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What is a Ghostwriter, and Who Needs One?

           
by Rhonda Browning White
            I can’t help but hesitate when people ask what I do for a living. “I’m a ghostwriter,” I finally say. The reactions I receive are never dull. “Oh,” someone might say, “I love ghost stories.” Uh, no. I don’t write ghost stories. That is, unless someone hires me to ghostwrite a ghost story. Once a (rather rude) woman said, “Isn’t that selling yourself, like a prostitute?” Um, double no! Ghostwriters indeed write stories for other people that are (typically) published under that person’s name, instead of their own. But then, so do many journalists and newspaper writers. I recall the first time I had a story accepted by a local newspaper. I rushed out that morning to buy a few extra copies of the edition in which my story would appear. And there was my headline in bold print . . . follow by the editor’s name in the byline. “But that’s my story!” I wailed. “I wrote it!” Such is the life of many news journalists. I whined for a bit, but then I realized it was no different than when I’d worked as a secretary, composing professional-sounding letters for my boss, who would then sign his name at the bottom, as if he were the one who’d agonized over that brilliant marketing hook in the first paragraph. Like journalists and secretaries and a host of other professional writers, ghostwriters write to help other people. And believe it or not, we usually enjoy that privilege!

 
What do we write?

            As a ghostwriter, I’ve been able to write political thrillers, Christian romances, memoirs, self-help books, even a screenplay. A ghostwriter works with her clients one-on-one in whatever capacity is needed to bring even a germ of an idea into a full-fledged manuscript that’s ready to submit to agents and publishers.   

 
Why hire a ghostwriter?

            Until they actually try to do it, most people think it’s easy to write a book. They come up with great ideas. They can see some of the scenes playing out before their eyes. But once they actually try to write, they realize it isn’t as easy as it looks. There’s so many things they hadn’t considered—point of view, voice, character arcs, plot devices—the list goes on and on. Writing is a craft that takes years of study and even more years of practice.

           
How much does it cost?

            Ghostwriting projects vary greatly, and the costs fluctuate with the amount of work involved. In addition to writing, some ghostwriting projects require research, collation of data and facts, and confirmation of sources. A typical ghostwriting project costs in the five-digit range. “What!” you may say. “That’s exorbitant!” But is it? A professional ghostwriter may work from four to twelve months on one project, sometimes working more than forty hours a week during that time. Would you expect to make less than a five-digit salary for half a year of hard work? Probably not. If you’d expect to make it, then you should expect to pay it.

 
Who hires a ghostwriter?

·         Your grandfather. Yes, we’ll write granddad’s memoir for him, taking care to use his voice as we chronicle his life into a book his family will cherish for generations.

·         Your neighbor. Everyone has a story to tell, whether it’s the story of how they single-handedly fought off a bear, how they hitchhiked across America in the 60s, or that idea for a romance they’ve put on the back burner for three decades. They may not have the skill to write the story, but man, that story deserves to be told. That’s where a ghostwriter comes in.

·         Professionals. Doctors, professors, ministers, technology developers, business leaders, and others have information to share, but who has the time to devote to mapping out a textbook, a self-help manual, or a devotional? We do!

·         Published authors. Sometimes an author will sign a three-book series deal, but then get so busy with the book tour (or vacationing on their advance) that they are nearing the deadline to turn in their next book in the series, but don’t have time to finish it. A ghostwriter can help them meet the deadline (and help them keep what’s left of their contract advance).

·         Publishers. Yes, even publishers occasionally send writers to us when the writer has an excellent story, but lacks the professional skill to write it in a manner that is publishable.

·         You! What’s your story? Doesn’t it deserve to be told? Do you dream of seeing your book alongside others in a bookstore, or popping up on your Amazon feed? Give us a call today, and let’s discuss what a ghostwriter can do for you!

Writing Emotions

by Sandy Tritt

Emotions. We all have them. Good, bad, or aggravating, if we’re alive, we move from one emotion to another throughout the day. Yet, emotion is one of the most difficult things to show in a story. We want to either overstate or understate it. You know the melodrama—Joe fell over the casket, sobbing. “Why, God?” he shouted. “Why?”

Yeah.

And I think you know the understatement. Joe left the funeral home. Well, that was that. His entire family—his parents, his wife, his children—had been killed in the explosion. Now it was time to hit the road and follow his dream of being a street musician.

Ouch. Not much feeling in this guy, is there? I’m starting to think he may have caused the explosion.

