Wordcraft blog by Avi

Story Behind the Story #64:
The Most Important Thing

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Though writing short stories is nothing I do on a regular basis, I read them, and occasionally write them. More often than not I have written them at the behest of editors asking for a story for a themed anthology, such as “Loss,” or “Guns,” “School Life,” or even the beginning of a new millennial, as say, the year 2000.

What Do Fish Have to Do With Anything?In 1997, a collection of my stories was put together under the collective title, What Do Fish Have to do with Anything? It was published by Candlewick.

Over time, that book proved sufficiently successful that the publisher asked if I would like to put together another such volume.

I gathered up a collection of previously published stories and put them together. (One of the stories had been written for an anthology but never published.)

The Candlewick editor thought four of these stories suggested a theme—father/son relationships—and suggested these might be the topic of a new collection. But, I would need to write three new ones. That I did.

When I write my novels, the characters, the plots, and the settings are almost wholly creations of my imagination. By contrast, when I write short stories they tend to come out of my own experiences or experiences I have observed close at hand.

The Most Important ThingThus, one of the stories in The Most Important Thing is based, for the most part, on something that really happened to me. See if you can determine which one.

Writing short stories—for me—is both challenging and fascinating. Write a novel, and one needs to illuminate—as if with barn fire—whole aspects of life. My thinking about short stories is that one uses a (metaphoric) flashlight to illuminate one aspect of life. A novel must (at its best) reveal the whole. A short story suggests the whole. Or, as someone said, (I don’t recall who) “A short story is a photograph; a novel is a film.”

A quick snapshot of how current readers receive a book may be had by comparing the professional reviews (Booklist, SLJ, Kirkus, etc.) of this short story collection with the reviews of the same book on say, Goodreads. Whereas the professional reviews were upbeat—among the best reviews I have ever had—the private reviews tended to be downbeat, with a clearly stated desire that they wished these stories could have been uplifting, positive, putting father/son relationships in a cheerful context. While the private reviews were dismissive of the stories’ connections to reality, the professional reviews applauded that connection. Curious.

But, then, one of the curious things about short stories is that they can lead to long discussions.

The good, the bad, and the disappointing

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Toby from Roseburg, OR, writes: “I guess you feel good when one of your books gets a good review. How does it feel when (if) you get a bad review?

I do know writers who say they never read any reviews. I am not one of those people.

ReviewsIt is always a pleasing experience when you get a positive review. It’s truly gratifying, because I’ve worked long and hard. It’s nice to know that someone thinks I’ve done okay. Reviews of children’s book are often quite short, and a plot summary can take up many of the words. Thus, when I get a good review, it is meaningful. That said, I admit, I too often jump to how my publisher looks at them: is there a quotable phrase? Such phrases are a key aspect of marketing.

After all, one wants readers to read your book. Good reviews do a lot of good.

Negative reviews are a whole different kind of experience. I would suggest my first response is disappointment. During the whole publishing process one hears positive remarks, hopes, and high expectations from your publisher. Negative reviews can douse all that quickly.

There is also a difference in the kind of reviews. How they are written. That is to say there are professional reviews (from Booklist, SLJ, Kirkus Reviews, Publishers Weekly, and newspapers, etc.) These, even when negative, tend to be well written, and measured. You understand what the reviewer is saying, and thinking. There have been moments I may even agree with it. “Wish I had seen that.”

However, in these days of the internet, reviewing skills are all over the proverbial map. They may be quite professional, or they can be highly personal and subjective about the writer, even dismissive. Such reviews are painful to experience, and one wonders (or at least I do) why they are written at all.

Then, of course, with a given book, one can get negative reviews and positive ones. That can be a puzzle.

Beyond all else, if you are a professional writer reviews are part of your professional life. When reviews are well written and thought out—there are real skills involved—one can learn from both positive and negative reviews.

That’s the hope, anyway.

Writing less

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delete keyIf you are a writer there are many reasons to love the computer. It does make writing easier. But it also makes books bigger, as in more words and more pages. Books are longer these days, despite the fact that it is just as simple to remove text as to add it. Easier, actually. But psychologically, I think one tends to add rather than subtract. That, I think, is a pity. Famously, Shakespeare, in Hamlet, has Polonius, Ophelia’s long-winded father, say:

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. . . .

[See my December 13, 2013 post for Samuel Johnson’s thoughts on prolixity.]

One of the most important on-going writing lessons I ever had was, curiously, writing book reviews for the School Library Journal many, many years ago. I was a young writer then (still writing plays) and was more than happy to write long, two-page reviews of books. However, SLJ only wanted short reviews, at most a paragraph. Out of necessity, I would take those long reviews and then try to use fewer words to say the same thing.

The point is, I could.

To this day I write on, and on, and then work backward, and cut, and cut, and cut. Famously, “Less is always more.” As my writer friend, Rachel Vail once said to me, “The most important key on my keyboard is the delete key.”

Slogan of the day: You can always write better by writing less.

Dangling participle in the first paragraph

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fimgersYears ago, I was reading aloud a piece I had newly written to a willing listener, wanting to both hear it myself, and to get some kind of objective reaction. After reading for about half an hour, I stopped. “Well,” I asked, “What do you think?”

The first thing the person said was, “There’s a dangling participle in the first paragraph.”

Keep in mind I had been reading for half an hour, which meant that my listener was so focused on that dangling participle (in the first paragraph!) that very little of what else I read could have made any impression. Now I have very little doubt there was that grammatical error in that first paragraph, but as a critical response, it made me not to want to hear any more of this person’s reactions.

