Writing | Betsy Lerner

The Ten Commandments of Collaboration

Posted on November 22, 2009 by betsylerner

1) Thou shalt not censor. Both partners need to feel completely free to float ideas no matter how idiotic.

2) Thou shalt control thine ego. No crying, whining, bullying or icing. No temper tantrums, passive aggressive maneuvers, or diva moves. No pouting, sulking, or “innocent” jabs.

3) Thou shalt be on the same page. More difficult than you think. Both writers must share a basic, core belief that they share a vision and equal ownership of the project.

4) Thou shalt watch thine partner’s back. i.e. control those sadistic impulses. Yes, you.

5) Thou shalt share a work ethic. How do you define a work day? Four hours? Eight hours? Eighteen? How many naps?

6) Thou shalt not be a credit monger. The first writer to yell, “That was my idea,” gets a time out.

7) Thou shalt have fun. And by this I don’t mean smoke tons of weed unless you’re Judd Apatow and Seth Rogan.

8) Thou shalt not sleep with your writing partner. (Unless you’re Judd Apatow and Seth Rogan.)

9) Thou shalt snack. The host writing partner should supply an assortment of junk food and apples.

10) Thou shalt know when to move on. That would be before one writing partner is found in pool of blood and the other is getting finger-printed.

(Am I missing any?)

Filed under: Writers, Writing | 9 Comments »

You’re Gonna Make Me Give Myself a Good Talking To

Posted on November 15, 2009 by betsylerner

I’ve been using the revision of Forest for the Trees and then the pig flu and bronchitis as excuses for not starting my new screenplay (this after putting my last screenplay on DNR). Well, the revision is in production and I’m all better. There we are, and yes the sound you hear is me whistling in the dark. I’ve had an idea for a new screenplay that I think about mostly when I walk the dog, fold laundry, do dishes — you know, quality time. I learned in my screenwriting class to begin with character sketches. The kids in the class were undergrads and I don’t think any of them wrote the sketches. I did, of course. And I found it hugely helpful. The more I wrote about a character, the more the larger story unfolded. I think this would be helpful for fiction writers, but I’m not sure because for the life of me I don’t know how people write fiction even after 25 years in publishing. I only know when they do it well. Anyway, I cracked open a new notebook over the weekend and started writing about my lead character. Her name is Anna Elliott and she’s got great tits. And, no, not everything I write is autobiographical.

What’s most difficult for you? Starting or finishing?

Some housekeeping:

First and third prizes have been sent out to winners of the match the author photo with the first line contest (The First Cut is the Deepest). Second prize never sent in his/her address. You have until the end of the year (askbetsylerner@gmail.com). Or whenever.
Thanks to all the great tech advice, my new iMac is coming on Thursday. (I love you John Hodgman — forgive me.)

Filed under: Writing | 15 Comments »

Keep Your Day Job

Posted on November 5, 2009 by betsylerner

“Keep your day job,” was the working title for The Forest for the Trees. In fact, it’s the title I sold the project with. Obviously, what I meant was that you can’t expect to make a living from your writing alone. The percentage of writers who do is infinitesimal. The title was too negative and no longer reflected the book once I finished it, but there’s something in that title that I want to talk about.

I’m assuming many readers of this blog work full time jobs and write “on the side.” That would describe me. I think I may be less frustrated than many because my “day job” involves what I love most: writers, writing, books, editing, etc. But it’s still really difficult to turn off the job and indulge my own creative impulses. This is why I’m one of those pre-dawn writers. I work best before anything or anyone else crowds my brain.

When I worked at Simon and Schuster, there was an assistant who will go unnamed (Rick Moody) who reputedly wrote most of his first novel in his cubicle. The rest of us were outraged that he “could get away with that.” In truth, I was deeply envious that he could put his work first, that he had to. God knows I’ve been writing my whole life, my first diary dates to age 8. And I did put my writing front and center when I got my MFA. I can still recall having my poetry collection spread out on the floor, pacing in my bathrobe, rearranging the collection for days. Oh, that was heaven. But since then, I’ve worked full-time. In other words, I have not quit my day job.

What I’m asking is: if you have a day job, are you in agony where your writing is concerned?

Filed under: Writers, Writing | 43 Comments »

I’m Walking On Sunshine

Posted on October 27, 2009 by betsylerner

My editor called today to say that she liked the work I did on the revision for The Forest for the Trees. Especially the ending. I no longer thought it worked, too overblown, but I kept moving paragraphs and sentences around like the wheel of a combination lock, hoping they would click into place if I got each sentence lined up just so. Finally, I scrapped it and started fresh. I think doing that is almost always the best solution to pages that have been over-worked.

