Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Patricia Ocampo: The Right Writing

HarperTeen They say that all editors are failed writers. I am sure there is some truth to that maxim—after all, it is a maxim—but I think a big, fancy asterisk has to appear beside the word "failed."

When I was ten, my mom brought home some books with funny pictures, lively short stories, and neat rows of lines. Lots and lots of lines. My clever mother had spent hard-earned money—money that could have gone to our Disneyland fund (currently rattling around the bottom of my Snoopy jar)—on write-your-own-ending exercise books! After reading and rereading (and rereading) the enticing intros, I valiantly took up the story about a naughty piccolo. All too soon I was planted on the couch watching The Little Mermaid, the books buried in the linen closet.

In high school, I aced essays and struggled with lab reports. School newspaper editorials came easily, but hard-news stories did not. In journalism school I could churn out radio scripts in my sleep, but drafting a television spot was like chewing tin foil. Was I a writer or not?

I finally figured it out when I became a book editor. Just like many of you, I love writing, reading, and anything to do with words. Unlike many of you, I cannot write fiction. Short stories, novels, plays—I am utterly useless. But ask me for some jacket copy or a book review, and the writer in me blooms. Yes, I'm a failed* writer.

*But I can write in certain styles with the best of them.

Anyone who loves to write can be a successful writer. Sometimes, it's simply a matter of figuring out what kind of writing you're good at, and you might have to think outside the box for that. A failed novelist, poet, and playwright may just be the greatest biographer the world has ever seen.

(And if you're really stuck, consider a career writing story endings. I hear the market's wide open.)

What kind of writing is right for you?

Patricia Ocampo
Editorial Assistant, HarperCollins Publishers

Monday, January 29, 2007

Rosemary Brosnan: The Truth About Being an Editor

HarperTeen Lunch with an author at a glamorous restaurant, a ride in a limo, a fancy literary cocktail party at night…

That's what life as a children's book editor in New York is like, right? Well…no.

Many people think editors have very glamorous lives. Other think they sit at their desks, reading all day, and sometimes adding commas and periods to manuscripts.

The truth is pretty far from either of those pictures. An editor's life is very busy, often exciting, and complex. For our authors, we are friends and advocates. Part of our day is spent taking care of our authors' needs, making sure everything is going smoothly for them, reviewing different stages of their books. We e-mail our authors and sometimes call. Then there are meetings, meetings, and more meetings—to talk about new projects, book jackets, book production schedules, marketing plans, sketches and art, and everything else that goes into making a book. It's never, ever boring, and it's always busy.

What about all that reading and editing? Most editors read and edit manuscripts when they're not at work. I've edited at soccer and basketball games, at wrestling matches, on trains and planes, in my kitchen and in hotels, and while getting my hair cut (the hair cutter kept telling me to stop moving my head!).

And we don't just get a manuscript from an author and add a few commas to it. We ask questions, help the author think about the plot, the characters, the theme—the whole picture. We do what I call "forest and trees" editing: First we look at the forest (the story) and later at the individual trees (each word).

And every once in a while, we take an author to lunch at a fancy restaurant.

Rosemary Brosnan
Executive Editor, HarperCollins Publishers

Friday, January 26, 2007

Barbara Lalicki: On Rejection

HarperTeen Blogging does bring out the personal! Thinking about how to handle rejection, I immediately thought of a book I made for my sister to celebrate her anniversary. I had a ball putting it together and got very creative, using inventive typography, foil cut-outs, and photos of her with her handsome husband. I was sure she'd love it! Time went by and my sister hadn't acknowledged getting the book. When I asked if she'd received it, the response was along the lines of "yes." I was crushed and stopped making little books. About a year later, my sister divorced that handsome husband, and some time later I realized that the book had arrived at a very bad time in her life and was not about something she wanted to celebrate. My work was rejected—but the rejection had nothing to do with the intrinsic merit of the piece.

Similarly you could send your art or writing to a friend, an agent, or an editor and receive an impersonal "it's not right" response. Does this mean it is poorly written? If it is not right for one person, is it not right for all people? Check out Dan Gutman's website and see the revenge of an author who persisted through more than seven rejections to publish a popular series. Read about your favorite writers and artists and see the negativity they endured. In most cases, I think you'll find that the ones who made it got lots of rejection—and kept bouncing back.

How do you deal with rejection?

Barbara Lalicki
SVP and Editorial Director, HarperCollins Children's Books

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Adriana Dominguez: Find Your Middle Ground

HarperTeen

What is the most difficult part of writing? Getting started of course! First lines and first chapters can be awful, and they often are! The first line of your story should grab the reader's attention, and the first chapter should set the stage for the whole story, this is true, but do they have to be written first? And more importantly, do they have to be perfect before you can even think about what you're going to write next?

Big NO.

