Confession Time: I'm Mad

(PSA: mini York peppermint patties are like little tablets of ambrosia set with the flavor imparted from being served in the Holy Grail.) 

"The British have always been madly overambitious, and from one angle it can seem like bravery, but from another it looks suspiciously like a lack of foresight." -Ben Aaronovitch Whispers Under Ground 

I know nothing about the book from which Goodreads helpfully pulled the quote which towers above your page, but I do know that according to it, I must be British. See, I suffer from a distinct madness called Leaping Before I Look. It's part of my ENFP personality type, I know. The Inspirer: we see potential everywhere, in everything and everyone. We're probably most susceptible to plot bunnies, starting stories we don't finish, and generally sitting, like Daisy March, wearing a benevolent smile and announcing,

"Me wuvs evvybody!"

Thankfully, I've managed to more or less curb that impulse to "abandon stories in favor of a fresher idea". I hope to be a good mother someday. I've got to learn to see things through, right? Just so. But the bug called Inspiration bites me frequently and sometimes I careen past Caution, Sense, Logic, and the street-corner called Informed Consumer and thoroughly embrace an opportunity. It's a loveable failing, but a definite failing.

Last November I felt in a mood to write a short story and, because I don't like to write things that won't see the light of day, I did a quick Google-search on story-writing contests. In my delvings, I found an "essay contest" for an inspirational magazine. The essays requested were something along the lines of a letter from your one-hundred year-old self to yourself now. The idea was odd, struck my fancy, and produced something written in a fit of the writing-wiggles called "The Secret To Red Lipstick". Happily, there was no entry fee for this particular contest and the only thing I had to risk was rejection. If I was accepted, there was a $2,500 prize in view. I sent the thing in and literally forgot it. In January I happened to sort through my Google Drive files and see the essay. I read it over, recalled vaguely that I had entered some contest with it and never heard back, and closed the file and the memory. A few weeks later, I received an email in my inbox from a man of whom I'd never heard. When I read the thing, I was made to understand that the man in question was the editor-in-chief from Fountain Magazine (the contest-host). He wrote to inform me that he had discussed matters with his colleagues and, though my essay had not placed in the contest, they intended to publish "The Secret To Red Lipstick" in the next issue of Fountain. Thinking this was rather an unexpected and curious turn of events (and furthermore, having been reminded of the name of the publication to which I had submitted my piece), I decided to Google the magazine and see what sort of banner my words would fly under.

In a moment I was a puddle of laughter, dismay, tears, and hilarity on my bed while my sister looked on in some small concern. Dear reader, Fountain Magazine is a primarily Islamic publication focusing on science, literature, art, and inspirational fiction. I believe I am probably the only outspokenly-Christian writer who could accidentally land herself a gig in a Muslim magazine. After my initial shock and awe, I sent a few emails back and forth with the editor, discussing whether I was the best match for the magazine's goals, the fact that when I entered, I had accepted the small-print detail (who reads those?) that I had given the magazine permission to publish my story. We also discussed the fact that since my faith was so important to me, I would be given special permission to mention my religious affiliation in my bio-blurb. The editor was fantastically courteous, understanding, easy-going, and respectful and what had initially been a "what the heck?!" moment for me became a lesson learned. I had not researched the publication to which I was submitting my work. I did not read the Terms & Conditions. I had done absolutely nothing in the way of approaching the thing as a mature adult, and yet it ended up being a good experience. Why? Because of another person who did act like a mature person.

I learned that one must always take time to research, to learn the audience, and to be certain that one's work would be a good fit. But more importantly, I learned that there are ways to solve differences without compromising ground. The day I received the package with my copies of the issue of Fountain in which my article appeared (and my check), was a proud day for me. The layout was beautiful. My words were my own. And they had appeared, professionally laid-out and paid-for in an international magazine despite my lack of foresight. Hearken to this advice, chillens: do your research. But keep in mind that sometimes the mad-man wins in spite of his own idiocy.

Win an Inn! (if you can handle the stress)

Today is all about research...Making sure you do it, that is.

Oh, I know you are all absolutely brimming with good intentions. Those of you who write historical fiction have stacks eight books high about the era in which you've planted your words. Those who create entirely fictional worlds have read thirteen articles about world-building this morning and created three playlists for each district in the fictional world beside. Anyone who writes non-fiction gets the entire hat-tip because people can fact-check you. People can get on your case over the smallest thing. You must be perfectly accurate. You are very well-intentioned and successful and probably a better man than I, Charlie Brown.