Some writers try to sidestep this problem by using the show-and-tell method: Joe was outraged. He slammed his fist onto the table. “I’m so angry!”  

Yikes. We can discuss all the ways this is wrong, wrong, wrong in another blog.

None of these examples, of course, show us how to capture emotion and present it in a way that sucker-punches our reader and leaves him breathless. How do we do that?

First and most importantly, do not name an emotion. Not ever. When you write “he was sad” or “she was angry,” you are telling your reader what your words should be showing your reader. Additionally, if you do not provide backup that proves the character is feeling the emotion named, your reader won’t believe you and may even distrust you. Instead, you must take the time to describe the emotional response, and then you must trust your reader to “get it” without explanation. Readers are smart. If you do your job, they will do theirs.

So, how do you show emotion in a fresh way without being melodramatic, without telling, and without ignoring the feelings? I’ve been teaching the “continual improvement” method, which, simply stated, means you need to work harder than you’ve ever worked before to make your writing innovative and juicy and the best it’s ever been. So, get out a fresh sheet of paper or open a new document. At the top of the page, write the name of the emotion you want to convey (we will use “anger” as our example). Under that, write a sentence using this emotion: Joe pounded his fist on the table and glared at Cathy. Then, number from one to five along the left side of the page. Next to each number, write a way your character can express this emotion. For example, we could make a list like this:  

  1. Shout 
  2. Shake fist 
  3. Hit table or wall  
  4. Kick something or someone 
  5. Storm out of the room and slam the door after him
Okay, those are all valid ways to show anger. But they are also somewhat cliché—we’ve seen these same reactions used zillions of times. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination or effort to list them. So, after we’ve listed our five items (or more—if you have additional examples clamoring to escape your brain, write them down), we need to list one more. Hmmm. This is when we have to actually think. How else can we express anger? What if our character is so angry he destroys something that belongs to the object of his anger?

Create a sentence using that vision:
Joe grabbed Cathy’s doll—the one that had comforted her throughout her childhood—and snapped off the head.

Okay, that’s better than glaring and pounding. But we’re not done. We can still do better. We need to improve that sentence, using the most active verbs we can and the most unique visuals we can imagine.

     Cathy’s doll sat on the mantle, pristine and elegant.
     White flashes obscured Joe’s vision. He seized the doll and threw it into the fireplace. Flames lapped at the virginal gown, now tarnished by soot.

Better. A bit disjointed. So, once more, we go back and improve. As we improve, we must smooth out the rough spots and we must be sure the emotion builds, that the reader can see the emotion coming and expect it, yet are still surprised by the rawness and power of it. And, perhaps, by the way the emotion changes, sometimes presenting multiple emotions in just a few moments, if it is logical to do so (most highly emotional situations do facilitate multiple emotions).

So, our third (and fourth and fifth and sixth and . . . ) try:
    
     In that instant, Joe knew. Those late night “wrong numbers” and those “working late” excuses were nothing but lies.
     He fell against the fireplace, the weight of his discovery heavy on his shoulders. Why would she betray him? They had made love just this morning. How could she pretend?
    Heat roiled in his gut, churning with the acidic taste of vomit. As he lifted his hand to his mouth—the hand that hours ago had caressed his wife—he inadvertently touched Cathy’s childhood doll. Always untouchable, until recently it sat in a glass case, protected from dust and dirt. Protected from Cathy’s lies.
     Flashing white light grew at the periphery of Joe’s vision. He shook his head to clear his sight, but the light consumed him. He snatched the doll and heaved it into the fire. Orange and red flames teased the virginal gown, lapping closer and closer until they captured it, consuming first the clothes, thread by thread. The fire danced across the cloth body until a hole opened in its center. For one second, two seconds, three seconds, the fire burned yellow. Then the stuffing fragmented, breaking into pieces. White flames consumed it.
     Joe’s hands trembled, but it was too late now. The greedy fire seized the doll’s rubber head. For a second, the head rebelled, holding its shape, until it too surrendered. The skin blistered and cracked, then melted into a smelly, gummy mass that dripped off the log and onto the ashes below.
     Black smoke curled up the chimney, its acrid odor stinging Joe’s eyes. He blinked back tears. 
     It was over.

And so on. This last incarnation was actually reworked several times, with details added each time.  You’ll likely do the same, finding more descriptive and unique ways to describe the same old emotions. You’ll also find yourself wanting to use setting to enrich emotion—which is another leap in the quality of our writing. Try to find ways in which the description of setting can emulate the emotion.

