Why Do Writers Abandon Novels? - NYTimes.com

Why Do Writers Abandon Novels? - NYTimes.com

On my Facebook page we're having a discussion about this topic, and for most of us it isn't an academic question. Most writers I know have some abandoned work in a drawer, or a filing cabinet, or tucked away in a computer folder somewhere. I certainly do. My MFA thesis was a novel, which then became two novels when I split it apart, and now both of them languish. I've just finished another novel that may or may not ever see the light of day. But I find it extremely difficult to let go of this work, partly because I spent so much time on these projects and partly because I still believe in them.

When writers say that they've given up on a book because it isn't "working" I simply do not know what they mean. Apparently others do understand this concept, but no one has articulated it for me in a way that I find fully convincing. Can't everything be fixed? Your main character isn't sufficiently [fill in the blank: likable, sympathetic, engaging, interesting]. So change him! The plot isn't sufficiently [fill in the blank: believable, engaging, dynamic]. So tighten the plot or add the elements it's lacking.

Unless of course you've simply lost interest in these characters or the plot and decide that you want to move on to something else. But that's a different question. That's giving up on the project; it isn't a judgment that it isn't "working," whatever that means.

I like this mention from the article of Updike's work:

Many writers get lost in their first attempt at a longer work. Adam Begley, author of a forthcoming biography, said Updike wrote two-thirds of “Willow,” a small-town novel, while still a student at Harvard. Loath to waste either ideas or paper, Updike mined the novel for material for a series of Willow-set stories — some of which were written on the flip side of old novel pages.

This is now what I'm trying to do with the early novels--I'm mining them for stories (which isn't as easy as I'd hoped it would be). I still think that original novel is a good idea, but it would have to be completely rewritten. I'm a better writer now than I was when I started that project, so I think I could do it. I just don't want to. I've [mostly] moved on.


Is the novel in your drawer one that isn't working? Or is it one that you've simply lost the will to work on?

Andre Dubus on writing a novel

Andre Dubus on writing a novel:

If there's anything I have to say to anyone who's starting a novel, it's this: Finish it. One thing, of course, is certain: Unless you finish it, it'll never be published. But there's another thing which is perhaps more important: In many cases, you'll never know whether your novel is good or not until you've finished it. 

I believe most writers, while working on a novel, are attacked by doubts; they go to bed at night and wonder if what they're working on is really worth the effort. I always feel this way; I assume I'm like most people, not utterly alone in this, and others are going through some variation of the same difficulty. 

The easiest course is to stop working on the novel, to tell your wife or husband and closest friends that it was actually a bad idea and you've decided to lay it aside and think of something new. And since that's the easiest course, it's probably also the most suspect. Because finally writing a novel takes a lot of endurance, and if you can find an honorable way to stop, then you'll feel much better. 

A friend of mine once said, I believe in inspiration, but it comes on page 10. He was speaking of short stories and he was saying that most of the writing is pure hard work, that finally--with, God's blessing and luck and whatever else--there might be some period of respite, when words, and even pages, come easily. 

The problem is, of course, enlarged when you're working on a novel which may take a year or two or more to finish. You are faced with a succession of days of hard, rarely inspired work which must be approached with the discipline of a committed athlete. There is another side to this, though: Because the work is tough, because it drains you daily, because you are always un-certain about its value, your own commitment to it becomes heroic. This is perhaps more than a consolation; it may be the very reason for getting up each day, for working and living. 

Which brings me to the final and--I believe--most important point. Novels are written in the same way that farms are made productive, or houses are kept clean, or baseball pennant races are won: with steady work each day. This means that you get up every morning uninspired, perhaps annoyed by a cold or bills or what have you, and work. 

Or, if you have a job, you cut your cocktail hour to a quarter of an hour so your head will be clear, and after dinner you go to your desk and stay there for two or three hours. Two or three hours doesn't seem like much, but when you're doing it five or six days a week, for a year or more, it's plenty. 

