C h a z z W r i t e s . c o m

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The Writer Rejection Scam

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Sometimes I hear writers take pride in the number of rejections in their file cabinets. The idea is that they compete with writer friends to pile up the rejection slips. The person with the most number of rejections by a certain date…er…”wins.” Riiiight. I don’t know how this myth got started but it’s a popular one.

It’s not that this is a totally useless strategy (and I’ll review the advantages in a moment) but first, let’s burst the rejection scam bubble:

If you are writing fast without second drafts or third or umpteenth drafts in order to pump up your submission rate, you’re losing. More rejection slips? That’s no measure of how close you are to publication. If that were true, the worst writers in the world submitting the most illiterate crap across the planet are all just on the cusp of bestsellerdom.

If you get a lot of rejection slips that don’t actually include personal notes on how the writing didn’t work for the reviewer, you’re losing.

It’s also very hard to get any personal notes on your work, by the way. Many agents and editors don’t believe in detailing the reasons for rejection. There are so many variables to evaluate writing that are idiosyncratic and peculiar to the editor, it doesn’t profit you to hear they rejected you for subjective reasons.

Neither does it profit them to take the time to give you a heads up that you were a near miss. Many editors have so many submissions on their desk that they really don’t want to encourage more people to resubmit. The mailbox will be full tomorrow regardless and your persistence is expected without free coaching and hand holding. (And just because you submitted a manuscript, no editor owes you free manuscript evaluations, feedback or reasons for rejection.)

If you’re clearing an alley of bad guys, use the twelve gauge with the .00 load. With manuscript submission, however, scatter shot is less effective than picking and aiming at your targets.

Submit everywhere without careful thought on how to target your market? Then you’re losing. It’s time you’re losing primarily, though the loss of confidence and self-esteem can’t be glossed over. It takes a lot of ego to put yourself out there, so choose carefully how you put yourself out there. Artists need all the narcissistic hope and unreasonable aspirations of a lottery player.

If you’re submitting everywhere in the slim hope that an agent or editor will take the time to take you under their wing, build you a nest and show you where you went wrong with your flightless novel, you’re losing. When dealing with mass submissions, editors and agents get impatient with bad writing, or even writing that isn’t bad but doesn’t suit them. I’ve seen it personally. Behind closed doors there’s even a lot of laughter at published writers’ work that’s bound for publication. (Oh, yeah, that’s right! I said it! I’ve seen it and endured it!)

If it’s feedback you’re after, alpha readers, beta readers, hired editors, writing and critique groups will get you more feedback than can be fit on a tiny rejection slip. Plus, you’ll be getting much more careful evaluation.

People going through a slush pile aren’t there to help the writer. They are there to evaluate whether your manuscript is a good bet for a business deal that suits their purposes and interests.

Much is made of Stephen King‘s pile of rejection slips. I think too much has been made of the rejection slips impaled on that spike in King’s attic. It’s not that some magic kicks in once you hit a special number of slips. It is, instead, what the rejection slips symbolize: sweat equity and time invested in improving craft. I’m not suggesting you submit fewer manuscripts per se. I’m saying, offer your work wisely.

A higher number of rejection slips is not an achievement to be celebrated any more than failing to complete every race you enter makes you a better runner. It might make you a noble aspirant. Or maybe you’re too bull-headed to train properly and learn. Either possibility has validity.

It was all the writing and reading King did while the slips piled up that mattered

It was the feedback he got from a newspaper editor that mattered

That editor sat down with King and went over a story about a high school basketball game. He showed King how to tighten his writing. A little mark up, some rearranging and red pen work et voilà!: The magic of editing improved the writer’s craft. (If you haven’t read Stephen King’s On Writing yet…well, just go do that and thank me later.) 

What are the advantages of piling up rejection slips? If you need to compete with a friend to get you to write, I don’t see anything wrong with that. Everybody needs some gentle  motivation (or a kick in the bum) sometimes. (Okay, maybe you don’t ever need a writing crutch, but that makes you an inhuman freak, Trollope!)

If you get personal feedback and encouragement from editors and agents, that’s a good sign you’re on the right track. If you just get a note or two though, that doesn’t constitute a trend you should necessarily heed. Editors and agents have their own agendas that may reflect very little on your writing and you’ll never know what’s in their minds.

