The Elephant's Bookshelf

I'm not sure if this is something that comes with age or it's just a facet of the age we're living in, but I'm finding it more and more difficult to meet my many goals. For example, just to write a blog post each month has proven to be a major challenge. Of course, that's not nearly enough to maintain a consistent following (and I thank all of you who do come back post after post.)

Earlier this week, I pulled out a book about writing nonfiction book proposals. It's from 1995. To be sure, a lot has changed in the past fifteen years. But then again, many things remain the same. A writer still needs to have a saleable idea, a marketable product, and the dedication and enthusiasm to see those ideas and products brought to frution.

That's not exclusive to nonfiction. Fiction writers, too, need to have those elements in abundance. My fiction tends toward "literary fiction" and with that often comes slow, character-driven plots. There simply aren't as many people willing to spend their time reading the work of an unknown writer whose story is slow-paced.

But if a writer can sell his product 𔄤 fiction, nonfiction, memoir, poetry — and become virtually synonymous with his own style of writing, he can develop an audience who loves his work. That's not easy, but I think that's what separates the wannabe's from the superstars.

I used to hate Stephen King. I hadn't read his work, but back when I was in high school, it seemed that he could put all his disjointed nightmares on paper and sell a few million copies. What kind of writer would allow himself to descend to such levels, I wondered. After I saw the movie Stand By Me, which I later discoverd was based on his novella The Body, I softened on Mr. King. I softened further when I met the woman who is now my wife and who loves King's work. And I softened even more when I read his work On Writing.

What happened while I was getting all squishy is that I realized what I thought I knew about King was completely wrong. He wasn't a horror writer — not that I have anything at all against horror. He was a masterful story teller. He wa not always a great writer, but he could spin a yarn as well as spider could spin a web. First and foremost, he wrote about people. But he also wrote to, knew, and appreciated his audience. Read his forewards and afterwards. You can't help but get to know the guy. And like him.

I wouldn't call myself the biggest Stephen King fan in the world, but I've read enough of his work now to say that he's got a definite style. The marketing folks would talk about his brand of story. Others would reference his voice. To me, his work shows that he's put his time in and still does.

How about you? Are you able to put as much time in as you need to your writing? What would you need to sacrifice to meet your goals for yourself?

After an altogether disappointing reading experience with Firefly by Piers Anthony, I decided to go for something I knew I'd enjoy. So into my backpack went my copy of Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. To my mind, this is one of the best primers out there for aspiring novelists, and I was surprised at how long it had been since I last read it from cover to cover. Put it this way, tucked between a couple pages is a small calendar page from January 2005, and I don't have this book listed among those that I read that year, so I probably used it only for reference purposes at that point. It has been too long.

In the book, King breaks things down into digestible bits and helps readers/writers understand that if things stink pretty bad on the other end of that process, that's ok too. After all, rewriting is a vital part of writing. Anne Lamott had a similar sentiment in her widely acclaimed Bird by Bird: All first drafts are shitty.

But one of the things that I enjoy most about this book is the author's voice. On each page, King sounds not like some pompous jerk telling you how he succeeded and why he's earned a mint on his books. Rather, this is the voice of your favorite teacher as he offers suggestions and a healthy dose of laughter. This is the guy you want to impress with your own stories and whose class you're disappointed to leave when the bell rings.

In the opening sections of the book, he recounts his impoverished fatherless youth, his development into an alcohol- and cocaine-addicted commercial-publishing megastar, and finally his progression into the prolific write-every-damn-day author we know him as today. At the same time, it's his answer to that annoying question: "Where do your ideas come from?"

So, if you're a writer and you've never read this, put it on your list of must-reads. If you can't remember the last time you read it, pull it off your shelf and rediscover his simple lessons. If you're a writer who doesn't like reading, Steve has a special message for you too (though you're not going to like it). And if you're a fan of Stephen King but not looking to write anything of your own, you'll find more than enough to keep you entertained as well.

Life has been very busy lately, and not merely because I'm still struggling to write daily on a new novel. I've got major projects to finish before the end of the year and a freelance piece I intend to finish tonight and miles to go before I sleep...

While procrastinating about 10 minutes ago (before this arguably more valuable procrastination), I read a review of Stephen King's new collection of short stories, Just After Sunset. At the same time, I found another writer's MySpace page and she had cool background music, which has put me into a mellow mood (cue the single malt!).

