Word of the Week: didactic (die-DAC-tic).
Intended to teach something, usually some bit of moral instruction. The word, however, has a negative connotation as most books considered didactic are overly preachy. Children’s books should contain a lesson to be learned, but they should not be didactic.
Writer’s Word of the Week: proposal.
When you are fortunate enough to hear an editor say “send me a proposal,” he or she is asking for the following:
Nonfiction book: A cover letter containing a brief description of the book, a title page, an outline, and three sample chapters.
Novel (and please—never, ever write “fiction novel”): A cover letter containing a paragraph description of the story, a title page, a one-to-two page synopsis, and the first three chapters.
In both cases, if the editor doesn’t know you, you should include a paragraph describing your writing credits . . . which is why it is a good idea to start writing other things apart from the book of your dreams.
Ancedote of the Week
During my learning-to-write phase, I wrote dozens of articles for a local magazine. I was fortunate enough to live in a city with several colleges, and those colleges would often have celebrities visit the school. Because people like to read about celebrities, I’d call the celebrity’s office before their arrival and arrange for an interview while they were in town. Then I’d meet them with prepared questions, my notepad, and my tape recorder.
These interviews would become personality profiles, which are featured in many magazines and newspapers. In the beginning, I’d simply frame the quotes around general statements, like this:
How did Joe Smith become such a great baseball player? He recalls playing catch with his father in the back yard. “My dad always had time for me,” he said when (magazine name) caught up to him. “I hope I can be that kind of dad some day.”
BUT one day I read an article in Writer’s Digest magazine, which I studied every month. The writer said to add physical description to the quotes. So I did.
About a week after I handed in another profile piece, the editor called me. “What did you do?” she asked. “The article is so much better than your usual interviews.”
I laughed and told her about how I’d interviewed then-Secretary of Education William Bennett. In my research, I’d discovered that he had recently become a father. I had to share my interview time with a lady from the local TV station, so we both sat and listened to him talk about education, etc., etc. The photographer with us had snapped a few shots, and that was all.
Because time was running out, I jumped in. “I know you have a young son,” I said. “Tell me what it’s like to be a new father.”
Bennett’s eyes sparkled and he leaned forward in his chair. As a small smile curved his mouth, he talked about his little boy. The photographer jumped up and started shooting because we were seeing a different side of William Bennett.
I wrote up the profile just like I wrote the previous paragraph, surrounding his quotes with descriptions of his body language. It’s a fiction technique, but it helps nonfiction come alive. The reader can see the interviewee.
As I always say, being a writer is like being a builder. Learn how to master all the tools at your disposal and you can write fiction, nonfiction, anything at all.
Until next week,
Angie
Your Homework
Interview someone, find a theme in the interview, and write up the article, smoothly framing the quotes to reflect and emphasize the theme. After the first draft, go back and add the body language (which you jotted down during the interview, right?) Now . . . how does the piece read? Let me know how it went!
P.S During a telephone interview when you can’t see the interviewee, you can note changes in his or her voice, coughs, throat clearings, etc., but only if they’re relevant. If her voice gentles when she remembers her childhood . . . or he if speaks more quickly when he recounts a family emergency . . . or if his tone sharpens when he says, “Next question.”
Fortunately, if it’s a Zoom interview, you can also take note of certain body movements and vocal changes. Make note of them, if they work for your story. You don’t want to write that someone coughed just because he coughed. But you might want to write that his eyes seemed abstracted as he recounted a story of his youth . . .