Sentences and dialogue swirled in my mind as I walked toward the front door and I refused to turn back and open the laptop or grab paper and pen. I knew what would happen the moment I sat down, the words would disappear and the dialogue turn trite as I struggled to remember the exact phrasing, the position of noun, verb, adjective, adverb, and connecting words. It happened the same way every time I sat on the porcelain throne or stood in the shower with my hands full of lather when I washed my hair. Everything came clear. The next scene, the next transition, the next everything, and all disappeared the moment I attempted to grab them from the ether and give them substance on screen or paper. It wasn't writer's block; there was no block, no impediment. It was as though it was leaking out and being funneled somewhere other than where I needed it to go.
That's the way it has been for the past few months and my latest book languishes for lack of words.
I finally managed to finish the last chapter I'd begun and I continue to soldier on, but it should not be this difficult. I should be able to sit down and put the words together as I'm doing now, and sometimes it is that way; most of the time the words elude me, playing hide and seek or catch as catch can when I need a rousing game of Rover, Rover, come on over, except with words.
If this is post publishing blues, it's the longest stretch I've endured to date. I began and finished the next book about a month after publication of my first solo novel. It took two years to edit and rewrite, but that's the way it is when anything is done by committee. I even took a few months off to let things rest and my temper to cool from all the helpful input I kept getting, none of which was helpful or input anything other than spleen and venom. How does one use too many verbs anyway?
As I tried to figure all this out the same way I've always done -- by writing things out in my paper journals (pen and paper have always been the best way for me to think) -- it all came clear, or at least as clear as anything does in my experience. I needed to stop worrying that what went onto the page had to be perfect the first time around. If I learned anything from my last novel, it is that sometimes it takes time to make a book, even one that is self-published. I'd have to struggle through the trite dialogue and lackluster descriptions and uninspired plotting and just get on with it. The book would be finished and the real work (editing, rewriting) could begin, but not until I actually finished the book. I'm still adding bits and bobs to the last novel, which is a lot easier since I can upload the latest version without going through a lot of red tape and hem-hawing about. I can't move on to the next book until this one is finished.
It's hard sometimes because I have so many responsibilities and so much to do, to carve out a few hours, or even one hour, of writing time, as evidenced by the lack of daily posts here and on other blogs. Everything seems to pile up until I am at the bottom of a tottering heap about to be crushed by the sheer weight of it all. Like housework and the laundry, I have to stop trying to do it all at once and be content to do what I can when I can. Work, unfortunately, is non-negotiable. I have no choice in when I have to do that, but there is a little latitude with my other responsibilities, like reviewing books. I need a break and so I shall take one after I finish the latest box of goodies to be read and reviewed. I'll take a month or two off and focus on finishing the current book and beginning the next one. Yeah, that'll work.
In the end, it is all about focus, concentrating fully on one task at a time, instead of trying to work it all in and giving short shrift to the task at hand, and I've been wasting so much time in being indecisive and avoidance. Time to reassess. That's what I'm doing now: reassessing.
I used to have time for writing, but I carried a much smaller load in those days, and picked up a lot of rejections. I don't need to worry about rejection as long as I'm self-publishing, but I do need to concentrate on quality and getting things done. Time to do another mental spring cleaning and get rid of all the time wasters and detours.
That's what I will be doing. Cross your fingers that I don't decide that posting isn't one of the things to go.
No, it will probably end up being useless things like men and dating and cooking. It's amazing what a variety of frozen and precooked meals are available these days. And there are always sandwiches.
The words will come if I give them space and concentrate. That is all that is necessary -- that the words come. Build it -- or in this case spread out and make room -- and they will come.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
Monday, August 01, 2011
Book Review Dos and Don'ts
There is something disheartening about reviews. Either a whole bunch of negative people review a book, most of whom have no sense of spelling, grammar, or punctuation, let alone story, plot, characterization, or few people write a review. They might email and tell the author the enjoyed the book and try to engage the author in a long, drawn out email conversation, which isn't productive and often means time lost writing, or they come up to an author at a con or book signing and gush about a book, never having taken the time to go online and review the book.
In this cyber age, it is important to put the remarks in writing -- and not just the negative remarks since that seems to be most of the kinds of reviews made. So many people with so many grudges. You can tell the author how much you liked a book, or books, but put it in writing. Amazon has the most visible and oft used review system of all the bookstores, but take the time to cut and paste your comments into B&N, Goodreads, or your favorite indie bookstore, like Powell's, all of which have good review forums.
One thing the online review process has created is a forum for the discontented and disgruntled to write their opinions and be heard. It's best if authors don't check the websites very often. It can be deflating, disheartening, and downright down casting if you've a thin skin or are new to the game. It seems people like to trash an author's work, but there are plenty of reviewers (and I use the term loosely) who have not a clue how to write or score a review, so I'll offer a couple of points.
First, if you liked the book but it had a few errors in formatting (check for an updated copy if it's a free review copy) and the story didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, and was well written, the least score should be 3 stars. Giving a writing 2 stars and saying how much you enjoyed the book is like sending mixed signals on a first date. Good thing the author can't drop a roofie in your drink and have their wicked way with you.
Secondly, if you loved the book and there were no errors or formatting problems, and the story was well written overall, give it 5 stars. The more errors or the more problems you had with the story, down grade by 1-star increments.
Two-star reviews are for those books that had merit but were not particularly well written, had too many formatting or spelling/grammar/punctuation errors and didn't come up to the mark.
One-star reviews are reserved for utter crap, including that the author couldn't write his or her way out of a paperback with a hole it and a sharp knife to hand.
Above all, be fair. Be honest. And don't take out your bad day on the author. It's not their fault.
If the book didn't end the way you wanted it to, don't take that out on the author either. It is the author's view and not yours. If you want a different ending, write one, but don't penalize the author by exercising your fits of pique with a low review when otherwise the book was good, or even excellent.
Reviewing is an art form that professionals learn how to do through years of experience and background in writing critiques. Reviewing in the cyberworld is somewhat different and mostly akin to a group of people talking about a book in a book club or among a group of friends. Keep that in mind. Very few reviewers are professionals on Amazon, but a few pros do slip through from time to time. Learn to write a substantive critique and keep it clean.
It's a tough world out there and Amazon reviews are the currency favored by the market right now. If you need help writing a review, ask someone with some experience, or write it the way you would tell it to a friend. Use a voice recorder if it helps.
Review books, preferably on days you're not having a major case of PMS, haven't fought with your boyfriend/girlfriend/boss/mother/father/siblings, got up on the right side of the bed, and didn't have car trouble or a bad hair day. Reviews are about the book, not your personal perils and petulance.
You can say whatever you like but do it with some class. It makes a difference.
In this cyber age, it is important to put the remarks in writing -- and not just the negative remarks since that seems to be most of the kinds of reviews made. So many people with so many grudges. You can tell the author how much you liked a book, or books, but put it in writing. Amazon has the most visible and oft used review system of all the bookstores, but take the time to cut and paste your comments into B&N, Goodreads, or your favorite indie bookstore, like Powell's, all of which have good review forums.
One thing the online review process has created is a forum for the discontented and disgruntled to write their opinions and be heard. It's best if authors don't check the websites very often. It can be deflating, disheartening, and downright down casting if you've a thin skin or are new to the game. It seems people like to trash an author's work, but there are plenty of reviewers (and I use the term loosely) who have not a clue how to write or score a review, so I'll offer a couple of points.
First, if you liked the book but it had a few errors in formatting (check for an updated copy if it's a free review copy) and the story didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, and was well written, the least score should be 3 stars. Giving a writing 2 stars and saying how much you enjoyed the book is like sending mixed signals on a first date. Good thing the author can't drop a roofie in your drink and have their wicked way with you.
Secondly, if you loved the book and there were no errors or formatting problems, and the story was well written overall, give it 5 stars. The more errors or the more problems you had with the story, down grade by 1-star increments.
Two-star reviews are for those books that had merit but were not particularly well written, had too many formatting or spelling/grammar/punctuation errors and didn't come up to the mark.
One-star reviews are reserved for utter crap, including that the author couldn't write his or her way out of a paperback with a hole it and a sharp knife to hand.
Above all, be fair. Be honest. And don't take out your bad day on the author. It's not their fault.
If the book didn't end the way you wanted it to, don't take that out on the author either. It is the author's view and not yours. If you want a different ending, write one, but don't penalize the author by exercising your fits of pique with a low review when otherwise the book was good, or even excellent.
Reviewing is an art form that professionals learn how to do through years of experience and background in writing critiques. Reviewing in the cyberworld is somewhat different and mostly akin to a group of people talking about a book in a book club or among a group of friends. Keep that in mind. Very few reviewers are professionals on Amazon, but a few pros do slip through from time to time. Learn to write a substantive critique and keep it clean.
It's a tough world out there and Amazon reviews are the currency favored by the market right now. If you need help writing a review, ask someone with some experience, or write it the way you would tell it to a friend. Use a voice recorder if it helps.
Review books, preferably on days you're not having a major case of PMS, haven't fought with your boyfriend/girlfriend/boss/mother/father/siblings, got up on the right side of the bed, and didn't have car trouble or a bad hair day. Reviews are about the book, not your personal perils and petulance.
You can say whatever you like but do it with some class. It makes a difference.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Back in the Saddle
At long last, I am getting back into the language of Victorian England and putting words on the screen. That's a good feeling, especially when I have been slogging for so long, unable to get through the horse latitudes of ending one project and getting back to another. It takes time to get into the right frame of mind and the cadence of language from a different era, but I'm finally there with another chapter down. It's a bit rough in spots, but that is what editing and polishing are for -- working out the rough spots.
I've decided to give myself a treat once I've finished with a certain number of pages and chapters, and that is a holiday in another time and place with different characters. They are the carrot on the end of the writing stick. It is important to reward yourself for accomplishing set goals. I may even serialize the novel online, but I'm not quite there yet. Right now is all about getting back into the story and seeing it unfold on the screen, and that is a good feeling.
There are so many different levels to writing, not the least of which is finding a pace that suits the characters and the writer, all the while expecting and dealing with changes in the weather, so to speak. Some days, writing can be like skimming along a smooth track without a care in the world or a cloud on the horizon. Other days, it's more like slogging through mud up to your knees that sucks you down and makes forward movement downright difficult. It's important to keep slogging until you get to smooth ground again or nothing ever gets done.
There are times that other characters and stories beckon and seduce. I do my best to ignore them, taking notes when possible and remembering and noting details for exploration later. Distraction is a form of procrastination and should not be indulged. That's always hard for me to remember since I tend to be a bit of a magpie with new ideas, characters, and bits of research that lead in different directions from the one I'm currently traveling. That's where discipline comes in, but discipline and I have a rocky relationship. Discipline throws rocks to get my attention and I bob and weave and go off track. Like I said, a rocky relationship.
This morning was different. I felt the muse stirring and decided to follow her back into the fray. Now I'm past that awkward part in the story where clues are slipped in and a bit of foreshadowing done, I can move on to the meat of the story, coming back later to smooth out the bumps and brush away the cobwebs that gathered in the months between when I put the story down and picked it up again determined to move through it. It's a little like exercising after being a couch potato long enough for the pops and clicks of unused muscles, and the inevitable ache that settles, makes me wonder why I ever decided that exercise was a good thing.
At any rate, moving ahead is painful at first but gets easier each day -- as long as I minimize distractions and focus on getting some work done. In spite of the fits and starts, it does feel good to be back on track with a specific and reachable goal ahead. No one said writing was easy, but the rewards are worth it, as long as I don't think about the reviewers that will inevitably dislike what I've achieved. It's all right. Everyone is entitled to an opinion -- even when it's wrong.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
From Amateur to School Girl -- Again
A reviewer, who admitted she doesn't read the kind of book I write, said "the writing and character development seemed a little amateurish." I guess a little amateurish is like being a little virginal. On the cusp of being a tramp and on the road to whorish -- or something like that. At least it's a three-star review, so I'm not going to worry.
Not worry? I'm going back to school. Maybe I can burnish the rest of the amateur out of my writing.
I did decide to go back to school, in a way, by signing up for Great Courses. It was a huge bargain, $39.95 down from $215. College at bargain basement prices, and no exams or dissertations or angst about what to wear to class. I always obsessed about having enough paper and a pen and pencil that worked. Silly me. I may even take the course on rhetoric and critique. It's likely my reviewing skills may also seem a little amateurish. Of course, I've earned enough money to buy food when the bills depleted my regular income, and I've had to pay taxes on the earnings for the past six years. Do amateurs pay taxes on earnings? Oh, well, not important.
I decided to try out one of the Great Courses since I've been receiving their catalogues for years. With the long list for the Booker Prize out today, it just makes sense to brush up my reading, writing, and critiquing skills. I took a look at the list and checked them all out on Amazon to see what was available for Kindle and at what prices.
Surprisingly, four of the books were out of print even though they were published within the past few months, and nearly all of the books were priced at near hard cover price, and often more than the paperback price. I guess publishers just don't get it.
How does a book go out of print in the seven weeks since it was published? Low print runs. Most of the books were published with a less than 6000 print run -- for all countries. Had they chosen to offer digital files (at realistic rates), the books would still be available while reprint orders were being made. I guess they didn't believe in the books enough to order a print run sufficient to sell to interested readers, and ebooks readers do actually read. I've finished six books on Kindle and just received the Kindle the first of May. Of course, it goes without saying that I've read many more books in print (that's what the office sends me to review) and a few in digital form that is not compatible with the Kindle. The total is, I believe thirty books that I didn't read on Kindle, and that's a conservative estimate. I've also read two of George R. R. Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice books (A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings, and have begun A Storm of Swords) and have nibbled The Bone People, a Booker Prize winner from 1985 that was a gift from a friend who said after the second chapter she realized the main female character was me.
One of my guilty pleasures, and not including Martin's saga, is the Nikki Heat mysteries written by Richard Castle, of television fame. Now there was a bright marketing ploy. A character on a TV show (one of the few I stream) is an author of mystery novels and, in real life, there are books written by said TV character featuring his partner and love interest, Detective Kate Beckett, aptly named Nikki Heat.
