Flashes and foraging: where story ideas come from

I was reading this interesting little article a while back about the flashes of inspiration that triggered 10 authors to pen their most classic works. The article really focuses on novels that arose out of a spontaneous image or idea that popped into the author’s head. Perhaps the most dramatic was Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s inspiration for 100 Years of Solitude. His sudden insight prompted him to turn his car around and drive his family home to work on his new book instead of continuing towards the beach vacation they’d been headed for.

Now, I recognize that many stories are born that way–bolts of lighting unexpectedly sent from Above, and so on–and it has certainly happened to me before. An editor will select a topic for me to write on (1200-1400 words by next Thursday on this theme, please!) and I’ll sit stumped about how to approach it in some way that isn’t stale and predictable. Hours (or days) later, I’ll try to get back to sleep after someone’s car alarm has gone off and–zing!–HaShem will pop an idea into my brain. (Insert here a sound effect to emphasize the moment.) Sometimes, a detail of a conversation or picture in a book will provoke an entire story to arise almost fully formed from my imagination, with little effort on my part. Yes, this does happen.

Most of the time, however, I forage for ideas. I’ll flip through science news for a new discovery or technology that sounds too impossible to be true. I’ll read three novels all of the same genre or subject, and then compare them. I’ll snip articles out of my HaModia or Mishpacha or Ami. I’ll browse the pages of my journal for wacky things my kids do or things kids fight about, or scribble clusters of words that a topic evokes from my mind.

Once I collect these ideas, they require careful combination. At times the way to do this comes through hard work, strategically arranging plot elements based on the needs of the assignment. Other times, I sit and contemplate them and then let the ideas sorta drift together until something sounds right. I’ll meld a new technology with a situation my children recently dealt with. I’ll transport the subplot from a novel I liked into a fantastic setting, then give it a different ending. Sometimes, after sampling the rough draft, I’ll recognize there’s a missing ingredient and have to hunt around for something that adds just the right flavor. It’s not like there’s no Heavenly assistance involved…it’s just a lot more dramatic, with more input on my part.

In the HaModia Sukkos 5773 story supplement (out today!), you’ll find a piece by yours truly that was generated in just such a way. Discovering that earthbound scientists will likely be exploring new planets via remote-controlled robots, I filed it away for future contemplation. (This isn’t the original article, but it was about the same subject.) After a lot of publicity last winter and spring about how the internet and smart technologies affect human relationships, I revisited the initial idea and found a way to blend the two concepts into an entertaining (I hope!) sci-fi story. I’m hoping the readers enjoy it. It will be my first piece for adults in a magazine with an international circulation!

What’s harder than writing 1000 words a day?

Well, the kids are all in school, so I no longer have any excuses. I’ve been sitting at my desk daily and attempting to crank out a thousand words. This seems to be a pretty common goal for writers, and I seem to make it most days. Okay, some days. The days I’m not editing the stuff I wrote previously.

I guess he didn’t make it to 1000 words today.

On Friday, I set myself a different goal. I had written a piece a while back that the members of my writing group liked. However, when trying to market the piece, the best match for the story was a magazine that has strict word counts for each of its departments. I could only submit to one department at a time, and the piece would only be accepted if it met the qualifications listed. At 1500-ish words, my story didn’t fit in either department that matched the subject matter.

I had a choice with this piece. I could either beef it up to 2000 words, or cut it to 800 words.

So, Friday morning, I sat down to cut 700+ words from my article.

The piece had been well-edited before, and there were few passive constructions or the like to tighten up. At various points, I despaired that I would ever succeed. However, the process was extremely educational, and I’ll share a few of its lessons with you.

1) Think about showing vs. telling. I was able to cut several places where I found I was both showing and telling. The showing was enough. Let the readers make a couple inferences. It’s good for them.

2) Consider, “What it the main purpose of the story?” In a novel, there are often subplots or backstory that add to the narrative. Even a short story will often contain these elements. But in the short, short story (yes, it’s an actual genre), and even more in flash fiction, you have room to keep only the story elements that push the main narrative along. Yes, my little subplot was funny. Yes, I’d grown attached to it. But did it support the main idea? Not so much. Thus, it landed on the chopping block. Off went a couple hundred words.

