YA: Then vs. Now

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 37 Comments

If it weren’t for having to remember all those dates, I would have loved to have declared a history minor for myself in college. I like seeing how things go from Point A to Point B, and have a special appreciation for the past. But, sadly, history is about learning a lot of facts, and since I was more interested in the ideas behind those facts, I chose English, a very close relative of history, in my opinion.

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is the history of YA literature. How did we go from its roots as an undefined, confusing genre to one of the largest markets in publishing today? Like most things in history, seeing this evolution is pretty fascinating to me. Understanding that progression wasn’t as easy.

For being such an important part of the industry, YA is practically a baby. It’s a genre that keeps growing, not only in numbers (though that is true too), but in definition. Novels for teens used to be its own category, relegated to the back of the bookstore with a simple sign above it reading “Teen Literature.” Today, there are as many sub-genres in YA as there are in adult fiction. YA sci-fi, YA romance, YA mystery, etc. After Twilight, Barnes & Noble even created a section just for “Teen Paranormal Romance.” You can’t categorize them under one blanket term anymore; it would be impossible.

Part of the reason for this is that people are finally realizing teens aren’t all the same. They are as complex and unique as adults, and each have different preferences in what they watch, read, and listen to. The word “teenager” didn’t even come into existence until the late 1940s and early 1950s. People between the ages of 13 and 19 existed, of course, but no one thought to put a name to them as a group. This makes teenagers relatively new to the world, but also sort of old. With over 60 years of recognition, society still tends to think we go from childhood directly to adulthood. Teens are the third option that no one likes to talk about. If they’re talked about, it means they matter. It’s just easier for adults to mock their hairstyles and taste in music, and ignore the fact that that teen-hood is not just an extension of childhood. It’s something else.

When I thought about the changes in YA, I decided there was a clear difference between “writing about teens” vs. “writing for teens.” YA novels published in the past decade tend to fall under the latter. The voices are edgy, hip, modern, and are void of adult interference, regardless of the age of the author or the characters. YA of the last ten years has taken on a new attitude about their audience, which is that they are savvy enough to know the difference between authenticity and pandering. 

There’s something downright old-fashioned about the books we thought of as YA, and I wanted to find out why this was. When did it shift? There’s no clear-cut example of “the book that changed YA.” There’s no way for me to say, “Oh, well obviously YA is different now because…”

The truth is, there are a lot of reasons, and those reasons can be boiled down to the idea that things simply progress naturally. An entire genre does not change overnight. Instead, it creates sub-genres like the ones I mentioned above. It’s finding new topics to explore. It’s pushing boundaries and making adults uncomfortable. Just like teens are supposed to.

I am 27 years old. My coming-of-age happened in the mid-to-late 1990s. Admittedly, this does not feel like that long ago. On paper, it looks as if it was practically yesterday. But, thinking of how much the world has changed in the past twenty years, and remembering it is 2011 (the second decade of a new century), it is, in reality, pretty far gone. I read a lot as a child, but when I think of books I read as a teen, they were mostly for adults. YA novels were much fewer and farther between in the ’90s, but they were still there.

In my quest to find this shift in the history of YA, I took to Twitter. Asking only people ages 25 and older what books they read as they came of age, I got some overwhelming results. I don’t think I’ve gotten more responses to anything I’ve ever said on Twitter. Or in real life, possibly. There were so many responses, I can’t list them all here, but there were many repeated titles that I thought were particularly interesting.

You see, when I polled my peers on what YA (MG acceptable too) books they loved when they were that age, the majority of people gave me the following titles:

The Babysitter’s Club
Nancy Drew
Sweet Valley High
Goosebumps
Wait Til Helen Comes
The Indian in the Cupboard
A Wrinkle in Time

Then there were “all novels by” Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary, Louis Sachar, Katherine Paterson, and Paula Danziger (who I had to Google and am ashamed about).

Do you notice the same pattern I did? None of these books are YA! Some are Middle Grade, yes, but most of them are books we would have read before we turned 11.

The next biggest group of responders referenced TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD and ENDER’S GAME. These books, along with my beloved CATCHER IN THE RYE, feature incredibly strong child and teen protagonists. We read these books as teens and enjoyed them, but fair readers, these are also not YA. They were not written with us in mind. We just read them because they were there (or because we had to) and the main character was our age, so we responded positively. Still, they fall under the “books we read as teens” category. Close, but no cigar.

Then, because Twitter never lets me down, the magic four authors were named:

Gail Carson Levine, ELLA ENCHANTED
Caroline Cooney, THE FACE ON THE MILK CARTON
S.E. Hinton, THE OUTSIDERS
Lois Lowry, THE GIVER

I was waiting, hoping, for people to list these titles specifically, but it wasn’t until I thought about them again in terms of the evolution of YA that I realized they were the answer to my original question the whole time. Only, I shouldn’t have been asking when YA shifted; I should have asked when it started.

