Chews Your Words Wisely

It’s a visual age. Adults and kids alike have their eyes on their Smartphones or iPads, making images whiz by onscreen with just a touch. Graphics rule.

When I worked in textbook publishing, we began to receive requests from teachers not to put so many words on the pages. “Students don’t read,” they said. “Show the key concepts graphically, so students can pick out what’s important.”

When I gave a lecture to a class of college students, I glanced at them as I read from my memoir. Nothing much was going on behind their expressions of polite attention. But when I began the accompanying slide show, every person in that room leaned forward. I could hear it happen.

Graphics. We even have graphic novels now—fiction that takes the form of a comic strip. I don’t think the whole world has suddenly abandoned traditional reading, but we can’t ignore these shifts.

We’re also in an age when storybooks read themselves, when sound can overtake the printed word. Grandpa can record his voice narrating a bedtime story and send the enhanced book to his grandchild. Mom can personalize a birthday card in the same way. It reminds me of a slogan from the past, the product forgotten: “It’s almost like being there.”

When we no longer read words, but merely hear them spoken aloud—say, in an electronic storybook, on television, or in conversation--our spelling suffers. When we have to write, we might struggle. Words that sound alike, but have different spellings and meanings, are among the biggest culprits. When we no longer read words, we often write the wrong word. And a spell checker isn’t going to catch it.

A sentence in a novel reads, “But it’s different now, it’s on a whole new plain.” The correct word would be plane.

A book about writing advises authors what to do if they are “waving” a fee. It should be waiving.

A fashion blogger writes, "I tend to add spice and flare..."  That last word should be flair, unless she is describing bell-bottom pants. 

And how many times have we been promised a "sneak peak" when a peek would have sufficed?

This appeared in a newspaper article: “…throngs of…women carrying their high heals walked along…” That one was later corrected online to high heels. Thank you!

In school I was bored by the repetitive nature of English classes; every year we learned the same things. I closed my eyes when I did the word-choice exercises in my workbook, looking after the fact to see which word I’d left uncovered by the pencil. I avoided vocabulary building. But somewhere along the line, I knew I had a feeling for it all, and now I’m not just a writer; I’m a watchdog.

In writing for others, I've made a habit of questioning my word choices and looking things up. This way, maybe I won't be the person who writes of a "hoarse" in a field. But he--or she--is out their. Whoops!

Positive Thinking

If you’re a fan of The Secret, you’ll immediately know why I pasted the title of my own book over that of the No. 1 best-seller on the New York Times list, even though It Started with Dracula won’t be published for another 24 weeks. Jack Canfield, one half of the famous Chicken Soup author team, did the same thing after the first Chicken Soup manuscript was rejected again and again. He was applying positive thinking to attract positive results, and it worked.

Canfield created a motivation wall where he posted positive messages to himself and projected his future success. I started one, too. The first document to go up on the glass of my large Mt. Everest photo (get the symbolism?) was the NYT Nonfiction Paperback best-seller list with It Started with Dracula: The Count, My Mother, and Me as No. 1 as of April 1, 2012.

The essence of each New York Times best-seller is stated on the list in a sentence or less. I wrote this to describe my book: “A solo traveler’s inner and outer journeys in Romania.”

The second thing I put up on my motivation wall was a photo of Ellen Degeneres chatting with a guest on the set of her TV show. I cut out a picture of myself and pasted it over that of the original guest so that I could get used to the idea of being on television. I like Ellen (this idea is now beaming to California) and think appearing on her show would be fun.

Item 3 on my motivation wall is a big check, made out to me in a large amount to represent what I hope to earn with my best-seller. In fact, I’m thinking I was too modest in deciding on the amount; I might do it over. The blank check is free on the website of The Secret, www.thesecret.tv. You can print it out, as I did, and fill it in as you wish.

Writing is like Mt. Everest sometimes. I say put up a motivation wall and look at it every day. Picture your success. Imagine yourself where you want to be. Rhonda Byrne, author of The Secret, says it will happen; it will change your life. Let’s find out.

Personal Branding V: The Writers Conference

I recently attended a local writers’ conference. (Where do you put that apostrophe?) I did it to network. The keynote speaker was Hallie Ephron, author of two mystery novels and two nonfiction guides for writers. The instructors included professors, editors, book authors, a screenwriter, and a literary agent. The other attendees ranged from beginners to published authors. Many were there to pitch their books.

It had been five years since I’d attended a writers’ conference; the last one had intimidated me so much that I’d stopped going. I’d made appointments that time to pitch It Started with Dracula, then a work in progress. Pitching was a new term in my world and an unexpectedly stomach-churning activity before I even met … Well, you’ll be able to read more about that in the book.

