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Memoir Beyond the Self: Q&A with Lawrence Hill

Today’s post, a conversation with author and professor Lawrence Hill, is excerpted from the new book Memoir: Conversations and Craft by Marjorie Simmins (@MLSimminsAuthor).

Lawrence Hill is a professor of creative writing at the University of Guelph. He is the author of ten books, including The Illegal, The Book of Negroes, Any Known Blood, and Black Berry, Sweet Juice: On Being Black and White in Canada. He is the winner of various awards, including The Commonwealth Writers’ Prize, and two-time winner of CBC Radio’s Canada Reads.

A 2018 Berton House resident in Dawson City, he is working on a new novel about the African-American soldiers who helped build the Alaska Highway in northern British Columbia and Yukon in 1942–43. He is a Member of the Order of Canada, has been inducted into Canada’s Walk of Fame, and in 2019 was named a Canada Library and Archives Scholar. 

MARJORIE SIMMINS: I’m interested in how you came to your memoir and what the motivation behind that was. I loved the structure of Black Berry, Sweet Juice, beginning with personal stories and then sharing interviews with Canadians of black and white parentage, and their experiences of growing up and their thoughts on racial identity.

LAWRENCE HILL: Thank you. I wasn’t looking to tell the story of my life up to that point of writing. I just wanted to meditate on one specific angle of my life: growing up in a family that was black and white and coming to terms with a sense of mixed racial identity.

Yes, this theme guided the book well.

At the time that I was writing it, there wasn’t yet a single-authored book in Canada that examined how black and white identity is formed. Americans had been writing about it, but I felt that conditions were quite different in Canada and that it merited its own book. So I was motivated by the need to express myself and to work through my own identity evolution as a child, adolescent, and young man, but also I wanted to make a mark on Canada and to offer something that hadn’t been written before. […]

Because of my own experiences, I feel deeply about racial identity and how it is construed. What does racial identity mean? How is it formed? Who gets to be what, and how might self-perception be challenged by others? But traditionally, Canadians have been loath to examine this subject.

Many of us feel that it’s a dirty question and if we just don’t talk about it, we’re not as bad as those nasty Americans who’ve done so many dastardly things. I’m saying that playfully, because I don’t believe Americans to be uniformly nasty and dastardly. Canadians tend to think that we’re superior and if we just don’t think about these things, then we’re cleaner in a way. And so I wanted to smash that to smithereens and go to a place that was verboten: who are you, how do you see yourself, and how did you come to be seen by others?

If you’re going into areas that are considered verboten, did you find that you were apprehensive at all?

Yes, I was apprehensive. Although I found certain issues interesting, I worried that others might find them trivial, superficial, or unimportant. For example: how do people of mixed race deal with their hair.

I was just reviewing that. It was a new subject for me.

I worried that people would think, people are being shot and put in jail and segregated, so who cares about their hair? When I did write that chapter about my own hair and about other people’s experiences around hair and identity, it turned out to be the most popular chapter in the book.

[…]

Can you tell me how your background in journalism served you when you came to write this memoir?

First of all, I learned as a journalist how to interview people. So I didn’t feel shy conducting interviews and that was helpful because I had to ask all sorts of intimate questions, such as what were your dating preferences and were your dating preferences affected by notions of racial identity? Or how about your hair, or when did you first start becoming aware of who you were racially, when was your first perception of race for yourself or for others and when did you first start to ask questions about your own racial identity? It takes a certain kind of boldness to ask that kind of stuff. You have to establish a trusting relationship and you also have to be kind and unthreatening. I felt that having been a journalist helped me approach people confidently, but also with kindness and in a way that would seem disarming.

Yes, and I presume you told them that you did have this background, and did that develop a little extra trust too?

Absolutely. Being a journalist helped me understand how to organize the story. I didn’t want to write a memoir that was only about me. Perhaps deep down I didn’t feel that I was important enough to write about me and me alone. And so to address that insecurity, I chose to interview other people and then to work their observations and their life experiences into the book. It helped broaden the scope of the writing and it made me feel more confident that I was writing something valid because I was exploring the experiences of other people who also had one black and one white parent.

[…]

Did you find that when you had decided on your structure of Black Berry, Sweet Juice that you were away and running?

Well, that’s interesting. I guess that depends on what ‘away and running’ really means.

At some point, the memoir was simply an idea. You’re poking at it and considering the parameters, and thinking, Okay, how am I going to get started on this? I guess I’m interested in the moment when you did decide on the structure. After that, did you feel that you could move along at a very steady workman-like pace?

It didn’t work like that for me. I didn’t decide on a structure and then fill out the pages of the blueprint. I just started writing and started exploring as I went, and the structure emerged after I’d written about two hundred pages.

I started writing and coming upon a bunch of different themes and essays and bits and bits of journalism and then I started to ask myself how I could stitch it all together. So the writing itself sort of drove the elaboration of the structure, as opposed to the structure fitting into place and then the writing following.

It’s not a moral principle. It’s just how I work, and how I discover my material. I write novels like that, too.

This should be very reassuring to somebody who’s obviously not as experienced a writer as you are, when they first start a project. If they make one hell of a mess, just carry on with it. To have someone such as yourself say, ‘Don’t sweat it, that first draft is pretty messy, it won’t ever be all tidy and straightforward, but from it, you get the roadmap to wherever you’re going to.’

Yes, that’s very true.

It’s almost a skill to trust yourself like that, not to fuss but to just jump in, make a mess, scribble and cross out and put arrows backwards and arrows forward and simply trust in your own creative energy.

It’s called blind faith. And you do have to trust that you’ll find your way. I never tell anybody else how to write, but it’s how I like to write. And when I do try to approach it more intellectually by scratching my chin at the kitchen table, I never come up with anything that I end up using. I never have and I probably never will.

It’s as though that first draft that is so messy and almost violent in a way is more piped in to your psyche than your intellect, right into the maelstrom of the creative process.

You said it perfectly. I’ve never quite said it that well but that’s exactly true.

From the interviewer, Marjorie Simmins

I was fascinated to hear Hill say, in relation to the practice of writing and structure, that “the writing itself drove the elaboration of the structure, as opposed to the structure fitting into place and then the writing following.” This is the way writing works for Hill. He’s in the minority—and in my own more modest realm, I am with him in that group. I do like to lean into a single, strong narrative line, so perhaps my heart and psyche know where to start, which is always helpful. But thereafter, I am dashing and darting and digressing, all the while taking my reader very firmly by the hand, alongside. If they squeak that they are getting lost, or I feel that I am, I just look around for that narrative line, and pounce back on it. It’s like the train that rides the tracks of the story.

For your memoir

Like Hill, you may be interested in writing about a single, central aspect of your life. Perhaps you are a para-athlete, preparing for the Olympics, or perhaps you grew up with three moms, and no dads. Maybe you were raised as a single child—and only just found out that not only were you adopted as an infant, but you also have a twin brother. In a heartbeat, the world is completely different. Is this an A to B chronological story, or will you need to write the passionate stream of the story first, background mixing with current day, without worrying yourself about what happened when?

The short answer to this is … see what happens. If, having decided on an aspect or a period of your life you wish to write about, you then sit down at your desk and take off like a rocket, I’d say not to worry about an outline. If, on the other hand, you feel stuck and awkward, sketch out an outline and see if that frees you to get started. I’d offer the same advice if you get stuck midway, or even towards the end. What is the story you really want to recount? If you, that para-equestrian, actually want to compete on the Great Canadian Baking Show, but three-quarters of the way along, your story remains stuck in the barn, while you yearn for the kitchen, you’re going to have to decide on the most important story, and change your structure.

The good news is … story always comes first. So no matter how you get to a completed memoir, ride the story train first.

Writing exercise inspired by Hill

Put a photograph or illustration on your desk that represents the individual or community you believe may be your intended audience for your memoir. Write a paragraph or two, no holds barred, to that person or those people. Write as though no one in the world but them could understand your stories. Now, read it back to yourself, aloud. Does it ring true? Do you feel excited and ready to write more—or a bit lost, and maybe even embarrassed and self-censored? If the latter, then change the photo or illustration and try again, with a slightly different but related subject.

When you feel safe and limber and motivated, you are writing to the right audience.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out the book Memoir: Conversations and Craft by Marjorie Simmins.

The Comprehensive Guide to Finding, Hiring, and Working with an Editor

This guest post is by nonfiction developmental editor Chantel Hamilton (@chantel.hamilton).

As an independent developmental/substantive editor, I field a lot of the same questions every day. What is an editor? What do book editors do? How do I find one? How do I hire one?

The questions make sense—like book editing itself, an understanding of the editorial process happens almost exclusively in private author-editor interactions, and the specifics are rarely transferable between writers or projects. What’s an author to do? 

For anyone embarking on a search for your first, next, or best editor, may this article be your comprehensive guide.

What an Editor Is

Much confusion about editors and editing begins right here, at the meaning of the word editor. Consider the following sentences:

“I’m working with an editor to turn my keynote speech into a book.”“The editor said I should delete my entire fourth chapter.”“My editor caught all my typos.”“The editor did a final proof yesterday.”

Editor means something (and someone) different in each of those examples. It used to confuse me, too, and that’s because we use a catch-all term when we shouldn’t. We employ the word editor to describe anyone who has anything to do with preparing words for publication, and we don’t realize that editors, in this umbrella sense of the word, don’t actually exist. Nobody out there is just an editor—there’s always a descriptive word that comes before (or instead) to describe where that individual sits on the continuum of the book-editing process. For both traditionally published and self-published authors, the continuum looks like this:

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Developmental Editor → Substantive Editor → Copy Editor → Proofreader

Practically speaking, what this means for authors is that you need to know the lingo that editors use to describe the work we do. Looking for “an editor” to “edit your book” won’t get you very far because no one knows what that means—editors included. I’m sure the copy editors are working on that, and maybe that will be funny later.

In the meantime, what do all those different kinds of editors do?

The Four Kinds of Editors

Generally speaking, individual editors will specialize in one of the four levels identified above—developmental editing, substantive editing, copy editing, or proofreading. It’s rare, and inadvisable, to work with a single editor through all four. Why? Because an editor is not an editor is not an editor. We don’t all know how to do all the things. We were niching down before niching down was cool.

1. Developmental editing

“Just get it down on paper, and then we’ll see what to do with it.” —Max Perkins

I’m pretty sure you have to mention Max Perkins at least once in any article about editing.

Perkins more or less invented developmental editing early in the twentieth century by being the first editor of record to do more than correct typos and minor details in an author’s manuscript. Before him, his employer even had a policy against excessive fiddling: “I am not suffisant enough to think the publisher can contribute much by counselling modifications,” wrote Scribners’ editor in chief, William C. Brownwell, shortly before Perkins showed up at the Manhattan office and proved him wrong.