These books, or more specifically their authors, are who I hereby dub YA Pioneers. (Proud to say 3 of the 4 happen to be members of the Curtis Brown family!) Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t the only four, but they are arguably the most widely read of their generation. They not only made the genre popular, they made the genre a genre. They are the reason bookstores started Young Adult sections. They weren’t just writing about teens; they were writing for them.

[Digression: Sadly, they were not the reason the New York Times finally decided to give YA props by including their own Bestseller section. That honor went to J.K. Rowling after the newspaper was tired of Harry taking space away from the “real” books in 2000.]

Anyway, remember when I said that teenagers have been around since the 1950s, but no one paid attention to them as individuals until recently? To give you an idea how recent YA – as a named, recognized genre – is, each of the above four novels, with the exception of THE OUTSIDERS, was published in the early 1990s.

[Note: THE OUTSIDERS, of course, was published by a teenage S.E. Hinton in 1967, and had to wait over 20 years to be defined. It remains, more often than not, the exception to most rules in literature.]

These books didn’t only feature teenage protagonists, they offered a teenage perspective. Obedience, betrayal, alienation, and oppression are all things teenagers feel every day of their lives to varying degrees, but not many people were willing to give them a voice before these books came along. Yet, for all their forward-thinking and barrier-breaking, they were tinged with one fatal flaw. They sounded like they were written by adults. Granted, they were written by adults who gave teens a lot more credit than most people at that time, but adults nonetheless. They read as if they are telling a story to their audience, and even though the authors describe the feelings of their characters remarkably well, going back and reading these novels now don’t offer the sense of being there in the same way YA novels published today do (examples to follow).

[Another interesting exception to a rule I found was that while Levine, Cooney, and Lowry’s novels were written in the 3rd person past tense, which creates the most distance between the author and her characters, teenage Hinton wrote THE OUTSIDERS in1st person.]

There are still authors of “the old school” who continue to have voices that resonate with modern teens. The above-mentioned YA Pioneers, along with the likes of Judy Blume, are examples of authors who seem to defy the laws of evolution and whose classic novels are as strong as ever with their key demographic. Others don’t pass the test of time as well, but it doesn’t make them any less important in their contributions in starting a genre.

As big as YA is now, I’m convinced that we are still in a transitional period. Perhaps that’s why I cant tell when the shift happened – it’s because we’re still in it. My fellow over-25 readers and I grew up with books that are now considered classics. They are important and they should continue to be read by generations to come. But, tides are changing, and these classics should no longer be considered the standard. Writers today are no doubt influenced by them, so we exist in a time where both old and new voices are spoken simultaneously.

The YA Pioneers made it possible for late-’90s/early ’00 books like THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER, SPEAK, and MONSTER to exist. They allowed the characters they created to be taken into new areas – specifically, the taboo, the banned. Suddenly authors were giving a voice to the parts of being a teenager that adults didn’t like, or even know about – sexuality, drugs, abuse, rape, injustice. Not exactly the stuff Disney movies are made of. (But it could have been the stuff WB shows were made of, a network also born in the late ’90s. In retrospect, that might not have been a coincidence.)

Not only were topics and stories getting more to the heart of the teen experience, but the way these stories were being told started taking risks too. PERKS is written in epistolary format, MONSTER is told as a screenplay, and SPEAK takes on the rarely-done-well 1st person present tense that puts you exactly in the moment with the main character.

In turn, these books made it a easier for titles like THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN, THIRTEEN REASONS WHY, and CRANK to be published. Which, of course, will be responsible for the YA we see released tomorrow. Things shift, the way things always do, and the way things should. Sure, it’s a little sad to know that your kids won’t enjoy the same exact things you did, but every generation experiences the effects of the previous one, so nothing is ever really lost. Books are no different, and I’m looking forward to seeing how the next generation takes what we give them and evolves.

**Author’s Correction: Commenter Manette Eaton has brought to my attention that Ella Enchanted is also written in 1st person. I’m sorry to have led you astray.

My Inevitable Prologue Post

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 35 Comments

Prologue
I had a mini-rant on Twitter today about my deep hatred for prologues. My feelings are of no surprise to people who regularly follow me. I recently compared them to bad pilot episodes and agreed (jokingly!) with Brent from Naughty Book Kitties that they were “abominations.” Still, I received a lot of responses asking why I hated them so much and what would happen if a story made no sense without one and seriously why am I such a hater. Clearly I have strong feelings on the subject of prologues, so I decided to finally turn them into a blog post.

