WRITING HIGH IMPACT FICTION: DONALD MAASS

Lately, I’ve been going through a ‘books on writing’ craze. First it was ‘The First Five Pages,’ by Noah Lukeman, then it was ‘Writing with Emotion, Tension, and Conflict,’ Cheryl St. John, and now it’s ‘Writing 21st Century Fiction: High Impact Techniques for Exceptional Storytelling,’ by Donald Maass.

Donald Maass, for those of you who don’t know, is an NYC based literary agent—he proudly recently moved from Manhattan to the nice part of Brooklyn—and is, sort of, a literary genius. He wrote such writing classics as: ‘Writing the Breakout Novel,’ ‘The Breakout Novelist: Craft and Strategies for Career Fiction Writers,’ ‘The Fire in Fiction: Passion, Purpose and Techniques to Make your Novel Great,’ and others. He is, in a word, pertinent. In terms of writing and writers, that is.

Maass’s goal in writing his books is to try to make aspiring authors understand how the industry works, how to craft wonderful, important books, and what clichés and pit holes to invariably avoid. His guides are helpful, relevant, and informative.

His point in ‘Writing 21st Century Fiction,’ is that there seems to be this divide within modern American writing (the industry and the trade). The divide erupts between the two schools of thought in writing nowadays: New York Publishing, and MFA Academia. Chad Harbach—author of ‘The Art of Fielding’ and editor of ‘N plus 1’—compiled and edited a book of prose and interviews on this subject titled ‘MFA VS NYC.’ Anyway, the divide is within these two groups and furthermore seems to say to writers: You can either sell your soul to the devil and write that non-literary trash we call ‘commercial fiction’ or you can condemn yourself to a life of desperation, resentment and poverty and be a ‘literary’ writer.

This appears to be the dominant school of writerly thought in 2014. But Maass tries to carefully disabuse us of this notion. He says:

“As you can see, when writing fiction with high impact, there’s no subject matter too taboo, no character too eccentric, no emotional content too intense, no themes too difficult. It’s all in how you handle it. What overcomes all objections are characters who compel, stories that grip, and writing that amazes.”

His point above is that, there is, believe it or not, a middle ground between the two schools of thought. Maass points out that, often, he’ll receive manuscripts that clearly have been tailored one direction or the other, whether it’s the commercial writer trying to cater directly to the agent, or the literary writer snobbily waxing intellectual, essentially thumbing their nose at the publishing world, condemning it as sick and oppressive.

The point is, according to Maass, if you want to write great books and stay true to yourself as a writer, as well as reach a large potential audience, you have to let go of your preconceptions either way and simply write the best book you can. This is what he refers to as ‘high impact fiction’; that which has the highest impact on readers.

When you are too careful and restraining yourself as a writer, worries about what an agent or publisher might think are essentially holding you back. Maass pushes you to write the strongest book you can, regardless of how taboo, how dark, how odd, how difficult. The best books, he argues, are the ones where the author pulls no punches; where they, as David Corbett would say, swing for the fences. They go all the way; no backing down. High impact writers, Maass explains, simply sit down and write their book, not worrying about what agents might want, the current industry trends (because trends, always, will fade), or what happens to be selling well at the moment. Instead, they just write their book. The strongest, most powerful book they can. And then, after doing their agent homework, they submit tirelessly, until they find the right agent. And the right agent is out there, if you keep at it.

Here’s another part of the book: “I encourage all novelists to ignore status games, get over envy, and remember what makes us write fiction in the first place: the desire to tell the stories in our hearts, capture all that makes our existence grand, rattle readers’ presumptions, affirm our common values, shine a light on our age, and spin tales both utterly unique and universally loved.”

That says it all, right? Again we come back to the previous mantra of: Write what you know, as Hemingway famously said. Write what you DON’T know, too, but do it well. Write from the heart, from True North. Write from your soul. Write because you have to and not because you’re trying to make money and impress people. Write with everything you’ve got, and do it hard. Take risks and send it out to lots of agents, after you’ve self edited and sent it to other readers and rewritten and redrafted and hired a pro editor and revised, rewritten, etc. The whole point of writing, I think, is to have a forum for expressing ourselves through the written word, as artists, like the painter paints, the sculptor sculps, the drawer draws. We ARE artists.

