Who Dares, Wins
or
Less Bon Jovi, More Springsteen
by Michael Gallant
As an editor, the question I am most often asked is -- well, ok
the question I am most often asked is "Do you think you can get
up and leave under your own power, or does Vito have to help you out?"--
but a close second is "What kind of stories are you looking for?"
At one time, when I was young and naive, I might have thought that
our submission guidelines and FAQ pages would be sufficient to answer
these questions. As I became more jaded and cynical, I would answer
these little queries with snide email replies directing the questioner
to these pages.
To my horror, I realized after a few months that the closer a story
followed the guidelines, the more likely it was to be bland, lifeless
and just plain awful. The stories that people sent in using attachments
we asked them not to in formats we couldn't open and with word counts
that we strictly forbid, were usually the only ones worth reading.
Now, I'm all liquored up and I nailed the door shut, so nobody can
stop me, so I'm gonna tell you the truth.
Don't read the guidelines, don't query the editors, don't buy Writers'
Digest, or How to Write for Publication or take advanced
classes. These will make you weak. They will make you just another sheep
in the vast herd of unpublished never were's.
The first and most important thing you can do is find your Muse.
Reach down, dig deep and grab onto something. Then write a story
that doesn't suck.
I'm not saying you can't learn from others. An understanding of
the rules of style and grammar will help you, exposure to great literature
will broaden your horizons and practice will hone your skills.
But, your technical competence with words won't help if you have
nothing to say.
This brings me to my title. I'll begin with the second part, as
I refuse to be confined by abstract sequential concepts. That and I
forget the tie in for the first bit right now. Maybe it'll come back
by the time I wind down this chunk.
For those readers unfamiliar with American rock music, Bruce Springsteen
and Jon Bon Jovi both grew up in New Jersey, and fronted bands whose
songs were aimed at the frustrated youth of the working class, stuck
in life's suffocating mediocrity. The primary difference between them
is that one is a brilliant composer, a poet laureate for a new generation
and the other one just a pretty boy suck-fest with too much hairspray.
By industry standards, Bruce Springsteen's voice is unpolished and
occasionally hard to understand. The songs are too long. They often
contain tempo changes. He makes extensive use of the saxophone, which
is a bold move in this genre. The band is too big. None of them are
very pretty. In Thunder Road he had the audacity to include the
line "You ain't a beauty but hey, you're alright...", not
something I'd recommend when serenading your beloved.
By the cold, calculating standards of the music machine, this should
not be a formula for success. The reason that it has been successful
is that it hits you in the gut. If you have a soul at all, you cannot
remain unmoved by his lyrics.
Bon Jovi, on the other hand, has all of the industry friendly features.
Slick videos, Tiger Beat good looks, fans of the perfect marketing
demographic for CD purchases and percentage of disposable income, everything
pretty, packaged and polished. But anything of interest has been polished
off. Once the song ends, it vanishes from the subconscious. It's like
when you take a sip of light beer and the only way you can be sure you
actually had a drink is to check the level in the bottle.
This is why Bruce is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Jon
is playing Ally McBeal's new love interest. (OK, so I was home sick
for a few days and saw some TV. Maybe that's why I'm so cranky.)
The point of this unnecessarily long example is that all the polish
in the world can't help what is essentially an empty message. And something
unique and good that rings true and speaks to the heart of the listener,
or the reader in our case, can still be a success even if it is a bit
rough around the edges.
Ah, there it is! The first part of the title. I admit to stealing
the motto of the British SAS commando regiment. Only seems fair, they
stole my ancestors' country.
This rings as true in writing as in war. The soldier who shuffles
along, follows the forms, and always plays it safe will never achieve
a brilliant victory. Likewise, the writer who attends every workshop,
reads every publication on the industry, takes every course, and loses
his or her own voice in the shuffle will never see a Pulitzer. The only
way to make a big impression is to be unique, and no class can teach
uniqueness. I will reveal that QM receives many submission from Creative
Writing professors and rejects almost all of them because they are inexcusably
awful. Nice grammar, but still awful. The thought of the hours I spent
reading those stories that I will never get back drives me to despair.
Before trusting your creation to the advice of Industry insiders,
remember that many of the best selling books of all time were deemed
unpublishable by one house or another. This is particularly true in
the fantasy genre. Allan & Unwin expected to lose thousands publishing
Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter was written by an
unemployed mother with a scant literary background. Both works succeeded
because both authors Dared.
My other motivation for stealing the motto from the commandos rather
than another unit is that, like them, our work is often done alone,
in the dead of night, without support, against the odds and without
much hope of recognition. Of course, unless you're Hunter Thompson,
the similarity ends there.
You need to ask yourself why you write. If you think it's for money
or fame, stop now. All the big money in literature is divided evenly
among the top ten best sellers. Everybody else makes less than a trash
collector. I know the ten dollars we pay isn't minimum wage for any
of you when you figure your time in writing, submitting, and reminding
me to pay you. And we're not the cheapest market. The only excuse for
writing is that you have something vital to say, and your need to say
it is greater than your need for steady income.
So, the first thing you need to do is take a good hard look at yourself
and decide if you have something worth saying. Then write it. Without
regard to the market, or the needs of the publisher or what Writers'
Digest told you. Just write it. If you must listen to someone, listen
to Shakespeare, a writer, not a critic or publisher: To thine own self
be true.
Then, maybe take a look at the submission guidelines so you send
the story to the right address.
(The QM staff would like it to be known that Mike has been mixing
prescription cold medicine with single malt and his views do not necessarily
represent those of the ezine. Except that we do agree Bon Jovi sucks.-The
Management)