Criticism is always hard to take. It also must be said that criticism is also hard to give. To lead off with negation—no matter how justified—is to invite a defensive response. While it can be described as a cliché, if you cannot find something to say that is positive, you might as well say nothing at all.

It is not often referenced, but when there is writing, there is always criticism of that writing. It may come from your best friend, your writing group, your editor, these days a blog, or online critical forum, or from some professional journalistic response. My point is that criticism is always part of the writing process. Even if you claim to pay no attention to it—and I have heard some writers say that—it has impact.

These days—particularly with mostly anonymous internet—criticism can often be harsh, and even abusive, revealing more about the critic than the work being critiqued. That said, unless you get a critical response (positive or negative, or a mix thereof) you cannot learn from what you have done.

Criticism is one of the more painful aspects of writing, but in the end, it is critical.

The ARCs are In

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Catch You Later, TraitorAdvanced Reader Copy—or ARCs—as the publishing world calls them, are not so designated because they are for people whose reading skills are considered high (i.e., advanced) but for people the publisher wishes to read a new book in advance of publication. This is to promote interest among those who can generate interest, or buzz. They are also meant to be review copies, so that reviews of the book appear in vital publications (Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus Reviews, Publishers Weekly, etc.) around the time the book is actually published, and available. Early responses to ARCs can also suggest to the publisher how the book will be received, so they can change marketing and printing plans. Given the world we live in, it should come as no surprise that these days ARCs are—for eligible folk—available on the internet.

Receiving an ARC of one of my own books brings mixed emotions. It is a pleasure to finally see the book you have written as a real book, looking and feeling like a book, even (most often, but not always) with the cover in place. That said, when the ARCs are created there is often a certain amount of rewriting and proofreading still taking place. Granted, not much, and surely, nothing fundamental. However, it has always bothered me that those who read an ARC are not truly reading the finished book—for better or worse. [I once had a review of a book which referenced something that was in the ARC but had been edited out of the published book.]

Now I just received ARCs of my forthcoming book, Catch You Later, Traitor [Algonquin], which will be published March 10, 2015. So, here’s the deal: We’ll choose ten readers of this blog who enter and request a copy an ARC of the book. Two catches. Know you won’t be reading a truly finished copy. Secondly, you’ll need to drop me a line as to your response to the book. That’s the burden of being an advanced reader.

If you’d like to be considered to receive one of 10 signed Advanced Reader Copies of Catch You Later, Traitor, please fill out the information below. If you are younger than age 13, please have an adult fill out the form for you. Your requests have been received. The giveaway is now closed. We’ll draw 10 names at random and notify the winners by September 20th.

The craft of criticism

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critiqueEmily, from West Newbury, Mass, writes:  “I was wondering how you feel about negative criticism.”

It is hard not to feel bad when you get negative criticism. I think the hardest part is when you have an inkling that the critic might be right. However, well-written, thoughtful criticism can also help you write better. You must try not to be defensive. You must try not to take it personally. There is a skill in writing good criticism. If you as a writer wish to be respected, you must respect the craft of criticism. More often than not, the criticism is not aimed at the writer, but at a possible reader.

The hardest criticism to deal with is when the critic goes after you in personal terms. I can recall a reviewer commenting (negatively) about my photograph on the back of a book. Once, someone published an article about me that was titled, “Reviewing Avi.” Another reviewer wrote, commenting upon a statement I made—in a preface—about the writing of the book, “I don’t believe him.”

These days the most difficult criticism to accept comes from casual, dismissive critics who write in blogs. Not every book is good. Far from it. Not every writer writes well. Far from it.

Nevertheless, virtually all writers, I do believe, work hard at what they do. They deserve, I think, some measure of respect. Sometimes, such critics think the writer has no feelings worth respecting.

All that said, if you are a writer, and you make your work available to the public, you have to accept the fact that there is going to be criticism. I hope that it will be positive. Just know there is insightful, useful, and well-written criticism as well as that which is not—and learn how to tell the difference.

Huh?

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thinker“This is one of those times where what I thought this book was going to be about would have been a better book than what it is actually about.”

This is the opening sentence of an online blog review of a recent book. It encapsulates what is so often wrong about the world of blog reviewing. The reviewer presumes that what he/she thought about an unwritten book would have been better than the book he/she actually read. But, of course, the book the reviewer thought about does not exist. The reviewer is not saying, “I wrote a book about the same subject, and mine is better.” The reviewer is contrasting a non-existent book with a real book, and not only finds the real book wanting, finds his/her thoughts to be a better book. One often hears the expression, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” But this is not opinion; it is self-indulgent vanity.  

Waiting for the reviews

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Sophia's WarThis has become an important part of the business in recent years as starred reviews drive book-buying decisions. Sophia’s War has received two starred reviews:

“Few historical novels are as closely shaped by actual events as this one during the last 100 pages. Working within the bounds of credibility, Avi manages to keep the fictional narrator on the scene for a good deal of the action and uses real moments to bring the imagined story to its dramatic heights.” —Booklist, starred review. Read more of this review …

“Newbery Medalist Avi (Crispin: The Cross of Lead) channels the mood, language, and danger of the Revolutionary War in this seamless blend of history and fiction, set in British-occupied New York City.” — Publishers Weekly, starred review  Read more of this review …

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