• 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

So Tired, Tired of Waiting, Tired of Waiting For You

We’ve all been there, waiting for someone to read our work. A friend, a classmate, a teacher, a producer, an editor, an agent, a critic. The worst part, possibly worse than the verdict, is not knowing when it will arrive. A day, a week , a month, longer, like never. How well do you cope with waiting? I know I sometimes like to delay gratification, or stave off rejection with a healthy dose of denial and magical thinking (i.e. no news is good news, or at least not bad news yet.) I know a lot of my readers here on the blog drink (I’m not judging). One writer offered the following rant, which I reproduce here anonymously in all its beautiful despair:

“Waiting is to publishing like foreplay is to porn: a necessary interval which precedes the money shot. As in porn, it’s usually glossed over—for everyone, that is, but the author, who, as far as waiting goes, is pretty singularly hung out to dry. The agent? She has another twenty or thirty people to care about, and she already suffers from compassion-fatigue as it is. The editor? From a scheduling point of view he or she is usually on some corporate version of life-support, too overtaxed, overworked and overextended to think straight. It’s the author, that fragile reed, who passes his days eating his nails to the quick, aggressively advancing the onset of happy hour, and fighting recreationally with his wife and kids while he waits and waits for the dime to drop.

First, he waits for years to write the damn book. Then he waits for the response to his manuscript. Then he waits for the editor to gather support if he likes it, and for another editor at another house to give judgement if he doesn’t. Then if he’s lucky enough to have a book taken, he waits a year for it to be published. Then he waits for months for the reviews. During this time, he suddenly remembers the Monty Python skit about the father who found his son so boring he began to pretend he was French, and he wonders if he could pretend to be someone else to get away from it all. In the meantime, waiting, he grows old. He wears his trousers rolled.”

How do you fare?

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

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:

  1. 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.
  2. Thanks to all the great tech advice, my new iMac is coming on Thursday. (I love you John Hodgman — forgive me.)

How May I Help You?

Hi Betsy,
 
I have been looking at Netbooks lately and was wondering if you have an opinion on their usefulness to writers? I’ve visited our local Best Buy Store and have asked a lot of questions but alas I still not sure. This will be a backup computer, one to take along to the coffee shop or to class.
 
I’ve been following your blog now for sometime. I have a well-worn copy of your The Forest for the Trees … a book I recommend and often use in the classroom (I teach creative writing at our local community college.)
 
Thought I’d ask

Dearest Darling Reader:

It’s funny, I often get mistaken at Best Buy as a salesperson. I don’t know, maybe it’s my bright blue polo shirt and canary yellow name tag. Or maybe it’s because I’m so darn helpful and knowledgeable about computers. It’s  hard to say.

 I am beyond grateful that you read my blog, my book, and teach it. In my world, you are a perfect human. Sadly, I can’t return the favor on the technology front. I write everything in long hand including my two books and this post. When anything goes wrong on the computer I act like a two year old. And I’ve surveyed half of North America trying to figure out if I should get a Mac or a PC. Does anyone have any advice for me?

Why Was I Born a Woman?

Finally, the last time I was at Best Buy, the kid who helped me didn’t have any aspirations toward being Employee of the Month or a manager. He was a drummer in the metal band, Fate’s Divide.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Every lunch date with an  editor begins the same way: How bad  is it? Is it going to get better? Will books still be around in our lifetime?

Last week, one editor sat down and exclaimed that she was tired of all the gloom and doom. She was going to put blinders on and get on with her work. Wake me up when it’s over.

A young editor wondered if he got in the business too late; he was worried if editors would exist in twenty, ten, five years.

Today, at a breakfast, an editor said said that sales were hideous. Books were getting out of the gate, but then mysteriously falling off a cliff a few weeks later, disappearing.

I think it’s going to take more than Jeff Bezos and Sergey Brin to put an end to print books. Still, this is a time of transition and as such it is terrifying and exciting.  How as a writer do you keep  your own counsel,  find your way, stay warm?

