Lead Me Gently, Author...

by Cat Woods

When I open a book, I embark on a magical journey. The path is set before me, and page by page, I explore a new world until I reach the destination at The End. If I'm lucky, I will walk away changed somehow. Your words will have touched some inner part of me and asked me to evaluate and re-evaluate the way I live my life and the way I see the world. It will challenge me to be a better person, one more cognizant of the people and places around me. It will fill some small part of me I didn't know was empty.

And so I ask, lead me gently, author, and I will follow.

Help me discover amazing gems off the beaten path.

But please, please, please do not tell me what you want me to know.

Rather, let me attach my own meaning to your words. Ignite my senses so I can take away what I need from your writing. Help me feel your book in my heart and soul, not just swallow the sustenance you believe I need.

Tread carefully and don't moralize. Let your characters grow so that I may, too.

Guide me, don't instruct me.
Share without preaching.

Dear Author, I've been told that readers are lazy, that they need you to draw them a map from Point A to Point B. That assumption scares me. It means you are responsible for making the reading experience equal for every reader. It means there would be no need for book discussions because we've all walked in each other's footsteps over the same rocky terrain with our eyes trained on a sole destination. It means we will miss the greatest opportunity to look past the words and see between the lines.

We will miss not only the forest, but also the trees.
We will fail to see the magic hiding right beside us.

And so I ask, dear author, don't give your ending away on page one, and don't beat me over the head with your message.
Don't foreshadow so much...

...that you ruin the surprise.

Your book isn't a soap box.
It's a gift to the world.

Treat it as such.

How do you share your passion without crossing the line? At what point do we risk losing our readers to a pedantic attitude? When is it our job to connect the dots, and when do we allow readers to make their own connections? Is it important that our readers understand and feel exactly what we want them to, or is it more important that they walk away from our writing with the message they need?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat is an avid hiker and lover of all things amazing. She enjoys exploring off-the-beaten-path with her daughter in State Parks across the upper Midwest and thinks that regardless of the destination, the journey is half the fun. When she's not hiking in the woods, she's blogging at Words from the Woods or writing juvenile lit from her little house on the prairie.

Writer's Dreamland: the good, the bad and the ugly

by Cat Woods

A few weeks ago, I received a message in my inbox. It came from an editor I was courting about a chapter book series. I was on my phone at the time, and the message with the first few words popped up on my screen:

What are you, a deaf mute?

A second later, another email popped up from a different editor:

You have an inflated sense of self.

I can't begin to describe the feelings that washed over me. Terror, confusion, anger...I was literally sweating and couldn't force myself to open the email to read the scathing rejections I knew were coming my way.

You see, we writers bust our butts to do things right. We work hard to balance story, plot, character, description and dialogue. We want to woo our agents, editors and public with our wonderful words. What we don't want is a rejection so hurtful we never pick up our pens again.

I rolled over and snuggled closer to Dear Hubby, thankful my nightmare was nothing more than a dream.

Ah, I know what you're thinking. I just cheated you out of a good rejection story. I started my piece with a dream, which is a huge no-no 99.9% of the time. But this dream happened to be real and since it isn't the opening scene of a novel I'm trying to pitch, I thought we could dissect it together, as I'm a huge proponent of believing my dreams.

So, long story short, I am a pretentious deaf-mute. At least according to the monsters trolling my sleep. Or am I?

Instead of letting my dream ruffle my writing feathers, I took the rejections seriously. What about my writing could possibly make me seem like a deaf mute? The answer was actually quite simple. I am a sparse writer in regards to description. I tend to favor the less is more approach and let my readers fill in the details with their own imaginations. (Personally, I feel my dream rejection would have been more solid if it had called me a blind mute, but beggars can't be choosy, and dream editors apparently aren't perfect.)

That said, I had something solid to consider before actually sending my submission out to the editor I want to woo.

That's the good part of dreams. If we stop a second to consider what our subconscious is trying to tell us, we may just learn a thing or two.

The bad part of dreams: dreams are so tempting to use in our writing because we dream every time our heads hit the pillow. Dreams are an integral part of our night life. They help us sort through problems. They lend us support and can be a huge source of inspiration. It is an easy trap to start stories with dreams, solve our MC's problems with dreams or to finish off a plot line with the whole "it was nothing more than a bad dream" solution. Readers tend to hate these devices, and for good reason. They are over-used and seldom done in a way that doesn't feel trite. Often, readers feel cheated out of a good story.

The ugly: dreams can be dream killers. Inflated sense of self. What the heck does that mean? I try to be humble. I don't like to be snobby or snotty or pretentious. And while I know that good intentions don't always work out the way we want them to and that we mere mortals tend to be really bad judges of our own characters, I'm not quite sure how to interpret this dreamy tidbit.

Inflated sense of self.

That really hurts. It rubs raw my self confidence and makes me second guess what I'm doing and why. It makes me want to stuff the submission package I've been laboring over into a huge e-file and leave it there for the cyber monkeys to steal the next time they are being naughty.

Inflated sense of self.

This terrifies me. Does it mean that my writing sucks? Or that my subconscious is begging me to quit planning a series when I'm incapable of following through? I have no idea: I was too busy sweating and trembling and being too much of a baby to open the dreammail and find out.

All I really know is that dreams have an ugly side that has nothing to do with trying to run away from a murderer and not being able to move our legs. They have the uncanny ability to make us second guess ourselves and believe things that may or may not have any truth in them.

As writers, it's ironic that our waking dreams of hitting it big can clash so painfully with our night terrors. Finding the right balance is crucial to our success--and our sanity.

So, dear readers, what writerly dreams have haunted you? How much stock do you put in your dreams, and how do you let them affect your writing? How, if ever, have you used a dream in your writing? What are your pet peeves when reading about dreams in novels?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods loves to dream. In college, she kept a dream journal for her psych class and found that her subconscious is as quirky as her waking self. She also learned that her uncanny ability to change her dreams is called lucid dreaming. She'd been "changing the channel" on her nightmares since she was bit in the foot by a wolf in the second grade, and thought that doing so was normal. Alas, nothing about Cat is normal except her dream to write. For a peek into her whimsical life, you can find her at Word from the Woods or Cat 4 Kids.

Dontcha Know and Other Vernacular Issues for Writers

by Cat Woods

Minnesota Speaker 1 according to the world: So, yeah, dad and me, we went down ta da park de udder day fer a bite ta eat. It was a fer piece, dontcha know.

Minnesota Speaker 2's illogical response that the rest of the world believes happens in every conversation: Ooofdah, dat is a fer piece.

Now, I get that I'm not "from Minnesota" in the traditional sense. I was made in Japan, born in Seattle and attended seven different schools on the west coast before settling into the great Midwest in the fourth grade. I've been a minority. I was in Washington when Mount Saint Helens blew and didn't realize that seeing the ocean was a big deal because I swam in it every weekend.

And maybe my varied childhood makes it hard for me to swallow the Fargo-esque vernacular that everyone else in the world believes is how all Minne-sooooo-tans speak. Or maybe it's so unpalatable due to the overuse of this vernacular in every portrayal of the Midwest. Either way, I despise this hacked-up version of our language as much as Southerners probably hate seeing "howdy" in every fictitious conversation involving them.

