Over the President’s Day weekend I will be teaching at the Southern California Writers Conference. Because I am no stranger to this conference, its director rarely consults with me regarding what courses I will be teaching. This week I learned that one of my classes is, “Russell’s Rules to Publishing Success.”
Given a choice, I wouldn’t have picked that title. In previous years I taught a course titled something like “Russell’s Riting Rules” (clever alliterative touch, right?), which provided writing tips for the pre-published. The new course title suggests I know something about publishing success. Although I have had my share of novels published, I still don’t feel like a publishing success. Stephen King or John Grisham should be teaching this class, not me.
One rule I will probably emphasize is that writers must back up their work. The reason this will be on my mind is that 10 days ago I lost several weeks of work because I wasn’t practicing that cardinal rule. I set out to do the right thing. Because the rain was producing gremlins on the electrical grid, I asked my born with a silicon chip son to back up two files on an external hard drive. This is a kid who will be majoring in computer engineering next year. This was child’s play for him, a trifling task, a quick favor for his Luddite father. So what did Mr. Digital do? He took the old files (same name) from the hard drive and rewrote them over the new files on my computer. My son had never made this mistake before, and felt terrible. It really was my fault, though. I should have been doing my own backing up, but I’ve never been totally comfortable with the hard drive. Having learned my lesson I went out and bought a laptop. Now I’m backing up my writing with a USB memory stick, and the laptop.
However, I’m betting the class won’t be gasping with admiration when I tell them that they should backup their material. I suspect they’ll want a roadmap to the New York Times bestseller list, and not my pabulum about it being the journey and not the destination.
Years ago my friend Ken Kuhlken and I did a booksigning at a mystery bookstore, and we were told by the owner that if we wanted to write a bestseller we should have the plot revolve around cats and chocolate. It’s possible the bookseller’s advice was right on the money. Maybe if he had said dogs and beer I might have even considered it.
Ken and I responded to that advice by writing a tongue and cheek book called, NO CATS, NO CHOCOLATE. In the book Ken and I are the main characters, traveling from one unsuccessful booksigning to another. During the journey, the two of us decide that since we can’t make a living from legitimate writing, we might as well sell out and write romance novels. By book’s end we have the revelation that if we’re going to write about murder, we aren’t going to do it with high tea, doilies and bon bons (or cats and chocolate). To thine own self be true.
Good writing explores theme and character – it shouldn’t be about exploiting mediocrity. I hope that doesn’t sound elitist. Mickey Spillane once said something to the effect of, “What the literati don’t realize is that there are a lot more people that like peanuts than caviar.” Peanuts work for me if they are done well, and salted perfectly.
In writing, like medicine, I think the goal should be to first do no harm (that applies to both the writer and readers). To my class I am going to offer such tried and true advice as:
*Create specific images.
*Don’t trust the opinions of your family or friends.
*Omit needless words (thank you Strunk & White).
*Don’t let the reader be complacent.
*Write the book you most want to read yourself.
*Don’t chase whatever’s trendy at the moment.
*In the words of E.B. White, “Don’t write about Man, write about A man.”
*Study the magic. Reread your favorite books. Why do they work?
*One good page a day for a year equals a book.
*Read your dialogue aloud.
*Develop your authorial bullshit detector.
*Repeat the mantra of every good writer: show, don’t tell.
*Do the research, but don’t feel you need to bludgeon the reader with all that you’ve learned.
*Writing is a marathon, and the race is not always to the swift.
*Read Storytellers Unplugged every day so you can benefit from the advice of fine writers (I might really use that one).
*If you’re stuck in your writing, deviate from routine (Sully’s Rule).
That’s the kind of pithy advice the class will be getting. I am sure some of the students will be disappointed at the “elementary” nature of my rules of writing. I would appreciate any comments about your own “rules for publishing success” (whatever the hell that is). Tell me what works for you. It always means more if you get it from the horse’s mouth. I thank you in advance, and so do the students.
Pax,
Alan Russell
February 5, 2010
Well, thank you for crediting me with the deviation rule. Actually, I might suggest carrying deviation beyond simply using it to get unmired from routine. To wit: be deviant as hell. Eccentricity sells. Seriously, I would call eccentricity a major tool in constructing characters. Can’t think of a single memorable plot that didn’t require memorable characters — characters with foibles, quirks or some kind of uniqueness — to make it work. I’m suggesting this particular snippet of advice, Al, because your books always make use of just such characterization.
