The Three P's of Conference Attendance (Or Why a Writer's Conference is Not a Reality TV Show)

This post originally appeared on STET! on September 9, 2009

by Tanya Egan Gibson

Ah, conference season! You walk in, pitch memorized, nametagged, and first five pages in hand, ready to...


...berate Very Famous Editor during a morning one-on-one for not recognizing your manifest talent?


...interrupt lunch conversation between your roommate and Very Famous Agent about their mutual adoration of labradoodles to "unobtrusively" slip in a plug for your novel?


...sidle up to Very Famous Author at an evening social event and let her know she needs to read your manuscript because she'll love it and will want to help you get an agent (her agent, not Very Famous Agent, who is a jerk for having ignored you) and could she maybe take it back to her room (since you happen to have all 600 pages on you) and start it tonight?


You're thinking, I'd never do that. Who would DO that? No one does that! But, here's the thing: people do. Nice-in-real-life people, even. Nice-in-real-life-but-feeling-desperate-because-they've-paid-for-a-conference-and-worked-so-long-and-hard-on-their-manuscripts-and-now-something-has-to-happen people.
Um, people? (Not you, but the aforementioned-multi-hyphenated people.) A conference isn't a reality TV show. Simon isn't judging you. No one's going to vote you off the island. And there's more than one winner.


Attending The Community of Writers at Squaw Valley, in particular, garnered me invaluable feedback on my writing from participants and staff alike, a network of other writers, and even a recommendation from an author to his agent-who eventually became my agent. But all this happened over time--I attended for the first of four times in 2000, my agent agreed to represent me in 2006, and my first novel was just published this spring (with some the jacket "blurbs" coming from SVCW staff authors I'd met over those years).


Conferences, I learned over all that time, are more about process than product. And so, to that end, here are three "P-words" to remember if you find yourself morphing into the kind of desperado who tries to hand a Very Important Anybody a manuscript during a bathroom break. In the bathroom.


Patience. If your manuscript isn't ready, it isn't ready. Take feedback and criticism and resolve to improve. Even if you do have a great finished product, you can't force things to "happen" at a conference. You'll be more relaxed (and more fun to be around for everyone, including the Very Important Someones) if you go in hoping to make contacts instead of expecting a contract. This is not an American Idol audition, your one shot at getting "discovered." (And you don't have to do/say/wear anything outrageous to "get noticed.")


Politeness. Very Important People are people. Treat their feelings and needs as important and respect their desire not to be pitched 24/7. Remember, too, that agents, editors and authors are trying to give you advice to improve your craft, not cut you down. You don't earn votes from the audience for "standing up for yourself" when Simon says you sound off-key or picked the wrong song. What you earn is a reputation for being difficult. Be equally polite to the other attendees. Don't brag or hog time or attention. You are not Head of Household, Leader of the Tribe, or this week's Top Model.


Perseverance. If something doesn't go as you hoped--you write YA urban fantasy and get assigned to an agent whose specialty is war memoirs, or an editor lets you know that the novel you thought was finished is many drafts away from being "done"--make the best of it and resolve to forge onward. There is more than one show. And there are infinite episodes-most of which take place without an audience, just you and your computer screen staring back at each other while you do the real work.


(This post was adapted from an article that originally ran in the California Writers Club's Bulletin. If you live in California, you might check out one CWC's many branches or attend one of its conferences, where you should not follow any Very Important Anyones into the restrooms.)


*****
Tanya Egan Gibson's debut novel, HOW TO BUY A LOVE OF READING, was published by Dutton in May 2009. An alumna of Squaw Valley Community of Writers, she is mother to a four-year-old who creates construction-paper books she insists Mommy "get published" and an infant tyrannosaurus who teethes on copies of HTBALOR, and wife to the most patient man in the universe. Please visit her website at http://www.howtobuyaloveofreading.com, where you can share your story about how reading changed your life.

Introvert in the Conference Room by Pamela Toler

Originally posted on STET on April 22, 2011


The writing conferences that I signed up for with such excitement in February are drawing near, and I am filled with my annual combination of dread and nausea. I get so much out of going to conferences--and they take so much out of me.  

My name is Pamela and I am an introvert.

