Why Are There Submission Instructions? by Linda S. Glaz

We handle very little sci-fi/fantasy/spec fiction of any kind. And we definitely DO NOT handle anything that has profanity or graphic sexuality. We each also have particular genres that we prefer to see. We ask that authors follow our non-fiction or fiction guidelines and then submit to us.

And yet…I continue to get erotica, fantasy, erotic fantasy…well, you get the picture.

We also spell out exactly how we would like submissions to come to us. In a proposal with specific information included as well as sample chapters…the first three sample chapters. And still, I get the first chapter, the last chapter, and the “one that’s really good”!

Editors and agents spell out what they want to see for a specific reason. We can move through them much more easily if they all are in a specific format. They is nothing that hurts the eyes more than to be on submission 20 for the day, and have it come through single-spaced, Arial-10pt. At that time of the day, I’m lucky to still be able to see double-spaced, Times New Roman-12 pt. But at least my eyes are used to it, so I can still see well enough to do what I think is a good job responding.

It is never good or professional to send proposals to all of the agents in one agency, even worse to blanket the entire industry of agents with the same email. All of us listed for each other to see.

When a professionally done proposal per agency guidelines is sent to one agent at a time (and I’m fine with authors sending out multiple submissions; I wouldn’t want you waiting before sending another), we can take those proposals more seriously. A well done prop gets your foot in the door. The more professionally done, the better.

Think about whether or not you would want your instructions followed; it opens the door immediately. And even if the writing isn’t quite there yet, an agent will probably be willing to have a second look if you followed the instructions the first time.

Do your homework. Know what the agents are looking for. Don’t ‘assume’ anything. If you follow the guidelines on agency sites, the chances are you are already ten steps above most.

Good luck, best wishes, and follow those instructions to a ‘t’.

Rules Have a Reason by Andy Scheer

When I checked out the novel from the library, I didn't suspect the writer had broken many of the rules. All I knew was that I was prepared to devour it.

Even spine out, the title caught my attention. Murder Rides the Super Chief (details changed) promised to press three of my hot-buttons: a historical cozy on a cross-country train trip.

My interest in the genre got me through the opening chapter. But I kept wondering when the story would actually begin. And why was the author describing in meticulous detail virtually every facet of life in California in the winter of 1952?

Things didn't get any better when the protagonist boarded the train. Starting with the locomotive, the author took me to the back of the train. Page after page of description of the furnishings and features of each car.

Finally I learned why she was traveling from California to Chicago just before Christmas: She was an employee of the railroad assigned to work on the train. (Why didn't the author think to include that in chapter one?)

It turns out, she was the train's hostess. And readers had the privilege of watching over her shoulder as she welcomed every passenger and informed them on which car they would be riding. Every passenger. Not just the obligatory colorful characters, but also the ordinary ones.

I jumped off the train.

If I'd ever wondered why writing teachers say that fiction is life with the dull parts removed, I'd seen the alternative. Likewise, I got resounding reinforcement for beginning in the middle of action. And why dumping the contents of your research and offering lengthy passages of backstory can make even the most eager reader close the book.

Are you tempted to break one of the basic rules of contemporary fiction? I hope you have good reason – and that you know what you're doing.

Married with Fiction by Andy Scheer

Most Christian authors I know are married. Ditto for their readers. So why not fictional characters?

A few weeks ago I moderated a webinar that novelist DiAnn Mills taught about adding elements of romance to other genres. While she provided good content, she concentrated on

attraction between characters who were single.

Why not married romance? It can happen. During a break in the webinar as I gave a voiceover message about services from the Christian Writers Guild, DiAnn stayed on camera and her husband, Dean, brought her chocolates and a rose.

Perhaps in the eyes of the publishing industry, married love isn’t worth writing about.

I know a few authors who’ve had novels published about married couples. In the CBA market about fifteen years ago, the late Stephen Bly and his wife, Janet, wrote the Hidden West series about a tightly married couple. In the general market, Clive Cussler and co-writer Grant Blackwood introduced in 2009 a series featuring a pair of globetrotting treasure hunters along the lines of the 1930s Thin Man series with Nick and Nora Charles.

Indie author Heather Day Gilbert recently tried to interest CBA houses with a historical series and a contemporary series featuring a married protagonist, but repeatedly found her stories didn’t quite fit the industry boxes.

There have to be more examples out there. If general market authors can make a killing with stories about vampires, is it too much of a fantasy for CBA authors to find a way to write believable stories about characters who are happily married?

Turning Away Customers by Andy Scheer

Do you feel obliged, once you start reading a novel, to finish the story?

I blame my childhood. At meals I was taught always to clean my plate. Somehow that sense of obligation extended to my reading.

