In the world of publishing, we have what we call "evergreens" — topics that are always of interest to readers. Books on money, health, relationships, purpose, living more effectively, and finding spiritual peace always seem to resonate with people. And every generation needs its own voices, so every few years the culture needs new books on all those topics. In addition, what works for one may not work for another, so alternative viewpoints create publishing opportunities for more writers (that’s why one person can write a book that tells you she lost weight eating nothing but meat, and another can write a book claiming she lost weight cutting all meat from her diet).  Recently I had a couple questions sent to me that were connected to the notion of evergreens…

Joy wrote to ask, "What makes a topic universally popular?" 

I think you need to write to a universally felt need. That means you might write a book that says, "I want to save money" or "I want to lose weight" or "I want to feel closer to God." Think about the needs and desires that are common in our world — "I want to feel better and have more energy" and "I want to worry less" and "I want to find something interesting to do with my life" and "I want to experience healthier relationships." Think of the needs we all share, the emotions we feel, and you’ll be on your way to locating an evergreen topic.

When I worked at Time Warner, you could pretty well assume that every season one of our imprints would do a personal finance book. We were going to have a handful of diet and exercise books each year. We were going to offer a book aimed at helping people develop better relationships, another for those who want to move closer to God, and something else aimed at moms and their roles. Why cover the same ground each year? Because people want something new that speaks to their current situation. And yes, I’ll grant you that it’s funny, since there is a similarity in the answers. (Every diet book basically offers similar information: eat less, move more. Every finance book presents the same basic solutions: spend less, save more. Every spiritual book gives similar guidelines: talk to God, listen to God…and send a donation to my ministry. Glory!)  Sometimes you’ll come up with a whole new way to approach an issue. Other times you’re simply repackaging answers for a new audience.

Dave wrote to ask if evergreens work with magazines — and they definitely do. Take a look at any popular woman’s magazine: You’ll find health stories ("ten tips to trimming your thighs" and "how to lose that belly forever"), money stories ("how to invest in an IRA" and "cheap places to take your family on vacation"), relationship stories ("discover what he really wants" and "how to talk heart to heart"), faith stories (how some celebrity found peace), and all sorts of self-improvement stories (checklists, to-do’s, ideas to try, etc). You’ll also find reviews, sexual insight that is tough to put into a book, and stories on travel. All evergreens, all useful when moving into magazine writing.

One thing to keep in mind is that every magazine has a unique readership, so almost every article you write will have to be reshaped in some way. It’s rare that you write one article and sell it to ten different magazines with the same wording…but every professional knows you can use the same basic article and create ten or fifteen similar stories in order to fit the magazine specs or reach the correct audience. As I mentioned once before, my friend Dennis Hensley, who runs the Professional Writing Program at Taylor University in Fort Wayne, Indiana, has sold his time-management principles more than a dozen times — and each time it takes a unique slant for that magazine’s readership.

Changing directions completely, Brad wrote me to say, "I’ve noticed you generally feel free to be critical of things you don’t like. But that seems rare in Christian publishing, where every review is positive and apparently all novelists are geniuses. I’ve just been asked to review novels for a publication. If I see something I really don’t like, how should I respond?"

This is a tough question for me, since I am always SO nice. I think as writers, Christians have often made the mistake of being far too polite. We have a tendency to assume, "We’re nice religious people, so we’ve got to respond with nice, religious words." And that sort of attitude almost niced us out of publishing.

Really! A while back CBA publishers were producing some bad novels, claiming they were great, and pawning them off on an unsuspecting Christian readership. But readers aren’t stupid, and caught on. They forced publishers to improve the quality of writing in Christian novels. We are currently seeing some excellent writing from Christian novelists (along with some crud…but that doesn’t make CBA any different from the general market, which also produces a fair bit of crud), and I think CBA gets painted unfairly with a broad brush that suggests those writing from a religious perspective can’t be great artists. Rot. Some of the greatest artists of all time were very devout. I don’t see how faith negatively infuenced the works of Tolkein, C.S. Lewis, Flannery O’Connor, Walker Percy, Dorothy Sayers, or the myriad other faith-infused authors.

