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Erma Bombeck Writing Competition

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Writing scores 74 out of 200 on best jobs list – does it deserve such a high ranking?

Resume tag cloud from wordle.net

Resume tag cloud from wordle.net

On Tuesday, 1/5/10, the Wall Street Journal published the best and worst jobs of 2010 (as compiled by job site CareerCast.com).  While I’m not sure how we can possibly know the best and worst jobs of just 5 days into the new year, I’m curious about spot 74: author (books).

According to the WSJ, the list is based on five criteria–environment, income, employment outlook, physical demands, and stress. To put the list in some perspective, actuary is in the top spot, while roustabout placed last. Typist/Word Processor is ranked 60th, PR Exec 79th, Psychiatrist 98th,and  Nurse (registered) 100th. Reporter (newspaper), one of writing’s sister professions, clocks in at 184.

Now, while I’m happy plugging away at my keyboard and listening to the voices in my head (Don’t Jump! Eat ze wagon wheel! Chocolate is a vegetable!) I think 74th out of 200, or the 63rd percentile, is actually quite high for writing. Why? As with most things, there’s a lot more to writing than salary.

Environment
Many writers, full-time, part-time, or hobbyist, work from home. It may be from a dedicated study, or, as in my case, it may be in a rocking chair, beneath tired teething baby and precariously balanced laptop. But working from home has its drawbacks.

Overwork is a common complaint of the writer, especially she who moonlights as a stay-at-home-mother, full-time corporate exec, podiatrist, or pastry chef. In fact, there are few writers who actually get to write full time, and finding precious moments to put words to paper can be even more challenge than writing the dreaded query letter. Interruptions are another worry–it’s incredibly hard to focus on that love scene if your one year old is screaming for string cheese, your husband is waxing poetic about the latest Warhammer 40K book, and your cat is performing exploratory surgery on your prize-winning geraniums. Perhaps worst of all, though, is isolation. Writing is a solitary pursuit, a mind game only you can play. There are no other hamsters to crowd into the wheel and to help push your mileage up, no one to hang around the water cooler and chat with, no boss to get you motivated. A writer is entirely dependent on his or herself–even the most dedicated agent or editor can’t put words on the page for you.

Income
According to CareerCast’s research, an entry level author can expect to earn $28,000 p.a., a mid-level $53,000 p.a., and a high-level author $107,000. The latter figures, though not Harry Potter or Twilight-esque, sound quite nice, don’t they? If we’re conservative about the time it takes to write a novel – say, 8 months,  the hourly rate looks pretty good.

8 months = 30 x 8 days = 240 days.
4 hours per day X 240 = 960 hours
28, 000/960 = $29.10/hour for an entry-level writer.
53,000/960 = $55.20/hour for a mid-level writer
107,000/960 =  $111.50/hour for a high-level writer
Of course, that’s not factoring in genesis, development, any planning, finding representation or a publisher, or the myriad to-and-froing with said agent or editor. In fact, Miss Snark, literary agent and ex-blogger, recommends:

  1. Finishing your first book
  2. Writing your second book.
  3. Rereading the first book, then using the experience gained from the second to fix it.
  4. Querying.

She then warns that this process will take around two years. So, if we redo that calculation, remembering that it’s likely the first novel will never see the light of day:

2 years = 360 x 2 = 720 days
4 hours per day X 720 = 2,880 hours
28, 000/2,880 = $9.72/hour for an entry-level writer.
53,000/2,880 =  $18.40/hour for a mid-level writer
107,000/2,880 =  $37.15/hour for a high-level writer

Granted, these figures don’t take everything into account. And they’re still a respectable wage. Yet writing is ranked above some highly paid positions, (with great hourly rates) such as attorney, architect, dentist, and psychiatrist. Go figure.

