Gordon Osmond's Blog: Gordon Osmond on Writing, page 6
August 10, 2013
Trading on Hopes and Dreams
Trading on Hopes and Dreams in Theatre and Publishing
When I moved from the United States and stopped writing stage plays, I thought I had left behind a particularly parasitic practice of theatre “producers,” located primarily on the isle of Manhattan, trading on the hopes and dreams of aspiring playwrights as a means of lining the pockets of the producers. Now, of course, there’s nothing wrong with legitimate producers putting on plays for profit—the commercial theatre consists of and depends on precisely that operation. But Manhattan play mills, the functional equivalent of puppy mills, are far from legitimate.
Imagine my chagrin when, as a new author of books, I found the same stratagem alive and well in the world of publishing: authors’ hopes and dreams being used to lure the writers into courses of conduct that they would probably never undertake if they were in their right minds, unclouded with visions of the literary equivalent of sugar plum fairies.
Curiously, both quasi scams start with “competitions.” In New York, there are “theaters,” which are barely larger than lofts, that invite writers to submit their plays for evaluation. Imagine the author’s excitement when the submission has been deemed worthy of production. Sometimes, the euphoria survives even the news that the author will, of course supply without any compensation, the cast, the director, any set dressings the tiny performing space can accommodate, and most critically the audience, which will pay to the producer the going rate for tickets. But hey, at least the authors can proudly announce that their plays are being performed in New York City!
I thought that this practice would have no publishing counterpart until I came across a website that runs a “competition” for authors of short, non-fiction stories. The authors are invited to submit their stories along with a signed release form granting to the site owner full rights and indemnities and forever forswearing any claim for compensation for the stories. The stories are then cobbled together in collections, sub-standard in length and arguably in other qualities, and put on the market. The sales proceeds go to the collator of the stories, where else?
It should also be noted that in the case of both the story and play competitions, it takes real talent not to be a winner.
Because of writers’ ability to achieve publication on their own through various self-publishing means, the lure of gifting one’s work to someone who does the same thing but without author compensation strikes me as curious. Could a hollow victory in a “competition” be the lure?
When I come across practices like this, it makes me all the more appreciative of my association with Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing, a totally professional organization that consistently delivers high-quality services for a very modest portion of revenues received by authors to whose welfare SCP is genuinely dedicated.
When I moved from the United States and stopped writing stage plays, I thought I had left behind a particularly parasitic practice of theatre “producers,” located primarily on the isle of Manhattan, trading on the hopes and dreams of aspiring playwrights as a means of lining the pockets of the producers. Now, of course, there’s nothing wrong with legitimate producers putting on plays for profit—the commercial theatre consists of and depends on precisely that operation. But Manhattan play mills, the functional equivalent of puppy mills, are far from legitimate.
Imagine my chagrin when, as a new author of books, I found the same stratagem alive and well in the world of publishing: authors’ hopes and dreams being used to lure the writers into courses of conduct that they would probably never undertake if they were in their right minds, unclouded with visions of the literary equivalent of sugar plum fairies.
Curiously, both quasi scams start with “competitions.” In New York, there are “theaters,” which are barely larger than lofts, that invite writers to submit their plays for evaluation. Imagine the author’s excitement when the submission has been deemed worthy of production. Sometimes, the euphoria survives even the news that the author will, of course supply without any compensation, the cast, the director, any set dressings the tiny performing space can accommodate, and most critically the audience, which will pay to the producer the going rate for tickets. But hey, at least the authors can proudly announce that their plays are being performed in New York City!
I thought that this practice would have no publishing counterpart until I came across a website that runs a “competition” for authors of short, non-fiction stories. The authors are invited to submit their stories along with a signed release form granting to the site owner full rights and indemnities and forever forswearing any claim for compensation for the stories. The stories are then cobbled together in collections, sub-standard in length and arguably in other qualities, and put on the market. The sales proceeds go to the collator of the stories, where else?
It should also be noted that in the case of both the story and play competitions, it takes real talent not to be a winner.
Because of writers’ ability to achieve publication on their own through various self-publishing means, the lure of gifting one’s work to someone who does the same thing but without author compensation strikes me as curious. Could a hollow victory in a “competition” be the lure?
When I come across practices like this, it makes me all the more appreciative of my association with Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing, a totally professional organization that consistently delivers high-quality services for a very modest portion of revenues received by authors to whose welfare SCP is genuinely dedicated.
July 16, 2013
Book Reviews--Part II
Book Reviews
I have both written and received book (and play) reviews. In the course of those opposite experiences, I have come to certain tentative conclusions about how authors should deal with reviews of their work. This article is intended to supplement my thoughts as expressed in my earlier Goodreads blog on the subject.
Just as a reviewer has every right to evaluate an author’s work, the author has every right to turn the tables on the critic. Among the many criteria by which a review should be judged before reacting to it are:
• What are the reviewer’s credentials? In other words, consider the source. Is the reviewer someone whose opinion should be taken seriously? A casual reader who states that a book did not satisfy the appetite of the moment is perfectly entitled to say so, but why should that opinion trouble anyone? Such a review tells a fair amount about the reviewer but is hardly probative of the issue of the book’s essential worthiness. In this category, I would place reviews that complain about a book’s length, its genre, and its vocabulary.
• How impartial is the reviewer? The opinions of reviewers who are blood relatives of, or who owe money to the author are rarely valuable. My favorite reviews come from authors whose own works I have criticized in print. They had every incentive to respond in kind, and when they did not, I was immensely encouraged.
• How detailed is the review? A book is the culmination of a multitude of disciplines—creation of a plot, delineation of characters, and the application of dialogue and descriptive passages to advance the book’s theme. Reviewers who do not dig deep into those authorial challenges are not doing their jobs, and their work products should be weighted accordingly.
