Write What You Know (or at least do really good research first)

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by Kelly DeBie

I’m at this place in my life where I’m reading a decent number of self-help books. All of which are written by so-called experts in whatever the topic is, none of which seem to have very much information that pertains to me or is relevant to my situation.

For their sakes, I’m going to assume that whatever they have written, though it doesn’t apply to me like the cover promised it would, must have mattered to them. At least when they wrote it, that is.

These books seem to not only be off the mark, but filled with judgment and condescension, as though whatever experience the author is drawing from is the only important one, and their opinion the best one available.

I suppose it sells books to suckers like me who keep buying them. I read most of them, then throw them across the room.

Sometimes I think my frustration with these books, and with so much non-fiction writing in general is that there almost needs to be this assumed superiority in knowledge, even if it’s not based in truth. Without that hook, that new and improved version of information, without the new sound bytes, how else would they sell the books?

It’s true, I suppose, that non-fiction writing just is that way.

The air of superiority, the specialized knowledge or experience that is unique to each writer, captured and packaged for the masses, even if it almost never directly applies to anyone else.

Without that, aren’t we just regurgitating the same material over and over again?

I suppose so, but then I also suppose that my suppositions mean that I’m arguing with myself.

This notion of expertise in non-fiction writing, self-help writing in particular, is both required and based in falsehood.

Or maybe it’s just that I’ve grown weary of this universe full of self-proclaimed experts, particularly given that so many of them are later revealed to not actually have the knowledge base to be clinging to that illusion of superiority.

You know what I’m talking about, or at least I’m assuming you do.

The “experts” who aren’t. Who don’t actually know what they are talking about. Who have little or no expertise in the area that they claim to, but sell it well.

While it may be slightly more difficult to publish and sell a book based on an unsteady foundation of knowledge, the internet is full of people who do it on a daily basis.

The political pundits who don’t even understand the text of the laws they argue about. The parenting gurus who have had exactly one child for five months and three days. The relationship experts who have marriages that end in ugly divorces. The moms who proclaim how best to raise a child with (fill in the blank condition) even though their children don’t struggle with that issue at all. The life coaches who mostly have failed at careers of their own. The financial planners who can’t balance their own checkbooks. The hypocritical vegans. The nutrition bloggers who couldn’t even tell you where something falls on the glycemic index.

Them.

I could go on and on and on, but I’m again assuming you’re familiar with the phenomenon. Are some of those topics the type that a sufficient knowledge base can be formed with just doing adequate research? Maybe. 

Are most of them of that variety? No.

When people ask me for advice about starting to write, one of the most common things I tell them is to write what they know. Be honest. Be transparent. Be authentic. Don’t try to be something you’re not, because even if you manage to fool people for a little while, eventually you’ll be found out. Eventually people will see through it.

If that doesn’t work, and you still feel compelled to write about something you aren’t familiar with, make sure you do exceptionally good research. Cover your bases. Learn about whatever that topic is in depth. Then learn more.

Understand though that sometimes there is simply no substitute for experience.

And remember that once something is published, whether on the internet or in a book, it’s going to live on for all eternity. If you’re just giving a topic lip service, someone, somewhere will find out and all the delete buttons in the world won't save you.

I’d rather be unknown and have integrity than be famous for being a fraud.

But that’s just me...

An Understructured Rant on Book Reviews, Critics, And Why You Should Write Anyway

By Jody Aberdeen

"The Artist makes culture, not the Critic." - David Bowie

In the Acknowledgements section of my debut novel Convergence, I ended up including the following passage: "I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't, well, I'll just write something else".  Admittedly, it was a bit of pre-emptive insecurity on my part, but in a way, it's really the only strategy I have to face one of the worst fears that plagues many authors, especially new ones: a negative review.

Any fan of AMC's The Walking Dead knows that the recent finale was, at best, mixed in terms of audience reception.  I got into a small Twitter debate with one of my fellow Toronto Wordslingers about one of the characters (The Governor) being true to himself versus the viewers wanting the kind of "Wham!" ending that they didn't get. And I found myself being a complete fanboy about the whole thing, which is odd, considering that the advice I usually give writers is to just write your real story, screw everyone else's thoughts about where you take it.  In most cases, I at least give lip service to the writer's discretion of taking a story where their instincts and inspiration take them, but this time, I couldn't get past my own dissatisfaction with the ending as a fan and a viewer.

But that's the thing: how much consideration to a reviewer or a fan are we obliged to give when writing our work?  It's definitely not limited to novel or screen writing, but to any artistic expression, in any medium.