Employment Outlook
This is a difficult one to tackle. Writing requires a very employable skill set–the articulate expression of complex ideas. A good, resourceful writer can find employment in any climate, as long as they’re willing to compromise. But it’s hard to put a number on employment outlook, even if we limit this criterion to publishing novels. From what I’ve heard around conferences and workshops, though, it’s not so hot. Sure, there are Cecily von Zieglars (Gossip Girl) and Stephanie Meyers (Twilight) out there, but there are also one-book wonders. Sometimes, the sole effort isn’t the author’s fault–smaller, independent publishers are ever-fewer. Unrepresented authors, even those with credits, may be shafted by the “agented material only” becoming popular. Longtime non-fiction, first time fiction authors may have their manuscripts eaten by the slush pile.

Physical Demands
Okay, this one’s on the money. Writing–unless you’re a bungee jumping memoirist or the Crocodile Hunter–is not a physically active pursuit. While I’m a fairly active person, the most physically demanding things I have to do as a writer are pace while I think, make tea or coffee, and balance the laptop. And rock the baby, of course.

Stress
Ah, stress. I knew we’d get to it eventually. There are many stressful jobs out there–fighter pilot, cardio-thoracic surgeon (if you believe Grey’s Anatomy, anyway), police officer, public defender, marine biologist, Dalek hunter. And I know, writing doesn’t compare to any of those. But it’s not as easy-going as your average Dalek hunter likes to think, either. Why? Writing requires guts: guts to spill, that is. Every time a writer–a good writer–puts words on the page, they’re putting themselves out there. Every time a writer sends a manuscript out to an agent, they’re putting themselves out there. Not the public I’m-so-happy-I-eat-springtime-birds-for-breakfast self, but the inner self, the self we are when we’re alone in a dark room, the one with the beliefs and the dreams and the guilt and the fears. That, my friends, is demanding.

And then there’s the rejection letters. So. Many. Rejection. Letters. Some may be personal, some may be forms. But each and every one hurts, and each and every one makes it harder to try again. Lots of people give up–giving up is a heck of a lot easier than getting back on the query horse. So while writers may not have to deal with crazy lungfish and creepy radioactive coral, they don’t have it easy, either.

Writing is hard work. Fortunately, it’s also enjoyable work–many writers, this one included, admit it’s a labor of love. Would I switch jobs? No. I love writing in pretty much any form (well, not the Danielle Steele form, but kindling has to come from somewhere). But I still think 74th out of a list of 200 is misleading, making the work seem easier than it is.

Where would you put writing on the list? Top, bottom, middle? Before or after protestant minister (96th)?

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Writing Classes – why they’re important, and what to do when you get there

fountain_pen3Guest Post @ The Flash Fiction Chronicles

I have a new post up at The Flash Fiction Chronicles, the blog for flash fiction ezine Everyday Fiction. It’s all about writing classes–why they’re important, and what to do when you get there. Check it out here.

For most of us, writing is a somewhat solitary pursuit – after all, it’s hard to actually work on a story if you’re chatting to your Mom, IM’ing your best friend, or grabbing lunch with hubby. But there comes a time in every writer’s life when a certain kind of company becomes necessary.

A certain kind of company? I know, it sounds very Eliot Spitzer-ish. But choosing who to talk to about your baby novel is a fraught process. Will they like it? Will they hate it? Will they think it’s-actually-very-funny-or-realize-I-stole-all-my-jokes-from-ten-year-old-Leno-shows?

Read the rest at FFC, here. And when you’re done, read the rest of the blog, too! It’s filled with excellent advice on every aspect of the writing life.

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Getting Authentic with Tim Crouch, part II

theatre_seatsYesterday, we talked about authenticity in a nebulous sense - what it is, and why it’s important. Today’s post is about co-authorship, or building a relationship with your audience. [As Crouch is an actor and playwright, he speaks specifically about theater, though the same ideas carry into other aspects of fiction, too.]

A large part of Crouch’s theater philosophy revolves around the idea of acting and not acting. “I’m bored to the back teeth of watching actors act,” he says. “There’s a truth about actors – they have to do everything…and there’s no room for the audience left. Art is about making connections, the act of suggestion. If I suggest something is so, then it is so.”

So what exactly does the audience do?