A less than enthusiastic review from a qualified, impartial, and diligent reviewer should be taken very seriously to heart and treasured as a guide for improvement in the author’s future writing. An unfavorable review which does not satisfy those criteria should be ignored.
I have both written and received book (and play) reviews. In the course of those opposite experiences, I have come to certain tentative conclusions about how authors should deal with reviews of their work. This article is intended to supplement my thoughts as expressed in my earlier Goodreads blog on the subject.
Just as a reviewer has every right to evaluate an author’s work, the author has every right to turn the tables on the critic. Among the many criteria by which a review should be judged before reacting to it are:
• What are the reviewer’s credentials? In other words, consider the source. Is the reviewer someone whose opinion should be taken seriously? A casual reader who states that a book did not satisfy the appetite of the moment is perfectly entitled to say so, but why should that opinion trouble anyone? Such a review tells a fair amount about the reviewer but is hardly probative of the issue of the book’s essential worthiness. In this category, I would place reviews that complain about a book’s length, its genre, and its vocabulary.
• How impartial is the reviewer? The opinions of reviewers who are blood relatives of, or who owe money to the author are rarely valuable. My favorite reviews come from authors whose own works I have criticized in print. They had every incentive to respond in kind, and when they did not, I was immensely encouraged.
• How detailed is the review? A book is the culmination of a multitude of disciplines—creation of a plot, delineation of characters, and the application of dialogue and descriptive passages to advance the book’s theme. Reviewers who do not dig deep into those authorial challenges are not doing their jobs, and their work products should be weighted accordingly.
A less than enthusiastic review from a qualified, impartial, and diligent reviewer should be taken very seriously to heart and treasured as a guide for improvement in the author’s future writing. An unfavorable review which does not satisfy those criteria should be ignored.
June 27, 2013
Nora Ephron, RIP
A CurtainUp Los Angeles/San Diego Review
Imaginary Friends
by Gordon Osmond
Having achieved phenomenal popular success with movies (When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail) and books (Heartburn), Nora Ephron has written her first stage play. To hedge her bets a bit, Ephron asked the equally popular composer Marvin Hamlisch (A Chorus Line, The Way We Were) to leaven the loaf with a tune or two. Ephron chooses as her subject matter the well-publicized hatred between playwright/novelist Lillian Hellman (The Children’s Hour, The Little Foxes, Pentimento) and critic/novelist Mary McCarthy (The Group, Memories of a Catholic Girlhood) which flowered into a lawsuit wherein Hellman sued McCarthy for $2.25 million for McCarthy having said of Hellman on a 1980 Dick Cavett telecast that: “Everything she writes is a lie, including “and” and “the.” The result is a “play with music” entitled Imaginary Friends which is having its world premiere out-of-town tryout at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre on its way to a Broadway opening at the Barrymore Theatre on December 12 with previews from November 25.
Up to a point, the project progresses promisingly. At rise, we find our ladies, unaccountably framed in Judy-bulbs and fondling wigs which are never worn, or, indeed, seen again, dishing the dirt in the grand tradition of Mame Dennis and Vera Charles. We move smoothly to scenes from childhood (we all know, and certainly learn later, how important they are), adult romance, and, finally, political involvement. Along the way, a small troupe of Broadway gypsies performs some well-integrated songs and provides body ballast for a delightful Sarah Lawrence College get-together which was the first meeting of the play’s pro/an/tagonists. Can it be that this highly accomplished team has actually delivered on its promise to produce not a play, not a musical, but a “play with music?”
Ultimately, no. From its outset, Act II shows that the production has been hijacked by Mr. Hamlisch and select members of his troupe of gypsies. The plays breaks out into a rash of stand alone and largely incongruous musical numbers which seem concocted for the sole purpose of filling up a record album designed perhaps to defray the production’s undoubtedly daunting costs. One of them, Imaginary Friends, actually undercuts the central premise of the play—the imaginary friendship between Hellman and McCarthy—by prattling on about a child’s fabrication of an imagined playmate. In another, Smart Woman, a newborn soloist from the gypsy troupe goes on and on while the play’s two principal assets sit listening and languishing.
After a further foray into an uncomfortable cross between vaudeville and conventional musical comedy when dummies (which seem to crop up in scene after scene to the point where they might have justifiably claimed program credit) dance on the toes of porteurs, we have a desiccated trial scene which didn’t happen in life and shouldn’t, in its present form, have happened on stage. The finale consists of a dummy-filled, off-stage cat fight. Having two women of wit, wisdom and letters slug it out physically, albeit offstage, is not just imaginary, it’s artistically misguided pandering to that segment of the audience which doesn’t for a moment understand the substance and potential of the play.
The production itself offers a mixed bag of vice and virtue. Michael Levine’s creation of a fig tree and billowing curtains is miraculous. Video projections by Jan Hartley are used simply and effectively. Costuming is more problematic. Hellman, an heroically homely woman, is dressed and wigged to look like a very tasty blonde morsel whereas the more appealing McCarthy is, for the most part, dowdily dressed.
Harry Groener, who had his fair share of trouble with dummies in the ill-fated Sleight of Hand, serviceably performs all of the principal male roles and if you don’t believe it from perusing the program, the playwright has him tell you so from the stage. His expertise as a song-and-dance man makes him a willing conspirator in efforts to derail the piece into musical comedy and when his big dramatic scene comes around, half of his lawyer’s dialogue is given to his client.
Imaginary Friends seems to be the product of a new playwright who, as she stated in a recent interview, “got a taste of the freedom that theater offered. . . “ but failed to recognize that the theatre has its own rules, e.g., thematic and stylistic consistency, and a director who was perhaps too overstretched with other highly commercial commitments (The Full Monty, Hairspray) to exercise a restraining influence. In a recent article, director O’Brien says that “last evening I . . . had the privilege of sitting in the presence of both Marvin Hamlish and Craig Carnelia while they spun their musical magic in a new song for the second act of our premiere of Imaginary Friends.” In such august company, what’s a guy to do except say: “Great.”