Don’t rush to produce writing at the expense of quality. As Truman Capote said of Jack Kerouac‘s On the Road, “That’s not writing. That’s typing!”  (Granted, Capote could be a bitch and lots of people like On the Road.)

Still, getting a big pile of rejection slips is not the end game. Writing extensively (and well), reading broadly (and well) and getting righteous feedback will get you where you want to go.

Yes, I know: Rejection is part of the process. But neither should rejection be fetishized and assumed useful. Some lucky few writers are a hit right out of the gate. Are they still bad writers because they haven’t “paid their dues” and “jumped through hoops”?

That thick skin some say you’re supposed to develop through rejection would be used more effectively if you  got a manuscript evaluation or joined a critique group. (And thick skin is another thing that’s overrated and fetishized. Thick skin helps you take writing advice, yes. But when the reviews come in and someone writes something nasty in a comment about your book —your baby!—on Amazon, veteran author or newbie, you’ll be just as pissed.

Now, how do you target your submissions to likely editors and agents? 

Well, that’s a post for another day. Another day that will come soon.

Stay tuned. 

Filed under: Books, manuscript evaluation, publishing, Writers, writing tips, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

How to edit without reading

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You: Edit without reading? How is that even possible? 

Me: You can tell when a story has problems at a glance if the page is too dark.

You: Um. What?

Me: This page. Look at all that unbroken text.

(HOLDS OUT A MANUSCRIPT AT ARM’S LENGTH)

It’s an intimidating, heavy block. Unless you are Proust—wait. Are you Proust?

You: (SURLY) No.

Me: Okay. When there are big unbroken blocks of text, you’re demanding a lot of the reader.

You: So I should assume my reader is too stupid to handle a long paragraph?

Me: Yes.

You: What?!

Me: Attention spans are shorter. Big blocks of text do not skip along. It’s hard to get a sense of making progress when faced with all that text. You need to break it up.

You: Show me.

Me: The first thing is, have you used paragraphs correctly? Maybe the unified sentences are there but you’ve missed opportunities to paragraph appropriately. Think of each paragraph as  one logically unified thought. Look for the flow, either progression or back and forth, to identify where the next paragraph proceeds.

You: Uh-huh. I’m not an idiot, you know.

Me: I’m sure you’re not. I didn’t create you to be an idiot, but a dialogue foil so I could parry back and forth a bit. Break up the didactic drudgery.

You: Wha–wait. What?

Me: (SMOOTHLY) So the next usual suspect is long speeches. Soliloquies usually need to be broken up with action, interaction and conflict from other characters.

You: Or?

Me: Or you get big blocks of text. Readers like white space, but this isn’t just an aesthetic issue. It’s an editorial issue. Shorter paragraphing looks more appealing, true, but when dialogue flies back and forth, shorter paragraphs are an indication of dynamism on the page.

You: And you think you don’t have to actually read the story to know it’s not dynamic enough?

Me: I don’t have to actually read the story to know that unless you get more white space on the page, no one will read it. I’m trying to give your story a chance at daylight. I haven’t read a word, but I’ve seen enough holding it at arm’s length and glancing through a few pages to see the pattern. If you send it to an editor or agent, they will heave a great sigh and turn away quickly. If you try to sell it yourself, it will not sell.

You: Do you actually talk to writers like this when you edit them?

Me: Of course not. This is just a blog post between me and an imaginary writer…you know, for educational purposes.

You: Educa…. About what you…hey! You’re saying I’m not real?

Me: (PULLS A WOODEN STAKE FROM BENEATH A DARK CLOAK)

The problem is real. The editorial trick is real. You, I made up.

(PLUNGES STAKE INTO THE FICTION’S CHEST AND ROOTS AROUND FOR THE HEART IN QUICK, GRISLY CIRCLES)

You: Ouch. Hey, that was…surprisingly painless.

Me: It’s okay. Sh. I wrote your reality this way so it doesn’t hurt anyone.

You: Oh. Thanks.

Me: You’re welcome. You live in the Matrix. It’s a bitch, but I try to make it easy on everybody.