Some of my freelancing friends complain about isolation.  They miss the camaraderie of the corporate coffee pot.  Not me. My extrovert husband and his extrovert family insure that I have more than enough human contact. I thrive alone in my study, happy when the phone doesn’t ring. (A career run largely through e-mail?  Heaven!) Left to my own devices, I could go for days speaking only to my cat and the clerk at the produce market.

Which brings me back to my annual venture into the introvert hell known as the writers' conference. 

The first time I attended a writing conference I tried to follow the good advice that appears in many places about getting the most out of the experience.  The result?  Three days of conference followed by three days of a migraine so bad I wanted to cut my head off.

  

Over the years, I've learned to adapt that good advice to fit introvert reality.

Build down time into your schedule.

The accepted wisdom is that you should go to breakfast, lunch, and dinner with fellow conference go-ers--not to mention attending cocktail parties and hanging out in the bar.  The idea is that you develop long-standing friendships with other writers.   Which is a good thing.  Unless it leaves you curled up in a miserable ball at the end of the day.

Choose the parts of the conference that are most valuable to you and assume that everything else is optional.  Eat meals by yourself if you need to.  Go for a walk if there's a session with no panels the interest you.  Run up to your room for ten minutes between sessions.  (I will eat beans and rice for a month if that's what it takes to afford a room by myself in the conference hotel.)

Give yourself a people goal.

Down time doesn't mean don't talk to anybody for the entire weekend.  Take the energy you save by eating lunch alone and put it to good use.   Some introverts I know give themselves the goal of talking to one specific person: a dream agent, an on-line friend they're dying to meet IRL, an author whose work they admire.  Personally, I find tracking down a specific person both creepy and distracting.  My own goal for every conference is to have a conversation with three new people each day and say thank you to someone over the course of the weekend. (Possibly an author whose work I admire.)

Don't forget to congratulate yourself when you fill your goal.

Volunteer

It's easier to enjoy a party if you have something in your hands.  It's easier to

enjoy a conference if you have an official task. 

Do I need to explain this further?

There is always someone at the conference who is more of an introvert than you are.  Reach out to her.

I know. This feels like it can't possibly be true, like one of those algebra theorems that prove you can always increase infinity by one.  Logically, there has to be someone at every gathering who is the most introverted person there and by the law of averages sometimes that person is you--or me.  Right?

Here's the deal.  It doesn't matter if it's true or not.  Find someone who's standing in a corner of the room holding her coffee cup in a death grip.  (If you’re going to the ASJA conference in April or Backspace in May, keep an eye out for a short, plump redhead with glasses.)  Walk over.  Say hello.  Ask her what she writes. 

You'll both feel better.  Trust me.

I won't lie to you, fellow introverts.  These ideas don't make going to conferences easy. (I still come home from a three-day conference feeling like I need at least four days alone to recover.)  They do make attending a writers' conference possible and productive. 

What's your best tip for surviving as an introvert in the conference room?

Pamela Toler is a freelance writer specializing in history and the arts, an aspiring novelist, and a kick-ass cook.  

She can be found on twitter as @pdtoler.

For more information on The Backspace Agent-Author Seminar click here.  

Jeff Kleinman's Guidelines to Good Conference Attendeeness

With the Backspace Writers Conference & Agent Author Seminar just a few weeks away, we once again bring you Jeff Kleinman's Guidelines to Good Conference Attendeeness.

Step #1. TALK to fellow participants.

A couple of months ago I whined about how tough it was to get a project that was really ready to go – a project with a great voice, great writing, great concept. Do you realize what a huge boon you have at these conferences, literally tripping over published authors and – possibly even more intriguing – other wannabe writers who could be an enormous asset to you – reading drafts of your manuscript, offering a different perspective on your work? I always feel that authors are so focused on the editor-agent thing that they forget about the people sitting right next to them, the other writers who could actually be of huge assistance to them. I honestly think that it’s not at all a bad idea to ignore the editors and agents prancing around and just sit down in the hotel lobby with a couple of other writers, trying to create a community, a sounding-board – trying to make a connection to someone whose insights could really prove valuable. If you go to a writer’s conference, just try this (no matter how painful and terrible it is – and believe me I’d hate to do it myself, so I feel for you). Turn to the person sitting one seat down from you (because you always sit with empty seats on either side if you can help it) and say, “Hello, my name is [fill in your name – not mine] and I’m working on a book about [one-sentence description of your book]. What are you working on?” See if you have some kind of common ground. You might not, of course – the person sitting one seat down from you could be an absolute dragon with terrible breath and appalling clothes – but then again, you might make a worthwhile connection. If for no other reason, writer’s conferences are great places to (hem) meet other writers, so meet them, for goodness sake.