Developmental editing describes a sustained, collaborative partnership between author and editor, during which an idea or incomplete manuscript is transformed into a complete and cohesive book. While the intellectual property and final product always and ultimately belong to the author, a developmental editor is present in the writing process from the beginning (or very near to it) to coach the author through the principles, best practices, and practical application of writing a book in a chosen category/genre, and to help maintain an author’s momentum and motivation all the way to the finish line. A developmental editor will help you answer the big questions: What is this book about? Who is it for? Why am I the right person to write it? What’s the best way to structure my argument? What do I need to make sure is included? What needs to be left out? If you don’t know the answers to those questions, or think you don’t need to, you need a developmental editor. 

Perkins is renowned for an exemplary experience with author Thomas Wolfe: when the latter submitted a 330,000-word novel for publication in 1928, Perkins didn’t reject it outright (as at least three other publishers before him had done)—he read it all, recognized its genius, and then worked closely with Wolfe over the next year to edit it down by nearly a third. When it was published in 1929, Look Homeward, Angel immediately transformed Wolfe into a national sensation, secured his place in the literary canon, and maintained a classic line you may have heard a time or two: “You can’t go home again.” Perkins’ editing investment was enormous by any standard, but what a result for twelve months’ work. 

For a more modern look at what developmental editing looks like in real time, check out the Story Grid podcast with veteran editor Shawn Coyne and struggling writer Tim Grahl. You’ll notice pretty quickly that the process of making a book better is intense, slow, and specific. Tim reflected on it once like this: “There have been times when I’m back from the microphone with my head in my hands because Shawn is destroying my writing.” 

Similarly, I’ve had authors describe working with me as humbling and nail-biting, but ultimately empowering. One author of mine called the book we worked on together the best of his five books. Another told me, “This book is as good as it is because of you!” To both, I quote Perkins yet again: “An editor, at most, releases energy.” We’re here to help you get it out.

I’ve heard it said that no one does developmental editing anymore, but I think that’s a reference largely to traditional publishing. It’s true that you’re unlikely to find a partner at a traditional publishing house who will work with you as collaboratively as described above, but there are plenty who work independently, including myself and my editor on this piece, Dave Moldawer. Keep looking. Your writing career, your book, and your readers deserve it.

2. Substantive editing 

“DELETE UGH” —Mitchell Ivers

If you’ve already completed a solid rough draft, your next step is to engage a substantive editor to review the work as a whole. A substantive editor wants to see your entire manuscript, as good as you can make it. They want to hear that you have done absolutely everything you can on your own, and that you see no other way to improve it before sharing it with them. Not because they won’t see anything—they will—but because that’s how they know you’re serious.

A substantive editor will be editing your complete draft from a 30,000-foot, global perspective. Like a developmental editor, they’re going to be focused on the big-picture stuff like genre, theme, character/point of view, structure, pacing, and depth of research. The difference is that they’ll have your whole best effort in front of them at once, and they’ll be making suggestions with a more concrete sense of how each of their suggestions will affect the rest of the book. If it sounds like they’re going to send you back to the drawing board on something you’ve already spent months or years on, well…yeah, that’s true in many cases. And your book will be better for it. 

Whether substantive editing is a better option for you than developmental editing depends on how you work as a writer. If you want feedback, course correction, and encouragement as you write, you want a developmental editor; if you want to chart your own course and then be shown where and how to improve later, you want a substantive editor. 

I had an author once who told me she chose developmental editing because she didn’t want to risk writing “too much in the wrong direction” before being pulled back. She wanted to make efficient decisions about what to write, and she needed someone to serve as her compass. On the other hand, another author of mine once chose substantive editing because he said he wanted to keep the “writer” hat on as long as possible before my work tipped him into “editor” mode. Either approach can work, and many developmental editors are comfortable working in a substantive capacity as well.

Logistically speaking, substantive editing is less collaborative than developmental editing. You’ll share your manuscript with a substantive editor, and they’ll dive into it for a period of up to several weeks, during which you may or may not hear from them regularly about how the edit is progressing. Some authors really appreciate this well-earned break, as well as the freedom to review and incorporate the edits independently. 

To facilitate that independent implementation process, a substantive editor will supplement their in-line edits with what’s called an editorial letter—a multi-page letter that explains and gives context to what you’ll see in the marked-up manuscript. Then it’s up to you to execute on all the suggestions and return your revision for another round. Repeat two or three times, with ever-narrowing lenses of detail each time, and you have yourself a complete substantive editing experience.

3. Copy editing

“There is a phase in the life of every copy editor where she is obsessed with hyphens.” —Mary Norris

Copy editors are laser-focused on the finer points of your manuscript, such as word choice, syntax, factual accuracy, repetition, inconsistencies, grammar, style, spelling, and repetition. (You’re welcome.) They’re the ones you see celebrating on social media when a new edition of the Chicago Manual of Style is released. Their work is best done and appreciated on a manuscript that has already been through developmental or substantive editing because copy editors will not fix the big-picture things like structure, pacing, theme, or plot. Books that are full of stylistically perfect sentences that say nothing and lead nowhere are…well, they’re an entire genre of literature, actually, but never mind.

Receiving a thorough copy edit can be a truly humbling experience, and necessarily so. Language is a living thing, and standards are important. Grammar, after all, has cost companies millions of dollars, killed off the POTUS’s daughter, and inspired generations of chaos over the US Constitution. If you ask me, copy editing is not a thing you want to leave to spell check, algorithm-based software, or Amazon reviewers. 

4. Proofreading

“I do my best proofreading right after I hit send.” —Unknown

Proofreaders are the final gatekeepers between your book and the rest of the world. They’re the fresh pair of eyes you need when neither you nor your other editors can see the typos anymore, and they’re the last people to sign off on the text before it gets printed and distributed for all the world to read. If you engage a proofreader at the right time (i.e., when your manuscript is a literal printer’s proof), they’ll compare that proof to the final copy edits from the last stage to make sure nothing has been missed. They’ll also correct any lingering textual errors, as well as any word, line, paragraph, or page breaks so that, for example, Chapter 2 doesn’t begin on the last line of a page. 

Common Questions and Misconceptions

Aren’t there even more than four kinds of editing, though?

Yes—have mercy—there are. Other editing terms that you may have come across include line editing (for the fluidity and rhythm of your prose), sensitivity editing (for bias, inclusivity, etc.), technical editing (for technical correctness—reserved for instruction manuals and other such documents), manuscript critiquing (a one-pass global review of your book), fact checking (often lumped in with copy editing, but actually a separate task altogether) and textual editing (which groups all four levels in one phrase). 

You can indeed hire each one separately if you want, or you can just ask any prospective editors if they include the above services as part of their work. Many do. 

I thought X editing was the same thing as Y editing.

There is no global authority that dictates what independent editors call the work that we do. For various reasons, some editors conflate developmental and substantive editing, or substantive and line editing, or copy editing and fact checking, or various other combinations. 

Ironically, for an industry that is focused on words, the semantics here don’t matter much. What you want more than anything is an editor who understands the distinctions between the four general levels described above and can, in their own words, explain to you what they do, where they sit on the continuum of book-editing services, and what needs to be done before and/or after their work to ensure a comprehensive edit.

Do I seriously need to hire a whole team of editors for my book? I don’t have the time/money for that!

No. More editors does not necessarily mean a better book. I once worked on a book that, through a series of unfortunate events, had three developmental editors. It turned out worse than it would have had the author just picked a lane. Find one editor you trust for the level of editing you need, and then trust them. One good editor is worth more than several competing voices.

The four kinds of editors reflect the historical process of traditional book publishing, but today, we recognize that very few authors (or even publishers) will put their books through this much work. By way of compromise, you could have one editor perform the developmental/substantive work, and a second do the copy editing/proofreading. I don’t recommend publishing your book without having at least two professionals review it first. 

How do I know what kind of editing I need?

When you contact an independent editor, one of the things they’ll ask before agreeing to work with you is to see your manuscript. They’re not trying to steal your idea, nor are they judging you for your writing skills. They simply need to see what they’re working with so they can accurately determine where your manuscript sits on the editing continuum, and whether that aligns with where they sit. The kind of editing you need is, perhaps shockingly, not really up to you. That said, here’s a summary guide:

If you have a partially formed idea or incomplete manuscript that you don’t know what to do with, you need a developmental editor.If you’ve finished the manuscript and think it’s pretty good, you need a substantive editor.If your manuscript has been through substantive editing, you need a copy editor.If your manuscript has been through the previous levels, you need a proofreader.If your manuscript has been through all the above, you need a drink. On your editor. (Interpret that as you will.) 

I don’t need an editor because I’m already pretty good at spelling and grammar.

Correcting spelling and grammar mistakes is one kind of editing, but it’s only one, and it’s the last one, and even then, no one should be the only editor on their own book. We simply can’t see our own mistakes and missteps after a while—our brains fill in what’s not there, and our eyes read the shapes of words more than the individual letters. After sitting with something we’ve written for too long, we all lose perspective on whether we’ve achieved our goals. But more importantly than all that, good art doesn’t happen in isolation—not for writers, not for artists, not for anyone. 

Do I still need an editor if I hire a writing coach or buy an online writing course?

All developmental editors are writing coaches, but not all writing coaches are developmental editors. Depending on how they structure their services, a writing coach may read your work, be a sounding board, and offer ideas when you get stuck, but they are not going to roll up their sleeves and get right into your manuscript the way a developmental editor will. Choose the professional who best aligns with what you want and need for your book.

Online writing courses do not typically include an editing component, and if they do, it’s less detailed than this article. You may get an overview of how to edit, but no actual editing. Online writing courses are not a necessary complement to or substitute for professional editing.

I don’t know if my work is ready for an editor. Don’t I have to be a professional writer to hire a professional editor?

As long as you’re prepared for the investment, asking this question is precisely how you know you’re ready for an editor. Editors don’t expect authors to be trained writers before they hire us—especially in non-fiction publishing, authors are more often experts in their own niches and decidedly not writers. But authors all along the continuum need editors, from first-timers to Ernest Hemingway. You’re ready for an editor if the book you’re writing is important to you, and you recognize that you can’t do it all yourself.

What if my editor kills my dream / idea / voice / uniqueness?

Despite the extreme exceptions you may have heard of or experienced, authors and editors generally appreciate and deeply respect each other’s work. We are on the same side, working toward the same goal. We want to help you look good! An editor who wants to twist your book to tell their own story or change your vision for the project is not the right editor for you. Keep looking. 

Sometimes, when authors ask this question, what they mean is, “What if I hate my editor’s suggestions?” Note first that if you’ve vetted your editor according to the three-pronged process described below, you’ll very likely save yourself from this scenario. If you end up here, though, the first thing to do is have a conversation with your editor. We’re not precious about the suggestions we’ve made, and we can explain the “why” behind all of it. If the “why” doesn’t resonate for you, consider whether there’s some internal resistance at play here—all writers get attached to the ways they’re written things, and it can be hard to let go of that. But if you’re pretty certain that your vision for the book and your editor’s suggestions are not aligned, simply say so. This is your book. A good editor can work with the priorities you’ve identified, and if they can’t, they’ll tell you why and leave the decision up to you.