The writing is simple and the mysteries not that difficult to solve, and the byplay between Heat and her literary shadow, magazine writer Jameson Rook (who also writes romance novels as Victoria St. Clair), is heated, to say the least. It's fluff writing but it's fun, hence guilty pleasure. I've read Heat Wave and am working my way through Naked Heat, although the naked part is sadly missing so far, and I'm reading them on Kindle at a price below the paperback price. What a concept. The thing is, I'm enjoying the books, just as I enjoyed reading Terry Pratchett's Discworld series on Kindle.
Kindle is a great product and I'm enjoying the heck out of mine -- when I'm not reading review books, like Prophecy by S. J. Parris or Deed to Death by D. B. Henson, whose writing is long on detail and short on action through the first half of the book. D. B. Henson was first self-published and then picked up by Simon & Schuster, so indie to traditionally published still happens, and not just to Amanda Hocking, who is wringing the very last drop of tease out of her move to St. Martin's Press with her troll series.
What surprised me about the Booker Prize news this morning was the slap at Apple for not having any of the digital books available from the long list and being questioned as to whether they were players or just playing. I guess Apple is an amateur compared to Amazon, but you didn't hear that from me.
So, while the publishing world is heating up and plots are being bandied about, I will return to the beginning and learn to construct artful sentences in an effort to shake off that amateurish taint in my writing and character development. After all, writing is evolution and to write and sell one must evolve.
Not worry? I'm going back to school. Maybe I can burnish the rest of the amateur out of my writing.
I did decide to go back to school, in a way, by signing up for Great Courses. It was a huge bargain, $39.95 down from $215. College at bargain basement prices, and no exams or dissertations or angst about what to wear to class. I always obsessed about having enough paper and a pen and pencil that worked. Silly me. I may even take the course on rhetoric and critique. It's likely my reviewing skills may also seem a little amateurish. Of course, I've earned enough money to buy food when the bills depleted my regular income, and I've had to pay taxes on the earnings for the past six years. Do amateurs pay taxes on earnings? Oh, well, not important.
I decided to try out one of the Great Courses since I've been receiving their catalogues for years. With the long list for the Booker Prize out today, it just makes sense to brush up my reading, writing, and critiquing skills. I took a look at the list and checked them all out on Amazon to see what was available for Kindle and at what prices.
Surprisingly, four of the books were out of print even though they were published within the past few months, and nearly all of the books were priced at near hard cover price, and often more than the paperback price. I guess publishers just don't get it.
How does a book go out of print in the seven weeks since it was published? Low print runs. Most of the books were published with a less than 6000 print run -- for all countries. Had they chosen to offer digital files (at realistic rates), the books would still be available while reprint orders were being made. I guess they didn't believe in the books enough to order a print run sufficient to sell to interested readers, and ebooks readers do actually read. I've finished six books on Kindle and just received the Kindle the first of May. Of course, it goes without saying that I've read many more books in print (that's what the office sends me to review) and a few in digital form that is not compatible with the Kindle. The total is, I believe thirty books that I didn't read on Kindle, and that's a conservative estimate. I've also read two of George R. R. Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice books (A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings, and have begun A Storm of Swords) and have nibbled The Bone People, a Booker Prize winner from 1985 that was a gift from a friend who said after the second chapter she realized the main female character was me.
One of my guilty pleasures, and not including Martin's saga, is the Nikki Heat mysteries written by Richard Castle, of television fame. Now there was a bright marketing ploy. A character on a TV show (one of the few I stream) is an author of mystery novels and, in real life, there are books written by said TV character featuring his partner and love interest, Detective Kate Beckett, aptly named Nikki Heat.
The writing is simple and the mysteries not that difficult to solve, and the byplay between Heat and her literary shadow, magazine writer Jameson Rook (who also writes romance novels as Victoria St. Clair), is heated, to say the least. It's fluff writing but it's fun, hence guilty pleasure. I've read Heat Wave and am working my way through Naked Heat, although the naked part is sadly missing so far, and I'm reading them on Kindle at a price below the paperback price. What a concept. The thing is, I'm enjoying the books, just as I enjoyed reading Terry Pratchett's Discworld series on Kindle.
Kindle is a great product and I'm enjoying the heck out of mine -- when I'm not reading review books, like Prophecy by S. J. Parris or Deed to Death by D. B. Henson, whose writing is long on detail and short on action through the first half of the book. D. B. Henson was first self-published and then picked up by Simon & Schuster, so indie to traditionally published still happens, and not just to Amanda Hocking, who is wringing the very last drop of tease out of her move to St. Martin's Press with her troll series.
What surprised me about the Booker Prize news this morning was the slap at Apple for not having any of the digital books available from the long list and being questioned as to whether they were players or just playing. I guess Apple is an amateur compared to Amazon, but you didn't hear that from me.
So, while the publishing world is heating up and plots are being bandied about, I will return to the beginning and learn to construct artful sentences in an effort to shake off that amateurish taint in my writing and character development. After all, writing is evolution and to write and sell one must evolve.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Time, Consideration, and Thought
Technology makes everything easier and the Internet makes everything happen faster. What more could we want? How about people willing to stand up for what they believe is right?
A writer friend recently dumped her Kindle review site because of "threats of litigation." That's Net speak for whiny authors who demanded five-star reviews for their books in the name of solidarity and did not get what they wanted. The authors threatened to sue over the reviews and the website owner shut the site down, and it all happened in the space of a couple of days. In the old days, before electronic and online submissions, email at the speed of the ISP, and tantrums speed by electrons and fueled by tech-savvy self-publishing, such actions would have taken weeks, and most likely months. Now it all happens at the touch of a button.
The level of professionalism visible on the world wide web is pretty low right now. Writers who gain sudden fame and sell millions of dollars of ebooks are celebrities and every wannabe writer wants to emulate them. The wannabes seldom look -- or read -- beyond the dollar signs and have no clue what it takes for a book to sell. As far as they are concerned, it's all about Amazon, B&N, and other website review ratings, and those ratings, while not actually for sale, are available for the right kind of coercive tactics. Litigation is a favorite.
"I'll sue you and have your website taken down if you don't give me a great review."
My response? Write a better book. Brush up your grammar, punctuation, and spelling and make sure your book is as good as possible before you hit the button and put it out on the web. If you're not willing to do the work, don't expect a great review.
Even if a writer is willing to do the work, there is no guarantee a reviewer will like and highly rate the work. It just doesn't work that way. Some readers will love the work, some will hate it, and most will fall somewhere in between, but the last thing you want to do is whine about the review and threaten the reviewer and website manager/owner with litigation. It never works out well -- except in this case where the website owner folded.
Jennifer Brozek, editor of The Edge of Propinquity shared an email exchange with a wanabe writer who questioned whether or not she had read his submission because it took only 30 minutes. Most professionals would be thrilled by that kind of turnaround, but the wannabe writer wasn't thrilled. His turnaround came with a rejection. An email discussion ensued. Jennifer posted the results in an early post and the email exchange that resulted in the hate mail. Several other editors who read Jennifer's LiveJournal posts asked for the wannabe writer's name and email address. They don't want to contact him; they want to avoid him. And that, dear reader, is how business is done in the publishing world. I've brought the brouhaha to you the speed of ISP guided electrons.
Jennifer will not be closing down the website, nor will she shut down the magazine, even if the wannabe writer threatens to sue. Should he decide to sue, he will waste his time and money and the judge (if it gets that far) will throw out the case as frivolous. You cannot litigate or force someone to write a good review and you cannot force them not to publish a bad review. You can only roll with the punches, and they will come left, right, and center, and sometimes a rabbit punch to the kidneys on occasion. It's the nature of dealing with people, and wouldn't the world be a much nicer place without people mucking it all up?
In the old days, editors knew how to deal with tantrums and wanabe writer pique. They ignored them.
Considering the amount of work that goes into putting a magazine out every month, online or in print, there's not enough time to coddle whiners and hissy fit throwing wannabes. Next!
I've had my share of negative reviews, and got another one this morning, but that is all part of the process. There were no negative comments about grammar, punctuation, formatting, or spelling, just that the reader didn't get the point of the book. A woman is abandoned in New Orleans, left with $50, and no way home. She is homeless for six weeks, mistaken for a notorious prostitute, and spends the next six weeks in jail, except she doesn't know how long she is going to be in jail. Over the ensuing weeks, she changes from a woman fearful of her surroundings and the other inmates, women she views as shadowy and monstrous, to someone who is able to see the women as not so very different from herself, women who have been abandoned and left to fend for themselves in whatever way they could manage. When she gets out of jail and goes back to her friends, she is glad to be back, but she is also changed. That is the point of the book, seeing the women through her middle class background and prejudices. Some people won't get it, but most people do.
Luckily, some of the readers who did get the point were from New Orleans or had worked in the women's prison system. Those are the reviews to treasure. The others are the opinions of people I was not able to reach, and that's all right. No one reaches everyone. If they did, we would have one person in Congress and one president and everyone would agree who it was to be. We'd also have one religion, one monetary system, one type of government, and no wars. Nice world if you can get it, but not practical and not possible.
In the end, all that matters is that everyone is done with careful consideration and thought. The rest, those that fail to think or consider anything before they punch the button and give virtual life to their creations, do not matter in the grand scheme of things. They are the low bar, the lower end of the Bell curve, the lowest common denominator, and exist only to show what should not and cannot be done. The parts of the curve that have weight are the vast majority in the middle and the rest that rise like cream to the top.
The trick is to rise with the cream, and that takes time and work, something not found among whiners, wannabes, and litigious jerks believing they can force their way to the top through intimidation and threats. Best thing to do is ignore them, like sand fleas, mosquitoes, flies, and other annoying pests. Don't give in. Hold the line. Ignore the screaming, kicking, red-face child on the floor. He'll eventually get tired and quit.
A writer friend recently dumped her Kindle review site because of "threats of litigation." That's Net speak for whiny authors who demanded five-star reviews for their books in the name of solidarity and did not get what they wanted. The authors threatened to sue over the reviews and the website owner shut the site down, and it all happened in the space of a couple of days. In the old days, before electronic and online submissions, email at the speed of the ISP, and tantrums speed by electrons and fueled by tech-savvy self-publishing, such actions would have taken weeks, and most likely months. Now it all happens at the touch of a button.
The level of professionalism visible on the world wide web is pretty low right now. Writers who gain sudden fame and sell millions of dollars of ebooks are celebrities and every wannabe writer wants to emulate them. The wannabes seldom look -- or read -- beyond the dollar signs and have no clue what it takes for a book to sell. As far as they are concerned, it's all about Amazon, B&N, and other website review ratings, and those ratings, while not actually for sale, are available for the right kind of coercive tactics. Litigation is a favorite.
"I'll sue you and have your website taken down if you don't give me a great review."
My response? Write a better book. Brush up your grammar, punctuation, and spelling and make sure your book is as good as possible before you hit the button and put it out on the web. If you're not willing to do the work, don't expect a great review.
Even if a writer is willing to do the work, there is no guarantee a reviewer will like and highly rate the work. It just doesn't work that way. Some readers will love the work, some will hate it, and most will fall somewhere in between, but the last thing you want to do is whine about the review and threaten the reviewer and website manager/owner with litigation. It never works out well -- except in this case where the website owner folded.
Jennifer Brozek, editor of The Edge of Propinquity shared an email exchange with a wanabe writer who questioned whether or not she had read his submission because it took only 30 minutes. Most professionals would be thrilled by that kind of turnaround, but the wannabe writer wasn't thrilled. His turnaround came with a rejection. An email discussion ensued. Jennifer posted the results in an early post and the email exchange that resulted in the hate mail. Several other editors who read Jennifer's LiveJournal posts asked for the wannabe writer's name and email address. They don't want to contact him; they want to avoid him. And that, dear reader, is how business is done in the publishing world. I've brought the brouhaha to you the speed of ISP guided electrons.
Jennifer will not be closing down the website, nor will she shut down the magazine, even if the wannabe writer threatens to sue. Should he decide to sue, he will waste his time and money and the judge (if it gets that far) will throw out the case as frivolous. You cannot litigate or force someone to write a good review and you cannot force them not to publish a bad review. You can only roll with the punches, and they will come left, right, and center, and sometimes a rabbit punch to the kidneys on occasion. It's the nature of dealing with people, and wouldn't the world be a much nicer place without people mucking it all up?
In the old days, editors knew how to deal with tantrums and wanabe writer pique. They ignored them.
Considering the amount of work that goes into putting a magazine out every month, online or in print, there's not enough time to coddle whiners and hissy fit throwing wannabes. Next!
I've had my share of negative reviews, and got another one this morning, but that is all part of the process. There were no negative comments about grammar, punctuation, formatting, or spelling, just that the reader didn't get the point of the book. A woman is abandoned in New Orleans, left with $50, and no way home. She is homeless for six weeks, mistaken for a notorious prostitute, and spends the next six weeks in jail, except she doesn't know how long she is going to be in jail. Over the ensuing weeks, she changes from a woman fearful of her surroundings and the other inmates, women she views as shadowy and monstrous, to someone who is able to see the women as not so very different from herself, women who have been abandoned and left to fend for themselves in whatever way they could manage. When she gets out of jail and goes back to her friends, she is glad to be back, but she is also changed. That is the point of the book, seeing the women through her middle class background and prejudices. Some people won't get it, but most people do.
Luckily, some of the readers who did get the point were from New Orleans or had worked in the women's prison system. Those are the reviews to treasure. The others are the opinions of people I was not able to reach, and that's all right. No one reaches everyone. If they did, we would have one person in Congress and one president and everyone would agree who it was to be. We'd also have one religion, one monetary system, one type of government, and no wars. Nice world if you can get it, but not practical and not possible.
In the end, all that matters is that everyone is done with careful consideration and thought. The rest, those that fail to think or consider anything before they punch the button and give virtual life to their creations, do not matter in the grand scheme of things. They are the low bar, the lower end of the Bell curve, the lowest common denominator, and exist only to show what should not and cannot be done. The parts of the curve that have weight are the vast majority in the middle and the rest that rise like cream to the top.
