Flogging the Quill

Edit: good elements, but work needed

I've been remiss in doing sample edits, so I'll try to catch up. Here's a sample sent by Susan.

The lone criminal slid from an emergency exit of a prison freighter onto the station. Primer Bay rotated in orbit with a blanket of stars behind it, glittering like abandoned diamonds in some magician's black canvas bag of tricks. The station, the last outpost of civilization before the deep space jump off, is an isolated rest stop for the weary with all the amenities a person would need or want for the long hauls across space. Ten layers of docking bays ringed the station. Seventeen shops, bars and restaurant lay at Primer Bay's heart.

The convict's stomach growled, he thought two days had gone by since he ate the last of the stolen food. His dry mouth tasted like ash and felt like wool, he wanted food and a beer. Not necessarily in that order.

Stretching his arms over his head, Richard Kurt turned to look at the dull, gray haul of the freighter. With a yawn he let is arms drop, taking in the exit door he just left. Glancing around he saw a large loading platform next to a vast holding bay. His free ride was headed to Earth where it would be docked for three months until the next run for the prison system. Kurt figured once on the planet, he could lose himself easily. Beyond the obvious plan of ditching the feds, he thought he would play it by ear. For the moment, he needed food. He made his way with caution toward the smell of food without thought to paying for his meal.

Entering the main commons area without incident, he found despite the late hour there were still a few people around. Kurt walked along the left side of the shopping area, he smelled steak, and fried onions. His mouth watered and his stomach growled in protest. He stopped in front of a couple eating a late night meal. It took all his well power not to leap on the table and stuff his mouth with both hands. As they felt his gaze on them the couple raised their heads. Kurt blinked and nodded his head, the couple resumed eating. He continued on, circling the food area, and decided on a restaurant at the end of the line.

Darkness lay beyond the doors all but two letters on the neon sign were burned out. Kurt thought he could eat the damned sign if he didn't get fed soon. Taking a table near the door, he ordered two hot beef and cheese with a bucket of onion rings and pint of beer. Looking around he noticed the patrons seemed restless, their eyes shifted to one another. He began to get an itch at the back of his neck, his gut instinct said to get up and walk out. As he began to stand, the food was placed in front of him. The waitress glanced behind her at two men who whispered quietly in the back by the restrooms, their eyes slid from her to a guy sitting hunched over the bar.

Glancing at the food Kurt forgot his concern and began eating. The sandwich tasted fine and the cold beer made him want to weep. He thought it might be the best hot meal he had eaten in six years. Placing the mug on the table, Kurt leaned back and stifled a belch. Noticing the two men from the back moving towards the fellow at the bar, Kurt began to slide from the table. As he grabbed the bucket of onion rings and the pitcher of beer a body went flying past him and into the walkway.

Kurt munched the onion rings as he made his way back to the freighter, he took care to save a few bites since it would be a couple of days before he made Earth. He knew a little hunger would be worth his freedom. So focused on juggling the beer and the food he failed to notice the silent figure which stood frozen across the commons area from him.

The bounty hunter took in the fight and quickly fading criminal. Taking out his weapon the gun hummed with a pulsing charge, he lowered toward the brawlers "Move." he said with an emotionless stare.

They crawled away from the bounty hunter as he leaped across two figures and began running after the criminal.

Walking forward Kurt lay the beer mug down on a box and glanced at the nearly invisible entrance on the side of the mammoth ship and quickened his pace. The parking lights at the nose of the freighter glowed red, signaling take off time.

Susan's doing the right thing by starting with a character in action, but for me there were some point-of-view problems, and a fair amount of over-writing. Some edits & notes (remember the usual caveat: this is all subjective).

The lone criminal slid from an emergency exit of a prison freighter onto the station. Primer Bay rotated in orbit with a blanket of stars behind it, glittering like abandoned diamonds in some magician's black canvas bag of tricks. The station, the last outpost of civilization before the deep space jump off, is an isolated rest stop for the weary with all the amenities a person would need or want for the long hauls across space. Ten layers of docking bays ringed the station. Seventeen shops, bars and restaurant lay at Primer Bay's heart. This distant point of view is acceptible, but you're jumping into too much detail about the setting too soon. First things first: make something happen. If you feel the need to describe the station up front, do it from within the character's pov as he looks at it from space.

The convict's stomach growled, he thought two days had gone by since he ate the last of the stolen food. (wouldn't he know how much time?) His dry mouth tasted like ash and felt like wool, he wanted food and a beer. Not necessarily in that order. Nice description in the end but, whoa! you suddenly went from a very distant pov to right inside the character's head. IMO, you should have started with Kurt's pov. Also, since we're in his pov, he would never think of himself as "the convict."