Standing tall, representing the best of what the play does, and could, offer are the towering talents of Swoozie Kurtz as Hellman and Cherry Jones as McCarthy. Ms. Kurtz makes the absolute most of her killing retorts and Ms. Jones goes toe-to-toe with the set-ups. Their performances make the occasional pleasures of the evening very non-imaginary.
Imaginary Friends
Author: Nora Ephron
Music: Marvin Hamlisch
Lyrics: Craig Carnelia
Director: Jack O’Brien
Cast: Lillian Hellman (Swoosie Kurtz) Mary McCarthy (Cherry Jones) The Man (Harry Groener) A Woman (Anne Pitoniak) Ensemble: Anne Allgood, Bernard Dotson, Rosena M. Hill, Gina Lamparella, Dirk Lumbard, Peter Marx, Perry Ojeda, Karyn Quackenbush
Scenic Design: Michael Levine
Costume Design: Robert Morgan
Lighting Design: Kenneth Posner
Sound Design: Jon Weston
Video Design: Jan Hartley
Orchestrations: Torrie Zito
Conductor: James Vukovich
Musical Director: Ron Melrose
Choreography: Jerry Mitchell
Running Time: 90 minutes, with one intermission
The Globe Theatre, Balboa Park, San Diego CA Ph: 619.239.2255
September 21 through November 3, 2002
Reviewed by Gordon Osmond on September 29, 200
Imaginary Friends
by Gordon Osmond
Having achieved phenomenal popular success with movies (When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail) and books (Heartburn), Nora Ephron has written her first stage play. To hedge her bets a bit, Ephron asked the equally popular composer Marvin Hamlisch (A Chorus Line, The Way We Were) to leaven the loaf with a tune or two. Ephron chooses as her subject matter the well-publicized hatred between playwright/novelist Lillian Hellman (The Children’s Hour, The Little Foxes, Pentimento) and critic/novelist Mary McCarthy (The Group, Memories of a Catholic Girlhood) which flowered into a lawsuit wherein Hellman sued McCarthy for $2.25 million for McCarthy having said of Hellman on a 1980 Dick Cavett telecast that: “Everything she writes is a lie, including “and” and “the.” The result is a “play with music” entitled Imaginary Friends which is having its world premiere out-of-town tryout at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre on its way to a Broadway opening at the Barrymore Theatre on December 12 with previews from November 25.
Up to a point, the project progresses promisingly. At rise, we find our ladies, unaccountably framed in Judy-bulbs and fondling wigs which are never worn, or, indeed, seen again, dishing the dirt in the grand tradition of Mame Dennis and Vera Charles. We move smoothly to scenes from childhood (we all know, and certainly learn later, how important they are), adult romance, and, finally, political involvement. Along the way, a small troupe of Broadway gypsies performs some well-integrated songs and provides body ballast for a delightful Sarah Lawrence College get-together which was the first meeting of the play’s pro/an/tagonists. Can it be that this highly accomplished team has actually delivered on its promise to produce not a play, not a musical, but a “play with music?”
Ultimately, no. From its outset, Act II shows that the production has been hijacked by Mr. Hamlisch and select members of his troupe of gypsies. The plays breaks out into a rash of stand alone and largely incongruous musical numbers which seem concocted for the sole purpose of filling up a record album designed perhaps to defray the production’s undoubtedly daunting costs. One of them, Imaginary Friends, actually undercuts the central premise of the play—the imaginary friendship between Hellman and McCarthy—by prattling on about a child’s fabrication of an imagined playmate. In another, Smart Woman, a newborn soloist from the gypsy troupe goes on and on while the play’s two principal assets sit listening and languishing.
After a further foray into an uncomfortable cross between vaudeville and conventional musical comedy when dummies (which seem to crop up in scene after scene to the point where they might have justifiably claimed program credit) dance on the toes of porteurs, we have a desiccated trial scene which didn’t happen in life and shouldn’t, in its present form, have happened on stage. The finale consists of a dummy-filled, off-stage cat fight. Having two women of wit, wisdom and letters slug it out physically, albeit offstage, is not just imaginary, it’s artistically misguided pandering to that segment of the audience which doesn’t for a moment understand the substance and potential of the play.
The production itself offers a mixed bag of vice and virtue. Michael Levine’s creation of a fig tree and billowing curtains is miraculous. Video projections by Jan Hartley are used simply and effectively. Costuming is more problematic. Hellman, an heroically homely woman, is dressed and wigged to look like a very tasty blonde morsel whereas the more appealing McCarthy is, for the most part, dowdily dressed.
Harry Groener, who had his fair share of trouble with dummies in the ill-fated Sleight of Hand, serviceably performs all of the principal male roles and if you don’t believe it from perusing the program, the playwright has him tell you so from the stage. His expertise as a song-and-dance man makes him a willing conspirator in efforts to derail the piece into musical comedy and when his big dramatic scene comes around, half of his lawyer’s dialogue is given to his client.
Imaginary Friends seems to be the product of a new playwright who, as she stated in a recent interview, “got a taste of the freedom that theater offered. . . “ but failed to recognize that the theatre has its own rules, e.g., thematic and stylistic consistency, and a director who was perhaps too overstretched with other highly commercial commitments (The Full Monty, Hairspray) to exercise a restraining influence. In a recent article, director O’Brien says that “last evening I . . . had the privilege of sitting in the presence of both Marvin Hamlish and Craig Carnelia while they spun their musical magic in a new song for the second act of our premiere of Imaginary Friends.” In such august company, what’s a guy to do except say: “Great.”
