Forgotten Bestseller Secrets - Keep 'Em Reading: Lesson 07

REVAMPING NEW FROM OLD. Transmogrifying others’ work to update and repackage these — and so meet modern market needs.

Prominent writers have always used one single approach.

Almost every writer in history, regardless of fame, employs this technique:

Revamping or rehashing others’ work to update and repackage these — and so meet modern market needs.

Well-known books use familiar elements, drawn themselves from earlier books. A novel presentation puzzles the reader. He “stops to think,” as we say. And when he stops to think, the show is over. The common reader cannot solve a mystery and enjoy himself at the same time.

Popular literature uses familiar material. Folklore older than the hills forms the basis of modern hits.

Popular tales often embody common beliefs. By example, most people believe success comes from luck or outside help. That’s human nature. This also explains how imprisoned criminals seldom believe they deserve their sentence. And why few students believe their grades always reflect their work. Everyone imagines that, if only he had a better chance, he could succeed.

Most share this mindset. This also explains why the Cinderella story is still widely popular. Most readers don’t believe in fairy godmothers, or expect to marry princes.

The modern reader wants his Cinderella to be a modern young person he recognizes, wants the coach to be a limousine or an airplane, and expects the godmother to be a loving aunt.

The popular author rewrites the Cinderella story to suit the demands of the reader. You may prefer godmothers, wands, and princes. But that only means that you are thinking in terms of historic fiction. That doesn’t make you especially old-fashioned.

Prehistoric myths contained Cinderella stories long before inventing princes, fairy godmothers, and carriages. Your yarn is only a modern version of the caveman’s.

Popular fiction always lags behind the most advanced thinkers of the age. Non-fiction is always several strides ahead of fiction. Fiction uses familiar and emotionally-charged concepts to remain accessible.

Non-fiction remains factual, as technical advances require close concentration by the reader.

Controversies arise In any period as ideas change. Such controversies reflect societal tensions, not theory. Readers change their minds when ideas no longer “work” for them. And they embrace fads.

To the non-fiction reader, these ideas are practical matters — they adjust their thinking to the modern developments.

If a popular writer wishes to hold his public, he must keep up in such matters. Keeping a Victorian approach to love and marriage no longer works; readers have modern perspectives.

Writers need to stay current with their readership — in fiction, poetry, or drama. They can’t be too progressive nor too traditional. In fact, most successful fiction writers keep close watch upon the non-fiction ideas found in the magazines they write for.

In order to do this, they read all the non-fiction articles, all the editorials, and all the letters from readers printed in the magazine.

This keeps them informed about current controversies, notions, trends, and how far their readers have adopted new ideas.

People must update all popular literature as often as customs and ideas change. Since World War One, historians have rewritten almost all of our American history.

A successful writer masters the art of revamping old stories for a contemporary audience. Professional writers market expertise, not content. People have revised the greatest books in history most often.

Repeated revisions cater to changing public preference. And this brings us to this method updating existing works — revamping them, rehashing.

The Rehash

There is one caution here. Be sure you only rewrite, and never steal. The thing you must offer is skill. That is what you are contributing.

Objective rewriting of others’ work ensures only relevant details remain. Your own ideas tempt you to keep them during editing, even if they should get cut. But just as you edit someone else’s work, use those same stern methods. Always revise with a strict artistic conscience.

Invention, in the arts, is a cheap and tawdry thing compared to perfection. Most beginning writers ruin their first works because they do not perceive this.

Note that skilled dramatists often began their careers by adapting existing works. This is the only time-tested way to learn that difficult craft.

Shakespeare, Ibsen, and many prominent dramatists honed their skills by rewriting others’ works, either as playwrights or directors.

They considered their public, their actors, and their theater, discarding anything that didn’t meet their demands. They were artists first, last, and all the time.

Shakespeare was so adept that, when Marlowe’s mighty line and ranting heroes were the fashion, he outdid Marlowe with his Richard III. Later, when times changed and the public tired of ranting heroes, Shakespeare changed with them, and introduced his ranters as comic characters in Henry IV.

He turned the exaggerations of that style to delicious comedy. He met the demands of his public, and turned his tragic style inside out to make them laugh.

We cannot rival his work, but we can adopt his methods. Doing that, we may be artists too, up to the level of our talents. Again, artistic integrity demands complete fulfillment of art’s requirements. Rehashing others’ work improves your own technical mastery. The rewrite-man focuses on showcasing skill. Rehashing requires skill—and skill alone.

Since writers sell skill, it seems reasonable to reward those who deal only in skill. Dramatists likely earn more than other writers for this reason.

To hone this skill, choose an older model for practice. Rewrite it to satisfy the taste of contemporary readers. Match Poe’s shorter, lesser-known works to last month’s magazine horror story. How would you change Poe’s pattern, style, and length to suit today’s readers?

Compare two stories about the same event in today’s papers (a) as told in a conservative news outlet, (b) as written for the tabloids. Then rewrite a story from one paper, ignoring the other’s version. Then compare our own work with the actual news story in the other sheet.

You might take an old folk tale or fairy story, and rewrite it as you think Walt Disney might. Some of the Paul Bunyan yarns, for example, would give you practice. Mark Twain’s humor wouldn’t meet modern standards. Try adapting those passages to meet The New Yorker’s or Esquire’s editorial standards.

