Harnessing the Power of the Six Core Competencies
One of the most illuminating things I’ve done in my career is the reading and evaluation of unpublished manuscripts. It’s like watching the auditions for American Idol on television, but without the belly laughs.
You can spot the finalists in about three seconds. The whole package is right there from the very first note. But unlike that show, there’s nothing funny about someone’s dream coming up short.
Frankly, it depresses me. Because, unlike some of those wannabe singers, there’s almost always something worthy in every manuscript I’ve read.
What that writer didn’t realize, though, is that to get the story published, there must be six somethings that are not only worthy, but are executed with solid craft.
And that at least one of them must leap off the page as extraordinary.
Why You Keep Getting Rejected
It boils down to this: you get rejected because one or more – and often it’s more – of the six core competencies of successful storytelling come up short in your manuscript. Even if the agent or editor doesn’t call them by the same names, or even recognize a short list of six categories at all. Doesn’t matter, because if they bother to really tell you why, you’ll quickly see that their rationale for rejecting you resides in one of those six buckets.
Chances are, though, they won’t tell you. They’ll say something like, it’s just not right for us at this time, or it doesn’t fit with our needs. Or some other polite form of bullshit that smacks of the same chilly dismissal.
Pure and simple, it means your book didn’t make the cut. Because their needs are for books that do. What’s right for them at this time is a story that works. A story with home run potential.
Good just isn’t good enough anymore. It’s a commodity, it appears on their desk every day.
They are looking for something more. Something better than good.
Just as pure and simple, this defines what you must do to get published.
Here it is: you must deliver a story that is rock solid on all of the six core competencies. Yes, all six of them.
And, you must deliver a story with at least one of them leaping off the page, grabbing the reader by the throat and demanding that it be given an audience.
Gut check time: does your story deliver on all each of the core competencies at a professional level? If it does, then your story is good. And, does one of them smack of pure, uncompromised genius? If it does, then you have a very real shot at getting published.
Now you know. And frankly — fortunately for you, not so much for those who don’t — you are in a minority.
Why You Have to Be Better Than Good
You’ve heard me say here that the criteria for published authors, at least ones already on the roster at a publishing house, are different than those that apply to manuscripts submitted by the rest of us.
Here’s what that means. Those authors can submit something that lacks in one or more of the six core competencies. How can they get away with that? Because they already have a contract, and/or an established brand name. Because the publisher will work with them to fix it.
If Caleb Carr turns in a manuscript with a dull concept and a one dimensional character with no arc, if it’s just a story of his drinking days at the frat house with no plot, do you think he gets a rejection slip? Not on your life. What he gets is an army of junior editors assigned to make his stuff palatable.
You and me? We get a xeroxed letter telling us to find something else to do with our time.
Our submitted drafts have to be better than Caleb Carr’s. Or any other established author, for that matter.
So how do we ever know?
It begins by being aware of what the six core competencies even are. Each of them have solid and clear criteria, against which you can compare your work.
One of three things will result from that process:
- Best case – you recognize what isn’t good enough yet, and you fix it.
- Next best case – you aren’t sure, so you dig deeper, study the craft, and get feedback from readers you trust, preferably someone who does understand where the bar is for each of the six core competencies. You don’t settle.
Settling may just be the number one explanation for rejection.
- Worst case – you don’t get it, you don’t care, or you’re damn sure that one of your six core competencies is so strong that it’ll make up for any softness in the others, which you aren’t recognizing anyway. And you’ll be wrong about that.
Here’s a short refresher on what qualifies as a solid core competency. Remember, you need all six to work, and to break into the business you’ll need at least one of them to be other-worldly original and brilliant.
You need a story concept that creates a platform for a compelling story. The idea itself gets attention because it’s a fresh take on a powerful notion. Your uncle’s adventures as a cost accountant, that’s probably not it, unless it’s hilarious and comes off as a social parody with punch. Good luck with that. Just another romance or whodunit, that’s not it, either. Odds are the editor reading your manuscript has rejected six of those today already, and before reaching page 20. The idea at the core of The DaVinci Code, that’s genius.
You need a rich, deeply empathetic character that makes us want to spend the next 20 hours with them. Someone we can root for, perhaps even like, someone with whom we’d like to share a vicarious journey. Harry Potter — the epitome of backstory — that’s genius.
You need a theme, or themes, that anchor the story to our reality on an emotional level. That makes us feel and think and remember. That’s about something, an issue, an aspect of life. The Lovely Bones, that’s genius.
You need proper story structure. Not any old structure, you can’t just make up your own sequence for the unfolding of your tale. Things need to happen in certain places, at certain times, with very precise milestones separating the four contextual phases of your story. Examples abound. See the movie An Education, that’s genius. Watch The Island, more structural genius. Read about it in my ebook, that’s genius, too. Or so I’m told.
You need scene execution that snaps, crackles and pops. Scenes that cut to the chase, that unfold as a dramatic microcosm with a combination of efficient power and deft nuance. Scenes that create pace, demonstrate character, that without exception deliver a necessary piece of narrative information. Scenes with a mission. See the opening of Tarantino’s current flick, Ingloureous Bastards, that’s genius. Or the Russian roulette scene from The Deer Hunter, that’s off-the-charts genius.
