Author: karolynsherwood

writer (mainstream fiction), mom (four grown sons), wife (perfect husband), blogger (all of the above)(but mostly writing)
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Found In Translation

Art = Literature = Music = Performance = Who knew? = Duh

All art is the same; all art is different; otherwise, it’s worthless.

This past week, I went to New York City with Larassa Kabel. If you lovely readers have been following along, you might remember that I used to be an art dealer. Larassa was one of the amazingly talented artists whom I represented, and she and I have remained friends even without the gallery connection. I have referred to her as my John Galt; I have mentioned her many times, most recently as the artist who created the 2012 White House Christmas card. Larassa needed to go to NYC for a portfolio review of her work, and I jumped at the opportunity to go with her. Like a trip in a time machine, I was transported back into the art world which I adored then, and still adore now.

The only change is that now I am bilingual. I speak ART and LITERATURE. And, I suppose, I have rudimentary knowledge of MUSIC/PERFORMANCE ART via my oldest son whom we saw perform while we were there. Each branch of the fine arts has the same ladder to the top, but in its own language.

As my friend and I attacked Chelsea, SoHo, the Lower East Side, and Brooklyn, she drank in the flavor-du-jour from fellow artists, dealers, and art critics in an attempt to assess her options and her competition. She wants a New York gallery as badly as I want a Big-Six publisher. And much to my surprise, I got as much out of the trip in relation to my writing as she did for her drawings and paintings. It’s the exact same scene, but with subtitles.

I’ve recently completed A Reasonable Price, technically my fourth novel, although if when it gets published, it will be known as my debut novel. That’s okay with me; think about the thousands of pages that any given writer wrote before s/he became “famous.” If they didn’t write (then burn) all that early crap, their debut novels would read like Twilight. (I make no apologies for that statement.)(I don’t care how rich she is.) I am currently looking for a literary agent just like Larassa is looking for an art dealer. I have often equated the two professions, which is one reason Rejection Letters don’t bother me—well, let’s say they don’t dissuade me. I’ve been on the other side of this equation.

For example, every artist being shown in New York has beaucoup talent. That’s a given. Correspondingly, every writer being published by a traditional publisher must be extremely talented. The competition in both fields is fierce. Every gallery has a niche; every lit agency has a niche; an artist/author must find the one where she fits perfectly. But, the artist/author must have a distinct style, or else why would the dealer/agent bother with her? She must have an edge that makes her work unique.

Although I knew all of this, conceptually, before the trip, I saw it in vivid color/line/material/sound in gallery after gallery. I saw what the dealers/agents see everyday, thus the level of talent that Larassa and I are being compared to.

I’ve often made the joke that if this writing gig doesn’t pan out for me, I could move to NYC to be a lit agent; I could go back to the business of finding and selling the talent. But that’s not going to happen for a lot of reasons, most of all, because I want to be a published writer more than anything. I am determined and focused.

Perseverance is my mission statement.

One day—unless the Internet goes the way of the Betamax—I’ll look back at this post of February 9, 2013 and laugh at the memory of when Larassa and I wanted to be famous… this as she and I are hunched over our respective canvases in the private studios of our neighboring mansions that overlook the Mediterranean Sea, creating yet another masterpiece to send out to the lucky sea of humanity.

Or maybe we’ll both stay in the thriving state of Iowa with our families and friends, and pursue our respective passions, and collect our modest but gratifying paychecks. Either way would be fine with me. I’ll bet Larassa would say the same.

And now, time for me to perservere. Au revoir, mes amis.

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So You Want To Be A Writer?

So you want to be a writer? That’s cool, <ping!> you are a writer.

