In the beginning was the word. And ever since an unknown monk penned "Beowulf," authors of all sorts have agonized over lazy agents, cranky editors, acid-tongued critics and writer's block.
Whether creating poems, short stories or novels, many authors would agree with English wordsmith George Orwell "Writing is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness."
Or, maybe they'd prefer French novelist George Simenon, who said, "Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness."
Yet, most confess to a lifelong fascination - an obsession as ingrained as a birthmark - to wrestle language into perfect nuggets of self-expression.
They say they write from an inexplicable marriage of genetic disposition and social conditioning.
A sampling of successful local authors reveals origins and personalities with virtually nothing in common but an indefinable urge to write.
Alan Feldman, 56, has been writing poetry since reading Robert Frost as a teenager and deciding he could do better.
Don Lee, a third generation Korean-American, was a "late bloomer," only starting to write award-winning short stories in his 20s.
A 34-year-old Framingham native, Christopher Golden has already written 48 popular mysteries, science fiction and horror novels.
Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, a college freshman from Concord, has published three popular gothic novels that've earned her comparisons to Anne Rice.
Roses are red
How do they do it?
Go to Blackfish Creek off Wellfleet any summer where Alan Feldman might be mid-wifing a poem in the solitude of his 23-foot sailboat.
"When I was young, I used to write on anything, paper towels, vomit bags," said the Framingham resident who teaches at Harvard and Framingham State College. "For me, a poem has always been that mysterious way of saying something in sounds and rhythm."
Feldman suspects he was born to write with an ear for music - "really susceptible" to the sounds of language.
He recalled visiting Rome as a 7-year-old with his parents and seeing his mother, a literary scholar, weep at poet John Keats' grave.
Born in Long Island, Feldman traveled a then-familiar route for would-be writers.
He edited his high school journal, attended Columbia University to study under literary giant Lionel Trilling and published his first poems and short stories as an undergraduate.
"Then I had to face up to the world and make a living," he said.
Over the last three decades, Feldman has taught English and writing to feed his family, retreating to his boat and study to pen his poems.
In the beginning was the word. And ever since an unknown monk penned "Beowulf," authors of all sorts have agonized over lazy agents, cranky editors, acid-tongued critics and writer's block.
Whether creating poems, short stories or novels, many authors would agree with English wordsmith George Orwell "Writing is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness."
Or, maybe they'd prefer French novelist George Simenon, who said, "Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness."
Yet, most confess to a lifelong fascination - an obsession as ingrained as a birthmark - to wrestle language into perfect nuggets of self-expression.
They say they write from an inexplicable marriage of genetic disposition and social conditioning.
A sampling of successful local authors reveals origins and personalities with virtually nothing in common but an indefinable urge to write.
Alan Feldman, 56, has been writing poetry since reading Robert Frost as a teenager and deciding he could do better.
Don Lee, a third generation Korean-American, was a "late bloomer," only starting to write award-winning short stories in his 20s.
A 34-year-old Framingham native, Christopher Golden has already written 48 popular mysteries, science fiction and horror novels.
Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, a college freshman from Concord, has published three popular gothic novels that've earned her comparisons to Anne Rice.
Roses are red
How do they do it?
Go to Blackfish Creek off Wellfleet any summer where Alan Feldman might be mid-wifing a poem in the solitude of his 23-foot sailboat.
"When I was young, I used to write on anything, paper towels, vomit bags," said the Framingham resident who teaches at Harvard and Framingham State College. "For me, a poem has always been that mysterious way of saying something in sounds and rhythm."
Feldman suspects he was born to write with an ear for music - "really susceptible" to the sounds of language.
He recalled visiting Rome as a 7-year-old with his parents and seeing his mother, a literary scholar, weep at poet John Keats' grave.
Born in Long Island, Feldman traveled a then-familiar route for would-be writers.
He edited his high school journal, attended Columbia University to study under literary giant Lionel Trilling and published his first poems and short stories as an undergraduate.
"Then I had to face up to the world and make a living," he said.
Over the last three decades, Feldman has taught English and writing to feed his family, retreating to his boat and study to pen his poems.
Asked to advise young poets, Feldman said, "First, be sure your poem is finished to your satisfaction and you believe in it. Then, treat it like a lottery ticket and merchandise it to the kind of literary magazine where you'd like to see it.
"Be brave and send it out to the world without fear of rejection," he added.
When submitting poetry, Feldman urged young writers to follow the "rigid, well-known protocol" by sending no more than five or six poems to each magazine, always including a stamped, self-addressed envelope for possible rejection notices. "You don't call them," he said. "And you don't pester."
Even with the three volumes of poetry in print, another on the way and various awards, Feldman cautioned beginning writers, "The odds are very small you'll get published anywhere. With poetry, it's very unlikely you'll make any money."
Reaching the majors
A short story writer who edits a prestigious literary magazine, Lee understands the difficult standards writers must satisfy to be published.
He wrote 15 drafts of the stories that went into his critically-acclaimed collection, "Yellow."
"It's more fun to have written than to have to write," he said. "Most people don't know how difficult the art of writing is."
When editing Ploughshares, Lee sees himself as a sort of "literary scout" for "Triple A" writers trying to make the big leagues.
