Category: Stuff We Love

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the novelist E.L. Doctorow’s quote in the Paris Review Writers at Work (2nd) series. You may have heard it:

“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

I believe this; I really do. But still I struggle, writing a book on a deadline, when I extrapolate my current word count and it inevitably falls short of what my contract stipulates. I experience anxiety over not being able to see the make-up of each and every chapter clearly from where I sit today. And behind all of that is the concern that, while I like what I have done so far, that is no guarantee that I will continue producing at a high level.

Rather than make myself falsely feel better, which will only be a temporary solution, I find myself going back to the quote and asking it questions.

If that is true, then I should implicitly only worry about what my headlights illuminate, right? So, it is okay to write Chapter 8, and then Chapter 4, Chapter 3, the Introduction, and so forth?

And if I do that, can I truly rely on the Book Architecture Method concept of series to help me keep track of what I have written about, what still needs to be seeded, and what needs to be concluded?

And if I stay committed to this approach, is it okay, natural even, when one chapter splits into two, and the 33 ideas I have here go with one grouping, and these 15 ideas go with another? And then I can complete this chapter that uses those 33 ideas as their base, and assume that the one with 15 ideas will grow under the approaching headlights the same way all of the other chapters have grown?

Then my obsession with surety always comes back; it seems the best I can do is alternate belief and doubt. I re-read the quote and ask: What if we’re on the wrong road, though? I spread the paper map out on my knee while I am driving, which if you didn’t come of age during the era of paper maps, is not only dangerous, but you end up missing the clues of where the road winds and dips ahead. Are you sure these high beams are on?

There seem to be two options: self-torture or faith. 

If I choose self-torture, the activities seem pretty clear. I will measure and stress over quantity and pace. I will grasp for ideas whose time has not yet come. I will try to get some unsuspecting beta reader to make me feel better about my progress and eventual destination, etc.

If I choose faith, there doesn’t seem to be much more to it than this: Sink into the work. Do I know what I’m working on Tuesday? Do I have a process to capture what announces itself then over the horizon so I know what I’m working on Wednesday? If so, I have everything I need.

Maybe this is why the novelist Ernest Hemingway praised incremental progress:

“The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day when you are writing a novel you will never be stuck. That is the most valuable thing I can tell you so try to remember it.”

Meaning, if you can see this swath of highway, you’re good. And what’s more, once you get a glimpse of the next stretch, you should save it for tomorrow as a way of avoiding writer’s block.

Some days, it all makes sense. One those days I might remember another quote, this one from Japanese Zen Master Shunryu Suzuki:

“Your way is to kill two birds with one stone. Our way is just to kill one bird with one stone.”

There are three ways that you can learn about writing. You can go to school for it, which is actually a great way. Some people take reverse pride by boasting that they didn’t take that path, but you can learn a lot in school, believe it or not. Next up, you can read voraciously. That’s an incredible way to learn about writing, especially if you are conscious while doing so, thinking things like: That works. Why does that work? That doesn’t work. Why? And finally, the third way is to be edited, especially if you are wholly open to that experience. 

Recently, I hired Jessica Strawser to not only review the query letter and synopsis, but also the first 50 pages of my novel–and what an eye opening experience that was. Below, we talk about her career path to date and how her many experiences have contributed to her belief in–and her ability to wield–the power of editing. 

SH: Recently, I availed myself of your services to review the query letter and the synopsis for my novel as well as the opening pages — your “gut check” package. And it was, exactly that: a gut check. How did you come up with that name? Do you often see people whose work is not where they think it is (hence needing a gut check)?

JS: I named the package for the thing I always find myself wanting as a writer—when you’re ready to start putting your work out there, but you wish you had some reassurance (ideally from an objective, knowledgeable third party) that the work is as ready as you are. Pitching a book involves an entirely different skill set than writing a book, and it’s a shame how many writers will pour years into crafting a beautiful manuscript and then rush through drafting a query letter that doesn’t do it justice. That’s not to say every writer needs a professional query edit—plenty find success on their own—but for those who find it a struggle, or who are getting nothing but form rejections, hiring help can make good sense.

In various roles through my publishing career—from acquiring titles for niche imprints, to representing Writer’s Digest at writing conferences nationwide, to becoming a novelist in my own right—I’ve been in the unique position to review hundreds of submissions, and to understand what boxes they need to check from both sides of the desk. I can also attest that the hesitation over finally hitting “Send” never quite goes away. I really enjoy helping writers strengthen their submission materials and feel more confident about their next steps. The submission process can feel daunting, lonely, and long. In a world where no-response-often-means-no, I think sometimes writers find the “Gut Check” doubly appealing simply because it gives them interaction with a real human being who treats them with respect and makes the prospect of approaching other so-called gatekeepers seem less scary.