• Truth #1: Every living, breathing person in Minnesota does not say "ooofdah". After residing here for nearly 30 years, I still don't have a feckin' clue what that word means. It only serves to conjure up visions of stodgy, old grandmas in their housecoats and hair rollers leaning to the side of a stained and lumpy couch and letting one rip before uttering the word that is equally grotesque.
• Truth #2: Yes, Minnesota speakers are lazy language users. We "ta" and "fer" all day long. As a speech coach it drives me absolutely batty, and we actually practice correct enunciation during warm ups before competition. "To. To. For. For." I think this should be recited along with the Pledge of Allegiance in elementary schools each morning--and I'm only half joking. 
• Truth #3: Vernacular is a cool way to show character, place or time in writing. But, it can also kill a piece.

Grammar Girl has two fabulous articles on her blog discussing the hows and whens of writing slang and writing dialect, both of which make up the everyday language of certain populations at any given time. Her recommendation is to use such things sparingly and mostly in dialogue.

For instance, "Groovy" quickly places someone (beach bums or druggies?) in the 1970s--although I've only ever heard one Minnesota, college-educated man use this word, and that was in the late 2000s. Use of this word in a current novel could be used to effectively date the story, or to show an intriguing aspect of someone's character--aka the attorney from above.

A delightfully, unexpected example of how to use vernacular showed up in my inbox this morning from Chick Lit Goddess, Isabella Louise Anderson. Her blog post delivers an excerpt from a novel, Dear Carolina, that highlights two very different character voices. From this short plug for a beautiful sounding story, we catch a glimpse of how writers can effectively show social status, education and experience through simple language usage.

But what should writers do about words or phrases or even geographic differences that are nearly impossible to use without confusing a handful of readers or overburdening the majority of our audience with boring explanations?

Conversation 1

• I once used the word sneakers to describe my MC's shoes. A critique partner from a few states away asked, "What's a sneaker?"
• "Tennies."
• "A tennis shoe."
• "But your MC isn't playing tennis. They are called athletic shoes."
• * yeah right. Jimmy slipped on his ATHLETIC SHOES, tied them and headed outside to play. not*

Conversation 2

• "Come over tonight for some taverns."
• "So, we're going to the bar for dinner after meeting at your house?"
• "I think she means sloppy joes."
• "Aren't they called BBQs?"
• "Nah, they're just shredded beef sandwiches, dontcha know."
• "I'll bring the pop."
• "I like Coke."
• "I don't do drugs, but I'd love a soda."
• *i'm ready for coke after this conversation*

Conversation 3

• He climbed in his pickup and headed down the street.
• Collaborator 1: Only farmers drive trucks. A teenager would never drive a truck. Especially to school.
• Collaborator 2: This story takes place in the Midwest. Everyone drives trucks here. Even business professionals drive trucks.
• Collaborator 1: Not here. This would confuse readers. It has to be a car. Either that or you have to tell readers that in other parts of the US, kids who aren't farmers actually drive trucks.
• Even though he wasn't a farmer, he'd always loved driving trucks, as did many of his friends in the Midwest even though kids on the west coast would call him a freak for doing so because nobody in California ever drove trucks unless they were farmers. You see, sometimes things are different in different parts of the country and that's okay even if it feels unusual to some people. Now...where was I? Oh yeah, He climbed into his pickup, cracked a soda and swore never to collaborate on another project again.

Conversation 4

• Your MC cannot be in Carter Elementary. Elementary = kindergarten-4th grade.
• No, it's always k-6.
• Well, ours is k-5, with junior high grades 6-9.
• We don't have junior high. Middle school is 5-8 and high school is 9-12.
• *le sigh*

Based on life experiences and the language in which people use from infancy on, getting simple ideas across can be cumbersome and frustrating for writers. But it shouldn't be. Maybe it's naïve of me to think that readers carry a certain responsibility in using context clues to infer the definition of words they are unfamiliar with. After all, it is a skill we teach kids in school (the elementary, middle, junior and high versions) to help build their vocabularies. In my opinion, writers cannot carry the full burden of describing in detail every little language nuance that might possibly trip up readers from different areas or generations. Yes, we need to write clearly and succinctly. However, we do not need to act as a dictionary.

 

To recap: Writing in heavy dialect risks annoying readers. Novels riddled with "all y'all", "oofdah" and "hey" get old fast. A smattering of well-placed words like "groovy" can lend character to certain characters. As a side note, though, it is very easy to use vernacular, dialect and slang to stereotype characters or date a piece, and this is bad. Very bad. All this said, it is impossible to use completely common words that will alleviate any confusion for every reader because the world is a big place and language is as vast and as varied as the individuals who use it. 

 

So, dear writers, at what point do you strap on your sneakers and run with your word choice? How do you know when your novel's vernacular is too much? When is it not enough? How much description do you use to define potential troublesome words or phrases? How does this vary by age group or genre?

 

Curious minds want to know.

 

Cat Woods has never used the phrase "dontcha know" and ridicules with impunity those who do. She also wonders why the rest of the world quotes the movie Fargo (North Dakota) when making fun of Minnesota dialect. Some day she might write this into a novel, but for now, she's content with blogging at Words from the Woods and supporting the middle grade anthology she was contributing editor for. Tales from the Bully Box is part of a bully prevention campaign that is near and dear to her heart and has its own website at The Bully Box.

Perfect Writing: is it attainable?

by Cat Woods

As a writer, finding that perfect word is almost as exhilarating as winning the lottery. Actually, in a way, it is winning the lottery--in a literary sense. You see, we writers take our words very seriously. We want to tell the perfect story with the perfect characters living the perfect plot that ends with the perfect resolution. We expect nothing but the perfect sentences flowing into paragraphs of perfection.

However, I don't believe that perfect writing is attainable. More importantly, I don't think it is desirable.

As a speech coach, I judge a lot of high school tournaments. I watch hundreds of talented kids recite amazing pieces week in and week out for three months straight. I admire the skill they have in memorization, characterization, blocking and inflection. They use facial expressions and body language to depict the emotions and elicit sighs of sadness or peals of laughter from their audiences. The better they connect to their characters and the better they help us connect to them, the better the speechies do.

Alas, however, I have seen technically perfect pieces executed in an over-rehearsed fashion that lacks genuine voice, effectively erasing all the hard work they've done.

This--this striving for perfection--is actually the problem with chasing it. We can, and often do, sacrifice quality, spontaneity and authenticity when we hash and rehash our work, kneading it, massaging it, substituting words and punctuation with a tenacity that is nearly obsessive.

In short, we risk losing genuine voice in the quest for perfection.

So, do you feel perfection is desirable or attainable in writing? If so, how do you pull it off? How do you keep your writing fresh despite the grueling hours of edits and revisions? Conversely, in what ways does the quest for perfection inhibit your storytelling? What do you do about it?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods is a speech ninja five months out of the year. She helps junior high and varsity students hone their speaking skills--both on and off paper--a process that is eerily reminiscent of critiquing other writers. Feel free to critique her writing in Tales from the Bully Box, an anthology for middle grade writers from Elephant's Bookshelf Press. Or, check out her kid blogs at www.catwoodskids.com or www.thebullybox.com.

You're A Part of the Scene

by R.S. Mellette

I've been binge-watching the Foo Fighter's series, Sonic Highways, on HBO. It chronicles Dave Grohl's journey with the rest of the band to record a song, inspired by and recorded in a different city around the country. While in that city, they delve into the evolution of the music scene that is unique to that part of the world.  Jazz in New Orleans. Blues in Chicago. Go-Go & Funk in D.C. etc. Not only is the history fascinating, I found the series inspirational for artists of all kinds, including myself as a writer.

