Category: writing

Author Philosophy 101

Posted on by Katie Ganshert

When I got into the education program at college, the first class I had to take was Philosophy of Education. I think that was first in the program because philosophy is important. It’s the wellspring of everything we do. And there are all kinds of different ones.

As a teacher, my philosophy dictated the way I treated my students, my interaction with parents, how I managed the class, the way I went about planning lessons, what I did with the curriculum. All those practices could be traced to my underlying philosophy of education.

So the other day, when I came across my Philosophy of Education paper, it got me thinking…..

If I were to take a course titled Philosophy of Being an Author, what would my paper say?

Whether we know it or not, we all have a philosophy. And this philosophy influences the way we go about being authors. It influences the kinds of stories we write, how we interact on social media, what we’re willing to sacrifice to reach our goals, and the list goes on.

So why not actively consider our philosophy? Why not pin it down so we can better understand why we’re doing what we’re doing?

It seems like a good idea.

Which is why I came up with a list of questions. Questions I’ve been considering as I think about my own philosophy. Questions I hope will get you thinking about yours.

Questions to Consider:
– What is a successful author?
– How much control does an author have over his/her success?
– What is the point of story?
– What’s the role of an author?
– What’s the ideal reader/author relationship?
– Is writing a career, a hobby, or a ministry?

You know what’s crazy? If we gathered a hundred different authors together and asked them these questions, their answers would all look different.

Some authors base success off of book sales, while some look at reviews. Some authors believe success is outside of their control and some think the ball’s completely in their court. We have authors who think the point of story is to entertain, but we have others who think the point of story is to change lives.

I think the reason this industry is riddled with so much conflicting advice is because there are so many different philosophies. And maybe, figuring out our own, will help us better choose which pills to swallow.

Let’s Talk: I’m dying to hear your philosophy. Pick any or all of the questions above and answer. Or, if you think there’s an important question I left off the list, please add. I’m not at all a moral relativist, but here’s a situation where there’s definitely no right or wrong answers.removetweetmeme

Evocative Writing: An Ah-ha Moment

Posted on by Katie Ganshert

Thanks to my amazingly talented editor, Shannon Marchese, I recently had a big-time epiphany. She shared with me a writing tip I have yet to find in any craft book. Which is saying a lot because I’ve read so many.

Lately, I’ve been working on line-edits. I did my first big round a couple weeks ago. There were several places where my line editor would highlight something and write, “This doesn’t work.”

90% of the time, I’d delete the line. The other 10%, I’d keep it and try to explain why I wanted to keep it. Usually, the reason boiled down to emotion. I felt as if deleting the line would weaken the emotional punch I was trying to pack with my words.

Here’s the thing.

I want to be an evocative writer. I want to transport my readers into the story. I want to make them feel what the characters are feeling. Which means I spend a lot of time trying to imagine what something feels like, and then trying to figure out how to translate those feelings into words.

Which is exactly what I tried to do when my hero touched my heroine’s arm for the first time. I sat in my chair and I tapped my chin and I tried to think, “What does this feel like? And how can I write this feeling in a fresh way?”

I didn’t want to write: electricity sizzled up her arm.

How many times have we read that line?

So instead, I wrote: Something warm spread through her arm, as if she’d dipped her elbow into a bowl of hot pudding.

Okay, I’m laughing as I write this, because in hindsight, I can see it’s pretty silly. But let me tell you, I really liked this line. It made me feel clever.

So when my line editor highlighted it and said, “This isn’t working”, this fell into the 10% where I pushed back. I wrote, “But that’s totally what it feels like!”

Here’s where the epiphany comes in.

Shannon gave me a call and as we were talking she said, “You’re right. That is what it feels like. But elbows in pudding are not appetizing to people. It’s warm, but it’s messy and makes a person feel like they need a paper towel to wipe off their elbow. So what else does it feel like?”

Something in my brain started to click.

She went on to explain that just because a line isn’t working doesn’t mean I’m supposed to delete it. In fact, Shannon didn’t want me to delete it. She wanted me to make the line work. To keep the feeling intact using different imagery.

The clicking became very clear and all of a sudden, I got it.

Pinpointing how something feels is important. But using the right imagery to evoke those feelings is equally important.  

