Chris Baty is the founder of National Novel Writing Month (a.k.a. NaNoWriMo), a six-year-old literary contest that began on a whim in the Bay Area and now involves thousands of participants nationally every year. How does it work? Simple all one needs do is craft a 50,000-word novel in a month’s time. It sounds a little kooky, but in fact there’s probably a huge upside to this hardcore, guerrilla-style approach. After all, nothing succeeds like doing, and the fearless NaNoWriMo methodology incorporates an enforced boot-camp mindset that yields results, however imperfect. Baty’s No Plot? No Problem! A Low-Stress, High-Velocity Guide to Writing a Novel in 30 Days stylishly describes the NaNoWriMo regimen plenty of music and lots of coffee are included and dispenses handy advice on tapping into instant inspiration, hammering out plot and getting the job done. Or, as one NaNoWriMo winner says, “I don’t wait for my muse to wander by; I go out and drag her home by the hair.” They say there’s a novel in each of us; if so, this volume may be the key to unlocking that ominous door. Baty’s surface frivolity is underscored with serious intent, and his book’s handy sidebars provide good realistic advice for all writers.

Barbara DeMarco-Barrett is a journalist, editor, creative writing instructor and host of a weekly Southern California radio program called “Writers on Writing.” Drawing upon her professional experiences and the wisdom of many best-selling writers, she has produced Pen on Fire: A Busy Woman’s Guide to Igniting the Writer Within. This inspirational handbook is filled with smart counsel for both beginners and those a little further along looking for reassurance. In particular, it benefits from endless anecdotes and reflections from working pros on diverse subjects such as doing research, crafting dialogue, developing good writing habits, finding mentors, approaching an agent, and even some of the stickier interpersonal issues that come with the writing life (“You love him, but can’t he see you’re trying to work?”). The book’s subtitle makes a presumed pitch toward today’s harried moms and female executives who might want to add a burgeoning writing career to their full plates. Since finding time to write is a stumbling block for many modern-day wannabes (male and female alike), DeMarco-Barrett offers a series of practical 15-minute exercises designed to prod ideas along and get that writing muscle to flex. Its strictly market-conscious feminist slant aside, this volume offers an informative, wide-ranging and sensible approach to its topic for everyone. Best of all, the author’s tone of encouragement is both friendly and sincere.

A. Alvarez’s The Writer’s Voice is a relatively brief but concentrated exegesis in which the noted poet, novelist and literary critic addresses an advanced area of the writer’s challenge. “For a writer,” Alvarez states, “voice is a problem that never lets you go, and I have thought about it for as long as I can remember if for no other reason than that a writer doesn’t properly begin until he has a voice of his own.” Nuts-and-bolts guidelines on achieving voice don’t really exist, and Alvarez attempts instead to describe this somewhat elusive notion, offering a mini-seminar that ranges far and wide over writers and various writing movements, from Coleridge to Ginsberg, with side trips to the New Criticism of the 1950s, the Extremist poets, the modernism of Pound and Eliot, the Beats, Shakespeare, Roth, Cheever and Henry James. Alvarez spends serious time defining the distinctions between prose and poetry, and his obvious affection for the latter (Berryman, Plath, Sexton and others) leads him into interesting discussions on the music and rhythm of words, on the importance of listening, on voice as opposed to style concluding with the hard-won realization that “true eloquence is harder than it looks.” There’s a lot more here, as Alvarez manages to bring international politics, Freud, Romantic Agony and the cult of personality into his discussion. He does it all with wit and erudition; indeed, his own voice is nothing if not confident. According to Alvarez, “It is the business of writers to create as true a voice as they can if only to show themselves that it can be done, and in the hope that someone out there is listening.”

Public attention has focused in recent years on charges of professional misconduct by four prominent historians, all authors of best-selling and award-winning books. Doris Kearns Goodwin and the late Stephen Ambrose were accused of plagiarism. Joseph Ellis was charged with lying about his personal experience during the Vietnam/civil rights era. Michael Bellesiles was said to have falsified research data for his Arming America. In the enlightening Past Imperfect: Facts, Fictions, Fraud American History from Bancroft and Parkman to Ambrose, Bellesiles, Ellis, and Goodwin, University of Georgia historian Peter Charles Hoffer, who has advised in cases of similar charges against other historians, helps nonhistorians understand these episodes.

Hoffer examines each of the four recent situations in detail. He acknowledges that both Ambrose, who died in 2002, and Goodwin are “superb storytellers” and that pinpointing plagiarism in earlier trade history books would be difficult. Many of those books had virtually no reference apparatus at all. The case of Ellis was personal and while Hoffer does not condone what Ellis did, he does think that these personal fictions “seemed to work wonders for Ellis’s powers of historical description and insight into the character of his subjects.” The Bellesiles case involved “serious deviations from accepted practices in carrying out [and] reporting results from research,” as stated in one official report.

Hoffer writes that when the 19th century ended, historians portrayed the U.S. as “one people, forming one nation, with one history.” This view “embraced profound fictions,” for the most part excluding women, people of color, and slavery. Significant changes came in the 1960s with the “new history.” But this also brought a demand for “methodological sophistication that . . . widened the divide between academic and popular history.” Hoffer says this led the profession to fail to provide what had made consensus history so compelling: “proof that American history could inspire and delight.” Roger Bishop is a Nashville bookseller and frequent contributor to BookPage.