As I selected my outfit for the conference, I wondered—as always—what writers wear. It sounds ridiculous, but it was important, and my mind always takes the same route before an event: right to the subject of clothing. What should I wear? For the first time I actually was a writer. I was an author, but no one at the conference would know that, or me.

I decided on a casual outfit that was a step up from jeans, put a sweater over my blouse for warmth, and had an acute case of static cling before I ever got out of my own neighborhood.

The roads were deserted at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, greatly reducing my anxiety at trying to find the place, located on a university campus. I tuned the radio to a 50s rock station as I drove and formulated my simple goal for the day: Get through it.

I’d made no pitching appointments, a great relief, but I did have in mind to meet the agent, just because she’d set up her first office in Charleston, West Virginia, a city from my childhood. If she’d accepted memoirs, I might have contacted her earlier, but now I would be only an anonymous member of her class. Whether I introduced myself was solely my choice.

Most of my classes were excellent. I made a few friends, gained new insights about the craft of writing, and gave out several of the business cards I’d taken with me, a new design with my photo on one side and my book cover on the other.

Hallie Ephron--sister of Nora, Delia, and Amy—sat one table away from mine at lunch. She looked regular. Her photo is glamorous, and it should be, but that day she was completely natural talking and laughing with her tablemates. The screenwriter sat beside me. My new friend Debbie had told me the buzz: This woman had “flown in from LA” just for the conference. I didn’t recognize her name, but we had a short conversation—mostly about her.

The best thing I heard Hallie Ephron say in her keynote was that when she’s writing a book, she has no perspective on whether it’s good or bad. I’d thought I was the only one, but my Memoir teacher said the same thing: “None of us do.”

During the break I bought novels from Hallie and one of my teachers. Both autographed them to me. After the last session of the day I did go up front to meet the literary agent, who’d just served on a panel. I shall pin a gold star on myself for that.

Writers’ conferences are on the A-list for networking opportunities, and I totally agree—even if, in my case, they’re an acquired taste. I can’t seem to relax and stop thinking about myself. Perhaps that is the curse of the “writer’s personality”—many of us are introverts--or maybe I just like to think that I’m not the only one.

Personal Branding IV: The First Interview

My publisher had mentioned radio and TV interviews, but it seemed she must be talking about someone else. Even when she interrupted our telephone call to take one from “The Ellen DeGeneres Show,” I didn’t associate myself with the national spotlight.

No, the phone call from “Ellen” wasn’t about me, but it made me think. How would I fare sitting across from Oprah, Ellen, or even a local newscaster? Let’s just say that I’m more comfortable on paper than in person. Well, the advice books would say, get over that!

Fortunately, my first interview was with a newspaper reporter, meaning that I would not need to worry about squirming, scowling, scratching, squinting, or screwing up on TV. All I had to control was my habit of blurting out too much information when I’m nervous.

The writer was someone whose work I’d admired for a while. She had been doing a series of “Innerviews” for my hometown paper in West Virginia, and I was thrilled that she wanted to talk to me.

Even though it wasn’t television, I duly reported for my beauty routines the week before the interview. When I thought about what to wear, my first impulse was to choose a business suit. Then I remembered I didn’t have one that fit. I’d recently achieved lifetime status in Weight Watchers, so it wasn’t the other problem—which I’ve had plenty of times over the years.

The interview required a trip of several hours. Every time I’ve taken a trip, I’ve bought something new to wear. It’s a compulsion, but my trip to the mall produced only a couple new blouses—nothing too dangerous to the pocketbook. I decided to wear dress pants, one of the new shirts, and a casual jacket.

This interview took place in a conference room at the newspaper offices, which I’d never seen. In my pre-meeting nervousness, I parked the car in a pay lot and stuffed the fee into the wrong slot—no attendant was present—then had to ask for change from the receptionist at the Gazette, trudge back to the lot, and pay again. For all my efforts to be cool, such mistakes seem inevitable. At least that one beat driving away from the ATM without my card.

The interview team consisted of the writer, who used a recorder to capture the exchange, and a photographer who snapped pictures of me while I was talking. I knew in advance that I’d be “taped,” so my greatest efforts were to be nice and avoid spilling my guts. The session lasted about an hour, and then we went outside for more photos.

My interview will run in the paper in a couple of weeks. Naturally, I have no say now about what goes into the story; my chance to shape it came when I sat down at that table on the second floor of the Gazette building in Charleston. I hope the article turns out well. I do trust the writer, so I try not dwell on the interview or dredge up what I said or didn’t say. I’ll just think of it as good practice for “Ellen."