Standing tall, representing the best of what the play does, and could, offer are the towering talents of Swoozie Kurtz as Hellman and Cherry Jones as McCarthy. Ms. Kurtz makes the absolute most of her killing retorts and Ms. Jones goes toe-to-toe with the set-ups. Their performances make the occasional pleasures of the evening very non-imaginary.
Imaginary Friends
Author: Nora Ephron
Music: Marvin Hamlisch
Lyrics: Craig Carnelia
Director: Jack O’Brien
Cast: Lillian Hellman (Swoosie Kurtz) Mary McCarthy (Cherry Jones) The Man (Harry Groener) A Woman (Anne Pitoniak) Ensemble: Anne Allgood, Bernard Dotson, Rosena M. Hill, Gina Lamparella, Dirk Lumbard, Peter Marx, Perry Ojeda, Karyn Quackenbush
Scenic Design: Michael Levine
Costume Design: Robert Morgan
Lighting Design: Kenneth Posner
Sound Design: Jon Weston
Video Design: Jan Hartley
Orchestrations: Torrie Zito
Conductor: James Vukovich
Musical Director: Ron Melrose
Choreography: Jerry Mitchell
Running Time: 90 minutes, with one intermission
The Globe Theatre, Balboa Park, San Diego CA Ph: 619.239.2255
September 21 through November 3, 2002
Reviewed by Gordon Osmond on September 29, 200
June 20, 2013
Agents--Who Needs Them?
Tallulah Bankhead, the great stage and screen actor, never used one.
On the other end of the star spectrum, Gordon Osmond, produced playwright and published author never used one. But, unlike Ms. Bankhead's experience, it wasn't for lack of trying.
I have found that it is easier to get a play produced and a book published than it is to land an agent.
Some agent rejections are polite and even sympathetic, some are computer-generated, some are perfunctory though personal. Recently, I discovered one that was downright abusive.
I ask myself if this reaction is perhaps the result of agents having the feeling that like many middlemen, they perform a relatively insignificant role in the process that brings a creative work to public exposure. At most they operate as a kind of filter that assures a producer or publisher that someone other than the author has read the work. They can also assist in negotiating the details of a deal once both parties are interested in concluding one.
I had the same experience with casting directors in the production of stageplays. A play that I reviewed for CurtainUp.com credited a casting director for the genius in coming up with Ellen Burstyn to star in a one-woman show that Burstyn herself had chosen!
This is why, after having had two books published by PublishAmerica, which has the reputation of publishing virtually anything, including the unread, I vowed that I would not go either the PA route or the self-publishing one for my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, but would rather pursue a publisher with a real staff of readers and editors. I was very fortunate to interest Secret Cravings Publishing, and my experience with that publisher has been incredibly positive.
And I did it without an agent.
Any other experiences or views?
On the other end of the star spectrum, Gordon Osmond, produced playwright and published author never used one. But, unlike Ms. Bankhead's experience, it wasn't for lack of trying.
I have found that it is easier to get a play produced and a book published than it is to land an agent.
Some agent rejections are polite and even sympathetic, some are computer-generated, some are perfunctory though personal. Recently, I discovered one that was downright abusive.
I ask myself if this reaction is perhaps the result of agents having the feeling that like many middlemen, they perform a relatively insignificant role in the process that brings a creative work to public exposure. At most they operate as a kind of filter that assures a producer or publisher that someone other than the author has read the work. They can also assist in negotiating the details of a deal once both parties are interested in concluding one.
I had the same experience with casting directors in the production of stageplays. A play that I reviewed for CurtainUp.com credited a casting director for the genius in coming up with Ellen Burstyn to star in a one-woman show that Burstyn herself had chosen!
This is why, after having had two books published by PublishAmerica, which has the reputation of publishing virtually anything, including the unread, I vowed that I would not go either the PA route or the self-publishing one for my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, but would rather pursue a publisher with a real staff of readers and editors. I was very fortunate to interest Secret Cravings Publishing, and my experience with that publisher has been incredibly positive.
And I did it without an agent.
Any other experiences or views?
June 9, 2013
Book Reviews
Book Reviews
The following article expresses only my own personal opinions and observations and was written primarily to stimulate discussion on a subject important to authors. Contrary opinions and other comments are encouraged.
Many questions arise on this subject once a book has been accepted for publication and the author is starting out on the daunting task of promoting it with a view to stimulating sales.
When should the search for a review begin?
It depends upon which reviewers you’re courting. If you want a “free” review in Publishers Weekly or other well-respected and notorious review sources, you’d best submit your book pre-release.
Getting reviews in advance of publication also makes it possible to put squibs from glowing reviews on the printed copy of the book itself. This is, of course, more important when your book will be on shelves rather than only online.
What different kinds of reviews are out there? How do they rank in terms of credibility and exposure?
A statement from John/Jane Q. Public which reads something like, “A real page turner. I couldn’t put it down. I can’t wait for the next one” whether it appears on Amazon or in Macy’s window, is a nice comment but not my idea of a review, especially if it is written by a blood relative who owes you money.
On the other end of the spectrum is a thorough and well reasoned review written by someone who has no reason whatsoever to be kind and who also has some experience writing reviews for credible reviewing sites, like Bookpleasures or Bookideas for which I write reviews. One of my most treasured reviews of my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, was a 5-Star Amazon review from an author whose own book I rated less then perfect on my review sites. Now that’s impartiality! Amazon is a mixed bad, including as it does reviews from their Top Ranking Reviewers as well as from Aunt Edna. Also, in deciding whether a review can be posted, Amazon seems more concerned with whether the reviewer has a customer account with Amazon than with whether the reviewer has actually received the book being reviewed.