I know all this. I've done my research. Wasn't that the whole reason Scotch'd the Snakes has been at a stalemate? Because of (lack of time and) a glitch with the murder weapon? I want to be sure that when I write a mystery, it is accurate, plausible, and realistic. So if it can't be accurate, plausible, and realistic I sometimes pause until I have worked it out. But there's this thing about life. Sometimes you think you've learned a lesson and you really have not learned it at all. Or at least, the corner you've learned is just the start of the rind of a large slice of watermelon and you are a tiny ant at your first picnic. Research. And we thought they just meant for your books. Turns out there's a lot more than that to the subject such as...

not entering contests till you research the publication into which it will go.

OR

not sending your manuscript to an agent till you are sure what kind of books they represent.

OR

not trying to pitch your YA book to a publisher who deals almost exclusively in women's fiction.

There are about eight-hundred-and-five ways to make oneself look stupid. You don't want to look stupid. Believe me. It isn't such a big deal to the person to whom you look stupid. I mean, it's a fair guess that they have seen plenty of writers make the same mistake. But it really feels low to get a reaction from your action and think, "Wow. Could have totally avoided that collision if I'd googled the weight of worms in Paraguay." Life will hand you certain tight situations that were unavoidable. It happens and you can't sit there and beat yourself up over it. But there are plenty of cases where a little circumspection warns you in advance of awkward situations to come, allowing you to be on the offense or, gasp, discard former plans and humbly retreat.
I'm the type of writer who is extremely enthusiastic about new projects. One of the reasons I love writing flash-fiction is that it allows me to take an idea and give it a moment in the spot-light without any commitment. I promise I am not this way in relationships. I could not star on The Bachelorette or anything, tossing out this week's boyfriend for next week's because he bought me pink lilies and I like them better than yellow roses.
Back on topic: flash-fiction and contest pieces allow me a chance to win laurels over being unfocused. That's my confession. Entering contests is a lot of fun. There's usually minimal work involved, I am allowed to do my best with very few rules, and I never have to hear about it again if I do not win. A 1500-word essay is a completely different creature than a novel you've committed to and can't find an agent to take. So I enjoy entering contests. Prize money is always welcome. Publication too. Can't argue with that, and it looks good on the resume. But I'm learning. I really am slowly learning to take into account all the factors and not go sailing off entering contests I don't expect to win only to find myself left with the consequences if I do. There's a contest running around to win the 210 year old Center Lovell Inn in Maine. The only requirements are that you write a 200 word, grammatically-correct essay with the prompt, "Why I want to own and operate a country inn," and send your entry with a fee of $125 to the judges before they choose the winner on May 21st.

The inn in question...

Other conditions include keeping it painted white with green or black trim, and operating it as an inn for at least one year after inheritance. Oh, and there's a nice $20,000 thrown in there to help jump-start your ownership and all the antique furniture and equipment, plus twelve acres of land. On first glance, I'm all in. Why wouldn't I want to win an historical inn in Maine valued at $900,000? I mean, I'll never know if I'm good at innkeeping till I try, and honestly, I could actually see myself running a quaint bed and breakfast. So I was tempted to write my two-hundred word essay and see what came of the thing. My brain immediately took off with the millions of story ideas such a year would provide. And even if I didn't win, I could certainly spin a novella out of "If I had won," right? Well, yes.

Having been recently burned by a lack-of-research experience, I decided I would not enter this contest unless I'd really thought it through and done my research. I talked with friends, with my mother, and found an article written a year after the current owner (Janice Sage) won the inn in an essay contest herself. Janice, who is selling the inn after running it for twenty-two years, "inherited" the place from its former owner in a similar contest. The man had run it for nineteen years and was, quite frankly, entirely over it which is why he decided to host his contest. In this 1995 article, Janice (then, Cox) and her husband Richard had run the inn for a year...eighteen hours a day, seven days a week...and gotten a total of three days off that entire time. She's selling it now because she is sixty-eight years old and weary of 17-hour days. The inn itself is a prestigious place, featured in Martha Stewart, the Boston Globe to name but a few of its fans. Not only is it a charming B&B, but the Center Lovell Inn also operates as a restaurant open to the public. Oh. A restaurant. A gourmet restaurant. With a full and licensed bar and wine-cellar.

