Tag: writing advice

“It was too short.”

This, by far, is the number one criticism I seem to get in my negative book reviews. I never quite know what to think of it. On the one hand, a reader wouldn’t say something like that unless they thought it was good, since if they hated the book completely they would say something like “it was blessedly short” (and yes, I have gotten reviews like that). On the other hand, some of them really get worked up about it, to the point where I doubt they’ll ever read anything I write ever again.

Just to be clear, I’m not opposed to negative reviews, and I’m not responding to any of my reviews in particular. As a matter of principle, I believe that reviews are for readers and not for writers. I don’t generally respond to reader reviews except in very rare cases, and never to tell the reviewer that they’re wrong.

With that out of the way, what does “too short” actually mean? I can’t speak for all readers, but for me, when a book is too short it usually means that something in the story itself felt unsatisfying. In other words, something felt undeveloped, or rushed, or cut short without ever coming to a conclusion (or, in the case of cliffhangers, at least to a natural stopping point). In other words, “too short” isn’t a function of words or of pages, but of the story itself.

I’ve read short books that felt like they fit their length perfectly. A Short Stay in Hell comes immediately to mind. That book is a thin novella, barely more than a hundred pages in print, and yet it comes together so masterfully that I honestly don’t know what else could be added to make it longer. I would love to have more time to explore that particular world, but as it is, the story comes together perfectly within its own length.

That said, there are other books that I felt were too short even though they did fit their own length. That Leviathan Whom Thou Hast Made is an example of an award-winning book–clearly well written, clearly well constructed–that left me unsatisfied because it felt too short. Here, though, it was less a problem with the story itself and more just that I wanted more time to explore the alien culture of the swales. I would love to read a full-length novel set in the same universe, if for nothing else than for the fascinating world-building.

This makes me wonder: are there certain forms of fiction that tend to get more ire from readers just because of the constraints of the form? Do some readers hate novelettes just because they’re novelettes, or serials just because they’re serials? Judging from my own reviews, that seems to be the case. Even if I wrote the best novelette in the world, they would hate it because it’s not a novel.

So what am I supposed to do when readers tell me that my books are too short? Should I set a minimum word count and not publish anything unless it goes over that word count? I really don’t think so, because that sounds a lot like padding. Instead, the only solution that I can see is to focus on telling the best story and to not even worry about the length until it’s finished (and even then, only to know whether to label it a novel or a novella).

In the case of series, sometimes it can be difficult to tell whether to bring a certain thread to a conclusion or to leave it unresolved as part of the overall series arc. Certainly, each individual story needs to have an arc of its own, even if it ends on a cliffhanger. I’m still learning as I go, especially when it comes to writing series. But it’s certainly a lot of fun for me, and I hope it’s fun for you too as a reader.

In short, there’s not much I can do other than keep telling stories as best as I know how, and learn what I can from each story in order to tell better ones in the future. If “too short” means that something was unsatisfying, I’ll do my best to learn from it. But I’m not going to pad my novellas into novels just to hit a certain page count. The story itself should determine its own length.

Thoughts on sequels and the Desolation of Smaug

hobbit2-finalposter-fullSo last week I saw the new Hobbit movie, The Desolation of Smaug, and I really, really liked it … right up to the ending.  Why?

BECAUSE IT RESOLVED NOTHING!!!

Okay, sorry for the spoiler (though you probably should have guessed there would be spoilers in a post like this).  There’s going to be more in this post, so if you haven’t seen the movie yet, read on at your own risk.

Overall, I thought the movie was pretty good.  The action was fun, the fantasy elements were very well executed, and Benedict Cumberbatch was excellent as the voice of Smaug.  My only real hangups (beside the ending) are relatively minor, such as the impossible physics of Thorin’s luge run down the river of molten metal, or the fact that all of the gold ever mined in the history of the Earth would not fill a tenth of the stockpile in Erebor (seriously, all of the world’s gold would only fill a cube about 20 meters to a side … so maybe half of that big statue they melted at the end?).  Oh, and I thought the politics of Laketown were simplified to the point of caricature.  That was actually a fairly big issue for me, though I suspect the third movie will either make it or break it.

But all of those are dwarfed (no pun intended … okay, maybe a little) by the movie’s biggest flaw, which is that IT HAS NO RESOLUTION.

Seriously, none of the half-dozen subplots resolve in any meaningful way.  The one that comes closest is that love affair between the elf woman and the dwarf, since I guess she kind of saves him from his orc wound.  But he doesn’t even regain consciousness, which means that they aren’t even really reunited by the end.  And as for the other storylines … well, Smaug is still alive and about to burn Laketown, Gandalf is a prisoner of Sauron, Bard is a prisoner of that fat guy who wasn’t ever in the book and the dwarves still haven’t taken Erebor.

I understand that the middle installment in a series can’t resolve everything, but I still think it should resolve something.  Take The Empire Strikes Back, for example.  It ends on something of a cliffhanger, but there’s still enough of a resolution that it stands very well on its own.  Han Solo is frozen in carbonite, but Leia, Chewie, and the droids have escaped to safety.  Luke hasn’t defeated Vader, but he has learned something that completely changes the relationship between them both.  The Rebel Alliance hasn’t won yet, but they have gotten away from Hoth without being completely decimated by the Empire.

