• Forest for the Trees
  • THE FOREST FOR THE TREES is about writing, publishing and what makes writers tick. This blog is dedicated to the self loathing that afflicts most writers. A community of like-minded malcontents gather here. I post less frequently now, but hopefully with as much vitriol. Please join in! Gluttons for punishment can scroll through the archives.

    If I’ve learned one thing about writers, it’s this: we really are all alone. Thanks for reading. Love, Betsy

I Went Down To The Chelsea Drugstore To Get Your Prescription Filled

Kids!  Great news! We made the top ten list of worst jobs according to Health Magazine. Writers place fourth on most likely to get depressed list.  Finally, they’re taking us seriously. Here are my top ten things I hate about writing:

 

1) Bed sores

2) The mind games

3) Can never keep enough Imodium on hand

4) The guilt

5) Having people tell you they have a story in them, too

6) The New Yorker

7) Hearing what people think

8. Night terrors

9) I’ll fuck you up, Colbert.

10) Other writers

What do you hate most about being a writer? Don’t hold back.

Let Your Heart Be Light

It’s that time of year when you might be wondering what to get that special agent, editor, or writer in your life.  Here are some suggestions (Kindles not included):

For him

 

For her


Yes you can!

From the Hemingway collection

Victorian Writing Desk

Edith Wharton's Pocket Watch

Gives new meaning to boxed set

Pen Holder

Send Me Dead Flowers By The Mail

The bats are out tonight. I don’t know why, or I’m just not saying. I keep going back to a scene in which a young man breaks down over a crib. I keep going back to a scene where a girl  locks herself inside a gas station rest room. There’s a woman at St. Dunkin’s named Shilpa, and every morning when I go to NYC she gives me  a huge smile and remembers how I like my coffee. Would you be surprised to know I sit in the same car in the same seat? I am mourning the loss of letters. I am mourning the loss of lettuce. Stones on top of graves. The cards my father dealt. Let’s split it three-ways. Promise me you’ll never never stick a needle into your face.  Sometimes when I drive I think I am a middle aged mother running errands, or a man who makes toasters for the traveling show. I feel hopeful and hopeless. I am Louis XIV. I am his heir. I am the guillotine. The humble shovel.  I thought the Elgin marbles were marbles. I am not really writing. Don’t ask me about poems. I was sixteen. Words exploded on a page. Has Betsy always been creative? Oh, yes, my mother says. I am cutting paper. I am adorable. Intent. I keep going to a scene I can’t remember.

Leave a comment and  prove that misery does love company.

Someone Found A Letter You Wrote You Me on the Radio

Here’s the link to a radio show I did last week. It was a sixty minute call in show, and after a while I got a little restless. It was then I spied the power bar I had brought in for lunch. If you listen to the interview, I want you to tell me if you can detect when I started chowing down on the power bar. More,  I want you to appreciate the kind of special guest and self-promoter I am that I would begin to NOSH during a radio interview. Imagine, what I could on television!

I had another interview the next day; I limited myself to my special raspberry drops, Les Framboises. My dad would buy us these tins at Broadway shows and I was in love with the fancy calligraphy and, of course, the tin itself which seemed like treasure, or better yet to hold treasure. As it turns out, this was also a mistake because I always bite down on hard candies. I wonder if the sound of me spitting out the raspberry drop can heard on the interview? That would be awesome.

This is an open letter to Stephen Colbert. I swear, if you have me on your show, I will remove a wrapped cheeseburger from my pocket, unwrap it, and eat it instead of answering your question. I will eat an entire Carvel cake in the time it will take you to ask me  a follow up question.  This goes for Stewart, Letterman, Rose, Handler, and Fallon. (I’m not going to get into it, but Conan being off the list is not an oversight.) Let’s make television magic!

It’s Based On a Novel By a Man Named Lear

525 Comments as of close of day Friday.  It was like a freakin’ avalanche. This must be how Bransford feels all the time. I wasn’t sure anyone would even leave a title. So thanks to everyone who participated. To choose “the best,” it was impossible to do anything but sift through the  titles as if through a pile of query letters. And I’ve selected those with exactly the same criteria as I do the letters that cross my desk: does the title (and some combination of elements in the letter) make me want to read more?