Janice Sage and her husband had worked in the restaurant business for years and years before winning the inn. Since her last name changed and poor Richard is no longer in the picture, he either died and she remarried, or they got a divorce. Either way, I bet stress did it. And they were trained for this business.

I'm a nanny for heaven's sake.

Though I'd love the inn to happen to me, I don't think the inn would be ready for me to happen to it. And honestly, the most tempting part of it for me is getting to live in the inn...which I could achieve with a heck of a lot less trouble by saving up and road-tripping to Maine at the end of the summer. The 1995 article also mentioned burst pipes, temperatures plummeting to forty-five below, and a 1400-pound moose visiting the front porch. I quickly came to the decision that I had better not enter this contest. I have the most beastly good luck winning things and it would be just like me to accidentally win an inn and have to scramble together a business brain I do not have and chump it up to Maine to fulfill a year-long promise to a retiring innkeeper. I mean, my MERCY. I want the adventure. I'm jealous of the person who will get the stories and the characters and the perfect plot-setting for literally anything to happen. But I'm not the right fit for the inn. The inn needs a person who can raise it to even higher heights, not waddle it through a year and hope it isn't sunk six months in.

The moral of the story is this: do your research. It is only fair to the people you are pestering, whether agent, publisher, contest-judges, or otherwise, that you are prepared to see it all the way through to the end. If you aren't aware of the thing for which you're applying, you'd sure as sugar better be ready to face the embarrassment of being stuck with an inn in Maine and no business sense. And really, who needs that kind of negativity in their life?

Life-Hack for the Writer

In life, there are few things I like better than knowing that some of the people I love best sometimes take the short-cuts I love. There's a trend going around on Pinterest - how repetitive that feels! - of people posting these things called "life hacks". I don't exactly want my life hacked, but I think what it means is Ways To Do Things That Make Life Easier. Today, I'm here to give you a Writer's Life Hack from P.G. Wodehouse himself:

Ask for Help

We, as writers, value our independence. Some of us have self-published and are therefore terribly conscious of our space, our needs, our turf, and our lack of marketing reach. How short is the reach of an arm that lauds itself! (That sounds like some ancient proverb. It isn't. It's a new one I just made up but it thoroughly represents the trouble of marketing your novel on your word alone.) But I'm not here to talk about the difficulties of marketing your work. Independence. 

I am going to assume that each of you gets stuck in your writing process sometimes. Not writer's block, exactly (I heard someone say once that Writer's Block is a disease that affects amateurs), but the sticky mires of What The Heck Comes Next? For some of you it might be character creation, or the research that must go into your setting. For me, it's plot and structure. I can have all the bright baubles of humor, wit, sass, great characters, promising setting, and nothing for all these fine-feathered blokes to do. When you get to such a spot, it is quite easy to panic and figure that successful writers (or, on a bad day, "'Real Writers") never experience the same. I surely never assumed that someone like P.G. Wodehouse would ever have found himself short up on plot or, if he did, he drank some Jeeves-esque cocktail that jolted him out of it and into a success like Something Fresh.

Recently, I read P.G. Wodehouse: a Life in Letters edited by Sophie Ratcliffe. I found many interesting things among this prolific writer's correspondence, but the most surprising and, hence, most gratifying, was the number of times he begged plotting help from his colleagues and gave it to them in return:

"If you have a moment of leisure, here is a bit of a story that is bothering me. I want a tough burglar to break into a country-house and there to have such a series of mishaps that his nerve breaks and he retires from the profession. The conditions can be anything you like, - e.g. Pekingese on the floor who bite his ankle, etc. It ought to be one of my big comic scenes like the flower-pot scene in Leave it to Psmith. Don't bother about it if you are busy, but if anything occurs to you send it along."

and later:

"Listen, laddie. Have you read 'Pig-Hoo-o-o-o-ey'? I have a sort of idea you once wrote a story constructed on those lines - i.e. some perfectly trivial thing which is important to a man and the story is apparently about how he gets it. But in the process of getting it he gets entangled in somebody else's love story and all sorts of things happen but he pays no attention to them, being wholly concentrated on his small thing. If you never did a yarn on these lines, try one with Cap Crupper. It's an awfully good formula."