The Empire Strikes Back is not just part I of The Return of the Jedi–it stands on its own as a complete story.  It bridges A New Hope and Jedi by showing the tragic failure of Luke Skywalker to defeat Vader, rescue his friends, and become a Jedi.  By the end of the movie, he’s a very different person than he was at the beginning.  Could the same be said of Thorin, Bilbo, and the Desolation of Smaug?  Not really.

I suppose I have to be a bit cautious here, since there are those who would say that I’m guilty of this myself.  I’ll freely admit that I’ve written a few cliffhanger endings, most recently in some of the Star Wanderers stories.  However, I always try to resolve something, so that each book can stand at least partly on its own.

In Fidelity, for example, Jeremiah and Noemi haven’t found a home yet, but they do have one to work toward.  It starts with their arrival at Oriana Station and it ends with their departure–everything that they need to do there has been done.  In Sacrifice, the language barrier, cultural misunderstandings, and Jeremiah’s own personal shortcomings converge until he’s more or less forced to leave Noemi, at least temporarily.  It’s not a feel-good ending, but it is a resolution of sorts.  And in Reproach, Mariya comes to the horrifying realization that she’s destroyed everything that she was hoping to build.

I guess the key to bridging a series in such a way that the sequels stand on their own is to keep the individual conflicts and subplots distinct, especially the internal and external ones.  For example, I thought that The Unexpected Journey had a much better ending, not because the overall plot was resolved, but because Bilbo had transformed from a homebody to an adventurer.  The internal conflict had a satisfying resolution, and the growth arc had more or less come full swing.  The Desolation of Smaug could have done that with Thorin, and in some ways it seemed to be trying, but by the end it just fell short.

So am I going to see the third movie?  Well, yeah, so from a Hollywood perspective, I suppose the movie was a success.  But I’m not as excited for it as I was for Return of the Jedi.  And the lesson I’m taking from this is that cliffhangers are good, but you’ve got to deliver at least some satisfaction–you’ve got to resolve something.  Otherwise, people are going to feel cheated.

Thoughts on writing advice generally

I’m working a swing shift job at a bakery outlet right now, loading and unloading trucks for the next day’s shipment.  It’s a great job because 1) the pay is higher than most warehouse jobs, 2) it’s only 20 hours a week, 3) I’m the only guy there, so there’s lots of autonomy, and 4) I can listen to music and podcasts while I work.

Anyway, I was listening to a panel from this year’s LTUE last night, and at one point I actually got so mad with the panelists that I almost swore.  In particular, there was one panelist who doesn’t really have any books out or any publication credits to speak of, but she was constantly (CONSTANTLY) chiming in with writing rules and writing advice, to the point where she started clashing with some of the big name authors on the panel.

The reason that made me angry is because I’ve been on the receiving end of a lot of bad advice.  Not just advice about the craft of writing, which might be good individually but in the aggregate tends to feed your inner editor and kill your creative drive.  I’ve heard a lot of really bad career advice, both from established professionals who have no clue how the industry is changing, and (more frequently) from unwashed newbies who spend more time promoting their last book than writing their next one.  It’s gotten to the point where whenever anyone starts to give advice, I just roll my eyes and skim over whatever it is they’re trying to say.

This is not to say that I think I know everything and that now I can stop learning.  I have no illusions about that.  Just this past week, for example there was an excellent thread on the KBoards about cover design, with several designers chipping in with their insights.  I admit, I skimmed a lot of the stuff the writers were saying, but the designers I stopped and paid attention to.  There’s still a lot I have to learn when it comes to covers, as well as hiring the right kind of artists to do the job.

When it comes to the craft of writing, I’ve found that the best way to learn is to read a lot of really good books and pay attention to the things the authors do.  For example, Louis McMaster Bujold has some really colorful ways to describe her characters’ mannerisms, such as having Lord Vorkosigan simultaneously smile at one character and frown at another.  Jane Austen is a master of giving the one or two details that you need to feel like you know exactly what kind of a person each character is.  David Drake can write action sequences that really make you feel like you’re there in the character’s head, and Orson Scott Card’s dialog is peerless.

And as for career advice, honestly, the best approach I’ve found is to just say “screw you all–I’m doing it my way!” The industry has changed so much in the past three years that no one–absolutely no one–knows anything.

Four years ago, I snubbed my nose at self-publishers and would have been horrified to learn I’d become one.  Two years ago, I hated the term “self-publishing” and avoided it like the plague, using terms like “indie publishing” instead.  Now, I don’t really care.  I’m reaching readers, growing a fan-base, and making money, and that’s all that really matters.

Everyone seems to have an opinion, but the only way to have an informed opinion is to actually go out there and find out what works for you.  So basically, I treat everyone’s advice with contempt unless they can demonstrate unequivocally that it’s worked for them.  Even then, I pick and choose what I adopt for myself, based on what sits best with my own personal philosophy.  In the end, I learn a lot more by rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands dirty than I do from following someone else.