The trick is to rise with the cream, and that takes time and work, something not found among whiners, wannabes, and litigious jerks believing they can force their way to the top through intimidation and threats. Best thing to do is ignore them, like sand fleas, mosquitoes, flies, and other annoying pests. Don't give in. Hold the line. Ignore the screaming, kicking, red-face child on the floor. He'll eventually get tired and quit.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Down the Moors and Through the Mist
Like many authors, I'm no good at the social networking part of writing. I'd rather be writing. Can't make any money, and few books appear on shelves, without the writing. Now that I have a way to get my books into print (virtual and otherwise), it's time to get busy.
I read a post by Joe Konrath this afternoon about how people like John Locke, Amanda Hocking, Barry Eisler, and Joe Konrath, got to the point where they began making real money. They wrote books.
It is a radical concept, the whole writing a book thing, but it is a necessary concept. One can only check sales figures and review postings so many times before it becomes boring and pointless. Little changes in an hour or two, although I did find another review on Among Women from a woman who is a native of New Orleans, and a brand new fan looking for more of my work. Now that I can handle. The readers no one can please, unless it is a child's book for children under the age of three or four, are just too few and far between (you hope) to bother with, and it's never a good idea to engage a reader who obviously has not read your book in the back-and-forth of argument. It's pointless.
I did, however, engage in a discussion with a reviewer because she gave my other novel, a not romance three stars on one site and two stars on another site. It was an oversight, and I never mentioned or questioned her reasoning. She's entitled to her opinion. Can't make everyone happy and not every reader will like what any author likes. There will be fans and not fans and the only thing to do is hope the fans outnumber the not fans.
It takes a great deal of time and effort to write a novel and more than a couple hours a week of promotion is all I can stand before characters begin appearing in my dreams (day and night) and tugging at the strands of creativity to get my attention and get me back to the keyboard to write. That is where the battle is won or lost -- on the page.
I have been working sporadically on the Victorian Gothic novel and I'm beginning to hit my stride. At this rate I'll have it done in about a month -- or a hundred.
It is not easy picking up the threads of a novel begun so long ago and fitting into the narrator's voice, in this case Delilah Makepeace. Luckily, I spend enough time reading British novels and books about Victorian England that it is all coming back to me. I might make that month after all for the first draft, and then will begin the work of editing, revising, proofing, and tightening or expanding where needed. Spending so much time marketing and networking, I forgot how much fun it is to get into the mood and voice of the characters and record the deeds, foibles, and evil. Since Whitechapel Hearts is written in first person, there are fun and thrills to be had, and my imagination is filling in some pretty fascinating blanks. I should consider writing more thrillers, even if of the Gothic version. I sure loved them while growing up, and I still enjoy them now and again.
In the meantime, there is work. I've books to read and review, laundry to catch up, cold showers to take to keep cool, and the odd hour or five to spend with Delilah in Faustin Hall where she will stumble onto a secret that will change her life -- but then it might be too late. You just never know when the writing takes over and the characters speak.
Then I might return to New Orleans for a sequel to Among Women or move on to future Earth where vampires prey on and take care of the remnants of humanity in a world of darkness and cold. There are always the brownies that need to be stalked and a father drinking to forget that once he walked on the wild side to stalk the wild brownie before he was kicked out of the country and left with his craving, and his daughter, to keep him company. So many stories, so many worlds and situations, and no time for socializing.
I read a post by Joe Konrath this afternoon about how people like John Locke, Amanda Hocking, Barry Eisler, and Joe Konrath, got to the point where they began making real money. They wrote books.
It is a radical concept, the whole writing a book thing, but it is a necessary concept. One can only check sales figures and review postings so many times before it becomes boring and pointless. Little changes in an hour or two, although I did find another review on Among Women from a woman who is a native of New Orleans, and a brand new fan looking for more of my work. Now that I can handle. The readers no one can please, unless it is a child's book for children under the age of three or four, are just too few and far between (you hope) to bother with, and it's never a good idea to engage a reader who obviously has not read your book in the back-and-forth of argument. It's pointless.
I did, however, engage in a discussion with a reviewer because she gave my other novel, a not romance three stars on one site and two stars on another site. It was an oversight, and I never mentioned or questioned her reasoning. She's entitled to her opinion. Can't make everyone happy and not every reader will like what any author likes. There will be fans and not fans and the only thing to do is hope the fans outnumber the not fans.
It takes a great deal of time and effort to write a novel and more than a couple hours a week of promotion is all I can stand before characters begin appearing in my dreams (day and night) and tugging at the strands of creativity to get my attention and get me back to the keyboard to write. That is where the battle is won or lost -- on the page.
I have been working sporadically on the Victorian Gothic novel and I'm beginning to hit my stride. At this rate I'll have it done in about a month -- or a hundred.
It is not easy picking up the threads of a novel begun so long ago and fitting into the narrator's voice, in this case Delilah Makepeace. Luckily, I spend enough time reading British novels and books about Victorian England that it is all coming back to me. I might make that month after all for the first draft, and then will begin the work of editing, revising, proofing, and tightening or expanding where needed. Spending so much time marketing and networking, I forgot how much fun it is to get into the mood and voice of the characters and record the deeds, foibles, and evil. Since Whitechapel Hearts is written in first person, there are fun and thrills to be had, and my imagination is filling in some pretty fascinating blanks. I should consider writing more thrillers, even if of the Gothic version. I sure loved them while growing up, and I still enjoy them now and again.
In the meantime, there is work. I've books to read and review, laundry to catch up, cold showers to take to keep cool, and the odd hour or five to spend with Delilah in Faustin Hall where she will stumble onto a secret that will change her life -- but then it might be too late. You just never know when the writing takes over and the characters speak.
Then I might return to New Orleans for a sequel to Among Women or move on to future Earth where vampires prey on and take care of the remnants of humanity in a world of darkness and cold. There are always the brownies that need to be stalked and a father drinking to forget that once he walked on the wild side to stalk the wild brownie before he was kicked out of the country and left with his craving, and his daughter, to keep him company. So many stories, so many worlds and situations, and no time for socializing.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Man Behind the Curtain
The Big 6 publishers' ire and animosity toward Amazon for venturing into publishing waters is not unexpected. It is, however, laughable when considered in light of other forays in the publishing world.
Where was their anger when the Big 6 began offering their books to Wal-mart, grocery stories, and big box outlets? Were they not cutting out the sales that bookstores should have received and creating a monopoly whereby drug stores, grocers, and big box outlets were selling books as well as other goods? Borders no doubt failed to appreciate the irony of the move. After all, people spend far more time in those stores than in bookstores, like Borders, browsing the shelves for necessities, so picking up a book at the same time is little more than good time management. Get the product to the consumer in the best way possible. I guess buying a book at a bookstore is passe, and no one mentioned the monopoly word.
Then there were boutique and micro publishers -- aside from the university and college presses, which were no threat to be begin with -- that entered the publishing fray and the Big 6 yawned. How could a boutique publisher come within shouting distance of being a threat? They didn't do what the Big 6 did, and a new crop of possibilities opened up for authors. Smaller advances and nowhere near the Big 6 budget for advertising and marketing, but legitimate publication -- on a much smaller scale. What's to worry?
Then Amazon entered the arena and the crowd was silenced, their silence followed by oohs and aahs of wonder and possibility, and the Big 6 called, "MONOPOLY!" and demanded something be done. Where was the monopoly when they parceled their books out to retailers already selling so many other articles, including food, furnishings, electronics, televisions, games, software, cameras, and everything else under the sun. Why isn't Amazon, an outlet for all those products, and books, suddenly a threat?
Because Amazon can command as much money as the Big 6. It is in the end all about money. In this instance, it's the Big 6's money.
Consider what a publisher does. A publisher is like a bookie with lots of money and the one place where bets can be made. Since the publisher has the wherewithal to showcase and fete the jockey, outfit the horse in the finest silks, and bankroll the whole project, who do the touts bet on? The horse that will earn them a modest return on their food and rent money. Only suckers bet on horses with big odd, praying for a fluke or a miracle to pay off, and sometimes it does. It's all about the show -- and money runs the show. Win or lose, the biggest wad of cash goes to the house. The house has the best odds.
A publisher chooses an author, or the author's work, fetes the author, puts their money and talent to work showcasing the author, and telling everyone that this is the real deal. People listen. Books are sold. Author makes some money, but the real money goes to the house. Win or lose, the money is with the publisher -- the house. But what does a publisher actually do, beyond the showcasing, tarting up, and talking up the author and his words? Not much.
A publisher usually publishes nothing. A publisher is a clearing house for copy editors, proofreaders, artists, salesmen, marketing and PR representatives, and editors. Very few publishers own the printing press. They usually rent or subcontract the work to an actual printer, and no one is the wiser, until now.
Amazon, with its deep pockets and its own printing press, approaches authors and says, "Look. We have the resources and we'll pay you good money to let us print and market your work. We list the product at basement prices, but we will give you a big percentage of sales. How about working with us?"
Amazon has the distribution -- publishers have used them for years to sell books -- and is hooked into the biggest mall in the world -- the Internet. Bigger percentage, even on lower prices, sounds like a good idea. When the numbers are crunched and the contracts offered, what can an author do but sign? Amazon has just outdone the Big 6 and that is why they are calling foul.
It comes down to semantics. If you know how the business works and can break it down to its basic components, then manage the components in a more effective and lucrative way, you can take over the market.
Borders is a lost cause. Whatever the reason for its demise, the Big 6 definitely helped push them over the edge by distributing books through retailers, chain stores, big box stores, and grocers, bypassing bookstores completely. Talk about monopolies. Get your groceries, your prescriptions, and a book to read while shopping, and the gas and time saved is worth it. It's just not worth it to bookstores. It's called consolidation and not monopoly -- at least in current business parlance. After all, bookstores don't have the deep pockets of Amazon and can't afford to bite the hand that feeds them -- less and less each year.
Even with the move to digital publishing, the Big 6 still haven't figured out what's what. By pricing digital books out of the market at near the cost of hard cover, they are bleeding red ink all over their bottom line. The bookies have tanked it and don't know how to make up the loss because someone changed the odds and another house has almost all of them. Authors are fleeing the Big 6 like a a nerd trying to get a date at a sorority house mixer.
Some authors will stay. Someone always stays with what they know, but authors who know more about how the business works will step away and choose a bookie with better odds and a higher payout. It's loose slot machine time and the marks are lining up to cash in.
We live in a volatile and changing world where the marketplace is undergoing major changes. Those businesses that move with the times will prosper as they morph into a different business model and the rest will go the way of Borders. As more elements disperse through the marketplace, more changes will cause further destruction and construction and the world as it used to be will become a point along the historical time line.
Amazon isn't really monopolozing but maximizing business and giving the people who make books possible -- the authors -- a fair shake. Amazon doesn't need to put on a show and live the high life because they found that it is better to sell a thousand widgets at $1 than to sell one widget for $1000. It's the same number on the bottom line, but the column that totals widgets sold tells the real story.
I have a bit of advice for the Big 6. Had you paid attention to producing more books and sharing the profits more generously, you could still be the biggest bookie in town. Greed goeth before the fall. You've taken down Borders. Who will be next? Monopoly? I don't think so. It's just called business.
The man behind the curtain is pulling the levers and you've been watching a special effects show of pyrotechnics, mirrors, and lights. Keep an eye on the man. That is where all the action happens.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Anticipa -- tion
As everyone gets in line to watch the last Harry Potter movie, The Deathly Hallows Part II, I have decided to stay away. It isn't that I don't enjoy the movies and the books -- I have and do enjoy both -- but I do not need to be first in line to watch the movie. It will still be there tomorrow and next week and likely next month. I'm all right with that. I may even wait until the DVD is available and avoid the crowds and hassles of trying to find a seat in a packed theater one or two months from now. With time comes patience -- or at least that is what I tell myself. I feel the same way about A Dance with Dragons.
Since I have yet to finish the first four books (I'm just about finished with A Clash of Kings), I'm in no hurry to read the latest George R. R. Martin has created. I have the book; it arrived on Tuesday, but I have other responsibilities and books ahead of that one, like two and a quarter books.
Maybe it is something that comes with time or age or just a sense of anticipation that needs to be nurtured and cultivated and enjoyed, but I'm in no hurry. There may not be a tomorrow and I weigh that against the possibility that I will die unfulfilled by seeing Harry Potter or reading Martin. Those two possibilities are equal with never having seen Lawrence Olivier do Hamlet and reading the latest Nobel and Pulitzer Prize winners of the past twenty-five years and never having stepped onto a shuttle or the International Space Station, and I have yet to step foot on Mars. So many things to do and so little time and I spend it on the things I can do right now and am obligated to do. That is the cost of responsibility -- anticipa . . . tion. I hear Tim Curry as Dr. Frank N. Furter saying the word -- anticipa . . . tion and it sounds sexy and full of promise and possibility. That is what I leave for tomorrow -- possibility. After tomorrow there will be something else to anticipate -- if there is a tomorrow -- and the tomorrow after that, the tomorrow after that, and all the tomorrows to follow.
I can wait.
Since I have yet to finish the first four books (I'm just about finished with A Clash of Kings), I'm in no hurry to read the latest George R. R. Martin has created. I have the book; it arrived on Tuesday, but I have other responsibilities and books ahead of that one, like two and a quarter books.
Maybe it is something that comes with time or age or just a sense of anticipation that needs to be nurtured and cultivated and enjoyed, but I'm in no hurry. There may not be a tomorrow and I weigh that against the possibility that I will die unfulfilled by seeing Harry Potter or reading Martin. Those two possibilities are equal with never having seen Lawrence Olivier do Hamlet and reading the latest Nobel and Pulitzer Prize winners of the past twenty-five years and never having stepped onto a shuttle or the International Space Station, and I have yet to step foot on Mars. So many things to do and so little time and I spend it on the things I can do right now and am obligated to do. That is the cost of responsibility -- anticipa . . . tion. I hear Tim Curry as Dr. Frank N. Furter saying the word -- anticipa . . . tion and it sounds sexy and full of promise and possibility. That is what I leave for tomorrow -- possibility. After tomorrow there will be something else to anticipate -- if there is a tomorrow -- and the tomorrow after that, the tomorrow after that, and all the tomorrows to follow.