My editor at Dial Press once told me that the prolific writers are those who turn out 500 or 1,000 words a day; even if most of it isn't good, he said, you're ahead of the game. I think that's absolutely true. But the point here is not to talk about being prolific. It's to discuss the beginning and completion of one book-length manuscript. And to do this, most writers have to stick to a definite schedule and allow nothing--or very little--to deflect them from it. 

In an interview, Robert Penn Warren said something like this: A writer must work every day, realizing that most days will be bad ones; he must sit at his typewriter or under a tree with his pencil and paper, and take the awful responsibility of wasting time. 

And I'm sure Mr. Warren didn't really mean that writing unsuccessful pages was a waste of time. Because whether the particular pages of a particular day are good or not, there is still you, all of you, bringing to that work and that day everything you have. And when you're doing that, you're a writer. 

Andre Dubus, a distinguished writer of short stories, won the PEN/Malamud Award for short fiction and received fellowships from the Guggenheim and MacArthur foundations. In addition to his short fiction, he wrote a novel, The Lieutenant, and a collection of personal essays, Meditations From a Movable Chair. Film adaptations of his stories include In the Bedroom and We Don't Live Here Anymore. He died in 1999.

--from The Writer archives

A Reader's Advice to Writers

I recently wrote about the Ten Rules for Fiction Writers from The Guardian that writers are still chatting about online. Now comes, in Salon, A Reader's Advice to Writers, specifically aimed at novelists.

What do readers want?

1. A protagonist who wants something.
2. A protagonist who does something.
3. Story/Characters/Theme/Setting, in that order.
4. Beautiful prose style isn't that important.
5. "A sense of humor couldn't hurt."

Hmm. Okay. Thanks to this reader for this advice. But I'm a reader, too, in addition to being a writer. I find that "funny" gets in the way, often. That's not the kind of book I like to read, and that's not the kind of book I write. And while I recognize that "beautiful prose style" isn't important to many/most readers (otherwise John Grisham would still be practicing law in Mississippi), it does help set the ordinary book apart from the extraordinary, and I don't know any writer who is thrilled about ordinary. I can't argue with the first three on the list though, and they're good to remember as I put the finishing touches on my novel.

Ten Rules for Writing Fiction

Writer friends are passing around an amusing link that's actually two links. First we've got Elmore Leonard's Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. With the preamble that "using adverbs is a mortal sin," he offers such sound advice as "never use a verb other than 'said' to carry dialogue" and "use regional dialect, patois, sparingly." It's a good list, I recommend it; people shell out big bucks for MFAs and this is basically what they learn.

But then there's Ten Rules for Writing Fiction (Part Two) in which several writers offer their own versions. Booker prize-winner Hilary Mantel suggests (among other things) getting an accountant. Joyce Carol Oates (who, for some reason, could only come up with seven rules), advises writers to "be alert to the possibilities of paragraphing." Hmm. Annie Proulx (only five rules!) is all about taking it slow, and doing things, like writing longhand, to ensure that you do. Ian Rankin thinks all we need to do is be persistent and get lucky. Jeanette Winterson says, "Trust your creativity!" And that's probably the best advice of all.

Press53 Cruise from New York

Press53 Cruise from New York is a unique opportunity--take a beautiful, scenic cruise while exploring the world of writing with Press 53 and several of its authors, including me. Join us!

The Art of Subtext by Charles Baxter

The Art of Subtext: Beyond Plot
Charles Baxter
Graywolf, 2007

If you're a writer, you'll find this book useful. Even if you've read other essays by Charles Baxter on craft, where you may have seen similar discussions, you'll appreciate having all of this thinking about subtext in one place. By subtext, Baxter seems to mean the conveying to a reader of information that is below the surface--not directly relevant to the plot--but that nonetheless deepens the reader's understanding. Methods include staging (power relationships, especially, can be conveyed by how the characters are placed on the "stage," but also other aspects of interaction will be shown by how the characters move vis a vis one another); desire (what the characters want and how they're affected by getting it or not getting it); silence/not listening (what isn't said is often as meaningful as what is); inflection (how something is said is as important as what's said); making a scene (letting characters do what we ourselves are too inhibited to do); and reading the face (not ignoring facial expressions).