So I'm choosy about what novels I begin. Does the back cover promise a story that's worth several evenings? And does the craft of the opening page suggest the author knows how to assemble a story?

But sometimes I take shortcuts. Especially with authors whose books I've read. I expect that another installment in a series means similar quality.

Perhaps I view a book series like any other franchise. Today I visited two recently opened outlets of a favorite store that's just come to Colorado.

The closer store had almost no parking. And of the four items on my list, they were out of stock on three. So I tried the other store. Inside, music blared to the point of distraction. And they also had just one of the items I wanted.

Now I'm on my guard. I'll likely return, but I won't be as eager – or optimistic about my chances of success. And if I speak to others, any recommendation will carry cautions.

Much like my assessment of the author whose book I just abandoned.

I've always liked the genre (back when her books were sold as mysteries; the latest was labeled a “novel of suspense”). The stories are set in a town I know. And the author often describes delicious meals. I was ready to love this book.

But the characters felt flat. And the stakes never seemed personal. The characters went through the motions, as though they were strapped into a theme park ride.

Theme park rides are okay, but I expected something more. Next time, if there is one, I'll have lower hopes. Or look for a novel from an author who's still hungry.

Cool Reading by Andy Scheer

The novel's title caught my attention, captured my imagination, and convinced me to take a look. Not bad for two words: Shivering World.

For several weeks I've been considering what books to take this month as I serve as my father-in-law's co-driver, piloting his 1930 Ford Model A from Colorado to a car show in Michigan.

This past week, when author Kathy Tyers mentioned

her 1991 science fiction novel, something clicked.

Model A's were built long before air-conditioning, and if the states on our route are running true to form, I could use a book that makes me want to put on a parka.

In her recent book, The Dance of Character and Plot, novelist DiAnn Mills encourages writers to incorporate their story's setting as an antagonistic character. Several novels set in a freezing climate came to mind.

In the end, I settled on re-reading Polar Star by Martin Cruz Smith — one of his series featuring a Soviet-era criminal investigator, this one set on a trawler in the middle of the Bering Sea. If I can tolerate the stink of fish that permeates the vessel, I'll appreciate how the book's sense of place leaves me chilled to the bone.

Still, I'll plan to check the week's forecast before we go. In case the meteorologists are predicting heavy rain, I'll be ready with a copy of Clive Cussler's Sahara.

Specific Words by Andy Scheer

An hour after I edited an article by novelist Brandilyn Collins about using what she called “compression,” my lunchtime reading brought me an example of its effectiveness.

Collins advocated not merely writing that was lean, but writing built around words that evoke specific images and carry strong connotations.

Rather than have a character sit in a chair, Collins says, show the character's attitude by having her slouch or perch. The right verb eliminates the need for a sentence telling about the character's attitude.

Time for lunch. I opened to page 181 of William Dietrich's light historical adventure The Barbed Crown. As mortar between two scenes leading up to Napoleon’s coronation as emperor, Dietrich supplied this bit of exposition of a Paris street scene:

Commoners buzzed like an agitated hive. People sensed that history had turned a page and something glorious and terrible was about to be commemorated. They would tell their neighbors, in the momentous years to come, that they’d witnessed the beginning. Hawkers sold coffee and rolls. Enterprising merchants nearby charged two francs to use their privies. The most tireless prostitutes assembled, at nine in the morning, under paper Chinese lanterns strung along an arcade, to advertise their wares. Farmers from the countryside gawked.

Nouns

Considering Collins's advices about compression, I dissected that paragraph. Take a look at Dietrich's use of nouns.

Commoners buzzed like an agitated hive. People sensed that history had turned a page and something glorious and terrible was about to be commemorated. They would tell their neighbors, in the momentous years to come, that they’d witnessed the beginning. Hawkers sold coffee and rolls. Enterprising merchants nearby charged two francs to use their privies. The most tireless prostitutes assembled, at nine in the morning, under paper Chinese lanterns strung along an arcade, to advertise their wares. Farmers from the countryside gawked.

Verbs

Now look at his verbs.

Commoners buzzed like an agitated hive. People sensed that history had turned a page and something glorious and terrible was about to be commemorated. They would tell their neighbors, in the momentous years to come, that they’d witnessed the beginning. Hawkers sold coffee and rolls. Enterprising merchants nearby charged two francs to use their privies. The most tireless prostitutes assembled, at nine in the morning, under paper Chinese lanterns strung along an arcade, to advertise their wares. Farmers from the countryside gawked.

Phrases

Finally, his phrases.