On the other hand, Christian writers need to figure out that it’s time to give up the notion "because I intend this for God, it is good and meaningful." I hear people talk about their writing in spiritual terms ("God GAVE this to me!") and assume, because they claim to be speaking for Him, their words carry great weight. What presumption. Using that logic, to criticize their writing is to criticize God.

Similarly, I see authors act as though I owe them my attention because they "write about God" or because they’ve had a spiritual event happen to them. Since it’s God-related, I’m supposed to pay attention? Baloney. To a reader, or to a publisher, why is YOUR story any more important than the story of someone who embraced krishna? Why is it automatically more meaningful than someone who claimed to feel a burning in their bosom and joined the Mormons? Or somebody who has struggled with their sexuality? (A side note: Our culture seems to put value on "struggle." So if somebody has "struggled" with their decision before making a really stupid choice, the struggle has somehow sanctified it. The husband of Terry Schaivo really struggled before making the decision to end her life, so he must be a good guy…)

Look, just because something happened to you that was significant in your spiritual life does not necessarily make it significant to me. Just because you think God spoke to you doesn’t automaticlaly grant you an audience. Just because you’ve reflected on some deep truth doesn’t qualify your musings on it for publication. Even the best stories/reflections/theology require good writing skill to communicate them to readers.

So…to begin with, if you’re going to review novels, I think you need to know your stuff. You need to know writing and books, which means read widely and understand the craft of novel writing.  I’ve spent my life with books and words, so I don’t feel a need to create an apology for negatively critiquing a bad book. But it’s not like I intentionally am looking to say something bad. I’m not trying to burnish my reputation as CBA’s bad boy. If I dislike a work, I still try to figure out what is wrong with it, where it could have been improved. And while I generally tried to say something positive about every book I reviewed, I felt compelled to tell readers the truth, not to sugarcoat a bitter pill. In other words, I think we need to feel free to say "this isn’t very good, and here’s why." And I don’t think we should have to apologize for doing so. You can’t argue that Christ was always nice, or never used pointed words (ask the Pharisees about that one).

But be warned: You’ve got to have a strong ego, and know how to shake off counterattacks. Reviewing means you can sometimes be put in an awkward situation. The first time a friend does a book you don’t like, you’re going to be in a tight spot. I have a friend who was asked to review a book from one of his artistic heroes. Unfortunately, the author had gotten old and, in my opinion, lazy. The book was weak. I thought the review my friend created was fairly generous — it pointed out the problems, but also revealed some hero worship. That wasn’t good enough for the author. He sent a nasty note to the reviewer, went out of his way to say uncomplimentary things about him, and took the whole thing much too personally. In fact, that author went to his grave never "forgiving" my friend for writing a bad review. It can happen. Make sure you’re ready for that before you dive in. Be fair. State what you like as well as what you don’t like. Try not to go into a book with huge expectations (one of the reasons we sometimes see scathing reviews is that the reviewer was hoping for something else). Offer coherent reasons  for your opinons. Then let it sit overnight before you send it — just in case you want to temper your sentences. (It seems like the words I rushed into are the ones I most regret.) Once it’s been sent, learn to forget about it. Move on to something else, and don’t pay any attention to those who want to "review the reviewer." It’s the only way I know to survive the difficult role.

Oh…and since you’re generally CRITICIZING THE WORDS OF GOD, you should also plan to SPEND ETERNITY IN HELL WITH OTHER CRITICS, rather than with all those soft, cuddly Christians who never have a bad word to say about others.   :o)

chip

Stan wrote in to say, "I only sold 8000 copies of my first novel. Do you think I’ll ever get published again?"