SH: How do you think an editor best comes by her abilities? What is the relative role of education, experience and talent? Am I missing anything there?

JS: Early in my career at Writer’s Digest, a woman at a conference raised her hand and asked me, “They say that those who can’t do, teach. Does that mean that those who can’t write, edit?” There was kind of a gasp in the room at the perceived rudeness of the question, but it opened my eyes to how misunderstood the role of editors can be. I think every editor has a different path, and I can’t speak to them all. I went to the top-ranked E.W. Scripps School of Journalism at Ohio University, where I majored in magazine journalism (which is certainly no longer a major, but in the 90s it was one of three tracks: newspaper, magazine, or broadcast). Most of our training was on how to communicate information clearly, effectively, creatively, and ethically. We were taught to write before we were taught to edit. And indeed, much of my editing education has been trial-by-fire, starting with lower-level roles that involved shadowing mentors, watching and learning. I have worked my way up through various roles, all the way to editorial director, having also been a staff writer, freelancer, and even marketing and public relations team member for a short while. It’s been an immersive education, and that includes my own fiction writing. Contrary to the “those who can’t do…” myth, I don’t coach writers on anything I have not achieved myself, many times over.

SH: I’m sure you have had some very positive experiences of being edited yourself, as this was for me. Are you able to take in what others have said so that you have a new understanding and new tools in the toolbox, or do you still always need an editor? Or both? 

JS: Every editor who I’ve worked with has taught me something new about editing. In my days as a staffer for both magazines and book imprints, I could have told you the pet peeves of every single one of my colleagues. I knew the kinds of things they’d mark up or flag as they read, and I’d almost make it a game to beat them to it. When I’d been the one to write the feature article they were red-lining, that involved learning not to get defensive and to open my mind to the possibility that they were right. Editors and writers are on the same team, and at our best, we make each other look good.

As a fiction writer, being edited is far more nuanced, but when I’m doing something that I know isn’t working quite the way I want it to, sometimes a former editor’s words will pop into my mind and serve as a guide. I’m grateful for them all.

SH: In our communications you have always been extremely humble, and I’m sure that also helps keep expectations of your clients manageable. But don’t you also have to go into an editing engagement with full confidence that you can really rock someone’s world? What is the balance there for you?

JS: I never want to overpromise. In fact, sometimes clients will come to me and say, “So-and-so recommended you! She says you’re a wizard!” and I want to temper their expectations. I’m definitely not a wizard, just someone who can lend a new perspective that I hope will help. I’m not the right match for every writer. I always ask to see their materials before I take them on; sometimes the subject matter is outside my wheelhouse, or the query letter is already in great shape and I tell them that I don’t think they need me and wish them luck. Also, the best pitch in the world won’t get you published if the manuscript isn’t strong enough to seal the deal.

Time and money are equally valuable assets to writers, and it bears repeating that plenty of resourceful, savvy writers succeed without ever hiring help at all. There are people out there who will prey on writers with big dreams and take advantage of them, so I’d caution all writers to be wary and discerning about who you entrust to assist you, especially if they’re making bold claims.  

When we first ran 10 Albums for the Inspired Writer, we were surprised by how much positive feedback we received. Help with the nuts and bolts of writing is apparently very welcome. The idea was to share music that could be used in the background while you write — a highly individualized choice, of course, but at the same time, aren’t we always looking for new music?

And so, I bring you eight more of my favorite wordless or foreign language albums (that don’t gum up the verbal faculty with lyrics, as that faculty is being used for something else) along with some notes on what kinds of projects they might be best suited for.

Bear’s Sonic Journals: That Which Colors the Mind by Ali Akbar Khan. A 2 hr.-concert performed by Ali Akbar Khan, master of the sarod (a Hindustani stringed instrument, as popular as the sitar). At the height of the 60’s era, Khan gave a concert in San Francisco that was recorded by the Grateful Dead’s Sound Engineer, Owsley “Bear” Stanley. Yes, the same Owsley who made the era’s best LSD. Suffice it to say, no one at this concert was asking Khan to stop.

>> You might also try: Raga Sindhi Bhairavi also by Ali Akbar Khan. The only disadvantage? The ragas — and hence the semi-trance periods the may provide — are shorter.