It takes time and effort to make your writing fresh and enticing, but it’s worth it—it’s what separates ho-hum writing from really good writing.      

If you get stuck and want some help with creating vivid descriptions, pick up a good book on body language or study one of these references:

  • Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglis, The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide To Character Expression (Create Space)
  •  Linda Edelstein, The Writer’s Guide to Character Traits (Writer Digest Books)
  • Ann Hood, Creating Character Emotions(Story Press)
        And, of course, our editors are always standing by, ready to assist you when you get stuck or need some help. Just shoot us off an email and we’ll get started right away.

She smiled.

GRRR . . .

And Sandy frowned. In one page–in approximately 250 words–the characters in this manuscript have smiled seven times, laughed four, grinned twice, and frowned once. Oh, and between all that smiling and laughing, there were four sighs. FOUR SIGHS! (Not counting the ones coming from me).

And, no, these characters were not in the audience of Saturday Night Live, David Letterman, or any other show. They were eating dinner and discussing a recent murder.

Unfortunately, this is one of the most common problems I see in manuscripts. In fact, I’d be willing to say that at least 90% of the fiction manuscripts I see overuse the common actions of smiling (always the worst offender), laughing, frowning, nodding, shaking a head, and grinning.

Most writers are not aware they do this. They’ve been told to use action, use body language. They’ve been told to cut passive verbs like was, were, is, are and so forth. They’ve been told to omit helping verbs like could have, would’ve, beginning to, starting to and so on. They dutifully have scanned their manuscript and cut back on these things.

I challenge you to do a FIND for the word “smiled.” See how many times you’ve used that word. Surprised? Try “laughed.” “Grinned.” “Frowned.” “Shook.” “Nodded.” Oh, oh, oh. One more. “Felt.”

I challenge you to replace as many as you can with more descriptive body language. First, consider the emotion this character is actually feeling. Is he bored? Joyous? Frustrated? Then, figure out a unique way to show your reader this emotion. (Or, cheat. Pick up a great book like The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi or Writer’s Guide to Character Traits by Dr. Linda  Edelstein). Then, have your characters scratch a mole until it bleeds or drop pieces of steak on the floor when no one is watching or polish the diamond on their ring. Or growl.

“Doing this one thing will bring your writing up to the next level,” Sandy said and smiled. “I promise.”

I RESOLVE TO . . .

