The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people.
–– Randy Pausch (author of The Last Lecture)
Do you relate?
What is the role of luck in a writing career? The ever-understated Joe Konrath offered this thought recently: Maybe You Suck.
Some people don’t like me preaching on and on about how luck is possibly the single most important factor of success.
Some of these folks insist that good writing will always find an audience.
Some say those with success deserve it.
Some say my insistence that luck is important is a form of humble bragging, since I’ve sold a few million books.
Some don’t like the fact that luck is beyond their control, and they believe talent and hard work always win out.
Some think they make their own luck.
I’ll bite. Let’s say I’m wrong. Let’s say luck isn’t as big of a factor as I think.
Have you reached the level of success you want? If so, and you don’t believe luck was involved, good for you. I suppose you can make a case for yourself, the same way every self-made millionaire makes a case when they write their inevitable “How I Did It” books. I don’t know how many people have read the Essays of Warren Buffet and then became billionaires, but perhaps a lot have. Maybe good, solid advice, a strong work ethic, and loads of talent, coupled with a how-to template, can make anyone a raging success.
But what if you aren’t a raging success, and you still don’t believe in luck?
Well, maybe you suck.
Joe is not playing self-esteem mommy here. He’s more like R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket. “Maybe you’re incapable of putting out good books,” he says, “no matter how much time you spend at it.”
Ouch.
What are you going to do with a line like that?
You have two choices.
Just like the apple-cheeked marines under the unrelenting drill sergeant, you have two choices.
You can fold and quit.
Or you can get tough and keep going.
Choose get tough.
Now drop and give me twenty … pages.
If you’re a real writer, meaning someone who has to write, who desires to tell stories, who has an inner fire to put words down, you keep writing no matter what.
Which means you have to do something about your writing weaknesses.
But know this: All writers have weaknesses. It’s just that some are more apparent than others.
I once heard a professional golfer talking about the difference between the pros and skilled amateurs. He said professionals simply don’t make as many mistakes. Over time, their missed shots will be by smaller margins than the amateurs.
That’s a good analogy for the difference between writers who sell and those who do not (or not as much they would like). Even A-list writers make mistakes. But there are fewer of them, and not many are egregious.
So be honest about your weaknesses. Find people who will tell you what you need to work on.
You can hire an editor, or go to something like the Writer’s Digest 2d Draft service.
You can find some readers who will give you honest feedback.
Once you identify weak points, do something to improve them.
Read craft books.
Attend a writers conference and applicable workshops.
Write your quota and apply what you learn.
And while that still doesn’t guarantee any specific level of success, it does improve your odds. Which is what “luck” is really all about.
When I was a young and impetuous college roustabout, my roomies and I would take occasional trips to Vegas and, more recently, try out phone casinos. I learned the blackjack system in a famous book, Beat the Dealer. What that meant was I could get just about even with the house advantage. Which also meant, over time, I would do better than the hardware store owner from Tulsa who relied on pure luck when asking for a hit on a 10–7.
As you get better at the fundamentals of the craft, and as you produce more work, your odds will improve.
As one wag put it, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”
But what if luck doesn’t happen the way you want it to?
I’ll tell you: It does not matter in the slightest to a real writer!
A real writer never gives up, because that’s the only sure way to lose.
Don’t let luck or fate or fear stop you from doing what you should do every day of your life: write!
(Okay, not every day. You get a pass for funerals, family crises, arrests, car crashes, food poisoning, driving from L.A. to Colorado, and Disneyland. Other than that, you write).
You don’t want to be sitting in a bar twenty years from now, hoisting your third brew, muttering to the stranger next to you, “Yeah, I used to be a writer. It’s a tough racket.”
You are a writer, so keep writing, keep growing, keep hammering away, and don’t spend one minute grousing about luck.
Carpe Typem.
Seize the Keyboard.
It’s launch week for me as I begin a brand new thriller series. I’m excited about this one, as it’s been bubbling around in my brain for some time. Now the first Mike Romeo thriller, Romeo’s Rules, is out, and two more are cooking.
So I was thinking about the steps one ought to go through when unleashing a new series. Here’s what I came up with:
I wanted to write about a guy who can fight, and who was admitted to Yale at age fourteen. I kept developing his backstory until he demanded to be written. That’s what you need for a series character, because you’re going to be with him a long time. In my workshops I suggest an exercise: what would your character have tattooed on his or her arm? You don’t have to put it there, of course. It’s just to dig further into character. When I figured out what tattoo Romeo would have –– and I did put it on his arm –– the character was complete. You’ll have to read the book to find out what it is. #Shameless.