My response: Not if you ask such purple questions. But good grief, have some perspective. There’s nothing wrong with selling 8000 copies of your first novel. The average first novel with a major publisher sells about 4000 copies, give or take a few hundred. In fact, take a look at the bigger picture… Last year Bookscan tracked the sales of about 1.2 million titles in this country. A million of them sold fewer than 100 copies. [Go ahead and read that sentence again, in case you weren't paying attention.]  The bulk of the other titles sold fewer than 1000 copies. There were fewer than 25,000 books that sold more than 5000 copies in 2006…so you’re defnitely in the successful minority. This stuff can get confusing, since Bookscan doesn’t track things like romance book clubs, Costco sales, and the occasional bestselling self-published book that is supported by seminars and TV infomercials. Still, it’s a great tool, and the best method we have for tracking sales. And it basically tells us that the average book in America can expect to sell about 500 copies in its first year. (It also reveals that there were only a dozen books that sold a million copies last year…meaning the aren’t many super-successful authors in this business.) My point is just that you have no reason to be ashamed of selling 8000 copies of your first novel. It’s a great start! Now get out there and start working to sell more of your next book.

Cheryl wrote to say, "I’ve heard ‘a writing credit is a writing credit,’ but I’m not sure that’s true. Is the length of an author’s location list better than the location? What does an editor or agent look for in terms of publishing credits? Or do they look at all?"

They certainly look. Every editor I know is interested in discovering if you’ve got experience in the world of publishing, because that suggests your level of understanding the business side. I recently received a proposal from a writer who hasn’t authored a book before, but she had published in Redbook, Women’s Day, Good Housekeeping, Better Homes and Gardens, Parenting, and numerous other national magazines, plus a number of feature articles in a big-city newspaper. Wow. I started in magazines, and I understand that world. You’ve got to write to a topic, meet your deadline, and be fairly exact in your word count. So I paid close attention to her work. Did I represent it? No…because she had yet to make the leap from writing magazine articles to writing books. But I gave her special consideration because of the location of her work. (And I have her permission to tell this story.)  That said, if you haven’t published in those magazines, where HAVE you published? That’s they key. Put your best work out there — show the editor what you’ve written. It won’t get you the job automatically, but it’s better than bringing in a proposal with no credits. (And this all points to something I’ve said numerous times: Writers need a place to be bad. If you’re starting out, by all means work to get some writing credits. It’s the only way you’re going to improve.)

A friend of mine, who runs a great editorial service, brought up the question of having "likable" versus "sympathetic" characters in our novels: "You recently wrote that you have to like my protagonist. But I just finished reading This Heavy Silence, which I loved, and which happens to have a distinctly unlikable yet completely sympathetic protagonist. My experience tells me that in fiction that’s more literary, serious, dramatic, or tragic, an unlikable character can work. But in lighter fiction, such as chick-lit, it’s not going to work."

I agree completely. In my earlier post, I was thinking of writing popular fiction, which pretty much relies on a likable character. In fact, I’d argue that most fiction relies on likable characters if we expect readers to stay with it. But occasionally we’ll find a novelist who can keep us reading through an interesting or intruiging or delightfully wicked lead. But it’s rare. Really hard to make it work. My guess is that the author will rely on the situation and conflict to keep the reader moving forward, or they’ll offer a sympathetic supporting character. And I’d agree that it has a tendency to work better in more literary or tragic works. Sometimes a popular novelist can do it successfully (the novels of Mario Puzo come to mind), but he keeps you turning pages based on plot and action. A great discussion topic, by the way.

News of the Weird: I saw this in the paper today, and just had to share it. The first line of a newspaper story, picked up from the Lodi News-Sentinel: "A naked jazz musician was injured Friday after jumping from a burning motor home driven by a one-time roller-skating stripper."

Um…as leads go, you’ve got to admit this one sort of grabs you.

My advice: Inject more naked musicians with interesting friends into vehicles that are burning while on the move. That always makes for a bestseller. It’s the first rule of fiction.

