What do you do when your Mentor passes on to the big writing
workshop in the sky? You mourn. And then you pass on his immortal words.
By Michael Crawley
KNOW YOUR GENRE. RESEARCH
YOUR MARKET. READ, READ, READ.
Obvious? It seems
not. At least once a week I am asked to
look at some serious piece that has been written ‘for Readers’ Digest.’ The writer usually claims to be an avid
reader of that publication. I am
not. I have, however, read Page One which
clearly states that RD will not look at any submission unless it’s suitable for
one of their regular humour sections.
All else is trashed.
I see work that is ‘aimed’ at Discover. Discover features stories about the very
latest scientific advances, written by scientists. The stories I see are usually reworked
extracts from encyclopedias, ‘New Age’ speculation, or emotional pleas to save
the rainforest. None of these stands a
chance.
I read Romances destined for Harlequin, written by people
who have never read a Harlequin.
I read ‘incredibly clever twist’ stories in which A) It is
suddenly revealed that the protagonist is in hell, and hasn’t realized it. B) The
villain’s victim turns out to be a vampire.
C) Three wishes rebound, or are wasted.
D) The narrator turns out to be a
dog/teapot/corkscrew.
I read ‘Science Fiction’ that is based on ideas that were
stale thirty years ago, but the writer doesn’t know that, because he’s not a
reader of SF. He is sure that out of all
the countless millions of SF stories that have been written, no one could
possibly have thought of that idea before, right? Yeah, right.
Chances are none of the above was produced in the accepted
format. Why bother to look professional?
I weep! I weep for
the waste of time, effort, paper and postage.
I weep for those who court rejection, and then complain that ‘It’s
impossible to sell.’ Why do they do
it? Could someone please explain to me how
it is that anyone can set out to be a writer, who hasn’t read, and read, and
read?
Thank you, Michael Crawley, for the wonderful impact you had
on my life. I am an award-winning author
today because, twenty years ago, you were generous with your time and taught me
well. May I do the same for others.