It’s been a marathon few weeks for our intrepid contest judge, David Corbett. This has been one of our biggest contests yet, and as a result, he’s had more than a novel’s worth of writing to read! But he didn’t just read the entries; in the true Scribophile spirit he also took time to give each mention some great feedback on how to improve the next draft.

And without further ado, on to David’s picks and remarks. Remember to check out David’s new book, The Art of Character, and join me in congratulating the winners!

Honorable Mentions

An Unbreakable Heart, by Lucy Gregg Muir: I started this story convinced it would leave me cold but it won me over with its command of language and scene and its clever reinterpretation of what happened in Oz. But that made it more dependent on concept than character, and it seemed more a deftly executed idea than a story.

Nights at the Brown Table by Paul Toth: I admired the sheer audacity of the language in this piece and there was an intriguing plot turn amidst the blizzard of words, but the characters got lost in the whirlwind. Would love to see this writer tell a straight-ahead story.

The ring of Gyges by Eliza Loizides: This story had too many missteps to make the top three, but it had two of the most well-drawn and realistic characters I came across in several hundred submissions. In the end, though, it promised more than it delivered—something I think another revision or two (and the freedom to expand beyond 3,000 words) can solve. First and foremost, several themes are introduced and either abandoned or mishandled. The story begins with a tribute to Athens, but at the story’s end the main character inexplicably wants to leave the city behind forever. The narrator claims to love the rudeness of Athenians but when she herself is accused of rudeness that fact isn’t tied in to her earlier observation. The narrator, who claims to believe in justice, proves to be a thief—a potentially dramatic and interesting turn—but she lacks any real insight into her own hypocrisy, or how the story of Gyges, which clearly means a great deal to her, applies to her own crime. Each theme is stated but not meaningfully developed or resolved, and the contradictions lack the narrative insight to render them convincing. That said, these characters compelled me, and I found myself thinking about both of them long after I’d finished the story—always an excellent sign.

Hoshiko by Wilson Hara: This wistful, witty, and almost surreal piece enchanted me with its searing economy of language. But the ending felt a little too magical for the tone of restraint that had been so wonderfully established. A subtler turn at the end is what’s needed. And I found the uneven space breaks confusing—were they intentional? If so, why? But this story and this writer have real promise.

The Last Two People in the World by Seonaidh Ceannéidigh: A beautifully written tone poem, touching and elegiac. Very close to my top three. But it seemed more driven by concept than character, and stopped short of dramatizing the action that could have truly decided the issue at the heart of the two characters’ conflict, and therefore felt less like a story than a thematic moment in time. Also, I couldn’t convince myself the sudden shift from present tense to past tense in the last line was meaningful instead of mistaken. That said, I loved this piece.

A Rebel’s Hell: Confessions of a Broken Hearted Punk Rocker, Chapter 1 by Nessie Strange: This story was very nicely written with some wonderful, memorable lines, and provided an intriguing look at a deeply troubled young man and an equally troubled friendship. The narrative voice was interesting and compelling, the scenes were well drawn, and the haunting tone hooked me. But the ending felt forced and insufficiently motivated — a shortcoming caused or at least exacerbated, perhaps, by the word limit — with a “moral of the tale” tacked on that felt unworthy of what had come before. This story has great potential, though, and I’d love to see the author wrap it up convincingly—and I believe he or she can and will.

Third Place (a tie!)

A Bag of Snakes by Jeff Suwak: This was an almost perfectly executed comic piece with a superb narrative voice that never faltered. The action built from disaster to disaster in a seamless if loopy way, and the narrator’s asides were wickedly funny. Despite its many virtues, though, it was more about the situation than the character(s), and the ending went on a touch too long. But I could easily read more from this author—a lot more.

Dreary by Jonathan Koolaid: Despite a few language lapses (“shudders” instead of “shutters,” for example), and a few other rough spots, this story had well-drawn scenes, excellent and natural dialog, several nice plot turns, good follow-up and continuity, and biting wit. The narrator felt like a real person (if somewhat a type) making a bold action with insight into his hopelessly confused motives. It had a nice double turn at the end, one poignant, the other comic, and it wrapped up with a button ending. Nice.

Each third place winner will receive a copy of The Art of Character and $50 cash via PayPal.

Second Place

Sweet William by KJD Donovan: Though I was distracted by the number of misplaced commas in this piece and a few other minor mistakes, the story and narrative voice pulled me through. There was wit and intelligence and pathos throughout, with keenly observed details and excellent dialog. Though recounted in reflection the story felt lived in the present, and all the people in it felt real. I wanted to award it first place, but the ending was problematic—and I don’t believe the 3,000 word limit can be faulted. William’s suicide felt forced and melodramatic (just the narrator’s turn against the boy is cruelty enough), and the final sermonizing remarks felt out of tune with the intelligent restraint so nicely exhibited in the rest of the story. I saw a possible ending that wouldn’t have required much more language, and would have brought the coveted Annette back into the picture: What if the narrator had called out “Poof!” without realizing Annette was in earshot? And what if she pushes through the rowdies to slap the narrator viciously in front of all the others he was trying to placate? In one single gone-to-hell moment the narrator not only cruelly betrays a friend out of cowardice but loses all chance at what he’s been secretly, craftily angling for all along—and with no need of a rushed and maudlin (if credible) suicide or a moralizing coda to tie it up. We’ll get the full devastation of the moment instantly. But even with the mishandled ending, this piece stayed with me and was a joy to read.

The second place winner will receive a copy of The Art of Character and $75 cash via PayPal.

First Place

My Dear Katy by Belinda Mellor: The language in this piece is antiquated (”on the morrow”) and at times seems to strive too hard for literary effect, but that eventually reveals itself to be an element of the narrator’s voice, which places the story’s time somewhere in the not-too-distant past. Still, there were times when this effect seemed a bit overdone and threatened to lose me. With that one caveat, this piece delivered without question the most devastating reveal of any of the stories I read. The ending is truly unexpected and crushing, and the tale of the two sisters and their misspent lives is vivid and affecting even though recounted in reflection—something that’s incredibly hard to pull off. Without the writer’s excellent use of detail and command of voice—an essential element of character—this story would collapse under the weight of its language. The fact that it doesn’t testifies to the writer’s skill. The narrator is both haunted and haunting while also being utterly, convincingly real.