Okay, I just spanked somebody on a writing blog for whining, so I’m in a mood. Too much of the "poor me, I’m a writer" goes a loooooooong way with me. Fer cryin out loud, what do people expect? That making a living as a writer is going to be easy? I’d venture a guess that compared to other arts, writing (and actually getting published) is easier than painting or sculpture or dance or singing or playing the viola. Trust me — you spend your life training to be a dancer or a concert violinist. It takes years of practice and classes to be any good at sculpture or glass blowing or singing an aria. And you’ve got to be really good if you expect somebody to plunk down twelve bucks in order to come watch you in the ballet, or gaze at your paintings, or listen to you sing. But just about any schmuck who can figure out the difference between a verb and a noun can create what they consider to be acceptable writing. Therefore, some seem to think the world owes them attention.

It doesn’t. Great writing isn’t easy. The best have a natural gift with words, but most have also spent considerable time honing their craft. Like learning a fine instrument, finding your voice and figuring out what constitutes greatness takes years of rehearsal. The fact that you can create a story because you learned to read in first grade does not qualify you to be a writer. And it certainly doesn’t make you an artist — even if you’re misunderstood.

If you’ve read widely, you know that there is a world of difference between the art of a Thom Pynchon and the bottom scrapings of Barbara Cartland…and yet I can tell you without a doubt that Barbara Cartland is way better than some of the stuff I have sent to me. So let’s get a little perspective: Writing, like any other art form, is a tough job. It’s highly competitive. There are very few people who are great at it. And it usually doesn’t pay all that well. If that doesn’t sit well with you, find some other art form to whine about.

Glad to get that off my chest. I got a great question from Ron, who noted that he is "plagued by writing advice," and asked me, "How do I know who’s telling the truth — especially when the advice is contradictory?"

I generally rely on my Magic 8-Ball. It’s quick, it’s easy, and it doesn’t require me to think through the issue deeply. However, I happen to know you’re a Baptist, and you’re no doubt wondering about my eternal salvation at this very moment, so I’ll offer some other, less-easy, tips. First, consider the source. In college, my writing instructor was famed fantasy writer Usula K. LeGuin. When she spoke, I listened. If I was getting conflicting advice from Melvin P. Hickenlooper, I had a tendency to lean toward the voice I trusted. Second, take your time. Decisions I’ve rushed into have a tendency to be the ones I’ve regretted. Sometimes setting the project aside, then coming back to it later, allows me to gain some perspective. Third, ask yourself what makes the  most sense to you. Maybe your muse will tell you. And fourth, stop trying to convince yourself that there is one right answer to everything, and that taking the wrong step will somehow kill your career. We all make mistakes — especially in our writing. Sometimes mistakes are the best learning tools. But there are few things any of us do in our writing that are big, irreversible decisions. Part of the fun of writing is the choices we have — presenting us with endless opportunities to screw up and beat ourselves with our own mistakes. What fun!

In a similar vein, I was asked, "I’ve heard book signings are mandatory, but I’ve also heard book signings are a waste of time…which is true?’

I think book signings are great fun in your home town, where you can have people show up and point out they spelled your name correctly on the cover. They’re also fun if you’ve got a bestseller and everybody wants to have their picture taken with you. And they’re generally good for your ego, assuming some customers actually show up. Do they help sales? Not unless you’re a star, though they can sometimes help create buzz about you, garner you some local radio or tv time, and get some extra word out on your book. As publicists say, all publicity is good publicity. But there are few things sadder than walking into a book signing by accident, only to find a desperate author trying to pump his new work. You walked into the store to buy the latest Norah Jones CD, or to pick up a Brian Haig paperback, or to use the men’s room, and here is this overweight guy with a desperate look on his face, asking you if you’ve seen his book on "The History of Mayonnaise." You smile, nod, offer encouraging words, and try to get out of there quick. Put yourself in his position. It’s awkward. Pretty deflating. I know, because I’ve been there. (I once helped the ladies at Barnes & Noble stock the shelves, since there was nothing happening at my book table. I only resented it when they tried to charge me for the bottled water they had offered.)

My friend Annette Smith tells of having her first book signing. She had written a wonderful book of short stories, called The Whispers of Angels, and the store had special angel-wing napkins printed up for the event. They also had enough food for a small army. The good news? She ate well for three weeks, and when they ran out of toilet paper before their Christmas party, those angel-shaped napkins came in handy.

