The Bitter Quill

What the hell are we doing here?

Presumably, if you’re reading this blog, you love to write, or at very least you have a passing infatuation with the written word. Great. So write! But why try to publish? Why not just write for fun, make photocopies of your stories and hand them around to your friends and family?

The writing industry — especially the world of fiction — is like a giant tank of flaming acid filled with editors and agents and your competition, and also chainsaw-wielding mutant barracudas. Sure, there may be treasure on the bottom of the tank, but is getting there really worth it? Why are we struggling against the stream (of flaming acid!) to (if we’re lucky!) get paid not very much for a lot of really painful, difficult work? It’s like trying to make it in Hollywood as an actor or actress, except the parties aren’t as much fun and it’s harder to sleep your way to the top.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not quitting. I’ve committed myself to this insane course of action with a vitriolic fervor. But then, I’m notorious for launching myself at ridiculously impractical projects with a mad gleam in my eye and froth on my lips. The mere specter of a chance of hope of success is enough to drive me, foaming and gibbering, at my target. But I know that the chances of victory are small, and the odds of being disappointed, again and again and again, are great.

OK, I’m crazy. So what’s your excuse?

They say the best way to see further than other men is to stand on the shoulders of giants. This adage may work well in history, the sciences or other arts - but it’s a bit awkward when it comes to writers. In the first place, most writers I know sit when they work - so standing on their shoulders would probably result in an obstructed view of anything but the backs of other giants. In the second place, bending over notebooks and typewriters and computer keyboards may leave writers with rounded shoulders, largely unsuitable for standing.

That being said - as writers we could, and should, read and study the works of the writers of all statures, both of the past as well as the words our contemporaries.

I fully admit that they older I get, the less I know - so I’m constantly on the lookout for writing resources of all sizes to provide me with perspectives, news and other resources I hadn’t previously considered. Here’s a few I’ve scoped out this week:

• The I Should Be Writing Podcast
• Being Able to Write: Lessons from Other Writers, New and Well-Seasoned
  
• Writers Blog Alliance
• Philly Writers
• The Emerging Writer’s Network

Don’t be discouraged by the fact that many of these resources are run by writers still trying to make it in the professional field (much like those of us here at The Bitter Quill). Everyone who writes; be they professional, amateur or hobbyist, good, bad or mediocre, has their own take on the craft, their own methods for wrestling with the hideous, hideous white space, and their own experiences with trying to find a willing (and hopefully, paying) audience for their work. And what works for them may be a valuable tool for you. When I was in high school, I had a passionate crush on a young man who aspired to be a writer, and purchased Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones for myself strictly because of his suggestion. The romance never panned out - but the book has served me very well of the years; it is the one book on writing I’ve gone to over and over again, and I have purchased it for more than one aspiring author in my life.

And the young man in question must have known from whence he spoke; since high school he’s had several pieces published, and just recently a book of his short stories.

So, take some time to study the works and ways of your fellow authors. I just recommend in order to do so, you don’t stand on their shoulders. Find a giant near them to stand on, so you can peek over their shoulder to see what they’re working on.

Whether they write as part of a regular 9-to-5 job or as a freelancer, most of the time medical writers and their ilk are working for someone. If it’s not a boss, it’s a client. Either way, working for someone else means that at some point, you will get a Project from Hell.

Projects from Hell don’t usually start out that way. They usually are challenging, but that’s often part of why they are initially so interesting. Eventually, however, the interest fades, largely as a result of spending too much time or effort on the project. Eventually the work becomes less about an intellectual exercise, and more about minutia.

In some cases, these projects become one continuous exercise in revision. In others, the project may disappear for long periods at a time, apparently completed, only to return with more revision. Worst, however, are the ones that periodically self-destruct and then begin again, like phoenixes. Such projects may creep into time allocated for other projects, your leisure time, or your weekends.