So, as Maass suggests, get on the bandwagon of high impact fiction writing. Toss out the old, raggedy notion that you’re either a literary writer or a commercial one. That you’re either an NYC writer or an academic one. Just write the best book you can and then decide later what you want to do with it. The majority of agents—NYC or otherwise—seek books that walk that fine line between commercial and literary. Maass argues in the beginning of ‘Writing 21st Century Fiction’ that the writing industry is, strangely, and contrary to what people might assume, starting to actually trend towards more literary-minded fiction. Maass mentions a few novels: ‘Water for Elephants,’ ‘The Help,’ ‘Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet,’ ‘Cutting for Stone,’ etc. These are literary novels, and they’ve sold well internationally.

There are writers who primarily write for a living and exist within the realm of plot—Stephen King, Lee Child, Robert Dugoni—and then there are those who write for the sheer love of the craft. Probably, there is a mixture between both and it’s not that black and white. But the point remains the same: Our sphere is changing in the writing world, and more and more writers are combining the two. So next time, when you’re feeling fed up with the industry, with agents and submissions and rejections and New York publishing, just remember Maass’s words, think of high impact fiction, and forget all that crap. Just write your book. Worry about who will pick it up later. All you have to do is be the artist. And hire a book editor, like me.

“You said it. Let’s edit.”

Write on!

Michael Mohr

***I am a developmental book editor. If you have a novel or memoir, I’d love to take a look. Due to clientele at the moment and in the near future, my fastest turnaround right now is July/August 2015 but I can sneak people in if a client drops out, which does sometimes happen for a variety of practical reasons. My rates and other info about my editing can be found under ‘Editing Services.’ Send me a query and the first chapter as an attachment to: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com. I do offer a one-time-only free sample edit. I look forward to seeing your work!

***Please take a minute to check out and perhaps buy (for 66 cents) one of my published short stories at Alfie Dog Press (click here). I appreciate the support! I have pasted part of a story below. If you like it, please buy it and/or another one on the site. Cheers!

Tightrope Going to Mexico was a bad idea, and deep down both of us knew it. But the great thing about my roommate was that every time I came up with a bad idea, I could count on him to be on board. My brain was always concocting thrilling plans in which the only person I could include was Hilly. No one else would be crazy enough to walk that tightrope with me. They’d be too jaded to see the adventure of it, or too nervous to take the risk. No, when these ideas came to me in the night, it was dear old Hilly whose face I saw. And that's how it came to be that I woke up in the early morning San Diego fog proclaiming, “Hey, Hilly…ok man…I got this great dig, ya see. You and I…” “Yeeeeessss…” he interrupted, drawing out the “e.” “Listen Hill, listen. You and I…we’re gonna go to good ole MEX-I-CO, Baaaby!!!” Hilly sat perplexed, his eyes unreadable, registering somewhere between indifference and exuberance — as if the plan was a no-brainer. Of course we’d go to Mexico; we lived in San Diego, thirty minutes from the border. Living at the gateway to a foreign land, a land where anything might happen, well, it was gonna go down at some point, right? It was just a matter of one of us deciding it was time. We both knew it would be me. After breakfast we headed for the bus that would take us to good ‘ole Mexico. We paid the fare and headed for the seats farthest in the rear, as we had done our entire high school careers and probably would do for the rest of our lives. Hilly looked good. I looked good. The world looked good. Mexico, the idea of it — both of us in it for the next twenty-four hours — made life seem more exciting in some childish way, how you felt as a kid getting in the car with your parents for a road trip. (To buy the full story please go to Alfie Dog Press.)

WRITERS: NEVER GIVE UP!

I’ve talked about this before but I want to talk about it again as it pertains to writing and writers: The art of patience and indomitable spirit.

If you haven’t been writing for long, then you don’t yet fully understand the fear, anger, sadness and rage that comes with being a part- or full-time writer. Mainly this comes in the form of bold-faced rejections from agents, publishing houses, and literary magazines and journals.

