Writers and Collaboration, Part 2: Repurposing Existing Content

In the last blog I talked about collaborations where the writer doesn’t have to change much in an existing work. The example I gave is when a poet has his or her work illustrated by a visual artist.

In this blog, I’m going to discuss collaborations where a writer repurposes existing text to create a new work with another artist. Here are some examples:

• Adapt a work of narrative prose into a play (for more, please see this blog)

• Turn one of your poems into a song lyric and collaborate with a composer who writes the music

• Edit a literary anthology that includes work by a visual artist or artists

• Work with an artist to create an artist’s book that includes text that you rewrite for the project

One example in my own work of text repurposed for a collaboration is an adult poem I wrote that became a children’s picture book. The book started as a two-page poem called “Oranges” that appeared in my collection A Preview of the Dream, published by Gull Books, a literary publishing house run by Carolyn Bennett. A Preview of the Dream sold all of 200 copies, which is not unusual for a small press book of poems.

Cover art by Rachael Romero

My poem “Oranges” honors the diverse group of people whose labor goes into creating a single orange:

Somebody cleared the fields.

Somebody toppled the pines,

upturned the stumps.

Someone plowed the rows

straight as sunbeams in the heat

that made them swab their temples.

Probably they spoke Spanish.

The widely published and much lauded children’s writer Marilyn Sachs heard me read the poem and said, “With a little rewriting, that could be a picture book.” I’d never thought of writing a children’s book, so I asked her what she meant by rewriting the text. Marilyn pointed out that the ending was a little too adult for children:

A world of work

is in this ripe orange that I strip apart,

longitude by longitude.
I place a section

in my willing mouth

and its liquid fibers

dissolve on my tongue.

When I wrote that adult poem, I wanted to emphasize the sexiness of eating a section of orange. But in a children’s picture book?—not so much. I kept much of the poem as it was, but I rewrote the last lines:

A world of work

is in this ripe orange that I pry apart.

I place a section

in my mouth

and its liquid fibers

dissolve on my tongue.

Less sexy, but it still conveys some of the sensual experience of eating fruit, and in a way that children could appreciate.

A lesson I learned here: with collaboration, not every detail in a text has to be spelled out. The artwork ended up conveying much of the sensual experience of eating an orange. 

Oranges by Zack Rogow, illustration by Mary Szilagyi

Not only that, the illustrator communicated the entire concept of an orange containing a world of work  simply by drawing a frontispiece with an orange floating in space like a planet.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The book was still only an idea. How to get it in print? Carolyn Bennett, the publisher of the small press book that included the poem, agreed to act as the agent for the text. Sometimes, in a collaboration, people take on unaccustomed roles.

Carolyn did great job in this new role. She sent the text to Richard Jackson, an editor at Orchard Books who had successfully steered the careers of many writers, including Judy Blume. It happened, by coincidence, that Dick Jackson was interested in a book that dealt with diversity—he immediately bought the manuscript. It was an incredible stroke of luck, but it would never have happened without rewriting the text. That repurposing made all the difference.

I originally had in mind for the drawings an artist I liked who had never done book illustration. Dick Jackson quickly let me know that he had his own ideas on this subject. Dick selected the experienced illustrator Mary Szilagyi, and Mary created gorgeous paintings to illustrate the book, working much harder on her artwork than I had on my short text. The hours spent on a collaboration don’t always even out, I’m afraid.

Large publishers do tend to like to pick the illustrator they want for a children’s book that comes to them as a text. They have a stable of artists whose work they admire and they know they can rely on. The publishers like to give those artists a steady diet of work, partly because they genuinely like their artwork, partly to keep the artists’ loyalty, and partly to support and promote their careers.

Dick Jackson made a truly excellent suggestion to improve the text, but I was such a young, hothead radical at the time, that I refused to listen, thinking that Big Business was trying to co-opt my political message. This was a side of collaboration I hadn’t learned yet—it also involves taking advice, even if it means changing your beloved text.

But in the end, Oranges turned out to be a successful children’s book. It was selected as a Junior Library Guild Book of the Month, and it sold about 10,000 copies. Much more than all of my poetry books put together. That’s another side of writers’ collaborations worth mentioning—the work of other artists can sometimes make literature way more accessible.