I RESOLVE TO . . .
Resolutions for Writers
by
Rhonda Browning White
Turn the calendar page. Better still, break out an entirely new calendar. We have more than a new month ahead; we have a whole new year in front of us! Blank squares waiting to be filled with important appointments, blank lines waiting to be filled with significant words. The year 2014 presents a fresh start—a chance for growth and improvement—for every writer, so let’s resolve to do something vital and vivacious with each new day that’s given to us. What good is a New Year without a few resolutions, anyway? Print out this list, and make it yours.
·         . . . Write five days a week. If you’re one of those writers who lives by the mantra, Write every day, then goody for you! I live in the real world, however, where writing is a job—my career—and like any job, I do it five days a week, reserving the other two for my family and myself. Besides, life gets in the way, and it’s unrealistic to think we can (or would even want to) write every single day. We set ourselves up for failure when we insist we must write 365 days a year. Don’t fail. Allow yourself a couple of days off, but write the other five.
·         . . . Write 100 words a day (five days a week). Anyone—anyone!—can do this. You pound out several hundred words a day on Facebook, a thousand or more via email and a dozen at a time on Twitter. One hundred words a day is nothing. Nothing! A few of my friends and I started this 100-words-a-day challenge, and we hold each other to it. We report in daily, sometimes admitting defeat (kid is sick, car broke down, computer on the fritz), but more often gloating that we wrote 200 words—or 2,500 words. You’ll find that, more often than not, 100 words leads to 500 words, and soon you’ve written multiple pages. Even on the busiest days, you’ve accomplished something toward your goal, even if it’s only 100 words.
·         . . . Read, read, read! You can’t be a great writer unless you’re an avid reader. Read the genre in which you want to write. If you write romance, read the latest romance novels on The New York Times bestseller list. Be sure to read the masters. If high school was the last time you read Hemingway, Hawthorne or Flannery O’Connor, you’ve done yourself a great disservice as a writer. Works by these canonical writers are still around for a reason. Figure out what that reason is, and apply those lessons to your own work.
·         . . . Study the craft of writing. Resolve to read six books on the craft of writing this year. That’s only one book every other month. Easy-peasy! Some of my favorites include The Lie that Tells a Truth by John Dufresne, Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose, and Making Shapely Fiction by Jerome Stern. Especially good for beginning writers is Sandy Tritt’s Tips and Techniques Workbook  (available for automatic download online HERE), which includes fill-in-the-blank worksheets and direct examples to help improve your writing. Take a writing course at your local college this year, or attend a writers conference that offers courses in writing craft.
·         . . . Type “The End.” Have a file full of half-finished short stories? Seven different novel beginnings? Three memoirs that total less than a hundred pages each? Stop procrastinating, and finish something! This is where the 100-words-a-day challenge can help you reach the end of your first draft. Butt in chair, fingers on keyboard. Write!
·         . . . Have my work professionally edited. What’s the difference between a traditionally published author and an unpublished writer? Many times, an editor. What do author-editors have in common? We have our work professionally edited. Yes, editors hire editors. It’s true that we can’t see our own mistakes in our writing, so it’s important to have trained eyes look over our final drafts. Professional editors will do more than find typos and grammar mistakes; they’ll point out that your character has green eyes in chapter one and blue eyes in chapter twenty. They’ll remind you that you left a loose sub-plot thread dangling back in chapter eleven, and explain where the middle sags. They’ll show you where you forgot to include internal conflict in a scene full of external conflict. In other words, they’ll help you make your writing much better.
·         . . . Network with other writers. Join a writers group in your area. Don’t have one? Start one. Your local library is a good place to begin, or post a bulletin on Meetups.com. Attend a writers conference where you can meet writers at your same skill level, as well as network with professionals in the field from whom you can learn. And by all means, support other writers. Write a positive review on Amazon.com or Goodreads.com of any novels or books you’ve loved, especially if those books are written by new or up-and-coming authors. One day, you’ll want someone to return the favor and write a review of your latest novel.
·         . . . Submit. Writing a novel and having it professionally edited will do you no good at all if you allow it to molder on your laptop. Whip out a polished query letter (which, of course, you’ve revised, edited and proofed), and send that manuscript out the door. Realize up front that you’ll receive rejections, and know that you may have to send out a few hundred queries to land an agent or publisher. Still, you must submit your work in order to have it traditionally published, so you may as well get started this year.

Make 2014 the year you take your writing to the next level. Start today! 

Make up Your Own Mind: Letting the Reader Write

 by
Rhonda Browning White

During my MFA days, I kept a journal of important suggestions and bits of advice passed down to me by professors, instructors, visiting writers and my cohorts; epiphanies, ah-ha moments, words to live by, definitely words to write by. I still turn to these one-liners, these brief explanations, these light-bulb statements that point me in the right direction when I feel lost or need inspiration. One such statement came from my mentor, author Robert Olmstead, who said to my workshop peers and me, “It’s not about what you write, it’s what you don’t write. Make the reader do some of the writing. Invoke, invoke, invoke. Make the reader conjoin A and C. Leave out B. Don’t burn words.”

For years, I’d spelled out everything for the reader. I wanted her to understand. I wanted to explain. Suddenly I realized that the best fiction—stories I love and re-read, are the stories that allow me to draw my own conclusions. And sometimes, in the re-reading, my opinion and conclusion changes. These stories become, for me, timeless.

Since then, I’ve sought short stories in which the narrative and its elements are not spoon-fed to us, stories where we are allowed to develop a relationship with the characters and draw reflective meaning from their experiences. Here are two examples I’ve found in The Best American Short Stories 2010, which we can examine and learn from to prevent ourselves from burning words.

In her story “All Boy,” Lori Ostlund writes of Harold, a studious and introverted child who is audience to the breakdown of his parents’ marriage (Ostlund 263-78). His father is gay. We know, without being specifically told, that Harold’s mother fears their son may have homosexual tendencies, so she protects him from being ostracized by teachers and classmates by telling them, “I guess Harold’s just all boy” (Ostlund 275). Ostlund never points out these things directly, but lets the reader reach this conclusion and determine for herself if Harold’s mother is in denial of her husband’s and son’s tendencies, or if she’s merely operating in the protective role of mother. Ostlund never tells us until the last paragraphs that Harold’s father is gay. We are allowed to experience this revelation as Harold experienced it; gradually, by applying our own knowledge and societal frames of reference to what is taking place. We experience for ourselves what Harold is thinking and feeling, so much so that at the end of the story, we want to usher him back into the safety of the womb-like closet, where he is protected from the harsh realities of the world.