Yep, it’s that easy. Anyone can call him/herself a writer. Now, if you mean you want to be an AUTHOR, that’s slightly different. Selling a book today the old school, traditional publisher way is hard. Your work must be similar to the Greats (so a publisher knows which shelf to put you on), but not exactly the same as anyone (they call that plagiarism). You must have a hook, an angle, or a twist that separates you from the others. It may sound simple to type out a story and sell it, but this is one of those professions where the more you learn, the more you realize there is to learn.

writing = storytelling + language + emotion + edge

A writer must have experienced the heights and depths of every emotion possible, especially the difficult ones, in order to create characters that readers care about. Readers want to go on a fabulous, dramatic journey—for less than twenty bucks. Your job is to make it meaningful, too. So how do you prepare yourself to be a good writer? You need to experience life, especially the not-so-pretty parts.

Where to begin? Hmm… If only you’d been born ugly…
Oh well. Sit down, shut up, and I’ll tell you what you gotta do.

1) Recall everything your high school English teacher taught you, then forget it all again.
2) Read all of Ian Fleming’s books; alternately, buy every spy gadget that Sharper Image sells.
3) Start spying on people, especially when they’re whispering to others. Take copious notes; get juicy dialogue quotes.
4) Break up with your girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse for an imaginary reason and record their reaction right up to the point they call a moving van. Then tell them Never mind; it was just an experiment.
4a) Tell your kids you and your spouse are getting a divorce. In fact, go through with the divorce and record the way you mess up their entire lives. Eventually apologize.
5) Or, skip 4a and watch every John Hughes movie. Watch The Breakfast Club twice.
6) Get arrested. Stay in jail for at least 24 hours. Preferably in a small cell with a cranky psychopath.
7) Go to an animal shelter for a day. Watch the unwanted puppies be put to sleep.
8) Or, skip 7 and watch nothing but CNN coverage of the wars in the Middle East for at least two years.
9) Become schizophrenic. You must be able to think/act/talk like a thousand different people. You must be so good at this your spouse will want to divorce every one of you except The Stripper. This ain’t amateur impersonators night at Barnes & Noble, people.
10) Go on and on and on about your dreams to people who weren’t even in them. Do this until they actually care. (Note: this could take years of practice because no one really cares about another person’s dreams unless they were in them.) Once you’ve mastered the art of describing what goes on in your head to the point that people actually LISTEN (as opposed to just nodding their head until you shut up), then and only then proceed to step 11.
11) Write that sh!t down. This is what good literature is about. No one wants stories of pretty/happy/lucky/nice people. This makes readers feel BAD about their lives. Readers want to feel SUPERIOR to the characters in your stories. Why else would they waste their time reading about them? Occasionally let the handsome good guy get the girl. That gives your readers a modicum of hope (and prevents ALL your readers from committing suicide, thus ending the career you’ve ruined your life for).
12) Buy a coat of armor, ear plugs, and a blindfold. Because the better you do at all of the above, the more likely someone will say your writing isn’t even worth spreading on the bottom of a birdcage. They’ll say they need to put down shredded trash BEFORE putting your work in the cage because it’s worse than the bird poop.

And when that happens, you’ll know you’re a worthy writer—because that means your critics are jealous—or at least that you’re good enough for them to give you the time of day.

(wild applause)(deep, humble bow)(picks up roses thrown to my feet)

You are welcome, dear friends. Best of luck to you.

 

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Define “Writing”

When people ask me how many hours I write in a day or a week, I tend to stumble through my answer. My sweet husband will often jump in to say, “Sixty hours a week, at least.” I look at him askance and smile at his generosity.

But it all depends on one’s definition of “writing,” I suppose.

Write, writing, wrote… def: the activity or skill of marking coherent words on paper and composing text.

1. Adding new words to a page (and apparently they’re supposed to be coherent words)
2. Editing those words: cutting out the weak or superfluous ones (read: adverbs); exchanging the boring words for non-boring words (read: verbs).
3. Repeat steps 1 and 2 until your fingers bleed.

