II. SUBMISSIONS, continued

b) Craft and Critiques

Voice is often touted as a desirable element in fiction, yet it’s difficult to pinpoint (“I know it when I see it”). What does voice mean to you? How can it help create and define a character?

Voice may well be the element of a novel that attracts me the most, that makes me pull a manuscript out of a submission pile and take it forward to an acquisition meeting. The tone, the style, the sound of the writer, these distinguish one novel from the thousands in my inbox.

Philip Roth has an inimitable voice; in our industry, Roald Dahl would never be mistaken for anyone else, though people often try to imitate him. Voice does not need to be aggressive; Cynthia Rylant has a distinct voice, although it is not arch, as Dahl’s is.

Obviously, other elements of a novel matter greatly as well, but voice is what makes me sit up and take notice of one submission among all the rest. Also, I think an editor can help with plot problems more easily than she can help improve voice.

If you are writing a novel in first person, the voice you select and build will define not only your character, but also your story; however, there are many other ways to build character. Good dialogue, for one.

Sarah Dessen says, "I never start a book until I have the first scene, last scene, climactic scene and first line all in my head." Cheryl Klein’s Second Sight references arcs (such as climax) within each scene. What tip or exercise do you suggest for making fiction scenes emotionally satisfying? Conversely, what makes a scene fall flat?

All authors write differently, so it’s a bit difficult for me to respond generally to such a question. Usually, I suggest tips to a specific writer about a specific problem within a story. Perhaps that writer has difficulty writing dialogue? If that is the case, I often suggest that the author step back from the manuscript and write several scenes between two of the characters that have nothing to do with the plot and are entirely dialogue based.

If the author is really stuck, I will give a prompt for the scene, sometimes a silly one, simply to relieve the self-consciousness that comes with writing, the dreaded “reader over the shoulder” that acts as a ball and chain on some writers.

I only give prompts in response to what an author is having problems with—it is not a general exercise for a writing class. But I shall suggest two I have used:

Some writers struggle with dialogue—they worry too much about getting information for the plot across through it, and not enough about what it reveals about character, or humor, or energy. Perfectly competent, dull dialogue can kill a novel for me. If after repeated efforts, it still remains flat, I might pull out two unlikely characters from a book (say a Very Serious One) and ask the author to do a scene with them ordering an ice cream sundae that they plan to share, but they have very different tastes. Or I ask them to write a scene in which one of the characters is teaching another something technical, but really he is trying to ask her out—though he never says anything about it. Subtext is what I am looking for there.

There are authors who do occasionally fall into the much belabored “telling,” not “showing” category. In that case, I might take a section of the novel that typifies that problem (take a YA novel where there might be perhaps three paragraphs on how wonderful the love interest is, how gorgeous and understanding and amazing he is), and once again ask the author to step back from the novel and write dialogue between the two love interests that will allow the reader fall for the boy himself, not have the main character tell us how great he is.

If the author has a hard time doing that, I will give a prompt that will have nothing to do with love; it might have to do with ordering food in a restaurant, or watching a bully do something to other characters. Often it takes several tries, but when an author “gets” it, it will affect her writing throughout the novel.

Tension is essential to all storytelling, not simply thrillers or mysteries. Scenes often fall flat in stories where the author has neglected that essential element—tension.

Our workshop enrollees critique peers’ full novels. However, many writers are experienced in critiquing only shorter excerpts. What helps you keep track of everything in a novel?

Since I am not a copyeditor, I do not make up a Style Sheet while reading (marking down what make of a car a character drives, how a nickname is used), but I do use an old-fashioned legal pad while I read, which I fill with questions, comments, anything that I want to consider later. Regarding an example, it all depends on the book, so every single one I ever do is different for every single author.

A flag is generally in response to a specific point. It could be “Will kids have the background knowledge—understand this context?” if an author employs a reference that adults would know, but young kids would not. Say, a metaphor using banking terms or a reference to King Canute and the sea. Pointing out repetition of words that is probably not intentional. (“Her lissome body”; two pages later, “her lissome body”.)

Also, I flag (unfortunately, I am required to do this electronically now, which I no longer enjoy) anything that I notice and want the writer to consider. For example, perhaps I notice that several characters in a novel sound exactly alike throughout; I shall flag that. Or every romance scene reads almost the same way. If there is no tension in part of a mystery, I shall flag that. Sometimes a female author will be writing a boy, and two-thirds of the way through, this boy starts commenting on clothes in a way that reminds me of the female author, but not this character—I flag that!

I use my legal pad for such things as: is this one tragedy too many (in response to a story in which the main character might lose her parents, and then her house burns down, and then she catches a disfiguring disease). Is this solution too convenient? Or, is this entire section (chapter, whatever) a detour—does this well-written scene detract from the narrative of the novel?

The legal pad becomes the basis for more general comments; the flags for more specific questions, such as repetition of language in a scene, unlikely dialogue in a section of the novel, or a scene that doesn’t deliver what the author wants it to.

Do you read the synopsis before or after reading a manuscript—or do you bypass the synopsis entirely? (Why?) How and when might a synopsis prove useful to you?

I will not read a synopsis until I read the manuscript or sample. The plot is not all that matters—it is the execution that counts, which is why I do not bother looking at them. This isn’t Hollywood. I always read it afterward, and, obviously, for a second book in a series. Of course, I need and read the synopsis if you are trying to sell me more than one book; for example, a trilogy.

How would you describe your editor-author working relationships?

That’s a broad question, but I will say this: Editing is like learning to partner in ballroom dancing; it's different with every person. You begin, you step on each other’s toes, you start again.

III. ON A PERSONAL NOTE

Undoubtedly, you love innumerable children’s books, both classics and contemporary. Please cite three favorites. What makes each unforgettable?

1) MG: Harriet the Spy, The Penderwicks. Fitzhugh captures curiosity, initiative, resilience and friendship in Harriet the Spy. The other; warmth of family.

2) YA: I Am the Cheese. Tense, provocative, thrilling.

3) Anything by John Green because you can feel yourself in the stories.

How does meeting writers at workshops affect you, your perspective, your work? What aspects of our event appeal to you?

Attending workshops reminds me of why I went into the business—it’s not only about did you hand in the cover copy or finish writing your Sales Presentation, but also about the excitement of creating.

In general, I don’t attend workshops anymore. This is a rare thing for me. I was intrigued by the Pacific Coast Children’s Writers Workshop because the approach seemed fresher, more original, and more in depth than what’s often available to writers. Not just first pages, or query letters; more the gritty, specific details of a whole novel.

What would you like writers to know about you, the individual who scrutinizes (and may reject) their literary labor of love?

That I never read any submission without remembering W.B. Yeats’s poem:

I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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