every character should have a different way of speaking. Conversation is often short and snappy and heavy on banter, but always moving forward toward a plot point.

The single most impressive thing you can do when writing an audition sample is to cultivate an air of suspense. Series rely on hooks to keep their readers interested and you should show the editors that you know this. The best ways to build suspense are to reveal information slowly—feeding the reader little bits as you go—and constantly raising questions that must be answered. Ideally, every chapter should end with a question that begs to be answered and so should your writing sample. Keep the editors wanting more and maybe you'll find yourself with a writing gig.

Next: What happens once you land the job.

Ghostwriting Part II: How to Land a Gig

Browse through the middle-grade or teen sections of any bookstore and you’ll find all kinds of series in every genre imaginable. Some series are published every single month for years on end, adding up to a staggering number of books. Are these books the work of a single, hyper-prolific insomniac? Not likely. Some are started with the best of intentions, with a single writer who writes maybe the first twelve books or so. Other series are merely created, only to have the grunt work farmed out from the get-go. Either way, most series are written by a rotating team of ghostwriters.

And this is where you come in. There is a very high turnover for ghostwriters, which means publishers are always looking for new talent. Writers-for-hire are a fickle sort, chasing down multiple jobs, flitting from one project to the next, launching their own work. This means that on any given series, there might be a job waiting for you.

The first step is to find a series that appeals to you. Let's say you’re not into teen fiction, but love science fiction--find something with that slant. Read a few books from the series. Is this something you can see yourself writing? If not, move on to something else. You have to find yourself interested in the series to some degree or your writing won’t ring true and the work will feel more like a job than a joy.

Once you’ve found a series you like, look at the copyright page. On it, you’ll see the publishing company and its address. All you have to do is write to the publisher (this is one of those few times when I’ll recommend contacting a publisher directly) and request the series guidelines, which is essentially an audition packet. Your letter for requesting the guidelines is simple:

Dear So-and-So:

I’m interested in writing for X series. Please send your guidelines to the following address. I’ve included a self-addressed, stamped envelope for your convenience.

That’s all. You don’t need to write a full-fledged query proclaiming your virtues—that will come later. I would write ATTN: X Series on the envelope to expedite the process.

Sometimes you’ll see another company listed with the publisher on the copyright page. This is the packager. In this case, you’d want to write your request to the packager instead of the publisher. A packager is a company that puts together many different series—from the acquisition of the series ideas, to the hiring of ghostwriters, to the editing and book design. Basically, a packager IS the publisher, and the publisher becomes the printer and distributor. It’s a little confusing, but the point is that you’ll have to write the above letter to the packager instead. What’s great about working with a packager is that if you develop a good relationship with the editors it can lead to many writing jobs for different series. You may also get the chance to pitch ideas for your own series.

Next time—how to "audition" for a series.

Super Ghostwriter--Part I

Let’s re-open that age-old superhero debate that for some reason never grows tired—if you could have the power of invisibility or the power of flight, which would you choose? If you said invisibility (the right answer, by the way), and you are also trying to figure out how to break into the publishing business, then you might want to consider ghostwriting.

I spent most of my 20’s moonlighting as a ghostwriter for a series of popular teen books. The pay was decent (but not enough to live on), the schedule was rigorous, and the glory was minimal. But I learned a hell of a lot about discipline, cultivated relationships with editors, developed a reputation as a professional person, and came to understand quite a bit about the business. After six years of ghosting, I felt as though I had learned just as much about writing as I had in college, and was equipped to develop and sell my own teen series.

In order to be a good ghostwriter, you have to be comfortable with invisibility. Your writing must be seamless, conforming into a pre-determined style to execute a story that someone else created. You have to understand that you are merely fulfilling someone else’s vision and that they will get all of the glory and most of the money. You must love the product as though it were your own, because readers can smell insincerity from a mile away.

Even within the strict framework of ghostwriting, there plenty of opportunities for creativity. As long as the dialogue is consistent with the character, it’s all yours. You may be given major plot points, but there is often a lot of leeway as to how you get from point A to point B.

And even being invisible has its moments of quiet glory. Once I was in a bookstore, loitering in the teen section to see “my” book on the shelves and I saw a girl looking at a copy. She read a little and decided to buy it. A small part of me wanted to tap her on the shoulder and tell her I wrote it (as if she’d believe me) but I didn’t. It was thrilling enough to know someone was about to read my words.

In my next few posts, I’ll talk about what a ghosting job is like and how to go about getting one of your own. It’s easier than you might think.