Richard S. Wheeler's Blog, page 18
November 27, 2013
Writing Programs
I was commiserating last eve with a friend whose writing income has declined radically, even though he is probably the top writer in his nonfiction field, and as he noted, had several years when he was earning more than the president.
But times have changed. Markets for writing have dried up. Magazines have shrunk, along with their advertising. Books make best-seller lists selling far fewer copies than what was ordinary a few years ago.
I make money writing popular fiction, mostly historical novels but also westerns and mysteries. But my income's declined too. At least I still get contracts.
I put my friend onto a fascinating website, the home page of the Association of Writers and Writing Programs, the umbrella organization of academic creative writing programs, most of which lead to a MFA in creative writing. They are lucrative, so most every college and university offers such courses. The website lists some 800. And you can weed out the ones you don't want, and focus on ones that serve your purposes.
Almost none of them offer courses in popular or genre fiction, which is deemed unfit for university-level instruction. But popular fiction is where the money is, and those 6000 students who graduate each year with MFAs in creative writing are fit only to teach the next generation of wannabes.
There are probably more MFA creative writing grads pouring into the marketplace each year than there are professional writers making a living.
But times have changed. Markets for writing have dried up. Magazines have shrunk, along with their advertising. Books make best-seller lists selling far fewer copies than what was ordinary a few years ago.
I make money writing popular fiction, mostly historical novels but also westerns and mysteries. But my income's declined too. At least I still get contracts.
I put my friend onto a fascinating website, the home page of the Association of Writers and Writing Programs, the umbrella organization of academic creative writing programs, most of which lead to a MFA in creative writing. They are lucrative, so most every college and university offers such courses. The website lists some 800. And you can weed out the ones you don't want, and focus on ones that serve your purposes.
Almost none of them offer courses in popular or genre fiction, which is deemed unfit for university-level instruction. But popular fiction is where the money is, and those 6000 students who graduate each year with MFAs in creative writing are fit only to teach the next generation of wannabes.
There are probably more MFA creative writing grads pouring into the marketplace each year than there are professional writers making a living.
November 21, 2013
My Worst Literary Mistake
Here is my worst mistake, and I challenge any male author to top this.
In the 80s I was a lonely bachelor, divorced, living in the country, getting my career under way. I knew several romance writers, and it dawned on me that the way to find romance was to go to the Romance Writers of America convention in Seattle, and find romance among the romantics.
So I did. And I didn't find romance. What I found was a lot of ladies in horn rim glasses, muumuus, and sandals that bared red painted toenails, looking for ways to get rich and famous by hook or crook, all of them busy assaulting editors and publishers and agents. I once was briefly mistaken for an editor, and was getting somewhere with the romance writer when she discovered I wasn't an editor at all, and she abandoned me instantly, her face brimming with horror.
I ended up hiding in the hotel bar with half a dozen gents who had been dragged into the fracas.
In the 80s I was a lonely bachelor, divorced, living in the country, getting my career under way. I knew several romance writers, and it dawned on me that the way to find romance was to go to the Romance Writers of America convention in Seattle, and find romance among the romantics.
So I did. And I didn't find romance. What I found was a lot of ladies in horn rim glasses, muumuus, and sandals that bared red painted toenails, looking for ways to get rich and famous by hook or crook, all of them busy assaulting editors and publishers and agents. I once was briefly mistaken for an editor, and was getting somewhere with the romance writer when she discovered I wasn't an editor at all, and she abandoned me instantly, her face brimming with horror.
I ended up hiding in the hotel bar with half a dozen gents who had been dragged into the fracas.
October 26, 2013
October 24, 2013
Sierrra Revisited
My 1996 historical novel, Sierra: A Novel of the California Gold Rush, was reviewed at length by Ron Scheer recently. He is a retired academic who runs the finest blog devoted to the literature of the West that I have come across.
Here is his fine and discerning review of perhaps my best novel:
http://buddiesinthesaddle.blogspot.co...
Here is his fine and discerning review of perhaps my best novel:
http://buddiesinthesaddle.blogspot.co...
October 20, 2013
A Certified, Bottled in Bond Writer
The Association of Writers and Writing Programs lists over 800 undergraduate and graduate courses in writing. Most lead to an MFA in Creative Writing. Universities have expanded the field because it is lucrative. I read somewhere that each year these sausage factories turn out about six thousand graduates with a master's degree in creative writing.
Holy cats, that's a lot of novelists and short story writers, all armed with the imprimatur of advanced achievement. Because an MFA is usually the terminal degree in creative writing, the top tier is pretty crowded. Think of those programs as burping out six thousand Hemingways a year. I imagine that an occasional talent materializes, but the rest are best fit to teach the next generation of students who want an MFA degree in creative writing.