"We used to be more nurturing with younger writers. But, now, we're getting 1,000 submissions a month and, basically, looking for things that are set to go," he said.
Lee described as outdated the idea of a self-taught "tortured" artist delivering a masterpiece of a manuscript to a publisher without an agent or track record. Today, most novelists follow a more "standard template" that includes an English degree, a master's in creative writing and attendance at workshops.
They submit short stories to small journals and then literary magazines.
While working toward a novel, they hire a literary agent to get their foot in the door with a publisher.
Lee cautioned that literary workshops only do so much toward improving the mechanics of writing and are no substitute for the "originality of voice" publishers seek.
"My feeling is if you have some kind of talent, you can become competent. But no program will make you a great technical writer," he said.
Lee described writing programs as a "necessary evil" that teach a standard repertoire of techniques that potentially stifle or even destroy the individual style an author needs.
Too many would-be writers are drawn to an idealized picture of an artist's life, even though they can't meet the craft's exacting standards, he said.
"Everyone you meet believes they have a story in them. Everyone knows the alphabet so they think they can write," he said.
Only half joking, Lee said after 20 years practice he's still a terrible guitar player with "no expectation" of cutting a record others want to hear.
So why do so many people of modest talent want to write?
Lee frets "a whole industry" has grown around writing programs and workshops "exploiting people's desires" to get published.
"When writing, people are looking for immediate gratification. But that doesn't mean fame and success will follow. A lot of people get caught up in the business of writing almost to the exclusion of craft. It seems the writing isn't as important as the notoriety," Lee said. "People get preoccupied with everything but writing. To be a writer, you have to write."
The write stuff
Christopher Golden has been writing continuously since junior high, publishing a prodigious body of work, totaling 48 popular mysteries, science fiction and horror novels, some in collaboration with other authors.
"I'm a story teller. I write what's lovingly referred to as popular fiction," he said. "I want my readers to be swept away, to laugh, be anxious and, if possible, to cry."
His newest novel, available on May 7, "The Ferry Man," concerns a woman who has a near-death experience in which she meets Charon, the mythical boatman of hell who falls in love with her and follows her back to Medford.
Golden questions the motives of so-called "literary" writers.
"People who set out to write literary fiction, by the nature of what they're doing, are endeavoring to impress themselves and readers by doing something on a mechanical level that's more about architecture than aesthetics," he said.
While Golden said he's more likely to be compared to horror masters like Stephen King than "literary" novelist John Updike, he's won the Bram Stoker award for a critical study of horror films and is presently short-listed for another.
And unlike Feldman and Lee who must teach and edit for their livings, Golden supports his family from his writings.
While a voracious reader as a child and college English major like many other writers, he rejects the idea of a standard path to literary success.
"Writers are like snowflakes. Nobody follows the same route," Golden said. "My story sort of proves that point."
The best advise he received came when he asked agent Lori Perkins to read 125 pages of his first unpublished novel.
"She said there was too much mechanics and too little voice and rhythm," Golden recalled.
Perkins told him to read E.B. White's "The Elements of Style" to tighten his language and start over.
After rewriting the story "with a new ear," Golden published his first novel.
He advised beginning writers, "Read as much as you can. Write as much as you can. Getting a good agent to sell their novel is more than half the battle."
When publishers receive unsolicited manuscripts not represented by an agent, they generally send them to what's known as "the slush pile," where they're only read by lowly interns.
Golden has mixed feelings about writing workshops. "Try it once. If it works for you, it's great," he said.
But for young writers interested in sci-fi and horror fiction, he suggested they attend conventions devoted to the genre, where they can meet successful writers.
Beginning writers fail, Golden said, for a few basic reasons.
"Some just don't have the skill. Some have skill but lack the discipline to hone it," he said. "Some are wonderfully talented but don't have the courage."
"Fearful symmetry"
Getting started has never bothered Amelia Atwater-Rhodes.
An 18-year-old UMass freshmen who completed her junior and senior requirements at Concord-Carlisle High in one year, she'll soon publish her fourth novel, "Midnight Predator."
Atwater-Rhodes remembers dictating stories at age 3 for her cousin to write.
"I have a powerful imagination and need a way to express myself," she said. "I just never stopped pretending."
Atwater-Rhodes was inspired by a William Blake poem to begin a story about vampires in the seventh grade that eventually became her first novel.
With virtually no guidance, the then 16-year-old Concord resident bought several guides to publishing and studied how to write query letters and get a copyright.
After receiving rejections from three agents she'd asked to promote her novel, Atwater-Rhodes showed her work to Concord-Carlisle English teacher Thomas Hart, who worked part-time representing writers.
Eight months later, he came back with an offer from Random House to publish "Forest of the Night." Two other novels followed.
With her fourth novel about to go into print, Atwater-Rhodes said every writer follows their own road to publication.
But looking back, she considers it important to have an agent who'll promote your work and protect your interests.
"I tell my fans, 'Make sure you really want to get published. Finish your book. Don't stall because you're young,' " Atwater-Rhodes said. "Start with what you love. And don't get discouraged if you don't get published right away. That's not how it works."