So I read the review and took it in. And you know what? This guy is right: Stephen King's power as a writer is his honesty. I mean, anyone who knows how to write knows that King's work isn't a stellar example of art — and King knows how to write. Get it? Stephen King is an honorable craftsman, and I enjoy his work — even those that are pedestrian, like Dreamcatcher. He wrote to pay the bills, to get his wife a birthday gift, to feed his alcoholic needs while those terrors enlivened his early writing. He kept writing because it's all he really knew to do. I respect that. Even the drinking part. (The coke habit I can do without, thank you.) He kept writing because it's what he was meant to do. And he believed. Amen.

Read the review on your time. I'm going to put my time in to finish this profile. Because I need the money, and I've done the interview, and it's interesting. And I'm the only one who can write it right now the way it's supposed to be done. So be it.

Forbes magazine recently released its list of the top ten "best paid" authors. The names of at least the top four or five probably won’t surprise you, especially the woman who topped the list, J.K. Rowling. She earned around $300 million and she'll presumably take in even more as the follow-up Harry Potter movies are released.

I don't know about you, but to me it's kinda nice to not see Dan Brown's name in there. But he's young and no doubt there'll eventually be another in the Robert Langdon series of thrillers.

Of course, most authors don’t earn anywhere near these types of paydays — in a lifetime, much less for a year. Still, it’s nice to dream.

I've just finished the last of the Charlie Parker novels in my possession -- The Black Angel. While I enjoy a good thrilling movie as much as the next guy, I've never been much for reading thrillers. But I've enjoyed reading John Connolly -- though my favorite of his works is The Book of Lost Things, which is decidedly not a crime thriller. (TBOLT is a very clever twist on fairy tales and growing out of childhood.)

Connolly has definite talent for description, and the frequent themes of redemption and salvation are ones that I enjoy reading about, especially when done well. He's a writer I'd love to interview, which he might appreciate as an Irish journalist who interviews other authors. Check out his interview with Stephen King, who seems more candid or "willing" to speak about personal subjects than I think I've ever found in the oft-interviewed author.

One thing I'd love to talk to Connolly about is his intense depictions of brutality. I'm both appalled and intrigued by his willingness to express such vivid scenes of dismemberment and evisceration, for example. These are things that most mainstream writers -- and I consider Connolly in that category -- would not deign to show. Even in his later work, the scenes of murder and the details of fingers ripping through skin and organs continue and are not for the weak of heart. But if you can stomach scenes of sometimes cringingly disgusting murder, Connolly's Charlie Parker books are fast reads and cleverly crafted works.

I recommend one starts with Every Dead Thing, which feels like two books in one. It sets the background for why Parker is the way he is, and the horrifying death of his wife and daughter aptly prepare you for the steady stream of bloody murders that continue throughout the Parker books. While Charlie Parker makes a cameo appearance in Bad Men, it's not in the same family of works. Call it a neighbor, as it takes place in Maine -- as do most of the Parker books, at least in part. But Bad Men lumbers without quite the payoff. I'd have edited it differently.

Though I have The Nocturnes collection waiting atop one of my bedside stacks, I'm taking a break from Connolly for now. I recently bought The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Michael Chabon's first novel, and began reading it last night (in the midst of a blackout). Chabon may be my favorite writer currently working. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and Summerland were wonderful, and friends have told me that The Yiddish Policeman's Union is excellent too. And when I arrived on squad duty this morning, I found Rules for Old Men Waiting waiting for me. I read the first two paragraphs and discovered that Peter Pouncey is a wonderful novelist. It's nice when discovery happens like that, and I love when friends recommend good writers.

My mailbox remains open wide (as do my comment areas) for people who would like to recommend any fine work -- even your own -- and I'd be happy to share my thoughts on them.

[BTW, for those who don't catch the reference in my headline, it's a (somewhat hackneyed) reference to a Black 47 song, James Connolly. I didn't mean to imply that John Connolly has posted anything to my blog, though he would be most welcome.]

I meant to write about this weeks ago, but I was having too much fun reading other things. Back in November there was an article in the New York Times about how fewer people are reading for pleasure. It was based on a National Endowment for the Arts study. It got me thinking: What does this say about the state of publishing?