I don’t need an editor because I have beta readers.

Beta readers can be great. Your friends and family know you well, and they can almost certainly add value to your writing experience. Go ahead and share your work-in-progress with trusted confidantes, or even take your draft to a peer workshopping class. But do these things before hiring an editor, if at all. And don’t mistake the beta reader feedback you get for comprehensive editorial analysis.

I liken this to the time a few years ago when I was planning to redecorate my house. I had a bunch of friends over, and when I asked their opinions about furnishings and colors, wow, did everyone have a few. Blue, red, sectional, marble—everyone had a different idea about what I should do, especially when it came to the living room area rug. I really wanted a nice area rug. And how did they justify their suggestions?

“This is the one I bought last year.”“Saw it featured on HGTV.”“Restoration Hardware makes the best stuff!”

I ended up more confused after I’d asked than before. The problem with blindly and broadly asking for feedback, I found, is that good, generous people then feel obligated to give it—even if they’re not qualified to do so, and even if they don’t have any vested interest in, or accountability to, the outcome. By asking a bunch of accountants and engineers and business owners how to redecorate my house, I’d put my friends in an unfair position.

My interior designer friend was the last person I asked—I’d been trying to save money by not hiring a professional, but by that time I was humbled, confused, and flailing. She spent an hour in my house, took measurements and pictures, and came back a week later with a plan that made sense for the four walls we had and the way we lived. “No area rug for you,” was her crowning conclusion, delivered while staring pointedly at my new puppy, who was, at that very moment, peeing on the hardwood right in front of us. How had I missed such an obvious flaw in my plan?

Hers was the only opinion that was based in focused training and experience, and the only one with any actual authority on the topic. 

It was her advice I took, of course. Had I just asked her first, she would’ve saved me time, confidence, and sanity—more than worth the price of her services.

Editing a book is the same. When we ask friends, family, and even fellow writers to be our beta readers, we might get some gems, but we’ll also get a lot of conflicting advice based in personal opinion, individual backgrounds, past baggage, and reading preferences. Without the training to separate what they like from what actually works, beta readers simply don’t have the tools to comprehensively edit a book, and it’d be unfair to expect otherwise. 

So sure, go ahead and bring beta readers into your process if you’d like—just keep in mind what they can and can’t do for you. I recommend selecting just a couple people who represent your target readers, and/or those who have specialized expertise in a topic that appears in your book. Then, instead of asking them general questions like, “Did you like it?” or “What’s missing?” ask them something they’re qualified to answer authoritatively. For example, if you’re writing a novel set in a small Australian town and you have a friend from Australia, don’t ask her for “feedback;” ask her if you’ve accurately represented the town. 

Don’t editors come free with my publishing deal?

Authors who sign on with traditional publishing houses are indeed partnered with an in-house or freelance editor of that house’s choosing, and that expense is covered by the publishing house. That said, you want to go into this with realistic expectations. A few truths for today’s writers:

Having your work developmentally, substantively, and/or copy edited before you submit it doesn’t replace the work of an in-house editor, and the suggestions you get from an independent editor can make your book a more appealing read for publishers.Once your book is under contract, your assigned editor may or may not be prepared to do a great deal of work on your manuscript. In-house editors are indeed devoted, caring professionals; they’re also overextended, and they’re more likely to go to bat for your book if it’s already good and doesn’t need major surgery from them. There are exceptions, but if you want the promise of a dedicated, craft-based editing process, you may want an independent editor.Increasingly, publishers are outsourcing manuscript editing to independent editors, so there are a lot of qualified professionals available for hire. More info below on where to find them.Why Authors Need Editors

Short answer: Because every book you’ve ever loved had an editor.

Longer answer: The mood-lit history of book editing has done more than deify Maxwell Perkins and make authors hope that their own Great American Novel will get comparable care and attention someday. It’s also created a persistent baseline expectation in the reading public: readers are simply used to their books meeting certain standards of readability and correctness, and a quick look through the reviews of any title will tell you they’re not particularly lenient with those standards. You need an editor because your readers deserve the best you can give them.

What’s more, working with an editor will make you a better writer. There’s no other arrangement that gives you direct access to someone who is as dedicated to your book as you are, and who is trained to spot the things you need to do to make that book even better. A great edit doesn’t stop at spotting those things, either; it begins at showing you where they are, and extends into walking you through exactly how to fix them—both in this book and in anything you write in the future. You’ll come out of the process a more confident and competent author, ready to tackle the next book.  

How to Find an Editor

As you write and publish more books, you’ll start to learn who the editors are in your genre, and you’ll get more comfortable finding and selecting them. 

But what if you’re just starting out? What if you don’t know who you want to work with?

Behold the modest path to greatness:

Asking fellow writers for recommendations and introductions is a good place to start, but keep in mind that book editors have specialities and sensibilities, just like pros in any other industry. We like (and are qualified) to do a certain kind of editing on certain kinds of books, which means that your friend’s amazing developmental editor on his latest fantasy novel is not the best person to proofread your memoir.Check out the Acknowledgments section of books in your genre. A happy author will thank their editor right there, and you can use Google after that to find them and drop them a line. Some book editors work exclusively for publishers, so they may not be available for hire, but it’ll surprise you (or maybe it won’t) how many are independent.Reach out to editor-adjacent people in your network, like publishing consultants, literary agents, proposal coaches, and independent book designers. You never know who knows someone. If you’re really stuck on who to ask, I trust everything that Jane tells me, so you’re already on the right blog.Follow the blogs, podcasts, and platforms maintained by writers, editors, and other publishing professionals you respect. Pay attention to how they talk about the editing process and the editors they know and work with.The Editorial Freelancers Association and Editors Canada both maintain searchable databases of accredited editors for all kinds of projects. The local chapters of both will share your project opportunity with their members if you want to work with someone nearby or in a particular speciality.How to Choose an Editor

Going into any editing partnership, you want to have a handle on three things. Let’s call them the decision prongs: technical competency, logistical details, and personality fit.

1. Technical competency

Is the editor you want to work with actually qualified to do the job? As in any industry, there are a lot of frauds out there pretending to be competent editors, and a lot of books and authors suffering for it. A few questions you can ask to make sure your editor knows how to wield a darling-murdering weapon:

What training/experience do you have? 

A degree in English, communications, or a related field may not be required, but you do want your editor to have an advanced understanding of how the English language works, and how books are built. Editing is not a “feels good, so it must be right” kind of profession, or at least not entirely. There is intuition and risk involved, sure, but there are also some clear rights and wrongs, and your editor needs to have learned what those are so they can at least tell you if your book is doing something weird. So maybe they have a university degree, or they apprenticed under a senior editor, or they worked their way up at a local small press. However they’ve done it, you want proof that your editor is dedicated to mastering the craft and science of editing. If they aren’t, they’re a beta reader.

NB: Being a published writer does not qualify someone to be an editor. As one of my editor colleagues is fond of saying, the last person writers should be asking for help with their writing is other writers.

What level of editing do you specialize in?

Refer to the four levels above. Again, they may use different words to describe the work they do, but it should fall under one of those general umbrellas.

What level of editing do you recommend for my book?

Share your manuscript with prospective editors so they can assess the work on its own merit. Good editors will need to see your work before they’ll even agree to work with you—again, they need to know what kind of writer you are so they know if they can do their best work for you. 

And yes, sharing your unfinished book with someone new is a scary thing. We understand. Do your research, and then share your work-in-progress in good faith—good editors honor your bravery, and we aren’t interested in stealing your idea, divulging your secrets, or breaking your trust. Many of us have non-disclosures in place to ensure your privacy and security, but these aren’t really necessary in an industry that prioritizes discretion.

Have you worked on books like mine before? 

Editors are readers first. We have specific tastes and specialties, and we want to work on books we enjoy reading. If your editor has worked on books like yours before, that’s a great sign. If they haven’t, it’s not necessarily a bad thing, especially if 1) your editor can identify ways in which other books they’ve worked on are similar to yours in some unanticipated way(s), and 2) your intended readers are beginners, and you need an editor to represent that position. 

An editing professor of mine once described the editor’s role as that of the “designated idiot,” and that’s always stuck with me. Your editor is tasked with asking all the dumb questions so that you have a chance to fill in any gaps before sharing your book with readers. 

Do you have testimonials/references?

These will likely be on the editor’s website already. But it’s worth asking, anyway, just to see which projects and clients they think best represent what they can do for you and your book.

Can you provide a sample edit?

I’ve listed this one last on purpose. Proceed with caution. Asking for a sample edit might work if you’re looking for a copy editor or proofreader (with limitations when it comes to things like whether the editor uses a heavy or light touch, and individual style choices). Be prepared to pay for the editor’s time, and note that unless you’re a qualified editor yourself, it’ll be a challenge to assess the sample. Asking for testimonials and references is a far more efficient use of everyone’s time.

I wouldn’t bother asking for a sample edit from a developmental or substantive editor. Because their work is global in nature, they’d need to read your entire manuscript and/or spend hours on the phone with you to give you a sense of what they can do for your book, and that’s not realistic for anybody. Instead, read the books they’ve edited before yours. Do those books make sense to you? Do you enjoy them? Do you want to keep reading? If so, that’s a good sign that the dev or sub edit was a success.

Beyond that, talk with your prospective editor. Get to know them over coffee or video chat. Consider working with them on a shorter piece of your writing, like a guest post, to see how they work and how your writing improves as a result. Refer to prong #3 below for more on building trust and rapport with an editor.

2. Logistical details

All editors work differently. You want to know:

What is your editing process?

How do they begin a project? What are the expectations on both sides? What do the milestones and deliverables look like? What are the metrics for completion? Which writing/editing software do they use? 

What is your communication process?

Will you hear from them while they edit, or only when they’re done? Do they prefer email, text, phone calls, or something else? (More on communication in prong #3 below.)

What is your availability?

Many editors book a few months out, so plan accordingly. Let them know if you have a quick turnaround, but understand that good editing takes time. Quality over speed, whenever possible. 

What are your rates?

Independent editors set their own rates based on all kinds of factors, including their training, experience, familiarity with the topic, your timeline, and the needs of the manuscript. The Editorial Freelancers Association shares some average rates for all levels of editing, and you’ll see quite a lot of fluctuation from there. On the premium end, for a full-length manuscript of ~60,000 words or more, you can expect developmental editing to be a five-figure investment, substantive editing to be in the mid- to high four figures, and copy editing and proofreading to be hundreds of dollars. As in anything, you get what you pay for.

3. Personality fit

In my experience, editors are pretty connection-driven people. We want to help make your book better, yes, but even more than that, we want to help you connect meaningfully with your readers. 

