A Conversation with Daniel Jones

How timely that the February 4th release of Daniel Jones's book Love Illuminated not only coincides with the 10-year anniversary of his renowned New York Times's “Modern Love” column, but also with the fêted Valentine's holiday. The book is a search to find the connections - the themes and trends - among the 50,000 stories that have crossed his desk over the years, and will no doubt offer some enlightening insights.

I had the pleasure of speaking with him last week about his new book, as well as his experience editing the ML column over the years. It was a treat to hear his perspective on everything from the rise of the personal essay to his own editing and creative writing process. You can read my full conversation with him below.


Daniel Jones has edited the Modern Love column in the Sunday Styles section of the New York Times since its inception in October 2004. His books include two essay anthologies, Modern Love and The Bastard on the Couch, and a novel, After Lucy, which was a finalist for the Barnes & Noble Discover Award. His writing has appeared in several publications, including the New York Times, Elle, Parade, Real Simple, and Redbook. He lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, with his wife, writer Cathi Hanauer, and their two children.

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Karin: Tell me about your new book, Love Illuminated, and how it came to be.

Daniel Jones: This book was really a search for me to figure out what I knew, because I felt like I'd been doing this [Modern Love] column for years and years, and every once in a while I would sort of stand up and look around at what I'd done and what I'd read. I'd write, on an annual basis, an editor's observations column on Valentine's Day. I did that about five or six times. And I'd try to make sense in very few words - I think those columns were 1500 to 1700 words - of trends, and you know, entertaining asides. And I felt like I wanted to do that in a bigger way, and really try to understand what I'd learned about what people are doing and what's different. I didn't feel like I could do that unless I wrote a book. Because people would always ask me about it, and they would say, “You must be in a position where you ought to know something about this.” I felt like I was in that position, and I didn't know. So yeah, this book was to answer that.

It was a great experience, actually being able to see themes and how technology was changing relationships, what online dating was doing and how people who were having affairs were rationalizing them according to certain lines of argument. Those sorts of themes and trends started to emerge from the material, and that was a satisfying process.

How has the Modern Love column changed and evolved over ten years?

I think it has evolved in several ways. In the beginning we didn't quite know what the content of the column would be, other than it would be broadly about relationships. I remember we discussed what the name would be, and I was actually the one who suggested “Modern Love” and part of the intent was for it to be broad enough that we wouldn't be hemmed in just to romantic stories that were just about romantic love. I just worried about its longevity. How is this thing going to last if you limit the focus of what you're running essays on? So I interpreted that pretty broadly. At the beginning there was an eagerness about covering certain topics, and having a representative sample of experiences. It seemed wide open, but we wanted the column to represent a bunch of different things and get experiences out there that we thought people would want to read about and that would be eye-opening in one way or another. I wanted to shape readers' perceptions of what this column could be.

That has completely changed. I feel like so many different kinds of stories have run, there is a real freedom now in not feeling like I have to define the column anymore. People know what the range is now, and I feel that I can run things that are offbeat in one way or another or that barely fit under the umbrella of Modern Love, or as far as that umbrella can extend. If you have 12 essays and you're starting a column, those 12 essays are really important in terms of what you're saying. But if you have 500 essays, each one becomes less important in terms of how it's going to shift the perception of what you're doing. So that's a freedom. I feel I can just go after strong, varied material wherever it goes. And so many topics have been covered way beyond what I ever expected I could dream about getting.

Do you have a philosophy or opinion about why the personal essay and personal narrative in general has become so popular? It seems to be more than just a trend.

It's enduring, isn't it?

Young people are writing - people who are in college or in their 20s - with social media and blogging and all these phases that we've gone through. So much of it is about writing about yourself with a sense of audience. I don't think anyone my age or within 15 years of my age - I'm 51 - had that sense growing up, that you had an audience for your experiences. And my own kids who are high school age, wherever they go... or whatever trip they go on... or whatever they're thinking, they can post it and have an audience for it. And, I think, it's not fictional. It's not a fictional mindset. It's a “I've-done-this-and-now-you-guys-can-respond-to-it” kind of mindset. I don't know if that's the main influence, but I think it can't help but be an influence. People are experiencing things, and as they're experiencing them, they want to know what the response is. And it seems to me that that leads into personal essay writing. It's a much more difficult form than posting on Facebook, but I think a lot of the impulse might be the same.

