Wordcraft blog by Avi

Traveling as Research

By on 3

The End of the World and BeyondThere are times when researching a book it becomes necessary to go to the places where your characters live and struggle. Going to England and France very much helped me write the first two Crispin books, particularly the second. Being in San Francisco, and on the island of Alcatraz, allowed me to write next year’s book, Rotten Row. To write The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, I stood (and sailed) on grand sailing ships. Most recently I was in Venice, Italy, which is the setting for a work-in-progress.

My most recent book, The End of the World and Beyond, required a trip to Maryland. I wanted to see the city of Annapolis, whose hills are an aspect of the story. I also wanted to visit a swamp, swamps being the “beyond,” part of the book.

There was a time when the United States had great land masses of swamp. Most have been drained, and built over, a process that began in the 18th century. The Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge (great name!) is perhaps the largest, and most famous one remaining. It straddles the border of Virginia and North Carolina.

Great Dismal Swamp

Great Dismal Swamp National Park, on the Virginia and North Carolina border (by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Northeast Region, uploaded by Albert Herring, CC BY 2.0,)

Being near Annapolis, I visited the Great Cypress Swamp, in Calvert County, Maryland. There are any number of books about swamps, with quite wonderful photos. But being in the Great Cypress Swamp was a vital experience. I could not have written that section of the book without having gone there.

In truth it was a strange place. Beyond all else, the swamp was green. Green ground. Green foliage. Green trees. Green air. It is also wet. That green air is humid. Random creeks trickle. Underfoot mud bubbles. Mud is everywhere. “Do not venture off the path,” are the warnings. Yes, quicksand.

Cypress Swamp

Great Cypress Swamp, Calvert County, Maryland (by Kej605, own work, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Cypress trees are—to my eyes—strange, their dangling, visible roots are like multiple fingers reaching into the mud. The same roots, poking out into the air from the water, looking like stalagmites. And there are sounds, too; unseen birds, and sounds of who knows what—I certainly didn’t see them, but they (snakes, raccoons, panthers or whatever) were there.

The important point for me—the novelist—is that in the 18th and 19th centuries, swamps were places where slaves escaped to hide so as to become free, as did enslaved felons, and indentured servants. There, they established secret communities, a key part of my story. They are only now being explored and understood.

When I was in the swamp it was easy to see why folks went there: they are all but impenetrable. But my young heroes, Bara and Oliver, had to get through one to a secret, free community, where liberty was promised.

My being in that swamp helped me follow them. Read the book and you can come along.

Found in a Book

By on 5

 

pressed flowers

Books, to be sure, are full of words. But sometimes you come upon things that people leave in the books. Over the years of my book collecting—sometimes for research, sometime for reading pleasure— I have found pressed between the pages:

  • Four leaf clovers. (Did they bring luck?)
  • Flowers (As pale as old memories)
  • A partially filled-in dance card, from 1923. (Why only partially?)
  • Postage stamps that wouldn’t, today, take a letter fifty yards
  • A receipt for the purchase of the book, when the book was new and cost two dollars and fifty cents (That was long ago!)
  • A note explaining why the book was being sent as a gift (An apology? Thanks?)
  • Author signatures, along with cryptic messages to persons unknown, for reasons at best vague
  • Birthday greetings, sometimes in child-like scrawls
  • Thank you notes (Beautiful calligraphy, revealing no emotion)
  • An invitation to a party (Did the recipient go?)

I always wonder about these left behind items. Were they discarded, forgotten, or in fact, meant to be saved as something meaningful? Never mind: Each thing suggests a story.

My favorite find was a letter dated 1898. I found it in a book (published much earlier) meant for young readers, and consisting of two stories. They were love stories, of a kind. The tales were each about young women, both of whom were choosing husbands. The first tale was about one who marries for love, and lives in harsh poverty. The second story was about a woman who marries for riches, and lives to be equally unhappy. The book—not uncommon for the day—was meant to teach lessons.

As for the letter in the book: (I paraphrase)

“My darling granddaughter Mary: You are only two and cannot read. I am eighty-nine, and may not live long enough to see you read. But I wanted to send you these stories because they will teach you a lesson I did not learn. I hope when you choose a husband you will heed the wisest story in this book. Your loving Grandmother, Dora.”

Ah, but which story did Grandma Dora not heed? Which story did she consider wisest?

The answers were not provided.

Maybe I’ll find it in another book.

When Can I Read
the Next Book in the Series?