In most cases, these projects become nightmares because of a lack of communication or direction. Sometimes the instructions from a boss or client are not transmitted clearly. In other cases, the people who want the project may not have a good idea of who their audience is or what the ultimate purpose is for a written piece.

Much as you may try, these situations aren’t always avoidable. However, it helps to keep in mind that at least you’re getting paid to be bored, irritated, or otherwise inconvenienced and you’re getting paid to write. (Maintaining that perspective is made easier if you’re paid a good salary or by the hour.) That’s one thing your creative writing friends can’t always say.

In the comments to a recent post, we have none other than a representative from Alibris attempting to convince me (and you!) that Alibris is more valuable, from a value standpoint, than Abebooks is.

Since my main concern is what’s more valuable to you, the Bitter Quill faithful, I’d encourage you to check out the discussion over there and contribute your own two cents. I’d like to hear what you have to say!

I found it funny that the evil, mustachioed, get–your–post–in–on–time-or–we’ll– tie–you–to-the-tracks Bitter Quill Powers that Be (else wise known as “Mike”) described me as a “new-media writer” in the introduction to last week’s post. It’s not that the bulk of the writing I do for public consumption these days doesn’t fit that bill — it certainly does — it’s just that in describing the writing I do I’m more apt to use the less formal moniker, “blogger”, because I find the term “new-media” particularly silly (ED: Oi!). There’s nothing “new” about writing. It may not be as old as cave painting or sex or spoken word or dancing, but as methods of communication go, it’s been around a good long while.

What new media blogging has done for writers is create a more egalitarian market in which to flog our wordy-wares. No longer do we need to tie up our lovingly double-spaced bundle of words and count on an editor to recognize our genius. With a push of a button we can take our ground-breaking tales directly to the public at large. And, with additional commenting tools at our (I was going to say “ink-stained” – but that doesn’t really apply in this case…but “keyboard calloused” doesn’t really have the same aesthetic lyricism to it, does it?) fingertips, we can get instant feedback from our audience, so we can hone and tailor or work and give them exactly what they want – and as often as they want it.

Frankly, it feels a bit like cheating to me. When you fantasize about you future writing career (wasting time which, I should like to point out, would have been better spent actually writing), do you dream about your photo on a dustjacket, attending book signings armed with a heavy pen and tweed blazer with leather elbow pads, of discovering your characters either changed someone’s life or featured heavily in their startlingly risqué fanfic (perhaps both), or about spending your time worrying about bloghits and site visitors and troll bashing and your Google Page Rank? Perhaps I’m a short-sighted luddite, unable to grasp that new-media is the wave of the future, or maybe I just give more emotional weight to words I can actually hold in my hand… but I, for one, feel as though I can’t count myself as successful until that byline is printed on paper.
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TwoThree notes:

I’ve added a privacy policy, of sorts, available from the links to the right on the homepage under “About the Bitter Quill”.

I’ve signed us up to be an affilliate of Abebooks.com. Most people use Amazon, it’s true, and Abebooks doesn’t pay nearly as much as Amazon, commission-wise, but then I didn’t start this site to turn a profit. As a book collector I find Abebooks to be of much greater use. So if you see a review that you like or something, and you feel like you need to own the book, I’ll be sure to include a handy-dandy link that you can click on, guaranteed to earn The Bitter Quill dozens of cents, if we’re really lucky! For example, Lud-In-The-Mist!

If by some strange miracle this site ever does enter the black — unlikely, but theoretically possible — I’ll be sure to start giving the contributors and our web designer guy something other than grief. ;)

There are some rather obvious “tools” a medical writer needs: knowledge of medical concepts, good grammar, a good vocabulary, a sense of composition…. You get the idea. There are two other tools that are worth mentioning, though. The first is may seem rather obvious: You need to master a word processing program. The second may seem strange at first, but after you work as a medical writer for a while, you’ll understand why I mention this: you need to learn to use a spreadsheet program.