Instead of deleting those lines, I needed to figure out how to evoke the same feeling in a way that works for my audience. I write romance. So when my readers read that scene, I don’t want them to feel like they need to wipe off their elbow. I want them to feel warm and giddy. Not warm and messy.

So here’s what I did:
1. For each of the lines that weren’t working, I asked: How does this feel?

2. Once I pinpointed the feeling, I asked: What imagery or words can I use to evoke this feeling?

3. I brainstormed several options.

4. I picked the one that captured the feeling in a way that enhanced the story, rather than distracted from it.

I worked through many of my problem lines in this way, and I have to tell you, my writing is better for it.

Deleting the lines would have been easy. But my writing would have lost some of it’s spark.

Keeping the lines would have been easy. But my writing might have distracted some of my readers.

Changing the lines took time and effort and hurt my brain a little. But it made my writing so much better.

Isn’t this so true for life? The easy way is very rarely the best way. And good enough so often gets in the way of just right.

Let’s Talk: When your agent, critique partner, or editor tells you something isn’t working, are you most tempted to delete it, keep it, or change it? Do you ever let good enough get in the way of the best?

Please stop over to Kristen Johnson’s blog, where she asks me some really great questions about dealing with discouragement, facing insecurity, and pressing on toward publication.removetweetmeme

Confessions of a Word Miser: My Experience with Line Edits

Posted on by Katie Ganshert

I have a confession.

I hold tightly to my words. Letting go of them is no easy thing.

But that’s exactly what I’ve had to do this past week as I’ve worked through line-edits.

I have another confession.

Of all the things that lay ahead as a contracted author, line-edits made me the most nervous.

Here’s my truth. I’m in love with words. I love stringing them together in creative and clever ways to paint pictures for the reader. I don’t like deleting them. And I’m super protective of my voice.

So the idea of line-editing scared me.

I admitted all this to my incredibly talented line-editor, Lissa Johnson, and she said it’s a common malady for writers, especially beginners. Which makes sense if you think about parenting. We tend to be much more uptight with our first born, don’t we?

So how did line-edits go? Did I have to get rid of words I wanted to keep? Does the writing still sound like me? Was it as painful as I feared? Is the story better?

Good. Yes. Yes. Yes (but not in the way I expected). Very much.

Allow me to elaborate….

I deleted words I wanted to keep.
This is a reality for line-editing. I had to delete some of my more creative descriptions. One of the things I loved about Lissa was that she didn’t just tell me to delete them. She explained why they weren’t working.

Descriptions shouldn’t pull the reader from the story. Not even for the sake of admiring the prose. We can get away with it on occasion, but the more often we do it, the more we risk creating a choppy read for our audience. And choppy’s never good.

I’m learning that subtle and simple is usually best. A hard lesson for a writer who tends to go purple.

My voice is still my voice.
Lissa suggested changes, and even made changes, but she did so in my voice. She stayed true to who I am on the page and put to rest my biggest fear: That by the time this story makes it to the shelf, it will no longer sound like me.

Line-editing is painful.
Yes, it is. But not for the reasons I expected.

Deleting a beloved description wasn’t the painful part.

Having to scrutinize a novel I didn’t want to scrutinize was.

I had to look at so many of my words and make sure they meant what I wanted them to say. I had to look at so many of my details and make sure they were accurate and well-researched.

And I had to do it all while wanting to chuck the story out the window. At this point, I’ve edited this thing more times than I can count.

Combing through it so meticulously yet again made me cross-eyed. My lovely editor, Shannon Marchese, assured me that my strong feelings of dislike toward my story were very normal.

The pain is worth it.
Saying goodbye to some of my words was hard. But after stepping back, I discovered that Lissa was usually right. The changes improved the story. And although I might be permanently cross-eyed, it’s now much cleaner. Much smoother. Much better.

I’m learning something I always suspected. Editors are amazing. At least the good ones are.

And when it comes to editing, we’re wise to ignore those feelings of defensiveness, embrace some humility, and trust that they know what they’re doing.

Chances are, they’ve been doing it a lot longer than we have.

Let’s Talk: What scares you most about getting a book ready for publication? What excites you the most?removetweetmeme