Step #2. Take Conferences With More Than One Grain of Salt.

It’s true that, as billed, conferences are one of those rare occasions when you have a chance to meet people on the other side of the mailbox – editors, agents, PR and marketing professionals, and so forth. We’re generally called in to do a bunch of different tasks at these events – lectures, workshops, manuscript evaluations, one-on-one meetings, etc. Often we choose sexy and compelling titles for our talks – stuff like “Write A Bestselling Novel in 5 Minutes A Day and Lose 30 Pounds in the Process,” or “Become Independently Wealthy and Emotionally Fulfilled Through Freelance Writing.” Point being: we have a lot of information that we can impart, and certainly knowing the business side of things can be really helpful, but don’t get too sucked into these kinds of talks. Your business is writing, so make a connection with the writers. Use whatever information you find useful from these editors and agents, and throw out the rest. Whatever you do, don’t panic, hearing the kind of stuff we talk about. Sometimes people get all upset, going to a talk about, say, “Trends in Nonfiction” – someone on the panel will say that memoirs are dead, and all the memoirists in the audience will gasp and turn blue; and the reality is that no trend is dead – it just hasn’t had the next breakout book to hit yet. Let’s face it, Marley & Me is just a memoir about a guy and a dog, and there are millions of those stories out there – so who will want to buy another book like that? Millions of people, apparently. So don’t take what we have too say too seriously.

Step #3. Use Proper Etiquette When Talking To Publishing Folk.

OK, if I haven’t lost you yet, then you’ve hung on for the real reason I was writing all this today. Conferences are opportunities to meet and speak with (either in a structured one-on-one setting, or informally over lunch or a beer) editors and agents – who, for the purpose of this discussion, shall henceforth be termed PF, for “Publishing Folk”. There’s a possibility to talk to these folk about your project, get their feedback – who could resist such an opportunity? Before you go and talk to them, though, here are a few handy-dandy rules to print out (with the proper copyright notice, please: © Jeff Kleinman 2006) and carry with you everywhere. They’re listed in order of importance, of course (but from most to least important, or least to most, I’ll let you decide).

1. Never hand your manuscript to PF without being asked to do so.

That means don’t push it under the bathroom stall, shove it under the hotel room door, leave it for them at the front desk, staple it to their windshield wipers, etc. That’s considered “unsolicited,” and you don’t want to do that. If PF ask you for your material, that’s a whole different thing, of course.

2. Be prepared.

Have a proposal (if NF) or the first 50 pages (if F) available, in case PF ask to see it after all. It should be nicely formatted and all that kind of nonsense.

3. Know Your Log Line.

A typical conversation with PF goes as follows:

You: I wrote a book.
PF: You did? Huh. What’s it about?
You: Many many longwinded sentences about your book.
PF: Huh.

Be able to boil your book down to a single sentence – and make it a single sentence that generates the following response from the PF: “Oh, wow, that sounds terrific – can I read it?” That “wow” is a very difficult thing to achieve, so it’s worth really thinking about what makes your book, and/or you, special/interesting/different/remarkable. If you can’t do it yet, that’s OK – then probably the project isn’t ready for PF after all. Use the single sentence as a test for yourself: if you can’t sum up the book succinctly and in a way that engenders immediate interest, keep rewriting the book until you can.

4. Research The PFs Ahead of Time.

All PFs are not created equal. Some PFs, like yours truly, do not represent romance novels. Other PFs, like yours truly’s partner Paige Wheeler, do. It would be a mistake to ask yours truly about your paranormal romance, because I wouldn’t know a paranormal romance from a three-toed black sloth – in fact I’d certainly know a three-toed black sloth much better. You can find out about PFs from a variety of websites (including Natalie’s fabulous one). Just because you research the PF ahead of time, though, doesn’t mean that you should necessarily contact the PF and try to set up a meeting – that can be confusing and difficult to manage, since the PF is often at the mercy of the conference’s schedule.