(PULLS OUT THE STAKE AND THE SOUND IS LIKE AIR FARTED OUT OF A PARTY BALLOON)

(THE FICTIONAL AUTHOR WHIZZES AWAY LIKE SAID PARTY BALLOON AND, AT FULL DEFLATION, DISAPPEARS INTO AN UNENDING GREEN SEA UNDER A CLOUDLESS NIGHT SKY AND A BLUE, TROPIC MOON.)

THE WARM BREEZE, SMELLING OF COLITAS AND CARRYING THE SOUNDS OF THE JUNGLE TO THE WEST WHISPERS STERNLY: “Stop now, Chazz! It’s overwritten already!

Me: FADE INTO DARKNESS. THEN GOES SHOPPING.

And that’s how you edit without reading. 

Filed under: Books, Editing, Editors, Writers, writing tips, , , , , , ,

TOP 10: Get your writing motivation back & finish your book

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Sometimes you lose the thread. You burn through the first 40 or 50 pages and then…now what?  Augusten Burroughs doesn’t believe in writer’s block. He says that if you think you have writer’s block, write about the block and you’ll find your way out. Frankly, that hasn’t worked for me. This is what I do to churn the letter butter and make it thick:

1. Reread the last ten pages before you got stuck. There’s probably something there to riff from.

2. Reread the first ten pages and get back to where you were headed to begin with so you can find the trail you lost.

3. If you’ve got an outline, go write an easy scene. If the book is a ball small enough that you can hold it in one hand–and you make it small by using an outline–you can skip forward to a scene you are sure of.

4. When you’re stuck, go back to the characters. What’s the special need and want of the character (often not the same thing in a layered, complex text)? Find the truth of that character. What does the character do next?

5. Search for the emotional truth between and among your characters. Write that.

6. Search the conflict between and among your characters. Maybe you’re stuck because your characters are too agreeable.

7. Change the setting. Too many characters stand around in living rooms talking at each other instead of engaging the world. It’s not a stage play. A novel has as large a canvas as you can imagine. Get your characters up and out in the world where things happen.

8. Think visually. What would the movie of your book look like? What are people doing? Do they have special skills? Draw on your own experience or do a little research to get you through a scene. (Do as little research as possible on the front end, though. I wrote a story in which a character got pulled into a saw at a lumber mill. First I wrote the scene. Then I consulted an expert who said it shouldn’t be a saw but a machine called an edger.)

9. Still stuck? My trick is to get out a book (usually a dictionary) and choose three words at random. Work those words into your next chapter. (Clicking random in Wikipedia works great for this strategy, too.) This will take you places you wouldn’t have found otherwise.

10. Take a break. Change your setting. Trying to tough it out so you produce typing but no worthwhile writing is not working smart. Do something totally different. Go get chased by a bear, move, run, go watch people, have an espresso or nap. Refresh your writing mind by demanding nothing of it. The world will have to wait until you’re back where you need to be.

Filed under: Writers, Writing exercise, writing tips, , , , ,

Controversial blog posts, hate mail & puppies on fire

I write a column for a trade magazine. I get a lot of fan mail (he said modestly). I have a folder stocked with happy reader feedback so if I ever need talking in off the ledge, many kind subscribers’ letters to the editor might stop me from the jump to pavement lasagna. But,  of course, it’s the negative reviews you remember.  

What’s surprising about negative feedback is how surprising it is. Let me explain that obnoxious tautology: I’ve written columns I was certain would stick in somebody’s craw. I’m reasoned, but sometimes provocative and I do poke the odd sacred cow through the skull with a nail gun.

But it’s often the posts

I consider more bland which spark  readers’ ire most!

For instance, I wrote a humorous feature that detailed the uses of therapeutic laughter. The tone was light, though I did stir in an interview with a neurobiologist and instructive tips. Most people didn’t just like it. They loved it. We got a lot of really nice letters. It’s a special thing when people take the time to say good things about you. The spur to action usually skews the other way. Angry people write more letters than happy people do.)

As great as the response to the article was, from that same feature there was one letter from the reader who did not just like it. In fact, she loathed the piece (and me.) She objected to the jokes. It was clear she didn’t get the jokes. There are, perhaps, billions of people who don’t share my sense of humor. Not only can I not change that, I wouldn’t want to appeal to the humorless.

People who get all angsty and vituperative about your writing share a common trait. They act like the one thing you write is the sum and totality of your writing. It kind of amuses me (okay, it amuses me after some time passes) when people get bent out of shape from one thing I wrote. I write lots of stuff. Read it all and get really pissed, or realize that if you don’t care for something, there’s always the next page. There’s always something else to read.

