Oh, oh, *contest alert!* I'm a big, big GLA fan for all the great info they have on the publishing industry. They've got a great contest going right now that looks great. Better yet, it's free!
Clickity-click: www.guidetoliteraryagents.com/blog
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Words of Wisdom
Of the many informative posts by the brilliant Mary Kole at kidlit.com, this post today really did it for me: http://kidlit.com/2010/08/04/grounding-the-reader/
She writes about how important transitions are in your story. They carry the reader from scene to scene without interruption or confusion, and without them, your story falls apart at the seams – literally. The book I found to be the most successful at this was Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games and the follow up, Catching Fire. The transitions from scene to scene were so deft, so clever, all I knew was that I needed to turn the page. Dinnertime? Bah. Three in the morning? Pfft.
Anyway, if you're curious, check out Mary's thoughts on transitions. They make or break a book.
She writes about how important transitions are in your story. They carry the reader from scene to scene without interruption or confusion, and without them, your story falls apart at the seams – literally. The book I found to be the most successful at this was Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games and the follow up, Catching Fire. The transitions from scene to scene were so deft, so clever, all I knew was that I needed to turn the page. Dinnertime? Bah. Three in the morning? Pfft.
Anyway, if you're curious, check out Mary's thoughts on transitions. They make or break a book.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Maggie is wise.
Going strictly by the numbers, you'd think that thousands of gorgeous page-turners were being thrown at literary agents every day. As an unpublished writer, it certainly seems that way, when I read how many queries these guys get. Hundreds a day. They request pages from just a few of these hopefuls. They take on even fewer as clients.
Truly, the odds seem impossible.
What is my manuscript? Just another bug spattered on the screen of a weary agent's computer? Just another form rejection? Maybe. But I don't write because being a novelist is such an easy thing to be. If I were looking to work in an in-demand, open field, I'd have gone and been a pharmacist. But I've always had hope that somewhere out there, is a literary agent who likes my story and believes they can sell it (yes, I'm well aware that a book has to be sell-able, in order for it to be sold).
You're wondering why am I saying all this. I found this post on novelist Maggie Stiefvater's blog about the real odds of getting published, and it's something that every unpublished writer should read. It's inspiration and a kick in the bottom.
Smile: Death by Ham: Playing the Odds of Getting Published
Truly, the odds seem impossible.
What is my manuscript? Just another bug spattered on the screen of a weary agent's computer? Just another form rejection? Maybe. But I don't write because being a novelist is such an easy thing to be. If I were looking to work in an in-demand, open field, I'd have gone and been a pharmacist. But I've always had hope that somewhere out there, is a literary agent who likes my story and believes they can sell it (yes, I'm well aware that a book has to be sell-able, in order for it to be sold).
You're wondering why am I saying all this. I found this post on novelist Maggie Stiefvater's blog about the real odds of getting published, and it's something that every unpublished writer should read. It's inspiration and a kick in the bottom.
Smile: Death by Ham: Playing the Odds of Getting Published
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Roots
When we moved out of New Jersey, oh, over a year ago now, I knew there would be a lot of things I wouldn't miss. Like how much EVERYTHING costs. I wouldn't miss the traffic, or compressed vibe caused by too many people in too small an area. I wouldn't miss the overall surly attitude.
But I would miss being rooted in a place. After all, I was born and had lived my whole life in one shore town or another, all within the same county. I may not have liked it there, but I certainly belonged there. My roots went deep. I'd seen fields become neighborhoods and woods become strip malls. I'd seen the little chestnut saplings my father had planted become trees big enough to climb. But here in Maine, I have no roots. Even the way I talk, labels me as an outsider. A simple conversation at the grocery store, is a reminder that I am not from here. I'll never forget the first time someone told me my accent was "cute." Until then, I didn't even know I had an accent. Now, I'm acutely aware of it. Take the word soft. I say it "sawft." A Mainer says it "sahft." Same goes for "cawfee," "dawg" and "fuhget." Oh yeah, and I say things like "you know what I'm saying?" way more often than I should.
Don't get me wrong, I love it here. My only regret about moving here, is that we didn't do it sooner. The beauty is staggering. The people are relaxed and friendlier. It is easier to live here. I love this way of life, with the shifting seasons, my view of mountains and lakes, the quiet. And because I did rip up my roots and plant them someplace else, I know I can do again. I know I can do most anything. Over the years to come, my roots in Maine may never grow to the depth and spread that they were in my home town. I will probably always pronounce potato "pehtatah"– I hope I do, in fact. I'll always be from New Jersey, but leaving changed me–made me healthier, made me younger and older at the same time. I wrote my first book in Maine. And my second. I will become published in Maine. So my point is this: don't be afraid to uproot. Your home town will always be with you, sometimes buried deep inside–sometimes present with every word you speak.
But I would miss being rooted in a place. After all, I was born and had lived my whole life in one shore town or another, all within the same county. I may not have liked it there, but I certainly belonged there. My roots went deep. I'd seen fields become neighborhoods and woods become strip malls. I'd seen the little chestnut saplings my father had planted become trees big enough to climb. But here in Maine, I have no roots. Even the way I talk, labels me as an outsider. A simple conversation at the grocery store, is a reminder that I am not from here. I'll never forget the first time someone told me my accent was "cute." Until then, I didn't even know I had an accent. Now, I'm acutely aware of it. Take the word soft. I say it "sawft." A Mainer says it "sahft." Same goes for "cawfee," "dawg" and "fuhget." Oh yeah, and I say things like "you know what I'm saying?" way more often than I should.
Don't get me wrong, I love it here. My only regret about moving here, is that we didn't do it sooner. The beauty is staggering. The people are relaxed and friendlier. It is easier to live here. I love this way of life, with the shifting seasons, my view of mountains and lakes, the quiet. And because I did rip up my roots and plant them someplace else, I know I can do again. I know I can do most anything. Over the years to come, my roots in Maine may never grow to the depth and spread that they were in my home town. I will probably always pronounce potato "pehtatah"– I hope I do, in fact. I'll always be from New Jersey, but leaving changed me–made me healthier, made me younger and older at the same time. I wrote my first book in Maine. And my second. I will become published in Maine. So my point is this: don't be afraid to uproot. Your home town will always be with you, sometimes buried deep inside–sometimes present with every word you speak.
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