The first place winner will receive a copy of The Art of Character, a 50-page manuscript review from David Corbett worth $350, and $100 cash via PayPal.

And that’s all, folks! Thanks to David for his hard work judging all of these great entries, and stay tuned for more great writing contests!

David is the author of four critically acclaimed novels, all published by Ballantine, a Random House imprint. He has taught writing at the UCLA extension’s writing program among other venues, and his new book, The Art Of Character, was just released by Penguin.

Enjoy!

Elizabeth Carlton: When do you know it is time to let go of the creating/revising cycle and begin the marketing part of the book’s journey?

David Corbett: I have a quote from a fellow writer taped to my computer: If you’re not physically nauseous at the sight of your book, you’re not done. Although I don’t totally subscribe to that, there is always a sense you could do more. Kafka felt all human misfortune resulted from abandoning tasks too soon (he was probably joking). I think at first you need trusted readers who can tell you where the writing is working, and where it’s not. You come to internalize you’re best supporter and worst critic, and let them fight it out. Sooner or later you reach a point where an inner voice says: It’s time. Usually that voice’s name is Deadline.

Adeline Gale: Now that you’ve gone through it and have more books out, what advice do you have for those unpublished writers behind you, that want to take their work to the "next level" (publication)?

DC: Fasten your seatbelts—looks like we’re in for a bumpy ride. The publishing business is imploding, and it’s just easier for agents and editors to say no than yes. It really has reached the point that unless your manuscript is brilliant, or likely to appeal to a mass middle of readers, you’re out of luck. I don’t think raising the bar is a bad thing; we should be trying to write not just good books but great books. But there is, always has been, and always will be a vast sea of middling stuff that gets published that readers can latch onto for easy entertainment. So I’d say: Swing for the literary fences or swing for the firm middle ground: a good story that tugs at the heartstrings or keeps the reader up at night.

Adeline Gale: If there was one thing that you wish you knew when you were a young writer, what would it be?

DC: I’m not young anymore? Sigh…

I wish I’d understood how unforgiving the publishing business can be, and how to embrace the marketing aspect a bit more mindfully. I just wrote the best books I knew how to write, and received very generous and humbling praise for them. Sadly, that’s not nearly enough to make a career. But with teaching and editing I do okay, so I’m not complaining.

Boris Nikolaevich: I find that the depth of my characters is somewhat limited by my own experience, despite my imagination. How can I learn to develop unique characters whose depth goes beyond my own, or whose experiences differ from mine?

DC: If both your own experience and your imagination are short-selling you, you may need to look at real people through memoirs and biographies and take a little here, a little there, and stitch it all together into something new. The key, though, is you have to feel a certain fascination with the character. You may need to do something startling with your memories or your imagination to rekindle that sense of fascination with your own inner life. In the black recesses of your mind, there is plenty that’s wild and grand and terrifying. I’m always amazed at how students respond when I make them dig up moments of profound guilt, or shame, or terror. The writerly writing fades away, and the truth comes out. You may need to tell yourself: Okay, I’m going to risk being wild and insane and black and grand. I’m going to write from where my fear is. Make sure your own heart is beating fast. Make sure you really, truly care.

Boris Nikolaevich: Besides the main character and (usually) an antagonist, how much character development should go into the "supporting cast"?

DC: I devote a whole chapter to this in The Art Of Character, and I obviously don’t have the space here to give this question its full due. But secondary characters, because they’re usually easier, less challenging to write, can often turn into scene-stealers, and have to be controlled. Remember that the core conflict is between the protagonist and the opponent, or the protagonist and the core problem, challenge, enigma, or disaster he’s facing. The secondary characters are there to flesh out the main characters, to give them someone to react to and thus reveal their complexity and depth. To the extent their back stories and psychology/morality/sociology reflect upon the core conflict or the personalities of the main characters, or give the main characters something meaningful to reflect upon or deal with, then those aspects of the secondary characters are worth developing. Look at the film Michael Clayton. The cast of secondary characters all bring something unique out of the protagonist, Michael, or the opponent, Karen Crider (Tilda Swinton). No one is there for the sake of mere color, and all are developed in quick, bold strokes.

Wendy Bristow: What is your personal list of "shoulds" and "should nots" when it comes to writing a story? Is there a conscious effort to follow writerly advice like show don’t tell, ditch adverbs, get into the head of a single POV and stay there, limit use of dialog tags beyond said? Why do you think some novels that don’t necessarily follow these credos still become best-sellers?

DC: Well, I was about to say I don’t have a list of shoulds and should-nots, but I instinctively follow all of the little dictums you cited, except I’m not as phobic about adverbs as some. That’s just good, strong writing. But you also have to develop an instinct for following where the story takes you, and letting the other stuff fall into place during rewriting.

Why do imperfect books sell? Because the marketing department knows there are readers for them. The books have a great, easily pitchable concept and deliver a solid story that the average sixth grader can follow. Jim Patterson got rich by writing books for people who normally don’t read and pitching them like chunky soup (he came from marketing). Don’t think that hasn’t changed the way we read and write. Even A.M. Homes’s new book is paced far more briskly than the average so-called literary novel. She’s been writing for TV the past few years, and has learned the value of short dramatic scenes and rapid pacing.

Rebecca Worne: Have you ever gotten part way through a novel and decided to change your MC, or any of your other primary characters? If so, when and why?      

DC: Short answer: yes. I normally write with three main characters in mind, and their interactions provide the moral and dramatic complexity I like. I sometimes don’t know who will truly carry the story until I sit back from the first 100 pages or so and ask myself: What’s this about? This happened with the book I’m writing now. I had to decide who changed the most in the book, and whose change was the most dramatic, and who would most likely inspire the greatest reader empathy and interest. Once I answered those questions I knew who the main character was, and who should receive the greatest focus. But the other two main characters still had their own strong threads.

cybertommy: To quote: "…we can personify anything but we have to leave open ended our sense of the character’s potential so that his behavior retains the element freedom and surprise needed to make him compelling." Question: how does the element of surprise make a character compelling?