But there’s more. What about the planning stages? Parents and teachers used to scold children for daydreaming, but would any great book have made it into print if authors weren’t allowed to daydream? Many days I’ll curl up on my sofa with paper and pen and scribble down ideas and thoughts, but some of my best ideas come to me in the shower, or in those sweet, sweet moments of hypnagogia. (Look that one up; it’s worth remembering.)

And here’s the big one: reading. Could anyone write a decent novel if s/he had never read one? And if a person wants to write a memorable story, mustn’t s/he read a plethora of good books? (Where else would we learn the meaning of plethora?)

Blogging! There’s another necessary element to “writing” in the Twenty-first century. (Okay, I don’t think Ann Patchett has a blog, but… )

So, if I add up blogging, reading, daydreaming, editing, and writing… carry the one… From now on, my response to the question, “How many hours a week do you write?” will be: “A thousand, give or take.”

But then, I am a pseudologist, right?

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I’ve been trying to tell you!

I’ve been a writer for about five years now, before then I was an art dealer (a natural segue if ever there was one). I loved my time in the art world for many reasons, but most of all I was repeatedly amazed by the way artists see the world–very different from my life before that: a buttoned-up, straight-laced, business-oriented focus. Yeah, very different.

Since the day I closed my gallery, I have stayed in touch with–no, more than that, I’ve stayed friends with–a few of my artists. One of these has recently shot into national (worldwide?) fame. Larassa Kabel, whom I have mentioned here often (search her name on my site, if you don’t believe me), made a painting that was just chosen for the White House Christmas Card! The lovely image and her name have been plastered on websites and news stations all week. Like this one.

First, I would like to congratulate a very talented woman. I have long considered her my “John Galt,” my North Star, if you will, the one who gives me the strength to persevere if I have even one second of doubt about this creative life as a writer. She is so deserving of the honor and fame, and the invitation to a White House Christmas Party!

Second, I’d like to say, I told you so. Every time I mentioned her, I linked you to her website. Yes, the card is a painting of Bo, and on her site you’ll see her large, photorealistic and powerful drawings of horses, but do not mistake her for an animal portraitist. Keep going on her site to see the range of her talent and sense of the absurd; it is fantastic.

Congratulations Larassa!

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The Best Laid Plans

So, how is your TBR list? Gone? Did you at least make a dent?

Two weeks ago today, I offered directions on how to drastically shorten your To Be Read book list to make room for some of the 2012 Top 100 books. And I boldly stated that I would take my own advice the first weekend of December, and report back on my progress.

Yeah, about that…  I read only one book.

You know that saying, We make plans; God laughs ? Well, I don’t think God is laughing, but he certainly through a monkey wrench into my family’s life. However, because this is a public forum and I am a (relatively) private person, I can’t elaborate other than to say sometimes life has a way of rearranging one’s priorities. Zap! Just like that.

Okay, Peeps, back to real life.

Meanwhile, I am formulating ideas for my next novel. And my next book to read? All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy. Let me hear from you. Have you tried to zip through your TBR list? How’d you do?

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WordPress Experts

Hey, WordPress bloggers, there’s a company right here in Des Moines, Iowa that specializes in WordPress blogs. Anyone needing help should contact them—you know, with those impossible widgets and plugins.

They are 8/7 Central, or eightsevencentral, either way.

I work with Justin Meyer who’s not half as grumpy as his picture makes him look. In fact, he’s quite nice. And SO smart.

They also make T-shirts… but that’s not as weird as it might seem. A lot of restaurants and businesses need a website and also t-shirts for their employees or customers. 8/7 Central can help you with both!

Look ’em up. I highly recommend them.

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Get To The Bottom Of It!

This post is about reading all the books on your bedside table. It’s not a coincidence that it coincides with many publications’ Best Books of 2012 lists, of which I’ve read exactly ONE. If any of us are ever going to get to those new great books, we all need to get through our previous “Must read” books.

