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It has taken me years and years of writing my own novels, stories and nonfiction, not to mention editing countless others’ manuscripts, to finally over time realize that there is such a thing as bread and meat in writing.

What the hell am I talking about? Simple. I am constantly telling my book clients to work on SCENE versus summary, back story, explanation. Basically the old Tried and True: Show don’t tell. Of course your novel needs some back story, to explain what happened to the character prior to now, ergo illuminating the character’s psychological/emotional wound, which is relevant to the current story being told. Yes, we sometimes need some well-written TELLING sections, also explaining important moments or key ideas in the book.

But, for the most part, you’re going to land your readers’ love of the characters, setting, conflict, tension, plot, etc, by SHOWING us what happens, aka, by using SCENES. In other words: action. Make the characters actually DO things, interact, bump into each other, react, fight, argue. But make sure that their fighting and arguing and conflict actually moves the story forward. When A happens it must force B to happen which will initiate C. If characters simply fight or argue and nothing results from that…essentially that is anecdotal and is not relevant because it doesn’t truly drive the story forward. That’s a lack of plot issue.

Here’s where the “bread and meat” idea comes in. This is a common mistake. When you have your scene in mind—and every chapter should contain scene; characters doing things—it is your job, as the author, to get us to that scene, the authentic driver of the story and plot, as fast as you can. I see this all the time: pages upon pages of setup (the bread) before we finally get to the scene (the meat). I refer to them as bread and meat because, like bread being full of carbs, an opening anecdotal setup in a chapter is full of carbs: It might be tasty and filling for a second, but soon you’ll be hungry again. You need meat. Protein. The solution is to eliminate or severely trim down that slow, boring opening stuff and lead us as directly as possible to the scene that actually contributes to the story.

Again, I am not, for the sake of clarification here, suggesting that 100 percent of your novel should be action. That would be too much. Even in thriller novels you need introspection, character development, and telling sections that expound upon the thoughts and ideas, emotions, etc of the characters and the plot. There’s no escaping that. But again, for the vast majority of novels, you must face off with scenes, your character moving and grooving, shaking and baking. They have to interact and react to push the story forward.

So my advice? Go through each chapter of your book and check to see how long it takes in each chapter to get from A to B, from the bread to the meat. Cut down the bread or eliminate the bread as much as possible. Think of it as trying to lose weight. Bread isn’t going to be your friend. (For vegetarians out there, I’m sorry.)

You have to write your True North when you write novels; you have to come from the heart. No one can deny that. On the flip side, you have to consider your readers. Most readers are just like you: They have busy lives, husbands and wives, kids, work, etc. In other words: They have limited time. Every author has a nonverbal contract with their reader: This will be an interesting, worthy, worth it journey; you won’t regret plowing through 300 pages of my book. It’s sort of an Author’s Promise to the reader. Some call it the “physics of reading,” this notion that there are unspoken “rules” you must more or less follow in order to keep readers’ respect and interest. No doubt it is a chore, especially throwing craft into the bag. You must write well, write true, and yet also write entertainingly.

Give it a try on your own novel or short story. Reread your work with objective eyes. If you can’t, then put it away for a month, work on other projects, and return to it when ready. Or hand it to someone you trust, giving them a red pen. Next, try your best (or ask your friend to try their best) to cut out/trim as much from before the “meat” scene as you can. Do this with a few chapters and then reread it. See how much faster and more interesting the story becomes? Usually, the “bread” is really the fear of the author (thinking the reader “needs to understand” A, B and C) and the scene is the actual story. Walk through your fear and get us to the story. Believe in yourself and the reader is that much more likely to believe in the fictional world you’ve created.

Go for it.

Out for now. See you next week.

Write on.

Michael Mohr

Interested in book editing? Contact me: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com (memoir and fiction)


Finding your literary “voice” in writing is tough, no question. So much of it is organic, visceral, from within. What does that mean? Well, basically it means that you’re not likely to “find your voice” from an MFA class or from a writing seminar or from a writing conference or from a book focusing on voice. All the above mentioned certainly can help. But to truly find your voice, if “find” is really the most accurate word (I’d say “discover”), it’s really more about your confidence, your life experience, and your sense of self as it relates to the world.