Historically, a lot of fine novelists have had some college behind them, but very few went for a graduate degree in creative writing. Most of them were out in the world, absorbing life, learning its lessons.
It's entirely possible that those six thousand will eventually win critical acclaim, transform American literature, and win literary awards. But not very likely.
Holy cats, that's a lot of novelists and short story writers, all armed with the imprimatur of advanced achievement. Because an MFA is usually the terminal degree in creative writing, the top tier is pretty crowded. Think of those programs as burping out six thousand Hemingways a year. I imagine that an occasional talent materializes, but the rest are best fit to teach the next generation of students who want an MFA degree in creative writing.
Historically, a lot of fine novelists have had some college behind them, but very few went for a graduate degree in creative writing. Most of them were out in the world, absorbing life, learning its lessons.
It's entirely possible that those six thousand will eventually win critical acclaim, transform American literature, and win literary awards. But not very likely.
October 17, 2013
Narrowing the Field
A look at the National Book Awards finalists confirms that tastes continue to narrow in these times. Only a handful of publishers have books that are finalists for both the Pulitzers and the National Book Awards. Viking, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Knopf, HarperCollins, Scribners, and sometimes Simon and Schuster or Random, and their subsidiaries, continue to dominate the award fields, as they have for many years.
The sort of novels that win are easily identified. They are short on story, and long on depicting relationships. The probability of a tense and powerful story winning a Pulitzer or National Book Award is about zero. A lengthy, flaccid story about dysfunctional relationships is far more likely to collect the honors.
I have no clear idea why this is largely the case. The sort of dramatic novel that used to win these top awards, such as Lonesome Dove, or The Caine Mutiny, or Advise and Consent, doesn't have a chance now. Critics and judges simply dismiss fiction that tells a powerful story, reaches a climax and memorable conclusion. I ascribe it largely to the domination of academic criticism and post-graduate creative writing orthodoxy, which has now invaded and altered commercial publishing, and rules the roost when it comes to handing out awards.
But there's a joker in this deck. The best American literature these days is not "literary," but can better be found in the genres. Which is why the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award are less and less relevant.
The sort of novels that win are easily identified. They are short on story, and long on depicting relationships. The probability of a tense and powerful story winning a Pulitzer or National Book Award is about zero. A lengthy, flaccid story about dysfunctional relationships is far more likely to collect the honors.
I have no clear idea why this is largely the case. The sort of dramatic novel that used to win these top awards, such as Lonesome Dove, or The Caine Mutiny, or Advise and Consent, doesn't have a chance now. Critics and judges simply dismiss fiction that tells a powerful story, reaches a climax and memorable conclusion. I ascribe it largely to the domination of academic criticism and post-graduate creative writing orthodoxy, which has now invaded and altered commercial publishing, and rules the roost when it comes to handing out awards.
But there's a joker in this deck. The best American literature these days is not "literary," but can better be found in the genres. Which is why the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award are less and less relevant.
October 9, 2013
Heresy
From the 1970s, when I began writing fiction, I was taught that fiction should be "shown" instead of told. There should be live scenes linked by narrative. Dramatizing events and relationships was the way to give a novel immediacy, and the way to make a novel more like a film, in which there is almost no narrative. This approach has been the axiom of modern fiction.
But I've been growing restless with that. A lot of live scenes are nothing but endless conversation that brings a story to a halt. A lot of live scenes are boring. And slow.
A narrative can move a story right along, and do it with nuance and force. Most early novels were "told," often with a narrator, rather than shown. Try reading Somerset Maugham or Joseph Conrad and you will see how powerful a "told" story can be. What's more, the narrator can also be observer, adding insight into characters' conduct and motives that is usually missing in modern fiction.
Henceforth, I will be telling my stories, and using live scenes much less.
But I've been growing restless with that. A lot of live scenes are nothing but endless conversation that brings a story to a halt. A lot of live scenes are boring. And slow.
A narrative can move a story right along, and do it with nuance and force. Most early novels were "told," often with a narrator, rather than shown. Try reading Somerset Maugham or Joseph Conrad and you will see how powerful a "told" story can be. What's more, the narrator can also be observer, adding insight into characters' conduct and motives that is usually missing in modern fiction.
Henceforth, I will be telling my stories, and using live scenes much less.
October 7, 2013
The Clark book
I've finished Bill Dedman's fine study of Huguette Clark, Empty Mansions, which describes the life of the heiress whose two wills have stirred a lawsuit recently.
