I just spent the morning with Kate Moses on the official publication day of her compelling new memoir, Cakewalk. We filmed our interview in the sunny kitchen, glass door open onto a backyard, three white cats circling and purring.

I read Cakewalk in the days before our meeting, laughing out loud and also sobbing. Yes, sobbing. It’s a wild and delicious ride, replete with recipes. Kate’s sentences are delicacies themselves–rich, abundant, generous and exquisite.

Rooted in a history of generations of Californians, White Russian treasure burning in a San Francisco dump, children tied to trees after the earthquake to keep them safe, Kate’s is the story of the making of a writer–for without waving any banners, this is a key part of the story and one that my writer self thrilled to read.

I don’t envy Kate her harrowing childhood, even with its flights of sugary beauty, and I suppose many writers have a cauldron of a past that boiled us, left us raw, tender and observant. But what a memory–what prose, what images–drives this narrative. What characters people it and what a journey creates the writer who can transform the whole thing into a delicacy.

I’ll be posting my video interview with her soon. Come join us in her kitchen!

Sistine Chapel

I was sitting with a delightful group of published novelists recently and the conversation turned to complaints about the market: why must everything be novel-length? What if you’ve written a novella and don’t want to do more? Why must stories be linked to get any attention? Etc. etc. If you spend any time with writers, you’ve heard some version of the conversation. It boils down to a lament that the market wants a voice in shaping MY art.

Look folks, said I. The Sistine Chapel masterpiece had to fit on the ceiling. Shakespeare’s plays had to have five acts and keep standing crowds happy enough that they wouldn’t throw tomatoes. Art has never functioned independently of the market.

And most of the time, we are the market: we are those finicky readers who want to be pulled into a story as much as we want the language to thrill us, who go for the buoyant luxury of a full-length novel, rather than the crowded diversity of a gathering of stories.

We writers want to be read but then we act as if our readers should be devoted in the manner of parents—indulgent, blindly convinced that we are brilliant. And yet, most writers I know are highly accomplished people who’ve found ONLY IN WRITING a place where they have never quite mastered it once and for all, where they can always do better, always do more. And much as we all complain, I venture to guess that it is that challenge that keeps us all here, sweating and bleeding onto the blank page.

What inspiration do you get from the market? Do you thrive on challenge?

I listen to both the NY Times Book Review podcast and the Guardian Books podcast. I enjoy them both—they pop up in my listening list and I am pleased, filled with the anticipation of delight and inspiration. But they are quite different, and I think their differences might be instructive.

The Guardian Books podcast always makes me want to read the books they are discussing. The speakers are, at heart, readers, readers talking about books they love—or sometimes books about which they disagree. The show often covers the long and short lists and then winners of the major literary prizes, such as the Booker.

The NY Times Book Review podcast usually has one or two relatively serious interviews and then a look at the (dying?) publishing industry in the U.S. and a review of the bestseller lists, which change almost not at all. The speakers are disparaging about the bestsellers, and therefore the millions who make them, but still they include the material every week.

Don’t get me wrong; I like listening to the bestsellers conversation, much as I enjoy reading US Magazine at my dentist’s office. I suppose I have an attitude similar to the editors who are having the conversation on the podcast.

But it does make me long to live in a country where the celebrities and the literary writers are one and the same.

When I am teaching (as I am all the time now), I tend to think more conversationally than when I am abiding inside my head, spinning tales. Lately, it seems there’s been a lot I’ve wanted to share that’s excited  and inspired me. Here are three of those items:

1) Haruki Murakami’s memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

At first, I was almost disappointed in the fit-of-my-shoes and tracking-of-miles-run-in-a-month mundanity of the book. But after I finished it, the full impact of his practice as a runner, his inevitable decline in the face of the body’s mortality, but his perseverance nonetheless, gave me the triumvirate of the writer’s being: the brain (lover of plot and planning, of revision, perfection and an impossible certainty), the storyteller (crazy, intuition-driven, passionate troubadour, who can do everything you hope and more if the brain will shut up), and now, the athlete. This is the writer who knows that how it feels to get the words down is irrelevant. The key is to put in the miles, to go the distance, to establish and maintain daily routines.