But nostalgia is useless if it doesn't teach us something about today, or guide us toward a better tomorrow.

I got to thinking about those music scenes. For a brief moment, I wished I had been involved in something as cool as grunge in Seattle, or Willie Nelson in Austin. Then I said to myself, "You idiot! You are. Right now. Right here at From The Write Angle."

Sure, our Moveable Feast may not be in Paris, but this isn't the 1920s. None of us may be as famous as Hemingway, Fitzgerald or Joyce, but neither were they at the time. If they were, or if we were, then it wouldn't be a scene would it? All great "you should have been there back when" scenes start before the artists become household names. For those involved, it's not necessary for their peers to make it big. They are mythic not for what they will do as famous artists, but what they did last Tuesday when they couldn't afford breakfast.

So whether this little band of writers is destined for greatness or not, I thought I would provide my portion of the yet-to-be-made (or never-to-be-made) documentary on our little scene. Those who are a part of it, as participants or audience, feel free to chime in with your own angle of the story in the comments.

For most of us, From The Write Angle started with AgentQuery Connect, which is a scene unto itself. The head of that little movement is the mysterious AQCrew. No one knows who AQCrew really is, but his or her guiding hand has been a big influence to writers, published or not. The mystery of AQCrew's real identity adds to the mythic aspect of AQC's tale.

For me, From The Write Angle started when Robert K. Lewis, aka Thrownbones, got an agent. This was around 2008 or '09 on the first incarnation of Agent Query Connect. Not only was I completely jealous, which is my highest compliment, but he wasn't around the boards as much and I missed his posts. Shortly after that, I got an agent and I missed his posts even more.

There are a whole new set of problems a writer encounters once they make it to the next level, but to complain about them to writers on the level below is kind of rude. I had never been the type to think I needed a support group, but Agent Query Connect had become that as sure as if it were held in the rec room of a local community center. Once I'd found an agent I felt like I'd lost my support, so I asked AQCrew if I could form a password protected group for writers who have agents.

When ACQ moved to the new site, this group became The Class of 2009. Most of us moderated (or still moderate) forums on that site. At some point, AQCrew mentioned that writers were forming blog groups and that we should consider doing something like that. From The Write Angle was born.

My biggest contribution after that was writing the statement of purpose:

We learn best, not from our bigger than life heroes, but our big brothers and sisters. We run fastest to catch the person just in front of us, not who has already finished the race. We seek The Write Angle to help you, not because we have reached the summit, but because we are in arm's length, and when you are arm's length ahead of us, we hope you'll remember how you got there.

In 2012, Matt Sinclair started publishing short stories via his Elephant's Bookshelf Press. As I say in the acknowledgements of Billy Bobble Makes A Magic Wand, he is our Sun Records. Thronebones went on to have his Mark Mallen noir series published. Mindy, R.C., Sophie, Cat, etc. have all done well and still blog here along with the rest of the team. Others, have moved on to emeritus status, but like any members of a scene, they are with us in our thoughts.

What scenes are you all currently a part of?  What are you doing now that will be a fond memory in a decade or so?

R.S. Mellette's new book is Billy Bobble Makes A Magic Wand. He is an experienced screenwriter, actor, director, and novelist. You can find him at the Dances With Films festival blog, and on Twitter, or read him in the anthologies Spring Fevers, The Fall: Tales of the Apocalypse, and Summer's Edge.

A New Look at Editing: Your Novel In Eight Minutes

by Cat Woods

As a speech coach, I often help students "cut" pieces from novels for competition. In my neck of the woods, this amounts to summing up an entire novel into an eight minute spoken presentation--or roughly 1,300 words including an original introduction.

Truly, it's like editing on crack.

The process is easy enough: read; tease out the phrases, sentences or paragraphs that best portray the scope of the story; and tie them together with a nice little intro. For prose, this entails sifting through a lot of introspection and a little bit of action. For duo, it means cutting and pasting the story together through the written dialogue. Humor is usually a healthy combination of both.

Regardless, the outcome is the same. When my speechies have cut a novel for competition, they've somehow whittled down the story to a fraction of its size--all while packing an emotional punch and retaining its integrity. The only usable words are the ones the author penned. No changes can be made and the lines must be connected in the order in which they appear in the novel. No rearranging allowed.

The outcome is quite awesome, really. And, it's something we should strive for as writers. We should each be able to whittle down our writing to the very heart of the piece. We should be able to tease out eight minutes of cohesive dialogue that somehow show the scope and depth of our story. We shouldn't have a problem finding that unifying thread that connects the beginning, middle and oh-so-satisfying end. And if we do, we just might need to eliminate unnecessary character peeks or fill in some plot valleys.

This process is completely different from writing a synopsis, which is really a blow by blow of each chapter. It's also very different from a query letter summary. This is more fluid and evocative. It strikes an emotional chord and carries the reader...er, listener along for a quick, but thorough roller-coaster ride. It's like storytelling on crack.

After working on several speech scripts this season, I challenged myself to "cut" my own stories. I think you should do the same. Like me, you might be pleasantly surprised by the results or get a swift kick in the muse. But, if you're not quite ready to dice your own manuscript to bits and pieces, try cutting one of your favorite novels to get a feel for strong character dynamics, intriguing plot nuances and meaningful dialogue. It's a great way to learn how to ferret out the important parts of a story or to determine what is lacking.

Once you master those, you'll have this whole writing thing licked. Then maybe, a speechie may someday cut your novel for use during a competition. And that, my friends, is the best word of mouth advertising I've ever seen among avid readers, educators and parents.

How do you content-edit your writing to ensure cohesive story lines and consistent character growth? Have you ever dissected another writer's work to see what he/she does right? If so, what did you learn from the process?

Curious minds want to know.

Each spring, Cat Woods spends thirteen weeks straight judging speech competitions in Southwestern Minnesota. She loves the interpretation categories because they force her to analyze character relationships on multiple levels. And speaking of characters, some of hers have found their way into print and reside in a smattering of anthologies--the most recent one being Tales from the Bully Box, a middle grade anthology. If you're so inclined, you can follow Cat's exploits at www.catwoodsblog.com or www.catwoodskids.com. In the meantime, happy cutting.

Writer's Vertigo

by Cat Woods

Vertigo has been kicking my butt lately. If you've never had it, sacrifice to your god or goddess of choice so that you may never know what the perpetual bed-spins feel like. Seriously, a bout of vertigo is reminiscent of a bad college party, complete with praying to the porcelain god. This last time, it literally flattened me. I spent four, immovable days on my right side and another four feeling tipsy.

Vertigo is an imbalance in the ear that creates a state of dizziness. Usually it is momentary, lasting only about a minute or so, but sometimes it can knock you down for a day. Rarely, it may take a week to regain your footing.

You won't be surprised to know that writing has its own version of vertigo.

SIXTY SECOND VERTIGO: This comes out of nowhere. Walking down the stairs, driving a car, carrying your baby or frying burger for dinner. It is instantaneous--a black hole of time and space that sucker punches you. These are the rejections on the projects we were so certain were perfect. The email response by an agent or editor passing on our work. They throw us off balance and make us stumble in our confidence and passion.

With this kind of vertigo, a pause is all we need to recover. Stop walking. Stop driving. Put down the baby and step away from the stove. As much as these rejections sting, they are a mere blip on the continuum of your writing journey. A pebble in your path, if you will.