Chapter One
Prologues are generally used for the following reasons:

1. Foreshadowing events that won’t be known until later in the novel.
2. Introducing a character who will be very important, but who we won’t meet until Chapter 7.
3. Giving back-story (a la Star Wars) that might take a reader out of the narrative if it’s presented later.
4. Offering the main character’s reflective voice before diving into the story that leads him or her to that point.
5. Using the past as a means to set up the present or give a detail about the main character.

The necessity of prologues are greatly exaggerated. For each of the above intentions, there is an argument against them. Remember I speak only for myself on this blog, and not for all agents, or even my own agency. If you are 100% convinced that your prologue is necessary, then good for you for having confidence. Send it to every agent in the book. But, consider the following rebuttals before sending it to me:

Numbers 1 and 2.
I’ve mentioned before (Things to Avoid) that I thought 99% of prologues can turn into the first chapter. I’m revising this previous thought, however, because sometimes prologues take place in another world/time/setting. In these cases, prologues cannot be used as the first chapter because it would be out of place, so instead just delete them. Forcing a reader to immediately swallow very important information, before they know it is important, won’t intrigue them as much as it could confuse them. A prologue used in this way isn’t confusing by itself, but when paired with an often radically different first chapter, the shift can be jarring. It forces the reader to begin the novel twice, and you don’t want them to spend what should be the second chapter thinking about what it was that they just read.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for foreshadowing. That said, using an entire section of your novel to accomplish it isn’t as exciting for the reader as other forms of foreshadowing. Revealing seemingly unrelated details within a chapter in a clever, precise way will make readers intrigued. Savvy readers will want to know how and why these details will influence the story.

The same is true for introducing a character who doesn’t show up “officially” until much later in the novel. By that time, the reader has forgotten everything they were supposed to retain from the prologue because the novel itself has taken such a consistent turn elsewhere. By the time your foreshadowed characters return, the most the reader might say “Oh yeah, him.” The ends do not justify the means for a pay-off this insignificant. Instead, drop hints throughout the narrative that a very important character is about to be introduced. It will make meeting him that much more exciting.

Number 3.
Now, I love me some Star Wars and actually think all of the back-story about the wars make sense before the movie begins. This is an instance of a prologue working, but is it absolutely necessary? Not really. We get a sense that there is a war going on just from watching the movie. Obi-Wan and Yoda help us out along the way for anything involving Luke’s father. Everything else is just fluff that we can take or leave, none of which really influence the plot. Plus, if you’re worried too much back-story will take a reader out of your narrative, then you are more likely having a “showing vs. telling” problem rather than a plot problem, which, lucky for you, is fixable.

Numbers 4 and 5.
These two are tricky for me because sometimes it is nice to have a reflective voice or know a character’s past/lineage before meeting them. In these cases, just make them your first chapter. A reflective voice sustains throughout a novel regardless of prologue, and if you use your past correctly, it will be popping up again in the present fairly quickly.

I understand why writers add prologues. They are a good starting off point and help you get your thoughts together. They can answer the questions “What story am I going to tell?” and even “Where will this story end?” That’s all well and good, writers, but what ends up happening in these cases is that your prologue can read like an outline.

When you’re ready to query, go back and read your prologue. The writing might be top notch, but ask yourself if everything the prologue was meant to accomplish isn’t answered in a more thoughtful, organic way throughout the narrative. If it is, then delete your prologue. And if it’s not, then reconsider your prologue’s connection to the narrative as a whole. You see why I’m so against them. They’re self-indulgent and rarely enrich the story in a meaningful way. Even in the rare instance where the prologue actually works, I’d still rather see it tossed aside and begin the real story right away.

Does this mean I won’t accept submissions that have prologues? Of course not. I feel disappointment when I see them, but I would never begrudge someone a request just for having one. I will warn, however, that I skip them completely every single time, and I am never, ever confused when I keep reading. (If I am, there is usually a larger issue involved.)

Epilogue
Epilogues are also self-indulgent and generally useless, but I have slightly less venom for them than I do for prologues. My main reason for immediately putting an X through an epilogue is that epilogues tend to tie a neat bow around a novel, rendering the final chapter useless. Why bother coming up with a great ending line and powerful resolution if you are only going to undo it all with an epilogue?

Sometimes writers use epilogues to foreshadow the next book in a series. To me, this does your novel a disservice because all books should be able to stand alone, even if they are connected. More so, a brilliant cliffhanger ending will make readers want to buy your next book way more than a teasing epilogue would. If I had my way, my red pen would also extend to the ghastly ending of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. After hearing that Ms. Rowling wrote it because she felt these characters deserved a future, my opinion of epilogues being self-indulgent was cemented.

You do not need them, writers, and I will almost always tell you to delete them. Other agents might not mind epilogues as much. Personally, I enjoy when things aren’t completely tied up at the end of a novel. I don’t always need to know that the main character will live happily ever after, even if their story ends less optimistically. (Note: This does not mean plot can remain unresolved. I’m referring to emotional resolution or certain aspects left open to interpretation.) So, no, I do not like epilogues either. But, at least they’re not prologues.

