Part of the problem with having a blog is that people read it. So I’m on the phone with my editor yesterday, arguing about a bit of pretty I want to keep in my book, when she takes this “quote” voice with me and says, “Kill your darlings, Diana.” Curses! This is what I get for trying to help people. ::blows raspberry at Kerri, who is out there, lurking:: But seriously, she’s…right. Very smart girl, that Kerri. Dammit.
So, this one’s a bit of a cheat. But it’s Friday, and I’m wiped.
WHEN GOOD ADVICE GOES BAD:
WRITE THE BOOK OF YOUR HEART
Who hasn’t heard this line at a writing workshop? Who hasn’t read it in an essay? Write the Book of Your Heart. A few years ago, I remember reading a post by one frustrated writer who said she was so sick of hearing this particular phrase, and that the book of her heart was The Sun Also Rises* and it had already been written.
Um, talk about taking something to the literal extreme! If I were going to (mis)interpret it that way, I think I’d have a hard time nailing down my choice. Too many books live in my heart. That’s never what “the book of your heart” was supposed to mean.
Actually the way most people interpret it is also not how it was meant to be taken, either. (This is where the cheat comes in). But there’s nothing I can say about this matter that hasn’t already been exquisitely covered by Julie Leto in her extraordinary essay:
Ditching “The Book of Your Heart” for “A Book of Your Voice”
It’s one of the best pieces of writing advice I’ve ever received. No really. Go read it. I’ll wait.
Done? Okay, on we go. As you might have guessed, I love this essay. It cuts through all the artisitc, self-indulgent bullshit we like to tell ourselves and gets to the meat of the matter: how do we, as commercial artists, keep our integrity and pay the rent? It blows the faulty dichotomy of “book of your heart” vs. “book of your wallet” right out of the water. It tells you that yes, you can write books that you love that are also marketable. (And now all you people who didn’t read it the first time, go back and click on that link.)
Okay, off to kill some darlings. The book of my voice needs it.
________________________________________________
*Or something. I can’t remember which classic piece of literature she referenced. Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, maybe? Something. Doesn’t matter.
September 30th, 2005 at 9:44 am
I’ve always loved that essay! JEL is a smart woman!
September 30th, 2005 at 12:55 pm
Yes, she is, and there are so many excellent nuggets hidden in there — stuff about how to find your voice, the bit about how one’s voice can’t develop by writing and rewriting the same book — how you have ot move on to new projects as your voice develops. I believe that very strongly, and have taken it to heart in the way I pursued my career. Keep moving forward.
September 30th, 2005 at 1:08 pm
Wow. What a great article! I can’t believe I haven’t run across this before. Thanks for posting, Diana.
September 30th, 2005 at 3:11 pm
I remember that article - very, very insightful. Kind of a corollary to that is something Jayne Ann Krentz (aka Amanda Quick) says in her RWA National workshop she does with Susan Elizabeth Phillips. She says to find your core story. If you look at your writing, chances are you’ll find a core story in all of them, one that can be molded to fit a genre/time period. For example, I tend to write a lot about lovers who have unfinished business or get a second chance at love. JAK’s example was that she was writing futuristics back in the early 90’s when no one would touch them. But she took the core story of one of her futuristics and wrote it as a Regency, and that was her first Amanda Quick novel. Obviously it takes a really talented writer to drastically change the time period, but I think it’s cool that she figured out how to stay true to her story and still write the book of her (very fat, I’m sure!) wallet.
September 30th, 2005 at 9:33 pm
I’ve read that article before, but I can’t remember where I saw the link. Thanks for referencing it; I remember getting so much out of it the first time.
October 1st, 2005 at 8:51 am
I think what it is also supposed to mean is that if the effort of writing for the market kills you… write what you want. At least this way, you’ll keep your creativity, and maybe your sanity too.
This is what brings some commercial artists to the brink of nervous breakdown–when they make sacrifices in order to follow their business sense –they grit their teeth and make changes, and kill their darlings, and wrench their work into a commercially attractive shape–and yet fail, business-wise. Sort of, yeah, so I bent over and let them have their way with my art, and what did I get for this? Nothing that would have made it worth the whole effort.
Dangerous stuff, that artistic integrity.
October 1st, 2005 at 8:58 am
And, I’d say that “a book of your heart” is a book that is composed and written in exactly the same way as you would have done if you were the only person alive on Earth. In short, it is a book written in a way not affected by editors, crit groups, what sells now, what genre, what your other books are like, other people’s peeves, and even genre conventions. The book written 110% without any consciously applied external influences (the kind which don’t really fit your vision, but you do it because you think the people who distribute them are smarter or whatever).