There are so many instances of advice begged and advice given that I'm holding this book rather close and taking notes. Is there anything like correspondence between writers to give one a peek into what made them successful? With so many occasions of P.G. Wodehouse begging help, I had to acknowledge that there might be something to the idea. What then? Why would it be a good idea to beg someone to help you out of your rut? The answer is obvious:

Other writers are gifted in other areas.

It amazes me how many spiritual parallels one can draw from writing. I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised - Dorothy Sayers did much the same thing (though in reverse) with The Mind of The Maker. We are told that within the body of Christ, we are given various gifts and talents:

"For in fact the body is not one member but many. If the foot should say, 'Because I am not a hand, I am not of the body,' is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear should say, 'Because I am not an eye, I am not of the body,' is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where would be the smelling? But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased. And if they were all one member, where would the body be?"

- 1 Corinthians 12: 14-19

Continuing this mental exercise, each of us is gifted in a certain realm of writing talent. There are very few - indeed, show me one - who are good at all of it all of the time. We must choose someone, one person if you cannot bear the idea of more, and ask for help at some point in time. The trick is that we have to be humble enough to take their suggestions and adapt them to fit our idea. That is probably the toughest part of the whole thing. I feel so independent that it can be a struggle for me to not reject ideas based on the fact that I did not think of them first. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it is true. I suppose it comes from some shadowy fear of plagiarism, or not being able to say, 'I wrote this book' because one aspect of it - heck, even a phrase - was not my own but was brought to mind by someone else. However, there is a difference between plagiarism and between, as Austin Kleon says, "Stealing like an artist". There is a way to accept ideas and even pay homage to other authors' work without copying just as there is a way to take fashion advice and inspiration without having to buy the $1253 dress from Michael Kors.

Yesterday, I asked Jenny for plotting advice. Last week, I got a whole email full of advice for Anon, Sir, Anon from Elisabeth Foley and what's more, I intend to examine and apply some of it. I didn't come to this point easily. It still isn't comfortable to go to a friend and say, "Look, I haven't the foggiest what I ought to do with this, but if you can figure it out and tell me, I'll work with it." But sometimes that is what you need and that could possibly be the only place you'll find that perfect idea.

If anyone ever criticizes you for this method, send them here. You know what I'll tell them?

"P.G. Wodehouse did it."

That'll probably shut them up.

The Dangers of a Traveling Writer

It really isn't safe to be a writer, to travel abroad and tell people about your work.

First of all, it's harder than you'd think to pitch your novel in simplified English. If you've worked up a perfectly-worded pitch that takes you exactly twenty-five seconds to deliver, chances are that the wording will be too complex for most people you meet. (You know we exhaust every double-meaning of every word in those hellish pitches.) If you haven't worked up that perfectly-worded pitch, you're still awash. We're writers; our greatest weapon is our command of the English language ... but when your "foes" are impervious to glances from your English Weapon, you're sort of drifting in dangerous waters.

One evening early in the trip, I found myself sitting in the back of a little car as a young Romanian man drove. Two of my teammates, Matthew and Oliver, were with me and we had just finished an evening service at a church near Arad. As we puttered through a village and took a roundabout, I chatted merrily to our driver (who spoke excellent English) about wanting to learn Romanian as my second language. He smiled quietly at me through the rear-view mirror and told me that I had much better take Spanish; I would find it more useful, he said, for visiting Mexico.
"But I don't know anyone in Mexico," I said somewhat petulantly. "I have friends in Romania!"
"Don't you have Hispanics in Virginia?" he asked.
"Well, yes."
"Then you see. So tell me more about your writing."
(Here goes, I thought.) I managed to eek out something that sort of resembled a description of Fly Away Home but it was dashed hard. I mean, how am I to know what the 1950's were like in Romania and how much of what the 50's were like in NYC needs explaining to the person who has an idea of vintage Romania in his mind? Would our driver know what I meant by "glitz" and would he even be interested in the premise of my novel or was he simply being polite? There is nothing for making you weigh the value of your words like trying to cross a culture barrier, I tell you.
My American companions were rather silent during my conversation with our driver but I was not going to let my spirits be dampened by their lack of gregariousness. My Romanian acquaintance smiled at me again through the mirror and clicked his blinker on, slowing before making a turn.
"Are you going to write a book about Romania?"
"I would love to someday," I said, leaning into the topic willingly. "For now I'm keeping a journal and writing about everything that happens and everyone I meet. Someday I'll fit it in a book."
After my eager pronouncement, he smiled at me and I heard him say, "Well don't forget to."
"Forget to? I would never. I could never."

