We talk about her approach to writing the book, revisiting old essays, dealing with the flood of rejections and the art of the crafty complaint.
We brought up her 100 rejections in a year manifesto, something she said at HippoCamp 2019, something she took from Lisa Romeo.
Amy talks about drawing inspiration from David Sedaris, Malcolm Gladwell, and the mystery genre.
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Thanks for listening, CNFers. It means the world to me. Seriously.
“You have to decide how you want to live in this ecosystem that is morphing around you.”
“So much of my career, it’s been a process of realizing that the “book” isn’t everything.”
Promotional support is provided by Hippocampus Magazine. Its 2018 Remember in November Contest for Creative Nonfiction is open for submissions until July 15th! This annual contest has a grand prize of $1,000 and publication for all finalists. That’s awesome. Visit hippocampusmagazine.com for details. Hippocampus Magazine: Memorable Creative Nonfiction.
Okay, back in the saddle again, it’s the Creative Nonfiction Podcast, the show where I speak to the best artists about telling true stories so you can apply those tools of mastery to your own work.
For Episode 102 of CNF Pod, I welcome Jane Friedman, the titan (though not like Thanos) of the publishing industry, whose book The Business of Being a Writer, published by the University of Chicago Press, is the best and most frank book on earning a living with words.
It debunks a lot of myths and, quite honestly, could save a bunch of people from getting into the biz on false delusions and might even save more people from pursuing an MFA (not that this is/was Jane’s intent), a degree, IMO, that leads to more debt than fulfillment, controversial as that may be. And I have one, earned on the false pretenses of career advancement, but that’s not why we’re here.
Jane talks about her upbringing in a small Indiana town, I wish it was Pawnee, but it wasn’t.
How a writing career is very much individualistic
Dealing with shame
Playing the long game
Embracing Change instead of fighting it
And getting beyond the idea that the book is the be all, end all
Thanks to Jane and to our promotional sponsor Hippocampus Magazine.
If you have a minute or two, please consider leaving a review on iTunes/Apple Podcasts. That would mean the world to me and will help this podcast reach more people looking to tell their best true story.
This is something I’m currently struggling with and I imagine I have company.
This phrase I call “up the down” is a type of career track. Imagine you just got off the train at the World Trade Center. You’re about to head up from underground to the city. You have three ways of surfacing:
Walk up the stairs (good for physical fitness, but harder)
Walk up the up escalator (this is a Viking longboat all paddling in unison)
Walk up the down (despite all your effort, you go nowhere)
Now imagine three people have the same/similar talent(s) and walk at the same pace. One systematically climbs up the stairs (though winded). One flies up the up escalator with the same effort. The other stays put and watches as the other two get away. He gets tired. He gets bitter. He may even give up.
The fundamental question is: How do you get on the right track? How do you stop going up the down? How can you avoid stepping onto the down escalator to begin with?
For the past few years, despite what some may consider nice accomplishments (awards, a well-received book, magazine and online by-lines), I’ve been walking up the down. I know this because I’ve watched peers, some a little older, most younger, fly past me to magazines of notoriety and the praise that comes with it.
At some point, we all want validation in our craft. Getting work placed at reputable publications feels good spiritually and they tend to pay more. I’m not trying to get rich. I just want to be able to turn the heat up past 55 degrees in the winter. Seeing your breath in your own house is sobering (not to mention freakin’ cold. I type with fingerless gloves.).
I can’t be alone. I’m not looking for shortcuts. Why try and cut down a tree with a steak knife if a chainsaw is available?
A goal of mine is to speak with freelancers and other creatives who either were fortunate enough to get on the right track, or, maybe of more value, how did they go from up the down to up the up.
I’d like to write a short ebook and make it available for people who follow this blog, past and future.
Selfishly, this is for me, but maybe I can help some other people who need a hand.
Today’s post deals with the ever-important query letter. It is the fundamental document of any freelance writer looking to make a living. It irons out what your pitch is about and who you are and why editors/agents should take a chance on YOU.
Here’s what got me into Vegetarian Times’s Vegging Out blog:
I opt for very quick and easy to read letters. One, editors are short on time. Two, they’re reading on a computer screen and most people want to read short pieces on a screen.
First, I called Vegetarian Times and asked for the name of the editor I should pitch to. Next, my opening paragraph is the hook and why the story will be interesting to Vegetarian Times readers (important, not what’s important to ME, but what’s important to THEM. Sometimes you have to alter—as in cater—your voice. Nothing wrong with this.)
Then I jump into my credentials so the editor doesn’t think I’m some yahoo (which will be totally discredited when they see I wrote a book on horse racing, but that’s neither here nor there). I also tag a page on my website where the editor can click and find clips of my work. If they want hard copies, I’ll send them, but in two clicks, the editor will have a broad sample of my writing capability.
Ultimately, my approach comes down to two things:
1. Get in, get out 2. Take Your Time with the Query (this applies more to book queries)
The letter needs to be read quickly and have some semblance of voice and a tightness of language that will be indicative of a longer piece of work.
With the second point, it’s important not to rush when querying an agent or a publishing house because it’s a painfully long process and sitting on your query for an extra day or week won’t kill it. Rushing will make it sound rushed. Treat it like a piece of art. It needs time. The publishing process is long. I’m as guilty as an when it comes to a trigger finger when sending a query or email. But let the query breathe. Your book won’t be published for at least two years. Hanging out for a few more days will help, not hurt it. Here’s my query for Six Weeks in Saratoga that had a few agents biting and sold SUNY Press.
This is a tad long, but it grabbed the attention of enough people to be moderately effective.
Undoubtedly my queries will get better as I learn more about them. As I learn more and experiment with what works and what doesn’t, I’ll be sure to share that information and samples. I may even try to get a friend or two to write a guest post about the subject.
