Release the Franzen

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 16 Comments

This week has been officially claimed in the name of Franzen. In case you hadn’t heard, he wrote a new Great American Novel, as has been talked about at exhausting length by journalists, bloggers, and other authors. On Tuesday, when his latest opus dropped, I ran out to buy it, partly out of obligation, partly out of curiosity, and mostly because I thought that even if it’s not brilliant, it’ll probably still be good. I started reading it on the subway ride home, and thought to myself after reading the first page, Damn you, media. This might actually live up to your crazy hype! I haven’t opened up the book since Tuesday, but its sitting on my coffee table, looking smug… and waiting.

Lev Grossman wrote a really great profile on Franzen in the now-famous Great American Novelist cover story. The article was written well enough to make me think that Franzen is like most other writers: socially awkward, reluctant to new technology, and is his own harshest critic. The underlying message of the article, of course (once you get past the heavy-handed bird metaphor), is that while Franzen is just a regular guy, he is a better writer than you will ever be. Ever. So why are you still trying?

Another story to come out of Franzen Mania Week that I found particularly important took a different approach in addressing the Franzen Is Our New Literary Master theory. Jason Pinter’s interview with commercial authors Jennifer Weiner and Jodi Picoult spoke to a larger problem in what is considered “great,” at least commercially, which is that women writers are usually out of the running. While I didn’t agree with everything they claimed, I thought they made a valid point in saying writers like Nick Hornby and Carl Hiaasen, who write what I consider the equivalent of “dude lit,” are generally more respected, reviewed, and receive more media attention when their books are published. (This seems especially true in the case of Hornby; maybe because he’s British.) Women who write commercial fiction, meanwhile, are subtly denigrated by labels like “chick lit” and “beach reads.” In other words, books you wouldn’t mind seeing taken away by the tide. 

To me, the double standard in commercial fiction is blatant sexism and it degrades women by saying that if a large number of women buy something (hello, Elizabeth Gilbert), it must not be very serious or of high quality. Yet, while this occurs in the commercial world, how does it translate to literary writers? No one would call Toni Morrison, Lorrie Moore, Jhumpa Lahiri, or Mona Simpson “chick lit,” or try to downplay their abilities as serious writers. Even so, the literary world is still very much a boy’s club. Surprisingly, with my identification as both a feminist and a writer, I’m not too offended by this.

Would I love to see a pensive-looking Lorrie Moore on the cover of TIME with a Franzen-esque boastful headline? Of course. It is undoubtedly appalling that white men are still leading this fray. (Where’s Colson Whitehead, TIME!?) However, it makes sense to me that Franzen is being chosen as the natural successor to literary “lions” like Updike and Mailer. They’re just picking the next great white guy the same way the media used to call Denzel Washington the next Sidney Poitier, and not, say, the next Jimmy Stewart. This is one of those dumb realities that I’ve come to accept. The emphasis, obviously, is on the word dumb, but to me there’s no point in getting up in arms about it. Still, if anyone tries to call Toni Morrison’s next novel a “beach read,” I’m going to have to fight someone.

What Jonathan Franzen did more than simply writing what Mr. Bransford called a “blockbuster” is he got people talking about what it means to be successful. With great power comes great backlash. The Twitter account @EmperorFranzen and the hashtag #franzenfreude are evidence of the real Jonathan Franzen’s relevance. Personally, I’m just happy a literary writer is finally being hated and talked about as much as a commercial writer. (Take that, Dan Brown!)

Will Freedom change my life? Probably not. Will it change the way literary fiction is received by the masses? I’m going to say no. Will women ever get respect as writers without having to settle for gender-specific labels? Sigh… I’ll leave that one for another time.

Hope you all have a good Labor Day weekend. Anyone going to see what the Freedom buzz is about on your day off? Or maybe you’d like to pick up Emma Donoghue’s Room or Mona Simpson’s My Hollywood instead… you’ll probably be going to the beach anyway, right?

