Advice Also to Writers: Poet Charles Rafferty's "Maxims and Observations"

In keeping with the Words for Words focus of conversations on creativity, we have guest posts from Charles Rafferty, a gifted poet whose elegant prose elevates the thought process to an art form.  A teacher and winner of a National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) grant in 2009, Charles brings the loftiest ideas within reach with his maxims and observations for poets.  All writers can learn much from his astute observations:

• Some poems fail because of just one word — as troubling as a hornet on the railing of a crib.
• One vase lets you see the scum and filmy water that power the bouquet of goldenrod. Another one doesn’t. Which is better? Beauty or the beauty that tells us where it comes from?
• The predictable occurrence of stressed and unstressed syllables becomes more pleasing when the pattern is violated, here and there. We prefer a bouquet with a few broken petals for the same reason. We don’t guess for a moment it might be fake.
• The thing that is most accessible is not always the best material for a poem. There’s a reason the pyramids were not constructed of sand.
• On listening to poetry that I know is not: The wind can howl in the midnight pines but morning will find them standing.
• Details should be chosen as carefully as if you were covering up a murder. A poem is a lie you must make the world believe.

For more information, visit Charles Rafferty/NEA. His books are available on Amazon.

Beauty in the Breakdown: Editing Description

This is the next installment in the series Beauty in the Breakdown, on how to edit various aspects of a story. We've been talking about description. Here's the last installment on that subject—for now.

In queries about description, writers often ask which details to include and how much. The question sounds good, but often shows the writer hasn't made enough effort to figure out not only what she wants to say, but why she wants to say it. That's the benefit indirect description, which can also be conveyed through dialogue. Here's an example based on the premise above.

Diane opened the living room curtains.
Joe stood behind her. "Still watching that maple?"
She turned to him. "Do you think we should take it down and plant another?"

Knowing the story's background, this conversation says far more about what are now two characters suffering through another loss. And that's the key—knowing the story. If you're still unsure about your description, don't ask yourself what you want to say; ask yourself what you want to convey.

One rule of thumb in editing description for length: Longer is better to set a languid mood, convey a literary feel or slow the plot. Shorter is better to create suspense, convey accessibility or quicken the pace.

In the coming installments, we'll talk more about character description, dialogue, narrative and scene. All stories include these building blocks, but that doesn't mean we can afford to overlook how to best use them. On the contrary, if we don't use the best material properly, we can expect the story we thought was carefully constructed to crumble.

We'd love your input. To pose a query on a writing topic, e-mail Adele Annesi. You can also visit my online writing workshop, the Art of Editing in Writing.

Beauty in the Breakdown: More About Editing Description

This is the second installment in the series Beauty in the Breakdown, on how to edit various aspects of a story. We started with description. Here's more on that subject.

Let's start with the function of description. Because we're continually bombarded with information, it's easy to believe the purpose of any description is to convey facts. Yet, for writers, this isn't description's primary function—just stating facts rarely reaches the core of a piece. When you describe something or someone, you reveal its essence. Interpretation is up to the reader. This approach is most satisfying—to reader and writer.

Here's an example. "Though it was spring, the maple was bare." This, on the surface, is direct description. It's a clear, descriptive sentence, maybe even a bit poetic, and it conveys a fact—that the maple tree has no leaves. The underlying question, though, is why tell readers this? To add layers to a story, there should be a good reason to make this statement.

If the purpose of the sentence is to say the tree has no leaves or that it was a rough winter, then the description is adequate, but static. It doesn't take the reader anyplace because it doesn't advance plot or reveal character. But if I use the same sentence in a paragraph where I show that my character has just had another miscarriage, then the barren maple becomes indirect description, and serves to show my character's acute sense of loss, especially when she's expected to be "in bloom," a perceived shortcoming of which she's continually reminded.

More on description next time. To pose a query on a writing topic in the meantime, e-mail Adele Annesi. You can also visit my online workshop, the Art of Editing in Writing.

