After wandering the desert for forty days and forty nights in search of enlightenment, narrowly escaping an ambush by a pack of rabid gerbils, and plotting subversive ways to sneak meat into the food supply of the PETA vanguard, Dr. Hack has returned.
And the Internet was never the same.
--Dr. Hack
Friday, May 4, 2007
/rant/
(A commercial currently on T.V.)
ANNOUNCER: [Pointless glorifying on the great cultural import of Bob Barker, who is standing in front of an iconic "The Price Is Right," logo.
CUT TO
Bob Barker, "The Price Is Right," logo undulating softly against the glazed donut haze of the ever present piss yellow curtain in the background.
BOB BARKER: Thanks Lisa. After all!
Bob Barker does a dumbfuck armspread and smiles like he's sucking the petrified 2,000-year-old shit out of King Tut's colon.
BOB BARKER: How many people can say their lives are all fun and games?!
CUT TO
Me, sitting in front of the T.V., screaming.
ME: NONE OF US, YOU ASSHOLE. LIFE IS STRUGGLE AND PAIN AND A LOT OF FUCKING WORK. THAT'S WHY YOU'RE A PRICK, BOB BARKER. BECAUSE YOU MAKE STUPID, BANAL COMMENTS UNDERSCORING HOW MUCH OF A SHILL YOU ARE FOR THE STATUS QUO WITHOUT ANY THOUGHT TO THINGS OF RELEVANCE IN THE WORLD ABOUT US. YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER MINDLESS COG IN THE AMERICAN MEDIA MACHINE, MAKING US FEEL MEDICATED AND SEDATED IN OUR COTTON CANDY FANTASY LAND, GOBBLING UP STUPID FASTER THAN YOU CAN SAY FUNNEL CAKE WITH EXTRA POWDERED SUGAR, PLEASE, AT A STATE FAIR.
LIFE IS NOT OKAY. LIFE IS NOT FUN. QUIT TELLING ME I'M HAVING A GOOD TIME WATCHING YOUR SHOW. THE THIRTY YEARS YOU SPENT WORKING ON IT WERE A TRAVESTY. "THE PRICE IS RIGHT," IS THE MOST GOD AWFUL THING TO HAPPEN TO PROGRESS AND INTELLECTUAL ACTIVISM SINCE THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION WAS SQUIRTED OUT OF A GOAT'S ASS IN MACEDONIA.
DUMBASS.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
ANNOUNCER: [Pointless glorifying on the great cultural import of Bob Barker, who is standing in front of an iconic "The Price Is Right," logo.
CUT TO
Bob Barker, "The Price Is Right," logo undulating softly against the glazed donut haze of the ever present piss yellow curtain in the background.
BOB BARKER: Thanks Lisa. After all!
Bob Barker does a dumbfuck armspread and smiles like he's sucking the petrified 2,000-year-old shit out of King Tut's colon.
BOB BARKER: How many people can say their lives are all fun and games?!
CUT TO
Me, sitting in front of the T.V., screaming.
ME: NONE OF US, YOU ASSHOLE. LIFE IS STRUGGLE AND PAIN AND A LOT OF FUCKING WORK. THAT'S WHY YOU'RE A PRICK, BOB BARKER. BECAUSE YOU MAKE STUPID, BANAL COMMENTS UNDERSCORING HOW MUCH OF A SHILL YOU ARE FOR THE STATUS QUO WITHOUT ANY THOUGHT TO THINGS OF RELEVANCE IN THE WORLD ABOUT US. YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER MINDLESS COG IN THE AMERICAN MEDIA MACHINE, MAKING US FEEL MEDICATED AND SEDATED IN OUR COTTON CANDY FANTASY LAND, GOBBLING UP STUPID FASTER THAN YOU CAN SAY FUNNEL CAKE WITH EXTRA POWDERED SUGAR, PLEASE, AT A STATE FAIR.
LIFE IS NOT OKAY. LIFE IS NOT FUN. QUIT TELLING ME I'M HAVING A GOOD TIME WATCHING YOUR SHOW. THE THIRTY YEARS YOU SPENT WORKING ON IT WERE A TRAVESTY. "THE PRICE IS RIGHT," IS THE MOST GOD AWFUL THING TO HAPPEN TO PROGRESS AND INTELLECTUAL ACTIVISM SINCE THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION WAS SQUIRTED OUT OF A GOAT'S ASS IN MACEDONIA.
DUMBASS.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Hacktastic Suckage #3
James Patterson
I was going to do a feature on Patterson, but here's a guilty confession: I like his books. Compared to Tom Clancy, they're works of genius.
Honestly, he's got some solid, entertaining yarns. So no Hacktastic Suckage for Patterson. Commercial success doesn't necessarily equate to bad writing, and while I love beating up on successful writers who suck, no point in deconstructing decent writing unjustly.
If any of my readers have other suggestions though, hit me with names in the comments section.
I'm very tempted to do some Jonathan Safran Foer. Among others. Literary fiction to slasher horror zombie Geisha stories set in WWII Japan. Anything goes.
NEEDLESS PERSONAL SIDE NOTE: For whatever reason, Dr. Hack hasn't been able to wrap his head around Sean Lindsay's advice, so he submitted an editorial to the NY Times Op-Ed page yesterday. What can he say? He has a masochistic hankering for rejection a mile wide.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Writing Contests
Dear Dr. Hack,
So here's the deal. I've got a novel and it's occurred to me that a good way to capture some attention is by entering contests. The only thing is, I don't know which ones to enter. Any suggestions?
--Rosalyn755
Dear Rosalyn,
Good god, for the love of all that's holy, stay away from writing contests. For the most part they're presided over by a bunch of cut-rate hacks who've weaseled their way into positions of trust and confidence.
By and large, the judges:
A) Have absolutely no writing ability, making their judgment highly suspect.
B) Run around touting their shiny credentials (i.e. an MFA) like it's actually worth the paper it's printed on.
C) Have worse taste than the sisters over at Glimmer Train. And I mean, while we're on the subject, have you ever picked up that god awful rag? It has the worst, let me say that again, the fucking worst, 'literary' fiction on the market force fucked between its pages. Do I really need to say it? I loathe Glimmer Train.
At any rate, Rosa, why the hell are you all hot and bothered to enter a contest? Everyone knows most of them are rigged from the get-go. The judges always have a predetermined favorite; some broke loser they drink beer with every week.
They wait for their drinking buddy to send in his moth eaten manuscript, declare a winner, then go back to jerking off to goat porn or whatever it is they do when they're not 'judging' or 'writing'.
Most of these judges are total assholes who've managed to slime their way into teaching some creative writing program by begging their big-shot daddy, who's already written them off as a failure who'll never make a frickin' red cent anyhow, into buying them a slot heading up a no-name writing course safely out of reach of the family business. And Papa Moneybags usually doesn't complain too much, because stuffing the incompetent progeny's ass away in a dark hole at the ass end of academia is what you'd call a sound financial decision.
The Dr. Hack short answer: Just take your manuscript outside and burn it. You have a better chance at the ashes floating up into the atmosphere, wafting around the globe once or twice, and falling perfectly assembled at the feet of an editor in New York after being magically reconstituted by ice crystals in the sky over Namibian airspace, than you do of winning one of these contests.
Or getting published, period. But that's another rant for another day.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
So here's the deal. I've got a novel and it's occurred to me that a good way to capture some attention is by entering contests. The only thing is, I don't know which ones to enter. Any suggestions?
--Rosalyn755
Dear Rosalyn,
Good god, for the love of all that's holy, stay away from writing contests. For the most part they're presided over by a bunch of cut-rate hacks who've weaseled their way into positions of trust and confidence.
By and large, the judges:
A) Have absolutely no writing ability, making their judgment highly suspect.
B) Run around touting their shiny credentials (i.e. an MFA) like it's actually worth the paper it's printed on.
C) Have worse taste than the sisters over at Glimmer Train. And I mean, while we're on the subject, have you ever picked up that god awful rag? It has the worst, let me say that again, the fucking worst, 'literary' fiction on the market force fucked between its pages. Do I really need to say it? I loathe Glimmer Train.
At any rate, Rosa, why the hell are you all hot and bothered to enter a contest? Everyone knows most of them are rigged from the get-go. The judges always have a predetermined favorite; some broke loser they drink beer with every week.
They wait for their drinking buddy to send in his moth eaten manuscript, declare a winner, then go back to jerking off to goat porn or whatever it is they do when they're not 'judging' or 'writing'.
Most of these judges are total assholes who've managed to slime their way into teaching some creative writing program by begging their big-shot daddy, who's already written them off as a failure who'll never make a frickin' red cent anyhow, into buying them a slot heading up a no-name writing course safely out of reach of the family business. And Papa Moneybags usually doesn't complain too much, because stuffing the incompetent progeny's ass away in a dark hole at the ass end of academia is what you'd call a sound financial decision.
The Dr. Hack short answer: Just take your manuscript outside and burn it. You have a better chance at the ashes floating up into the atmosphere, wafting around the globe once or twice, and falling perfectly assembled at the feet of an editor in New York after being magically reconstituted by ice crystals in the sky over Namibian airspace, than you do of winning one of these contests.
Or getting published, period. But that's another rant for another day.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
The Next Big Thing #1
You heard it here first, folks. Dr. Hack is going to postulate every once in awhile on the Next Big Thing in publishing.
He's going to spit out genius publishing ideas, watch them earn lots of contempt and scorn, then re-feature each idea as it actually gets published, heaping scorn back on his readers. The more money other assholes make off his ideas, the more scorn his readers receive.
UPDATE: The best title suggested by a reader for each new TNBT idea gets its own special category. Winner this time: blogless_troll.
Genre:
Non-fiction
Title:
Lie Your Way To Success
Retarded Alternative Malcolm Gladwell Title:
Gray Area: Why Lying Is Good For You
Best Reader Title (blogless_troll):
Truth Stroking: Easy Honesty That Feels Good
Thirty-second pitch:
Lying. We all do it. My contrarian approach to the truth explores the crucial role that falsehood has played in creating and maintaining our culture. Citing research, reports, and interviews with prominent scientists, I delve into the beneficial, trust building power of lies, big and small. From looking at the way individuals lie symbiotically towards a common goal, to effective, harmless scams that serve to advance careers and cement people in positions of power and confidence, I use a scientific foundation to take on one of our biggest societal misconceptions: That lying is always a bad thing.
Platform:
Every-fucking-body.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
He's going to spit out genius publishing ideas, watch them earn lots of contempt and scorn, then re-feature each idea as it actually gets published, heaping scorn back on his readers. The more money other assholes make off his ideas, the more scorn his readers receive.
UPDATE: The best title suggested by a reader for each new TNBT idea gets its own special category. Winner this time: blogless_troll.
TNBT #1
Genre:
Non-fiction
Title:
Lie Your Way To Success
Retarded Alternative Malcolm Gladwell Title:
Gray Area: Why Lying Is Good For You
Best Reader Title (blogless_troll):
Truth Stroking: Easy Honesty That Feels Good
Thirty-second pitch:
Lying. We all do it. My contrarian approach to the truth explores the crucial role that falsehood has played in creating and maintaining our culture. Citing research, reports, and interviews with prominent scientists, I delve into the beneficial, trust building power of lies, big and small. From looking at the way individuals lie symbiotically towards a common goal, to effective, harmless scams that serve to advance careers and cement people in positions of power and confidence, I use a scientific foundation to take on one of our biggest societal misconceptions: That lying is always a bad thing.
Platform:
Every-fucking-body.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Hacktastic Suckage #2
Rainbow Six
Tom Clancy
Tom Clancy
JOHN CLARK HAD MORE TIME IN AIRPLANES THAN most licensed pilots, and he knew the statistics as well as any of them, but he still didn't like the idea of crossing the ocean on a twin-engine airliner.
[What a pussy. I thought Clancy was all about the intrepid hero who did stupid, unbelievable shit with sub-par equipment. Maybe that's later. Let's keep reading.]
Four was the right number of engines, he thought, because losing one meant losing only 25 percent of the aircraft's available power, whereas on this United 777, it meant losing half.
[And losing three meant losing only three quarters of the power. And losing four meant you were fucked. Thanks for spelling out the obvious. I always sucked at math, and you just made me feel like a total failure by chewing it up and regurgitating it down my eeping little reader throat.]
Maybe the presence of his wife, one daughter, and a son-in-law made him a little itchier than usual. No, that wasn't right.
[It was his balls. He'd changed up his normal routine that morning, forgetting to powder his sack with Goldbond.]
He wasn't itchy at all, not about flying anyway. It was just a lingering . . . what?
[I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE. IT'S AN ITCH, THEN IT'S NOT AN ITCH. THEN IT'S, WHAT? I'M THE READER. DON'T ASK ME RHETORICAL QUESTIONS YOU ASSHOLE. BREAK OUT YOUR THESAURUS IF YOU'RE FEELING CRUNCHED FOR WORDS.]
he asked himself. Next to him, in the window seat Sandy was immersed in the mystery she'd started the day before, while he was trying to concentrate on the current issue of The Economist, and wondering what was putting the cold-air feeling on the back of his neck. He started to look around the cabin for a sign of danger but abruptly stopped himself. There wasn't anything wrong that he could see, and he didn't want to seem like a nervous flyer to the cabin crew. He sipped at his glass of white wine, shook his shoulders, and went back to the article on how peaceful the new world was.
[Wow. Great. Subtle foreshadowing here, Tom. I'm, like, totally clueless about what's coming down the pike.]
Right. He grimaced. Well, yes, he had to admit that things were a hell of a lot better than they'd been for nearly all of his life.
["Right. He grimaced."
What the fuck is this? Oh, yeah. This is Tom Clancy, slapping irrelevant crap into the story after reading through the giant turd he just took all over the reader. Why is this guy grimacing? In the next line he's talking about how much better his life is now. Way to squeeze off random facial expressions, Tom. But yeah, we get it. The grimace, it's very manly. John Whatshisname is all full of grit and determination. What a lazy-ass two-bit fuck fest excuse for character development this is turning into.]
No more swimming out of a submarine to do a collection on a Russian beach, or flying into Tehran to do something the Iranians wouldn't like much, or swimming up a fetid river in North Vietnam to rescue a downed aviator.
[Hm. Stuff they wouldn't like much, like, uh, putting scorpions in their turbans? Shoving cruise missiles up their ass? Or. Oh yeah. HOW ABOUT THREATENING TO INVADE THEIR COUNTRY WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY EMBROILED IN ANOTHER HOPELESS WAR IN THE SAME REGION. GEE. I CAN'T POSSIBLY IMAGINE WHY THEM EYE-RANIANS IS PISSED.
What a patriotic, nationalistic asshole this protagonist is turning into. I already hate this fucking robot.]
Someday maybe Bob Holtzman would talk him into a book on his career. Problem was; who'd believe it-and would CIA ever allow him to tell his tales except on his own deathbed?
[God I hope not. Come on CIA. Please. Do something right for a change. Lend a helping hand and assassinate this loose end already.]
He was not in a hurry for that, not with a grandchild on the way. Damn.
[Wait for it…wait for it…]
He grimaced,
[BAHAHAHA THERE IT IS. THE GRIMACE.]
unwilling to contemplate that development. Patsy must have caught a silver bullet on their wedding night, and Ding glowed more about it than she did. John looked back to business class-the curtain wasn't in place yet-and there they were, holding hands while the stewardess did the safety lecture. If the airplane hit the water at 400 knots, reach under your seat for the life-preserver and inflate it by pulling . . . he'd heard that one before. The bright yellow life-jackets would make it somewhat easier for search aircraft to find the crash site, and that was about all they were good for.
[Wow. Way to go. You spent a whole fucking shit-brick of a paragraph doing the cliché, "Boy these life preservers and seat belts sure won't do us any good," bit. I hate you, Tom.]
Clark looked around the cabin again. He still felt that draft on his neck.
[No, there's no draft on your neck, idiot. That's the hot, fetid breath of the Good Lord Satan perched behind you on the head rest, panting, waiting for you to die so he can take your sellout hack soul to Hell. Duh.]
Why?
[OH MY GOD STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS. I DIDN'T PICK UP THIS PIECE OF SHIT BECAUSE I WAS ALL HOT AND BOTHERED FOR A SOVIET STYLE INTERROGATION. FUCK.]
The flight attendant made the rounds, removing his wine glass as the aircraft taxied out to the end of the runway. Her last stop was by Alistair over on the left side of the first-class cabin. Clark caught his eye and got a funny look back as the Brit put his seat back in the upright position. Him, too? Wasn't that something? Neither of the two had ever been accused of nervousness.
[What mindless drones. Like the absence of fear, I don't trust people who's palms don't sweat when there's a god damn gun to their head. But hey, that's just me.]
Alistair Stanley had been a major in the Special Air Service before being permanently seconded to the Secret Intelligence Service. His position had been much like John's-the one you called in to take care of business when the gentler people in the field division got a little too skittish.
[That's right, Tom. Way to glorify a bunch of sociopathic killers while poo-pooing those dirty liberals who "just don't get it," and dig on silly, ridiculous things like peace and the brotherhood of man, putting themselves directly in the path of contempt, scorn, and physical harm from fat, ignorant rednecks while protesting the unjust, thinly veiled holy wars your dumb grunt boys spend all day long instigating under the guise of freedom and democracy.]
Al and John had hit it off right away on a job in Romania, eight years before [where they got a kick out of greasing each other up with the rendered fat of slaughtered villagers, before embarking on glorious voyages into one another's anuses] and the American was pleased to be working with him again on a more regular basis, even if they were both too old now for the fun stuff.
[Fun stuff. Like, you know, setting off claymore mines in crowded marketplaces, or putting a cap in some raghead's ass from two miles away, or, maybe, making necklaces out of human ears?]
Administration wasn't exactly John's idea of what his job should be, but he had to admit he wasn't twenty anymore . . . or thirty . . . or even forty.
[Or even cogent, as you've made painfully aware by all the retarded ellipses.]
A little old to run down alleys and jump over walls. . . . Ding had said that to him only a week before in John's office at Langley, rather more respectfully than usual, since he was trying to make a logical point to the grandfather-presumptive of his first child. What the hell, Clark told himself, it was remarkable enough that he was still alive to gripe about being old-no, not old, older. Not to mention he was respectable now as Director of the new agency.
[Just goes to show: you might be able to buy the respect of your peers with a stupid title during face-to-face meetings, but as soon as you're gone, they're still talking about what a sorry, uptight asshole you really are.]
Director. A polite term for a REMF. But you didn't say "no" to the President, especially if he happened to be your friend.
[No, if you have a brain, you DO say "No," to a President, particularly if he's the half-coherent, drooling mess we have in office right now. You say no, then you kick him in the fucking head until he resigns. It's PRETTY EASY, and there you go, fucking it up again.]
© Tom Clancy 1998
---------------------------------------------
There were, seriously, 13 more pages of this bullshit. In the excerpt. Yes. I couldn't take more than a page. It was so god awful I just about had an aneurysm writing this. This gets the Dr. Hack stamp of Ultimate Aqua Teen Hunger Force Hacktastic Suckage.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Here Come The Assholes
Dr. Hack,
I find your blog irresponsible and specious. Who are you to tear down the efforts of hard working writers like Mitch Albom?
Your advice is terrible. Many new writers out there are looking for reliable sources to turn to on the long road to publication, and one of them might stumble on your blog and take something to heart.
We're all in this together, and it wouldn't hurt if you were more positive and encouraging, instead of simply attacking the accomplishments of others. What have YOU ever done? My guess is nothing.
--Random Angry Person
Dear Random Angry Person,
Here's a dose of honesty: I'm no one.
I've never had a book published. My fiction is cut rate, at best. I've never won prestigious awards or accolades, and pretty much anyone who's anybody doesn't know me from a fruit fly. I'm a shriveled, pathetic little loner who sits in a basement all day slapping words together harder than a New York street pimp handles hookers, and I probably won't ever be any great success.
Some more god's honest truth: I don't really hate Mitch Albom. If I dig down far enough into the howling void that exists between my Id and Super Ego, I respect his accomplishment. While I don't personally like what he writes, he connects to a large number of readers, and I appreciate that feat.
You're right. My advice does suck. It's also hilarious, if you're a morally bankrupt sociopath. Obviously you aren't, but hey, there's something for everyone. Go become a Rainbow Person and hand out pamphlets about the beautiful inner light that guides us all on a street corner somewhere if you want to make a difference.
Save yourself the effort of questioning my motives or trying to reform me away from my, admittedly, dubious mission. It won't work.
I diss Mitch Albom because it's fun. It's good for a cheap laugh, like hijacking a plane or putting a flaming paper bag full of dog shit on Old Man Crotchety's lawn. You don't have to enjoy it. I do. That's all that matters.
And guess what? The Internet is a big place. You never have to come back.
My advice: Don't worry your precious little head about new writers who stumble on my page and take my advice. If they're stupid enough to act on half the crap I spew, good. I saved a lot of other hard working, fairly intelligent scribes the worry of competition.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
I find your blog irresponsible and specious. Who are you to tear down the efforts of hard working writers like Mitch Albom?
Your advice is terrible. Many new writers out there are looking for reliable sources to turn to on the long road to publication, and one of them might stumble on your blog and take something to heart.
We're all in this together, and it wouldn't hurt if you were more positive and encouraging, instead of simply attacking the accomplishments of others. What have YOU ever done? My guess is nothing.
--Random Angry Person
Dear Random Angry Person,
Here's a dose of honesty: I'm no one.
I've never had a book published. My fiction is cut rate, at best. I've never won prestigious awards or accolades, and pretty much anyone who's anybody doesn't know me from a fruit fly. I'm a shriveled, pathetic little loner who sits in a basement all day slapping words together harder than a New York street pimp handles hookers, and I probably won't ever be any great success.
Some more god's honest truth: I don't really hate Mitch Albom. If I dig down far enough into the howling void that exists between my Id and Super Ego, I respect his accomplishment. While I don't personally like what he writes, he connects to a large number of readers, and I appreciate that feat.
You're right. My advice does suck. It's also hilarious, if you're a morally bankrupt sociopath. Obviously you aren't, but hey, there's something for everyone. Go become a Rainbow Person and hand out pamphlets about the beautiful inner light that guides us all on a street corner somewhere if you want to make a difference.
Save yourself the effort of questioning my motives or trying to reform me away from my, admittedly, dubious mission. It won't work.
I diss Mitch Albom because it's fun. It's good for a cheap laugh, like hijacking a plane or putting a flaming paper bag full of dog shit on Old Man Crotchety's lawn. You don't have to enjoy it. I do. That's all that matters.
And guess what? The Internet is a big place. You never have to come back.
My advice: Don't worry your precious little head about new writers who stumble on my page and take my advice. If they're stupid enough to act on half the crap I spew, good. I saved a lot of other hard working, fairly intelligent scribes the worry of competition.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Dr. Hack Tees Off--Hacktastic Suckage #1
For One More Day
Mitch Albom
Mitch Albom
NOW, WHEN I SAY I SAW MY DEAD MOTHER, I mean just that. I saw her. She was standing by the dugout, wearing a lavender jacket, holding her pocketbook. She didn't say a word. She just looked at me.
[That's too bad. She should have shot you in the head when she realized you'd grow up to write terrible sentimental schlock.]
I tried to lift myself in her direction then fell back, a bolt of pain shooting through my muscles. My brain wanted to shout her name, but there was no sound from my throat. I lowered my head and put my palms together. I pushed hard again, and this time I lifted myself halfway off the ground. I looked up.
[A bolt of pain? Wow. How about this bolt from my crossbow, casually decapitating your sorry ass. Why was there no sound from your throat? Oh, right, because I just kicked you in the trachea.]
She was gone.
[Aw. My heart's breaking.]
I don't expect you to go with me here. It's crazy, I know. You don't see dead people. You don't get visits. You don't fall off of a water tower, miraculously alive despite your best attempt to kill yourself, and see your dearly departed mother holding her pocketbook on the third-base line.
[Good. I'm not planning on going with you 'here'. Dumbfuck. It's a shame you didn't try a little harder.]
I have given it all the thought that you are probably giving it right now; a hallucination, a fantasy, a drunken dream, the mixed-up brain on its mixed-up way. As I say, I don't expect you to go with me here.
[Hey, thanks for giving me about a million jumping off points here, Mitchy. The more times you tell me you don't expect me to go with you, the more inclined I am to send you on your happy way to Hack Hell all by your lonesome. And seriously, "mixed-up brain on its mixed-up way"? What kind of bullshit lame ass description is that? Oh, right. I forgot. Your reader base consists of the barely literate female rhesus monkeys that think Jesus is coming back for the faithful as soon as President Bush starts nuking the planet.]
But this is what happened. She had been there. I had seen her. I lay on the field for an indeterminate amount of time, then I rose to my feet and I got myself walking. I brushed the sand and debris from my knees and forearms. I was bleeding from dozens of cuts, most of them small, a few bigger. I could taste blood in my mouth.
[I don't care how long you were laying in the field, dumbass. Just tell me you were laying there, I get the point. This is an insubstantial sequence, don't fuck it up with a timeline.]
I cut across a familiar patch of grass. A morning wind shook the trees and brought a sweep of yellow leaves, like a small, fluttering rainstorm. I had twice failed to kill myself. How pathetic was that?
[You know, Mitch. I've walked on some patches of grass in my time. Not a single one has been familiar. I like to think I'm an observant, fairly astute guy, but if you held two blades of grass up to my face and asked me which one rang a bell, I couldn't fucking tell you. Know why? BECAUSE THERE ARE LITERALLY MILLIONS OF ACRES OF FUCKING GRASS OUT THERE, AND IT'S ALL THE SAME SHIT. Oh yeah, and the best part, your suicide attempts: Totally pathetic. Don't ask a rhetorical question if you can't handle the answer. At this point it just pisses me off that you screwed up the first time.]
I headed toward my old house, determined to finish the job…
[My Hacksense tells me, because you're Mitch fucking Albom, you'll screw the pooch, manage to live, then drone on for another couple hundred pages in truly pathetic fashion. Asshole. Use a gun next time.]
***
MY FATHER ONCE TOLD ME, "You can be a mama's boy or a daddy's boy. But you can't be both."
[Sounds like a dick.]
So I was a daddy's boy. I mimicked his walk. I mimicked his deep, smoky laugh. I carried a baseball glove because he loved baseball, and I took every hardball he threw, even the ones that stung my hands so badly I thought I would scream.
[Mitch, buddy. You're telling us about completely banal facets of our every day life like they're some deep insight. Your protagonist here is clearly male, and guess what? We all try to impress our fucking fathers when we're kids, you hooker.]
When school was out, I would run to his liquor store on Kraft Avenue and stay until dinnertime, playing with empty boxes in the storeroom, waiting for him to finish. We would ride home together in his sky blue Buick sedan, and sometimes we would sit in the driveway as he smoked his Chesterfields and listened to the radio news.
[Finally. A decent chunk of description. Know why? Because you aren't bothering to pollute it with any of these 'deep, penetrating' cardboard explorations of yours. You're just telling the fucking story.]
I have a younger sister named Roberta, and back then she wore pink ballerina slippers almost everywhere. When we ate at the local diner, my mother would yank her to the "ladies'" room her pink feet sliding across the tile while my father took me to the "gents'." In my young mind I figured this was life's assignment: me with him, her with her. Ladies'. Gents'. Mama's. Daddy's.
[That's because you were a stupid kid who probably rode the short bus.]
A daddy's boy.
[Yes. We covered that.]
I was a daddy's boy, and I remained a daddy's boy right up to a hot, cloudless Saturday morning in the spring of my fifth grade year. We had a doubleheader scheduled that day against the Cardinals, who wore red wool uniforms and were sponsored by Connor's Plumbing Supply.
[Sweet Jesus Christ, Mitch. How many different times are you going to tell us you were a daddy's boy? Fuck. We get it. Great. Did your daddy do something to you when you were a kid? Is that what all this is about? You seem to be dancing around some deep, hidden abuse. Let it out, Mitch. C'mon. Entertain us.]
The sun was already warming the kitchen when I entered in my long socks, carrying my glove, and saw my mother at the table smoking a cigarette. My mother was a beautiful woman, but she didn't look beautiful that morning. She bit her lip and looked away from me. I remember the smell of burnt toast and I thought she was upset because she messed up breakfast.
[Yeah. Because a career mom A) Screws breakfast up that bad, B) Bothers to get upset if she burned your eggs a little. Now I know why this protagonist is such a pussy: his parents are histrionic wrecks who can't even handle a couple chicken fetuses over easy, and for some reason, this is a well-known enough scenario so that Our Hero here already expects his mother to be a broken down wreck in the morning.]
"I'll eat cereal," I said.
[Whatever. When my mom was in a bad mood, I just grabbed the fucking cereal. I didn't bother opening dialog with her over my breakfast decisions. Asshole.]
I took a bowl from the cupboard.
She cleared her throat. "What time is your game, honey?"
["Fuck you, you lousy bitch."]
"Do you have a cold?" I asked.
["No, your father and I just had anal sex for the first time though, and I'm a little uncomfortable."]
She shook her head and put a hand to her cheek. "What time is your game?"
["Whatever, walk it off you slut. My game? Fuck, I don't know. Whenever I feel like showing up. The bastards are lucky to have me."]
"I dunno." I shrugged. This was before I wore a watch.
[Uh. In what universe does not wearing a watch mean you don't know the time of your game? Do you now have one of those atomic wrist watches that keep perfect time, and give periodic updates, "Mitch, your baseball game is at 3:00. Mitch, your baseball game is at 3:00," in a robotic voice? You know, when I played baseball? THEY TOLD US THE FUCKING TIME OF THE NEXT GAME AT THE END OF THE LAST ONE. I NEVER GOT THE TIME FOR A GAME FROM MY FUCKING WATCH, I JUST USED IT TO MAKE SURE I SHOWED UP ON TIME.]
I got the glass bottle of milk and the big box of corn puffs. I poured the corn puffs too fast and some bounced out of the bowl and onto the table. My mother picked them up, one at a time, and put them in her palm.
[How touching.]
Excerpted from FOR ONE MORE DAY by Mitch Albom. Copyright © 2006 Mitch Albom. All rights reserved. Available wherever books are sold.
---------------------------------
This excerpt goes on for another two pages, but I can't take any more of this. Ugh. What a piece of shit.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
New Dr. Hack Feature
Welcome to the latest, greatest Dr. Hack innovation:
Because there aren't enough brutally honest assholes in the world, the Dr. Hack team has made an executive decision to implement a new feature called, Hacktastic Suckage.
Q.
What is Hacktastic Suckage?
A.
Hacktastic Suckage is where Dr. Hack reviews a sample of your fiction writing on his blog, and tells you why it's awful.
Q.
This doesn't sound like very much fun. Who in their right mind is going to send you samples of their writing hoping to see it eviscerated?
A.
You are.
Q.
What are the submission guidelines?
A.
Send me a sample of your fiction, 500 words or less. If it sucks worse than a group of Greecian farm women working on a couple goats in the countryside for a low-fi porno, Dr. Hack won't blow any smoke up your ass. If it's good, he'll tell you why. If it's good in parts and bad in others, he'll praise you and tear you down in alternating strokes, because he's a little bi-polar like that.
Disclaimer: Dr. Hack's taste is totally subjective, and he hates bad writing. That means pretty much anything that he didn't write is awful.
Q.
Oh yeah? Well this is a new feature, so what are you going to do until people start sending you their writing?
A.
Sift through the web and co-opt samples from pieces of published fiction on excerpt pages, fan fiction sites, writers collectives, and other blogs.
Q.
This all sounds pretty immature, and anyway, I heard some of your comments were deleted on the Evil Editor blog because you were being an asshole.
A.
This is true. They were. However, I'd like to state here that I dig Evil Editor. Whatever he does on his blog is his prerogative. Far be it for me to complain or whine about it. He has a cool thing going on, and I'm just trying to steal some of his thunder. This is what investors refer to as competition in the free market place of ideas, which is good for everyone.
Q.
Why can't you just be constructive and helpful?
A.
Because it's not as fun.
Also, simply because the feedback will be negative for the most part doesn't mean it's not constructive. Looking deep into his empty little existential soul, Dr. Hack asks, what is constructive?
In these dark days of rampant political correctness and you-felch-me I'll-felch-you compliments, it seems to mean everyone forms a huge circle jerk and kicks off an insipid love fest full of comments like, "Oh, this is great. Really great. You're such a good writer," when in fact they really aren't. Likewise, many times people feel they have to say something nice such as, "I don't usually read this kind of stuff, and you need to lop off a couple paragraphs at the beginning, but this was actually pretty good," when in fact, it's actually full of Hacktastic Suckage, and if they just had a pair, they'd come right out and say it.
Dr. Hack says screw the kid gloves.
Returning to the question, "What is constructive?" he says anything that helps you grow as a writer, including hearing, "You suck," over and over and over again, is constructive.
It's all how you take the feedback--with a little grain of salt, if you're smart. Here's to developing some thick-ass skin.
Q.
Are we done yet, you boring, pontificating bastard?
A.
Yes. Now send me your writing samples, and brace yourself. It's going to get more bloody than a turkey farm a month before Thanksgiving around here.
Have writing questions, or need your confidence deflated? Sure you do. Send an e-mail to Dr. Hack and he'll rake you over the coals. For free.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Hacktastic Suckage
Because there aren't enough brutally honest assholes in the world, the Dr. Hack team has made an executive decision to implement a new feature called, Hacktastic Suckage.
Q.
What is Hacktastic Suckage?
A.
Hacktastic Suckage is where Dr. Hack reviews a sample of your fiction writing on his blog, and tells you why it's awful.
Q.
This doesn't sound like very much fun. Who in their right mind is going to send you samples of their writing hoping to see it eviscerated?
A.
You are.
Q.
What are the submission guidelines?
A.
Send me a sample of your fiction, 500 words or less. If it sucks worse than a group of Greecian farm women working on a couple goats in the countryside for a low-fi porno, Dr. Hack won't blow any smoke up your ass. If it's good, he'll tell you why. If it's good in parts and bad in others, he'll praise you and tear you down in alternating strokes, because he's a little bi-polar like that.
Disclaimer: Dr. Hack's taste is totally subjective, and he hates bad writing. That means pretty much anything that he didn't write is awful.
Q.
Oh yeah? Well this is a new feature, so what are you going to do until people start sending you their writing?
A.
Sift through the web and co-opt samples from pieces of published fiction on excerpt pages, fan fiction sites, writers collectives, and other blogs.
Q.
This all sounds pretty immature, and anyway, I heard some of your comments were deleted on the Evil Editor blog because you were being an asshole.
A.
This is true. They were. However, I'd like to state here that I dig Evil Editor. Whatever he does on his blog is his prerogative. Far be it for me to complain or whine about it. He has a cool thing going on, and I'm just trying to steal some of his thunder. This is what investors refer to as competition in the free market place of ideas, which is good for everyone.
Q.
Why can't you just be constructive and helpful?
A.
Because it's not as fun.
Also, simply because the feedback will be negative for the most part doesn't mean it's not constructive. Looking deep into his empty little existential soul, Dr. Hack asks, what is constructive?
In these dark days of rampant political correctness and you-felch-me I'll-felch-you compliments, it seems to mean everyone forms a huge circle jerk and kicks off an insipid love fest full of comments like, "Oh, this is great. Really great. You're such a good writer," when in fact they really aren't. Likewise, many times people feel they have to say something nice such as, "I don't usually read this kind of stuff, and you need to lop off a couple paragraphs at the beginning, but this was actually pretty good," when in fact, it's actually full of Hacktastic Suckage, and if they just had a pair, they'd come right out and say it.
Dr. Hack says screw the kid gloves.
Returning to the question, "What is constructive?" he says anything that helps you grow as a writer, including hearing, "You suck," over and over and over again, is constructive.
It's all how you take the feedback--with a little grain of salt, if you're smart. Here's to developing some thick-ass skin.
Q.
Are we done yet, you boring, pontificating bastard?
A.
Yes. Now send me your writing samples, and brace yourself. It's going to get more bloody than a turkey farm a month before Thanksgiving around here.
Have writing questions, or need your confidence deflated? Sure you do. Send an e-mail to Dr. Hack and he'll rake you over the coals. For free.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Handling Rejection Like A Pro
Dear Dr. Hack,
I've written two novels. My first earned me a bunch of rejections, but I didn't let it get me down. I shuffled it off to the closet, then started work on my second. My latest piece of work is probably the best thing I've ever written, but it's not having any better luck than the first.
I'm getting pissed off and discouraged. I've been through at least 20 agents already. What should I do? How do I keep on keepin' on despite all these coked out assholes who won't give my novels the time of day just because I've never been published before?
--Struggling
Dear Struggling,
Am I the only one who's tired of reading the same old passel of Shiny Happy People troll away on writing websites about what an edifying experience rejection is?
Who are these people? Do they hammer nails through their hands for fun when they're not busy getting the crap kicked out of their ego?
What I'm supposed to say at this point sounds something like:
"Keep at it, buddy. It'll pay off in the long run. Think about what you can learn from those rejections. How has this experience spurred you on to become a better writer? Think positive. Then go write an article for a second-tier e-zine on how to handle being a lame-ass failure."
Yeah. Fuck that.
Here's a better idea: Get really, stupendously hammered.
Better yet, for the next two weeks straight, as soon as you wake up in the morning, take a few quick shots of your favorite hard liquor. Proceed immediately to the word processor, and begin revising your second novel. Imbibe one shot every hour, on the hour, until finished.
Write like a maniac. Write the next Great American Novel. Write deathless, rambling, sloshed literature. It worked for Faulkner and Hemingway, it just might work for you. It's all about sacrifice. Are you willing to give up that liver for immortality, or are you just another half-assed whiner who isn't willing to put in the hard drinking?
Since we're on the subject, snag some drugs too. Good ones. None of this low-impact bullshit like hydrocodone, marijuana, caffeine, or a jar or two of rubber cement.
I'm talking the heavy hitters. It's a well known fact that Bret Easton Ellis penned Less Than Zero in three weeks while high on crystal-meth. Maybe a little pick-me-up at the end of a smoking hot glass pipe is just what you need to pump some out some robust, irresistible literary genius.
And hey, look at the bright side. Even if all this debauchery doesn't up your percentage of requests for full manuscripts, it'll take the edge off ending up in the crap heap.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
I've written two novels. My first earned me a bunch of rejections, but I didn't let it get me down. I shuffled it off to the closet, then started work on my second. My latest piece of work is probably the best thing I've ever written, but it's not having any better luck than the first.
I'm getting pissed off and discouraged. I've been through at least 20 agents already. What should I do? How do I keep on keepin' on despite all these coked out assholes who won't give my novels the time of day just because I've never been published before?
--Struggling
Dear Struggling,
Am I the only one who's tired of reading the same old passel of Shiny Happy People troll away on writing websites about what an edifying experience rejection is?
Who are these people? Do they hammer nails through their hands for fun when they're not busy getting the crap kicked out of their ego?
What I'm supposed to say at this point sounds something like:
"Keep at it, buddy. It'll pay off in the long run. Think about what you can learn from those rejections. How has this experience spurred you on to become a better writer? Think positive. Then go write an article for a second-tier e-zine on how to handle being a lame-ass failure."
Yeah. Fuck that.
Here's a better idea: Get really, stupendously hammered.
Better yet, for the next two weeks straight, as soon as you wake up in the morning, take a few quick shots of your favorite hard liquor. Proceed immediately to the word processor, and begin revising your second novel. Imbibe one shot every hour, on the hour, until finished.
Write like a maniac. Write the next Great American Novel. Write deathless, rambling, sloshed literature. It worked for Faulkner and Hemingway, it just might work for you. It's all about sacrifice. Are you willing to give up that liver for immortality, or are you just another half-assed whiner who isn't willing to put in the hard drinking?
Since we're on the subject, snag some drugs too. Good ones. None of this low-impact bullshit like hydrocodone, marijuana, caffeine, or a jar or two of rubber cement.
I'm talking the heavy hitters. It's a well known fact that Bret Easton Ellis penned Less Than Zero in three weeks while high on crystal-meth. Maybe a little pick-me-up at the end of a smoking hot glass pipe is just what you need to pump some out some robust, irresistible literary genius.
And hey, look at the bright side. Even if all this debauchery doesn't up your percentage of requests for full manuscripts, it'll take the edge off ending up in the crap heap.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Publicity whores
Dear Dr. Hack,
I'm a first-time novelist who just landed an agent. I'm very excited, but there's this issue of my platform. The agent wants me to work on starting a blog and building an audience, even if it's a small one, before my book hits the shelves (she warned me selling the novel could be a long process, and that I'd have plenty of time to build a blog audience).
But I don't know. It seems like there are so many blogs out there. If you look at most of these authors, no one even comments on their sites, it's really depressing. This doesn't seem like the best way to go. Do you have any suggestions? Thanks.
--Pubhungry
Dear Pubhungry,
You're in luck. I do have a better way. That's right, it's time for:
DR. HACK'S MASTER MARKETING SERIES--METHOD 2:
Get arrested. No no, hear me out. I know what you're thinking, so I have one simple question. How bad do you want it?
Want it bad enough? Then you're only one major felony away from fame, fortune, and glory.
Now, of course, just getting arrested won't cut it. If you're pulled over driving down the highway and Ye Olde Officer finds a dime bag of pot or an open container riding shotgun, you'll just be shooting yourself in the foot.
These kind of every day misdemeanors are an occupational hazard for the would-be novelist. So you need to do something really jaw dropping. I wouldn't recommend any wanton violence; running into a convenience store and shooting the clerk probably won't cut it. You'll get your name in the local paper, maybe a small AP piece, at best.
Sitting in a belltower somewhere and picking off civilians might do the trick, but you really don't want to go to prison for life. It'll negate all the enjoyable parts of that fame and fortune.
So, what you need is something unique that has broad commercial appeal. Something the big TV networks will run with for at least a full news cycle.
In this category you have plenty of fun and entertaining options. You could:
A) Fly to Washington DC. Make your way to 1600 Pennsylvania, strip naked in front of the White House, hop the fence, and streak across the front lawn wearing only a sandwich board that says, "READ MY NEW NOVEL," until a gaggle of Secret Service grunts more pissed off than a swarm of hornets pour out of the woodwork and tackle you to the ground.
B) Walk into a major broadcast studio with two ten-round magazines and a gas cooled Armalite AR-10 (T), hold up the producers, then promote your book at gunpoint on the Today Show until the cavalry shows up. (Make sure you don't kill anyone.)
C) Hijack the Goodyear Blimp and drop pamphlets all over a major metropolitan area that say, "Cast off the yolk of your Imperialist oppressors! Rise up, Workers! Unite!" with a brief plug for your book at the end. Since the Goodyear Blimp is a major American icon, the military won't blow it out of the sky with a couple squadrons of F-14s while the whole world is watching.
See how this works, Pubhungry? Sure, you'll probably end up in the slammer for awhile, but this is the ticket.
If you've got the guts, by the time you get out of the joint, you'll not only be a worldwide celebrity, your book will have sold millions. Not to mention a lucrative non-fiction book deal, and a river of money flowing in from Hollywood execs who want to option the rights to your story for a daytime movie special.
Now get to it. The sooner you get locked up, the sooner you get out.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
I'm a first-time novelist who just landed an agent. I'm very excited, but there's this issue of my platform. The agent wants me to work on starting a blog and building an audience, even if it's a small one, before my book hits the shelves (she warned me selling the novel could be a long process, and that I'd have plenty of time to build a blog audience).
But I don't know. It seems like there are so many blogs out there. If you look at most of these authors, no one even comments on their sites, it's really depressing. This doesn't seem like the best way to go. Do you have any suggestions? Thanks.
--Pubhungry
Dear Pubhungry,
You're in luck. I do have a better way. That's right, it's time for:
DR. HACK'S MASTER MARKETING SERIES--METHOD 2:
Get arrested. No no, hear me out. I know what you're thinking, so I have one simple question. How bad do you want it?
Want it bad enough? Then you're only one major felony away from fame, fortune, and glory.
Now, of course, just getting arrested won't cut it. If you're pulled over driving down the highway and Ye Olde Officer finds a dime bag of pot or an open container riding shotgun, you'll just be shooting yourself in the foot.
These kind of every day misdemeanors are an occupational hazard for the would-be novelist. So you need to do something really jaw dropping. I wouldn't recommend any wanton violence; running into a convenience store and shooting the clerk probably won't cut it. You'll get your name in the local paper, maybe a small AP piece, at best.
Sitting in a belltower somewhere and picking off civilians might do the trick, but you really don't want to go to prison for life. It'll negate all the enjoyable parts of that fame and fortune.
So, what you need is something unique that has broad commercial appeal. Something the big TV networks will run with for at least a full news cycle.
In this category you have plenty of fun and entertaining options. You could:
A) Fly to Washington DC. Make your way to 1600 Pennsylvania, strip naked in front of the White House, hop the fence, and streak across the front lawn wearing only a sandwich board that says, "READ MY NEW NOVEL," until a gaggle of Secret Service grunts more pissed off than a swarm of hornets pour out of the woodwork and tackle you to the ground.
B) Walk into a major broadcast studio with two ten-round magazines and a gas cooled Armalite AR-10 (T), hold up the producers, then promote your book at gunpoint on the Today Show until the cavalry shows up. (Make sure you don't kill anyone.)
C) Hijack the Goodyear Blimp and drop pamphlets all over a major metropolitan area that say, "Cast off the yolk of your Imperialist oppressors! Rise up, Workers! Unite!" with a brief plug for your book at the end. Since the Goodyear Blimp is a major American icon, the military won't blow it out of the sky with a couple squadrons of F-14s while the whole world is watching.
See how this works, Pubhungry? Sure, you'll probably end up in the slammer for awhile, but this is the ticket.
If you've got the guts, by the time you get out of the joint, you'll not only be a worldwide celebrity, your book will have sold millions. Not to mention a lucrative non-fiction book deal, and a river of money flowing in from Hollywood execs who want to option the rights to your story for a daytime movie special.
Now get to it. The sooner you get locked up, the sooner you get out.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Moral Quandry
Dear Dr. Hack,
I see this question going around quite a bit on agent's blogs. Unpublished writers, like me, want to know what to do without publishing credits. Most of these agents and editors tell everyone that making up credits, even small ones, is a bad idea. To me though, reading these agents, since they're all pretty unanimously against it, I'm thinking this is a conspiracy. I think agents just want you to not make up credits, so when you send your query letter in stating no previous experience, they know to toss it right away. Can you help me out here?
--Scurrilous554
Dear Scurrilous,
I have some good news. As an unpublished novelist, making up publishing credits is ALWAYS a good idea. Not so much if you're a non-fiction writer, but if you write fiction, and I highly suspect you do, making up a modest list of credits is one of the best things you can do to jump start your career.
First, yes. Agents tell you not to include a list of credits because they hate newbies, and not having any publishing credits practically screams, "greenhorn, know-nothing asshole who won't make me any money even if he CAN write," and they won't even bother requesting a full.
This is one of those big "in jokes," that agents perpetuate on their journals, just to screw with everyone and keep the old guard publishing world firmly entrenched.
The reason it's a smart move to make up publishing credits is pretty simple: you're a fiction writer, you make stuff up for a living, right? What's a little white lie or two to get your foot in the door?
After you've managed to get an agent to read your full, then just go ahead and tell them you made up the pub credits. They'll be impressed at your go-getter attitude and savvy ability to bend the truth to suit your needs.
Now, we do live in the age of Google, so it's not just a simple matter of manufacturing some made up awards or magazines no one's ever heard about. Deciding HOW to lie is almost as important as deciding TO lie, and flawless execution is required so you don't raise suspicion.
Here's where you really crank it up. What you need to do is find someone who's published a few pieces here and there on various e-zines. Low-rent stuff for the most part, but if you can find someone who's been in, say, Identity Theory, one or two times, you won't be hurting yourself.
Then, open up your manuscript. Highlight the part that says, "By Scurrilous Writer," and write, "By [guy who actually has the pub credits]."
This next part is important, so pay attention: do not copy the exact spelling of their name on your manuscript. Change one or two letters that could pass as legitimate typos.
Then, on your query letter, DO copy the name exactly.
Here's a little vignette to show you why and how this works:
Agent receives your query letter. Query letter is well written (better be, I can't help you here), and a list of modest publishing credits piques interest. Agent goes to Google, types in the name you've provided in the header verbatim. Bing. A couple short stories pop up, which they probably don't read, they were just checking. They then turn to your enclosed sample pages which has your fabricated name with the intentional typo, which you will be claiming henceforth to be the correct spelling of your name. They dig the sample pages. On the strength of your query, credits, and writing, they ask for a full. Agent never notices discrepancy between spellings. [end vignette]
And that's all there is to it. Welcome to easy street. Go get 'em.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
I see this question going around quite a bit on agent's blogs. Unpublished writers, like me, want to know what to do without publishing credits. Most of these agents and editors tell everyone that making up credits, even small ones, is a bad idea. To me though, reading these agents, since they're all pretty unanimously against it, I'm thinking this is a conspiracy. I think agents just want you to not make up credits, so when you send your query letter in stating no previous experience, they know to toss it right away. Can you help me out here?
--Scurrilous554
Dear Scurrilous,
I have some good news. As an unpublished novelist, making up publishing credits is ALWAYS a good idea. Not so much if you're a non-fiction writer, but if you write fiction, and I highly suspect you do, making up a modest list of credits is one of the best things you can do to jump start your career.
First, yes. Agents tell you not to include a list of credits because they hate newbies, and not having any publishing credits practically screams, "greenhorn, know-nothing asshole who won't make me any money even if he CAN write," and they won't even bother requesting a full.
This is one of those big "in jokes," that agents perpetuate on their journals, just to screw with everyone and keep the old guard publishing world firmly entrenched.
The reason it's a smart move to make up publishing credits is pretty simple: you're a fiction writer, you make stuff up for a living, right? What's a little white lie or two to get your foot in the door?
After you've managed to get an agent to read your full, then just go ahead and tell them you made up the pub credits. They'll be impressed at your go-getter attitude and savvy ability to bend the truth to suit your needs.
Now, we do live in the age of Google, so it's not just a simple matter of manufacturing some made up awards or magazines no one's ever heard about. Deciding HOW to lie is almost as important as deciding TO lie, and flawless execution is required so you don't raise suspicion.
Here's where you really crank it up. What you need to do is find someone who's published a few pieces here and there on various e-zines. Low-rent stuff for the most part, but if you can find someone who's been in, say, Identity Theory, one or two times, you won't be hurting yourself.
Then, open up your manuscript. Highlight the part that says, "By Scurrilous Writer," and write, "By [guy who actually has the pub credits]."
This next part is important, so pay attention: do not copy the exact spelling of their name on your manuscript. Change one or two letters that could pass as legitimate typos.
Then, on your query letter, DO copy the name exactly.
Here's a little vignette to show you why and how this works:
Agent receives your query letter. Query letter is well written (better be, I can't help you here), and a list of modest publishing credits piques interest. Agent goes to Google, types in the name you've provided in the header verbatim. Bing. A couple short stories pop up, which they probably don't read, they were just checking. They then turn to your enclosed sample pages which has your fabricated name with the intentional typo, which you will be claiming henceforth to be the correct spelling of your name. They dig the sample pages. On the strength of your query, credits, and writing, they ask for a full. Agent never notices discrepancy between spellings. [end vignette]
And that's all there is to it. Welcome to easy street. Go get 'em.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Fantasizing
Dear Dr. Hack:
Fantasy seems to be a hot seller, so I want to try my hand at it, but I don't want to have to read any of those god-awful books to find out what the fantasy story arc tends to be. Could you please give me a formula so I can just plug in the names?
--Clueless2007
Dear Clueless,
Many a writer looking to cash out after years of fruitless obscurity while laboring over some would-be literary classic ponder "slumming it," among various, low-brow genres in order to turn a quick buck.
What most don't realize is that it's no pipe dream. There are veritable mountains of easy money just waiting for a passable hack at the end of the gimme rainbow.
What keeps many of these would-be literary writers from cashing in on bad taste are minor inconveniences like standards and integrity. They believe they actually have to read the given genre first, but I'll be the first to tell you, this is a load of crap and only slows you down.
For not wanting to read any of the godawful books in the genre before setting out to cash in on the craze, I can't say I blame you. Most of it is really, truly unbearable diarrhea.
I would recommend, however, giving Tolkien's "Lord of The Rings," a try, as it's more literary than fantastic, and the entire latter day fantasy movement can be directly linked back to him. No need to read the carbon copies, when you can check out the original.
Now, if even that's too much a commitment, Dr. Hack understands. I did some research after receiving your question, and here are some resources:
In this genre, it's best to start with a title for your book. It's an open secret in fantasy publishing that the plot of an entire eight tome epic fits into one or two words with a high degree of accuracy. Look no further than Serendipity: Fantasy Novel Title Generator for expert help on this score. I turned up such gems as, "Elven Circle at Foonian," "Crystal of the Dream Heart," "The Faerie Summer," and "Goddess of Vengeance," in less than five minutes.
Next of course, is the template. I actually had a hard time digging up bona-fide, full scale fantasy models. It seems that the online movement rabidly defends a facade of originality, deriving a perverse joy in pretending its work has real value. I think they may be going for the understated, dead-pan humor approach here, and I highly suspect that underground IRC groups and private bulletin boards exist wherein fantasy denizens swap a "top secret," collection of four or five templates back and forth faster than swingers trade body fluids.
Since I didn't have time to infiltrate this seedy aspect of the Internet though, I settled for an e-zine article. In this piece, the secret formula for success is cleverly hidden in an essay on how to write "courageous," and "original," fantasy:
1. Create a bunch of interesting non-human characters like orcs, dragons, elves or dwarves; of course your hero should be human or nearly human.
2. Put them in a fantastical world filled with magic and secret places.
3. Open up your novel with something exciting to get the reader hooked.
4. Keep the action moving - insert a series of small obstacles that need to be overcome.
5. Foreshadow something really big that will happen (But make sure it doesn't happen in this novel though--so you can write sequels).
6. Come up with two big things that will happen, and when they are resolved, they cancel each other out so the plot hasn't advanced at all.
7. Make a big lead up to the next novel (promise the moon).
8. Repeat steps 3-7 in the next novel.
And finally of course, what would any flight of imagination be if you couldn't print it out on your very own fantasy themed paper?
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Fantasy seems to be a hot seller, so I want to try my hand at it, but I don't want to have to read any of those god-awful books to find out what the fantasy story arc tends to be. Could you please give me a formula so I can just plug in the names?
--Clueless2007
Dear Clueless,
Many a writer looking to cash out after years of fruitless obscurity while laboring over some would-be literary classic ponder "slumming it," among various, low-brow genres in order to turn a quick buck.
What most don't realize is that it's no pipe dream. There are veritable mountains of easy money just waiting for a passable hack at the end of the gimme rainbow.
What keeps many of these would-be literary writers from cashing in on bad taste are minor inconveniences like standards and integrity. They believe they actually have to read the given genre first, but I'll be the first to tell you, this is a load of crap and only slows you down.
For not wanting to read any of the godawful books in the genre before setting out to cash in on the craze, I can't say I blame you. Most of it is really, truly unbearable diarrhea.
I would recommend, however, giving Tolkien's "Lord of The Rings," a try, as it's more literary than fantastic, and the entire latter day fantasy movement can be directly linked back to him. No need to read the carbon copies, when you can check out the original.
Now, if even that's too much a commitment, Dr. Hack understands. I did some research after receiving your question, and here are some resources:
In this genre, it's best to start with a title for your book. It's an open secret in fantasy publishing that the plot of an entire eight tome epic fits into one or two words with a high degree of accuracy. Look no further than Serendipity: Fantasy Novel Title Generator for expert help on this score. I turned up such gems as, "Elven Circle at Foonian," "Crystal of the Dream Heart," "The Faerie Summer," and "Goddess of Vengeance," in less than five minutes.
Next of course, is the template. I actually had a hard time digging up bona-fide, full scale fantasy models. It seems that the online movement rabidly defends a facade of originality, deriving a perverse joy in pretending its work has real value. I think they may be going for the understated, dead-pan humor approach here, and I highly suspect that underground IRC groups and private bulletin boards exist wherein fantasy denizens swap a "top secret," collection of four or five templates back and forth faster than swingers trade body fluids.
Since I didn't have time to infiltrate this seedy aspect of the Internet though, I settled for an e-zine article. In this piece, the secret formula for success is cleverly hidden in an essay on how to write "courageous," and "original," fantasy:
1. Create a bunch of interesting non-human characters like orcs, dragons, elves or dwarves; of course your hero should be human or nearly human.
2. Put them in a fantastical world filled with magic and secret places.
3. Open up your novel with something exciting to get the reader hooked.
4. Keep the action moving - insert a series of small obstacles that need to be overcome.
5. Foreshadow something really big that will happen (But make sure it doesn't happen in this novel though--so you can write sequels).
6. Come up with two big things that will happen, and when they are resolved, they cancel each other out so the plot hasn't advanced at all.
7. Make a big lead up to the next novel (promise the moon).
8. Repeat steps 3-7 in the next novel.
And finally of course, what would any flight of imagination be if you couldn't print it out on your very own fantasy themed paper?
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Dr. Hack Iz L4m3
Dr. Hack,
Your retarded and your writing advice sucks. You probably dont even write anything and you probably think Harry Potter or something is good writing, lame.
Quit giving hard working writesr bad advice on your blog because it doesn't make anyone look stupid but you.
--Hater in Miami
Dear Hater,
Blow me.
Regards,
Dr. Hack
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Your retarded and your writing advice sucks. You probably dont even write anything and you probably think Harry Potter or something is good writing, lame.
Quit giving hard working writesr bad advice on your blog because it doesn't make anyone look stupid but you.
--Hater in Miami
Dear Hater,
Blow me.
Regards,
Dr. Hack
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Shelf Jockey
Dear Dr. Hack,
I'm a recently published debut novelist, and while it's exciting, what can I say. There hasn't been much buzz.
It's not that I'm getting negative reviews. I'm not getting reviewed, period. I feel like I might as well have spent the last three years of my life smoking joints and playing video games.
Any ideas as to how I can get some attention. Anything? Negative or positive?
Thanks.
Pissed Off in Peoria
Dear Pissed,
There are about a million guerrilla marketing methods out there, and guess what? I know them all. For the most part the only materials required are a pair of brass balls, and an unquenchable thirst for the limelight. Also some stamps, paper, copies of your novel, and envelopes. Nothing extravagant.
So, to business:
DR. HACK'S MASTER MARKETING SERIES--METHOD 1:
Since your book has already been published, I'm guessing you know your audience. Now, all you have to do is piss off everyone else.
The best way to get your name in front of the people who will eventually read your book is to enrage everyone who will NEVER read your book, and you're in luck.
Somewhere out there a major group, coalition, or parental organization exists that is the antithesis of your entire novel. I promise.
Since you didn't tell me anything about your story, let's go for a softball and pretend it's a thinly veiled, scathing indictment of religion, focusing on an antagonist who's a pedophile Catholic priest.
Let's call your novel, "The Toucher," for posterity.
Since we already know a statistically significant portion of the population thinks Catholics are retarded and boring, all you have to do now is find a way to let these people know you exist.
The problem is: most people don't really loathe Catholics like you. They just entertain a mild disdain. So you have to give them a REALLY GOOD reason to pick up your book.
What better way than by shoving an intellectual pipe bomb up the Catholic Church's ass?
That's right, Pissed. I want you to sit down and write a general letter:
"Dear Bishop [x], My novel, 'The Toucher: The miracle of God's guiding hand,' is a story of grace, redemption, and hope focusing on the message of Jesus's life. My enclosed novel explores the way God touches us all at certain times, gently shaping our lives, blah blah blah."
Get the point?
Sure, your novel is about an evil institution that brainwashes people in droves while sexually abusing children, but they don't know that. The goal here is to get the muckety mucks to the point that they lose all reason.
Once you've set their expectations with this blatant lie (last time I checked, hey, not a crime), your novel will be a backboard shattering, anger instilling slam dunk.
This method works because people are stupid, and they never see it coming. By the time mister big shot figures out what you've done, he'll be 200 pages in. When he finishes, he'll be so raring mad he'll pow-wow with his fellow pederasts, then issue scathing press releases from the highest levels of the church condemning your book, and yourself, to Hell.
Guess what? You've just manipulated history's greatest PR machine into ponying up free publicity.
Send the letter and a copy of your novel out to every Bishop, Arch-Bishop, and Cardinal in the English speaking world. For good measure, send one to the Pope. When your book hits number one on the Catholic Church's shit list, you'll be laughing all the way to the bank, topping the New York Times Bestseller list.
See how easy it is? So get to it, Pissed. Find that group or coalition. Proceed to anger. Good luck, and happy sales.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
I'm a recently published debut novelist, and while it's exciting, what can I say. There hasn't been much buzz.
It's not that I'm getting negative reviews. I'm not getting reviewed, period. I feel like I might as well have spent the last three years of my life smoking joints and playing video games.
Any ideas as to how I can get some attention. Anything? Negative or positive?
Thanks.
Pissed Off in Peoria
Dear Pissed,
There are about a million guerrilla marketing methods out there, and guess what? I know them all. For the most part the only materials required are a pair of brass balls, and an unquenchable thirst for the limelight. Also some stamps, paper, copies of your novel, and envelopes. Nothing extravagant.
So, to business:
DR. HACK'S MASTER MARKETING SERIES--METHOD 1:
Since your book has already been published, I'm guessing you know your audience. Now, all you have to do is piss off everyone else.
The best way to get your name in front of the people who will eventually read your book is to enrage everyone who will NEVER read your book, and you're in luck.
Somewhere out there a major group, coalition, or parental organization exists that is the antithesis of your entire novel. I promise.
Since you didn't tell me anything about your story, let's go for a softball and pretend it's a thinly veiled, scathing indictment of religion, focusing on an antagonist who's a pedophile Catholic priest.
Let's call your novel, "The Toucher," for posterity.
Since we already know a statistically significant portion of the population thinks Catholics are retarded and boring, all you have to do now is find a way to let these people know you exist.
The problem is: most people don't really loathe Catholics like you. They just entertain a mild disdain. So you have to give them a REALLY GOOD reason to pick up your book.
What better way than by shoving an intellectual pipe bomb up the Catholic Church's ass?
That's right, Pissed. I want you to sit down and write a general letter:
"Dear Bishop [x], My novel, 'The Toucher: The miracle of God's guiding hand,' is a story of grace, redemption, and hope focusing on the message of Jesus's life. My enclosed novel explores the way God touches us all at certain times, gently shaping our lives, blah blah blah."
Get the point?
Sure, your novel is about an evil institution that brainwashes people in droves while sexually abusing children, but they don't know that. The goal here is to get the muckety mucks to the point that they lose all reason.
Once you've set their expectations with this blatant lie (last time I checked, hey, not a crime), your novel will be a backboard shattering, anger instilling slam dunk.
This method works because people are stupid, and they never see it coming. By the time mister big shot figures out what you've done, he'll be 200 pages in. When he finishes, he'll be so raring mad he'll pow-wow with his fellow pederasts, then issue scathing press releases from the highest levels of the church condemning your book, and yourself, to Hell.
Guess what? You've just manipulated history's greatest PR machine into ponying up free publicity.
Send the letter and a copy of your novel out to every Bishop, Arch-Bishop, and Cardinal in the English speaking world. For good measure, send one to the Pope. When your book hits number one on the Catholic Church's shit list, you'll be laughing all the way to the bank, topping the New York Times Bestseller list.
See how easy it is? So get to it, Pissed. Find that group or coalition. Proceed to anger. Good luck, and happy sales.
Need advice? Sure you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Seriously?
Dear Dr. Hack,
Are you for real?
--Anonymous
Dear Anon,
No, I'm for fake. What the hell do I look like here, a court jester?
Have writing questions? Feel like an insignificant patch of scabies on the corpse of the publishing industry? Sure you do. Send your questions to Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Are you for real?
--Anonymous
Dear Anon,
No, I'm for fake. What the hell do I look like here, a court jester?
Have writing questions? Feel like an insignificant patch of scabies on the corpse of the publishing industry? Sure you do. Send your questions to Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Am I A Trendwhore?
Dear Dr. Hack,
For the last few years I've been reading through Publishers Weekly and related sites to discover what's hot in the literary marketplace at any given time.
Every once in awhile I get this urge to write a novel in a genre I know is selling well, because I figure it's the best chance I have at breaking into print. However, most of the agent blogs I've read strongly caution against writing an entire novel based on a trend.
I think this is stupid advice from agents who are part of a secret literary cabal that exists to serve the interests of established writers. I've seen a lot of writers complain on message boards about how these agents, for the most part, hate new authors and hand out bad advice on purpose, because they're power crazed maniacs who want total control of what makes it into print.
My common sense tells me if everyone's buying a certain kind of book, I'd be stupid to write anything else. Please help, I don't know what to do.
--Dazed and Confused in OC
Dear Dazed,
I have good news. You aren't nuts.
That's right. The literary agents ARE conspiring to keep you from breaking into print, because in general, they absolutely hate new authors. There's nothing an agent despises more than an irresistible query letter.
I know this might not seem like a good business practice on the surface, but here's an "open secret," in the publishing world:
Agents are lazy. They hate work.
Finding a new client they can't turn down just means they'll have to burn more midnight oil over some lousy author who probably won't ever pony up a second book.
So when you read an agent's blog, you have to make sure you're viewing their advice through the lazy filter. The adage, "Don't write to trends," is a shining example of agents doing some preventative maintenance in order to keep people like yourself subjugated.
Don't get carried away with these misguided cautionary tales. Buy into the publishing hype. It pays, big time.
Need clear, lucid writing advice from an expert? Of course you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
For the last few years I've been reading through Publishers Weekly and related sites to discover what's hot in the literary marketplace at any given time.
Every once in awhile I get this urge to write a novel in a genre I know is selling well, because I figure it's the best chance I have at breaking into print. However, most of the agent blogs I've read strongly caution against writing an entire novel based on a trend.
I think this is stupid advice from agents who are part of a secret literary cabal that exists to serve the interests of established writers. I've seen a lot of writers complain on message boards about how these agents, for the most part, hate new authors and hand out bad advice on purpose, because they're power crazed maniacs who want total control of what makes it into print.
My common sense tells me if everyone's buying a certain kind of book, I'd be stupid to write anything else. Please help, I don't know what to do.
--Dazed and Confused in OC
Dear Dazed,
I have good news. You aren't nuts.
That's right. The literary agents ARE conspiring to keep you from breaking into print, because in general, they absolutely hate new authors. There's nothing an agent despises more than an irresistible query letter.
I know this might not seem like a good business practice on the surface, but here's an "open secret," in the publishing world:
Agents are lazy. They hate work.
Finding a new client they can't turn down just means they'll have to burn more midnight oil over some lousy author who probably won't ever pony up a second book.
So when you read an agent's blog, you have to make sure you're viewing their advice through the lazy filter. The adage, "Don't write to trends," is a shining example of agents doing some preventative maintenance in order to keep people like yourself subjugated.
Don't get carried away with these misguided cautionary tales. Buy into the publishing hype. It pays, big time.
Need clear, lucid writing advice from an expert? Of course you do. E-mail Dr. Hack and he'll set you straight.
Writing Software
Dear Dr. Hack,
Yesterday you mentioned anyone can "toss off," gripping literature these days due to advances in novel writing software.
I've never used these programs, but as a writer who's completed 10 manuscripts but never been published, I'm beginning to think the problem isn't the publishing industry.
My question is, if I haven't been published after all the work I've put into writing, how is a stinking piece of novel writing software going to help?
Regards,
Slogging Away in Staunton
Dear Slogging,
Anyone who tells you there's no such thing as a quick fix in writing is blowing smoke up your ass. I'm no literary genius, but after using some of these new novel writing programs, my manuscripts came out looking more snazzy than a Manhattan call girl.
First, let's take a look at what's on the market.
After reading through gushing testimonials and doing a quick Google search, "Writer's Block 3," really stood out. I couldn't help getting jazzed when the main page proclaimed, "Writer's Block 3: The Easiest Way To Write."
Since I'm not here to evaluate slogans though, I downloaded a trial version, and all I can say is:
Wow. This program's got your back.
Let me tell you what. Writing hasn't been this easy since I got my grubby eight-year-old fingers on a box full of Crayola Chartreuse Sunrise and wrote my first novella on construction paper about a young mongoose named Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.
In other words, unless you're plagiarizing, this is the way to go.
I'll tell you why. When I got stuck with my main character Lithitania, who couldn't decide if she should commit an inter-species sex act with an evil dragon in order to save her kingdom from certain destruction due to a Christian purity vow she'd taken at the age of fourteen, the program ran a quick "deep action analysis," which told me how she'd react based on her previous behavior.
In fact, the program started out by informing me I should have a main character named Lithitania, after I told the Novel Wizard prompt that I wanted to write fantasy.
It then proceeded to give me a randomly generated backstory, and even drew a map of my world and gave it a name!
Honestly, I haven't had such a good time writing bodice ripping inter-species fantasy epics in a long, long time.
Not only do programs like this give you helpful writing prompts, they rewrite your sentences as you go in order to give the novel a more "commercial," appeal. Paragraphs are automatically reconfigured for maximum readability, and when you finish, "Writer's Block 3," doesn't even ask for a co-authorship credit.
Now how cool is that?
If you're harboring any reservations, I'd just go ahead and give it a whirl. Take one of those unpublished novels, plunk the text into a Block 3 document, and watch it go to work. First with a chainsaw, then an excavator's mohair brush.
Best of luck, Staunton. My guess is, if you take the good doctor's advice, you'll be published in no time.
Have writing questions? Sure you do. E-mail ">Dr. Hack.
Yesterday you mentioned anyone can "toss off," gripping literature these days due to advances in novel writing software.
I've never used these programs, but as a writer who's completed 10 manuscripts but never been published, I'm beginning to think the problem isn't the publishing industry.
My question is, if I haven't been published after all the work I've put into writing, how is a stinking piece of novel writing software going to help?
Regards,
Slogging Away in Staunton
Dear Slogging,
Anyone who tells you there's no such thing as a quick fix in writing is blowing smoke up your ass. I'm no literary genius, but after using some of these new novel writing programs, my manuscripts came out looking more snazzy than a Manhattan call girl.
First, let's take a look at what's on the market.
After reading through gushing testimonials and doing a quick Google search, "Writer's Block 3," really stood out. I couldn't help getting jazzed when the main page proclaimed, "Writer's Block 3: The Easiest Way To Write."
Since I'm not here to evaluate slogans though, I downloaded a trial version, and all I can say is:
Wow. This program's got your back.
Let me tell you what. Writing hasn't been this easy since I got my grubby eight-year-old fingers on a box full of Crayola Chartreuse Sunrise and wrote my first novella on construction paper about a young mongoose named Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.
In other words, unless you're plagiarizing, this is the way to go.
I'll tell you why. When I got stuck with my main character Lithitania, who couldn't decide if she should commit an inter-species sex act with an evil dragon in order to save her kingdom from certain destruction due to a Christian purity vow she'd taken at the age of fourteen, the program ran a quick "deep action analysis," which told me how she'd react based on her previous behavior.
In fact, the program started out by informing me I should have a main character named Lithitania, after I told the Novel Wizard prompt that I wanted to write fantasy.
It then proceeded to give me a randomly generated backstory, and even drew a map of my world and gave it a name!
Honestly, I haven't had such a good time writing bodice ripping inter-species fantasy epics in a long, long time.
Not only do programs like this give you helpful writing prompts, they rewrite your sentences as you go in order to give the novel a more "commercial," appeal. Paragraphs are automatically reconfigured for maximum readability, and when you finish, "Writer's Block 3," doesn't even ask for a co-authorship credit.
Now how cool is that?
If you're harboring any reservations, I'd just go ahead and give it a whirl. Take one of those unpublished novels, plunk the text into a Block 3 document, and watch it go to work. First with a chainsaw, then an excavator's mohair brush.
Best of luck, Staunton. My guess is, if you take the good doctor's advice, you'll be published in no time.
Have writing questions? Sure you do. E-mail ">Dr. Hack.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Help! I'm Blocked
Dear Dr. Hack,
I've been working on my 200,000-word period romance novel, "A Small Affair of Smallpox," for a long time without any problems, but now I'm stuck!
A lot of research has gone into this book, you wouldn't believe it. Hours and hours on the internet and at the library. I even joined the National Historical Period Romance Smallpox Writers League as a volunteer, to better acquaint myself with the time period, mannerisms, and difficulties faced by peoples in the 1400s who had to live through the disease.
My problem now is that I have five years and a couple marriages invested in the success of this piece of writing, but I think I'm only about halfway there. I'm not sure I have what it takes to write the next 200,000-words.
Even my friends say I should just give it up. A frequent topic of conversation when looking for new fabric patterns at the arts and crafts store with my circle is the "novel." They claim that publishing is a fiercly competitive industry that is extremely hard to get into, like they would know! All I can say to them when this topic comes up is that they haven't even read the whole thing yet, so how could they possibly say my writing isn't any good?!
Still, I'm starting to think maybe this book was a mistake.
Any ideas on how to overcome these feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt? Thanks.
--Smallpox Wench in Wisteria
Wench,
First, you need to dump these useless friends. They're obviously selfish, jealous "little people" that don't understand the star-spangled genius lying dormant between those gorgeous little ears of yours.
Who needs stupid friends anyway? Once you get famous, everyone will love you.
The next course of action, naturally, is to sit your butt down in that chair and get writing. Why are you even stressing about 200,000-words? Do you think Margaret Mitchell ever doubted her ability while writing Gone With the Wind? I think not. And just look how well it turned out.
Self-doubt is the most deadly mistake you can make at this point. Most good artists never, ever doubt their abilities, not when they're busy working. My advice: get cranking on that novel, 5,000-words minimum, a day.
Just let the prose fly hot and fast, and then as soon as it's done, start sending it out to publishers and agents. DO NOT REWRITE.
Usually authors just mess their books up when they try to rewrite, because no true artist has a good perspective on what they've created. You just need to send it out exactly the way you finish it, and a savvy editor will read it and tell you what needs to be done.
Once industry professionals see what a piece of unfiltered brilliance they have on their hands, I can almost guarantee they'll be calling you within days begging to publish and represent your opus.
The best cure for writers block is knowing when you break into print with your entire, glorious, 400,000-word masterpiece, all those delusional spouses and friends will be choking in the dust trail of your jetset career.
With the latest advances in technology and novel writing software, these days anyone can toss off a piece of really good, gripping literature. Who are these "friends," to say you aren't just as talented as Nora Roberts or Danielle Steele?
Carry on, Wench.
Got Writing Questions? E-mail Dr. Hack.
I've been working on my 200,000-word period romance novel, "A Small Affair of Smallpox," for a long time without any problems, but now I'm stuck!
A lot of research has gone into this book, you wouldn't believe it. Hours and hours on the internet and at the library. I even joined the National Historical Period Romance Smallpox Writers League as a volunteer, to better acquaint myself with the time period, mannerisms, and difficulties faced by peoples in the 1400s who had to live through the disease.
My problem now is that I have five years and a couple marriages invested in the success of this piece of writing, but I think I'm only about halfway there. I'm not sure I have what it takes to write the next 200,000-words.
Even my friends say I should just give it up. A frequent topic of conversation when looking for new fabric patterns at the arts and crafts store with my circle is the "novel." They claim that publishing is a fiercly competitive industry that is extremely hard to get into, like they would know! All I can say to them when this topic comes up is that they haven't even read the whole thing yet, so how could they possibly say my writing isn't any good?!
Still, I'm starting to think maybe this book was a mistake.
Any ideas on how to overcome these feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt? Thanks.
--Smallpox Wench in Wisteria
Wench,
First, you need to dump these useless friends. They're obviously selfish, jealous "little people" that don't understand the star-spangled genius lying dormant between those gorgeous little ears of yours.
Who needs stupid friends anyway? Once you get famous, everyone will love you.
The next course of action, naturally, is to sit your butt down in that chair and get writing. Why are you even stressing about 200,000-words? Do you think Margaret Mitchell ever doubted her ability while writing Gone With the Wind? I think not. And just look how well it turned out.
Self-doubt is the most deadly mistake you can make at this point. Most good artists never, ever doubt their abilities, not when they're busy working. My advice: get cranking on that novel, 5,000-words minimum, a day.
Just let the prose fly hot and fast, and then as soon as it's done, start sending it out to publishers and agents. DO NOT REWRITE.
Usually authors just mess their books up when they try to rewrite, because no true artist has a good perspective on what they've created. You just need to send it out exactly the way you finish it, and a savvy editor will read it and tell you what needs to be done.
Once industry professionals see what a piece of unfiltered brilliance they have on their hands, I can almost guarantee they'll be calling you within days begging to publish and represent your opus.
The best cure for writers block is knowing when you break into print with your entire, glorious, 400,000-word masterpiece, all those delusional spouses and friends will be choking in the dust trail of your jetset career.
With the latest advances in technology and novel writing software, these days anyone can toss off a piece of really good, gripping literature. Who are these "friends," to say you aren't just as talented as Nora Roberts or Danielle Steele?
Carry on, Wench.
Got Writing Questions? E-mail Dr. Hack.
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