DC: A character who can’t surprise you is a crank-up doll—or a plot puppet. You already know what’s coming. What you’ve seen is what you’ll see again.

Readers want to be engaged, and the ways you engage them is through empathy, strong conflict, meaningful reveals, and the element of surprise. We gain empathy for a character through her engagement in a meaningful struggle for something we can understand. And if the struggle is meaningful, it will also be difficult, which means she will fail more often than she succeeds. Repeated failure normally forces us to try something new, out of the box, utterly unexpected. This creates the capacity for surprise.

Jeff Suwak: Do you do a great deal of outlining before you write? Or do you just write and see where the story goes?

DC: Mostly, I outline, but that’s just a way for me to familiarize myself with the story, the characters, the setting, and the themes I want to explore. Often I write down bits of dialog that come to me or other scenic elements I think will work as well. I do this until I have a deep intuitive sense of the story and its world. Once I have all that down, I throw it out and just begin to write. I may refer back to it to see if I thought of something important (or brilliant) during the outline phase that I’ve now forgotten, but I deliberately do not follow it like a blueprint. I trust my intuition to guide me, because I’ve prepped my intuition so I can be imaginative and improvise.

Every now and then, though, I just walk off a cliff. Mostly in short stories. I’d stall out if I tried to write a novel like that.

Join me in thanking David for taking the time out of his busy schedule to answer your questions. Keep your eyes open for more great interviews!

Genevieve Graham: Thanks so much for inviting me to do this interview, Cassie and Alex!

Before I came over to Scribophile I was working with a smaller site called Review Fuse, and I still remember Alex sending me a note one day and inviting me over to visit his site. I was thrilled to feel as if he’d "recognized" me and wanted me to join his community, but I was reticent at leaving the group where I’d first stepped into the brave new world of submitting short stories. I’m so glad I did. While the first site gave me good input, Scrib was a real community, and the first place where I felt as if I belonged somewhere as a writer. The comments and suggestions were always encouraging and done in the right spirit. After a while I moved over to Authonomy and got caught up in that whirlwind, so I didn’t have time to spend on Scrib. Then I was published, and I’ve been going like mad ever since. But I miss Scribophile. And whenever aspiring authors ask what they should do, I always send them to Scrib. So I’m really glad to be here today. Sharing what I know about the publishing business is the least I can do!

Scribophile: You’ve been through the publishing gauntlet most of us writerly types only dream of. What’s the most challenging part of the process after the contract is signed? How do you cope with it?

GG: I guess that really depends on the author and his/her editor. Everyone’s different, obviously. For me the first part was easy. About a month after the contract was signed, I received edits from my editor, but I was lucky in that department. She had decided not to change a thing, so other than the odd punctuation discrepancy, there wasn’t much there for me to worry about. That was great. I imagine for some that’d be a tough moment, but for me it wasn’t so bad. I actually used that as a learning experience. In fact it wasn’t all that different from when I used to exchange critiques on Scribophile.

The biggest problem for me, I guess, was when I was sent the artwork for the cover. As you may or may not know, an author being published by a big house has little to no say over what’s going to be used on the cover. My editor came to me and we talked about aspects of it, but the company’s artists have their own thoughts (even if they obviously haven’t read the book), and they’re the bosses in that department. I wasn’t happy about my cover at first, but let’s face it. For years I’d built up my own impression of what that cover might look like—all mystical and mysterious—that the reality never really had a chance to equal what I’d already painted in my mind. I had/have concerns that it tells the readers that I write pure Historical "Romance," and that’s simply not the what my story’s all about. For those of you on Scribophile who have read my book (Hey, Babs!), you’ll know that’s not the genre. But Penguin knows what sells, and I learned to love the artistry of the cover even if it doesn’t exactly tell much about the story. How do I cope with it? I’m a pretty relaxed person, so other than a few hysterical outbursts I’m usually pretty calm about all that. Besides, what choice do I have? Do I compromise my contract with a dream publisher for a cover? Do I bite the hand that feeds me? No! I’m here to write books, and when they buy a book from me that means I’m able to (partially) afford to write the next one.

Scrib: I saw your blog post about choosing book titles for your third novel and thought it was a great way to get your fans involved with your work. What’s your favorite way to stay interactive with your readers?

GG: Promoting is something I never really considered when I was writing my first book. "Under the Same Sky" was an expression of what I felt inside and an adventure I was excited to share, but … stepping out there and plugging it? No, not me! Alas, promoting is hugely important to a book, whether you’re traditionally published or self-published. I’ve tried loads of different ideas. The toughest was putting together my own blog tour, but it was also the most fun. Not sure how many books it sold, but it really thrust me into the hub of promotions. Those book bloggers are pros, and they work very hard. I don’t know how they do it. Anyway, other than that I did book giveaways, but even though I had a number of promotional books provided by the publisher, the mailing costs alone threatened to bankrupt me! This Christmas I did a different kind of giveaway—I wanted to thank a few of the authors who had helped me along my first year, so I featured a dozen authors and their books (one a day), then gave their books away. That brought me new followers/readers, which is the whole name of the game, right? That’s some of the promotions side of it, but you also asked about staying interactive. The truth is that I’ve been published by Penguin for over a year now, and I am still amazed when someone Likes my Facebook page, then tells me why! Readers? Fans? That’s an incredible concept to me. I think my favourite way to stay interactive is through Facebook, because that’s a place where you can actually chat with your readers, get their feedback, and give answers to questions whenever I can. I also put out a monthly newsletter, which includes my recommended reads for the month. I want readers to know that I’m just like them, always looking for the next great read!

Scrib: You must be excited about your third novel coming out this year. How do you keep your momentum going for a series like that?

GG: When I wrote the first book, "Under the Same Sky"—which was written in a large part here on Scribophile!—I had no plans to write a second book. My agent, Jacques de Spoelberch, called me that fateful night and said Penguin not only wanted to buy the first book, but wanted to contract me to write a "companion" novel to that one. He asked if I had any thoughts on that, so of course I said yes … then wandered around in a panic for a few days while I tried to put together some kind of story. I should have known better. I’m a writer. My stories will come looking for me when it’s time. I woke up one morning with the voice of my first hero’s brother in my head, telling me he had a story to tell. I was so thrilled! And … I figured that was all I was going to do with that. But about a year after I submitted "Sound of the Heart," the sister of my original heroine woke me. She was the quiet, fragile one, and I was shocked to learn that she had a story, too. It actually might be my favourite one of all. I’ve started working on a fourth as well, but have two other non-related books going at the same time. The only thing that stalls me is my editing business—but I need to feed the family somehow!

