Some wise words from Linda Epstein, a literary agent at the Jennifer de Chiara agency:
Literary Agents: 10 important things to know
Her Blabbermouth blog is informative, and she welcomes questions…..
Here’s an interview with her:
Literary Agent Interview: Linda Epstein of Jennifer DeChiara Literary
This article in the Independent newspaper struck home with me:
Do you hear a voice when you read this? That might be more normal than you think
Research suggests that 80% of readers hear a ‘voice’ when reading a story, with only 11% denying that they heard an inner voice at all.
This made me wonder about how much to tailor the conversations in my novels, giving them a sprinkling of dialect, while avoiding spelling words phonetically. My crime novels are set in Cornwall, which has its own language, rich Celtic culture and a distinctive accent. Here’s a good example of it:
As mentioned in the video, there are emmets a-plenty in Cornwall. These are incomers from out of county, mainly holidaymakers who swarm around like ants, giving the locals much of their income from tourism. Many stay and settle. Some of my fictional characters are Cornish born and bred, while others have moved here. This has caused me a certain amount of head-scratching in how to differentiate their accents and attitudes.
Over the years, there’s been some fuss made about how the Cornish accent is spoken in television dramas. An adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn was panned because the cast mumbled their words making them hard to understand. The hugely successful new adaptation of Winston Graham’s Poldark stories has gone the other way, with most of the actors avoiding anything that sounds like a West Country burr. Only the farm labourers, the ignorant unwashed oiks attempt an ‘ooh arr, yes sur‘ country bumpkin way of speaking.
Poldark stars decide to ditch Cornish accents
Do any of you hear voices when reading a book or while writing characters?
An article in the Guardian had me pondering the place of sexual activity in my novels.
I haven’t written many sex scenes in my short stories, novellas and novels, though to my amusement a volume of erotic verse that I compiled from saucy verses I’d written was downloaded 4,000 times as a free ebook at Smashwords—four times more than the next most popular title.
I’ve no prudery writing about sex, but with psychological thrillers, unless the plot is driven by sex crimes, it’s reckoned to be an unnecessary distraction to allude to the love and sex lives of the detectives and villains.
I included one bizarre sexual interlude in my first novel, using a paraphilia that most people wouldn’t know existed. This was done partly for humour, though, while I was writing it, I thought that the reader might wonder if this was my kink!
It isn’t, and nor am I interested in the gay BDSM sex that propels some of the action in my second novel, a prequel to the first. In this, the main baddy is a gay, manipulative narcissist who sexually dominates his underlings while running a legitimate luxury car business and illegal drug and weapon smuggling and human trafficking operations. I wrote a sex scene in his dungeon, that felt about as erotic as hitting my thumb with a hammer to me, but which some readers might be turned on by. I did it to show the dynamic of his gang, how they relate to one another under his dominion.
I run the risk of alienating some readers by making my baddy gay and a thoroughly nasty dominant master, as well as having folk think I’m like this!
Does writing about sex cause you any problems?
This article in the Guardian, about a report published by the literacy charity Quick Reads, set me to thinking about my own reading and writing.
Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mocking Bird is certainly an inspirational character, though his popularity is undoubtedly aided through being played by stalwart Gregory Peck in the film adaptation. It makes the publication of Go Set A Watchman even more questionable, revealing as it does his racist attitudes.
The survey by Quick Reads had two different categories, of those characters that readers found inspiring and which ones they most identified with. It tells us something useful as writers creating our own characters, that people like protagonists with flaws:
The survey found that readers prefer to read about a character who makes mistakes (23%) and is funny (20%), than one who is brave (19%), loyal (17%) or kind (11%).
“It is clear that readers are not looking for flawless characters, but instead they are looking for real characters that show us that it is OK to make mistakes. Bridget Jones tops the list as the character that most women identify with, but interestingly she is also in the top five of most inspiring characters, too,” the researchers write.