One of the many great things about Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing is that reviews on a book’s page are divided between regular reader reviews and professional ones. Amazon seems to make a comparable effort, but I’m not convinced it’s always successful.
Paid reviews are to me prima facie questionable despite protestations of impartiality by the reviewing site.
And don’t let the stars get in your eyes and hope they don’t get in the eyes of those browsing for good books to read. I received a 4-Star review from a Top Amazon reviewer that showed more care in reading my book than I took in writing it.
By the way, there’s a difference between a “mixed” review wherein a single writer carefully balances a book’s merits and demerits and “polarized” reviews where there’s a wide range in a group of reviews between good and bad.
How should authors react to reviews?
With stoic restraint. There’s nothing wrong with thanking a reviewer for the time taken in reading your book, and an author can certainly express the pleasure of receiving a good review. But challenging or arguing with the author of a less-than-glowing review is downright foolish and should never be done.
If an author’s frustration or anger level is at the breaking point, it might be acceptable to say something like what’s been said to me sometimes by the author of a book I have reviewed more or less unfavorably, viz,. “It’s always interesting to see my work seen through other eyes.” Of course, the subtext is, “And your eyes are not functioning,” but no harm done. As a critic, I have more respect for an author who takes the lumps in silence.
Final advice and comfort from the great American actor Geraldine Page.
Ms. Page received precious few bad reviews in the course of her long and distinguished stage and film career, but when asked how she would react to a bad one, she answered simply, “I would just think the critic has poor taste.” That should sustain all authors in their darkest hours.
The following article expresses only my own personal opinions and observations and was written primarily to stimulate discussion on a subject important to authors. Contrary opinions and other comments are encouraged.
Many questions arise on this subject once a book has been accepted for publication and the author is starting out on the daunting task of promoting it with a view to stimulating sales.
When should the search for a review begin?
It depends upon which reviewers you’re courting. If you want a “free” review in Publishers Weekly or other well-respected and notorious review sources, you’d best submit your book pre-release.
Getting reviews in advance of publication also makes it possible to put squibs from glowing reviews on the printed copy of the book itself. This is, of course, more important when your book will be on shelves rather than only online.
What different kinds of reviews are out there? How do they rank in terms of credibility and exposure?
A statement from John/Jane Q. Public which reads something like, “A real page turner. I couldn’t put it down. I can’t wait for the next one” whether it appears on Amazon or in Macy’s window, is a nice comment but not my idea of a review, especially if it is written by a blood relative who owes you money.
On the other end of the spectrum is a thorough and well reasoned review written by someone who has no reason whatsoever to be kind and who also has some experience writing reviews for credible reviewing sites, like Bookpleasures or Bookideas for which I write reviews. One of my most treasured reviews of my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, was a 5-Star Amazon review from an author whose own book I rated less then perfect on my review sites. Now that’s impartiality! Amazon is a mixed bad, including as it does reviews from their Top Ranking Reviewers as well as from Aunt Edna. Also, in deciding whether a review can be posted, Amazon seems more concerned with whether the reviewer has a customer account with Amazon than with whether the reviewer has actually received the book being reviewed.
One of the many great things about Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing is that reviews on a book’s page are divided between regular reader reviews and professional ones. Amazon seems to make a comparable effort, but I’m not convinced it’s always successful.
Paid reviews are to me prima facie questionable despite protestations of impartiality by the reviewing site.
And don’t let the stars get in your eyes and hope they don’t get in the eyes of those browsing for good books to read. I received a 4-Star review from a Top Amazon reviewer that showed more care in reading my book than I took in writing it.
By the way, there’s a difference between a “mixed” review wherein a single writer carefully balances a book’s merits and demerits and “polarized” reviews where there’s a wide range in a group of reviews between good and bad.
How should authors react to reviews?
With stoic restraint. There’s nothing wrong with thanking a reviewer for the time taken in reading your book, and an author can certainly express the pleasure of receiving a good review. But challenging or arguing with the author of a less-than-glowing review is downright foolish and should never be done.
If an author’s frustration or anger level is at the breaking point, it might be acceptable to say something like what’s been said to me sometimes by the author of a book I have reviewed more or less unfavorably, viz,. “It’s always interesting to see my work seen through other eyes.” Of course, the subtext is, “And your eyes are not functioning,” but no harm done. As a critic, I have more respect for an author who takes the lumps in silence.
Final advice and comfort from the great American actor Geraldine Page.
Ms. Page received precious few bad reviews in the course of her long and distinguished stage and film career, but when asked how she would react to a bad one, she answered simply, “I would just think the critic has poor taste.” That should sustain all authors in their darkest hours.
May 26, 2013
Novel Categories
Fiction Categories
My debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, having been published quite recently, I am for the first time focusing on the various categories of fiction. I was surprised to find that there are so many, some to me more clear and sensible than others.
I think I get what a children’s book is. I also understand the difference between a contemporary novel and a historical one although the latter would seen to embrace both books that simply take place in the past, i.e., not contemporary, and those that are set in and relate to major historic events. It might be tempting to resort to the definitional distinction between historic and historical, but that won’t work because calling a novel historic creates the impression that the novel, as well as the historic event around which it is centered, is itself destined for the history books.
Romance is an extremely broad, well populated category of novels. In my “unauthorized” autobiography, Wet Firecrackers, I identified love as one of three primal sources of pleasure, the other two being education and creation. I went on to subdivide love into love of sex, love of family and friends, love of pets, love of nature, and love of art. If I’ve left anything out, do let me know because “I’m [always] in the Mood for Love.” I get the feeling that a “romance novel” probably centers on sexual love, but, as I say I’m a new (albeit old) comer.