Scrib: Three-parter: Editing, writing, and ghost writing keep you busy. Do you ever have problems switching hats? Do you prefer one over the others? Why?

GG: I definitely have a problem switching hats. I think all my clients would understand if I admitted that I’d much rather be writing my own books full-time, but that’s just not financially feasible. I’m not James Patterson, making $94 million a year. Sigh. When I started writing, I wasn’t a full-time editor, so I was able to write a lot. Now I have to allot time for writing, and I find that time is difficult to find. Especially since I know any months spent simply writing will be bringing in no income. Last year I had a stretch of eight months of non-stop editing, and I tried alternating mornings/afternoons with their writing and my own, but when I went back I discovered my own writing was starting to feel a lot like theirs, and I had to redo most of it.

As an editor, one of my goals is to always maintain the author’s voice, which means leaving mine behind. When I try to squeeze in my writing between editing jobs, sometimes I can’t find my own voice. That can be quite scary, to be honest. Ghostwriting is something else altogether. I really enjoy ghostwriting, when it’s for the right client. When the client knows exactly what they want, just not exactly how to write it, that means they are leaving the actual writing part up to me. That’s ideal.

Scrib: I need to ask the question I’m sure everyone asks. How did you start working with your agent?

GG: You mean how did I finally hook an agent? Well, first off, it didn’t happen overnight. I put in my querying time. Oh yeah. The first time I sent out my book it was twice as long as it ended up being, but I had no idea how to edit at that point. I must have sent out over a hundred queries using the shotgun method. Two years later, after working intensely with every single word, every single sentence, I focused on the querying process and started again, but this time I was particular about who I contacted.

But where my connection finally happened was at Authonomy.com. I’m not going to talk about that site here, but suffice to say that other than the contacts and friends I made on there, I don’t believe it was worth the craziness. Very cutthroat, in my experience, and unhelpful. But there were some wonderful people on there, and a few of them recommended their agents to me. That’s how I found Jacques de Spoelberch, a legend in the agenting business (and also the original editor for "Deliverance"!). He called me one night, and we talked for a long time—I forget how long, but I do know I had no nails left by the end of that conversation. He didn’t commit to anything except reading my book again after I’d played with his ideas. He wanted me to reconsider the ending and some other parts, and I was far too intimidated to question him. As I worked on it I wondered and doubted … but it turns out he was absolutely right about everything. After all, he sold it to Penguin in only 48 hours! There’s just no messing with experience.

Scrib: A mad scientist has invented a time machine using his lawn mower, a frozen yogurt cup, and 3 bent spoons. He will only allow you to go back to right before you started working on your first novel, Under the Same Sky. What piece of advice would you give your past self?

GG: My first piece of advice wouldn’t have much to do with my writing, I’m afraid. Before I started to write I was a stay-at-home mom with two very active little girls, and I spent so much time running around trying to figure out how to raise kids that I never really spent enough time looking after myself. Not until my mom put a book in my hand when they were about six and eight years old (they’re 12 & 14 now). That’s when I remembered that I was a person, too. Not just a mom. So my first piece of advice would be to respect myself and my own needs. I needed to take time and let myself read adventures, lose myself. That opened the door to everything. And actually, I guess that same piece of advice carries into my writing, because in that department I’d encourage myself to get over the guilt. I always felt as if writing were a guilty pleasure for me, as if I should be doing something more "productive" with my time. Then I got a contract and suddenly I was "legit." I needed to know that it was okay for me to give myself that time, to play with writing whether it was ever going to lead anywhere or not.

Scrib: Thanks for taking the time to chat with us!

GG: Thanks again, Cassie!

You can find Genevieve on Twitter at @GenGrahamAuthor.

I have a few rules and tricks to try to help cope with the flood of people. I want to share them with you here in case any of you decide to apply for a freelance writing job in the future. Any hiring manager is going to get overwhelmed with applicants fast–just like I do–and they probably use tricks like mine to help keep things manageable.

1. Read the job description very, very carefully, and do precisely what it asks.

I always ask for at least two things from a potential applicant. The first is for them to include a writing sample that they feel is representative of their style. Pretty easy, and to be expected, considering what the job is.

The second is a little trickier. Near the bottom of the ad, I ask that in their email to me they use a certain subject line that I specify. Also pretty easy to do.

When the emails start coming in to my inbox, I immediately delete about 50% without even reading them.

Can you guess which ones I delete? That’s right: the ones that didn’t use the subject line I specified.

Why am I being so cruel? Surely every starving freelancer should get a fair shake if they go through the trouble to email me?

I do it because not using that subject line says something about the person who emailed me. It says: “I don’t fully read instructions”, or it says, “I read instructions, but I don’t always do what they say.”

Both of those things are instant deal-breakers for potential contractors. When I hire someone to write for me, I need to be able to give them basic instructions and I need to trust that they’ll read and follow them. I have better things to do than breathe down their necks to make sure they’re doing things right. If a freelancer can’t be bothered to read the complete job description and do something as trivially simple as use a certain subject line, I’m not going to trust them with something as complicated as following style guides and using WordPress.

You can bet that recruiters at bigger companies go a step further and set up email filters: emails matching a specific subject will go straight to the “in” pile, while others will go to the trash.

2. Don’t make me work to see your qualifications.

I mentioned that I ask each applicant to include a very short piece of writing that they feel is representative of their style. They can attach it to the email or include it directly in the body, I don’t care. But you’d be surprised how many freelancers ignore my request and send me to their personal blog instead!