Beauty in the Breakdown: Editing Description

When autumn arrives, I go into academic mode. Blame all those years of school when fall not only meant new things to wear, but new things to learn. With this concept in mind, we'll start September with the first installment of a series called Beauty in the Breakdown. It will cover how to edit various aspects of a story, starting with description, dialogue, narrative and scene.

Since these elements are common, we often take them for granted and don't make each word count, because we can still get by without each word saying exactly what we mean. Yet, it's increasingly important to be selective about what to keep and discard, because in this competitive environment more people are writing, but not everyone is writing well. So, here are reasons to perfect your craft: to distinguish yourself from other writers, learn about writing through your work, hone your editing senses, and improve your style and technique.

The best time to edit—whether it's description, dialogue or narrative—is after giving the work a rest. If you're editing your own work, paper is still a great way to see your writing from an outsider's perspective, as is reading it somewhere besides where you normally write. It's also important to look back over a section after you've finished the next. This provides a perspective you wouldn't have otherwise. While editing, slow down so that you can see—and hear—the words and phrases.

One of the commonest facets of fiction and nonfiction is description. Whether you're describing a place, an event or a character, description is everywhere, so much so that we often fail to view it critically. And a critical perspective, in the constructive sense, is key. If you catch your missteps, your work will be more highly regarded and more publishable. Description is important, too, because through your portrayal, you're asking the reader to trust you, and today more than ever that's a tall order. Still, trust is essential, and a writer must prove worthy of it. Look for more on editing description in the next post.

For a free online editing workshop, visit my website Adele Annesi.

The New Writers' Garden: "The Naked Gardener" and Thoughts on Publishing With L B Gschwandtner

L B Gschwandtner is an artist, writer, magazine editor, businessperson, wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend. I first met Laura at the Algonkian Writers Conference in Virginia, and am still impressed with her organic, outside-the-box approach to writing — and publishing. Her website, Thenovelette.com, is still a totally new concept in women’s fiction for the Web.

Here, she talks about her new novel, The Naked Gardner, available on Amazon and on Thenovelette.com, and the new world of publishing.

AMA: So, L B, is this your first published book?

LBG: The Naked Gardner is my first published fiction. I’ve published nonfiction before through the traditional book publishing route. But this is a new adventure for me.

AMA: Where did your inspiration for the book come from?

LBG: At a certain point in my life, I knew three women who gardened naked. They had different takes on why they did it, but all of them felt it was really important to them. So I began to think about a woman — I called her Katelyn Cross — who goes to her garden naked, and what that might mean and in what ways it would be liberating for her and important in her life. I think it’s Katelyn’s first tentative step toward finding out who she really is and how to get what she wants from the world around her. Really, an attempt toward finding her own spirit. The garden symbolizes her world. And the rocks in it keep getting in her way. So she has to deal with that.

In the beginning of the book when Katelyn says, “I never told anyone. Just kept going to my garden naked. Like some spirit hovering over the land,” she’s referring to that spirit within that needs a voice. The book is a metaphor for stripping away the encumbrances that get in the way of the spirit each of us has inside.

AMA: What was the writing process like?

LBG: It started with a short story about two women whose motivations for gardening naked were completely different — on the surface. Yet, underlying their differences, they shared a theme. That story morphed into The Naked Gardener, a composite portrait of those women. The theme — and there were a few — turned out to be a woman's need to self-define, whether outside or inside a marriage, and to deal with her fear of getting lost within marriage. The other themes were women forming bonds that made each of them stronger through their relationships with the others. And the final theme is about building on the past to create a stronger future.

AMA: How did you decide on Amazon, or how did Amazon decide on the book?

