Writing Style

Several writing friends and I have been discussing writing style. What it is, how it works, its difference from voice, etc. What precipitated the discussion was I’ve noticed that agents who have asked for fulls of my current novel are often those who have asked for fulls of my earlier novels. That might not sound unusual, but the genres I’ve submitted to these agents are very different—young adult, murder mystery, and literary fiction.  And it’s over a long period of time, so it’s not as if they remember my name. I’ve been pondering what it is that makes some literary agents consistently ask for my work and others not. (Note: And these agents are not those who ask for lots of submissions.)

One writing friend (Adele) mentioned that she’s always been taught that while voice can/should change from book to book, style does not. I think she’s right. Maybe that’s how computers identify the authors of those “anonymous” books—they analyze for style. According to M.H. Abrams (you know you’re a lit fantatic when his Glossary of Literary Terms is at your fingertips):

“Style is the manner of linguistic expression in prose or verse—it is how a speaker or writer says whatever it is that he says. The characteristic style of a work or a writer may be analyzed in term of its diction...its sentence structure and syntax; density and types of its figurative language; pattern of its rhythm, component sounds, and other formal features, and its rhetorical aims and devices.”

I suspect that the reason I’m more “successful” with certain agents is that, like all readers, agents have certain styles they enjoy reading. And certain ones that they don’t. That may explain why agents often turn down books that later end up on the NY Times best seller list. The style just didn’t work for them. And I guess that’s not surprising since we see this in classics all the time. Some people love James Joyce—though why they do is a mystery to me—and some people love F. Scott Fitzgerald.

One of the lessons to take from this (besides that you should query widely) is to keep records of which agents requested your work—they may be more likely to consider your next book. It also explains why query letters are so important. I’ve heard a lot of writers gripe that query letters are archaic and hard to write. But query letters are an opportunity too. A query letter is your chance to introduce an agent to your style. It’s a chance to see if your styles will mesh. And you really don’t want an agent who doesn’t “get” your style.

What about you all? What are your thoughts on style? What are your experiences querying multiple books—are they similar to mine?

Written for You!

For some reason, American publishers and agents think teenage boys don’t read. I assume they know that teen males can read, but they choose not to read. Instead, they assume that the teens spend all their time in front of a computer or Wii. I’m sure if you asked one of the big publishers about the reading tastes of male teens, they would shake their heads and moan. However, my boys have a response to that: It’s hard to read what doesn’t exist! US publishers publish very few books (if any) that are geared for middle to late teen males.

When Ariel comes home from the library with her arms laden with books, I hear much gnashing of teeth from my teen sons. Ariel gets to read yet another story about a teen girl, but there’s nothing available for males that they haven’t already read. So, the boys are forced to read middle grade books like the Artemis Fowl and Percy Jackson series, which are great but those series are finished. One of the cool things about the Harry Potter books is that, though they started off middle grade, they ended young adult, just like my guys. Their other reading option is adult books—and let’s just say that outside of a couple of series, what’s marketed toward men is not what you want your teen reading.

Don’t publishers realize that part of the reason the Christopher Paolini books were so popular was not because they were so well written (they weren’t), but because they were about the only thing available to teen males that was interesting and written for teen males? And those books were originally self-published, until a publisher saw the way his son was devouring the book and thought, “Hmm, this might be something we could market.”

Why is this so important to me, besides the fact that my boys have nothing good to read? It’s because I’ve written a young adult novel geared toward teen males. Recently, a literary agent passed on the book even after she told me that she loved the book, the characters, the plot, the voice, etc. Why did she pass—part of the reason was because the book was geared towards teen boys, although she acknowledged that girls would like the book too. My boys nearly hit the ceiling. They begged me to keep trying to find an agent who understands that lots of guys would love to read a book entitled, Screwing Up Time. In fact, many of their friends have said they’d buy the book just because the title is so cool—because someone’s written a book whose title says, “This was written for you.”

So, guys, I’ll keep trying. And just so you know, a couple of different agents are interested—I’m sure there’s someone out there who knows guys would read if given the chance.

Less is More

In Bologna, Italy, the annual Children’s Book Fair is going on. (Okay, am I the only one who thinks it’s odd that the fair is being held in a city with the name of a hideous lunch meat foisted upon unsuspecting children? And what does this mean for children’s literature?)