I believe that lots of people read for fun. I see it on the train every work day. But I'm also seeing a lot more people using their portable DVD players, and it seems every other person has iPod buds sticking out of their ears. And of course, there are several masochists who do work on the train (full disclosure: I do too, sometimes, but I don't enjoy it).

Books and a train commute are a perfect combination, so why aren't more people reading? Perhaps it's because so many books out there suck. A possibility, at least. But I suspect it's because the marketing doesn't know how to build or develop an audience -- especially for mid-list writers. Let's face it, it's easy to publicize a Stephen King novel. He's got years of successful novels under his belt and has connected wiht his audience better than any writer I know of. But why don't more people know about Christopher Moore? He's funny, he's entertaining, he's occasionally irreverant. Lord knows how many people are fans of his type of story, but it's a lot. This past year, when he released You Suck, the book was reviewed by the Times. Yet, there aren't enough people who know about him. I mention his name to other voracious readers, and they've never heard of him; when they read him, they like him.

One of the reasons I created this blog was to promote writers I like (of course, no one reads this either, so there you go!). I don't mean promote in the marketing sense; lord knows I'm no marketer.

Ultimately, I hope to create an audience for my books, which I think people will enjoy and believe they'll enjoy the subsequent books I produce. I'm sure this is naive, but I'm looking forward to speaking with readers, even if they challenge me to justify scenes or characters or a story's premise. The author is the best marketer for his or her work, but authors need publicists and strong editors and a team of professionals to make things sing. That's one of the reasons why publishers get the percentage of sales that they get; they're paying for the risk and for the overhead.

As readers, we don't have to worry about all that. We just have to read and enjoy. So read for fun, America! Use the imagination that you've been blessed with!

And if you happen to be on my blog, let me know what you've been reading and why. I'll share it with others. Let's get more people reading!

I'll never say that Stephen King is a great "writer," but he is really becoming one of my favorite interview subjects. (And I'll say he's a very entertaining storyteller.) This recent item in TIME is yet another example of why I enjoy listening to him.

He starts off asking about TIME's person of the year, and he suggests Britney Spears (Be warned, it's that image, but it's within the context of the King interview) and Lindsay Lohan should be awarded the honor. Yes, he's serious. But not because he thinks highly of them.

Britney Spears is just trailer trash. That's all. I mean, I don't mean to be pejorative. But you observe her behavior for the past five years and you say, "Here's a lady who can't take care of her kids, she can't take care of herself, she has no retirement fund, everything that she gets runs right through her hands." And yet, you know and I know that if you go to those sites that tell you what the most blogged-about things on the Internet are, it's Britney, it's Lindsay.

His point is a valid one. Sure, there are lots of intelligent Americans who don't give a crap about these imbeciles who are famous for being famous. But we don't do enough to drown them out. As King notes, is anyone paying attention to what's going on in Pakistan? This is an enormous country with millions of people, many of whom are impoverished, and it is on the brink of a coup. The country has nuclear weapons, and regardless of what some might think of Musharraf, he's an ally. Not only that, but the prime minister he ousted years ago and who is trying to get back into power is a nut job who saber-rattled with India.

Stephen King is many things, some good, some not so attractive, but I like listening to him or reading one of his interviews. He's always interesting, always thoughtful, and always entertaining. I can't say that about pop icons. Keep your voice strong, Mr. King.

Thank God for Stephen King! If not for him, the market for short stories could very well perish. But because he's the big-shot, commercially successful writer that nearly everyone in America can identify by sight, he's able to get his comments in the New York Times. Now, I realize he's pitching the collection of short stories that he edited, but he's also advocating for those writers who are struggling to get noticed. This man deserves his plaudits and his millions, not because he writes great literature (he writes entertaining literature, I wouldn't call it great), but because he is a champion for all of us who hope to have an audience to develop.

I've not read it, but there's a "new" Stephen King/Richard Bachman book out. The USA Today has a nice review of it. Perhaps a little too effusive, but I don't mind seeing positive reviews.

I put 'new' in quotes above because the book was written more than thirty years ago and revised recently for publication. For those who don't know, Richard Bachman is the pen name King used for several years to publish some books when he was also publishing Stephen King novels. (God forbid a writer be prolific!) If you ask me, that decision was all about marketing no more than two books during a year by the same authorl It wasn't that the public couldn't handle it; the publishers didn't want to compete against themselves.