Storytellersunplugged

So, I recently started working with another new writer. I do that from time to time, because, frankly, I believe in paying it forward and I have had more help than you can imagine over the course of my career.

Now, I suspect I should tell you what I mean when I say “help.” First, it varies from case to case. With a few people, I’ll actually read over manuscripts and make suggestions. Yeah, that doesn’t happen all that often. See, in order to be a writer, I have to actually write, and there’s no way in hell I have enough hours in the day as it is. If I read all the manuscripts I’ve had requests on, I wouldn’t manage a thousand words a year and that’s a hard way to make a living.

What it usually comes down to, excluding only the rare exceptions, is telling people what to do. Yep. Telling them. Because, if I should make suggestions, I often get ignored and later they come back and tell me that they should have listened to me. (I need to add here that I in no way, shape or form believe that I am a good teacher, but I am very good at yelling at people good-naturedly. Use your strengths, people.)

The lady I’ve been helping doesn’t read horror, doesn’t write horror and by her own admission doesn’t even watch bad scary movies. She’s too susceptible to nightmares. I meet a lot of people who fall into that category. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to give advice if they ask for it.

This particular lady wants to write romance novels. She asked for feedback from me solely based on the fact that I’ve been published a few times. Hey, believe me, if I could have asked a few romance writers questions, I would have. That’s the nature of this business. You can read a million books on how to get published and get the same advice from the vast majority. As far as I’m concerned you’ll learn more from two or three writers who’ve already been in the trenches as it were. Though there are some amazing books out there and I’ve read a lot of them.

The lady in question was under a deadline and that might well have been part of the reason for listening to me. By the time you read this, she’ll already be on her way to Las Vegas, for the Romance Writers of America annual meeting. She’s already arranged a sit down with an editor from Harlequin Romance. She did that all by herself, with absolutely no suggestions from me.

To which I say HALLELUJAH and AMEN!!!!! That’s called doing a little research and trying to get prepared.

No, what I helped her with was the behind the scenes things. I made a few suggestions regarding how to prepare herself for the pitch session.

Pitch session. It’s a name that fits, you know. You make a pitch, you pray for a home run, or to at least make a base. And just like in baseball, it’s all about the delivery. And that, boys and girls, is what I discussed with my friend the fledgling romance writer.

I told her what to expect from her fifteen minutes to talk with an editor, and I made suggestions in the form of orders.

First, I told her about the fast pitch. My assignment to her was simple. “I want you to come up with one sentence that sums up your novel.”

She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, which is a perfectly natural response. I smiled. She backed away just a bit, probably worried that I was going to eat her face, or possibly spew fire. I have that sort of smile apparently. It’s a burden I’ve learned to live with.

When she started stammering, I raised one finger and said “Under the Overtree, it’s about puberty and monsters and whether or not there’s a difference.” I raised a second finger. “Fireworks: do you remember the alleged UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico? Imagine it happening in modern day southern Georgia. Not near the town, but in it.” (Yes, I cheated, technically that was three sentences.) I raised one more finger. “Serenity Falls is about a three-hundred year old curse coming to fruition. It’s the name of the town and what happens to it.” (Yeah, yeah, two sentences. Deal with it. I could have just slid in a colon or something.)

My point is this: You have to catch the editor’s attention fast. Having a fast pitch lets them know you’ve at least thought about it. It’s a trick that Hollywood has been using for years, so I incorporated it into my own spiel and into my off the cuff lesson plan. Hey, it’s been working so far. No one has caught on that I’m bluffing my way through this whole writing gig.

When she’d managed that, I sent her on to level two. “I want you to write the back cover text for your novel. No more than one page, double spaced and no cheating.”

“No cheating?”

“Yeah, no really small fonts. 12 point at least.”

She had it to me two days later.

“Okay, now I want you to write an actual synopsis. No more than five pages.”

A week went by before she had that to me.

Me: “So, how goes the writing?”

Her: Pretty good. I’m up to fifty thousand words.”

Me: “Great! How long is it gonna be?”

Her: “It’s supposed to be sixty thousand words, so that’s what I aimed for.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I could have fainted dead away. Do you have ANY idea how many people tell me their either A) stuck because they went back to edit their first chapter again, B) haven’t started the novel or c) Are hoping the editor won’t mind that the work is either 20,000 words too long or too short? Listen, I’ve gone on and on about A). Write it first. Edit it later. It’s the number one killer of short stories, novels and novellas, at least when you’re first starting. B) is a sucky way to keep an editor’s attention when you’re just starting out because, really, you have no track record. Have the first few chapters, or have the completed manuscript, and you’re in a better place. C) Can be survived, but won’t always win you brownie points.

