Blog Series-Collaborative Book Writing

Note: The blogs posts in this series are reprinted. They were written for my guest blog at Writers of the Round Table. I'm working with Corey Blake, the company's president, on co-writing his book, and Corey asked me to contribute my weekly thoughts on what this process is like from my unique perspective. You can read the original posts, and read or post comments, here.

Corey's Story Adventure: From the Writer's Perspective

Hello! I’m the third member of Corey’s book-writing, storytelling, epiphany-creating team—Katie, the writer. Corey has asked me to contribute one blog per week describing our unique process from my point of view, and I’m happy to do it. The truth is that, to many, the writing part of this equation is quite mysterious. I’d like to shine some light. But, first, a little history.

Corey and I have been collaborating on projects since fall of 2007. That was when he hired me to proofread Robert Renteria’s wonderful book, From the Barrio to the Board Room. Because of the subject, Robert and Corey specifically wanted feedback from a Latino or Latina editor. I fit this bill, and I was also thrilled to work with and support a project—a cause—by a fellow Latino. That brief project (the proofreading took maybe two weeks) quickly parlayed into dozens of small assignments and several large ones, including writing two books with The Table. In the last two years, Corey and I have established mutual respect and trust. He’s one of the most fun and brilliant people I’ve had the pleasure of working with!

Now for his book: He approached me several months ago about the possibility of co-writing his own book, his own story. This is a big deal. For a guy who spends his life helping others tell their stories, and championing those tales to the world, telling his own was never going to be a light undertaking. I knew he’d give the process the same dedication and fire he brings out in his clients, and I was honored and excited to be a part of it.

My calls with Corey and Annie Hart, our story guide, are different every week. Mostly, I listen as Annie leads Corey into telling the stories that compel him most in that moment. Sometimes I’ll ask questions, if the answers won’t get too tangential; otherwise, I’ll bite my need for detail back and insert those questions in the manuscripts I send Corey each week. But the cool thing in these calls is that they’re rarely what any of us expect. The only real structure is a deliberate unstructure, a kind of stream-of-consciousness storytelling that Annie always maintains invisible hold over. Because we’re all creative people and we’ve all been a part of this process before, we’re rarely bothered by the seeming lack of concrete goals; instead, we enjoy the stories and realizations that are made this way. Of course, there are times when we feel we’ve gone off track, even if we haven’t, but we trust in our process and our guide.

Here’s where I’d like to talk about the writing—but this post is long already! So I think I’ll leave you hanging here, but next week, come back to see what new discoveries we’ve made, and what it’s like to translate oral storytelling to the written word . . . and all the beautiful complications that arise in the process!

Comments (0) 06.01.2010. 12:17

Collaborative Book Writing: The 3 Levels of Powerful Storytelling

Corey, Annie, and I had a great call today. After chatting for a few minutes on everything from colds to hypnosis, we got down to business. Corey was feeling compelled to talk about a ghostwriting project that had stretched and challenged him from multiple standpoints: business, creative, emotional, and financial. As I listened, I tried to figure out how the story would translate to writing. Though the story was engaging, it was really only skimming the surface, which doesn’t fly with the written word. Then Annie, mindreader that she is, paused the conversation. In her nurturing but firm way, she guided Corey to push beyond surface-level exposition and reveal the emotional depth of the story. I thought, Ah! That’s just what I needed! Sure enough, we got to the bruised softness of the story’s core, and Corey was excited to be making new revelations about the experience.

This call made me think about what I’ll call the three levels of powerful storytelling: exposition, emotion, and scene. See, a mediocre story will be all exposition:

“I went to the mall to buy a sweater for my dad. I had to go to four stores before I found one I liked—and even then, it had a stain right under the armpit! I haggled with the salesperson and got ten percent off. I’ll clean off the stain before giving the sweater to Dad.”

A better one will include emotion, and emotion changes the story:

“I remember how my dad used to buy the softest sweaters for me when I was young. They made me feel safe and loved, like nothing could hurt me. Now that he’s sick, I want to give him the softest sweater I can find. So I went to the mall…”

But a powerful one will also have scene:

“At Macys, the perky holiday music seemed to fade as I sifted through the sweaters on the shelf. The nice charcoal-colored one was too wooly; I rubbed my fingers over the collar and imagined it itching my dad’s neck. The crimson one was soft but thin, too thin; it wouldn’t keep him warm. Then I found it: thick, warm, soft cashmere in deep blue, the color of Dad’s eyes. I held it against my cheek and smiled. He’d love this one.”

Okay, I’m not claiming literary merit for these little pieces, but you can see how the story changes with each level added. This is the challenge for the team as we move forward with Corey’s book. We have the exposition—the experiences themselves—and we have the emotion. But I think that, as we start fitting pieces together, we’ll see the need for more scene. I think (at least I hope!) it’ll be fun for Corey, though. To challenge his memory and pull out the scenic details that will bring his experiences and lessons alive for readers.

Onward!

Comments (0) 06.01.2010. 12:16

Collaborative Book Writing: A Story Needs a Voice

From the Writer’s Perspective: A Story Needs a Voice

Let’s be more clear: A story needs the right voice. In the case of Corey’s book, which I’m co-writing, it needs Corey’s voice. Not mine, not some vague idea of what a creative executive should sound like, not an imitation of similar books out there (if there were any)—not any of these; it needs Corey’s voice.

A couple of years ago, before I was a full-time professional writer and editor, I sent a few of my fiction and narrative nonfiction pieces out to literary magazines. I was prepared for rejection, just as all writers should be. So imagine my surprise when, just a few days later, I found an acceptance letter in my e-mail! My short narrative nonfiction piece had been accepted by a top-tier magazine. I was in happy, dazed shock. But then came the editing. To make a long story short, my piece was published, but its voice sounds less like me and more like the editor, who appreciated Hemingway’s minimalist style versus, say, Morrison’s lush prose. While I’m proud that the piece is in this magazine, I feel unsettled when I read its published version; truth be told, I still like mine better.

That’s a feeling I never want Corey to have. After that experience, which was by no means traumatizing—simply educational—I learned the importance of capturing and preserving the right voice in stories. Fortunately, Corey has a fantastic storytelling voice, as anyone who has heard him speak knows. The trick is in taking that voice and the stories it relates on the phone each week, and interpreting them both for the written word. See, oral storytelling and written storytelling are slightly different. When you’re reading a book, the words need to somehow capture the emotion that you can hear when somebody’s voice trembles or cracks or rises in flash of anger or elation. I wish I could say there’s a foolproof way of doing this, there’s not. And I’m glad. Formulas are great for math and science, but writing is magic, alchemy. So I do my best to capture the essence of Corey’s voice and rely on him to tell me how on or off the mark I am. All I can say is, I hope I’m more often on than off!

Comments (0) 06.01.2010. 12:12