Category Archives: About Writing

PATTERSON HOUSE is on the way (knock on wood)

Inanna is going into production of the fall schedule. PATTERSON HOUSE is finally going to see the light of day. September 27, 2022 is the publication date.

It’s been a journey. In case you ever wondered if you should keep going, if you ever wondered if your work would ever get finished and get “out there”, here are a few of the things that happened along the way to writing my first novel.*

After starting the work in 2006, I realized I did not know what I was doing. I gave up several times. I took courses. I joined writing groups. I got help.

I turned several ideas into short stories. I published unrelated short stories and other work. Smaller things. I learned.

I realized I had too many characters.

The main character changed. It was supposed to be the young Constance, but Alden took over, which is so like her, and I had to acquiesce.

I gave up again.

I moved to Boston and decided that was a good time to resurrect the book and figure how to write a novel while getting an MFA, which I did. Meanwhile, Elaine and I edited an anthology about menopause because all that was happening too.

This brings us to 2016.

I had an agent interested. I promised her a full MS in four months. I wasn’t quite finished, but knew I could be in four months.

Then I was in a car accident and got a brain injury. That journey is described in IMPACT. The TLDR version: I had to learn how to do a lot of things again, including read.

Three years later, to no one’s surprise, the agent very kindly said she was no longer interested.

I found another agent who seemed very interested and suddenly our movement towards a contract faltered. She had decided to leave the business.

I found a third agent, who was even more effusive than the second. While we were negotiating the fine print of the contract, she left the business, which I learned about on Twitter. I began to wonder if I was the common denominator here. Was my novel driving people out of publishing? Luckily, I had not yet signed because although the agency promised to take care of her clients, they did not.

I gave up looking for an agent.

I started submissions. There were rejections. And near misses. Perhaps the best/worst was when a house told me I was ninth on their list and they decided to publish eight books that year. Seriously, why even tell me that? I mean, thanks? I guess?

And then acceptance! I signed with Inanna. I had worked with them in the past (Writing Menopause) and was excited to do so again, especially with Editor Luciana Ricciutelli, who I first met in 1998 and had always admired.

The pandemic started and Inanna, like so many other presses (both small and large), delayed their entire schedule. Lu sent a multi-page email detailing the situation. Totally understandable. Even major movies were being delayed. No one knew what was going on. Meanwhile, I was working on IMPACT. I had a lot to keep me busy.

Then the unthinkable happened; dear Lu died. A tragedy for so many people. And my book was, understandably, delayed again. A minor thing in the context of the loss of such a wonderful person.

There was one more delay after that. Probably for the best since IMPACT was coming into the world and with my brain injury, I’m better doing one thing at a time.

The September 27 date comes with some cautions; paper shortages, shipping containers, etc etc etc etc etc. Recently, I heard of a YA writer whose container full of books landed in the Pacific somewhere. I couldn’t read on. My heart goes on to them. Anything can happen.

But for now 16 years after I first had the idea for this novel, Inanna will publish PATTERSON HOUSE. I can’t wait to share this last leg of the journey. It’s been a long time coming.

What’s the lesson here? Keep trying. Sometimes things take a while. Knock on wood.

* ”First novel” is the MOST optimistic phrase I have ever uttered.

Writing Trauma

11 Replies

I’ve been working on a wee craft essay on writing about trauma. It’s a strange piece that has been on and off my desk for about a year. I’ve done research and am shocked by how little has been written about how best to convey trauma. It would be a great topic for a creative writing class, and one I would really like to teach. (Anyone want to give me the gig?)

There is lots of writing about the therapeutic benefits of writing about trauma for the writer. We all know it can be a great relief to get it all down on the page. It is a clarifying experience. But that’s not what I’m interested in for this essay. There’s not much (any?) craft advice about writing techniques that can be used to convey trauma.

I’m developing a few theories. Here’s hoping I find an audience for the essay.

We are all the walking wounded. We are all traumatized. That’s why there is such a thing as a trigger warning. We know we can be set off again. How do we write about traumatic events and experiences in a way that does not spread the trauma around? If we agree that traumatizing or re-traumatizing others is not desirable, (and maybe we don’t agree) what can we do to convey the gravity of the traumatic situation without doing harm to the reader? Is it possible? Are the techniques we can use different if the trauma is recounted as part of real life in memoir or as part of the experience of a fictional character?

If you have thoughts, let me know in the comments. I’m getting back to the essay tomorrow.

Suggesting Comps (and self-esteem)

2 Replies

The most difficult thing I’ve been asked to do as I prepare to publish my first novel, Patterson House, is to offer comps, or comparable titles, to the publisher, Inanna. I’ve been trying to sort out why this has been so hard.

I’m widely read in my genre. I wrote the kind of book I like to read. So it’s not that I am unaware of other historical, multi-generational, family sagas. I know of many. I can list them in seconds. I think the problem is that they are all so good. I’m talking about classics like my all time favourite novel, The Stone Diaries, by Carol Shields. Or Fall of Your Knees, by Ann-Marie MacDonald. These books are almost sacred to me, I love them so much.

Not only are they comparable because of genre, they are comparable because of their use of multiple points of view. It was natural for me to weave multiple POVs into my story. I had to fight to retain them in the draft I worked on during my MFA. I was told repeatedly to keep it simple. I did not. How can we know anything without looking at it in multiple ways? (And the more ways, the better.)

These books are also comparable because they are sociological–that is they are as much about the society around the main characters as they are about the characters themselves. I come from a school of thought that says everything is political. Because everything is.

But it would be hubris in the highest degree to compare my work to this work. The most I can say is that these books inspired me. And they did. They made me want to become a writer. I can hear someone out there saying, “Well, she’s no Carol Shields, I’ll tell you that.” It’s okay. I already know.