One more: "A friend recently told me that editors and agents hate flashbacks. She said it’s ‘the fatal flaw.’ But at the moment I’m reading Cold Mountain, and Charles Frazier’s elegant use of flashbacks fills the book. Should I slash all the retro material?"

Maybe I should add a "fifth" to my earlier answer about conflicting advice: Understand that there are very few "always" and "nevers" in writing. Without having seen your work, I couldn’t say if you should cut the flashbacks or not. And, yes, I suppose your friend could make an argument that flashbacks are currently on the way out in most popular fiction. But we could also argue that flashbacks have played a part in countless significant novels, from Mark Twain through the present day. So while I’d be cautious about overusing that particular literary device, I would not consider them to be the "fatal flaw." And tell your friend that, if she’s regularly coming up with terms like "fatal flaw," she’s clearly been reading too many Victorian romances.

Let’s end on a high note — one last quote from Carolyn Sloan’s book for singers entitled Finding Your Voice (Hyperion 2006):

A voice is like a life. When it is freed and allowed to resonate in its natural channels, beauty abounds. If it is forced, manipulated, or controlled in any willful, arbitrary manner, the voice — the life — withers and eventually loses its innate energy and life. What I’m describing here is the need for authenticity. A voice is as unique as the person it belongs to, and in order to truly sing, that fact needs to be respected, even as we are told that our voices should conform to some idealized form of singing…we are our first song.

Beautiful stuff. You can order Ms Sloan’s book through Amazon. Thanks again to Judy Mikalonis for passing this along to me.

I had a bunch of questions come to me the past few days — I’ll try to handle several of them briefly. (And please know you’re always welcome to email me questions you’d like explored on this blog.)

1. Gwynne wrote to say, "When working on historical fiction, if an author is using real people from history and not created characters, what is the author’s responsibility to the character? I sometimes admit to feeling guilty of slander — I’m using real people, but my judgments of their deeds and motivations is quite different than that of historians. What is the ethical line between historical fiction and history?"

I don’t think there is a line connecting them. A novelist who is creating a story and weaving in actual people and events probably owes a debt to the reader to try and get the facts correct, I suppose (though even that is a questionable supposition, and many authors have altered facts and dates in order to tell a better story), but a novel isn’t a textbook. It doesn’t have a restriction that "you must have all your facts correct" or "you must accept the commonly held notions about a character’s motivations."  The author is inventing a story to entertain, maybe to explore themes and motivations, not to teach history. So, while I wouldn’t create a story in which the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor on July 11, I see nothing wrong with an author creating a story depicting an interesting twist — that Roosevelt knew about the attack ahead of time, or that it was the attack was a rogue group of Japanese military, or that it was all a mistake. With fiction, it’s the story that counts, not the accuracy of the events. Besides, if we all knew the deeds and motivations of historical events, there would be no need to explore them further. A novel allows us to consider alternative interpretations — that Richard III was actually a good guy, or that Sir Thomas More was a self-absorbed twit, or that Robert E. Lee wasn’t the military genius he’s been made out to be. Sometimes those ideas are daft (Oliver Stone’s movie JFK was filled with tripe and innuendo), other times the ideas can be reasonable (take a look at Elizabeth Peter’s Murders of Richard III). But what your readers care about most is that the story is interesting, emotional, and readable.

2. Mary wrote to ask, "What are you looking for in a query?"

Every time I open a query letter, I’m hoping to see something I fall in love with. I want to see a great idea, supported by great writing, from an author with a great platform. I want to read an idea that makes me go, "Fabulous! Why didn’t I think of that?!" An author platform that shrieks, "I can help support this book!" Writing that hooks me from the first line. It’s rare, but it happens. On the flip side, the thing that makes me immediately plop the query into my "reject" pile is seeing a variation on a theme — something that’s trying to ride the coattails of a project that’s already been done in a big way. (Examples include, "I was thinking we could turn the Book of Revelation into a novel" and "What about a book on making your life more purpose driven?" I’ve seen them both. Recently.) 

