Randy Susan Meyers

Writing

20 Fiction Techniques . . . Quickly

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During my (self-guided, self-nagged) courses in my ‘Homemade MFA’ I did many things: I read stacks of books, I read multiple favorite novels with an analytical eye, I participated in multiple writer’s groups and revised, revised, and then revised some more. And, I wrote ‘papers’ for myself, in an attempt to distill down all the … Read more

I Am A Coward

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If a coward dies a thousand deaths, and a brave one dies but one, then I have died at least a million times. I live my life cowering (at least in the corners of my mind.) Okay, I may appear bold to some—haven’t I always stood up for my children, for other people’s children? Don’t … Read more

The Joy of Jewish Book Festivals

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“Don’t forget; Jewish people read an enormous amount,” my lovely (and Jewish) literary agent said before my book launch. “We really love books.” I nodded. Yes, I knew that—at least I knew it inasmuch as I was Jewish and I read—as did my mother, my sister, and my daughters, but could I raise that sample to … Read more

After You Sign The Publishing Contract: What Comes Next?

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Imagine this: Someone asks you to marry them, and because you are so eager (desperate?) to wed, you say yes—even though you don’t know them, don’t know what they expect, and don’t know what they’ll bring to the table besides the (gender-free) shiny ring they push up on your finger. That’s kind of what it’s … Read more

“Is That Character You? Your Husband? Your Sister???” No: It’s The Butter In The Cookies

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There something a little creepy about knowing that when  friends, family, neighbors, and mailman read the novels I wrote, that they’re probably thinking:  So that’s what she thinks about when she has sex! Oh, that’s how she really views her kids! My God, she lies to her husband?

No matter how much I insist that no, the mean cheating husband is not really a faintly disguised version of my husband (or ex-husband), I’m quite sure that their nod of agreement translates to, Sure. I just bet.

How to explain a writer’s joyous transmogrification of demons into fiction? How to tell someone that no, that is not my mother, my sister, my husband, but a stew of the emotions and fears and love that I’ve absorbed. Philip Roth said it well in an interview (that I can’t locate) where he explained how it was the very goodness of his mother that allowed him to write about

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