By on 0

The End of the World and BeyondIn January, Publishers Weekly published a column titled “Notable Novel Sequels: January 2019.” It was brought to my attention because my new book, The End of the World and Beyond, was cited, one of six books. The full text of the citation reads:

Avi’s sequel to The Unexpected Life of Oliver Cromwell Pitts finds the 18th-century protagonist in transport from England to America, where the convicted thief is enslaved and forced to work on a tobacco farm. Avi offers verisimilitude while calling to mind classic picaresque novels.

While grateful for the notice, and glad to be referenced as “notable,” this is not really a review of the book. That is because—so I have been informed—PW has a new policy of not always reviewing sequels and books of a series. A publisher suggested to me that it might be because, given today’s economics of magazine publishing, there is pressure to reduce page numbers. That said, consider what might not be reviewed with this policy: Through the Looking Glass. the Oz books. the second Pooh book, the Narnia books, the Lord of the Ring books. Harry Potter books, Percy Jackson books, Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I’m sure you can easily think of many more.

series books

It’s not for me to debate the economics of magazine publishing but, surely, publishers are working with writers to create them, though perhaps not so many as the 28 volumes of the (19th Century) Elsie Dinsmore series, or the 19 volumes (20th century) of the Nancy Drew series. Will such new review policies discourage the publication of series books? I have no way of knowing. Most of all, young readers are grabbing them up in great numbers and enjoying them. Will they be discouraged by a lack of reviews? I doubt it. Young readers should have access to them in schools and libraries. A lack of reviews might diminish their acquisition and shelf space in such places.

Over the years, being curious, I’ve asked young readers why they like series books. I surely read them as a kid. Adults read series books too. Why? The easy answer is, having liked one book, there is a built-in recommendation to read a similar book—in the expectation it will bring the same pleasures. The reader has already gained a comfort level with the characters. A comic character will renew the laughs. An adventure figure will bring back the same thrills.

Young readers often mention the sense of family a series brings. One enjoys being surrounded, so to speak, by the same cast of characters who become like friends.

The series book is easier to come back to. You are generally with familiar characters and circumstances the moment you open the book. I knew Tom Swift was going to invent something new, and then do something amazing with it. I looked forward to it, and knew I’d be rewarded.

And in my day, too, the series book was cheaper. It was cheaper when published. When I walked into a used book store there were multiple copies of series books that were all but being given away.

At one time, Schools discouraged them. Do they still?

Happily, libraries had them.

And let it be said, a series book is not automatically a poorly written book. Consider some of the books I mentioned above. In my view, they are really good books.

My sense is that if a young reader reads all the Harry Potter books, they have advanced themselves as readers. After that experience, I’m willing to bet they read more.

Here’s for anything that encourages young people to read. And that includes series books.

The Street Taken

By on 8

Most days between the hours of one PM and three, I hoist myself up from my desk and do some exercise. It might be swimming or it might be walking. The swimming, I think, speaks for itself, but the walking is something else.

walking

When in Denver, I usually walk a mile, from my house, to Holly Street, a mile. I walk along Twelfth Street. It’s a fairly nondescript neighborhood, dull to tell the truth, the way much of Denver’s architecture is dull —one level suburban houses brought into the city center.

There are not many people (or cars) out on Twelfth Street at that time. I do see a fair number of dogs taking their people out for a walk. Down along the park most days there is a yellow taxi parked. The driver sits there, asleep or on his phone. Is he waiting for a call? Playing games? Hiding? Or, is he, as I often see him, just sleeping?

Today when I pass the basketball court there are two guys, both bearded, one very fat, one very skinny. They are shooting baskets, but always missing, always talking. What are they talking about? March madness? Diets?

There was also a young man pushing a stroller meant for twins, but there were no children in it. He did have a large white dog on a leash, and via cell phone, talking to someone. Was he trying to locate his children? Telling a caretaker he was coming?

stroller for twins

There was another young man, rings in his nose, ear plugs in ears, and he was nodding vigorously. Was he agreeing with someone, or was it music with a heavy beat?

A girl with flaming red hair, was being pulled hard by a dog as she tried to navigate the deep slush. The dog’s paws are wet. Are hers?

I saw a large lady with a very tiny dog. Since we had a heavy (eight inches) snow two days ago, the street gutters were like rivers. Would the dog wade through, jump over, or resist entirely? What about the woman? And I do wonder: Where does all that swiftly (and often deep) flowing water go?

Denver is the kind of city—my neighborhood anyway, where—in passing—people say “hello” or “good afternoon.” A pleasant custom. A connection, however slight.

Little FreeLibraryThen there is the big inducement for my walk, and sometimes I do need an inducement. At almost the half-mile point of my stroll is one of those little free libraries. They look like bird houses, but in their nests books have been laid away. And—free!