DIZZY FOR A DAY: This type of vertigo usually comes with vomiting. Lovely image, I know, but you writers will appreciate the injustice of it. The last time I had day-long vertigo was a snowy winter day. Dear Hubby was gone, school was cancelled and six inches of snow blanketed our three stall driveway. My plans for the day did not include hours on the tile floor in the hallway where I happened to land after smashing into a doorway I didn't see in my black fog. My poor daughter spent her "day off" of school exchanging ice cream pails every time I opened my eyes or turned my head.

I equate this vertigo to the feeling of queasiness we get when those near and dear to us don't quite climb on board with our recent writing projects. These are the rejections on a revise and resend. They are the scathing lukewarm comments by our critique partners/best friends/family. Or worse yet, their indifference. They are the first pass notes from our editors/agents asking us to change the MC, the plot and the setting. In short, they are debilitating to our egos and leave us breathless, wondering where to go from here. They are the detours set before us. They slow us down and ask that we expend more time and energy than we initially wanted to.

WEEK-LONG WEAKNESS: Not being able to stand, sit, turn your head, eat or open your eyes for days on end is psychologically debilitating. "When," you cry--literally--"will this end? Will the world ever stop spinning?"

It does, eventually. But re-entering the land of the living is a tentative endeavor at best. Every move you make is slow and filled with trepidation. You wonder when you will fall, which movement will send you crashing back to the earth, losing your faith and your breakfast simultaneously.

Yes, writers, we will endure hardships. We will face washed out bridges, mudslides and dead ends. We will enter tunnels of darkness that disorient us and make us question whether the pain is worth the unknown destination. We will face the decision to keep walking or to turn back. If the former, we will knowingly enter a partnership with more vertigo. If the latter, we will forever spiral into the blackness of self-reproach each time we see a new book on the shelves.

There is no cure for vertigo and the only treatment I'm aware of amounts to deliberately throwing yourself backward and beating your head against the mattress to dislodge the tiny crystals in your ear that have become trapped, thereby making your world severely imbalanced. The treatment is nearly as sickening as the vertigo itself, and it still takes time to recover. Time and persistence.

Heck, yes. Writing is just like vertigo.

Sadly, writer's vertigo is overwhelming enough to send many writers packing away their keyboards for good. How about you? Is your writing life spinning out of control? If so, what are you doing about it? What treatments do you rely on to regain your writing balance? How have you endured the spiral into darkness?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods is a recovering vertigo patient--both in writing and in real life. In fact, she is still fighting the woozy aftermath of her latest bout. However, during her days of bed rest, a new idea came to her, proof that silver linings abound even during the blackest hours. Her advice: "Don't give up, don't give in and hold onto your passions no matter where the journey takes you." For more tips, click on over to her blog, Words from the Woods. Her short stories of hardships and the heroes who triumph over them can be found in every anthology of the Seasons Series by Elephant's Bookshelf Press.

Calling It Off: when snow and writing rejections get the best of us

by Cat Woods

Last Tuesday night dumped a few inches of light, fluffy snow on us. Right on time Wednesday morning, the snow plow cleared our cul-de-sac. It's blade, grating over the tarred road like a mechanical monster sharpening its claws, woke me before my alarm did. Interestingly, school was two hours late.

Then the wind kicked up, visibility plummeted and my neighbor's seven foot high fence disappeared behind a mountain of snow on Thursday morning. Despite the snow plow not even hitting our street until nearly 10:00am (and then getting stuck in the enormous drift), school was right on time.

Who makes these seemingly opposing calls? I wondered. What are they seeing that I'm not? Why one day and not the other? I mean, seriously!

If you've ever submitted a manuscript for publication, the same questions have likely plagued your mind. Especially after you open the covers of a newly printed magazine and find someone else's story where yours should have been. Book store shelves and cyber shops are filled with books an editor accepted despite rejecting yours.

And the question remains, "Why? Why them and not me?"

Why one late start and not the other?

Unless--and until--we are in the position to make those calls, we can only live with the consequences of those decisions. Good, bad, or indifferent, a call is a call.

However, writers do have a little more say than students when it comes to the seemingly random actions of the powers that be.

• We can keep working on the same manuscript, polishing, revising, editing and polishing some more until we find what works for the market(ing department).
• We can begin a new manuscript that takes into account information we've received from outside sources--such as personalized rejection letters, critique partners, member experiences at sites like AgentQuery Connect and/or writer's magazines and conferences.
• We can self-publish.
• We can take a break from our passion and come back to it with fresh eyes down the road.
• We can keep learning, keep working and keep honing.
• Or, we can trunk our writing altogether and take up snow sculpting.

Have you ever been tempted to call it off completely, or do you have too much respect for your time, effort and education to toss in the towel and bundle up? What tips and tricks do you find helpful when it's just too hard to slog through another storm? How do you stay motivated when you've been passed up yet again on the "perfect project?" Better yet, how do you use this experience to become a better writer?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods has allowed herself a late start or two in her lifetime of writing. She's long learned that writing is a journey and as long as you keep your eyes (and cars) on the road goal, you'll eventually reach your destination. For more of Cat's musings, check out her blog--Words from the Woods. For her actual published words, visit your nearest Amazon.com and pick up the Seasons Series of anthologies from Elephant's Bookshelf Press. And if you're really patient, you'll find her children's writing in Tales from the Bully Box and Abigail Bindle and the Slam Book Scam, both slated for release in 2014.

Don't Blow Your Voice

by Cat Woods

 

This winter is flat ugly. Despite the snow and cold and stormy weather, the wind has destroyed all that might otherwise be beautiful. Instead of pristine white ditches filled with glittering blankets of snow, the roadside drifts are black with topsoil. The very winds that create our decreased visibility and late school starts continually blow the fields bare, depositing the rich, fertile soil in heaps of muddy slush on the side of the road.

 

Sadly, I've seen this very thing happen in writing.

 

Critique, commentary and even our own Internal Editors can send the winds blowing and our words scattering across the page. Sometimes, those winds take our voices with it like so much topsoil only to deposit them in the metaphorical ditch. The result can be downright ugly.

 

It's easy to take in feedback and try to implement every comment, every question and every concern from any number of people. When this happens, we can blow any voice our writing had.

 

So, how do we keep from doing this?

 

1. Read with an open mind. Simply hearing feedback doesn't obligate you to do anything but consider what was said. Note where you feel the most offended, defensive or uncomfortable. Likely, those are the comments that need the most attention. Often simple comments can take us on different tangents we never dreamed possible, but only if we are willing to hear the idea in the first place.
2. Give yourself time to process any feedback--even your own. Set your writing aside and let life happen. Think about what was said and how you feel about it. Viewing our manuscripts from different perspectives--whether we use the suggestions or not--only strengthens our knowledge and execution of our writing. This is a more deliberate process than the sheer creativity that initially drives our writing. And when we give it time, we're reacting with a cool head which can help us make stronger editing choices.
3. Never, ever try to make everyone happy. Not all feedback is equal or applicable. Writing is not a one-size-fits all endeavor. What works for most stories may not work for yours, so don't feel compelled to conform for conformity's sake. Rather, conform because it is the best thing for this particular story. You are the head chef in the kitchen full of cooks. You ultimately decide which ingredients go into your masterpiece.
4. Make changes based on the big picture comments and concerns and leave the nit picking for a copy edit. In other words, digest the feedback in terms of ideas, not concrete sentences. By only focusing on the details, we can lose the opportunity to really pack a punch. If your Crit Partner says, "I think a bar is an inappropriate place for you MG novel setting," don't simple replace the word "bar" with "baseball field" and call it good. Chances are your entire manuscript is riddled with mature references and ideas that will need to be considered. It's never as easy as find and replace when it comes to editing for content, but when we try, our writing becomes a hodgepodge and we can really blow our voices.

