Wow, I’ve managed to ramble for 100 blog posts already! No published book yet, but lots of new knowledge and insight from my trials and errors.
I had a chance to share some of what I’ve learned with Jennie, my book coach. She asked if I could help her prepare for an interview she was giving about the role of a book coach. Here’s her request:
[The interviewer’s] questions are around this idea of trust — how do you trust a coach — and also, why CAN’T I do it by myself?? I could talk about this for DAYS of course, but since you have just experienced this transformation — and in such a compressed period of time — I would love to hear your answer to that.
What were you trying to do before that didn’t work? And what was the difference in hearing the feedback from me? And do you think your transformation is a result of your being READY to hear these lessons? I mean — not everyone is ready.
I’m sharing my response to Jennie because it summarizes my writing journey and reminds me where I’ve come from. There’s still a long way to go–but (dare I think it?) maybe I’m on the downward slope?
Here’s my answer to Jennie’s questions:
Ok, what was I trying to do that didn’t work? Write a book. 🙂
My history: years ago I started writing a novel—a contemporary retelling of Macbeth. I tried to put into practice what I’d learned on my own (and what I’d been teaching my students as a high school creative writing teacher: plot diagrams, character development, setting, description, sensory detail, showing not telling). I never really wanted to do it on my own—I’m not a DIY person for anything:), but I never found my answer for help. I signed up for community writing courses, but they focused on short stories and on prose writing and got me nowhere. So I’ve always been open to help.
I did what you’re supposed to: polished the manuscript, had it professionally edited, used Beta readers (even changing from a male protagonist to a female protagonist—talk about starting over). I listened to every piece of feedback I could get (even if I didn’t want to hear it). I researched how to write a query letter and then I researched literary agents. I got a few requests for partials and one for the full manuscript and I landed an agent! How thrilled was I! How disappointed when she couldn’t find a publisher and she seemed quite mystified, too.
But, I figured, if I did it once, I could do it again.
This time, I applied for a Humber College creative writing program and got accepted. That was my effort to get professional mentorship, which is what I always knew I needed. Why? Because I knew there were parts I was struggling with on my new novel. For example, plot. I had a kickass plot graph. Only, I wasn’t sure how to translate that into scenes. More importantly, I knew that I had to show the development of my character—I teach my students how to analyze character development, so I was surprised I had trouble writing it. I knew where my character was starting from and how she would change in the end, but I didn’t know how to show the “steps” she took to get to those realizations.
This surprised me because I hadn’t had these problems with my first novel—and then I figured out why.
William Shakespeare had done the hard work for me: he had given me the plot and even the character development. I simply echoed his story with twists of my own, which, while creative, turns out not to be the same as making up your own story from scratch.
The program wasn’t the perfect fit for me, no matter how supportive my mentor was. The advice I got was: write a “shitty first draft” and go from there. Well, I did that. Many a time. But by then, I’d wandered too far down the garden path.
I spent so much time trying to make the manuscript fit what I thought my mentor wanted and because I obviously didn’t understand what he was getting at, I floundered. I worked for years (working mom, trying to fit in writing when I could). I restarted, from scratch, at least three times. I literally cried when I thought I was almost finished my revisions, came to the end and realized that there was no good reason for the antagonist to do what he did at the beginning, which meant there was no reason for the journey or quest for my protagonist (still thinking that “what the character wants” was external). I was trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. Of course, I didn’t realize that until I met you [Jennie]. I had beta readers say the novel was good and they liked my prose.
So I wrote the best query I could and put it out there, fingers crossed. I got some very pleasant rejections, including that I had a good “voice” for my character, but obviously it wasn’t enough. I read advice online (sometimes that in itself was too overwhelming) which warned not to send too may queries. If you get all rejections, maybe you need to reevaluate. It was heartbreaking to think that three years worth of blood, sweat and tears would be for naught, so I told myself I needed help on my query letter.
That’s when I stumbled on your blog, describing your process in helping another writer, and I thought, that’s exactly what I need!
So, was I ready to learn? Yes. I’d been ready for years, but thought colleges and universities were my only hope—and that didn’t work out for me. I had been considering applying for an MFA in Writing, to try to learn what I needed to do to improve.
Until you came along, I thought I was doing everything right. Not right enough to get myself published, I knew, but I honestly didn’t know what else to try.
What you taught me was the missing link: story.
I believe that I knew how to write well—but I learned I didn’t know how to tell a good story.
You also pointed out to me something I couldn’t see because I was too close to it: my writing style, forged as a journalist, was all about telling, not showing. I honestly thought I hadn’t fallen into that trap. I would describe the mom with her hands on her hips, frowning, rather than say the mom was angry. Not telling? Check. I didn’t know until you pointed it out how I was telling the reader my character’s thoughts, not being inside her head.
Once I learned where I was going wrong, I just did what you told me to do.
The reason why you are so integral to my writing process now—why I would recommend any writer find a book coach—is the continual feedback. You helped me shape my story before I started writing it. Then you’re giving me feedback as I go along, to make sure I don’t veer off track. You see things I can’t. Oh, and you’re encouraging, which, as a writer yourself, you know is important because, well, to be frank, no one else cares.
How do you trust a coach? How did I know you should be the one I should turn to? Because I bought into your philosophy about what “story” is—something I suspected I knew little about but could never have articulated it before—and your process of understanding your story before you write. It just made sense to me. I felt like, finally, I see clearly now what I have to do.
Growing up, I was always jealous of my friends in sports because they had coaches to tell them exactly how to improve, and organized clubs that had a clear direction about how to get to the top. You want to play in the NHL? You follow these levels of competitive hockey and you get coached by the best coaches and if you’re good enough, you get your shot. Obviously, thousands of people fall away long before that and most don’t end up making it, but they always knew the path they had to take if that’s what they wanted.
Not me. Not for writing. My high school Writer’s Craft teacher said I had talent and that I’d go far. I applied to a Creative Writing program for my undergrad, but my practical-minded parents convinced me I’d actually be able to get a job as a journalist—not a fiction writer—so I listened to them. Ever since, I was on my own. I think I read every “how-to-write” book out there, but it wasn’t enough, because I needed someone to tell me about my specific work. I needed that one-on-one feedback. Like what my sports friends got from their coaches.
In a nutshell:
Why DIY didn’t work for me: I couldn’t see my own errors, no matter how much I was looking for them.
Why a book coach works for me: I have someone who’s knowledgeable, objective and encouraging to give me specific, detailed feedback on my work—not vague platitudes about writing in general.
Caveat: the writer has to buy into the book coach’s philosophy of writing.
The key: Story is about the character’s internal desire. Understanding that was the lynchpin that moved me forward.
The conclusion: hire a book coach!