My American companions remained silent.

Flip a few pages in my travel journal to the next day when I was finishing up a surprisingly triumphant round of bowling. Oliver sauntered over to me with a silly smile on his face.
"Hey Rach," he said, "did you realize that when you were talking to Vlad last night, he said 'Don't forget me'?"
"No, he didn't!" My heart thudded to a halt and slowly jerked back into business as I realized the import of Oliver's words.

"Don't forget me."

"Forget to? I would never. I could never."

Speaking about your career as an authoress in a foreign country is dangerous. It can get you labeled a flirt and it can make you the laughing stock of your teammates. Thank heaven I soon saw the humor in the situation and helped Oliver make "I wouldn't. I couldn't," a catchphrase in our group that lasted to the final days. Nothing like laughing at yourself, right?

Oh golly. Only a Rachel, darlings. Onnnnnnnly a Rachel.

The Eight Carnal Rules of an Un-Valentine! :)

In keeping with the humorous bent of this blog party so far, I have compiled a list of advice for Un-Valentined and un-husbanded young women. It is rather good advice. You may take it or leave it as you will. I prescribe taking it. It will at the very least cheer you up. :)

The first rule in being Husband-less on Valentine's day is...

*Ahem*. What was I saying?

The First Carnal Rule is this:
Eat Chocolate. It is really that simple.

A second generally follows the first, and thus I give you the Second Carnal Rule:
Read Pride and Prejudice to yourself [especially the epic parts] in your best British accent. Don't skimp on the deep, mellow tones when you get to Mr. Darcy's dialog.

The Third Carnal Rule, which must needs follow the second if this world is to hold together is:
Avoid the mailbox. What you don't find can't hurt you, you know? Therefore you can happily labor under the delusion that there is a Valentine from a Secret Admirer languishing in your mailbox and you will never be any the wiser if you don't go and retrieve it. :) Happy thought.

As Some people desire four to follow three, I give you the Fourth Carnal Rule:
Get together with a bunch of other Un-Valentines and go out to a tea-house or coffee-house. Consume your liquid recklessly, though being careful not to spill. When someone mentions the present day, say, "What? Oh--it's Valentine's Day? Imagine that! I ought to check my mailbox." [Only don't. That is, don't check you mailbox.]

You really are unreasonable clamoring for a fifth but I will oblige you. The Fifth Carnal Rule of a Husband-less sort is this:
Wear red or pink whenever you go out on February 14. These two shades lend color to an otherwise pale or sallow cheek, thereby increasing your chances of Husband-catching. The fellows don't prefer a cadaver, you know.

I know how to count, thank you very much. The Sixth...I said, the Sixth Carnal Rule would be:
Grab a sister (and it is even better if the sister doubles as an Un-Valentine) and make up swing-dancing steps to Dean Martin's "Sway" or Frank Sinatra's "The Way you Look Tonight." Pretend your sister or the Un-Valentine is not a girl at all but a Somebody. You will suddenly wish to never stop dancing. :P

Seven is considered a good sort of number--some say it's lucky but I don't believe in luck. Therefore Carnal Rule Number Seven is....:
If you happen to go to any sort of a dance or a party, look as if you are having fun. You don't have to be having fun to appear like you are having fun. Smile. Look in people's eyes, not flirtatiously, but happily. You will be asked to dance rather quickly, or else some fellow will spill punch on your shoes and have to mop it up. In either case you will no longer be alone.

What cheek! You say you demand an eighth because seven is not a round number? Fine. I will oblige you just this once and then have done with my advising. Here you go. The Eighth Carnal Rule of an Un-Valentine:
Read 1 Corinthians 13 and remember that you are loved, even if there is no So-and-So just yet. Romance is not the only love that is  valuable. *ducks rotten tomatoes* It might be a forbidden pleasure, but then, one can't exactly despise being loved in any fashion. Read the chapter, think about it, and then go about picking apart all the romances you know and see if they measure up to your new standards. ;)

Water-weak or Invincible?