The plot begins as Romeo is out for a jog … and a church blows up. He stops to help a bleeding woman, then finds a dead body in the church, and it’s not because of the blast.. The cops arrive. And that’s in the first three pages.
It helps your confidence to know the series will have some legs!
I believe this is an essential step.
This is the biggest expense you’ll have in the indie-publishing process. But a good, experienced editor who knows the genre is worth every dime.
I tried something a little different with Romeo’s Rules. Actually, it’s a blast from the past. On many paperback originals of the 50s and 60s, the copy would contain a tag line, then some dialogue from the book (or a bit of a scene), then short, to the point sales copy after that. It’s my homage to that great era of genre fiction.
If you want to stay alive, you better know the rules …
Natalia Mayne said, “What’s the first rule?”
“Fear nothing,” I said.
“You have any more?”
“Do unto them before they do unto you.”
“Really?”
”And you don’t owe the truth to people who lie.”
“I’ve never met anybody like you.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Mike Romeo is an ex-cage fighter living off the grid in L.A. Running from a dark guilt that dogs him, he’s finally found a place where he can rest and even heal.
Then a church blows up. And with it all of Romeo’s hopes to be left alone. When he stops to help an injured woman whose kids are missing, someone decides to put a target on his back.
But whoever wants him dead picked the wrong guy. Because Romeo has rules. And he’s about to teach some lessons.
I did that a few weeks ago.
As an indie, you can create direct accounts with the main retailers, or you can use a service like Smashwords or BookBaby to do all that for you. I prefer to do it myself.
Hey! It’s published!
Here’s where you can get it
A print version will be coming soon.
Bonus step: Commission a book trailer. My rule of thumb is that a trailer should be 30 – 45 seconds. Here’s mine:
Oh yes, one more step: get to work on the next book! I’m already into Romeo’s Way.
So what do you look for in a series? What makes you read on … or stop reading?
There are two reasons to study the craft of fiction writing. The first is to learn tools and techniques that actually work, that have been tested over time. Some of these might be so valuable as to rise to the level of “rules.” A rule, of course, can be broken, but only if you have a very good reason to do so and know exactly what that reason is. Otherwise you’re flirting with danger, like a brain surgeon who decides on a whim to use a butter knife instead of a scalpel.
The other reason for study is to learn what doesn’t work, what trips up a story. You learn not to do certain things.
Some of these errors are relatively small. But commit too many of them and they will have a cumulative, and negative, effect on the reader. I call these errors “speed bumps.”
It’s like this. You’re enjoying a pleasant drive through a scenic part of the country. You’re relaxed, the vistas are inspiring. You forget for a moment that you’re driving and you just take pleasure in the sights.
Then you hit a speed bump. You come out of your reverie for just a moment. But if it’s the only bump you hit, you quickly get back into the nice-drive mode.
But what happens if you keep running over speed bumps? Pretty soon your nice drive is completely ruined and you vow you’ll never take this road again.
That’s the way it is with speed bumps in writing. Most readers don’t consciously analyze these. They don’t sit there and think, Wow, he should not have used an adverb there! But there is a little jolt inside that reader’s mind, back there in the subconscious zone. I contend that enough of these small bumps can ruin the reading pleasure of a book. In some cases it may mean the difference between a reader seeking out another of your titles, or deciding not to give you further consideration.
You don’t want that, do you? So un-bump your writing! That’s one sure way to elevate your craft.
I am now going to offer you an exhibit. This is from a well-regarded and bestselling writer, one whose books I have enjoyed in the past. I want you to read it over and see if you can spot the speed bump. The scene is a restaurant:
“So she didn’t talk specifically about her mother?”
“Just about the murder. The murder is very big in her life.”
The waitress brought us menus.
“My God,” he said. “Actual food.”
“No reduction of kiwi,” I said.
“No skate wings,” Paul said. “No pâté of Alsatian bluebird. No caramelized parsnip puree with fresh figs.”
The waitress took our order.
“Why do you suppose she didn’t want me to talk with her aunt?”
“Daryl’s hard to understand,” Paul said.
“She ever talk about her father?” I said.
“No. I always sort of assumed he was dead.”
“Siblings?” I said.
“She never mentioned any.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Two years,” Paul said. “We worked together in the first play I did in Chicago. When she’s up, she’s a hell of a lot of fun.”