 

Once upon a time, I wrote a novel. I listened to every wind, every gust and every breeze. I killed my voice. This novel sits like a muddy lump in the back of my mind, waiting for the spring thaw when it can melt away, leaving behind the fertile top soil of my manuscript, so my voice can bloom once again.

What tips do you have for not blowing  your voice during the editing process? How do you infuse voice back into a flat story?

Curious minds want to know!

 

Cat Woods is currently editing a middle grade anthology on bullying where she is the wind of critique. She's been thrilled to note that the authors haven't let her comments blow their voices. Her words can be found scattered across the web, most often drifting together in places like her blog and on twitter: @catewoods.

Words Versus Resolutions: writing with your character in mind

by Cat Woods

Instead of resolutions to usher in the new year, I learned a neat trick from a fellow writer years ago: a word of the year.

The appeal of this word is that it has the power to change behaviors. Instead of "Lose Ten Pounds" which can be fraught with frustration and failure, the word "health" invokes positive connotations that impact more than the scale. I will eat better, work out more regularly, get more sleep and pay attention to my mental well-being. After a year of practicing health, I will have acquired the behavior patterns I want for a life time goal. After losing ten pounds, I might eat an entire bag of Doritos while mindlessly watching Sponge Bob reruns and crying into my diet soda. After all, I did lose ten pounds. I did accomplish my resolution.

When we write, it might behoove us to give words to our characters rather than just resolutions. While the immediacy of the resolutions and the very definitive outcome of them is what inherently drives the story and offers up our novel's conclusion, I like to think beyond the last page and into a possibility of life where my characters have changed, yet remain the same. I like to think of them as someone with integrity--in the sense that they are consistent in their behaviors and beliefs and actions. They are true to their core--whatever that core may be.

And so, I offer up the word.

• Harry Potter is tenacious. He refuses to back down until he has solved the riddle of his life. Sometimes this is a detriment. Other times it is admirable and courageous. Yet he never loses this core trait.
• Katniss Everdeen is virtuous. Her strong moral compass about the way humans should be treated drives every action she takes. Weary and terrified though she is, she holds onto her ideals to the point of stubbornness. Good, bad or indifferent, this trait is what makes Katniss one of the strongest female protagonists of this generation.
• Verity is ingenious, while her best friend is loyal in Code Name Verity.
• Curious George is...well, curious.
• And our own Mindy McGinnis's Lynn is independent.

Readers look to our characters for guidance. They want something deeper than a resolution. They want virtue and tenacity. They want independence, love, hope, faith and curiosity. They want to see themselves in the pages of our books so they can believe that they, too, can overcome the obstacles in their lives and survive beyond the moment.

And so I ask, give your readers a word...and maybe nab one for yourself.

Which character traits do you admire and why? How have you infused these traits into your writing? If you could only use one word to describe yourself at this moment in time, what would it be?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods writes from home, often in her jammies with a mug of chai tea--not potato chips--and surely without the help of Sponge Bob. She wants you to know that no scales were harmed in the writing of this blog post--only egos--and that her word of the year is organization. As in plan and proceed, not declutter closets and junk drawers. Currently, she's the acquisitions editor for a middle grade anthology on bullying. You can find more of her whimsy (and guidelines for submitting) at Words from the Woods.

Writing is Exactly Like Selling Tractors

by Cat Woods

 

Tractors are my bread and butter. Not mine, specifically, as I have no experience selling them. In fact, I can barely tell the difference between a tractor and a combine. Yet, after twenty-plus years of marriage to an Ag Manager, I know a thing or two about Dear Hubby's expectations for his sales force. 

 

Basing my marketing plan off his successful sales model makes perfect sense to me. And once I’m done, you should walk around thinking tractors and books aren’t really all that different.

 

• Writing is a product. Books, like tractors, must provide the buyer with their heart’s desire.  Each novel, picture book or how-to has a purpose. It may be sheer entertainment, or it may have educational value. Regardless of why it is written, the end product is useful. Just like a tractor is to a farmer. The more useful you can make your product, the better opportunity you will have to sell it. Writing for kids? Why not include educational aspects that teachers can build on in the classroom--a topic RC Lewis wrote about here. Got horses? Find a way to appeal to 4H students.
• Writers must know their genres. Field marketers must know their tractors. Not that I want to buy a tractor, but if I did, I would find myself a reputable dealer knowledgeable about their products. I would never buy a tractor from a business that only sold lawnmowers and garden weasels. Likewise, I would never write a Sci-Fi on time travel using quantum physics as a basis for reality. Though I graduated in the top 10% of my class, I can honestly admit that I am physic-ally illiterate. The moral here: write what you know--or learn what you want to write. Either way, it's a win-win. Because if you don't, you will put out a sub-par product that will not withstand the test of time.
• Writers must have a brand or a platform to successfully sell their books. Tractors have Case IH and John Deere (among others). Some farmers buy on color regardless of the product–simply because of branding. Many book-buyers purchase books based on name recognition. In a side by side throw down, the familiar name almost always beats out the competition. So get out there and get known--without forgetting the power of real-world connections. I was recently asked to speak at a local women's group about my YA. Seventeen members were there. All seventeen bought a book.  
• Authors must be approachable. I would never buy my hypothetical tractor from a curmudgeon. If I walked into a dealership (and I have walked into many) and the field marketer glowered at me, ignored me or was otherwise unapproachable, I would find myself another dealership. A writer must like (or appear to like) her readership. Bashing kids as a nasty breed is not likely to endear me to my potential buyers. And if you think for a second that people aren't looking, you're wrong. How we conduct ourselves in the cyber-sphere, as well as in real life, has a big impact on the way others perceive us. As hard is it might be, we have to learn to talk about ourselves and our writing without bragging--sometimes in the least expected places. Our ability to do this smoothly and graciously can make the difference between selling or sitting on the hypothetical book shelf.
• Writers must deliver. A cool cover blurb might entice me to shell out my hard earned cash on the first book, but if the writing doesn’t equal the promise, I guarantee I will never buy from Author Anita Sell again. Ever! I’ve been married to DH long enough to know that farmers are equally demanding. Bad performance = negative repeat business. Good service = customers for life.
• Authors are field marketers. We must sell our stories, our names and our personalities. We must engage potential readers and be unafraid to put ourselves out there. On a trip up north, I walked into a bookstore and hand delivered--free of charge--one of my YA novels. The three workers--including the owner--were thrilled when I told them it was theirs to enjoy. A potential sale? Maybe. If not, I'm only out a handful of dollars. So I say to you, set aside your fears and take a chance. After all, the worst thing a farmer can do is say no. Readers are no different. 

To become successful authors, we must care about our readership and deliver the goods. Failing this, don’t bother heading to the nearest Ag Dealership and asking for a job. Their field marketers are held to the same high standards.

If we are lucky, our books will grow wheels and drive themselves right off the shelves!

What's in your marketing plan? What scares you about being a field marketer for your own product?