For me, I spent years and years and years learning to land on a/my voice. In my early-mid twenties, after reading Jack Kerouac’s epic autobiographical saga, On the Road, I, too, needed to transcend the mundane and ordinary and hitchhike across the country. I did this, over the course of many years, and met some of the most interesting, zany, and fascinating people in the world. Also, I gained insight into people’s lives, how they think, what they say, why they do the things they do; what makes them tick. I also had some wild experiences on the road: I met women I “fell in love with”; I made new buddies; I hiked alone in the mountains for a week at a time; I wandered the streets of New York City, Boston, Philly, Portland, Seattle, San Francisco, etc, learning the streets like they were my own backyard. And during all of this I was constantly writing in my little leather-bound journal, telling the stories I knew I’d use later: Pages and pages and pages of notes.

Eventually, when I went back to college and got my writing degree, and after joining a professional writing critique workshop, I wrote a 26-page autobiographical “story” about a time when I’d been stuck in Mexico and had gotten into a bad situation after drunkenly passing out in an alleyway when I was 23 years old. (Ah, the wild days.) I brought the story to the workshop and the other writers in the group loved it but they said I needed to keep rewriting to find that “voice” and that it was too damn long. Months later I ended up with a much more deeply felt, confidently written 13 page story which started right away with action, instead of an exposition lead-up. Also, I’d done something professional writers (as well as my writer mother and writer uncle) had been telling me for years: Get out of the way of your own writing. In other words: Stop trying to SOUND like a “writer,” and just write, to the best of your ability, what “happened.” As Hemingway said: Write what you know.

This story, TIGHTROPE (click here to buy the story online for 66 cents) ended up being the first story I ever had published by a magazine (Alfie Dog Press) and of course I was thrilled. From there I hit the ground running and never looked back.

But I return, again and again, to this notion of life experience and self awareness and confidence. People—meaning readers—will know if you’re full of crap. They can detect a false voice or a false sense of plot or story or character. Which is why you should always be honest with your readers, always “tell the truth.” Of course the great thing about fiction writing is that we routinely tell lies in order to expose a bigger truth. But my point is that you’ve got to convince your readers that your lies are really the truth. One of the ways you effectively pull this off is by having a powerful, authentic voice. Again, you can learn the “mechanics” of voice (if there are really “mechanics” of voice: Diction, syntax, language, cadence) but it will only come off the page properly and feel “right” if it’s done primarily from either real life lived experience, or, if it’s totally from your imagination (perfectly wonderful!) then it’ll come from writing and rewriting and rewriting and rewriting again. Voice is achieved through countless rewriting.

What is voice? It’s a gut feeling. It’s the narrator’s “voice” reverberating in the back of your head. It’s what the narrator sounds like to you. It’s the driver of the story. If you’ve got a killer plot and strong, 3-D characters and fantastic writing but a weak voice…you’re still doomed. Voice is three-quarters of any serious novel, of that I am convinced. Got a good voice and you can repair almost anything. Have a weak/flat voice and you’re in trouble. Readers may not know this consciously but that’s mostly what draws them into novels; the voice, pulling them along. Like Holden Caulfield’s voice in The Catcher in the Rye. Kerouac’s/Sal’s voice in On the Road. Or Jennifer Egan’s voice in A Visit from the Goon Squad. Jack Gantos in The Trouble in Me. John Green’s Looking for Alaska. (Especially with YA you need to capture that spellbinding, sticky, authentic voice.) Or for that matter Joan Didion’s voice or Toni Morrison’s or J.K. Rowling. Etc.