Once sex is on the table (shades of Jessica Lange cooking up something in the kitchen other than dinner in the second film version of The Postman Always Rings Twice), we come to degrees and kinds of depiction, and, here, I think that Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing has it right with its flame system. I also think the word “explicit” is highly useful in letting readers know how rough a ride they’re in for. Equally useful are the initialisms, M/M/F/B/D/S/M/T/G and on and on—arrange the letters as you will in the interests of full and fair disclosure to potential readers.
In considering descriptions like suspense, mystery, and thriller, I think it’s a matter of emphasis in the novel. I believe that in order for any novel to be worthy, it must surely engage and entertain (and maybe enlighten, if you’re lucky) the reader and that these objectives are generally realized by setting up some basic conflicts--conflicts which are most successfully resolved with some measure of suspense and mystery, all enlisted for the ultimate objective of producing a thrilling novel. But for these words to apply categorically to a novel, I would think they should be considered more as ends than as means in the telling of the story. Dealing with whether the farmer’s daughter will succumb to the charms of the hunky rodeo rider in the tack room or the barn does not by itself qualify a book as a suspense or mystery novel in my view.
I consider Slipping on Stardust as a romance suspense novel. You be the judge as to whether that characterization is accurate.
I’ll end with a comment about YA. When I first heard of it, I thought it was about a club of women sitting around quilting. But apparently it means Young Adult. I can’t decide whether this appellation is oxymoronic or just plain moronic. I can’t decide whether YA is exclusionary (mature adults) or condescending (young readers). I suspect both.
As stated above, these are reactions of a newbie to the world of novels, and I welcome the views of more seasoned writers of novels, of which there is certainly no shortage.
My debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, having been published quite recently, I am for the first time focusing on the various categories of fiction. I was surprised to find that there are so many, some to me more clear and sensible than others.
I think I get what a children’s book is. I also understand the difference between a contemporary novel and a historical one although the latter would seen to embrace both books that simply take place in the past, i.e., not contemporary, and those that are set in and relate to major historic events. It might be tempting to resort to the definitional distinction between historic and historical, but that won’t work because calling a novel historic creates the impression that the novel, as well as the historic event around which it is centered, is itself destined for the history books.
Romance is an extremely broad, well populated category of novels. In my “unauthorized” autobiography, Wet Firecrackers, I identified love as one of three primal sources of pleasure, the other two being education and creation. I went on to subdivide love into love of sex, love of family and friends, love of pets, love of nature, and love of art. If I’ve left anything out, do let me know because “I’m [always] in the Mood for Love.” I get the feeling that a “romance novel” probably centers on sexual love, but, as I say I’m a new (albeit old) comer.
Once sex is on the table (shades of Jessica Lange cooking up something in the kitchen other than dinner in the second film version of The Postman Always Rings Twice), we come to degrees and kinds of depiction, and, here, I think that Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing has it right with its flame system. I also think the word “explicit” is highly useful in letting readers know how rough a ride they’re in for. Equally useful are the initialisms, M/M/F/B/D/S/M/T/G and on and on—arrange the letters as you will in the interests of full and fair disclosure to potential readers.
In considering descriptions like suspense, mystery, and thriller, I think it’s a matter of emphasis in the novel. I believe that in order for any novel to be worthy, it must surely engage and entertain (and maybe enlighten, if you’re lucky) the reader and that these objectives are generally realized by setting up some basic conflicts--conflicts which are most successfully resolved with some measure of suspense and mystery, all enlisted for the ultimate objective of producing a thrilling novel. But for these words to apply categorically to a novel, I would think they should be considered more as ends than as means in the telling of the story. Dealing with whether the farmer’s daughter will succumb to the charms of the hunky rodeo rider in the tack room or the barn does not by itself qualify a book as a suspense or mystery novel in my view.
I consider Slipping on Stardust as a romance suspense novel. You be the judge as to whether that characterization is accurate.
I’ll end with a comment about YA. When I first heard of it, I thought it was about a club of women sitting around quilting. But apparently it means Young Adult. I can’t decide whether this appellation is oxymoronic or just plain moronic. I can’t decide whether YA is exclusionary (mature adults) or condescending (young readers). I suspect both.
As stated above, these are reactions of a newbie to the world of novels, and I welcome the views of more seasoned writers of novels, of which there is certainly no shortage.
May 24, 2013
The Ironies of Support
The Ironies of Support
After the publication of each of my three books, I’ve noticed a pattern of support that is sufficiently remarkable to note with the thought that the experience of other authors may be similar or quite different.
After garnering reviews from professional critics and after making media appearances via print interviews, blog posts, or radio shows comes the critical third phase of promotion—word of mouth. Here, one might reasonably expect support from friends and family members. I have been surprised to learn that this doesn’t happen as automatically as I might have expected.
As I noted in my “unauthorized” autobiography, Wet Firecrackers, many friends and family members have me boxed into the category of lawyer, a person of considerable wealth and power. As long as I functioned squarely within that sphere, my every word was hung upon and there was no wish that was not freely granted in the rational expectation that a quid pro quo would be forthcoming in return sooner or later.
I jumped out of that box at the earliest opportunity, retiring at 60 and taking up new pursuits—first in playwriting, then in writing non-fiction books, and finally with the publication of my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust.
My current status as a struggling writer/teacher in an obscure town in Brazil brings to mind the blues classic, Nobody Loves You When You’re Down and Out. It’s hardly that bad, but eerily close.
On the acknowledgment page of this book, I note that I have very few to thank, but the few that I do are very dear. What I was tempted to add, but didn’t, was that I’ve never met any of these “dears.” Isn’t that strange?
The “heads” side of this coin is the support I’ve received from the most unlikely, and as I said, universally unmet sources:
• A New Jersey associate professor of Journalism and Creative Writing, who is using my books in his classes. Never met the guy, but e-meeting him late in life makes longevity worth achieving.
