Patricia J. Parsons

When is a book too long?

Posted on 9 Mar 2015 by Patricia J. Parsons

I just started reading a book that clocks in at over 900 pages. 900 pages! Just imagine that. Before I bought it I read the online reviews on Amazon. The reviews were good but one issue kept cropping up: the book was too long. In fact, this particular novelist is known for her long books, usually in the vicinity of 500-600 pages. I’d read several before. I haven’t read a book that long since I read Herman Wouk’s wonderful “Winds of War” which is over 1000 pages in pocket paperback size.

This got me thinking: How long should a book really be?

If you are to believe Chuck Sambucino (whose work in Writer’s Digest I do admire), any book over 110,000 words is too long.[1] This seems entirely too didactic to me unless we’re talking about specific genres such as children’s books. That would mean that many very famous and well-loved masterpieces are “too long.” Of course, any bad piece of writing is too long even at 60,000 words which he further suggests is too short. It’s not that cut and dried.

Kurt Vonnegut reputedly gave this advice to writers: “Start as close to the end as possible,”[2] which suggests to me that there is likely a place in every story that is the best place to enter it. Indeed, I believe that this applies equally to non-fiction and fiction. Starting too far from the end means that you’ll include far too much extraneous material.

I really don’t believe that here is any ideal length. If a story sustains itself for a long session, then that’s probably right. However, over the years I’ve challenged students to take their best 1000 words for example, and edit it ruthlessly down to half that length. Then, I’ve said, you’ve got really tight writing. You have to do it without losing the message of the piece and leave out every extraneous word. They hate it because they want to keep every bon mot, every personal device and turn of phrase.

When William Faulkner said, “In writing, you must kill your darlings,” this is exactly what he meant. (Note: This phrase has been variously attributed to Anton Chekov and Oscar Wilde, among many others. I’m going to stick with Faulkner.)

Not every word we write needs to make it to our reader. Keeping unnecessary material suggests to me one of two things: either you are a serious narcissist who believes that every word you write is precious, or you are seriously in need of an editor. And in that royal “you” I include myself sometimes. We all do it. I’ve even argued with editors about their opinions on some things to leave out. They usually win.

For beginning writers, I think that the biggest pitfall in keeping the story to the essentials is including too much backstory. Backstory is for us – the writers – so that we can come to know and animate in our own imaginations our characters and the places they where they live and breathe. This applies equally to fiction and non-fiction. Knowing how to reveal and how much to reveal is the key to a tight story. When I’m reading I can always tell when a writer wants the reader to know just how much research he or she put into a story. And I shouldn’t be able to sense that. Just as in our interactions with people around us, our interactions with books can have TMI: too much information.

I think that it’s wise to understand that your notebook s and the material contained in them are first and foremost for you, the writer. Making a decision about how much of that you need to share with your readers is one of the keys to good writing.

I’ll let you know how I feel about the 900-word book – if I ever get through it!

[1] Chuck Sambucino. Word Count for Novels and Children’s Books: The Definitive Post. Writers’ Digest online. http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/word-count-for-novels-and-childrens-books-the-definitive-post

[2] Kurt Vonnegut: 8 Basics of Creative Writing. http://www.writingclasses.com/InformationPages/index.php/PageID/538

Backstory, Writing, Writing craft

One writer’s New Year’s promise – to herself

Posted on 30 Dec 201430 Dec 2014 by Patricia J. Parsons

And so that time of year upon us again. You know the one – where news organizations begin publishing their greatest stories of the year lists, the weather networks offer us a list of the ten worst storms of the year gone by, and the rest of us tally up what we’ve done, and more precisely, what we are planning to do. I have never been a person to make New Year’s resolutions.

First, as a professor for the bulk of my working life, New Year’s has always been the first Wednesday after Labor Day – the first day of classes on my particular campus. Now that was the time for making a new start. But January 1? Not so much.

This year I’ve been thinking about what the word resolution really means. Who knew that it had so many different nuances of meaning?

According to the Oxford English dictionary[1] it can mean (among other more specific things) any of the following:

“A firm decision to do or not to do something;”
“The action of solving a problem or contentious matter;”
“The process of reducing or separating something into constituent parts or components.”
To resolve to do something means to “Decide firmly on a course of action.”[2]

Clearly, when people say they are making New Year’s resolutions, they mean they are making a firm decision to either do something, or refrain from doing something. A firm decision. I’m thinking that making a decision is not necessarily enough to actually get you to act on that resolution. Perhaps we need something more.

