It was a little more than three weeks ago that I sat down to read Freedom with the highest of hopes. I loved the title. I liked what I’d heard about The Corrections. I liked the flap copy and loaded the novel onto my Kindle hoping that this was one of those books that would hold me spellbound from page one and take no more than a day or two to get through so I could get back to this infatuation I have going with the talented (but sometimes maddening) Henning Mankell. 

While I wouldn't say that I was outright disappointed by Freedom as a story, I was surprised by it, and not entirely in a good way. Franzen is an intelligent and very engrossing writer, whose insights on human nature I quickly came to enjoy and value. But Freedom to me in some ways felt too much like a vehicle for his thoughts and observations and too little like the gripping story I had hoped for. That said, it’s a very interesting book, in part because of the ways it manages to entertain and engage while going against the grain of many solid points of novel craft. 

Really? Did I really write that first post without mentioning how good fiction editors are first and foremost enthusiastic readers?

Indeed I did, but only because I can’t imagine anyone seriously considering a career as a book editor who’s not an avid reader and hasn’t logged more than a few all-nighters with a book they’ve been unable to put down. So let’s assume that as a given.

After exhibiting and presenting at last month’s Tucson Festival of Books, I’m reminded just how lucky I feel about being able to do what we do here at The Editorial Department. With an estimated 100,000 people in attendance over the weekend-long event came a steady stream of people of all ages stopping by our booth, many of whom wanted to know, among other things, how to become a book editor in the first place and what to expect from that career path, should they choose it.

When you write with the goal of publication, you're writing something you hope people will pay money for in the future. Whether it's an inexpensive ebook or a hefty collectible hardbound edition is up to you (or your publisher) but one thing remains the same: If you want people to pay for your writing, you need to make sure they're getting their money's worth.

Think of your writing as a meal at a restaurant. Most hardback books cost $20 and up, so you're looking at a decent steak dinner or at the least a fancy hamburger and appetizer combo. If you ask people to pay that $20 and then serve up a dollar menu item what will your readers think?

"So why couldn't Malfoy have brought that necklace into the school -?"

"Oh, Harry, not that again..."

Many readers, myself included, echoed Hermione Grangers' frustration at that point in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

For the past few weeks we have been looking at the best-selling Harry Potter books, and the lessons that aspiring authors can learn from them. We talked about when to hold back detail, how to drop hints, and the importance of believable characters and creative worlds.

But before you think that we see Harry Potter as the Holy Grail of fiction, let's move on to Number Five: everyone needs an editor.

When Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone first released, it was a quick-read novel at just over 200 pages. As the popularity of the series grew, so did the page counts. The plots grew darker, the subplots more intricate, and at least from this editor's perspective, the characters started to repeat themselves. How many times does a reader need to hear that Harry thinks Draco Malfoy is planning something sinister? Or see the Weasley twins plotting a prank? And do we really need all those adverbs to tell us how the characters are feeling?

Diagon Alley.

The Knight Bus.

The Quidditch World Cup.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Hogwarts.

These were not places that existed in our imaginations before we met Harry Potter, but for many readers they are now as real as Times Square.

If we, as writers, look to JK Rowling for tips on how to make our own books better (as we have been doing here at The Editorial Department for the past week), perhaps the biggest lesson is this: create a world the reader will remember.

The world that Rowling built for Harry Potter is vibrant in its detail and extravagant in its creativity. She takes well-known fantasy archetypes - wizards, trolls, giants, dragons, goblins - and drops them, unexpectedly, into the present day. According to Rowling, we could see them on our modern streets before they disappear back into the fantasy world of castles and quills.

It's Harry Potter time here at The Editorial Department, and in honor of the final movie release (well, Part One of it) we're looking at what can we learn from JK Rowling's popular series that will help us in our own writing endeavors. We've talked about two different aspects of plotting - holding some information back while still preparing readers for the big surprises. Now we're ready to look at characterization with Principle Number Three:

Heroes have hormones.

Harry Potter is a classic hero - young, idealistic, brave, and very lucky. He fights his darkest enemy for the first time at age eleven and wins. He hops onto a broomstick and becomes an instant jock. He, literally, slays dragons. And he does it all with modesty and two faithful sidekicks.

If that was the only Harry Potter we found on the page - calmly accepting challenges, coming to irrefutable conclusions, and waging war, he would have been a good bloke to watch for a book, but then the romance would be over. Harry Potter would be boring. A perfect character, one who always has the right answer and never makes a misstep, quickly becomes a caricature.

This week we're talking about Harry Potter. No, not the much-anticipated movie that's releasing this week (although I, for one, already have my ticket). We're talking about the books that started it all, and the lessons that authors can apply in their own Works In Progress.

Principle Two: Chekov had a gun; Trelawney had a prophecy.

Being patient and letting a story unfold does not mean that a writer should hold back major plot twists until the last minute. Within writing there is a literary technique called Chekov's gun - an element is introduced early in the story, but its significance does not become clear until later. "One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it," he wrote.

There aren't many guns in Rowling's tales, but readers quickly learn that seemingly offhanded comments prepare readers for unexpected revelations. Hagrid's mentioning Sirius the night Harry's parents died prepares readers, almost without their noticing, for the inclusion of Sirius into the story later; they have already crossed a certain barrier of plausibility about his involvement because they have known for some time that he was there.

This week-and probably for weeks to come-everyone will be talking about The Boy Who Lived. It's hard to believe it's been thirteen years since we first met Harry Potter, the wizard hero of JK Rowling's epic series. In anticipation of the movie that launches the quest for the Deathly Hallows, I decided to re-read the entire series, all 3407 pages (in the Bloomsbury editions) spanning seven books. I found not just a captivating, imaginative story, but lessons in great storytelling applicable to all writers who are creating novels of their own.

We'll explore five ideas over the next few days, and look for applications to your own writing.

I wrote my first National Novel Writing Month novel in 2002, and the t-shirts for that year were emblazoned with "No Plot? No Problem!" (later the title to Chris Baty's excellent how-to guide to NaNoWriMo). I always wear that shirt a few times during November, so I may be biased here, but I feel that many NaNo participants put far too much focus on plot.

NaNoWriMo participants often define themselves as Pantsers or Plotters. Pantsers are the "seat of the pants" writers who dive in to writing with only a wisp of an idea. Plotters take the more organized approach of planning their characters or story arc before writing. I'm a pantser with plotter leanings, but I think there is merit to both approaches. Unfortunately, most of the pre-NaNo chatter seems to revolve around plot, plot, plot. "Do you have a plot?" "What's your story about?". Bloggers everywhere are offering advice on how to plot your story, how to outline, and how to organize your pre-writing research. That's all well and good, but I think many people spend so much time obsessing on plot that they forget the most essential element of their stories: the characters. A plot is only as exciting as the characters who carry it, and if you don't have compelling characters, no amount of plot scheming will save your story.

A few years ago, I was fortunate to stumble upon a 5-week writing class at my local community college. I had a B.A. in English with an emphasis in creative writing, but I learned more from this little class than in all four years of college. The best lesson of the class can be summed up in eight words, and it completely changed my approach to writing.