But it also comes in the form of society being…well…conventional, mainstream society. What do I mean by that? Let’s be honest: Most people do not truly aspire to be full-time make-a-living novelists, and the ones that do are, to say the least, a rare species. They are, really, artists in the complete sense of the word. They are driven like nobody’s business and they write for mainly one simple, time-tested, proven reason: Because they have to.

For these people there honestly is no other thing they could imagine doing. Writing for these people is much more than an art, a craft, a joy, a day job, a skill, a series of classes at college, a workshop, or a way to relax or express themselves. No, for the writer who must write he or she is fully aware of the potential futility of their desire in terms of monetary reward.

My point here is not to deviate into a political debate, or to try and convince you to lean to the left, but to empathize with all you writers out there. Because I am one. Artists in general, but especially writers, do not get a good light in the media in our country. We don’t get paid well. We don’t get respected, at all, by America as a whole. That’s too bad, because, in my opinion, as well as many others’, we need writers in order to survive as a nation. The constitution is a written document, as are the amendments. Legislation is written material. I could go on and on. Without writing, creative and non creative (and the constitution is absolutely a creative document as well as a non-creative one), our nation would not have a soul. It would be lacking in heart.

But the bigger point I’m trying to make is: Being a writer is not easy. It takes big brass balls, the size of cantaloupes. I have had tons of experiences over the course of my writing career: being rejected for being a writer; being told (even by teachers in college!) to get on a ‘different career path’ because writing would never pay the bills; receiving brutal, insensitive feedback on my work; you name it. And you know what? I’m thankful now, in retrospect, for every single one of those experiences, because they made me who I am today. And they thickened my writing skin, made me not abhor rejection so much. That word, ‘unfortunately,’ though, still sends shivers down my spine. It equals rejection. But now I know: You get rejected one place, send to another. Simple as one two three.

So if you’re one of those writers feeling like giving up; before you do, think about how hard you’ve worked for the material you’ve thus far produced. Think about the literary toil. Read up and research other [famous] authors who went through the wringer to get where they are now. Like Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, and so, so many others. Check out this site (click here): Literary Rejections, for some great survival stories.

Our emotions are often tied to our stories. Ergo, when we get rejected, we become hurt, offended; we take it personally. Do yourself a favor: don’t. It’s not personal. Major publishing (even minor) is a very subjective, debatable, mysterious land, mainly rooted in New York City (though now all over the globe) that makes very interesting (and sometimes questionable) choices about who is a ‘good’ enough writer to get on the NYT bestseller list. Instead of taking rejection or negative feedback personally, find the right people who you trust to read your work, write write write, read read read, take classes, do workshops, attend conferences, and hire a solid book editor (like me!). Because you are important. Your writing makes a difference. And we’re all sitting here waiting to read it. There are no guarantees in this life, especially within the realm of writing and publishing. But for God’s sake, don’t let that stop you from writing. Do your best and don’t give up. If you haven’t landed an agent, the right one is out there waiting for you; give it time. If you have an agent but not the House, be patient, the right publishing firm is waiting for you, too. Eventually, all things come together; they converge.

Just be patient. Never give up hope. And write your ass off. Then hire me.

“You said it. Let’s edit.”

Write on!

Michael Mohr

LITERARY AGENT SUBMISSIONS: BE CAREFUL, TAKE YOUR TIME, DO IT RIGHT

“All things come round to him who will but wait.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A word to the wise—all you aspiring authors out there—regarding submitting your book to literary agents. Be careful, take your time, and do it right. Let me elaborate. As many of you know, I recently attended my fourth year in a row at the San Francisco Writers Conference, in San Francisco, California. It’s a fantastic conference and, if you can rake together the $650, it’s totally worth the 3-4 days that you get, filled with panels, agents, editors, authors, writers, etc. (I consider an “author” someone who’s published a book and a “writer” someone who is aiming in that direction.)

