How Many Authors Have You Rejected?

When I go to a bookstore, I walk straight past the romance and horror and non-fiction over to the fantasy and science fiction section, and often browse the young adult (YA) aisles as well. Even though I know there are great books on the other shelves, those are the genres I’m interested in reading.

Now I want to find a book.

What I’m looking for depends on my personal tastes, what I last read, what kind of story I prefer, and what I consider to be a “good” book. My friends have different opinions and they have loved books that have done nothing for me, and I’ve been crazy about a book that they found “okay”.

In order to make a decision about which book to buy, I read the back copy. Sometimes I put the book back, sometimes I start reading the first chapter. I know within the first few pages whether or not I want to spend 3-4 hours with that book.

When I finally choose a book, buy it, and walk out of the bookstore, it’s nothing personal against all of those other authors .. but I have just rejected them.

 

Now – take that above situation and translate it in to an agent’s world … far more people than they could ever represent, some queries that appeal to them more than others, deciding which manuscript they want to spent 1-2 years of their life with, and then sending out rejections to the rest. Nothing personal, the agent just didn’t choose your book.

 

Black and White vs Grey, Part 1: The Black and White Team

 

I’ve seen heated debates in more than one fandom about the proper role of the story’s villains.  The more I see of these arguments, the more I feel that one side isn’t “more right” than the other; it’s a case of two different audiences, each looking for something different from their fiction.   This article grew into a trilogy where I’ll take a look at each side of the antagonist debate and examine the different techniques for writing each type.

One of the teams in the villain debate is looking for stories with black and white morality.  They want heroes who are heroic; sometimes role models, but more often, wish-fulfillment figures.  These are characters who do what the reader likes to fantasize that she could do if she were stronger, richer, a spy, a sorceress.  The reader would like to be the hero.  The villain, therefore, must be very villainous.  There is a sense of security in knowing for a fact that the villain is bad and the hero is justified in whatever measures she might need to take in order to bring him down.

This isn’t to say that the antagonist has no reasons for his actions, nor does it force him to become a cartoon villain who does what he does purely for love of evil (or hatred of goodness).  The villain might represent a different political ideology (a dictator, a terrorist, a Nazi,).  He might be a criminal.  He might be a social deviant.  He might covet the hero’s love interest, or be jealous of the hero, or be motivated by some other negative personality trait such as greed or selfishness.  He might well have a reason for doing what he does, but it’s a reason the reader can clearly recognize as “bad.”

The opposing camp argues that the “black and white team” are looking for a story that isn’t realistic.  When villains are rotten to the core, there is none of the messiness of real life-no innocents hurt, no unjust actions taken, no questioning one’s behaviour, no devil’s compromises.  Taken to extremes, the plot can be very simplistic:  good guys trounce bad guys and the reign of “justice” is assured.

However, those in the “black and white team” aren’t looking for nitty-gritty reality:  they’re looking for escapism.  They want to relax and enjoy a story where they’re assured that they know what’s going on and who to cheer for.  They get their pleasure from feeling a connection to the hero, hating the villain, and following the hero through to her victory.  A well-written “black and white team” story will entertain while it fulfills the reader’s fantasy.

What kind of villain should authors write?  First and foremost, the kind that suits the story.  There is nothing “wrong” with the black-and-white team; they are an audience willing to buy the fiction that delivers what they’re looking for.

If you’re writing “black and white team,” make sure your hero has qualities that readers would enjoy fantasizing about, emulating, or sympathizing with.  Avoid cartoon villainy by giving your villain a reason for his behaviour; be careful not to take him too far over the top into gratuitous acts of evil for evil’s sake.  Create the kind of villain your audience will love to hate, and they will cheer as your hero takes him down.