That got me thinking about making promises. What does a promise have that a resolution doesn’t? Back to the Oxford English dictionary I went.

A promise is “A declaration or assurance that one will do something or that a particular thing will happen;” which seems to me to be a synonym for what a New Year’s resolution is, but…
To make a promise means to “assure someone that one will definitely do something or that something will happen.”[3]

So, I guess semantically they seem to be much the same, at least as far as their denotative definitions go. But what about that connotative definition? In my mind they are different.

A resolution to me seems a bit business-like, clinical, removed. On the other hand, a promise seems more personal, closer to the bone. For me, the promise holds more sway. Keeping promises is a value that I cherish, far above the notion of keeping resolutions. So, what am I promising myself this year?

My 2015 promise to myself is to finish what I start, and that includes what has already been started but not finished. Oh, I don’t mean finishing those manuscripts that in my heart of hearts I know were just for practice. I mean finishing the ones that I know are meant to be finished. That means that between now and the end of 2015 I have to finish two novels.

I think that those of us who write – whether for personal growth and a sense of accomplishment – or for a living (or both for the ideal writer’s life) all have unfinished business. Maybe you’ll join me in making 2015 the year of getting the finish line. Let me know how you’re doing!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

[1] http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/resolution?searchDictCode=all

[2] http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/resolve?searchDictCode=all

[3] http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/promise?searchDictCode=all

Backstory, Ideas generation, Journals, Writing craft

A writer’s letter to Santa Claus

Posted on 16 Dec 2014 by Patricia J. Parsons

What do you give a writer for Christmas? Most of the lists of suggested gifts are filled with things like computer writing software, printer paper and coffee cups emblazoned with bon mots from writers who have gone before us. I have a different view of what a writer – like me at least – really covets. So, apart from the Moleskines which I covet every year, Santa Claus is really the only one who can fill this list. I’d like to share my 2014 letter to Santa with other writers and aspiring writers.

“Dear Santa:

So we come to the end of another year. It’s been a year of writing, not writing, writing some more, editing manuscripts, madly searching for a publisher, and taking a foray into self-publishing. Well, you know what I’ve been through this year. I’ve worked hard so I know you’ll look kindly on this writer’s little Christmas list.

First, I would like a few Moleskines.[1] I know that they’re expensive as notebooks go. I know that other people in my life can provide these as well – but one can never have enough Moleskine notebooks, can one? After all if they’re good enough for Ernest Hemingway, they’re good enough for the rest of us. I also know that most of my work is digital. But I can’t shake my addiction to those brightly-colored covers. I seem to be inspired to write just by looking at them. Or at least I’m inspired to think about writing. That’s a first step in any project, isn’t it?
Now to the things that only you can give me. First I’d like the gift of a continually open mind. Let me see ideas everywhere I go and in everything I do (then the Moleskines become very useful, right?). Let that open mind accompany me when I read the newspaper, eavesdrop on conversations in restaurants and airports – well, you get the idea.
I’d also like the gift of patience in the rewriting and editing process. That feeling that comes at the end of a finished manuscript at long last is wonderful, but can put me off from the rigors that are then required in the revision process. I need that forbearance more than anything else to get me through that part of the writing process.
Then, Santa, although I know it might be difficult, I’d like the gift of compassion for all those agents and editors who can’t seem to answer their email in a timely fashion – even when they’ve requested the proposal or manuscript. *deep breath*
I’d also like the gift of creativity so that I can see old ideas in new ways. I have journals filled with all those ideas from my sometimes open mind (see #1), but they are often derivative or jotted down on a whim leaving me without a clue as to context later. Please let me revisit those journals and consider how to turn those ideas on their heads or inside out to come up with a truly innovative approach to the material.
Finally, thicken my skin just a little bit as I prepare to send out a manuscript to readers for pre-publication comment. I’m sure they won’t all love it (as they should).

Well, that’s it for this year Santa. I’m planning another hard-working writing year and hope to be able to share with you at the end of 2015 just how far I’ve come with these gifts of Christmas 2014. Merry Christmas!”

[1] For the uninitiated, Moleskines are (as their web site says): “…the heir and successor to the legendary notebook used by artists and thinkers over the past two centuries: among them Vincent van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway…” You can read about them at http://www.moleskine.com/en/moleskine-world and buy them all over the world in book stores and online. The paper is great and the array of sizes and colors amazing.