Editors will employ different ways of meeting those two goals: some will be abrupt and direct about what you need to cut, add, and change, while others will phrase everything as a question, a suggestion, an opportunity. Some will physically move text around to show you what they’re asking for, while others will want you to make the move yourself to activate and strengthen your own editorial muscles. Some will hand off their edits like a bouquet (or a bomb), and tell you to come back when you’re done, while others will walk you through every single comma change on the phone. Most editors, if we have our boundaries in place, fall somewhere in the middle.

So, consider past scenarios that have empowered you to do your best work. What were the circumstances of those successes? How did you behave, and how did the people around you behave? Generally speaking, do you like to be told exactly what to do to make things “right,” or do you like having a puzzle presented to you for solving in your own way? Do you like/expect constant communication with project collaborators, or do you like breaks to refill your own tank from time to time? Do you do your best work with more freedom or more constraints? Know these things about yourself, and share them with your editor. Then continue the conversation to find out:

Does the editor “get” you and your book?What circumstances and behaviors allow them to do their best work?Have they worked with an author like you before? How did it go?Do you understand each other in conversation? In writing?Do you trust each other’s insights and ideas?Do you respect each other?Can you be vulnerable with this person?Do you feel comfortable challenging each other and being challenged? 

There’s only so much we can guess about our own responses before we actually get into the work of editing, so be prepared to surprise yourself from time to time. Being edited is hard, and brave, and worth it. 

When reviewing challenging edits, keep in mind that your editor hates your book out of love.  They really do want you to succeed, and they wouldn’t ask you to do something if they didn’t know you could do it. Remember that they believe in your vision and in you—maybe more than anyone else in the early stages (including you). They already know how hard it can be to open yourself up to critique, and the more honest you are with them about who you are and what you need, the better the process and the book will be.

Fun side note: Before he’d hire me, one author years ago wanted to know my Myers-Briggs score, and he shared his with me. I thought that was a fun, low-stress way to learn a lot about our default working and engagement styles, and I’ve since found a lot of value in being upfront with authors about my own particular brand of crazy. (ENFP!) 

Though I (and the developers of Myers-Briggs, it turns out) would actually caution against making hiring decisions based on the results of a self-administered online test, you do want to consider early on how you and your editor might instinctually handle the everyday sensitivities of editing a book, such as delicate conversations, internal and external pressure, scope creep, and editorial disagreements. Tools such as the Enneagram, the Caliper Profile, and the Gallup StrengthsFinder 2.0 assessment are other options for learning about yourself and others in any professional partnership. 

What Your Editor Can and Cannot Do

To give you the best chance of a successful editing partnership, and to help you manage your expectations, keep the following in mind about what your editor can and cannot do for you.

Your editor can…

Tell you why your book doesn’t work. Editing is a craft full of mystery, yes, but it’s also a legitimate industry full of best practices. To that end, a qualified developmental or substantive editor can itemize the exact ways in which your manuscript aligns with the best practices of writing a book in your chosen genre or category, and the ways in which it deviates.

Likewise, a qualified copy editor or proofreader can tell you what specific rules of language and style you’re breaking. That itemized list will help inform the work you’ll do together to get the book ready for publication.

To be clear, a book doesn’t always have to follow all the rules, but an author does have to be aware of them in order to break them effectively. If you don’t know what the rules are for a book in your genre, make sure your editor does so they can guide you through the process of deciding which ones to follow and which ones to break. Following no rules at all is a great way to write a terrible book.

Show you how to fix what needs fixing. Upon identifying the things that need fixing, an editor can suggest specific ways to fix those things. At the developmental or substantive level, an editor will offer ideas to help you—among other things—clarify your theme, streamline your structure, strengthen your characters, and smooth out your pacing.

Copy editors and proofreaders will mark up your manuscript line by line with questions like, “When you say X, do you actually mean Y?” and “I’ve fixed the spelling of this word to reflect US spelling conventions. OK?” They won’t do it for you unless the error is so obvious or obscure that it doesn’t need your sign-off.

Help your book realize its full potential. Editors are trained to spot the nuggets of gold buried in your themes, chapters, paragraphs, and sentences. If you trust their expertise, you can follow their advice knowing that they want you and your book to look good.

Help you become a better writer. Most editors I know love it when authors want to learn the “why” behind the edits they are receiving. If you’re up for a lot of excitement about mythology, archetypes, etymology, style guides, and descriptive vs. prescriptive dictionaries, an editor is the best person to ask. We know why certain books work and connect the way they do, and why others don’t. We can help you make specific decisions at the structural and sentence level that will help you become better at your craft.

Your editor cannot…

Fix your book for you. It is not your editor’s job to implement their edits on your book. The reason for this is two-fold: first, implementing edits is called revision. It has a different word because it’s an entirely different scope. If editing is suggesting things for improvement, revision is incorporating those suggestions. Revision is not editing, and an editor is not qualified to revise your manuscript. In fact, the only one qualified to receive, interpret, and incorporate the edits is you, the author.

Second, the edits themselves are suggestions, not directives. Even when they’re phrased as “do this instead,” edits are best read as growth opportunities. Your editor may suggest you do a specific thing to fix a specific problem, but the real takeaway is that the existing problem needs a solution. Upon reading the editor’s suggested solution, you may think of a better one yourself. Go ahead and implement it, then refer back to the first thing your editor can do (above). We’ll let you know if it works.

Guarantee anything. Working with an editor (or any industry professional) is not a shortcut to a perfect book, a publishing deal, a bestseller, or a bunch of 5-star reviews. Publishing outcomes have many contributing factors that are entirely unrelated to the editing process or the quality of the writing or editing. While a good edit can indeed contribute to the possibility of your book achieving any or all of these outcomes, none of them is the singular goal of an editor or an edit.

Do not hire or trust anyone who charges you to write a bestseller or makes similarly grandiose marketing promises. While publishing professionals can indeed itemize and expound on why already-published books were successful, the truth is that even then, we are adding a narrative arc to disparate factors that include luck and timing. The strategy cannot be reliably or ethically reverse-engineered. Anyone who tells you differently is being dishonest.

Final Thoughts

There’s no one-size-fits-all definition of a good editor, but here are a few final takeaways that I hope will serve you well. 

A good editor:

Says yes far more often than they say no. I learned this years ago from an editing professor of mine, and it’s been my golden rule ever since. We’re not out only to tell you everything that’s wrong with your book—we’re here to leverage our training and experience in identifying what you’re already doing really well so that you can do more of that. Even if you don’t think so yet, you write in a very unique, particular way, and we want to help you develop that.

Watch for those places in the manuscript where your editor points out a great choice you’ve made and/or acquiesces when you decide not to implement one of our suggestions. Those moments of enthusiasm and compromise are there for two reasons: to encourage you in your craft, and to demonstrate that your editor recognizes and respects your talent. We want the editing process to be an insightful and encouraging growth opportunity for you, not a demoralizing attack. We want you to finish this book, and to write another one. We’ll say yes to your choices and ideas as often as we can so that when we say no, you pay attention.

Says no far more often than they say yes. (We contain multitudes.) Good editors get a lot of inquiries, and they turn most of them down. It’s no reflection on you or your work—we simply specialize in and are qualified to edit only certain kinds of books. Your book won’t be for every reader, and it won’t be for every editor, either. Keep looking until you find one who’s enthusiastic about and qualified to work on your project. 

Doesn’t have all the answers. Who wants to work with someone who thinks they know everything? I’m over 15 years in, and I still feel like I’m just getting started. Publishing is a mercurial industry, and despite the best efforts of authors, editors, and publishers, no one really knows what’s going to connect until it does. Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or under-informed. 

So take that as a permission slip to write the book you want to write, and remember it when working with an editor. We want your book to exist, too. We take it on because we think it’s great, and because we think we can help you make it even better. You can trust that we’ll do our best work for you, that we know a lot, and that we have good reasons for our decisions. But we don’t know it all, and we’re still here for the ride. Besides, you’re not hiring us to give you all the answers, but to be your champion and challenger every step of the way, and to offer advice based on our knowledge of books, language, and the publishing industry. 

“Works in disappearing ink.” That’s a quote from Michael Pietsch, who edited Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch and DFW’s Infinite Jest, among many other notable titles. Max Perkins’ fame aside, editors work really hard to stay invisible in the final product that is your book. It’s your book. We’re proud that it’s yours. We want to help you turn it into the best possible version of itself, and make you look really good in the process.

If you’ve made it all the way to this point, congratulations—you are taking your book and your writing seriously, and editors all over the world commend you. We look forward to reading your work and helping you take it to the next level.

How to Throw a Virtual Book Launch Using Facebook Live

Today’s guest post is by author and publishing consultant K.B. Jensen (@KB_Jensen).

Throwing a book launch party in the best of times is like throwing a small wedding. You can go all out with a book cover cake, food, a hundred friends and family, signing, appetizers, a reading, drawings and games, and a cash bar. But what can you do when there are Covid-19 concerns, you are on a tight budget, or you have friends and fans all over the world and want to celebrate together? You can take the party online at virtually no cost.

Books are worth celebrating, especially in times like these. You’ve worked hard on your book, spent years honing your craft and expertise, writing and revising. You can and should still celebrate your book launch right now.

As a My Word Publishing consultant, I often help clients launch their books in person in front of crowds, helping introduce authors and sell their books, among many other publishing services. I recently helped award-winning author Helen Starbuck launch Legacy of Secrets, a critically acclaimed romantic suspense novel, on Facebook Live instead.

How to Choose Your Event Date and Time

If your book launch was cancelled and your book is already out, you could move up your book launch date or online party to as soon as two to three weeks out. In an ideal world, you would plan it out four to six weeks in advance to give time to promote and plan. Consider a weekday evening like a Tuesday or Wednesday, between 5 and 7 p.m. Depending on what activities you have planned, consider one to two hours for the duration.

Spread the Word More Than You Think RequiredEmail your fans, family, and friends a save-the-date as soon as you know the information. Explain what a virtual book launch party is on Facebook Live. Many people still aren’t familiar with these events, so you’ll want to make it clear. Ask core fans and friends to help spread the word and share the event.Put event information up on Eventbrite, Meetup (if you have an organizer account or are part of an organization that does), and post on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.Use Canva or another design site to create a professional event banner and include 3D images of your books. Fiverr can also help you find someone who can create these for you.Ideally, four weeks in advance, send a more detailed invite to friends, family, colleagues, neighbors and fans. (Again, if needed, explain what a Facebook Live event is.)Send out invites once a week, the day before, the day of and the hour before. Announce it on social media even more.

Be strategic about your follow up and reminders. I recently RSVP’d to a launch party for a big-five author online and had every intention of attending and buying a copy of her book. Unfortunately, the event was on a Sunday, a day I rarely check my calendar and generally spend with family. I would have been happy to attend and buy a book, but completely forgot about it. Despite my RSVP, I did not receive any reminders about the event the week before or the day of.

You have to send out the link often prior to the event. Unfortunately, you can’t currently schedule a Facebook Live more than a week in advance, so we had to direct people to Helen’s Facebook author page until then.