We suspect from the opening line of Tea Obreht’s “The Laugh” that the darkest part of the story is over. “They were talking about the funeral when the lights went out” (Obreht 246). Still, suspense builds throughout as we learn that Neal, our narrator, feels guilty over some instance that occurred between him and best friend Roland’s late wife, Femi. He loved her, I inferred, though no steamy affair ever made print. Throughout the story, Neal does everything he can to protect Roland; physically, when he follows him into a pack of wildebeests without a loaded gun; and emotionally, when he places heavy sacks of flour into Femi’s empty casket to keep Roland from discovering that hyenas stole her body. Neal came face-to-face with one of these hyenas, though a pane of glass separated them. But the hyenas’ laugh, not their vile golden eyes, was what tormented him. “It was the laugh that made his stomach turn, and they laughed all the time, every night they were there, as if they knew their laugh made him wonder, made him want to come outside to them in the dark, or, otherwise, put a gun in his mouth” (Obreht 257). Yet, when the story ends, it isn’t the hyenas’ laugh that haunts him, it is Femi’s laugh. Again, the reader is left to her own inference, her own conclusion, based on her knowledge—not of hyenas, but of humans and human nature.

It is what we leave out, then, not what we put into a story, that provides the reader with a satisfying, poignant or devastating twist. Leave out the B parts. Let your reader reveal what has been hidden, let him write what is missing.

Works Cited

Obreht, Tea. “The Laugh.” Russo 246-62.
Ostlund, Lori. “All Boy.” Russo 263-278.
Russo, Richard, ed. Introduction. The Best American Short Stories 2010. New York:
          Houghton, 2010. Print.

Reprinted with permission of the author and Why The Writing Works http://whythewritingworks.com/2013/12/03/make-up-your-own-mind-letting-the-reader-write/

I Am Thankful for Mistakes

by Sherry Wilson

I am Thankful for Mistakes
This week as we give thanks for all of the wonderful things in our lives and celebrate with family and friends, I started to think about my writing life. More particularly about how my writing life might be improved—how all of our careers might be improved—by an attitude of gratitude.

Throughout school we learn to write, so by the time we graduate, we figure we have a pretty good idea of how to write. But do we really? The shift between school and a professional level of writing is like the difference between school band and a professional music career. In both cases, there is room to grow, to learn, to get better.

I think it’s when we forget about this quest that things become more difficult for us as writers. We need to give ourselves permission to relax a little and enjoy the process. I mean, if you decided you wanted to play an instrument and you signed yourself up for piano lessons, you wouldn’t expect to play like Glenn Gould next week—or even next year, for that matter. You would practice. You’d put in your hours. You wouldn’t do it because you thought you’d be able to play like Glenn Gould. You’d do it for the fun of it. Because, while learning a new instrument is work, it’s also fun. That’s why we call it playing an instrument. But we expect much more of ourselves as beginning writers. We expect to write like Hemingway, or Bradbury, or Stephen King. But what we should do is just relax, play around with the words and the ideas, and make mistakes—lots and lots of mistakes. Try writing it one way and if you don’t like the results, then try something else. Make the mistakes. Learn your strengths and your weaknesses. Find your own, unique voice.

We need to give ourselves the gift of allowing ourselves to make mistakes—without judgment. I mean, you don’t judge every wrong note you play when you learn the saxophone. If you put yourself down every time you make a squeak, you’ll never learn to play. Just notice the mistakes and keep going. Next time through, try writing it a different way. What works? What doesn’t? Why? Do you see just how large this gift is? When you are able to separate yourself, the person, from the written work, you’ll learn so much from those precious mistakes. And you can be thankful for the mistakes because they bring you so much closer to the writer you want to be.

In order to be a great writer, of course, or any writer at all, for that matter, we have to put in our time—pay our dues and practice. We have to sit our butts in our chairs and write. Like the cellist who will never get better without taking the time to play, the writer will never improve if he doesn’t do the work. No amount of talking about being a writer or critiquing or reading will get you there. It’s all about the hours in the chair. 

One good side effect of this, though—regular hours in the chair lets the muse know where and when to show up.

Besides spending the time writing, I’ve learned that when gratitude becomes a daily focus, amazing things start to happen. I’ve seen this in my own life over the past couple of years. So now I want to extend this to my writing career. But what do I mean? How do you do it?