George Lucas vs. Aaron Sorkin

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 12 Comments

I’m back, friends! I spent a week in 65-degree upstate New York where I escaped NYC craziness and worked on my YA-in-progress. Despite a pretty great week, I have to say it’s good to be home. (What can I say, I loves me some craziness. The return to 90-degree humidity, however, is a different story…)

While writing this week, I noticed that I write a lot of dialogue. Or at least more dialogue than narration. This is neither good nor bad in my opinion, but it got me thinking about writing conversations in general. I’m a big dialogue person – old-fashioned Bogie and Bacall banter, I eat it up. But how much does it really matter? For me, it’s the first thing I notice when reading or watching something, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the most important thing I look for. When reading requested material, queries, what-have-you, I usually see one of two extremes when dialogue doesn’t work. I’ll call it the George Lucas vs. Aaron Sorkin problem.

Explanation.

Take George Lucas. Star Wars has proven decade after decade that Lucas’ story of a galaxy far, far away resonates with audiences, regardless of generation. He’s reinvented the franchise yet again with Clone Wars, which is currently being enjoyed by the grandchildren of those who were first shocked over the identity of Luke’s dad. (Don’t worry; I won’t ruin it for you.)

Yet, one thing George Lucas is notoriously guilty of (which he’s even accepted himself) is that he cannot write dialogue. Like, at all. Sure, Han’s “I know” to Leia’s “I love you” was pretty badass, but given the rest of the lackluster attempts at romance, I think this gem was simply the result of Lucas’ inability to convey genuine emotion.

Lucas proves that you don’t need deeply meaningful conversation, witty banter, or even a college-level vocabulary to engage a massive audience. It should come as a surprise to no one that Star Wars is one of my favorite movies, but consider for a minute if it was a novel (and also ignore the many novelizations that already exist). After a few pages of “I’ll be careful”/”You’ll be dead!” exchanges, I think I’d be ready to throw in the towel. Some things just don’t translate to the page with the same effect.

Aaron Sorkin, on the other hand, has the opposite problem. Now, before I explain the “problem” I have with a person whom I consider a master of dialogue, I will state that The West Wing remains one of the greater written shows of all time, and that I’ve loved everything Sorkin has ever written and/or created. With one exception – Studio 60. So, that will be my focus here. Studio 60, to me, represents exactly what not to do as a writer, even if you’re an incredibly gifted writer. 

Sorkin has a philosophy that one should never talk down to one’s audience. This is evident in his writing, and he stated it blatantly in Studio 60. I agree with him to an extent, but in the case of this “missing of the mark,” let’s say, he manages to take his trademark smart, witty, heightened language and turn it into whiny, preachy, condescending monologue. Even in near-perfect shows like Sports Night and The West Wing, Sorkin has been guilty of preaching. Since I usually fell into the choir he was he preaching to, I never really minded, but there were times where even I felt the eye roll-worthiness of some of Bartlett and Leo’s seemingly unrelated anecdotes in reference to world-changing decisions.

With Studio 60, Sorkin took his preaching to a new level. Clearly still pissed at NBC for firing him from The West Wing, he managed to create an entire show of monologues that made fairly accurate points about unfairness, network greed, and censorship, among others. What he forgot to do while making these Obama-level speeches was to develop an actual plot. Stories and characters on television are created through dialogue, which is another thing he forgot to write. Or, at least, forgot to write it well. Hence, the show failed.

Lucas’ ability to create a world in which people want to lose themselves is a testament to his talent as a writer. Whereas Sorkin’s apparent inability to use words for anything other than wit and intellect is a testament to his particular talent. On the page, however, a balance needs to be struck, whether you’re writing commercial or literary fiction. Exceptions are always made, depending on genre and style, but (for me, at least) I like seeing both factors given equal, or near-equal, weight.