Make It Easy for People to Buy Your Book

Be clear on how people can order your books. You can sell “tickets” for signed books, if you don’t mind hitting the Post Office and sending them through media mail. You could also direct customers to an online retailer. However, in that case, you miss out on signing the books during the event.

If selling books directly, announce the cost of the event ticket on your event pages. The “ticket” includes the cost of your book, tax and media mail shipping. The cost for a signed and shipped copy of Helen’s book was set at $20, for example. Ideally, you’d set up payment options through your author website. You could also create a payment link through Square. Some authors take PayPal or Venmo, as well. Whatever payment method you choose, ask your fans to put their address in the comments or email you their address, so you know where to send the books.

During the event, you will have a list of who bought a “ticket” by buying a copy of your book, and announce you are signing that person’s book. Give them a shout-out and thank them.

Make It Fun for Guests

When hosting an online party, you’ll want try to hit the different communication types out there. Think of the sights and sounds you can use to make it entertaining and engage with your viewers on different levels. For example, have a visual like a pile of books in the background. Whenever someone buys, take a book off that pile and ring a bell—like the bartender who rings the bell every time they get a tip.

Put posters of your book covers or awards in the background. You’ll want to have things to talk about, your list of books to sign, questions to ask to engage attendees. Have a stack of your books next to you. You can also prepare posts in advance for your social or book Facebook pages during your event. Other ideas:

Consider having your core friends or fans having questions at the ready for a Q&A. I shared my list of questions with Helen prior to the event as well, and sprinkled them in the comments throughout the event. It also helps to have a couple of people in person with you as your “assistants.” They can help you engage.Make sure to respond to anyone who leaves comments. Answer their questions and let them know you appreciate they are watching.One of the highlights of the launch party was a prize drawing near the end. Readers who bought a copy could enter the drawing for the chance to be named a character in Helen’s next novel. Alternatively, you could offer to send a gift to the winner.Helen encouraged guests to BYOB and had a toast during the Live. She drank a margarita, a favorite drink of her protagonist in Legacy of Secrets. Be creative and have fun with it.You could do a quiz with your readers guessing the answers or play other games like an at-home scavenger hunt related to the book.You could interview guests with a third-party tool like StreamYard. For example, choose guests who can back up your messaging, who have read the book, or a person of influence in that arena, depending on your genre.Have a musical friend or family member? Invite live musical guests.Test Your Technology in Advance

Be careful which third-party sites you use for split screens. We had thought I’d interview Helen using a split screen for part of the launch. Unfortunately, the service we intended to use for a split screen interview on Facebook Live failed to work on the day of the book launch, so Helen pivoted to plan B, and I asked questions in the comments. I actually liked this better personally, since fans were there to see Helen, not me. We discussed this as a backup plan, in case the app failed, and practiced both ways. If you are having someone join you live, I recommend StreamYard. Streaming through Zoom is also an option through advanced settings.

I cannot stress this enough: Practice using Facebook Live prior to the launch and using your third party-app with a split screen, too, if you will use that. When Helen had her launch, she was able to interact beautifully with her friends and fans in an authentic and collected manner, because she’d gotten over the nerves in her practice sessions counting down to her launch. View a recording of Helen Starbuck’s Launch for Legacy of Secrets.

Best of luck and congratulations with your new book. Your friends and fans want to celebrate with you, regardless of whether it’s in person or online.

Developing a Writing Practice, Part 6: Captivating

Today’s post is by regular contributor Susan DeFreitas (@manzanitafire), an award-winning author, editor, and book coach. She offers a first 50-page review on works in progress for novelists seeking direction on their next step toward publishing.

In part six of this series based on Sean D. Young’s bestselling book Stick with It: A Scientifically Proven Process for Changing Your Life—for Good, we’re taking a look at the second C in SCIENCE, Young’s acronym for those strategies that lead to lasting change: Captivating.

In Chapter 7 of his book, Young shares a fact that should give us pause the next time we hear the pleasant ping from a cell phone as a new message arrives: Both the casino industry and mobile phone designers make use of insights gleaned from the science of behaviorism to keep us hooked. More specifically, they make use of two principles: the Quick Fix and the Trick Fix.

When you enter a casino, one of the first things you hear is the sound of coins flooding a machine, a reminder that you too can win—that’s the Quick Fix. Of course, the reality is that the table is always tilted in the favor of the house, and you’re more likely to lose money when you walk in those doors than gain it. But casinos engineer their systems to provide a big payout just often enough to keep people coming back. That’s the Trick Fix.

Similar principles are in play when we find ourselves picking up our phones to check email and then falling down the social media rabbit hole. All of those push notifications make it seem like something hugely exciting is waiting for us if we tap the Facebook icon (or, at the very least, that we need to get rid of those notifications before their number gets out of hand). Nine times out of ten, those notifications don’t correspond to anything all that fabulous—but just often enough, there is something truly rewarding there: a note from a friend, a funny meme from a family member, or a comment on our latest blog post. That’s the Trick Fix.

And the Quick Fix? That’s the pleasing array of colors, shapes, and sounds associated with both the phone and its apps, which exhibit what’s known as “persuasive design.”

Young points out that the combination of the Quick Fix and the Trick Fix are captivating, in that they keep us returning to the same behaviors over and over again. And while the principles behind them can be used to manipulate people into forming an unhealthy addiction, like gambling or obsessive scrolling, they can also be used to establish a healthy habit—such as, say, a regular writing practice.

What one person considers rewarding won’t mean much to someone else, so a key part of harnessing the power of Captivating to establish a regular writing practice is understanding what you personally find rewarding. Here are some ideas for how you might do that:

Give Yourself a “Cookie”

The bestselling novelist Jess Walter tells a story about how, early on in his career, when he had small kids at home and was struggling to find time to write, he decided he would get up at the crack of dawn and make it happen. Except that when the alarm went off, all he wanted was to roll over and get a few more ZZs.

His wife came up with a (genius) solution: At the beginning of the week, she’d make a batch of chocolate-chip cookies, and each night, she’d leave one sitting out for him on the kitchen table. That cookie became Jess’s reward for getting up early enough to write, before the chaos of the day began.

Before long, he started to feel excited about getting up early to write, because as soon as he awoke, he knew that cookie was waiting for him. This helped him establish a new habit, by offering him a Quick Fix—and even after his kids got older and he stopped needing that cookie to get motivated, he still enjoys getting up early to write.

If you’re not a fan of sweets (or watching your calorie intake) your “cookie” might be a special cup of top-shelf coffee, a toasty English muffin, or a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice—anything that feels like a little treat for you can do the trick, by helping you look forward to writing.

Reward Yourself for Good Behavior

If you’ve gotten in a groove with a regular writing practice, you’ll likely find that you don’t need that quick fix anymore to get yourself motivated, just like Jess no longer needed that cookie. But eventually, you’ll reach a point where that momentum starts to wane, and this is a great point to reward yourself with a Trick Fix.

Personally, I love to listen to music while writing, so sometimes after reaching a milestone, like completing a full revision of a short story, I’ll give myself a treat by downloading a great album for writing, or creating a dedicated writing playlist for the next leg of my project.

For someone else, that Trick Fix might be getting a new book, or taking a lazy Sunday morning to read, or even just taking the time to go for a long walk and listen to a favorite podcast. Granting yourself small pleasures like these as a reward for staying engaged with the writing process can help to keep you coming back for more.

Share Your Work

Some people get the jitters at the mere thought of standing up on stage and sharing their work, while others love the spotlight. Regardless of where you fall on that spectrum, sharing your creative work can be hugely rewarding—and in the long slog involved with writing a book-length manuscript, it can help to remind you of what lies at the finish line: real people, and real connection.

If the idea of being featured at a local literary event causes you to break out in hives—or there are no local literary events where you live—you might share your work as part of an online reading series, or even post snippets of it to social media.

However you approach it, having the courage to share your creative work can be both inspiring and galvanizing, and that in turn can help to keep you returning to the writing process, day after day.

If you love to write, the act of doing so is captivating in and of itself—but there will always be times when doing so feels tougher, whether it’s because of the “story problems” you’re wrestling with or because of life getting in the way.

Employing the science of captivating rewards is one of the ways you can keep yourself excited about and engaged with a big writing project, all the way to The End.

Who Makes It Happen? Giving Your Characters Agency

Photo credit: lies_dt on VisualHunt / CC BY

Today’s guest post is editor by Tiffany Yates Martin (@FoxPrintEd). Her new book, Intuitive Editing: A Creative and Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing, is out now.

Writers are often warned off of passive “be” verbs that suck the life out of their prose—but the “be” trap of passivity can also suck the life out of your characters. Regardless of how richly developed your characters are, it’s not enough for a protagonist to simply be interesting, multifaceted, layered. They also need to do. Characters who don’t—who have no agency, don’t captain their own ship—give readers nothing to invest in or root for, and they lie flat on the page no matter how exciting the rest of your story may be.

It’s easy to fall into “be” traps, though—especially when so many common character journeys involve moving from disenfranchisement to self-determination, or weakness to strength, or aimlessness to actualization. Check your story for these common characterization traps that can result in passive protagonists:

The witness: The protagonist is present for the action of the story, but primarily as an observer or reporter, rather than a key driver of the plot. The bystander: The plot happens adjacent to the main character; he’s “in the room where it happens,” but not intrinsic to making it happen. The recipient: Another character in the story effects the action and drives the plot, handing the spoils—essential information, progress toward a goal, etc.—to the ostensible protagonist, who didn’t directly do anything to achieve them. The victim: The character is woefully put-upon in her journey toward self-actualization, but we never see her taking the reins to act for her own salvation; she just weathers the storm.

In the same way that the antagonist must directly or intrinsically cause or worsen what happens to the protagonist, your protagonist must directly influence or engineer her own destiny. If she doesn’t she isn’t the hero; she’s a passenger in the story. A character must actively be striving for something, and she must have agency—meaning, as Merriam Webster defines it (emphasis mine), “the capacity, condition, or state of acting or of exerting power; a person or thing through which power is exerted or an end is achieved.”

In each of the above cases—and in general when assessing and revising your manuscript—look for where your hero directly drives the story. Would events have happened the same way if your character hadn’t been there? And does something the character does (or doesn’t do) directly bring about whatever happens in the story?

If you find that you can’t draw a direct line between the protagonist’s actions and the plot actions, here are a few techniques to make sure your protags stay in the driver’s seat:

Use goals to propel the character, both overarching and immediate.

Lack of clear, strong goals is often the culprit of a character whose forward momentum stalls out. Even if you know what your protagonist wants in the long run, the main goal he is working toward throughout the story—Romeo wants Juliet; Jack Reacher wants to nail the bad guy; Stella wants her groove back—he should also always have an immediate one: what he wants or needs in every single scene, the attainment of which is often a step on the road to his main goal. For instance, Romeo first has to get up that balcony to win his fair Juliet; then he has to plan for their elopement; then he has to procure the poison to help achieve it, etc. Each of these clear immediate goals causes him to have to take direct action to make it happen. Make sure the momentum of the story is directly driven in pursuit of that goal by your character’s choices, actions, and behavior.