Also, people had timed the rise of the memoir to pre-911 and post-911. I don't feel like I've figured that one out, but there was a lot of talk that that kind of jolt of reality somehow gave a boost to non-fiction, because you're facing things that are difficult. And people assumed that fiction wasn't as urgent enough in that way. I don't know, but that was another influence back then.

What do you look for in an essay submission? What for you are the key ingredients of a compelling story or personal essay?

It's very hard to answer. But a lot of it has to do with, not enough people writing personal essay realize that it can't just be a summarized story from your life. It has to employ the tools of drama that a reader needs - have scenes and dialogue - and the narrator needs to be transported from one place to a new understanding by the end. And hopefully some of that will be shown through scene and dialogue, instead of just told. People consider nonfiction writing or essay writing similar to journal writing, but journal writing is often just that summary style where you're getting it down. So much of what I get that doesn't work, even if it's good writing, is the 'this happened, then this happened, and then this happened' kind of storytelling where you're really just telling a summary of whatever you've just been through, and you're not really shaping into something that has a sense of plot or drama about it.

Beyond that, I think a tone - or a voice - that expresses curiosity rather than judgment or intelligence that you're trying to get down to the page. It's usually a curious but smart voice that works in these essays, someone who has been humbled by experience and is generously sharing that. A lot of material I get that doesn't work can be show-offy, in sort of a trying to be funny. Oh, a typical essay I get is “the long list of losers that I've gone out with.” That has to be really well done to work and not many people do it that well. It's a stance of “I'm better than all these people” and “these people are all nuts!” You don't want to hear people rant on about stuff like that.

You mentioned that you've become a better editor over the years. In what way?

In the early days, these could be difficult essays to edit - very personal stories where you're asking very personal questions and changing peoples' words in ways that cause conflict. That I almost never have anymore. Most of it is that I've gotten better at being able to talk through an essay and probe for more material, or whatever, in ways that are just professional. I don't feel like it is a fraught process anymore, and maybe that comes across to the writer. It's just like, “This is what we need to do,” and it's just a smooth, smooth process. I've learned what's missing in an essay and how to ask for it. I've learned how to write in material based on an interview with a writer, and have them massage it into their style. So that editorial process is probably the most easy and fun part of the job at this point. The hardest is saying “no” all day long and having to write an explanation to someone I would owe an explanation to about why a piece doesn't work. There's an art to that that I don't think one ever quite masters.

How do you work with the writers? Are most essays you accept pretty much “there” when they're submitted?

It's certainly nice to get a piece that is close, and that just requires cutting. The piece I'm working on right now, which is for mid-February is a piece that was 1800 words, really perfectly written from start to finish, and it's just trying to find 300 words to take out. It's just not very hard. It doesn't require a lot of back and forth.

But the essays that I've worked on in the past year - and I work on a lot - were really good stories or powerful perspectives that I wanted to run, but they needed work. And it wasn't that I felt I was doing a person a favor, it was just that, “This is a really good story and I want to get it in, and we're going to go back and forth on this enough times that it gets into that shape.”

But it is true that in the first years of doing the column, when I didn't have this sort of glut of material, I would do a ton of work on something. There was a piece that I ran that someone recommended - a writer that he'd been teaching in a workshop and she was working on this 5,000 word essay. And I had to take a 5,000 word essay and cut it down to a 1,700 word essay. And that was a lot of work. It was worth it and I learned from it, but I would never do that these days. If something comes in over 1,800 words, I just say, “You didn't read the guidelines.” It would really have to be good and close for me to take it on.

As far as your own book, Love Illuminated, can you describe what your writing process was like? How did you find the structure for it?

This is the first nonfiction book I've written from start to finish. I had a novel that came out in 2000, and the process of writing that was like the famous quote, that writing a novel is like driving a car at night where you can only see as far as your headlights shine, but you can make the whole trip that way. I didn't know what was more than 30 feet ahead of me and I just kept writing that way forward and I didn't jump ahead, I just kept writing forward.