All of this has combined to make me really loathe to give any advice.  At Leading Edge, I’ve taken recently to reading ARCs and writing book reviews, rather than writing out those scathing story critiques like I used to.  I rarely comment on blogs or message board communities, and when I do, I always feel like I have to include a disclaimer that this is my opinion, or this is what’s worked for me, or this has been my experience (and therefore may not apply generally).  Sometimes, I see writers who are so caught up in stupid myths that I want to reach out and help them, but even then, I feel like there’s something restraining me.

The point is, if/when I succeed in this business, it will be in spite of the advice I’ve received, not because of it.  I’ll consider almost anything, but whether I actually follow it … yeah, don’t hold your breath.

Hey! Are you an aspiring writer / artist / creative whatever?

If you are, you really really really need to check out this webcomic about the three jaguars.

It’s about the three main voices in every professional artist’s head, and how they bicker and play off of each other.  As someone whose been in the writing business for a few years, I can say that it’s absolutely spot on (and not just because they’re anthropomorphized jaguars).  Seriously, this webcomic needs to be like a primer for all creative types or something.

The thing I’ve learned the most by following this webcomic has to do with the marketing voice.  I’ve always had it in the back of my mind that marketing is evil.  And if you do it wrong, it really is.  But if you do it right, it’s actually pretty amazing:

…your goal in marketing is to create sustainable relationships with people who want you to succeed; in short, to seek patrons, rather than one-time customers. To do that, you can’t be focused on the money or the one-time sale. You want to inspire customer loyalty. You want people to be invested in your success. You want them to feel special … because they are.

A lot of the stuff I do, like keeping this blog, or putting Author’s Notes at the end of all my books, comes back to this idea of making meaningful connections with people.  I just never saw it as marketing.  But if marketing yourself is really about focusing on people rather than obsessing about sales, that’s totally something that I can do–something that I’m excited to do!

The character I can relate to the most is probably Business Manager.  It’s the entrepreneurial spirit I can trace back to my grandpa, who started his own oil company in West Texas and was successful enough to put all us grandkids through private school.  But Artist is definitely in there as well–it’s why I’m always jumping from project to project, driving my inner business manager crazy.

So yeah, if you’re a creative type, you’ll definitely want to check out this webcomic.  It’s written by the self-published author whose books briefly got pulled from Amazon during the Space Marine controversy (fortunately for all of us, she held out and won).  Lots of good stuff there–she really knows what she’s talking about.

In the meantime, let me leave you with this incredible piece of orchestral trance music.  It’s quite possibly the most epic thing I discovered last week.  The video is pretty good too.

Take care!

Random thoughts on creativity and a cover preview

I’ve noticed that I tend to go through at least two revisions on most of my stories.  The first one generally identifies the problems in the rough draft and eliminates them, while the second one adds anything that’s missing and smooths the story over so that it works as a whole.  They both use different parts of my brain: one critical, the other creative.  Since both are important, I can’t easily skip either of them, and combining them into one mega-revision doesn’t really work because it’s hard to switch from one mode to the other.

I’m currently in the second revision for Star Wanderers: Dreamweaver, and it’s coming along really well so far.  Now that I’m in creative mode, it’s a lot easier to add stuff that was missing from the first draft and tidy up some other parts that seem a little disjointed.  With luck, this revision should be finished in a day or two.  It’s really only one chapter that needs the bulk of the work–according to my first readers, everything else is pretty good.  Far be it from me to fix something that isn’t broken.

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The other day, an old friend of mine emailed me with a question about the world building / plotting process I followed for Star Wanderers.  I wrote a fairly lengthy response, and while most of it was a more detailed explanation of the stuff I’ve already included in the various author’s notes, I came up with some advice that surprised me:

If I had to give any advice, I’d say that the most important thing is to just feed your creativity.  You can’t force your imagination, just like you can’t get any more golden eggs by killing the goose that lays them.  However, you can organize your life and your environment in such a way that bursts of creativity are longer and more frequent.  A huge and important part of it is learning to turn off your internal critic, especially on the rough draft.  Sometimes, if I spend too much time thinking about writing, it paralyzes me so that I can’t actually write–but if I trick myself into opening my WIP without really thinking about it, then ten minutes later I’m plugging away and the ideas are flowing.  And just as bad habits can be very harmful, good habits can be very helpful.

I think a lot of us creative types tend to force ourselves a little too much, especially when we’re first getting started.  We want to be productive, we want to have something that we can show for ourselves in order to feel validated, especially with so many people raising eyebrows at our dreams and creative pursuits.  But productivity goals, while important, are really only a means to an end–and they’re not even the most important means most of the time.

If you want your work to ring with authenticity, or to reflect the truth and beauty you see in the universe, you have to be in touch with that kind of stuff.  And once you get back in touch with the stuff that drove you to create in the first place, there’s nothing that you want to do more.

