Writing | Betsy Lerner

The Best Things In Life Are Free

Posted on March 18, 2010 by betsylerner

Last week a non-fiction proposal sold for a small fortune. Everyone was talking about it for a few days, the manuscript electronically zinging all over town. I wondered what would stop someone from publishing it electronically? It made me think of my first bootleg album, Patti Smith, of course. I loved how illicit it felt, the raw production values, the cheap cardboard sleeve it came in. Of course, it never occurred to me then that she was being cheated of her fair share of royalty. Now that I’m an agent I think about these things, especially as books are next.

What made this particular book so hotly contested? It’s controversial, for starters. Exhibitionistic even. And the idea at the heart of it is something that people are both curious about and invested in. The author also has what’s known as an impressive pedigree. But it’s more than that: whether or not you like what he has to say, he touches a chord. You have to touch a chord. Unfortunately for me, whenever I think of touching a chord, the next thing I think about is touching the third rail.

Who will your book appeal to? Does it touch a nerve?

Filed under: Authors, Publishing, Writing | 46 Comments »

They Call Me Her

Posted on March 10, 2010 by betsylerner

Have you ever met a couple who are about to have a baby and haven’t yet picked out the name, claiming they can’t give the kid a name until they see it? You know, he may not look like a Bobby or Billy. He might be a Preston or a Chandler. Personally, I don’t get it. A newborn basically looks like Mr. Potato Head without the mustache. But whatever it is these parents think they are seeing before they brand their infant forever is akin to work of a novelist trying to name his main characters. You have to know something about your character before you can give him a name.

When I think about some of my favorite names from fiction, it’s pretty clear why they work. The names themselves hold a key to the character’s identity: Dick Diver, Augie March, Jo March, John Self, Oscar Wao, Mrs. Dalloway, Hazel Motes, Esther Greenwood, Lily Bart, Rabbit Angstrom, Nathan Zuckerman, Anna Karenina. They are memorable. How they sound, what they mean, imply, or infer. What is in a name? Everything.

How do you come up with names for your characters. What makes a name memorable? What are you favorite names?

Filed under: Books, Writing | 23 Comments »

You Only Make a First Impression Once

Posted on March 8, 2010 by betsylerner

Ford Madox Ford

I want to do something crazy different this week. I want to talk about writing. I want to focus on a different aspect of writing every day. Tonight, I want to talk about first lines. Openers. Your first move. Is it confident, timid, arresting, digressive? Is is mysterious, challenging, indulgent, or tricky? Are you introducing a person, place or thing? Is our narrator instantly known, or shadowy. What’s the tense? Who’s speaking? Is there a hook? Is the language surprising, does it foretell the end? Here are some first lines.

From Crying of Lot 49:

Thomas Pynchon

One summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary.

D.H. Lawrence

From Lady Chatterley’s Lover:

Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically,

From The Good Soldier:

This is the saddest story I have ever heard.

Which opening line would you vote for and why? For me, it’s the Ford. I love the first person. I love how direct and simple it seems, while at the same time I feel a story of great complexity coming on. I like the use of present tense; it makes the sentence very immediate, though the next sentence will shift easily into past. Also, I live for sad stories. My uncle once asked me why I didn’t like happy stories and I said because I didn’t believe they were true. It’s not a world view for everyone, but it’s mine.

Filed under: Writing | 23 Comments »

No One I Think Is In My Tree

Posted on March 2, 2010 by betsylerner

I’ve been thinking a lot about the comments on Monday in response to my tantrum about my own writing. I never expected to have such kind responses, encouraging and supportive. That’s because I’m always expecting what my own brain doles out: buck up, get to work, you’re a piece of shit (actually it’s you’re a fat piece of shit but we don’t need to get ugly here), you’re a phoney, no one cares about your lame ass excuses, etc. Whenever people say, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, I always want to reply: then who will be? It has never occurred to me to be nice to myself, which is probably why I loathe the entire self-help industry, spirituality, and whistling.