I can wait.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Give Me a Blank
There is nothing that makes my fingers itch for a fountain pen quicker than quality stationery and blank note cards. All that empty space begs to be filled in with words and news and weather reports, questions, thanks, and anything else that occurs to me. With that in mind, I decided to subtly teach my oldest grandson Jordan a lesson in etiquette that has apparently not taken root in most of my children's habits -- the thank you note and a note to Grandma.
Jordan's twelfth birthday is next week and I have already sent his gift, something fun and educational that his sister Savannah will no doubt want to use as well. I figure my son and his wife can give them clothes and toys, but I want to broaden their horizons, hence the next part of the gift I decided to send: airplane note cards with envelopes. The only thing I didn't provide was a pen. Jordan is a good student and should have quite a few pens and pencils to choose from. I am not at all averse to accepting thank you notes and letters written in pencil. I'm generous and forgiving that way.
When I checked on delivery of my grandson's gift, I noticed that it had been sent to the wrong address, two doors away, the address that my daughter-in-law provided and I neglected to change. Oh, well. I called to let them know of the problem so they could walk down to the other address and pick up the UPS form to get the gift from the UPS station. I left all this in a message since no one answered the call.
My daughter-in-law called back and left me a message. They got the slip and arranged to pick up the package today, in plenty of time before Jordan's birthday, and had received the note cards, which my grandson immediately opened and began using. That's the ticket, I thought. That's what it takes to instill a little etiquette. Provide the tools and they will use them.
Blank note cards and thick, luxurious stationery have the same effect on me. I can't wait to pick up a fountain pen and mar the surfaces with words and letters, weather and news, and ask about how things are on the other side of the country, county, and world. I wish it was so easy when writing books.
The cursor blink-blink-blinking at me reminds me that I am avoiding the task of putting down words and sentences, paragraphs and characterizations, and it mocks me. There are times when the blank screen and its blinking cursor fill me with excitement and other times when putting fingers to keyboard and letting them fly is done with as much thought as breathing or the heart beating. It's automatic, like filling blank note cards with fun and pretty covers.
Then there are the times when the idea of the blank screen is enough to send me loitering over to the games on the computer to decipher puzzles, rack up points, and while away six or eight hours that would've resulted in several chapters, or at least a good way through a first edit or proof read. It should not be this difficult. It should be as easy as putting pen to blank card and letting the ink flow, but it's not.
There are expectations in that blank screen, especially with a few books under my belt and still reeling from some negative reviews, that seem impossible to fill. What if I can't write a good story? What if I'm a fraud and have been fooling myself that I can write? What if I'd be better off slaving for a pittance of a wage instead of reaching for something deep inside myself that needs to get out, something that fills my dreams with characters and places, something that sidles in and whispers plots, adventures, and dangers and then slips away? What if...?
Whenever I'm procrastinating and not writing when I should be, I have decided to try another tack. I'll open one of those blank cards and, instead of writing a friend or relative, I'm going to write stories, snippets of chapters, dialogue, and description and maybe that way I'll finish another book. Taken in the small doses provided by blank cards, it can be done. It's kind of expensive in a way, but what else would I do with all these boxes of wonderful cards except write to people and bore them to death. Better to bore them after they've paid for a copy of the book. Even if they leave negative reviews, at least it will be a return on my investment in blank cards that I seldom get from people I write to for free.
You know, it just might work. Failing that, I'll buy some 5 x 7 index cards and use them. Small snippets, a novel a bit at a time, and, if past history is any indication, I should buy a whole lot of cards. I have things to say and stories to write.
Give a child a blank card and s/he will write a letter or thank you. Give me a blank card and I could just end up with a book.
Jordan's twelfth birthday is next week and I have already sent his gift, something fun and educational that his sister Savannah will no doubt want to use as well. I figure my son and his wife can give them clothes and toys, but I want to broaden their horizons, hence the next part of the gift I decided to send: airplane note cards with envelopes. The only thing I didn't provide was a pen. Jordan is a good student and should have quite a few pens and pencils to choose from. I am not at all averse to accepting thank you notes and letters written in pencil. I'm generous and forgiving that way.
When I checked on delivery of my grandson's gift, I noticed that it had been sent to the wrong address, two doors away, the address that my daughter-in-law provided and I neglected to change. Oh, well. I called to let them know of the problem so they could walk down to the other address and pick up the UPS form to get the gift from the UPS station. I left all this in a message since no one answered the call.
My daughter-in-law called back and left me a message. They got the slip and arranged to pick up the package today, in plenty of time before Jordan's birthday, and had received the note cards, which my grandson immediately opened and began using. That's the ticket, I thought. That's what it takes to instill a little etiquette. Provide the tools and they will use them.
Blank note cards and thick, luxurious stationery have the same effect on me. I can't wait to pick up a fountain pen and mar the surfaces with words and letters, weather and news, and ask about how things are on the other side of the country, county, and world. I wish it was so easy when writing books.
The cursor blink-blink-blinking at me reminds me that I am avoiding the task of putting down words and sentences, paragraphs and characterizations, and it mocks me. There are times when the blank screen and its blinking cursor fill me with excitement and other times when putting fingers to keyboard and letting them fly is done with as much thought as breathing or the heart beating. It's automatic, like filling blank note cards with fun and pretty covers.
Then there are the times when the idea of the blank screen is enough to send me loitering over to the games on the computer to decipher puzzles, rack up points, and while away six or eight hours that would've resulted in several chapters, or at least a good way through a first edit or proof read. It should not be this difficult. It should be as easy as putting pen to blank card and letting the ink flow, but it's not.
There are expectations in that blank screen, especially with a few books under my belt and still reeling from some negative reviews, that seem impossible to fill. What if I can't write a good story? What if I'm a fraud and have been fooling myself that I can write? What if I'd be better off slaving for a pittance of a wage instead of reaching for something deep inside myself that needs to get out, something that fills my dreams with characters and places, something that sidles in and whispers plots, adventures, and dangers and then slips away? What if...?
Whenever I'm procrastinating and not writing when I should be, I have decided to try another tack. I'll open one of those blank cards and, instead of writing a friend or relative, I'm going to write stories, snippets of chapters, dialogue, and description and maybe that way I'll finish another book. Taken in the small doses provided by blank cards, it can be done. It's kind of expensive in a way, but what else would I do with all these boxes of wonderful cards except write to people and bore them to death. Better to bore them after they've paid for a copy of the book. Even if they leave negative reviews, at least it will be a return on my investment in blank cards that I seldom get from people I write to for free.
You know, it just might work. Failing that, I'll buy some 5 x 7 index cards and use them. Small snippets, a novel a bit at a time, and, if past history is any indication, I should buy a whole lot of cards. I have things to say and stories to write.
Give a child a blank card and s/he will write a letter or thank you. Give me a blank card and I could just end up with a book.
Saturday, July 09, 2011
Actual Value vs Perceived Value
A lovely young Chinese girl pours boiling water into a 400-year-old teapot, adds tea leaves, and puts on the lid. Hot tea-flavored water cascades down the sides as she explains that the patina imparted by using the teapot is what gives it value. "Some things," she says as she wipes the sides with a cloth, "have no value unless they are used."
A Stradivarius violin, the finest violin in the world, cannot be kept in a safety deposit box or safe or it will crack and dry out and be useless. Unless it is used regularly by a violinist, no matter how good or bad she is, the violin is just so much glue, pegging, wood, and strings that go out of tune. The same is true of a piano, no matter what make or model; it will dry out, crack, and die without being used.
Some things were made to be used, and so it is with books, but how do you judge a book and assess its value?
Each book is a labor of love, a work of art, no matter what the critics say. Each book is the brain child given life and form on paper, and in pixels and electrons, and lives only when it is read.
Authors regularly tout their best selling status, count their profits, and continue to create more brain children, but does that make a book valuable? It is valuable in that the book earns money, but there is value beyond money, beyond the price, and beyond the profit. There is value in every book for some reader who has read the book so many times she can quote passages by heart, giving them nuance and a flavor the author may never have intended or realized. Each book is valuable to some one -- and sometimes to many someones, until the rest of the world and fans catch on. That is what I hope happens to my books, that they are read over and over by someone -- or many someones -- regardless of how much I earn, so long as they touch someone's heart and/or mind. That is the value of a book. It imparts a view of life, a bit of magic, a soupcon of wisdom, and often a titbit of laughter, tears, or joy.
Too often, in our rush to be recognized, lauded, and to profit from our dreams and visions made real, we forget that the real value in a book is in its impact. There is no value otherwise.
I remember a story about Beatrix Potter who made up stories and painted the scenes she saw in her imagination. As a Victorian woman, her only possibility of a life was to marry, manage a household, bear children, and be a helpmate to a man. The only other option was to ruin her reputation by going on the stage or becoming a prostitute, at least if she was from a good family. Lots of jobs were available for lower class women and few cared what they were. Someone had to serve, clean, cook, manage a household staff, etc., and no well born lady would have considered for a second having a valet instead of a lady's maid.
Beatrix was from a good family with some money and position and still she wanted to continue writing stories and painting her friends. She decided to have her work published and, with her companion in tow, she went round to various publishers until she found a publisher willing to take on her project and do it her way. She would not be fobbed off with second class work. She would draw and paint her own illustrations, and her first book was born.
Beatrix wrote and illustrated several books and, to her family's utter surprise, people talked about the little books as if they were gems of beauty and value, and bought so many of the books Beatrix was able to move out of her parents' home and into her own home on her own land bought with her own money. She was free at last. The rest of the story is as fascinating as the writing, but better leave that to another time and another subject.
Beatrix's books were her brain children and children, and adults, who bought the books loved them, cared for them, and passed them down to their own children. The books aren't big in size, but they are works of art that have value far and beyond the cost of materials and publisher's fees. The books are immortal. That's what every writer dreams and so few achieve.
Is it because the writing isn't good? Sometimes. Is it because the subject is off the beaten track? Sometimes. Is it because the author didn't play the socializing, marketing, and networking game? Not always.
Sometimes books don't hit their stride right away or fans don't form clans to discuss, rehash, and proselytize for the author. It's not the book or the author's fault; it's the luck of the draw -- or not drawn.
Every book has value to some person, some individual, and to the author. In order to transcend the first flush of creation, a book must be read and readers must talk and spread the word of mouth necessary to bring a book out of the shadows and into the light. However, if just one person, or even one hundred persons, read and reread and commit the book to memory, it's value soars. A book, like a 400-year-old teapot, has no value unless it is used. Usage brings a patina of beauty that the brightest diamonds and the richest fabrics cannot achieve.
Read a book. Pick one, any one, and find within it the beauty and profundity of the author's dreams. One person, one book, or a hundred persons and a hundred books, it does not matter. It only matters that you read and keep the words and images and dreams burnished. It's the difference between actual value and perceived value.
If you're looking for a gift, what better gift to give someone you love than a book?
A Stradivarius violin, the finest violin in the world, cannot be kept in a safety deposit box or safe or it will crack and dry out and be useless. Unless it is used regularly by a violinist, no matter how good or bad she is, the violin is just so much glue, pegging, wood, and strings that go out of tune. The same is true of a piano, no matter what make or model; it will dry out, crack, and die without being used.
Some things were made to be used, and so it is with books, but how do you judge a book and assess its value?
Each book is a labor of love, a work of art, no matter what the critics say. Each book is the brain child given life and form on paper, and in pixels and electrons, and lives only when it is read.
Authors regularly tout their best selling status, count their profits, and continue to create more brain children, but does that make a book valuable? It is valuable in that the book earns money, but there is value beyond money, beyond the price, and beyond the profit. There is value in every book for some reader who has read the book so many times she can quote passages by heart, giving them nuance and a flavor the author may never have intended or realized. Each book is valuable to some one -- and sometimes to many someones, until the rest of the world and fans catch on. That is what I hope happens to my books, that they are read over and over by someone -- or many someones -- regardless of how much I earn, so long as they touch someone's heart and/or mind. That is the value of a book. It imparts a view of life, a bit of magic, a soupcon of wisdom, and often a titbit of laughter, tears, or joy.
Too often, in our rush to be recognized, lauded, and to profit from our dreams and visions made real, we forget that the real value in a book is in its impact. There is no value otherwise.
I remember a story about Beatrix Potter who made up stories and painted the scenes she saw in her imagination. As a Victorian woman, her only possibility of a life was to marry, manage a household, bear children, and be a helpmate to a man. The only other option was to ruin her reputation by going on the stage or becoming a prostitute, at least if she was from a good family. Lots of jobs were available for lower class women and few cared what they were. Someone had to serve, clean, cook, manage a household staff, etc., and no well born lady would have considered for a second having a valet instead of a lady's maid.
Beatrix was from a good family with some money and position and still she wanted to continue writing stories and painting her friends. She decided to have her work published and, with her companion in tow, she went round to various publishers until she found a publisher willing to take on her project and do it her way. She would not be fobbed off with second class work. She would draw and paint her own illustrations, and her first book was born.
Beatrix wrote and illustrated several books and, to her family's utter surprise, people talked about the little books as if they were gems of beauty and value, and bought so many of the books Beatrix was able to move out of her parents' home and into her own home on her own land bought with her own money. She was free at last. The rest of the story is as fascinating as the writing, but better leave that to another time and another subject.
Beatrix's books were her brain children and children, and adults, who bought the books loved them, cared for them, and passed them down to their own children. The books aren't big in size, but they are works of art that have value far and beyond the cost of materials and publisher's fees. The books are immortal. That's what every writer dreams and so few achieve.
Is it because the writing isn't good? Sometimes. Is it because the subject is off the beaten track? Sometimes. Is it because the author didn't play the socializing, marketing, and networking game? Not always.
Sometimes books don't hit their stride right away or fans don't form clans to discuss, rehash, and proselytize for the author. It's not the book or the author's fault; it's the luck of the draw -- or not drawn.
