THE DIRTY DOZEN

When you attend a conference, you never know what's going to resonate a month later. My initial response to the SCBWI summer conference in L.A. was author envy. Jon Scieszka, Gordon Korman, Marion Dane Bauer,…I'm not worthy! The sentiment lingered and this surprised me. In another life (as a lawyer), I'd lived in Los Angeles and had many star sightings: Bob Newhart in the video store! Rick Springfield ordering a sandwich in front of me! (I'll have what he's having.) Alfre Woodard at the dry cleaners! The moment of glee lasted as long as an Altoid. But I never (seriously) aspired to be an actor or a singer. A successful author? My ultimate dream.

I tried to live in the moment, listening to each esteemed writer and illustrator's keynote, hoping that their talent and good karma would transfer to me. A ridiculous wish considering I was one of 1,100 people in attendance, but there are no Wish Censors. If there were, fountains would have no more than three or four pennies lining their bottoms. On the return flight home, I wasn't sure what I'd gained from the four-day event. I had a vaguely positive feeling, but it couldn't pin it down to inspiration or direction.

Today, as I sat in a café in town, I stared at my laptop and felt I'd hit a snag with my latest project. Then, an L.A. moment flashed to mind. I tried a writing tip offered by Gail Carson Levine (Ella Enchanted). I flipped through my journal and found a notation from her speech. When she feels a part of a manuscript lacks oomph, she brainstorms other plot possibilities. The list must reach a dozen. Don't stop even if you like one of your first seven ideas.

I am outlining a new YA manuscript and, as I reviewed my notes, I struggled with why a character would do something seemingly unexpected. I started listing. The first idea seemed plausible. I could go with it, but I let the list persist. Item two, acceptable, although I was dwelling too much on one of the emerging themes. Too blatant. Item three—meh. I really liked my fourth and fifth ideas. The fifth, in particular, took off. I madly typed notes to expand on this possibility. I was sold on it as a compelling explanation.

Don't stop till you hit a dozen. I felt like I was back in math class, clearly getting a concept yet having to do all the assigned homework questions, ostensibly to solidify my understanding. Bah! Busy work. I'd resented Mr. Houston and Mrs. Hinich then and now I was resenting Gail Carson Levine. I was under no obligation. She wouldn't do a homework check. She didn't threaten detention or black marks in the grade book. I could stop and she'd never know. She wouldn't care if I followed her advice. She didn't know me. She didn't even follow me on Twitter, for Bill Peet's sake.

Ah, but the curse. I was always an obedient student, dammit. I continued with the list. After each new idea, I'd count my ideas as if by chance an extra one or two crept in from nowhere. By the time I had ten ideas, I got up and requested a coffee refill. Ten was terrific. It showed I could consider alternatives. Good enough.

I sat back down and figured a couple more ideas wouldn't hurt. Eleven. Twelve. Whew. Done.

You know what? I have to thank Gail Carson Levine for pushing me. As I review my list, it is clear that not all of the ideas are home runs. There are a few fouls and one or two embarrassing strikes. Still, creating the list helped with more than finding a fitting motive for a character. By exploring many possibilities, I had to consider my main character's relationship with each of the other characters. I deepened my understanding of some of the minor characters and tweaked other aspects of the plot.

Which idea will I go with? It's down to Numbers 5, 8 and 10. Five still feels the strongest, but I need to let the possibilities simmer. The fact that the tenth idea is a contender proves that I didn't fill the list just for the sake of reaching the seemingly random number of twelve. I fully committed to the exercise. And why wouldn't I? I am excited about my manuscript idea. Should I eventually get it published, I'll have to add Gail Carson Levine to the Acknowledgments. Turns out I was doing more than star gazing in L.A. after all!

ON STEPHEN KING’S ON WRITING

Every now and then, we can expect well intended advice from family members to bring us down rather than lift us up. From strangers, I'd like to think I can tune out the unhelpful pearls of wisdom.

Easy for him/her to say. He/She doesn't even know me.

So when I checked out Stephen King's On Writing (Scribner, 2000) from the library after an acquaintance recommended it, I looked forward to gaining perspective, even inspiration from a successful writer. Any little boost helps. Sadly, Stevie's treatise proved to be a downer.

I have no doubt Stephen King set out to motivate struggling writers, giving us fuel to continue on a lonely path where we often flagellate ourselves with self-doubt. And, yes, I found affirmation in some of what he related. Nothing new, but it felt good to know some of my writing practice resembled that of a ridonculously successful author, one of the few who is a household name. I too set first drafts aside to let them breathe on their own for a period of time before tackling the first round of revisions. As well, I can vouch for the value of keeping a sustained focus on writing, going at it at least six days a week.

I received some friendly reminders. For instance, I need to read more. (Doesn't every writer say this? Where's the "READ MORE" bumper sticker?) Sometimes I have to hear something 1,417 times before it sinks in. I've formally scheduled book reading into my daily routine. (I read plenty, but it's mainly magazines, newspapers and online articles. If I'm writing fiction, I should be reading fiction.) I also gained a new visualization for the writing process: the first draft is pounded out with the door closed (getting my thoughts down), the revisions with the door open (focused on the would-be reader).

But then came the crushing facts, read with astonishment, envy and complete despair. While money does not drive the desire to write, I do dream of being able to earn a living from it. When Stephen King mentioned that his first big publishing contract included a $400,000 advance—in the 1970s!—I had to put the book aside and go for a walk. Sure, he had a stack of rejection letters hanging on a nail by his desk, but he went from being broke to winning the lottery. My advance for my book, published in 2008, was well under 1% of Stevie's payday.

A day later, I opened the book again. I reminded myself I was looking for writing inspiration and financial information was irrelevant. (Not sure why it's even in the book. I get how it came at an opportune time in Mr. King's life, but I don't see how it assists in sharing the lessons he's learned about his craft.) Toward the end of the book, he included a section that led to more despair…and aggravation. He created "Frank", a composite of three writers he knows who haven't hit the big time yet, but are well on their way. Ah, yes. I started to get excited. This will show Stevie's understanding of those of us with Google-free or Google-lite names.

Frank begins to build a track writer as a published writer in small, prestigious journals. But there are bumps and setbacks as well. A sample query letter from Frank is included. Stevie makes clear that Frank has no connections in publishing. He's just another Joe Schmo, like you and me. Frank sent a dozen letters to agents and received expressions of further interest from all but one (who wasn't taking new clients).

I put the book aside and went for another walk. The fact that Frank is an agent magnet is about as relatable as Mr. King's cash advance. According to Stephen King, "if your work is salable, you will have only a moderate amount of trouble finding [an agent]. You'll probably be able to find one even if your work isn't salable, as long as it shows promise."

UGH! Reading about Frank makes it tempting to put my Netbook on Craig's List. I repeatedly told myself that King's perspective, in addition to being unrepresentative of most struggling writers, is dated. The publishing industry has changed drastically in the past decade. Advances are smaller and agents and editors have been pared down. Professional courtesy has been compromised as agents and editors have busier workloads. Most don't even want an SASE. They only reply if there's a shred of interest.

But trying to put King's words into context doesn't erase what I've read. (Isn't it the same when we try to dismiss Aunt Bertha's comment that a new shirt makes us look "chunky"?) Am I delusional? What business do I have even reading a book about writing, much less thinking I can be the next Frank on my way to being the next Stephen?

For me at least, Stephen King's On Writing instills more fear in me than Carrie, Christine and Cujo combined. I'm returning it to the library today. I think it's time to reread Oh, the Places You'll Go! by Dr. Seuss. Maybe in a few days I'll be ready to submit a few more agent queries.