Love Illuminated, I felt, needed a structure. The real challenge with this book for me was, “What can I say about this that hasn't been said a million times?” and “What can I bring to it that another writer on this subject matter couldn't?” It seemed to me I had all these stories - both published and unpublished - that I could draw upon and I had my own experience, my own marriage and all of that as material, to the point where I ought to be able to see trends in it and how was I going to compile that into a book? 

I made several attempts. I have a very blunt agent who is not afraid to say, “What were you thinking?” and I had a couple of stabs at book ideas that just were not right and mostly based on what I thought a book like this needed to be, based on what I'd read and gone to the shelves in Barnes and Noble and saw what people were writing about. And my agent, she was very good at saying, “This has to be a book that you would want to write, put the other models out of your mind.”

It didn't really come to me until I wrote what became the first words of the introduction to the book, which was: “Let's start with a quiz.” You know, so many of these books start with quizzes, and they're serious. They have a quiz, and if you answer a quiz in a certain way, then you get a score and it means something. It just seemed sort of ridiculous to me. But I thought, if I were to start with a quiz... and I'd write that sentence in a wry way instead of an earnest way... what would that quiz be? And what were the questions? Everything that I get - all these essays I get - are not answers, but they're all questions that are like, “How do I figure this out?” and “What am I supposed to do about this?” So I thought, what would be the 10 questions that would be most representative of all the stories I read? And I came up with those 10 questions really pretty quickly. And those 10 questions were the themes that were sort of the progression of love in someone's life from start to finish. And within each of those themes were stories that represented situations, trends and all of that; and it was just a matter of going to chapter to chapter and stitching all of that together, and trying to say things that were smart and funny about them, and use examples so that people would have stories to latch onto that would demonstrate what I was talking about. It was really hard for the first few chapters, and then it got easier and easier and easier, and by the end it felt very natural. I had to go back to the earlier chapters and try to get that easier style back into the material that had been over-worked.

How did you juggle your job as the Editor of Modern Love with writing your book? Did you write at night and off hours?

No, I couldn't. I could only do it in several days in a row. And that was different than my novel. I had a full-time job when I wrote my novel, a 9 to 5 job and a little kid. And that I did at night, like 9 to 1 in the morning, or something, and I just had momentum.

With this book, I had to take days off. It was excruciating because, you know, my in-box doesn't stop and my weekly deadlines don't stop and all the busy work associated with the column doesn't stop. And you have to write badly in order to write well; you have to turn out all this crap. And I'd just keep saying to myself, “I don't have time to go through this phase of the book. I don't have time to write badly. I just have to write well.” Of course, that was ridiculous. But those days were horrible. I would just spend day after day after day falling further behind at work, but not really making progress. I was making progress on the book, but it didn't feel like progress. I felt like I was just spinning my wheels and further behind at the same time. The good thing about the column is it's not timely, and if I get a good amount of material - it takes some doing, but - I can get ahead and get some breathing room. And I just had to keep doing that, I had to keep pushing that ahead, getting the submission's pile down as far as I could get it to feel comfortable, and then taking time off. A friend of mine loaned me their farmhouse in New Hampshire for a full week once and that was really important, to be off the internet and to really have time where I wasn't responsible for anything else.

Yeah, but writing books is so hard. I don't know how people do it.

 
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5 Reasons Your Memoir Will Never Be Published

I'm thrilled to have Jennie Nash guest post this month, where she shares her insights about what does (and doesn't) get a memoir published!

Jennie is a trusted book coach who specializes in helping writers write and publish books that will get read. She is the founder and chief creative officer of Author Accelerator, an online program to help writers get from inspiration to publication. She is also the author of three memoirs and four novels.

 


5 Reasons Your Memoir Will Never Be Published

 By Jennie Nash

 

1.)  You confused “what happened” with a good story

“What happened” in your life is only part of the equation of a good story. You also need a sense of why “what happened” mattered to you, what it meant, what you took away from the experience. You need a sense of how “what happened” says something about human nature and the world and our time here on earth, because without that connection to the bigger picture, your memoir is in danger of being aimless and self-centered. You need to know where in “what happened” would make a good place to start, where in “what happened” would make a good place to end, and which pieces of “what happened” are best left out of this story and saved for another day.