This morning, I wrote for three hours in one sitting, and I wasn’t tempted by any distractions at all.  I only produced about 1.3k words, but they were good words that added both to the story and my understanding of the story.  I got back in touch with the spark that drove me to write it in the first place, and hopefully that spark will carry through to the readers.  I think that it will.

So yeah–it’s not about productivity goals, or reworking our creative process to be more like someone else’s, or any number of other writerly insecurities.  It’s all about story, and everything that drives us to tell them.

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All right, if you’re still reading (or even if you cheated and skipped ahead), I have a treat for you.  I just found the AWESOMEST image for the cover of Star Wanderers: Benefactor, which I hope to finish up later this week after finalizing the revisions for Dreamweaver.  Here’s the cover:

SW-VI Benefactor (cover)

Pretty cool, eh? I <3 NASA. 😀

The picture is of Comet C/2001 Q4 (NEAT), taken by the WIYN 0.9-meter telescope at Kitt Peak National Observatory near Tucson, Arizona.  It was taken on 7 May 2004, and covers an area roughly five times the size of the moon.  As with all NASA images, it’s in the public domain.

The inspiration actually came from comet PANSTARRS, which is visible in the sky right now.  I tried to catch a glimpse of it tonight from the Y Mountain trail head, but there were too many clouds on the horizon to see it clearly.  Hopefully, the skies will be clearer tomorrow.

In related news, comet ISON later this year is expected to put on a really incredible show.  Astronomers think that for a brief time, it may even shine brighter than the moon, making it visible even during the day!  If that happens, it’s going to be AWESOME.  Mark it on your calendars for November–it’s going to be great!

That’s just about it for now.  I’d better get back to forming those good habits I mentioned earlier–like actually getting to bed at a reasonable hour. Later!

Some new thoughts on productivity

I’ve been thinking a lot about writing and productivity, mostly because I seem to be struggling a lot with it lately. With nanowrimo just starting, this is a pretty topical thing to blog about, but I also want to look at it from a long-term career perspective, since that’s what I’m personally more interested in.

As writers, when we spend all our time procrastinating or fail to meet our word count goals, we tend to beat ourselves up and frame the problem in terms of a lack of self-discipline. If only we had greater will power, we could buckle down and pound out five or ten thousand words a day like those super-prolific authors.

While there’s definitely something to say for raw self-discipline, though, I think there’s another dimension to writing productivity that we tend to miss. Not all writing-related activities are productive–and not all non-writing related activities are totally unproductive. In order to make the most efficient use of our writing time, I think it’s more important to understand and respect our individual creative process than it is to merely force ourselves to produce more words.

To better understand my own creative process, I took a little time to group every writing-related thing I do into four different categories:

  • Writing activities
  • Fill-the-well activities
  • Publishing chores
  • Procrastinating

WRITING ACTIVITIES

This should be pretty self-explanatory. It’s basically all the stuff that leads directly to a finished manuscript. It requires the highest amount of energy and produces the most important content.

Activities in this category include:

  • Writing new material
  • Making substantial revisions (putting in and taking out)
  • Updating chapter and scene outlines

FILL-THE-WELL ACTIVITIES

This is the non-writing stuff I do that helps me to be more productive when I switch back to the writing activities. Basically, it’s the stuff I do before and after I write that helps me to maintain a creative momentum.

Activities in this category include:

  • Reading
  • Blogging
  • Catching up on blogs
  • Listening to podcasts
  • Doing mindles chores
  • Going on walks
  • Exploring new places
  • Watching movies
  • Playing RPGs
  • Talking with friends
  • Reviewing first reader feedback
  • Writing character outlines
  • Making book soundtracks

PUBLISHING CHORES

This is all the professional stuff that I have to do, which may feel productive while I’m doing it, but actually takes time away from the stuff I should be doing. I still have to do it, but I should waste as little time doing it as possible.

Activities in this cateogry include:

  • Ebook formatting
  • Producing cover art
  • Writing blurbs and book descriptions
  • Writing author’s notes
  • POD typesetting
  • Handing financial stuff (royalties, invoices, etc)
  • Researching the publishing industry
  • Processing copy edits
  • Sending out email newsletter

PROCRASTINATION

Again, pretty self-explanatory. This is the stuff I shouldn’t do, but end up doing anyway in order to avoid stuff that feels like work. It’s all the stuff that I need to cut out entirely if I want to maximize my productivity.

Activities in this category include:

  • Minecraft
  • Alpha Centauri
  • Any other game that I can’t stop thinking about
  • Checking ebook sales numbers
  • Dicking around on Facebook and Twitter
  • Browsing the Kindle Boards
  • Watching TV and Youtube
  • Minecraft

So now that that’s done, what next?

I’m still figuring this part out, but I think the best thing to do would be to put as much distance as possible between the stuff that boosts productivity (writing and filling the well) and the stuff that doesn’t (publishing chores and procrastination).

The way I see it, there are basically two ways to do this:

  • Physically separate the activities. Do all your writing on a machine that’s disconnected from the internet and doesn’t have any games installed, and do everything else on a separate computer.
  • Set aside blocks of time specifically for writing. Organize your schedule so that writing is a priority, while acknowledging the need to take breaks and refill the creative well.

