I admit it, I've been completely addicted to Food Network lately. (You'd think it'd do damage to my waistline, but I've found when you see all this extravagant, wonderful food that's far better than anything you can get your hands on in real life, you don't actually eat that much.)
In particular, I've watched a lot of the competition shows they have: Cupcake Wars, Iron Chef America, Chopped, Sweet Genius, etc. And I've learned a couple of keys about being classy while competing against your peers.
#1 Don't Compare Really, I already knew this, but I've seen just how ugly it is when it doesn't happen on these shows.
The classiest competitors talk about what they were going for, how they went about it, what inspired them, and so on. They don't even mention what their fellow contestants did. The focus is on what they did, and is it good enough?
Inevitably, someone comes along who makes some remark (either blatant or backhanded) about another chef's dish or execution or style, or how their own is better. Every time, I want to mute the TV. It makes me cringe and grit my teeth.
This applies easily to the writing world. It's harder when I'm in the fight, rather than watching from the other side of the television, but it's still important. The important thing is my writing. How I pull it off, whether it's good enough ... not whether it's better than Writers X, Y, and Z. And if I must have such thoughts, I should keep them to myself. Or at least vent them in absolute privacy.
#2 Don't Talk Back to the Pros Oh, when contestants (on ANY reality show) talk back to the judges, I want to scream at them and run away, all at the same time. You don't have to agree with them. You don't even have to take their advice if you don't want to. But you should respect that there's a reason they're sitting in judgment and you're not. They have expertise, and have earned the right to be publicly opinionated.
Again, obviously applicable to writing. How often have we seen people bashing agents, editors, and publishers? Posting comments to their blogs about how they're outdated dinosaurs and no one needs them anymore? Or those horror stories about writers who send scathing replies to form rejections of their queries?
Yeah, publishing's changing, but really? That's no excuse for dissing people who DO know a thing or two about the industry. Have some respect, and behave professionally. It'll make YOU look better, and who doesn't want that?
So, thank you, Food Network, for reminding me not to be a full-of-myself jerk as I attempt to navigate the world of getting published. I'm sure everyone who has to interact with me thanks you, too.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Math Rant: College Professors
The subject of this particular rant is a few years behind me, but the effects linger. And now, the horrors are being inflicted on my former students, and it's enough to make me want to inflict something of my own—a forceful *headdesk* on the perpetrators.
Through my undergrad and graduate schooling, I encountered a number of college mathematics professors. Here are two facts:
#1 Many of them are absolutely brilliant mathematicians.
#2 Hardly any of them can teach to save their lives.
I even had a few classmates who were likely to join their ranks in the future. Kids who could do multi-variable calculus without breaking a sweat and thought abstract algebra was a great weekend activity. Kids who could not teach it.
Make no mistake. Doing math and teaching math are two entirely different skill sets. Thing is, the teaching skill requires the doing skill, and then some. (Do I get tetchy with the old "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach" line? Don't get me started.)
A former student came by to visit the school the other day and we chatted about how her first semester at a new college is going. Because she has issues with test-taking, she didn't do so hot on her placement exam, which landed her in a math class that's dirt-simple for her. She understands the material, but then the teacher goes and confuses her by insisting she use his methods, which she didn't understand. She tried to ask a question to clarify, and he cut her off.
Okay, this particular girl is very assertive and kind of blunt, so maybe she could have handled the exchange better. I don't know—I wasn't there. Then there's the fact that he tried to hold her interpreter back after class to talk to the interpreter about the student needing an attitude adjustment. (Grr... don't get me started on that, either. That's a rant for another time.)
Bottom line, this student didn't expect the same kind of bend-over-backwards-to-help teaching she got in high school. She just wanted to understand.
If there's one thing I remember about several of my college math classes, it was the clear undercurrent: If you don't understand the magic I'm performing on this blackboard, it's your own fault, because you must be too stupid to grasp it. No one ever said it in words, but you felt it.
Thankfully, they're not all like that. I found a handful who didn't just want to get their teaching hours out of the way so they could get back to their "real" work. The kind you could ask a question, and they didn't just repeat their last two statements. They elaborated on the in-between step, or what justified some conclusion.
If you find college math professors like that, add them to your Christmas card list for life. They're rare, but they're also golden.
Through my undergrad and graduate schooling, I encountered a number of college mathematics professors. Here are two facts:
#1 Many of them are absolutely brilliant mathematicians.
#2 Hardly any of them can teach to save their lives.
I even had a few classmates who were likely to join their ranks in the future. Kids who could do multi-variable calculus without breaking a sweat and thought abstract algebra was a great weekend activity. Kids who could not teach it.
Make no mistake. Doing math and teaching math are two entirely different skill sets. Thing is, the teaching skill requires the doing skill, and then some. (Do I get tetchy with the old "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach" line? Don't get me started.)
A former student came by to visit the school the other day and we chatted about how her first semester at a new college is going. Because she has issues with test-taking, she didn't do so hot on her placement exam, which landed her in a math class that's dirt-simple for her. She understands the material, but then the teacher goes and confuses her by insisting she use his methods, which she didn't understand. She tried to ask a question to clarify, and he cut her off.
Okay, this particular girl is very assertive and kind of blunt, so maybe she could have handled the exchange better. I don't know—I wasn't there. Then there's the fact that he tried to hold her interpreter back after class to talk to the interpreter about the student needing an attitude adjustment. (Grr... don't get me started on that, either. That's a rant for another time.)