Don’t say something you don’t believe just to be provocative. Satire is fine. Parody’s good. Be fun and playful. Be as funny as you like, but make time to be sincere when you’re making a serious point. Don’t pander.

People sometimes accuse Bill Maher of saying outrageous stuff just to get a reaction. Not true. One survey showed that Maher’s die hard fans only agreed with him 14% of the time! He’s funny, insightful and can be cranky. But he’s not a crank easily dismissed. He’s thinking and doesn’t fall to one side of all issues all of the time.

This is counterintuitive to how many people act as they write their (unread) blog pasts. People often think that only people who agree with them will like them. If you’re funny and interesting and reasoned, thinking people will listen. Your blog’s grasp can go beyond the reach of your mom.

When I read blog posts I dislike, I rarely comment on something with which I disagree unless I know the people involved or think it will make a difference. I won’t be phoning Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck to try to disagree with him on air, for instance. People don’t listen to Rush to get ideas. They listen to confirm their own fears and prejudices. Echo chambers aren’t designed for more than one loud voice. Life’s too short to pursue debates with people who will never change their minds no matter what. (And I won’t change my mind on that.)

“Pearls before swine,” as Jesus said.

(Note to Mr. Beck: Jesus is an important guy in the bible whose words are written in red so they are easy to find. Like you, he talks about economics a lot, too. You appear unaware of the things Jesus said. Take a look.)

Real world example: Today a friend linked to a post so I checked it out. I found it utterly vile. The essay was an extreme so-serious-I-hope-it’s-parody, divisive, lying hit piece that underestimated both liberal and conservative thought. I didn’t comment on the post itself because I’m not giving that hateful essayist the satisfaction. Instead I left a comment on the original Facebook link to let my friend know I thought his link choice was disturbing.

To be fair to him, his intent puzzled me. I’m really not sure if he linked to it as an example of a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever his opinion on that issue, he’s still a great guy and a great friend and I’m not writing him off if he shares those (crazy) views. He no doubt has a lot of other views I agree with and I know he is an admirable, heroic fellow. (And no, I don’t know if he reads this blog or not since he’s not in publishing.)

Mental note:

Don’t provide links to hate-filled sites.  

Debate and dialogue of substance? Okay. 

Stupid shit? No time.

The take away? Don’t let negative feedback throw you. If what you write is so bland it never offends anyone, it often isn’t worth writing. There’s nothing new and interesting about your blog posts if every one of them is the equivalent of a basket of puppies. If you’re going to keep readers, you’re going to have to be compelling, informative or at least engaging. Don’t tell me about the weather. Say something you believe. Make me laugh. Make me spew my coffee over the screen. Set a basket of puppies on fire once in a while.

Case in point: You might expect conservative readers to object to me condescending to Glenn Beck. Perhaps defenders of the mentally unstable will chime in on that score, too. You might expect liberal readers to object to any mention of Rush or Beck since they already get too much attention everywhere. Maybe you think people will get angry about the notion of setting fire to a basket of puppies.

Personally? Since a basket of puppies set afire is an obvious joke in terrible taste, I’m betting someone will object to the reference to a nail gun through a cow’s skull. Vegans are fascists worse than Hitler. (Kidding! Kidding!)

As Bill Maher says, “I kid! I kid because I love!” 

Heh. 

Filed under: blogs & blogging, Intentionally Hilarious, Rant, Rejection, reviews, Writers, writing tips, , , , , , , ,

Writers: Story first. Message last.

Solar panels, thermal energy, wind power, nuclear power, the fact that you can read these words in pixels: Ours is a sci-fi continent in a horror world. The horror world is patrolled by robot drones whose pilots are on the other side of the planet raining death on warmongers and civilians alike.

So where are you in this world? Does your fiction enhance understanding? Are you making anything better? Is that even your job as a writer?

You may have a lot to say and a lot to teach, but don’t start from that place. Your themes will emerge from your story. And let your readers draw their conclusions instead of telling them what to think and how to feel.

It’s tempting to speechify. My first drafts are full of speeches. Then I cut it, or break it up or intersperse action or provide another character’s counterpoint to increase tension, drama and conflict.