LBG: Well, that is a very complex question with a long list of answers. I'll just say here that I did a lot of research into what is happening in the publishing world — both books and magazines. I'm the co-owner of what was started as a magazine publishing company. Our company has changed significantly since 2007. We now consider it an integrated media company. That means a magazine, a group of websites, online newsletters, e-content, blogs, videos, an online TV show and conferences. The magazine part of our business has, like all print media, shrunk while other segments have grown. Then there's book publishing. We used to sell books also. But those sales have withered to a trickle.

And because of my interest in fiction, I've researched what's happening in book publishing with the big houses. Now in fiction publishing a lot of changes are happening that are rocking the print world also. It takes time to a) find an agent who will take you on, b) wait for that agent to sell your book to an editor at one of the five houses still left (I'm not including small presses here and granted all the big houses have multiple imprints), c) wait for the publisher to bring out your book, and d) wait for information on how it is selling. How much time? Anywhere from three years (at minimum and typically much longer) to decades, and sometimes never. Meanwhile, you love to write, love to communicate with readers and want to get your books out into their hands.

So, I decided to publish on Kindle and Amazon. It is almost cost-free. The writer controls the process. And I made a list of advantages versus disadvantages, and guess which list is longer by a factor of about 20?

Now one of the major areas where most writers would think having a publishing house in your corner would work to your advantage is in the promotion of your book. While that might be a nice fantasy, the reality does not bear it out. All the writers I know who have agents and publishing contracts are frustrated with how their books were promoted. And the ones who want their books to sell end up doing the promotion themselves. If a book is a big seller (and precious few are), then the house will promote it. But many of the books that become very big sellers have done so because the authors promoted them heavily and creatively in the beginning. And when I say the beginning, I mean months and years. Take "The Help." It was released in 2007 and didn't get on the best-seller lists until 2009. Two years later.

I think there are a lot of myths around book publishing. Those myths have been around for a long while, and they get perpetuated for a lot of reasons. I think writers want to believe them, and it's hard to break free of the need to feel you're going to be discovered and loved and revered for this wonderful book you've poured your heart into. We all wish that were so. But writing and publishing are a business. I think writers who see it that way will learn how to get their books into the hands of readers. That's what I want to do.

Right now The Naked Gardener is available on Kindle and the iPad, and in paperback on Amazon. Why paperback? I want readers to be able to afford it. I want them to hold it, read it, enjoy it and, hopefully, look forward to the next book(s). Readers are what bring a book to life. A book is like an egg that needs to be cracked open to come to life. The Naked Gardener is my little chick.

For more on L B Gschwandtner's new novel, The Naked Gardner, visit Amazon or Thenovelette.com.

Essential Conversations on Creativity: Style With Peter Selgin

Author, artist, writer and teacher Peter Selgin, Winner of the 2007 Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction and author of 179 Ways to Save a Novel, a must-read for all writers, shares his insights on that all-important element of writing — style.

AA: It could be said of writers that we are what we read. But how does a writer select, develop and assimilate style?

PS: I think it's so important for writers to find their own, unique influences. I myself have done this by combing the stacks and shelves of libraries and used book stores. The best-seller lists I avoid, since their influence is everywhere. The same goes for the classics, though it's important to have read the classics, if only to know where you fit into the 4,000 year-old conversation known as literature.

My method goes something like this: I scan the shelves for spines that intrigue me—either with their titles, just because something about their shape or even the color or texture calls out to me. Those books I pull from the shelves and open to their first pages while trying not to read any cover matter or learn the name of the publisher, or anything else that might in some way bias my response to the actual writing. I read the first paragraph. If I like it, I read a few more. Since I can only allow myself so many books to borrow or buy, I exercise very strict standards in choosing.

By this means, I've discovered some of my all-time favorite books and authors, including Emmanuel Bove, whose now thoroughly forgotten first novel My Friends begins:

"When I wake up, my mouth is open. My teeth are furry: it would be better to brush them in the evening, but I am never brave enough. Tears have dried at the corners of my eyes. My shoulders do not hurt any more. Some stiff hair covers my forehead. I spread my fingers and push it back. It is no good: like the pages of a new book it springs up and tumbles over my eyes again."