Bottom line, this student didn't expect the same kind of bend-over-backwards-to-help teaching she got in high school. She just wanted to understand.
If there's one thing I remember about several of my college math classes, it was the clear undercurrent: If you don't understand the magic I'm performing on this blackboard, it's your own fault, because you must be too stupid to grasp it. No one ever said it in words, but you felt it.
Thankfully, they're not all like that. I found a handful who didn't just want to get their teaching hours out of the way so they could get back to their "real" work. The kind you could ask a question, and they didn't just repeat their last two statements. They elaborated on the in-between step, or what justified some conclusion.
If you find college math professors like that, add them to your Christmas card list for life. They're rare, but they're also golden.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Math Rant: Subtraction
This will not be a rant about how even some kids in advanced math classes have to count on their fingers to subtract (or add). I'll save that one for another time. (For the record, with deaf kids "counting on fingers" is fairly equivalent to tapping on the desk and counting in your head.)
No, this rant is about the failure of someone (or several someones) earlier along the line failing to address both types of subtraction.
Two types of subtraction? Whatever are you talking about, Miss Lewis?
Yes, two types.
If you think of beginner's subtraction, what do you think of? Probably the idea of "take away." Johnny has 10 apples, and Jimmy takes 4 of them away. How many does Johnny have left?
Nothing wrong with that. Totally valid interpretation of subtraction. But it's not the only one, dagnabbit!
There is also the HOW FAR perspective. And I don't have the stats to prove it, but my gut says this is the more frequently useful angle in real life.
Take the problem 11 minus 8. Here's what I see over and over in my classroom:
Why? WHY? Even if you must count, here's all it takes:
To me, this says these kids were taught a procedure for subtracting and memorized it without really going deeper. So I need to dig in and do some remodeling in their heads.
Even better is when they see 11 - 8 on the paper and borrow. So the tens place becomes zero and the ones place becomes ... 11. Fortunately, that's a little more rare.
*sigh*
No, this rant is about the failure of someone (or several someones) earlier along the line failing to address both types of subtraction.
Two types of subtraction? Whatever are you talking about, Miss Lewis?
Yes, two types.
If you think of beginner's subtraction, what do you think of? Probably the idea of "take away." Johnny has 10 apples, and Jimmy takes 4 of them away. How many does Johnny have left?
Nothing wrong with that. Totally valid interpretation of subtraction. But it's not the only one, dagnabbit!
There is also the HOW FAR perspective. And I don't have the stats to prove it, but my gut says this is the more frequently useful angle in real life.
Take the problem 11 minus 8. Here's what I see over and over in my classroom:
*holds 11 on one hand, then starts counting off on the other*
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3. I counted 8 places before 11, and the answer is 3.
Why? WHY? Even if you must count, here's all it takes:
*hold 11 on one hand, start counting off on the other*
10, 9, 8. I've arrived at 8 and it took 3 steps to do it, so the answer is 3.
To me, this says these kids were taught a procedure for subtracting and memorized it without really going deeper. So I need to dig in and do some remodeling in their heads.
Even better is when they see 11 - 8 on the paper and borrow. So the tens place becomes zero and the ones place becomes ... 11. Fortunately, that's a little more rare.
*sigh*
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Genrefication
One of my co-workers (an English teacher) has a serious addiction to books. I know a lot of us think we do, but I'm telling you, most of us don't have anything on this friend of mine. In the past year, I believe she's spent thousands of dollars on books ... frequently at bargain prices.
Yeah, it's a lot of books.
That's okay, though, because it means our students have more access to current MG and YA novels than they would otherwise.
She moved into a different classroom this year, so it was a great excuse for getting organized. One day last week, she asked me and another teacher who reads a lot of MG/YA (the other math teacher, ironically) to come over during lunch and help her figure out the sub-genres for the fantasy and science fiction.
It was a fascinating experience. And really hard at times.
Some books I was already familiar with and could immediately declare as steampunk, urban fantasy, or paranormal (we meant largely paranormal romance, but left "romance" off the label so as not to scare the teenage boys away). Some books I could just glance at the cover art and/or title and could guess what it was, then checked the back cover to verify.
Those back covers are where a few less-obvious books gave us trouble. Some looked like a hybrid of more than one thing. Others fell somewhere in-between two genres. For instance, some were clearly high fantasy, others clearly urban fantasy, but there were some that didn't seem "high" enough for high or "urban" enough for urban. What are they? We ended up with a "just plain fantasy" category, which didn't quite satisfy me.
I also felt like Terry Pratchett should have a section all his own. If she'd had more books of his, I might've insisted.
I've critiqued queries before where the writer needed feedback on narrowing down the genre, and it hasn't usually been that hard. Maybe it's due to a fundamental difference between queries and cover blurbs. Even though they're similar and we're advised to use the same mind-set when writing queries, they serve slightly different purposes. Some cover blurbs are much more teasing, with much less revealing detail than a query will often have.
So when someone says you need to clearly identify your genre, it's not just so the publisher knows where to shelf your book. It's so hyperorganized English teachers can categorize it, too.
Do you have any rules of thumb for identifying the many flavors of sci-fi and fantasy? Any favorite genre-breaking examples?
P.S. Our moment of shame that afternoon: We couldn't figure out where to place A Wrinkle in Time. It seems like I must have read it once, but it was when I was too young (and read too large a volume of books) to remember details. And her copy had no blurb.
