Mir trapped at the great and terrible abyss of All The Stickers Are Gone because I have stuck them on my head and cannot bear to part with them, even if Mummy says they'll hurt coming off later.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about trip-trapping – tripping myself up, then getting caught in the fall. Sure, trip-trapping might sound like something billy goats do when crossing bridges, but it’s something writers–and readers–are excellent at, too. Actually, for readers and writers it’s worse, because the trapping is rather insidious, and often something we bring upon ourselves.
One unfortunate part of writing, we’re told, is that it’s a solitary exercise. And it kind of is. But worse than the image of the lone writer sitting at a desk in a freezing shed pounding away on a battered typewriter in the middle of Siberia is this: said writer half-slumped at the desk in Siberia staring at the typewriter, or the notepad, or simply scratching his or head. This, folks, is what happens when we get trapped inside our own heads.
When I say trapped, obviously, I’m not talking physically–there’s no Prometheus bound stuff going on here. But for every great idea (or Promethean spark) and rush of excitement, there’s the fall. The moment when we realize someone else has done this, or someone else would be better at this, or that our voices aren’t strong enough to carry the story we want to write (not yet, anyway). And this is where we trip–we let our own insecurities trip us up, then we tumble, headfirst, into the great and terrible abyss of Writerly Indecision.
Now, these musings of mine did not come out of nowhere. As I write this, I am trapped in the great and terrible abyss, trying to decide what to do. You see, I have a novel (yay!). A full, complete novel, with periods and semicolons and even a few (though not too many) adjectives. It has characters, and they suffer, and they eventually triumph, in their own ways, because that is what good characters do in good stories, and also because I like mostly happy endings. But this novel has been rejected, on fulls, because it’s not an easy read, and agents haven’t connected with it yet. Of 7 requests (5 fulls) all have said the same thing: you’re a talented writer (thanks!), but I’m not connecting with your main character.
And therein lies my own Writerly Indecision: is the lack of connection something I can fix, something I can revise out? Or is it because my main character, while not being a bad person, does some pretty terrible stuff which makes the book a harder sell? And how do I know? Should I revise? Should I egg the houses of famous authors who seem to get this stuff until they come help? Should I sink into a pool of depression until someone brings along a giant box of Godiva’s and the intense and beautiful chocolate haze makes me forget I even had a story to begin with?
So far, I’m leaning toward a combination of eggs and chocolate. Perfect for Easter.
But seriously, I am stuck at the edge of a chasm of my own making. Because I can’t decide if I have more faith in my story, or the opinions of the 7 industry people who’ve read my story. (Or the 6 tortured writing partners, friends, and husband also subjected to said story.) Yesterday, I caved–I revised one chapter, to see what it would look like. And now my abyss grows larger. (My readers, so far, are evenly split as to whether I should or should not revise.)
Enter the reading part of this post. Remember when I said “readers and writers” are guilty of trip-trapping? (Actually, I probably should have said writers who read a lot.) I have been making my own problems worse by getting caught within my genre. Yes, I read outside contemporary YA. And I do read outside YA. But while I’ve been struggling with to-revise-or-not-to-revise conundrum, I’ve been reading anything and everything that could be classed Problem YA, or Multicultural YA, or YA That Is Startlingly Close To What Peta Writes About. And this is a Very Bad Thing.
Folks, I’m not saying we shouldn’t get know our genre–we should. We really, really should. But sometimes (like, uh, now), staying within such a confined genre makes us–makes me–extra antsy, extra critical, even extra crazy. Because rather than helping me focus on what I’m getting right, it’s making me focus on things that are, perhaps, irrelevant. Like John Green & David Leviathan’s choice to write parts of Will Grayson Will Grayson in all lower case. Or Neil Gaiman’s head hopping. Or Laurie Halse Anderson’s pacing in Wintergirls and Jay Asher’s guy voice (Clay) in Thirteen Reasons Why. They’re all things that matter, and that even kind of matter to my book. But they don’t actually feed into my issue right now. And yet, I seem to go in circles, wondering if perhaps this matters, or that matters, or, or, or…
Which brings me to a question: what should I be reading, right now? I’m open to suggestions…
Have you ever been trapped in your manuscript? Tottered at the edge of the great and terrible abyss of Writerly Indecision?
