Here are some entertaining ‘Frank’ remarks on writing and publishing. I hope you enjoy them.

 

 Famous Rejection Letters

Publishers claim that their rejections are not necessarily based on value judgments.  They may like a manuscript, they say, but be unable to publish it because of prior commitments or scheduling jams, lack of money or other operational obstacles.

They have let some amazingly big fish slip through their nets, great classics and ultimate blockbusters of all varieties: War and Peace, The Good Earth … To Kill a Mockingbird, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam, Watership Down.

An agent once told me that a publisher passed on The Perfect Storm. The acquisition editor’s reason was “Who would want to read about a bunch of fisherman.” I suppose Peter Benchley’s book, Jaws, was passed over by some agents and publishers because it was just a fish story.

The list goes on and on.

Here are some examples of famous author rejection letters.

 

Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D H Lawrence

‘for your own sake do not publish this book.’

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

‘an absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.’

 

The Diary of Anne Frank

‘The girl doesn’t, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the “curiosity” level.’

 

Carrie by Stephen King

‘We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias.  They do not sell.’

 

Catch – 22 by Joseph Heller

‘I haven’t really the foggiest idea about what the man is trying to say… Apparently the author intends it to be funny – possibly even satire – but it is really not funny on any intellectual level … From your long publishing experience you will know that it is less disastrous to turn down a work of genius than to turn down talented mediocrities.’

 

Animal Farm by George Orwell

‘It is impossible to sell animal stories in the USA’

 

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

‘… overwhelmingly nauseating, even to an enlightened Freudian … the whole thing is an unsure cross between hideous reality and improbable fantasy.  It often becomes a wild neurotic daydream … I recommend that it be buried under a stone for a thousand years.’

Watership Down by Richard Adams

‘older children wouldn’t like it because its language was too difficult.’

 

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

‘an irresponsible holiday story’

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John le Carré

‘You’re welcome to le Carré – he hasn’t got any future.’

 

  “It Was a Dark and Stormy Night”

In the Peanuts comic strip by Charles M. Schulz, the character Snoopy was often shown to be starting yet another of many novels with the canonical phrase, or variations of “It was a dark and stormy night.”

“It was a dark and stormy night” is a phrase penned by Victorian novelist Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton at the beginning of his 1830 novel Paul Clifford. The phrase itself is now understood as a signifier of a certain broad style of writing, characterized by a self-serious attempt at dramatic flair, the imitation of formulaic styles, an extravagantly florid style, redundancies, confusing syntax, and sentences—sometimes incorrectly dubbed run-on sentences—that are exceedingly lengthy. Bulwer-Lytton’s original opening sentence serves as an example:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

There is a Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest each year where writers submit their best opening run on sentence.

Here are some of the more amusing entries.

Darnell knew he was getting hung out to dry when the D.A. made him come clean by airing other people’s dirty laundry; the plea deal was a new wrinkle and there were still issues to iron out, but he hoped it would all come out in the wash – otherwise he had folded like a cheap suit for nothing.

She walked into my office on legs as long as one of those long-legged birds that you see in Florida – the pink ones, not the white ones – except that she was standing on both of them, not just one of them, like those birds, the pink ones, and she wasn’t wearing pink, but I knew right away that she was trouble, which those birds usually aren’t.

The dame sauntered silently into Rocco’s office, but she didn’t need to speak; the blood-soaked gown hugging her ample curves said it all: “I am a shipping heiress whose second husband was just murdered by Albanian assassins trying to blackmail me for my rare opal collection,” or maybe, “Do you know a good dry cleaner?”

After quickly scrutinizing the two dangerously buff men coming toward her in the dark and wondering whether she could take them both out, P.I. Velma Plusch mentally inventoried her arsenal-two pistols, two stiletto-clad feet, two leather-gloved hands, two each eyes, ears, lips, and breasts-and decided that she could.

It was a quarter ’til eight in the ninth precinct when I got the call of a possible two-eleven at a nearby Seven-Eleven that turned out to be just a four-fifteen–that is until my number two from the ninth discovered the one-eight-seven under the Tenth Street Bridge, some two-bit mob soldier with a blossom of five .357′s right in the ten-ring.

Towards the dragon’s lair the fellowship marched — a noble human prince, a fair elf, a surly dwarf, and a disheveled copyright attorney who was frantically trying to find a way to differentiate this story from “Lord of the Rings.”

On a fine summer morning during the days of the Puritans, the prison door in the small New England town of B—-n opened to release a convicted adulteress, the Scarlet Letter A embroidered on her dress, along with the Scarlet Letters B through J, a veritable McGuffey’s Reader of Scarlet Letters, one for each little tyke waiting for her at the gate.

The gutters of Manhattan teemed with the brackish slurry indicative of a significant though not incapacitating snowstorm three days prior, making it seem that God had tripped over Hoboken and spilled his smog-flavored slurpie all over the damn place.

Without warning, their darting tongues entwined, like a couple of nightcrawlers fresh from the baitshop–their moist, twisting bodies finally snapping apart, not unlike an old man’s muddy galosh being yanked away from his patent leather shoe.

He slowly ran his fingers through her long black hair, which wasn’t really black because she used Preference by L’Oreal to color it (because “she was worth it”); her carrot-colored roots were starting to show, and it reminded him of the time he’d covered his car’s check engine light with black electrical tape, but a faint orange glow still shone around the edges.

Using her flint knife to gut the two amphibians, Kreega the Neanderthal woman created the first pair of open-toad sandals.

As Lieutenant Baker shrank his lips back to their normal size, he tried desperately to think of a situation in which his new-found power might be useful, as have I, your narrator.

 

  Some of the Worst/Best Analogies of High School Students

Analogies are the coin of the realm for writers. Without  the power they have to paint concepts and ideas in the minds of our readers, our novels would read like some boring corporate report.

Here are some of the more humorous analogies that high school students have used when writing stories.

• He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
• Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
• She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
• The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
• Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
• The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
• is thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
• Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
• Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
• Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
• The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
• He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
• Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it hadrusted shut.
• She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
• The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
• “Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
• It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
• It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
• He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
• Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
• She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
• The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
• She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
• It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
• Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.

 

  10 Ways to Find 10 Minutes to Write

How many times have we made excuses or just can’t find the time to write?

How about if you just commit to 10 minutes. Better yet, how about 10 ways to do it?

I found this 10 little ways to find 10 minutes to write at Daily Writing Tips.

1. Write first thing in the morning

Create an extra ten minutes in your day by setting your alarm early: get up, grab your notebook (or switch on your laptop) and sneak in ten minutes of writing while everyone else is still asleep.

This is one I use frequently. Jump out of bed, grab a bagel and give it 10 minutes.

2. Write on the train

If you get the train (or bus, or tube) to work or school, write on the way. Some trains and coaches have power sockets for your laptop, but all you really need is a pad of paper and a pen.

Don’t have trains where I am but we do have buses and a new light rail. Grab 10 minutes on the way to the ballgame.

3. Write while you’re standing in line

Next time you get stuck in a long line at the post office or bank, whip out your notebook and start scribbling down a few ideas for your next piece of writing.

Boy! How many times have I done this !

4. Write during a coffee break

Your coffee break (or morning break at school) can be a great way to find ten spare minutes. If you’ve got access to a computer and email, try writing a paragraph of your latest project – then email it to yourself so you can easily cut-and-paste it later.

There’s a cool service called JOTT where yo can call a number and read your 10 second thought into the phone and it will appear in your email box and few minutes later. Very useful.

5. Write in a boring meeting or lecture

Stuck in a dull meeting or lecture? Instead of daydreaming, work on your writing: if you’ve got a laptop, type away, or just write on paper. It’ll look like you’re paying attention to the speaker and taking copious notes…

But don’t get caught!

6. Write in your lunch hour

Make a point of taking your lunch hour rather than working straight through, and use this time to get some writing done. Even if you have to go and buy a sandwich, you should be able to find ten minutes spare to write.

I take my laptop with me most every time to lunch. A great way to steal a few minutes of writing.

7. Write in the car

When the traffic jam in front of you stretches for miles, rejoice! Get your notebook out, and start writing. And if you’re lucky enough to have a traffic-free commute, end your journey by sitting in the car park for ten minutes, writing away.

I do this on long trips with my wife. Instead of listing to the radio, I open my laptop and grab a few minutes here and there. Warning: Give enough time to listen to the wife!

8. Write while you’re waiting

There are always times in the day when you’ll end up hanging around, waiting for someone else. Whether it’s sitting in reception at the dentist’s surgery, waiting for the kids to get ready, or waiting for your partner to get home, use those few minutes to write.

Great time to use JOTT.

9. Write while dinner’s cooking

It takes ten minutes for pasta or rice to cook – so why not take your notebook or laptop into the kitchen and finish a couple of paragraphs while dinner’s cooking? You can keep an eye on the food, and your family won’t interrupt if they know you’re cooking for them…

I keep lots of scrap paper in the kitchen drawer for making shopping lists and phone messages  but great place to jot down ideas, phrases and dialogue that comes into your head.

10. Write in the advert breaks

Balance your laptop on your knees and write furiously in every advert break whilst watching television. During the course of an hour-long show, you’ll see at least ten minutes of ads. Plenty of time to finish off your piece!

Drop the TiVo and write during the breaks.

 

Can a Writer Be Anyone or Anything?

 

Maeve Maddox writes about a writers’ workshop session at which a minor, but much-published author warned participants against creating POV (point of view) characters of the opposite sex.

Maddox disagrees and says such a policy places an extraordinary limitation on writers of fiction.

He sites several examples of successful titles that, if their authors had followed such a limiting dictum as write only from your own point of view and personal experience, would not have seen the light of day:

Silas Marner by George Eliot (Marian Evans)
woman writing from POV of poor male weaver

Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
American man writing from Japanese woman’s POV

A Great Deliverance, By Elizabeth George
American woman writing from British male detective’s POV

And then authors who have crossed the species barrier to tell their great and moving stories:

Watership Down by Richard Adams
Tarka the Otter by Henry Williamson
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell
Gayneck the Pigeon by Dhan Gopal Mukerji
Bambi by Felix Salten
Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White (Yes, I cried when a spider died.)

Do you know of any others?

 

  Writing Anecdotes

People like to read about people – and writers are no different. History is strewn with personal anecdotes about those is the writing profession in some way or another – authors, journalists, professionals and others.

Here are some I’ve found

James Bennett, no fan of rival publisher William Randolph Hearst, was one day irked to discover that Hearst was plotting to buy his ailing New York Herald. Sure enough, he soon received correspondence from Hearst asking how much the newspaper would cost, and promptly sent a cable in return. His reply? “Price of Herald three cents daily. Five cents Sunday. Bennett.”

One evening during the Napoleonic wars, the English poet Thomas Campbell caused a stir at a literary dinner by proposing a toast – to Napoleon Bonaparte. Waiting for the din to subside, Campbell raised his voice and said, “Gentlemen, you must not mistake me. I admit that the French emperor is a tyrant. I admit that he is a monster. I admit that he is the sworn foe of our nation, and, if you will, of the whole human race… But, gentlemen, we must be just to our enemy. We must not forget that he once shot a bookseller, Johann Palm of Nuremberg!” The audience, consisting largely of fellow authors, broke into spontaneous applause.

One day while Georges Simenon (a writer famed for his incredible efficiency) was working on his 158th novel, the telephone rang in his home in France and was promptly answered by his wife. It was Alfred Hitchcock calling long-distance from the United States. “I’m sorry,” said Mme Simenon, “but Georges is writing and I would rather not disturb him.” “Let him finish his book,” Hitchcock replied. “I’ll hang on…”

Samuel Goldwyn once enlisted a ghostwriter to write a series of articles on his behalf. Midway through the assignment, however, the writer became ill and a substitute had to be found. One day Goldwyn read an article penned by the stand-in – and was rather disappointed. His complaint? “That’s not at all up to my usual standard!”

To his great embarrassment, Hilaire Belloc was often forced to produce substandard books in order to pay his bills. “During the 1930s in a railway carriage Belloc noticed a man in front of him reading a volume of his History of England. He leaned forward, asked him how much he had paid for it, and – informed of the price – withdrew a corresponding sum from his pocket, gave it to the man, snatched the book from his hand, and tossed it out the window.”

The New Yorker was launched (in 1925) by Harold Ross on a shoestring budget. Indeed, so uncertain were the magazine’s finances that even basic equipment was in short supply. One day, Ross berated Dorothy Parker for her failure to come in to the office to work on a piece which was overdue. Fortunately Parker had a handy excuse: “Someone else,” she said, “was using the pencil.”

Early in his career, mystery writer Erle Stanley Gardner earned a living churning out stories for pulp magazines at the incredible rate of 200,000 words per month. As he was paid by the word, the length of a story was of no small importance. Noting that his villains were invariably killed by the last bullet in the chamber, Gardner’s editor once asked why his heroes were so careless with the first five shots. “At three cents a word,” Gardner replied, “every time I say ‘Bang’ in the story I get three cents. If you think I’m going to finish the gun battle while my hero has got fifteen cents’ worth of unexploded ammunition in his gun, you’re nuts!”

Famed British humorist Alan Coren was once advised that anyone seeking to draw the attention of the book-buying public should write about cats, golf or Nazis. Coren promptly published a collection of essays entitled Golfing for Cats. Its cover? A picture of a cat in a Nazi uniform wielding a putter.

Upon first moving to Hollywood, Nunnally Johnson was asked how he expected to find writing for the wide screen. “Very simple,” replied Johnson. “I’ll just put the paper in sideways.”

Comedian Garry Moore was once the recipient of a television award for spontaneity. Moore facetiously paid tribute to “the four guys responsible for my spontaneity: my writers.” When the next award went to Bishop Fulton Sheen, he rose and approached the podium. “I also want to pay tribute to my four writers,” he declared. “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John!”

Sinclair Lewis was once booked to give a lecture at Columbia University on the writer’s craft: “How many of you here are really serious about being writers?” Lewis began. A sea of enthusiastic hands were raised. “Well,” said Lewis, “why the hell aren’t you all at home writing?” Then, having completed his ‘lecture’ he promptly sat down.

During a meeting of the Mystery Writers of America one day, Mickey Spillane was asked by a fan to explain the symbolic meaning behind the drinking habits of his famous detective. “Mike Hammer drinks beer, not cognac,” Spillane declared, “because I can’t spell cognac.”

The wife of novelist and critic William Dean Howells once enlisted the aid of a young maid. One day the new assistant – having noticed her husband’s constant presence in the home – asked to speak with Mrs. Howells.”You pay me four dollars a week, madam,” she began. “I’m afraid I really can’t afford to pay you more,” Mrs. Howells interrupted apologetically. “Well, what I was wanting to say, madam,” the girl continued, “is that I would be willing to take three until Mr. Howells lands a job.”

A critic once castigated Winston Churchill for composing a sentence which ended with a preposition. Churchill replied with a mocking note: “This is the sort of English up with which I will not put.”

Rehearsals for the American premiere of Shaw’s Saint Joan went swimmingly – until it was found to be some three and a half hours long! Shaw soon received a cable requesting that he cut the play as suburban visitors would otherwise miss the last trains home. Shaw’s solution? “Begin at eight – or run later trains.”

More to follow.

  Some Humor on Writing

Writing can be a chore most times so let’s lighten it up a bit.  So here are some jokes about writing.

A visitor to a certain college paused to admire the new Hemingway Hall that had been built on campus.
“It’s a pleasure to see a building named for Ernest Hemingway,” he said.
“Actually,” said his guide, “it’s named for Joshua Hemingway. No relation.”
The visitor was astonished. “Was Joshua Hemingway a writer, also?”
“Yes, indeed,” said his guide. “He wrote a check.”

A linguistics professor was lecturing to his English class one day. “In English,” he said, “a double negative forms a positive. In some languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, there is no language wherein a double positive can form a negative.”
A voice from the back of the room piped up, “Yeah, right.”

A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.
She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.
“Oh my,” said the writer. “Let me see heaven now.”
A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.
“Wait a minute,” said the writer. “This is just as bad as hell!”
“Oh no, it’s not,” replied an unseen voice. “Here, your work gets published.”

There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer.
When asked to define great, he said, “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!”
He now works for Microsoft writing error messages.

A screenwriter comes home to a burned down house. His sobbing and slightly-singed wife is standing outside. “What happened, honey?” the man asks.
“Oh, John, it was terrible,” she weeps. “I was cooking, the phone rang. It was your agent. Because I was on the phone, I didn’t notice the stove was on fire. It went up in second. Everything is gone. I nearly didn’t make it out of the house. Poor Fluffy is–”
“Wait, wait. Back up a minute,” The man says. “My agent called?”

How many science fiction writers does it take to change a light bulb?
Two, but it’s actually the same person doing it. He went back in time and met himself in the doorway and then the first one sat on the other one’s shoulder so that they were able to reach it. Then a major time paradox occurred and the entire room, light bulb, changer and all was blown out of existence. They co-existed in a parallel universe, though.

How many publishers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Three. One to screw it in. Two to hold down the author.

How many mystery writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Two.  One to screw it almost all the way in, and the other to give it a surprising twist at the end.

How many screenwriters does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Why does it *have* to be changed?

How many cover blurb writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A VAST AND TEEMING HORDE STRETCHING FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA!!!!

How many screenwriters does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer:  Ten.
1st draft.  Hero changes light bulb.
2nd draft.  Villain changes light bulb.
3rd draft.  Hero stops villain from changing light bulb.  Villain falls to death.
4th draft.  Lose the light bulb.
5th draft.  Light bulb back in.  Fluorescent instead of tungsten.
6th draft.  Villain breaks bulb, uses it to kill hero’s mentor.
7th draft.  Fluorescent not working.  Back to tungsten.
8th draft.  Hero forces villain to eat light bulb.
9th draft.  Hero laments loss of light bulb.  Doesn’t change it.
10th draft.  Hero changes light bulb.

 

  More Writing Anecdotes

People like to read about people – and writers are no different. History is strewn with personal anecdotes about those is the writing profession in some way or another – authors, journalists, professionals and others.

Here are some more I’ve found

One day Norman MacLean was dismayed to learn that his classic novel A River Runs Through It had been rejected by another publisher. The reason? “These stories have trees in them.”

One day William S. Burroughs gave a manuscript of his latest book (entitled “Naked Lust”) to the beatnik poet Allen Ginsberg for his opinion. Ginsberg misread his friend’s handwriting – and the book soon became a classic beat-generation portrait of drug addiction, entitled “Naked Lunch.”

Though he wanted to serve in Vietnam, Tom Clancy’s poor eyesight prevented him from entering the military. Thus, like Stephen Crane, who had never been to war when he wrote The Red Badge of Courage, Clancy had never even set foot in a submarine when he wrote The Hunt for Red October. Nonetheless, the book contains such accurate descriptions of high-tech military hardware that former Navy Secretary John Lehman once joked that, had Clancy been in the navy, he would have had him court-martialed for security violations.

Dame Edith Evans was once informed that the noted writer Nancy Mitford was staying at a friend’s villa to finish a book. “Oh, really?” Evans snorted. “What exactly is she reading?”

In June 2003, management consultant Chelsea Hardaway and her colleagues at Deloitte Consulting unveiled “Bullfighter,” a software program which identifies jargon in documents. “We hope that it is a fun way to make business communications safer for all of us,” she declared, before adding: “We envision a centre of excellence where our accelerated change agents can maximize their core competencies.”

Asimov’s interest in science fiction was first piqued by magazines on the newsstand in the family’s candy store. Athough Asimov’s father disapproved of his young son’s taste for “junk,” Asimov persisted, playing on the word “science” in the names of magazines like Science Wonder Stories to convince his father to let him read them.

Arnold Bennett, a stickler for detail, once boasted that Darius Clayhanger’s death in the Clayhanger series could never be improved upon: “I took infinite pains over it,” the author explained. “All the time my father was dying I was at the bedside making copious notes.”

Addison Mizner and his brother Wilson ran various businesses together and were very close. One day in 1933, Addison, seriously ill, received a telegram in Palm Beach from his brother in Hollywood: “Stop dying,” it read. “Am trying to write a comedy.”

One day Victor Hugo, wondering what his publishers thought of his manuscript draft of Les Miserables, sent them a note reading simply: “?” Their reply? “!”

“A few years ago in Scotland,” Stephen King once recalled, “this one austere lady [reporter] kept asking me about how I seemed so normal and All-American yet I could keep endlessly writing such terrifying novels. “So after several times trying to explain it was really just a profession I told her that, whenever I had writer’s block, for inspiration I looked at a small jar that was always on my desk and held a pickled little slave boy’s heart from before the Civil War.”

Mark Twain was peeved by Walt Whitman’s habitual use of ‘we’ when he spoke about writing (as if to suggest, rather presumptuously, that he spoke for writers collectively). “I assume,” Twain said one day, “that Mr. Whitman means himself and his tapeworm?”

 

Famous First Lines Quiz 

See how many of these famous first lines from literature you can identify.

1.         ‘All children, except one, grow up.’

The Time Machine by H.G. Wells

Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

Stuart Little by E.B. White

2.         ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.’

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Tess of the D. Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

3.         ‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,’ grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.’

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

4.         ‘The great fish moved silently through the night water, propelled by short sweeps of its crescent tail.’

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Jaws by Peter Benchley

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

5.         ‘It was a pleasure to burn.’

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl

The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

6.         ‘When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.’

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackery

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

7.         ‘Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.’

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

8.         ‘A throng of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats, intermixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak…’

Silas Marner by George Eliot

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

9.         ‘Not so long ago, a monster came to the small town of Castle Rock, Maine.’

The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Cujo by Stephen King

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

10.       ‘If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but…’

Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

Native Son by Richard Wright

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

How’d you do?

 

How Do You Write Dialogue?

 

Here are 8 tips from Ginny Wiehardt, About.com Guide.

She says, “Writing dialogue — realistic dialogue, anyway — does not come easily to everyone. Done well, dialogue advances the story and fleshes out the characters while providing a break from straight exposition.”

Here are her Tips:

1. Listen to How People Talk.

Having a sense of natural speech patterns is essential to good dialogue. Start to pay attention to the expressions that people use and the music of everyday conversation. This exercise asks you to do this more formally, but generally speaking it’s helpful to develop your ear by paying attention to the way people talk.

2. Not Exactly like Real Speech.

But dialogue should read like real speech. How do you accomplish that? Alfred Hitchcock said that a good story was “life, with the dull parts taken out.” This very much applies to dialogue. A transcription of a conversation would be completely boring to read. Edit out the filler words and unessential dialogue — that is, the dialogue that doesn’t contribute to the plot in some way.
3. Don’t Provide Too Much Info at Once.
It should not be obvious to the reader that they’re being fed important facts. Let the story unfold naturally. You don’t have to tell the reader everything up front, and you can trust him or her to remember details from earlier in the story.

4. Break Up Dialogue with Action.

Remind your reader that your characters are physical human beings by grounding their dialogue in the physical world. Physical details also help break up the words on the page: long periods of dialogue are easier for the reader’s eye when broken up by description. (And vice versa, for that matter.) See the link above for examples of how this can work.

5. Don’t Overdo Dialogue Tags.

Veering too much beyond “he said/she said” only draws attention to the tags — and you want the reader’s attention centered on your brilliant dialogue, not your ability to think of synonyms for “said.”
6. Stereotypes, Profanity, and Slang.
Be aware of falling back on stereotypes, and use profanity and slang sparingly. All of these risk distracting or alienating your reader. Anything that takes the reader out of the fictional world you’re working so hard to create is not your friend. Read some examples of how to achieve the tone you want without stereotypes, profanity, and slang.

7. Read Widely.

Pay attention to why things work or don’t work. Where are you taken out of the story’s action? Where did you stop believing in a character? Or, alternatively, when did the character really jump off the page, and how did dialogue help accomplish that? You can start reading like a writer with the link above, or pick up an anthology and start your own list of writers to learn from.

8. Punctuate Dialogue Correctly.

The rules for punctuating dialogue can be confusing: many writers need help getting them right in the beginning. Take some time to learn the basics. A reader should get lost in your prose — not feel lost trying to follow your dialogue.

Do you have any others?

 

What Are the Best Thrillers of All Time?

 

So, you like thrillers. I do too.  But there’s so many and there are multiple categories of thrillers to choose from. So what to do?

Like the American Film Institute that rates the best movies in each category, book editors at Reader’s Digest Select Editions spent 50 years finding the best, most satisfying stories that will race your heart and grip your imagination while you turn the pages.

Ready? Here’s their choices both past and present.

1. The Spy Thriller

The Spy Who Came In from the Cold by John le Carré (1963) is the quintessential espionage thriller. Set during the Cold War, this rich tale still captivates with its spellbinding portrayal of the world of secret agents.

2. The Techno Thriller

Gadgets, gadgets and more gadgets. Ian Fleming started it all with James Bond and his arsenal of clever, useful gadgets, some not so far-fetched anymore. The best Bond book? From Russia with Love (1957). Get to know the real Bond, not Sean, Roger, Timothy or Pierce, by imbibing him on the printed page.

3. The Classic Thriller

The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells (1898) was one of the world’s pioneering thrillers, introducing this genre, unknown at the time, to worldwide acclaim. And the story is still alive and well today.

4. The Psychological Suspense Thriller

For sheer creepiness and terror, nothing beats The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris (1988).

5. The Legal Thriller

Presumed Innocent by Scott Turow (1987) features terrific characters, a deftly executed plot, and fascinating legal insight, making it the definitive legal thriller.

6. The Medical Thriller

Read Coma by Robin Cook (1977), the unforgettable saga of patients who check into the hospital for “minor” surgery and never wake up.

7. The Sci-Fi Thriller

Sure he’s done dinosaurs and television emergency rooms, but Michael Crichton’s first novel, The Andromeda Strain (1969), still ranks as one of the top science fiction thrillers of all time.

8. The Military Thriller

You’ve seen the movie, but don’t miss the book. The Great Escape by Paul Brickhill (1950) is even more captivating on paper, with perhaps the most hair-raising POW escape scene ever written.

9. The True-Crime Thriller

The most famous book in this nonfiction genre is Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood (1966). The author spent months in the Midwest painstakingly retracing the steps of two young rural killers — and then wrote about it chillingly.

10. The Action/Adventure Thriller

Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors by Piers Paul Read (1974) set the gold standard for heroic survival stories, with this true tale of a Uruguayan rugby team whose plane crashes, resulting in an incredible 10-week physical and emotional ordeal.

There you go. The editor’s picks. Can you do better?

 

The Smell of Books

I just had to post this one for all the ‘traditionalists’ that hold their noses when reading an electronic book.

Sorry for the pun.

You see, there’s a new product available to those who must have the smell of a real book to complete their reading experience. It’s called Smell of Books™, a revolutionary new aerosol e-book enhancer.

It comes in 5 aromas:

* New Book Smell
* Classic Musty Smell
* Scent of Sensibility
* Eau You Have Cats
* Crunchy Bacon Scent

So, if you been reluctant to join the new publishing revolution, now you can have your book and smell it too!

 

   Writing Palette Cleansers

Every once in a while a writer needs to lighten up. So, here’s some palette cleansers on writing.

I love being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork – Peter De Vries

Everywhere I go I’m asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don’t stifle enough of them – Flannery O’Connor

Manuscript: something submitted in haste and returned at leisure – Oliver Herford

A good many young writers make the mistake of enclosing a stamped, self-addressed envelope, big enough for the manuscript to come back in. This is too much of a temptation to the editor – Ring Lardne

It’s a damn poor mind that can only think of one way to spell a word – Andrew Jackson

A good novel tells us the truth about it’s hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author – Gilbert K. Chesterton

Good authors, too, who once knew better words now only use four-letter words writing prose… anything goes – Frank Sinatra

I write to escape … to escape poverty – Edgar Rice Burroughs

If you can’t annoy somebody, there’s little point in writing – Kingsley Amis

It’s a damn good story. If you have any comments, write them on the back of a check – Erle Stanley Gardner

Writing is a lonely job, unless you’re a drinker, in which case you always have a friend within reach – Emilio Estevez

When I was a little boy, they called me a liar, but now that I am grown up, they call me a writer – Isaac Bashevis Singer

The best time to plan a book is while you’re doing the dishes – Agatha Christie

After being Turned Down by numerous Publishers, he had decided to write for Posterity – George Ade

About the most originality that any writer can hope to achieve honestly is to steal with good judgment – Josh Billings

I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying – Woody Allen

Smile.