Animals Strike Curious Poses

Agents’ lunch today. Major topic of discussion: Amazon flew 10 “top agents” out to Seattle to talk about, um, you know, how we’re all going to be e-fucked. But before we could broach the subject of digital price wars like the one going on right now between Amazon and Wal-Mart, etc. we had to identify the “top ten agents.”  Actually it was easy peasy. All the usual suspects from the puppy mills and a few wild cards.  Some of us didn’t care that we hadn’t been invited. Some of us were ripshit. Guess which camp I was in?

Only Your Hairdresser Knows For Sure — Survey #5

You know how you never really know what goes on in a marriage?  The same could be said for what goes on between writer and editor. The editorial process is still a private, mostly behind closed doors affair. The best editorial relationships can last a career; some don’t make it to first base. I asked five extraordinarily accomplished bigshot editors the following question: what percentage of your editing do your authors take, and how do you persuade them to take it?

Editor #1:  All of it. I wouldn’t make the suggestions if I didn’t think they were the right thing to do. Of course, some suggestions can be made in the conditional, what-do-you-think? mode. The Big Persuader is, of course, the check due on acceptance. My rough rule of thumb on acceptance is this: If the author elected to proceed with the book exactly  as submitted, would I publish it as is? If so, here’s your check and let’s work to get the book to its absolute peak of perfection from here.  If not, let have a serious talk. These things have to be done with maximum care and diplomacy, but it is in the nature of the power dynamics of the relationship that the prospect of that payment tends to make the editor look wiser and more all-knowing.

 The above goes out the window for authors with  consistent net hardcover sales above 100,000 copies a pop.

Ca-ching!

Editor #2: I generally think that if authors grasp 80% of what you are asking and do 50% of it, you are in clover. One author described me as an iron fist in a velvet glove — I found this touching. For me, the key is providing, as far as possible, a healthy balance of praise (sincere, of course) and criticism. Nobody works well when they feel they’re being nagged, treated unkindly, or found wanting. 

Did someone say Velvet?

Editor #3: I hate to sound smug, but I have a very high track record of acceptance – like 80-90% – so I have come to expect that. In my experience the best argument for acceptance is the editing itself – and I mean getting down to specifics. I think general advice doesn’t really help much – no one is going to disagree much over the principles that make for good writing, but when writers are struggling they generally can’t see where the problems are, or they have a general idea what they are but don’t know how to solve them. I usually tell writers that I don’t expect them to take every edit verbatim, but that in my experience just rolling up your sleeves and attempting a fix is often the best way of showing what the problem is – so I want them to look at the problem the edit points up, and if they want to solve it another way, that’s fine. In my experience the editing process is usually the most harmonious part of the publishing process – the time when the book is still a private thing, and its fate still largely under the control of author and editor. Later will come the fights (and disappointments) over jacket, publicity, sales … Once in a blue moon I have run into major editorial resistance. Once, early on, I got back a revised manuscript from the writer on a co-authored book. As I began to look through it, I noticed that he had disregarded almost every one of my comments. I called him up and asked him why. He said, “I didn’t think they were important.” I said, “If I wrote it, it was important.” On the other hand, the writers who make me most nervous aren’t the fighters, they’re the ones who have no idea – or have lost any idea – of what they are trying to do or say, and are looking desperately to me to save them. They’ll do anything you say, or try to – it’s like pushing on jello.

Zombie Brain Jello (not making this up)

Editor #4: None.  Zero. I do, however, expect my authors to listen to, reflect on, and think seriously about, 100% of my edits. There may be conversations about why I suggested one edit or another, but my goal is never to persuade for the sake of persuading.  If I’m doing my job right, I’m my author’s first, best reader.  Hopefully, they’ll find that my edits and feedback illuminate for them what they’ve written in ways that help them make it better.