I can’t really do the first one while I’m here in Georgia, but I definitely can do the second. So far, I’ve found that waking up early to start the day with an hour of writing helps me a ton to build and keep momentum. However, I need to do a better job setting time aside in the afternoon, both for writing and for refilling the well. If I don’t, I usually end up procrastinating by default without realizing it until it’s too late.

So anyhow, those are some of my latest thoughts on writing and productivity. What are yours? Does this square with your experience, or is there a better way to think about it that I’ve missed?

When men cry, or in defense of damaged characters

I recently read an amazing blog post by Shannon Hale titled “Why boys don’t read girls (sometimes).” In it, she makes a number of excellent points about how our society stigmatizes boys who read “girlie books,” and why that’s harmful.

Perhaps the most moving part of the post was at the end, where she described an experience at one of her book signings where she saw a boy hanging back and asked him if he would like her to sign one of his books.  The boy’s mother jumped in and said “yeah, Isaac, would you like her to put your name in a girl book?” The boy’s sisters all laughed at him, shaming him for reading anything that ran against their strictly defined gender roles.

In direct contrast to Shannon Hale, Dave Farland released a “daily kick” newsletter a couple of days ago where he advises writers to never let their characters cry.  In it,  he states:

Whatever problem [the character has]—whether terminal disease or sociopathic neighbor or anything else—the problem must be faced with courage. This means that your character can’t cry about it, no matter what the source of pain…Any time that a character breaks down, we as an audience may cast judgment upon that character.

Now, I have nothing but respect for Dave Farland.  I’ve been following his “daily kick” emails for years, attended dozens of his convention panels, and even interviewed him once for an online magazine.  He’s been a very influential writer to me personally, and his advice has had a huge impact on my writing.

But on this issue, I think he’s dead wrong.

Even if you don’t have any problem with the idea that men should never cry–a disturbing belief that harms men by forcing them to hide their true feelings, and harms women by teaching men that compassion and empathy are signs of weakness–even if you’re comfortable living in a culture that accepts this belief, there are still instances where having a man cry in your story can be both moving and poignant.

Cross his woman, and he’ll blow your brains out–quoting scripture while he does it.

The best example of this that I can think of comes from David Gemmell’s The Jerusalem Man.  No one–and I mean no one–writes manlier heroes than David Gemmell.  And among his characters, Jon Shannow ranks as one of the manliest.

In The Jerusalem Man, Jon Shannow is a lone gunman roving the post-apocalyptic wastelands of Earth on a spiritual quest for the city of Jerusalem.  Near the beginning of the book, he comes across a frontier woman under attack from bandits.  He stops to defend her homestead, and she shows her gratitude by inviting him into her bed.

Jon Shannow is a middle aged man, but because of the post-apocalyptic setting, this is his first sexual experience, and it moves him to tears.  For me, that was one of the most poignant moments of the book.  It didn’t take away anything from his masculinity throughout the rest of the story–indeed, it added significantly to it when the woman got kidnapped and he determined to rescue her.

I’m sure there are other examples that you can think of.  Certainly in real life, this notion that men should never show their feelings is both harmful and outdated.  To say that in fiction, no characters should ever cry–female characters as well as male characters–that’s just so wrong it’s infuriating.  If crying is so taboo that it’s even forbidden in the pages of a book, then something is wrong with the culture, not the story.

In 2008, I attended a fascinating panel at LTUE in which Tracy Hickman and a number of romance and fantasy writers discussed how to write romance in science fiction and fantasy.  Tracy explained that in all the novels he writes with Margaret Weis, she does the fight scenes and he does the romantic ones.

He then went on to talk about how there’s a whole side of life that our culture has shut men off from–a feminine side which is present in all of us, men as well as women.  The way he explained it, romance is not just the “kissy bits,” but a vital and enriching way to see the world–a paradigm that infuses everything with feeling and passion.

It makes me think of The Princess Bride, where even the action scenes with Inigo Montoya have a certain romantic flair to them.  In the old days, the term “romance” described not only love stories, but action & adventure stories as well.  In modern times, we seem to have forgotten all the old qualities like honor, love, sacrifice, loyalty, heroism, and compassion–even though they still make for the best stories.

Of course, our characters need to have courage.  But courage is not the absence of fear–it’s pressing on in spite of it.  And crying is not always a sign of weakness–it can actually be a sign of great emotional strength.  And if it’s true that the best literature helps us to see our world in a new light, giving us a greater understanding and appreciation for the human condition, how is it “courage” for anyone to hide their true feelings?

So do the characters in my stories cry?  Hell, yeah!  I don’t have them hide their feelings just because some readers might look askance.  Some of them cry more than others, and many of them don’t hardly cry at all, but those who do cry do so because the story demands it.

Even though I write science fiction, I do my best to infuse my stories with romance–not just the “kissy bits,” but that depth of feeling and passion for life that made me fall in love with books and reading in the first place.  Star Wanderers is a great example of that, and so is Desert Stars.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, I’ve read a lot of “girlie books.” They’re some of my all-time favorites.