Social customs change, and stories must change with them. Every kind of writing that touches human life, modern science, or social ideas has changed with the times. You should practice the rehashing of such items, and so master contemporary technique.

Changes impact more than just ideas. Vocabularies, pace, emotional patterns change too. Change or remain unknown; your work will remain unseen and unsold.

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Many classic authors’ works provide ample rehashing opportunities to hone skills. You may (1) turn a short story into a one-act play, (2) a play into a short story, (3) make a scenario of some novel, or (4) turn an old myth into a poem. You may (5) make over a sonnet into a lyric in stanzas, or narrative poem.

Update a classic passage to reflect modern writing conventions. If you want to write historical novels, take one of Sir Walter Scott’s and rewrite it to read like a current best-seller.

Writing To Pattern: Methods.

Writing to Mechanical Pattern.

We call mechanical patterns “genre” in our modern day. Certain “tropes” and “obligatory scenes” are so commonplace that stories written from these become known as boilerplate. Huge studies and books trace these patterns. But our new age just fits terms to age-old conventions.

As example, one popular writer finds that a certain magazine, in which he wishes to appear, prefers stories of the length of 5000 words, that the stories contain only three major characters, that there are only five scenes in such a story, that the beginning is enticing, the end surprising, and the middle interesting.

He finds each page features either a kiss or a fight, nothing more, nothing less; the settings shift between glamorous, gritty, refined, etc. He finds that starting the story comprises three pages (Boy Meets Girl); that the middle contains only two pages (Boy Loses Girl) and that the end has only three pages (Boy Gets Girl). Every page contains an epigram, and the narrative, dialog, and drama proportions are 1:2:3, with description comprising only a small fraction of the narrative.

The writer, informed by the story, starts writing. He starts his story with three characters facing a familiar predicament, a clever opening. He gets a kiss or a fight on every page, provides the epigrams at the right places, and limits his description as his model did before him. And he ends up on word No. 5000 with a surprise finish. Thus he writes to his pattern, and likely produces something which the editor of that magazine recognizes as worth buying.

Daily, a prolific writer could create this type story and still play golf. Naturally, he must adhere to current trends. He cannot master one simple formula and then write to that for the rest of his life. Were that possible, his daily output could be three stories. But nowadays, competition is too keen to permit such slack methods.

I have put this matter in a primitive light to make it clear. Poorly-paid magazine writers are not the only ones who use this style. Every professional who hopes for a popular hearing must write to mechanical pattern in the main, whatever he may do, or whatever group he writes for. This skill distinguishes a successful professional writer. This skill is essential; he needs it like an architect needs drafting skills.

Writing To Emotional Pattern.

Every piece of writing (excepting mathematical treatises) produces a series of changes readers’ emotions. That is why readers read. Most find reading without emotional impact dull. Correct word, scene, situation, and subject counts are important — but a correct emotional arc trumps them all.

In considering this type of writing, toss aside any reservations you’ve developed while writing to mechanical pattern. For the greatest poets and masters of prose here join you here. They all practiced this method. We should duplicate their example to duplicate their success.

Good literature excites and presents emotions according to a specific rhythm and model. The emotional pattern is not one which some author creates on the fly.

Any author has to follow certain inherent laws and preferences from human nature, which govern emotional patterns.

In short, the reader provides the pattern. The writer provides the variations upon that pattern. Those necessary to bring out the peculiar qualities of his subject — and of his own personal expression.

Great writing connects through its audience’s emotions Without emotion, writing only to the mechanical pattern is dull work, and can prove disappointing.

But if you study models with an eye to the emotional pattern, you will not only master mechanical practices — because you understand what they accomplish — but you will share the creative spirit of the masters of literature.

Consider reader and character emotions. The reader’s purpose dictates the character’s emotions. Therefore, your concern is with the reader first. Only consider character feelings as reader cues, not the primary focus.

The emotional pattern follows this mechanical pattern. But it’s distinct from it. While similar, these two patterns aren’t exactly alike. A skilled artist, writing to emotional patterns, can build a masterpiece from a hackneyed plot.

Shakespeare transformed uninspired stories into brilliant comedies and tragedies, using almost the same structure. In short, as Dryden puts it, “‘the story is the least part.” The emotional pattern is the problem of the proper artist.

We don’t always see emotional patterns because the writer’s own emotions regarding the mechanical pattern prevent him from seeing other possible emotional patterns built upon it.

At the bottom of every story, you’ll find a sound mechanical pattern. Its superstructure is the emotional pattern. That is what makes it shine in literary circles.

In your reading, you must learn to distinguish mechanical pattern from emotional pattern, and to see how one stands upon the other.

When you read for technique or when you write, consider the mood and how you orchestrate the reader’s emotions. The mechanical pattern may appeal because of structural aesthetics, but lack emotional appeal (as in much modern music).

As you update a piece’s mechanical pattern, strive to allow the spirit of the fabric to express itself. Let your actual feeling come through. Then you will find yourself more than a builder — also an architect, an artist.

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The next question becomes – when do we know we’ve arrived?

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