3. Denise wrote to ask me, "What’s the worst query you ever received?"

This one is easy. All of us have pet peeves — I happen to hate it when an author uses a query letter to sing his or her own praises: "This life-changing book will make you laugh, make you cry, make you quit your job and move to Toledo so you worship at my feet." Fer cryin out loud — let somebody else sing your praises. (The same holds true for competitive analyses in which the author basically bashes everybody else’s book on the topic. Nothing will make you look more like a self-absorbed jerk than to suggest "Jerry Jenkins got it wrong but I’m doing it right.") However, the worst query letter I ever received was from some prophecy nutjob in the Midwest. He claimed (and I swear I’m not making this up) that he and his son were "the two prophets foretold in the Book of Revelation." He informed me that I needed to send him "a contract and a sizable check," and warned that if I didn’t do so, I was incurring God’s wrath. He went on to say I could expect "severe weather patterns" and that God was "going to kick [my] ass." Really. Needless to say, I immediately leaped into action by suggesting he write to Steve Laube.

4. Judy Mikalonis, noting that I often talk about author’s voice in my writings, wrote to share a wonderful quote from a book about voice for singers:

"The singers we love…allow themselves to emerge through their voices. We love to listen to them in part because they teach us to be ourselves, by supplying us with an example of genuine emotion expressed through song. By teaching us acceptance and speaking for us when we feel mute, they effectively unite us with ourselves. These great singers prove that powerful singing is about individuality, separateness, and even courage — it is not about a perfect voice. A singer needs to be a warrior."

This is taken from Carolyn Sloan’s wonderful book Finding Your Voice (Hyperion, 2006). Insert the word "author" for "singer" and she has offered incredible wisdom. Sloan goes on to say,

"We must balance our need to control with a necessity to let go so our true voices can surface. We do not create the voice. The voice is and creates us. It teaches us that we must be open to being stimulated and to experiencing our lives without inhibition… Along with courage and an ability to question, a singer also must have an unfailing persistence and desire to solve what may seem to be unsolvable mysteries."

Fabulous.

Well, I flew off to Florida to speak at a writers’ conference, and that’s kept me away this past week. Florida was interesting as always: ran into longtime publishing friends, saw an inordinate number of old men wearing white tube socks with sandals, and appreciated the wonders of the Florida climate in winter. It was snowing when I walked on the plane, and it was 80 degress when I walked off. I just don’t spend enough time in Florida. If I did, I would surely have remembered to bring some shorts and Hawaiian shirts (which, to be honest, are in short supply in most of the country right now). Saw interesting little gecko-like things, discovered a fabulous Italian restaurant, and basically acted like a man who got to escape the cold weather in order to spend five days in the sun. Nice. In the meantime, of course, people have been sending in questions…

1. Jessica wrote to ask, "Is it ever appropriate to call an agent who hasn’t signed you? I’m wondering because I got an email response to my query that said nothing. No message at all, just the agent’s name, address, and telephone number — all of which were on the web site. But the site says they won’t respond to queries unless they are interested, so I’m not sure what this means or what I should do about it. Have you heard of this being done before? Is it appropriate to call and ask if further material is being requested?"

I’ve seen this before, and I understand your confusion. You send a question to one of those busy agents, who responds with…um…nothing. Or at least nothing helpful. Now you want to know if the agent is looking for something more, if he didn’t understand your question, or if he’s using a trained monkey to respond to all author queries. Beats me. My suggestion is that you first try responding by email and asking for clarification: "I’m sorry, but I don’t understand your response. Does this mean you want to see my proposal?" If you get back the same thing (name, address, phone number), it means the guy is automatically replying to everyone this way. So you have a choice. You can either (1) send him your proposal and wait, or (2) determine that this joker is never going to have the time for you anyway,  tell him to drop dead (figuratively speaking), and look for an agent who’ll actually respond to you.