In Fifth Place: The short stories “The Camera Has Its Reason” and “101 Ways of Hating Claire.” I just like them, the first is kind of heady but also funny, the second, well you know I’m a hater. They’re quirky without being too “quirky.”

In fourth place: The Wrong Daughter (Yes, lots of titles with “daughter” in them these days, but I’ve always felt like the wrong one myself. It’s strong, immediately signals the conflict, and perfect for the women’s fiction market.

In third place:  Zebra Crossing (I just like the way it sounds and the visual it immediately creates in my mind.)

In second place: Gardening In Belvoir. I don’t get how it’s a paranormal suspense. It sounds British. But it’s strange and intriguing to me.

In first place: The Pigeon Drop. I love titles that sound good even when  I don’t know what they mean, but when I discover the meaning, and in this case it’s the name of a common scam, I love it all the more. I also love stories about con artists, grifters, etc. It sounds original to me, but it also sounds like a bestseller to me, like Michael Connelly could have written it.

Okay, that’s my completely subjective take. Will the author of the Pigeon Drop please send his or her address if you want to redeem your prize of an AUTOGRAPHED copy of the New and Revised FOrest for the Trees. askbetsylerner@gmail.com

Thanks again to everyone who participated. Please feel free to agree, disagree, weigh in. It was thrilling to see such a huge and thoughtful response (August, you too, you know it I love it when crap all over my posts.)

I Ain’t No Monkey But I Know What I Like

Please be gentle!

 

When I go around hawking my book, I give a series of workshops and one is on titles. I don’t know if it will be possible to recreate some of that experience here or if anyone will be game, but if you would like to test out your title, leave it as a comment. What we do in the workshop is use everyone as market research. Writers float their titles and we get a show of hands who likes it, who doesn’t, why? And then a deeper conversation ensues about the importance of titles and why we like some, not others, how useful they are for marketing,  what they need to accomplish given the genre, how well they capture the essence of the book, how they can attract and galvanize, or get lost in the crowd.

What makes you pick up a book in the store? You have a title, jacket art, an author’s name, some descriptive copy. What grabs you? Some combination no doubt. But when you are pitching to agents (and agents in turn to publishers), it is even more critical to get the title right. I pitched a book today and the title and sub-title said it all. And when I pitched it, the editors said things like: that’s a brilliant title, that title gave me chills, I feel like I’m going to cry, etc. This is called a bulls-eye. It doesn’t guarantee a sale, but you’ve got the door open and editors will look at it more quickly.

I’ve heard too many writers say that the title is a place holder because they know it will change. Or they say they’re not good at thinking up titles. Or the title is good enough. I beg you to find a great title. A truly great title. You cannot underestimate how much it helps your cause.

So, if  you are working on your title and want some feedback (and please post anonymously if you like), show us what you got. And we’ll tell you if we like it and why, or send you back to the drawing board. Or just tell us  what some of your favorite titles are and why. I will send a FREE AUTOGRAPHED copy of The Forest for the Trees (Revised and Updated for the 21st Century) to the best loved title submitted. No joke.

I Knew All Along That He Was All Wrong

The problem with watching too much In Treatment is that you begin to take on Gabriel Byrne’s characteristics, his brooding mien, his Irish accent, his eye twitches that signal he gets it. You start telling people to get a good look at themselves, to find the connections among various life events, to pick up the almighty pattern.  And then you try to offer a little  hope, just a wee bit of salvation or redemption or revelation. You know: insight.

I’ve always fancied myself an armchair shrink, so it doesn’t take much for me to get into character. Though, I usually wind up feeling more like the patient. Of course, I love seeing Byrne with his shrink. You know, the doctor heal thyself crap. Sometimes when I stare at my shrink, I imagine her in the most banal situations, waiting for a mammogram, running back into the laundry room to throw a Bounce in the dryer, mindlessly playing with green beans on her square plate.

Therapy is to writing as writing is to ____________________________.