So, dearest darling beloved readers of this blog. FFTT will come out next fall. I owe you a lot for helping me find my mojo again as the ever positive and cheerful promoter of writers and all things bookish. We will have to have a party. I may even get a fresh quantity of customized pencils made. I know you want them. You do.

One last piece of business. Check this out from today’s PublishersMarketPlace new deals column:

FICTION: DEBUT

Laurie London’s BONDED BY BLOOD, the first in her Sweetblood series, about a vampire warrior who must protect a human woman with a particularly delicious blood type from the vampire predators who hunt her, to Margo Lipschultz at HQN, in a two-book deal, by Emmanuelle Alspaugh at Judith Ehrlich Literary Management (World).

That coulda been us. ‘Nuff said.

Filed under: Books, Publishing, Writing | 18 Comments »

Same As It Ever Was

Posted on October 19, 2009 by betsylerner

I just finished my revision of FFTT. It’s almost 2:00 a.m. New Haven has gone to bed. I’m buzzy, agitated. Like James Caan in Misery, I want my one cigarette upon completion. Actually, I need help with three outstanding items:

–Does any remember Jay McInerny doing scotch ads? If so, was it Dewar’s? Or what brand was it?

–“Query letters that sound as if they were penned Crazy Eddie, instead of a thoughtful writer…” They want me to swap “Crazy Eddie” for a more contemporary nutcase? I’m drawing a blank. Any ideas?

–I also need to replace Don King as an example of a nutcase self-promoter. Any names come to mind?

I know this isn’t your job. If a bribe of any sort would help, name it. Scotch, cigarettes, a signed copy of the 10th anniversary revision of The Forest for the Trees. I want to tell you something. When the book was first published, I used to dis it, trying to be clever or self-deprecating. After all, I had an MFA in poetry and here I was writing an advice book. I’d gone from Sylvia Plath to Erma Bombeck. My husband described my behavior as “psychotic disassociation.” I knew he was right. I was weirdly ashamed. Who the hell was I? I trashed my own book and acted like it was funny. Fast forward ten years. I’m still an asshole, and I mean that in the best sense of the word. I’m also proud the little fucker is still in print. God knows, I’m lucky to have the chance to make it better and update it. Only here’s my new iteration of self-flagellation: oh, you had to rope them into letting you revise the book instead of creating something NEW. I hope, if you are a writer, you will applaud this new low.

Filed under: Writers, Writing | 22 Comments »

You Are So Beautiful To Me

Posted on August 30, 2009 by betsylerner

I did two very close line edits over the last few weeks, a novel and a memoir. They were both quite brilliant in their own right and as a result the editing was a pure joy. There were many books I’ve had to work on over the years where the prose was less than stellar. I used to compare editing those books to correcting papers, catching the same predictable mistakes over and over again.

When you have the chance to edit something you believe to be brilliant, the pencil comes alive in your hand. You engage in a dialogue in the margins of the page that becomes an intricate and intimate dance. You feel smarter, you may actually be smarter, because you are inspired. And because you don’t have to worry about big things, your attention is more finely tuned and with each suggestion, even as small as a word change, you see the thing more fully realized, elevated, nailed.

There is nothing more satisfying than fine tuning.

Well, a few exceptions come to mind, but this is not an x-rated blog.

Filed under: Authors, Editor, Writing | 6 Comments »

I Bet You Think This Song Is About You

Posted on August 10, 2009 by betsylerner

A reader writes in: I thought this might be a good question to ask “Betsy the Blogger.” Before we continue, let it be known that Betsy does not like being referred to as “Betsy the Blogger.”

So, I’m writing a memoir on painkiller addiction, and much of my story involves my experiences in “Drug Court”. Proof positive: I attract junkies. And as I’m writing, a nagging voice keeps suggesting to me that perhaps there is a book in the Drug Court story alone… so, a few questions:

First, is it completely solipsistic of me to think about a second book before finishing the first? YES.
And, if it were reasonable for me to contemplate a second or “follow up” book, should I be concerned with how much subject matter I cover in the first? NO.

I have trouble evaluating at any “communication” in isolation. That’s the great existential joke. The writer is often that last person to know if his work is any good, and by that I mean if it communicates or reaches other people. That’s why it’s usually so terrifying to put it out there, worst fears confirmed. I think everyone will agree that it is worse to be met with silence than rejection.

So, is it crazy to think about your sequel before the book you are working on has found its place on the shelf? Yeah, of course it is. But it may also be a sign of mania, and/or what I call the rapture of the deep. This is where you’re so deep into your work that you think everything you see and touch is related to the book. That it’s not just one book, but two, and maybe a series.

Dearest writer with checkered drug history, just remember, one book at a time.