And finally – though not remotely supremely – you need a solid writing voice. An uncluttered, light and nuanced style that serves the story, rather than your need to show the world that you are eloquent. Your writing needs a personality, not a billboard. Overwriting is the death of your dream. Colin Harrison, Nelson Demille, Joyce Carol Oates, John Updike, Stephen King, Michael Connelly – insert the name of your favorite author here – about a hundred others… they’re all genius.
And know this — the collective body of rejected manscripts since the invention of printed pages is chock-full of wonderful writing voices. Because getting published isn’t about that. It’s about storytelling.
Of course, when it comes to agents and editors, genius is in the eye of the beholder, so we roll the dice, we take our chances. But don’t make the mistake of trying too hard with your writing voice, less is more. If you doubt that, read Elmore Leonard.
When you find exceptions to these six things in published work – and you will – remember that they’re from authors with a brand name, which is perhaps the most powerful core competency of all. They don’t have to be extraordinarily solid in each of the areas. People read DeMille, for example, because he’s funny and he delivers great heroes, and they forgive occasional softness (like the ending of Nightfall, which has the most heinous deus ex machina in the history of commercial fiction) because he’s, well Nelson DeMille.
Rest assured, agents and editors won’t extend you that same courtesy.
Be solid. Be perfect. Nail down all six of the core competencies. And be extraordinary in at least one of them. That’s how you get published.
Next up, Part 4: It Isn’t About Your Voice. It’s About Your Story (a post that picks up where today leaves off on that issue).
If you’d like a jumpstart on understanding story structure, give my ebook a try — Story Structure – Demystified. Also, there are posts on each of the other core competencies here on Storyfix… consult the Archives to find ‘em.
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{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Larry, another fantastic how-to. While I know I desperately need more instruction, information, something on things like theme and concept, I’ve grown leaps and bounds in understanding story and structure. I’m still figuring out my voice. It changes from piece to piece, depending on what I’m writing.
In this vein, I have a question. Do all these rules apply to literary fiction as much as to genre or commercial fiction? I know a fellow wannabe who says the only elements they consistently have in their stories is a beginning, middle and end. I didn’t know if the story structure aspect (because all the other core competencies are universal to writing) applied just to commercial fiction or if the same rules apply to literary fiction.
Thanks again for this site, and the information you’re sharing with all of us seeking that brass ring on the publishing carousel. Which is mounted on the highest of buildings. We sure needed this safety line.
@Dane – great question, one I get asked a lot. And, one that really challenges me. Because the answer is, always, no matter who issues it, just an opinion.
First off, I don’t agree with your friend who says that the only “principles” that apply to “literary” fiction is to have a beginning, middle and an end. You also need a concept and some strong themes, not to mention a VERY solid writing voice, because these are the fundamentals of “literary” fiction.
But do we need a concept? Do we need structure? Do we still need effective scenes? Answers: yes, yes and yes. Can a “literary” story take liberty with the basics I advocate here? They can.
But here’s the deal: these principles still can and often DO apply. You can make your story as “literary” as you please with these principles, simply by making the story character-driven, thematically strong and delivered with a lyric writing voice. Is “The Cider House Rules” by John Irving a “literary” novel, or is it commercial? It follows my rules of structure (“mine” only in terms of how I describe it, I didn’t invent it, that’s for sure), and yet, it crosses over, it succeeds in both camps.
You can play loose with structure in a “literary” novel, but only to some extent. You still need dramatic tension, and you still need a hero on a quest of some sort, even if the proportions aren’t quite the same as they should be in more commericial work. But if you want a wider audience, then you violate these principles at your own peril.
I appreciate your kind words, and your support. Hope this addresses your question.
Larry,
It does address my question and then some, thank you so much. I actually expressed myself incorrectly by not stating I knew the theme, concept and scene-writing must be excellent regardless of literary or genre base. Sorry about that; but having you lay it out like that makes it all very clear indeed.
I’ve struggled learning to make a story character-driven instead of plot-driven, and with little success. But knowing where things should go in the overall structure seems like it should help a lot, whether writing for a literary audience or a commercial one.
Thank you so much for the great answer. I look forward to seeing what comes next.
@Dane — if I may, allow me to add a thought or two about how to make a story “character-driven.”
If you’ve delved deeply into my stuff here on Storyfix, you know that great characters always square off with two types of conflict: inner demons and exterior antagonism (the bad guys). In a character-driven story, the emphasis and primary source of dramatic tension is the former — the “journey” is mostly about, first and foremost, how the character will overcome those things within them that hold them back from what they want.
To see this in play, go see the current movie, “Brothers” with Toby McGuire. It’s very character driven, it’s all about the hero’s inner conflict. You’ll get the idea very quickly.
Let me know what you think. L.
I just submitted to a publisher that asked for a 1-3 paragraph synopsis. I was stumped. How do you summarize a 300 page book in three paragraphs? When I sat down with a pen and paper I realized I had everything I needed because of my story structure. In paragraph one I introdouced the two main characters. Paragraph two, I explained PP#1 and Mid point. Paragraph 3 I explained PP#2 and the resolution.
Thank you, I don’t think I could have done it without knowing structure.
Wonderful insight and advice. I’m writing a short story now, and will take this information to heart. And after that? Time to evaluate my narrative non-fiction using this as a guide. As has been said before, thank you for sharing.
Ah, sooo much catching up to do in the archives, but it’s good to be home. Apart from the practical common sense over here that keeps us real, you have a writing voice made for delivering inspirational talks, one that inspires and lifts hearts, and makes this whole business feel do-able. It’s a gift to be relished and I’m glad you’re sharing it.