I get in a bad mood as soon as I see someone sending me to their blog for two reasons:

1. You’re already making me work by making me click a link instead of seeing your writing sample immediately. When I have 200 other applicants waiting to be read, every little bit counts. If I like the sample you included, I’ll definitely click through to see the rest of your links. But I’m not going to do that before I at least get an idea of your skill level.
2. A blog is not a portfolio! I don’t want to read your personal musings about what you ate yesterday. I want to read one, at most three, of the pieces of writing you’re the most proud of. They should be front and center, and if I have to go digging around through tag clouds, blogrolls, categories, or any other blog bullshit to find them, I’m leaving and deleting your application. This makes me so mad that I even started a service to make professional online writing portfolios easy.

I can’t emphasize this enough. Your blog is not your portfolio!!! There is almost nothing more unprofessional then being sent to a personal blog to see “writing samples”. Get yourself a real portfolio (and if you think you can’t afford one, just buy one less latte at Starbuck’s per month or cancel that Netflix subscription) or at least wrangle your free WordPress site into something simple, navigatable, and professional.

3. Triple-check every bit of copy that you send or link to.

Your job is to write. If in the second sentence of your writing sample you use “it’s” instead of “its”, or “your” instead of “you’re”, you’re getting deleted.

Is this a little harsh? I don’t think so. After all, writing is your job! I can’t be looking over your shoulder to make sure your grammar, spelling, and punctuation are correct all the time. I need to trust you to get it right the first time and without my oversight. If you can’t be bothered to proof the very content I should be hiring you for, then you’re probably not going to do good work on the job.

Yes, people make mistakes–but there are some places where, given the circumstances, mistakes just aren’t excusable: Nuclear reactor safety procedures, the transport of construction-grade high-explosives, and the writing samples of a professional freelance writer.

4. If possible, tailor the writing sample to the subject–and don’t be scared of sharing.

This isn’t always possible, but if you have some writing that’s directly applicable to the job you’re applying for, send it over. Don’t be scared that it’s going to be stolen and that you’ll get screwed–you won’t. But it’ll go a long way to demonstrating that you’re the right person for this particular job.

In one of the job postings I made, I asked applicants to send one or two sample titles for blog posts they might write for us. Just the titles! And I had two people respond that they didn’t want to include titles because they were scared that I’d steal their gold-plated ideas.

Don’t be silly. If someone is posting to a job board, that means they’re looking to hire someone, and there are easier ways to screw people than composing a highly-targeted job ad. Fear of having something as ludicrously mundane as a blog post title “stolen” tells me a lot about the applicant too.

Bonus: Tailor your email to the job.

I know that finding freelance work is hard, and to cope, a lot of freelancers write a single generic introduction email and send it with every job application. I understand that, and that’s OK.

But you’ll get a lot of brownie points if you go that extra inch and tailor just the first sentence of your email to whatever the job is. Are you applying to write about the weather patterns over Thailand? Then go ahead and send your generic email, but in the first sentence, mention that you love traveling and that meteorology has been your passion for years. It signals to the recipient that you took the time to talk to them personally and that you’re not just spamming 100 different job applications. (Even if you secretly are!)

Alex, you’re a cruel taskmaster! I hope I never work for you!

Actually, I think that as far as bosses go I’m pretty laid-back. Ask any of the past writers for our blog and I have no doubt they’ll tell you that I pay on time, I’m laid-back about the occasional missed deadline, they have extraordinary freedom in their choice of topics, and that I almost never bug them about anything.

But when I’m hiring, I want to be sure I hire the best people for the job. Hiring someone is easy, and firing someone is not.

I also need a way to filter out the best candidates from a pool of hundreds. These simple rules might seem capricious and unforgiving, but that’s the reality of the hiring environment. If you want the job, you have to be spick-and-span to compete against the hundreds of other people who want the job too.

Stand out by doing what’s asked

Getting hired is hard, but if you do precisely what the job ad asks for, you’ve already beaten 50% of the other applicants. If you do that and you also have a professional portfolio (like the ones at Writerfolio, my service for freelancers) then you’ve beaten 85% of other applicants. Make sure your writing samples are top-notch, be persistent, and you’ll be rolling in jobs in no time!

With that in mind, I think this is a great opportunity to rethink the direction and themes we want to explore in the blog. Its original mission was to provide writing how-to’s, tips and tricks, and other pieces related to the writing craft. But our new Writing Academy overlaps those themes a little bit. It doesn’t make sense to have two separate areas for educational content.

So while I ponder a different direction for the blog and hire new staff writers, the blog is going to be in hibernation. I’ve removed it from the home page since it won’t be getting any updates, but you can still access our entire archives by clicking the ‘Blog’ button at the top of the site.

Please note that for various reasons I’m not seeking Scribophile members to contribute to the blog.

Thanks everyone, and I hope we’ll be back up and posting soon!

In her book The Magic, Rhonda Byrne shares how cultivating gratitude in all aspects of your life can empower you and provide you with a healthy joyful and successful life. This is nowhere more important than in your writing. Gratitude and an attitude of impeccable intent will ensure a successful writing career.

It’s tricky. At times it may not be easy. But it starts with words.

“A thankful person is thankful under all circumstances,” says Bahaullah, founder of the Bahai faith. Lao Tse said that if you rejoice in the way things are, the whole world will belong to you. Professor and poet Johannes A. Gaertner eloquently said: “To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven.”

Live in Gratitude & Celebrate Your Humor

“Gratitude is magnetic,” says Byrne. “The more gratitude you have the more abundance you magnetize.” You can tell how much you have actually used gratitude in your life, says Byrne: “just take a look at all of the major areas in your life: money, health, happiness, career, home, and relationships. The areas of your life that are abundant and wonderful are where you have used gratitude and are experiencing the magic as a result. Any areas that are not abundant and wonderful are due to a lack of gratitude.” Whenever something or someone is taken for granted, it is not surprising that they often end up taking flight. The bottom line of ungratefulness, says Byrne is that “when we’re not grateful, we’re taking; we’re taking things in our life for granted. When we take things for granted we are unintentionally taking from ourselves.” To receive you have to give. And giving thanks is one of the most powerful ways of giving.

Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die, so let us all be thankful — Gautama Buddha

“Intentions, compressed into words enfold magical power,” medical doctor and writer Deepak Chopra tells us. There is an ancient mantra that goes something like this: where you place your attention, there you are. It speaks to the ultimate power of intent. When intention and feeling gratitude come together, you get magic, real magic.