3) Occasionally, adding a line will help you cut a dozen–or even more.I added a new ending (partly suggested to me by my friend Devorah Talia) and was able to eliminate a huge final scene that took up another two hundred words, or so.

Snip, snip!

4) How many adjectives and adverbs do you really need? After reading an article a year or so ago, I’d eliminated many adverbs from my writing vocabulary, switching to stronger, more precise verb usage. I had hardly any adverbs modifying verbs in the article. However, I seem to cling to the use of adverbs that modify adjectives. In this piece, the biggest offenders were the words “really,” “very,” “so” and the like. Also, the improved choice of nouns and verbs removed the necessity of using many adjectives.

5) Read aloud several times. I had read this piece to myself dozens of times already. Reading out loud was a very different experience. I was able to discern unnecessary material more readily, and often could think of natural substitutions for certain wordy idioms I’d used. Breaks in between allowed me to see the words with new eyes each time.

I submitted the piece this morning after cutting one more word. Let’s hope the exercise helps me sell the piece! Even if it doesn’t sell, the editing practice will have served me well.

A seriously creative Jewish mom!

Happy 5773, everybody!

The L.A. Jewish Journal is profiling an acquaintance of mine, Leat Silvera, this week. See the article here. As readers of my blog know, I’m very excited to see anyone use their talents to bring light into the world, and I’ve long admired Leat because, (B”H, bli ayin hara) she is one of those people! First as a teacher, then as a homeschooling advocate, she’s tapped into her out-of-the-box thinking and skills to connect to children.

In her new project, Leat’s using her talents to bring beauty into one of the chief mitzvot of the Jewish holiday season: dwelling in a booth throughout the holiday of sukkot. Check out her website at leatsilvera.com.

Do any readers out there have plans to use their talents–artistic or otherwise–to bring light into the world this year?

Can you trust the reviews you read?

I mentioned briefly in last week’s post that authors have been hiring other writers to review their books and sometimes even to bash the competition. (This happens for reviews of all types, in fact, from hotels to toaster ovens.) Media coverage of this issue has been growing lately–see this revealing expose of the practice and this equally eye-opening explanation of how to detect faux reviews for details.

Since Judaism has an idea of geneivat hadaat–misleading knowledge as a form of theft–you’d think that the Jewish book world is immune to it. However, Jewish publishers and authors do buy reviews. Often, the review appears on an “advertorial page.” Perhaps this isn’t deceptive after all–it’s marketing, not true reporting–and so permissible under law, Jewish or otherwise, but the casual reader usually doesn’t know the difference.

Why is everyone making a whoop-dee-doo about this? Because people look at reviews for guidance about how to spend their money. Consumers expect reviews to be sufficiently objective to weigh the pros and cons of the product in question. Can you count on a review being objective if the author received money for it?

On the other hand, if an author sends you a copy of their baby (ahem, I mean “book”), then it’s clearly hurtful to turn around and bash the book publicly. If they are making the effort to market themselves, they want to protect themselves (hence payment offered for positive reviews). I can understand that authors are afraid to gamble on whether the people they ask to read their book will heap praise on it or tear it to shreds. However, we still get knocked back to my point above–consumers expect reviews to be trustworthy.

I’ve been approached recently by several different people to write reviews of their books, partly because I’m an author, partly because I’m a blogger, and partly because I (briefly) used to be paid by a magazine (not an author, not a publisher) to review books. Some have offered money, some have not. I’ve reviewed a few of these books, but I made some rules for myself so that people can trust my evaluations.

Rule #1 – I will accept money from a magazine or newspaper that prints a review, but not from the author or the publisher of the book.

Rule #2 – If you provide me with a free copy of your book, either in print or digitally, I will read your book. That’s all I can promise.

Rule #3 – If I like it, I’ll review it positively. If I don’t, I will not backstab you and write a bad review. However, I won’t write a good review about the book either–I just won’t review it at all. (So far, I’ve only refused to review one book sent to me this way.)

Rule #4 – If I have more than a passing acquaintance with the author, I’ll state it in the review.

I hope that others will adopt these rules, or similar ones, so that people can trust reviews again. After all, I’m a consumer, too.