Band-Aids

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 25 Comments

For those of you who have experienced the querying process, you more than likely have also experienced rejection. For writers, this is all part of the game. It’s even expected. But some rejections sting more than others. They aren’t the ones in which the characters aren’t developed, the plot isn’t there, or the genre is one agents just don’t represent. The ones that really hurt are the other ones. The ones who have the characters, have the story, and even have the writing ability, but for whatever reason, it’s just not coming together.

When this happens, two things take place:
1) Agents cry. We can’t figure out what’s wrong; We only know something isn’t working, and for this we grieve for what might have been.
2) Writers cry. The rejection letter is basically saying, “I love you, but let’s see other people.” It’s the break up that never gets any closure.

How can this be avoided, you ask? As with most things in life, it’s the little things that can sometimes make the biggest difference. The last thing you want to happen is have an agent on the fence about your novel, only to have them decide that the writing isn’t strong enough to hold their interest. A lot of times this can happen simply because the agent doesn’t have time to devote to something she’s not 100% positive about.

The thing is, there is no way to know how an agent will react to your writing, which is why before you begin querying, your novel should be exactly where you want it to be. Agents will always have their own ideas about how to fix plot holes or amp up certain scenes. What’s harder to do is try to fix a person’s writing style, so most times we won’t try. That’s why in addition to having the story you want, you should make sure your writing is the strongest it can be.

Good news! You can do this without having to edit a thing. I call this the Band-Aid approach to editing. No heavy lifting, no major plot shifts or added content. Just old-fashioned quick fixes that could make or break an on-the-fence agent’s opinion of your writing, especially if the agent you are querying is not known to be editorially hands-on.

Top 5 Band-Aids to Apply Before Querying:

1. Conjunction Injunction.
You know that scene in Dude, Where’s My Car? (you know you have) where Ashton Kutcher is at the drive-thru and the woman keeps asking, “And then???” Finally Ashton screams, “No ‘and then!'”  This is how I feel when I read too many sentences in a row that begin with conjunctions. Grammar aside, it turns the narrative into the kind droning “and then this happened and then this happened” story your four-year-old would tell you.

Sometimes standalone sentences that begin with “And” can be used for emphasis. And that’s OK. Other sentences, however, can end up sounding like a mere continuation of the previous sentence, making them sound weaker in comparison. Keep your voice strong, whether in narration or dialogue. Each sentence matters, and if too many of them become weak, they can start to reflect on your novel as a whole.

2. Avoid Entering the Department of Redundancy Department.
In the darkened room, a single light bulb flickered. He stood in front of me, facing me. I looked at him with my eyes, my heart beating in my chest.

For some reason, many writers think that writing this way builds suspense or adds depth to a scene. It doesn’t. All three of these sentences have repeated themselves, and your reader is savvy enough to figure that out. Instead take the above scene and remove the fluff.

A single light bulb flickered in the room. We looked each other in the eyes, and my heart pounded.

With these changes, we still know it’s dark in the room because there’s only one light bulb, and it seems to be dying. We also know that the main character and the man in the room are facing each other because they’re looking at each other in the eyes, not with their eyes. How else do you look at people? Likewise, where else would a person’s heart beat? (Other than beneath floorboards, I guess… but let’s try not to copy Poe.)

3. Don’t Always Think Before You Speak.
To paraphrase my former colleague, Nathan Bransford (in the form of a tweet), have your characters say anything except for what they are thinking.

In this other form of redundancy, writers end up repeating exact lines simply by making their characters think one thing and then say it out loud. We all love characters who say exactly what’s on their mind, but unless the character tells us she’s thinking one thing and then says the opposite, let’s assume that whatever she says is what she means. Even if later in the novel we learn she was lying, at least we’ll have been spared repetition.

4. Always Remember to Never Remember.
When a writer, particular when speaking in the past tense, wants to emphasize something, sometimes the narrator will begin a sentence with “I remember” or “I always.” Lesser offenses begin with “I think.” These modifiers are (almost always) surefire ways of turning showing sentences into telling sentences, thus making them weak for no reason.

When a narrator feels the need to say “I remember” in one sentence and not another, does that mean the rest of the story is based on speculation? Do we have reason to believe the story being presented to us is something the narrator doesn’t remember happening? It’s already obvious the narrator remembers what they are telling you just based on the fact they are telling you.

In all this remembering, sometimes a narrator will go deeper into the past and reveal that they “always” used to do something. Saying they’ve always done something doesn’t actually tell the reader anything. We just have to take the character at their word. If you show the character doing something, then we’ll believe them, and we’ll believe that they remember doing it.