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it — Roald Dahl

Byrne prescribes a daily exercise that will help you begin your day with a healthy and happy attitude. It starts with literally counting your blessings. Here’s how it works:

1. First thing in the morning, make a list of TEN blessings in your life that you are grateful for. It could be anything from the birds singing in your back yard, the water you are drinking to keep you alive or your eyes to see the trees or ears to hear the birds to your parents who provided for you.
2. Write why you are grateful for each blessing. Give at least one reason.
3. Go back and read your list, either in your mind or out loud. When you get to the end of each one, say the words thank you, thank you, thank you, and feel the gratitude for that blessing as much as you possibly can.
4. Repeat the first three steps of this magical practice every morning for the next 27 days.

Better to lose count while naming your blessings than to lose your blessings to counting your troubles — Maltbie D. Babcock

Celebrate the humor in things. Learn to laugh at yourself and with others. Write about what you are grateful for. EEK, you inspire me with your wonderful humor.

Find Sources of Inspiration

Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music—the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself—Henry Miller

Look outward as well as inward and explore different perspectives. Learn something new, find a photo or quote that touches you and write about it. How and why does it affect you? A colleague of mine once said that, “there is nothing uninteresting in the world; only disinterested people.” Rediscover what interests you. Create interest. Connect with the world. Find beauty. Interact with it.

Who inspires you? Why do they inspire you? What do they inspire in you?

Make a list of people (real or fictional, alive or dead) who inspire you and add the reasons why they do. You can take it a step further:

• Research and write a tribute to them
• Create a fantasy in which you meet them and interact with them
• Write a fictional conversation with them or write a letter to them
• Find a quote that epitomizes the essence of that person

Here’s mine for a very special mentor and advocate in my life. It’s by Albert Schweitzer:

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.

Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, shares that “art may seem to spring from pain, but perhaps that is because pain serves to focus our attention onto details (for instance, the excruciatingly beautiful curve of a lost lover’s neck). Art may seem to involve broad strokes, grand schemes, great plans. But it is the attention to detail that stays with us; the singular image is what haunts us and becomes art. Even in the midst of pain, this singular image brings delight. The artist who tells you different is lying.”

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it — Roald Dahl

Artists need to fill their reservoirs. Think magic. Think fun and mystery; not duty. Duty is dull and motionless. A mystery lures you; it keeps you moving and wondering. Do what intrigues you. Explore what interests you. “Think mystery, not mastery,” says Cameron.

In order to write about life, we must live.

Cameron prescribes an adventure to fill up our artistic reservoir, called an “Artist’s Date”. This is a block of time that you set aside and commit to; say, for two hours each week. It is a time committed to nurturing your artistic spirit and creativity. It could be an actual excursion, a “play-date” that you plan out and defend against any interlopers, distractions and excuses. This is a gift you give to yourself. You don’t take anyone with you. It is a solitary date, a date with yourself. A date with the artist in you. Do something on your own. Go bowling or to a show on your own.

Other examples include:

• A stroll in your neighborhood or in a local park
• A walk through an interesting ethnic community or funky commercial area
• A trip to the gallery, library, train station, church to people-watch or look at architecture and art, both intentional and otherwise
• A walk on beach to watch the sunset and watch the waves, the pebbles and nature’s other artifacts
• A discovery-drive through the country or some place of interest, preferably new to you, and let yourself get lost

After all is said and done, and you are sitting at your favorite desk to write, it comes back to you. The Muse is, after all, YOU. Whatever you write, whether it’s a science fiction novel or a murder mystery, you are writing about yourself. You are writing of yourself. Be impeccable.

Believe

Believe that every word you write makes a difference, whether it is through the eyes of those reading them or simply through your intent as you write them (and the universe by extension).

Believe that every word you write counts. Never for a moment let anyone tell you any different. Don’t let them convince you that your writing amounts to “no more than a drop in a limitless ocean…” Because, as esteemed author David Mitchel writes, “what is any ocean but a multitude of drops?”

Post Script:

This is my last post on Scribophile.

I’ve had a wonderful time here and I thank you all for your incredible support and thoughtful comments.  The discourses on some of the comment streams have been some of the very best I’ve experienced anywhere in my professional career as a writer and I will miss that. I must particularly thank you, Ruv, for your compelling challenges and delicious arguments. You have remained respectful, compassionate and impeccable throughout my tenure here. I will miss you. I will miss you all.  I leave you now in gratitude.

For those of you new to Scrib, I’ve been continuously blogging here since March 2011 (never missed a week), on topics that have ranged from nuts and bolts craft to the metaphysics of the muse and so much more. You can find them archived here. My gift to you. Enjoy! And God bless.

A staple.

That’s right. I was felled by one of those run-of-the-mill Swingline staplers, the ones that cost $7. I accidentally stapled the inside of my finger while reloading staples amidst 40 whiny high schoolers, wasn’t paying attention, and I closed the thing down on the inside of my middle finger. Two days later, I was in the ER being prepped for 3 a.m. emergency surgery for a staph infection. And three weeks later, I still have a Frankenfinger. A jagged lightning-shaped phalanx of stitches occupies my entire finger from palm to the top joint. I am typing with my left hand and my right thumb.

This escapade has made me really appreciate my fingers.

They are these fragile little digits that we use and abuse daily. I already have numerous scars on my hands and fingers from burns, scrapes, cuts, and camping accidents. Although our hands are so, so critical to almost every function we do, we still put them out there first when we fall down. We hold them up to protect us when things are flying. We use them to fish spoons out of boiling water, to change the cat box, and (after careful washing), to eat our food.

Hands are miraculous, fingers even more so, and I admit I took them for granted until I couldn’t use them. Here are the things I could not do without a right hand: type, open mail, wash my hair, put on makeup, write anything, play the piano, type without massive mistakes, grade papers, plan lessons, put Legos together, fold laundry, cook dinner (except for microwave stuff), hold a book, hold the phone for more than a few minutes, drive a car, open my son’s backpack, move furniture, open cans, cut roses, open the garage door manually, and many other things.