If you’re thinking of self publishing, read this. All of it.

I just read a fascinating Q&A on Reddit with Hugh Howey, author of the self-published phenomenon Wool.  After six trancelike hours reading through all the comments, all I can say is “wow.”

Okay, I guess I can say a little more.  Yesterday, I listened to Brandon Sanderson’s lecture on self-publishing from his English 318 class this year.  While I agree with much of what he says, a lot of it is already out of date.  Probably the biggest thing is whether it’s still advantageous for indies to go with a traditional publisher after making a name for themselves.  In 2011, Amanda Hocking had some good reasons for going traditional.  In 2012, Hugh Howey has some very good reasons not to.

The other big thing, though, is this idea of author platform–that to be a successful indie, you have to find some way to drive large numbers of people to your books.  Well, not necessarily.  Hugh Howey was a nobody for three years, and the title that finally pushed him over the tipping point was the one he promoted the least.  To me, that shows:

  1. current sales are not a predictor of future sales, and
  2. a great book will grow into its audience independent of its author.

Granted, there may be a threshold that needs to be crossed before word-of-mouth really starts to kick in, but if a nobody with passable cover art and no author platform can cross it, that threshold isn’t very high–and that’s good news for all of us.

The way I see it, there are three big myths that writers struggle with in making the shift from traditional to indie publishing:

1) The flood of crap books will keep you from getting noticed

This grows out of the paradigm of limited shelf space–that the best way to get noticed is to have your book occupy more space relative to all the other books on the shelf.  This might be true in the brick and mortar world, but the rules are much different in the digital realm.

Think about it: how many new blogs are launched every single day?  Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands.  And yet people still find the good content amid the sea of crap.  On Youtube, an average of one hour of video content is uploaded every single second.  And yet there are still entertainers making a lot of money through their Youtube channels.

The rules in the digital realm are completely different from everything in the physical world.  Figuring that out requires a huge paradigm shift, one that even indie writers struggle with.

2) Publishing a book is an event that must be promoted

This grows out of the paradigm of velocity, or as Kris Rusch puts it, the “produce model” of publishing:

Every month publishing comes out with brand new product. Shelf space is limited in every single brick-and-mortar bookstore.  Big Publishing makes the bulk of its money during the first few months of a book’s existence.  So if a book sits on a bookstore’s shelf until the book sells and that sale takes six months to a  year, the bookstore and the publisher lose money.

Better to dump the old inventory on a monthly basis—for full credit for unsold items—than it is to have the inventory sit on the shelves and grow “stale.”

Of course, the flaw in this logic is that digital shelf space is unlimited, therefore books do not “spoil.” No matter how much time passes, an ebook can still be found in the same place.

Therefore, does it really make sense to make a big deal over an indie book release?  Maybe to jump start some word-of-mouth, but it’s not like your career is going to be harmed if you do nothing.  In fact, it might be better to hold off until you have a few more titles up, so that when you give the first one that push, readers will have something else to read once they’ve finished it.

3) To succeed you need to find a way to “break in”

This grows out of the gatekeeper paradigm, where the system is closed and the few entry points are guarded by a select group of taste makers whose job is to bestow legitimacy on those who meet the qualifications to get in.  It’s the concept of patronage, where success comes from being chosen by a wealthy benefactor, and it’s connected with the idea that you haven’t truly “arrived” until <fill in the blank>.

The flaw with this paradigm, of course, is that publishing is no longer a closed system.  The gates haven’t just been flung open, the walls themselves have been torn down.  The job of the taste makers is no longer to protect readers from the dross, but to lead them to the gems–which is honestly much closer to what it should have been in the first place.

So what does this mean for creators?  It means that there’s no longer a system to break into.  You don’t need to write better than everyone else, you just need to find (and keep) your 1,000 true fans.  Success isn’t bestowed upon you by some higher authority, it’s something that you discover on your own as you hone your craft and build your business.

Honestly, this is one that I still have a lot of trouble with.  When I left to teach English in Georgia, in the back of my mind I had this vague notion that I was going into a self-imposed exile, and wouldn’t come back or settle down until I’d “broken in.” Of course, this made me quite discouraged, because it felt like things were out of my control–or worse, that I’d somehow failed.

But listening to Brandon’s lecture and reading Howey’s Q&A session helped me to remember that it’s all still in my control.  I don’t need a benefactor, I just need a good plan, if that makes any sense.  So right now, I’m thinking things through and making the necessary revisions to that plan.  There probably won’t be any big ones–I still think I’m more or less on the right track–but it will be good to update my paradigm.

By the way, the title of this post applies to the Q&A with Hugh Howey, not to the post itself.  Though if you are thinking of self publishing, I hope it’s helped out in some way.

Also, I just finished part I of Wool, and it deserves every bit of praise that it’s got.  Expect to see a review of the omnibus shortly.