The waitress brought smothered pork chops for Paul, spaghetti and meatballs for me.
“Why are you asking about her?”
“Because I don’t know about her.”
Paul was nodding as I spoke.
Ask yourself if there is any small thing in that scene that might cause a casual reader to feel a subconscious bump, and a more alert reader to actually stop and say, Hold on there a minute. Something’s not right!
Cue Jeopardy music:
Dum dada dum dada dum dum dah, dum dum dum dum DOT dee dada dada….
Time’s up!
Here’s my take: These two men are in a restaurant discussing a murder that took place years ago. The waitress appears and gives them menus…and then stands there while they joke around. In the real world, a waitress would leave the menus and give them time to read them. Or ask for a drink order. I waited tables, my friends!
But maybe we can let that one slide.
They continue their conversation. What they say to each other takes about 23 seconds. I timed it. And then the waitress returns with their full meals! There is no time lapse, either, because as soon as the plates are put down the conversation continues in exactly the same spot!
So either this waitress is the love child of Supergirl and The Flash, or reality has been blithely tossed out the window.
It’s a pet peeve of mine: restaurant scenes where the food timing is all off. I do see it often. In film it’s usually a bar scene where they order martinis and the bartender goes out of the scene for fifteen seconds, then comes back with two perfect martinis that could be neither shaken nor stirred. It always takes me out of the scene. And it’s so unnecessary.
Care enough about your readers to study the craft so you can root out speed bumps. Some will slip by. You just don’t want to fill the road with them. I’m here to help.
There. Off my chest. Now it’s your turn. What speed bumps to you notice in books? Pet peeves that take you out of the story? What do you have to watch for in your own writing?
I loved playing basketball. Too many twisted ankles and a knee surgery have taken me off the court and onto the golf course. But my happiest times as an athlete were from junior high school to college, running up and down a hardwood floor.
High School was best. There is nothing quite like charging into a packed gym with fans cheering, warm-up music blaring, and cheerleaders making with the pom-poms.
Then the game begins, and you’re into it, and sometimes you’re hot, sometimes you’re not. And sometimes you are somewhere in between. You win some, you lose some. There are major highs—like hitting the winning shot at the buzzer. And dismal lows—like losing a championship.
But every one of them is a memory wrapped up in the rush you got from playing, and for that you gladly take the whole package.
And then there are those times when you are in “the zone.” That’s when everything goes so right it feels almost effortless. It’s the apex of athletic experience. It’s like a surfer catching a perfect wave. All you do is ride.
There’s no telling how long the ride will last. You’re just glad it happened.
When I think of my own zone times, there’s one night that stands above all the rest. It was the night I was on fire.
I could not miss. I was swishing 20 footers all over the place. I was dishing passes that would have had Magic Johnson nodding in approval. My Chuck Taylors had wings.
But in the opposing stands there was a guy sitting close to the sideline who started with the smack.
Now, it is every fan’s right to talk trash. They pay for a ticket, they can try to get into the head of the player who is carving up their team. When it happens, you have to answer on the court. You don’t want to give any indication that the digs are getting to you.
So I kept hitting shots.
And the guy kept running his mouth. Get in his face! He’s not that good! He’s slow! He’s afraid!
Yadda yadda yadda.
Then came the play. It’s the most vivid memory of that wildfire night.
I was on a fast break. A fast break is when you try to beat the other team down the floor to their basket. On this particular play I was dribbling up the right side when a player from the other team ran across the court to pick me up.
Without any hesitation I executed my favorite move, the crossover dribble. I switched the ball from my right hand to my left without missing a beat, changing direction as I did. It’s a move I picked up from watching Pete Maravich when I was a kid.
Now I was dribbling across the key toward the hoop. The guy I’d left behind was charging hard to catch up to me.
I could hear the smack-talking fan yelling his lungs out.
As I got close to the basket I sensed the other player getting ready to try to block my layup.
The fire took over.
I jumped in the air, switching the ball to my right hand. I was now actually facing the opposing stands. Without looking I flipped a shot over my head. As I did, I heard the smack talker laugh. He really did. Like I’d just thrown up the worst shot in the history of hoops. He stopped laughing when the ball banked off the backboard and through the net. Just as I knew it would.
As I started back up the court to play defense, I put a huge smile on my face and jogged slowly in front of Mr. Smack. I didn’t have to make eye contact with him. He saw my pearlies. And as I recall he didn’t make another sound the rest of the game.