I also had a lot of time to read stuff on my computer. I read a story about a girl who felt absolutely no pain. She had a genetic mutation that kept her from sensing anything more than pressure and texture. As a young child, she had burned all the skin off her palms, and she’s caused numerous other injuries unknowingly because her nerves did not register physical pain.

All of this I learned while sitting in the hospital watching numerous reruns of bad action movies on TBS and cruising as best I could on the spotty hospital Wi-Fi. It made me realize something that is very important: hands in many ways define our humanity. Without them, and our clever opposable thumbs, we would be relegated to helpless awkward consumerism. Although some artists have figured out how to use their feet in place of the five-fingered wonder, I don’t know how many of us could do that (I suppose with the proper motivation and helplessness…but I wouldn’t want to.)

In short, today I am thankful for my hands and fingers. I get the stitches out tomorrow, almost three weeks after the surgery. I have a new appreciation for that Michelangelo painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. There’s a reason God and man are depicted with their fingers almost touching. I now believe those hands are perhaps our greatest gift.

It made me think about what it is in those “repetitive tasks” that stoke our muse and how we as writers can benefit from it. Is it simply God’s ironic sense of humor (e.g., “You’re too busy to do anything about it now, so I will give you a genius moment to ponder….Good luck remembering it!”). Or have we inadvertently caught the universal wave? Einstein once said, “everything in life is vibration.”

We are creatures of rhythm: circadian, diurnal, and seasonal. Let’s face it; our environment—light especially—affects our behavior, psychologically, physiologically and even socially. For instance, mood-altering chemicals generated in the pineal gland in our brain, are partially affected by the light received from our retina. Our world is composed of energy, light, sound and matter, all expressed at different frequencies. Music—which is all frequency—can heal the body, strengthen the mind and unlock the creative spirit. For instance, music with a pulse of about sixty beats per minute can shift consciousness from the beta wave (ordinary consciousness at 14-20 Hz) toward enhanced alertness and general well-being at the alpha range (heightened awareness at 8-13 Hz, and essentially the standing wave in Schumann’s Cavity).

The study of cymatics, coined in 1967 by Swiss doctor Hans Jenny from the Greek word kyma (wave), explores how sound affects gases, liquids, plasmas and solids and how vibrations, in the broad sense, generate and influence patterns, shapes and moving processes. When sound travels through non-solids it moves in longitudinal waves called compression waves. In matter, the medium is displaced by sound waves, causing it to oscillate at a frequency relative to the sound, and visible patterns emerge.

Using crystal oscillators and a “tonoscope” to set plates and membranes vibrating, Jenny controlled frequency and amplitude/volume to demonstrate that simple frequencies and songs could rearrange the essential molecular structure of water and other materials.

Jenny was convinced that biological evolution resulted from vibrations in a kind of fractal progression, and that their nature determined the ultimate outcome. He speculated that every cell has its own frequency and that a number of cells with the same frequency create a new frequency, which is harmonious with the original, which in its turn possibly forms an organ that also creates a new frequency in harmony with the two preceding ones. Jenny was saying that the key to understanding how we can heal the body with the help of tones lies in our understanding of how different frequencies influence genes, cells and various structures in the body (think of how you feel when you listen to Mozart’s Divertimento No. 15 vs. when you’re listening to Mick Jagger belt out Ruby Tuesday).

Boldly extending his tonoscope research into voice and language, Jenny discovered that when the vowels of ancient Hebrew and Sanskrit were pronounced, the sand took the shape of the written symbols for these vowels, while modern languages didn’t generate the same result. This has led spiritual philosophers to ponder if “sacred languages” (including Tibetan and Egyptian) have the power to influence and transform physical reality, to create things through their inherent power, or through the recitation or singing of sacred texts, to heal a person who has gone “out of tune”?…

This is an exceptional concept…

In a controversial movie called “Water”, Rustum Roy, professor at the State University of Pennsylvania and member of the International Academy of Sciences, posited that water has “memory”, based on the structure it takes on as a result of electromagnetic fields and various frequencies to which it is exposed.

I’m a practicing aquatic scientist and I’m compelled to note that the human brain is 75% water; it is not surprising that we can be affected by the shape and form of water itself—and, in turn, may shape water with our minds. This is in itself a startling admission and opens up a myriad of controversial topics, which many scientists find hard to reconcile and refuse to investigate, let alone entertain. And, yes, I am edging into the area of metaphysics, “science fiction”, and “fanciful thinking”. A place populated by heretics who do “questionable science”, those rogue mavericks who dare step outside the realm of traditional science to imagine, to dare pursue a truth using unconventional means.

Here’s my point: water is important to us in ways science can’t even begin to explain. Because science can’t yet explain it, should we abandon the potential and its investigation? All good science was once perceived as magic before it was understood.

Let me take it one step further:

I posit that our entire bodies are sending and receiving vibrations at different frequencies with our environment, other people and other animals around us, inanimate objects, even the seemingly ‘empty’ space. It has permeated our culture more than you may realize, including the metaphors we have seamlessly adopted in our common language: terms like “bad vibes”, “you can feel the tension”, and “you could cut the air in here with a knife”.

If you think this is all too weird, consider the weirdness of quantum mechanics, which shows us that not only is “solid” matter made up mostly of energy and “empty” space but what makes a solid a chair vs. you sitting on it is the vibration of its energy. Quantum science has demonstrated that light and matter are made of both particles and waves (New Scientist, May 6, 2010) and can exist in two simultaneous states (heard of Schrodinger’s Cat?). Let’s consider, for instance, “entanglement” (quantum non-local connection), the notion that particles can be linked in such a way that changing the quantum state of one instantaneously affects the other, even if they are light years apart. And what does it mean when solid flows, ghost-like, through itself under certain conditions? Or parallel universes are created by splitting realities? (You’ll have to check out my recent book, “The Last Summoner” for a unique take on this popular notion).

Nobel prize-winning physicist Richard Feyman says of the paradoxes presented by quantum mechanics, “the ‘paradox’ is only a conflict between reality and your feeling of what reality ought to be.”

So, what does all of this have to do with “writing”, scintillating or otherwise, some of you may be asking… Well, nothing … Everything …

You’ll have to wait for “Part 2, why I get my best ideas in the shower” for all this to come together…and hopefully it will. See you then!