Life is busy; we all know that. But each of us has the same number of minutes in every day, and yet some people get so much more accomplished than others. It’s about PRIORITIES, People. Have you noticed that everyone seems to get done what’s most important to them, yet they can easily be “too busy” to accomplish what others want or expect them to do? (Yeah, I’m talking about children.) But, I digress. This is about your Books I Want To Read list.

I have had at least eight books on my bedside table for months. How is it they never disappear? I read every day! Add to those the books I have purchased that are on my bookshelves gathering dust, and the list on my Goodreads page that I want to read but haven’t purchased yet, plus the books on my iPad that are weighing that down, and don’t forget my audible.com app on my iPhone. Getting the picture? I’m overwhelmed, as I know many of you are.

I needed a plan. I came up with a plan. I am sharing my plan.

Whether or not your TBR list is as ridiculous as mine. There is a way to make a significant dent in it, if not clear it completely. Here’s what you do:

  • Be realistic. You’ve probably lost interest in some of those books, yes? They’re gone. If you haven’t purchased them yet, cross them off your list. If you have already purchased them, give them away. Regifting? No! Not if you bought them, and they’ve never been read. ‘Tis the season!
  • Divide and conquer. Undoubtedly some of them will be quick reads, some might take weeks or months to get through. Let’s focus on the easier lot. (Save the loftier ones for your next Attack of the Books.)
  • Skim or savor? Among the stack of “quick reads,” some are probably more important to you than others (favorite author; information you really need to absorb), and some might be “books you should read” or humorous books. Put the latter kind at the top. This is Pile A.
  • Now, clear your weekend. Yes, if you’re going to take this seriously, you must set aside the time as if you decided to go to the mountains for the weekend, or tackle the mountain of debris in your garage. If it happens to coincide with a snowstorm, all the better. Just commit! Turn off your phone, and for Pete’s sake, turn off the TV and the Internet. Those will always be there to suck away your precious life.
  • Divide again: Let’s say you can earnestly commit 30 actual hours to reading. Look at your books: add the number pages and divide by the hours. (2,000 pages ÷ 30 hours = 67 pages/hour) Start with the easiest book first, and knock it out; skim it if you have to. You’ll have such a sense of accomplishment that you’ll be inspired. Make notes as you go, if you like, or write a brief summary when you’re finished so that by Monday morning, the books won’t all have run together.
  • Read and repeat. Do the best you can with Pile A. With realism and perseverance, you got to the bottom of it!
  • Now Pile B. You may or may not get to this on your first weekend, but you can prioritize them the same way. Stack them according to the order in which you want to tackle them. Get started on these books if you can. Or, if your list is as ridiculous as mine, you will need to repeat this effort a few times a year.
  • Pick a Favorite. Which book is the juiciest book of all? (NO! I do not mean 50 Shades of Sh*t.) This is the one you want to read the most! This is the one you will take home this holiday season. Either you can read it (or listen to it) as you travel. Or, this is the one that will save you from too much family time. Practice this line on the way home: “I love you all so much, but I’m really beat. I’m going to read a few pages and call it a night.” Then of course, you can stay up all night if you want and read in peace!

Okay, fellow book lovers, think you could do this? This is on my calendar for the weekend of December 1st & 2nd. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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Pitching High Concept

I’ve recently finished my novel, A Reasonable Price, but I can’t tell you what it’s about because it’s a secret.

Here’s what I say to anyone who asks about it: “A Reasonable Price is the story of a mother’s battle against the doctor who used her son in a secret experiment.”

Here’s how most people respond: “Oh, interesting.” Which we all know is a code for “Boring.” Not the response a writer wants after spending a year on a novel.

Here’s my dilemma: My description is vague because my novel is high concept commercial fiction. I know this because a major NYC lit agent said so when I showed her my WIP (work in progress) this summer at a writers’ conference. What is high concept fiction? Briefly, high concept means the one sentence description (i.e., the hook) is shocking. Exciting. Fresh. High concept fiction takes a startling idea and frames it in an original story.