Silence is golden: how to be a writer without harming others

Shimon, the son of Rabban Gamliel, said:

“I was brought up all my life among the Sages,

and I have found nothing as good for the body as silence…”

                                                                                                   (Pirkei Avot/The Sayings of our Fathers)

Sometimes a punch is less painful than a verbal blow.

Usually, when we hear about the value of silence, we think about what literally comes out of our mouths. According to Jewish law, before speaking, we’re supposed to chose our words carefully, and use them to teach, to learn, to express love and gratitude, to connect with people and with G-d.

However, as we become more conscious of our speech, we discover how often we use our words to accomplish the opposite. How many people have we offended because we mouthed off with the first thing that came to our heads? How often many times have we said something hasty and then wished we could take it back? Are there people who don’t trust us because we let slip their secrets?

If we’re lucky, we learn–like Rabbi Shimon, above–to value the word that is withheld as much or more than the one that is expressed.

Recently, I’ve noticed that sometimes silence can be golden when it comes to writing, too. It’s striking that many writers out there will justify misusing words for “art” or for profit. In the news lately, we’ve seen writers paid to produce reviews of books and others who write college and graduate school essays for a fee. Both are misleading their intended audiences.

I once read a novel that portrayed a beloved historical figure as a murderer. I guess the author thought it was was okay because it was just “fiction,” but the personage has living relatives. If she were living, she could sue, but because she’s dead, there’s nothing to protect her reputation.

And think about all the memoirists who paint vengeful, unflattering one-sided pictures of their nearest and dearest “because it’s the truth.” It might feel great to tell everyone you were mistreated by your drunken father, but how does your sister feel? And what if dad decides to become sober and you patch things up…how will you be able to retract the words you published for all the world to see?

It’s interesting, but in Jewish law, you can say something that could be harmful to a person’s reputation if it is for a constructive purpose–but ONLY if it is for a constructive purpose. If you have even the slightest thought of vengeance when you write a review, or you take the smallest grain of pleasure in describing your neighbor’s foibles, you are not allowed to share them. Imagine if everyone held themselves to that standard.

With the new year approaching (at Rosh HaShanah), I’ve been considering how much a writer has to say…and what shouldn’t be written. Even the non-professional writer has moments wishing they could push “unsend” after sending an email or drop a fishing line into the mailbox in order to retract the angry letter they’d just posted. Let’s hope we all channel beauty and purity into the world through our pens and our keyboards in the coming year.

More crazy ideas from yours truly

I’m sorta infamous among my friends for having lots of whacked-out, creative-but-slightly-off-kilter, usually (but not always) impractical ideas. Here’s my latest:

Rabbi Aryeh Leib Nivin–a motivational speaker/life coach/teacher/rabbi–speaks of everyone having a yeod, a unique life mission with which they are supposed to serve G-d (and people), and a tikkun, a soul correction they have to make in order to maximize their potential (by fulfilling their yeod). Also, a person has short-term lessons that must be learned as stepping stones to reach their yeod and tikkun. This self-development paradigm is very useful for those of us who want to build ourselves (especially now that we’re in Elul, the introspective month that leads up to Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur).

“That wacky Mrs. Klempner has some weird idea again!”

As I mentioned in a post last week, I’m going to be rewriting (yes, again!) the novel I wrote last year. One of the areas I want to focus on is character, really fleshing each one out better and more coherently. Many expert authors suggest strategies about developing character such as:

1) Learn about Myers-Briggs personality types and assign one to each of your characters.

2) Consider what each character most wants, most fears, their biggest secret, and what they have to learn.

3) Use drawing, cut-and-paste, or the like to assign an appearance for your character. Brainstorm their likes, dislikes, etc. Paste such items on your character chart.

4) Pretend to interview your character for a magazine.

All these strategies make sense, but they didn’t appeal so much to me. Then I thought, “Hey! Why don’t I apply Rav Nivin’s rules to fictional characters?” Assign a tafkid, a yeod, to each one, and a tikkun, as well?

So that’s what I think I’m going to be doing. Maybe not exclusively, but I think it will bring a Jewish approach to my mostly Jewish characters and subject matter.

Has anyone else out there tried “unorthodox” (pun definitely intended) ways of developing characters or doing other work that usually isn’t done in a “spiritual” or “religious” way?