Anyway, writers, editors, and agents are all schmoozing—maybe there’s less schmoozing given the world economic climate. They’re deciding which books to buy and translate into German, French, Polish, etc. And vice versa. Though not too many books make the transition from a “foreign language” to English. About the only children’s book I know that has made the move is Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart series.

But there’s lots of talk about the recent books and what’s successful. I don’t know this personally, of course, I’m still waiting for my invitation to arrive. But, I am following an attendee’s blog. The scuttlebutt is about the success of an American book series, which shall remain nameless, but is about vampires and teenage girls falling in love. It’s like Harlequin meets paranormal. Imagine Lizzie Bennett (Pride and Prejudice) saying, “I really like Mr. Darcy—in fact, I really love him even though he wants to suck my blood and turn me into the undead. But then again, maybe he doesn’t. Or maybe I really I love someone else. Yeah, that could be it.” You can’t imagine that? Neither can I. This is why P & P is classic literature, and the other book, well, isn’t.

One literary agent is quoted as saying, "Sometimes I wonder if something is bad enough to be successful." Maybe this is my problem—my book is too good. Maybe I should stop editing. No more hammer blows on the finger. Yeah, I could get into this. Less is more.

Publishing Perils: Querulous Queries

Many of you probably know that I write fiction as well as this blog. Well, I am currently on the hunt/look out/search for a literary agent. Why do I need a literary agent? In the good old days, maybe you didn’t need one. But now days a good editor doesn’t read through the “slush pile.” You need an agent who can call said editor and say, “You’ve got to read this manuscript.” And you need an agent to protect your rights. In this economy, a publishing house can make a lot more money by not giving the author too much. For those of you who haven’t been through the experience, I thought I’d share what it’s like to look for an agent.

Imagine that you’ve spent anywhere from one to five years crafting your novel. Writing, rewriting, agonizing over word choice—should I use the words “he paused”? No! Those are considered cliché words now. So, you’ve got to find another phrase. Something along the lines of “The young woman’s beauty caught his eye, and so he didn’t notice the flag pole until his bicycle crashed into it.” You get the idea? Good. So, you’re done editing. Now, comes what is referred to as the “dreaded query letter,” in which you explain your novel, your qualifications for writing it, throw in a must-read-the-manuscript hook, show off your voice, and give your contact information. All in one page or less. In other words, shove knitting needles into your eyes while juggling ginsu knives. Oh, and by the way, the whole thing must be written in present tense. Why? Who knows? Some literary god with a perverse sense of humor must have planned it this way.

Assuming the “dreaded query” is finished, you now have to research agents. This means hours spent on the web tracking down literary agents and finding out what genres they represent, how they prefer to be contacted (email or snail mail), and what they want to be sent (query only, query with first five pages, query with 1st five pages and synopsis, or a query along with a recommendation from a New York Times best-selling author). Of course, it gets more complicated because there are sub-genres. The book that I’m currently “shopping” to agents is a young adult fiction (not to be confused with children’s or middle grade). In young adult fiction, there are multiple sub-genres: fantasy, chick-lit, paranormal, urban paranormal, literary, coming-of-age, etc., etc. And, of course, agents don’t specify what kind of YA they’re looking for. In fairness to agents, they may get a phone call from an editor saying, “Hey, I want an urban paranormal with a male protagonist.” Guess what the agent’s going to be looking for that day? Yep, a New York City-dwelling 17 year old male protagonist who’s also a werewolf/vampire/zombie living in 2099. Guess whose book is going to get a rejection letter that day? Yep, mine. If I’m lucky the rejection letter will say, “Interesting/intriguing premise, but it’s not what we’re looking for.”

So, you’ve researched literary agents, and sent off your queries. Now, is the waiting game and you try to ignore the statistics, which say that only 1% of queries letters will elicit a request for a partial or a full. Yep, a whole one percent, or less. And that’s only to get you to the next step, which doesn’t guarantee you anything. I know what you’re thinking, “Why on earth do she do this?” The answer is simple. I can’t not write. It’s a kind of madness. But thankfully, it’s one that doesn’t land you in an institution, just garners remarks from acquaintances like “Oh, you’re still doing that.” Yeah, I sure am. It’s a disease—watch out it’s contagious, like chicken pox.
Tune in tomorrow for the next step in the publishing saga. “What happens when an agent requests to see your manuscript?”

ps Yes, yes, I know the queries aren't querulous, it's the writers who are. But, I just couldn't resist.