The most commonly used word processing program is Word. Most of the time, it’s also a pretty good program, although you do need to make sure you’ve installed it on a machine that has the proper hardware to support it. Most of my word processing experience is with Word, so I’m going to speak about its functions in particular, but whichever program you use, it’s worth looking to see if similar features are available.

For most people, Word is like a typewriter that allows you to make an infinite number of typing errors. Word actually has a large number of built in functions that can make a medical writer’s life (or at least her job) much easier. Here are a few of the features in Word that can be rather useful:

• Customize your toolbars: Word lets you add toolbars and rearrange the buttons on them. Some buttons I find useful are the superscript and subscript ones, and the paragraph indent ones. I also like the track changes toolbar, and the button that allows you to see not-printing and formatting characters.
• Track changes: Often, a medical writer collaborates on documents with other writers, editors, and medical experts. In these instances, it’s useful to see what changes have been made to the document, and by whom. It’s also useful if you want to be able to backtrack through your own work, selectively removing certain changes.
• Find and Replace: Perhaps you’re laughing, but do not underestimate the power of this function. You can use it to change the capitalization and even formatting of sections of text. For example, if you wanted to find every number that has two digits after a decimal point and color that text in red, you could do so. There are limitations to this function, but what it can do is rather remarkable.
• Keyboard shortcuts: There are always two or three ways to do something in Word. Rather than considering this a confusing hindrance, I encourage you to embrace this and learn as many ways to do things as possible. It can only make your work more efficient. Keyboard shortcuts are great things to learn. Word has a number of built in shortcuts, but you can also create your own. I’ve found it useful to do so for several tasks. Just remember that the shortcuts you add may not be on all the machines you use.
• Formatting and Styles, Templates: Depending on the kinds of projects you do, you may find that you have certain formats that you use over and over again. It’s worth learning to use the Formatting and Styles feature and to create templates, or at least to feel comfortable doing this with a reference guide handy.
• General formatting of documents: This isn’t a single feature, but rather a general principle. You should be able to use page breaks in place of carriage returns to adjust spacing, or better yet, know how to adjust paragraph attributes so that the lines stick together, stay with the next paragraph, etc. It’s also useful to know how to format different sections of a single document in different ways, such as having a section that’s in landscape between two sections in portrait view, or to have the pages in each section numbered differently.

Finally, keep in mind that Excel can be extremely useful. Medical writers spend a remarkable amount of time creating, formatting, and filling in tables. Excel can do a remarkable amount of this very quickly. One useful feature is the ability to customize number formats. Pivot tables and graphs can also be useful, although I’m not as familiar with them as I’d like to be.

There are a number of ways to learn these things. The first is simply to play with the program. Even if you choose to learn more formally, I recommend doing this from time to time. You should never be scared of your tools. If you prefer more formal tutorials, there are a number of tips and tricks books available. Finally, should you seek quick and free answers, Microsoft does provide some tutorials online.

Even if you are not a medical writer, I hope you’ll explore what your word processing program has to offer. You may find yourself pleasantly surprised, and the ability to manipulate words in more than just the traditional sense is quite valuable.

This is who we, the readers, thought JT LeRoy was: A reclusive writer, biological male (but with gender issues), survivor of an abusive childhood, southern, child hustler, an HIV-positive junkie who wrote autobiographical fiction. This is who JT LeRoy turns out to be: a middle-aged woman from Brooklyn, who wrote fiction that was not at all autobiographical.

This is the new trend, following tight on the heels of the memoir craze: the revelation that the memoir author was not as truthful as we had thought, after all. (See also: James Frey, Augusten Burroughs.) The question is, does it matter? A good story is a good story, after all, regardless of whether or not it’s true. And how true does a story have to be to be a true story? Books like A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Julie and Julia come with introductions that basically say, “This book is true, except for the parts I made up.” After all, who can be expected to remember word-for-word a conversation they had three months or five years ago?

