• 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

The Ten Commandments of Collaboration

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?)

I Hate Myself For Loving You

Okay — I’m not going to pretend that I’m not thoroughly moved by the hilarious and painful responses that have flooded my inbox all day. Were you to have seen me anywhere today, at the butcher, the gym, Executive Cleaners, St. Dunkin’s, you would have seen a girl with her head in a prayer-like position reading her Blackberry, blown away by the comments coming in.

Am I nuts or is there a  book here?  A collection of  hurtful comments that writers are subjected to that also defines in some essential way the core struggles of being a writer: no one caring, no one waiting, being exposed, being suspect, being trivialized, or worse, being a dime a dozen.

I know I identified with almost every comment.  We could call it THE BOY WILL COME TO NOTHING (a quote from Kafka’s famously cruel and discouraging father) and I would organize the book into five sections, insults from: parents, friends, siblings & other relatives, random people at cocktail parties & other gatherings, and (probably the worst) insults from other writers.

Then,  I’d look for a top drawer agent to represent the project who was known to be fearsome and intellectually rigorous, gracious to a fault, fun and pretty. Oh, that was easy.  And then I’d try to sell it to a really fun publisher who does great packaging with books like these such as Workman, or Chronicle, or Running Press.

Does anyone else see a book here? Could we scare up another 100 comments? I would donate all the money to literacy or a good cause we could all get behind.

As my brilliant client and mega-blogger Heather Armstrong (Dooce.com) says: it’s time to monetize the hate.

You Light Up My Life

What a relief!

When my husband finished his first book, he gave it to a friend to read. When our friend finished the book, he called and said, “Well, it must be good to find out you’re not Shakespeare.” What exactly did he mean? Is anyone  in danger of thinking he is Shakespeare? Was it supposed to be a relief, joining the human race, or being taken down a peg, or a few thousand pegs? Did the book suck, or did it not suck? The only thing I am certain of is the effect of that scorching comment.

Writing is hard!

Just to be clear: I’m not Shakespeare. I’m not Kate Moss. I’m not Johnny Depp. Not Saul Bellow. I’m not Denis Johnson. I’m not Malcolm Gladwell or his agent, sadly. I’m not John Lennon. I’m not Squeaky. I’m not the person I most detest.  Well, that’s a relief.

What is this post about? Random, hurtful remarks not meant to wound that can stay with a writer for years. Or random, hurtful remarks that are meant to eat away at whatever self esteem you cobble togther as you sally forth.

When my memoir was being submitted to publishers, one of my sisters said I had a pair of brass balls to be selling a memoir before I turned forty. That comment stayed with me the whole time I was writing the motherfucker, and as I wrote I often wondered where I got the audacity. Worse was constantly asking: who the hell am I to be writing this.

Got any doozies?

Ugly Betty

Sorry if this is off topic, but unbeknownst to me there has been quite a bit of ink spilled about Betty Draper, Don’s Klaus Barbie wife on the brilliant television show Mad Men. Just today a big defense of Betty appears in that little blog trying to get established which I’ll link to here in a show of collegiality.

In my view, Betty is a menace who besmirches the hallowed name. I state my case:

She is married to the greatest sexual predator ever created for television since Dick Van Dyke and she is anhedonic and orgasmiphobic.

She hates her children. The girl for being chubby; the boy for having a penis.

She rides.

She doesn’t really inhale or smoke convincingly on a show where the water cooler could take a more authentic drag.

She doesn’t blink.

She’s a C.T. as we used to say at Amity High.

She doesn’t hold a candle to Gena Rowland, Shelly Duval, Mia Farrow, or Carrie Snodgrass.

She’s racist.

She’s obvious.

She doesn’t get Don the way I would.

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