My recently christened editor, Henry B. Baxter, was kind enough to forward some of your questions to me this morning. I was so pleased at his report of the response to a question-and-answer post so far. You can add your questions for me here: A Grand and Glorious Thingamajigger. :) I decided that I had better start answering some of these questions as they come, so as not to overwhelm the public with answering them all at once. That being stated, Henry B. Baxter tells me londongirl was first with her questions:

If someone was to write a Historical novel, what advice would you give them? (and) Is there any books or websites that you have found useful?

Let me start by answering the first question, as that has several points to it. The first piece of advice I would give a budding author in this genre is: "Do your research." It sounds dull, it sounds prosy (especially when the fantastic plot is swirling around your brain and the last thing you want to do is read up on the politics of the day) but in the end it will make the difference between water-weak literature and a book worthy of a Newbery Medal. I had to learn this lesson the hard way with my Victorian-era novel, A Mother for the Seasonings. My critique group partners told me (and none too gently) that they could not picture my setting in their minds. The characters and plot were happening in a void. It could have occurred any time, anywhere and been changed not a bit. Sure, hearing that hurt. But it was one of the best things for my writing experience. It taught me just how important suitable descriptions and correct information are.

I hate to say it this bluntly, (and I'm facing this daunting wall in Puddleby Lane) but it doesn't matter how amazing your plot and characters are--if you tell the reader your story is set in, say the Great Depression, if that setting does not influence your character and the events in the story, you've lost the whole point of historical fiction. I like to think of Historical Fiction as a way to learn history through literature. That being said, your facts need to be strong and true, and presented in a masterful way so that the reader doesn't feel like they are reading an encyclopedia. They are learning something as they live the story alongside your character. You must hide the pills of reality in the jam of fiction in such a way that the reader craves the pills and will go on from your book with an enhanced desire to learn about the time period. You can't achieve this by bending the plot. I'm sorry, but it's true. It isn't enough that you tell the reader your tale is set in a certain era. Timely descriptions of dress, speech, culture, will be your best friend when it comes to making the historic world come alive. There is so much potential in book set in times past. Do not be content with informing your reader of facts. Bring your Public through the trenches with German bombs whistling overhead. Shove them in the midst of the whirling mob storming the Bastille. Lock them in the Tower of London with Mary, Queen of Scots. It'll make all the difference in the world.

As for the second question: Is there any books or websites that you have found useful? I would have to answer: The internet in general. I can't tell you how helpful it is to be able to bring up a page of 2,000 French women's names, or an entire archive dedicated to fashions of the day. With a click of my mouse I can read up on whatever historical event I am writing about. It's amazing. As for writing help in general, I have found that the best way to get a hold on what good writing is, is to read good writing. As Benjamin Franklin said, "If you want to write things worth reading, read things worth writing." It's simple, but it's profound. Fill your mind with quality writing, and your pen will unconsciously learn. But we all need a little further instruction now and then, and for that, I must concede that I have found James Scott Bell's Revision and Self-Editing priceless. Seriously, it's a must-have for any aspiring writer.
Beyond these resources, I will tell you that if you are brave enough, hand a copy of your manuscript to a person you know to be a good judge of literature, and have them tell you exactly what they think of it. It will not be easy to hear them picking your brain-child to pieces. But you know what? A lot of the time, they'll be right. And then sometimes they will be wrong, and you can put your little "baby" back together and move on. I can tell you from personal experience, though, that an unbiased opinion is worth a whole lot more than any timid changes you would choose on your own to make in your novel. :)
I hope this answered your questions, londongirl, and thank you so much for asking them! Mr. Baxter, I would appreciate your continued assistance in collecting the queries. Thank you.

A Dose of Jane

Jane Austen never ceases to amaze me. I had forgotten just how much I enjoyed Northanger Abbey until I opened my copy last week and happened across this treasure trove: 

