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February 2006
The Writer's Quest, part 2
Every year, 500,000 people will start their first novel. The average time it takes to complete a novel is three years. Of those half-million manuscripts that get started, only about 100,000 will make it to completion. Of the ones that actually get completed, only a very small percentage will ever see publication. Average sales for a first novel from a previously unknown author: 5,000 copies.
Those were the sobering statistics that awaited us on our first night of the Special Projects in Fiction class, followed immediately by the question, "so why would anyone want to do this?" A good question, indeed, and I think the only way to answer such a question is to understand the mentality of the writer.
When my son gave me the copy of the Terry Brooks book on writing that I mentioned in last month's column, I opened it to the first chapter and started reading just to see how it looked. I began laughing almost immediately, because Brooks begins his treatise by telling the reader that writers live in another world. I read the paragraphs to my family, and they readily agreed that he had me pegged.
Why do we write? Because that world that we live in begs to be expressed; it isn't enough that I spend so much time there. There is not only a desire to codify that world and give it substance beyond its existence within my daydreams, but also to invite other people to spend some time with the characters that exist in that world. I've joked before that Eva threatened to beat me if I didn't finish the story, and while I smirk about that, the truth is that the characters can seem real enough to a writer that we take such things seriously.
As I write this column, my first submission for the critique of my classmates and instructor sits behind me. Of the assorted students in the class, I was the only one to sign up to make a submission the first week we are able to do so. Part of that was due to the fact that I already had a manuscript beyond the first draft stage. The other factor was that I'd rather get the initial impact over with. In the past week, I've done some significant revision to the first three chapters of Cardan's Pod, well beyond the minor revisions I've been doing ever since finishing the first draft. We've only had one week of class so far, and thus the impact of the class input on the manuscript has been minimal. For these first three chapters, some of what Terry Brooks wrote had a greater impact.
For instance, in Chapter 1, I included a single paragraph mention of the deputy informing Cynthia Cardan that her husband's sailboat had been found adrift. In that scene, the deputy was the central character and the reader's impression of Cynthia Cardan is filtered through the deputy's eyes. As I read back over that this past week, I realized I was creating a potential problem for the reader. You see, if this were a movie instead of a book, Deputy Dixon would be an extra. He would have less than a minute of screen time in a ninety minute movie, and would be mentioned in the credits as "Deputy at door". He would share the scene with Cynthia, who as a main character in the story is really the one the scene needs to focus on. By naming the deputy and writing the scene focused on him, I introduced a character that will not appear in the story again and only teases the reader into remembering them just in case. I also deflected the attention from the real subject of the scene, Cynthia Cardan.
I rewrote that scene completely, placing the focus on the other side of the front door. The deputy is mentioned as incidental, which although he might be a great character in his own right, for this story he is. The scene needs to further the reader's introduction to Cynthia, which advances the plot and doesn't muddle it with another name to remember. It now reads:
- Cynthia Cardan smiled behind the closed door. The deputy that had shown up to inform her that Josh's sailboat had been found adrift and deserted had hoped to find Josh at home, leaving the missing sailor to be a criminal whose loss would be minimal. She wiped the forced tears from her eyes and congratulated herself on an impressive performance of being distraught at the news. The sunken look on the deputy's face had shown her that he had bought it completely. She listened as the patrol car drove slowly from the driveway, and then went for a glass of champagne. The most critical part of the plan was finished, and she wanted to celebrate.
It will be another week before I get the feedback from the class on the first three chapters, and based on what I receive next week, I will have more revision to do. One of my objectives for the class, though, is that no matter how much work it might be, or how discouraging it might get, I won't forget why I loved and enjoyed writing Cardan's Pod in the first place.
After all, if I don't remember to enjoy spending time in that world, why should I expect anyone else to enjoy it?
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