2.)  You forgot the importance of structure

Structure is the thing that holds a memoir up, that makes it more than just a series of journal entries. Take Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. That book has a beautiful, elegant structure. Three sections. Three big ideas. Three struggles to achieve a simple grace. You think Gilbert did that accidentally? The answer is no. And what about Cheryl Stayed's Wild? It's a road trip story-except the road is a hiking trail and instead of a vehicle, she's got her feet. It follows a classic structure of a person who sets out on a physical journey and goes on an internal, emotional journey along the way. One of my favorite celebrity memoirs, Andre Aggasi's Open, has an intriguing structure. It starts at the end of an illustrious tennis career that, it turns out, nearly crippled the author in a number of ways. The story traces the tale of how he got there, of why he made it as far as he did, and what he learned along the way. It all hinges on starting at the end. It all hinges on structure. To learn more about structure, re-read a few favorite memoirs. Instead of reading for what happened, read for how the whole thing is put together. Make a map of it.  Watch how the author does it.

3.)  You did zero market research

Most art comes from someone's heart and soul-from a place as far away from commerce as you can get. We write because we are called to write, because it is satisfying and healing to write, and there is no other motivation needed. Most writers, however, have some additional agenda for wanting to set their story down on paper. Perhaps they want to preserve their story for future generations. Perhaps they want to share what they have learned with other fellow travelers. There are a thousand good reasons to want to share your story.  If your desire is to share your story with a wide reading public-with readers in a bookstore, with searchers on the Internet, with strangers you may never meet-you enter into a wholly different territory of the writing experience. You must now consider the realities of the marketplace. You must study how memoirs are packaged and sold, which ones do well, what readers respond to, what gaps there are in the conversation (and how you might put a stake in the ground in that gap), and how to present your story in such a way that it stands a chance of being read. You must, in other words, find a way to reconcile the work of your heart with the demands and realities of commerce. For help in making this reconciliation, read The Gift by Lewis Hyde.

4.)  You were too stingy with your emotions

You may have the most dramatic and exciting story to tell, and you may have a solid structure to contain it, and you may have done your market research, but unless you share the gritty emotions you felt as your tale unfolded, you will quickly lose your reader to the latest Game of Thrones installment. Readers come to memoir to get inside the author's head. That is the one true promise of a memoir-and it's a promise no other art form makes. Readers want to see what it's like inside your head and to see how you handled the difficult, embarrassing, soul-crushing, harrowing, joyous and confusing things that befell you. Telling instead of showing, whizzing by the tough stuff, leaving things out because they make you look bad, making things up to make yourself seem anything other than what you actually are-these are fatal flaws. To learn more about how to invite the reader into your emotions, read Beth Kephart's fantastic new book about writing memoir, Handling the Truth.

5.)  You didn't use a professional editor

Your sister and your spouse and your mother and your friend who is a stickler for correct grammar may love you and may support you, but they can't be trusted when it comes to how your story is working on the page and what to do to fix it. You need a professional editor or writing coach who is ruthless and exacting, and who can whip your prose into shape on every level-from the macro concerns like theme and story resolution to the micro concerns like pacing and dialogue. In the old days, editors used to do this work. Some of them still do, and some agents do, as well, but most don't. They are looking for work that is already polished. To find a reputable editor, get a personal referral from someone who has had an excellent experience, or consider the recommendation of a trusted pro. Jane Friedman, former editor for Writers' Digest and a super smart cookie about all things publishing, has a great post on her website: “4 Ways to Find the Right Freelance Editor.”

 

To learn more about Jennie Nash, visit jennienash.com

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A Conversation with Joan Scheckel

I want to introduce you to an incredible, forward-thinking woman - Joan Scheckel - who is forging new grooves in the way we think about story and create content. Her visionary filmmaking labs have contributed to the development of over 384 films, earning 571 award nominations and 326 awards, including major wins at the Academy Awards such as Little Miss Sunshine. She has a couple of exciting announcements and opportunities to share with you, so read on below!