Stretching his arms over his head, Richard Kurt (Should have introduced this first thing instead of "The convict." Let the reader figure out his criminal status from what he does and thinks, i.e. show, don't tell.) turned to look at the dull, gray haul (hull) of the freighter. With a yawn he let is (his) arms drop, taking in the exit door he just left. Glancing around he saw a large loading platform next to a vast holding bay. His free ride was headed to Earth where it would be docked  dock for three months until the next run for the prison system. Kurt figured once on the planet, he could lose himself easily. Beyond the obvious plan of ditching the feds, he thought he would play it by ear. For the moment, he needed food. He made his way with caution toward the smell of food without thought to paying for his meal("made his way with caution is "telling." Suggest you show. Thoughtstarter: Strolling as though he belonged there, but alert for glances that showed too much attention, he headed for the smell of food. )

Entering the main commons area without incident, he found despite the late hour there were still a few people around.  In the main commons area, Kurt walked along the left side of the shopping area, he smelled steak, and fried onions. His mouth watered and his stomach growled in protest. He stopped in front of a couple eating a late night meal. It took all his well power willpower not to leap on the table and stuff his mouth with both hands. As they felt his gaze on them the couple raised their heads. (pov glitch: he can't know what the couple feels, need to change this) Kurt blinked and nodded his head (what other part of his anatomy could he nod?), the couple resumed eating. He continued on, circling the food area, and decided on a restaurant at the end of the line. (Don’t need most of this paragraph because we already know he’s been two days without food. I’d cut it the couple, get him to the commons area and smelling the food, and then get him to the restaurant in the following paragraph.)  

Darkness lay beyond the doors all but two letters on the neon sign were burned out. (Huh? What does the darkness mean, and what’s the significance of the burned out letters? Unnecessary detail, I’d cut it.) Kurt thought he could eat the damned sign if he didn’t get fed soon. (We already know he’s hungry.) Taking a table near the door, he ordered two hot beef and cheese (two beef and cheese whats? Sandwiches?) with a bucket of onion rings and pint of beer. Looking around he noticed the patrons seemed restless, their eyes shifted to one another. (I’m sure you don’t mean that pairs of eyes shifted from one person to another, roaming around the room, but that’s what this says. Only their gazes can shift in this way.) He began to get an itch at the back of his neck, (better: The back of his neck itched) his gut instinct said to get up and walk out. As he began to stand, the food was placed in front of him. The waitress glanced behind her at two men who whispered quietly in the back by the restrooms, their eyes slid (eyes don’t slide, gazes can) from her to a guy sitting hunched over the bar.

Glancing at the food Kurt forgot his concern and began eating. The sandwich tasted fine and the cold beer made him want to weep. (I like the “weep”) He thought it might be the best hot meal he had eaten in six years. Placing the mug on the table, Kurt leaned back and stifled a belch. Noticing the two men from the back moving towards the fellow at the bar, Kurt began to slide (see my post on “don’t get me started.” He didn’t begin to slide, he just slid.) from the table. (I think you mean from his chair.) As he grabbed the bucket of onion rings and the pitcher of beer a body (continuity problem--he ordered a pint, which would be a glass, there is no pitcher) went flying past him and into the walkway. (While this little fight sequence does illustrate the rowdy area of the place, since it doesn’t involve the protagonist, I feel it serves no purpose and slows things down. Now, if you had the body slam into him and that caused a reaction, that would be okay. But still not needed.)

Kurt munched the onion rings as he made his way back to the freighter, he took (taking) care to save a few bites since it would be a couple of days before he made Earth. He knew a A little hunger would be worth his freedom. So focused on juggling the beer and the food, he failed to notice the silent figure which stood frozen across the commons area from him. (since we’re in his point of view, if he doesn’t notice something it can’t be in his narrative—this is a common pov problem. This needs to be deleted. On the other hand, why not have him notice the figure and feel threatened. That would increase the tension, and you really need to do that. All we’ve done so far is step off a ship, walk, and eat.)

The bounty hunter took in the fight and quickly fading criminal.  (this was a giant head-hop, a point-of-view switch that was jarring. We didn't even know this character existed. You can switch povs, but you need to clue the reader with a space and some other indicator, and a transition. But to switch for just two paragraphs isn’t good technique, in my view.) Taking out his weapon the gun hummed with a pulsing charge, he lowered toward the brawlers “Move.” he said with an emotionless stare. (This sentence lacked rhythm and punctuation, and crammed too much together, and misused “with” in that you can’t say something with a stare, you have to use your mouth. A rewrite: He took out his weapon. It hummed with a pulsing charge when he aimed it at the brawlers. “Move.”)

I’ll stop here because, as you saw in the original, the pov hops back to Kurt’s in just one paragraph, and I would have said to find another way to do this. What, some ask, is the problem with head-hopping? In my view, it distances the reader from the character and, thus, reduces emotional involvement with what’s happening. If the writer is okay with that, so be it. I believe the deeper and more strongly you connect the reader with a character, the greater your chance of keeping the pages turning instead of the book being put aside.

