Writing | Betsy Lerner

Whenever I Feel Afraid

Posted on July 16, 2009 by betsylerner

I’m relieved not to face another cafeteria meal, not the food so much as the reminder of myself in seventh grade when the planetary system of our junior high lunch room shifted in ways often imperceptible and sometimes like a meteor storm leaving so much debris in its wake. All that self-consciousness then, and even now, at this advanced age. Excuse me, is that seat taken? Hi, is anyone sitting there?

Tin House is an excellent conference with worshops, lectures, and readings in a stunning outdoor amphitheater overlooking a pond where ducks and geese squabble. Cocktails every night on a beautiful quad, and from what I hear there’s even a decent amount of hooking up. In the faculty dorm, drinking, poker, and other manly arts.

I spoke with a few writers around the edges of the conference who reminded me of myself when I first attended workshops as a student: a little awkward, nervous, excited. They had all taken that first brave step, announced in some important way to themselves that they were writers. They were here.

One young man told me he was working on a memoir. “What happened to you?” I asked. He laughed and coughed on the drag of the cigarette he was taking. “What happened to me?” he repeated. “Yeah,” I persisted, “what happened that you have to write about.” The young man snubbed out his cigarette, “Okay,” he said, “If you put it that way, I’ll tell you.”

And then he told me one of the saddest stories I have ever heard.

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Dear

Posted on July 14, 2009 by betsylerner

Half-way through the conference. Just thought I’d mention that the bathrooms are co-ed. Gave a rousing talk this morning about query letters. Spent a couple of hours at Powell’s bookstore in downtown Portland and never got out of the poetry section. Met Walter Kirn. Cool dude. Breakfast with Dorothy Allison. Coolest dude. What else? Met a new client who lives in Portland — very smart, lovely man. And played a mean game of croquet with Tin House editor Rob Spillman, his son Miles, agent Julie Behr, and the poet Kevin Young. I held my own.

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Is It Soup Yet?

Posted on July 6, 2009 by betsylerner

A writer from New Hampshire asks: how do I know when my novel is finished?

Dear Live Free or Die:

Poke it with a fork and see if the juices run clear.

It’s a really tough question. I don’t have any answers, just some guidelines. First, whenever it is you think are “done,” put it away for a month. A whole month, and then look at it again. You just might gain some perspective for starting the revision process.

Get feedback. Give it to three or four readers (not anyone you’re sleeping with, or the person who gave birth to you). Sometimes a writer will tell me that all of his readers had different opinions and now she’s more confused than ever. I think that indicates that the writer has yet to control the story, has not yet gotten his readers where he wants them: in the palm of his hand. If all your readers tell you that the ending doesn’t work, it probably doesn’t work. If everyone hates a certain character, you need to develop that character more deeply so that we come to love his or her flaws.

Also, if you have a nagging suspicion that it’s not quite there, it’s not quite there. I think a lot of people write without being completely certain what it is they are trying to say, the writing itself is a kind of reckoning or awakening or grappling with. But when you think it’s done, you should have some clear idea of what it is you wanted to say. What is the operating metaphor? One of my favorite quotes (paraphrased here) is by Bernard Malamud who said he wrote the first draft to get it out, the second to improve the prose, and the third draft to compel it to say what it still needed to say.

Then, I gather, it’s done.

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Jesus Died For Somebody’s Sins But Not Mine

Posted on June 23, 2009 by betsylerner

A writer, we’ll call her Joan, thinks she should wait until her parents are dead to write her memoir. What do I think about that? Well, Joan, you haven’t told me what’s at stake. For instance, an Astor-sized inheritance might be worth putting the prose on hold. I don’t know. It’s a tough question.

I do believe that writers are the designated hitters in their families. The whistle blowers. Or as I refer to them in my (ahem) book, The Wicked Children. Not all writers are damaged by or isolated from their families, I just don’t know any. Most great art, whether created with a knife or a scalpel, an electric or acoustic guitar, is a savage act. And most great artists are savages. I think this is what I most admire in them.

When I was nineteen, I met a ninety year old woman called Ninette T. Loos Blanc. There is much to say about Ninette, but for now I’ll just say that she was a hero, and the words she lived by: Loyalty to the family is tyranny to the self.

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FAQ: I Don’t Know If My Book is Fiction or Non-Fiction — Is This a Problem?

Posted on June 13, 2009 by betsylerner

Yes, it is. For all the aesthetic and creative reasons that come to mind, but also because at the end of the day the book needs to be shelved somewhere. Maybe not on Amazon, but if you want to find your book in a bookstore, it needs to find a shelf: fiction, current events, biography and memoir, history, etc.

In Forest for the Trees, I wrote that not knowing your genre is a little like not knowing if you’re straight or gay. I no longer know if I agree with that. For some people, it takes time to find the right genre to work in and you may be good in a couple or more. The MFA programs tend to keep the breeds in separate kennels. And I’ve always subscribed to the idea that if you want to do something well, you need to remain intensely focussed. But look at Updike. Stories, novels, essays, poems.

I started writing poetry when I was young and miserable. I wrote two non-fiction books in my thirties. And now I write screenplays that are so spectacular it’s frightening. Okay, no one wants my screenplays, but I love the form. If only NYU hadn’t kicked me out of film school, I might’ve been in Diablo Cody’s girl writing group, the Fempire. Damn you, Diablo!

But you do have to know what you’re doing, genre-wise, so you can be in control of what you’rewriting, and well versed with the tropes and conventions within the genre.