Heinlein’s rules for the digital age

I’ve been thinking a lot about Heinlein’s rules and how they apply to my own writing career.  While a lot of newer writers like to debate Heinlein, all of the long-time professionals tend to agree with him.  For that reason, I think it’s worth taking a serious look at his rules and doing my best to follow them.

The trouble is that Heinlein formulated his rules before the digital age, when self-publishing was non-viable and writers sold to editors, not to readers.  While I wouldn’t go so far as to say his rules are outdated, I do think that they need to be tweaked a little in order to apply to today’s aspiring professionals.

As a disclaimer, I should say that I’m only a beginning writer without much authority or experience.  However, my goal is not to debate Heinlein, but to explore ways in which his advice can be adapted to myself and writers in my position.  If any of you have any thoughts or input, I would very much like to hear it.

So anyhow, here we go:

Rule One: You Must Write.

Pretty straightforward: if you want to write for a living, then the bulk of your time should be spent writing.  Too many indie writers spend all their time and energy promoting their one book when they should be writing others.  If promotion gets in the way of writing, then you should stop promoting and just go write.

Personally, I could probably spend a lot more time writing new material as opposed to revising stuff I’ve previously written (yes, that’s the infamous third rule; I’ll get to it in a minute).  I tend to spend a month writing something new, then take a couple of months to revise old works without producing new material.  If I want to be strict about following Heinlein’s rules, I should probably change that.

Rule Two: You Must Finish What You Write.

Another straightforward rule, but you’d be surprised how hard it is when you know you can publish whatever you write.  Kris Rusch calls these ideas “popcorn kittens,” after a popular youtube video that embodies what goes on in our minds when we have the freedom to create anything.  The problem with too much freedom is that it’s a struggle not to flit from one idea to another, dabbling in all of them but carrying none to completion.

I myself had this problem over the summer, and to some extent I’m struggling with it now.  The key is just to buckle down and have the discipline to finish what you start.  Pretty straightforward.

Rule Three: You Must Refrain From Rewriting, Except to Editorial Order. 

This is Heinlein’s most controversial rule, especially for new writers.  However, I think he has a good point.  If a story is fundamentally broken, revising it is no more effective than stirring around a pile of crap; and if the story works, revising it without first getting a trusted second opinion could actually make it worse.  After all, writers are often the worst judges of their own work.

The key question, then, is where to go for that second opinion.  In the old days, money flowed from the editors to the writers (or at least from the publishers, who employed the editors), but in the new world of publishing, it’s exactly the opposite.  Most of us can’t afford to hire editors for extensive developmental edits, especially when we’re just starting out, and while it’s possible to publish a rough draft, for most of us it’s probably not a good idea.

My approach is to share my unpolished work with a network of trusted first readers, and use their feedback to guide me in the revision process.  I don’t always adopt all of their suggestions, but I carefully consider each one.  Most of the time, I use them to see where the problems are, then use my creative mind to come up with a solution, sometimes taking the book in an entirely new direction.  And if something works well for some but doesn’t for others, I figure it’s not a problem but a judgment call that requires my attention.

Using this method, it currently takes me about four or five drafts before I feel confident enough to publish something.  If I really wanted to follow Heinlein’s rules, I would probably try harder to nail it on the first draft, but I’ve found that my creative process works better in revision mode than while writing new material.  So long as I can revise efficiently enough to produce at least two novels each year, I think I’ll be in good shape.

Rule Four: You Must Put Your Story on the Market.

In the old days, this meant submitting your manuscript to contests, magazines, and publishing houses, not self-publishing.  For short stories, contests and magazines are probably still the best place to start.  However, with novels, indie publishing is generally much better.

The trouble is that publishing your own work is as scary as hell, especially when it’s close to your heart.  This is probably the main thing keeping most new writers from going indie: the need for external validation which grows out of a lack of much needed self-confidence.

The key, I believe, is to get some emotional distance between yourself and your work.  As a rule, I don’t respond to reviews, good or bad.  As for external validation, I don’t seek it at all.  I only publish the stories that I believe in, and even if I’m nervous about sending them out into the world, I figure it’s better to suck it up and do it anyway.  It was the same with writing queries; the only difference is that the market is now the readers, not the editors.

Rule Five: You Must Keep It On The Market Until It Has Sold.

This is especially challenging for indie writers.  When weeks go by without a single sale, it’s easy to believe that your work is crap and that you should just take it down.  It’s even worse when your book isn’t selling and you get a bad review.

Just like with queries, however, the key is to keep your work out there until it finds its natural audience.  With indie publishing, you have all the time in the world, provided you don’t lose confidence.

The key question in my mind is whether to take down your old, crappy stuff as your writing improves, or to leave it up alongside your newer, better work.  Personally, I think it should come down to the readers; if the old stuff is consistently getting bad reviews, it’s probably better to take it down, but if not, might as well keep it up.

So there you have it.  From Heinlein’s rules, I’ve more or less crystalized the following approach:

  1. Always make time to write, even at the expense of promotion.
  2. Only chase new ideas if you know you can finish what you start.
  3. Don’t revise without first getting feedback from trusted readers.
  4. Don’t wait for external validation before you publish.
  5. Keep your work up, even if it doesn’t sell.