Writers have a zone, too. You’ve been there. You’ve felt it. Sometimes for an hour of pure creativity, or maybe one whole, glorious day. You can’t force it. It comes unbidden. The fire is spontaneous, but there are some things you can do to lay out the wood.
Why was I able to perform a perfect crossover dribble at just the right time? Because I’d spent hours practicing dribbling on my driveway, often with a chair set up as an “opponent.” I’d go left-to-right, right-to-left, so in a game muscle memory could take over.
How could I shoot over my head without looking at the basket? Because I’d played countless games of HORSE, wherein you try to make trick shots that your opponent can’t duplicate. As a HORSE ninja, I’d always include over-the-head, no-look shots in my repertoire.
Finally, how did I sense where the other player would be? Because I’d been in hundreds of pickup games—two-on-two, three-on-three, four-on-four. Virtually every combination of play near the basket I’d experienced many times.
So you must practice. Not just any kind of practice. I’ve quoted the famous basketball coach Bobby Knight before: “Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.” If you repeat the wrong things over and over, that’s not going to help you.
Which is why I’ve said that merely writing is not going to make you a better writer.
When you learn something about writing, when you observe the craft at work in a novel, jot yourself a note and then try to do the same thing in your own work. That’s the way you drill. That’s the way you get better.
Second, remember to play. Try things out. Be fearless. In pickup games I’d try out new moves. When I found one that worked, I kept using it.
Finally, do something every day to groove your writing. I used to carry a basketball when I walked to school. Sometimes I’d bounce it, sometimes I’d toss it from one hand to the other, just to implant the feel of it on my fingertips. You can do something each day to improve as a writer. You can:
What other things can a writer do? Tell us in the comments.
I’m going to be out most of the day, so talk amongst yourselves. When have you experienced “the zone” in your writing, or in any other pursuit? How’d it feel? What did you do to get there?
***
You know how it goes. You’re working on a project, you’ve got a deadline. In some cases, like my own, you have two or three projects going and you are getting close to the various finish lines.
But then you’re walking along from the store or the coffee house, and it tiptoes up––that new idea, that inspiration, that concept, that what if?
You try to ignore it at first. Or maybe you give it a little dalliance, while at the same time part of your brain is saying, Stick with the program, bud. You haven’t got time for this!
But this new idea, shoved up from the basement where the boys are hard at work (and they have closed the door so the idea can’t go back down) beckons to you. It winks. It nods. Whatever the scent it’s wearing, it’s intoxicating.
So you figure you’re merely walking along, nothing’s really happening, why not give this idea a little time?
And that’s when you’re cooked. That’s when the hooks go in.
So you take the new idea out for a drink. It’s totally innocent. You’re not wedded to this idea. You have a couple of other ideas you’re married to waiting for you at home. But you’re not home. So just one drink to talk things over, see what’s happening, and maybe you can just part as friends.
But part of you knows it is oh so dangerous to drink with a new idea. You don’t want to admit you’re really attracted to it. You certainly don’t want your other projects to get jealous. But there you are, ordering from the bartender, and all of a sudden you’re looking at your idea and imagining her all dressed up.
She’s wearing a great opening chapter.
Underneath that is a perfect structure.
This idea has legs.
Stop!
But it’s no use. Your idea is flirting with you. And you like it.
You all know what I’m talking about. It happened to me the other day. I have three front-burner projects I have to finish. But I made the mistake of taking a long walk without any keyboard in front of me.
There flashed the idea! Oh, it was a honey. I started to dally. Two main characters. What was their story? Why would they be thrust together after this suspense-filled first scene?
Oh, I know! I can give them this great Doorway of No Return into Act II!
And who is waiting for them there? A villain, of course! And he’s baaaad….
But is that all? No, my characters each need a “mirror moment” to tell me what their stories are really all about.
Hers: I’ve got it!
His: Yes, that’s it!
The idea whispered, “Buy me another drink.”
And now, guess what? I asked the idea to marry me!
And she said, “Yes!”
Ah, Cupid! I am undone!
This is the very ecstasy of love,
Whose violent property fordoes itself
And leads the will to desperate undertakings…
(Hamlet, Act II, Scene 1)
Tell me true, is this you? Are you a polygamous writer? Or do you stay loyal to one idea until the book is done? Don’t be shy. Confession is good for the soul!
***
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A writing friend recently shared with a bunch of fellow scribes that she was seriously stuck on the brainstorming aspect of a new project. She gave me permission to blog about it. This author needs to solidify her idea and start writing because she has a thing called a deadline. But, she says, “the story and the characters are seriously playing hard to get.”