It can turn out to be a quite commercial thing at the end–if you are a lover of commercial things, and always wanted to write one. It might be bizarre. It might be plain. But it would be truly your book–a book written to please no one but yourself, taking into consideration no one’s concerns and ideas by your own.
October 1st, 2005 at 9:27 am
One more comment on the article
I think it’s just another way to say the old “be true to yourself but keep an eye on the market.” She talks quite a lot about the Book of Your Voice (where plot and concept are included in the definition), but never once touches the marketability issue. Somehow, it seems that a BOYH is a dark and depressing book which no one wants to read, but the BOYV is an entertaining read written in your natural, individual style, gained eventually together with confidence? 
Well, newsflash. Not everyone can write an entertaining book without forcing it. No matter how much craft they learned, or how natural their voice is. Some authors have their natural voices which are dark and depressing, or maybe light but bizarre, and no one wants to read them anyways. Not because they are fixed on the single haunting book or whatever, but because what is natural for them–the kinds of plot, concept, character, style–are simply not commercial enough or mainstream enough. And being natural and confident and fast won’t bring them anywhere. Their writing has to be forced in order to sell–the issue is in how well they hide that.
So, what’s the ultimate difference then? When you sit on a rose and its thorn bites your backside, it doesn’t matter if you call it a rose … or a book of your voice
October 1st, 2005 at 11:10 am
Terrific article, and terrific point. I’ve never had a book of the heart. I’ve had ideas, characters, concepts that I’ve wanted to explore, worlds I want to play in. I’m still dying to write a first person, though, so maybe that counts?
October 1st, 2005 at 11:58 am
Actually, Daria, she talks a lot about marketability. marketability is what launches the whole essay because Jo Beverly’s original point is that the BOYH was soemthing that maybe wasn’t marketable but you had to write it anyway just so you could get back to what you were writing — like you’re a regency writer but thre’s this dark futuristic fantasy nagging at you, or you write angsty paranormals but you scribble romantic comedies and keep them in a drawer (and dont’ laugh, I have a pubbed friend who actually does this).
What she does say is:
One last note about that troublesome book of the heart–Several editors at NINC noted that in about half the cases they’d seen, The Book of the Heart was dark and depressing. That too many authors are using the “book of the heart” as a catharsis and while sometimes it works as both a healing tool and a means of entertaining readers, most times it does not.
So these “angsty” books are in SOME instances the author’s therapy. She’s not saying that BOYH is always angsty and BOYV is always light. But if you want to be successful in the realm of commercial fiction, then you should be entertaining, whether you are entertaining with deep angst and emotion, with fear, with fantasy, with comedy. That’s what commercial fiction does. It’s an entertainment.
October 1st, 2005 at 12:02 pm
Eh, Jo, I don’t think you need to have a book of your heart. maybe one will come to you sometime, maybe it won’t. I have plenty of books that I love that I may or may not ever be able to sell, but I don’t think there’s any ONE that i can point to and say yes, THIS is the book of my heart. Catch me in a few decades — if I’m still obsessing over it, then we can talk.
You should totally try first person! Didn’t I read you once saying that you pick a new challenge every year — one year it was to write as sexy as possible (A+, btw), the next year was plot, etc.?
(Of course, I must warn you that the danger in that is that now that I’ve done 1st person, I don’t want to go back! LOL)
Does it stirke anyone else as odd that the password of the day is sukymlux? It seems somehow *dirty*.
October 1st, 2005 at 12:55 pm
Good link. I’ve had two “Books of My Heart” by Jo Beverly’s definition and I have to say that they weren’t necessarily the most pleasant writing experience I’ve known. In both cases, the ideas grabbed my by the throat and wouldn’t let me stop until I was done. Almost every waking moment was consumed by either writing or thinking about the story — and only one of them is marketable if I do some heavy revisions to it, something I haven’t been able to bring myself to do. I’ve also found I’ve suffered burn out after both eperiences, so consumed by the effort of geting that story down on my head and onto the page so it was done that I didn’t have anything left to give.
If I’m not putting my heart into a story, if this isn’t something I feel I need/want to tell, then what I’m doing isn’t going to come easy. Doesn’t make it a book of your heart, though — those can be like kudzu in your brain.
October 2nd, 2005 at 11:13 am
But it would be truly your book–a book written to please no one but yourself, taking into consideration no one’s concerns and ideas by your own.
Which is precisely why it is not good advice for someone (an editor, an agent, a fellow writer) to tell you to “write the book of your heart.” Your heart will not necessarily guide you to what is commercial and will actually sell. And so many writers get so upset when the “book of their heart” is rejected. It’s so personal!