I became interested in the Clark family when I was researching my Butte novel. Her father, William Andrews Clark, was a copper king and one of the wealthiest men of his period. His pretentious home in Butte is open to the public, and I have been through it. Its current owners have not been able to furnish it in the manner that Clark did, but one can still get a sense of that Victorian extravagance that animated wealthy people then.
Clark became a Montana senator after buying the state legislature, and proved to be the worst senator in Montana history, rarely even showing up in the Senate. He merely wanted the title. On the other hand he was brilliant in business, and actually charitable in some respects, giving Butte its lovely Columbia Gardens.
The biography of Clark and his daughter is superbly done. Clark was born in 1839, two decades before the Civil War. His daughter Huguette died at 104 two years ago. The biography covers the whole period, but mostly focuses on her recent life secluded in a hospital room. It is absorbing reading.
I became interested in the Clark family when I was researching my Butte novel. Her father, William Andrews Clark, was a copper king and one of the wealthiest men of his period. His pretentious home in Butte is open to the public, and I have been through it. Its current owners have not been able to furnish it in the manner that Clark did, but one can still get a sense of that Victorian extravagance that animated wealthy people then.
Clark became a Montana senator after buying the state legislature, and proved to be the worst senator in Montana history, rarely even showing up in the Senate. He merely wanted the title. On the other hand he was brilliant in business, and actually charitable in some respects, giving Butte its lovely Columbia Gardens.
The biography of Clark and his daughter is superbly done. Clark was born in 1839, two decades before the Civil War. His daughter Huguette died at 104 two years ago. The biography covers the whole period, but mostly focuses on her recent life secluded in a hospital room. It is absorbing reading.
August 30, 2013
Lonesome Dove
I had occasion to view a clip of the closing scene in Lonesome Dove, and it brought a flood of memories. Larry McMurtry wrought a work of undying power, in the process restoring to western fiction fullness of character and richness of story. He also restored tenderness and vulnerability to the western story, something that had gone missing in the shoot-em-ups.
I was also smitten anew by the musical score done by Basil Poledouris, as fine a collection of themes as any ever done in Hollywood. He picked up on the underlying tenderness in the novel and TV series, and his orchestration is largely strings, flute, woodwinds, and very subtle use of horns. Not the trumpets and kettle drums one might expect in western drama.
Lonesome Dove had a powerful effect in the 80s and into the 90s, fostering a major upsurge of all sorts of western fiction, ranging from genre novels to large historicals. Larry McMurtry is a literary hero of mine, a man I will forever honor.
I was also smitten anew by the musical score done by Basil Poledouris, as fine a collection of themes as any ever done in Hollywood. He picked up on the underlying tenderness in the novel and TV series, and his orchestration is largely strings, flute, woodwinds, and very subtle use of horns. Not the trumpets and kettle drums one might expect in western drama.
Lonesome Dove had a powerful effect in the 80s and into the 90s, fostering a major upsurge of all sorts of western fiction, ranging from genre novels to large historicals. Larry McMurtry is a literary hero of mine, a man I will forever honor.
August 27, 2013
I've Started the Vaudeville Novel
It took a while, but I've completed some character sketches and done a lot of research about vaudeville (try No applause-- Just Throw Money if you want a look at the whole era).
I've set the time, 1892, and the Montana and Northwest circuit the troupe will follow, beginning with Helena, then Butte, then Philipsburg, and maybe Spokane.
I've developed the acts. There's Mrs. McGivers and Her Monkey Band; Wayne Windsor, "The Profile" who does monologues facing right and left to display his noble brow; top-billed Mabel Markey, the queen of contraltos; The Wildroot Sisters, and their fierce stage mother Ethel; Harry the Juggler, who juggles knives and scimitars; the Marbury Trio, early tap dancers; and Ginger, the prodigy who flees home to join the troupe. And of course, the owner and manager of the show, August Beausoleil, a veteran of the circuits.
I'm about twelve thousand words in. In Helena they get some bad press... and you can read the rest in a year or more.
I've set the time, 1892, and the Montana and Northwest circuit the troupe will follow, beginning with Helena, then Butte, then Philipsburg, and maybe Spokane.
I've developed the acts. There's Mrs. McGivers and Her Monkey Band; Wayne Windsor, "The Profile" who does monologues facing right and left to display his noble brow; top-billed Mabel Markey, the queen of contraltos; The Wildroot Sisters, and their fierce stage mother Ethel; Harry the Juggler, who juggles knives and scimitars; the Marbury Trio, early tap dancers; and Ginger, the prodigy who flees home to join the troupe. And of course, the owner and manager of the show, August Beausoleil, a veteran of the circuits.
I'm about twelve thousand words in. In Helena they get some bad press... and you can read the rest in a year or more.
