Tag Archives: Adria Laycraft

What an enlightening month November has been! If you ever wanted a crash course in what makes writing the best or the worst, this was it.

There is so much to learn about writing craft and storytelling from the masters yet we can learn equally from writing that doesn’t engage us. Deciding on the ‘best’ means we need to understand why we like what we do and what constitutes the best for each of us (Kristin Luna). It also means not disregarding other forms of fiction because the best stories use elements of both literary and commercial fiction and knowing how each works makes us better skilled writers (Susan Forest).

Elements in the best writing includes:
precision of word choice, great imagery and detail plus an author who gets right into his character’s heads (Clancy); a grasp on multi-sensory prose which like a dream, makes the fantastical normal and lifts the reader to a place of wonder (Brenda Sawatsky); cliffhangers and when multiple story lines crash together in a maelstrom of calamity at the end of a book (Evan); well executed diverse fiction that helps the reader understand the world we live in and cultivates respect (Kim May); story matters and being a good storyteller with proper pacing and resolutions is key, but before telling the story, think about how much you can tell us by each word, each sentence, and the beauty you strive for in bringing them together (Colette); it’s not just about the protagonist against the antagonist but about how every character interacts with every other character (Jace Sanders); heroes aren’t heroes all the time. They are just humans with something about them that is extraordinary, and the more flawed a character is, the more human they seem (Leigh Galbreath); the best writing has characters who strive for themselves along with sentences that soar on their own (James Van Pelt); successful prologues convey information without being an info dump and they promise a story/writing style upon which they deliver (Ace Jordyn); a consistent background which functions almost as another character, widening the options for the protagonist’s conflict along with psychological realism where characters behave consistently (Al Onia); the key to the ‘best’ has less to do with perfect prose, and more to do with story impact when what we’re writing matters, emotions rise up, and the reader can feel it (Adria Laycraft).

What constitutes the worst writing includes:
meandering prose that loses the reader and is boring and there’s no beginning, middle or end and no characters to invest in (Clancy); it’s a bad idea to mislead readers about what kind of story you are telling readers for pick up books because they’re hoping for a certain type of experience. (Mary); when writers grab hold of a culture’s cool elements—Samurai swords, martial arts, ninjas—and throw the rest out the window because the history, philosophy, sociology, and traditions are so intertwined and influential on the cool elements that you can’t separate the two and do it justice. (Kim May); it’s not possible to root for a guy who seems like a walking pity party or if the main character lacks any sense of wonder (James Van Pelt); prologues don’t work if they create expectations that the book doesn’t meet either in story content or style, if they’re an info dump or if they are used to foreshadow or tease (Ace Jordyn); when writers betray the promises set in the beginning of the book and shatter the reader’s bond with the story (Frank).

So how can we judge how we each measure up at being the best? We can compare our work to those we admire and like to read or, as Nathan Barra observed, we can learn by comparing our earlier works to our current ones and being motivated by that.

In case you want to follow up on any of the excellent points I’ve summarized, here is a list of November’s blogs. Just click on the title and the link will get you there.

Happy reading and writing!

Lee Child vs the Boring Clancy
Not What I Signed Up For Mary
The Dreamer Brenda Sawatzky
In Loving Appreciation of the Story Swirl Evan Braun
The Emperor and the Impostor Kim May
Kneeling in the Silver Light Mary
The Importance of Word Choice Colette
Learning from the Masters Jace Sanders
A Tale of Two Readers; or, Everybody Wins Kristin Luna
The Not So likeable Hero Leigh Galbreath
Pluck, Pity Parties and Prose – What I Like Best and What Doesn’t Work James Van Pelt
SSWS Writing Scholarship: Should YOU Apply? Colette
Clive Cussler, Guy Gavriel Kay and DJ McIntosh are Masters at … Ace Jordyn
Writing What I Like to Read Al Onia
Writing Stories that Matter Adria Laycraft
Looking for Progress in a Mirror Nathan Barra
Don’t Break Your Promises Frank
Using the Tools of Both Literary and Commercial Fiction Susan Forest

Writing Stories That Matter

November 24, 2014

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Craft & Skills Guest Posts Reading Writing Tools No Comments

A guest post by Adria Laycraft.