Use will and intention to give drive to characters who are stuck.

Your character may not be able to actually effect the changes she wants to make or to immediately pursue her goals, but showing her desperate desire to do so can stand in for the action itself and give readers something to root for, at least in the short term (though eventually we need to see the character push past that resistance and actually pick up the controls).

In Ruta Sepetys’s The Fountains of Silence, after her parents are killed for defying Franco’s restrictive edicts, hotel chambermaid Ana must help support her siblings if they’re to survive—which means staying silent and quiescent with the hotel’s guests, who see only luxury, about the harsh realities of fascist Spain. Yet Ana brims with desire to provide for her family, to keep them secure from the dangers of Franco’s oppressive regime, and to share her secret truths with Daniel, the wealthy American she begins to connect with. It’s her desperate longing to break out of her enforced silence that drives her arc—and the story—long before she’s finally able to actually do it.

Make the protagonist’s passivity directly drive the action.

In some cases the character’s inaction can directly result in the plot action, making the protagonist drive the story even if in a roundabout way. In Nadia Hashimi’s A House without Windows, Zeba is arrested and imprisoned for murder when she is found in her courtyard beside her dead husband and a bloody hatchet. Despite a likely death sentence she refuses to defend herself or help Yusuf, the American-raised, Afghan-born human rights lawyer trying to exonerate her—but it’s her reticence that intrigues him and spurs him to seek out the full story. And ultimately Zeba’s seeming passivity is revealed to be action in service of a goal—just not the one Yusuf (and the reader) presumed; she is reclaiming women’s power in the only way she can in her Afghani society that robs it.

Keep the action visceral and immediate.

Even where characters are taking a direct hand in their fate, if we’re not seeing it happen firsthand it doesn’t read as strong agency. Put the action on the page: If your protagonist is hunting down clues to locate a murderer, for example, readers need to watch her sniff them out. Telling us about character agency secondhand and after the fact blunts its impact and leaves readers feeling removed from the action. One reason readers and movie audiences loved The Martian, largely a single-character, single-setting book and movie, was that it was almost entirely a story about a protagonist’s endlessly creative, ferociously determined efforts to forge his own fate.

Story is a journey and the plot is the road—but your characters are the drivers. If your protagonists aren’t driving the action—if they passively experience events that happen to them, rather than having agency and effecting change—the story will quickly lose momentum and stall. There’s a reason there’s no genre for “Boy meets girl; boy loses girl; boy mopes around till girl comes back and they live happily ever after.” A character who merely passively awaits his fate is someone we may pity, but likely can’t invest in. We must root for your protagonist—it’s why we read—and we can’t do that unless she’s the engine of her own story, not passive freight.

Note from Jane: if you enjoyed this post, check out Tiffany’s new book Intuitive Editing: A Creative and Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing.

How to Write a Novel Synopsis

Photo by reamyde / Flickr

Note from Jane: On May 6, I’m teaching an online class, Conquer the Dreaded Synopsis. The following post was published years ago, but I regularly revisit, revise, and expand it. I’ve also written a comprehensive post on writing query letters.

It’s probably the single most despised document you might be asked to prepare: the synopsis. 

The synopsis is sometimes necessary because an agent or publisher wants to see, from beginning to end, what happens in your story. Thus, the synopsis must convey a book’s entire narrative arc. It shows what happens and who changes, and it has to reveal the ending. Synopses may be required when you first query your work, or you may be asked for it later.

Don’t confuse the synopsis with sales copy, or the kind of marketing description that might appear on your back cover or in an Amazon description. You’re not writing a punchy piece for readers that builds excitement. It’s not an editorial about your book. Instead, it’s an industry document that helps an agent or editor quickly assess your story’s appeal and if it’s worth them reading the entire manuscript.

How long should a synopsis be?

You’ll find conflicting advice on this. However, I recommend keeping it short, or at least starting short. Write a one- or two-page synopsis—about 500-1000 words, single spaced—and use that as your default, unless the submission guidelines ask for something longer. If your synopsis runs longer, anything up to two pages (again, single spaced) is usually acceptable. Most agents/editors will not be interested in a synopsis longer than a few pages.

While this post is geared toward writers of fiction, the same principles can be applied to memoir and other narrative nonfiction works.

Why the synopsis is important to agents and editors

The synopsis ensures character actions and motivations are realistic and make sense. A synopsis will reveal any big problems in your story—e.g., “it was just a dream” endings, ridiculous acts of god, a category romance ending in divorce. It can reveal plot flaws, serious gaps in character motivation, or a lack of structure. Or it can reveal how fresh your story is; if there’s nothing surprising or the plot is hackneyed, your manuscript may not get read.

The good news: Some agents hate synopses and never read them; this is more typical for agents who represent literary work. Either way, agents aren’t expecting a work of art. You can impress with lean, clean, powerful language (Miss Snark recommends “energy and vitality”).

Synopses should usually be written in third person, present tense (even if your novel is written in first person). For memoirists, I recommend first person, but first or third is acceptable.

What the synopsis must accomplish

In most cases, you’ll start the synopsis with your protagonist. You’ll describe her mindset and motivations at the opening of the story, then explain what happens to change her situation (often known as the inciting incident). Motivation is fairly critical here: we need to understand what drives this character to act.

Once the protagonist is established, each paragraph ideally moves the story forward (with events unfolding in exactly the same order as in the manuscript), with strong cause-effect storytelling, including the key scenes of your novel. We need to see how the story conflict plays out, who or what is driving that conflict, and how the protagonist succeeds or fails in dealing with it.

By the end, we should understand how that conflict is resolved and how the protagonist’s situation, both internally and externally, has changed. Think about your genre’s “formula,” if there is one, and be sure to include all major turning points associated with that formula. 

If you cover all these things, that won’t leave you much time for detail if you keep the synopsis to a single page. You won’t be able to mention every character or event or include every scene—only those that materially affect the protagonist’s decisions or our understanding of the story’s events. You may have to exclude some subplots, and you definitely have to stay out of the plotting weeds. If there’s a shootout at the story’s climax, for instance, or a big fight scene, it’s fairly useless to get into the details of the choreography and how many punches are thrown. Instead, you say there’s a big fight and make it clear who wins and who loses.

To decide what characters deserve space in the synopsis, you need to look at their role in influencing the protagonist or changing the direction of the story. We need to see how they enter the story, the quality of their relationship to the protagonist, and how their story resolves. Any character that merits placement in a synopsis should have at least two to three mentions. If you can get away with only mentioning them once, they probably don’t belong at all.

A good rule of thumb for determining what stays and what goes: If the ending wouldn’t make sense without the character or plot point being mentioned, then it belongs in the synopsis.

A synopsis should get to the point—fast

Here’s an example of what I mean.

Very Wordy: At work, Elizabeth searches for Peter all over the office and finally finds him in the supply room, where she tells him she resents the remarks he made about her in the staff meeting.

Tight: At work, Elizabeth confronts Peter about his remarks at the staff meeting.

The most common synopsis mistake

Don’t make the mistake of thinking the synopsis just details the plot. That will end up reading like a mechanical account of your story (or the dreaded “synopsis speak”), without depth or texture.

Consider what it would sound like if you summarized a football game by saying. “Well, the Patriots scored. And then the Giants scored. Then the Patriots scored twice in a row.” That’s sterile and doesn’t give us the meaning behind how events are unfolding.

Instead, you would say something like, “The Patriots scored a touchdown after more than one hour of a no-score game, and the underdog of the team led the play. The crowd went wild.”

The secret to a great synopsis

A synopsis includes the characters’ emotions and reactions to what’s happening. That will help you avoid something that reads like a mechanic’s manual. Include both story advancement (plot stuff) and color (character stuff).

Incident (Story Advancement) + Reaction (Color) =
Decision (Story Advancement)

For stories with considerable world building or extensive historical settings

Some writers may need to open their synopsis with a paragraph or so that helps establish the world we’re entering and the rules of that world. This helps us better understand the characters and their motivations once introduced. For example, a synopsis of Harry Potter might clarify upfront that the world is divided into Muggles and wizards, and that the Muggles have no idea that a magical world exists. Or, this fact could be relayed in the synopsis once Harry Potter learns about it himself.

In a historical novel, a writer might have to establish cultural attitudes or facts that might not be known to contemporary readers, so that the characters’ actions make sense and the weight of the conflict is clear.

In science fiction and fantasy, try to avoid proper terms or nouns that have to be defined or explained unless such terms are central to your story (like “Muggles” above). Instead, try to get the point across in language that anyone can understand but still gets the point across. The goal here is to focus on telling the story rather than increasing the mental workload of the agent/editor, who has to decipher and remember the unfamiliar vocabulary.

Avoid splitting the synopsis into sections

In most cases, the synopsis should start and end without any breaks, sections, or other subheadings. However, on occasion, there might be a reason to add “sign posts” to the synopsis, due to your book’s unique narrative structure. For example, if your novel has intertwining timelines, or if it jumps around in time and place, you may want to begin each paragraph with a bold lead-in (“Paris, 1893”), to establish where we are. Other than that, avoid sectioning out the story in any way, or listing a cast of characters upfront, as if you were writing a play. Characters should be introduced at the moment they enter the story or when they specifically contribute to the story moving forward.

Common novel synopsis pitfallsDon’t get weighed down with the specifics of character names, places, and other proper names or terms. Stick to the basics. Use the name of your main characters, but if a waitress enters the story for just one scene, call her “the waitress.” Don’t say “Bonnie, the boisterous waitress who calls everyone hon and works seven days a week.” When you do mention specific names, it’s common to put the name in all caps in the first instance, so it’s easy for agents or editors to see at a glance who the key figures are. Don’t spend time explaining or deconstructing your story’s meaning or themes. This can be a particularly persistent problem with memoir. A synopsis tells the story, but it doesn’t try to offer an interpretation, e.g., saying something like, “This is the story of how many ordinary people like me tried to make a difference.”Avoid talking about the story construction. This is where you add things that describe the book’s structure, such as “in the climax of the novel,” or “in a series of tense scenes.”Avoid character backstory unless it’s tied to the character’s motivations and desires throughout the book. A phrase or two is plenty to indicate a character’s background; ideally, you should reference it when it affects how events unfold. If you’ve written a story with flashbacks, you probably won’t include much, if any, of that in the synopsis. Avoid including dialogue, and if you do, be sparing. Make sure the dialogue you include is absolutely iconic of the character or represents a linchpin moment in the book.Don’t ask rhetorical or unanswered questions. Remember, your goal here isn’t to entice a reader. While your synopsis will reflect your ability to write, it’s not the place to get pretty with your prose. That means you should leave out any attempts to impress through poetic description. You can’t take the time to show everything in your synopsis. Often you have to tell, and sometimes this is confusing to writers who’ve been told for years to “show don’t tell.” For example, it’s OK to just come out and say your main character is a “hopeless romantic” rather than trying to show it.Additional resources How to Write a Synopsis of Your Novel (one of the best advice articles I’ve seen)How to Write a 1-Page SynopsisThe Anatomy of a Short SynopsisHow to Write a Synopsis Without Losing Your MindThe Synopsis: What It Is, What It Isn’t, and How to Write ItMore than 100 synopses are critiqued at the Miss Snark archive on synopses writing (great critiques by a very experienced literary agent).I offer a synopsis critique service

I can help you improve your query, synopsis, and first five pages.