Personal Branding III: The Website

An Internet presence is an essential part of an author’s platform, so it follows that said author needs a website. And you need it before you’re published. In fact, you need it before you create your book proposal—that document you’ll use to attract agents to you like a magnet. Well, don’t take that magnet part too seriously, but you will want to list your website in the section of your proposal dedicated to marketing and promotion.

Before I sound like I know it all, I'll mention that this series on personal branding is where I share my journey as a first-time author. I’m learning as I go.

Anyone can get on the Internet these days. It’s easy to express an opinion, post photos, or even tell the world what you had for supper last night. I’d already taken the social media plunge by the time I had to think about a website. I’d seen my face on Facebook, but it was still weird to think of myself as the subject of a website. It helped me to look at the process as work and reduce it to steps and tasks instead of seeing my site as the doorway to fame.

I began researching website creation after I had a publishing contract, but a year before my book was due in stores. Before that, it was finish the book, target agents, put a proposal together, write letters, and try not to wait by the e-mailbox. The advice books mention that writing your book is only the beginning, and it’s true.

For website inspiration, I looked at the sites of famous authors. I remember masculine-looking bookcases on John Grisham’s site. Lee Child’s home page shows the author holding a cigarette. The smoke drifts out across the page, its motion a very cool effect. James Patterson’s site is highly interactive and loaded. Sandra Brown’s has an intro that loads while you wait. Romance author Julia Spencer-Fleming’s site is gorgeous.

A few authors had poorly designed websites—too much text, wild margins, too many fonts, crazy colors, or other faux pas that cried “homemade” in the worst sense of the word. Growing up in West Virginia, I wore homemade clothes, but anyone picturing flour sacks sewn together didn’t know my grandmother’s talent with a Singer.

I initially asked a media editor friend to help me set up my website, but she was already consumed with her full-time job. Next I explored companies on the Internet that would guide me through the process and then host my site. It looked easy enough, but did I really want a site I’d created myself?

One of my sayings is pretty simple: You can’t do everything. How much did I want to do myself? It wasn’t just a question of what I liked to do—or had the skill to do--versus what I didn’t. I also had to consider how many people I could afford to hire in the process of creating my brand: Not many.

In the end I paid attention to a bit of advice I came across in my research: Hire a professional, because the difference will be obvious to those who count. I’m not saying that’s always true, but combined with my lack of web savvy and low level of desire to build my own site, it worked for me.

Professional websites can cost thousands of dollars—and a website isn’t the only piece of a publicity plan that costs money--so it pays to shop around. I was very lucky to find an excellent designer who could work within my budget. As soon as I hired him, I was glad. He immediately reserved my domain name and asked me to compile a list of key words I’d want picked up by a search engine.

Over the next several days I made a list of my ideas. Some didn’t make it past the designer’s wisdom, and I was glad. As an example, I wanted a device that would track and display the number of visits to my site. He quickly convinced me that I might want to rethink that one, especially at the beginning. What if I had only a few visitors?

I also asked for something dramatic like Lee Child’s wafting cigarette smoke, but I gave it up when I learned it would be expensive for me and possibly slow to load. Here's another reason I liked my designer: For everything I gave up, he suggested something else.

I knew that a blog would be a critical piece of my “online presence.” After giving serious thought to what I’d write about, I thought up the name for my blog. Then I Googled “So Write!” to see if anyone else had thought of it first. I also suggested a little feature called “Transylvania Trivia” to teach people about Dracula’s homeland, since that’s a setting in my book. My research for my memoir had yielded many facts that would fit the trivia format.

Regarding interactivity, I was advised not to go crazy. So far my site is free of contests, special offers, games, and the like. If you make a large time commitment to your site, who’s going to keep that up? Recently I wrote to a favorite author via his website. I was disappointed when the language of his reply smacked of someone else’s touch. It was just too pat and didn’t seem like anything he would say.

My site has the usual menu: Home, About, Books, News, Links, and Contact. I wrote the copy for the pages and reviewed various stages of the site design. My designer initially prepared three “looks,” and I chose after asking friends and family for their input.

I furnished photos for my site, glad again for my session at Glamour Shots a few months earlier as well as the hundreds of pictures I’d taken in Romania. I had to export them in a photo editing program (I used Picasa) at a lower resolution for the web. My publisher furnished the required book information, and because my web designer is also the book cover designer, he provided the cover image.

Every two weeks I send in an update, for instance a new Transylvania Trivia. Soon I’ll be listing Events on that page. My web designer makes those changes, but I post new blog entries myself.

Of all the decisions required in developing a website, hiring a professional designer was the best one I made. He helped me through the decision points, making a huge task manageable and allowing me to move on to other things as my book went through the publishing process. My designer has been amazing--creative, knowledgeable, and quick; the process was affordable; and the site, www.janecongdon.com, is everything I could have wanted. Thanks, Tatomir!