As a published writer and a freelance book editor, attending these conferences is always fascinating. One thing I notice is the impatience of writers who have requests from agents to submit their work. Here’s what I mean. At the conference (and nowadays at most writing conferences around the country) there is what they call an “Agent Speed Dating” session. What this means is that writers are given a 51 minute slot of time to go into a big room with a dozen agents from various firms and “pitch” their project in 3 minute segments. After 51 minutes is up, the pitch session is over. Make sense? So you have 3 minutes to convince an agent that your book, somehow, is worth looking at.

Here’s a reality. And this is not to be negative or cynical. But it’s the reality. Agents are comped. They get perks to show up and be at conferences. Part of the whole shtick is that agents are going to tell SOME writers, of course, to send their work. Why? Because the people who run the conference want writers to at least feel, to some extent, like they’re seeing progress and “getting something” from the event. That’s not to say that agents aren’t genuinely looking for material. They are. That’s what literary agent’s do: they seek new writers, to increase their list. That’s a fact. And what better place for an agent to troll than a writers’ conference, right? Many writers have made the leap to becoming published authors with a large advance and a book deal under their arm from pitching to agents at conferences. Happens all the time. But it’s not the norm, and to go to a conference pitch session expecting it to be so would be making a grave error and setting yourself up for failure and being let down.

But herein lies the rub. Be careful, take your time, do it right. Ok, what the heck am I talking about, right? The first thing to remember is that, when an agent requests your book for submission from a pitch session, 99.9% of the time, they have not actually looked at the prose. They know zero, zip, zilch about your actual writing talent, style, or voice, your ability to create three-dimensional characters, your ability to weave a stellar plot, your diction, syntax, or world-building ability. They are, simply put, “buying” an idea, based off what you’ve presented. So what I mean by “be careful, take your time, do it right” is this: Don’t make the mistake of sending off your manuscript right off the bat, the next day, to the agent who requested. That’s the “be careful” part.

Instead, sit on the manuscript for a few weeks. Take your time. Go over it ONE more time. Have that beta reader or critique group look one final time at it. Get feedback from another, new reader, someone who hasn’t read it before. Hire a book editor (like me). Remember: only send your absolute BEST work to agents. Yes, it’s true in 2015 that agents in general seem to be becoming more and more “editorial” in their approach to working with debut authors, but that doesn’t mean you should ever half-ass it. This is your first professional handshake with the one person who can take your writing career from A to Z.

The “do it right” part is this: Make sure, after you’ve sat on the manuscript for a few weeks or even months (agents are so busy they probably realistically won’t remember you anyway, and if they do they’ll appreciate the fact that you were professional and waited until the ms was just right instead of impulse sending), that you have it as tight as possible, and that you feel ready, both as a human being and as a professional writer, to submit this book with low or no expectations. And remember to place this in the e-mail subject line: “Mary Jane, ‘The Land of Oz,’ requested materials from the SFWC 2015 Agent Speed Dating Pitch Fest.” Or some variation of that. In other words, be courteous and professional, lower those expectations, take all the worldly time you need, label everything correctly, and let go of the results. If you’re sure you’ve gotten the book as far as you can personally, after beta readers and critique partners and romantic partners and a freelance or in-house book editor has worked diligently on it, and you’ve taken a little time just to take a deep breath and see it all as objectively as possible, then, and only then, go ahead and submit the book to the said agent. Then go do something else for a while, and try as best you can to forget about it. (Yeah, right. Easier said than done. I know.)

And lastly, remember this. If you truly believe in yourself as a writer, and you are ambitious enough, and you keep at it, writing, revising, rewriting, editing, submitting, critiquing, etc, then I truly believe that it’s only a matter of time before you get that break and land an agent. It takes time, energy, sacrifice, research, dedication, talent, self-love, awareness, indomitable spirit, perseverance, and cold, hard luck. (Plus connections never hurt, another great reason to attend writers’ conferences.)

I wish all you writers trying to become published authors out there the best of luck, and I wish you the patience and dedication it takes to make it in this complicated, political, bureaucratic industry. It can happen! If you need a book editor along your journey, please do contact me. You can email me your query (if you have one) and the first chapter (memoir or novel) to: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com. My services are starting to backlog a bit so please email me and we can discuss that.

“You said it. Let’s edit.”

Write on.

Michael Mohr