While Cat Woods does not sell farm equipment, she does sell her intellectual property, such as her middle grade novel, Abigail Bindle and the Slam Book Scam, which is slated for release this September. She also sells herself--as an author--and will be speaking at regional Young Writer's Conferences this upcoming year. Her words of wisdom: don't be afraid of seeking out venues for your words, because if you never ask, the answer will always be no. For more writing tips, visit her blog, Words from the Woods. And while you're there, check out the call for submissions for a middle grade anthology on bullying. Because if you never ask, the answer will always be no.

Don't Underestimate the Power of the Snail: paper submissions are not dead yet

by Cat Woods

While scientists debate the merit of resurrecting woolly mammoths, T-Rexes and Tasmanian tigers, one animal is still thriving: the snail. Or more specifically, snail mail.

Paper submissions are not dead, yet I've heard writers flat out dismiss them as an option when considering which agents/editors to submit to. That's great news for the authors who lovingly send their babies off in a cocoon of envelopes and stamps. It means less competition.

Beyond that, snail submissions have other compelling benefits.

THE POWER OF THE SNAIL

1. E-queries and copy and pasted sample pages do not have the professional appearance required in a dead tree submission. Writing paper submissions is good practice--especially if an agent/editor requests a full or partial, as these are often sent via the almighty snail. Also, being able to craft a business letter is a life skill. Why not learn it now?
2. Dude, you're missing out. Seriously, of the twelve publishers I'm looking at for a project, six of them require snail submissions. And these aren't shabby or lazy publishers who refuse to "get with the times" and go digital. They are reputable companies who put out some of the most beloved books on your bookshelves. By ignoring them, you drastically reduce the number of submissions you can send.
3. No spam. Yeah, you heard me. Snails don't eat spam. When you paste on a stamp and send your baby out the door, it gets to its destination. Not to mention, email did not invent read-receipts. There are these handy little things called postcards that you can send with your dead tree pages. Self address that, stick a stamp in the corner and all the agent/editor has to do is pop it in the mail. Viola. Receipt acknowledged.
4. No fretting about format. If you italicized something, it will hit the reader italicized. Or bolded or underlined or blue or green. The format you print it in is the same one it will arrive in. The email gremlins will not have the opportunity to mess with your letter and leave odd spaces and unwanted indentations behind.

Yes, it costs money. But I personally find more satisfaction in sending out a crisp, professional package than an untidy looking email. If that makes me old fashioned then so be it. I guess the scientists can clone me someday.

In the meantime, follow these tips for the perfect snail letter.

• Use a header with your contact info
• Like all business letters, type the info of the agent/publisher on the left
• Follow your agent/editor's name with a colon (:) not a comma (,)
• Date it. Yep, email takes this step out of the equation, but you need to put it back in for paper copies.
• Complete the body--typo free
• And do not forget to sign your name. This step is often missed by snail mail virgins because we have such little opportunity to actually sign our names anymore.

How do you feel about snail mail submissions? Have you tried it, or do you refuse to think about it? Some people believe snail submissions receive a lower response rate. If you've got hard data on that to share, we would appreciate it.

Cat writes by day and wrangles snails by night. Her cyber endeavors include blogging here and at Words from the Woods, moderating at AgentQuery Connect and rating books on GoodReads. Most recently, her short stories have been published in Spring Fevers and The Fall, with another one coming out in one of the Summer's Edge anthologies.

Getting Your Foot in the Gate: the subjective nature of writing

by Cat Woods

This past weekend I took eight students to State Speech. While I watched rounds, coached kids and waited for results, I was reminded that speech--like reading and writing--is a completely subjective endeavor. An exact set of standards does not exist for any of the above activities. Writers cannot shoot the most baskets to secure a publishing contract, just like speakers cannot run the fastest race to win a first place medal.

Instead, they must strive to best capture the readers--and judges--attention through style, voice, characterizations and story development. Speakers and writers alike must connect on a personal level with their audiences. And not a single part of this can be judged with any certainty.

To make it to State, our speakers had to get past the gatekeepers of Sub-Sections and Sections. They had to withstand the scrutiny of the more conservative, traditional judges in our tiny corner of the state to reach the more liberal and forward thinking judges from the bigger communities.

Right or wrong, this is the process. As coaches, we know that going in. An edgy piece that is perfect State material may suffer at the more conservative levels by pushing the comfort zones of the judges. Certain themes are nearly taboo in our little burgs while a broader and more accepting approach can be found elsewhere. For instance, suicide was a risky topic for one of our duos, while homosexuality and strong sexual innuendos from lesser conservative schools made our suicide pact look tame.

Some of our speechies made a conscious decision to play the odds. They prepared edgier pieces in hopes of squeaking by the conservative gatekeepers in order to impress the more liberal State audience. It paid off. While they just managed to eke out a third place in Sub-Sections, there stronger piece and non-traditional performance (for our neck of the woods) made them true contenders at the State level where they pulled the best score in one of their three rounds, beating out four of the finalists in a head-to-head showdown.

Another duo team from our Section took a more conservative approach, and while their traditional performance earned them a first at Sections, they were dead last in every round at State. They gambled the other way and didn't quite get their foot in the gate.

Both teams were polished, professional and in the top twenty-four in the state. One held back, while the other pushed the forward. Neither ultimately made it to the final round. However, the risk-takers were one point away from doing so. Next year, they will take what they learned from this experience and use it to better their chances of medaling.

Writing is no different.

Even as the general audience may seem more open to reading risky material, the gate keepers are chaining the doors. Publishing is a business and it effects our passion. Our ability to publish traditionally hinges on the whims of judges who may be more conservative than we would like.

As I continue my writing journey, I've come to realize several truths: nobody will ever write the perfect book, and gate keepers will always exist. They may evolve over time, but they will always play an integral part in the success or failure of certain written works.

In speech, it used to be against the rules to touch the floor with anything other than your feet. This year, I personally saw several speakers on their knees, doing somersaults or brushing their hands against the stage. Judges opposed to change likely gave these speakers lower scores based on their personal preferences and past tradition. It happens. It's life. It's normal. In years to come, these same judges will likely wonder why we ever had such a foolishly prohibitive rule.

Publishing is changing. Reader tastes are changing. Even writing styles and themes come and go almost overnight. What remains the same--and will forever--is that people will always read, people will always write and there will always be gatekeepers in some form or another.

Even with self-publishing, gatekeepers exist. They are, quite simply, the readers who refuse to part with their hard earned dollars for certain books. They are the bloggers who inform other potential readers of books they love to hate. They are the people we must walk past if we are to get our writing into the hands of our readers.

While I don't believe we have to write to please the gatekeepers, I firmly believe we need to understand the nuances and the power and the reasons behind their existence. We must acknowledge that on some level, the goal of publishing is to reach as wide an audience as we can within our genre, age group or niche. To do this, we absolutely must acknowledge that our writing is judged and can either earn a place on stage or that it will fall short and we will be left clapping in the wings for those successful enough to balance the fine line between stepping out of the box and capitulating to the narrow constraints of current reading standards, tastes and expectations.

This is true regardless of how we reach publication.

Who are the gatekeepers in your writing world, and how do they impact your writing journey? Do you subject yourself to balancing their wishes with your ideals, or do you simply write--gatekeepers be damned? How has your method worked out so far?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods balances writing, speech coaching and mothering to the best of her ability--always hoping to impress a gatekeeper or two along the way. Her short stories can be found in Spring Fevers and The Fall, with another coming out in the Summer's Edge anthology this June. She also blogs at Words from the Woods.