“It’s an act of co-authorship,” says Crouch. In a play, “the idea is present but is given manifestation by a contract between the audience and the performance.” In Crouch’s one man play, “My Arm”, the driving idea is that the character (also named Tim Crouch) can’t lower his arm – said arm has been held above his head since he was a child. Despite the obvious idea that Crouch would sit on stage speaking with his arm above his head, he does not. Instead, his arm is down, by his side, the entire performance.

At one point in the story, Tim Crouch the character talks about a scar on his back. He turns around to show the audience the scar – the audience who know that Crouch has two normal arms – and most everyone leans forward to see it. “That’s a writer’s gold dust,” says Crouch. “The know, empirically, that it’s not my story…[but they] will things to happen. We will make things appear…between out eyes and our ears some miracle happens. Our eyes see a physical presence but our mind sees something else.”

Other examples of this co-authorship include metaphors and similes. “[ When I was done] I removed the adjectives from the manuscript. I didn’t want to do the work for you [the audience].” How can a narrative get by without adjectives? According to Crouch, it’s all about personal experience and visualization. At one point in “My Arm”, the character describes a low point in his life. Instead of saying “I really cried, and I never cry” or “I was really depressed, so I cried for the first time in ages” he says:

…not having cried for as long as I can remember I have now taken to crying like a newborn lamb in the rain.

This is an incredibly powerful image. Why? Because almost everyone can envision a newborn lamb, and the lamb’s lament. It immediately pulls the audience back to a place when they felt like a newborn lamb in the rain, creating a much more powerful emotional connection than “and then I really cried, and I never cry, like, ever”.

“If you forget the audience are going to do 90% of your work for you,” says Crouch, “then you’re in trouble. I think.”
So how do we create this sort of sincerity and suspension of disbelief in writing? A good first step is to consider the first person autobiography. We already know the story, and all the details, but “it’s very authentically an image,” says Crouch.

“[An image] created not by me, by by us.” The character I see as me, a writer with husband, small child, and a novel on the way – is tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed. The character you see might be red-haired, pale, and green-eyed, because that’s what writer suggests to you, or perhaps because you once knew a red-haired woman with a similar one-line bio. Of course, it’s hard to resist the temptation to tell the reader what a protagonist looks like in detail – it’s human nature to want to share our vision. But, when reading, “a reader brings the pages to life, otherwise they’re just papers”.

Building a relationship with readers, co-authoring, requires letting go. Like any venture involving two people, there’s an element of trust involved. Writers have to trust their reader to fill in the blanks, to get what’s going on – because that’s the most effective path to creating a suspension of disbelief. Why? Readers want to suspend disbelief. Readers want to get into the story, and see what you have to say. Banging them over the head with every little detail, leaving too few gaps, actually pulls a reader out of the story. And nobody wants that. (There’s a good example of this over at Livia’s blog, here.)

Today’s takeaway: Trust your readers, and trust your instincts and personal experience. Don’t tell your readers how your character feels (I felt depressed, so I cried). Hook into their personal experience, and let them do the work for you. It’s much more satisfying on both sides.

Getting Authentic with Tim Crouch, part I – authenticity.

Getting Authentic with Tim Crouch, part III – writing outside the box.

Getting Authentic with Tim Crouch, part IV – writing inside the box.

Do you have trouble trusting your readers? Why? How do you hook into a personal experience?

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3 Personal Reasons You Should Blog

blogI resisted blogging for a long time. “After all,” I thought, “what’s the point? Who cares if I skipped breakfast on Monday and spent two hours bathing a ferret on Tuesday?” (Answer: my mother.) So I read other people’s blogs, soaking up tips, tricks, and encouragement. Yet, despite everything I gained from reading blogs, I still didn’t want one of my own.

Enter LiveJournal. For a long time, I read my friend Toni’s journal, savouring her small slices of home. But it wasn’t until Toni posted a polished memoir piece with the tag “critique me” that I realised the true power of blogging: it’s habit-forming.