Radar

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whispered in relief. It wasn’t because I’d just sent in my third round of copyediting corrections, though I was glad to get them off my desk; it was because my absolutely incredible copyeditor had saved me—again.

The copyedited manuscript of my memoir had arrived a few days earlier for my review. It came as an e-mail attachment. Prior to seeing “copyedit” in the filename, I wasn’t sure the project had reached that stage, the last and most routine edit before typesetting.

My publisher had said my book was in “line editing,” but even with my publishing background I didn’t know what the term meant. I hoped the manuscript wasn’t undergoing yet another content edit. If so, could I endure it? I’d completed six drafts by the time It Started with Dracula was accepted for publication, and with every revision it had become a slightly different book. Maybe you’ve experienced that evolution, known to some of us as “Can’t-Leave-It-Alone Syndrome.”

Before offering me a contract, my publisher read my manuscript and then hired someone else to read it and offer a second opinion, as a doctor would. In fact, he was a doctor—a book doctor. Some of us like to think we don’t need a book doctor; I always thought they were hired in dire cases, when the author wasn’t much of a writer. Live and learn.

After I’d signed my contract, my publisher recommended that I work with the book doctor on my own to cut the thousands of words required to bring my manuscript to an acceptable length. That’s tough to do alone, and the mere idea caused me to panic. My first thought was to chop entire chapters: “Who’d miss this?” I recklessly asked the four walls of my condo as I noted massive deletions for the book doctor’s review.

Fortunately, the book doctor was very, very good. He recommended a different approach. It took two weeks of intense rewriting on my part and an extra pillow under me on my office chair, but the subtle changes I made—a word here, a phrase there—worked. The story was preserved, my writing voice was preserved, and the word count was acceptable. I was thrilled.

The next step, the line edit-slash-copyedit, made me nervous all over again. If writers’ words are our babies, you might understand my desire to protect mine until they were locked in by the printing press. Little did I know that, while I worried about “my precious manuscript,” the copyeditor was finding a rather big mistake that I’d made.

She saved my neck.

While she was making style changes and flagging the occasional confusing passage, my copyeditor discovered a glitch in the timeline that spanned four chapters. I’d incorrectly written that we arrived somewhere on Friday when it was actually Thursday, and the missing day threw the story off. “I have a kind of radar for that,” she said when I thanked her.

Radar: It’s the perfect word to describe the mysterious element that transcends skill, training, and experience to set the best editors apart. Where does radar originate? Is it innate, or cumulative? All I know is this: Some editors have it, and others don’t. I was lucky that mine did.

I hate to admit to a second instance of screwing up a time sequence, but after I’d fixed the first glitch and sent it off, the copyeditor found another one at the last minute. Like the first, it would have been a disaster had it reached print.

Here’s the thing: Writing can’t be an ego trip. If it is, the publishing process will likely snap you out of it. Becoming an author has taught me that I don’t know everything, I’m not always right, and I make mistakes. As a writer, I need others’ eyes on my work. I need their radar.

I fixed the second glitch, grateful that both the copyeditor and the book doctor had found the flaws in my manuscript at the best possible time--while it still was a manuscript. They’d seen what I hadn’t, and they’d made me look better on the page. That’s the point, after all.

I’ve worked alongside some of the best editors in the business, but a career in educational publishing does not necessarily prepare one to become an author of nonfiction. The terminology is different; the processes can be different; and working it from the other side is definitely different. I’ve had to be led along.

Occasionally I write about poor editing in this blog, but I am totally appreciative of the people whose meticulous work behind the scenes makes an author look her best. I’ll end this post as I began it: “Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Personal Branding II: Author Photos

Before I even began submitting queries to agents and publishers, I sat for a series of professional author photos. It was one of the best decisions I’ve made.

If you consider publication the turning point between “writer” and “author,” I was definitely still a writer, but I wanted to be prepared. Besides, “head shots” are a given for anyone who wants to build a professional image.

After some research on the Internet, I decided to check out our local Glamour Shots, even though I thought it was a place to go for that special Valentine portrait. In fact, they do many kinds of photography, as I learned during my fact-finding visit. A face-to-face is a good idea before you hire a photographer.

I’d always considered myself a poor photo subject--all the more reason to book an appointment with a professional—and I didn’t look forward to the session. Once upon a time, the publishing company where I worked had its own photo studio. I had my picture taken there after receiving a promotion to supervisor. Well, in addition to “dressing for success,” I decided to emulate executives who looked brainy and serious and visionary in their photos--in other words, I didn’t smile. When the contact sheets came back, I was surprised to see that I’d scowled in every shot and had to repeat the whole session.