2) Robert A. Heinlein’s Five “Rules for Writing.”

1) You must write.

2) You must finish what you write.

3) You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.

4) You must put the work on the market.

5) You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

In a remarkable little essay, Robert J. Sawyer then takes us through each rule, showing us how fully half of all people who want to be writers fail to follow each rule. He adds a sixth, too.

(I’ll spend more time on this at another point, but let me say here that knowing what it means for a particular work to be finished—Rule #2—will make it possible, I think, to follow Rule #3 with success and a sense of integrity.)

3) A writer friend forwarded a “weekly reflection” from Mark Nepo about the long and material apprenticeship various cultures expect of their various artists and craftspeople. A perfect counterpoint to Heinlein’s light-a-fire-under-your-derriere Rules, Nepo’s gentle reminder pointed to a love of the process, of making progress rather than arriving. It’s not on his web site, but a bunch of his writing and information about him is there.

When I left New York City to move home to California, and left my ex-girlfriend, Florence, behind, my father comforted me with this: “At any given moment, there are a hundred amazing things going on in New York, but even if you are there, you can only go to one of them. So, at any given moment, you are only missing 1% more than Florence is missing while living there!”

I thought of this the other day in conjunction with the overwhelm sweeping the world. Do people go to events any more? Do they buy things or take classes? Or is there so much out there that is free that it’s hard enough just to get noticed? So many books being published, so many blogs, so many online communities, messages, ideas, conversations, products, newsletters, notices . . . Aaaaah!

But what if turning on your computer is just like going to live in New York, except you don’t have to pay a stupid broker’s fee? New Yorkers–well, transplants, I mean–learn to live with the chaos, the thousand faces going by, the million opportunities, the overload of information. You have your people. I remember riding the subway with my friend Lisa, a long time New Yorker. She bumped into several people she knew, between 42nd Street and the Upper West Side! Crazy. But you make your way.

There’s a sort of honor in the fact that when you read at Bluestockings, five famous authors are reading at the 92nd Street Y and Woody Allen or Bill Clinton is playing saxaphone at a local pub and Jamaica Kincaid is delivering a lecture at Columbia while Kate Bornstein has a play premiering off-Broadway and fifteen amazing bands are performing here and there, and several dance and opera companies, as well as that Chekov production in the park staring Meryl Streep. Not to mention the movies, the galleries, the museums, the cafes, the restaurants, the gyms, the writing groups and cocktail parties and marches and rallies . . . And yet, a swath of folks show up for your reading. Maybe even more people than there are chairs. Because New York is a big city, man, and there are a lot of people choosing where to go based on mood and distance from apartment and who else is showing up there.

New York has cultivated loads of culture and the explosion of possibilities hasn’t short-circuited anything. Sure, if you live in a rural town in Indiana, everyone in town will show up for your book publication party. But everyone in town is about the same number of people as the 0.0000001% of New Yorkers who will show up for your book party there.

All I’m saying is that the internet might turn us, each and every one, into city slickers.

My father also said that we humans are accustomed to seeing only faces that we know, and that it confuses our brains and our biology to see so many unfamiliar faces everyday. But in New York, you learn not only to “mind your own business” but also to be willing to fall a little in love with any face you pass on the street. My father, it should be noted, was a New Yorker who fell in love with strangers on a frequent enough basis.

I confess, I prefer the bracing weather and the cramped sidewalks and the noise and smells and rats and roaches and architecture and history and parks and flesh-and-blood people of New York to the bits and bytes of the internet, but still, thinking of New York reminds me not to panic. There’s much to be gained from crowded spaces.

