BEYOND BRIEFS: Part Three

If you’re ready to dive into the world of writing fiction -- I mean commercial fiction; I’ve seen many a brief that might also qualify -- a basic decision you’ve got to make at the start is the genre in which you’re writing. Genre simply defines the type of book you’ve written. It’s important because knowing the genre sets the tone for the reader. Mentally, a reader approaches a thriller differently than a romance. From a publisher’s standpoint, it has an even bigger meaning: It determines on which shelf the book will go at the bookstore. It can even drive the publisher’s decision whether to acquire a new novel in the first place, and it certainly is important in helping you target which publishers to submit to.

Genres generally break down this way:

· Commercial fiction: Basically a broad catch-all for fiction that doesn’t fit neatly into other genres, but books for which there is a wide readership potential. Think Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code.

· Crime fiction: Stories that revolve around the crime—caper stories, for example—and are often noirish or written from the viewpoint of the criminal. Think Elmore Leonard.

· Detective fiction: Once considered a sub-genre of mystery, this features private or police detective procedurals. Think Ed McBain, James Lee Burke, Robert Crais, Robert Parker.

· Fantasy: Usually involving the same types of elements as found in old legends and folk tales, often with past or future otherworldly settings. Think Lord of the Rings. Again, I sometimes think of briefs I have read.

· Horror: A combination of fantasy and terror, usually fast-paced and often invoking the use of the supernatural. Think Stephen King, Dean Koontz.

· Literary fiction: Can fit in any or all genres, but features the written word as art. Think Joyce Carol Oates, Ayn Rand.

· Mainstream: Another catch-all, novels that don’t fit other genres but which don’t have the same wide commercial appeal as those that would fall into the commercial category. Think Alice Sebold, Wally Lamb.

· Mystery: Mystery doesn’t really have a hard and fast definition. It’s the term that used to be applied to detective stories, but now seems to have a broader definition. At its most basic, it involves the solving of a crime by uncovering clues, ultimately leading to the unknown criminal. There are cozies, which usually involve an amateur sleuth and are somewhat milder in tone, language, and action, and hard-boiled, which usually involve a private eye or police detective and which tend to be more graphic in terms of violence, sex, and language. Think Sue Grafton, Agatha Christie, Mary Higgins Clark.

· Romance: Love stories, often formulaic, that can take on a number of sub-genres: historical romance, time travel romance, romantic suspense, Victorian romance, etc. Think Nora Roberts, Johanna Lindsey.

· Science fiction: This involves fiction arising out of the use of science or technology, often set in the future. Think Michael Crichton.

· Suspense: This crosses a broad range of genres, but always involves creating and maintaining suspense. Think Alfred Hitchcock.

· Thriller: Sometimes viewed as a sub-category of mystery or a hybrid of suspense, thrillers often involve a hunt or chase, usually with the protagonist or someone close to the protagonist placed in jeopardy. They can involve espionage, international intrigue, the medical or legal fields—or just about any other. The idea is that, where the mystery creates uncertainly and suspense, the thriller creates…well, thrills. Think Thomas Harris (Silence of the Lambs), James Patterson, John Grisham.

· Western: Tales of the old west, usually post-Civil War, and extending even into the early 1900s. Think Louis L’Amour, Zane Grey, Elmer Kelton.

· Women’s Fiction: A broad catch-all for books that largely appeal to women readers, but don’t fit into the romance category. They often feature strong female characters and are often told from a female point of view. Think Danielle Steele, Nicholas Sparks.


Mike Farris

(214) 979-0100

mfarris@tiptonjoneslaw.com

BEYOND BRIEFS: Part Two

In my last entry on this topic, I raised the question of why you, as a lawyer, want to write. Assuming you’ve done the necessary soul-searching and you still want to, let me know alert you to some of the dangers you face. Dangers, I might add, that can be somewhat specific to lawyers.

Too wordy—Believe it or not, being a lawyer poses some disadvantages for you as you turn to other forms of writing fiction. Unfortunately, you’ve probably learned some habits in law school and in practice that you’ll have to overcome as you turn to the written word for the masses. After all, that’s who will be reading what you write, not other lawyers and judges. Fact is, most lawyers are not good writers.

I know what you’re thinking: “Moi, not a good writer? Surely you jest.”