A good story well told will evoke emotions. Find the truth of those emotions and people will read your story all the way through. And after they’ve closed your book they’ll still have something to think about.

Start from the message and they won’t get to the end of your book.

Filed under: Writers, writing tips, , ,

Write your thriller in chapters: 10 tips for greater productivity

There’s no one way to write a novel. I do, however, have ten suggestions to make it go easier and faster:

1. Outline. Have some idea where you’re going and what the destination might be. It’ll save you time doubling back from dead ends. Believe me, I’ve written myself into cul-de-sacs and it’s a time suck no one can afford. (No, you’re not married to the outline and you don’t have to go OCD with the Roman numeral outline you learned in grade eight. I’m trying to increase your productivity and enhance your creativity, not shackle it.)

2. If you outline, you don’t have to write your story in sequence. With an outline, you already have the beats, the bases you have to touch as you tell your story. If you’re not feeling very inspired one day, no big deal. Focus on the high points of your outline on the days you don’t start off “in the mood.” Bonus benefit: you’ll get all your sex scenes written first.

3. Write each chapter as if it’s a short story. Your novel has a beginning, middle and end. So should your chapters. I often see substandard chapters which finish without the pulls of intrigue, a cliffhanger or a bang. Some writers reason that if they make the larger story interesting, they can afford to have a chapter or two that isn’t compelling. It does sound reasonable. It’s also wrong. Tension has one direction: up. There are way too many great books to read (and a million other things to do) so, for many readers, you bore them, you lose them. Sure, you’ve made this sale, but they won’t be burnt again.

4. For each chapter, identify a purpose. If a chapter has no dramatic purpose, drop it. Too often I see manuscripts where the characters are up and moving around, but to no purpose. (When editing, purposeless activity is called “business” as in “busy-ness.” There’s movement, but nothing’s really happening.  A chapter without purpose signals self-indulgence, a writer who got lost for awhile, not enough editing or an author who insisted on a tangent at the expense of the book.

The other common problem? Too much world-building and not enough character. A writer once described to me in excruciating detail about the far out environment of his book. It was a very ethereal place in space with no points of reference between human readers and the gaseous clouds that were his characters. I had to shut him up. He was driving me crazy with exhaustive, pretty detail. “But what’s the story? How is your reader going to relate to that?” Science fiction is about people first. Fantasy is about people first. Stories are all, at their core, about people and the choices they make. Sift your world-building detail in amongst action and character development. Otherwise, it will be unreadable, confusing or the reader won’t care.

Chapters with purpose are compelling and propelling toward an conclusion the reader wants to discover. (But they also want to be fooled, too. So make them say, “Ah, I bet I know what happens next.” Then find a way to surprise them. Read any of William Goldman’s novels to really get this deep into the marrow.)

5. What are the scenes in your chapter and are they in the right sequence? Are you revealing too much early in the story? Are you being too coy with the reader in later chapters? Does the pace pick up as you reach the climax and solve the novel’s core problem? Is it really a surprise (and logical) when you get to that climax?

6. Are you taking shortcuts in logic or logistics? Somewhere in your book there’s a less favorite scene or something that requires more research that, frankly, you don’t want to do. If your heroine is in Paris and your hero is in New York, they can’t meet in the middle of the Atlantic on a train (unless your novel is set in the future or a past that never was, of course.)

Are you missing a bridge to get you from one event to another? This is a logistics problem. Your FBI investigators are in Virginia at Quantico. The kidnapping is in the Pacific Northwest. Do you need a scene of conflict within the team on the private or military jet to get to the crime scene? You may make that transition in just a single sentence or it might be a chapter, but without some acknowledgement of the travel issue, it will be jarring for the reader to have them materialize in Seattle. Time and space and placement of people in relation to each other is something to trip over if you don’t make the effort to handle it logically.

7. Do your chapters fit together? Suppose you have an entire book that takes place, A to B, sequentially over the course of the hottest August in a century. But there’s that one winter scene you’re slipping in with a flashback. Does this puzzle piece fit in with the tone of your other chapters? If not, is there a reason for it? For instance, if your hero needs a look back at an early Christmas morning for the one time he was happy to give him a clue or change of direction, it fits better than an odd chapter that seems plugged in.