In order to make my author session fun, I scheduled the appointment to coincide with a visit from my granddaughter. At seven, Annie was the perfect partner. She loved to dress up, so I knew she’d have a blast with the kid outfits at Glamour Shots. She could wear whatever she wanted for her individual poses, I’d get my author photos, and we could have some pictures made together.

In anticipation, I finally made that eye appointment and got new glasses. I made my beauty appointments a few days ahead of the session, making sure my hairdresser didn’t cut too much off. Luckily, after all these years, Tina didn’t take offense at “Don’t scalp me.”

Glamour Shots had advised me about what to bring to the shoot. I put together several outfits, including a business suit; some travel clothes, because my book is about a trip; and a casual set for the shots with Annie. Then I took her shopping and bought her a top to go with mine. For her individual photos, she picked out a green fairy dress with a matching headpiece.

First we went to Hair and Makeup, just like the Kardashians. I let Annie choose her hairstyle, French braids. Listening to her occasional sharp intakes of breath, I was glad my much simpler do required only a couple hot curls and a bit of gel.

Annie’s makeup was a light touch, while mine was a dousing with Luminess, the spray-on foundation of movie stars. As for the eyes, “We line both the upper and lower lids,” the make-up artist said. “Looking in the mirror, you’ll think your makeup is way too heavy, but your pictures will look great.” They did.

The session went smoothly, and at the end of it we were able to view the digital results there in the office before placing our order. I won’t give away all my secrets, but if you need retouching, many things are possible on a computer.

I had Glamour Shots deliver my author photos on a CD-ROM. It wasn’t cheap, but I can use them over and over—as long as I don’t change my hairdo.

Annie proved to be a natural. Her mom and dad have taken countless family photos since she was born, and she’s been on stage as part of a dance company since she was two. Here’s my favorite pose from our session. Now, there’s a face for the cameras!

Personal Branding I: Business Cards

Personal branding is the core of publicity. My publisher has explained this principle to me—the same principle found in numerous how-to books for writers: The publisher’s job is to publicize the book, and your job is to publicize yourself—starting NOW. It’s called platform. If you don’t have it, you’d better get it.

It’s an odd word, platform, used like this; but I’m beginning to make peace with both the term and the concept. I have to, and so do you if you’re counting on the public to support your creative efforts.

At least now when I hear the word platform, I don’t think of platform shoes. Instead, I automatically picture a stage, maybe one with a section that rises amid blinding lights and billowing smoke, like Justin Bieber’s did in Never Say Never. In my case, the vision is symbolic of what the shy, solitary writer now has to do.

I had to draw up a publicity plan for myself. It seems that bookstore buyers want to know who this so-called author is--and why they should care--before they decide to carry a book. That’s power.

A neophyte when it comes to self-branding, I once tried to re-brand my tenth-grade English teacher by deliberately mispronouncing her name to new students so they’d trip up. Some people just invite mischief.

This was the same teacher who asked me a question in class about the origin of my surname, which back then wasn’t Congdon. In tenth grade I didn’t know what a surname was. As it turned out, I’ve had three: my family name and two others gained or lost in love—branding of a different kind.

One of the easier tasks on my publicity plan was ordering business cards. I’m glad I did that, because already—seven months before my book pub date—people ask. It’s good to be able to hand them something.

As with many jobs, I began with research. Fortunately, others have gone before us. I used a blog by author Jennifer Hudson Taylor as a guide for what to include on my card. Did you know that author business cards are different from those of companies? I didn’t. Hudson tells why; check it out: http://jenniferswriting.blogspot.com/2008/09/author-business-cards-are-different.html.

I took Hudson’s advice to use a photo—I am my “company,” after all--and to highlight my product, which is my book. I made up a tag line and put the essential contact information on the card. That was it. Oh, I shouldn’t mislead you; I hired a graphic designer to give my business cards the professional look they need.

I didn’t take a pen name, even though many people misspell or mispronounce Congdon. I don’t see what’s so difficult about it, but in making restaurant reservations I use a simpler surname.

And that brings us back to my tenth-grade English teacher. She was a compact lady with perfect gray curls, professionally dressed and quite proper, so it was a shock when one of her hands would disappear inside her blouse to fish a wayward strap out of her sleeve. She did this by touch, never missing a beat of the lecture or conversation and never taking her eyes off the class.

Ditto.

Mrs. H. was at her most fascinating in short sleeves. We used to watch her arm flap when she wrote on the blackboard, and sometimes one of those errant straps would come right out of her sleeve, and we’d get to follow her hand on its spellbinding journey. Now and then fingers would even appear, like a magic trick. All she needed was a top hat.

My point is that people will remember something about you. What do you want it to be?