My advice for any aspiring or beginning writer out there trying to attain a voice is to write your ass off. Write and then rewrite, again and again, until you feel somewhat confident about what you’re writing. Also, bring a journal around with you when you travel. Write stuff down. When you get the chance, allow yourself to journal or “free-write” about said experience you’re interested in. Allow yourself to write only for you at first. Be the authority. Have agency over the material. Let yourself feel confident about what you’re slapping down on the page. Because you have actually lived the experience in real life you should be able to feel rather comfortable/confident about writing on the subject. How do you sound in real life? Try to write the voice in your mind/head. Listen to others talk, on the subway, the train, on the bus, at work, during lunch. Secretly eavesdrop. Take down surreptitious notes. Record yourself talking. Record a conversation with yourself and a friend. Listen to the recording. Get a feel for your inner voice, your inner feeling, your inner truth. This is what we want on the page. We want that inner voice to come out. We want your vulnerability, your courage, your fear, your insecurity. Writing is about turning inside out, exposing, letting go, releasing.

I believe voice is a passionate call for attention. I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY is what voice truly screams in every line. It reaches out and snags the reader’s collar, shaking them out of their stupor and forcing them to read/hear/listen. A good author will hold a reader’s attention by not only creating solid, interesting, authoritative characters, not only by including a fantastic, complex plot, but by shaking the hand of the reader in one simple way: Creating a voice which bonds the reader to the narrator and doesn’t let go. Like self confidence in life, it isn’t something someone can give you. It isn’t something you can find randomly when you aren’t looking for it. It isn’t something that happens one day out of the blue. It—voice—is a manifestation of much writing and rewriting, lived, true experience, a lot of reading of other authors’ books, and of carving out that groove in your own craft again and again and again, until you feel, and more importantly until readers’ feel, that you’ve discovered a true, authentic voice.

I wish it were easier, more clear-eyed and simple. But, in my experience, it’s not. The good news is that if you’re a serious, disciplined writer it seems to come somewhat naturally over time. The bad news is that, if you’re just getting started, it might take you a few years, or more, to really find/discover/nail that elusive, magical “voice” that all writers seek. Again, you can get that MFA. You can read those craft books on voice. (And they’re out there.) You can ask writing teachers and workshop groups. And those are all, or all can be, helpful. I am not putting any of those things down. Period. All I’m saying is: For voice, in my view, your best bet is to get that life experience, write a lot, rewrite a lot, read a lot, and, as you grow stronger as a penner of prose, you’ll begin to see that sense of authority in your writing increase. Thus, like a muscle which slowly becomes stronger, your literary voice will strengthen.

Before you know, you’ll be lifting readers to new, special heights.

Michael Mohr

*** I am a published writer, former literary agent’s assistant and freelance book editor. I work with YA and adult novels (I prefer literary/contemporary/realistic but am open to most genres, minus mystery) and memoir. If you’d like to read more of my stories, I have included a few links below. If you’d like to inquire about book editing, please email me a short letter about yourself, a bit about your book, and the first chapter (attached) to: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com. Currently the earliest I can get to a manuscript is late January, 2017. Editing would likely commence start of Feb. It usually takes me 1-2 weeks to complete a first developmental edit (focusing on plot, character, voice, tone, logic issues, etc.) depending on the length of the book. For more info on my editing see the “Book Editing Services” menu on my site.

I edited Christian Picciolini’s book, “Romantic Violence: Memoirs of an American Skinhead” (2015), the true tale of one of America’s first neo-Nazi skinheads, how he got sucked in, what it was like, how he got out, how he changed his life, and what he’s doing right this second to combat violent racism and extremism (and he’s doing a lot!).

Published Fiction:

Published Nonfiction:

(Are you a Writer or an Author?; and Conquering Mount Whitney: The Push of a Lifetime): http://aaduna.org/spring2015/non-fiction/michael-mohr/


*** Note: Please also read my new piece about coping with literary rejection at MASH (click here)

Lori’s novel will very soon be available via Audible, if listening to books is your thing.