*crawls under rock*
Yeah, it's a lot of books.
That's okay, though, because it means our students have more access to current MG and YA novels than they would otherwise.
She moved into a different classroom this year, so it was a great excuse for getting organized. One day last week, she asked me and another teacher who reads a lot of MG/YA (the other math teacher, ironically) to come over during lunch and help her figure out the sub-genres for the fantasy and science fiction.
It was a fascinating experience. And really hard at times.
Some books I was already familiar with and could immediately declare as steampunk, urban fantasy, or paranormal (we meant largely paranormal romance, but left "romance" off the label so as not to scare the teenage boys away). Some books I could just glance at the cover art and/or title and could guess what it was, then checked the back cover to verify.
Those back covers are where a few less-obvious books gave us trouble. Some looked like a hybrid of more than one thing. Others fell somewhere in-between two genres. For instance, some were clearly high fantasy, others clearly urban fantasy, but there were some that didn't seem "high" enough for high or "urban" enough for urban. What are they? We ended up with a "just plain fantasy" category, which didn't quite satisfy me.
I also felt like Terry Pratchett should have a section all his own. If she'd had more books of his, I might've insisted.
I've critiqued queries before where the writer needed feedback on narrowing down the genre, and it hasn't usually been that hard. Maybe it's due to a fundamental difference between queries and cover blurbs. Even though they're similar and we're advised to use the same mind-set when writing queries, they serve slightly different purposes. Some cover blurbs are much more teasing, with much less revealing detail than a query will often have.
So when someone says you need to clearly identify your genre, it's not just so the publisher knows where to shelf your book. It's so hyperorganized English teachers can categorize it, too.
Do you have any rules of thumb for identifying the many flavors of sci-fi and fantasy? Any favorite genre-breaking examples?
P.S. Our moment of shame that afternoon: We couldn't figure out where to place A Wrinkle in Time. It seems like I must have read it once, but it was when I was too young (and read too large a volume of books) to remember details. And her copy had no blurb.
*crawls under rock*
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Guest Post: The Critecta
In the spirit of critique group collaboration, today's post is by my crit partner Caroline (Skyval on AQC).
Finding the special someone(s) who can complete your writing life is a lot like finding the special someone in your love life—damn hard. Where can you find these excellent people? How do you know when it's a good fit? What should you look for in a critique buddy? And what do you have to offer?
Our little trio met when we serendipitously crossed paths over at AgentQuery Connect, and we quickly discovered that ours was the kind of chemical balance you only find in a room full of professionals wearing white coats. We may all three end up in a room very much like that one day, but that's besides the point. Together, we're going to triple-team the concept of our Critecta—you can see RC's post at Writer, Writer, Pants on Fire, and Mindy's at From the Write Angle.
I started writing in September of 2009—much later than Mindy and at about the same time as Rachel. After completing my first draft in thirty days, declaring myself a genius, and receiving the usual “This is amazing”’s from my friends and family, I screwed up my courage and showed my MS to a brilliant writer friend. After three nail-biting days, her verdict. “You’ve got something here, but this needs A LOT OF WORK.”
So while I rewrote under my mentor’s watchful eye, I googled around, found AgentQuery, and started my new career as a lurking wannabe writer spying on the grown-up table. I’ve made many friends at AQ, but was drawn to BBC (Mindy) right off by her sense of humor, spot-on posts, and general devotion to her own craft as well as the time she spends helping others.
It’s been a long time since I had a first date. Okay, okay, a VERY LONG TIME, but finding my perfect Critecta followed that same heart-thumping, palm-sweating course. The from-afar admiring. A judgement call on compatibility. The dance of who will make the first move. The simultaneous reading hoping she doesn’t think I suck and wondering how she got into this. Then, “Does she LIKE me?” “Is she just being nice?” “How honest can I be here?” “Will she hate me if I point out this inconsistency?” “Can I really be myself?” I discovered that Mindy is refreshingly honest, down to earth, and her crit comments are like having a conversation while being doused with cold water and bleach over a cup of my favorite cappuccino. With chocolate.
Rachel came next. We both had entered the WEbook Page2Fame contest and although we had exchanged a few PM’s on AQ, we hadn’t talked about critiquing each other because our sub-genres were so different. Then in the course of the WEbook contest, we each had to rate the other’s first fifty, liked what we read, and decided to give each other a whirl around the dance floor. And what a compatibility it was! I told Mindy about Rachel and our Critecta was born.
Rachel’s technical skills are unparalleled. Mindy’s overall story-telling ability and superior voice and dialog skills are priceless. And me? I’m not sure what I contribute besides being a willing cold reader. We use Buzzword (a great tool by Adobe that allows highlighting and notes) and sometimes when reading Mindy’s work, I leave an occasional comment just to let her know I’m still reading but have been too engrossed to comment. We all contribute to the teen-speak—Mindy and Rachel both work with teens every day while I’ve actually SURVIVED raising two of ’em.
I do recall one bit of commentary of which I’m proud. In Rachel’s FINGERPRINTS, her MC is a brilliant science/techno geek (Hah! Much like Rachel herself...) and in one scene, Lareina and her equally brilliant boyfriend are working on a problem that flew over my head. But I understood it well enough to get that the characters understood it which is exactly the way it should have come off. A genius piece of writing on Rachel’s part and a scene I will never forget.
