Oh, it almost certainly is stupid. Writing a book ain’t a walk in the park, you know.
What, do you think I’m going to sugar-coat this? No way, fiction is ridiculously competitive. Publishers are churning out books faster than ever before, and you either sink or swim. Odds are, your book isn’t as good as you think it is. That’s the sad thing about fiction—your story might mean the world to you, but everybody who isn’t you will see the flaws you miss. Readers have eagle eyes for BS. So while your protagonist’s impassioned speech about the meaning of love might have made you bawl while writing it, a general audience could easily roll their eyes and walk away. So many people submit manuscripts to publishers (and to me) and wonder why they’re just not getting the feedback they feel they deserve. That’s the dumbness disconnect at work.
The Dumbness Disconnect?
Yep, the dumbness disconnect: a writer’s greatest enemy. I’ve spoken in length about writing a decent plot, but if we’re being honest, logical plots aren’t necessarily clever plots. And it can be hard to tell the difference! Objectively, what makes Cats (2019) dumber than any other concept musical, like, say, Chicago (2002)?
Nothing. But you just kind of know, don’t you? You probably know because you didn’t write Cats. And that’s terrifying. Because what, aside from your own judgment, is going to separate your WIP novel from the never-ending horde of unread Kindle Unlimited exclusive books out there? And if your judgment isn’t enough, where does that leave you? How do you navigate the dumbness disconnect?
It Takes A Village.
“Okay, Ellie,” you say, “I get where you’re going with this. You want me to use beta readers and to get an editor. That’s obvious.”
Good!
Thank God that’s obvious for you! Because I can point you towards a whole throng of people who simply refused to listen to their peers and went down with their ships. When writing a book, you are both the most important person and least important person involved. You make all the decisions. You have to trust yourself. But, your readers will see your book as it is, now how you’d like it to be. Writing a book doesn’t have to be terribly hard, so long as you follow the principle of asking strong questions to a series of unbiased alpha and beta readers—ideally dozens of them. Finding beta readers is a topic in and of itself, but there are a gajillion people out there. What’s most important is learning what to ask, and how to deal with the answers.
With each draft you send out, I’d recommend asking 30 in-depth questions about the elements of your story you’re most concerned about. You’re looking for mini-essays, not yes or no answers. That might seem like a lot, but trust me, too much feedback is a better problem than too little. I like to divide my questions into four categories: plot, characters, writing, and random impressions. Trust me when I say that you will get more from the last two sections than the first two.
For plot, ask your readers if they found anything confusing or hard to understand. Did something drag? How much actually got through to them? Did the story end well? Was it flat-out hokey? Where would they have taken it instead? In the characters section, ask if they didn’t like certain characters. Who was their favorite character? Who could you have removed? As for writing, you have to learn which needs the most improvement: your prose or your dialogue. When you edit, you can’t give all your attention to everything. Find what you need to focus on, and eliminate the bullshit.
Personally, I think the random impressions section is my favorite. Just give your readers a few opportunities to complain or gush about details and pieces of your book. This section will likely become your holy grail, because your readers will be able to give you all the stuff that’s really been bothering them that you might not have even thought would be a problem. The easiest thing I’d suggest is to give them around three random, miscellaneous questions, and then give them one big blank page that just says “go wild.” Some readers won’t write anything, others will write the most important advice you’ll ever receive.
And Then, Editing…
So, you’ve written, say, three drafts. The first, you gave to your alpha readers. The second, your beta readers tore apart. Now, you have a third draft. What to do, what to do? If you’re low on income, I’d suggest either asking an editor for a favor (don’t expect much, we’ve gotta eat, too), or crossing your fingers and hoping for a publisher to cover editing costs. I really hate to say it, but it’s this point of the game where you really can’t afford to cut costs unless you’re freakishly brilliant. A decent, Editorial Freelance Association member might charge anywhere from 2-5 cents per word, depending on your needs. That adds up fast. Trouble is, a publisher may very well reject your manuscript unless it’s already high-quality material. I simply can’t recommend a course of action without knowing your specific circumstances, but just remember this:
Your book is infinitely more likely to succeed if you’ve had a professional editor help out.
I don’t want to be scummy or anything, but since I’m an editor myself, I’ll just leave my service form here and say that I do not recommend attempting to self-publish without an editor. Before you rush out and spend 2,000 dollars of your hard-earned money on me or any other editor, though, just remember that traditional publishing is a genuinely great option. I know this is a writing blog, and everybody online is always screaming about how self-publishing is amazing and all that, but I’m not here to tell you to self-publish just because self-published authors are my most reliable customers. Try traditional first. Please try traditional first. There’s a big class gateway in self-publishing that you probably won’t even notice until you’ve faced it, but it’s there.
Just keep in mind that stupid novels get published all the time. All the beta readers and editors in the world couldn’t save a truly awful idea from itself. And some writers are just flat out bad and might never get better. That’s okay, though. Because as much as you might want to be the next Stephen King, the reality is that nobody’s getting rich off of writing these days. I mean, yeah, you have your one in a billion mega-success stories, but we’re all just people in the end. Write a book because you love it. Improve your book because it’s worth it. Love your book no matter what Goodreads says. You are more than the money you make. And sometimes, stupid doesn’t mean bad. Sometimes, bad doesn’t mean worthless. In my opinion, if you’re not writing just for the sake of writing, you’re doing it wrong.