Live in Paris 28.05.1976 by Robert Fripp and Brian Eno. A two and a half hour guitar and synthesizer concert that feels five hours long, in a good way. You hear people clapping, someone getting yelled at (I think, it’s all in French), but soundscapes are 98% of this experience. You might try this when you really need to clear away all distractions.

>> You might also try: Thursday Afternoon by Brian Eno. The first time I put it on a playlist, I didn’t realize this “song” would be an hour long. Then it came on and everything became Thursday afternoon, and that turned out to be a good time to get a lot of work done.

Midnight Blue by Kenny Burrell. We need some jazz in here, so how about this album straight from the middle of the genre’s golden era (if you ask me). Burrell speaking through his Gibson L-5 (nickname: “Midnight Blue”) might encourage you to hear your own voice as he explores a range of emotions.

>> You might also try: Grant Green Ain’t It Funky Now: The Original Jam Master (Vol. 1) by Grant Green. More jazz guitar, this time just as it is edging into funk and soul. The grooves are a little more infectious and nobody’s giving up on an idea too soon.

Melhdau Covers: Surprise! An actual Spotify playlist here of the pianist Brad Mehldau’s sophisticated covers of popular songs. You will recognize these tunes, or small sections of them, so this entry might work if you want to be set forth to dream, on the one hand, but need a touchstone as you work through some murky territory, on the other.

>> You might also try: Mon Chien Stupide, Melhdau’s score for a French “comedy-drama” film (2019). I never saw the movie, but the album itself hints at a beginning, middle and end, a reversal and a denouement — all the good stuff without having to learn someone else’s narrative while working on your own.

People have been known to say, Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today. Or, There are seven days in the week and none of them are called Someday. Like all maxims, however, these are only partially — or situationally — true. Because there is a converse: Put off until tomorrow the thing you’re not supposed to do today. Life can’t all be done at once. Let’s blame the Industrial Revolution for making us feel like we’re always out of time, all the time, trailing around with a hunted, hollow feeling.

In recovery, they say, One day at a time. Now that is actually good advice. Forget about human-defined parameters, like the 7:07:07 AM on your Casio (ed. note: update to Apple watch?). There is no January in nature. The sun comes up and the sun goes down. That’s the simplest, most observable unit of time. How shall we spend it?

From a work perspective or creative perspective (or both), the to-do list is the key to unlocking the true potential of the day. Here are some suggestions for making yours as effective a tool as possible: 

1. Don’t put more on the to-do list than you can do. An overly long list becomes self-defeating and a setup for feeling bad about yourself. Instead of continually rolling items into the next day, let’s seek to understand the thing we’re putting on the list. How much is that going to take out of you? How much of this task do you want to accomplish? Obviously, I’m not going to write a whole book today, so what am I truly looking to accomplish? Am I going to transcribe three 40-minute chunks of interviews, and reflect on whether the material is better suited to the beginning, the middle or the end? Great, I have the time and bandwidth to do that. 
2. All work counts. Brainstorming, planning, or list-making are needed just as much to accomplish a task as what we commonly consider doing. Getting organized is a form of doing. In fact, sitting down and mapping out what’s ahead is often more valuable for understanding what you’re trying to do, ensuring you’re prepared to do it, and setting a process up to be as smooth as possible, than simply plunging in out of harried anxiety.
3. Prioritize balance. Balance is not something we can wish into existence. Whether we’re talking about balancing work and family, balancing being sedentary and active, or balancing having friends vs. hearing yourself think, to live a balanced life you are ideally living a balanced day — or at least a balanced week. Accomplishing this requires matching your to-do list with your priorities: important work meetings, meditation sessions, creative writing hours, attending your kid’s dance performance… If you can’t find the time for it on your calendar, you are saying it doesn’t really matter to you.
4. Conclude the day crisply. I have a journal where I write a 75-100 word entry at the end of each day. It could be about a win or a loss, a loose end, or something I realized…writing this entry is the most important thing about it. This act says “I’m done. This day started and this day is over.” Releasing your attachment to this day and its list prepares you to embrace tomorrow. We can’t just be attached, attached, attached. There has to be a letting go. Ritualizing that, honors the day and what it contained.

Today does not equal all time. And its essence might not be realized at all if you can’t resist the impulse to rush on to the next thing. If your to-do list has the proper heft, however, you won’t be worried about what you’re checking off and how quickly. Instead, you’ll be able to live inside the tasks and see them through the right way.