5. Don’t Ask Overly Specific Questions at the Q&A.

Q&As are times for general questions, not opportunities for you to discuss your project with a room full of strangers.

6. Relax.

On several occasions at conferences, someone sits down across from me, we introduce ourselves, and then the writer on the other side of the table bursts into tears. It’s a truly weird and horrible feeling to be sitting there watching a grown woman, carefully made up, sobbing into a wad of typescript. Remember: these PFs are generally nice people. They’re generally interested in what you have to say. They’re not mean, or cruel, or vicious – and if they are, you certainly don’t have to take it; just get up and walk away. But I’d say pretty much everybody who does these conferences is a pretty nice person, most of the time – so just talk. Know what your book is about, be able to discuss it concisely and passionately. And then be ready to listen, to hear the questions the PF asks, be ready to respond concisely and passionately.

7. Know that It’s All in the Writing.

Let’s repeat that: It’s All In The Writing. Conferences can be fine things, and being able to talk about your project concisely and passionately is a fine thing, too; but in the end it boils down to the words that are laserprinted on that page. PF may ask to see your material; PF may jump for joy after hearing your description; but bottom line is that PF must read your material. So although it’s always good to have the bells and whistles in place, it’s even better to have a gorgeously written manuscript. The writing is everything.

And there you have it. If you go to a conference, have a great time (and buy me a beer, if I’m there).

Excerpted from Folio Literary Management's website:


I am one of the founders of Folio Literary Management, LLC. I wanted to establish an agency that is forward-thinking and able to offer services that "traditional" literary agents don't provide, so in 2006 I joined with my partners to establish Folio.[Image]Over the course of my career I've represented many successful books, including the New York Times bestsellers The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein, The Widow of the South by Robert Hicks, Mockingbird by Charles Shields, and The Memory of Running by Ron McLarty. I have also had the privilege of representing the critically acclaimed Finn by Jon Clinch, Sacco & Vanzetti by Bruce Watson, and Enslaved by Ducks by Bob Tarte. My list is comprised of projects with unusual premises; books that offer up some new perspective on something I thought I already knew or never dreamed existed; and wonderful, character-driven novels. That's what I'm looking for.

There's Still Time To Help East Harlem Get Its First Bookstore

Did you know East Harlem doesn’t have an independently owned bookstore? It’s hard to believe the neighborhood that nurtured writers such as Piri Thomas (Down These Mean Streets) and Nicholasa Mohr (Nilda) doesn’t have a bookstore to support current and future generations of writers.

Aurora Anaya-Cerda is looking to change that by opening a brick-and-mortar store in East Harlem. Aurora is the owner of La Casa Azul, an online bookstore. An anonymous benefactor has offered to match up to $40,000 in donations raised through October 24, 2011. So every donated dollar translates into two dollars that will help open a Latina-owned, independent bookstore.

Open a bookstore and you educate a community. Help educate the community of East Harlem and beyond by donating to Aurora’s 40K in 40 Days campaign and/or by sharing this information widely. To donate, and for more details, please visit: http://www.indiegogo.com/lacasaazulbookstorenyc 

From Aurora Anaya-Cerda:

Dear La Casa Azul Bookstore friends and family,

It is with great excitement and anticipation that I announce the ‘40K in 40 days’ campaign to open La Casa Azul Bookstore in East Harlem!  Every dollar you give to the ‘40K in 40 days’campaign will have twice the impact! That’s because until October 24, 2011 a generous donor will match, dollar for dollar, every donation we receive – up to a total of $40,000.

About me:

Since 2001 I have worked and volunteered in 5 bookstores, taken countless business classes, attended book-selling school (twice), and travelled the country meeting with booksellers, studying the diverse business models. I have also established relationships with publishers and authors nationwide.

I have operated the La Casa Azul as an online store since 2008. Since then I have hosted over 60 events (book signings, readings, book clubs) in local cultural institutions, schools and cafés. I founded the Barrio Book Club and established the annual East Harlem Children’s Book Festival.