Susan has some good ideas, but needs to be more careful of spelling and continuity. And to work on doing more with less. The main lack for this reader was a lack of tension. There’s not much in the way of jeopardy or conflict raised in this opening. It might be better to start later in the story, where the bounty hunter confronts Kurt.

For what it’s worth,

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey

 

Querying a novel that doesn't fit a genre

If you've written in a genre and your novel clearly fits it, then it's to your advantage to say so in your query letter. But what if it doesn't quite fit? So many agents say they want to know what genre you're in when you query. What do you do then?

A client is working on her query after a rewrite following the edit I did for her. In her letter she identified her novel as an historical romance.

But it's not. Oh, it is historical, and there is a romance in the story. But the romance is not the engine that powers the tale. It's the story of the heroine's growth as she survives a host of perils. The romance is just one of the things she has to deal with, and maybe not the most important.

But historical romances are big sellers. What could be wrong with labeling it as a desirable genre? It has the elements even if not the emphasis. What's wrong is this: expectations. A genre novel is one that meets a genre's very specific expectations.

An agent, or editor, will expect to see those expectations satisfied. You label it science fiction, it should at least feel like it plays by the rules. Because of expectations, failure to meet them could negate a story's true strengths.

So what do you do when your work doesn't confine itself to a clear genre? What do you tell the agent?

I say don't bring it up.

My novels don't seem to fit genres, although I tried to find the labels. "Speculative suspense" (not really a genre). "Coming-of-age-story-with-a-murder-subplot." "Magical realism meets thriller." Arghhhh!

So I came to not suggesting a genre or making comparisons in my queries. I just work hard to give a tantalizing taste of a riveting story and a meaningful theme and then let the agent/editor decide where he or she thinks it fits. It doesn't matter to me.

I'll wager that the really good agents are the ones that care, and they approach a query something like this:

1. Am I interested in this story?
2. If I am, do I think I can sell it (to a publisher)?
   

And that the acquiring editor you want does exactly the same thing.

1. Am I interested in this story?
2. If I am, do I think I can sell it (to the editorial board)?
   

First, you'll note, comes story. That's the key, I think, not the genre.

There's evidence that supports my approach. I've been in correspondence with Miss Snark. I like her blog and her style, and I've been trying to figure out who she is. In my correspondence with Her Snarkness, I wrote that the website of the agent I think she is says not to submit certain genres, including fantasy & science fiction. Well, many would say my most recent has a fantasy element, so I'm out of it from the start, right?

Her reply:

"Oh, I think you should query anyone who says they take fiction. What's the worst that could happen?"

Good point. Unsaid is that the good agents, the ones looking for a writer to work with rather than just a manuscript to shop, are looking for strong stories that grab them.

I believe the same goes for publishers. In Macadam/Cage's submission guidelines they say not to submit children's, fantasy, and thrillers. Here are their exact words:

"We will not read submissions for the following categories: romance, science fiction, fantasy, supernatural, self-help, poetry, thrillers, religion/spirituality, children's, young adult, cookbooks, parenting/family, military science, medical."

Yet here are three of their new releases:

• Glitter Girl and the Crazy Cheese, written for ages 3-8
• Godspeed, A genre-bending work of dark fantasy and chilling noir.
• The Housekeeper, which a reviewer describes as "a rare combination of a page-turning thriller and literary narrative…
  

Hmmm. D'ya think those authors just wrote the stories they had to tell, and that those stories just swept away all considerations of genre?

D'ya think maybe that's because agents and editors know that's what readers want -- a story that grabs you by the frontal lobes and won't let go?

I think there's a clue here.

Any agents or editors out there who'd care to chime in?

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey

My Flash Editing workshop at Writer's Weekend

As usual, subjective differences were rampant in my Flash Editing workshop at the Writer's Weekend conference in June. That's to be expected, and there's always something to learn.

I had four samples to work with -- the writers emailed me their first chapters before the workshop. I read through the chapters, then printed out the first three pages of each for the workshop, and did some line editing and critiquing in advance of the session.

The samples were a Regency Romance (a "sequel" to Pride and Prejudice) and three from sf/fantasy realms.

In the workshop, I passed out a packet of the samples to the attendees, which included the writers, although I kept the samples anonymous, even removing titles.

I had the attendees read the first sample, making notes as they read. When finished, I said, "You're an agent. It's four in the afternoon, you've plowed through 20 disappointing samples already, and you have another 8 to go and four phone calls to return. Your head aches, you're tired. Does this sample get a rejection, or do you ask for more?"