Every book has value to some person, some individual, and to the author. In order to transcend the first flush of creation, a book must be read and readers must talk and spread the word of mouth necessary to bring a book out of the shadows and into the light. However, if just one person, or even one hundred persons, read and reread and commit the book to memory, it's value soars. A book, like a 400-year-old teapot, has no value unless it is used. Usage brings a patina of beauty that the brightest diamonds and the richest fabrics cannot achieve.
Read a book. Pick one, any one, and find within it the beauty and profundity of the author's dreams. One person, one book, or a hundred persons and a hundred books, it does not matter. It only matters that you read and keep the words and images and dreams burnished. It's the difference between actual value and perceived value.
If you're looking for a gift, what better gift to give someone you love than a book?
Friday, July 08, 2011
The Only Good Bug
It gets lost in the switch from childhood to adulthood that sense of curiosity and awe of insects. That need to get down on all fours and watch ants pick up crumbs of food and follow them to the nest, that avaricious desire to examine all trees for a sign of a cast off cocoon or drying skin from a cicada disappears and is replaced with a feeling of crawling skin and an ick factor that goes off the charts the closer an insect or larvae get within touching distance. Out comes the bug spray and on go the gloves while steaming water rushes into a bucket where it foams on contact with antibacterial and antimicrobial soap and cleansers to eradicate every last alien hell-spawned insect in the vicinity.
Add spiders to the mix, and all the arachnid family, just makes the feelings worse. The alien hair-covered legs and compound eyes of a spider waiting to pounce from some shadowy niche to sing venom-dripping fangs into a soft portion of skin that will soon seethe with pus, turn red, and catch on fire to blacken and drop off or deteriorate into a spongy, decomposing mess engenders terror and horror the likes of which even the best horror writer never understood because it strikes women more than men. Men cringe in horror at spider webs, but secretly hope they will one day learn the secret of The Fly, as long as it happens to a close personal friend.
Insects are multi-legged aliens that must be destroyed.
Humans are the late comers to this planet. Insects emerged and differentiated long before humans had crawled from the mud in the cells of amphibians that would eventually evolve into warm-blooded mammals and eventually into humans. We are the aliens.
As a child, I crowed with sheer delight when I found a cicada husk clinging to the roughened bark of a tree and summers were spent scanning bark for any signs of an intact split skin, the hope of seeing a cicada emerge a close nurtured hope. I caught doodlebugs and heaped up little piles of dust ringed with popsicle sticks and bits of wood while I pushed and prodded the bugs to curl up and scuttle backward through the dust mounds and watched and played for hours. Each new insect -- the giant walking stick and grasshopper dad caught and pinned to the inside of a box to send to a cousin for biology, the mealy bugs that swarmed out of wet and warm cracks among the coconut trees, and the dozens of brilliant butterflies and brightly colored spiders that seethed and crawled and stalked among the debris of the jungle floor in Panama -- was a magical world of wonder and possibility that fascinated me endlessly -- until I grew up.
No longer did I spread a blanket in the summer grass and flop down onto my belly to peer through the grass to watch the silent world, not without a big can of bug spray and constantly scanning the edges for invading armies of ants and insect life. The big black ants that appeared on the my skin was a sign for a frantic Watusi until the interloper could be shaken off or squished beneath something large and heavy were signs the invading hordes were upon me. A bee or wasp or hornet sent me into paroxysms of fear while holding my breath and inching toward safety, eyes glued to the buzzing, flying death dealer. I'm allergic to bees, wasps, hornets, and other stinging insects and carry an Epi-Pen everywhere I go, avoiding dark colors and perfume that lure the assassins in.
The world became overnight an arena where death crept, flew, and stalked on six legs and eight. I remained fascinated by insects and arachnids on the television, but not in real life. I wanted them far from my sphere of influence and farther away from me. The only good bug was a dead bug -- until the other day when I contemplated buying eggs and live bugs to set loose in my garden to kill off the bad bugs, as long as I can find some way of delivering the assassins without actually touching them or having them in the house.
I received a notice from the gardening club I belong to that detailed how to purchase thousands of lady bugs and green lacewing flies and my childhood wow factor kicked in long enough to check the claims out.
A lady bug eats up to 50 aphids, thrips, and other garden pests a day while a green lacewing fly eats 1000 a day of the same pests. Good bug versus bad bug. I could handle that -- as long as the good bugs stay outside. The memory of a lady bug infestation several years ago still sends shivers through me.
There's nothing like sitting on the toilet when a lady bug flits into view. The first couple brought smiles to my face. The seething red and black carpet oozing through the cracks and crevices of the screen window beside me filled me horror. I was trapped, still struggling with current business, and new business was actively invading my sanctuary. I had no choice but to finish the old business before cleaning up and rushing pellmell for the kitchen where the bug spray waited waited under the sink. I could not get there fast enough, nor was I elated with the results. The can emitted a few watery spurts and died while lady bugs swarmed and oozed through the infinitesimal breaks between aluminum frame and wooden sill.
I'm not sure I can face another infestation of lady bugs, especially if only 50 aphids a day per bug are being eradicated, not when green lacewings will kill more. The question is whether or not I need that much bug power. Still, I am interested, and a bug hunt is in order.
My research provided me with several options, each larger and more lethal, culminating in three healthy and fertile praying mantis eggs guaranteed to get rid of another form of insect life, otherwise known as Mother Nature's assassins. Encarsia Formosas that prey on whiteflies, earthworms for aerating the soil, green lacewings, lady bugs, predatory mites, flea killing nematodes and dozens of other supposedly good bugs to kill off the bad bugs, and lady bug homes. I didn't know lady bugs needed homes, but evidently there are places that build and sell homes for lady bugs without the problems of mortgages and defaults, unless the owner's mortgage goes up in flames when he defaults, or just before if he's planning on collecting the insurance.
Lady bug, lady bug fly away home.
Your house is on fire,
your children are gone.
Somebody knew about lady bug homes before I did.
I may change my mind about actually handling Mother Nature's assassins if I can summon up sufficient energy to clear out the planting beds and put in something more decorative than the evergreens crouching in the beds or the nearly impossible to kill honeysuckle that is taking over the front planter. I might even consider berries, roses, and flowers that will seduce hummingbirds and butterflies to visit regularly. Butterflies I can handle, but keep the moths far away from me, or me in the house when they're swarming the honeysuckle, at least until I can find a way to eradicate the honeysuckle without digging up the lot.
There are good bugs and bad bugs, at least as far as humans are concerned, and most of the time it is difficult to tell which is which -- even with a scorecard. The only good bug is the one that supports what you do want against what you don't want. That's the trick -- figuring out which is which.
Add spiders to the mix, and all the arachnid family, just makes the feelings worse. The alien hair-covered legs and compound eyes of a spider waiting to pounce from some shadowy niche to sing venom-dripping fangs into a soft portion of skin that will soon seethe with pus, turn red, and catch on fire to blacken and drop off or deteriorate into a spongy, decomposing mess engenders terror and horror the likes of which even the best horror writer never understood because it strikes women more than men. Men cringe in horror at spider webs, but secretly hope they will one day learn the secret of The Fly, as long as it happens to a close personal friend.
Insects are multi-legged aliens that must be destroyed.
Humans are the late comers to this planet. Insects emerged and differentiated long before humans had crawled from the mud in the cells of amphibians that would eventually evolve into warm-blooded mammals and eventually into humans. We are the aliens.
As a child, I crowed with sheer delight when I found a cicada husk clinging to the roughened bark of a tree and summers were spent scanning bark for any signs of an intact split skin, the hope of seeing a cicada emerge a close nurtured hope. I caught doodlebugs and heaped up little piles of dust ringed with popsicle sticks and bits of wood while I pushed and prodded the bugs to curl up and scuttle backward through the dust mounds and watched and played for hours. Each new insect -- the giant walking stick and grasshopper dad caught and pinned to the inside of a box to send to a cousin for biology, the mealy bugs that swarmed out of wet and warm cracks among the coconut trees, and the dozens of brilliant butterflies and brightly colored spiders that seethed and crawled and stalked among the debris of the jungle floor in Panama -- was a magical world of wonder and possibility that fascinated me endlessly -- until I grew up.
No longer did I spread a blanket in the summer grass and flop down onto my belly to peer through the grass to watch the silent world, not without a big can of bug spray and constantly scanning the edges for invading armies of ants and insect life. The big black ants that appeared on the my skin was a sign for a frantic Watusi until the interloper could be shaken off or squished beneath something large and heavy were signs the invading hordes were upon me. A bee or wasp or hornet sent me into paroxysms of fear while holding my breath and inching toward safety, eyes glued to the buzzing, flying death dealer. I'm allergic to bees, wasps, hornets, and other stinging insects and carry an Epi-Pen everywhere I go, avoiding dark colors and perfume that lure the assassins in.
The world became overnight an arena where death crept, flew, and stalked on six legs and eight. I remained fascinated by insects and arachnids on the television, but not in real life. I wanted them far from my sphere of influence and farther away from me. The only good bug was a dead bug -- until the other day when I contemplated buying eggs and live bugs to set loose in my garden to kill off the bad bugs, as long as I can find some way of delivering the assassins without actually touching them or having them in the house.
I received a notice from the gardening club I belong to that detailed how to purchase thousands of lady bugs and green lacewing flies and my childhood wow factor kicked in long enough to check the claims out.
A lady bug eats up to 50 aphids, thrips, and other garden pests a day while a green lacewing fly eats 1000 a day of the same pests. Good bug versus bad bug. I could handle that -- as long as the good bugs stay outside. The memory of a lady bug infestation several years ago still sends shivers through me.
There's nothing like sitting on the toilet when a lady bug flits into view. The first couple brought smiles to my face. The seething red and black carpet oozing through the cracks and crevices of the screen window beside me filled me horror. I was trapped, still struggling with current business, and new business was actively invading my sanctuary. I had no choice but to finish the old business before cleaning up and rushing pellmell for the kitchen where the bug spray waited waited under the sink. I could not get there fast enough, nor was I elated with the results. The can emitted a few watery spurts and died while lady bugs swarmed and oozed through the infinitesimal breaks between aluminum frame and wooden sill.
I'm not sure I can face another infestation of lady bugs, especially if only 50 aphids a day per bug are being eradicated, not when green lacewings will kill more. The question is whether or not I need that much bug power. Still, I am interested, and a bug hunt is in order.
My research provided me with several options, each larger and more lethal, culminating in three healthy and fertile praying mantis eggs guaranteed to get rid of another form of insect life, otherwise known as Mother Nature's assassins. Encarsia Formosas that prey on whiteflies, earthworms for aerating the soil, green lacewings, lady bugs, predatory mites, flea killing nematodes and dozens of other supposedly good bugs to kill off the bad bugs, and lady bug homes. I didn't know lady bugs needed homes, but evidently there are places that build and sell homes for lady bugs without the problems of mortgages and defaults, unless the owner's mortgage goes up in flames when he defaults, or just before if he's planning on collecting the insurance.
Lady bug, lady bug fly away home.
Your house is on fire,
your children are gone.
Somebody knew about lady bug homes before I did.
I may change my mind about actually handling Mother Nature's assassins if I can summon up sufficient energy to clear out the planting beds and put in something more decorative than the evergreens crouching in the beds or the nearly impossible to kill honeysuckle that is taking over the front planter. I might even consider berries, roses, and flowers that will seduce hummingbirds and butterflies to visit regularly. Butterflies I can handle, but keep the moths far away from me, or me in the house when they're swarming the honeysuckle, at least until I can find a way to eradicate the honeysuckle without digging up the lot.
There are good bugs and bad bugs, at least as far as humans are concerned, and most of the time it is difficult to tell which is which -- even with a scorecard. The only good bug is the one that supports what you do want against what you don't want. That's the trick -- figuring out which is which.
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
Now Presenting . . . Who?
It never gets easier this whole networking, socializing to sell books thing. I wonder how authors did it a hundred years ago, two hundred years ago? Oh, right, people bouught books, read the books, talked about the books and more people bought the books. Of course, there weren't millions of people writing millions of books then. Only a few ever got through to the gatekeepers. The few who could afford it and paid to have their own books published had some success, depending on how good the books were. That's the real trick. Not socializing or networking but writing really good books.
I read George R. R. Martin's Live Journal blog and I was struck by the surprise that he is having such success now, especially since his ice and Fire series has been out since 1996, except for the new one coming out next week. A Dance With Dragons took about eight years to write and finish. George admits he's a slow writer and doesn't do deadlines very well.
George garnered a lot of fans, as he should since his Ice & Fire series is amazing. The writing is accessible and not overdone or heavy with description, although there is sufficient description to put you right in the action at the right time and place. Each character is unique and flawed in some way, but eminently memorable, from the Imp (Tyrion Lannister) to Eddard Stark, Jon Snow and Danaerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo. The books have been translated into several different languages and Vietnamese may be next. What George has created in Winterfell and the world where it is set crosses all boundaries and touches something inside us that believes in magic and demons and in the strength of men and women to combat anything that comes down the Kingsroad.
A recent article cited sales in one day that exceeded all of 2010 before HBO picked up the series and shoved the series to the top of all the best seller lists here and abroad. I wouldn't mind selling 40,000 books, but I'm new at the game and don't have George's track record in movies, television and books. I'm working my way up, but I do wonder what it would take to get people talking about my book the way they talk, dissect, and love George's books. Probably stop writing about relationships and the evil that men and women do in the real world and take the same elements and place them in a world of my own creation like Middle Earth and Westeros. I love fantasy and dragons and everything that goes with them, but find it difficult to write fantasy. I work best in the real world where the harms we do each other are next door and the next town over. I'd do well to create a world, set the rules and let my imagination run wild -- right after I finish the current trip into Victorian England where Jekyll, Hyde and Jack the Ripper put Whitechapel and serial murder on the map.