How important is dialogue to you, and how do you approach it as writers? Does every word count toward the plot, or do you let your characters speak tangentially, the way people do in real life? Tell me how you balance your story, dialogue, and character development.

Voice, Balance, & How to Avoid Mary Sues

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 11 Comments

I’ve been thinking a bit about voice and, more specifically, how do I make mine distinct? I’m taking a break from my role as agent today and giving my semi-annual appearance here as a writer. As some of you might know, I’ve been struggling through my first attempt at fiction. The main characters are based on people in real life, myself being one of them. But I’m finding that as I further develop the plot, my character is changing from its real life roots. Suddenly, I’m not writing “fictional me” anymore; I’m writing someone else completely.

Creative Writing 101 will tell writers to “find their voice.” An author’s voice is a way to personalize their fiction, give it their stamp, and is a way to connect their novels even when they are completely independent from each other. Style, tone, use of language… all of these go into the ever-important “voice.”

Something important for writers to ask themselves is whether their voice and their characters’ voices are two separate entities. Fiction writers base characters on themselves all the time, and (as I mentioned, here) drawing from what you know can often lead to the best ideas. But where is the line between you and them, and how do you keep that balance?

As authors, your writing style comes through in descriptions, narration, themes, and types of characters you create. Those are what readers will associate with you when they recognize your name in bookstores. Once you create your characters and settings, however, you need to switch your focus every time your character says or does anything. Some questions to consider when making this switch:

  • – What type of person is my main character?
  • – Is this how I would react in this situation, or is this how my character would?
  • – Do I use this phrase all the time, or can I allow my character to say it as well?
  • – Given the context and tone of the novel, should my character act this way?
  • – Is my character’s name just my own name spelled backwards?

Not being able to find a balance between your own voice and your characters’ can lead to the unwanted evolution of Mary Sues. If you want to know where the term comes from, feel free to Wiki (fun back story). But, basically, a Mary Sue is a stand-in for the author in a piece of fiction.

Mary Sues are frowned upon and ridiculed by your literary peers, but they are by no means deal-breakers. I can think of two massively popular novels out right now that feature these characters: Twilight and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Mikael Blomkvist is essentially if Stieg Larsson was cast as James Bond (literally) and Bella Swan looks and acts exactly like Stephanie Meyer except omgeveryguywantsher, including the two hottest guys on the planet!

Before you say to yourself, “Yes! NYT Bestseller list, here I come!” remember this: These books are insanely popular because their stories resonated with bajillions of readers, not because these characters were particularly engaging, or even well-crafted. The characters who are memorable and more often discussed from these novels are Edward, Jacob, and Lisbeth – the ones who required more thought from the authors.

Next time you sit down to write, think about your main character. Is he or she just you in a different context? Hopefully you avoid the Mary Sue trap, but if you absolutely can’t, is your story strong enough to back it up?

Joining the Club

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 11 Comments

Book clubs, once thought of as social gatherings for rich divorcees who needed something else to do besides drink, have been insanely trendy for the past few years. Let’s attribute this to Oprah.

Sadly, I’m about to quit my second book club in a year. The reason I wanted to join a book club in the first place was because in my post-MFA haze, I realized I missed sitting in a group and talking about literary things. But, I wanted the group to be non-publishing, non-literary folks, who will talk about “good vs. bad” rather than “what did you think of this use of symbolism?” Also, since I’m lazy, I wanted these people to live within a five-block radius from me. With these criteria in mind, I thought I found the perfect group last summer, who advertised themselves as “casual, fun readers” in my ‘hood.

At the first meeting, the “leader” pulled out a spiral-bound notebook and demanded we all discuss the items on her numbered list. So much for casual and fun. There was also “token pretentious guy” who kept leading the conversation back to obscure French authors who had absolutely nothing to do with Middlesex. So I left.

I found another book club, and really enjoyed the company this time. Mostly young professionals with a few baby boomers thrown in for good measure. But, alas, I must leave them too. See, I had this cute idea that I’d not only have time to read for fun, but that I’d also have time to meet once a month and talk about it. Oh, idealistic youth!