Okay, let’s just see. In Texas, we have what’s known as a General Denial, which lawyers assert in defensive pleadings. The typical lawyer files a General Denial that reads like this: “Defendant generally denies each and every, all and singular, the material allegations in Plaintiff’s Original Petition and demands strict proof thereof.”

Sounds good, doesn’t it? Very lawyerly. Did you know that this would have worked just as well: “Defendant generally denies the allegations in Plaintiff’s Original Petition.” Nine words accomplished the same thing that twenty-one words accomplished in the preceding paragraph.

Let me run another one by you. You’re filing a pleading in a lawsuit and need to attach a document to the pleading as an exhibit. Most lawyers refer to the document, then write this: “A true and correct copy of the aforementioned document is attached hereto as Exhibit A and is incorporated herein by reference for all purposes the same as if fully set forth herein.”

Compare that to this: “A copy is attached as Exhibit A.” Seven words versus thirty-two—and you accomplished the same thing.

You’ve probably heard the expression “less is more;” well, it’s true. Unfortunately most lawyers write as if they’re being paid by the word instead of by the hour. The problem with that is that the meaning of what you’re saying can get lost in the avalanche of words, or the emotional impact can be diluted. Better to use fewer, but more direct and powerful, words. Where most lawyers tend to use three where one will suffice, as writers of fiction you need to get into the habit of doing just the opposite. Did you know that “null” means “void,” and “void” means “null”? You don’t have to say “null and void,” and you really don’t have to say “null and void, and without effect.”

Too technical—While we’re on the subject, let’s talk about another of my pet peeves with “lawyerly” writing and that’s the use of jargon where plain English not only will suffice but also will far surpass jargon. Jargon is okay, to a point. In writing fiction, you’ll want to sprinkle your dialogue and exposition with enough jargon to create an aura of authenticity around the world you have created on paper, but not so much that the reader either loses track of what you’re saying or becomes distracted. We all know that lawyers say things like “jurisdictional limits of the court,” and “limine” and “directed verdict,” but if your reader doesn’t understand what these mean, important plot points can get lost.

For an example of how this can work well, study the movie Body Heat. When you were in law school taking Property Law, did it ever occur to you that the Rule Against Perpetuities could ever form the key plot point in a major motion picture? But that’s exactly what screenwriter Lawrence Kasden did—and did it masterfully. The audience may not have known all the finer points of the Rule as articulated in the movie, but they understood generally that because of that rule, the will William Hurt drew up for Kathleen Turner's husband was invalid and, as a result, she stood to inherit all of her husband’s wealth rather than share it with her niece. Result? Motive for murder.

Too autobiographical—Another problem is one shared by most new writers, not just lawyers: The story is too autobiographical. Yes, you are admonished to write what you know, and you certainly know your own life and your own cases. And, yes, your life is surely fascinating to you and your family, but that doesn’t mean your life and your cases are of any real interest to the rest of the world. That doesn’t mean that parts of your life can’t inspire or inform your stories, but you’ve got to view this as an outsider looking in would. Use events and people in your life to inspire your creative thinking, then put them in a world you know intimately—the world of law—but write fiction! Ultimately your creativity will likely be far more interesting to readers than your real life, hard as that may be to believe.

Too bombastic—Now, I’m treading lightly here because I know a lot of lawyers who think their writing is just brilliant because it sounds so…intelligent? You know, two-dollar, multi-syllable, “educated” words. After all, who isn’t more impressed with a letter that begins with “The Undersigned,” instead of “I”? I hate to be the bearer of bad news to you, but just as it’s better to use one word when you might otherwise want to use three, it’s better to use a two-cent word when you might want to use a two-dollar word. Why? It’s clearer and more to the point. And it just sounds better.

Oh, really? All right, let’s compare (with apologies to police officers everywhere). Which is better? I saw the car driving down the street; or I observed the vehicle proceeding down the boulevard.

I rest my case.

But there is an exception to this general rule against being less bombastic, and it applies to dialogue. Dialogue reveals character—so a snooty, pseudo-intellectual character’s dialogue may well be peppered with bombastic speech. Or a highly educated scientist who has very little social interaction may speak in almost undecipherable scientific language even when thrust out of his laboratory. I’m sure you can think of other examples yourself, but the point is that bombastic language has its uses.

Further on the subject the writer sayeth naught.