The thing is, your comments got to me: it’s winter, the toughest time usually comes before a breakthrough (or breakdown), you’re not alone, something about an insect near my vee-jayjay, and the clay. I want to thank everyone who commented. I’ve never known a writer to say, I’m at the top of my game, or I killed a new chapter this morning, or I’ve got my next five books outlined, or People seem to really love my writing. It’s so much darkness and even more scratching. It’s living inside your head, brutal and beautiful.

What I want to know is: what do you tell yourself? What is the drumming in your head?

Filed under: Writing | 48 Comments »

Here We Are Now Entertain Us

Posted on February 28, 2010 by betsylerner

Two dog hand puppets?

Many people who read my memoir said it was “brave.” Every time I heard that word, I immediately translated it to “crazy.” Isn’t that what they really meant, that it was crazy to expose so much of my life? I used to cavalierly say that the only thing people knew about me after reading the memoir was whether I could write. But I’d feel embarrassed and exposed and not brave. Not too long ago, my shrink wondered why the people in my family felt a need to make their stories public. Because we’re whores? Because we didn’t get enough attention? Because attention was, at our dinner table, love. Because love was food. And food was a weapon. And writing is a weapon. And sex should not be a weapon but sometimes it feels too good to resist. And if writing is shit on a stick, how can you not wave it around?

I am lost today. I have no idea why I write or what I want to say. I am angry and distressed and cannot locate the grid. I gave my shrink my books and she never said another word about them? Do you think she’s read them? I’m painting her as a jerk, but she’s actually the best person I’ve ever worked with. Her name is Betsy! Talk about transference. Talk about a room where you can say anything. Where what you say and what you need say are like the distance between you and the page. What does it take to get there: courage or skill, need or craft, desire or discipline? Brave or crazy?

Filed under: Writing | 54 Comments »

That’s Me In the Corner

Posted on February 22, 2010 by betsylerner

I realized today that I have become something I hate: a dilettante. A dabbler. A jack-off of all trades. I have a screenplay blocked out that I can’t seem to kick into second. I have a tv writing partner and we are on a highway to hell. I have Neeps, or The Marriage of Parsnip and Potato in a notebook, I have an abandoned memoir, The Potter’s Apprentice. I have…bupkus.

I have always believed that if you want to get something done you have to put blinders on. You have to work at that one thing and that one thing alone. Your focus needs to take on the qualities of a heat-seeking missile. What the fuck has happened to me? Besides this blog? Ha ha ha.

I am going to quiz my daughter on tectonic plates right now. Perhaps when I come back, something will shift. Until then, I’d love to hear some motivational stories of accomplishment and glory through focus, will and determination. Though stories of utter disgust and abject failure always welcome.

Filed under: Writing | 31 Comments »

My Analyst Told Me

Posted on February 3, 2010 by betsylerner

One of my writers once told me that she was seeing a psychiatrist who specialized in writer’s block. In hushed tones, she divulged the names of two fancy schmancy writers who were “cured.” I thought she should have head her examined, if you will.

More than a few writers have told me that they won’t go to therapy because they fear it will interfere with their creative process. This is a position I can’t understand. It may be because I’ve always felt that the “creative process” boiled down to two words: hard work. Who could mess with that?

I've always wanted to write a novel.

The big issue for me was always why I pursued my career in publishing from the moment I left graduate school until now, 25 years later. Most of my friends from my MFA program were taking jobs as waiters and bartenders to fund their writing. Some were traveling the world. I believe I was the only one who rolled on a pair of pantyhose the first Monday after graduation and showed up bright and early at Simon and Schuster. Editorial assistant Lerner, at your service!

I have some dark days when I wonder where I’d be if I put the energy I put into the authors into my own writing. But what I figured out (in therapy) is that I really thrive on my work, that the structure it provides is something I need. And that the actual work I do with writers, especially editing, gives me tremendous satisfaction. It’s a fantastic experience to commune with a writer on the page. For me, temperamentally, writing full time isn’t a good option. Did I need therapy to figure this out?