"I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel-writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are themselves adding--joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust. Alas! If the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot approve of it. Let us leave it to the reviewers to abuse such effusions of fancy at their leisure, and over every new novel to talk in threadbare strains of the trash with which the press now groans. Let us not desert one another; we are an injured body. Although our productions have afforded more extensive and unaffected pleasure than those of any other literary corporation in the world, no species of composition has been so much decried. From pride, ignorance, or fashion, our foes are almost as many as our readers. And while the abilities of the nine-hundredth abridger of the History of England, or of the man who collects and publishes in a volume some dozen lines of Milton, Pope, and Prior, with a paper from the Spectator, and a chapter from Sterne, are eulogized by a thousand pens--there seems almost a general wish of decrying the capacity and undervaluing the labour of the novelist, and of slighting the performances which have only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them. "I am no novel-reader--I seldom look into novels--Do not imagine that I often read novels--It is really very well for a novel." Such is the common cant. "And what are you reading, Miss--?" "Oh! It is only a novel!" replies the young lady, while she lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame. "It is only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda"; or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language. Now, had the same young lady been engaged with a volume of the Spectator, instead of such a work, how proudly would she have produced the book, and told its name; though the chances must be against her being occupied by any part of that voluminous publication, of which either the matter or manner would not disgust a young person of taste: the substance of its papers so often consisting in the statement of improbable circumstances, unnatural characters, and topics of conversation which no longer concern anyone living; and their language, too, frequently so coarse as to give no very favourable idea of the age that could endure it.

Bwahaha! You cannot help up laugh at the caricature, especially if you are familiar with some of the ideas of novels held in the old classic books. Even I am guilty of saying, with an abashed expression on my face, "Oh, it's only such-and-such a one."

What is it that brings up such feelings of bashfulness? First off, I must explain that the general concept of a "novel" in most classic books of fiction refer to a thriller-novel. The blood and gore, scandal and intrigue that peppered the sensational books of the day. The sort of the book Jo March of Little Women tried her hand at and the sort Proff. Bhaer disapproved of. They were generally what I call "fluffery"...the equivalent of those horrid 25-cent romances you can (but hopefully never will) buy at the thrift store. The kind that are written in mass droves and you'd be ashamed to be caught dead in the middle of.
Now moving on, the type of book Jane Austen was referring to was obviously the right sort of novel...like her own. :) Books that shape and mold you for good. I appreciate this quote:
It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.  ~Oscar Wilde
It is entirely true. The books you turn to in your free time really are the books that will effect you. That's why it's so important that we take Benjamin Franklin's advice and "write things worth reading and read things worth writing." To a writer it's all connected. The things we read influence our writing which is something someone else will read that may influence their writing and so on.
It's rather a grave responsibility, if you want to get philosophical about it. :) But that is why I feel that my first task as a writer is to pledge to write and read only the best of literature. The world has enough fluffery, enough sensationalism, enough dime novels...it is hungering for something worthwhile.
My goal is, and has long been, to write good literature that reflects the beauty of Christ and points others to Him. I am determined to be one author that stands above the sea of other scribblers because I have, with God's grace written: "Some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language."
  I have not arrived at that point yet, I know. I cannot by any means claim that I have achieved my goal, but hopefully, in good time, I will be nearer it. :) I hope you enjoyed this post, or at least that it challenged you to think on the topic of good vs. best.
                                                   ~Rachel

Write What You Know?

I have a topic for all us writers to debate:
In one film version of Little Women, Jo March says to her sister Beth, "The first rule in writing Mr. Tupman, is never write what you know!" (Emphasis mine) What has always intrigued me about that particular line, is that it is contrary to the advice authors give nowadays. The classic tip is writing these days is: "Write what you know!"
I have atheory about this dilemma: I think the script-writer in the Little Women movie decided to add that line to show Jo's immaturity in her writing, and set the stage for Proff. Bhaer later on to tell her to write from her heart.
But what do you all think? What are your interpretations of the advice: "Write what you know"? Mine are as follows:
Write, not always from your own experience, but from a similar setting to that which you live in. For instance, I have unlimited stores of creativity for family-centered stories, since I live 24-7 in a large family. It would be like having an underground lake of oil and never drilling it, if I disregarded the extreme resource such a unit is. I don't have to write about my family, or even modern times, but I understand the family unit from living in it, and I can seriously tell you that a book written by me, set in a family, would be far better than a book written by me about....spies, or something! ;) As far as things like allegories go, I would pretty much beg leave to say that the more spiritually mature a person is, the better the allegory would be. So...maybe leave the allegory idea till you are a bit older.
As far as fantasy goes.... do use a bit of your own knowledge of things to write your book. I personally have never "dabbled" in that genre, so I am not the best judge of that sort of thing! Anyway, tell me your ideas! :) -Rachel