Mike Farris

(214) 979-0100

mfarris@tiptonjoneslaw.com

BEYOND BRIEFS

Over the years, I’ve heard from a lot of lawyers who want to write. Goodness knows plenty have made the successful transition: John Grisham, Scott Turow, James Grippando, Steve Martini -- and the list goes on. So this is for all you lawyers out there who want to tap into that storytelling urge buried deep in your soul.

Let’s start with this inquiry for starters: Why do you want to write?

That seems like a pretty basic question, but it’s one you really need to answer before you get started. After all, you’ve poured three precious years of your life into law school -- too late to get it back now -- and embarked on a noble legal career. An esteemed member of society, you are “Lawyer,” successful in your chosen profession, respected by your peers, king of all you survey. So why would you want to chase after a writing career? One that is sure to frustrate you; one in which success is never guaranteed but, rather, chances are huge that you will fail in the ultimate goal of either being a published novelist or produced screenwriter.

That’s right, chances are good that you’ll never be published or produced. Truth be told, chances are good you may never finish writing the great American novel or completing that screenplay. You might even have better chances of success if you were to enter the space program with aspirations of becoming a space shuttle astronaut.

So let me repeat the question: Why do you want to write?

There are probably as many motivations for you to write as there are lawyers writing, but I suspect most of them can be boiled down into several broad categories. For some of you, a writing career may offer an opportunity to leave the practice of law, to simply walk away from billable hours, depositions, contentious partners meetings, cranky judges, uncooperative clients, and opposing counsel from the pits of hell. Yeah, staying at home, controlling your own time -- and not keeping track of those hours -- while hunched over your computer, spinning yarns, holds great appeal.

For others, it may all be about ego. Go figure -- a lawyer with an ego. You want to see your name on the cover of books in the bookstore, your smiling face peering out from the photo on the book jacket, or your name splashed in huge letters across a silver screen. If that’s your motivation, my advice is to keep practicing law. Believe me when I say that law practice will better fuel the fires of your ego than will writing. If you don’t believe me, just wait until you have enough rejection letters from agents, publishers, and producers to paper the walls of your house. And your second house at the beach. And your kids’ dorm rooms.

Yeah, writing can be an experience in ego-shattering humility.

Some of you want to get rich. Three and four and five hundred dollars an hour, or forty-percent contingencies, just doesn’t seem to be getting you there. You see some author’s name in Forbes Magazine and say to yourself, “Yeah, I could live on thirty million dollars a year.” Or you read about the latest spec screenplay sale for three million dollars and figure that’s not a bad return on 110 pages. If you’re in this to get rich, I’ve got advice for you as well: Buy a lottery ticket; your chances of untold wealth by winning the lottery are better.

But some of you may feel you have a story to tell. It’s been rattling around in your head for years, monopolizing valuable brain cells, distracting you from your law practice, your family, your friends. You’ve got to get it out of your head and down on paper. If someone buys it, that’s just gravy; the reward for you will be in the writing. If that’s your motivation, then go for it.

Mike Farris

(214) 979-0100

mfarris@tiptonjoneslaw.com

HOW TO GET REJECTED

The road to publication, just like the road to hell, is paved with good intentions. Most writers don’t intend to shoot themselves in the feet, but somehow that gun just seems to go off when they least expect it. While the crippling shot may occur during the actual writing of the manuscript, it often occurs during the query or the submission stage. Either way, it can undermine the best of intentions and derail the publication train before it ever leaves the platform.

On the other hand, some writers seem deliberately determined to shortchange themselves and their chances, particularly when querying agents. They don’t accidentally shoot themselves in the feet; instead, they appear to intentionally pull the trigger and fire as many shots in rapid succession as possible. So, if you’re one of those writers who fears success – who wants your query letter to exuberantly leap into the large “rejection” pile instead of finding its way into the much smaller “please submit” pile – this article will give you helpful hints for achieving rejection.

Tell your potential agent or editor you’ve written a fiction novel. Even though a novel is fiction by definition, calling it a fiction novel allows you to destroy, up front, any confidence they might have that you know what you’re doing. Better yet, call it a fictional novel – that means your novel doesn’t actually exist and they can send a fictional rejection.

Tell your potential agent or editor too much about yourself. Sure, they’d like to know what writing experience you have and how your background gives you credibility for your subject, but I’m not talking about that kind of information. I’m talking about information like this from an actual query: “I’m 34, having trouble finding work & am living with my parents.” George Costanza, is that you?