For all the samples, some would ask for more, some would reject. Richard, a generous fellow, would send for samples of all of them. He would never make it as an agent because his lifespan would not accommodate all the reading he would have to do.

The exercise makes it real just how tough an agent has to be on the samples crossing his desk. I'll tell you that I would have rejected all four, although I might have been tempted to write an encouraging note on a couple. None were ready for the real game, in my view, though all showed considerable promise.

In none of the cases was the rejection caused by quality of the writing. All the narratives were skillfully written from a grammatical point of view, although all suffered from overwriting to some extent. No, the trouble was with the storytelling. As one writer once described it, "throat clearing." Front-loaded backstory and exposition. Sludge through which to trudge.

I led the group through critiquing a sample, discussing craft points as we went along. It was a lively group, and participation was good. How our subjective points of view affected our decisions whether to reject material or request more was illustrated by Christine's take on one sample.

The opening three pages introduced a woman of apparently high station and her shepherd on a fantasy world. Christine opted to ask for more material because of another novel she loves (can't remember the name) that also featured a shepherd and a mistress, and was a great story of their relationship.

Well, as far as I could tell, the only time that shepherd appeared was in that first chapter. A "spear carrier" kind of character, there to fill an action need, and then never again seen. So Christine would have been extremely disappointed if she'd requested the material.

To be fair, we worked only with 3 pages, and perhaps an agent would have had the option to read more of the sample rather than decided to reject or request at that point. But many agents limit submissions to 5 pages, so the test wasn't that much less than reality.

The Regency Romance borrowed interest heavily from Pride and Prejudice by featuring Darcy, but there wasn't much story told in the first pages. Rather, there was a confusing (for me and others) introduction of 13 characters in those three pages, done altogether with telling rather than a scene of any sort. Yes, it was emulating the Victorian style, but I felt that bringing modern storytelling virtues to that tonality was needed. Most of the workshop members agreed.

Yep, storytelling was the issue. Briefly, here's what I recall about the  other samples:

One story opened with an apprentice monk in an abbey on a magical world. The first three pages were about being awakened by the monk in whose cell he (or she, wasn't clear) was sleeping. The narrative was in first person, and I found the narrator to be likeable and interesting. It was a true scene, and something was happening. However, nothing of potential consequence was hinted at in those first three pages. The narrative dealt with nicely done tidbits of exposition with an exchange of "dialogue" between the sleeping monk (talking in his sleep) and the apprentice. But, as for a raising a story question compelling enough to make me want to read on, it wasn't there for me.

The story previously mentioned with the shepherd and the lady was very well written, and also opened with a strong-seeming scene: a sheep lay poisoned by a plant and had to be put out of its misery. Good visualization, good dialogue -- but too much exposition. The writer had done a wonderful job of world building, and knew everything there was on the planet -- and then went on to include it in the narrative. A half of one page, maybe 150 words, dealt with exposition about the breed of sheep that was dying, its wool, and the effects of the poisonous plant.

If that exposition was needed later, that's okay, but it could have been done in 15 or 20 words. And I had a feeling that it wouldn't be needed later because, after 9 pages, the lady we were so carefully introduced to was brutally murdered. When I told the workshop class this, the news was not well received. Readers expect to see more of the first character they see -- that's a reality, and your narrative should deal with that expectation. The point: if you're going to introduce and then kill a primary-seeming character in your opening chapter, do it quickly.

Story four was mystical in nature, with lovely writing. It, too, started with a scene that might have included some jeopardy -- but it was mostly talk. Talk that filled the reader in on expository stuff that the writer felt we needed to know. First mistake. The writer had a terrific action opening about 5 pages in, and could/should have started there, filling the expository bits as needed. I gave him my notes after the session, and he expressed delight with all the input he had gotten from the workshop and its members.

I've since heard from some of the writers who submitted samples that I didn't get to chat with at the workshop.

Jessica: "Your feedback, and that of the other workshoppers, really opened my eyes to a lot of things I hadn't seen, and that my crit group (which has seen two drafts of this already) hadn't noticed either. That night, after my last workshop, I went back to the room and started rewriting to bring the conflict in the first chapter to the surface."

Wendy: "The conference was excellent, and Flash Editing was the best part of it for me. I got a ton of helpful insights and ideas! I'm currently planning out the next rewrite, including a plunge straight into the action in the opening chapter."

Other workshoppers came up afterwards and expressed their enthusiasm and thanks for what I (and we) had done. It was as before -- a lot of learning and thought about storytelling happened whether it was their writing or not. It was fun, too. I love talking about writing.

I'm doing the Flash Editing workshop at the October  Write on the Sound conference in Edmonds, Washington. If you're attending and want your sample considered, send it to me with "WOTS sample" in the subject line. My time is more limited at this conference, so I won't be able to do as many edits.

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2006 Ray Rhamey