The other thing that makes our Critecta special is that we drop everything when the others need something read RIGHT NOW. When my girls ring me on email, I’m there. Mindy’s latest was so good and she was pumped late one night to get her query out. Sometimes you are just feeling it RIGHT THEN, ya know? Rachel and I critiqued her query for hours, Mindy sent it out that night, and voila, she got an agent. If I had any small part in making that happen for her, that’s all I need. I can’t speak enough about how much I’ve learned from my beloved crit partners, and although we’ve never heard each other’s voices in reality, we know each other’s voices through our writing. Priceless.
Do have your own Critecta? (Or duo, or quartet, or whatever...) How did you find them? What’s your process, and why does it work for you?
Our little trio met when we serendipitously crossed paths over at AgentQuery Connect, and we quickly discovered that ours was the kind of chemical balance you only find in a room full of professionals wearing white coats. We may all three end up in a room very much like that one day, but that's besides the point. Together, we're going to triple-team the concept of our Critecta—you can see RC's post at Writer, Writer, Pants on Fire, and Mindy's at From the Write Angle.
I started writing in September of 2009—much later than Mindy and at about the same time as Rachel. After completing my first draft in thirty days, declaring myself a genius, and receiving the usual “This is amazing”’s from my friends and family, I screwed up my courage and showed my MS to a brilliant writer friend. After three nail-biting days, her verdict. “You’ve got something here, but this needs A LOT OF WORK.”
So while I rewrote under my mentor’s watchful eye, I googled around, found AgentQuery, and started my new career as a lurking wannabe writer spying on the grown-up table. I’ve made many friends at AQ, but was drawn to BBC (Mindy) right off by her sense of humor, spot-on posts, and general devotion to her own craft as well as the time she spends helping others.
It’s been a long time since I had a first date. Okay, okay, a VERY LONG TIME, but finding my perfect Critecta followed that same heart-thumping, palm-sweating course. The from-afar admiring. A judgement call on compatibility. The dance of who will make the first move. The simultaneous reading hoping she doesn’t think I suck and wondering how she got into this. Then, “Does she LIKE me?” “Is she just being nice?” “How honest can I be here?” “Will she hate me if I point out this inconsistency?” “Can I really be myself?” I discovered that Mindy is refreshingly honest, down to earth, and her crit comments are like having a conversation while being doused with cold water and bleach over a cup of my favorite cappuccino. With chocolate.
Rachel came next. We both had entered the WEbook Page2Fame contest and although we had exchanged a few PM’s on AQ, we hadn’t talked about critiquing each other because our sub-genres were so different. Then in the course of the WEbook contest, we each had to rate the other’s first fifty, liked what we read, and decided to give each other a whirl around the dance floor. And what a compatibility it was! I told Mindy about Rachel and our Critecta was born.
Rachel’s technical skills are unparalleled. Mindy’s overall story-telling ability and superior voice and dialog skills are priceless. And me? I’m not sure what I contribute besides being a willing cold reader. We use Buzzword (a great tool by Adobe that allows highlighting and notes) and sometimes when reading Mindy’s work, I leave an occasional comment just to let her know I’m still reading but have been too engrossed to comment. We all contribute to the teen-speak—Mindy and Rachel both work with teens every day while I’ve actually SURVIVED raising two of ’em.
I do recall one bit of commentary of which I’m proud. In Rachel’s FINGERPRINTS, her MC is a brilliant science/techno geek (Hah! Much like Rachel herself...) and in one scene, Lareina and her equally brilliant boyfriend are working on a problem that flew over my head. But I understood it well enough to get that the characters understood it which is exactly the way it should have come off. A genius piece of writing on Rachel’s part and a scene I will never forget.
The other thing that makes our Critecta special is that we drop everything when the others need something read RIGHT NOW. When my girls ring me on email, I’m there. Mindy’s latest was so good and she was pumped late one night to get her query out. Sometimes you are just feeling it RIGHT THEN, ya know? Rachel and I critiqued her query for hours, Mindy sent it out that night, and voila, she got an agent. If I had any small part in making that happen for her, that’s all I need. I can’t speak enough about how much I’ve learned from my beloved crit partners, and although we’ve never heard each other’s voices in reality, we know each other’s voices through our writing. Priceless.
Do have your own Critecta? (Or duo, or quartet, or whatever...) How did you find them? What’s your process, and why does it work for you?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Random Musings: What is Funny?
Yeah, I know. It's subjective. At the same time, I've often found myself perplexed by what some people find amusing. Something wrong with me? Or them? Or just different strokes?
When someone trips and falls, I don't laugh ... unless they're laughing (because laughter is contagious) or they're goofy and hammy as they get up.
I'm not amused by the lewd, crude, and rude. It falls flat for me. This explains why I see very few so-called comedies.
Pranks where the goal is to humiliate the target? So not funny to me.
Lest you think I'm too saintly and need to get back to polishing my halo, I am a fan of sarcasm. But I try to be careful with how I use it, only engaging with people I know well enough. They need to know I'm being sarcastic and that I'd never mean it in a hurtful way.
Witty comebacks and good-natured verbal sparring can be very funny. Clever wordplay. Well-placed irony.
Often what I find funny is the unexpected, the things that come out of nowhere. Maybe that seems like a contradiction, because an algebra teacher getting her ankle ensnared by a wily backpack certainly qualifies as unexpected. Like I said, since I was laughing, I really wouldn't have minded if the kids had laughed, too.