You do have a point that my voice is naturally commercial. Always has been–hopefully, always will be! My first three books didn’t sell b/c I simply hadn’t found my voice yet. Luckily, once I found my voice, it happened to be the right time for it in the marketplace. Luck, luck, luck.
But the whole point of my article was to dispel the notion that the book of the heart was the only book worth writing. I have no problem if people want to write a book like that, but as I said, most of those books are not commercial and therefore, a writer who follows the BOYH advice may be in for great disappointment. I’m not talking about people who are writing for themselves, but those who are writing to SELL.
Diana, thanks for bringing attention to the article!
Julie
October 3rd, 2005 at 1:09 pm
Julie,
Oops… if I knew you visited this blog, I’d be more polite!
Actually, that was my point. About the voice and marketability. You seemed to describe a situation in which a BOYV is basically a commercialized BOYH–but to be able to do that, one needs to have a pretty commercial voice to begin with. I.e., the market potential is already there, it just needs to be brought to the surface. In a way, it sounded almost as if finding one’s voice “helps” to make a book more commercial.
But most authors who have problems with their BOYHs being unsellable–well, most authors I know, anyway–have distinctive, developed voices. Their issue is the voice itself being not very commercial–and at the same time, fully developed–so that a radical change might be extremely difficult or cripple them creatively.
And I agree completely. It’s not good advice. It leads to “they say if you write a good book, the cream will rise to the top. In which case, my book must suck.”
Actually, some of the importance placed on BOYH–the only book worth writing–might be because for many authors, their commercial work is a game of sorts. Enjoyable. While a BOYH is an emotional storm, challenging, demanding, turning upside out. And the social culture places more value on a creative work if its author cried bloody tears and washed Prozac down with pure whiskey while writing it — as opposed to a story which was written by an author snickering over her own jokes, entertaining herself all along the way and having a damn good time in general
October 4th, 2005 at 6:01 am
Diana, I meant the marketing how-tos. However, as Julie’s comment shows (”whole point of my article…”) , I might be reading it with an eye towards different things.
Although, what do I know? I’ve never had a book that I couldn’t stop telling, a book that haunted me, a book that I simply wasn’t able not to write, a book that was catharsis and suffering and heartbreak, and oh such sweet pain. Jo Beverly’s definition. I couldn’t for the life of me choose just one idea, just one work, to tinker with it for years, or to focus on it completely. My attention span ain’t that big
But at the same time, once the “external” changes are needed–i.e., the changes I didn’t originally want or plan–the book goes away from my heart and enters the wallet zone. The book of my heart, in my own definition, is simply something written to please no one but myself. Not the editor. Not the audience. With not a care what anyone might think. Although by a whim of fate, it can be as commercial as they get. I have one like that.
So far, I’ve been lucky to have pretty light editing, but I’m dreading the time when I get ten pages of edits and realize I think they are all wrong.
October 4th, 2005 at 9:45 am
And the social culture places more value on a creative work if its author cried bloody tears and washed Prozac down with pure whiskey while writing it — as opposed to a story which was written by an author snickering over her own jokes, entertaining herself all along the way and having a damn good time in general
Isn’t that the truth? And I, for one, am sick of it.
But I also think that many AUTHORS buy into this mindset as well…they only think it’s the book of their heart if they bleed to write it. And most of the time, they’re just full of themselves. Sorry, but that’s what I’ve encountered. I prefer to be entertained…and in terms of commercial fiction, I think I’m in the majority!
Julie
October 4th, 2005 at 3:40 pm
Wow, great blog post and great article link!
October 4th, 2005 at 6:01 pm
The truth, definitely… I think maybe because what is more difficult is supposed to be more valuable. Or perhaps–not my theories, just retelling them–of the idea that true art must be born out of extreme emotion–and snickering and staying up all night to meet the deadline isn’t quite as extreme as cutting off your own ears or going into nervous breakdown or suffering in general.
I find it romantic, I must admit. Even though I have discovered that when someone says, this is a book I bled to write, the book turns out to be too… small. Biographical, personal, describing some kind of ordinary drama, sometimes hidden behind a plot. The author might bleed, but the reader won’t feel a prick. There are exceptions, of course. Always. Take Wuthering Heights. Its author is now considered almost not quite right in the head. But this is another urban legend, the legend of an extraordinary author, with a bizarre personality, extravagant views, and twisted mind.
Although… a writing mentor I had, long long ago, asked me. If you knew you’d die in a year. Which book would you write?
Maybe that would be the true book of my heart then?
“And most of the time, they’re just full of themselves.”
hehe… they are!