“The realisation that others share similar feelings of imperfection or inadequacy creates a shift from being ‘alone’ to being ‘one of many,’ enabling readers to challenge previous ideas of being different or non-normal, and become more accepting of their true selves.”
I find it hard to split the difference between the characters who’ve motivated me and those who I feel akin to, but in no particular order:
1) Mole, Ratty and Toad from Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind In The Willows —for their loyalty to friends, love of home and Nature, daft obsessions and opposition to tyranny.
2) Private Investigator Matt Scudder from Lawrence Block’s long-running New York-set crime novels. His unlicensed private detective is down on his luck and battling alcoholism after a tragic shooting when he was a cop. He’s resourceful, determined and flawed. I was doing cold turkey quitting drinking after 27 years of alcoholism when I first read the stories, and they really helped me. 23 years dry and clean this August, I don’t miss it a bit—life is a damned sight weirder sober!
3) Dave Robicheaux, from James Lee Burke’s Louisiana set crime novels. Burke is a supreme prose stylist, one who Stephen King adores. His ex-cop, ex-infantryman hero is also an ex-alcoholic who endures and survives hardship and tragedy full of doubt and depression but still doing the right thing. He faces down some of the scariest villains in fiction.
Who are you inspired by—and who do you like?
Sometimes, it’s fun to squirt a little venom around. My ire is prompted by an article from one of the newsletters I received, which chooses five of the most poorly written top-selling books from history:
http://bestsellers.about.com/od/fictionreviews/tp/The-Worst-Bestselling-Novels-of-All-Time.htm?
I agree with two of their choices, the Robert Patterson collaboration and The Celestine Prophecies, both of which were so bad that I wanted to throw them across the room. I could only do this with the Patterson, as I was given the Redfield pile of tosh to read on a transatlantic flight by a friend whose opinion I admired. Like a fool, it was the only reading matter I took and rather than be arrested by an air marshal for clocking a fellow passenger around the head with it, I thrust it into my carry on bag, later donating it to an Atlanta thrift store—where it joined about 20 others on the shelf!
I’ve never understood the devotion that Ayn Rand’s terrible writing inspires, but criticising Jonathan Livingstone Seagull is a bit like knocking a lava lamp as being kitsch—they’re both symbolic of a period and mindset.
Patterson’s collaborations with guns-for-hire authors mystify and infuriate me, as they read like a poorly worded outline for a novel, being sketchy and with no flesh on the bones. His Alex Cross novels are well written in comparison, so this co-authorship feels like cynical manipulation of a non-judgemental fan base. At least he’s been giving millions away to needy literary causes, so perhaps he has a guilty conscience.
Mind you, it was anger at his poor quality writing, along with one other appalling novel I read at about the same time, which prompted me to write my own, so reading rubbish does have some hidden benefits!
The other book that pissed me off was well-reviewed, but I detested it, as it’s ghastly, mawkish and with no trace of empathy or sympathy for the characters. I’ve seen it described as a black comedy, but it’s not that, as it completely lacks any wit or irony.
Michelle Lovric writes as if she hates every one of her characters and her readers too:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7199784-the-book-of-human-skin
I literally hurled this book at the bedroom wall, causing a dent that I’m rather proud of….
I should add anything written by Jeffrey Archer, who is a failed politician and best-selling author, as well as a rogue of the lowest order. Apart from the scandals littering his career, he writes with the skill of an illiterate ten-year-old and has a long history of plagiarism.
He even copied a little-known Ernest Hemingway short story, almost word for word, getting paid thousands of pounds for it by the Daily Mail as an exclusive. When his perfidy was exposed, he claimed to have merely been inspired by the story—and refused to return his fee.
I read one of his novels once, and it was so terrible that I sampled another, wondering ‘who reads this shit to make it a bestseller?!’ It’s said that his manuscripts require teams of editors to knock into readable shape.