Book Tests

How do you spot a good book? Is it possible to know before you spend your hard-earned money and time whether a book will be as good as its cover promises? That’s one purpose of best-seller lists, of course. Reviews and book club selections are helpful, too, and let’s not leave out Oprah. But sometimes it’s fun to choose our books for ourselves. 

In matters of biography, the author or subject of the book will sell it. You either want to know more about a person, or you don’t. Although I’ve read a few boring biographies and put down others that were poorly written, fascinating life stories don’t often disappoint. With fiction, it’s trickier.

I start with the summary, to see if I like the story. Mysteries are my usual choice, and some plots just don’t get old; for example, I love relentless chasing and villains who will stop at nothing. I don’t like stories about women whose exes are still hanging around waiting to fall back in love.

Next I read the blurbs, the quoted accolades on the cover and in the front of the book. No publisher is going to print negative comments, but blurbs from the right sources can signal a hit. I hesitate if the blurb is about the author and not the particular book, though, wondering why no one raved about the item I’m holding in my hands.

A known author is usually a good bet, although I’ve given up on two very famous ones. The first has taken on co-authors, some of whom are terrible. I’ll say it again: Terrible. The second ex-favorite just got on my nerves; in attempting to acquaint readers with her quirky fictitious family, she went overboard. All right, already! So the daughter is bright, but stubborn. We get it; move on.

A good new author is a treasure, and new could mean new to writing books or just new to the reader. I love to discover an author, and when I do it generally follows that I can read everything she’s written and expect a similar level of competence.

Maybe you read the first paragraph or two to determine the author’s writing skill and style, as I do, or to see if the story hooks you in. If you’re of a certain age, you might also be reading to see if it rings a bell. I’ve bought books twice, thanks to senior moments. Recently I purchased a paperback of The Lost Symbol, forgetting that I’d read the hardcover version from the library.

My mother used to carry around a list of her favorite authors because she couldn’t remember their names. Now I do it.

If I like the quotes and the summary on the flap or back cover, and if a book passes the author and/or “initial paragraph” test, I’ll buy it. All of that screening pays off most of the time, but once in a while flags will pop up later. The worst ones are those memory triggers—Wait! He carried her into the hospital? I’ve read this!

Winking and grinning are big red flags for me. If the characters start winking and grinning when they speak, they’re not going to stop. Instead of looking for the next instance—a most annoying distraction--I look for my next book.

Borders

Our local Borders is one of the 200 “underperforming” stores that will close as a result of the recent Chapter 11 filing by their parent company. I’d seen the list of closings by the time I went to the company’s website, www.borders.com, and checked the page for my local store. It already carried an announcement: “This store is expected to close no later than the end of April. We’ve enjoyed serving the many customers who have shopped this store over the years.”

It reminded me of the scene in You’ve Got Mail when Meg Ryan had to post a similar sign on the door of The Shop Around the Corner, only this wasn’t an independent bookstore being eaten by a chain; it was a chain store. When you get right down to it, the important thing is this: It was a bookstore.

I live in an area that was farmland when our first house went up, a place so rural that people scratched their heads and made sure they had a few snacks in the car before setting out. My town was created as a “planned community.” Even so, the area was devoid of significant retail opportunities for years. Then we got a mall.

We had shopping centers, and even a Barnes and Noble in the other direction; but this location was convenient for me. It lay between home and what was then my office. Borders was an anchor store.

Shopping at Borders was impersonal most of the time, in a nice way. The employees were helpful the few times I asked for assistance and polite when I checked out. That was all I needed.

Once an employee saw me lingering among the Mystery shelves with a studied expression and tried to help me select a book. She didn’t realize that sometimes I stood in Borders for 30 minutes with that look on my face. I loved scanning every title on the shelves before settling on just the right one. Finding a new book is an experience to be savored.

The Digital Age is the reason often given for the demise of bookstores. I’ve considered e-book readers for a while now, but I don’t have one yet. It isn’t that I object, but sometimes I’d like to slow technology down. Yes, I would.

The extinction of bookstores has been predicted for years, so I suppose we should be prepared, but it still makes me sick. Even though it wasn’t spoken for the same reason, I keep thinking of Tom Hanks’ line in You’ve Got Mail: “Don’t cry, Shopgirl.”

One of the last times I was in Borders, I was on an assignment from my publisher to find the shelf on which my book would sit once it was published, then to see what would be on either side of it. I talked to a woman named Laura, who was lovely. “Would you like to have a signing here?” she asked. “In fact, if you want to contact the ghost hunters who write about haunted places in Ohio, we can do a Sci-Fi Night with multiple authors.”

It was a fine offer, made—I believe--before she knew her store would be closing “no later than the end of April.” So thanks, Laura. Thanks to everyone at the Borders in Deerfield Towne Center, Mason, Ohio. I’ll miss you.