Do or Diorama: Visualizing Your Novel

by Cat Woods

I love museums. As a kid, I would sit for hours in front of the dioramas, wishing glass didn't separate me from the world in miniature. I had a special affinity for Native American scenes and those depicting the pioneer days. Often, I would fantasize about slipping into those worlds and getting lost in another place and time.

I suspect that's why many people read novels today. While reading, we can slip away from homework, dirty dishes and nagging family into a world where teens spin the tapestry of life.

But only if the author does a stellar job of painting that new reality, as Gennifer Albin did in Crewel.

Over the past week, my Middle Son was assigned a science project. He had to create a diorama of the coral reef. This is the fruit of his labors.

His fifth grade translation is enough for us to picture this underwater world with some degree of accuracy.

• Sand? Check.
• Giant clam? Check. (Double check for the pearl found inside.)
• Coral? Straight from the Dominican Republic.
• Sea anemone? Not one, but two.
• Seaweed, algae, jelly fish? Check, check and check.

In a similar way, my favorite novels can be seen as dioramas.

• The Hunger Games would have milk carton shacks with dryer lint covering everything like a fine coating of coal. On the back wall, a fence would separate the dreary gray from the vivid forest beyond. Like her or not, nobody can dispute the amazing storytelling capabilities of Suzanne Collins.
• A.G. Howard's Splintered would utilize flamboyant colors interspersed with dark shadows. Wonderland in all its splendid--and contrasting--glory. And bugs. Lots o' bugs.
• Unwind by Neil Schusterman becomes a graveyard of broken planes, while Sarah Darer Littman's Want to go Private? is a blank computer screen. Deep, dark and terrifying.

A good novel will have a distinct setting. While this doesn't mean unique-made-up-100%-from-scratch, it does call for enough detail to let readers visualize exactly where they are and what the world looks like.

Even a contemporary novel told within the confines of a school should have defining characteristics. A little extra something to set it apart from every other school in the world. Think Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar. His school has 30 floors--one floor per classroom. Simple, yet effective.

However, without a connection to scene, readers can feel ungrounded. As if the story isn't quite real because it has no place to live. A poorly developed setting would be a bit like finding a giant clam on the Oregon Trail--too unreliable to trust.

All this got me thinking: what about my own novels? What would my dioramas look like?

What about yours? How much diorama potential does your novel have?

As a mother of four and an ex-preschool teacher, Cat Woods can turn the simplest objects into creative works of art--a trait she obviously passed down to her children. When she's not helping with homework or visualizing her newest writing project, she blogs at Words from the Woods. Her short stories can be found Spring Fevers and The Fall: Tales from the Apocalypse.

The Market Within

by Cat Woods

Last week while collaborating with a handful of publishers on a project, a question was posed.

Who will buy this book?

It wasn’t a figurative way of asking who will read it, but rather, who will literally—physically—buy the book and why?

You see, there are two types of audiences writers need to consider, particularly when penning juvenile literature: those who will lovingly read each and every page, and those who will put the pages into the hands of the intended readers.

As writers, we should keep both audiences in mind.

School boards, teachers and librarians have tremendous buying power. It’s no secret that books which can be tied to a school curriculum have been used in the classroom. That’s a potential audience of roughly 135,000 schools in the United States alone. Furthermore, decisions on which books to read in the classroom are made by approximately 7.2 million teachers.  In the US alone.

This is true whether a book is fiction or nonfiction, fantasy or contemporary. If educators can use a book to enhance a lesson, they are much more likely to purchase it for their classrooms.

What does this mean for writers?

1. Know how your book will reach your audience. Will your book be purchased by parents, grandparents, teachers, friends or kids themselves? Knowing how your audience will be exposed to your writing can make a difference in its marketability. F-bombs and gratuitous scenes will not endear your work to the gatekeepers, effectively whittling away at your sales potential.
2. Know the current education standards and curriculums. Things have changed in the twenty or forty years since we graduated from high school. Heck, even my little boys are learning far more advanced material than their older siblings did, and that’s only a seven year span. My fifth grader actually had to write an algebraic equation from a word problem. Write it, then solve it. Back in my day, we just had to solve them—and that was in the tenth grade. Knowing what goes on in the classroom will up your chances of selling a book to school staff.
3. Know how to handle tough topics with care. Schools have always used literature to help shape the social and moral landscape of the children entrusted in their care. Now more than ever, kids are turning to books to help them through the myriad problems they face. When we can write tastefully, truthfully and sensitively about these topics, the opportunity of finding our work on classroom shelves grows.
4. Lastly, write one heck of a good book. Because the finished product matters. If we preach, we lose. If we teach, we lose. If we bore, we lose—big time. Kids don’t read what they hate. Above all else, we must write a compelling story that will interest the estimated 77 million students of our intended audience.

Those are big numbers, my writer friends. How do you plan to use the audience within to your advantage? Does your writing have an educational tie-in that can put your work on school shelves, or is your book for juvenile readers only? More importantly, how can we satisfy both of our audiences? And when do we want to segregate them?

Curious minds want to know.

As a juvenile lit writer, Cat Woods has been known to pen educational tie-ins from time to time, allowing her to present in classrooms. Her short stories can be found in Spring Fevers and The Fall: Tales from the Apocalypse, while her writing journey can be found on her blog Words from the Woods.

Editors Are Exactly Like Parents, Not Besties

by Cat Woods

Give me an E! Give me a D! Give me an I-T-O-R!

What's that spell?

Help. Yeah, that's right. Help of the most amazing kind.

Last week, Matt Sinclair talked about the partnership between writers and editors. He stated that solid communication was the key to a successful project. As a writer who has recently worked with several editors on three shorts stories and one novel, I'll expound on this idea from the writer's perspective.

Here's the deal about editors: a good editor who shares your vision for a piece can strengthen your story in ways you never dreamed possible. As long as we understand that editors are not our friends.

Rather, editors are exactly like parents.

And just like parents, editors have a job to do. Namely, help us grow up and make something of ourselves. They cannot achieve this by sitting around youtube every night, eating pizza, painting toenails and gossiping about who wore what that day at school. Instead, they provide a set of rules to guide us toward our literary success. They are task masters, not besties.

Editors (like parents):

• Withhold dessert until we've eaten all our veggies. It's all about a healthy balance. Do we use all five senses? Do we have too many or too few characters? Is the front end of our story too action-packed with the back end fizzling out? A best friend would likely sneak us a cookie when our parents weren't looking instead of making us suffer through canned asparagus.
• Make us brush our teeth and shower. Editors force us to be presentable. Do people actually like our characters? Is the MC the strongest person in our novels, or does the fun-loving side-kick garner far more sympathy? Does our MC whine? Is he brute? Are they sensitive and strong and flawed and fun? In short, are they likable enough to carry reader interest through an entire story? Besties don't pay our dental bills. And as long as we don't stink too badly, they'll let us hang.
• Demand that we speak respectfully. Oh yes, because even in writing, our dialogue can be off-putting. Editors will provide an unbiased reaction to our character interactions and demand that we don't abuse the power of language. They'll make sure that what our characters say is believable and pertinent. They'll also help us pinpoint where we might get a bit preachy. This is not something a bestie would do. As you probably remember, best friends can smack talk nearly as well as we can. 
• Dictate that we clean our rooms. Editors will point out our piles of dirty laundry in the middle of the floor and will scavenge for those stray legos under the bed. They want our manuscripts clean and devoid of garbage that detracts from the writing itself: anything from typos to grammar to content and beyond. Not so, the besties. Because they like you and want you to like them, they may be more prone to shoving a toy behind the dresser than making us pick up every last marble off the floor.

"But what about my betas and critique partners?" you may be asking. "They are not parents, nor are they besties. Aren't they as good as editors?"

And that, my friends, is the question I pose to you.

Can beta readers provide the same quality of feedback that professional editors can? Is there a beta-reading threshold that can take a piece "only so far"? If you're a published--or soon to be published--author who has worked with both critique partners and professional editors, can you speak to us on the difference between the two?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods has been editing her heart out this past year. Her short story, Annabelle, was published in SPRING FEVERS in February. Little League, another short, is due out on October 29th in the upcoming anthology THE FALL. When she's not editing, Cat parents her four kids (in the non-friend kind of way) and blogs at Words from the Woods.

Submitting Writing Samples Q & A

by Cat Woods

You've written your manuscript, polished your query and gathered a list of your ten favorite agents to submit to. Should be simple, right? Just type in their addresses and hit send.

But, wait! There's more. Some agents want a synopsis, while others want a sample. Some may want both. Now what?

Send what is asked for. No more, no less. Agents are busy. They can receive upwards of 300-1,000 submissions a week. They don't have time to fiddle around with writers who don't follow the rules and who don't respect their time. They want a quick query to catch their attention and a smattering of sample pages to see if you can deliver what you promised. A table of contents or a synopsis is often requested to show the arc of a body of work. In other words, they want to know if your story makes sense.

Still, even when guidelines are spelled out, writers are often left with questions on what, exactly, to send.

SAMPLE PAGES Q & A WITH CAT WOODS

Q1–Agent Awesome wants the first ten pages. Which ten pages should I send?
A1–The first ten. The absolute very first ten pages of prose you want your readers to read. If you have a prologue, start on page one of your prologue.

Q2–"But," you argue, "my prologue isn't my story. I don't even talk about it in the query letter."
A2–Then why do you have a prologue? If it doesn't enhance the story and doesn't provide an enticing place to start, then you might want to reconsider keeping it. While the issue of prologues is widely debated, my answer remains the same as above. Send the absolute very first ten pages of prose you want your readers to read.

Q3–Chapter one is kind of slow. I like chapter two much better. Can I start my first ten pages with chapter two?
A3–Hell no. If chapter one is boring, ditch it. If the action starts in chapter two and your MC is rockin' pages 12-27, those might just be your first chapter after all. If you don't want to read it, why would an agent want to read it?

Q4–Agent Incredible wants the first ten pages. Do I stop at the bottom of page ten even though it's mid-sentence?
A4–Do chickens have lips? (For non-farm readers, that would be a no.) I recommend picking the strongest ending closest to ten pages as possible. If your chapter ends on page twelve, send the first twelve pages. If your chapter ends on page eight, why not stop there? If, however, you have long winded chapters, don't drag the first ten pages out to twenty-seven. Simply find the strongest ending within the ten page range—-give or take two or three on either side—and send those.

Q5–Uber Agent allows writers to send the first three chapters or the first fifty pages. My chapters are only twelve pages long. Where should I stop?
A5–Whichever gets the most quality writing in front of his eyes. Here's the deal, if an agent is still enthusiastically reading at the end of page thirty-six, he will keep reading to page fifty if it's in front of him.

Q6–Super Duper Agent X has like four different sample policies. Her agency website states queries only, while her personal blog says she'll take the first ten pages. Yesterday, I noticed a tweet from her stating she would take the first fifty pages, but her Facebook page says three chapters. What do I do?
A6–Refer to A5. Get as much of your story in front of her face as you can while still respecting the information out there and Super Duper Agent X's time.

Q7–Do I end my first fifty pages at fifty or can I send 52? What if I only send 48?
A7–Always send as much of your story as you respectfully can while stopping in the best, most cliff-hangy spot you can. Your sample is a sales pitch. If you end right in the middle of a cry-baby fest on page fifty, Agent Awesome may not feel as compelled to request more as he would have if you ended on page forty-eight with your MC clutching a butter knife while hiding from the antag's sneaking, AK-47-toting shadow. Sell your story. Because if you don't, no one else will.

Q8–How do I send my writing sample?
A8–Unless otherwise instructed, paste it into the body of an email. Business Spam Filters eat attachments for lunch. Viruses keep agents from opening many attachments from unknowns. Because of this, your safest bet in ensuring that your manuscript sample will arrive in Uber Agent's inbox is to paste it. But, paste it simply because many formatting options get bungled up when emailing.

Q9–What other ways might an agent request me to send a writing sample?
A9–Usually only snail mail or an attachment if they're expecting it. In the good old days, I've sent disks. But that was waaaay back when. R.C. sneaks in to add, "Several agencies now have an uploading option on their websites, so you submit your query and sample using their electronic form. Follow their instructions."

Q10–I'm writing nonfiction. Which chapters should I send?
A10–Typically, your three or four strongest ones. When submitting a nonfiction proposal, you will need to have a detailed table of contents instead of a synopsis. Chapters do not have to be consecutive. Rather, they should highlight the arc of the book if possible.

Q11–I'm writing fiction. Which chapters should I send?
A11–Start with chapter one and end with the third chapter or page ten or page fifty. Never, ever send pages out of order. Not even if you're sending snail mail. And don't turn one page backwards in the middle of your submission to "check" on whether an agent/editor read the entire thing. These tricks are sure signs of unprofessionalism and agents and editors typically steer clear of unprofessional writers.

Q12–I write children's books and like to make dummies. Should I send that with my story?
A12–Nope. Agents and editors with an interest in juvenile lit have an instinctive feel for page breaks—the purpose of a dummy—so your vision isn't necessary to help them make a decision. If anything, it looks amateurish and can detract from your story.

Q13–I write children's books and have illustrated some of it. Should I send my illustrations?
A13–NOPE. Publishing houses often work with a stable of illustrators. Publishing houses often have very different illustration ideas than authors. Publishing houses rarely consult authors on the visual end of a picture book project. So, unless you are a professional illustrator, do not send illustrations.

Q14–My manuscript is single spaced, but I just learned that agents expect them double spaced. Do I double space my ten pages and send the seventeen, or do I double space first and only send the first ten?
A14–Whenever we submit, we should always have our manuscripts formatted properly. In essence, this means one inch margins, Times New Roman, double spaced. Do this formatting first and send your pages accordingly.

As a side note: we can waffle all day long over ten pages versus twelve pages or three chapters versus five chapters, but at the end of the day, it's the quality of your writing that will determine how many of those pages Agents A-Z read. If your first paragraph sucks, Agent Awesome will not read all forty-eight pages just because you sent them. Likewise, if your writing is utterly and completely amazing, Agent Z will keep reading to page twelve even if he requested only the first ten.

So, provide ample opportunity for an agent/editor to read your sample while still respecting her time and guidelines. Act like a professional and you'll be treated like one. And, please, send only the best first pages you have—no matter how many there are.

For more on how to polish your manuscript into submission readiness, check out Noah Lukeman's writing bible: THE FIRST FIVE PAGES.

What submission guidelines questions do you have? What tips do you have for sending sample pages to potential agents/editors?

When Cat Woods isn't polishing her own writing samples or pondering the exact science of the publishing industry, she can be found blogging at Words from the Woods or moderating at AgentQuery Connect.