I guess I don't like the idea of being amused at someone else's expense. That makes blanket statements tough, because situations that look similar on the surface might affect the people involved in very different ways.
So next time your math teacher trips and falls, ask if she's all right, give her a hand, and help her laugh it off.
When someone trips and falls, I don't laugh ... unless they're laughing (because laughter is contagious) or they're goofy and hammy as they get up.
Side story: My first year of teaching, I was trying to navigate down an aisle in my first period class when my foot caught on a backpack strap. Boom! Down to my hands and knees. (Not a total face-plant.) I laughed. My students freaked out wondering if I was okay, especially the very remorseful owner of the backpack. Those were good kids.
I'm not amused by the lewd, crude, and rude. It falls flat for me. This explains why I see very few so-called comedies.
Pranks where the goal is to humiliate the target? So not funny to me.
Lest you think I'm too saintly and need to get back to polishing my halo, I am a fan of sarcasm. But I try to be careful with how I use it, only engaging with people I know well enough. They need to know I'm being sarcastic and that I'd never mean it in a hurtful way.
Witty comebacks and good-natured verbal sparring can be very funny. Clever wordplay. Well-placed irony.
Often what I find funny is the unexpected, the things that come out of nowhere. Maybe that seems like a contradiction, because an algebra teacher getting her ankle ensnared by a wily backpack certainly qualifies as unexpected. Like I said, since I was laughing, I really wouldn't have minded if the kids had laughed, too.
I guess I don't like the idea of being amused at someone else's expense. That makes blanket statements tough, because situations that look similar on the surface might affect the people involved in very different ways.
So next time your math teacher trips and falls, ask if she's all right, give her a hand, and help her laugh it off.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
"Get Your Foot in the Door" Contest
Here's another contest, this one over at Gabriela Lessa's site and judged by one of four Sourcebooks editors (depending on genre). One-sentence pitch and the first paragraph (or two as long as the total is under 170 words). Checking out other entries is part of the fun, so here goes.
UPDATED
UPDATED
One-Sentence Pitch: When telepathic Ziv’s newly normal life is interrupted by a military request, she must decide if she belongs in humanity’s war, or on Earth at all.
Opening Paragraphs: Blades of grass brush my toes, forcing me to suppress a shudder. Textures like this still feel unnatural, wrong. Too irregular and unpredictable. Shouldn’t have worn sandals. Despite my physical reaction, I continue across the lawn toward school. If I force myself to endure it enough times, maybe I’ll finally get used to it.
A familiar voice calls out behind me. As I stop to let Khalil catch up, his golden-bronze skin seems to radiate the warmth of the sun back out to the world. Not for the first time, I wonder if he finds my pale face as cold as I do. The thought is interrupted by a tickle on my foot, different from the grass. A ladybug crawls across my toe, and I reflexively clench my fists, not letting myself fritz out.
Friday, August 5, 2011
The Value of Expertise
I might get myself in trouble with this one.
As a teacher (and especially when I worked in "regular" ed), I've heard the following line more than once from parents: "I know what's best for my child."
Really? If so, why do we have pediatricians? Dentists? Why send children to school at all, where they'll be taught by someone who is not the parent of said-child?
We trust that doctors know more than we do about physical health. Most of us take our cars to mechanics because they know more about engines and carburetors and serpentine belts than we do. They have something we don't—EXPERTISE on the subject.
Same goes for teaching. I studied enough about mathematics and the teaching thereof to earn two degrees. I've taught just about every level of math that exists in secondary education. Perhaps I know a thing or two.
That's not to say parents (or anyone) should blindly trust the experts. But to make an informed argument, they need to gain some expertise of their own.
Ask questions. Do some research. Try a few different things—that would definitely make you an expert on what has and hasn't worked in the past. Make sure you understand the reasoning behind the advice being given to you before you dismiss it.
Wait a minute. This sounds familiar.
It applies to writing, too.
Writers often say we know what's best for our stories. In some ways, yes ... but in some, maybe not. Does the writer have the expertise to make that judgment?
An editor or agent generally does have that expertise. They've studied, trained, and had experience in the world of writing. They might just know more than we do about what does or doesn't work. (Yes, it's a very subjective industry, but some things are clear-cut enough.)
Agents are too overwhelmed to give much feedback, and most of us don't have access to an editor, nor the means to pay a freelancer. So we're left to gain at least some expertise ourselves.
How can we do that? I have friends who've been through MFA programs, and it shows in both the polish and cohesive structure of their work. But that may not be the route for all of us. There are How-To books of various types. Expertise galore, ready for us to access it.
Reading can be a great way, too, but we can't just read. We have to read on a "meta" level. When we enjoy something, we need to think about why—what did the author do right, and how? If something annoys or bores us, we need to figure out what's behind that, too.
Will all of that ever equal the knowledge and experience an industry pro can bring to the table? Probably not. But that's where strength in numbers comes in. Solid critique partners who've also done their part to gain expertise can have a huge effect on our outcome. (More on that coming on a special post August 15th.)
The bottom line is that we shouldn't plug our ears and chant that we know what's best for the story simply because we wrote it.
Well, really, we can do anything we want in our novels ... if we don't care about getting published.
As a teacher (and especially when I worked in "regular" ed), I've heard the following line more than once from parents: "I know what's best for my child."