Working as a writer, I’ve learned, like many, that ninety percent of the process is sitting down to write. True, this can be difficult – and there are days when I have trouble focusing on both my WIP and freelance assignments. Sometimes it’s Baby, sometimes it’s a lack of caffeine (I’ve had zero caffeinated coffee since Baby), and sometimes I just don’t feel like working.

1. Habit-forming

I post something to my blog nearly every day. This is as much for me as it is for my readers. By posting every day, I have to sit down and write every day–write something that’s not related to my ongoing client projects, that is. Monday through Friday, I sit down to post an entry. Sometimes, this means editing a draft, other times it’s writing from scratch. Regardless, I sit down at almost the same time every day, and am forced to think about an issue, a story, or a writing exercise/technique. Which brings me to…

2. Exploration

Blogging gives me a chance to dig into things I might not normally think about. I spend a lot of my time revising my WIP, reading to Baby, and juggling client projects. I get up early to go running five times a week, and I try to fit in three Pilates sessions. I take piano lessons once a week, and also have to squeeze in practice time. At the end of the day, I’m exhausted–too exhausted to think about the Nook, or ways to incorporate senses into my scenes.

Enter blogging. In the half hour I devote to it every day, I have the opportunity to learn something new. I think about how I do things, why I like a certain thing, then find a way to use it to my advantage. Where appropriate, I research–something I love–and learn new things. I try out critiques and exercises, and, if my mind is agreeable, freewrite, or play with some very short fiction. Then, after posting, I get feedback and ideas from other writers, which brings me to…

3. Connection

I’m a shy person. For a long time, I had trouble even talking about my work, unless it was project-related. I rarely spoke with other writers (until a class with the most excellent Mike Heppner at Grub Street). When I started blogging, though, I found myself growing more comfortable, more open. I started conversing with other fiction writers via my blog (comment threads), and via email. I picked up not just tips and techniques, but a sense of belonging–something most writers crave. Fiction writing can be a lonely business, full of self-doubt, self-pity, and self-criticism. Connecting with others helps us not only build confidence, but live and write the way we want to write. This may not seem important, but, to me, confidence & connection are the first steps to writing well, and that’s the first step to getting published.

Tomorrow: 3 Reasons You Should Blog for Business.

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The East Somerville Library

deathly_hallowsYesterday, I ran a writing workshop at the East Somerville Library. Most of the kids were 9; a couple were about 12.

Now, I’ve done a couple of writing workshops before, but they were a) a very long time ago and b) with kids in a more classroom like setting with a clear list of needs (grammar, verbs, and the ins and outs of dialogue). This was quite a change–most of the kids loved stories, but thought writing boring, something best left for the classroom.

Unsurprisingly, it took us a while to get started. Even at the best of times, 9 year olds have a pretty limited attention span. 9 year olds with a new person who speaks funny have an even smaller one. We started with me answering the standard questions:

Where are you from?
Australia.
Have you seen a kangaroo?
Yes. I grew up with them in the backyard, and my aunt had a joey for a while. She used to wear him in a pouch around her neck.
Is it hot in Australia? Is it far?
Yes & Yes.
How old you are?
28.
That’s old! I thought you were like 30! How old’s your husband?
30.
That’s ancient!
I know. He’s an old man, but I love him anyway.

We then moved on to stories. This took some time. We talked about favorite books (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Charlotte’s Web), favorite tv shows (Suite Life of Zack and Cody, Extreme Makeover, Sponge Bob Square Pants, Sonny and Chance), and how a story works. Then we talked about favorite characters, and why we liked them (funny, silly, dumb, fat–the fat and dumb parts really threw me, but that’s another post). I had to ask about some of the newer shows:

What’s Sonny and Chance?
It’s a show on tv.
I don’t have a tv. We watch shows on my computer.
What? No tv? But aren’t you like rich or something?
No-o.
But you have a job and a husband!
Do you know what my husband does? He’s a student, getting his Ph.D. That means he sits in front of a computer doing some boring math stuff all day. People don’t pay well for that.
But you work too!
I’m a freelance writer. So I make some money, but I don’t have a set job. I do a lot of different things for different people. And I have a 14 week old baby, who needs a lot of stuff, so we’re not rich. Do you know how much a baby needs?
YES! I have a sister–and I have a brother–and, and, and…

Of course, we also talked about voice–I had the kids tell me things in different voices, pretending they were older, or younger. I think they actually found older easier. Most of them were embarrassed about acting younger.