We’re all told as writers seeking publication, to produce the best work that we can and that a fine quality story will eventually gain readership. This isn’t necessary if you’re already famous, spinning notoriety into career-enhancing public recognition, and have lots of servile contacts in the publishing world ready to cash-in on your celebrity.
What best-selling books do you loathe and detest?
I found this interesting article in today’s New York Times, about fake books—some blooks are ornate, useful or just plain fun.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/29/books/a-secret-in-every-tome-no-text-required.html?
More blooks: The Aesthetic Allure of Books Without Pages
I own a blook, though it’s more of home security device or hidey-hole, as it resembles a boring brown leather bound Victorian tome on the shelf, but it’s actually a box.
I had a bit of a mental tussle with the place of swear words in my second novel. It’s a crime novel featuring a gruesome death, drug smuggling, illegal importation of weapons and human trafficking—all typical of Cornwall!
Given that I was writing about hardened detectives and violent villains, they shouldn’t have been talking like genteel vicars at a garden tea-party, but despite this, I didn’t include that much swearing. It wasn’t out of prudery, for I can out-swear anybody, and have, once causing a foul-mouthed Tourette’s Syndrome sufferer to complain about me.
My reluctance to use oaths in my Cornish Detective series is more that I fear it will distract from the flow of the story. Swearing is a useful tool to emphasise the tension a character is feeling when talking, but starts to look like the writer is going for a shock effect if peppered through the text. Anyone who has read Irvine Welsh (best known for ‘Trainspotting’) will know what I mean.
In real life, people often use expletives in a calm way when talking to one another, showing mild irritation at best. Funnily enough, I wouldn’t be having this problem if I was writing an erotic novel as I could use profanity willy-nilly!
Interestingly enough, recent research shows that having a large arsenal of swear words is proof of a healthy verbal ability and not poverty of vocabulary.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2015/12/22/why-its-a-good-sign-if-you-curse-a-lot
It’s always puzzled me how most swearing references sexual activity or private body parts, with blasphemy bringing in religion in a sacrilegious way.
You might think that rather than using things that we’re fond of, swearing would choose people, physical activities and jobs that make us disgusted. In my opinion politician should be a swear word! The only profession that is used as an insult uses Cockney rhyming slang, with ‘merchant banker’ being a euphemism for wanker.
How do you deal with four-letter words in your writing?
Does it bother you if a story is full of swearing?
There’s been a kerfuffle recently over writers not getting paid for attending literary festivals. It caused Philip Pullman to resign as a patron of the Oxford Literary Festival.
This article by Nick Cohen ponders the problem of why we’re treated like doormats. It’s worth a read, as it encapsulates the something-for-nothing attitude that many book world executives have to their authors, not to mention readers who expect books for free.
http://blogs.spectator.co.uk/2016/01/why-english-writers-accept-being-treated-like-dirt/
Do click on the link to the video of Harlan Ellison’s foul-mouthed rant about being expected to work for free by a major film studio—he tells it like it is, and he made me smile.
I’ve wondered about this too, as today people expect authors to give their services away for free by attending festivals to read from their work and answer questions. It’s almost as if they think we’re all monied dilettantes who dabble in creating stories for our own amusement.
As we all know, not everyone makes millions from their writing, even though we all work hard at it. I estimated recently that since the summer of 2013, when I returned to creative writing, I’ve devoted 10,000 hours to researching, writing and editing my stories. In that time, I’ve earned about £40 from my efforts. I’m not going to attempt to work out what that makes my hourly rate of pay!
Storytelling has been around for as long as humans could talk to one another. In the Middle Ages, troubadours or minstrels told stories to the public for payment, reciting traditional tales as well as those of their own making. Booksellers once took their wares on the road, flogging them from carts and panniers on pack animals. It’s as if modern day authors are expected to continue an age-old tradition, by being peddlers of their own literature, scraping a living from pennies.
(that’s me in the middle, that is….)
An article in the Guardian newspaper made me think about what books I’ve recommended, and given as presents to friends over the years.