Really? If so, why do we have pediatricians? Dentists? Why send children to school at all, where they'll be taught by someone who is not the parent of said-child?
We trust that doctors know more than we do about physical health. Most of us take our cars to mechanics because they know more about engines and carburetors and serpentine belts than we do. They have something we don't—EXPERTISE on the subject.
Same goes for teaching. I studied enough about mathematics and the teaching thereof to earn two degrees. I've taught just about every level of math that exists in secondary education. Perhaps I know a thing or two.
That's not to say parents (or anyone) should blindly trust the experts. But to make an informed argument, they need to gain some expertise of their own.
Ask questions. Do some research. Try a few different things—that would definitely make you an expert on what has and hasn't worked in the past. Make sure you understand the reasoning behind the advice being given to you before you dismiss it.
Wait a minute. This sounds familiar.
It applies to writing, too.
Writers often say we know what's best for our stories. In some ways, yes ... but in some, maybe not. Does the writer have the expertise to make that judgment?
An editor or agent generally does have that expertise. They've studied, trained, and had experience in the world of writing. They might just know more than we do about what does or doesn't work. (Yes, it's a very subjective industry, but some things are clear-cut enough.)
Agents are too overwhelmed to give much feedback, and most of us don't have access to an editor, nor the means to pay a freelancer. So we're left to gain at least some expertise ourselves.
How can we do that? I have friends who've been through MFA programs, and it shows in both the polish and cohesive structure of their work. But that may not be the route for all of us. There are How-To books of various types. Expertise galore, ready for us to access it.
Reading can be a great way, too, but we can't just read. We have to read on a "meta" level. When we enjoy something, we need to think about why—what did the author do right, and how? If something annoys or bores us, we need to figure out what's behind that, too.
Will all of that ever equal the knowledge and experience an industry pro can bring to the table? Probably not. But that's where strength in numbers comes in. Solid critique partners who've also done their part to gain expertise can have a huge effect on our outcome. (More on that coming on a special post August 15th.)
The bottom line is that we shouldn't plug our ears and chant that we know what's best for the story simply because we wrote it.
Well, really, we can do anything we want in our novels ... if we don't care about getting published.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Math Geek Meets Novelist
No one's shocked by the declaration that I'm a math geek who happens to write, right? Sometimes the math-geekiness informs my writing with character quirks or the way I apply logic. These are relatively small ways, where creativity and command of the language still play a larger role.
Once in a while, though, the geek takes over, and graphs ensue.
Really, this makes sense. The main reason graphs exist is to give us an instant visual of the big picture. Since a novel is hundreds of manuscript pages, it's pretty difficult to look at it all at once as a whole.
What kinds of graphs? I'll share a couple. (You can click them and get a better look.)
The first is a bar graph I made early on in my writing life to see how much my chapter lengths were varying. (Yes, this was also a case of my number-OCD coming out to play.) Nothing too fancy, just a simple graph in Excel.
I haven't done one of these for my more recent manuscripts, but it gave me some thoughts about overall structure when I was first starting. Interesting note: the manuscript graphed here had twenty-five chapters at the time, but I eventually realized breaking some of them up worked better.
The second is one I just did for the first time this week as an experiment. I was curious how different plot "threads" or themes were distributed throughout the novel. Had I dropped a thread in and then neglected it for too long before it came up again? Were the key themes getting the amount of attention I feel they deserve?
So I listed three key threads, two secondary (sort of) ones, and a trait of the MC I wanted to make sure had been sprinkled consistently through the story. Then I started reading and noting the location where each item pops up or is addressed (shown as a percentage, i.e., 25% of the way through the novel). I made the graph using a middle school statistics program called Tinkerplots (yay for being a math teacher!), though something similar could be made using Excel ... I think it'd just be a little more complicated.
I'm pretty pleased with the results. The three main threads obviously have sections where they each take precedence, and the "sprinkling in" looks pretty much how I want it.
Yes, I'm a geek.
Have you ever analyzed your writing in a "non-writing" way? Have you applied your day-job skills to something unexpected?
Once in a while, though, the geek takes over, and graphs ensue.
Really, this makes sense. The main reason graphs exist is to give us an instant visual of the big picture. Since a novel is hundreds of manuscript pages, it's pretty difficult to look at it all at once as a whole.
What kinds of graphs? I'll share a couple. (You can click them and get a better look.)
I haven't done one of these for my more recent manuscripts, but it gave me some thoughts about overall structure when I was first starting. Interesting note: the manuscript graphed here had twenty-five chapters at the time, but I eventually realized breaking some of them up worked better.
The second is one I just did for the first time this week as an experiment. I was curious how different plot "threads" or themes were distributed throughout the novel. Had I dropped a thread in and then neglected it for too long before it came up again? Were the key themes getting the amount of attention I feel they deserve?
So I listed three key threads, two secondary (sort of) ones, and a trait of the MC I wanted to make sure had been sprinkled consistently through the story. Then I started reading and noting the location where each item pops up or is addressed (shown as a percentage, i.e., 25% of the way through the novel). I made the graph using a middle school statistics program called Tinkerplots (yay for being a math teacher!), though something similar could be made using Excel ... I think it'd just be a little more complicated.
I'm pretty pleased with the results. The three main threads obviously have sections where they each take precedence, and the "sprinkling in" looks pretty much how I want it.
Yes, I'm a geek.