Writers and Collaboration, Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Zack’s most recent book of poems, Irreverent Litanies
Zack’s most recent translation, Bérénice 1934–44: An Actress in Occupied Paris by Isabelle Stibbe

Other recent posts about writing topics: 
How to Get Published
Getting the Most from Your Writing Workshop
How Not to Become a Literary Dropout
Putting Together a Book Manuscript
Working with a Writing Mentor
How to Deliver Your Message
Does the Muse Have a Cell Phone?
Why Write Poetry? 
Poetic Forms: Introduction; The Sonnet, The Sestina, The Ghazal, The Tanka, The Villanelle
Praise and Lament
How to Be an American Writer
Writers and Collaboration
Types of Closure in Poetry

Working with a Writing Mentor Part 2: Why It’s Difficult to Take Criticism of Your Writing

I understand how hard it is to absorb criticism in a world that is often indifferent to, hostile to, or resentful of your work as a writer. There are so many coworkers, relatives, and failed-writer English teachers who seem to feel it is their purpose in life to distance you from your creative self. To defend yourself from those who advise you against your creativity, you may sometimes build a bunker that you retreat into when you hear criticism.

Let me give you an example of how that sort of bunker can sometimes work to defeat you. When I was a much younger writer, I had the good fortune to have a book accepted by a great editor at a major press. I had written a poem called “Oranges” about the many people and languages that went into growing and bringing to market a single orange. The celebrated children’s author Marilyn Sachs advised me to edit the poem and send it out as the text of a picture book. I did, and to my amazement, it was accepted by Richard Jackson, who then had his own imprint at Orchard Books. If you’re a book editor at a major press, having your own imprint is like getting on Top Chef if you’re a cook. Dick Jackson had edited many writers who had written much better and more successfully for children than I had, including Judy Blume.

I first met with Dick Jackson in his office high up in a Manhattan skyscraper, with a view of expensive water. I was armed with all my defenses about what it meant to deal with a major press. I was sure he was going to try to censor the political content of my text. I also had in mind a politically correct poster artist I wanted to do the illustrations. Of course that artist had never illustrated a children’s book in his life. Dick Jackson politely informed me that he already had an illustrator in mind, a fantastic artist named Mary Szilagyi who, it turned out, was infinitely better known in the world of children’s books than I was. This was an incredible advantage for a novice writer, since it would bring the book to the attention of reviewers. I didn’t realize that at the time, though, so I resented that Dick Jackson didn’t take my naive suggestion about choosing an illustrator. My dander was up even higher at this point in our meeting.

Then Dick Jackson asked me to change a line that appeared many times in the poem. With each new person who helped to grow or ship or market this orange, I had added a line about the language that the person spoke: “Probably he spoke Spanish,” “Probably she spoke Creole,” etc. My aim was to show the multicultural sources of even the most familiar object. Dick suggested I change that repeating phrase to “Maybe he spoke Spanish,” etc. How did I know, after all, what language a certain individual spoke, and wasn’t that very stereotypical to assume that a farm worker spoke Spanish? Immediately I got defensive and retreated into my tortoise shell. No, I wasn’t going to let the multinational publishing industry tell me how to write poetry. I stood my ground and refused, despite his entreaties. How much I regret now not listening to him—the book was printed with the line as I wrote it, and it has never been reprinted as a children’s book since that first year, when it did sell quite well, thanks in large part to Mary Szilagyi’s wonderful illustrations.

My point is that you may assume that someone who is criticizing your work is against you, when in reality, that person is more likely than not for your text, if he or she is taking the time to read and critique it carefully. The longer I write, the more grateful I am when someone hands me a good suggestion for my work. It’s a gift. Now if I like it, I grab it greedily, and stuff it right into my text. I might not incorporate the suggestion exactly as the other person has offered it, but I will take it willingly, and with thanks, if it is an improvement over what I have written on my own.

Other recent posts about writing topics:Working with a Writing Mentor: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

How Not to Become a Literary Dropout, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
Putting Together a Book Manuscript, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

How to Get Published: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Getting the Most from Your Writing Workshop: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Does the Muse Have a Cell Phone?: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Using Poetic Forms, Part 1: Introduction; Part 2: The Sonnet; Part 3, The Sestina;
Part 4, The Ghazal; Part 5, The Tanka