Check out The GirlieGirl Army for my first guest blog. Anyway, you should know about the marvelous Chloe Jo Berman, if you don’t already. XOXO

And any Chloe Jo fans from the GirlieGirl Army who’ve made your way over here, welcome. Want to find out more about my upcoming and ongoing classes? Go HERE.

Past blogs will fill you in on tips on getting going, staying good and getting better. My newsletter brings you a monthly writing tip and news of free events, such as my third Thursday free coaching call, Answers and Encouragement for Writers. Sign up for the August 20 call now.

Everything is changing. This much we know. People lament or exalt the Kindle, perhaps via Facebook or a Tweet. Yes, it’s a different world than the one where your morning newspaper (what’s that?) landed with a thump on your doorstep and you put a thumb between the pages of your book to call out to your kid to bring it in the house. These days you might be reading a book at Google while your “newspaper” is scrolling across the bottom of your screen. Your kid probably can’t hear you with all the electronic media plugged into him. Okay, that’s a grim view.

The key, though, is that with all this change it’s hard to get a grasp of what the heck is actually going on. Here are some recent articles and blogs that help us make sense of the new publishing landscape.

“Bits of Destruction Hit the Book Publishing Business, Part 1″ is the clearest view I’ve seen. Definitely worth a look.  Part one of a long series, this really lays out what is going on as digital everything hits the publishing world.

If you are wondering how the brave new world might effectively promote reading–and not just spell its demise–check out, “Spotlight on: Social Media: Twitterpated: Religion Authors Dive into Social Media.” With all the examples of how Twitter and Facebook are being used to promote books, you’ll want to jump right in with your own giveaway, guessing game or wild new idea.

And seriously, if you are out there trying to make your name in 140 characters or less, here’s a fast and easy lesson on how to create content that’s worthwhile for your followers. “Fourteen Types of Tweets” will be helpful for newer Tweeters trying to figure out what will give the people what they want . . . and might offer a shot of inspiration even for old hands. (How old a hand can you be?)

Finally, a bit of news from the real world, but the big, bad, corporate real world, one that is touting good books! “Target Can Make Sleepy Titles Into Best Sellers” talks about how many folks are buying books alongside their detergent, diapers and plastics whatevers. Target is picking unknown authors to sell to their shoppers, and it can really turn sales around for these books. Good books, too. The article mentions my friends the wonderful writers Meg Waite Clayton and Michelle Richmond.

Shop at your local bookstore, if you have one anymore, and read your old fashioned actual-paper paperback, sure. Fight the good fight. But if you need a quick introduction to the ways technology and marketing and literature are co-existing and cooperating, take a look at these articles and let me know what you think.

I’ve been recommending this link to a number of my clients who are getting ready to go in search of an agent, and I thought I’d post it for the rest of you who might be heading that direction.

Jamie Ford, in case you haven’t heard of him (and apparently there are folks who haven’t heard of Kafka, so Jamie doesn’t need to feel bad and I’m sure he doesn’t) is a best-selling author. His first novel, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, has met with all kinds of success. Check it out.

Jamie is also a generous blogger, and one of the things he blogged about was his process of finding an agent. He even quotes his rejection letters (and no, he is neither spiteful or sassy, as he might be under the current circumstances; he’s just humble and professional). He approached the process very well, and he gives some good tips about it. Plus it makes for a good read–suspense and a happy ending.

You can probably troll his archives and find lots of great material. I’d recommend starting with his entry on the Query-Go-Round, and follow through, being sure to stop at I’ve Made Up My Mind, until you see his final announcement. Then of course, you can follow him as he becomes a best-selling novelist. All good fun.