A few suggestions from an ex-composition professor: get a few fresh sets of eyes on the manuscript… see if you can join a new writing group, then ask them specific questions about the character. Who connects with said character, and who doesn’t? Find out why.
But even more important, spend some time thinking about whether or not YOU really connect with the character, and why. I’m personally interested in characters who do bad things. That can be uncomfortable, but it’s also unusual, interesting and honest. So don’t chalk up the readers’ inability to connect to the character’s faults or bad deeds — not unless the reader is an angel. You might need to explain the character’s rationale a bit better in order to make him/her more accessible, but you’ll be able to do that a lot better if you fully understand why/how you connect with this character.
Ultimately, I would say you should revise as much as you WANT to — if you’re not happy with the novel, then don’t leave it that way. Listen to the publishers in as much as they can point out something that might already be bugging you subconsciously. But if you love the novel exactly the way it is, then don’t do a major overhaul. This might be a book that’s just trying to do something different than what those publishers are looking for.
I was just thinking about your book this morning after I finished speak. So the beginning of speak reminds me a lot of the beginning of your book, and I have the same problems with both — a very nice realistic voice and excellent writing, but nothing really happens for a while. I was tempted to skim. Given that Speak is a published and critically acclaimed novel, I’m not sure you really need to fix your pacing like I have suggested. Would I still prefer it if things move quickly? Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to listen to me if your vision is different, and there is obviously a market for slower, more thoughtful, literary YA fiction..
Also, regarding the character connection. That tells you so much, yet so little. Remember that even with the Hunger gGames, there were some people in our writing group who could not connect to Katniss. Does that mean that Collins should’ve revised? Probably not. It’s a very subjective thing. And remember that an offer of representation from an agent requires connection at a much higher level — not only does the agent have to like the book, she has to love it more than the 20 other full manuscripts she has on your desk. So just because you’re not at the top of that pile does not mean there is something wrong with it.
So the moral of the story? If there is a suggestion that really resonates with you, where you know instinctively that you should definitely make that change and it will make the book better, by all means do it. But if you’re just looking at the rejection letters, reading vague cliche responses like “didn’t connect with the character”, “wasn’t swept in by the story”, and only have vague ideas about what that might possibly mean, don’t make any changes. You’ll end up second-guessing and hurting yourself. (and yes, I do think the fact that you’re getting emails with eerily similar wording has more to do with the fact that the agents are talking in cliches rather than any deep insightful 8suggestion about your work. The only thing you can take awy from that kind of feedback is that the writing is awesome, but they just didn’t love it enough to take it on.)
For what it’s worth, I don’t think the character connection problems have anything to do with the bad things that the character does. It seemed convincing enough to me.
A few of my rejections sounded like yours and that was just on the partial. I think characters who aren’t generally “nice” are a tougher sell, which probably causes agents to reconsider the project.
@Alicia Gregoire, @Livia, @Little Wonder Lauren – Everyone, thank you *so* much for such well-considered, thoughtful feedback! This is one of the things I love about blogging – the way people come out and reassure me!
I think part of the problem is that the connection thing half resonates – it’s something I was worried about from the beginning, so I keep worrying that I haven’t achieved what I set out to. I do love the idea of getting a new set of eyes on the manuscript again, so I might start torturing a few more writing friends.
In the meantime–which of course goes outside of my resolution to not read in the genre right now – a friend just reminded me a book I loved when I read it in school, After the First Death, by Robert Cormier, which feeds into this story quite well. I think I might have to poke around Amazon a bit in a minute…
I think Livia’s (and Lauren’s) comments make a lot of sense! Obviously, I haven’t read your revised chapter yet, but I’d be cautious about stripping it down too much. For me, the unique way Jamal sees the world–and his clever, often poetic way of describing things–are really what made me connect with him. (Your idea about sprinkling in more memories of his mom sounds good though!)
My best guess is that there’s nothing really wrong with your story, you just haven’t found that perfect match yet. Keep trying!
And if you want something fun and different to read, you might try The Book of Everything. Not that it’s all sweetness and light–it deals with some heavy themes (primarily domestic violence). But it’s a very hopeful book and I found it thought-provoking–I think the young, naive narrator is used to very good effect.