What is literary?

This is more of a poll than a post, so please bear with me.

I've been told by quite a few people lately that I have a literary quality to my writing. Aside from surprising (in the good way), it (as usual) made me think. What exactly about my writing is literary?

I don't know that anyone could answer that in specifics without also asking the next question: what exactly makes ANY writing literary?

I've heard some definitions-- it's more character-driven than plot driven. It's more fanciful and musical than others. It's more stylistic.

Maybe it's all of these things, but the truth is, I don't know exactly what it boils down to. I can't point my finger to any one quality and say, "That book is literary fiction." I do know that I've used the phrase "a literary quality to it" to describe other books, so I must have some idea.

Other genres are so easy to put into words. Advanced technology and/or spacecraft? Okay, that's sci-fi. Fairies and elves? Okay, that's fantasy. Someone dies and the main character has to solve the murder? Okay, that's mystery.

But how do you succinctly and accurately describe literary fiction?

No, seriously, tell me! What makes something literary to you?

GUEST POST: Why I hate Peter F. Hamilton with the Fiery Passion of a Thousand Suns

Bernice Mills is an as yet unpublished (just you wait, people, I am going to rock your world so hard...) author of many many novels, all of which suck. The one she's working on now has zombies, and doesn't suck. It bites.You may find her at http://jaggedrain.wordpress.com/ where she rants about live, love, the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse, and South African politics.

Yes, you heard me, a thousand suns. That’s a whole lot of fiery passion, you know.

And here’s why. I am, once again and against my better judgement, reading the Night’s Dawn trilogy. I am now almost finished with Book 3, and I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in three weeks.

For those of you who don’t know, the ND trilogy is truly massive. And by that I mean every one of the three books is fatter than the entire Lord of the Rings. Many, many words.

So B, you might say unto me, why the hate? If you don’t want to read four thousand plus pages of science fiction with a side of ghosts, DON’T.

Of course, it’s not that simple. Because Peter F. Hamilton is AWESOME. The ND trilogy is so beyond anything I’ve ever read, SF-wise, that I cry when it’s finished, because there’s no more! I only have one real problem with the whole thing, and that is this: PFH is a terribly inconsiderate author. Most books, you see, have a part where they slow down every couple of chapters (personally, I think this is so that their devoted fans will actually have some time to sleep, but that’s just my humble opinion.) Nobody can really write all those words and have them all be equally gripping, right? Right? Wrong. This evil, evil man has gone and written a massive trilogy, of which every single word is totally action-packed and riveting, and every character is fully realised. No cardboard characters here, just real people. Real people with some serious, serious issues. And Al Capone. Al Capone, for crying into my coffee! Who writes books about spaceships and antimatter and bio-engineered space habitats and then puts in Al Capone and ghosts?

Peter F. Hamilton, that’s who.

And I consider it my civic duty to warn you, my dear readers, of this vile personage and his evil fiction. Which I have now done.

Go on, pick up the Night’s Dawn trilogy. I dare you.

Consider yourself warned.

Terrifying

I'm currently reading Traveling With Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. The book is nonfiction- a mother/daughter account of writing and traveling. The first part of the book takes place before Kidd published Secret Life of Bees. I've only read a few pages, but already this passage jumped out at me:


I felt like my writing had gone to seed. A strange fallowness had set in. I could not seem to write in the same way. I felt I'd come to some conclusion in my creative life and something new wanted to break through. I had crazy intimations about writing a novel, about which I knew more or less nothing. Frankly, the whole thing terrified me.


I think most of us start off our novel writing knowing virtually nothing about the craft. And looking back, beginning the endeavor was terrifying. In fact, staring at the first blank page as I began my second book was also pretty petrifying. I'm sure I'll feel the same way when I start Book #3.

What about you? Was starting your novel terrifying? Or is another stage of the process scarier? Querying? Finally seeing your book on the shelf?

Writing Useful Reviews

Back when I worked as a reporter for a newspaper, one of my jobs was to write the weekly movie review for the entertainment section. I loved this gig, seeing as it meant I got to sit in the local theater for two hours and get paid to watch a movie. Still think that's a cool job, as is writing reviews of books.

However, just because it's easy to write a review of a book or movie now -- most everyone has a blog, writes reviews on Amazon, etc -- doesn't mean that everyone writes useful reviews.

Now, some of you might (or might not) be asking what I mean by calling a review "useful." Take a recent review on Amazon for Boneshaker by Cherie Priest.

