Richard S. Wheeler's Blog
October 15, 2016
In Twilight
Unlike other opinion sites, where exchange of ideas is part of my collegiality with writers, readers, and friends, this Goodreads site is wrapped in spooky silence. For a long time, viewers of this column have monitored what I write but say nothing. So, adios. Twenty or thirty anonymous monitors aren't exactly rewarding.
October 13, 2016
A Few Questions
I've spent a literary lifetime trying to figure out what comprises literary fiction and what defines popular fiction. The definitions shift constantly, and seem to rise from whatever academics and critics believe to be the case. My confusion only deepens when I see titles that seem to contradict the classifications.
The cynical answer is that literary fiction consists of those novels published by eight or ten old-line distinguished New York publishers, and all the rest is popular fiction. Another cynical answer is that novelists who earn royalties and make a living produce popular fiction, while those who are supported by other income, especially from universities, write literary fiction.
My notions are reinforced by the sight of the Pulitzers and National Book Awards for fiction routinely going to several familiar publishers not just year after year but decade after decade.
The whole pigeonholing enterprise seems ossified and timid, and I think it will vanish eventually. Some author of alleged popular fiction will write a grand novel that will sweep the literary awards, and then, with luck, a few thousand hidebound literary critics and academics will retire.
Meanwhile, please help me by defining the essences of literary and popular fiction for me. I'm eager to learn.
The cynical answer is that literary fiction consists of those novels published by eight or ten old-line distinguished New York publishers, and all the rest is popular fiction. Another cynical answer is that novelists who earn royalties and make a living produce popular fiction, while those who are supported by other income, especially from universities, write literary fiction.
My notions are reinforced by the sight of the Pulitzers and National Book Awards for fiction routinely going to several familiar publishers not just year after year but decade after decade.
The whole pigeonholing enterprise seems ossified and timid, and I think it will vanish eventually. Some author of alleged popular fiction will write a grand novel that will sweep the literary awards, and then, with luck, a few thousand hidebound literary critics and academics will retire.
Meanwhile, please help me by defining the essences of literary and popular fiction for me. I'm eager to learn.
September 27, 2016
How Writing Changed Me
I posted this on my Facebook page:
A lifetime writing novels has shaped my understanding of who I am. When I talk to my genre-fiction colleagues, we don't quote the sublime metaphor or the perfect sentence; we talk about hooking the reader and keeping him hooked. We talk about royalty checks. I grew up in a bourgeois family but ended up writing blue-collar books.
It's been a dozen years or so since I've seen a title of mine in any Barnes and Noble. Long ago I walked into a Scribner bookstore and asked to see the western section. The lady raised an eyebrow and frostily told me that Scribner stores don't handle westerns. But I see my titles all the time in supermarkets and WalMarts.
I was sent out on many long tours, but only rarely did I sign books in a bookstore. I would show up at magazine distributors at six in the morning to share a doughnut with the truck drivers, and sign some paperbacks. (Their loyalty was crucial because pocketbooks stuffed in the racks at toe level don't sell as well as ones at eye level.)
I deplore violence and high body-count westerns, but one of my secondary publishers always changed my titles into something that included "blood," or "massacre" or "slaughter." The covers depicted guys flaunting revolvers and rifles even if none existed in the stories. To my mind resolving a plot conflict with a bullet is dull. Even duller is a story full of corpses, all unnamed, their character undeveloped (so no one need care about them when they croak), and whose only purpose is to raise the body-count. If I wrote a story about Shirley Temple, they'd put her in a cowboy hat, put a tuft of black beard on her chin, and give her a pair of six-guns with smoke belching from both.
All of this influenced my perception of myself. I gave up notions about writing great literature, and became what I now am: an able storyteller who has enjoyed a rewarding life that was completely unexpected and didn't rise from any of my youthful yearnings.
A lifetime writing novels has shaped my understanding of who I am. When I talk to my genre-fiction colleagues, we don't quote the sublime metaphor or the perfect sentence; we talk about hooking the reader and keeping him hooked. We talk about royalty checks. I grew up in a bourgeois family but ended up writing blue-collar books.