She asked, “Would love any brainstorming tips and tricks if you have them! How do you start building your story and characters? And how do you feel productive and intentional when brainstorming is such a creative (often stubborn…at least for me) process?”
It’s a great question. Here is what I wrote to her:
I wonder if part of the deal is what so many of us have expressed over the years with each new book, that it seems to get “harder.” And the reason for that, I believe, is that with each book you’re better and your standards go up. You know what goes into writing a whole book, all the constituent parts, and think, “Man, I’ve got to do all that again! And better!” So every idea in the brainstorming phase gets tested, when it should be a time for getting as many ideas as you can without judgment.
FWIW, I do the following at the beginning of any project.
– A free-form journal, interacting with myself, asking myself questions, going deeper into why I think I want to write this, and also putting down plot and character ideas as they come. I take several days (at least) for this, writing without stopping, but re-reading the journal each day, doing some editing on what I wrote the day before, highlighting the best ideas, and so on.
– At some point I take a stack of 3 x 5 cards to Starbucks and just write down scene ideas. Random. Whatever vivid scene comes to mind. I might prompt myself by playing the dictionary game (opening a dictionary to a random page, picking a noun, and riffing off that). When I have 30-40 scenes I shuffle the deck and pick two cards at random and see what the connection suggests.
– Finally, I want my concept in a three-sentence elevator pitch that I know is absolutely solid and marketable. Sentence 1 is character + vocation + current situation. Sentence 2 starts with “When” and is what I call the Doorway of No Return––the thing that pushes the Lead into the main plot. Sentence 3 begins with “Now” and the death (physical, professional, or psychological/spiritual) stakes. Here’s an example based on The Insider by Reece Hirsch:
Will Connelly is an associate at a prestigious San Francisco law firm, handling high level merger negotiations between computer companies.
When Will celebrates by picking up a Russian woman at a club, he finds himself at the mercy of a ring of small-time Russian mobsters with designs on the top-secret NSA computer chip Will’s client is developing.
Now, with the Russian mob, the SEC and the Department of Justice all after him, Will has to find a way to save his professional life and his own skin before the wrong people get the technology for mass destruction.
Here’s another example:
Dorothy Gale is a farm girl who dreams of getting out of Kansas to a land far, far away, where she and her dog will be safe from the likes of town busybody Miss Gulch.
When a twister hits the farm, Dorothy is transported to a land of strange creatures and at least one wicked witch who wants to kill her.
Now, with the help of three unlikely friends, Dorothy must find a way to destroy the wicked witch so the great wizard will send her back home.
A good pitch guarantees a solid foundation. Now what?
Well, the next phase depends on how you like to approach things: plotter or pantser or something in between?
My own practice is to go immediately to the mirror moment, for it influences everything else. This is a concept I explain in detail in my book Write Your Novel From the Middle.
Now, I know there are some dedicated pantsers out there for whom any kind of pre-planning brings out a case of hives. They just want to start writing, and that’s okay … so long as you realize that you’re basically brainstorming the long way round. Some contend that this is the best way to find original story material. I would say it is only one way. There is still going to be a lot of editing and a ton of rewriting. The process I’ve described here is a faster and, to my mind, a more efficient way of getting to an original story line that you will be excited to write.
And so ended my advice, which I hope bursts the clouds for a fellow writer.
When things go dry in your writer’s mind, what are some of the things you do?
If you go looking on Google for advice on creating “buzz,” you’ll find mountains of material to peruse (speaking of which, can we even say “mountains of material” anymore for digital content? It doesn’t pile up on your desk. It doesn’t overstuff your briefcase. What’s the alternative? A “bounty of bytes”? I digress).
Buzz, of course, is that low but continuous sound that a bunch of bees make. In business, that translates to excitement or anticipation for a product.
Buzz can happen spontaneously, or a company might do things to try to create it. In either case, the more people talk about something (assuming it’s not negative buzz), the better the sales forecast.
A recent example of buzz in the book world was the swirl of publicity surrounding the publication of Harper Lee’s novel Go Set A Watchman. There was a combination of buzz both positive (Harper Lee is finally releasing a new novel!) and negative (Harper Lee is being manipulated!). The whole mix inured to the benefit of HarperCollins, which sold over a million copies the first week.
For an author, then, it helps to be famous.