5. Pass Writing 101.
I hate that I’m about to give the “avoid the passive voice” rule because you all have heard it a million times. Sometimes, the passive voice is useful. In mysteries, for example, “A doorbell rang” is a perfectly acceptable sentence. Who rang it? The killer??? We don’t know. And we shouldn’t know – yet.

In other circumstances, however, the passive voice just makes for lazy writing. Give your characters a purpose, have them act, and don’t leave situations up to chance. What you might perceive as being intentionally cagey could read as a lack of confidence in your own writing.

Please remember that these five Band-Aids are just that. They aren’t meant to heal deep wounds or stop excessive bleeding. If an agent doesn’t love your story, then Band-Aids won’t help you. You’ll either need to majorly revise or accept your fate and try someone else. Band-Aids are to ensure your writing is as strong as your story, and to avoid turning silly mistakes into a make-or-break situation. That way, if you get a rejection saying “this isn’t for me,” you can simply move on to the next one without worrying whether it was because of that misplaced comma.

The Realities of Getting Real

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 12 Comments

Fair readers, sometimes I love things that are not good for me. We’ve all been guilty of this, I know, but it’s something I needed to say. You see, I’m not just talking about my obsession with The Vampire Diaries or my desire to wrap all foods in bacon. No, I’m talking about something far more detrimental: Contemporary Fiction.

(I’ll wait for your gasps to die down and the thunder and lightning to stop.)

I know what you’re thinking, “You seem so intelligent, Sarah! Why would you devote yourself to something that will never bring you happiness or wealth?”

It’s true. I’ve often wondered this about myself too, but friends… I just can’t stop. I love contemporary fiction and I need to continue my quest of saving it from the vampires, demons, and shapeshifters, even if it means starving to death or wearing clothes from last season.

Contemporary fiction (also known as realistic fiction) is a tough sell, made tougher by a surge of paranormal hits and a lousy economy. (Yes, the economy, and publishing, have both recovered significantly since 2008, but, well… you know publishing. Slow, slow, slow.) Publishers just aren’t taking as many chances with real life anymore. I’m specifically talking about contemporary YA here, but it’s true on the adult side as well. Real life just isn’t exciting enough… or something. Well wait – we all know that isn’t true. So what is it about contemporary life that makes publishers back away?

Well, for starters, there’s usually very little “wow” factor in real life, and when money is tight (as it’s been in publishing, particularly in the last three years), you don’t waste your time and funds on something that won’t draw a massive crowd. Remember that authors need to earn back their advances before anyone sees any real profit, so choosing who to give those advances to is a much more difficult decision than it used to be.

Does this mean you should make your main character have super powers instead of athletic ability? Or make the love interest a demon hunter from another dimension? No! Absolutely not.

Contemporary fiction, even in YA, is on its way back to the mainstream. Debut authors like Steph Bowe (Girl Saves Boy), Kody Keplinger (The Duff and the upcoming Shut Out), and Kirsten Hubbard (Like Mandarin) are all examples of really great realistic fiction for teens. And yes, I said debut! And yes they received real advances for their first novels! There are others like them too. This gives me hope for the genre, but these novels are not yet the standard. Rather than taking their place beside the wide selection of similar titles on bookshelves, these books still fall under the category of “defying the odds.”

So how can you defy the odds? I’ve written before about how to reap all the benefits of a paranormal bestseller without actually writing one. But there are other ways to make your realistic novel stand out just by focusing on the way you write it.

1. Boil your plot down to one sentence. Maybe two.
Plot answers the question “What is your book about? Be able to answer this question in one sentence. Ideas, themes, character development, and even narrative are not plot. Plot is just what happens. Keeping your one-sentence plot in mind, build a story around it. This is where you can be as commercial or as literary as you like. Want to throw around $100 words and write lavish nature scenes in which the rain is a mirror for the main character’s soul? Do it! It will probably be beautiful. Just remember to stay on point and not stray too far from that one magic sentence – your plot. (The magic part of the sentence is also called your “hook,” a word I hate, but one that is very necessary in regards to how your novel is perceived.)

Note: Ideas, themes, and character development might not be considered part of the plot, but they can be used in your 1-3 sentence pitch to give it a little pizazz 🙂

2. Have an original concept.
This sounds like the type of advice that should go without saying, but “coming-of-age” stories (for example) tend to center around very similar topics: loss of a parent, going on a “life-changing” trip, losing one’s virginity, growing out of your former BFF and meeting a new BFF… these have all been done and done and done. This doesn’t mean they can’t still be done. But it does mean you’re going to have to find a really fresh angle from which to tell this story. Sometimes this means an inventive writing style or unique settling. Most other times it means having a truly memorable character that literature cannot live without, no matter how “common” his or her story is.

Remember when I told you it’s OK to not be so original? Think of the above-mentioned plot scenarios as outlines. Your main character attempts self-discovery by going against a shy, quiet nature and heads to the Australian outback for spring break. He or she meets someone amazing [friend or love interest]. What else happens? Give your character an amazing adventure/purpose that highlights what this experience means.