“The Road at my Door” synopsis (according to Amazon): The Road at my Door follows protagonist Reese Cavanaugh on a dark journey to save her family without destroying herself. Set against the backdrop of the Cold War and the sexual revolution, Mohr examines cultural forces shaping family life in a decade of upheaval. Road is a perfect storm of conflicting beliefs about love of self, love of another, fast-changing attitudes about sex, and the toxicity of family secrets. Through Reese Cavanaugh, Lori Mohr explores the deep tension between appearance and reality, portraying a family in turmoil.

What David Corbett, New York Times Notable Author of “The Mercy of the Night” (2015) and “The Art of Character” (2013) says about “Road”: “Lori Windsor Mohr has created in Reese Cavanaugh a heroine with much more than a unique voice. Yes, she’s instantly likable. Yes, she has pluck and wit. But through a series of harrowing ordeals and misplaced allegiances that would break most young women her age – all in pursuit of just one person she can trust – Reese also demonstrates such an irresistible combination of spine and heart, insight and sheer humanity, that I dare you to pick up this book and not fall in love. Road at my Door is one of the most engaging novels you could ever hope to encounter.”

INTERVIEW

MM: Michael Mohr (interviewer)

LM: Lori Mohr (author)

MM: You worked on this novel for over a decade. What compelled you to keep at it, through an agent that couldn’t sell it, waning fears that you couldn’t write it, and draft after draft after draft?

LM: I knew it was a good story. I just didn't know how to tell it. Memoir? Narrative nonfiction? The agent who eventually represented my memoir couldn't sell the book because it wasn't the right book. I had yet to figure out the best form that would offer readers an emotionally satisfying experience.

What kept me going was belief in the story, and the realization that if I wanted to tell it I had more to learn about writing.

MM: The novel feels very autobiographical for the most part. Can you comment on that? How much of this is fact, how much fiction? It is in fact a “novel,” so we assume much is made up, but we know from reading the author bio that you dealt with serious depression as a teen, like the protagonist, Reese Cavanaugh. Like Hemingway said, we often, “Write what we know.”

LM: Writing what we know is one thing, writing what we want to convey is another. I didn't want to write about me. I wanted to write about the experience of depression, the destructive power of secrets. Memoir seemed an obvious choice. However, that form had limitations. It's true memoirists use a novelist’s tools to bring readers into the moment: dialogue, scene, descriptive detail, all of it, like Jeannette Walls’s The Glass Castle or Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. But as a literary form, it didn't allow the creative freedom I needed for writing the most compelling, fluid, readable story possible. In Road I manipulated time by compressing it, I reconfigured the family, combined two characters into one, left out a marriage, all techniques for building tension, keeping the emotional focus where it needed be. The form I chose wasn't about truth versus fiction. It was about what I hoped readers would experience.

The character of Reese Cavanaugh allowed me to create the best version of me that would move the story forward, draw readers in. Reese is prettier, smarter, funnier than I ever was! And she became her own person as the story evolved. I hated saying goodbye. In fact I kept tweaking the manuscript because I didn't want the story to end. Reese Cavanaugh brought magic to the writing, taking me to that sublime gray space between truth and illusion where reality is perception, and memory a creation.

If I've written well enough, readers will be too enthralled and moved to care much whether the story comes from real life or not. They'll go where Reese Cavanaugh leads them, connect on a feeling level with their own experience. That's the emotionally satisfying experience I wanted to offer. I couldn't get there with memoir.

MM: In terms of theme, what do you feel is the biggest, most singular and important theme in “The Road at my Door?” If there were one overarching point you wanted to get across in this novel, what would that point be?

LM: Connection, belongingness. Depression and secrecy are byproducts of the loneliness we grapple with every day. Look at your Facebook posts. We share ordinary moments, a beautiful sunset, a yummy meal, political views, pride over our kids, humor in cartoons, utter dismay at mass shootings, excitement over an upcoming event. All of those things take on added meaning when we share them with someone else.