Many of us are, in fact, creatively blocked. How would you know if you were? Jealousy is an excellent clue. Are there creative people you resent? Do you tell yourself, ‘I could do that, if only…’ An old friend of mine used to constantly share that he would “start living and settle down” once he had enough money. It never happened; and he never did—twenty years later. That was sad; because he was waiting for life to begin, when it was already happening—and he was missing it.

Creative recovery (or discovery) is something you can learn. It is something you can enhance and direct. “As you learn to recognize, nurture, and protect your inner artist,” says Cameron, “you will be able to move beyond pain and creative constriction. You will learn ways to recognize and resolve fear, remove emotional scar tissue, and strengthen your confidence.”

Stoking the creative artist inside you may be as simple as giving your mind the chance to wander—and taking the time to pay attention. Rhythm and regular, repetitive actions play a role in priming the artistic well. Cameron lightheartedly describes how the “s” activities work so well for this: showering, swimming, scrubbing, shaving, steering a car. I can testify to the latter—how many great plot ideas have I cooked up while driving to work! Filmmaker Steven Spielberg claimed that his best ideas came to him while he was driving the freeway. Negotiating through the flow of traffic triggered the artist-brain with images that translated into ideas. “Why do I get my best ideas in the shower?” Einstein was known to have remarked. Scientists tell us that this is because showering is an artist-brain activity.

The magical part in this is to pay attention. Pay attention to your life experiences; don’t ignore them. Sit up in the bus and watch people, play with the images, sounds and smells. Get sensual and let your eyes, ears, nose and limbs delight in the world. It’s amazing how interesting the world becomes once you start paying attention.

Henry Miller tells us to develop interest in your daily life; in people, things, literature, and music: “the world is … simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself,” he says.

Looking outward as well as inward allows us to explore different angles and facets of the same thing. When we see the same thing through different perspectives we rediscover something new in ourselves. We create interest and connect the world to ourselves.

Julia Cameron shares that “art may seem to spring from pain, but perhaps that is because pain serves to focus our attention onto details (for instance, the excruciatingly beautiful curve of a lost lover’s neck). Art may seem to involve broad strokes, grand schemes, great plans. But it is the attention to detail that stays with us; the singular image is what haunts us and becomes art. Even in the midst of pain, this singular image brings delight. The artist who tells you different is lying.”

Brenda Ueland tells us why we should all use our creative power: “Because there is nothing that makes people so generous, joyful, lively, bold and compassionate, so indifferent to fighting and the accumulation of objects and money.”

References:

Julia Cameron. 2002. “The Artist’s Way”. Tarcher. 272pp.

Nina Munteanu. In Press. “The Journal Writer:  Finding Your Voice”. Starfire. 132pp.

Despite hardships, despite obstacles, despite cruel days and lonely nights, writing continues. I’ve done it since I was old enough to hold a pencil. I have a wonderful picture of myself at age 9, jealously guarding a yellow legal pad on which I’d scribbled my most secret stories. Today, I’m much more willing to share my work.

In fact, sharing my work has become critical to my health. I don’t mean sharing in the sense that I become famous or rich from my writing (although, honestly, who wouldn’t want that?) I mean critical in the sense that I can express.

The meaning of the term “self expression” has mutated over the past couple of decades. I think it used to be a ‘60s trope that excused bad behavior and drunken carousing. Then the term grew up, and became synonymous with artists drilling to their inner cores and spilling out onto page, stage, or canvas their inner-most dreams, nightmares, and fears. Today, I think it’s seen as a self-indulgent, useless vehicle for dilettantes, something with little point in the practical world. Public schools regard it as filler; it’s not on a standardized test, therefore, not worth measuring.

But for me, writing is literally expression. It is squeezing out the dark matter swirling in the middle of my chest. It is living outside my own world. It is a hand grasping desperately for a piece of driftwood in a storm-tossed ocean. Without it, I cease to breathe, I drown, I collapse into myself like an imploding nova.

I know this is true because I have tried to live without it. At one point in my life, I decided that it wasn’t practical. I gave up on it; I let myself go under, thinking it would be more peaceful to stop fighting. I became a high school English teacher, and I lied to myself. I pretended that I’d come back to it when I had time. I put it aside like an inconvenience.

I noticed small changes at first. Colors seemed dim. Music lost its appeal. I ate more, as if I were stuffing precious belongings into an antique trunk, cramming in more and more, filling it to the brim and beyond. Then came the irritability. I became short-tempered with almost everyone.

Honestly, I couldn’t give it up anymore than I could give up eating or breathing. I started slowly to come back at first, like a coma patient swimming to the surface of consciousness. I started with small writing exercises snuck in at work. I’d find ways to have my students write poetry, or do descriptions of the campus, or map character motivation, and while they were doing that, I was writing along with them. I pretended it was so I could experience things the way my students were, but really, it was because I had to write.

I felt the stirring. It was right below my breast, perfectly centered, under my hearts and tied to my lungs. The rusted machine started to pump again, slowly, creaking and halting, coughing up dialogue clogs and spitting out synonyms. The moments for reflective thought were brief and few, but in them, I felt an awakening.

Then ideas started to swarm, first in my dreams, but then in my waking life as well. The turn of a stranger’s wrist would generate a whole scenario of romance; a dirty window inspired a tragic narrative of lost opportunities. Snatches of dialogue seemed to cling to me like wet paper; face after face had a story attached.

I started to write again, really write. I carved out time from the mountain of work I took home every day. I neglected plants. I failed to change the fish water. I even eased up on my nine-year-old son and stopped hovering over his homework, making a deal with him that he’d do his work while I did mine, and then we’d play together when he was finished.

I’ve chipped away at the statue of a story buried in my subconscious since that day. It has begun to emerge, and it is so real to me that I walk around my school when I have a spare moment and think of conversations I would have with Anna, the obsessive-compulsive protagonist whom I love and admire and pity and love again. I’ve seen her in my mind, traveling across the country in a borrowed powder-blue Cadillac, and sometimes I see the tail of that car turn a corner and almost follow it to see where it will go. I hear music when she drives.

What writing means to me is all of this. It is a world that is within me, and also without me unless I choose to keep it. I won’t let it go again.