Also, to the fair maiden who wrote in, you must have this question resolved before you approach agents and editors. Otherwise, people won’t know if you’re straight or gay.

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FAQ — Writer’s Block

Posted on June 10, 2009 by betsylerner

A few writers have asked if I have any advice for writer’s block. I may make some enemies saying this, but writer’s block is something that totally bores me. I even hate the term, writer’s block. It sounds like one of the newfangled diagnoses such as Oppositional Disorder to pathologize an ill behaved child. In my experience, you’re not writing because you don’t know what to write about, are afraid of exposure, have no discipline, are ambivalent about your desire/ability to write, etc. These are not small things. They are very real. But as I’ve said before, the world isn’t asking you to write; so it certainly doesn’t care if you don’t. Don’t lament the time you don’t write.

That’s the tough love. Some ideas to get the wheels turning: therapy (obviously), pick up the old diary and pen (pushing a pen is good for the soul), try The Artist’s Way, get a Hitachi Magic Wand, join a workshop, read, walk two miles in the morning followed by lemon tea with honey, and as I’ve said before: get dressed!

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I Hate It When People Say Have a Good Weekend

Posted on June 5, 2009 by betsylerner

I’m usually really on top of my reading. In the first place, I commute back and forth from New Haven a few times a week. So with the exception of the New York Times on the way in and the New York Post on the way home, I have three hours a day to paw through manuscripts. In the second place, there’s nothing like a writer/client waiting to hear what you think. You’d rather be caged with a wild monkey. And those who say, “take your time,” they are the biggest head cases all. So I like to take them out of their misery and read their pages as soon as possible.

But now, this weekend, when I have the first little “getaway” planned in a very long time, I’m up to my eyeballs in manuscripts. Fortunately, I want to read everything. Two novels that sound extremely appealing. New pages by one of my favorite novelist clients. And the blue monster. So why am I writing a post, you ask, instead of doing my work? Why are you reading this instead of sending me a brilliant non-fiction proposal?

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Shape Shifters

Posted on May 29, 2009 by betsylerner

In the past few days, before the book fair even starts, we have met with publishers, editors, and agents from China, Japan, England, Germany, France, Italy, Netherlands, Spain and Los Angeles. Everyone is looking for one thing: the next Twilight. Makes me wonder, if everyone is looking for the same thing, why can’t they find it?

I have always counseled writers not to look at the bestseller lists for inspiration. I’ve even been condescending to those copycats who ride on the coat tails of others. But it is undeniable that when a book hits big, lots of knock offs follow, some of them extremely good.

Since I’ve been in publishing, people have been searching for the next Perfect Storm which kicked off a renewed interest in outdoor adventure. (I prefer indoor adventure, particularly parlor and bed room adventure.) The next Seabiscuit, the next Angela’s Ashes, the next Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, the next Harry Potter, Tipping Point, Marley, Tuesdays with Morrie, Eat me, Pray, Love, etc.

I would still prefer to be the agent whose client kicked off the trend. I would still prefer to find my writers under rocks, beside streams, in locked wards, and lost in the stacks of a lonely library. I just would. I’m a stubborn son of a bitch. That said, if you have a werewolf manuscript in a drawer, or can whip up one before the next big thing hits, send it to me. Now.

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Turd by Turd

Posted on May 18, 2009 by betsylerner

Here are some tips I was going to include in The Forest for the Trees until my editor reminded me I was not Anne Lamott. (Funny, in graduate school a professor told me I was not Fran Leibowitz. That BDP I mentioned earlier told me I wasn’t Woody Allen.) Who the fuck am I? Anyway, here are some tips I dreamed up when my identity was still relatively secure:

Write your first draft in long hand.
Rewrite a famous story from the point of view of a minor character.
Rewrite a first person story in the third person.
Write a sonnet
Shower, dress, wear shoes that lace.
Do not show anyone your work until it’s in the third draft – at least.
Do not show your work to your mother, lover, or bff.
After you write something, leave it alone for as long as possible before you start revising.
Cut anything that bores you — be honest.
Use your dictionary.
Play Scrabble.
Go to a reading.
Write an editorial letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald about the structure in The Great Gatsby.
Write the same paragraph from three different points of view.
Write a character description without physical attributes.
Outline your book. Index cards for extra credit.
Clean your glasses with a soft cloth.

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The Woodhouse Way

Posted on May 11, 2009 by betsylerner

Continuing to pack for the move, well, at this stage, mostly throwing out crap, I came across the proposal for The Forest for the Trees.

It was sold with the title:

NO BAD WRITERS: An Editor’s Handbook for Procrastinators, Self-Flagellators, Manquees, Masochists, Imposters, and Dreamers — In Other Words, Writers of all Kinds — With Some Tips About the Writing Life and Getting Published.

Moving right along.

I originally got the idea for the book when, as a young assistant editor, I had to write a tip sheet (basically all the relevant information about a book boiled down to one page that pulishers use for their pre-publication meetings. It usually includes a keynote about the book, comparison titles, ISBN, sales track, brief description or key points, blurbs, etc.) for a dog training book called No Bad Dogs.

The author Barbara Woodhouse believed there were no bad dogs, only bad owners. She got into the psychology of dogs and she had chapters with names like: Nervous Dogs, Dogs with Phobias, Dirty Dogs, Living with Mentally Unstable Dogs, and Dogs that Hate Men or Women.

Though I didn’t write the proposal for another ten years, that’s where I got the idea to write about writers’ personalities.

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