La proxima pagina:

The ‘40K in 40 days’ campaign will secure the funding necessary to open La Casa Azul Bookstore as a real, physical, retail space! Using the concept of placemaking, La Casa Azul Bookstore aims to create a business that is much more than your average retail store by offering book clubs, author signings, story time for children and a community meeting space. La Casa Azul Bookstore will sell new & used books, coffee, pastries, art, clothing and locally-made cards and gifts. A fresh stock of books by local and Latino writers will help solidify our niche as a purveyor of authors of local and regional interest. La Casa Azul Bookstore will  cross-promote with local businesses to highlight the importance of sustainability & buying locally. We will continue to work with area schools and nonprofits to promote literacy in the East Harlem community.

Be a part of the Founder’s Circle:

The money raised in the ‘40K in 40 days’ campaign will guarantee a MATCHING investment from a generous donor. You give a dollar – the donor gives a dollar. Just like that, the impact of your contribution is immediately doubled!  Your contribution to the ‘40K in 40 days’ campaign automatically makes you a member of the Founder’s Circle and your name is added to the donor wall. In addition, there are perks for the different contribution levels, plus the satisfaction of knowing you participated in the opening of independent bookstore in El Barrio!

The money raised will be used to purchase inventory, bookshelves, fixtures, café equipment and pay for permits. Most importantly, it will secure the deposit on a retail space and allow for La Casa Azul Bookstore to open its doors in 2012.

Sounds exciting, right? It is! But, again, I need your help to get this project off the ground.

Bookstores are a crucial part of a community’s cultural, educational and social character. Help me establish La Casa Azul Bookstore in East Harlem to continue connecting people, books, and the ideas they bring together. I can’t do this work without you.

With gratitude,

Aurora Anaya-Cerda 

40K in 40 days campaign information:

Indiegogo campaign link:www.indiegogo.com/lacasaazulbookstorenyc

Web: lacasaazulbookstore.com

Twitter: @lacasaazulbooks

Blog: luchalibrosnyc.blogspot.com

Email: lucha.libros@gmail.com

When Will Your Book Come Out?

Originally posted on STET in December 2010.


by Anne Greenwood Brown

In Guide to Literary Agents, agent Regina Brooks of Serendipity Literary posted an excerpt from her 2009 book, Writing Great Books For Young Adults. In her post she enumerated the author’s 25 steps to publication.

For me and those of you who are constantly being asked, “So, when does your book come out” (often times when you haven’t even finished writing it yet!), the list proves to be a valuable tool to educate your friends and family. Let’s just call it a gentle way to say “Quit asking before I spontaneously combust!”

I shared it with my dad who said it was worthy of a Minnesota “Uff da.” And for those of you from other states, that (as they say) is saying something.

Regina Brooks’ list is below. The parenthetical commentary is mine.

• Author writes the manuscript. (Finally crossing it off her “Things to do Before You Turn 40″ List.)
• Author revises the manuscript. (And if the author is smart, revises and revises and revises, and moves that comma back-and-forth a few times, and changes “walk” to “amble” and then back to “walk” because why should author be so pretentious?)
• Author gets critiques (if the author is humble and realistic enough to know he/she needs outside feedback) and implements necessary changes. (And revises again. Because, after all, “amble” did sound so dangliterary!)
• Author submits queries to agents. (No doubt too early–should have gone back to step 2 for another go around.)
• Author secures agent. (If author manages to get out of the slush pile.)
• Author makes changes per agent’s feedback. (If author is not a megalomaniac. See Writer Unboxed post on this subject.)
• Agent submits work to publishers. (At this point, writer loses all control and waxes nostalgic about steps 1-3)
• Editor reads the manuscript and tells agent she is enamored and plans to share with the editorial board. (If lightning strikes twice!)
• Editor shares the manuscript with the editorial board. (Who–God forbid–may still decline it!)
• Editor prepares profit and loss (P&L) statement for the book.(Author has drinks with friends and peruses Vogue Magazine for red carpet dress because, after all, Hollywood can’t be too far behind.)
• Editor contacts agent and makes an offer.
• Agent shares offer with the author. (Author can’t believe  she’s come this far and the numbers just float in a flurry around her head. Wonders how much chocolate she can buy for that.)
• Agent negotiates the terms of the offer with editor. (Author distracts his/herself by focusing on current WIP)
• Agent reviews actual contract, makes additions and deletions to the clauses in agreement in the best interest of the author, and sends it back to the publisher’s legal counsel.
• Editor sends final contract to agent.
• Agent sends contract to author for signature. (Author realizes she should have used a pen name and wonders how to get chocolate fingerprints off the contract.)
• Editor prepares editorial notes for author, and the author revises again. (Terror! But, ah, a sense of relief, too because now the author has something to do again.)
• Author submits final manuscript. (And crawls under the covers.)
• Editor reviews the manuscript and then prepares it for production. (Author resumes the “Waiting Game”)
• Editors in production department copyfit and proof the manuscript.
• Editor sends copyedits to the author for review.
• Author reviews last pass of manuscript after proof.
• Editor prepares back cover copy, catalogue copy, and other tools to sell the book. (Author sees light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.)
• Publicity sends out galley copies to media for review.
• Book is published and starts to be sold.(Maybe two years after Step 7)