  • Make a list of the things you love about writing. Why do you do it? Why did you start writing? What makes you keep going? What parts do you absolutely love about the process?
  • Pick three things that you are most thankful for in your writing life. What are the three best things about the act of writing?
  • Write these three things on a piece of paper and tack it to your monitor where you will see it every day.
  • Get a stone, ring, necklace or some other symbol that you can carry with you throughout the day. Every time you touch this object, think about how grateful you are for your writing career. Close your eyes for a moment and think about what makes you happy. Maybe it’s that feeling when the words just pour out onto the page and you feel like they’re coming from a different place—like you’ve tapped into something bigger than yourself. Imagine yourself writing, the words just flowing through you. Let yourself feel the euphoria. Experience it as if it were real and happening to you whenever you touch the object. Get into the habit of doing this several times a day. At best your writing will flow better. At worst, you will spend several minutes a day feeling truly happy and content with your life.

So what’s it going to be? You can go through your writing journey feeling like you’ll never get anywhere—you’ll never be one of the greats—you’ll never find that one right story when all the planets align and something like Harry Potter will fall into your lap or pop into your head while you’re riding a train. You can count all the reasons you aren’t as good as some famous writer. Or you can spend your time feeling good about all you’ve learned and the progress you’ve made. You can be happy that you had a good session yesterday and confident that you will again tomorrow. You can enjoy the process.

The top three things that I’m grateful for:

  • All of my wonderful writing friends—those who critique my work, those who argue with me for hours over comma usage, and those who just let me vent when I’m having a bad day. Yes, these friends are any writer’s greatest asset and I’m forever grateful for my writing buddies.
  • Unfinished projects—even if my time is limited and I struggle to find time to work on my own projects, I’m so grateful they sit there waiting for me. My characters are so patient. They only occasionally wake me up during the night and prod me to get back to work.
  • Those brief moments of flow when the words just pour out onto the page. It’s as if the story is writing itself right in front of me. I cherish each moment and live for the next one.


Let’s all give gratitude a try and see what happens. I don’t know what will come of it, but what harm could it do? Let’s spend the next year working on improving our attitude of gratitude and see where we are next year.  

Children’s Books: The Art of Writing with Illustrations

by Charlotte Firbank-King
Storytelling is a passion, even obsession. It is deeply satisfying to captivate an audience with drama, pathos, violence, tranquility or fantasy—to be the master of imaginary characters. Above all, writers aim to please their readers (after listening to editors’ suggestions and working with them to succeed).
Unfortunately, this is not always true concerning book illustrations. Many authors seem to think that once the story is written, that’s it. They adopt a careless attitude, choosing an art style that only suits them. Art is subjective, so beware of falling into this mold.
Kids love color, yet we see illustrations in children’s books executed in quick pencil sketches. Why is that? The usual reason is simple. It’s cheaper to commission an artist to do pencil sketches rather than a complex work in acrylic, oils, pastel or gouache. Watercolors are also beautiful, especially when combined with ink. But with children, I want to stress that illustrations must have impact and instant appeal. Kids form a huge section of the reading audience. Even toddlers will roam bookshelves and choose what they want. It’s critically important to make sure the illustrations in your book stand out among millions of others.
Simplicity has its place, but as with brevity of words, the drawing must be brilliant in its economy. One does not get brilliant when the artist is paid little and required to dash off a dozen pictures. I urge writers of this genre to spend the extra money—or have fewer illustrations. Don’t sacrifice quality for quantity. A children’s book may be well written, but if the illustrations are mediocre or slapdash, the book will NOT sell well. In fact, illustrations are the “hook,” and then the story captivates, but the two must marry
Adults or young adults generally don’t want illustrations of what heroes or villains look like. They want to form their own picture. Small children, however, want to know what characters look like. Their imagination skills are still developing. But be very aware when deciding how the characters will be portrayed. Violence or overt evil should not be illustrated. Kids may have nightmares if that is the last thing they see before going to sleep. In short, be sensitive to young minds.
Here’s something else to think about. When a parent reads to a child, the child typically sits next to him or her, on the left or right. If the illustrations are sometimes on the left and sometimes on the right, the child is jumping up and down, running or crawling from one side to the other. But if the illustrations are always on the left or always on the right, the child gets to enjoy the illustrations without running back and forth.
When it’s impossible to pay the price for quality color illustrations, consider having the artist illustrate the story in pen (not a pencil sketch). The child can then color the pictures so he can choose how he wants his imaginary world to look. Coloring in is an abiding pleasure for kids and gives free-rein to their imaginations.
And finally, always test illustrations by showing them to kids before publishing—they will be your best and most honest critics.
(c) 2013 Charlotte Firbank-King. All Rights Reserved. 
Charlotte Firbank-King is a writer, editor, and artist. Her paintings have been sold and exhibited throughout the world and have been commissioned by the Johannesburg Zoo, the Witwatersrand National Botancial Gardens and the Zulu Schools Trust, among others. 

