WRITING as a WORK of LOVE

 

Some years back, one of the members of my critique group quit. She not only quit our group; she quit writing.

 

Her parting words to us were unambiguous. “Never have I spent so many hours for so little monetary compensation. Time to do something where I reap the righteous rewards for my labor.”

 

On the one hand, there’s no denying that even at minimum wage, almost all writers would reap better monetary rewards spending work hours doing something else.

 

On the other hand, SAY WHAT???

 

Mind you, this member was an energetic and insightful feedback giver, and her writing was also lively and polished. I thought highly of her as a group member and felt that if she persisted, she was more likely to be published than most of us.

But she looked at it differently. She looked at writing and writing related (like being in a critique group) as hours spent at a job. In her fortunate case, financial hardship was not in the mix.

 

She had had better paying jobs before, so she was moving on.

 

Of course, this was our loss. She was a valued colleague. But I felt it was primarily her loss because she had missed the whole sailboat that is the creative life.

 

Living in creativity is not about financial compensation. If it were, humanity’s art makers would instantly shrink to one thousandth the current participants.

 

People who create, whether stories, music, paintings or recipes— are wedded to being more fully alive. That’s the real deal, or the “compensation.” Being paid is nice and, for the few who get to buy mansions from creative work, it’s very nice. But, for most who create, it's about getting to live in our mansions of vivid and rich imaginations.

 

This is a work of love, and if it isn’t, indeed one is better finding out what else is there that could be.

WHAT MAKES A STORY?

 

Most people know how to give an account of happenings. “This happened, and then that, and after that then this.”

 

These are accounts, not stories.

 

Unfortunately, some writing advice completely misses the point. I’ve heard some variations of asking and answering “…and then, and then…” offered as process to constructing stories from writing coaches and blog posts about writing. It’s understandable, because this is the way young children tell stories. It’s basic to telling imaginative narratives.

 

But, as any listener or reader knows, these aren’t stories. They are accounts.

 

I like pithy definitions. I love Jonathan Blum’s description.

A story: mapping the process of meaningful change.

 

Every word in this six-word definition is relevant and essential.

Without mapping, it’s a meditation, not a story.

Without process, it’s a static photograph, not a story.

Without meaningful, it’s an empty collection of words.

Without change, it is just the same as nothing worth telling happened.

 

We are accustomed to happy or positive changes, because kidlit is wedded to such. But many stories for adults map meaningful demises. (Anna Karenina, anyone?) Either way, change is a must for a story not to be merely an account.

©Chris Brecheen

When Seeking Agent Representation* for Picture Book Writers

 

*Disclosure: I never sought representation for my picture book texts because very few agents are open to such. Both my previous agents did represent my picture books but took me as a client for my Middle Grade novels.

 

The conventional wisdom on agent-seeking is that if you approach such for picture books, it is better to have at least three manuscripts polished and ready to go.

 

Why?

 

In one way, this is counter intuitive. Every manuscript is its own animal, and a great highly marketable one is just that. Writers who seek agent representation with longer works are not expected to have more than that one ready for presentation.

 

In another way, picture book texts require less time (though no less creative spark and skill) to pen, revise, re-revise, and polish, and agents are not interested in investing energy in a relationship with a one-shot wonder.

 

Put another way, Agent might be saying to Writer, “If we’re to become working partners, you better show me that you can do this again and again (and again) because, unlike novels, it’s possible to write twelve picture book texts in one year. I don’t deal with slouches.”

Or something to that effect.

 

Just another of the publishing world’s peculiarities.

The Matter of WORD COUNT

 

Beginning and naïve writers pay little attention to word counts. My first efforts had one 4,000-word story which I thought was a picture book text.

 

Near beginners wake up to the bean counting that exists among publishing and marketing professionals. Word counts become a near obsession, despite most publishing professionals stating that these numbers are not hard and fast rules and a story need be what it need be. Once writers discover the word count parameters, these become a religion. I confess to the same.

 

But if you are going to treat word counts as guides, you must know that in writing for younger readers, the ordinary counts of the publishing world don’t count. Kidlit has its own.

Example:

• Novella: A fictional work that's between 17,500 and 40,000 words long.

In kidlit, these counts would overlap chapter books and novels for middle grade readers.

• Novelette: A fictional work that's between 7,500 and 17,500 words long 

In kidlit, these counts are squarely in the chapter book category.

• Short story: A fictional work that's usually less than 10,000 words long, but can be over 1,000 words 

In kidlit, these counts overlap easy readers to chapter books.

• Flash fiction: A short story that's 500 words or less

In kidlit, these are picture book texts. *

 

*I love thinking of picture book texts as flash fiction. It’s a remarkable storytelling category either way.

 

After many years of writing, I find word counts to be an accounting of sorts for a day’s work. My output is around a thousand words a day, give or take. This says little about the stories and what they “should be” word count-wise. It’s an account between me and myself regarding the fulfillment of my writing abilities. It tells me I’m doing my job, even if no one else cares.

 

And since I mentioned novellas* in this post, where have they gone? Publishing’s stepchild is overdue for TLC and attention, in my unhumble opinion.

A post about this can be read here.

 

Back to counting the total words of manuscripts, I’m less fussy now. At my age and many years of writing, I see fussing for what it is. It’s a replacement for taking care of the real deal: a great story, which can’t be quantified.