This particular “free library” is curious. They often have what I think are good books, by good authors. I wonder who curates this library. Are they smart readers because they have good books, or are they disinterested readers because they give away what I think are good books?

Today, on my walk, I found two such books. The Poetry of Robert Frost: All Eleven of his Books—Complete. I enjoy reading Frost. Good find.

The other book is titled, Where the Wild Coffee Grows: The Untold Story of Coffee from the Cloud Forests of Ethiopia to your Cup. Since good coffee is my fire-starter, I couldn’t resist. The history of coffee. More odd facts, more curious details for my head.

Poetry of Robert Frost and Where the Wild Coffee Grows

I will read some of both books tonight.

 As I was walking back home—down Eighth Street—carrying my books, I must have had the cover of the Frost poetry collection showing. Because as I passed a man, he glanced at me and called out, “Ah, Robert Frost!” That’s all he said.

But it was the perfect reader’s exchange for the road taken.

Writing with Clarity

By on 2

Dreyer's EnglishIt would be the unusual writer who has not, at some time in their career, read, or turned to a style manual, or for that matter a guide to the English language. Strunk and White’s The Element of Style is one such classic. The Chicago Manual of Style, now in its 17th edition, is another go-to guide. My attention was recently caught by Dreyer’s English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style. By Benjamin Dreyer. He is the copy chief of Random House.

For those not entirely familiar with the publishing process, a copy editor is the person who, “after a piece of writing has been … through numerous drafts, developed and revised by the writer and by … the editor … [goes over the work] and makes it better. Cleaner. Clearer. More efficient.”

Such a person is not generally known by readers, although such people are vital to book making.

It is a myth that writers work alone. Many people, from my wife, to friends, editors, copy editors, have had useful things to say about what I write during the long journey to publication. Always. The point is, every book I have written (and it’s true for most published books) has undergone scrutiny and improvement by a copy editor. My experience is that these people are generally very smart, and their conscious knowledge of the language far exceeds my own. Over the years I’ve gotten to know some of them, become friends, collaborators, so that at certain publishers I request that they copy edit my books. Their corrections and suggestions always make my books better.

Which is why Dreyer’s English is so interesting and valuable. He is not setting down rules so much as he is showing how to bring (as per his subtitle) clarity to one’s work. Instance: In one of his earlier chapters he points out a number of words which are redundant, unnecessary, that clog up sentences. In one sense they are clichés. Or writing tics. Every writer has them.

In bed last night I read the chapter about these words. The first thing I did in the morning is open up a current project. I took the list and ran through my new manuscript (computers are great for this).  Lo and behold (no surprise) there were those words—in excess—until I took them out. And, yes, it did enhance the clarity of my text. The point is, the reader won’t know what I did. But the reader will enjoy what I did. In other words Dreyer’s English is like having an early copy editor.

The essential point is that the writing can always be improved. It does not matter than I am such-and-such an age, that I have been writing for all these many years, or that I have published x number of books, and have won some recognition. I can get better. Every writer can. Why should you not want to be?

Read (and use) Dreyer’s English. You’ll be a better writer.

Clatter, clatter, clatter, DING!

By on 2

Royal typewriterMy son is a journalist and thereby meets a great variety of interesting people. Recently he met someone who is going into the business of restoring typewriters. That made me smile.

For a long time (this was years ago) I resisted purchasing a computer, listening with a bemused smile as people debated the relative merits of a PC in contrast to an Apple. I hung on to my beloved old Royal Typewriter, one of many I had. I would go to flea-markets in search of spare parts and ribbons, and find them.

There was a wonderful finger-feel to those old machines, and a musical clatter that was truly soothing. My older boys have told me that were put to sleep by the late-night clacking of my machines. And oh, yes, there was that wonderful DING! when you threw the carriage back.

(Did you know that the QWERTY system of key arrangement was designed to slow down the old manual typewriters? People typed so fast the keys kept jamming. Such is progress.)

There was an added asset to a manual typewriter: it also functioned as an editor. The point being that working on a manual typewriter was a laborious project. For me it was even harder since I never had learned to touch-type, but had (have) my own odd-ball hunt and peck system. But mind, I could (can) type fast. But oh, that carbon paper; the onion skin copy paper! Do you remember that? Nasty stuff.

Anyway, one day I needed to retype a manuscript. I had put it off, but it was due the next day. All 200 or so pages. I therefore began in the morning, say seven AM. At about two PM I was still going, if not strong, at least going.

Come five PM my hands were aching to such a degree that I knew if I stopped I’d never be able to resume.