My little protégé got it right the first time. Makes me proud, I tell you.

I smiled, nodded, told her she was doing a great job, and then told her to hand over the one page synopsis, so I could read it. I then mercilessly attacked with a pen, to ensure that she understood that I was still a big, scary man. Hey, it’s my reputation and I mean to keep it. When I was done, I went over the recommended changes line by line. Mostly because my handwriting sucks and I feared she’d never be able to translate.

I did the same thing this week with her five pager. It was actually seven pages, but it was in the proper format, so I forgave her. Of course, I scolded her for not having all of her contact information on the copy she brought for me, but she pointed out it was on the final copy and I left her alive and breathing. Naturally, I had to point out the four typos, the spots where her voice went from active to passive and the fact that she’d stapled the pages together. She smiled and thanked me. Weird world we live in, hunh?

I’m never kind when I give a critique. I warn every potential protégé that I intend to be merciless, just like a real editor would be. I point out that that have MAYBE a paragraph to get the editor’s attention, because, I’ve had many an editor tell me that they most assuredly do not read beyond the first page unless the manuscript or the proposal gives them a damned good reason for wasting their already overburdened time.

She’s been practicing her fast pitch in the mirror and making her husband listen.

She’s carefully thought out how long fifteen minutes can be, has come up with a list of questions that the editor MIGHT ask her. She’s tried to have an answer for each and every one of them ready to go.

She finished her first draft of the novel (and I only had to yell at her four times about fixing it later) and is half way through the second draft.

She’s got a copy of the manuscript ready to go, as well as a copy of the one page synopsis and a copy of the five-page synopsis. She’s even got the whole damned thing burned on a disc in Word format. She may never need a single one of those items, but she’s got the. Worst case, at least she ahd a copy of the manuscript that she can read over again and make editing notes to herself on.

Friday afternoon, sometime around 2:30 in the city of Las Vegas, she’ll be sitting down to chat it up with an editor from Harlequin.

She’ll be a nervous wreck. So will I. I really want to see her succeed. I always want to see writers succeed, especially if they’ve been foolish enough to listen to me.

I don’t read romances. I have a time or two when desperate and without reading material in a house without power, but aside from that, no, thanks, it’s not my cup of tea.

She sells that damned book, I’ll buy it, have her autograph it and I’ll read every damned page of it with an editor’s eye. And the next time I see her afterwards, when she inevitably asks for my honest opinion, I’ll give it to her.

That’s what you’re supposed to do for your protégés. I won’t write a book for her, but I can look it over and make suggestions. Doing less would be wrong, in my heartfelt opinion. She’s proved to me that she’s willing to work for it, and that’s not an easy thing to prove anymore. I’ve run across too many would-be protégés who merely come up with excuses and never produce any writing to back up their claims of wanting to be a writer. Them I can ignore with the greatest of ease.

I’m willing to take time away from my full time writing career and my full time day job to help someone out who’s serious about it. I don’t have time to hold hands and pat people on the back, but I always have time for another writer. There’s a difference between the two.

If you want to be serious about it, do your research, know your markets and, damn it, people, write. Write your asses off. Write every day. Write every night. Take time off for loved ones, because they’ve got your back and you need to have a life beyond the keyboard, but write.

I gave my little romance-writing friend a hand, but she did all the real work. I just offered a little criticism (well, maybe a lot) and some advice.

If she succeeds, it’s all her doing. If she fails, that’s on her too. If I helped her anywhere along the way, then I’m delighted.

Damn, I really hope that pitch session goes well.

James A. Moore

On a side note, don’t go thinking there are no rewards for helping out another writer. There are plenty. I have one official protégé. His name is Mike McCarty and he’s been busting his ass to get a novel finished. I’ve looked over his works, made a few suggestions, told him about a market or two, and done what I can for a man living on the other side of the country. During his day job Mike works for KNB FX as a makeup artist.

Mike recently saved my butt. On a whim, I sent him a manuscript I was working on. The manuscript involved characters deep sea diving. Yeah, my butt is landlocked in Georgia. I don’t see the ocean but once a year on the average, and I certainly don’t dive. Happy coincidence: Mike is a certified dive master. He helped me with all of the technical stuff I would have screwed up completely.

See? It’s good to help other people. Thanks, Mike!

Now. WHERE THE HELL IS THE MANUSCRIPT for your latest novel?

James A. Moore