4 of 14 people found the following review helpful:

Mediocre; 2.5 stars, January 10, 2010

By	R. Albin (Ann Arbor, Michigan United States) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Boneshaker (Sci Fi Essential Books) (Paperback)

A promising idea - steampunk in the mid-19th century American northwest combined with a zombie theme. The execution, however, is poor. The plot is a mechanical regurgitation of an average zombie movie, the characters aren't particularly well developed, and there simply isn't enough fleshing out of the parallel universe. Priest is not a poor writer, as the quality of prose is more than adequate, and indeed, better than quite a few popular books. The lack of imagination and rigor in working the parallel world, the complete lack of humor, and the jaded subplot concerning the heroine are simply inadequate.

I loved the book, so we're separating my opinions for a second. Deconstructing this review, I can tell you two things: 1) the reviewer expected a lot more than he felt he got and 2) that he praises the author while slamming the work.

Notice the stat above the review though -- only 4 out of 14 respondents found this review helpful in making their decision about the book. Why, perhaps do you think this is?

My own theory is that the review writer offered no specific examples of what he disliked about the book. When composing a review of anything, generalizations are the enemy of usefulness. Here's another review of Boneshaker, taken from the same two-star level:

15 of 19 people found the following review helpful:

apparently I'm the voice of dissent, January 30, 2010

By	NickelDiamer (Philadelphia, PA USA) - See all my reviews

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: Boneshaker (Sci Fi Essential Books) (Paperback)

Pros:

Compelling setup and central mysteries. Thought the story between the lead protagonists was reasonably well done.

Cons: Author did not care to develop her world.

Example - Head villain has a scary right hand man, as is typical of adventure stories. He strikes fear into the hearts of the locals. Yet in the final battle, he appears briefly and avoids the final confrontation. Why introduce him? The secondary characters are compelling, until they're abandoned. The lead fighter amongst the good guys appears to be dying, yet we're led to believe he might be saved by 19th century medicine?

Additonally, the central threat within the town (the zombies dubbed rotters) are never well developed. Minnericht can send them at his enemies, but loses control of them in the end. Why? They run the streets of the city, forcing the human residents into a subterranean existence, yet they can be repelled by bonfires? Moving a block or two in the city calls up hordes of rotters, yet the leads can linger in a house for nearly an hour? And what of the citadel like fort within the walls? Everyone agrees it's safe from the rotters, yet it's abandoned.

But the biggest problem with the story: it hints early on that living within the city walls is near suicidal (and even life in the outskirts is pretty illogical), yet no compelling reason is ever provided for why the residents stay. It's apparently not too difficult for humans to leave the city. Yet many reasonably upright citizens have spent a decade or more running for their lives from the rotters while being manipulated by a mad professor. Say what? I know the setting is an alternate history where the civil war rages on, but America is a big and open country in the late 19th century. People set out for the plains and southwest on a regular basis. Yet cleaning contaminated water all day or relying on filter masks to step outside is the best existence these people can imagine?

The beauty of sci-fi/fantasy as a genre is the ability of authors to create worlds that operate on their terms. But there need to be terms. The whole project feels adrift.

Nearly all the people who read this review found it helpful. Why? Because of those same specific examples that I mentioned before. This reviewer mentions clear points at where he felt the book fell flat and why he feels that way. He also instinctively performs my second point -- people will not find a completely negative review nearly as useful as they find a review with a grain of positive mixed in.

The illustrious Nathan Bransford uses the following formula for critique -- positive, extremely polite constructive criticism, and positive. He calls it the sandwich method, and I propose that a similar method be followed when writing a useful review:

Positive -- Say what you liked about the book/movie, if anything and why

Negative -- Say where the book/movie didn't work for you and why

Positive -- Say something else you liked about the book/movie and why

The end result of all this is to craft the most useful review you possibly can. Why is this important? Well, in the words of Boston Globe movie critic Ty Burr, he writes reviews to turn people on to something they might not have thought of before. And that, dear readers, is what a useful review can do.

Why Blogs Could be Harmful to your Health

Some rules are meant to be followed, others to be bent/ignored, and some are just bullshit. Figuring out which is which, now that's the damn challenge.

Don't use adverbs. Don't swear. Don't head hop. Don't write about vampires anymore. Do write about angels, merman, sprites with kites, or whatever other bullshit faerie creature's hot atm. Do write XX,XXX words for XX genre. Do omit needless words... good luck figuring that out. Do start in media res. Don't start waking up (The Road, The Hunger Games), Don't do prologues...

After awhile, there are enough rules that the box/prison is clearly defined. If you haven't checked out Michelle Argyle's recent post, I'd highly recommend it, because the video she links to captures what's wrong with rules far better than I can.

Doesn't mean we should shun all rules (that 400k novel's not gonna sell for an FTA), but don't let creativity be stymied by others, otherwise the artistic process can become a stressful chore... and then why do it anymore?