For writers, book clubs, that is, the right book club, can be incredibly valuable. It really doesn’t matter what you read or what you discuss. To me, being in any environment where ideas are shared can spark other parts of your creativity as well. It’s also a good idea to see how people respond to certain types of books, literary, commercial, and popular fiction alike. These people are your audience, after all.

Are any of you active members of a book club? If so, do you find it’s influenced your writing at all?

What’s Your Genre?

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 9 Comments

A question to ponder on a Monday…

If your life were a novel, what genre would it be?

I’d like to think of mine as magical realism (hey, I can dream) with a hint Salinger-esque coming of age angst, but it’s probably more “literary chick lit.”

What’s yours?

Hello My Name is Sarah and…

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 22 Comments

… I’m a compulsive book buyer. (Hi, Sarah.)

This is something I’ve suspected about myself for a while, mostly because I can’t walk by a bookstore without going inside. Or, if I really do have somewhere to be and don’t have time to go inside, I’ll slow down my pace so I can least linger in its aura.

This week, however, is when the label “addict” first entered my brain. You see, I was walking by the Strand and well, one thing led to another… I ended up finding Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles on their $1 rack and got VERY EXCITED. The cover was pretty awesome looking and it had that “old book” smell. I knew it had to be mine. So I bought it (along with a book that was more than $1…) and brought it home. Only, when I went over to the sci-fi section of my bookshelf, I found, exactly where Bradbury was supposed to go, a copy of that very same book.

The one I already owned also looked pretty beat up, but it had a different cover that wasn’t nearly as fun. Still, I imagine I once found it at a thrift store and had much of the same reaction go through my head. So, now I have two copies of The Martian Chronicles. This is not the first time this has happened to me.

My first accidental duplicate was Coming Up For Air by George Orwell. I bought a new copy at a Barnes and Noble about two years ago because I hadn’t read it yet (at the time), but then when I brought it home I found a small, ripped up, identically titled copy (the cover was literally hanging off of it) that I immediately liked 100 times more than my character-less new copy.

As far as compulsions go, buying books is hardly debilitating. It can get expensive, but that’s my problem, right? I’m not hurting anyone but me. I can quit any time I want. You’re not the boss of me!

Sigh.

Have “accidental duplicates” happened to anyone else? I can’t be the only bibliophile out there who buys so many books that I don’t even know what I have anymore. Please share with me.

We don’t have to go through this alone.

Confessions of a (Former?) Snob

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 22 Comments

A few months ago, my sister asked if I’d be interested in a guy who read Tom Robbins. I told her I hadn’t really thought about it before (truth). Then I thought (to myself), what does that even mean? Are Tom Robbins fans certain types of people, the way Tucker Max boys are? I didn’t think so. Then I thought that maybe she was asking me about Tom Robbins because, simply, he’s popular. This, to me, was a sad thought.

I admit there was a period in my life where I judged people based on the type of music they listened to and genres of books they read. I’m happy to report that these days of complete and utter superficiality are now behind me. (Well, for the most part: I’m still pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to marry someone who listens to Nickelback. But that’s just common sense.)

As far as books are concerned though, basically I’m just happy if the person reads at all. You only read Carl Hiaasen? Fine by me. Dante in Latin? Excellent. Candace Bushnell fan? Little weird, but sure, I’ll take it. And yet. There was a time when I was a snob, and this time wasn’t too long ago. Studying creative writing during Da Vinci mania and James Frey controversy made it easy to turn up my nose at those who read mere commercial fiction. Mostly because everyone around me was turning up their noses too. Just the word – commercial – I mean, ugh. Right? The word was dirty to my liberal arts educated writing community.

Then I made the jump to an even more exclusive literary circle – the MFA program. In New York City. In Greenwich Village. I was doomed.