• A beautiful retiree living in Brazil, whose second language is English and who was introduced to me by close New York friends who didn’t themselves buy the novel even though I had given previous works to them as gifts.
• A tenor I’ve never met who remembered my attendance at a concert, conducted by my brother, who himself has never read any of my books. The tenor bought three copies.
• A writer whose own book I gave a very mixed review on Bookpleasures.com. If that isn’t impartiality, I don’t know what is.
• My many fellow authors published by Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing who have been incredibly generous in giving me access to their impressive sites on the internet.
I will never forget the support I’ve received from these wondrous strangers. And, being a Scorpio, I will probably also never forget the passive-aggressive treatment I’ve received at the hands of many close by, whose every venture I’ve supported with genuine enthusiasm.
Sorry if this sounds like whining. It probably is. But acknowledging the existence of a wound is probably the first step in healing it.
As noted above, I’d welcome hearing about other authors’ experiences on the subject of support.
After the publication of each of my three books, I’ve noticed a pattern of support that is sufficiently remarkable to note with the thought that the experience of other authors may be similar or quite different.
After garnering reviews from professional critics and after making media appearances via print interviews, blog posts, or radio shows comes the critical third phase of promotion—word of mouth. Here, one might reasonably expect support from friends and family members. I have been surprised to learn that this doesn’t happen as automatically as I might have expected.
As I noted in my “unauthorized” autobiography, Wet Firecrackers, many friends and family members have me boxed into the category of lawyer, a person of considerable wealth and power. As long as I functioned squarely within that sphere, my every word was hung upon and there was no wish that was not freely granted in the rational expectation that a quid pro quo would be forthcoming in return sooner or later.
I jumped out of that box at the earliest opportunity, retiring at 60 and taking up new pursuits—first in playwriting, then in writing non-fiction books, and finally with the publication of my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust.
My current status as a struggling writer/teacher in an obscure town in Brazil brings to mind the blues classic, Nobody Loves You When You’re Down and Out. It’s hardly that bad, but eerily close.
On the acknowledgment page of this book, I note that I have very few to thank, but the few that I do are very dear. What I was tempted to add, but didn’t, was that I’ve never met any of these “dears.” Isn’t that strange?
The “heads” side of this coin is the support I’ve received from the most unlikely, and as I said, universally unmet sources:
• A New Jersey associate professor of Journalism and Creative Writing, who is using my books in his classes. Never met the guy, but e-meeting him late in life makes longevity worth achieving.
• A beautiful retiree living in Brazil, whose second language is English and who was introduced to me by close New York friends who didn’t themselves buy the novel even though I had given previous works to them as gifts.
• A tenor I’ve never met who remembered my attendance at a concert, conducted by my brother, who himself has never read any of my books. The tenor bought three copies.
• A writer whose own book I gave a very mixed review on Bookpleasures.com. If that isn’t impartiality, I don’t know what is.
• My many fellow authors published by Secret/Sweet Cravings Publishing who have been incredibly generous in giving me access to their impressive sites on the internet.
I will never forget the support I’ve received from these wondrous strangers. And, being a Scorpio, I will probably also never forget the passive-aggressive treatment I’ve received at the hands of many close by, whose every venture I’ve supported with genuine enthusiasm.
Sorry if this sounds like whining. It probably is. But acknowledging the existence of a wound is probably the first step in healing it.
As noted above, I’d welcome hearing about other authors’ experiences on the subject of support.
May 4, 2013
Physical Descriptions of Characters
How detailed should physical descriptions of characters in a novel be?
Many, if not most novels I’ve read recently include almost immediately after the introduction of a character, a detailed description of the character’s physical characteristics—age, height, weight, hair and eye colors, physique, and on and on.
Without a lot of premeditation, I find that my characters are described rather generally. The reader knows whether the character is young, middle-aged, or old, good looking, plain, or just plain ugly, but that’s about it.
I defend this approach in terms of giving readers the freedom to fill in the details rather than having me do it for them. For example, one reader wrote to me in regard to Erin, a principal character in Slipping on Stardust whom I describe in the book as “a young girl, for many years cute, now airily inhabiting the cusp between seriously pretty and downright beautiful” saying that the reader thought of her as a young Audrey Hepburn. To which I say, Great! That’s the image that reader’s imagination has conjured up. My point is that other readers should have the option to imagine a different one, e.g., a Sandra Dee with brains.
I think my approach is the result of my background as a playwright. Playwrights can detail physical descriptions in the script until they're blue in the face, but when it comes to performance, what you see on stage is what you get. I like to avoid that stricture by making my descriptions in my novel general, rather than specific.
I’d really treasure hearing other novelists’ views on this question. I’m as old as dirt, but not too old to change, particularly as I’m in the process of writing a sequel to Slipping on Stardust. I suspect that there is no right choice—only ones that suit a particular writer’s general approach to the task of producing a compelling and appealing novel.
Many, if not most novels I’ve read recently include almost immediately after the introduction of a character, a detailed description of the character’s physical characteristics—age, height, weight, hair and eye colors, physique, and on and on.
Without a lot of premeditation, I find that my characters are described rather generally. The reader knows whether the character is young, middle-aged, or old, good looking, plain, or just plain ugly, but that’s about it.
I defend this approach in terms of giving readers the freedom to fill in the details rather than having me do it for them. For example, one reader wrote to me in regard to Erin, a principal character in Slipping on Stardust whom I describe in the book as “a young girl, for many years cute, now airily inhabiting the cusp between seriously pretty and downright beautiful” saying that the reader thought of her as a young Audrey Hepburn. To which I say, Great! That’s the image that reader’s imagination has conjured up. My point is that other readers should have the option to imagine a different one, e.g., a Sandra Dee with brains.