What say you? Any couch potatoes out there? Has it helped or hurt your writing?

Filed under: Writers, Writing | 28 Comments »

Killing Me Softly

Posted on February 2, 2010 by betsylerner

I used to compare a work in progress to a body on an operating table. If you keep working on it, you can keep it alive. If you leave it for too long, it goes cold. What happens then? When you’ve left the Play-doh outside the can? When you can’t find your way back into a piece. How long before there’s no pulse: a day? three? ten? a month?

What do you do when you lose your way? When your writing doesn’t recognize you, or you it? I’d like to think that work that doesn’t come to fruition is a form of practice. That everything you write need not come to completion, that there is still value in the practice. (I believe this on some level, but I’m also grossed out imparting such a positive world view which runs contrary to everything I believe about writing and life.) What I want to know is this: when do you resuscitate and when is it a DNR?

Filed under: Writing | 19 Comments »

Life is Very Short, and There’s no Time

Posted on January 28, 2010 by betsylerner

Dear Betsy,

I love your blog. I love that you say motherfucker, ass, fuck, shit, and so on. It makes me laugh, smile, and learn what you’re saying all the more. Kudos.

So my true question goes like this. How does a writer get voice in their writing? Are there examples that you just fucking dig, that scream voice? Fuck yeah, voice? What advice would you have for a writer like me, who maybe has a voice, but isn’t getting it on paper like she fucking should?

But in the meantime, would it help to swear my face off on the page? I shvitzed like a whore in church as I fell with that motherfucking 35W bridge, but I took most of the cursing out of my sample, for a variety of reasons – thinking it would limit my readership if I swore too much. But, did that leave my chapter flat? Voiceless?

You are completely awesome. Thank you.

Dear Sweet Love: The only word that I find truly reprehensible in your letter is “kudos.” The first time I heard it (at a publishing meeting), I thought it was a made up word: a cross between a granola bar and that scary movie, Cujo (based on Stephen King’s novel). I thought they were saying, “Cujos, cujos,” and I couldn’t figure it the fuck out.

Don’t swear. It’s unbecoming. Voice is a helluva lot more than some four letter words. It’s everything in one respect because your reader either trusts it or not. Every element matters such as structure, style, character, pacing, plot, etc. but the voice is the engine. It can hum, purr, or roar, but you’ve got to have control of it. It’s probably impossible to teach because it’s in the DNA of the sentences, unlike syntax or tense of pov which you can take a red pen to and say, here, look, this isn’t working.

“Schvitzed like a whore?” Hello? Sprinkle your yiddish even more sparingly than your curse words and you’ll be okay. I think.

Love, Betsy

Filed under: The End of the World as We Know It, Writing | 17 Comments »

Seven Habits of Highly Successful Writers

Posted on January 14, 2010 by betsylerner

I forgot all about my “ask a question” gmail account, so without further delay (and questions always welcome):

Hi there

I have just started following your blog.

I am in the process of writing a synopsis for a novel which I need to get finished by 28th February. I would love some hints and tips.

Many thanks

Dear Reader: I know agents differ on the matter of the synopsis and its importance, but I’ve always hated their skinny asses. With fiction, it’s all in the execution, so what can a synopsis tell you? A brilliant one line description is worth gold, as far as I’m concerned. If a writer sends me a synopsis and a few chapters, I just read a few pages of the novel itself and see if the writing interests me. The synopsis is of no use to me. Unless I forgot my sleeping pills.

But why are you writing a synopsis on a deadline? Is this a self-imposed deadline (which I am in favor of)? Has an agent asked for one? If you’re determined to write this god damn synopsis, I would keep the following in mind: speak to the themes more than the plot details. Describe just the two or three most important characters. Pepper the motherfucker with rhetorical questions, i.e. What happens when a brilliant literary agent and blogger falls desperately in love with one of her readers? Most helpful, go to publishers’ websites and read the copy they squirrel together for their authors. You’ll learn a lot.

Now, for some real tips for writers: