K. Marvin Bruce

One of the tropes rife in the editorial world, regarding non-fiction, is “this should be an article instead of a book.”  This is a very disappointing thing for an author to hear.  After all, s/he spent years developing an idea into something long enough to be called a book, only to have it suggested s/he should cut it down. I write fiction, and I love to do so.  Once I’m in the  world I’ve imagined, it is difficult for me to break away.  In my day-job, however, I have written, and continue to write, creative non-fiction.  I recently managed to get one of these pieces up to 60,000 words so that I could call it a book.  A friend suggested maybe it should be an article instead. This is the dilemma of the writer seeking publication.  You have to meet the expectations of a publisher.  Nobody knows the piece as well as the author, and it hurts to cut organs away—body parts that your mind organically grafted into the body of your work. Creative non-fiction, it seems to me, is eas

That little coordinating conjunction always spells trouble.  I used to be a professor, but now I’m an editor.  I read many, many student papers—and now read many books—where the author doesn’t write well.  I write well, but… I ponder this as I have just received a nice rejection letter, this one from Two Dollar Radio.  My writing is good, but not exactly what we’re looking for.  My stack of such letters teeters over my head.  Well, it would if I printed them out.  It is easy to say no over the internet. In a world where good writers have trouble publishing, what does that say about the publishing industry?  I’m reading a novel right now that’s very interesting.  On the literary front it can’t be called great, but it is a good book.  The writing is good, but… In publishing, the choice comes down to fit and money.  You’re supposed to research your potential publisher—as if you’d have any time between working twelve hours a day, writing in the other four or so you have to spe

I do most of my writing early in the day.  Generally between 3:30 and 4:30 a.m.  This isn’t really a matter of choice; I commute, therefore I am.  I take what little time I have to write. Not that I’m complaining.  My advice to my writing friends is always the same: find a time and try to stick with it.  It takes the brain a while to settle into writing mode, of course, and an hour is never long enough.  There’s a hidden danger here, too. Since I spend my waking hours wishing I was asleep, I tend to allow myself a little latitude on weekends.  Maybe I’ll sleep until 4:00 or 5:00.  But that extra hour’s snooze has its cost.  I wake up and my usual writing time’s gone. Sure, I can still write.  I don’t have to be to work, but like most commuters I find weekends incredibly busy.  It’s the only time I have to get things done.  In other words, waking up later means there’s less time to write before everyday concerns start to demand attention. I know writers who regularly pl

I spent the last weekend on the quest.  If you’re a struggling writer, you know the quest I mean: the quest for publication. There are lots of websites to help, but there are even more writers than websites, and getting your voice heard is a matter of trash talk.  Can your work make money?  It doesn’t matter if it’s good (I know, because I read books!), it’s a matter of can it make money. It used to be independent publishers, fondly called “indies” in the trade, would consider non-agented books.  Have you trawled the listing lately?  Indie after indie, overrun with submissions, now only accept agent queries. So I ate up a weekend looking for agents again.  Problem is, how do you pitch a book that’s not meant to rake in the millions?  Mine is a fun novel, a provocative read.  It will make people laugh, and it will make people think.  It won’t make them open their bank account to bleed into the publisher’s bucket. Agents, of course, take a percentage.  If they can’t see