Why? Because once the story gets rolling, its focus will inevitably change, that is part of the process of writing: rewriting. Characters will acquire lives of their own through the process; parts that you thought were important will seem less so and, surely, new ideas will come to the surface. So don't fret too much about your beginning; when you finish writing your story, you may very possibly find that its strongest points lie in the middle, not the beginning, and maybe not even the end! So write the first sentence, and the next, and the one after that, and don't look back. Keep writing. Often, a story is a puzzle that you create as you go, and that needs to be put back together once it is finished. The pieces will be there in front of you, and once you have them, where they should fit will become that much clearer. So, say hello to new beginnings!

Do you always begin at the beginning?

Adriana Dominguez
Executive Editor, HarperCollins Publishers

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Martha Mihalick: On Being Messy

Martha Mihalick Okay, let's face it: we're all kind of a mess. Left foot cold and soggy because of puddle in the school parking lot? Check. Part of lunch on lap instead of table? Unfortunate, but true. Papers hopelessly crumpled when stuff knocked out of arms in hallway? You bet.

It's not at all fun, but the one place that being a mess is actually productive is writing. First drafts aren't pretty—for anyone. Lots of times, you'll read over the paragraph that you spent hours perfecting the night before and wince. It's tempting to spend another few hours fixing it up before even thinking about moving on to the next one. But, while it may not be the perfect paragraph, it's there. It is on the page, and it exists. So move on and write the paragraph that doesn't yet—even if you don't know exactly where it's going. Use your first draft to let yourself be a mess. Eventually you'll get to the last sentence of the last page and you'll get to write "The End." You'll have a whole, complete story. And then you can go back and make the mess look pretty. Maybe you'll wince a lot and think, "What was that?" But it's okay because you're the only one who ever has to see that messy first draft. (Okay, maybe you'll show it to your very very best friend in the whole world who you've known since the second grade, but, seriously, that is it.)

Oh, and you can save all those messy real-life moments to put your characters through. After all, they should have to suffer at least as much as you.

Martha Mihalick
Assistant Editor, HarperCollins Publishers

Monday, January 22, 2007

Margaret Miller: Writer's Block? Take the Bad Writing Challenge!

HarperTeen In my experience, the number-one reason for writer's block is insecurity. It can be paralyzing, and the more you want to be a writer, the worse it is, because the more it matters that you write well. What if you have no good ideas? What if your good idea is not as good as you think? What if no one else likes what you write?

What if you fail?

Well, what if you do? Everyone fails! Even successful writers fail—believe Zadie Smith if you don't believe me. You'll never write anything good if you're not taking the kinds of risks that might also lead to terrible, shameful failure.

So here is a simple exercise to prove that writing badly is completely, totally survivable:

Beginner's challenge: Write something awful. It should be something that you would cringe if you heard someone else read aloud but that could pass for a genuine attempt at good writing. Now you’ve written something terrible. Any broken bones? No? Fantastic!

Intermediate challenge: Take your piece of bad writing and post it in the comments section below. Did the entire internet see your bad writing? Yes. Have you suddenly gone blind? No? Excellent!

Advanced challenge: Find a local open mic night. Get up and read your horrible writing as if you think it's the greatest piece ever created. Does everyone in that coffeehouse think you’re an awful writer? Probably. Are you still alive?

Yes?

You did it! Now you are immune to insecurity, because you know that writing something horrible does not cause broken bones, blindness, or sudden death.

Not everything you write will live up to your standards. The first thing to learn is that that's okay. The second thing to learn is that the more you fail, the more you know, and the more you'll improve in the long run.

Now please stop reading this blog and go write something hideous, flowery, ungrammatical, implausible, overserious, unpleasant, melodramatic, confusing, and pathetic. Post it below!

Margaret Miller
Associate Editor, HarperCollins Publishers

Friday, January 19, 2007

Rachel Orr: Everybody Has a Story to Tell

Lexa Hillyer It sounds cliché, but it's true, right? Everybody knows someone who would make the funniest or quirkiest (or most evil) character. Everybody has gotten into some kind of crazy situation that no one would ever believe. But how do you turn all that drama into something that everybody else wants to read?

I know that one problem I always have in my own writing is sticking too closely to the truth. I'm always worried about changing any details because that’s not way that it happened. But then all I end up with are a few inside jokes that no one but me and a few of my close friends would get. (Personally, I find it annoying when an author's main character is a merely thinly veiled version of herself.) What fun is that?

So sometimes, if I'm feeling really daring, I'll take some crazy scenario and my quirky friends (um, I mean, characters) and skim off the truth a bit. I cut out the boring parts. Blow it all out of proportion. Lie. This is one of those times when lying can be a really great thing that will make your writing even stronger. Instead of getting caught up in remembering exactly how it all happened, try remembering how it didn't. You're a fiction writer, not a reporter, after all. Let yourself do things on paper that you wouldn't do in real life. (This can be extremely freeing and refreshing!) As long as your story still sounds believable, then it’s working. And suddenly you’ll find that you’ve gotten a solid plot that’s a lot wilder than you might have ever imagined, and great characters that will be interesting to a bunch of strangers—and editors—as well.

