Fiction Unboxed: Publishing and Writing a Novel in 30 Days, From Scratch, In Front of the World (The Smarter Artist Book 2) by Johnny B. Truant & Sean Platt & David Wright & Smarter Artist

Author:Johnny B. Truant & Sean Platt & David Wright & Smarter Artist [Truant, Johnny B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling & Stone
Published: 2014-12-03T08:00:00+00:00

Day Seven

After three days and around twelve thousand words of raw draft writing, we held our first Q&A session for our live Unboxers. That session lasted nearly two hours, and we answered a lot of questions, but it began with a fifteen-minute diversion wherein Sean and I asked our viewers, listeners, and readers to help us help them — and to please not, through careless action, jeopardize the project for all of us.

Before commencing writing on Day Five, I’d made an announcement that I was sure would make me look like a prima donna: that until the draft was done, I’d completely ignore all e-mails, social media, blog comments, and forum threads having anything whatsoever to do with the in-progress story. I told people I’d practically vanish, that they’d hear from me again (save daily updates and meetings) when the story had been fully told. I left Sean holding the bag, instructing everyone to send their e-mails to him rather than me. I asked people to please not be offended if I didn’t reply. I went hermit, underground, incommunicado.

My reason was simple: While a story is coming to life, it’s as fragile as a newborn. It’s the soufflé we’ve all seen in cartoons, where the slamming of a door ruins everything. Stories are wet clay, subject to shaping by any hand that cares to pinch it. The writer’s mind must be fully his own. I wasn’t supposed to be hearing any feedback — positive or negative — lest I find my internal compass turning in the wrong direction, or feel my confidence deflating like that soufflé.

And there I was, doing well, keeping my office door firmly closed, speaking only to Sean, asking my wife, Robin, to cull through my e-mail before I saw it and remove anything influential. But then I started to hear a few cheers, and listened harder. I checked my e-mail before Robin saw it. That was a mistake.

One hundred percent of the e-mail we got during Days Five through Seven had the very best of intentions, but that didn’t stop some of it from being damaging. It all had the tone of, “I know I’m not supposed to say anything, but I just have one thing I need to say,” … to save you from yourselves, those e-mails’ unspoken intent seemed to imply.

People told us we were leaning into clichés.

People told us that our characters seemed flat, and that our teens didn’t speak like teens.

Even Dave — our collaborator, who loves us and gets us and wants only the best for us — sent us a very concerned e-mail detailing exactly what we were getting wrong without realizing it. You are making fools of yourselves, his e-mail seemed to whisper.

I once heard comedian Dom Irrera talk about “Italian eraser phrases,” which allow people to say insulting things because the eraser phrase, which flanks the insult, undoes the damage, like: “That guy is a total lowlife piece of crap … but I don’t mean that in a bad way.

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