As I'm about to begin the "final" draft of my novel, these are tips I'll be keeping in mind.

This book is part of Graywolf's The Art Of Series -- there are several other titles I'd like to see.

On Process

Writer Gay Degani has some helpful observations on the process of writing: Process and Malcolm and Outliers.

How To Get Published (Continued)

Yesterday I wrote (briefly) about publishing short story collections by pointing to a helpful essay by Allison Amend. Her advice is consistent with everything I understand about the process, but since I haven't yet succeeded in publishing a collection, I can't honestly say anyone should listen to me. Listen to Allison instead.

Recently, though, I also wrote about publishing short stories in literary magazines. You can read my thoughts here. But if that's not enough for you, here's an excellent discussion of many of the same topics, with even more detail and links to resources.

How to Get Published

I thought of writing this piece on publishing because someone recently pointed me to a service called Word Hustler which apparently will take your manuscript and—for a fee, of course—take charge of submitting it to appropriate markets. I was previously aware of other services, such as Writer’s Relief (which I used when was first sending stories out to magazines because I had no idea what I was doing), that have a slightly different approach. They help with cover letters and formatting and they also recommend markets (providing mailing labels and individualized letters), but expect the writer to copy the manuscript, stuff the envelopes and send the submissions out. Each model has its advantages, but both involve needless expense, in my opinion, unless money is no object and time is limited. Furthermore, I think it’s healthy for a writer to be involved intimately in market research and communication with editors, and both these types of services remove the writer from the process.

Assuming the writer wants to save the money that these services charge, and also assuming that the writer has the time to put into this process—there is no denying that it is time consuming—all he or she really needs is a little guidance.

So, how does this work?

1. Write a Story. This is the first step, okay? Don’t worry about the rest of it until you’ve completed this step. You sit at your desk or in a coffee shop or the library or someplace and you write a story. See “How to Write a Short Story.”

2. Write a Cover Letter. At first you’ll worry about this letter, but it’s really no big deal and some magazines won’t even read it. Basically all it says is, “Here’s my story.” Don’t explain the story (although contrary to this advice there is one magazine I’ve submitted to that wants a summary of the story in the cover letter). If you have publication credits, list a few of the best ones; if you don’t, don’t worry about it. That’s it. Don’t make grammar or spelling mistakes. Proofread and fix all typos. For each magazine you submit to you will modify this letter as appropriate but it’s comforting to have this template.

3. Do Market Research. That is, figure out where you will send your story. This is both difficult and fun and this is where the outfits mentioned above do provide a valuable service, although doing your own research will pay off in the long run.

a. Look at one of the print digests of literary magazines (like Novel and Short Story Writers Market or one of the online digests like Duotrope.com to identify magazines that publish the genre and length of your work.

b. Take into account the relative prestige of the magazines. Almost every magazine will publish work by emerging writers or first-timers if the work merits it, but it’s easier to publish in lesser-known magazines. One measure of prestige is the number of awards the magazine’s stories have won. I have compiled a ranking of magazines based on Pushcart Prizes and Special Mentions for fiction that seems to me to be a reasonable proxy for prestige. It excludes the “slicks”—high profile magazines like The New Yorker and Harper’s that are by definition also of high prestige. [Other factors may be important to you, like circulation or payment, so you should include those items in your calculus.]

c. Consider whether the magazines you’ve targeted are a good fit. The best way to do this is to read the magazine. Can you see your work appearing alongside the work they’ve published? Is there a discernible style or aesthetic that also characterizes your work? Does the magazine publish themed issues and does your story fit the theme?

d. Now you have a list of magazines you want to submit to, but many magazines have reading periods and are closed to submissions at other times. It’s important to check the submission guidelines for each magazine. (These guidelines are now mostly on the magazines’ websites; for magazines without a web presence, the guidelines will either be in the magazine or might be available by writing to the magazine.) That will tell you when to submit, and will also tell you if there are special formatting requirements or other unusual instructions. (One magazine I submit to from time to time asks for two copies, for example, and will reject automatically if you send only one.) Guidelines will also tell you if there is a maximum wordcount or page length the magazine will consider.