The 3 Ms of Character Setup

Today’s guest post is by author, editor and writing instructor C. S. Lakin (@cslakin). Her new online video course, Your Cast of Characters, teaches writers how to populate their novels with the perfect cast.

Fiction writers are told to get their readers to bond quickly with their characters—in particular the protagonist. In few pages, they must make the hero of their story empathetic, relatable, and understandable.

Wow, that’s a herculean task. How long does it take us to truly “get” a person we meet? Five minutes? An hour?

While some of us are intuitive and savvy and feel we can “size up” a stranger in record time, truth is people are complex, they show a persona that may mask who they are underneath, and they may not reveal all that much at first (or ever).

Yet … I recall a restauranteur friend of mine who declared confidently that, after serving dinners to thousands of patrons over the years, she could tell everything about a couple in the first five minutes of their ordering a meal. What kind of tension was simmering between them, how they felt about each other, status dynamics—those kinds of things.

After running a bed and breakfast for 13 years and hosting more than 20,000 guests (essentially living with us in our home), I can attest that my husband and I are pretty good at figuring people out within minutes.

There are things we all pick up intuitively right away when we meet someone, and after we observe their body language, speech, gestures, and demeanor, we formulate at least a sketchy impression. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Blink, explores just how much wisdom and accuracy we bring to those initial impressions. It may astonish you.

But here’s the challenge for us writers.

We have to put words on a page that will convey enough for our readers to do similarly.

How can that be done when the reader can’t see our characters, pick up on those nuances of gesture and bearing and expression?

Last thing we want to do is ramble for pages describing clothing and eye color, then compounding the mess with long passages of backstory and explanation.

There are lots of great books and podcast episodes and courses that teach character development, and much is worth gleaning and applying in your writing. But I’d like to present you with a simple, basic foundation you can work from—one that will help achieve this quick familiarity with all your characters.

If you start working on a character idea, instead of thinking of how they look or their general personality type, try focusing on the three Ms. Let’s take a brief look.

1. Mindset

This speaks to the character’s overall state of mind, attitude, present concern. When you introduce a character, ask: What is bothering him right now in his life? What is he most concerned with? A character that is happy and carefree, lacking any concern or inner conflict, is a boring character. What situation can you put this character in that will best hint at her state of mind? Make that a factor when brainstorming your scene.

2. Motivation

Underneath or driving that mindset is motivation. Your character wants or needs something. Everything we do is sparked by some need or desire. Right now I’d love to have a root beer float. The hot sun and my thirst create that desire, and so I am moved to go inside and reach for the vanilla ice cream.

Our characters—all of them—need to think, speak, and behave based on motivation. If you can hint at what is pressing them to do what they are doing in any given moment, that goes a long way to helping readers “get” your character.

3. Mood

The third M is mood. Your character’s mood is, of course, affected by his mindset. Thoughts lead to feelings. If I think about how George belittled me yesterday, the anger and humiliation will well up. While that may not be motivating what I’m presently doing right now, it’s going to affect my state of mind.

Let’s take a look at the opening to Jon Cohen’s novel Harry’s Trees. See if you can pick up indications of these three M’s, without knowing anything about the premise.

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One year had passed, four gray, indistinguishable seasons, and Harry had missed not a single day of work, because what was he going to do at home? Home: the place where he ate peanut butter on stale crackers and fell asleep in the wingback chair beside the fireplace that still contained the half-charred log that Beth had tossed onto the grate the night before she was killed. Harry would lurch awake, rise stiffly, shower or not shower and drive to work before dawn.

Really, was there a better way to punish himself? He would work for the Forest Service until he was sixty-five. No, the way the world was going they’d keep raising the age of retirement—he’d work until he was seventy, eighty, ninety. Perfect. Decade upon decade, clacking away on his keyboard until his heart sputtered out, his corpse sitting there for years, no one noticing the gnarled finger frozen above the delete key. …

Even Bob Jackson, who dodged, whined, griped and shirked his way through every workday, felt a smirking pity whenever he emailed Harry a huge batch of files or plopped a fresh stack of fat folders onto his desk.

“Christ, Harry, you’re allowed to, like, get up and take a leak once in a while, you know.” Bob bit off a sliver of fingernail and swallowed it like an egret gulping a minnow.

How pathetic to be pitied by Bob Jackson, a creature who chewed his nails to slimy nubs, picked his nose with the insouciance of a three-year-old and used spit to finger-smooth the four hairs of his comb-over. But the life-form that was Bob no longer rankled Harry, nor did Harry notice the widening ring of cubicles around him that had gone vacant as his fellow workers jockeyed for less psychologically intense office real estate. Who wanted to sit near a black hole, to be vortexed into that? Sure, the guy’s wife had died in a spectacular freak accident but, yikes. And although no one actually said it—the upside? Shell-shocked Harry Crane was a bottomless dumpster for crappy assignments. Forest initiatives, SOPA reports? NFS studies, FSI summaries, process predicament reviews? Turf ’em to The Widower!

What do you notice right off? I hope it’s that this passage is written in deep POV. Every line of a scene is your character’s voice (or should be), and if you aren’t writing your scenes like this, you are not going to be able to adequately convey the three Ms. This applies to first- and third-person POV.

The narrative is Harry’s stream of thought, and we pick up on his mindset and mood right away. His wry, cynical—even fatalistic—humor is a mask for his pain. The author doesn’t tell us “Harry is moping and cynical because his wife died, and he thinks life is futile.” That would be “telling” instead of “showing.”

What is shown is his mood by the choice of words and phrasing. Pay attention to this. Words create mood. The way Harry views his coworkers reveals a lot about Harry’s mindset. He imagines that they pity him and even despise him. Yet we sense it’s not they who think he’s pathetic but Harry himself. He is projecting his own feelings onto them.

Harry’s mindset is shown by how he spends time at home, eating crackers and peanut butter and sleeping in the chair by a fireplace he hasn’t dared light since his wife died. We sense that time and life has screeched to a halt for Harry. Motivation? He has nothing to live for anymore. He is on autopilot. He will keep working until he dies because there is nothing else to do.

We also get a hint of his mood and mindset when he mentions that this is his punishment, implying he feels some guilt over his wife’s death. The picture of his corpse left ignored at his desk with the finger frozen over the Delete key makes us wonder: What did he do or fail to do that caused Beth’s death?

All in all, Harry feels he is getting what he deserves. He accepts this as his fate with bitterness and pain. We feel all this through his description of his daily work routine.

Five paragraphs. How well do you feel you know Harry? Does he inspire empathy in you? Do you feel like you “get” him right away? I do.

Do spend gobs of time developing your characters. Go deep and wide with their past wounds and present concerns. But focus primarily on these three Ms if you want to draw your readers into your story. Characters with motivation, core need, something driving them, unsettling them, are characters readers care about.

What lines in that passage helped you “get” Harry right away? Share in the comments.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, check out C.S. Lakin’s new online video course, Your Cast of Characters, which teaches writers how to populate their novels with the perfect cast.

Developing a Writing Practice, Part 5: Neurohacks

Today’s post is by regular contributor Susan DeFreitas (@manzanitafire), an award-winning author, editor, and book coach. She offers a first 50-page review on works in progress for novelists seeking direction on their next step toward publishing.

In part five of this series based on Sean D. Young’s bestselling Stick with It: A Scientifically Proven Process for Changing Your Life—for Good, we’re taking a look at the N in SCIENCE, Young’s acronym for those strategies that lead to lasting change: Neurohacks.

Young defines neurohacks as a set of psychological tricks designed to reset the mind. The idea is that if you can change the way you see yourself, you can get yourself to establish a new habit.

Of course, changing the way you see yourself is a complex subject—and of all the strategies Young discusses in this book, this may be the most counterintuitive. Because one of the basic principles of neurohacks is that you don’t wait for a change in how you feel to change your behavior; you just change your behavior, and that changes the way you feel.

For example, he says, want to feel like a more generous, compassionate person? Don’t wait until you feel a surge of generosity. Just give money to someone on the street, or make a donation to a nonprofit, or foster a shelter animal. This initial act on your part will send the signal to your brain that if you weren’t a compassionate person, you wouldn’t have done these things, and this in turn will make you more likely to behave this way in the future.

Another example of a neurohack is to create a recurring reminder of the kind of person you want to be (but perhaps don’t quite feel like yet). Young shares the story of a man who found himself struggling in the face of an acrimonious divorce and changed his computer password to Forgive@h3r. After having to type that password in every time he logged in, he began to see himself as a less bitter, more forgiving person, and as a result found it easier to let go of his anger at his ex.

In some ways, the idea behind neurohacks is simple: Fake it til you make it. Or at least, fake it until it feels real, because in some ways, your brain can’t tell the difference.

So: How might these types of psychological tricks apply to the practice of writing? Here are some ideas:

1. Invest in Yourself

Would a person who wasn’t a writer have a subscription to Poets & Writers? Would someone who didn’t write speculative fiction have a subscription to Locus? Probably not. Not only do such industry publications offer excellent information on the craft and business of writing, investing in a subscription like this will offer you a regular reminder of your commitment to writing, as a new issue will arrive each month.

Alternately, you might invest in a nice journal, a fountain pen, a writing conference or workshop—or even, if you’re really serious, a book coach. Any investment in your writing practice, whether large or small, will send the signal to your brain that this is the kind of person you are, and that this is something that’s important to you.

2. Claim Yourself

Many people are reluctant to call themselves writers if they have not yet published, or if they have not yet published a book. But nearly any established author will tell you the same thing: you shouldn’t wait until you’ve achieved these kinds of milestones to claim yourself as a writer, because claiming yourself as a writer is an essential part of committing to the process.

That might mean introducing yourself as a writer when people ask you what you do, though your job may be in an unrelated field. It might mean attending literary events, or joining an association in your field, like Romance Writers of America, or Sisters in Crime. (These are also great ways to connect with others who share your passions, which can be a galvanizing force in its own right—see Part Two of this series, on community).

3. Claim Your Space

Many who struggle to establish a regular writing practice are trying to work at a kitchen table cluttered with bills and homework slips, or a desk covered with tax files. Not only do these sorts of reminders of other (probably more pressing) concerns serve as distractions, they send the signal to your brain that these things are actually more important to you than writing.