Your question about theme ties into genre, another area where I was flummoxed. I never wrote the book as YA. The whole issue of genre assignment was difficult in querying agents. In the end, the universal themes in Road led me to consider it cross-genre in the same literary vein as other books with a young protagonist: Sons and Lovers, the internal struggles of a young artist coping with family relationships, early sexual experiences; The Brothers Karamazov, exploring struggles around morality, free will, faith; suicide in For Whom the Bell Tolls. The list goes on, but these are classic forms, stories about feeling lost, alone and unloveable, themes both adults and teenagers understand. A targeted audience makes for easier branding, so the wider scope of cross-genre for both adults and teens is harder to market.

MM: Can you talk about the title, its origin and meaning for you within the story? I believe it stems from a Yeats poem?

LM: Yes, it does. Actually, the poem is about war, not at all a metaphysical reference like Frost's The Road Less Traveled. My book is not about an external choice, but a crucial internal one. It's about core character strength, the fact that every single day we face decisions that have consequences, mostly seemingly inconsequential. But those decisions, large and small, continue to shape us. Reese Cavanaugh lives in a world with no boundaries, has no grounding for making what turns out to be a life and death decision. The idea of a road seemed a fitting metaphor in examining the deep tension between love of self versus love of another, appearance versus reality, the transformative power of empathy.

MM: How did you deal with the intersection of plot and voice and character? In other words, how did you create a compelling, relatively fast-paced book but with characters we care about, a strong voice, and a “literary” versus plot-obsessed, commercial sensibility? Donald Maass, NYC literary agent and writing manual author extraordinaire, in his book, “Writing Twenty-first Century Fiction: High Impact Techniques for Exceptional Storytelling,” says that the strongest stories interweave the commerciality of plot, structure and character, with the literary sense of voice and deep meaning. You seem to have accomplished this.

LM: This question, in my opinion, is about the heart of the writing process. I had misunderstood voice. Here I was looking to genre, form. I got that I needed a good story, the right structure for telling it, and a complex character. But even with all the structural elements in place, I didn't get it. I didn't understand that these aren't separate entities, but that voice comes from content.

I went back to the choice of fiction over memoir. I didn't want readers to shake their heads at a sad story. I wanted them to feel something. The only way to do that was to get them to care about Reese Cavanaugh. That's the answer I had been resisting. If I wanted readers to care, I had to get down and dirty. I had to inhabit Reese Cavanaugh's head, had to become her. Once I made that leap, I could offer readers that emotionally satisfying experience I keep talking about, tell the story I wanted to tell.

Ten years later, The Road at my Door is that story.

***

(“The Road at my Door” has been officially endorsed by Nancie Clare, former editor-in-chief of “LA,” The Los Angeles Times Magazine, and David Corbett, New York Times Notable Author of “Done for a Dime,” “The Mercy of the Night (2015) and the well-known and respected writing manual, “The Art of Character.”)

Lori Windsor Mohr’s bio, author of the debut novel, “The Road at my Door”: As a native Californian, my novels and short stories are set in Pacific Palisades, Santa Monica, Malibu. As you’ll discover in my writing, it’s not the beauty of Southern California that draws me back to life as a middleclass kid whose family was supposedly living the American Dream, but the power of the place in shaping me into the woman I am today. Thomas Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.” It took 20 years for me to understand that I can go back, must go back, this time looking from the outside in, untethered from its history.

Michael Windsor Mohr is Lori’s son, a former literary agent’s assistant, freelance book editor and published writer. His work can be found in MASH; Alfie Dog Press; The McGuffin; Gothic City Press; Fiction Magazines; Flash: The International Short Short Story Magazine; Milvia Street; Mountain Tales Press; and more. His nonfiction has been published as guest blogger pieces for The Kimberley Cameron & Associates [literary agency] blog; Writers’ Digest; and the San Francisco Writers’ Conference Newsletter. He has written five novels (and is halfway through a sixth) and is currently submitting a punk rock YA novel and an adult suspense novel to agents. If you are interested in paying Michael to edit your manuscript, contact him at michaelmohreditor@gmail.com.


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