How do you decide what constitutes the best writing out there? ‘Best’ is so subjective. Some love the endless descriptive prose of Tolkien and others go to sleep. Guy Kay is by far one of my favourites for beautiful writing, but again some just can’t get into his style. Some love to devour long series and hate short fiction, other relish the small bites and can’t settle into anything over novella length. Then there are the stories we all seem to agree on, and that makes a hit. So what qualifies as the best?

We could decide that the best are the ones who made it big–Rowling, King, and Martin, for example. While they often get criticized for prose blunders or formulaic writing or ignoring deadlines, they must be the ‘best’ if they’re the household names with heavy pocketbooks, right?

Or we could look at best as award-winning–Robert J. Sawyer is the only Canadian to ever win the Hugo, the Campbell, and the Nebula. He’s also lost far more Auroras than he’s won, as he often jokes, but he still has quite a few. So does that make his writing the best?

Or we could look at critical acclaim, high-rated reviews, whatever criteria we want. My point is, who decides what’s best? How do you define the word? And, more importantly, which kind of best are you personally striving for? It’s good to consider what constitutes the best in your own viewpoint when you think about where you want your writing to lead you. Winning contests might require a different mindset and writing style than earning rave literary reviews.

All I can give you is my own version of ‘best’, of course.

In my opinion the best writing fills the reader with a sense of awe and creates emotion in the reader. How does the line go? If the author’s not crying, the reader’s not crying.

When I’m reading as an editor, it’s not that I demand to be made to cry, but I’d better be feeling something along the way. This is why you might see a rejection letter saying, “We like your work but don’t feel we can get behind this piece in particular. Please continue to submit in the future.” The plotline is there, the prose is acceptable … those editors are just hoping you will hit the emotional mark at some point in your practice as a writer.

I love stories that catch me up with mystery and magic, and weave it together with threads of perfect description, subtext in foreshadowing, and plot twists that deeply affect the characters. They pull me along with those believable and adorable pretend people that we will never forget. The characters have to mean something to the reader for any story to fly, and the ‘best’ in my opinion make an art of this. My favourite examples include Frodo and Sam, Harry Potter, Katniss, House Stark, and Jilly Coppercorn of Newford (a place that becomes a character in its own right.)

What I see as the best writing is the kind that builds loyal readers that trust the author to deliver that same emotion again and again but always with fresh new stories. These are the authors that readers seek out on purpose.

There are far too many to ever do justice to here. Some fine examples I recommend studying include Patricia A. McKillip for the way she weaves fairy tales for a modern reader, or Charles de Lint for his mythical urban fantasy that allows us into the raw emotion of street life, or Guy Gavriel Kay for his lyrical historical fantasy that uses language and subtext and poetry to create incredible vistas of literary landscapes. Some newer finds for me include Michelle Sagara (try out her book Silence for a real emotional punch), and Maggie Stiefvater (The Raven Boys), for a teenage viewpoint that doesn’t feel juvenile. All of these authors made an emotional impact on me.

So my ‘best’ has less to do with perfect prose, and more to do with story impact. Don’t get me wrong … I love it when word choice and rhythm all come together to make the story sing. But it’s meaningless to me if there is no emotional connection beyond the pretty words.

All we can do as authors is to write stories that matter to us. When what we’re writing matters, the emotions rise up, and the reader can feel it. No matter what else you might do right or wrong, I believe that’s the key to the best stories.

Adria Laycraft is a grateful member of IFWA and a proud survivor of the Odyssey Writers Workshop. She co-edited Urban Green Man, which launched in August of 2013 and was nominated for an Aurora Award. Look for her stories in Card’s IGMS, the Third Flatiron Anthology Abbreviated Epics, the FAE Anthology, Tesseracts 16, Neo-opsis, On-Spec, James Gunn’s Ad Astra, and Hypersonic Tales, among others. Author of Be a Freelance Writer Now, Adria lives and works in Calgary as a freelance writer and editor. Visit her at: http://adrialaycraft.com/

Never Pitch to an Editor in the Bathroom

July 19, 2014

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Business Conventions Guest Posts Networking The Writing Life No Comments

A guest post by Gerald Brandt.

I have been going to World Fantasy Conventions since 2008, when it was held in Calgary, Alberta. I had been “seriously” writing for a couple of years before that, alone in my office, churning out mediocre short stories, gathering rejections.

That year, I happened to go to a local convention, and met some other science fiction and fantasy writers. As a group, we decided that since the World Fantasy Convention was in Canada, we had to go.