Of course, it’s not always possible to establish a dedicated writing space. But if you can, it will send your brain the opposite sort of signal, the signal that this work is important to you— otherwise, why would you have created a dedicated space for it? (And if space is tight at home, remember, Ocean Vuong’s not the only author who wrote his first book in a closet.)

There’s a subtle logic behind the concept of neurohacks that may not seem obvious at first, but these kinds of acts can be very powerful in terms of shifting your self-image from that of someone who wants to write to someone who actually is a writer—and that subtle shift can make all the difference.

The Puzzle-Piece Plotting Method: Using What You Know to Build What You Don’t

Today’s guest post is by novelist Justin Attas (@JustinAttas), who offers an online course for writers on plotting.

For some, the most intimidating part of writing a novel happens well before pen ever hits paper: Planning, or plotting, as those in the business like to say. The trick is finding a plotting, or outlining, style that works for you. In my experience, one of the most effective ways to plot a novel is to Puzzle-Piece your story together from details you already know.

This article will walk you through assembling the puzzle you already have the means to solve, starting with Genre, then moving to Setting, Themes, Characters, and ultimately a Sequence of Events, or outline.

Genre

In the simplest terms, a genre of books is a set of parameters that put your novel in one group or another. I break them down into two categories.

1. Genres that influence theme. These genres affect the big ideas of your story and dictate the emotional aspects of it. For example, romance stories focus on themes of personal connection between one person or a few. Adventure stories illustrate growth through travel. Thrillers find characters in tense situations. Mysteries put their narrative power in the hands of unanswered questions.

2. Genres that influence setting. This category science fiction, based at least somewhat on real science, proven or theoretical, from off-planet colonies to biological augmentation. It also includes realistic fiction, in which the rules of reality are followed explicitly, and locations either are real places, or based on them.

Conversely, stories in the fantasy genre disconnect from the rules of reality. They do, however, still need a set of consistent rules outlined by the writer. Dystopian stories tend to take place in environments of strict control, such as camps, cities, or even entire countries under the influence of an oppressor.

Your story probably fits well into one of the two categories above. If it fits into both, even better! It helps to have a genre combination: one that influences setting, and one that influences theme. There are two reasons for this. First, it sets your story apart from millions of others. For example, everyone has seen a fantasy full of knights and dragons. But how many people have read a fantasy with a mystery plot line, where your faithful knight is employed as a sort of old-world detective to solve a conspiracy against the crown? Much less common.

Having a combination also opens the door for the next step in the Puzzle-Piece method of plotting.

Setting

You should already have some loose guidelines. Observe the rule of your genre that influences setting. What follows is a list of questions that will help you build your setting.

Size and Scale: How big do you want your setting to be? No matter the answer, remember it should be able to be broken down into smaller, easily identifiable parts. Differentiating between the regions of a large country or the wings of an estate are crucial for readers to retain information. History: Now that you have some basic details about your setting, explain why it is the way it is. Details of history enrich your world and will stir up ideas about the following aspects. Geography: What is the natural character of your setting? Is it mountainous, flat, or a mix? Are there many bodies of water, or is it primarily dry? Infrastructure: How developed is your setting? What structures and systems do they have in place? This includes everything from roads to settlements to farms and watersheds. Social climate: What are the politics of your world? What do its leaders believe, and what are their followers like? Atmosphere: When combined, what should all of the above elements make your readers feel? Answers should be emotions like cozy, on edge, puzzled, tense, or inspired.Theme

This is the beating heart of your story. Your big ideas, or themes. You already chose a genre that influences theme; guidance on where to go next is as simple as referring to that.

Characters

If you’ve made it this far in the planning process, you have ideas for at least a few characters. It’s hard to imagine a story without people in it.

Take your rough list of characters and refine them into specific roles for your plot. For the purposes of the Puzzle-Piece method, you’ll need at least five characters. Don’t worry, you really only need a protagonist and antagonist right now—the method itself can help you come up with three more.

Protagonist: This should be the character (or characters) whose perspective best illustrates your theme. Antagonist: This character works in opposition to your protagonist(s), someone who wants to prevent the protagonist from accomplishing his goal. There should be a reason for this that’s justified in the antagonist’s eyes. Supporting characters: While your remaining three characters fit into this category, it does not mean they will all be the same. To ensure that they each have a unique relationship with your protagonist, choose one of three ways these characters are bonded to him or her: (1) through friendship, (2) a mutual goal, or (3) obligation.

You now have everything you need for the final step of the Puzzle-Piece method.

Sequence of Events

A sequence of events is essentially another name for an outline. It’s a list (in this case, of three) major plot points in your story.

Event 1: Beginning Characters: Who is present? Unless there is a specific reason for them not to be there, your protagonist should be present. Your antagonist can be present, if they will be an active force in the story. Try to avoid more than two supporting characters to avoid overwhelming readers. Setting: Where are they? Put your characters somewhere that introduces your overall setting. Give readers an idea what they’re in for. Theme: What happens to them? Make sure the actual event introduces your theme. If you picked cross-species warfare for a science fiction story, illustrate or at least allude to that conflict. If you’re working on a romance with a theme of love at first sight, we should see the lovebirds share that initial zing, or meet them both in a way that shows how they could work together.Event 2: Ending

We jump to the end next to prevent plot holes!

Characters: Who is present? Unless they have sacrificed themselves or left the story, your protagonist should be present. The same goes for your antagonist, if he or she is still alive, and hasn’t been removed. Your most important supporting characters should also be present, at least in the thoughts of the protagonist, if not in person. Setting: Where are they? Choose a dramatic location from the scope of your setting. This is the finale—it should have a grand stage. This means something different depending on your story’s genre. Theme: What happens to them? Your final event should complete the exploration you began. It should conclude your protagonist and antagonist’s developments; it shows every character’s final stance on your theme. Show how they have grown. For instance, the protagonist of a romance story dealing with a theme of forbidden love may find the courage to embrace their partner, no matter who says they cannot be together.Event 3: Middle

Now that you know your beginning and end, you can begin to bridge the gap without fear of contradicting yourself.

Characters: Who is present? Your protagonist is a must. The antagonist should also be present, as a force to drive the conflict, if not in person. Any supporting characters you want to develop should also be present. Setting: Where are they? Consider a scene location tied to whomever you want to grow the most. Theme: What happens to them? The event in the middle of your story serves as a measure of growth for your characters. Whatever situation you put them in should show how each of their stances has changed. Change is objectively good for the reader, even if not for your characters. No one wants to read a book about people making the same choices and suffering the same consequences, repeatedly, without so much as a revelation. At this middle event, characters who refuse to change should fall in some way, and learn from it. This facilitates growth. For instance, if your protagonist in a story with a theme of class division refuses to bend on his stance that the rich are worth more than the impoverished, he may find his fate in the hands of those he deems lesser.Connecting the Dots

Think of your Sequence of Events as three dots to be connected. All you have to do is write a line from one to the next. Your Sequence of Events gives you a framework of what can happen in your story. For instance, if your novel starts with your protagonist suspected of murder and your middle event sees them outrunning detectives on main street, there are only a few things that can happen between those points that will make sense. You know the detectives eventually find your protagonist, so a few scenes showing their investigation are in order. So, too are some scenes of your protagonist doing whatever he or she needs, to stay hidden. Say this story ends with your protagonist being declared innocent in court. That means that, between your middle and ending, you’ll need to have your characters discover the real murderer. These three starting events lend themselves to many others just waiting to be added to your sequence.

The way you proceed is up to you. You can continue to brainstorm new events to add between your big three. You could write your way from your beginning, to your middle, and ultimately your ending, if you’re more spontaneous. Whichever way you go, the Puzzle-Piece method of plotting a novel gives you a solid framework to get started.

Note from Jane: if you enjoyed this post, Justin offers a full video course on the puzzle-piece method of plotting, complete with transcripts and worksheets.

Developing a Writing Practice, Part 4: Easy

Today’s post is by regular contributor Susan DeFreitas (@manzanitafire), an award-winning author, editor, and book coach. She offers a first 50-page review on works in progress for novelists seeking direction on their next step toward publishing.

In part four of this series based on Sean D. Young’s bestselling Stick with It: A Scientifically Proven Process for Changing Your Life—for Good, we’re taking a look at the first E in SCIENCE, Young’s acronym for those strategies that lead to lasting change: Easy.

For many of the people who dream of someday publishing a book, actually sitting down to write one seems hard—and when things feel hard, we don’t want to do them. Who wants to take the path of most resistance?

Not me, and probably not you either.

In Chapter 5 of his book, Young shares the story of a man who’d inherited a franchise of convenience stores, at a time when 7-11 was gobbling up the industry. How could the family chain compete? The answer came to him after he returned from the Caribbean—inspired by “the simple life” he’d experienced there on vacation, he went on to simplify the family franchise as well: Rather than expanding the amount of merchandise they carried, he reduced it, offering just one high-quality brand of each item (their own).

That’s the story of Trader Joe’s, a franchise that’s gained a huge following in the thirty years since its founding—not because it offers it customers every option under the sun, but because it relieves them of the burden of choice.

In much the same way, one of the ways to make writing feel easier is to limit the number of choices you have to make when you sit down to do so, and to limit the number of options available to you in terms of doing anything else.

Here are some examples of how you might put these principles to work in establishing a regular writing practice:

1. Develop a Plan

“Pantsers” love to jump into a new project without a big-picture plan of where they’re headed—and if that process works for you, then by all means, stick with it. But if writing has begun to feel hard, consider that you might need a plan.

A plan might consist of a big-picture outline for your book or a detailed, chapter-by-chapter plan for it in revision. Either is a good way to escape the paralysis that can set in at times, for the simple reason that clear “marching orders” limit the number of choices you have to make when you sit down to write. Rather than second-guessing yourself, you can simply write forward.

2. Set It Up Beforehand

Just like packing your gym bag the night before can make it easier to hit the gym first thing in the morning, laying out your writing area the night before can make it seem inevitable that you’re going to crack open your laptop the next day and engage.

This might mean reviewing and laying out your notes for the next scene or section of your book, or dialing up your writing playlist on Spotify and having it ready to go. (Alternately, if you’re aiming for a writing session after lunch, you might open up your WIP and leave it open on your computer before you break; coming back and finding that document ready and waiting will make it easier to dive back in.)

3. Limit Your Choices

In my previous post in this series, I advised those looking to establish a regular writing practice to write first thing in the morning, before going online. Not only is this a solid strategy for making writing a priority in your life, it’s an excellent way to limit the number of choices—or distractions—available to you.

Some go so far as to put their phones in airplane mode while writing, in order to eliminate those pings and vibrations that can pose such a tempting out from the writing process—or even use a desktop app that disables internet access while they’re writing. (You’ll find a roundup of such apps and programs here.)

Writing will always feel tough on some days, but that’s part of the beauty of it—as writers, we’ll never reach a point where this art form has no new challenge left to offer, no new avenue by which to stretch our skills and capabilities.

But there are ways to make the practice itself feel more regular, routine—and yes, even easy.