Whew! And THAT, dear friends, is when our books will come out!

*****

Anne Greenwood Brown is a guest blogger on Writer Unboxed and Book End Babes. She writes Middle Grade and Young Adult Fiction and is represented by Jacqueline Flynn of Joelle Delbourgo Associates. Her creative non-fiction has been published in Literary Mama. Anne lives in Minnesota with her husband and three above-average children.

Speaking of Dialogue

by Robert J. Sawyer

Originally posted on STET on 12/6/10

Writing convincing dialogue is one of the hardest things for new writers to master. In fact, it's so rarely done well in any form of fiction that when it is done right, people rally around it. The movie Pulp Fiction, Terry McMillan's novel Waiting to Exhale, and the TV series My So-Called Life were all remarkable in large part because of how believably the characters spoke.

Here's the kind of dialog you read in many beginners' stories:

"What happened to you, Joe?" 

"Well, Mike, I was walking down the street, and a man came up to me. I said to him, `What seems to be the difficulty?' He replied, `You owe me a hundred dollars.' But I said I didn't. And then he hit me."

Here's how real people talk:

"Christ, man, what happened?" 

"Well, umm, I was goin' down the street, y'know, and this guy comes up to me, and I'm like, hey, man, what's up? And he says to me, he says, `You owe me a hundred bucks,' and I'm like no way, man. In your dreams. Then — pow! I'm on the sidewalk."

See the differences? Most people's real dialog tends to contain occasional profanity ("Christ"), to be very informal ("guy" instead of "man," "bucks" instead of "dollars"), and to have lots of contractions and dropped letters ("goin'," "y'know"). Note, too, that when relaying an event that happened in the past, most people recount it in the present tense ("he says to me," rather than "he replied").

Also note that in the first example, the speakers refer to each other by name. In reality, we almost never say the name of the person we're talking to: you know who you're addressing, and that person knows he or she is being addressed.

A few other features of real human speech demonstrated in the second example above: when relaying to a third party a conversation we had with somebody else, we usually only directly quote what the other person said; our own side of the conversation is typically relayed with considerable bravado, and the listener understands that what's really being presented is what we wish we'd had the guts to say, not what we actually said. We also tend to act out events, rather than describe them ("Then — pow! I'm on the sidewalk"). Indeed, without the acting out, the words often don't convey the intended meaning. The speaker was probably standing on the sidewalk throughout the altercation, of course; what he meant by "on the sidewalk" was that he was knocked down.

Now, which of the above examples is better? Well, the second is clearly more colorful, and more entertaining to read. But it's also more work to read. A little verisimilitude goes a along way. Dropped final letters are rarely shown in fictional dialog (they're usually only employed to indicate an uneducated speaker, although in reality almost everyone talks that way), and vagueness about verbs ("I'm like" instead of "I said"), verbalized pauses ("umm"), and content-less repetitions (the second part of "He says to me, he says") are usually left out. In a short story, I might perhaps use dialog like the second example above; in a novel, where the reader has to sit through hundreds of pages, I might be inclined toward some sort of middle ground:

"Christ, man, what happened?" 

"I was going down the street, and this guy comes up to me, and I'm like, hey, man, what's up? And he says to me, `You owe me a hundred bucks,' and I say `in your dreams.' Then — pow! — he knocks me on my ass."

Of course, not all your characters should talk the same way. I read one story recently in which there were dozens of lines of dialog like this:

"Interchangeable?" he said. "What do you mean the characters are interchangeable?"