Beginnings

  By Rhonda Browning White
        
“Begin at the beginning,” the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” –Lewis Carroll, from Alice in Wonderland
            Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? If only that were the case! In truth, the beginning of any essay, story or memoir is often the most crucial part. It’s the part that causes a reader to decide whether to keep going, or to toss the book into a “not for me” pile and move on to the next one on the shelf. Fortunately, with a little work, you can write a strong beginning for your story that will hook a reader and keep her turning pages. Here’s how:
  • Don’t censor your first draft. The first draft of your story isn’t the time for revision. Let the ideas flow, let your characters chatter and discover themselves, explore the scenery around them, let the story surprise you. If it surprises you, chances are good it will surprise the reader, as well. There will be plenty of time for revision later.
  • Once you have finished your first draft, study the ending. The ending of your story should be evident in the beginning. Now I don’t mean that you should ruin the plot by telling how the story ends on the first page, but there should be enough foreshadowing, enough intimation, and enough clues to intrigue and to create a feeling of satisfaction when the reader reaches the last page.
  • Introduce tension on the first page. There must be yearning. What does your character want that she cannot have? Make sure your story raises important questions; the how, who, where, why and what of your plot. Create tension by introducing internal conflict (what’s happening inside the character’s mind) and external conflict (the big problem that is happening around them). By introducing tension early on, we motivate characters to act, and we motivate readers to keep reading.
  • Set the scene. Tell us where we are in place and time. Let us see the location through the eyes of your main character. I don’t mean describe the color of the wallpaper, the style of the draperies, the method of upholstery and texture of carpeting—unless these play an important part in the plot of your story. When you describe a setting, describe it as your character might. For example, an architect might describe a horizon as a level foundation, while a tailor might describe it as a smooth seam.
  • Introduce the character. Give us a sense of the character’s voice. Does he speak in lofty terms, or does he use colloquialisms? What does he look like? More importantly, how does he see the people and the world around him? Dig deep into your protagonist’s thoughts to reveal character and emotion.

If you’ve included each of these elements in your first scene—preferably on your first page—then you have a solid story beginning. You’ve asked questions that the reader will want answered. You’ve piqued interest. You’ve created a character that is anything but cliché. Congratulations! You’ve crafted an excellent beginning!  

It’s NaNoWriMo Time Again!

(Image Courtesy of National Novel Writing Month)

by Sandy Tritt


This is NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month. Every November, thousands of people from every walk of life join to make writing a novel a priority. They set the goal of writing a 50,000-word novel in thirty days—one month. It’s a lofty goal, but thousands succeed every year. And, not only do they succeed in writing 50,000 words, many of them succeed well beyond that. According to NaNoWriMo.org, over 250 NaNoWriMo novels have been traditionally published. Over two hundred and fifty! Some of these have become quite well known, such as Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephants, Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus, Hugh Howey’s Wool, Rainbow Rowell’s Fangirl, Jason Hough’s The Darwin Elevator, and Marissa Meyer’s Cinder).
I’m going to be honest with you. Although most of our editors at IFW have participated in NaNoWriMo at least once, I never have. But there must be something in the air in November, because this past Friday night—November 1—after my family was snoring away, I snuck out of bed and returned to my computer. I turned it on and started writing a fresh approach to a novel I’ve been trying to write for years. It was there—the muse was whispering in my ear and I suddenly knew the character’s voice, knew how I needed to start this story that’s been on the back burner for many years.
What about you? Are you participating in NaNoWriMo this year? Have you ever participated in the past? If you did, did you finish? Did you end up with a novel? Tell us about it.
And remember—when you’re ready to have your NaNoWriMo novel edited, we’re here, standing by.

