By

Shirley Parentueau

YOU, ME AND AMERICAN IDOL

Do you watch American Idol? According to the ratings, millions of us do.

As I write this, the remaining contestants are fighting to stay to the end. Each week, they sing their hearts out, then stand before the three judges, hope glowing in their eyes. Sometimes, they’re praised and their smile lights up the stage. At other times, they’re criticized and their smile falters while they struggle visibly for control.

We have a lot in common with those contestants, those of us who write for publication. We put our hearts into our books, hoping to catch the enthusiasm of a critique partner, an agent, an editor or a reviewer. And we wait, wearing brave if wary smiles, for their reaction.

Sometimes, we’re praised. At other times, the remarks are cutting, even brutal. Were we pitchy in the middle? Was our rhythm forced? Did the ending fail to deliver the promise of the opening?

Like some of the Idol contestants, we may say with defiance, “That’s one opinion. America may not agree.” And America may not agree. Sometimes the greater audience brings back a contestant the judges felt should have been sent home.

I’m always intrigued when contestants say they want to rework a song to make it their own, to express their personality. Isn’t that what editors ask of us when they ask for “the book of our heart?” (As if we were consciously trying to write anything else!)

The Idol judges ask to see individual personality reflected in the performance. They’re looking for someone who not only sings well, but who stands out from the rest. Editors ask for a unique voice. Surely, it comes down to much the same thing.

Voice. Style. Something about our writing that separates our work from others. It may be memorable characters. It may be breathtaking or hilarious action. It may be a unique way of telling a story.

Think about books that have stayed with you. What was it about them? What made them stand out from the others? Can you find that unique individuality in your own writing style?

Sometimes we’re tempted to write to a trend. This is usually a mistake. For one thing, the trend will be past by the time the book—if it sells—can be put into print. And ideas are like gold. The first person there, the one who wrote so unique a book that a trend began, J.D. Rowling, say, with Harry Potter, that person may find the mother lode. But the rest of us, hoping to mine the same trend may well find ourselves climbing that bitter cold mountain pass into the Klondike only to discover we’ve arrived too late.

As for those reviews, whether comments from an agent, editor or reviewer, it’s good to back away until you can read with a cool editorial eye. What is the reviewer really saying? Sometimes, especially in the case of agent or editor, the problem may lie deeper than the one they’re pointing out. When you remove yourself from the sting of criticism, you may see that what is really needed is a different transition earlier in the story, or for two characters to be combined into one or for more action between bursts of dialogue.

To put this into story terms, it’s not the goat wandering into the midst of the story that’s wrong. What’s missing is the trail of produce tumbling from the back of the grocer’s cart that leads the goat into the scene.

The reviewer speaks from the peak of a mountain of previously read work. We may not agree, but we have to appreciate the experience behind the opinion.

If the review is good—and I’ve been blessed with good reviews on my new counting book, One Frog Sang—then I’ll type out the pertinent phrases. I want them above my computer, partly to remind me that I’ve done it once and can do it again. Mainly, I put the words up there as a check list for the next story.

For the frog book, I heard “fresh use of language that never feels forced,” something to remember when in the next picture book.

I also heard praise for “rhythm in the words without rhyme.” Sometimes rhythm falls naturally into a story, but look for phrases to catch the reader’s inner ear. Consider your material with the eye and ear of a parent asked to read the story over and over. Some stories never feel flat in rereading. I first realized this with Dr. Seuss’s wonderful McElligott’s Pool. I still enjoy rolling that story across my tongue.

       “‘Young man,’ said the farmer. ‘You’re sort of a fool.

        “You’ll never catch fish in McElligott’s Pool.’”

The rhythm rolls along, carrying you with it, not just the two words that do rhyme, but the tempo in the others.

I try to do this in my own voice and look for phrases that don’t rhyme but sound somewhat alike and are fun to say together: “The puddle in the middle of the path.” “Part of the bark on the tree.”

I love the way words can join hands in fresh ways to shape interesting images. After writing a story to capture the idea, I go over it again to deliberately select phrasing that will reflect who I am and give the words my voice.

There is danger in this. The phrase, “Never feels forced” should loom like a beacon to keep us from venturing away from the story path.

So get the words down. Then reread, asking yourself if the lines carry rhythm a parent will enjoy reading again and again. Sometimes, it helps to pencil the accent marks of poetic pentameter over your syllables to see where the emphasis hits. Does the story flow like a boat riding gentle ocean swells? Or does it become choppy here and there? Is a sentence too long or too short, in either case breaking the rhythm? You may need to rearrange the words.

Whether singing or writing, it all comes down to expressing our voice as an individual. Don’t resist reviews, whoever expresses them. The most cutting may be the most instructive. The most complimentary offers checks for future work. Study them all.

If the review is harsh, then maybe we haven’t succeeded in offering the voice we wanted the reader to hear. We can reject the review if we don’t agree. Even Simon Cowell isn’t always right.

“How do you feel about that?” asks Ryan Seacrest after the judges have praised or destroyed a contestant’s best effort. The contestant manages a smile and says, “I understand what they’re saying. If I’m given another chance, I’ll do better.”

And so will we. As long as we’re open to the possibility that the reviewer, whether cruel or complimentary has revealed instructive nuggets we can use.

        And between you and me—about Simon? I love the guy!