It's been a dozen years or so since I've seen a title of mine in any Barnes and Noble. Long ago I walked into a Scribner bookstore and asked to see the western section. The lady raised an eyebrow and frostily told me that Scribner stores don't handle westerns. But I see my titles all the time in supermarkets and WalMarts.
I was sent out on many long tours, but only rarely did I sign books in a bookstore. I would show up at magazine distributors at six in the morning to share a doughnut with the truck drivers, and sign some paperbacks. (Their loyalty was crucial because pocketbooks stuffed in the racks at toe level don't sell as well as ones at eye level.)
I deplore violence and high body-count westerns, but one of my secondary publishers always changed my titles into something that included "blood," or "massacre" or "slaughter." The covers depicted guys flaunting revolvers and rifles even if none existed in the stories. To my mind resolving a plot conflict with a bullet is dull. Even duller is a story full of corpses, all unnamed, their character undeveloped (so no one need care about them when they croak), and whose only purpose is to raise the body-count. If I wrote a story about Shirley Temple, they'd put her in a cowboy hat, put a tuft of black beard on her chin, and give her a pair of six-guns with smoke belching from both.
All of this influenced my perception of myself. I gave up notions about writing great literature, and became what I now am: an able storyteller who has enjoyed a rewarding life that was completely unexpected and didn't rise from any of my youthful yearnings.
September 13, 2016
Golden Age of Vanity Publishing
In bygone times vanity publishers offered to produce hardcover editions of an author's work at considerable cost. These firms had lofty names that echoed the names of storied legitimate publishers. But their work was second rate. The material was poorly edited, barely copyedited, poorly proofed, and miserably packaged. The books usually ended up unsold in someone's bedroom closet.
Today, digital technologies have resulted in an onslaught of amateur publishing, much of it done by small companies that are as devoid of skills as the older vanity presses. They are nothing more than fly-by-night deals that have gotten an ISBN number and sell their "services" to dreaming writers who ache to see their stuff in print.
They lack the expertise of real publishers. They don't evaluate stories for quality or marketability. Authors don't work with editors for months on end, revising stories, cutting slow spots, enabling readers to grasp events, etc. Their copyediting is minimal. They don't know the difference between it's and its. They make egregious errors. Spelling errors, punctuation troubles, typesetting problems, design and format problems, and flap-copy weaknesses abound.
It is called independent publishing, but that is simply a euphemism for vanity publishing. Few of the books turn out well, and even fewer earn money. Independent publishing is simply a harbor for people who shouldn't be publishing because they do not have the talent or training to write successfully.
If you would like some assurance that you are buying a book worth reading, stick to traditional publishers. They are more likely to select good stories, vet and edit the material, and package the books elegantly.
Today, digital technologies have resulted in an onslaught of amateur publishing, much of it done by small companies that are as devoid of skills as the older vanity presses. They are nothing more than fly-by-night deals that have gotten an ISBN number and sell their "services" to dreaming writers who ache to see their stuff in print.
They lack the expertise of real publishers. They don't evaluate stories for quality or marketability. Authors don't work with editors for months on end, revising stories, cutting slow spots, enabling readers to grasp events, etc. Their copyediting is minimal. They don't know the difference between it's and its. They make egregious errors. Spelling errors, punctuation troubles, typesetting problems, design and format problems, and flap-copy weaknesses abound.
It is called independent publishing, but that is simply a euphemism for vanity publishing. Few of the books turn out well, and even fewer earn money. Independent publishing is simply a harbor for people who shouldn't be publishing because they do not have the talent or training to write successfully.
If you would like some assurance that you are buying a book worth reading, stick to traditional publishers. They are more likely to select good stories, vet and edit the material, and package the books elegantly.
