MasterClass

by Charlotte Hinger

 Well, what do you know? There is something new under the sun. It's MasterClass.

For some time my on-line reading was interrupted by a promotion for MasterClass. I ignored these clips the same as I do all other annoying ads. I wanted to cut down on subscriptions, not acquire new ones. 

Then The New Yorker published an article about the lecturers. Those at the top of their field vie with one another to be selected to lead a class. It's the ultimate indorsement of their abilities. Honestly folks, James Patterson and David Baldacci are not in it for the money. 

I'm absolutely hooked. Curiously, the presentations are straight lectures. The "star" sits a chair and tells the viewer everything he knows about his area of expertise. I've finished four classes: James Patterson, David Baldacci, Joyce Carol Oates, and Aaron Sorkin. The episodes vary from 8-15 minutes. Some include a round table analysis of students' work. 

The styles are wildly varied. I enjoyed Aaron Sorkin the most even though he opened by gloomily stating that speaking was very hard for him and he would be much more comfortable just writing the whole thing. This wonderfully talented playwright and scriptwriter wrote A Few Good Men and one of my favorite TV series, The West Wing. One of his most endearing statements was about writer's block. He said that was his default status: deeply depressed and blocked as a writer. 

I like Patterson a lot as a person. He's so passionate about promoting literacy. I'm only an occasional reader of his books, but used one in a creative writing class I taught. I wanted the students to see how he turned a whole plot with one of his one word, one sentence, paragraphs. It's not easy. Plus, I admire the way he gives co-authors full credit on his covers. An amazing fact is that the man writes in longhand while sitting in a rocking chair. He's a generous man and natural outliner. One of his detailed outlines is what his bevy of co-authors receive. 

Joyce Carol Oates teaches writing at Columbia University. Her approach is lovely and poetic and seductive. How can one person master so many different genres? I really wanted her book, We Were The Mulvaneys, to win the Pulitzer Prize of the National Book Award. Her suggestions frightened me. I found myself resistant to accessing some of the thinking she urged me to explore. Yet, as she pointed out, that's where my best writing lies dormant. Oates writes mysteries (both novels and short stories) in addition to literature. She's phenomenal and mystical. 

Ah, Baldacci! He was whisked in on a magic carpet. Yet, like most ultra successful writers he paid his dues. He learned his craft. The man has the most abrupt machine gun delivery of anyone I've watched so far. He does not pause between sentences. His first published novel was Absolute Power. For that he received a 2 million dollar advance for American rights, and 2 million for foreign rights. He's a lawyer so he knew a lot about contracts from the beginning. He has the most joyful presentation and gives a new meaning to "natural writer" When he worked full time as a lawyer, after the kids and his wife went to bed, he wrote from 10pm to 2am every night. I especially appreciated this man because he has the most turbulent intuitive (yet linear) idiotic method of writing a book of any of them. Finally. Someone just like me.

Next on my agenda is one on poetry, followed by lessons in forensics by none other than John Douglas.

Cold Hard Truth

 A strange thing happened during when Americans were shut in during the Covid crisis. They started reading books again. This should be terrific news for writers, but according to a recent article, they mostly read authors they already liked. They read old familiar books. The cold hard truth is that these readers were wary of newcomers. 

A friend emailed me recently who was worried about a young man she knew who was not doing too well. He had never held a "real" job. He wants to become a writer and she wanted to know what I thought of his ability.

In fact, I think he is quite talented. That said, it's very, very hard to assess the merit of a work in a genre you don't regularly read. But talent is not the problem here. The problem is reality.

Only a very few writers make really big bucks. They are very talented and have something quite special going for them. Never mind that this one or that one is not your own personal cup of tea. When they first started out, each person on the best seller list time after time brought something new to the marketplace. These are the born naturals. The cream of the crop. They cannot stop. Case in point is J.K. Rawlings. The lady doesn't need the money but she keeps on anyway. She can't help herself.

And then we move on to another wealthy tier of writers. They are really good, usually genre specific, but things can get a little weird down the line. Books are outlined and someone else does the actually writing. Names are licensed. Writing becomes harder. Trips beckon. Time with family. A cocktail at sunset. They make a terrific living. Have a sweet life.

But the cold hard truth is that most writers need a day job. Seldom does one's writing alone provide enough to support a family, generate income for research trips, or enable one to attend the endless round of conferences that compete for time and bucks.

