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
Someone called me “driven” the other day and it kind of bothered me. What does that even mean. Honestly, I’m probably more compulsive than I am driven. I don’t like leaving things unfinished. It’s also true that I get frustrated when people tell me that they can’t write, or they have to make themselves write, or they need certain circumstances in their life to be able to write. In my mind, it’s something that you do because you don’t know how to make sense of the world any other way.
When I was about around eleven or twelve, my mother and I were driving by a corn field dotted by brown stalks sticking out of the snow, and I remarked that they looked like the stubble on a man’s face. She said that my observation was a simile. A comparison using like or as. I attribute my love of poetry and writing back to that moment and pleasing my mother, a woman difficult to please. Metaphor, more abstract, came later, more gradually. When I finished War and Peace the other day, I felt as if a glacial metaphor had moved through me, the book encompassing all of life on a grand scale and also on the most intimate. And yet through all that, one image keeps coming back to me. There is a hunt for rabbits where thousand-ruble dogs compete with mongrels, and a mongrel named Rugay is the victor. Tolstoy writes, “For some after, they kept looking askance at red Rugay, who trotted along Uncle’s horse with mud all over his hunched up back, jingling the fittings on his leash, with the serene air of a conquerer.” Yes, a metaphor for the whole book, the Russian army defeating the French, but oh that phrase, “the serene air of a conquerer,” the sound and flow of it, the feeling and image it stirs, the inherent simile. And that, dear reader, is the depth of my love of writing, right there in a single phrase.
Remember, on the first day of school, you will be asked what your did on your summer vacation. I hope you’ve been writing. Honestly, I’m stalled out waiting for notes. I tried to jump back into a screenplay outline that feels dead on the vine in this post-Barbie landscape. Actually, Barbie has nothing to do with it. When do you declare a patient dead? DNR? Now that I’ve finished War & Peace, I’m determined to read a lot of really short books that also promise to change my life. I’m starting with Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector. So far, it’s brilliant. And she wrote it when she was 23. Fuck me dead.
Are you there god, it’s me Betsy? I have big news: I finally finished War & Peace!! It took a full year of chipping away, plus the last three weeks in a more concentrated effort, but the fucker is under my belt and I can now happily go to my grave. Was it worth it? Yes. Top five books I’ve ever read. The sweep and intimacy of it will never leave me completely. Sentences I had to copy out for their beauty and precision. Now, I’m going to read four or five very short books.
How have you all been? If you’re out there, I’d love to know how the writing is coming along. I hope to check in a couple of times a week with reports of my first novel, which was sold to Grove Publishers! I want to capture all the agony in real time as I expose myself (not in the Louis CK mold) yet again to that particular pain of holding out all your hope in sentences and paragraphs that won’t set you free, AKA the publishing process. I’m very grateful to have sold my first novel, don’t get me wrong, but that doesn’t mean I can’t exercise my god-given right as a writer to moan about it every step of the way.
In other news, I’ve attempted to join the whack-a-mole community of book lovers on TikTok known as Booktok. You can find me @betsylerner if you’re curious. But do check out Booktok – it’s the wild west where you can find lots of passionate readers, book recommendations, everything from the sublime to the ridiculous, plus lots of people dancing.
Dear Beloved Readers of this blog: As some of you may know, I’ve been reading War and Peace since the summer and I’m only 600 pages in. I want to finish this book and a few others before I die. To that end, I’m going to go off social media and take a blogging hiatus. I will miss you dearly. I will really miss Harry Styles. Please keep writing every day if only to be reminded of how intensely pleasurable it is to commune with your demons, stare down your detractors, sacrifice your health and well-being, and make your own magic. Tolstoy or bust! Be good. Love, Betsy
So, fuckers, I finished a draft last night. I mean I still have to go through it all again ON PAPER, but I feel…close. I’ve now officially spent twice as much time revising as I did writing. I’ve been helped immeasurably by some incredibly astute readers and a fairy godmother who appeared in the form of an old friend and brilliant writer who supplied a close read when I needed it most. I am so humbled by this process and humility is not a strong suit.
Who are your readers?
CONTEST RESULTS: Bonnie has to win this one for best Cinderella story. Bobbie honorable mention for such a wonderful story that involved moi. And shout out to Mike for best stoner story. Full stop. (Bonnie send me your address to Thebridgeladies@gmail.com to receive your prize.. & thanks for all the stories.
Me: It’s someone who can help you find a publisher.
Caller: You’re not a publisher?
Me: No.
Caller: How does it work?
Me: The best thing to do is go to our website and go to the agents’ page. You will see descriptions for all the agents and you can choose the one that sounds best for you.
Caller: That’s it?
Me: Well, then you send your work in and they will let you know if they want to take you on.
Caller: But you’re not a publisher.
Me: Right, I said, we’re not.
Caller: Okay, thank you.
Me: Good luck.
CONTEST: We used to get these calls all the time. Most people reach out with a little more information these days thanks to search engines. Do you remember the first time you reached out to a magazine, agent or publisher via query letter or call? The best story will get a free book of my choosing. Submissions open until Monday.
Coming to the end of yet another revision. The more you see the more you see. A few first readers commented that one of my major characters disappeared in the middle of the book. I made a map of where and when all the characters appeared and sure enough she had fallen into the grand canyon. It took a lot of rejiggering to get it right, and then another reader pointed our that there was still a hole. I found the errant flashback and popped in its rightful chronological place. It slid in easily with a few minor adjustments. The world may rest easy.
Watching Philadelphia Story. Tracy (Katherine Hepburn) doesn’t want to be worshipped, she wants to be loved. Deeply loved. I’d be super happy with being worshipped. Adored. Envied. What is love but having to say you are sorry all the time. I believe in friendship, colleagues, compatriots, partners, holding hands, and saving seats. I believe in playing with the dog. I love letters and movies and parades and people watching. I love being miserable and I love being happy. I love getting older except that I hate getting old. Love is too unreliable. Put me on a pedestal any day.
No one will love you more or hurt you more than a sister.
It is said that when one person in a family is unstable, the whole family is destabilized. Meet the Shreds. Ollie has no breaks. Amy can't get her life started. Spanning two decades, Shred Sisters is an intimate and bittersweet coming of age story exploring the fierce complexities of sisterhood, mental illness, boundaries, loss and the limits of love.
Betsy Lerner 