3. Kill your darlings.
You wrote amazingly realistic scenes involving your main character and people who are less important to the plot. Your dialogue between characters is funny, moving, and real in a way that makes Aaron Sorkin himself weep with jealousy. Your settings are eloquently presented, your subplot can stand on its own, and your seemingly tangential character quirks rival the likes of David Foster Wallace and his footnotes.

But does any of that gorgeous writing slow down the pace? Make character development get lost in a sea of words? Create a subplot that never connects to the main plot?

Tightening up your narrative is the best way to make your story come through, but tightening language in this particular way can be hard, especially when you know you wrote something that’s really, really good. (I hate when I have to do this to my clients!) Making your manuscript stand out in a largely ignored genre means making sacrifices.

I’ve met several editors who share my love of the contemporary, but even still, it’s not always up to just them. Your manuscript goes through a lot of hoops, and many of those upper-tier rings still have “high concept!” “paranormal!” “dystopian!” on their brains. I fight on the side of realistic fiction, and it makes me, and other lovers of the contemporary, underdogs. I love my paranormal still too, don’t get me wrong. But there’s just something about real life that never stops being compelling, even when it seems mundane. So, no, this quest will never make me rich. And, yes, I’m setting myself up for lots of disappointment down the road. Like I said, sometimes I love things that are not good for me. But whatever, bacon is delicious.

Good Friday

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 11 Comments

Today’s post has absolutely nothing to do with religion, but I am taking advantaging of the title (and ignoring that it represents crucifixion) in order to say THANK YOU to my readers.

I know this sounds sort of hokey coming from me, but seriously – I’ve been meaning to say this for the past month. Every time I open up Blogger and they tell me 500+ people are following my little blog, I do a double take. It reminds me of a very, very early blog post from September 2009 – Do Androids Dream of Me? – in which I want nothing more than to have 7 followers. I started this blog before I was an agent and before I understood the point of Twitter, and no one really knew I existed. But I kept posting anyway.

Anyway, I know 500 readers is small potatoes compared to other industry blogs, but I’ve never called myself an industry blog or tried to be, so I am still pretty happy. Actually, I’d still be happy with 7. You guys are just awesome. And if there are any writers out there who don’t blog, but are thinking about it, do it. Even if no one reads it or you think you have nothing to say. If you keep at it, eventually people will respond.

That’s about as sentimental as I get (online), friends! But I really, truly mean it when I say THANK YOU. Your stories and comments are what keep this blog going. I’m just the messenger.

No post on Monday, as I will be on a train somewhere along the Hudson. Enjoy your weekend!

Ultimate Query Tips (No Really This Time…)

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 7 Comments

This morning, after a fairly Internet-free weekend, I opened my Google Reader to 1000+ unread items. After “reading” everything on The Huffington Post without actually opening anything, my Reader was boiled down to all the publishing news/blog posts I missed (OK, and some Cute Overload pictures). Since you also follow these agent, editor, and writer blogs (probably way more intently than I do), I don’t have to tell you that we publishing folk love to give advice. Like, a lot of it. Today was no different.

I searched on Twitter and in my Reader for “query tips” and the number of posts featuring those words were so many that there was no way I could link them all here. We all know there are tons of them. So much so that some writers have taken to mocking people who still don’t know the “rules.”

For sanity’s sake, I will focus on the two items I clicked today back-to-back – one from BookEnds and one from Rachelle Gardner. (By the way, both of these blogs are must-reads. Go follow them right now if you aren’t already.) Both posts offer query tips. Both posts are absolutely correct. And both posts should be largely ignored.

Explanation:

Every blog post or tweet offering query tips is useful. I do this on a regular basis via Twitter and offered a few blog posts myself in the past (here and here). However, every post you read about query tips, no matter who writes it, can be boiled down to one sentence: JUST TELL ME WHAT YOUR BOOK IS ABOUT.

Maybe it’s not in all-caps, since we’re all professionals here, but that is basically the sentiment. All agents ever want are a few succinct sentences that give a plot overview and an interesting character detail. No need to over-share or be overly coy. Just give us something that won’t make us ask any question other than “what happens next?”

The reason agents sometimes need to write posts detailing the more specific “don’ts” of querying are because sometimes writers need to be reminded that the story is 99% of what matters. We do not write them so you can analyze each one individually and obsess over whether you’ve committed that particular crime. We want you to stay sane! We just want to let you know when we keep seeing the same mistakes and try to prevent them.