Not quite as pithy as Heinlein’s rules, but they seem pretty reasonable.  I don’t have the experience to say whether they follow his, however, so if you have any comments or suggestions, please chime in.

The interior designer’s approach to story

I recently read a fascinating post on John Brown’s blog with an interesting exercise for analyzing the kinds of stories you most like to read.  By finding out what really turns you on in a story, you can have a much better idea what to write, and how to make your own stories better.

He prefaced the exercise with a story about the interior designer who helped them to decorate their house.  The designer spread out a number of home magazines in front of them, and told them to go through and tear out the pictures that most turned them on.  After doing this, they analyzed the pictures to see what they had in common, and thus discovered how to best decorate their house.

The exercise works much the same way.  First, pick out five books you really like that immediately come to mind.  Mine are:

As many of you know, these are some of my favorite books of all time.  I’ve reread three of them, and I intend to reread the other two at some point.

Next, pick out the elements that these books have in common.  Here’s what I came up with:

1) Set in a different time and place.

Not all these books are science fiction, but the all take place in a world far removed from our own.  Only Spin takes place largely on Earth, but the events of the story transform the world as we know it so much that by the end of the novel, it’s completely different. SPOILER (highlight to see) Besides, at the very end, the two main characters leave Earth by going through the giant portal to another planet, so the novel is arguably about escaping the world as we know it.

2) Stakes that are much more personal than global.

This was interesting, and highlights something I realized when I compared Merchanter’s Luck with Downbelow Station.  In all of these stories, the central driving conflicts are extremely intimate and personal.

To be sure, many of these stories also have an epic backdrop; Mistborn certainly does.  However, I was much more interested in Vin’s growth and development than I was in how the Ska would overthrow the Lord Ruler–in fact, Mistborn is my favorite book in the trilogy for that very reason.

3) Encourages deep introspection.

This shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if you’ve followed this blog for a while, but I love love LOVE stories that make me see the world in a new way.  Thrillers and adventures are all fun and good, but if it doesn’t make me think, I’m usually like “meh” at the end.

4) Female characters who aren’t weak or passive.

This one might be a bit more controversial, but in all of these stories, I’ve noticed that the female characters are pretty strong, even if they aren’t all kick-butt Katniss wannabes (ugh…I hate Katniss).  Even in Legend, which is largely dominated by men, you still have the earl’s daughter, who is one heck of a spirited woman.

5) Life and death conflicts.

This is interesting: in all of these books, the threat of death is immanently real.  Some of them, such as Legend and On My Way to Paradise, are among the most violent books I’ve ever read.  I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something about life and death struggles that really draws me.

6) Romantic in a broad sense.

I’m using Tracy Hickman’s definition here, in which romance is all about teaching us to feel and bringing us in touch with our deepest feelings.  That’s the central theme of On My Way to Paradise: learning how to be a man of passion after witnessing some of the worst atrocities of war.

All of these books not only make me feel, they are about the feelings that they inspire.  In other words, the emotional elements of the story are both a part of and deeply embedded in the story’s central theme.

The exercises isn’t complete after this, though.  For the last part, take another five books and analyze them to see how they compare.  My second list includes:

So how does the list stack up?  Let’s see…

  1. Definitely true.  NONE of these stories take place in the world as we know it–and that’s awesome.
  2. A Canticle for Leibowitz might seem like an exception, since it follows the broad rise and fall of human civilization after the nuclear apocalypse.  But the things that really drew me to the story were the more personal elements: the novice who makes the illuminated manuscript of the electrical diagram, for example, or the abbot at the very end who SPOILER tries desperately to convince the single mother not to take her baby to the mercy killing station after the bomb fatally irradiates them.  In any case, it’s telling that A Canticle for Leibowitz made this list, whereas none of Arthur. C. Clarke’s books even came to my mind.
  3. Definitely true.  Even Citizen of the Galaxy, which is more adventure fiction than high concept sf, features a fascinating society of interstellar traders that really made me sit back and think about the way we structure our society.  Heinlein has a really awesome way of doing that with everything he writes.
  4. The only possible exception here might again be Heinlein, who had some very extremist views of women (putting it lightly).  However, if I recall, Citizen of the Galaxy has a female character at the end who helps pull out the main character from his indigent circumstances and helps him to come into his own.  Again, they might not all be kick-butt tramp-stamp vampire slayers, but they certainly aren’t weak.
  5. Less true of The Neverending Story and The Dispossessed, but while the central conflicts might not be about life and death, the threat of death (or a total loss of identity) certainly comes into play.
  6. Definitely true.  Few books have taught me to feel more deeply than The Neverending Story.  An absolutely magnificent piece of literature.

So there you have it.  According to this exercise, I should write books set in another time and place, where strong female characters face life and death decisions that personally impact the people in their lives and make the readers think and feel.  Interestingly enough, that is a PERFECT description of Bringing Stella Home, as well as Desert Stars and Into the Nebulous Deep.

Cool stuff.  Makes me want to write.  So on that note, I think I will.