I did a little searching and read a blog post by Paula Munier about comps that I found quite helpful. Maybe you will too. Between that and a friend suggesting The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver as a comp (again, another big name I can’t possibly use), I came to realize that I could focus on theme. Maybe something like women finding new models of motherhood or the intimacy of women’s friendships and the great loneliness of life without them. Munier’s post taught me that it might be acceptable to list a well known best-seller, but only one, and then add a mid-list author (a phrase I despise for it’s dismissiveness) and another first time novelist to the list.

Again though, I seem stymied. For example, I admire Katherine Ashenburg’s gorgeous debut novel, Sofie & Cecilia. Like my novel, it is historic. We are working out similar themes–what it costs women to maintain marriages and families and to retain their respectability, and the pain experienced by women who are unable to use their talents. But Ashenburg was published by Knopf and her novel had huge success. All deserved. I can’t compare my effort to hers. (I highly recommend you read it. It’s beautiful. Her deep knowledge of Swedish art is just one astonishing feature of her novel.)

So what is my problem?

What I’ve discovered is that my inability to suggest comps is, more than anything, a self-esteem problem. And who can solve that?

Paying Writers with thanks to the Canada Council for the Arts and St. Michael’s Hospital

Leave a Reply

Our book, Impact: The Lives of Women After Concussion has received funding from two sources: the first is St. Michael’s Hospital and the second is the Canada Council for the Arts. I had the great good fortune of distributing the Canada Council funds to our contributors today. We (E.D. Morin and I, and all of our contributors) are so grateful to the Canada Council for the Arts for supporting our work and enabling us to pay creators.

It is hard to overstate how difficult it is for writers to get paid these days. This could be a whole post in and of itself. But let’s stick to anthologies. Here’s something most people don’t realize: typically with anthologies, contributors don’t get paid. Royalties can be shared among contributors, but the math doesn’t make it worthwhile. So the editor gets paid royalties by the publisher and the rest do not.

How much money are we (not) talking about?

I don’t want to brag or anything, but E.D. Morin and I split just over $1000 in royalties for the last anthology we did together, Writing Menopause. I know. You’re underwhelmed. Remember, that represents several YEARS of work. We had over fifty contributors for that book. I give you the numbers so you see the problem. We can’t blame publishers for not wanting to get into this level of paperwork for such small sums. What happens instead is that most writers get paid in copies of the book. Two is typical. Three or more is considered a good deal. It’s better than nothing. But we all know, we can’t trade our books for groceries at the local market.

So when E.D. Morin and I started work on this anthology, we vowed we would find money somewhere to pay the writers. And the quest began. Databases were searched. We consulted with colleagues like Rona Altrows who is on a similar quest to pay anthology contributors and has been successful.

We were turned down by lots of people. It’s hard to get a grant without an organization behind you. There is a process of proving oneself (over and over again) that is difficult and sometimes even demoralizing. It’s the same as looking for a job, and maybe not quite as bad as looking for a bathing suit. At least I didn’t have to do it half-naked and in bad lighting. Anyway, we had to have a lot of stamina. But we get it. There’s no free lunch and anyone giving money out has to know that we can follow through and deliver on our promises. Our success on our last anthology (earnings notwithstanding) helped us to find funding with this project. We had a track record.

And then we found success. First, because of the content of the anthology, we got interest from St. Michael’s Hospital, who have a wonderful and renowned head injury clinic in Toronto and are an important centre for research. They recognized that our contributors were breaking new ground and as a result, they created a research project based on our anthology. And, as part of their funding, they included money to pay our writers as participants in the project. To know that our anthology will impact (pun intended) the treatment of women with concussion is an incredibly positive outcome and we thank, in particular, Dr. Shree Bhalerao and his team for their enthusiasm and support.

Then came the Canada Council for the Arts. Their grant officer was so helpful as I navigated their forms and process. Remember, I’ve got a concussion too, and about the hardest thing for me to do is use websites and fill in forms. When we received notification that the grant had been approved and awarded, we felt not only relief about being able to offer our writers a significant payment, but also gratitude for the recognition that what we are doing has artistic and literary merit. Thank you, Canada Council for the Arts.

It’s not easy, but it can be done. Writers must be paid. Not every project is this content specific. We had avenues of funding that were unique to us and would not be available to others. But we thought about our project in new ways to get where we are today. In the hard times ahead, we are going to have to be even more dedicated to supporting creators.

We can’t wait to share the results of this work with you.

Concussions and Writing: Impact

New Project: “Impact: The Lives of Women After Concussion”

4 Replies

Elaine Morin and I are co-editing a new anthology tentatively called, “Impact: The Lives of Women After Concussion.” Is there anything more optimistic than starting a new writing project?

The enthusiasm from the writers we have invited to contribute is so encouraging. It’s an important topic, and a hot topic. There are all kinds of reasons to focus on women’s experience of concussion. A recent article in the New York Times offers a few insights into why. And our book will offer more.

Elaine and I have been sharing concussion stories for a long time, tinkering with the idea of an anthology. It’s a lot to take on. We know this because we’ve done it before. Speaking for myself, it will be slow and hard work, but I’m ready. Knowing everyone involved “gets it,” knows that there are good and bad days and times the return of an email might be a bit slow is a big stress reducer.

It’s strange how when you begin to put something “out there,” it can get reinforced in so many interesting ways. I don’t mean to sound flaky, but this is exactly what is happening to us. There is a quote often misattributed to Goethe,

Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.

Indeed. We have met and spoken with so many concussed women writers and they all have such profound things to say. We can’t wait to show you the results of our work.

Jane Cawthorne

Writer and Editor