8. Is each chapter satisfying? This is a little different from #3, and a larger, more esoteric editorial question. You’ve written each chapter as a short story. That’s fine and can help you face the challenge of writing an entire novel-length manuscript. Now I’m asking, does each chapter feel full? Is it contributing something more to the larger story arc? When all these short stories are cobbled together, will each contribute to a greater whole than the sum of the parts? Is there a richness in description, character and action that will leave the reader satisfied with the effort overall? Is the core problem big enough to bother with a full-length book? Do you force the reader through several hundred pages only to kill off the protagonist (can be done, but often iffy) or worse, find out said protagonist is a lummox they hate? Too often, authors make their obstacles too small, the villains too stupid, the stakes microscopic and the core problem not nearly big enough. You don’t have to save the world on every outing. Maybe you’re just saving one person, but make us care.

9. Does each chapter’s length make sense? When I say “make sense” here, I mean, do you achieve in the chapter what you need to accomplish at an appropriate pace? Chapters don’t have to have a uniform length. Mary Higgins Clarke’s chapters get progressively  shorter as she goes so it feels like a race to the finish. I find I like short chapters as a reader (and as an editor) because I feel like I’m making progress as I go through, marking up the milestones. Short chapters often feel like a breezy  read. As a writer, however, I find my chapters are longer so they have time and space to wind to their conclusion. However, some writers go so short they aren’t providing enough beats within each chapter. I sometimes see underwritten, choppy chapters where action isn’t happening and characters aren’t developing. When that happens, you don’t have a chapter yet. In that case, you probably have the components for scenes within one chapter.

10. Set a schedule. If you use each suggestion here as a guideline, you also have an estimation for how long it will take you to write your novel based in real time.  Since you’re writing your novel as short stories, progressing at a fairly predictable pace, set an end date for the first draft. Make a schedule to get to that date and stick to it.

Follow these guidelines and you’ll make real progress toward your goals. 

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Filed under: Books, Editing, getting it done, publishing, Writers, writing tips, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Writing Conference: 10 Bad things

When you go to a writing conference, there’s going to be information that’s good and information that doesn’t apply to you and information that’s quite bad. Here are some of the things that came up at my most recent conference which you can safely ignore as wrong or silly or misguided:

1. How will we curate all those bad books coming from self-publishers? I’m so tired of this objection, and have dealt with it so much elsewhere here, I’m not ev–zzz. (See Related articles below for that rehash if you feel the urge.)

2. Don’t mix gay narrative with straight narrative. So…ghettoize gays and keep everyone separate, as if our gayness or straightness is our single defining characteristic? Nope! I reject the premise. Screw you…in whatever way you prefer.

3. Order 1,000 books because, due to cost per unit, 1,000 won’t cost much more than 200 books. This, versus the more experienced publisher who pointed out that he only ordered what he needed because he knew it would take him two years to sell 500 books. (Plus a garage full of books is so depressing and unnecessary with the advent of POD.)

4.  Any worries about Amazon’s first novel contest. You have nothing to lose from participating in it.

5. Any worries that someone will steal your idea. There is a scientific correlation to this particular worry: The more you worry about it, the more your idea sucks anyway.

6. This is the end of publishing. Publishing’s changing, that’s all. Adapt or die.

7. I shudder at e-books. Then you’re old. Get over it or wait and that problem will resolve itself.

8. “Twitter is awful. What can I say in 140 characters?” This, from an editor. My internal monologue was: You must be a really lousy editor and you’re telling me you are committed to not being at all clever.

9. “Twitter cuts into my writing time.” This, from the same editor. If she read my blog (DEATH STARE!) she’d know (CHAZZ LAW) Twitter is for time that would be unproductive anyway. Fully functional adults manage their time. (And addicts have to want to change.)

10. “Get an editor for your self-published book!” This is not bad advice. It’s not wrong. However, it is condescending. The people who will take this advice are already on board. The people who won’t take this good advice won’t change no matter what you say.

Filed under: Books, Writers, Writing Conferences, writing tips, , , , , ,

Publishing is sick. You should quit. Take up knitting.