We have the attribution tag between an initial word and a sentence that repeats that same word. This is clearly being used to denote confusion — and works fine once or twice, but grates if the same dialog device is employed more than that in a given story — especially by multiple speakers. Assign distinctive speaking patterns to single characters.

One trick is to come up with a word or two that one character — and only that character — will use a lot (in my The Terminal Experiment, the character Sarkar loves the word "crisp," using it to mean anything from well-defined to delicate to appealing to complex); you might also come up with some words your character will never use (in Starplex, I have a character who hates acronyms, and therefore avoids referring to the ship's computer as PHANTOM).

Profanity is also important. Terence M. Green's rule: you can't worry about what your mother will think of your fiction. But, again, not all characters swear the same way, and some may not swear at all (in The Terminal Experiment, I have a Muslim character who never swears, although the rest of his speech is quite colloquial).

It's tricky handling characters who are not native English speakers. No matter what language they're speaking, people tend also to be thinking in that language. It's common to write a French character saying things like, "There are beaucoup reasons why someone might do that." But at the time the person is speaking, his brain is thinking in English; it's as unlikely for him to slip into French for a word as it is for a computer running a program in FORTRAN to suddenly switch over to BASIC for a single instruction. Instead, if you want to remind the reader of the character's native tongue, have the character occasionally mutter or think to himself or herself in that language.

The best way to learn how real people talk is to tape record some actual human conversation, and then transcribe it word for word (if you can't find a group of people who will let you do this, then tape a talk show off TV, and transcribe that). You'll be amazed: transcripts of human speech, devoid of body language and inflection, read mostly like gibberish.

To learn how to condense and clean up dialog, edit your transcript. For your first few attempts, try to edit by only removing words, not by changing any of them — you'll quickly see that most real speech can be condensed by half without deleting any of the meaning.

Finally, test your fictional dialog by reading it out loud. If it doesn't sound natural, it probably isn't. Keep revising until it comes trippingly off your tongue (yes, that's a cliché — but remember, although you want to avoid clichés in your narrative, people use them all the time in speech).

A couple of matters of form that seem to elude most beginners: when writing dialog for a single speaker that runs to multiple paragraphs, put an open-quotation mark at the beginning of each paragraph, but no close-quotation mark until the end of the final paragraph. And in North America, terminal punctuation (periods, exclamation marks, and question marks) go inside the final close-quotation mark: "This is punctuated correctly."

Get your speech-attribution tags in as early as possible. There's nothing more frustrating than not knowing whose dialog you're reading. Slip the tag in after the first completed clause in the sentence: "You know," said Juan, "when the sky is that shade of blue it reminds me of my childhood back in Mexico." And when alternating lines of dialog, make sure you identify speakers at least every five or six exchanges; it's very easy for the reader to get lost otherwise.

Finally, much real dialog goes unfinished. When someone is interrupted or cut off abruptly, end the dialog with an em-dash (which you type in manuscript as two hyphens); when he or she trails off without completing the thought, end the dialog with ellipsis points (three periods). Real dialog also tends to be peppered with asides: "We went to Toronto — boy, I hate that city — and found . . ."

Get your characters talking at least halfway like real people, and you'll find that the readers are talking, too: they'll be saying favorable things about your work.

Copyright © 1996 by Robert J. Sawyer. Reposted with permission.

*****

Robert J. Sawyer — called "the dean of Canadian science fiction" by The Ottawa Citizen and "just about the best science-fiction writer out there these days" by The Denver Rocky Mountain News — is one of only seven writers in history (and the only Canadian) to win all three of the science-fiction field's top honors for best novel of the year:

• the World Science Fiction Society's Hugo Award, which he won in 2003 for his novel Hominids;
• the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America's Nebula Award, which he won in 1996 for his novelThe Terminal Experiment;
• and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, which he won in 2006 for his novel Mindscan.

Rob is also the only writer in history to win the top SF awards in the United States, China, Japan, France, and Spain. In addition, he's won an Arthur Ellis Award from the Crime Writers of Canada as well as ten Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Awards ("Auroras"). The ABC TV series FlashForward is based on his novel of the same name.

For much more about Rob, see his 10,000-word autobiography.