Remember the one and only real query rule, which is presenting your book in an effective and direct way. Agents will always have different preferences when it comes to the “other stuff” in queries (grammar, personal info, novel comparisons, etc.), so take what we have to say and put it through your individual filter. If it doesn’t apply to you, move on. If it does, then take it under consideration. Note I said “largely” ignore us, but don’t discount us completely. We never open a query thinking “I can’t wait to reject this.” And if it becomes too hard to see why we shouldn’t, then we’ll write a blog post for you.

Commander in Chief

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 25 Comments

I don’t know about you all, but I am very, very tired of hearing about who the GOP will nominate in 2012. Speculation about speculation is exhausting, and it doesn’t get any more tiresome than Donald Trump. No matter what your political affiliation, let’s all agree that the country probably does not need someone with the catchphrase “You’re fired” to bring them out of a recession.

Anyway, while Obama begins his re-election campaign and the other side tries desperately to get their shit together, let’s go into the weekend thinking about a much more pleasant presidential election – a fictional one.

Which literary character would you most like to see run for president? And remember because it’s fictional, your choices don’t need to be limited to pesky rules like age limits and U.S. citizenship.

My dream ticket would be Hermione Granger and Tracy Flick. If there are any two people who can lead the free world, it’s them. And I’d be happy to sit back and, for once, not worry about what the people in Washington are doing to me. The hardest part would be choosing the top of the ticket, but I guess I’ll go with Hermione since she can keep cooler under pressure.

Honorable mention: Atticus Finch. Not only is a natural leader, but he’d make us all better human beings. Plus, he’s pro-civil rights, from the deep south, has a background in law, and (if you think of him as Gregory Peck) has a simultaneously dreamy and commanding presence. Kind of hard to beat.

What say you, readers (American and non-American alike!)?

PubSpeak Contest Winner!

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 4 Comments

A huge thanks to everyone who participated in the PubSpeak Definition Contest over the weekend. You all came up with some amazing (and fairly spot-on) definitions, and it was very hard to pick just one winner.

So we picked two!

Yes, Tracy “PubSpeak” Marchini and I decided on a tie, and the winners are (drumroll)….

Rachel Wilkerson and Chris Karem! Congrats to you both!

Rachel’s winning entry: Novelette: a published work by any woman who is called “the female version” of a prominent male author.
PubSpeak definition:  A complete work of fiction that is generally between 7,500 and 17,500 words in length.

Chris’ winning entry: Advance: Something so small even the IRS wonders why you claim it as income.
PubSpeak definition: A payment made to an author or other party by a publisher, most often divided into two to four smaller payments that are due at certain benchmarks in the publishing process. An advance is a payment against forthcoming royalties.

Rachel and Chris should contact Tracy Marchini through her website at http://tmarchini.wordpress.com/aboutme/ to find out how to obtain their copy of PubSpeak.

For those of you who didn’t win, you still had awesome submissions, trust us. And we hope that even though you won’t be getting a free copy of PubSpeak from Tracy, you will still purchase this educational tool yourself from the following retailers: Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and Amazon UK.

Thanks again everyone!

Guest Blogger: Tracy Marchini

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 56 Comments

Tracy’s new e-book, PubSpeak: A Writer’s Dictionary of Publishing Terms is now on sale through the following retailers: Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and Amazon UK. Tracy writes: 

Hello readers and writers of Glass Cases!

I’m very excited to be here today and host a contest for my new ebook, Pub Speak: A Writer’s Dictionary of Publishing Terms. When I wrote the book, I was envisioning an author who may have received their first contract using it to look up terms, or perhaps someone who wanted to get into the industry reading it to get a jump on the numerous other graduates competing for the same internships. I think there is a lexicon in publishing, and like many businesses, those that speak the language tend to do better than those that don’t!

Today though, we build a new lexicon – one of wit, and snark, and hopefully, pants-peeing.

It’s a Pub Speak Definition Contest and the winner will receive an electronic copy of the book, as well as my eternal admiration and probably some embarrassing congratulatory tweets. (You know you want it.)

I’ve listed six terms out of the 400 plus in the book. Choose one term – or all six – and come up with a definition in the comments section. Keep the comments limited to one definition only, but feel free to comment again choosing a different word. Only use each term once – no multiple definitions please from the same commenter, please.

Example: So if one of the terms was “advance,” your definition could be, “Advance: A figment of the writer’s imagination” or, as a second comment, “Advance: Half what you made that year at McDonalds.”

Here are the terms, good luck!

1) cheap edition
2) offer
3) work
4) novelette
5) shelf life
6) advance

Sarah and I will pick the winner and announce on Monday.

When You Should Go Back to the Future

~ SarahLaPolla ~ 10 Comments

Some of you may have heard me say (via the Twitter) that I don’t like historical novels, particular in YA. Then, as if by a miracle (or sheer hypocrisy), I may have tweeted last week that I had requested a historical YA manuscript. I surprised myself with this, and asked myself why this particular query stood out where the many, many others did not. Here’s what I came up with. (Editors note: For the purpose of this blog post, “historical novel” will mean any novel that takes place in the past, not necessarily centered on a specific event.)

