Into the Fire

Breeds of writers, I’m talking about. The old guard who have sold lots and lots of novels have a right to preach about what works . . . for them. If they still pull in their share of the market, their words on writing give credence to their topics of choice in the writing world. Best to listen to what they have to say because they’ve earned respect.

The new breed of writers often take themselves too seriously, eager to share what they’ve learned which often amounts to a chorus of repeated phrases, rules, “how to get published” instructions written or spoken with confidence and a “better listen to this” attitude.

The wannabes gasp for air as they run to writers’ conferences, spend free time consuming all the writerly blogs, make enthusiastic worshipful comments on those blogs, and work their tales off trying to follow each and every piece of writing advice, often being moved to tears at all the conflicting data. Especially when they read certain best selling novels.

The veteran writers often talk about what just won’t work for the readers, how not to do certain things because they just won’t work for the publishers, and that if you’re willing to follow the rules, persevere, learn from all the rejections, expensive conferences, professional paid critiques/edits, and basically listen to those opinions which matter (and apparently most of those from your reading family and friends don’t), you will eventually be published if you write a splendid story which is also written near perfectly, inferring that each one of their multiple novels has met and exceeded all of those qualifications.

The new breed insists if you just go to conferences, work hard on your craft, follow the rules, and take all valuable rejections, paid edits/critiques, and important opinions as “the law”, you will be published because your story will then be written near perfectly and too good to pass up, inferring that their new novels meet and exceed all of those qualifications.

Well . . . okay. They can all be right about some things and wrong about others. Each one can have an original publishing testimony or not so much, and in each particular case what he/she has to say is valid. For him/her/them. Some things are universal. They apply to all of us. However, “applying to all of us” does not mean some published novels won’t appear with noticeable apparitions to those universal “truths”. Such is life. The wannabes are busy pointing fingers at the “mistakes” while fears accumulate from several rejections of their work, and they find themselves whispering private insults because they are convinced they write better than such and such an author. Hey, it’s true. I’ve been there, much to my shame.

So what about the old and the new? As I stated, there are some universal “truths” involved in writing a novel. Yes, everyone who pens a novel should know how grammar operates, but I bet it would surprise a fair amount of people to learn how many authors use too many commas put in wrong places in their first drafts, don’t spell well, or any other kind of error which those seeking perfection in writing their manuscripts can’t tolerate. And, yes, everyone who authors a novel should know how to tell a story well. But once you forge onward from the basic grammar skills, everything begins to tilt awkwardly toward the subjective mode of definitions.

An accomplished writer can tell us how to write effectively, but if we can’t muster a favorable opinion of what this author has written, what can we gain from that instruction? Mostly we mutter to ourselves, “Well, if that’s what it looks like when it’s done, no thanks.” The more noble among us will counter with the “pick and choose” evaluations, taking what is profitable advice and leaving the rest.

This entire post came to be as a result of reading an opinion stated as fact by an experienced historical novelist who has experienced his/her (not wanting to single out this person) share of commercial success, has an established fan base, teaches/speaks at conferences, and is well respected in the writing community. The opinion was in direct contrast to my particular comment which happened to be my opinion as a voracious reader and as a writer of novels.

Because I am a writer of novels. Not one, not two, but seven. I know: Big Whoop. Two of the seven are self-published, and five lie in stasis. The point is I know exactly what I appreciate in novels, and I write what I like to read. My opinion counts as a reader and as a writer. Not because I’m special or have this inordinate amount of knowledge but simply because my opinion is based on a reality, specific preferences, the observations of weaknesses in some published writings, and the kind of stories which are important to me. And when my opinion clashes with that of another writer or a publishing professional, I suppose because I remain “unpublished” my opinion in some circles is nullified.

Well . . . not here it isn’t. I get the publishing industry as a whole. I do. The so-called target market—the majority of women readers from a certain age group—are being well supplied. And trust me on this point: a fair amount of these women do not need particularly well-written novels. Those super stories, written perfectly, that all the agents, editors, and the old guard and the new breed spout off about. Huh-uh. They just need a story they can relate to in some way, shape, or form. Either suck them in emotionally to another time or place or fill them with a cute romance or broken lives or any situations which touch them as individuals for the moment or for a long time.

So what it really all boils down to—and I mean down to the bare hot pan on the stove beginning to sear and smoke—is this: You are writing first for the agent, then for the editor, and finally for the marketing team. Not for the reader. That’s a stunner. Sometimes these agents, editors, marketing teams don’t get the readers. But as long as the old guard and the new breed keep serving up the same platitudes about how to be published and the publishing professionals keep producing the novels that sell and make a profit—which we know comes from the novels of a mere few—things won’t be changing anytime soon. And what that tells me is my opinion doesn’t count in their world.

God, you lead. I attempt to follow. I desire to follow. I’m desperate for you, Lord. Keep me on the narrow path and help me to follow hard after you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.