And Hans Falada's The Drinker, which starts out:

"Of course I have not always been a drunkard. Indeed it is not very long since I first took to drink."

And The Dreams of Reason, by Xavier Domingo:

Seventh year of the war for independence in Algeria. Seventh year of living in Paris. Seven years of sleepwalking from urinal to urinal. Seven years of unconsciousness, of being half asleep and idiotic and happy. They are not seven years in hell, no, nor seven years in purgatory. They are seven years in limbo. Innocent, stupid, and cruel. Like a cat or a small boy.

You see why I've wanted to make these authors mine? Anyway, the great books that we discover entirely on our own are the ones that form us the most, the forgotten ones, the ones no one else is reading, the ones we bond with most meaningfully, whereas anyone can read the bestsellers.

AA: What's the difference between style and voice?

PS: A writer's style covers all of his work, while he may alter his narrative voice from project to project to suit each one. Voice is subordinate to style.

Also editor of Alimentum literary magazine, Peter is the author of Drowning Lessons  and Life Goes to the Movies. To learn more about his books and classes, visit Peter Selgin and the essential blog Your First Page.

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: The Editing Side of the Coin

For the past several posts, we've looked at the most important question a writer can ask, "why." We've seen how it can break writer's block, help the Q&A process, aid in sifting critiques and help writers face their fear.

Underlying what we've been looking at is editing—that mystifying, disconcerting process of seeing your work darkly as in a mirror and seeing its defects, not as a writer sees them, which is usually as a parent sees an offspring, but as someone outside the work, a near stranger, the editor side of you, the side that's difficult to deal with but essential to develop to become a good, even great, writer.

Asking "why" is essential to the editing process. It's should be asked throughout the writing process, even when you fear the answers, not only because you don't want to know, but because getting at the answers takes effort—and time. But, in the end, it's better to ask yourself the tough questions and not leave this intimate business to others, because this is where writing gets personal, the heart of the matter, your heart, the most intimate part of a writer, the reason you write, or don't.

So, when you reach that part of the writing process that ties you in knots and makes you more than a little crazy, stop as you would at a washed out section of roadway. Ask yourself why the story or scene, dialogue or description isn't working. You can also ask the lesser questions—who, what, where, when and how—but none of these gets at the heart of the matter better than "why."

As a reminder, the three keys that unlock the power of why are to answer the question honestly, in detail and in writing. See the posts below for more information, and visit my online editing workshop, "Show and Tell: How to Know, How to Fix."

The Most Important Question a Writer Can Ask: Part 5, Facing the Fear

At some point in your writing life, you'll ask yourself that all important question—why am I doing this? We've been exploring the power of "why" in recent posts, and noted that it breeds other queries. Here's another example of that: Sometimes the question "why am I doing this" really means "am I cut out to be a writer?"

This question comes up a lot in the context of what we've been looking at—writer's block, internal Q&A and critique groups. It can arise in writers even without an external prompt. And if it hasn't come up for you yet, it will. So, let's take a closer look.

Writers, like everyone else, fear questions because they fear the answers, the most terrifying of which is: Does the fact that I'm having all these problems mean I'm not cut out to be a writer? Before dumping your calling, consider what this writer once said. "A book comes in fits and jerks … It made very good progress for quite a long time, in fact until last Thursday … The next three days I went into a depression that was devastating. Now it is Monday … I am forced to lift myself out of the despondency by the bootstraps." That was Nobel laureate John Steinbeck, as quoted in John Steinbeck, Journal of a Novel, The East of Eden Letters. The journal is worth reading for lots of reasons, not the least of which is the comfort of finding that writers aren't alone in their fears.

To face your writing fear, do what we've been doing. Ask yourself why you're afraid, what is it that's causing so much agida? As before, to unlock the power of "why," answer the question honestly, in detail and, in this instance, maybe in your journal instead of a Tweet.