Interestingly, though, the part they enjoyed most was the writing. Despite their protests, we did a freewrite about their first day of school, then discussed the bits we liked. Each of the kids had a clear talent for description, and some of them even included very realistic dialogue. Here’s one that really stood out (as I remember it–all the kids took their stories home; some even wanted to type them up):

I was really nervous on my first day of school because I’d heard my teacher was really mean and she spits. She does spit! It’s really gross and she spat on me like twice, and she yelled at me.

p.s. when she comes back from lunch she’s always wearing a lot of lipstick.

I also did the freewrite. Here’s my sample:

“Why do I have to go again? Everybody’s going to hate me and it’s boring and I don’t want to go.”
“Too bad.”
I want to say I hate you and it’s not fair, but I don’t. It’s not like my mom’ll hit me of anything, but she’ll give me her evil I’m so going to punish you and you won’t even see it coming stare. Like no dessert. Or cleaning out the sandbox which is always full of cat poop. Or sorting through the recycling which is the worst because it always smells like fish because my brother’s favorite food is tuna.

I was actually quite nervous about delivering my work. The librarian and my friend, Maura, had been talking me up to the kids, so my palms were sweating when I started. It went really well, though:

OMG, that was like an actual book!
You’re so good! How’d you do that?
Do you always sound like a real book?

(And yes, one did actually say “OMG”.)

We finished up with me reading to them while they colored in. All in all, I count the afternoon as a success, and will be doing a few more workshops–albeit with more distinct age groups–over the next couple of months.

Have you ever done a workshop? How did it go? Any tips or tricks?

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Shannon Hale Drops by Porter Square Books for a Chat

forest_born1Tuesday morning just past, Porter Square Books hosted an author talk with YA writer Shannon Hale. I stumbled on to Shannon’s work about five years ago, when her second novel, Enna Burning, had just been released as an hardcover. Since then, I’ve read all of Shannon’s books save the newest two – Rapunzel’s Revenge (a graphic novel in which the princess saves herself), and Forest Born (the novel Shannon is currently promoting).

Most of the talk was geared toward sixth graders: a quick overview of publishing, and becoming a writer. A lot of it will be familiar to writers everywhere – writing since she was knee high to a grasshopper, ten years’ worth of rejection letters, and, finally, a light at the bottom of the inkwell. And while I’ve heard all this before, at many author talks, Shannon was relatable, easy-going, and encouraging.

Interestingly, she also had something to represent each stage of her writing career, including her first book, a picture book called “Land of the Blagadoons” and a Rejection Roll – literally! Almost 90 feet of rejection letters laminated together, the Rejection Roll made me feel pretty good about my rejection letters. Of course, I’ve never thought of anything as cool as a laminated Rejection Roll. (I just bin them, then eat a pint of ice cream.)

The other thing that really stuck was the 100 Tries. In a pottery class, Shannon learned that beginning potters throw away the first hundred tries – an idea that works for writers and stories, too. I’ve been thinking about this since I got home, and trying to work out where I come in on that number for fiction. I think, counting all my childhood stories (and there are so, so many, all of which are so, so lame), I’m at about 102. Given the two acceptances I currently have, I’m hoping that bodes well for the future!

All in all, it was a great talk – I didn’t learn anything new (and I’m not convinced the sixth graders did either, the way almost every kid managed to ask the same question the previous one had asked) but I did get inspired to go home and revise one story and write more of another.

If you want to know more about Shannon and her work, check out this video on Amazon.

P.S. Wondering which of Shannon’s books I’d definitely recommend? Book of a Thousand Days and The Goose Girl. Both have a wonderful, lyrical feel and entirely relatable characters that you can’t help but root for.

Also – I <3 Isi and Razo!  Who are your favourite characters?

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