I’ve read several of the titles mentioned, and one of them Stoner is a favourite of mine. It was recommended to me by an American friend three years ago, so I borrowed it from the library and absolutely loved it. Written by John Williams and published in 1965, it was poorly received at the time but has since been reappraised and is now lauded for its depiction of human truths. It’s currently being adapted into a film, and I hope that they do a good job.
Some books take you by surprise, and one of them is a novel that I would never imagine as being to my taste owing to its subject matter. Although I’m spiritual I’m not religious so a novel about the relationships in a Mormon family wouldn’t have been my first choice. I read several favourable reviews of it in 2010, so gave it a chance—and was mightily impressed! The Lonely Polygamist by Brady Udall is a memorable tale of relationships within a family, being humorous and tragic. It’s excellent at depicting the loneliness of the human soul and how we throw ourselves into liaisons for temporary comfort. I gave four copies of it as Christmas presents last year, and am keen to hear what my friends think of it.
Lastly, I’d say that any collection of short stories by Guy de Maupassant is worthy of your time. I think he’s still the best short story writer ever, and he packs more about the human condition into a few pages than some writers do in a whole novel. I like his novels, but the shorter form is where he excels. I’ve given many copies of this Penguin collection Selected Short Stories to friends and lovers over the year. They’re good stories to read out loud in bed at night!
Sometimes I’ve given books to friends not just because I enjoyed them, but to help them through a difficult period in their lives.
One of these is Margaret Craven’s I Heard The Owl Call My Name, which tells the story of the last days of a terminally ill young priest sent to a remote settlement to tend the native population. He’s unaware of his limited lifespan, which has been kept from him by his bishop. He learns much about life and love before dying. That sounds depressing, but the short novel is a life-affirming read.
Another is a novel called The Maytrees, by Annie Dillard. This is a tale about the mysteries of marriage, as well as the nature of forgiveness. I gave it to several friends whose long-term relationships finished unexpectedly, leaving them to face life alone. The story is a wise reflection on who our soulmates are, and how we sometimes need to maintain a certain distance to appreciate the value of the closeness we crave.
Books can be many things to us, including thrilling, inspirational, educational and amusing. But they’re also a source of great comfort.
What books do you share?
Remember: one day readers will be passing our stories on…
There’s an old bit of advice given to writers of crime stories on how to move the action forward. It was given by Raymond Chandler in an essay called The Simple Art of Murder in a magazine called the Saturday Review of Literature, published in April 1950.
In the essay, he laments that while his stories may lack realism due to the compressed way that they show events, with only a limited group of characters, that:
This was inevitable because the demand was for constant action and if you stopped to think you were lost. When in doubt have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand. This could get to be pretty silly but somehow it didn’t seem to matter. A writer who is afraid to overreach himself is as useless as a general who is afraid to be wrong.
As I look back on my own stories it would be absurd if I did not wish they had been better. But if they had been much better they would not have been published.
I remembered this advice, as I contemplated how to proceed with my second novel Who Kills A Nudist? I was at the midway point, with the murder at the core of my story and various subplots involving drug smuggling, illegal weapons importation and people trafficking adding murkiness to the villainy. My detectives are surveilling the suspect’s mansion from a boat on the river running beside his estate—their position means they can see things well, but not easily intercede.
Their suspicions about the main baddy being involved with bringing in guns from Europe are proved when his henchman starts playing with an automatic pistol while drunk. He’s apparently suicidal, placing the muzzle in his mouth, but they are reduced to being spectators owing to their precarious location. This scene provided my tale with tension, as well as unexpected comedy, and helped me decide the direction of the next few chapters.
The ‘gun in his hand’ needn’t be taken literally, for any unexpected event can move a story on. Often, we write such perfect worlds, with characters who don’t stumble over their words imparting just what needs to be said, and the action unfolding seamlessly. But accidents do happen, and people lose their tempers unpredictably.
Why not throw a spanner in the works and see what happens?