2. David wrote to ask, "Where can a writer find a competent, willing mentor? Most classes seem like they are geared toward novice writers. Conferences don’t set you up with lasting relationships.  Great writers are busy writing. And wannabe writers are many and running over with advice, but I need something more."

A mentor is somebody with whom you have a relationship — so it’s not as easy as wandering down to Mentors-R-Us and picking one up. Most of the mentors in my life have been people I got to know socially or professionally. We built some sort of relationship, and then I began to meet with the individual and learn from him or her. For example, I worked with Rick Christian (a well-known literary agent) for years. I got to observe him in various situations, ask him questions, clarify things, and see how he did his job. I didn’t pattern everything in my life after Rick, but I learned incredibly valuable lessons on the role of an agent in the life of a writer. Some of the folks who mentored me spent considerable time with me, others talked with me on the phone or shared some wisdom via emails and letters. If you’re expecting a mentor/protege relationship to spring from a one-time event, you might have a few too many expectations of your mentor.

Consider doing a few things… First, you might talk with the teacher of one of those classes you mentioned. The fact they that he or she is in that sort of role might mean he or she has the ability and the interest level to begin a relationship with you. Second, consider joining a critique group, where other writers get together to review each other’s work. Sometimes an experienced member of a group can give you some individual attention. Third, don’t shun a conference. Those can be a great place to get face-to-face with an experienced writer and begin talking books and words. And fourth, don’t insist on a Pulitzer Prize nominee right off the bat. All you’re really looking for is someone a bit further down the path — someone with more experience or wisdom than you have, who can help you grow. Over time, you’ll begin making new relationships, and find other mentors who can assist you.

One last thought: You, in turn, need to make sure and invest yourself in someone else, who is not yet at your level. I’ve found that I grow the most professionally when I’m giving myself away. There’s something about talking through the business that forces me to improve. Every writer I know has had the benefit of those who have gone before. EVERY writer. I write the way I do because I was influenced by a handful of successful authors. I had a couple of dedicated teachers who committed themselves to helping me improve my craft. I had writers around me who shared from their experience. That’s why I remind authors that all of us are creating things that are derivative — we’re all building on the books we’ve read, the authors we’ve admired, the wisdom we’ve received. It’s why I make it a point with the authors I represent to encourage them to share their own stories with other writers. I really believe all of us are helping build the next generation of authors.

3. In a similar vein, Trey wrote to ask, "Why do you spend time at writer conferences? Do you find many clients at those?"

Well, having just returned from one, I’m in a good spot to answer that. No, I don’t I really find many clients at writer conferences. The bulk of the attendees are beginners, and most aren’t ready for representation (though most think they are). I look at proposals and try to help the author make them better. Sometimes I teach a workshop on a topic, though I’ll admit I find many conference meetings to be of the "inspirational" variety, and I don’t need somebody leading cheers in order to get me pumped up. Still, I generally enjoy attending most conferences. It’s a good time to connect with people, to sit and talk books & writing with a few thoughtful types, and once in a while I’ll see something wonderful.

I suppose I go because, for me, it’s a chance to give back to writing. I believe in that process of mentoring that’s been a part of American publishing since the days of Mark Twain. I also go to see friends and colleagues — for example, at the conference I just attended, I went to dinner with my good friend novelist Davis Bunn, went to lunch with Denny Boultinghouse from Howard Publishing, and ran into acquaintances like Ginger Kolbaba and Craig Bubeck. I also met a couple of new novelists, and found one or two ideas that had merit. I was probably there too long, since I could have cut this back a day or two and still seen the people I needed to see, but it was good to take the time and hang around other writers. I figure if I find one publishable author, it was probably worth my time as an agent. That help?

4. I need to offer an update on something I mentioned in my last post… Cec Murphey and his wife are well, staying with friends, and expecting to rebuild their home. They’ve suffered a great loss, but Cec says they’ll get through it. Similarly, Philip Yancey is home and recovering well. I just didn’t want to leave anyone with loose ends on those two items.