I attended a lovely writing conference. The best value of these get-togethers is often not in the classes, but in the networking, either by finding an agent, getting  useful feedback or networking with writer allies who can hook you up with what you need (e.g. a graphic designer, beta readers, a photographer, an inexpensive website developer, software you didn’t know existed etc.,…)

A couple of instructors at this conference gave me some really great technical information. Much of the discussion was about stuff you’ll find on this very blog (Shameless plug. Subscribe and send love.) Much of the talk was yet another rehash of commonly known information (e.g. get yourself an editor for your self-published work). A bunch of it was stuff you see spread across the internet endlessly for free (e.g. a rehash of the Amanda Hocking/Barry Eisler unfoldment).

(Heh.Unfoldment. I like that.) 

There was also some bad advice. But today, let’s focus on the health of the publishing industry: It’s sick. Really sick. Especially for the ones upon whose brains and bones rest the cracked foundation: writers.

Of course, it has been thus for a long time. Even when it was healthy, publishers operated on thin margins and predicted imminent doom. Many of those publishing companies anticipating the end were right; I worked for several that are long closed. (I didn’t kill ’em, but I helped hold ’em down. Good times.)

We all know the common complaints today: fewer editors, the corporate profit-push squeezing the midlist, the crash of the bookstore (ask your parents, they’ll tell you what they were), the discount tyranny of the chains and the crush of all that self-publishing pressure and the ennui that sets in when you realize you’re a rusty cog in an old machine that needs a lot of parts replaced.

I’d like to  suggest a new measure of the health of the industry:

How many jobs do the major players have?

A short, relevant aside: I am currently a part-time massage therapist, columnist, feature writer, writer-writer, blogger and editor. Also, I’m a house husband and stay-at-home dad. That’s plenty of hats. Okay, I’m a freak, but not as much as I used to be it seems. And I’m cutting down my number of roles soon (Hint: keeping the sexy wife, brilliant kids and the horror writing that chills my victims’ readers’ blood.) 

Aside over. To business: 

Now watch what happens when we look at instructors at writing conferences:

People at the top of their game aren’t making their living from writing.

Of all the people I encountered at the writing conference, two were at it full-time. Andrew Pyper wrote a book I loved called The Killing Circle and gave a funny, charming and wise speech. Wayson Choi spoke briefly and he’s also plenty charming. (Just read Not Yet, liked it.)

Mr. Choi gave the same encouragement he did last year: You aren’t alone in this. We are all together in this. (As if writing and actually getting published is equal to a struggle with a terrible disease and all caregivers and support for the afflicted must be rallied.) As if the diagnosis is in and it’s not good. The doc is giving you that look that says you might make it, but the treatment is so horrible and there is so much pain to endure, refusing to undergo medical torture is a worthy consideration. Getting better (or published) is sort of like winning the lottery.

(Trivia bonus: Wayson Choi is not only published but once won $100,000 in a lottery. He also survived terrible lung and cardiac problems so he might be the sweetest, luckiest sumbitch you’ve ever heard of. Sure, lots of people win big prizes and survive heart attacks, but to be published? That’s rare!)

But are writing conferences really about getting published? There’s a lot of amateur desperation in that big hall. Nice people, but not all writers. Dilettantes and the terminally confused are also a large component from what I could tell.

I don’t count delusion against people, by the way. To be a writer at all, you must be deluded…well, for fiction writers,  it’s a job requirement.

Are writing conferences helping these people get published, or are they just  another income stream or promotional avenue for poverty-stricken writers? Several presenters used their seminar teaching position to flog their books and editorial services pretty hard (though I didn’t mind the guy who had the grace to be funny about being spammy.) The rest were so fed-up, sad or desperate they were perspiring audibly.

When the “stars” in an industry have to spend a lot of time doing non-writing activity to eat, that’s another indicator of an industry on life support.

If any other industry had this much necessary moonlighting (go ahead, name any one you like), you wouldn’t want your kid on that career path. Imagine if all the civil engineers also had to work as mail carriers and mimes to avoid starvation. Suppose all the doctors were also telemarketers/poets/screenwriters/dog walkers/financial advisors/supply teachers, just so they could cobble together one living income from all their part-time jobs. There’s nothing wrong with any of these jobs but…

But if you have to do it all…well, my point is, sorry…you should quit. 

If you think you can quit, then good. You’re free to move on to something that could give you the security of three squares, dignity, hope for the future and some level of satisfaction.

If you can’t quit, either….