The Most Important Sentence

by Charlotte Firbank-King
editor, writer, illustrator
The most important sentence you’ll ever write is the first line of your book or novel. There’s nothing easy about writing that first line—but many times, that line will decide if the reader will continue reading or not. Here’s what that first line must do:
Hook the reader
Here is an example of an opening line—the hook:
The captain stood on the deck of his ship in torpid heat, slowly whipping his wife.
This was an example given to me years ago by a publisher, and I use it all the time. A number of things cause the reader to want to read on—things that hook them.
1) What era is it?
2) Torpid heat? Where is it happening?
3) Why is the captain whipping his wife? More curiously, why is he whipping her slowly?
The reader wants these things answered. They are almost compelled to read on. Hook your reader in one or two sentences. 
Hit the ground running
The first line is the most important part, next the paragraph, then the first page, but having said that, if the first five pages aren’t fantastic you will lose the reader. Most certainly, you will lose the publisher or agent. They’re very busy and can tell in the first paragraph if they want you or not. Then they are more convinced if the first page is great. However, that interest wanes rapidly if the second page doesn’t deliver, but they will probably forge on for another page. After that, if you don’t continue to deliver, it’s all downhill and your manuscript ends up on the slush pile.
The opening paragraph doesn’t have to be a mother throwing her ten children into shark infested water—tempting as the thought might be when your brood is that big—but it does have to grab the reader’s attention and hold it.
Smaller hooks at the ends of chapters.
You want your reader to keep turning pages, so end each chapter with a hook that will drag them to the next one. After a gut-wrenching chapter the protagonist finally makes it to safety. You slow the pace, bring the reader down until they are ready to fall asleep and read another day. But then you drag them right back into the action. They must read on.
Emma sagged to the floor in lifeless air, safe at last. Then a door snicked open and icy fingers caressed her neck. End of chapter. A bit dramatic, but you get the picture. You could drag it out and switch to another character in the next chapter, but you might piss your reader off, so choose your moments with care.
Four examples of opening lines:
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed. (Stephen King, The Gunslinger.)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of time, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.)
They shot the white girl first. (Toni Morrison, Paradise.)
Lolita, the light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. (Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita.)
Examples of first paragraphs/lines from our editors
Our team of editors is immensely versatile and talented. The nature of their job requires them to work in different genres, which they do with amazing ease and skill. Although our editors can work in multiple genres, they can’t work in every genre, which is why IFW needs editors versed in various genres. On a personal level, they each write in their preferred genre.
Sandy Tritt, short story, “Cousin Mary”:
What is the truth? And is the truth always more honest than fabrication? More noble? I don’t know. It makes my head hurt. But here I sit at the Crystal Cafe, waiting for my sisters. Stuffed inside my purse is the truth. The real truth. And I have just a few minutes to decide if I will reveal it.

Jimmy Carl Harris, “I Come to the Garden Alone,” the first story in his short story collection, Wounds that Bind:
 I buried you next to him.

Jessica Murphy, “Nature’s Conscience”:
 I awoke with a sharp pain in my back, sprawled across what felt like cables.
Sandi Rog, Yahshua’s Bridge:
 Alexander held his breath as the man he’d never called Daddy forced him underwater.
Patsy Evans Pittman, Blood Kin & Other Strangers:
Deena stood in the kitchen of the house where she grew up, giving the creamed tomatoes one last stir. It was hot as blazes and the window air-conditioner in the dining room didn’t help much. She blew the fringe of bangs out of her eyes, then swiped at the sweat on her upper lip with the sleeve of her over-sized WVU tee shirt.

Sherry Wilson, Second Beginning:
The cameras flashed as Danielle stepped out of the limo, her sights on the entrance of the Royal Albert Hall. The paparazzi swarmed around her like killer bees and she longed for a cloak of invisibility, if only for the short trip to the doors.

Rhonda White, Good Friends. Read the rest at Steel Toe Review: Contemporary Southern Arts & Literature – http://steeltoereview.com/2013/09/16/good-friends-by-rhonda-browning-white/:
She has a great body, my friend does, I’ll give her that. And I have no problem telling you she’s at least ten years younger than I am, and looks it.

C.F. King, All Things Carnal:
Thomas Gantry wore tolerance like a hair shirt, with grim determination. Daily, he did penance for Man’s sins. Self-flagellation was his redemption, and joy his nemesis.
As you can see, it’s important to start your story with a line that makes people want to read on. If you’re having trouble with this, let us know. We can help.
© 2013. Charlotte Firbank King. All Rights Reserved.