I finished typing the book at about eight PM. I sent it in the next day (by snail mail of course). For the next three days, I couldn’t move my hands.

sore hands

But about that typewriting editing: Because, as per the above, it was so much work, I often cut my text as I worked, not to enhance the quality, but to reduce the work. But the truth is, it did enhance the quality. It never hurts to cut. Manual typewriters made it pleasurable.

Ever notice that there are more big books (as in page count) than ever? Thank the computer—the dull, click-clicking of the computer, without even a musical bell for punctuation. Yes, it’s far easier to write on a computer, as I would eventually learn. Still, it has a spell-checker to compensate for its dullness.

This past Christmas I consulted with my son as to a good Christmas gift for my fifth-grade grand-daughter. To my astonishment I was told, “She’d really like a typewriter. She finds the computer distracting.”

I found a new one for her. An electric one.

She’s using it.

But I do feel sorry for her: no clatter, clatter, clatter, DING! Pure music to my ears.

Maybe I’ll seek out that typewriter restorer.

Money

By on 4

It was Samuel Johnson, the great 18th Century English critic, writer, and dictionary creator, who famously said, “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.”

author royalties and payments

Consider then what the Authors Guild, the USA’s premier writers’ organization, recently learned in a membership survey:

“The median income of authors (from all sources related to being a writer, not just books,” went down 42% from 2009, to $6,080.”

“If you measure author’s income from just their books, that fell 21% since 2013, to $3,100.”

“For those authors who were published before 2014, median incomes from all writing-related sources are actually slight up from $6,250 to $8,170.”

For literary writers, median incomes are down by 27%.

Some self-published writers have seen a rise in income, “but they still earn somewhat less than traditionally published authors.”

It would appear there are many reasons for all of this. The general cultural support for literature and reading is far less than it was. There is a negative pressure from digital games and TV. Think how many hours kids are in front of a screen. The population of readers is diminishing. There is the converting school reading to platforms for testing, which pushes kids away from reading. The number of bookstores is declining. There is a huge adverse impact on the book market by Amazon. School book budgets are down. Library budgets are down. The marketing of books by publishers is way down. Indeed, most book marketing is by social media, which in itself discourages reading.

Still, from my experience, most people I meet in a casual way think that I, as a successful writer, must be, quite simply, “rich.”

I wish.

One of the things we don’t learn in the midst of all this is how traditional publishers contribute to the problem. What are their incomes? Talk to people in the writing community and you will quickly learn that advances are way down. Why?

And yet … and yet …

Yet, when I was very much younger than I am now, and trying to become a professional writer, I thought very little about money. I assumed I would have a day job, accepting the notion that “Real writers have day jobs,” or so we joked. Indeed, I worked at day jobs for more than twenty five years—mostly as a librarian. Contrary to: “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money,” I did. As do many others today.

That said, living a life like that is very hard, hard on creativity, hard on life, families, on parenting, and ultimately on writing.

What might be the future of books if these trends continue? Hard to know but it doesn’t look good.

Any thoughts out there?

Slowly, Step by Step

By on 5

turtleI am currently at work on a new novel—doesn’t matter what it is. Though essentially done, it has been sitting on the editor’s desk for a relatively long time, while I wait for final revision notes. I don’t know why it has taken so long, and I suppose it doesn’t matter. The point is the book is in a kind of Limbo.

But not quite. From time to time, to keep my mental connection to the text, I yank the whole manuscript onto my screen. Then I choose a number, any number. It might be my wife’s birthday; say the thirtieth. It might be the page number of the book I had been reading the night before—page 191. I go to that page of my manuscript. The point, is my choice is random.

Then I review that page, and lo and behold, I see changes to make. A better word. A comma in or out. A small cut. Different phrasing. Whatever….

I choose another number, another page.

Now and again I’m appalled by what I discover: something totally out of character; confusing syntax; a plot contradiction.

Other times I’m delighted by what I find: a much better way for the character to express herself. A way to turn a dull line into a funny one.

Why is this happening? Because when I work on the text as a whole, I’m sometimes not seeing the parts.

Do it by bits and parts and I’m not, if you will, rushing along with the flow. I’m focused on every line. A good thing.

Of course, the sum total of small parts makes up the whole, and the book is much better for this kind of attention. That said, having done this before—for the same reasons—I have yet to have an editor come back to me and say, “I noticed that on page 67, line 6, you made a change for the better.” The little alterations become absorbed in the whole. Is the book better for these kinds of changes? Absolutely.

Why don’t I do this for every book?