September 9, 2016
A Fatal Failure
I'm reading a novel that in many ways is superb, but it has a fatal weakness. Its hero speaks in a vernacular that is so thick it is impossible to follow. It forces the reader to pause, translate the phonetic misspellings, and try to make sense of them. The result is that it continually yanks the reader out of the story, pulls him back into the world of book and print, and demolishes the thread of the storyline.
I have seen that from time to time over the years. Storytelling is an art, and requires a restraint that keeps the reader glued to the story. Years ago, when Terry Johnston first published his fur trade novels, he wrestled with the same problem. A critic gently pointed out to him that when it comes to vernacular, less is more. You can create an entire way of speaking by hinting at it rather than replicating it in every spoken word, which drives readers nuts.
Terry was a gifted, superb storyteller, and eventually did modify some of that oddball dialogue and exchanges that were difficult for modern readers to follow, and swiftly rose to the top of the publishing world with one best-seller after another.
The novel I am now reading, by another author, needs some serious restraint, not only in the use of vernacular, but also in its burlesquing of characters. It renders them so absurd and improbable that they trigger a retreat in readers who would love to be carried along by the story.
I have seen that from time to time over the years. Storytelling is an art, and requires a restraint that keeps the reader glued to the story. Years ago, when Terry Johnston first published his fur trade novels, he wrestled with the same problem. A critic gently pointed out to him that when it comes to vernacular, less is more. You can create an entire way of speaking by hinting at it rather than replicating it in every spoken word, which drives readers nuts.
Terry was a gifted, superb storyteller, and eventually did modify some of that oddball dialogue and exchanges that were difficult for modern readers to follow, and swiftly rose to the top of the publishing world with one best-seller after another.
The novel I am now reading, by another author, needs some serious restraint, not only in the use of vernacular, but also in its burlesquing of characters. It renders them so absurd and improbable that they trigger a retreat in readers who would love to be carried along by the story.
September 6, 2016
In Print At Last
I purchased four copies of my new novel, Brass in the Desert, from Center Point. They are good-looking large-print novels, largely intended for library distribution. As is true of most large-print titles, these are expensive, about $34, and have both paper jackets and library bindings (the cover boards carry the same art and design as the jackets).
I took a look at Amazon's page for the title, and it still seems odd. It says that the book takes one to two months to ship. The descriptive copy is not yet repaired and is embarrassing. This, surely, is the oddest publishing experience in my long career.
It's probably wishful thinking, but I sense the book will do well. I can't explain that. It's a poignant story about some misfits in the Nevada wilderness, scraping a little gold ore out of remote canyons. They all are deadly enemies--except when they need each other desperately. I am dreaming of a review that says it is one of my better books, but at that price, the odds of that are slim.
I took a look at Amazon's page for the title, and it still seems odd. It says that the book takes one to two months to ship. The descriptive copy is not yet repaired and is embarrassing. This, surely, is the oddest publishing experience in my long career.
It's probably wishful thinking, but I sense the book will do well. I can't explain that. It's a poignant story about some misfits in the Nevada wilderness, scraping a little gold ore out of remote canyons. They all are deadly enemies--except when they need each other desperately. I am dreaming of a review that says it is one of my better books, but at that price, the odds of that are slim.
Character As Fate
My recent novels are built around character. Over a long life I've discovered that character is fate. We build our character through our daily choices, and that is what usually governs how we succeed or fail in various aspects of our daily life. Character is the most important quality in our actual lives.
And yet, the novels that deal with the character of my protagonists are my least successful, at least judging from my reader ratings here and at Amazon and elsewhere. Readers are not interested in it, and prefer stories in which other forces, from sinister corporations to terrible diseases, govern the outcomes of the novels. I see it in my ratings: my earlier stories, which relied less on the complex character of my heroes and heroines, do better than those which depict private character as the deciding element in the resolution of the story.
So I have drifted from the temper of these times. That is an old man's privilege. I grew up with the idea that character, self-government, is the main tool of happiness and success. But that is no longer anything that interests coddled generations. And my success as an author declines accordingly.