Maybe my writing as a disease analogy wasn’t so inept after all. 

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Filed under: publishing, Rant, Rejection, Useful writing links, Writers, writing tips, , , , , , , ,

Drop the rose-colored glasses.Typewriters are gone.

The Underwood Touch-Master 5 was among the las...

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The last typewriter manufacturer closed last week. Unless you’re Cormac McCarthy or Elmore Leonard, you’re not exactly at a loss. And yet…

Some people feel the pull of the past strongly. They are experiencing the past again, but this time without the White Out, carbon copies and numerous typos. It’s nostalgia for a time when newsrooms and typing class were full of the chatter of these wondrous machines. I miss that sound (although I’m sure you can download a program somewhere that will mimic that sound for your keyboard.)

But nostalgia is all it is. We fetishize the past, romanticizing earlier times and forgetting the problems and annoyances. The past wasn’t better because it was a better time. The past is better because you were younger and still had hope. (I kid! I kid! Your best times could still be ahead of you, but if that’s going to be true you better take your pace up from a walk to a jog.)

Typewriters were great. Are computers better? Yes. no. Maybe. Computers are different (and a different tool) and come with their own problems and advantages. But the medium is not the message. The device is beside the point. What matters is what is communicated, not how

I can communicate much more with my keyboard than I ever could with a typewriter. So for me, typewriters suck and computers rule. (Look it just got meta because it’s happening right now.) However, for all the bellyaching over computers, there are other writers who never gave up on the warm flow of ink on the page, calligraphic pens and parchment. (Then they type it on a computer so someone will see it.)

Technology is always destines to become outmoded at least until technology outmodes us in a fiery ball or the last plague. I love ebooks, but ( paper book  lovers brace yourselves) ebooks are transitional devices, too, and I’ll embrace the next wave of tech after they go. Tablets are next, better smart phones with expandable screens, contact lens screens and eventually chip implants as The Singularity makes us cyborgs.

I’m not looking back fondly at a past that never was.

I’m looking forward to an exciting future

that I hope won’t suck. 

Filed under: e-reader, ebooks, Rant, Writers, , , , , ,

Writers: Choose choice, not ideology

Bertrand Russell's views on philosophy

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Talking politics with someone the other day, they said a particular candidate was so stupid they didn’t know when a reporter was rude to them. I doubt that. Assuming the politician dressed himself that morning, he did know and instead of reacting to the rudeness, he stayed on topic. He was polite—or even too polite.

The guy I was talking to already didn’t like the politician, so he chose not just to disagree with him, but to assume he was an idiot.

People choose sides. Sometimes they don’t even know why, but they get heavily invested in one outcome, often before we have any facts. Sure, people like to think they’re logical, but in fact they’re often intuitive. They jump to their conclusion and the logic that’s recruited only feels like logic. It’s actually rationalization.

We’re hardwired to make quick decisions. It’s in our genes to choose a tribe, too. We stick with that tribe, even when the tribe doesn’t serve us. Even when it’s a bunch of  millionaire basketball players, fans think they’re somehow on the team. It’s a religious fervor to join, to believe, to be one with a larger whole.

And it gets goofy. Nationalism, for instance, is tribalism write large. If you own a Mac and extol its virtues, a bunch of disproportionately angry people will call you a wuss in some web forum or other. We take ownership of things we don’t own. We choose up sides to divide us and them where there is no us and them. Gay teens get ostracized and bullied, many to suicide. Liberals are too quick to write off all conservatives. People can’t seem to make a distinction between “supporting the troops” and “disagreeing with the mission.”

Or, for writers, watch traditionally published authors shit on self-publishing. But this post isn’t about traditional versus indie. I’m not talking today about which way is best (as if any one way is best for everyone.) This is not another one of those posts debating the use of terms, indie versus self-published and who gets to claim what (as if words are owned or static.)

This is a post that simply says: compared to all the big problems we have, traditional publishing versus the new publishing? Pretty trivial. (And it doesn’t have to be all one thing or the other thing, anyway.)

Lighten up. Choose your own path. If you’re shitting on somebody or telling others what to do, ease up on tribal tendencies and focus on you.

Man in the Mirror and all that.

You be you. I’ll be me.

Filed under: Books, ebooks, links, publishing, Rant, self-publishing, Writers, , , , , ,

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