Rachel Orr
Editor, HarperCollins Publishers

Friday, January 12, 2007

Sarah Cloots: It's the Little Things

Lexa Hillyer Everyone says it's the big, landmark things in life that are important. "Don't sweat the small stuff," they say. But let's face it—that's pretty hard to do. It's those pesky, unavoidable little bumps in your day—a stain you found on your shirt as soon as you got on the bus, the finger you slammed in your locker in your rush to make it to class before the bell, an off-handed remark from a teacher or friend that you've been overanalyzing—that stay on your mind and have you obsessing, putting you in a funk despite your best efforts to forget about them and move on to bigger things.

But the great thing is, it works the other way around, too. An unexpected "hi" received in the hallway, an inside joke winked at over lunch with your best friend, or the right answer you gave in history class can leave you smiling the rest of the day.

So why not make some good little things for yourself and translate that to your writing? Making yourself work on something every day—whether that means writing a new chapter, asking for a friend's honest opinion, or even scrapping something that you don't think works anymore…will give you a sense of accomplishment, will keep you from feeling overwhelmed…and soon all those little things will add up to something big.

Then, as you lay in bed at night trying to fall asleep, count that day's writing as one of the good little things that happened that day (that you were fully responsible for!) and watch as the list of good things starts to way outweigh the bad. A landmark indeed!

And those bad little things? You can totally turn them into good things, too. After all, life's most devastating, embarrassing, unforgettable moments make for fantastic stories. Happy writing!

Sarah Cloots

Editorial Assistant, Greenwillow Books

Monday, January 8, 2007

Honestly?

Lindsey Alexander My favorite writing teacher cursed a lot, was obsessed with giant squid, and sometimes wore T-shirts to our writing workshop that read things like "TOILET BOYS." But that wasn't why his class was my favorite. I loved it because he asked that every student give their honest opinion about their classmates’ work. The comments weren't always glowing. So what? My classmates always found a useful way to respond to a story, even if they hated it. And sometimes that was hard. Really hard. One example that comes to mind involved dwarf twins, a jar of cockroaches, and a meringue pie, but I won't get into it here—you get the picture. The point of the workshop was this: Embrace your opinion, but always use it to help the writer improve their work.

Crushing a writer's hopes and dreams is useless (and ok, it can also be cruel), but so is being too nice. It's nice to be nice, but let's face it, someone needs to find some fault about your work because there is always—c'mon, you know there is— room for improvement. In high school, I begged an English teacher to let me turn in a short story instead of an essay for an assignment on The Catcher in the Rye. I spent days on it, but when she handed it back to me, the only note was on the last page: "Wonderful!" Okay, but I'm sure she didn't think it was perfect. For all the time I spent, I would have really appreciated it if she took the time to point out what wasn't so wonderful and needed improvement.

Honesty is so important, especially when you’re reading your own work. This might sound crazy, but try to imagine you’re someone else, someone who doesn't know you, when you read your stories. If it helps, visualize this is person a well-dressed, hip young editor. Chances are, they can see things about your writing that you can't because you're too attached to it. They—well, you—will point out batty dialogue, typos, and paragraphs—maybe even whole pages—that just have to go. And believe me, your writing will be better for it.

Who do you ask to read your work? A friend? A teacher? A family member?

Lindsey Alexander
Assistant Editor, HarperCollins Publishers

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

Writing Voodoo

Lauren Velevis This past Halloween, I was asked to speak at a writers' conference in Oregon. It was a crunchy, kumbaya, bond-with-your-cabinmates-over-favorite-scenes-from-Angus, Thongs-type of thing. I thought to myself: I went to summer camp for fifteen years, I can get into this.

I wasn't expecting the voodoo.

They called it The Shredding Ceremony. Any writer who'd received a less-than-fun rejection letter could read it aloud to the group. Then the whole room would erupt into a cheer: "Shred it! Shred it! Shred it!" as the writer sacrificed the letter to the voodoo god of paper shredders.

Sure, it was all in good fun, and sure, I was more than a little bit scared of that paper shredder by the end of the night, but I started to see that there was something heartening about the whole experience. Voodoo aside, this was a community of writers bonding, energizing each other to keep writing.

Every writer experiences the agony of a rejection letter, writer's block, even self-doubt. Sometimes it helps to remember that other writers are going through the same thing you are. Sometimes the best thing to do with these road blocks is to sacrifice them to the Shredder, to keep looking forward, and most of all, to keep writing.

What are your quirky writing traditions or superstitions?

Lauren Velevis
Assistant Editor, HarperCollins Publishers