Filed under: FAQ, Writing | 7 Comments »

The Tracks of My Tears

Posted on August 2, 2009 by betsylerner

I asked the cashier for a bag because I was too ashamed to carry it out of the store. In question: Marley and Me, the DVD. I was looking for a lachrymal stimulater — in other words, I wanted a good cry. I should have rented Love Story. Never fails.

Before I discuss what this post is really about I want to ask, if anyone knows, did Owen Wilson try to kill himself before of after this movie? And next, whatever they used to put that dog down so peacefully, I’d like some of that when I lose my verve to chew through manuscripts.

When I was fourteen, I went to an “alternative” arts camp. Instead of putting on Fiddler on the Roof and Guys and Dolls as we had at my previous camp, I was now in plays by Lanford Wilson and Edward Albee. Musicals gave way to theater, or more precisely drama. It was my first exposure to “serious” art and, little sponge that I was, I picked up on my counselors’ disdain for Neil Simon and his ilk. I came home that summer changed. Soon after, I started reading poetry and writing. And I would continue to gravitate towards counselors and teachers who shared a similar world view.

I wonder how my tastes would have developed without that experience. I’m still a deeply sentimental person. At a recent middle school performance of “You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown,” you could find me bawling during what may have been the most off-key rendition of “Happiness” the world has ever heard.

I like to cry. I want to cry. So what does it take? Why did four million or so people cry for Marely, and not me? Or Tuesdays with Morrie? Or Last Lecture? My dying uncle, who read and loved Tuesdays with Morrie, said I was a snob. People cry when labradors and old professors and young professors die because it’s fucking sad. But it’s kind of like Woody Allen’s line: if a person is stoned and you get a laugh out of them, it doesn’t count.

Why do we feel one kind of writing is manipulative and another authentic, when it’s all manipulative? There was a really cute guy at that alternative camp who I had a major crush on, until he read me one of his poems. We were in the woods and I believed my first kiss was around the corner. He read the poem as if he were alone, which is to say with too much feeling. When I said that I didn’t think it was quite working, he said in his own defense: these are my feelings, you can’t criticize feelings.

A full calendar year would pass before I would know the sublime pleasure of a first kiss.

Filed under: Books, Film, Writing | 10 Comments »

Thank God It’s Monday

Posted on July 27, 2009 by betsylerner

A post over the weekend about the demise of literary fiction stirred up some fantastic debate. Thanks to everyone who weighed in.

In a June 29 New Yorker, there’s an article about a recently discovered trove of Edith Wharton letters that she wrote to her governess, the one person who encouraged her writing, truly a lifeline in a censorious home.

The closing quote speaks, I think, to our debate: “I don’t believe there is any greater blessing than that of being pierced through & through by the splendour and sweetness of words…I wouldn’t take a kingdom for it.”

Of course, that might be weighed against the blessing of being pierced through & through by Gabriel Byrne or Jon Hamm.

Filed under: Authors, Writing | 6 Comments »

Ashes, Ashes

Posted on July 20, 2009 by betsylerner

I know I wrote about Frank McCourt in The Forest for the Trees, using him, among others, as an example of a late bloomer. My books are still packed away, or I’d dig it up. The salient point: McCourt was published for the first time at the age of 66. You see some of these geezers at writing conferences and it’s hard not to think: game over. McCourt changed all that. But there was something in his NYT obit that touched me even more.

“On the side, Mr. McCourt made fitful stabs at writing. He contributed articles on Ireland to The Village Voice, kept notebooks. But at the Lion’s Head in Greenwich Village, where he became friends with Pete Hamill and Jimmy Breslin, he felt like an interloper, he said. They were writers. He was just a teacher.”

And then, “An early attempt, when he was studying at NYU, had fizzled out, but three decades later, he said, he had worked through his awkward self-conscious James Joyce phase and had gotten beyond the crippling anger that darkened his memories.”

Finally, the obit explains how, in what he thought was a note to himself, he found his voice, “That was it. It carried me through to the end of the book.”

It’s all there. The pervasive imposter/interloper complex most writers feel (many well into years of having been published). What is that about? Does a musician feel like a fraud if he hasn’t recorded? An artist if he hasn’t had a retrospective a MOMA? What is it about writing?There’s a great Mona Van Duyn poem (again packed away) about taking a vision test for a driver’s license, and the mortification she feels when asked her occupation.

Then there are the fits and starts and thirty year “hiatus” from writing. Oh, yeah, and the crippling anger. I can’t relate.

And last, finding your voice. Like what? An old friend? Like the true self? Like a gift you never expected and probably don’t deserve.

Raise a pint to Mr. McCourt. Four million hardcover copies, Pulitzer Prize, National Book Critics Circle. Well, not too shabby for an old geezer.