Commoners buzzed like an agitated hive. People sensed that history had turned a page and something glorious and terrible was about to be commemorated. They would tell their neighbors, in the momentous years to come, that they’d witnessed the beginning. Hawkers sold coffee and rolls. Enterprising merchants nearby charged two francs to use their privies. The most tireless prostitutes assembled, at nine in the morning, under paper Chinese lanterns strung along an arcade, to advertise their wares. Farmers from the countryside gawked.

All this in a paragraph of exposition. No wonder he's had readers follow the adventures of Ethan Gage through six hardcover releases.

Detergents and Character Lists by Andy Scheer

Those were the first two topics in the “Hints from Heloise” column that appeared a week ago in my morning newspaper.

I scanned the first, about whether you can use new “HE” (high efficiency) detergent in older top-loaders. Turns out you can—but you shouldn't put old-style detergent in the high efficiency front-loaders. Standard stuff for Heloise.

But the next item wasn't. “A.M. in Ohio” wrote this:

Dear Heloise: I read a lot. I list the characters and their reason for being there as they are introduced. This way, it's easier to keep track of them as they reappear. It works for me.

I can't imagine such a scenario. (Granted, I can't imagine following most hints people send to Heloise.) But are books really published with such generic characters that a reader needs to keep a scorecard?

For years in the Thick-Skinned Manuscript Clinics at the Writing for the Soul conference, Jerry B. Jenkins has advised novelists not to give two major characters a name that begins with the same letter.

An upcoming Writer's Digest book on fiction I just finished editing advises that each line of dialogue should be character-specific. Meaning that if you tried to put one character's words into another's mouth, it would sound out of character. As a test, she suggests this:

Compose a line of dialogue for each POV character in your story. Use language only that viewpoint character would say—but no speaker tags. Show your work to someone who knows your story to see if she can identify who is speaking.

Yes, this writer suggests making a character chart like A.M. suggests, but only to help you plan the story—and to see if you can streamline the cast by combining several character's roles into one.

Maybe if more writers followed that advice, A.M. in Ohio could have more time for charting detergents.

Abridge Too Far by Andy Scheer

How much can you cut from a published novel—and still have it reflect the original story?

I've pondered that as I've been acquiring audio books for an upcoming road trip to Phoenix, Arizona. I plan to attend a book-collector's convention, so all summer I searched at garage sales and thrift stores for audio books by the authors who will be attending.

The main author has been writing since the mid 1970s, so many of his books were published on audio cassettes. (I drive one of the last cars built with a cassette player.) An interesting thing about those books on tape: while a version with the entire text of a novel contains twelve cassettes, the audio versions of some of his earlier books contained just four. If there was comparable time on each cassette, then only a third of the text made it onto tape.

I can't blame just the cassettes. I've acquired some similar novels on CD that came with five disks. But when I looked in the library for audio books by the same authors, they contained twelve and even fifteen.

If you had to cut two-thirds or even half from your novel, what would you omit—and what would be left? Listening to the five-disk version of Jack Du Brul's adventure novel Havoc, I was shocked to realize the entire opening chapter—fifteen pages dramatizing a maguffin-carrying passenger's experience on the final flight of the German airship Hindenburg—was gone. Better than nothing, yet in some ways like the false-front buildings on the street of a movie set. If you want sub-plots, don't listen to a shortened audio version.

But this past week I did see one book on cassette whose short original length meant the full version could be presented on just a few tapes—even if the labeling did make me shake my head:

The Bridges of Madison County—Unabridged

Let's Ride It Again by Andy Scheer

That's what I heard from my family years ago at Disney World after first riding the Thunder Mountain Railway. We'd enjoyed everything about it, so let's do it again.

Often if I've enjoyed something, I like to repeat the experience. Vacation destinations, restaurants, favorite movies, novels. Especially novels.

But with books, I usually let some time pass before re-reading. Until this weekend, I can remember only one book besides the Bible that, as soon as the ride ended, I immediately returned to the front of the line.

The book that prompted that response was Stephen Bly's Paperback Writer. The tale was so quirky, so audacious, I immediately re-read it— “Just to see if it ends up the same way the second time,” I said. It did, but it still left me amazed.

Nine years later, it happened again. Saturday I finished the novel, then re-read the conclusion—and decided I needed to read it again. Sunday I started back into the book.

The first time I read it too quickly. I wanted to see what happened next, and next, and next. A few times I took note of some aspect of the craft—a new subplot or a fulfillment of some foreshadowing. But the story was too well told for me to read it analytically. This time I want to savor the tale more slowly.

There's an old saying that a bad book can't be too short, or a good one too long. This time the latter certainly applies, though Stephen King's 11/22/63 weighs in at nearly 850 pages. Already the second time promises to be just as good.

Have you encountered other books worthy of an instant replay?