I think my approach is the result of my background as a playwright. Playwrights can detail physical descriptions in the script until they're blue in the face, but when it comes to performance, what you see on stage is what you get. I like to avoid that stricture by making my descriptions in my novel general, rather than specific.
I’d really treasure hearing other novelists’ views on this question. I’m as old as dirt, but not too old to change, particularly as I’m in the process of writing a sequel to Slipping on Stardust. I suspect that there is no right choice—only ones that suit a particular writer’s general approach to the task of producing a compelling and appealing novel.
April 25, 2013
The Oxford Comma
In response to a Facebook post, I'm setting forth a brief excerpt from my book, "So You Think You Know English--a Guide to English for Those Who Think They Don't Need One." The book is available on Amazon
The “optional” comma. I like killing animals, firing on foxes from high places {comma, anyone?} and running for ever higher office. Undergraduate version of the issue: I like apples, oranges {comma?} and grapes. The youngins among us, when they’re not texting away, would probably argue that the “and” fills in for the final comma, making it unnecessary. Coming from a more seasoned generation, I was taught to use it. As is the case with so many things in life, the truth lies somewhere in between, but a bit closer to my position. The comma in question is optional, but the safer course is to use it, particularly when the conjoined items are longish phrases or clauses. Also, by using it, you avoid writing things like, “Throughout my life, I have been most influenced by my parents, Charles Manson and Marilyn Manson. Your real parents will thank you for putting a comma between the Mansons. And wouldn’t showing off this principle at a cocktail party be ever so much more galling if you were to give a name to this “optional” comma—something like “Oxford” or “serial”? Go ahead; that's what it's called.
Comments are encouraged and may yield a prize.
The “optional” comma. I like killing animals, firing on foxes from high places {comma, anyone?} and running for ever higher office. Undergraduate version of the issue: I like apples, oranges {comma?} and grapes. The youngins among us, when they’re not texting away, would probably argue that the “and” fills in for the final comma, making it unnecessary. Coming from a more seasoned generation, I was taught to use it. As is the case with so many things in life, the truth lies somewhere in between, but a bit closer to my position. The comma in question is optional, but the safer course is to use it, particularly when the conjoined items are longish phrases or clauses. Also, by using it, you avoid writing things like, “Throughout my life, I have been most influenced by my parents, Charles Manson and Marilyn Manson. Your real parents will thank you for putting a comma between the Mansons. And wouldn’t showing off this principle at a cocktail party be ever so much more galling if you were to give a name to this “optional” comma—something like “Oxford” or “serial”? Go ahead; that's what it's called.
Comments are encouraged and may yield a prize.
April 23, 2013
Putting your friends and family in your novel
In the course of writing my debut novel, Slipping on Stardust, I faced two issues that I’m sure are common to all novelists. This article describes the first one and how I dealt with it.
To what extent should I make characters in the novel easily identifiable to their real life counterparts?
As writers are rightfully enjoined to write “about what they know,” it’s not too much of a stretch to suppose that in many instances they will also write about whom they know. It’s also reasonable to assume that some of these fact-based fictional characters will not be physically, intellectually, morally, or spiritually perfect. Some, in fact, may be far from it.
In Answered Prayers, Truman Capote’s last, unfinished book, he wrote with extreme candor about many persons who were part of his highly notorious social circle. These persons were so outraged that Capote spent his last years in veritable exile and, once the essence of a social butterfly, died a lonely and broken man.
On the acknowledgment page of my “unauthorized autobiography,” Wet Firecrackers, I thanked Mr. Capote in the following terms: “Although Capote died writing it, his Answered Prayers attests to the joy of telling late-in-life truths even if a relationship or two may be lost in the process.”
In writing Slipping on Stardust, the issue was somewhat different. There are no direct references to real persons, but the vices and weaknesses of some fictional characters based on them are heightened for dramatic purposes. So a friend or family member might well say, “Yeah, that’s me, but I’m not that bad.”
On the scale of vivid and compelling drama versus keeping friends I put my thumb on the former plate. Others, for totally valid reasons, may choose to do otherwise.
I'd love to hear your views.
My second post, which will await reaction to this inaugural one, will deal with the extent authors should include detailed physical descriptions of characters in their books
To what extent should I make characters in the novel easily identifiable to their real life counterparts?
As writers are rightfully enjoined to write “about what they know,” it’s not too much of a stretch to suppose that in many instances they will also write about whom they know. It’s also reasonable to assume that some of these fact-based fictional characters will not be physically, intellectually, morally, or spiritually perfect. Some, in fact, may be far from it.
In Answered Prayers, Truman Capote’s last, unfinished book, he wrote with extreme candor about many persons who were part of his highly notorious social circle. These persons were so outraged that Capote spent his last years in veritable exile and, once the essence of a social butterfly, died a lonely and broken man.
On the acknowledgment page of my “unauthorized autobiography,” Wet Firecrackers, I thanked Mr. Capote in the following terms: “Although Capote died writing it, his Answered Prayers attests to the joy of telling late-in-life truths even if a relationship or two may be lost in the process.”
In writing Slipping on Stardust, the issue was somewhat different. There are no direct references to real persons, but the vices and weaknesses of some fictional characters based on them are heightened for dramatic purposes. So a friend or family member might well say, “Yeah, that’s me, but I’m not that bad.”
On the scale of vivid and compelling drama versus keeping friends I put my thumb on the former plate. Others, for totally valid reasons, may choose to do otherwise.
I'd love to hear your views.
My second post, which will await reaction to this inaugural one, will deal with the extent authors should include detailed physical descriptions of characters in their books
Gordon Osmond on Writing
Based on my long career as a playwright, author of fiction and non-fiction, editor, book and play critic, and lecturer on English,I am establishing this new blog for short articles and comments to ass
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