Tell your potential agent or editor that your book is a surefire bestseller. Or tell them how much money you’ll make for them. “Send for my screenplay, read as much as you like, then when you see how great it is and how much money we’ll win, put it on your schedule to market it. I would like at least $800,000. (It’s that good.)” Most agents move e-mails like these into a special mailbox along with other “special” e-mails. Then, at the end of the day, they’ll sit back with a steaming cup of Kona coffee and read about winning the UK lottery, opportunities to help Nigerians invest money in the U.S., and the promise of untold wealth from commissions off your future bestseller. They’ve already got the money spent.

Badmouth yourself or your own work. This is the converse to the previous tip. I saw one query that said, “I never made it out of high school and have been in the army since the age of 17 so my actual writing skills may not be up to par with what you would be used to.” Another said, “My writing style needs a lot of assistance, please do not reject the story based upon my ability to tell it on paper.” Yet another said, “I do not consider myself a good writer, my key board [sic] skills are poor, my spelling is awful and I have forgotten most of what I learned about punctuation.” Need I point out the irony of these correspondents seeking representation as writers?

Misspell as many words as possible. Pretend your computer doesn’t have Spellcheck. Consider this actual e-query: “I have just complete my frist drama script of a series of twenty. I want an anget who can work with me until it gets to the move production house.” Or consider this: “I, am writeing ahorror story. Ti is about a teenage girl that is hoving dream,s about people walking to her with there arm,s out crying asking her to help them.” I pitty the pour riters who kan’t spel or punkchuate any better then that.

Conversely, rely too heavily on Spellcheck. A writer who was writing about the world of magic wrote: “My family holds patents on some elusions reviled in this novel. They were performed during their world wild acts.” I’m just guessing, but I think the writer meant “illusions revealed.” I’m open as to whether “world wild acts” is correct or should have been “worldwide acts.”

Don’t follow submission guidelines. One query started, “Yes, I know it was recommended that I not exceed one page. However, I do not believe the ‘four or five sentences’ of the ‘preferably one paragraph’ is enough to communicate what I am asking you to consider.” Just look at the genius of this statement: This writer went so far as to let the agent know he was intentionally disregarding the submission guidelines. That way the agent wouldn’t think he was simply making an innocent mistake. Genius, I tell you – pure genius.

Respond unprofessionally to rejection. Don’t just accept rejection with grace and dignity. No, instead fire off a reply that says something like “Your loss” or “Your mistake” or better yet, “You strike me as pathetic.” (So what does that make the writer? After all, he’s the one who got rejected by the pathetic.) Or perhaps best, “I’m a 69 year old retired man, who used to chew people like you up and spit them out for practice.” Yikes! I’m not ashamed to admit I actually trembled when I got that one. I still tremble today when I re-read it.

Be overanxious. If you haven’t gotten a response to your e-query within 48 hours, send something like this: “Is it that no one reads e-mail or you just don’t answer any? I find your agency to be totally lacking in business ethics – typical of an attorney who couldn’t make it in private practice.” What a low blow – attacking an attorney when he’s down. That one made me weep. Even today, my self-esteem is so low I can’t look myself in the mirror. Excuse me – I’m getting a little misty here.

Be partially incoherent: “I Am A Freelance Journalist and Columnist writes to YOURS from remote India REGARDING FOR HELP FROM YOURS LITERARY AGENCY HELP – FOR A BREAK TO MY FUTURE AND RECOGNITION FOR MY WORKS.” I think I know what this writer is asking. It’s in the subtext, you know. Plus there’s that subliminal thing of slipping the word HELP in there twice HELP. And don’t we all want a break to our futures and recognition for our works?

If being partially incoherent won’t get you rejected, try being totally incoherent: “Writers address learning, personal &fundamental issues. Some plagued by elusive,idealized understanding. Fears, doubts &mystery . . . Not able to find &use worthy self-venture set-void in endeavor often-obligated &omenous-pulled in,unsettling intent of a writer. In a difficult outstandingly, taught world.” No clue what this one means. Then again, I am a mere mortal and perhaps not on the same intellectual level as the writer. I particularly liked the creative spacing and punctuation. Are mind-altering drugs at work here, perhaps? Groovy, man!

This is by no means an exhaustive listing of ways to ensure rejection. After all, success isn’t for everyone.

Mike Farris

(214) 979-0100

mfarris@tiptonjoneslaw.com