I have this habit of making everything vaguely interesting or amusing that happens to me into an anecdote, and then telling these anecdotes over and over again to anyone who will listen. (This is a habit that annoyed the hell out of one of my former roommates, who usually got to hear these stories about five times each.) I am definitely way, way wittier in my anecdotes than I am in the actual situations. I move things around to make them funnier, to make myself cleverer. I exaggerate. I make my own motives purer, and my ex-boyfriends jerkier. I’m no JT Leroy (at no point do I claim to be a rent boy), but sometimes I may be a little bit Augusten Burroughs.

So why do we as a culture feel betrayed when it turns out that James Frey wasn’t really a criminal? If it’s about the art, should it really matter? After all, aren’t we writing aiming for Truth with a capital T, the underlying big truths of life, instead of truth with a little t, the facts and dates of what really happened? And how true does something have to be? Obviously, LeRoy made up an entire life. But what about all the writers who are just stretching the truth a little, to make things sound better? All writers are liars, after all. And the books are still the same, whether they are true or not.

I don’t think it matters in terms of art, whether the things written are true or not. But it matters to us culturally, because we feel emotionally manipulated and suckered by these false memoirs. Some writers get to be celebrities, and writing is a business, after all. James Frey got to be on Oprah. And maybe the thing that bothers us most is that we liked our illusions. We got attached to the fakes.

There’s a certain semi-ridiculous segment of Harry Potter fandom that was really, really ticked off that Hermione ended up with Ron and not with Harry. They thought they knew the story, and then JK Rowling went and changed it on them. Now they say things like, “Hermione wouldn’t really do that.” It’s the same in the faux memoir game. We thought we knew the how the story went, and then life went and changed it on us.

Happy birthday to our favourite pink-haired contributor, Cynthia Taylor. Enjoy this, your day of days!

EDITOR’S NOTE: As promised, here is the first post syndicated from Catherynne M. Valente’s writing blog, Goblin Market. If you’re not familiar with Cat or her work, you’re doing yourself a disservice. I urge you to visit her website and cool your heels a while. It’s well worth becoming acquainted with — and not coincidentally, so is she.

A little while back I spirited a copy of Lud-in-the-Mist away from a friend’s bookshelf, curiosity piqued by that by now very old meme about Neil Gaiman referring to it in his blurb for Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I had no idea what to expect, beyond knowing some vague trivia about Ms. Mirrlees herself and that it was, assumedly, somehow quintessentially British, since Gaiman had disqualified The Lord of the Rings (there’s no real reason for me to link to that, is there?) as the “finest English novel of the fantastic” until Jonathan Strange, as it was not, strictly speaking, an English novel about England. Or something.1

All that meta-commentary aside, Lud is, in short, an extraordinary book. If Lord of the Rings is the big, bombastic Grandfather of modern fantasy, Lud is obviously the quiet, unassuming Grandma who showed everyone how to grow wild mint out back and jitterbug in the kitchen. In fact, given that Mirrlees published in 1926, some time before Dr. T’s opus, I would not be at all surprised if the Shire was full of Granny Hope’s patented mint.2. Look carefully at any work of fantasy in which urban worldbuilding, provincial farmlife, idyllic villages, or fanciful names figure largely, and you’ll see Mirrlees’ ghost peeping through the pages. She could even be called the mother of interstitial literature, since Lud combines the fantasy genre with horror and of all things, procedural crime drama and political philosophy.

It is, however, one of the most deeply strange and alien books I have ever read, and what’s more, it sucker-punches the reader with that Otherness right at the end, after a long, meandering narrative, that, much like the river Dapple, turns and wanders around the land of Lud without much hurry at all. The tidy, measured style is not at all dated, and the descriptions of the turn of the seasons, village life, and the flora and fauna of everyday are truly transcendant–even leaving aside the unsettling and eerie landscape of Fairyland itself. But for me, the novel, while charming, would have been a failure without its disturbing and marvelous conclusion.

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