 In practice, of course, if an author really doesn’t take many of my editorial notes, that’s a good sign that there’s something wrong with the editorial relationship.  It means that I’m not giving them useful feedback, or they’re not listening….or, both. This thing of ours only works when there’s real mutual respect. 

The password is: mutual.

Editor #5:  72.3% A claw wrench.

The End

You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone

Today we were invited to brunch. Our host has a library containing 13,000 volumes. The two rooms where the collection is largely housed resemble a small bookstore. Clippings and reviews sprout from the heads of books. As I went deeper into the stacks, I was in awe of the organization as shelf after shelf marched from one period of history to the next. No mere alphabetization here, this was the work of a beautiful mind.

We immediately regretted selling off half our collection when we moved, and talked about the difficult process of purging books. Our host said it wasn’t about purging for him, but allowing a book through the door in the first place. Then he laughed, he was due to give a speech in a few weeks about books in the digital age. Of course we are all tired of this conversation even as it threatens to consume our lives and livelihoods. We are all book people, not a Kindle or Nook loving one among us. Why is the laughter nervous?

Home now, surrounded by my piles of books I feel safe. After a minor meltdown at Ikea, I’ve put buying a book case on hold so there are piles everywhere. All I know is that these piles are as good a description of  me as you’ll find. My fits, my starts, my passions. I could probably tell you where I was when I read each one, which moment in my life a book marked;  just the spine or jacket image can flood me with memories.  I think it’s absurd to believe that books will disappear. Then again, they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

Be Mice Elf Agin

I'm her bitch.

A client just called in a panic: she needed help with her acknowledgments. She didn’t want to say too much, say too little, be too corny, or too cool. Should it begin with a little narrative or launch in to the list of people she needed to thank?  Did I want to be called Betsy or Elizabeth, should she refer to me as her editor, agent, friend, her dodo, her bitch?  It took a few minutes but we figured it all out. As we were about to hang up, she said, you’re with me right to the end. 

Hope you all have a good writing weekend. Kill it.

You’re Leaving There Too Soon

Thanks so much for all the great comments yesterday.

Some of you may remember that before I moved house in June, I sent out ten copies of my script, Sugar Mountain, to indie producers and George Clooney. Much silence. Fast forward to the third week in August. 

Cell phone rings. A woman with a British accent introduces herself. Her name is the same as Lear’s youngest daughter. As a result, I ascribe great character to her; how could a woman with that name speak anything but  truth?

 Indeed, she has called to say that my script has gotten great coverage and that the top people at the production company would be reading it that weekend. She would be back in touch in two weeks. I did what any sane, seasoned writer would do: I started drafting my Oscar speech. 

You know what happens next: they never get in touch. I send a friendly email, like hey, have you had  chance to read that script, you know the one with the great coverage?? No answer. Fortunately, I know how to go fuck myself.

Now it’s November, I finally, I start my new script. Then, I impulsively shoot off an email to  Lear’s  true daughter. I ask if she has any feedback for me, and if she would be interested in my new script, Loneliness 2.0, which I  lie and say is weeks away from being finished. Here is her reply (yes, a reply!):

HI Betsy–

So the news on Sugar Mountain is that we think it is unusually good, and I want to encourage you with that. It is and truly engaging story with intricate and well-developed characters. The trouble is we don’t think we can take it on as the story’s themes do not resonate with enough of the team here, and we feel we would not do it justice if that is the case. We also have a very full slate which we are struggling to get into production. Anyway we are very pleased to have come across your work, and we would be prepared to read more.  Re. Loneliness 2.0, please could you send a one paragraph description of the story. We’ll take it from there.

I wonder what you make of this little exchange.I feel kind of jerked around since it seems like they were never going to get back to me. How do you all handle it? I guess I should be grateful they got back at all. I never heard from the other eight, or Clooney for that matter.

Keep Your Day Job

“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?