Absent that, what can a writer do before a launch to create some buzz? There are many options available, some of them for a price. I tend to avoid paying for PR, so today let me suggest a three-step plan that is simple to implement and costs nothing:
Share content
It’s one thing to say you’ve got a book coming. It’s another to give readers a taste of it. So make the first chapter of the book available for free. Amazon already does that for you with its “Look Inside” feature. If the book is not yet published, put the content on your website.
The best buzz is content related. That’s what a great movie trailer does (or book trailer, for that matter). So make sure your opening page is the best it can be, which you should be doing anyway, right?
Invite email signups
Associate that free content with an invitation for people to sign up for your email list. Tell them they will be the first to know when the book is available for purchase or pre-order. The proper care and feeding of an email list is a subject all its own. For buzz purposes, you want folks clamoring to find out what happens after your opening chapter.
Use a Light Touch on Social Media
Inform your social media platform of the free content, but don’t overstay your welcome. Keep to a 90/10 ratio of actual social interaction to marketing messages. Buzz is not created with a pounding hammer, but with drops of honey.
If you have a blog, create a buzz post.
As I am doing now.
Because I have a book coming out. The start of a new thriller series, in fact.
I have put first chapter on my website. (UPDATE: This page now has the sales copy. You can read the first chapter via the free LOOK INSIDE feature at Amazon.)
I invite you to read it and, if it intrigues you, sign up for my email list so you’ll be the first to know when it’s available.
I have not yet revealed the title, nor the cover.
Why not?
Because I’m trying to create some mystery, too, and thus more buzz! (I must be channeling my inner Flo Ziegfeld).
The first line of the book is: I was talking to a woman about flowers when John the Baptist blew up.
You can read the rest of the excerpt HERE (same link as above).
And now, having completed my post, I’m going to buzz off.
Please feel free to share any buzz ideas of your own.
Some time ago I was on a plane coming back from New York. Sitting in the window seat was a woman of about sixty. As soon as we were in the air she took a paperback out of her purse and started to read.
Since one out of every three paperbacks in the world is by James Patterson, it was no surprise when I saw his name on the cover.
I took out my Kindle and started reading the complete works of Charles Dickens.
After half an hour or so, I heard a ripping noise. I glanced over and saw the woman tearing off a good chunk of pages from Mr. Patterson’s book. She folded these and stuck them in the seat pocket.
And went back to reading.
I said nothing, returning to the travails of Little Dorrit.
Another half hour or so went by, and the woman did the same thing with the next section of the book. I held my Kindle in a protective position.
Time went on, and eventually what I guessed to be about half the book was torn asunder. At some point a flight attendant came down the aisle with a trash bag. The woman gestured to the attendant and placed the pages that had formerly been part of a bound paperback into the bag.
I couldn’t resist. “That must be a trashy novel,” I said.
She looked at me quizzically, which is a look I’m used to.
“I’ve never seen someone do that before,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, “before I go on a trip I pick up a few paperbacks at a garage sale. I don’t want to carry them around after I’m finished. And if I’m in the middle of a book I don’t want to carry the whole book. I read and tear off pages so I’m left with a smaller book to put in my purse.”
“Mr. Patterson might feel ripped off,” I said.
She stared.
“Are you enjoying the book?” I said.
“It keeps me occupied,” she said.
And isn’t that why most people read fiction? To be occupied, transported, distracted, entertained? To have a few hours when they’re not worried about jobs, relationships, politics, crime, money, Jennifer Aniston?
Thus the term escapist. And that is not a bad thing. In fact, it may be essential for survival. Unless we can shut down for awhile and let our brains be entertained we are doomed to walk through the dense fog of existence without so much as a candle.
Of course, there is room for what some call “difficult” fiction. Sometimes tagged “literary,” it’s the kind of fiction that tests readers, that requires a certain amount of aerobics of the brain. It’s also the kind of fiction that’s being squeezed out of the marketplace, for as one editor said to me at a conference, “The definition of literary fiction is fiction that doesn’t sell.”
Which is more about the business aspect of publishing than any inherent worth. Publishers and authors would love it if literary fiction was more marketable. But publishers need to make money. They do it primarily with A-list authors who entertain.
Again, not a bad thing. “In a world that encompasses so much pain and fear and cruelty, it is noble to provide a few hours of escape, moments of delight and forgetfulness.” – Dean Koontz, How to Write Best-Selling Fiction (Writer’s Digest Books, 1981)
So what are the elements of entertaining fiction? Here is what I look for—and try to write myself:
A few questions for the TKZ community today:
