Tag: Harriet Phoenix

Writing Advice

Writing Advice: Make it Easy for Them

Harriet Phoenix

This time I’d like to get into some of the practical, nuts-and-bolts aspects of the writing business. Because, sad to say, writing is a business, and that means you have to deal with other people. Whenever you submit a story to a magazine or a competition, remember that you’re also sending it to a human being. A human being who probably has hundreds of submissions to go through.

Get on their good side early by making it suuuuuuper easy for them.

Start with your manuscript’s presentation. Tempting as it is to make your entry stand out with a weird font or something, at best that’s going to be annoying. At worst, your entry may be unreadable because whatever you’ve done is incompatible with their software. Avoid this by saving your creativity for the story itself and use the Schunn layout. Many submissions guidelines ask for Schunn anyway, but even if they don’t specify, you can’t go far wrong with this.

(Obviously, if a deviation from Schunn is necessary for your story, say if you’re using the text layout to create a shape and it won’t make sense otherwise, then go ahead and do that. Yes, I know, but artistic license. Otherwise…)

The only reason to deviate from Schunn is if the submission guidelines specify a different method. You DID check the submission guidelines, right? If not, go back and reread the title of this post. You’re trying to make things easy for whoever reads your entry, and the submission guidelines are where they’ve helpfully told you how to do that. If they want a particular font, use that font. If they want your entry double-spaced, double-space it. If they want your text embossed in flashing violet with sparkle effects… you get the idea. It’s their publication; they know what they want.

Competitions are often judged anonymously, so they’ll ask you to remove any identifying information from your document. If you’ve used Schunn, that means removing the name and address from the title page, as well as your name from the page headers. You’ll also want to remove your name from the document title (more on that later). The competition guidelines will often state that any entries that aren’t anonymous will be deleted. Assume they’re not kidding, and leave all your identifying information in the cover letter, which usually needs to be in the body text of an email.

Now, document titles. I think we can imagine how annoying it would be to try and find that one story you really liked out of a hundred documents all titled “Submission.” To avoid this, the guidelines will sometimes give you a specific format to follow, e.g. “[Your Name] [Story Title]” or “[Publication Title] [Story Title]”. If they specify a format, follow it. Otherwise, I usually use one of the two listed above, depending on whether judging is anonymous or not. Either way, your story title should be in the file name somewhere, just because it’s a lot easier to find that one story with dragons if you can tell, at a glance, which stories are likely to feature dragons. What are we trying to do here, folks? That’s right; make it easy for them!

Writing Advice

Writing Advice: Throw the Pointy Rock

Harriet Phoenix

After talking last time about respecting the writing community, now I think it’s time to get into some advice about actually writing! I’d like to focus on plotting, as in, deciding what actually happens in your story.

Say you have a story, and you’re not sure where to go with it. Then, out of nowhere, a plot development occurs to you. It’s perfect: it touches themically on everything that’s gone before while upping the stakes to dizzying new heights. It’s also cruel, horrifying and will utterly destroy your poor dear character.

“Oh, no!” you think. “I can’t possibly do that!”

DO IT.

Let’s face it, it’s already done. If you have such a strong emotional reaction to your idea, then that idea is the only thing that can happen. It means that you just touched the third rail that gives your story life. If your character’s journey doesn’t affect you, why should anyone else care?

Director and playwright George Abbot said that your job as a writer is to chase your character up a tree and throw rocks at them (and yes, I did have to look up where that quote is from). That “I can’t possibly!” reaction means that you just picked up a big, pointy rock that is really going to hurt when you hurl it into their face. But that’s what we’re here for, and that’s why you have to go ahead and throw it, sweetie, as hard as you can.

Plot is what happens. Story is why it happens, and what happens because of it. Stories are about change, and changes don’t happen for no reason. People don’t change for no reason. They change because something forces them to change; something painful and, above all, personal. That development you just dreamed up is daunting because it hits your character right where they live; their worst nightmare, their secret shame, their deepest trauma. And that’s where the stakes are.

If anyone’s going to care what happens in your story, then it has to hurt.

After all, why did you give your character a deepest nightmare, if you’re not using it to torture them?

Writing Advice

Writing Advice: Feed the Good Wolf

Harriet Phoenix

So I’ve been thinking about what to do with this blog other than post my fairly scant news, and I’ve decided to try sharing my random insights on writing. Maybe this will be of use to someone who’s struggled with the same things I have, or maybe someone will just get a good laugh out of it. Who knows? We’ll see what happens.

I’m hoping to cover something from all aspects of writing, from the creative process itself to the nuts-and-bolts aspects of getting published, but for this first post I’d like to focus on how you, as a writer, interact with the greater writing community. I’m calling it, “Feed the Good Wolf,” but it could just as easily be, “Listen to the Shoulder Angel,” or, “Seriously, Don’t be a Dick.”

A few years ago, I was working at an academic publisher. There was a writer’s group there, and it was from this group that I heard about a writing competition. I forget exactly who was running it, but they were putting together an anthology aimed at new writers. That’s right: PUBLICATION was on the table here. Cue heavenly choir.

I was not yet published. Not even a little. Did I want in on this anthology? Hell. Yeah.

As I was preparing my entry, it suddenly occurred to me that other people might want to hear about this competition as well. I thought it might be nice to send a link to my old University, so the latest batch of Creative Writing students might get in on the action too. If I sent my old tutors a link, maybe someone could print off a poster and all those fresh-faced under- and post- grads could send in their entries. I felt really good about this idea!

Until the ol’ shoulder devil started talking. “Hold on there,” it said. “That sounds like an awful lot of extra competition you’re courting there. You sure you want to do that?”

I HAD been sure… until then. But the more I mulled it over, the more it seemed like a mistake. How would I feel if I shared this competition, and then lost? Like a sucker, that’s how. I’d been tremendously lucky to hear about this competition; was I obliged to share that luck? I decided I wasn’t. I’m not proud of it, but that’s what happened. I listened to the shoulder devil, fed the bad wolf, and generally acted like a selfish, insecure ass. I sent my entry off and sat back, proud of what a pragmatic, cut-throat decision I’d made.

The competition was cancelled due to lack of entries.

Yeah. Score one for cut-throat pragmatism.

 Now, I don’t know if sharing that link would have changed anything. Maybe there still wouldn’t have been enough entries of sufficiently high quality. Maybe the competition would have gone ahead, my story wouldn’t have won and I’d have been angry with myself for a different reason. Or maybe the anthology would have happened and I’d be in it, pleased with myself for taking the high road.

I hear from time to time that society works better when people are altruistic, because the fewer people act like selfish asses, the more nice things we’re able to have. In this case, a potentially great thing didn’t happen, that I might have been able to save but didn’t, because I was too busy watching my own interests.

Look, I can’t tell you to share a great opportunity rather than hoard it. All I can tell you is that if you’re a writer, then the writing community’s interests are your interests. Do you want to live in a community of good wolves, or bad ones? That’s up to you.