Joan Scheckel and her Filmmaking Labs are known throughout Hollywood and the international film world as the crucial force behind the most exciting films being made today. Over the past decade, Scheckelʼs work as a writer, director, actor, consultant and teacher has contributed to the development of 74 completed features. 72 went on to be released and have subsequently earned 571 award nominations, 326 awards, and over $1.2 billion dollars. 68 of the 72 features had no financing prior to engaging Joan's services.

She believes that a film's human and financial profit is exponential if the audience connects to the story. The process moves from investigating the meaning of the story, building a dramatic structure that contains the meaning, and finally exploring how that meaning is expressed on all the other levels of the mise en scene (acting, directing, visuals etc).

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Karin: What inspires the work that you do with filmmakers?

Joan Scheckel: I've always been interested in the “new” and how what I'm doing is pushing forward the artistic continuum, and in particular, new forms. So I never wanted to repeat stories that were told before or the ways we had told them before. Because for a story to touch or be effective, to affect, it has to be relevant to the way that we communicate now and what we need to communicate now. Which means being societally, emotionally, personally, extremely present to the NOW.

What is “new” about your approach?

If you just think very simply about how we're taught acting or writing for the screen, it's all about conflict. And I thought, what is the technique for the 21st century? How are we going to be telling stories that have to do with relating, that have to do with coherence, that have to do with opening the heart? So there's a whole series of fusion-based models and techniques made out of that very simple idea that I teach in the filmmaking labs.

A story for me is a container for truth, and then how that truth is expressed kind of depends on who you want to talk to, what audience you want to reach. And that will change from movie to movie to movie. My primary goal is that stories connect us through feeling, and that's what a movie has to do. If you're connected to what something means to you as a driver, then the form of connection is effortless. 

What is the Master Class?

The Master class is really a scene gym. You put your stuff up on its feet on a weekly basis. What happens is I'll give a half-hour physical warm-up with a little bit of technique. Then everyone goes off and rehearses, and then we do the scenes. All the scenes get put up, and I coach them. I'll go into them from different angles: if it's a writer I'll get into something that needs to happen thematically or in the structure or with the beats; if it's an actor I'll take it from the performance point-of-view; if it's a director I'll take it from the mise en scene. We also shoot them all. They'll shoot on the street or on the roof. There are so many different locations in and around the building. It's an amazing class, because of all the people in there - they range from 19-year-old kids who are doing i-mapping at USC who just have these brilliant minds to Catherine Hardwicke who directed Twilight.

Tell me about the new community hub you're building in the Space.

Basically you take a Master Class for $500 a month, which means you get to put your scenes on their feet every week, and then you get a key to the Space, a 4,000 square foot warehouse. By doing that I can preserve it as an incubator for new forms, new stories, new talent, new thought. The creativity that this will engender is exponential--having the space and knowing that you have a key and can go over there and find a community of like-minded spirits. And it's beautiful. Spread the word! Because now is the time to announce it, make it available and get it going. It's the Master Class and then everyone is invited to everything else I do there - the parties, the art shows, the pop-up dinners, the think tanks - I mean, it's a circus over there. It's amazing. I just want everyone I know who is creative and exploratory - like you - to have a way to spontaneously and organically meet.

Can you tell the Spirit of Story readers about the upcoming storytelling event you're doing with Cindy Chupack on July 27th?

“Stories in the Space” curated by Cindy Chupack launches the inaugural Events Slate at the Space! I'm thrilled to kick off our artist curated hub with an evening featuring some of LA's best storytellers. A great story, compellingly told. That's the root from which everything at the Space springs.

What are you hoping to create out of this initial event?

I want to introduce people to the Space: the Joan Scheckel Filmmaking Labs fusion-based arts incubator. The Space is a raw space, a gathering place, a hub for creativity, a furnace for new forms in all the arts: film, theatre, photography, art, music, dance, tech, economics, education, and beyond. I'd love an ongoing storytelling series to be part of our multi-disciplinary events slate! I'm looking for partners to curate and finance our incubator as we expand our reach.

 

To learn more about Joan Scheckel, visit joanschekel.com

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