There is a world -- this world a few hundred years hence -- that lies under the curse of man's technology and Mother Nature's ire where vampires rule, not the vampires currently known and written about, but vampires of a different breed at war with each other and king of a world locked beneath dark skies where the sun doesn't shine and glaciers creep ever closer to the equator. It is a world where domed cities protect the ragged remnants of humanity cloned to near extinction, a shadow of itself, and ruled over by vampires who breed the humans for food and to run the machines their ancestors built.
The mother lode of humanity's best and brightest live underground safe from the ravages of nature, nurtured by vampires who archive their memories and protect what the shadow humans in the domed cities can no longer remember after generations of cloning. The underground humans and vampires protect technology, books and memories of what went before, what caused and perpetuates the season of Ragnarok that reigns on the surface, and these two worlds are about to clash over the precious seeds of life as it once was left behind that will soon be resurrected as the world rebounds and begins to bloom again. Memory will guide the way.
If I'm very lucky, then the novels I write, in the real world and in a world of fantasy, will start the buzz and word of mouth will sell 40,000 or more books. It's my dream, and one that isn't out of reach -- so far. In the meantime, I need to work more on socializing and networking because I'm not sure I could handle any more book signings where no one shows up or a dozen people stop by on their way up the aisle to join the hundreds waiting to see the author of Clifford the big red dog's adventures. George can tell you how that one goes. There's nothing like holding a book signing where everyone forgets to come.
Now, about that socializing. Do I really have to? Can't someone just start talking, someone with a big mouth and a bigger audience full of big mouths? I can only hope.
Monday, July 04, 2011
A Whole New Ball Game
This is an exciting time to be a writer. It is also a frightening time to be a writer. everything is changing. Some things are changing slowly and ponderously and everything else is changing at light speed.
Case in point: J. K. Rowling jumped ship from Christopher Little's literary agency and Little is calling foul. There may even be litigation in the future. It seems, Ms. Rowling and Mr. Little were negotiating their future together when Neil Blair left the agency to create his own agency and Rowling went with him.
The way I understand the author-agent relationship is that when one or the other of the parties is dissatisfied with their agreement, one or both can walk. Rowling took the option and walked. Little is considering suing her. Unless there is some ethics breach, I don't see that as anything but a nuisance suit, but it may likely result in scorched earth. Play nice, people.
Everyone wants to get in on the ground floor of the digital revolution. Authors are self-publishing work that publishers and agents have rejected, usually with a fill-in-the-blank form, or with a generic form, literary agents are turning into publishers and muddying the waters, and university bookstores are crying foul on professors and lecturers who are posting their notes and lectures online. Said Iain Finlayson, manager of Blackwell, a university bookshop, "Anybody who works in academic bookselling would be extremely concerned if the material in textbooks is posted elsewhere for free. Lecturers posting notes online is harmful for us and I believe it discourages students from reading around their subject area. I would discourage it. It is certainly not helping book sales, but lecturers might think differently."
Lecturers have been posting lectures and notes online for ages, at least ever since the Internet made it easy for them, so why is it only now that booksellers are complaining? Oh, right, because they are posting fewer profits, and of course the fault is lecturers using technology to give their students immediate access to lectures. At this rate, everyone will stay home and party, waking long enough to pop a pill, read the lecture and go back to partying until time for exams. I'm surprised that booksellers didn't complain when students taped lectures to listen to at their leisure and consult when studying for exams. Once again, it's more a matter of not moving with the times than the Internet doing booksellers in.
How about pricing books so they are affordable or offering digital versions of textbooks at a reasonable price in these hard economic times? When parents and students are already paying £9000 a year to go to university, it's time to make textbooks and source material affordable. The digital age is here. Embrace it and profit.
Of course, booksellers are considering lobbying the government to encourage students to use some of their bursary funds for textbooks, and that brings to mind non-compete clauses and all of the other governmental shenanigans that Ayn Rand predicted would bring economic downfall in Atlas Shrugged, and here it is in all its me-first glory.
Why not, like South Korea, consider phasing out backpacks and books and moving into the digital age? South Korea has moved boldly into the digital age and is remaking education in wired fashion. According to "...the country’s education ministry [they] will spend 2.2 trillion won ($2.06bn) to convert existing school textbooks and develop cloud computing systems to provide digitised content for learning." I don't hear -- or read -- booksellers complaining about their profits in South Korea. Maybe they have already shut their doors or moved to a new business model where they sell tablets and provide cloud computing systems, or even offer digital books to download directly to tablets.
Before the age of backpacks to carry books, people in my generation carried armloads of books to and from classes and home. In poundage alone, tablets and digitalization will save many young people from back problems and biophysical stress.Ultimately it is about what works and what doesn't. Clinging to old business models and considering litigation to keep things the way they were will not profit businesses or the public. It's not as if manufacturers of dish detergent wept into their beers and whiskey when people began buying and using dishwashers. They retooled and manufactured a line of dishwasher detergents to work with the new machines. It's called progress and moving with the times. There were still people washing dishes by hand, but automatic dishwashers provided a new avenue of business and a new arena in which to play. I do not understand why bookstores aren't catching on and finding a way to fit in.
How about putting an Espresso Book Machine in the store. As wonderful as ebooks are, being able to print a personal copy of a book that has been out of print for decades, or longer, would be worth having, and the books wouldn't have to be high priced. Profitable, but not out of pocketbook range. Print a book while you wait.
But what would they do with all that extra space? How about forming new partnerships with computer manufacturers to put sales models in the stores or offer free wi-fi and sell computer time like digital cafes? The possibilities are endless and it doesn't have to be all about books.
Training classes on how to self-publish. A department to help aspiring writers edit, polish and self-publish. Connections to cover artists and illustrationists. A place to hold training sessions on every aspect of the self-publishing business and even marketing classes to help maximize sales.
There are always the old standbys of author book signings, readings and meet and greets. The possibilities are endless. Instead of whining about the decline in profits, how about using the move to digitalization and find gold in the digital rush? Anything is possible for a business owner not stuck in the past and willing to move forward with the times.
It's a whole new ball game and most poor suckers are stuck in the nose bleed seats without binoculars. The only answer is to buy binoculars or get there early to get better seats. This is the winnowing time and only the visionaries will profit and succeed.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
The Forgotten Reader
Books are made for readers and, for an author to be successful, s/he needs many readers, millions of readers. No stone is to be left unturned to turn these readers towards a specific book. One stone is seldom considered in this rush for readers -- the blind.
Someone commented on my Facebook page yesterday that he couldn't buy the paperback version of my latest novel because he was blind, but would like a link to the ebook. I thought he was making a joke. After all, an ebook is virtual print and still a printed book. He wasn't joking. He wanted to download the book to his reading machine in order to convert it to Braille or to speech. Abashed and embarrassed, if sent him the link for Smashwords to download whichever digital version would work with his machine.
As we chatted more, I realized I would have to find someone, or buy the right equipment, to record my novel as an audiobook. There have been plans for the audiobook for a while, a couple of months at least, but it costs money to do it right. I cannot afford a big name actress or voice over artist, and will likely end up recording it myself. The book is after all my story, fictionalized, but still my life and my experiences, so who better to do the job? Or cheaper. I can afford me. I had forgotten about a whole group of readers, and listeners, who might enjoy my novel. More data was needed.
According to Visions, services for the blind and visually impaired, about 2.5 million Americans are legally blind, cannot see with any kind of assistive aid (magnifiers, glasses, etc.). Less educated and often less literate, the blind are handicapped in more than one way.
Through my own ignorance, I have left millions of people out of the reading loop and didn't consider them an option. I'm usually not that short-sighted. In junior high school, I helped a blind girl, Virginia, to convert notes and lectures to Braille. I read and she typed on a Braille machine. According to Visions, Braille is the only way for the blind to be truly literate. Audiobooks do not promote literacy. Anyone can tell you a story, but to read it for yourself is something else again.
Many blind Americans are older, having lost their vision due to diabetes, macular degeneration, accident or cataracts. There are surgeries to help some of the blind see with limited vision, and often with better results, but that still leaves a lot of people unable to read who often read before they were blind. Many don't learn Braille and rely on audiobooks to fill the time.
To be unable to read a book, to transcend this existence for a little while and live in a world of danger, thrills, love and inspiration is what books are all about. Books provide a window on the world that, if you are blind, might as well be a concrete wall. There is something very wrong with the idea of leaving 2.5 million blind people in the dark without the light a book provides, especially when it is estimated that nearly 50,000 children are blind.
The blind are my forgotten readers, and likely they are the forgotten readers in every publishing company and author's mind. We don't think of the blind until we see the white cane, the dark glasses and a seeing eye dog, or someone comments on Facebook that he will be unable to read the book because it is in print. I should have known better. So should we all. These people provide a forgotten segment of the reading, or listening, population, but more than that they are people much in need of a window on the world, a window that will fill their hours with someone else's vision and maybe make them smile. It's time publishers and authors thought in terms of all potential readers, from children too poor to own a book to the blind, and include them in production and formatting of books to meet their needs. I know I will.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Waiting for The Word
It's always a surprise to get up in the morning and see a big change in the sales reports. After putting Among Women on sale this week, I expected a little bump in sales, but a big bump was just a dream. Good thing I like to dream -- a lot -- although it would be better if I had read Joe Konrath's blog before I put the book on sale because I could have included a short synopsis and a bibliography as part of the author bio in the ebook version. I have rectified that oversight and the new version should be up and running today or tomorrow, depending on how quickly Amazon does their part. I heard it helps with sales.
The hardest part of writing isn't the writing, yet that is sometimes difficult because I procrastinate at times, it's waiting. Waiting for people I know who've mentioned they bought the book. I'd have been better off not knowing they had it and were planning to read it, or were actually reading it, because then I wouldn't wonder how long it takes to read a 250-page book and when I can expect to hear (or read) their review. It's better knowing that hundreds of people are buying the book and just aren't reviewing them. I don't have their phone numbers and don't know how to get to their houses so I can pin them down and ask what they thought. Better to live in ignorance and hope they're not like me and seldom write Amazon, B&N, or whatever bookstore they frequent reviews.
I did get a big surprise a few weeks ago with a totally unsolicited review from someone I've never met who read Among Women and really loved it. They said so. In print. Well, virtual print. Online. At Amazon. And gave it five stars. It was like a late birthday present or early Christmas gift. I enjoyed reading such good things and blushed a little at the kudos. I blush easily when someone compliments me, even if it's a compliment on my book.
But then there are friends and relatives who tell me they're reading my book and haven't said anything good, bad or indifferent about what they thought. I vacillate between wanting to ask and demanding to know what they thought. I'd send Guido and Vito out to have a conversation with them, but want to have someone who will send me a birthday card and remember me at holidays, so I don't. Instead, I suffer in silence -- well, silence in the sense that they don't know I'm fussing about it here in the silence of my room. If they don't know I'm fussing, am I fussing? Okay, so it's not as good as, if a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear about it, does it make a sound? Or what is the sound of one hand clapping? Depends what the one hand is clapping against. A meaty thigh works really well and so does a hard surface like a desk or someone's attitude.
I'm not a patient person when it comes to wanting answers. I am patient otherwise since I haven't cornered anyone and demanded answers. I would love to ask, but don't want to damage the person or scare them into not buying my next book, the one I'm currently finishing up as soon as I finish this post.
Life would be so much easier if I could find a way to get people to add clickable links to the opinion center of their brain, preferably when they have gotten up on the right side of the bed and aren't having a rousing fight with their spouse, lover, mother, father, children, boss, or whoever is on their hit list this week. But then we'd be in a world where people were more like machines and less like softly fleshed readers who might be cajoled or interested in putting an author out of their misery with enough time and attention, before going off to read the next book, to type a hasty "good job" in response.
Well, as long as the readers keep buying and reading, it will have to be enough.
That is all. Disperse.
The hardest part of writing isn't the writing, yet that is sometimes difficult because I procrastinate at times, it's waiting. Waiting for people I know who've mentioned they bought the book. I'd have been better off not knowing they had it and were planning to read it, or were actually reading it, because then I wouldn't wonder how long it takes to read a 250-page book and when I can expect to hear (or read) their review. It's better knowing that hundreds of people are buying the book and just aren't reviewing them. I don't have their phone numbers and don't know how to get to their houses so I can pin them down and ask what they thought. Better to live in ignorance and hope they're not like me and seldom write Amazon, B&N, or whatever bookstore they frequent reviews.
I did get a big surprise a few weeks ago with a totally unsolicited review from someone I've never met who read Among Women and really loved it. They said so. In print. Well, virtual print. Online. At Amazon. And gave it five stars. It was like a late birthday present or early Christmas gift. I enjoyed reading such good things and blushed a little at the kudos. I blush easily when someone compliments me, even if it's a compliment on my book.
But then there are friends and relatives who tell me they're reading my book and haven't said anything good, bad or indifferent about what they thought. I vacillate between wanting to ask and demanding to know what they thought. I'd send Guido and Vito out to have a conversation with them, but want to have someone who will send me a birthday card and remember me at holidays, so I don't. Instead, I suffer in silence -- well, silence in the sense that they don't know I'm fussing about it here in the silence of my room. If they don't know I'm fussing, am I fussing? Okay, so it's not as good as, if a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear about it, does it make a sound? Or what is the sound of one hand clapping? Depends what the one hand is clapping against. A meaty thigh works really well and so does a hard surface like a desk or someone's attitude.
I'm not a patient person when it comes to wanting answers. I am patient otherwise since I haven't cornered anyone and demanded answers. I would love to ask, but don't want to damage the person or scare them into not buying my next book, the one I'm currently finishing up as soon as I finish this post.
Life would be so much easier if I could find a way to get people to add clickable links to the opinion center of their brain, preferably when they have gotten up on the right side of the bed and aren't having a rousing fight with their spouse, lover, mother, father, children, boss, or whoever is on their hit list this week. But then we'd be in a world where people were more like machines and less like softly fleshed readers who might be cajoled or interested in putting an author out of their misery with enough time and attention, before going off to read the next book, to type a hasty "good job" in response.
Well, as long as the readers keep buying and reading, it will have to be enough.