The Benefit of Critique

It should be pretty obvious what the downsides to critique are. I think I've mentioned them enough in my personal blog that I don't feel the need to go over them again here. Besides, we're writers, right? We can all imagine what the negatives are.

So for this post I thought I'd go ahead and do the positive spin thing and share what I think are some of the less obvious benefits of critique.

It helps you figure out that you're not crazy.

(Or, as Taryn put it earlier today, it helps you figure out that you are).

There's a definite validation that comes with critique. Either you're right, or you're wrong. As long as you can recognize, accept, and grow from being wrong, they're both good feelings.

It gives you a reason to keep writing.

Having someone to be accountable to for why you don't have pages done may be the only push you need to keep going. Sometimes it's too easy to put writing off until later because someone else might not be waiting to read it (at least, pre-book deal). With a critique group, someone definitely is waiting to read it.

It lifts you up when you're low-- and brings you down to Earth when you're, you know, out there.

A critique group can have a magical effect on your soul. And I don't mean to sound sappy, but it's true. Feeling down about your writing? Let them tell you it's good. Or, if you are truly convinced you have written the next Romeo and Juliet, let them gently tell you it's not so. Either way, you are improved for the experience.

It reminds you why you write.

Someone else will like your writing other than you. That, in and of itself, makes it all worth it. In that moment, who cares about agents and editors and NYT bestseller lists? Well, okay, I'll admit most of us probably still do. But for someone else to see right to the heart of your story and come back with a smile on their face is the best feeling in the world. We write for people, not just the titles of agents and editors and faceless lists. People read our stories, and so it's people that matter.

Write for people.

Go out there and get critiqued!

GUEST POST: The Cutting Table

Ali Cross is an award-winning author of YA and MG sci fi and fantasy. She likes to say that her stories transcend the ordinary because the heart of them are based in reality yet they take you places you’ve never been before. A Canadian maritimer, Ali now lives in arid Utah with her husband and their twin boys. You can find Ali at her blog (alicross.blogspot.com) on Facebook (facebook.com/happygrrl) or on Twitter (twitter.com/ali_cross).

Shortly before I’d finished my first novel, and before I ever dared call myself a writer, I took a local continuing education class on fiction writing. One night we had a guest speaker, Ken Rand (1946-2009), who spoke to us about self-editing, particularly cutting the fat.

So before I’d even acknowledged that my precious collection of words-turned-full-length novel might not actually be perfect, I’d already learned the value of going after your precious words with a hatchet. Cutting is not a pleasant experience. No matter how Lizzie Borden you are, no one likes to remove the words they slaved over laying down. And yet, cut we must.

Recently, a friend asked me to have a look at her manuscript to see what could possibly be deleted as she needed to eliminate about 20% of her words in order to fit more comfortably into her genre. She’d already been through the book and felt she’d cut everything she could.

And that’s where I came in.

Here’s her first two paragraphs, before I pared them down:

“You’ve come a long way, Mouse,” Kira said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was sarcasm, of course. It had been six months to the day since her mother left town with her boyfriend, leaving Kira with an empty apartment, no job and nowhere to turn. Her last words were the definition of the nickname she’d had for most of her life. Mouse wasn’t the loving term of endearment she grown up hearing, but referred to Kira’s weakness and the fact that she was always under foot. She’d been crushed by the revelation. And the nickname no longer held any kind of sentiment, but mocked her way of life.

Instead of proving her mother wrong by being strong and independent with visions of success in the real world, she’d become exactly what she swore she’d never be. From her mousy red hair to her worn-out sneakers, she was her mother’s daughter. Kira had turned inward, rarely venturing outside the tiny one-bedroom farmhouse except for school and the necessities. If it hadn’t been for her friend Lydia helping her with a job and a place to live, Kira would be on the streets. (194 words)

And here’s the slimmer version:

“You’ve come a long way, Mouse,” Kira said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was sarcasm, of course. It had been six months to the day since her mom left town with her latest boy-toy, leaving Kira with an empty apartment, no job and nowhere to turn.

Kira used to think mouse was a term of endearment—until she’d overheard her mom talking to the boyfriend about her runt-of-a-daughter who was always underfoot. She’d wanted to prove her mother wrong by being strong and independent, but instead she’d become exactly what she swore she’d never be. From her mousy red hair to her worn-out sneakers, she was her mother’s daughter. (112 words)

**

In the end, the decision of what to keep and what to actually cut is up to the author, but sometimes you just can’t see which of your own words you can part with. But once you practice cutting, it gets remarkably fun and easy—like a game to see how many words you can cut this page/editing session.

We all love our words, that’s why we put them there. But sometimes our words can get in the way of the story. Think of what a gift you’ll be giving your readers (and the ultimate success of your book) if you can strip away all the extraneous stuff to reveal the story within.