Once there, I attended every panel I could, took copious notes, and got to bed early so I could start the next day fresh. I did manage to meet a few people, and made a couple of friends. All in all, a great convention.

I have learned how to do conventions better since then.

Out of our group of five that attended that convention, only two of us are still writing, and published. Of the people I met in Calgary, one became part of our little convention group, and we ended up hanging together at every convention we attended. This story is about Adria, Sherry, and me.

The 2010 World Fantasy Convention was held in Columbus, Ohio. All three of us were able to attend. We flew in at different times and met in the heart of every convention—the bar.

Columbus was beautifully set up, with the bar situated in an open area, right between the room the panels were held in and the hotel rooms. Everyone, no matter where you were going, walked through the bar to get there. Columbus is where I learned how to do conventions.

On Saturday night, the second day of the convention, two parties were held. There were probably more, but these were the ones the three of us were interested in. One was held by a small press out of Calgary: Edge Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing was doing a reading and a book launch.

Across the hall from Edge was the Tor party. Tor parties always start out as private affairs. After a couple of hours, they open their doors to the general riffraff. People like me.

Adria, Sherry, and I went to the Edge party after a late dinner and listened to some of the readings. A bit later, the Edge party got into full swing and we chatted with the people we knew, introduced ourselves to the ones we didn’t, and generally had a good time.

At one point, we ducked out to the hallway and walked into the Tor party. It was a zoo. There were so many people milling around the two-room suite, we could barely breathe. After about ten minutes, we gave up and went back to the Edge party.

Sometime around 1:30 in the morning, we decided we’d had enough. We were exhausted and ready for our beds. The hallway was relatively quiet by then, and we chatted as we waited for the elevator.

Someone in our group, I’d like to think it was me, but I doubt it, decided our night shouldn’t be over yet. One of the reasons we were here was to meet editors and agents, and from what we’d heard, the Tor party was the place.

We left the elevator and went back to Tor’s room. It was still full, but not nearly with the same amount of people as earlier. Even with all the people, there was no one we knew.

Throwing caution to the wind, we ventured in deeper, eavesdropping on a conversation here and there. Eventually, someone approached us, a smile on his face and a drink in his hand. He had noticed we didn’t have any drinks, and he knew where they were. Did we want one?

Hell, yeah!

The drinks, as it turned out, were stored in melted ice in the bathtub. Our generous host plopped down on the toilet and reached into the cold water, asking us what we wanted. As he pulled out our bottles and tried to get them open, he asked what we did.

Me, being the shyest of the group, didn’t answer. Sherry stepped forward and made the introductions. We were authors, she said, from Canada. The next words out of her mouth were “And what do you do? Do you write as well?”

The response was a quick no. “My name is Paul Stevens,” he said. “I’m an editor for Tor. Do you have anything to pitch?”

After a second of embarrassed silence, Adria took over, calmly pitching her latest novel while Paul sat on the toilet looking up at us. Sherry was next. By the time it was my turn, Paul had already stood up, and we moved outside the bathroom where I finished my pitch (with some help from Sherry. Thanks!).

They always say never pitch to an agent or an editor in the bathroom. It’s rude. It’s uncouth. But what are you going to do when the editor asks? That’s easy. Pitch your heart out as he sits on the toilet.

We each got a full request that night, meaning Paul was either very kind-hearted, or we pitched pretty damn well.

* * *

As a follow up on where to spend your time at a World Fantasy Convention, it’s obviously the bar. You’re not there to get hammered and make a fool of yourself, you’re there to meet and talk to as many people as you can. Don’t try to sell yourself or your book. Just relax. The people you meet there—agents, editors, other authors—will all remember you, though it may take a couple of conventions. They say it’s not who you know in this business, and they are right. But if these people see you, year after year, and put a face, a personality, to the submission that crosses their desk, it helps put a human element into what can be a very difficult process.

I’ll see you at World Fantasy 2014, in Washington, DC.

Guest Writer Bio:
Gerald Brandt has spent most of his life dealing with computers, from programming to administration. At other times, he has flown airplanes, climbed sheer rock faces, been a famous mascot, waitered, flipped burgers, sold flowers, and learned kung fu. Born in Berlin, he grew up in Canada and gladly calls it home with his two kids, beautiful wife, and a shedding cat. Gerald is a long-time member of the Backspace Writer’s organization, and a founding member of Poverty of Writers, a local critique group. He can be found on Facebook and Twitter as geraldbrandt. http://geraldbrandt.com