That is all. Disperse.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
The Entitlement Perspective
Lately, I've been reading, and commenting, on posts about paid reviews. This seems to be a sore spot with most amateur writers, and maybe even some professional writers. Writers will gratefully and happily, albeit with a wince, depending on their financial situation, pay for editing, critiquing, publishing, book tour travel accommodations and charges, meals with their agent and even publishing, but they don't want to pay for reviews, believing it somehow makes the review suspect. The idea being that, if a review is paid for, it must be a ringer and the reviewer is paid to lie -- or at least fudge the review -- making the book sound better than it is. Not so.
I've been a professional (read: paid) reviewer for nearly eight years, not that I can make my rent payments on what I earn, but it comes close some months when I churn out a dozen reviews. I do not know the arrangement Authorlink has with authors requesting reviews, but I do get paid, and I get more than twice what I made starting out eight years ago. Do I give the authors unqualified rave reviews? Not on your tin type. I write balanced and honest reviews -- from my perspective -- and I don't play nice. I play fair and I'm civil, although with a rare snark with major typos and grammatical errors in a traditionally published book that do tend to rub me the wrong way. I mention them in one sentence without enumerating all the wrongs they have done to the printed word, but I'll write about my favorites (the worst examples) in another post. This post is about payment for services rendered, to whit: one book review.
Because there are so many free sites on the Internet, and because many writers starting out, and quite a few who are wealthy best sellers, are basically frugal (I did not say 'cheap'), they see reviews as a sideline that has nothing to do with the dollars and cents (and sense) necessary to get a professional writing career off the ground and keep it flying high. Reviews are important, but who buys a book based on reviews when there are so many other criteria for choosing (writer is a jerk, great advertising campaign, personal friend, relative, employee of writer, and, sometimes, if the author writes the kind of books you enjoy). There are always the bad boys and girls of publishing whose books sell because of the vicarious thrill of buying a bad boy or girl's books, and the burning curiosity to find out if they wrote about their misadventures and nefarious exploits.
Not true.
Okay, some of that is true, mostly about writers being cheap and thinking reviews are not nearly as important as a good editor or professional critique. And there is the rub, the one word that sets a reviewer apart from a reader, the word "professional." And that, my constant reader, is why reviewers shoud be paid. They have mouths to feed and bills to pay and they like to go out to dinner, the theater, or on the occasional vacation once a year.
Book reviewing is a business and businesses run on income, that income, in the reviewer's case, derived from the business of reading and reviewing books. It is an exchange of services. The author writes a book and contracts a professional reviewer to read and write their opinion on said book. This is called a contract and, like most contracts, is sealed with a handshake (often virtual) and an agreement for payment. You wouldn't buy a house and expect the banker to give you the house on your handshake, free and clear, without expecting some money in return. Neither should a reviewer.
"But," say authors, "the reviewer gets a free book worth money. Isn't that payment enough?"
If you've had to unload as many books as I have, you wouldn't see that as payment. I give them away and often donate them to libraries and Goodwill or the Volunteers of America. As far as I am concerned, most of the books I read and review are all right in the main, but not the kind of books I usually keep in my library. I reserve that limited shelf space for authors I follow and collect, although admittedly some authors I've found by having to review their work. That does not mean I don't expect my boss to forget to pay me. I expect payment as part of my contract with Authorlink as an employee.
Does that mean I give everyone a rave review? Not at all. In fact, I lost a friend over one of my reviews when I pointed out some of the problems, repetitions and mistakes in her book. I wasn't being vindictive, just writing what I thought of a book that was all right, but could have been much better. It's how I work.
Take a look at some of my reviews on The Celebrity Cafe or on Authorlink and you will see what I mean. I don't do nice. I don't do dressed up reviews. I don't smile when I have had to read utter crap and I do not ever sandbag my reviews. What I write is what I think and how I feel about the book. The author doesn't come into it at all, unless the book is one of a series I have followed and reviewed in the past, in which case I compare the character and writing to previous books. I am not above telling a writer, who may also be a good friend, that their book needs work and then go on to list the reasons why. Does that make my reviews suspect?
How about the reviews of Michiko Kakutani of the New York TImes or any of the professional reviewers in The New York Review of Books or Kirkus Reviews? Are their reviews suddenly suspect because you now know they are paid? What did you think they did up in their ivory towers, knit? The New York Times, NYRB, and Kirkus pay their employees to write reviews. That is their job. Like editors, book doctors, agents, publishers, and everyone else in the publishing business, or self-publishing business, book reviewers are professionals and should be paid for their services. They may do a book review as a favor for a friend, but you are taking up their time and expecting to make use of their expertise, so it is just business to pay them. Just because a reviewer doesn't work for a newspaper or a recognized review source doesn't mean they don't deserve your respect -- and your money. People work and people get paid. That is just business.
Good reviewers, like any good professional, are worth their weight in gold -- even when they say your book needs work or doesn't quite hit the mark. Not everyone will like every book you write, or even every book they read, but that is to be expected. Paying for a review is like paying someone to critique your work and put it in shape for publication. You may get a kudos and a pat on the back or you may get slammed. You pays for yo' ticket and you takes yo' chances. Nothing in life is guaranteed, as any published author will tell you. Don't ignore the contribution a professional makes to your success -- and that goes for reviewers, too.
You can get free reviews from several web sites, Goodreads, and Amazon, or from any reader at a hundred different book stores, but a professional review is far above what you get with the average reader. It is worth more in terms of proof that you did a good job and in terms of cost. If you want the best, you will have to pay the best. It's that simple.
While the readers count -- and they count a lot towards popularity of an author's work -- it is the professional review that lets you know you have arrived and all your hard work has paid off. A professional reviewer will also tell you where you went wrong and what could have been done better. So will some educated and opinionated readers. A professional review is in essence a mini-critique of your work. Don't get on the bad side of karma. If you want professional, pay for professional. If you want just anyone's opinion of your book, save your money and hope you can entice, cajole and motivate the average reader to write a review of your work that makes sense and highlights your book's good points.
You're entitled to the best; pay for it. Everything else is a crap shoot.
Friday, June 17, 2011
No, Not That!
There are times when an author's life is not interesting, usually when editing and rewriting endlessly to make a book just right. I think of Goldilocks and what having everything just right did for her and I cringe. It's hard for a perfectionist to get past the need to keep tweaking a book. An error might have gotten through numerous edits, even from someone else's eyes, and when they pop up later, usually after the book has gone to print, the groan and gnashing of teeth can be heard at least half a continent away, if not all the way to the next continent and beyond. At least with ebooks it's easier to change things and upload the new version, and somewhat easier with print versions as long as you self-published and have already gotten through the first print run, which usually isn't all that big a deal. There is, of course, the issue of cost because printers tend to charge you when you make too many changes and approve the proof. Into every life and all that.
I suppose the worst thing to deal with is bad reviews. I expect them. One reviewer actually emailed me to tell me she couldn't get into the book and therefore would not publish a review. I heaved a hearty sigh of relief since any review she would have written would have been horrible. I can handle bad reviews if someone actually bought the book, but I am ready to ignore pointedly any bad reviews from people who got a book for free. After all, I review books and there are times when I have to write bad reviews, always doing my best to point out something positive, even if it's a nice font. It's something nice, so give me a break. I don't do cleaned up reviews. You pays yo' money and takes yo' chances. I expect to get what I give so frequently.
However, when a bad review seems to have been written about your book that in no way resembles your book, it's hard to forgive and forget. Mostly, it's hard to forget. It haunts you in the night and creeps up on you unawares at the worst possible moments, like in bed with your husband/boyfriend/lover/whatever. You sit up and scream (mostly just scream), "What book did s/he read?" It takes all of one's might and discipline not to hunt the person down and demand an explanation and a diagram with colored markers and bullet points.
Too many authors have gone head-to-head with reviewers in wanting to know why and where and how dare they. It's a bad idea that ends in tears and public ridicule the likes of which one can only imagine given the Internet and the speed at which ugly gossip flies. It's best to take a no comment stance as though walking up the stairs to jail or to the courthouse where you're being arraigned for heinous acts against humanity -- and wearing fur. This is a wired world where everything is connected. Even if you make a snide comment in Outer Mongolia below your breath, someone will hear you, snap a picture on their phone and record the video to show on You Tube where someone will mention it to someone else and in a matter of nanoseconds you have gone viral with a big red sign painted on your forehead that reads "IDIOT." There is such a thing as bad press when there are too many cameras, phones, video recorders, and other devices to foil any attempts at denial, and the nonchalant (not that it's too late) shrug of the shoulders or a saucy wink will not make the situation better.
You have become a joke. An obsessive author with delusions of adequacy. And your books will be avoided -- by most people who don't want to be associated with someone who can't keep their professional cool. Not a good idea at all. Avoid at all costs.
I look at reviews, all reviews, and smile when they're good, frown a little (makes wrinkles) when they are marginal, and hide all sharp objects and projectile firing instruments just in case the reviewer crosses my path at a convention or at the grocery store where I've tracked him (or her) to have a quiet word.
When it happens to you -- and it will happen eventually -- smile and find something else to do, like write another book and give more people more chances to sling mud and fire pot shots at yourchildren books. Keeping busy is a good thing. I think that's where the old adage, Idle hands are the devil's workshop, came from. It must have been an author out to scalp, torture and dismember someone who gave a bad review.
I suppose the worst thing to deal with is bad reviews. I expect them. One reviewer actually emailed me to tell me she couldn't get into the book and therefore would not publish a review. I heaved a hearty sigh of relief since any review she would have written would have been horrible. I can handle bad reviews if someone actually bought the book, but I am ready to ignore pointedly any bad reviews from people who got a book for free. After all, I review books and there are times when I have to write bad reviews, always doing my best to point out something positive, even if it's a nice font. It's something nice, so give me a break. I don't do cleaned up reviews. You pays yo' money and takes yo' chances. I expect to get what I give so frequently.
However, when a bad review seems to have been written about your book that in no way resembles your book, it's hard to forgive and forget. Mostly, it's hard to forget. It haunts you in the night and creeps up on you unawares at the worst possible moments, like in bed with your husband/boyfriend/lover/whatever. You sit up and scream (mostly just scream), "What book did s/he read?" It takes all of one's might and discipline not to hunt the person down and demand an explanation and a diagram with colored markers and bullet points.
Too many authors have gone head-to-head with reviewers in wanting to know why and where and how dare they. It's a bad idea that ends in tears and public ridicule the likes of which one can only imagine given the Internet and the speed at which ugly gossip flies. It's best to take a no comment stance as though walking up the stairs to jail or to the courthouse where you're being arraigned for heinous acts against humanity -- and wearing fur. This is a wired world where everything is connected. Even if you make a snide comment in Outer Mongolia below your breath, someone will hear you, snap a picture on their phone and record the video to show on You Tube where someone will mention it to someone else and in a matter of nanoseconds you have gone viral with a big red sign painted on your forehead that reads "IDIOT." There is such a thing as bad press when there are too many cameras, phones, video recorders, and other devices to foil any attempts at denial, and the nonchalant (not that it's too late) shrug of the shoulders or a saucy wink will not make the situation better.
You have become a joke. An obsessive author with delusions of adequacy. And your books will be avoided -- by most people who don't want to be associated with someone who can't keep their professional cool. Not a good idea at all. Avoid at all costs.
I look at reviews, all reviews, and smile when they're good, frown a little (makes wrinkles) when they are marginal, and hide all sharp objects and projectile firing instruments just in case the reviewer crosses my path at a convention or at the grocery store where I've tracked him (or her) to have a quiet word.
When it happens to you -- and it will happen eventually -- smile and find something else to do, like write another book and give more people more chances to sling mud and fire pot shots at your
Book Giveaway
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Among Women
by J. M. Cornwell
Giveaway begins June 21, 2011 and ends September 21, 2011. Winners will be chosen from UK, Australia, Canada and the United States. Eight autographed copies will be awarded.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Enter to win
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Procrastination or Plan?
There are problems with creating, mostly procrastination. With editing. With rewriting. With being bombarded by great ideas when I'm supposed to be focused on another book that needs to be finished. So, is it procrastination or avoidance or just good sense to come up with an idea for a series of books, especially when series seem to garner the most attention -- and sales?
I'm going to go with great idea.
Looking at Piers Anthony, who my brother and youngest sister have raved about for years and I have avoided, brought me to a description for the first novel. He wrote hard and slick science fiction and then he hit upon fantasy and made his fortune and enshrined his name in Franklin Mint history with figurines from his best selling series.
I'm having trouble getting people to notice my serious books. He had problems getting noticed, although not as much as I have had. He decided to write fantasy and changed his fortune. I could write a series, other than the Memory series currently waiting in the wings to be typed up and published, and use the tarot cards. It's not a big deal. I wrote several articles, with examples, on using the tarot cards to spark that creative fire and create stories.
Why not, my brain insisted while I struggled through the usual dictations, use the fool's journey, which is the heart and origin of the tarot cards, to write a series of books, calling each series by the designations of the cards? Major Arcana, Minor Arcana, and four series to go with the wands, swords, cups and coins? I'll bet that would sell, and I might find the beginning for the fairy novel set in the event horizon of a black hole (time dilation which explains the whole few hours in faery and years lost on earth) I've been contemplating for a while. Anything is possible, and it makes good sense physics-wise. I think strange thoughts when I'm deep into sleep debt, and my dreams are very vivid. This is no dream. I was awake at the time and I think it would actually work.
The problem is not to think it to death. I have a problem with that, too. I plan out everything and then still end up writing by the seat of my pants. I'm a pantser. I admit it. I do, however, have dreams of being more disciplined, but I'm not. I work best when I wing it.
Anyway, it's an idea, one that may not last beyond this post, but an idea all the same that might propel me from the ranks of the obscure into a cabin in the high Rockies with a guest house, a jeep and the time to write while giving up wage slavery forever.
I kind of like that idea. Now I have to wait and see if it passes the next day test, sort of like dyeing your hair or getting it cut. If it still looks good the next day and I don't regret it and want to shave my head, then it's a good.
There. I've made a plan. On to the procrastination portion of this program.
I'm going to go with great idea.