4. Submit by mail or, if allowed, online.

a. Submitting by mail usually means including your story and cover letter (don’t forget to sign your letter!) along with a Self-addressed, stamped envelope (SASE) with sufficient postage for return. The general practice these days is to ask for a response only (let the magazine recycle the manuscript if they reject it), so that SASE only needs to be a #10 standard business envelope with first class postage ($0.42 as of May 12, 2008). Although magazine guidelines may vary, most magazines prefer that you NOT staple the story. A paper clip is okay, but not necessary, usually. Because the pages will be loose, it’s a good idea when printing the story out to include page numbers and your name and the story title in a header. (Note that a few magazines ask you not to send an SASE because even though they don’t take online submissions they will respond to you by email.)

b. An increasing number of magazines will accept submissions by email or through an online submission manager. The submission guidelines will give specific instructions (such as whether the story should be pasted into an email or sent as an attachment, or what kind of additional information is desired). Obviously no SASE is needed for email and online submissions.

5. Keep track. Whether you scrawl the information on the back of an envelope, or build a spreadsheet in Excel or a database in Access or another program, make a note of the magazine you submitted to, the date, the title of the story (and which version, if you’ve got multiple revisions) and leave room to make note of the date on which you get a response. My database includes columns for notes and other bits of information that may be pertinent to future submissions to that magazine.

6. Repeat until published!

That’s all there is to it. Do you really need to pay someone for this?

Words? Or Hours?

Assuming you are committed to your writing, how do you measure progress? Or, put another way, what minimum output do you set for yourself? Some people force themselves to write at least four hours a day. Some give themselves a minimum number of words to produce: 1,000 say. Others who aren't so fortunate to have a lot of time to devote to writing may have to settle for one hour, or one page. Is there a difference between setting a minimum time at the desk and setting a minimum word count? What do you do?

I have no problem sitting at my desk for most of the day. Getting anything done is another matter. I'm wondering if I reorient myself to think in terms of minimum word output whether that might help my discipline. Thoughts?

And at the moment I'm working on revision to stories in draft. I sometimes tell myself that I'll revise at least five pages today, or ten or whatever. Do you have any tricks when you're revising?

Reasons Short Stories Are Rejected

A controversy recently erupted over a short story contest in which the prizes were not awarded because it was determined that none of the finalists was good enough. This post is not about that controversy, but as a result of the controversy, the newspaper sponsoring the contest ran this piece by Steve Moran: Common Faults of Short Stories Submitted. Lousy title, but a valuable list (a long list) of things to think about when preparing a story for submission.

Excise Excess Exercise

I've been working on a story I wrote a couple of years ago, based (very loosely) on a translation I did of a Korean folktale. I loved the story but no one else did, at least not the editors to whom I submitted it. So I decided to fix it up and send it out again. This time, after a round of revisions, it was 7,200 words. I started researching markets (there's a dwindling number of magazines I haven't already tried with this one) and noticed that there were several I really wanted to send it to that had a limit of 7,000 words. The answer: to do what I should have done already. This is a lesson I am apparently doomed to learn over and over. Concision is important, especially in short fiction, and a story can always be tighter. So I went through one last time and cut phrases, clauses, sentences, even whole paragraphs that in the end added nothing. I replaced two words with one better one. I removed unnecessary articles and conjunctions. The result is a better story, closer to 6,800 words.