(Then again, it's not like the writers behind The Walking Dead are going to care about what I have to say about it per se).

It's not exactly a new debate, but there are always new writers, so the question remains valid: at what point does a desire for artistic integrity stop you from connecting with your audience?  Do you write for the market or write what you have to say, even if it bucks a trend?

How much credence do we give to people who make it a living to criticize content versus creating it themselves?  I think by the way I phrased the last one, you can tell where I stand on the question.

Opinions are cheap, really, especially when it comes to the arts.  There's little else that bugs me quite like a so-called patron of the arts who himself does not create the content, has not ever been bit by a creative impulse in her life, but who nonetheless can say, with conviction and a measure of credibility, that this book stinks.

If it was just a matter of some random person playing armchair quarterback with an author's labour of love, then it would end at mere irritation, but because of the sheer plethora of books available in 2013 and the ever shuttering windows of time available for people to read them, critics have never had more power to make or break the career of any storyteller, and they are necessary.

That being said, the math just seems really unfair at times.  Maybe it's the newbie in me, but it just plain sucks that I could spend countless years and ungodly amounts of coffee working on a manuscript just to have one bad review in a major paper or blog site destroy my book's success before it starts.  This is especially true when the critiques are almost purely academic: Stephen King notes in On Writing that one critic panned The Green Mile because his lead character and martyr, John Coffey, has the same initials as another famous figure who died for the sins of ordinary people.  "Really, guys?" is how King puts his own reaction to that particular literary critique.

I suppose it's that very same hipsterish impulse that I'm sensitive to, the idea that a new piece of work is crap if seems too much like a comparable mainstream story, or if it's too "derivative", a critique on which I call "bullshit" quite frequently because, to paraphrase Fight Club author Chuck Palahniuk, we're all basically the aggregation of the sum total of ideas and experiences we've consumed in our lives. Great storytelling often involves using those familiar patterns and archetypes that have been done thousands of times before. Originality can only take you so far, but it's a familiar repost of the self-satisfied critic.

I'll end my understructured rant by saying this: every storyteller has the opportunity to connect with the audience.  Audience connection is the only real external concern that an author should have, but the real shiny part about it is that the works with the greatest resonance with people tend to happen when the author is being real with herself and the story she wants to tell.

Greatest recent example I can think of:  Matthew Quick's debut novel, The Silver Linings Playbook.  No, I'm not about to review the book for you in the midst of my anti-reviewer rant (my hypocrisy only goes so far), but I'll say this much: Quick told a story from a position of such authenticity that you can almost smell the barbecue at the Eagles tailgate parties he portrays, and did so in a voice and style that resonated enough with enough people to generate an Oscar-winning screenplay adaptation.  And the film and the book had enough people who nonetheless didn't feel too highly about it, but look how much that mattered in the long run.

Regardless of whether you end up with a movie deal or continue to write in obscurity, the point is this: tell your story, tell it well, and tell it with reckless abandon and deliberate blindness to the eyes and voices outside your creative process.  Create something that makes you feel good, enjoy the feeling of accomplishment when it's done.

And hey, if people don't like it, do what you were going to do anyway, and write something else.

Databases for Writers

by Carrie Bailey

Currently Peevish Penman is preparing to upgrade our author resources. If you haven't already viewed our small press list, click on this link. One of the challenges of being a successful writer is researching which publishers to query. The small press list allows you to view the homepage for each publisher without visiting each site and enduring the tedium of opening a new tab in your browser. 

Writers use different methods to identify potential publishers. No doubt everyone has heard they should browse bookstores and libraries, select publications similar to their own manuscript and keep a journal with detailed information about each of the publishers. Then contact them (something something something) and SUCCESS! Be published. This is a fine method, but for writers who are truly "aspiring," these publishers may be "dream" publishers and not the best option to gain the foundational experience they need. In fact, with this method, they may overlook the online publishers and small presses that would be most inclined to take a risk with an unknown.

Our goal is to create a searchable database of publishers and other author resources that meet the needs of aspiring writers. Send us a message via twitter or add a comment at the end of this post if you have any ideas or advice. We're considering making small press and online publishers searchable by:

• genre
• location
• type of publications accepted
• number of publications per year
• year established

If our technical skills allow, we also hope to allow user feedback and ratings for writers experience with different small presses and online publishers, too. If you're one of those very organized writers with a substantial journal or something to say about a publisher you've worked with in the past, send us a tweet. 

Carrie Bailey is a writer and the editor for Peevish Penman. She is currently studying information science in Wellington, New Zealand where she lives with her teenage son.