The Inevitable Error

I write in books. Not borrowed books, not library books, but the ones I pay for; I can’t help it. How can a career editor leave a mistake unmarked--even in a printed book, when it’s too late? If I merely continued reading, it would seem that I was condoning the error or—far worse—hadn’t seen it.

When I was a young Editorial Associate for a textbook publisher, our company president used to say with a smile, “There’s no such thing as a perfect book, but we keep trying.” Perfection is an editor’s reason for being, but something always slips past us, doesn’t it? Back then I had a love-hate relationship with the newly printed books I’d worked on: I loved to see them finally come together, but I dreaded to learn that someone had found a mistake. It’s like that first little door ding on a new car: Ouch!

I’m never 100 percent sure whether errors in a book should be attributed to the author or to an editor later down the line, but my vote goes to the editor. After all, if your eyes are the last to see a manuscript or a set of galleys, you have to take the heat.

I don’t think for a minute that Sue Grafton gets dual and duel confused, but I found this sentence on page 18 of the paperback version of U is for Undertow: “I shut the engine down, locked my car, and crossed the street, passing through the squeaking gate that serves the duel purpose of doorbell and burglar alarm.” Even if an author doesn’t know, the editor should.

Nathan’s Run is a fabulous suspense novel written a few years back by a very talented author named John Gilstrap. After I discovered him, I began reading everything he’d written; but did he know the difference between farther and further? It didn’t seem so as I corrected instance after instance of misuse in my second-hand copy of Nathan’s Run, but I’m not blaming Gilstrap. Someone else either missed those errors or made them.

After 30 years of being that set of editorial eyes, I wrote a book—a book that’s now being EDITED. Gulp.

I’d be lying if said it didn’t give me a thrill to find mistakes in other people’s books. When it comes to grammar, spelling, punctuation, and word usage, I’m picky and unforgiving, superior and smug. I hope my editor is every one of those things. I like to think I don’t miss a thing, but we know better, don’t we?

If we leave out the life-and-death aspect, there’s an editorial equivalent to the fundamental principle of medicine, which is “First, do no harm.” The editorial equivalent is “Don’t introduce errors.”

Just so you’ll know, I don’t like the word woken. Many people do; it appears in virtually every book I read. The website www.dictionary.com offers no cautions about using woken, defined there as “a past participle of wake.” The word just sounds wrong to me: “After he had woken...” sounds like a mistake. I’ll rewrite to avoid it. I don’t correct it when I see it on the printed page, though—unlike dual vs. duel or farther vs. further, the correction is complicated. I do underline it, though, to say, “I see you.” If you ever read a book of mine and find woken in it, I didn’t put it there.

For all our efforts--my editor’s and mine—there’s still a chance my book won’t be perfect when it’s published. The inevitable error will surface, and it might be my fault. I just hope I’m not the one to find it.

This post is a thank-you to all of the great authors and editors out there, those who champion what’s best about language and are the squeaking gates of our published books.

Mental Prep

My brother and I have been meeting to work on a new book. One recent morning we went to a coffeehouse. Joe had been up for hours, so he was ready for coffee and company. I was scrambling to have my beauty routine done and my electronics packed by the time he picked me up.

We’ve found a writing process that works for us: He talks and I type. This is really his book, but I’m the writer. He’s the storyteller. If I can manage to capture Joe’s stories, meaning keep up with him and retain the flavor, I’ve done something.

The way it usually goes, I interrupt him constantly with questions. I have to; it’s either then or later, when I’m refining my notes. He’d prefer it if he could just tell the thing without any typing or stopping, but our process is a compromise.

We schedule two-hour sessions. Usually we talk constantly, prompting one another, and I worry that we’ll get too loud. That morning we’d been working less than an hour when we fell silent. It was the first time we’d run out of material.

“Well, let’s just sip our coffee,” I said, “and not force it.”

Lots of times if I start doing something else on the computer, Joe will begin to talk and I’ll have to get quickly back to my typing. After a couple trickles, though, the stories dried up that day and my mind turned to the other things I had to do.

Neither Joe nor I had spent enough mental time preparing for that writing session. He’d been bored from waking up so early, and I’d been too busy getting ready. We hadn’t made space in our minds for the project.

In the past I’d given Joe assignments—thought starters for the next session. “I knew what it was like to be poor,” I might say, meaning that he should think about how he made it when he was on strike for 14 weeks with two children to feed. I might ask him to think about why even ghosts couldn’t scare him into quitting a night job. Sometimes I went for a particular kind of family memory. But not that day. That day we hadn’t done the mental prep.

Writing works best when we open our minds to it. All of the content is there; we just have to access it. The collaborative process at its most productive is a beautiful thing. And when those stories do start to come, my sage advice is pretty simple: Start typing.