I was recently out to dinner with two other former MFAers (one from my alma mater, The New School; the other from Sarah Lawrence). We, of course, had a long chat about books and agreed that our MFAs have ruined us, but possibly in a good way. Explanation:

You see, in writing programs, the last thing writers are ever taught is how to get published. It’s all about craft, craft, craft. And in order to hone that skill, we must read, read, read. But again, we are not told to read New York Times bestsellers. We are told to read the few masterpieces of literary fiction that publishers were kind enough to took a chance on. Most of these authors are dead. Or insane. Or reclusive. Or have been long since considered “classic” or “genius,” two titles that the average student will probably not be able to attain upon graduation.

Literary fiction remains a go-to choice for when I read for fun (that is, when I have time for such things!). However, the David Foster Wallaces, Italo Calvinos, Marcel Prousts, and the Thomas Pynchons are hardly beach reading. Yet writers in MFA programs are told that this is the only form of writing worth doing. To me, there is accessible literary fiction (Lorrie Moore, Jonathan Lethem, Michael Chabon…) and there’s the authors I mentioned I above (let’s call them the Uberliterary).

The Uberliterary, to me, are the writing equivalent of fashion designers. There are those who design clothes you buy at the Gap and there are those who design clothes strictly for the runway. Walking art projects made by designers for designers, saying “looky what I can do!” There is nothing wrong with this, by the way. But sadly, since I’m not in the fashion club, it all just looks like a mess to me. I am, however, in the literary club. So when the Uberliteraries write for other writers, I smile and wink back.

So, why has my MFA “ruined” me, as I said? Well, remember I also said “in a good way.” I can be as snobby as I want because I was practically trained to be. Yet, I couldn’t choose not to be pretentious if I didn’t have this training. (Make sense?) Working in publishing has de-MFAed me. Not only because high concept literary fiction isn’t exactly a moneymaker, but because it’s surrounded me with book lovers who love the written word. No matter what it is. So, I left my snobbery at the door and didn’t look back. I can choose to pick it up again, but why would I want to?

What do you all think? Any former or current writing students care to share your experiences?

Age Ain’t Nothin’ But a Number

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 11 Comments

Lately I’ve noticed a trend in query letters that does not involve overused supernatural beings or the dreaded rhetorical question. This trend is new to me, but maybe other agents have experienced it. In several letters, the authors, those who happen to be teenagers, are apologizing for their ages. 

As far as query trends go, this is probably the least annoying, but writers – young writers – don’t do this! Apologizing for yourself not only weakens you right out of the gate, but it’s also completely unnecessary. I mean, did Mozart ever say “Sorry guys, I know I’m only six years old, but I’m about to blow your mind?” No. All he did was blow people’s minds! No apology offered or needed.

Evidence of amazing teen writers is everywhere. S.E. Hinton, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, Nick McDonell, and Christopher Paolini were all successful teen authors. And the new class featuring the likes of Steph Bowe (GIRL SAVES BOY) and Kody Keplinger (THE DUFF) looks pretty impressive too! (Both writers were highlighted during the Glass Cases “Teen Writers Week” back in April – see Steph’s profile and Kody’s profile for more info on them!) I doubt today’s young writers feel as if they don’t deserve recognition for their work just because they never had to write it on a typewriter. Just as I’m sure the former teen all-stars don’t feel guilty or ashamed of their early successes.

When I am reading queries, I never wonder how old the writer is. Honestly, I don’t care at all until they tell me, and even then I just say “hm.. that seemed unnecessary.” If you want to stick in at the end of your pitch that you are a freshman in high school (well, only if this is true), then go ahead. It might catch my eye ONLY if the novel is of any interest to me. And if you are a freshman in high school and researching agents at all, I think that’s pretty impressive, so please don’t apologize for it!