On Biases

I have a deep respect for writers who can tackle what I’ve heard referred to as “high fantasy”; to be able to conquer an epic world filled with magic and sorcery and its own cosmology has always been something I’ve been highly envious of, especially those that have done it well.
And yet, it’s never been something that I’ve been able to really sink my teeth into.
That isn’t to say there aren’t examples out there that I’ve enjoyed, but it seems to take me a lot of effort, and I don’t understand why. A dear friend of mine once began raving about Tolkien – before the movies, even! – telling me that I had to read the Lord of the Rings, it would be one of the most spellbinding things I had ever read, and so on.
So I tried it. And I got a hundred pages in, and set it aside, and have not picked it up since.
I’m not sure what it was. I know Tolkien has his detractors, and I can see their point in a lot of places, but I can’t help but shake the feeling that the story just wasn’t written for me. There are people that enjoy it, and that’s fine. Likewise, most high fantasy has been the same; I don’t think I have the constitution to be able to truly appreciate it. I end up starting series or novels and usually end up setting them aside. I’ve done the same for some sci-fi greats as well; this may be blasphemy, but Asimov tends to be someone I can take in small quantities. Again it’s not that I think the stories are not well-written, but in reading them, I get the sense that they are not written for me.
The ones that do grab me – the Neil Gaimans and the David Eddings and the Jasper Ffordes of the world – well, I can’t really think of what they truly have in common, apart from a healthy dash of humour. There is something in my heart’s core that really jumps at the thought of a good sense of humour in a work, even if it’s a very, very dark one, such as that of Gaiman or Stephen King, another writer whose books have long been friends of mine.
So I look back on my list and wonder if I’m okay for having that bias, because it means that I’ll probably never pick up much Tolkien ever, or I wonder if the humour is there and just too subtle and I’m suffering from preconceived notions about what will reach my sensibilities. Am I being unfair? Am I missing something?
I’d love to hear from other people about how their biases affect what they read – and even better, how that bleeds into our writing.

Pantsers vs Plotters

We often hear that writers fall into one of two camps: pantsers or plotters.  In truth, most of us straddle those two camps with a toe and maybe an arm in one and most of our body in the other.  I am one of those ridiculously methodical people who have a spreadsheet or a list for everything.  My writing desk needs to be spotless and organised.  I have multiple spreadsheets tracking everything from submissions to budgets to daily word counts.  Wouldn’t you expect me to be a plotter?

Actually, I’m a pantser – I write by the seat of my pants, without an outline, figuring it out as I go.  I usually start with a particular setting I want to explore and as I get to know the characters who inhabit that setting, the story unfolds.  But I’d love to be a plotter.  The methodical part of my brain adores the idea of a neatly-constructed outline, a manuscript mapped out scene by scene, writing with a definite end in mind.

I’ve tried to be a plotter.  I really have.  Before I started writing my previous manuscript, I wrote a detailed outline.  I knew exactly where the manuscript was heading and what would happen in every chapter.  I lasted two scenes and then deviated irretrievably from the outline.  Perhaps I could have forced the story to follow the path I had originally chosen, but the way it went instead felt more natural and the outline was abandoned.

Yet I still longed to be a plotter.  So this time I’m trying something different.  I have a very brief outline written on index cards – lovely big, pink ones.  I adore index cards and the methodical part of my brain is thrilled at having a stash of those pink cards spread out around me as I write.  It makes me feel like a “proper” writer.

The index card method is working well.  Because I can change the order of the cards, I’m finding it easier to insert additional scenes or move them to a more appropriate place as the story changes.  The story is coming out more easily because I do have some sort of plan in mind, however brief.  As I get to know my characters and understand what drives them, the story I had intended naturally changes.  With my new index card system, I can shuffle around a few cards, add others in, remove the ones I no longer need, and hey presto, I still have an outline of sorts and the yet the story can follow its own course.

I’m not saying I’m a reformed pantser, not by a long shot.  By I have discovered that pantsers and plotters are perhaps not as mutually exclusive as I once thought.

How about you?  Are you a pantser or a plotter?  And which would you prefer to be?