Don’t forget to get back to your own writing, though. Because the number one way to get a great agent is to write an irresistible manuscript, oui?

http://www.jamieford.com/bittersweet-blog/2007/4/30/riding-the-query-go-round.html

http://www.jamieford.com/bittersweet-blog/2007/5/17/ive-made-up-my-mind.html

Yesterday, I hosted my first free coaching call: Answers and Encouragement for Writers. A handful of my faithful clients and students joined in–but it’s open to everyone, so come by on the third Thursday of next month and get some momentum for your writing life. (June 18, 5 – 6 p.m. PST)

We talked a lot on the call about literary agent and author Donald Maass’s wonderful book Writing the Breakout Novel. I read it a few weeks ago and found it smart, well-written and, most-importantly, craft-oriented.

Nobody knows what sells novels. When my first novel was published, my agent said this to me. She mentioned that being picked by Oprah sells novels, but nothing else guarantees a hot ticket to success.

Donald Maass’s contention is that word of mouth is the number one way to sell books. This makes sense. If you think about it, even Oprah is just a person with a lot of friends who listen to her opinion.

The great good news is that this means that craft–great storytelling, compelling characters, high stakes, meaningful and resonant times and places, profound themes and strong plots, which is to say escalating conflict–is the key to writing the breakout novel.

How many people follow you on Twitter, who you are Facebook friends with, and whether or not your cousin works for Oprah will do nothing for you if you do not have a great book.

But remember, that’s the good news.

The story, the characters, the tale’s vivid world: these make people talk about a book. And craft is the reason we all got into this crazy stew in the first place, right? Other people’s storytelling drew us to the wonder of books, and somewhere along the line we started wanting to brew some of our own magic.

Think about the books you promote. What was the last book you read that you had to recommend to other people, that you couldn’t stop talking about? Post it here if you would be so generous. We talked about our current book passions on the call yesterday, too, and that pulsing feeling of needing to get my hands on a particular new book inspired me, as a reader and as a writer. It reminded me of the sexy pull of great books. Nothing duty-bound about reading them, buying them, and spreading the word.

It’s a good way to think about our own manuscripts, about how to make them deeper, broader, more powerful. How to make them unforgettable, so that people tell their friends, “You have to read this book.”

What’s the last book you said that about?

Last night’s Face Books Tour event at Orinda Books went off splendidly. The room was packed and many people left with raffle tickets, having purchased the wonderful books our readers wrote.

The theme of the reading was The Power of Story, addressed from many angles by the fiction and non-fiction writers who presented.

Next event is the Clayton Books Authors Festival on April 26, and then we’ll be at Bookshop West Portal on May 7 and May 14, 7 p.m., with two entirely different and wonderful line-ups. Check out my events link and the Face Books Tour link for much more information.

In other news: The wonderful Ellen Sussman is holding a special Master Class in Mystery Writing at her gorgeous home in Los Altos. Here’s the write-up from Ellen, and there is still room left. Tell her I sent you:

Master Class on Writing the Mystery Novel

Three acclaimed mystery writers, Cornelia Read, Keith Raffel and John Billheimer, will join me in a panel discussion about their craft. I’ll ask them about plotting the mystery novel, about character development, about conventions of the genre, about breaking those conventions. I’d like to find out what we non-mystery writers can learn from these masters of plot, character, voice. And for those of you who are writing mysteries, we can find out how these three have succeeded in a very competitive field.

About the guest speakers:

Cornelia Read is the acclaimed author of A Field of Darkness and The Crazy School. The Drood Review voted John Billheimer’s first book, The Contrary Blues, one of the ten best mysteries of 1998. Four subsequent novels explore various scams and scandals in the coal fields of his native state of West Virginia. Bookreporter.com called Keith Raffel’s Dot Dead: A Silicon Valley Mystery “without question the most impressive mystery debut of the year.”

Date: Wednesay, May 13, 6:30 – 9:30
Place: at my house in Los Altos Hills.
Cost: $60

Contact Ellen by email: ellen (at) ellensussman (dot) com

I (Elizabeth) just read a draft of Cornelia’s next book and I LOVED it. This is sure to

be a wonderful evening, and I’m hoping to be there myself if the babies and partner allow it .

. .