So what kind of day job? How many hours a day? I find it puzzling that some of the people with the most demanding jobs produce phenomenal books year after year. As to the type of job? When I taught a course in writing at Fort Hays State University one spring, I found myself worrying about the students' stories, instead of my own writing. It was like trying to water two fields from the same well. Yet, Joyce Carol Oates--who is incredibly gifted--has taught writing at Columbia for decades. Our own Frankie Bailey is a professor in the department of justice.

Some writers find that working in a trade or doing something involved with physical labor is just the right contrast. That makes sense to me.

I like bookkeeping and accounting. It's comforting to do non-creative work that is exacting and precise. It's black and white. Right or wrong. Writing is a very messy occupation, but it's so exhilarating! I would rather be a writer than anything else, nevertheless sometimes I think how nice a regular paycheck would be. Sometimes I hate the fog that is a part of creativity.

So my question for the young man would be "How do you intend to support yourself?" The cold hard truth is that if you plan to become a writer you must figure something out.

Plot Points

Two weeks ago, I wrote about the benefits of outlining a novel before you begin writing. I’m still plugging away at it, and, having moved scenes and added and eliminated characters, I’m more committed to outlining than before.

To outline or not to outline? According to The Writing Cooperative website, Joyce Carol Oates claims, “The first sentence can’t be written until the final sentence is written.” And Ernest Hemingway said, “Prose is architecture. It’s not interior design.”

It’s hard to argue with either of these two writers, and one of the major takeaways I have from this experience is that outlining allows me to see the story arc from thirty thousand feet. As the story takes shape, I can view the beginning, middle, and end and make decisions. For instance, I have made major plot revisions –– adding a backstory to clarify a major character’s motivation and cutting another character out completely –– before I begin writing.

In the past, I have written novels the way one drives at night –– writing “to the end of my headlights.” That is, writing each scene based on the scene that preceded it, and making plot decisions based on the previous scene and my instincts, guided by what I know about the character. This is an exciting way to write. The adage “No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader” can be fitting. I wrote This One Day (as K.A. Delaney) that way. I didn’t know how the book would end until I was thirty pages from the conclusion. And it was terrifying.

More recently, I pulled a hundred pages from the draft of a novel and eliminated an entire secondary plotline. Both revisions cost me months –– months that, given my day job (I’m a boarding school teacher, dorm head, department chair, and coach), amounts to large chunks of time that I simply don’t have to waste.

But opinions vary, and Stephen King says, “Outlines are the last resource of bad fiction writers who wish to God they were writing masters’ theses.”

I’d love to hear what my Type M friends say on the matter.

Cold Hard Truth

A friend emailed me recently who was worried about a young man she knew who was not doing too well. He had never held a "real" job. He wants to become a writer and she wanted to know what I thought of his ability.

In fact, I think he is quite talented. That said, it's very, very hard to assess the merit of a work in a genre you don't regularly read. But talent is not the problem here. The problem is reality.

Only a very few writers make really big bucks. They are very talented and have something quite special going for them. Never mind that this one or that one is not your own personal cup of tea. When they first started out, each person on the best seller list time after time brought something new to the marketplace. These are the born naturals. The cream of the crop. They cannot stop. Case in point is J.K. Rawlings. The lady doesn't need the money but she keeps on anyway. She can't help herself.

 And then we move on to another wealthy tier of writers. They are really good, usually genre specific, but things can get a little weird down the line. Books are outlined and someone else does the actually writing. Names are licensed. Writing becomes harder. Trips beckon. Time with family. A cocktail at sunset. They make a terrific living. Have a sweet life.

But the cold hard truth is that most writers need a day job. Seldom does one's writing alone provide enough to support a family, generate income for research trips, or enable one to attend the endless round of conferences that compete for time and bucks.

So what kind of day job? How many hours a day? I find it puzzling that some of the people with the most demanding jobs produce phenomenal books year after year. As to the type of job? When I taught a course in writing at Fort Hays State University one spring, I found myself worrying about the students' stories, instead of my own writing. It was like trying to water two fields from the same well. Yet, Joyce Carol Oates, who is incredibly gifted has taught writing at Columbia for decades. Our own Frankie Bailey is a professor in the department of justice.

Some writers find that working in a trade or doing something involved with physical labor is just the right contrast. That makes sense to me.

I like bookkeeping and accounting. It's comforting to do non-creative work that is exacting and precise. It's black and white. Right or wrong. Writing is a very messy occupation, but it's so exhilarating! I would rather be a writer than anything else, nevertheless sometimes I think how nice a regular paycheck would be. Sometimes I hate the fog that is a part of creativity.

So my question for the young man would be "How do you intend to support yourself?" The cold hard truth is that if you plan to become a writer you must figure something out.