Have you ever analyzed your writing in a "non-writing" way? Have you applied your day-job skills to something unexpected?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
If You Think It's Easy, You're Probably Doing It Wrong
DISCLAIMER: I have not self-published (yet ... I know, I keep saying that). That said, I've gone through a lot of the necessary processes—practicing, if you will. I've played with designing covers, some of which you can also see by clicking the title tabs at the top of the page. I've done interior formatting and had proof copies made. I've made eBooks in both EPUB and MOBI formats (not just preparing my Word doc for some company's automated conversion process—I figured out how to do it myself).
So that's the headspace the following chunk of opinion comes from.
There's a lot of buzz lately about literary agents forming e-publishing wings. Some are set up more to facilitate their existing clients' self-publishing efforts, while others seek to be full-fledged publishers. The latest is over at Bookends, with lots of very passionate responses on both sides of the is-it-ethical and is-it-smart debates.
I'm not going to weigh in on those aspects. People far more intelligent and experienced than I are already doing that. But there's a particular idea in the responses that I've seen many times. Not just there—I've seen it in various writing forums whenever self/e-publishing comes up:
"Do it yourself. It's easy."
Okay, the physical act of uploading your manuscript to Amazon, B&N, or Smashwords is easy. But I've been scoping out the results, and it's clear many writers are missing the truth:
Doing it is easy. Doing it well is hard.
Forget the trials of marketing, getting anyone to even find your book among the many on Kindle. I'm just talking about the front-end job of getting it prepped for daylight. Let's look at the aspects that as a reader make me tear my hair out.
* * * * *
COVERS
Oh, my ... covers. My brother is a graphic designer. I don't know nearly as much as he does, but I've absorbed a few things through conversations with him. And I'm not saying my covers are super-fabulous—remember, I'm just playing and experimenting so far. (But an editor at HarperCollins did compliment my Fingerprints cover. *blush*)
Do you honestly have a good eye for design? Or do you think most things look "good enough"? Scanning the Kindle listings, it's not hard to spot a "homemade" cover. (And I will say, certain smaller publishers aren't much better with their cover designs.) If you've cut elements from different images and stuck them together, have you really made it look like one seamless whole that was meant to be that way?
In most cases, no.
So, what to do? Pay for a graphic designer? Maybe. But if so, beware. I've seen freelance graphic designers with credentials and everything who create crap cover designs. If you're paying far less than $100, you might get a very nice (but basic) cover, or you might get something my high school students could out-do during their lunch break.
If you want something really high-quality, that doesn't scream DIY from a mile away, you have some options. Invest some real money in it. Have/develop the skills and tools yourself. Or be lucky enough to know someone with the talent who's willing to do you a favor.
And for goodness sake, make sure you have the proper rights to use any stock images you need. Just because you found it on the internet and did a right-click/save doesn't mean it's fair game. Same goes for fonts. (You didn't know you can't just use whatever fonts you have installed on your computer? Go do some homework.)
* * * * *
E-FORMATTING
I've already done a full rant on this subject before, so I'll just reiterate a few things.
If you use a meat-grinder, you get hamburger ... not steak.
Maybe you like hamburger. If you do it very carefully and make sure the "meat" going in has everything just right, you might be able to get a five-star, gourmet burger out of it.
Personally, I have a hard time trusting automated conversions, even specialized ones like Kindle uses. I really don't trust an automated process that takes one file and spits out five or six different formats. You don't have to be a control freak like me, but triple-check your results in ALL formats to make sure the result is pristine.
* * * * *
EDITING
Oh, yeah, this is about a story people will (hopefully) read.
This is the biggest roadblock for many. To get the kind of intense, whip-it-into-shape editing my friends with Big-6 publishing deals have gone through, you would have to spend more than $1000. It's not just proofreading, though some of the errors and typos I've seen in self-pub'd works still make me shudder. Here's a little story to illustrate:
Once upon a time, there was a novel posted at an online writers' community. I read the first few chapters and thought it was marvelous. Surely this would be picked up by an agent. Surely it had a better shot than most at being published.
Alas, it did not happen. Eventually, the author decided to self-publish. I remembered loving what I read, so I gladly made the purchase.
As I read the whole thing, I was heartbroken. It quickly became obvious why it didn't make it on the traditional route. Nothing to do with the mechanics of the writing; everything to do with the craft of the story. Repetitive recaps every time a new character entered the picture. Disbelief that could no longer be suspended even by a reader eager to love the story (such as myself).
There are those who say you can edit well enough if you have a good critique group. I believe that can be true. But is your critique group tough enough on you? Do they know enough to spot overarching problems, or are they just good for helping you polish and tighten sentences?
If you can't afford a 4-digit editing bill (and really, how many of us can?) there are other options. Read with a critical eye, not just for the words on the page, but how the story is shaped and woven together. Look at some books on craft until you find some that work for your style, genre, etc. Maybe take a class or two.
And if you're lucky enough to find critique partners who really know what they're talking about and can tear your work apart in a way that makes you thank them for the torture ... dig your claws in and never let them go.
* * * * *
I'm sure I've only scratched the surface of what goes into making a self-published book top-notch. It's NOT easy. (Neither is going the traditional route.) It doesn't mean you necessarily have to spend your life savings. It does mean you should work your tail off ... and put in some major time between finishing the "writing" part and putting the product on the market.
Is it worth it? After all, you're probably only charging around $1-5 for your eBook, right? Maybe you're embracing the concept of a pulp fiction revival and are glad to be a part of it.