Looking at Piers Anthony, who my brother and youngest sister have raved about for years and I have avoided, brought me to a description for the first novel. He wrote hard and slick science fiction and then he hit upon fantasy and made his fortune and enshrined his name in Franklin Mint history with figurines from his best selling series.
I'm having trouble getting people to notice my serious books. He had problems getting noticed, although not as much as I have had. He decided to write fantasy and changed his fortune. I could write a series, other than the Memory series currently waiting in the wings to be typed up and published, and use the tarot cards. It's not a big deal. I wrote several articles, with examples, on using the tarot cards to spark that creative fire and create stories.
Why not, my brain insisted while I struggled through the usual dictations, use the fool's journey, which is the heart and origin of the tarot cards, to write a series of books, calling each series by the designations of the cards? Major Arcana, Minor Arcana, and four series to go with the wands, swords, cups and coins? I'll bet that would sell, and I might find the beginning for the fairy novel set in the event horizon of a black hole (time dilation which explains the whole few hours in faery and years lost on earth) I've been contemplating for a while. Anything is possible, and it makes good sense physics-wise. I think strange thoughts when I'm deep into sleep debt, and my dreams are very vivid. This is no dream. I was awake at the time and I think it would actually work.
The problem is not to think it to death. I have a problem with that, too. I plan out everything and then still end up writing by the seat of my pants. I'm a pantser. I admit it. I do, however, have dreams of being more disciplined, but I'm not. I work best when I wing it.
Anyway, it's an idea, one that may not last beyond this post, but an idea all the same that might propel me from the ranks of the obscure into a cabin in the high Rockies with a guest house, a jeep and the time to write while giving up wage slavery forever.
I kind of like that idea. Now I have to wait and see if it passes the next day test, sort of like dyeing your hair or getting it cut. If it still looks good the next day and I don't regret it and want to shave my head, then it's a good.
There. I've made a plan. On to the procrastination portion of this program.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
I'm So Confused
Everyone is talking about books, reading books, mentioning books, advertising books and yet it's nearly impossible through social networking, hobnobbing, commenting, posting and talking about my own book to get anyone's attention. Must be information overload or I just don't know the right people.
It seems like the publishing industry is finally taking notes. Agents aren't as reluctant to sign a self-published author, although I suspect trying to tune up the work, get better cover art and guide the writer through the morass of punctuation, grammar and spelling (Spell Check doesn't get everything, especially when writing in the vernacular and what looks like vernacular but is just bad spelling). According to one publishing insider, publishers are willing to admit (after the flogging they endured at BEA in New York) that they don't know what sells and what people are reading. That came as no surprise to me as I have watched publishers put out dog after dog with huge advances and very little return. In fact, according that the publishing insider, 80-90% of all books published by the big guys fail to earn out advances or make them any money, and that's with 52.5% of the profit pie. I guess when there's nothing left but crumbs, 52.5% does not amount to much.
My task as been to maximize my income by choosing (and paying for) the best advertising. I had a brief and noticeable surge in sales when I advertised my novel in Kindle Nation for a day. It was not enough. The sales continue on a trickling basis, but I need a major gush that turns into a sustained and continuing spring runoff the likes of which will sweep away the southwestern part of the U.S., at least figuratively. Add in sales from the UK and Denmark (Amazon added those two venues to my ebook market) and I could just about make enough to pay for the advertising I need. Yes, it still takes advertising. After all, how am I going to find out the names and addresses and information on thousands of librarians, booksellers and book clubs without advertising?
It's all so confusing. It seems as though no one wants to buy and read a book about a young woman who is taken in by a con man, cast homeless onto the streets of New Orleans without friends and, just when things are looking up, is arrested and forced into close contact with (gasp!) criminals. What is a girl to do? She can hide in her cell, except that is not allowed. She can find a corner she can defend with a plastic fork that will likely break at a crucial moment. Or she can listen to the criminals and find out what really brought them to this low pass -- and then write about it. Well, I thought it was a good idea when Ilived wrote about it. Now, I'm not so sure.
How does a writer get noticed without someone trumpeting from the rooftops? Read this book. It will expose the dark underbelly of New Orleans. Where is a town cryer for the thousands of towns all across the nation when I need one?
On a limited budget, the only thing is left is Twitter and Facebook, and I'm not good at the whole being a sparkling wit while dropping bits of wisdom, wry commentary and magnetizing the iron filings that are people to hover around my personal space panting for my next words. I write. I don't do socializing. I have no time. I have to earn the money to pay for the advertising.
AuthorBuzz costs between $1250 and $1850 for the cream of the advertising campaigns offered. Kirkus wanted my book three months before it was to debut in stores, except I decided to self-publish about two weeks before I actually self-published, having worked on the novel, refining, polishing, and tarting it up for two years. Every avenue I explore has a caveat and each caveat says, not here and not now. We needed your information six months ago. The gatekeepers are still keeping the gates shut, no matter what that publishing insider says.
So, until the gatekeepers review and change their policies to include intrepid authors jumping the queue and self-publishing, and until I can afford the kind of advertising campaign that will get my novel noticed, I'll have to wallow in the Horse Latitudes of self-publishing, commenting on well known blogs, writing posts like this, and saving up the money for advertising campaigns to promote my book.
In the meantime, I am writing another book. Anyone interested in a story about the woman who Dr. Jekyll tried to erase from his life through chemical ingestion onto create Edward Hyde and begin the most famous (and infamous) murder spree in Victorian English history?
It seems like the publishing industry is finally taking notes. Agents aren't as reluctant to sign a self-published author, although I suspect trying to tune up the work, get better cover art and guide the writer through the morass of punctuation, grammar and spelling (Spell Check doesn't get everything, especially when writing in the vernacular and what looks like vernacular but is just bad spelling). According to one publishing insider, publishers are willing to admit (after the flogging they endured at BEA in New York) that they don't know what sells and what people are reading. That came as no surprise to me as I have watched publishers put out dog after dog with huge advances and very little return. In fact, according that the publishing insider, 80-90% of all books published by the big guys fail to earn out advances or make them any money, and that's with 52.5% of the profit pie. I guess when there's nothing left but crumbs, 52.5% does not amount to much.
My task as been to maximize my income by choosing (and paying for) the best advertising. I had a brief and noticeable surge in sales when I advertised my novel in Kindle Nation for a day. It was not enough. The sales continue on a trickling basis, but I need a major gush that turns into a sustained and continuing spring runoff the likes of which will sweep away the southwestern part of the U.S., at least figuratively. Add in sales from the UK and Denmark (Amazon added those two venues to my ebook market) and I could just about make enough to pay for the advertising I need. Yes, it still takes advertising. After all, how am I going to find out the names and addresses and information on thousands of librarians, booksellers and book clubs without advertising?
It's all so confusing. It seems as though no one wants to buy and read a book about a young woman who is taken in by a con man, cast homeless onto the streets of New Orleans without friends and, just when things are looking up, is arrested and forced into close contact with (gasp!) criminals. What is a girl to do? She can hide in her cell, except that is not allowed. She can find a corner she can defend with a plastic fork that will likely break at a crucial moment. Or she can listen to the criminals and find out what really brought them to this low pass -- and then write about it. Well, I thought it was a good idea when I
How does a writer get noticed without someone trumpeting from the rooftops? Read this book. It will expose the dark underbelly of New Orleans. Where is a town cryer for the thousands of towns all across the nation when I need one?
On a limited budget, the only thing is left is Twitter and Facebook, and I'm not good at the whole being a sparkling wit while dropping bits of wisdom, wry commentary and magnetizing the iron filings that are people to hover around my personal space panting for my next words. I write. I don't do socializing. I have no time. I have to earn the money to pay for the advertising.
AuthorBuzz costs between $1250 and $1850 for the cream of the advertising campaigns offered. Kirkus wanted my book three months before it was to debut in stores, except I decided to self-publish about two weeks before I actually self-published, having worked on the novel, refining, polishing, and tarting it up for two years. Every avenue I explore has a caveat and each caveat says, not here and not now. We needed your information six months ago. The gatekeepers are still keeping the gates shut, no matter what that publishing insider says.
So, until the gatekeepers review and change their policies to include intrepid authors jumping the queue and self-publishing, and until I can afford the kind of advertising campaign that will get my novel noticed, I'll have to wallow in the Horse Latitudes of self-publishing, commenting on well known blogs, writing posts like this, and saving up the money for advertising campaigns to promote my book.
In the meantime, I am writing another book. Anyone interested in a story about the woman who Dr. Jekyll tried to erase from his life through chemical ingestion onto create Edward Hyde and begin the most famous (and infamous) murder spree in Victorian English history?
Monday, June 06, 2011
Technology: Making Life More . . .
Technology has its uses, but there are times the old fashioned way is easier -- and better.
I've been preparing a package for mailing that needs to be out by June 15. Unfortunately, my laptop did not recognize my printer and every time I deleted a job it hung the computer up for about 24-48 hours. I had to delete the printer and re-install, something I've had to do three times with regard to this particular package. I won't even go into printing the proper postage so I can send the package. It would have been easier to type out a label and take the package to the post office to be mailed, except that since I pay for being able to print my own postage and labels with my laptop it seemed such a waste of money. It was also a waste of time.
So much is made easier by technology and so much has been made more complicated by relying on technology. Heaven forbid we should have to go back to the old days when manuscripts were handwritten and posted to publishers in brown paper tied up in string. There are far too many wannabe and actual authors to have to go through each handwritten manuscript one at a time. The luck of the leprechauns was with you if you received a typewritten manuscript since so few people owned typewriters and knew how to use them. Reminds me of the dark days when the average person couldn't read, and then the printing press made printed books available and then everyone had a better chance to learn to read and decide things for themselves.
Now that I have that last task completed, I think I can move on, but technology may get in the way again. This time the technology is my job, which I do from home and which requires the bulk of my time, leaving little time for reading books to review, or for entertainment, and writing, not if I plan to bathe, do laundry, cook meals, wash dishes, clean house, run errands, buy food, vacuum and garden. No wonder people feel they need servants. There aren't enough hours in the day.
Technology helps with the usual household tasks, like washing dishes and clothing, vacuuming, etc., but the tasks still take time. Machines have to be set up, primed with the right kinds of liquids and powders, loaded and unloaded only to load and unload another machine. Then there's the folding, putting away and hanging up of clothing, and the putting away of dishes to take up more time. And then it's time for shopping for food to prepare for cooking, actually cooking and then eating, creating more dirty dishes, and often dirty clothes when food is spilled, and we're back to the laundry and dish washing again. There are some items that have to be hand washed (dishes and clothing) and that requires more time. I need a housekeeper, and I'll hire one as soon as I can afford it, which I cannot do on the salary I earn with my day job, and there's not enough time to write so I can get another book published and begin earning money on it. It is a vicious circle.
Virginia Woolf was half right. A woman needs a room of her own and sufficient monies to support the writing, but she also needs servants and money to pay for them and technology that doesn't require too much time and energy to work and keep working. I don't want much, just a cabin high up in the Rocky Mountains with a good bit of land, no neighbors, a town that is not too far away nor too close, a guest house and a sturdy lock on the door to keep people out when I'm creating. I also need a housekeeper. Now all I need to do is write more books, publish them and begin to build a recognizable name so people will buy lots of my books and help me afford my decadent lifestyle. I won't even go into the social and business online networking time that needs to come out of the writing, chore, and day job time because it's the reason I am deep into sleep deficit already.
I've been preparing a package for mailing that needs to be out by June 15. Unfortunately, my laptop did not recognize my printer and every time I deleted a job it hung the computer up for about 24-48 hours. I had to delete the printer and re-install, something I've had to do three times with regard to this particular package. I won't even go into printing the proper postage so I can send the package. It would have been easier to type out a label and take the package to the post office to be mailed, except that since I pay for being able to print my own postage and labels with my laptop it seemed such a waste of money. It was also a waste of time.
So much is made easier by technology and so much has been made more complicated by relying on technology. Heaven forbid we should have to go back to the old days when manuscripts were handwritten and posted to publishers in brown paper tied up in string. There are far too many wannabe and actual authors to have to go through each handwritten manuscript one at a time. The luck of the leprechauns was with you if you received a typewritten manuscript since so few people owned typewriters and knew how to use them. Reminds me of the dark days when the average person couldn't read, and then the printing press made printed books available and then everyone had a better chance to learn to read and decide things for themselves.
Now that I have that last task completed, I think I can move on, but technology may get in the way again. This time the technology is my job, which I do from home and which requires the bulk of my time, leaving little time for reading books to review, or for entertainment, and writing, not if I plan to bathe, do laundry, cook meals, wash dishes, clean house, run errands, buy food, vacuum and garden. No wonder people feel they need servants. There aren't enough hours in the day.
Technology helps with the usual household tasks, like washing dishes and clothing, vacuuming, etc., but the tasks still take time. Machines have to be set up, primed with the right kinds of liquids and powders, loaded and unloaded only to load and unload another machine. Then there's the folding, putting away and hanging up of clothing, and the putting away of dishes to take up more time. And then it's time for shopping for food to prepare for cooking, actually cooking and then eating, creating more dirty dishes, and often dirty clothes when food is spilled, and we're back to the laundry and dish washing again. There are some items that have to be hand washed (dishes and clothing) and that requires more time. I need a housekeeper, and I'll hire one as soon as I can afford it, which I cannot do on the salary I earn with my day job, and there's not enough time to write so I can get another book published and begin earning money on it. It is a vicious circle.
Virginia Woolf was half right. A woman needs a room of her own and sufficient monies to support the writing, but she also needs servants and money to pay for them and technology that doesn't require too much time and energy to work and keep working. I don't want much, just a cabin high up in the Rocky Mountains with a good bit of land, no neighbors, a town that is not too far away nor too close, a guest house and a sturdy lock on the door to keep people out when I'm creating. I also need a housekeeper. Now all I need to do is write more books, publish them and begin to build a recognizable name so people will buy lots of my books and help me afford my decadent lifestyle. I won't even go into the social and business online networking time that needs to come out of the writing, chore, and day job time because it's the reason I am deep into sleep deficit already.
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