Most often I don’t have the time. Consider the particular book I mentioned in the beginning here. When that editor does get back to me with notes—I bet it will happen—I’ll be given a short deadline. “Please get this back to me in three weeks.” (Or less!)

So I’m glad for the delay.

But sometimes—for a variety of reasons—a book is rushed from start to finish. It is not necessarily a poorer work, but can well be.

I once wrote a book in such a quick fashion. Everyone worked hard on it. Too hard. Too quickly. Then, when the published book came into my hands, I looked it over. Nice cover. Blurbs read well. Printing format fine. I opened the book and read the first paragraph. That instant, I realized I had left out a line which would have made a big difference to the book.

One line!

But there it was in my hands, the published book.

Today’s moral: Slow can get you to quality faster.

Struggling

By on 5

[Photo credit: Adobe Stock]

I am working on a new book—and I am struggling. Given the fact that I’ve published some eighty books, it may surprise some that I am struggling. Let me suggest why.

  1. Every book is a new book, and the success of one, though presumably it gives confidence to write another, that is not necessarily so. A writer’s confidence is, at best, fragile. A nasty remark on Goodreads can kill a day’s work.
  2. One of the pitfalls of a new book is my contract—if I have one. A contract will specify the total word count—say sixty thousand words. But there on my screen, the PC is counting and it reads “2,465 words.” The psychological tendency, then, is to write more words than I need. That clogs up my writing, and makes it verbose. It feels as if I am writing badly. I am.
  3. I agreed to write such and such a book, with such and such a plot, and I made a good pitch. But a pitch is not a book. There is many a slip between pitch and book.
  4. Reminder: talk as little about my book as possible. It boxes me in. Silence is freedom.
  5. Sometimes as I write, I see a possibility for a shift in the story. But I promised something else. Reminder to self: go with the shift, with what feels right. The one person I should talk to is my editor.
  6. Reminder: Beware the book that is focused on place, rather than characters. Travel books are about places. Fiction is about characters.
  7. Reminder: Professional writers get paid for their work, and I depend on that income to live. Get it done! reverberates in my head. The rent is due. That creates another kind of pressure, one that may be real but that doesn’t help my writing.
  8. Reminder: Good writing is re-writing, endless re-writing. Patience is a key component of writing.
  9. Reminder: Never deny your deepest instincts about your own work.
  10. Reminder: Read good writing by others. Other writers will show the way.
  11. Reminder: Slowly (if not surely) it will get done.

Goodbye Christopher Robin

By on 4

Goodbye Christopher Robin

I recently watched (on TV) Goodbye Christopher Robin, which tells the life story of the boy so key to Winnie-the-Pooh, by A.A. Milne. According to the movie, Pooh is the “most loved children’s book of all time.”

The depicted story of the boy’s life is a painful one. A.A. Milne, (Christopher’s father) played by Domhnall Gleeso, was a veteran of World War One, and suffered from PTSD syndrome, which caused him—a very successful West End playwright—to suffer debilitating war-induced flashbacks—to have a repressed emotional life—and a hard time being an engaged father.

Christopher’s mother (played by Margot Robbie) is depicted as selfish, exploitative of her son’s fame, and a snobbish upper-class lady.

The most consistent love in Christopher’s life comes from his Irish nanny (played by Kelly Macdonald)—who is dismissed when she objects to the way Christopher is mistreated.

The very young Christopher Robin is played, charmingly, by Will Tilston.

The movie suggests that the Pooh stories came to life when Christopher and his father enjoy a rare time alone together in rural England. Mother has left for London to enjoy the high life, while the nanny has gone away to take care of her dying mother. In other words, get rid of the women, and creativity happens.

But the essential story revealed here is the deep resentment Christopher felt as to how he was exploited, and cheated of parental love. As depicted, he spent much of his young adult life trying to get away from his literary persona.

What does the film tell us about Winnie-the-Pooh? Very little except to suggest how some of the book’s charming points came from some of the rare moments when father and son enjoyed time together.

a scene from Goodbye Christopher Robin

Scene from Goodbye Christopher Robin [Fox Searchlight]

What does the film tell us about children’s literature, or the writing life? Nothing.

What does the film tell us about early 20th Century British parenting? That it was pretty pathetic.

At the end of the movie we are told (via subtitles) that Christopher refused to take a penny of the massive money engendered by Pooh, that he always remained in contact with his former nanny, and that he created and ran a bookstore.

I liked that part.

But it also suggests that a book—however dependent on the realities of an author’s life—that life has little to do with how readers enjoy it. It is fascinating to think how little a writer has to do with the published book once it is the hands of readers.

Indeed, when it comes to books, it’s the readers who matter most.

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