And don’t we all have a story about work we’ve lost in the great cyber limbo of the computer! After Dell’s techs blew up my bell-n-whistle mirror-drive pc’s fool-proof redundancy from halfway around the world in India, I went back to backing up stuff with auto and manual software, plus printing out, plus 2 flash drives, plus 2 more external drives. Someone is sure to re-invent the pen and paper soon, and the world will be saved. Thanks, Al…
– Sully
If these are mostly unpublished, or at least very-little-published, writers, then publishing success may very likely mean just getting the work published in the first place, and never mind the Amazon ranking. So publishing success counts on first achieving writing success. And you have plenty sketched out there for them to chew on.
But if any of them are looking for shortcuts, it would probably be best just to show them the one to the door.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go outline my next novel, Save The Chocolate Cat.
I love the quote “One good page a day for a year equals a book” – this is true of so many things. Plans and dreams that look so large and far away. If you can break them down into tiny pieces and do one of them a day, very soon you will be well on your way to your first chapter!
I also like “Don’t trust the opinions of your family or friends.” just not for the same reasons!
Good advice. I’d add this: find a writing buddy to show your drafts to. Pick someone who’s in tune with what kind of novel you want to write and can tell you when you’ve gone wrong.
You guys are so funny! I swear, sometimes the comments are as good as the post! Classic!
Prize winner: “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go outline my next novel, Save The Chocolate Cat.”
Hahaha!
Love the eccentricity idea! Great! I’m sorry, Sully, for that horrid, worst-nightmare event! OMG, I would die! Egads! So sorry, so sorry! Ouch! Damn technology!
Alan, don’t be so hard on yourself! I like you already!
Thanks for sharing everyone!
Good article. I kept thinking of my favorite books and what makes them great.
I think it’s their trueness.
That’s what resonates for me: make it true.
Even if it didn’t happen, I should feel that it did — somewhere, sometime.
Yes, that’s it.
You did EAT chocolate though, right? Something about silky cacao down the throat makes life’s moments a ceremony. All those Aztecs knew about that!
Thanks for pithy and excellent advice…
Misery loves company, and Sully’s India story made me feel glad only a pinkie was amputated. I also liked what he had to say about memorable characters. I think I’ll make one of my “rules” a question – what makes your book different?
I like your title, Brian. Ken and I have been talking about finishing our third and final “On the Road” book with the title: AND NO DAMN RECIPES (referring to the proclivity of mysteries to include recipes).
Howard, you just can’t trust family and friends (as you know). They don’t want to hurt you, and what they say isn’t going to help unless you happen to have a relative like Barbara Kingsolver (which I don’t).
And Dirtywhitecandy (quite the image) was right – it does help if another writer is in tune with your genre. I have done read and critiques before where mainstream writers have totally not gotten what the horror writers are doing.
Evelyn, if you want to laugh (and cry) you might go to Ken Kuhlken’s website (I think it’s http://www.kenkuhlken.net) where he has ROAD KILL available to read for free (or at least he did – I hope it’s still there).
How right you are, Cassandra. True books feel true. They are real (or should be). I am going to throw that comment into the class mix.
And Marisa, how could I not occasionally indulge in that fine drug called chocolate? I think women are the true addicts, though. I once had a lady friend who told me she would give up a week of orgasms for a frozen Snickers bar. I know of no man that would do the same.
Thanks for writing everyone. I enjoyed all your comments.
Best,
Alan
“Develop your authorial bullshit detector.”
There are a couple ways to take that. Would you mind expanding on it?
You’re right, Amy Jane, I probably should have explained that line.
As authors, we have to be attuned to what feels right. That means we have to be brutally honest with ourselves. If something feels wrong, we shouldn’t spray perfume on it. We have to listen to that nagging voice, embrace it even if it means cutting sections, character, whatever, to make things right.
One of the comments talked about how certain books felt true. When you write, you need to do your own test on everything. Do I know people that talk like that? Would I react that way? Does that passage feel true. Books and music have to find the right notes.
That’s what I mean by bullshit detector. Hemingway might have defined it a bit differently, but Papa is not around to comment.
Best,
Alan