If I tell people what my novel is really about, I have two problems. First, any writer who thinks she has a great idea (okay, I guess that’s all of us), is fearful that someone else might steal the idea and get the story out faster (never better) than she would. In that case, our idea would no longer be Fresh. This rarely happens, but it would be soul-crushing if it did. Taylor Stevens has suffered comparisons and untrue accusations about mimicking Stieg Larsson because The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo was released shortly before Stevens’ The Informationist even though she wrote her book long before she, or anyone in America, had ever heard of Larsson’s trilogy. Fortunately, Stevens’ work is fantastic in its own right—just ask James Cameron who recently bought the movie rights for The Informationist. 

My second reason for keeping my “hook” a secret comes from a good friend of mine, Larassa Kabel, a very talented artist. Larassa said to me, “When you are working on a powerful idea, telling people about it releases the energy.” An artist, a painter or a writer, must have a burning energy inside in order to create something powerful.

Other than the aforementioned literary agent, I have told only four people what my novel is really about, plus the three beta-readers who are proofing it for their various fields of expertise—until this week.

This week I began the querying process. (Wow, I managed to type that last sentence without any swear words! I’m quite proud of myself.) I must have written two or three hundred variations of my query letter before I felt it was ready to send out. My first question for myself was, “Do I tell the high-concept secret?” Eventually, my answer became clear, “Uh, yeah. Duh.” I have been so secretive about my novel, that it was difficult to start talking about it. The high concept idea is the hook, and all queries must tell the hook (but never the ending).

So now it’s out there. A handful of agents have my secret in their Inbox.  If I’ve done my part well enough, one day the rest of you will know the secret of A Reasonable Price.

Curious about a few examples of high concept stories? Snakes on a Plane is the best bad example I can think of. Here are a few good examples: Jaws, Home Alone, Se7en, The DaVinci Code, but also Romeo and Juliette. But the three best (my opinion) high concept stories, the ones my novel most relates to, are Seven Pounds (starring Will Smith), Never Let Me Go (written by Kazuo Ishiguro), and The Skin I Live In (directed by Pedro Almodovar). The secret behind these three novels/movies is NOT announced in any of the marketing campaigns.

Their power lies in the secret that unfolds with the story, not on the back cover.

How about it? Do you agree, disagree? Do you have other examples of high concept? I’d love to hear from you!

 

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Please Step Away From Mr. Lehane

When I was young and foolish, I was young and foolish.

Embarrassing Truth #1: When I was in grade school, I was CRAZY for David Cassidy. But that was 40 years ago so you have to give me a break on that. After him came Robby Benson, Ryan O’Neal, Robert Redford, George Clooney, Bono… the list goes on and on. If you’ll forgive me here: When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a writer, I put the ways of childhood behind me. Now that I’m a grown woman (in some senses of the word), I’ve learned to value talent and intelligence over a pretty face—though there’s nothing wrong with a pretty face.

Embarrassing Truth #2: When I was 49, I was CRAZY for both Ann Patchett and Dennis Lehane. (Wait, that’s right now. Oh, well.) I’ve even gone so far as to wish (out loud) that one day I hope to be known as the literary love child of these two great writers (never mind that I’m older than both of them; as a writer, I’m still an adolescent). For those of you who don’t know this already, Lehane wrote Mystic River, Gone Baby Gone, Shutter Island, and Live By Night, among others. His stories are intense and suspenseful, if a little grisly—that’s where a dose of the lyrical Ann Patchett might come in handy.

Embarrassing Truth #3: Sometimes I scare myself. More often, I scare others. Take this summer, for example. I went to the Jackson Hole Writers’ Conference for many reasons, but somewhere near the top was the opportunity to have Lisa Bankoff (Ms. Patchett’s literary agent) review my Work In Progress (WIP). That’s not a bad thing, but strangely, when I told that to Ms. Bankoff, she looked a little… nervous.