That's great. But I say you should still respect your readers enough to make sure anything you put in front of them is nothing less than awesome.
Did I miss anything? Other pet-peeves in self-published work? Or am I just way too picky? ;-)
So that's the headspace the following chunk of opinion comes from.
There's a lot of buzz lately about literary agents forming e-publishing wings. Some are set up more to facilitate their existing clients' self-publishing efforts, while others seek to be full-fledged publishers. The latest is over at Bookends, with lots of very passionate responses on both sides of the is-it-ethical and is-it-smart debates.
I'm not going to weigh in on those aspects. People far more intelligent and experienced than I are already doing that. But there's a particular idea in the responses that I've seen many times. Not just there—I've seen it in various writing forums whenever self/e-publishing comes up:
"Do it yourself. It's easy."
Okay, the physical act of uploading your manuscript to Amazon, B&N, or Smashwords is easy. But I've been scoping out the results, and it's clear many writers are missing the truth:
Doing it is easy. Doing it well is hard.
Forget the trials of marketing, getting anyone to even find your book among the many on Kindle. I'm just talking about the front-end job of getting it prepped for daylight. Let's look at the aspects that as a reader make me tear my hair out.
* * * * *
COVERS
Oh, my ... covers. My brother is a graphic designer. I don't know nearly as much as he does, but I've absorbed a few things through conversations with him. And I'm not saying my covers are super-fabulous—remember, I'm just playing and experimenting so far. (But an editor at HarperCollins did compliment my Fingerprints cover. *blush*)
Do you honestly have a good eye for design? Or do you think most things look "good enough"? Scanning the Kindle listings, it's not hard to spot a "homemade" cover. (And I will say, certain smaller publishers aren't much better with their cover designs.) If you've cut elements from different images and stuck them together, have you really made it look like one seamless whole that was meant to be that way?
In most cases, no.
So, what to do? Pay for a graphic designer? Maybe. But if so, beware. I've seen freelance graphic designers with credentials and everything who create crap cover designs. If you're paying far less than $100, you might get a very nice (but basic) cover, or you might get something my high school students could out-do during their lunch break.
If you want something really high-quality, that doesn't scream DIY from a mile away, you have some options. Invest some real money in it. Have/develop the skills and tools yourself. Or be lucky enough to know someone with the talent who's willing to do you a favor.
And for goodness sake, make sure you have the proper rights to use any stock images you need. Just because you found it on the internet and did a right-click/save doesn't mean it's fair game. Same goes for fonts. (You didn't know you can't just use whatever fonts you have installed on your computer? Go do some homework.)
* * * * *
E-FORMATTING
I've already done a full rant on this subject before, so I'll just reiterate a few things.
If you use a meat-grinder, you get hamburger ... not steak.
Maybe you like hamburger. If you do it very carefully and make sure the "meat" going in has everything just right, you might be able to get a five-star, gourmet burger out of it.
Personally, I have a hard time trusting automated conversions, even specialized ones like Kindle uses. I really don't trust an automated process that takes one file and spits out five or six different formats. You don't have to be a control freak like me, but triple-check your results in ALL formats to make sure the result is pristine.
* * * * *
EDITING
Oh, yeah, this is about a story people will (hopefully) read.
This is the biggest roadblock for many. To get the kind of intense, whip-it-into-shape editing my friends with Big-6 publishing deals have gone through, you would have to spend more than $1000. It's not just proofreading, though some of the errors and typos I've seen in self-pub'd works still make me shudder. Here's a little story to illustrate:
Once upon a time, there was a novel posted at an online writers' community. I read the first few chapters and thought it was marvelous. Surely this would be picked up by an agent. Surely it had a better shot than most at being published.
Alas, it did not happen. Eventually, the author decided to self-publish. I remembered loving what I read, so I gladly made the purchase.
As I read the whole thing, I was heartbroken. It quickly became obvious why it didn't make it on the traditional route. Nothing to do with the mechanics of the writing; everything to do with the craft of the story. Repetitive recaps every time a new character entered the picture. Disbelief that could no longer be suspended even by a reader eager to love the story (such as myself).
There are those who say you can edit well enough if you have a good critique group. I believe that can be true. But is your critique group tough enough on you? Do they know enough to spot overarching problems, or are they just good for helping you polish and tighten sentences?
If you can't afford a 4-digit editing bill (and really, how many of us can?) there are other options. Read with a critical eye, not just for the words on the page, but how the story is shaped and woven together. Look at some books on craft until you find some that work for your style, genre, etc. Maybe take a class or two.
And if you're lucky enough to find critique partners who really know what they're talking about and can tear your work apart in a way that makes you thank them for the torture ... dig your claws in and never let them go.
* * * * *
I'm sure I've only scratched the surface of what goes into making a self-published book top-notch. It's NOT easy. (Neither is going the traditional route.) It doesn't mean you necessarily have to spend your life savings. It does mean you should work your tail off ... and put in some major time between finishing the "writing" part and putting the product on the market.
Is it worth it? After all, you're probably only charging around $1-5 for your eBook, right? Maybe you're embracing the concept of a pulp fiction revival and are glad to be a part of it.
That's great. But I say you should still respect your readers enough to make sure anything you put in front of them is nothing less than awesome.
Did I miss anything? Other pet-peeves in self-published work? Or am I just way too picky? ;-)
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