Likewise, I’ve received queries from people in their sixties and seventies who have also felt the need to tell me their ages. This, I understand even less. As with their younger counterparts, these writers also ask for forgiveness for being “so old,” especially if they do not have previous writing credentials. But when they’re not apologizing for things they cannot control, they are attributing various obstacles involved in completing their novels to their ages, as if being sixty-eight years old is somehow akin to having no legs, arms, or eyes.

If I reject a ninety-year-old, it’s because the novel wasn’t for me, not because the writer is ninety. And if I make an offer to a twelve-year-old, it’s because I loved his or her work, not because I love the idea of exploiting their wunderkind-ness to my advantage. The writing is what matters, and good writing transcends age. Always. 

Sure, I might be impressed if I read what I think is the next Gatsby, only to find out the writer is eleven, but age will never be a deal-breaker, whether positive or negative. On the flip side of that, sometimes it is obvious that a writer is not quite mature enough to tell the story he or she is trying to tell, but again, it has nothing to do with their actual age. In the same way a memoirist requires distance and perspective to create a truly effective piece, young writers need time and space and, more often, practice to create an objectively “good” story. Just like the rest of us.

So whether you were born in the Clinton administration or the Hoover,  please stop being so sorry and let your writing speak for itself.

Some Fun Stuff

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 12 Comments

It’s Friday. It’s summer. Here’s some fun stuff!

Friend-o’-blog, josheverettryan brought this site to my attention: I Write Like. It’s highly addicting and very fun, but I warn you NOT to take their word as bond. They told me my blog posts are in the style of Edgar Allen Poe. I’ve been told I have a dark sense of humor, but there are usually no beatings of hideous hearts on the blog. Usually.

Flavorpill judged us based on our favorite websites this week – here – and I have to say, their assessments of some of my faves, Jezebel, HuffPo, and Twitter are pretty accurate. (What’s TweetDeck???)

This is by no means something that just came up this week, but if you are not reading Slush Pile Hell, you are missing out on an hilarious education. And yes, these queries are real. I’ve even gotten some of them.

Speaking of the slush pile, The Awl offered a brief history of that term we’ve all come to know and hate.

And finally, to start your weekend off awesomely, please enjoy the funniest thing ever – an audio query to Janet Reid, from Batman – I’m Batman.

Have a good weekend everyone!

Soccer = Publishing (Because it’s the Only Way I’ll Care)

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 15 Comments

The World Cup ended yesterday. Once again, Gryffindor beat Slytherin by 150 points after the snitch was caught in the final thirty seconds. Very exciting!

While this past month has had my very European neighborhood of Astoria, NY quite literally buzzing with excitement, I felt mostly bored. That is, until, I came up with this analogy. Soccer = Publishing!

Both have…

– Winners. You know, those teams that will obviously make it far. (I’m told Brazil is one of these teams. And now apparently Spain.) In publishing, these teams are called the Big 6 (the top six publishing houses). Or they are stores like Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com, or agents like Andrew Wylie. (If you don’t know who he is, read this or this. Then feel free to be terrified.)

– Underdogs. The United States, for example, which is probably the only time we will ever be the underdog in anything, other than a “Can You Speak Two Languages?” contest. Publishing’s underdogs are the indies. The locals. The ones you root for and support even when it’s hard to do so. 

– Competition. Publishing is insanely competitive (agents vying for clients, editors vying for projects, price wars, etc.). But, at its core, it’s really just all for the love of the game. I don’t think there is another sport as unifying as soccer. 

– Divas. We call them “writers.” (But we still love you.)

– A Tiny Fan Base (if you are in America). While publishing appears to be our whole lives – with blogs and tweets and personalities who become like celebrities to us – it is still a very small, very specific world that most other people don’t know anything about, and care about even less. I’m pretty sure other countries still refer to us as the publishing industry though, rather than, say, football.

So, writers, when you get that request or sign that contract, sound your vuvuzelas because even though most people don’t understand the things that we do or the words that we say (query? recoverable? galley?), there ARE people who care! And we want you to win.