I promise, People, I’m harmless. I’m simply a dork, kind of like a puppy who’s just been let out of her kennel.

In a few weeks, I’m going to meet Dennis Lehane. I know this because I’m paying for the opportunity. That keeps me just outside the stalker category, right? I don’t have to tell you that I got front row tickets. Dennis Lehane (Let’s call him Dennis, shall we?) is coming to the great city of Des Moines for our first annual book fair. It’s fantastic for the book fair and our city, but it’s a little scary for me. I must NOT behave like a dork in front of Dennis. (Having my husband at my side will help; he’s wise and rational and he works out a lot.) I must somehow stress how much I admire his writing without creeping him out. This is going to take some practice.

I’m thinking of trying Mental Imagery, whereby I picture myself behaving like a normal person in Dennis’s presence. Not like someone who wants private writing lessons, or his personal review and opinion of my latest WIP. Not like someone who wants to observe his writing process, or to dissect his brain during the planning stages of his next novel.
How does he do it?

Did I mention that Dennis now has a publishing imprint, and is looking for young authors?

All right, wish me luck. I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes. And just in case the whole meditation thing doesn’t work, I think I’ll slip a Xanax in my pocket as a backup plan.

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I’m Much Obliged

oblige |əˈblīj|verb [ with obj. and infinitive ]make (someone) legally or morally bound to an action or course of action: 1) Karolyn feels obliged to take care of her family first. 2) Social media experts say writers are obliged to blog on a regular basis.

Where do a writer’s obligations lie? To WRITING!

Okay, so we can’t ignore our family and friends completely, nor personal hygiene, sleep, and the occasional meal, but treating one’s writing time (or personal time, like meditating or exercising) like an office job is vital for success. That might be easy for a writer who’s “made it,” one who has paychecks coming in with enough zeros to make a difference to her household. But what about the writer who has yet to be validated by a paycheck? Or one who has sold a few articles but still has trouble justifying her time away from friends and family? Does the issue lie with the writer? Or with her family and friends?

It’s an equal matter of respect: respecting one’s self, and demanding the same respect from others. If writing (or painting or volunteering) is important to you, you must think of it as a job (“The check’s in the mail.”), and tell your loved ones that they, too, need to treat it as such. It’s the “Fake it till you make it” concept.

My son-in-law is one of those techie brainiacs that makes the rest of us go glassy-eyed when he describes his latest project. He’s “made it.” Like me, he works from home in a dedicated office. Unlike me, he’s able and confident enough to say, “All right, good to see all of you, but I’m going back to work.” And he does. He shuts the door and works. I haven’t quite gotten to that point. Everyday I struggle against answering the phone, running household errands, planning events for my family. And blogging. I feel guilty when I blog, and guiltier when I don’t blog. Argh! 

Years ago, when I had an art gallery, I learned a lesson, that I need to remind myself of occasionally. If, when you’re working, you feel guilty for not being at home, and when you’re at home, your mind is at work, then you’re failing at both obligations. The best solution is to be fully engaged with your task at hand. “Efficient at work, efficient at home,” as I said in an essay I wrote a couple years ago.

So, as a reminder, here’s my pep talk to myself; you are welcome to eavesdrop.

You, yeah, you: Go get your dream! You deserve it! For all these years you’ve taken care of others, and now it’s your turn. Set your boundaries as if you had to clock in and work under the scrutiny of a demanding boss. Turn off your phone and email. Schedule appointments and run errands “after work.” You want to see your hardback novel on the front table at Barnes & Noble, so write. Rewrite. Get advice, then rewrite again. Do not stop. Do not give up. You will succeed. Everyone who loves you wants you to succeed, so they will understand. Trust that. Believe in yourself and others will believe in you, too. It’s okay to put yourself first!

Whew, thanks. I feel much better now, but hey, I really have to get back to writing. Drop me a line if you have any more suggestions on setting boundaries and goals.