And yet, the novels that deal with the character of my protagonists are my least successful, at least judging from my reader ratings here and at Amazon and elsewhere. Readers are not interested in it, and prefer stories in which other forces, from sinister corporations to terrible diseases, govern the outcomes of the novels. I see it in my ratings: my earlier stories, which relied less on the complex character of my heroes and heroines, do better than those which depict private character as the deciding element in the resolution of the story.
So I have drifted from the temper of these times. That is an old man's privilege. I grew up with the idea that character, self-government, is the main tool of happiness and success. But that is no longer anything that interests coddled generations. And my success as an author declines accordingly.
August 30, 2016
Time and Again
I just finished Jack Finney's great 1971 novel, Time and Again. It is powerful, real, and tender. It is my first experience with time travel fiction. Apart from a little too much description, it ranks among the best American novels I've enjoyed.
Its richness reminded me of how constricted western fiction is, and why I chose to escape it after growing weary of the stylized ritual stories. Westerns did give me a living for a while, but I moved on, writing historical fiction, not all that different from time travel fiction, and that was where I found my literary home.
Its richness reminded me of how constricted western fiction is, and why I chose to escape it after growing weary of the stylized ritual stories. Westerns did give me a living for a while, but I moved on, writing historical fiction, not all that different from time travel fiction, and that was where I found my literary home.
August 25, 2016
Summing Up
Two years ago, at three in the morning, my stepchildren summoned me to the bedside of my wife, Sue Hart, who had slipped away moments before. I held her hand, thanked her, and told her how much I loved her. Lewy Body Dementia had claimed her.
Today I will visit her grave. We share the headstone and the plot. She was an English professor specializing in Montana literature. She was a legendary figure. Her death was the lead front page story in the Billings Gazette.
She believed, unlike most of her colleagues, in the value of a wide spectrum of literature, including popular fiction. She included aspiring writers in her courses. It didn't matter to her whether a work had been self-published. What counted was the value and merit of the material.
She introduced her students to new authors, such as Diane Smith, who had written two beautiful novels set in this area, published by Viking. She believed that popular fiction could add richly to the depth and beauty of Montana literature. In the process, she helped numerous novelists launch their careers. One of these was Craig Lancaster. She welcomed Wyoming's Craig Johnson, who writes the Longmire series, into her life and her teaching.
We traveled to book conventions where she was always a popular panelist. She was honored with a Governor's Award in the Humanities, and honored by Montana's historical society and was named professor emeritus just before she died.
And honored by me. We didn't have the few years of retirement together we had counted on. But we hold hands.
Today I will visit her grave. We share the headstone and the plot. She was an English professor specializing in Montana literature. She was a legendary figure. Her death was the lead front page story in the Billings Gazette.
She believed, unlike most of her colleagues, in the value of a wide spectrum of literature, including popular fiction. She included aspiring writers in her courses. It didn't matter to her whether a work had been self-published. What counted was the value and merit of the material.
She introduced her students to new authors, such as Diane Smith, who had written two beautiful novels set in this area, published by Viking. She believed that popular fiction could add richly to the depth and beauty of Montana literature. In the process, she helped numerous novelists launch their careers. One of these was Craig Lancaster. She welcomed Wyoming's Craig Johnson, who writes the Longmire series, into her life and her teaching.
We traveled to book conventions where she was always a popular panelist. She was honored with a Governor's Award in the Humanities, and honored by Montana's historical society and was named professor emeritus just before she died.
And honored by me. We didn't have the few years of retirement together we had counted on. But we hold hands.
August 24, 2016
Half Way
Amazon has partially corrected its sales page for Brass in the Desert. There is now an image, and some of the text has been revamped, although a word is missing (went town) or wrong (bit or gold). and the punctuation needs work.
The page is a pastiche of disconnected pieces.
Still, it's progress and I am grateful to Amazon for making the effort. Maybe they want to sell the book.
The page is a pastiche of disconnected pieces.
Still, it's progress and I am grateful to Amazon for making the effort. Maybe they want to sell the book.