Play Dead

As I write this, mystery novelist Harlan Coben’s “latest” book, Play Dead, is on the stands. On the very first page is a warning by Coben that Play Dead is one of his first books, written more than 20 years ago--before he became, in the words of Forbes, “a suspense maestro.”

I love Coben’s books and can’t wait for a new one, but I heeded the warning in Play Dead for weeks. Then the other day I went out in a snowstorm because I’d finished the novel I was reading and couldn’t go a day without a book. Cold, blustery weather like that will make you wish you could reach for an e-reader instead of the car keys.

Once I arrived at Borders and knew how slick the roads were, I didn’t want to linger. I went no farther than the C’s in the mystery section, plucked out Play Dead, and in minutes was on my way home.

Coben is right about the book. I knew it two pages in. Though the story may end up having the energy he attributes to it, the book is overwritten, full of clichés, and predictable. I sat at my kitchen table that day thinking what fun it would be to edit Play Dead. The irony was that my own book manuscript was awaiting me upstairs. At 3,800 words over my publisher’s limit, it was screaming for an edit, too.

Instead of planting myself at the computer where I belonged, I was ready to take a pen to Play Dead for the rest of the afternoon. Why?

Rewriting a book is like tackling a home improvement project: You have to make a mess before you see the improvement. Ruthless self-editing is frustrating, confusing, and exhausting. Deleting words can break your heart. The process isn’t called “killing your babies” for nothing.

I could see what to do with Coben’s book; I had no stake in it. But instead of following my whim to “edit” a published book, I came upstairs and worked on my own manuscript, hoping that one day it would bring a fraction of the success that Harlan Coben’s wonderful novels have had. Now I understand that he’s earned it.

Transylvanian Sisters

Here’s an interesting story about how I came to have a Transylvanian “sister.”

Aura Imbarus grew up in Romania under the oppressive rule of Communism. Her life in the city of Sibiu, in Transylvania, was restricted by fear. Shots were fired. People mysteriously disappeared. Neighbors became informants for the government. As a girl, Aura had few people to trust. She felt that even the windows called “eyes” built into the German-style homes in her city were watching her.

Aura was smart and ambitious. She had a dream to go to America--to California--and have the kind of life she’d seen in the movies.

A few years earlier, another girl was growing up in America. One day when she was 13, she saw a Dracula movie. Right then she knew that one day she would go to Romania to find the mountains and castles of Transylvania that she’d seen in the movies.

Aura moved to America to pursue her dreams. She became a teacher in California and wrote a book about leaving Romania titled Out of the Transylvania Night. The American girl pursued her dream to see Transylvania. She was working on a book titled It Started with Dracula.

I was that American girl, now grown and still unable to resist a book with “Transylvania” in the title, so I bought Aura’s memoir. After I read it I wrote her a note telling her how much I’d liked it. Complimenting other writers is one of the things we do as part of the writing life.

Aura wrote back. One thing led to another as we compared our stories. “If not for the difference in timing, our planes could have passed in the sky,” I said in my e-mail. We declared ourselves “Transylvanian sisters.” Aura even introduced me to her publisher--a generous offer from a generous person. And that’s how two young girls with dreams influenced by the movies found each other as adults.

For a bit of related trivia, see the latest Transylvania Trivia on my website. For more about the writing life, look for Carolyn See’s book, Making a Literary Life, published by Random House. Check out Aura’s website at http://www.auraimbarus.com/.

Delivering the Goods

I just finished reading Breaking Dawn, the fourth book in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. It wasn't just the subject of vampires that prompted me to read the books Meyer had created for young adults; I did it for the same reason I read Harry Potter: to keep up.

Breaking Dawn presents the culmination of a romance between Bella, an ordinary high school girl, and Edward, a vampire. We know going in that Bella wants to become a vampire, too, and that Edward wants to marry Bella. With a three-book buildup, the author's job is clear: Breaking Dawn must answer one tough question over and over again--What's that like? And she does.

It doesn't matter that the Twilight series is fiction. It doesn't make one bit of difference that Bella's and Edward's experiences–like those of all the other Twilight characters--are made up. We want to know.

It's easy to glide through an explanation, minimize it, hint at it, or skip it altogether--but the thing I liked best about Breaking Dawn was that Stephenie Meyer didn't do that. She took us over new ground in satisfying detail, which is the only way she could have told this story. I'll avoid examples; my point is not to spoil the experience for future readers, but to say that this is what I learned.

Books can teach us a lot about writing. I didn't always find the Twilight series compelling, not all the way through, but I kept going. Two thousand pages later, Breaking Dawn showed me how important it is for an author to deliver the goods and make good on the reader's investment.