This Story Can’t Be Told in Any Other Time.
The triumphs and struggles of human beings on a personal level transcends any decade. When deciding when to set your story, ask yourself if this story could be told just as easily in present-day. The Diary of Anne Frank, for example, cannot. The Vampire Diaries, however, can. It wouldn’t matter if Elena is a young hippie from the ’60s, a tech-crazy gamer in the ’90s, or (as it stands) fairly popular former cheerleader in present-day Mystic Falls. Likewise, it wouldn’t matter if Stefan and Damon were turned into vampires in the 1400s, 1800s, or last week. The plot is independent from personal attributes.

Most historical novels are centered on a historical event, making it so the characters’ lives have to be effected by it (i.e. the Nazis are coming, the British are coming, the atomic bomb is coming, etc.) That’s not to say that your non-event-focused novel wouldn’t still work in a different setting. If your characters are products of their time – say, sexual repression in the ’50s, sexual expression in the ’60s, or greed and excess in the ’80s – then those settings are just as important to the story as the plot or characters.

Too often, however, character-driven novels, or even plot-driven novels, are set in a time period that does not add to the writer’s intentions. It is simply there. Because references and technology and general language change from decade to decade (or year to year, if it’s this decade), most of the time these other time periods distract from, rather than enrich, the story.

The Novel Was Not Any More or Less Difficult to Write.
I see this more in YA. Or more accurately, when the generation gap between Writer and Intended Audience is wider than ten years. I was wondering why so many YA queries were being set in the ’80s and ’90s until I realized the pattern – the writers were teens during those decades. It’s true that I didn’t experience high school through a Facebook lens and that most of us did not even have cell phones in our YA days, let alone MG days. Like most people my age and older, I wouldn’t even begin to speculate how strange (and normal) it is now to grow up in world where no one thinks twice about having a “public life.”

But, no one said writing was easy.

It’s not your job as a writer to recreate your own experience, slap a historical label on it, and think teens will be able to relate. Sometimes they might, but usually they want someone to reflect their experience. YA and MG exists because teens are people too. They get adults telling them about how their generation doesn’t understand “real life” all the time. They turn to books to escape all that. And unlike previous generations, they don’t have to yawn their way through their parents’ bookshelves anymore.

The writer’s own experience is not always the reason contemporary stories get thrown to the past. If you’re writing a mystery, think of how much more suspense could be sustained if there was no Internet. You don’t quite get the same dark intrigue when the answer to “Let’s see who you really are!” is just “Oh, I already Googled him.” It’s true, you lose a little with technology and it is hard to know how to work around it or use it to your advantage. But like in all facets of life – especially in publishing – ignoring technology does not make it go away.

The Year Is Not Overemphasized.
After you’ve considered the above, and you still decide that your novel needs to be set in a year that is not the current one, remember to let your story speak for itself. Otherwise, your completely necessary setting ends up becoming a gimmick. Nobody wins when something is a gimmick. Even TV shows like That ’70s Show ended up abandoning that premise in favor of actual character development. Instead of a parade of bell-bottoms, disco mockery, and vague jokes about oil embargoes, the show ended up being about a group of young people who rarely even mentioned the decade they were living in. They just wore Kiss t-shirts and bad hairstyles.

Once you’ve established what year your novel is taking place, trust your reader to know that. Overemphasis happens more – at least when I see it – when it’s recent history, things the author has lived through. Avoid sentences like “Tiffany spilled her Crystal Pepsi all over her new L.A. Gear high-tops, making her late for her jazzercise class.” If your story takes place in the ’50s, your character doesn’t necessarily need to try on a poodle skirt or swoon over Bobby Rydell. Over-referencing a decade will only take your reader out of your story, which is the last thing any writer, agent, or editor wants.

Another sentence that makes me want to get out my proverbial red pen often happens in nonfiction or in 1st person. It’ll go something like “Back then, we didn’t have [insert technological advancement here].” These sentences are always awkward to read and they are detrimental to the story for two reasons:
1) They abruptly speak directly to the reader, who may or may not have been spoken to before this moment.
2) They remind the reader they are being told a story, rather than have them experience it for themselves.

On the whole, I suppose I do have to admit I enjoy historical fiction. Sure it’s not my favorite, but when it’s done well and done for a specific purpose, it can be really great. Personally, I like stories to be told in the present if only because I prefer stories that are character-driven and those are the stories that are timeless.

My broken-record advice on this blog though is always to write the story you want to write. You’re the only who can decide the most necessary way to tell your story. But forcing a setting on your readers might end up being a fruitless attempt. What your readers take from your story is out of your hands, so you might as well focus your efforts on telling it in the best possible way.